In 1996, a clandestine rendezvous between two political adversaries went unnoticed at a Tasmanian funeral. There were no notes or staff, but the secret meeting helped define an informal model for minority government that we may see repeated federally in 2025.

The story is a fable for politicians, voters and commentators. It has lessons for power sharing, stability and leadership when no one “has the numbers”.

Our protagonists are then Greens leader Christine Milne and Liberal Premier Tony Rundle, who mourned a mutual friend but shared little else, especially in politics or policy.

The machinations of the preceding months had been stunning. The state Liberal government under Ray Groom had lost its majority after austerity budgets and a rather foolishly timed 40 per cent pay increase for politicians. Voters punished it, but also refused to deliver Labor a majority.

The Greens held the balance of power. The humiliated Groom had declared “a majority or nothing” and now had none. Labor leader and former premier Michael Field had also ruled out minority government, later describing it as “forced marriage” with the Greens.

The smell of burnt pride must have wafted around the Tasmanian Parliament. The problem was so great, and yet the only solution available so distasteful.

The Liberals replaced their leader, sidestepping the impression of a broken promise.

Labor could not sensibly move a no-confidence motion and send Tasmania back to the polls, risking a worse result. Milne was stripped of leverage. All parties prepared for a term of ad-hoc negotiation on absolutely everything, including supply.

Rundle became premier. There were phone conversations between him and Milne – but no meetings. The optics were dangerous. There was no agreement, no understanding. He had good reason to fear an association with the Greens.

Then came a funeral service on an autumn morning in Devonport. Afterwards, mourners scattered. But Milne and Rundle delayed their exits, finding space for a brief negotiation – a burial truce.

Their first agreement was only not to ambush each other on the floor of parliament: Agreements would be honoured and there’d be advance notice – maybe just five minutes – if one was to bring down the other.

This private tragedy facilitated a step forward. But a very public and truly immense one translated it into some semblance of a working relationship.

Less than a month later, the Port Arthur massacre, rocked Tasmania and the nation. The same afternoon, as Australians heard the first reports of mass murder, Rundle invited Milne and opposition leader Field to join an extraordinary cabinet meeting and to visit victims in hospital as a show of unity. Milne accepted. This, and Tasmania’s immeasurable pain, broke down more barriers.

The machinery of government cannot run without cooperation on the floor of the parliament. It is needed for budgets and legislation. We are more accustomed to this coming from a majority, but history shows that it will occur regardless.

Rundle understood that give and take was necessary if his government was to achieve anything. Milne indicated it was time for gay law reform. Soon it was no longer a crime to be homosexual in Tasmania. Budgets were passed. The pair also collaborated on an apology to the Stolen Generations, and gun law reform.

Despite the lack of formal agreement, and toxic animosity, there was an acceptance that no single party had all the power. A liaison officer was appointed to facilitate ongoing communication.

Therein lies the lesson for Peter Dutton, Anthony Albanese, Adam Bandt and the independents. Even without an accord, if you want to achieve anything in a minority parliament, you must engage with other parties, understand their agendas and accept the forced marriage.

Threats, insults, humiliation, bad faith negotiation and the usual ramming tactics will not work.

This may be a difficult lesson. Power sharing, or even a working relationship, can be difficult to explain and opens governments to entirely unfair accusations of undue influence. But it is influence delivered by voters.

Majority government will no doubt remain the holy grail. But as the significant shift away from the major parties continues, minority government is expected to be far more common.

For some, the idea of minority evokes images of chaos and instability. Labor’s decisions at the Tasmanian elections in 1996 and last year could be repeated federally.

Formal agreements are not necessarily needed. The Constitution requires only that the government has the confidence of the House.

Maintaining that confidence in the absence of an agreement is hard. The Milne-Rundle relationship was hard fought and sometimes acrimonious, but it still provides a roadmap for how pragmatism and goodwill can yield surprising progress.

Informal, issue-by-issue approach to governance is an anathema to those who prefer the neatness of majority rule, but it highlights an essential truth about democracy: Compromise and dialogue are the lifeblood of effective leadership.

For the Liberals, their willingness to adapt ensured stability in a challenging period. For the Greens, it was an opportunity to advance a progressive agenda despite limited numbers.

For Labor, it was sidelined after refusing to entertain minority. Its strategy was to change the electoral system to win a majority next time.

Parties will be better prepared for a new era of minority if they can embrace collaboration and learn how to sell their shared successes. This will require an acknowledgement that governing in minority is not automatically a failure, but rather an opportunity to innovate.

Minority government will be difficult for those involved. They’ll hate it. But that’s their job. If no party has a majority, it will be forced.

Peter Stahel is an owner and the managing director of Essential, a progressive research and communications agency. He was a Greens adviser from 2006-2015