Thanks to the internet and the immediacy of hyper-networked information, community expectations about our leaders and truth-telling have increased. We expect more because we now know the difference between truth and lies much faster than ever, and with greater amounts of real-time transparency. Illustration: Matthew Golding Yet political life in Australia, as with many other democracies around the world, remains stuck in the dark ages. This is a parallel universe where evading the truth through sophistry or spin remains one of the most saleable skills in the eyes of our political class. Meanwhile, in the real world, anyone who knowingly lies to a court of law risks going to jail. A company head who lies about his or her business or the products it offers can be jailed, fined, or banned from business, or all three. Lies told by a politician are usually about much bigger issues, and have more implications for the broader public than a shonky business arrangement. The ripple effect of the political lie – particularly election promises that are uttered with no intent to follow through – has the potential to impact on the lives and livelihoods of hundreds of thousands of people. But more fundamentally, a continual stream of political lies and quarter-truths corrodes our most precious asset – our democratic system. And the cost of that to our society and way of life is incalculable.

One in five Australian adults now do not even bother to enrol to vote. Only about 40 per cent of Australians believe it makes any difference which political party is in power. And only four out of every 10 young Australians in a recent poll think democracy is even the best political system. Why? Because we are in the midst of a trust emergency – a terminal turn-off from our democratic system caused by a growing disconnect between what we hear politicians say and what we know to be the truth. Those who seek to defend our political Pinocchios will argue that lying has always been part of political theatre. But above heightened community expectations about truth-telling, they also conveniently overlook how the political lie has now gone into hyperdrive. The 2014 budget, with its cavalcade of broken election promises, will go down as watershed in creating Australia's trust emergency. Revelations that the opposition leader knowingly lied to the public about his role in toppling a second prime minister adds another straw atop the weakening back of our political system. Politicians are now incapable of talking without being "ventriloquised" by ever-growing legions of spin doctors at their side. So with politics no longer the art of the possible but the art of the dissemble, the problem of the political lie will only get worse. And our democratic system and the trust needed to sustain it will continue to corrode to a point of no return. So drastic, punitive action must be taken. The question of course is how would it work? Like a corruption commission, political truth-telling would be overseen by an independent integrity body (let's call it the Truth in Politics Commission) with special powers to investigate and summon witnesses. To ensure it is not bogged down with the trivial day-to-day evasions of political speak, the standards of evidence and culpability would need to be high. Only the big lies would be fingered.

We are in the midst of a trust emergency – a terminal turn-off from our democratic system caused by a growing disconnect between what we hear politicians say and what we know to be the truth. Its biggest challenge would be to establish whether a politician knowingly lied. But the real point of the commission would be the threat of criminal sanctions, as much as the sanctions themselves. Knowing there is a watchdog with a big "truth stick" would make politicians think twice before embarking knowingly on a lie. Of course, they could resort to denial that they knew they were lying. But given the stark choice of admitting dishonesty and incompetence, how long would any politician last in the court of public opinion? Certainly, the Truth in Politics Commission would have its hands full in its early days. But once new honesty standards were enshrined and new accountability benchmarks made clear, the political world would find its balance. Open and honest discussion – not the current unaccountable circus of spin and doublespeak – would become the new benchmark for political skill. This would be quickly rewarded by voters who would fall over themselves to reward honesty and plain speaking. A proposal to make lying to Parliament by politicians illegal was floated in Britain prior to national elections there this year. To date, more than than 120,000 citizens have signed up to an online petition supporting the idea. It is early days but it's an indication that the days of the political lie might be numbered.

An inconvenient truth for our politicians perhaps, but a very welcome truth for the rest of us. Dr Mark Triffitt is a lecturer in public policy at the University of Melbourne, a former political adviser to the Kennett Government and former director for strategic communications with the Business Council of Australia.