Category: Thought Leadership and Opinion

Graham Richardson. Whatever it takes and what it costs

When I was young, I thought Henry Kissinger was something special. He seemed calm, clever, powerful, the man everyone turned to when the world was on fire. The media made him sound like a hero. Only later did I learn about the secret bombings in Cambodia, the support for dictators, and the way real people paid the price for his so-called strategy. The shine came off pretty fast once you understood what those decisions meant for ordinary lives.

“Henry Kissinger is one of the worst people to ever be a force for good.”  Nicholas Thompson, editor of newyorker.com

Graham Richardson came later, but I was never a fan. Different stage, same play. He was the backroom operator who knew how to pull the strings, the man everyone said you had to have on your side. Yet somehow, despite all the questions and all the deals, he stayed above it all. The media made him a character, not a cautionary tale.

“There were no true believers in Richo’s world, only those who could deliver. It was effective, certainly, but it left behind a smaller kind of politics, one that taught us how easy it is to win the game and lose the point of playing it.”

It’s funny how age changes what you see. Back then, power looked impressive. Now I look at it and wonder who was writing the story, and why we all believed it. Instead of lifting public life, he made it narrower, more cynical, more about winning than governing.

In the end, the commentators probably summed him up best.

“Richo was the ultimate Labor numbers man,  brilliant, ruthless, and utterly transactional. He turned survival into an art form, always one step ahead of the fallout. To many, he made politics look like a business deal, where loyalty was negotiable and purpose optional. “

Addendum

News that Graham Richardson will be given a state funeral has stunned me  Honouring him in this way feels less like recognition of public service and more like confirmation of how skewed our political compass has become.

There was a time when state funerals were reserved for those who lifted the country, people whose contribution went beyond party or personal survival. Now it seems the test is different: power itself has become the virtue.

It’s not about denying grief or denying that he mattered to many. It’s about what we, as a nation, choose to honour. When a life spent mastering political deals is celebrated as public greatness, it tells us more about our leaders than about the man in the coffin.

For me, it’s another reminder of why integrity still matters, and why we need to keep asking the hard questions about who gets remembered, and what for.

Investigative reporter Kate McClymont’s story in SMH today 11 Nov 2025 is behind a paywall but it is so spot on it’s worth a subscription. ‘Long lunches, Swiss bank accounts and a kangaroo scrotum: My decades pursuing Graham Richardson”

#PowerAndPerception #MediaInfluence #Realpolitik #AustralianPolitics #GrahamRichardson #HenryKissinger #WhateverItTakes #PublicAccountability #LessonsFromHistory #CriticalThinking

 

 

 

You Don’t Have to Be Angry to Be Brave

This blog is a follow up to an earlier blog “When Advocacy Turns Dangerous: The Moment You Can’t Stay Silent”

Are you like me, someone who wants to speak up when you see or hear something unjust, but sometimes hesitates because you don’t want to make things worse, or make someone feel small?

That hesitation comes from care. Most of us don’t want to hurt people; we want to make things better. But we were never taught how. We were taught to keep the peace, not to have hard conversations with grace.

I recently watched Sarah Crawford-Bohl’s TED Talk How to Speak Up — Even When You Don’t Want To.

 She shows that courage and kindness can live in the same sentence. You can hold your ground without pushing someone else off theirs.

The Four Phrases That Can Change Any Difficult Conversation

It doesn’t take a big speech. Sometimes it’s the smallest phrases that shift the whole tone of a conversation:

  • Instead of “With respect…”, try “I see it differently.”

  • Instead of “That’s wrong.”, try “Can we look at that another way?”

  • Instead of “You can’t say that.”, try “That might land differently for some people.”

  • Instead of silence, try “I’m not sure that sits right with me.”

These simple swaps are powerful. They keep people in the conversation rather than shutting it down.

Why Teaching Kids How to Speak Up Might Be the Most Important Lesson of All

Even after years of negotiation training, I still catch myself slipping into an overly forceful tone when something matters to me. It’s hard to unlearn. But that’s exactly why this work matters, because if we can teach young people how to use their voices with strength and empathy, maybe they won’t have to spend years unlearning the habits we did.

It’s the same truth behind that short film Justice,  the moment when a teacher unfairly dismisses a student and everyone stays silent

and the playful How to Start a Movement clip, where the brave first follower turns one person’s awkward dance into a movement.

In both, the real change begins when someone chooses courage over comfort.

Speaking up doesn’t have to make anyone feel small. Done with care, it can make everyone in the room a little braver.

#SpeakUpKindly #EverydayActivism #CivicCourage #RespectfulCommunication #LeadershipStartsHere #EmpathyInAction #TeachThemYoung #ChangeTheConversation #FirstFollower #KindnessIsStrength

Are We All Living in a Socially Accepted Delusion?

 

We’ve normalised the idea that a stranger’s 30-second video can diagnose our personality, heal our trauma, or sell us peace of mind in a bottle. When enough people repeat it, it stops feeling ridiculous. It becomes a trend, which is just a delusion with good PR.

I’ve started noticing something interesting in a few novels lately: little acronyms like SAD and MAD popping up in unexpected ways. Not the usual meanings, of course. SAD becomes Socially Accepted Delusion. MAD turns into Mutually Accepted Delusion.

Writers love this device. Technically they’re acronyms, but when an author redefines them for a deeper or ironic purpose, it’s called a backronym, a phrase built around existing letters to create new meaning. It’s a small linguistic trick that can hold a big mirror up to society.

One of my favourite examples comes from The Detective by Matthew Reilly. His character muses that if a woman believes aliens live in her head, she’s sent to a mental institution, but if she believes Jesus lives in her head, she’s considered a person of deep faith. Both beliefs are invisible, yet one is sanctioned and the other condemned.

That’s the essence of a Socially Accepted Delusion: a belief that survives scrutiny because enough people share it.

Social norms can uplift, kindness as a default, recycling without being asked. But they can also disguise absurdities: buying things we don’t need to prove success, glorifying burnout as dedication, mistaking outrage for virtue. The line between belief and delusion isn’t always logic, it’s popularity.

We don’t have to look far to find new socially accepted delusions. Scroll through TikTok and you’ll see thousands of people declaring the latest miracle cure, wealth hack, or personality quiz that “changes everything.” We call it “content,” but it’s really crowdsourced conviction.

We’ve normalised the idea that a stranger’s 30-second video can diagnose our personality, heal our trauma, or sell us peace of mind in a bottle. When enough people repeat it, it stops feeling ridiculous. It becomes a trend, which is just a delusion with good PR.

Social media has turned SAD and MAD into a feedback loop: Socially Amplified Delusions and Massively Accelerated Denial. We don’t need facts, we need followers. And the algorithm happily feeds our favourite fantasies back to us. The more confident the lie, the faster it spreads.

The technology isn’t evil. The danger lies in what we stop questioning once something feels familiar, popular, or profitable.

Maybe the real test of sanity in the 21st century isn’t what we believe. It’s how often we pause to ask why.

#SociallyAcceptedDelusion #MatthewReilly #TheDetective #SocialNorms #TikTokCulture #MassDelusion #DigitalLife #CriticalThinking #ModernBeliefs #CulturalCommentary

How Australia Faced HIV With Courage and Compassion, and What We Can Learn Today

Some moments in history remind us who we can be at our best.

I’ve been reading Val McDermid’s novel  1989, and it sent me down a rabbit hole of memory and research. The book touches on the AIDS epidemic, that terrifying, uncertain time when a diagnosis felt like a death sentence, and I found myself remembering what it was like to be a pharmacist back then.

I can still see the face of the first person who came in with a script for one of the new HIV drugs. We had to order it through a special clinic, and everyone in the pharmacy treated that person with quiet respect. There was fear, yes, but there was also deep compassion. We knew we were standing in the middle of something history-making, even if we didn’t yet understand it.

Courage and compassion can change the course of a crisis.

Reading 1989 inspired me to dig deeper, and what I found filled me with pride. Australia’s response to HIV and AIDS was extraordinary. We didn’t look away. We listened to the science, worked with the people most affected, and refused to let stigma drive the response.

Australia listened, cared, and led — and the world noticed.

Under Bob Hawke’s Labor government, with Health Minister Neal Blewett at the helm, we built partnerships between government, doctors, and community groups like ACON.

When politics steps aside, progress steps forward.

We introduced needle exchange programs, ran bold public health campaigns, and made treatment and testing accessible to all. It wasn’t perfect, but it saved thousands of lives and became known worldwide as the Australian model.

Science mattered, but so did empathy.

I feel very strongly about the stigma that still surrounds gay relationships. The irony is that the same community that was hardest hit also became one of the strongest forces in fighting the epidemic, organising care, demanding research, and shaping prevention campaigns that ended up saving lives far beyond their own circle.

The people most affected became the ones who saved us all.

It struck me how different that felt to today. When COVID hit, we started strong, with the National Cabinet bringing everyone to the same table, but it didn’t take long for cooperation to crumble. The spirit that carried us through the HIV crisis, that sense of unity and shared purpose, feels much harder to find now.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see that kind of bipartisan leadership again? To see our political parties stop fighting each other long enough to work for the good of the country and its people. We’ve done it before, with courage, compassion, and respect, and 1989 reminded me we could do it again.

We’ve done it before. We can do it again

#Australia #HIVAIDS #PublicHealth #BobHawke #NealBlewett #ValMcDermid #1989 #LGBTQHistory #HealthLeadership #Compassion #BipartisanSupport #CommunityStrength #PharmacistLife

 

 

 

This Threat Can Destroy a Nation – And It Starts in Your Head

When enough people believe a dangerous idea, it can do more damage than any earthquake, flood, or fire.”Carl Jung once said:

“It is becoming more and more obvious that it is not starvation, not microbes, not cancer, but man himself who is mankind’s greatest danger, for the simple reason that there is no adequate protection against psychic epidemics, which are infinitely more devastating than the worst of natural catastrophes.”

What he meant is simple but unsettling: our biggest threat doesn’t come from outside forces like famine or disease,  it comes from inside our own minds.

What’s a “psychic epidemic”?

Jung was talking about what happens when destructive ideas or emotions spread through a community or a nation. Think of it as mass hysteria, but on a much bigger scale. People start feeding off each other’s fear, anger, or prejudice until it snowballs into something far more dangerous than any one person could cause on their own.

History is full of examples: witch hunts, Nazi Germany, the Rwandan genocide. These didn’t happen because of earthquakes or floods, they happened because people’s minds got caught up in a destructive collective belief.

Why it’s worse than a natural disaster

If we face a flood, a fire, or a disease outbreak, we can often rebuild, treat, or protect against it. A psychic epidemic is different. There’s no vaccine. Once it takes hold, it can destroy trust, compassion, and reason. And unlike a virus, it can keep spreading long after the first outbreak.

The scars it leaves, mistrust, division, hatred, can last for generations.

“The most dangerous outbreaks don’t start in nature — they start in our own minds.”

The modern outbreak

Today, the tools that connect us can also spread dangerous ideas faster than ever. Social media algorithms push us toward outrage. Misinformation circulates in hours, not months. Conspiracy theories grow into movements.

We’ve built a world where ideas, good or bad, can go viral. And once they do, they can be hard to stop.

How we protect ourselves

We can’t put up a quarantine zone around human thought. But we can:

  • Slow down before we share or react.

  • Listen to different viewpoints, especially ones we don’t already agree with.

  • Teach and practise critical thinking.

  • Value respectful debate over point-scoring.

None of this is easy. But if Jung was right, then protecting ourselves from collective madness might be the most important public health measure we have.

Because the real danger isn’t just in the storms nature throws at us, it’s in what happens when our minds become the storm.

#DangerousIdeas #CollectiveThinking #MassPsychology #CarlJung #PsychicEpidemics #MindsMatter #CriticalThinking #TruthMatters #SocialAwareness #MindsetShift

When the Trolls Take Over the Thread

“People are watching. Values are showing.”

You’ve probably seen it before.

Someone posts something heartfelt. Maybe it’s about a humanitarian crisis or a fundraising appeal. Maybe it’s just a quiet call to care – about refugees, conflict zones, environmental devastation, or yes, children starving on the other side of the world.

Then in comes the comment.
Cold. Blunt. Designed not to inform, but to provoke.

“Nobody in Australia gives two hoots about people starving on the other side of the world.”

It’s the kind of line that doesn’t just shut down empathy – it throws it under a bus, reverses back over it, and then posts a meme to celebrate the ride.

And yet, as predictable as it is, it works.
It gets reactions.
It triggers outrage.
It attracts backup.
The poster’s “tribe” shows up. So do the people who want to push back.

And within a few hours, the post isn’t about the original issue at all.
It’s about that comment.

The comment that’s no longer about the suffering. It’s about the person who made it about themselves.
And the energy that could have been used to support or inform or take action is now being used to argue with someone who never came to learn, only to dominate the thread.

Eventually, the admin steps in.

“Hi all. Comments outside the group rules and obvious trolling are now reaching overload levels. We appear to be going down a Facebook rabbit hole. As such, we are locking comments. Thank you to those that engage respectfully.”

And just like that, the whole thing shuts down.

No discussion.
No momentum.
No outcome.

This is the world of the disruptor.

They don’t always fit the stereotype. Some are aggressive and obvious. Others are more subtle, smugly asking “reasonable” questions while spreading doubt or stirring division.

And then there are the strawman specialists. The people who twist what’s been said into something it never was, then argue fiercely against that distortion. They’ll take a comment about caring for people in crisis and turn it into, “So you’re saying we should ignore our own country?”

And sometimes, the derailment is even more calculated. The conversation begins with a plea for basic human compassion, food, safety, dignity  and ends in a rabbit hole about geopolitics. Suddenly it’s all about Hamas. As if the actions of a regime justify the suffering of children. As if starvation is deserved because of who controls the border.

This isn’t nuance. It’s a tactic. A way to sidestep empathy by turning the victims into suspects. And once that happens, there’s no space left for humanity , just cold rationalisation and echo chambers clapping back in agreement.

And before you know it, the thread isn’t about the issue anymore, it’s about defending a point no one actually made. That’s the rabbit hole. And too often, we fall in.

What they have in common is intent. Their goal isn’t dialogue. It’s derailment.

And the more charged the topic, the more likely they’ll appear.

Strawman arguments don’t build dialogue – they burn it down.

We could say ignore them. But we know that’s easier said than done, especially when the issue feels personal or urgent.

We could block them. But often by then the damage is already done, the space has been flooded, and meaningful conversation has drowned under it.

Or, we could start recognising what’s happening for what it is.
Not just trolling. Not just bad behaviour.
But performance is often driven by ego, dressed up as bold truth-telling.

The people doing it rarely think they’re being watched. But they are.
Not just by their tribe – the loyal few who jump in to defend every outburst – but by everyone else who’s watching and thinking, “When you mock pain, you reveal more about your values than you realise and none of it is admirable.”

So what can we do?

We don’t need to match someone’s energy to show who we are.
We don’t need to follow them down every rabbit hole, or correct every misrepresentation.

When someone builds a strawman, twisting our words to make them easier to attack, the goal isn’t clarity. It’s control. And we don’t have to give it to them. See footnote

We just have to keep our focus.
Keep our integrity.
And keep speaking to the people who are still listening.

Because not everyone in the thread is arguing.
Some are watching.
Some are learning.
And some are waiting for a voice that sounds like reason.

Let that be you.

“Outrage is loud, but character lasts longer.”

Footnote:

How to Handle a Strawman Argument Without Losing the Thread

You don’t have to match their energy.
You don’t have to defend something you never said.

When someone responds to a post about human suffering by making it all about geopolitics or criminal groups, that’s not a real response. That’s a strawman. It’s meant to shift the focus, create doubt, and exhaust you.

Here’s how to bring the conversation back:

  • 🔁 Refocus:
    “This post is about civilian suffering. Can we stay with that?”

  • 🧭 Clarify intent:
    “That’s not what I said. I’m talking about people, not politics.”

  • 🚫 Don’t follow the bait:
    “We can debate governments another time. Right now, I’m talking about hunger. About dignity. About human lives.”

  • 🧍‍♀️ Speak for yourself:
    “You don’t have to agree with me. I won’t let compassion be dismissed as moral confusion.”

Not every comment needs a reply. But when you do respond, respond with purpose, not performance. Don’t argue for the algorithm. Speak for the people still listening, still learning, still trying to care.

That’s how we keep the thread intact.
That’s how we keep our voice.

#SocialMediaDisruptors #EgoAndOutrage #DigitalCivility #OnlineIntegrity #TribalThinking #PublicValues #WatchWhatYouAmplify #TrollingWithConsequences #RespectfulDialogue

Gareth Ward Is in Custody. Now Let’s Talk About Real Courage.

Gareth Ward has now been taken into custody awaiting sentencing. And as our community processes that reality, something else is rising to the surface –  empathy.

I’ve heard it, and maybe you have too. People expressing sadness, disbelief, or even compassion for Gareth. That’s not wrong. Empathy is a good thing. It’s part of what makes us human. But it’s also a reminder of just how brave the two young men were who came forward.

Because they would have known, from the very beginning, that this wouldn’t be easy. They would have known that people would question them. That some would defend him. That there’d be talk about his helpfulness, his advocacy, his years of public service. That others would say, “People have done worse,” or “Good people sometimes do bad things.”

They would have known that if they were part of political or professional circles, people might ask, “Well, what did they expect?” That old narrative. They should have known the culture, the risk, the way things work.

And then, of course, the most familiar kind of deflection. The kind that used to get whispered about women in short skirts. The kind that quietly implies: maybe they brought this on themselves.

We’re still hearing versions of that now.

So when I say “victims”  I put that word in brackets, because I know not everyone is ready to see them that way. But let’s be honest: if they hadn’t come forward, there would be no conviction, no sentence, no reckoning. They’ve carried the weight of disbelief, delay, and public doubt  and still stood up.

So yes, feel empathy. Feel conflict. But let’s also feel awe.

Because this was never going to be a clean or easy process. And those two young men had every reason to stay silent, and every reason to think they would not to be believed.

They spoke anyway.

And now we get to ask: what kind of community do we want to be in response?

#GarethWard #VictimBravery #EmpathyAndAccountability #CivicResponsibility #JusticeMatters #CommunityReflection #SexualAssaultAwareness #BelieveVictims #HardConversations

In Praise of Lunch


Every now and then, I need a break from writing about what’s going wrong (or going nowhere) at our local council. Today’s that day. It’s 11am, I haven’t had breakfast, and I’m already thinking about lunch, which, let’s be honest, is the one meal that rarely disappoints and never ends in a motion being deferred.

My grandmother believed lunch was the main meal of the day, and frankly, I thought it was just a post-war habit she couldn’t shake. But here I am, decades later, eating my main meal at noon and realising she was the wisest person in the house.

Turns out, lunch has a lot going for it.

The truth is, I love lunch. I especially love having lunch with friends. We always pick somewhere with good food and living in paradise, we nearly always find a spot with great views too. Add in a table full of thoughtful, funny, generous humans, and I’m reminded how lucky I am. Good friends, good food, good conversation. What more do you need?

Lunch is underrated. It doesn’t ask much. You can eat it standing up at the bench or sitting under a tree with a sausage roll and a story to tell. You don’t need matching napkins or a dinner playlist. You don’t need to be on. You just need an appetite and ideally someone who makes you laugh.

Unlike breakfast, you don’t have to fake cheerfulness. Unlike dinner, where at my age you’re not half-asleep. Lunch is simple, forgiving, and strangely optimistic. It happens while the day still has potential.

So let’s stop treating it like a time slot between meetings. Let’s stop pretending a protein bar is a meal. Let’s bring back the proper lunch, with real food and real people, and maybe even a second glass of wine ( maybe not if I want to be awake at 7pm.)

Let’s be honest. If we want meals that build connection, restore sanity, and occasionally include a pastry (or two), lunch is our best shot.

Let’s stop treating it like a speedbump.

Let’s make lunch the main event again.

Shoutout to Lauren Collins at The New Yorker for the inspiration

#LunchWithFriends #GratefulForGoodCompany #ViewsAndConversation #InPraiseOfLunch #SavourTheMiddleMeal #Over60AndThriving
#EverydayJoy #LunchBreakNotBreakneck #FriendshipAndFood
#LivingWellAtLunch

What If We’re Teaching the Wrong History?

 

When I was at school, history was dates and battles, World War I, World War II, Gallipoli, the Depression. But even back then, 55 years ago, the Middle East was in turmoil, Southeast Asia was shifting under our feet, and Indigenous voices in Australia were demanding to be heard. None of that made it into the classroom.

We were taught facts. Not how to think about them.

No one ever asked: What can we learn from history? How do we hold different perspectives? What does it mean to disagree respectfully? Or to understand where someone else is coming from, even when we don’t agree?

And it matters, because if history doesn’t teach us how to listen, how to think, how to judge wisely, then we’re not learning history. We’re learning trivia.

Chris Wallace, a historian and professor, says the same thing in a recent ABC interview. She argues that decades of neoliberalism have narrowed the purpose of education into something transactional, training people to “get a job,” not become thoughtful citizens. History and literature have been among the first subjects to be cut. They’re seen as “nice to have,” not “must have.”

But what do we lose when we strip those subjects away?

We lose critical thinking. We lose wisdom. We lose the kind of broad understanding that helps societies steer through complexity without being manipulated by loud voices or narrow interests. As Wallace puts it, we end up with people in elite positions “who are highly trained—but not deeply educated.”

She’s not just talking about university. She’s talking about a mindset. And it’s showing up in the way we do democracy, especially at the local level.

We talk a lot about “community consultation” in local government. But let’s be honest, most of the time, it’s just a box-ticking exercise. Surveys, feedback forms, public meetings that go nowhere. We capture mass opinion, but we don’t help people work through the hard stuff: trade-offs, values, vision.

Jay Weatherill, the former SA Premier, says public opinion sits on a continuum—from magical thinking (“lower taxes and better services for all!”) to mature public judgement. And it’s the job of leadership to help us move along that line. Not by preaching. Not by pretending to have all the answers. But by creating space for proper dialogue.

That’s what good history teaches us too. That life is complex. That truth depends on where you’re standing. That understanding how we got here helps us work out where we go next.

It’s no wonder students are disengaging. As Wallace says, if you remove meaningful options, if there’s no space to explore Australia’s political history, social history, Indigenous history, then we’re not just dumbing down education. We’re forgetting our own story.

And when we forget our own story, we’re easy to manipulate. We stop asking questions. We confuse certainty with truth.

So here’s my hope.

That we teach history not just as a set of facts, but as a way of thinking.

That we expect more from civic engagement than noisy town halls.

That we stop asking people what they want and start asking why they want it, and what it will take.

That we invest not just in infrastructure, but in informed decision making, in the skills and tools communities need to think together.

Because democracy isn’t just about who wins the vote. It’s about whether we can still talk to each other after.

Additional reading option

Top Australian writers urge Albanese to abolish Job-Ready Graduates, calling their humanities degrees life changing

Humanities faculties are being restructured not because they cost too much to run, but because they are perceived to return too little. Yet the skills they foster – interpretive reasoning, ethical judgement, historical understanding – remain essential to democratic life.

This post is dedicated to a very wise man,  Peter Bailey Brown , who I wish I met earlier

Peter Brown is a man whose legacy continues to unfold in paddocks, policies, and in the lives of the people he’s helped along the way. From the paddocks of Cudal to the boardrooms of international development…

Peter has never lost sight of what matters: listening, learning, and finding practical, human ways forward.

#HistoryMatters #CriticalThinking #PublicJudgement #DeliberativeDemocracy #CivicLeadership #Neoliberalism #EducationReform #DemocracyInPractice #CommunityVoice #LearningFromHistory #TeachTheWholeStory

Are we being gaslit by our own Council?

Moving On Without Looking Back Isn’t Leadership. It’s Evasion.

There’s a growing call within Kiama Council to “move forward” on developer contributions, to focus on new frameworks, technical capabilities, and future improvements. That instinct is understandable. For newly elected councillors, the pressure to defend decisions they didn’t make must be exhausting. No one expects them to carry that weight alone.

But the issue here isn’t the future. It’s the refusal to face the past.

The latest Council report into Section 7.11 and 7.12 developer contributions presents itself as a review. It’s not. It’s an administrative summary, a carefully curated narrative that avoids the most troubling questions.

  • It does not explain why Council allowed legally required contribution plans to lapse without replacement.
  • It does not acknowledge the nearly $1 million in lost infrastructure funding from developments like Golden Valley. See previous blog post: How Kiama lost $970,000 in developer contributions and no one explained why
  • It does not explain why staff continued applying 7.11 levies after the plans had expired, resulting in $1.5 million in overcharges.
  • And it certainly does not address why this information was omitted from the CEO’s public statements earlier this year.

Instead, we are told that everything is under control. That staff have the skills to prepare new plans. That forward planning is happening “across all departments.”

But if no one inside Council can admit what went wrong, how can we trust that the same systems and staff will get it right this time?

While the report confirms the repeal of the 7.11 plans and notes that overcharges have been refunded, it still fails to address the most critical issues:

  • Why the required five-year review process was ignored

  • Why Council allowed the plans to lapse without any replacement

  • Why the Golden Valley development, with its $1 million 7.11 condition, is excluded entirely from the analysis

  • Why the CEO’s earlier response omitted this development

  • What steps are being taken to prevent this kind of governance failure from happening again

  • Why the review ignored key issues raised by councillors and the community, including those I raised in good faith

  • It also fails to acknowledge the damage caused when a CEO publicly undermines the credibility of an elected councillor, then commissions a review that examines only what suits the executive agenda. This was not a full or independent review. It was a tightly controlled exercise in reputation management, not truth-telling.

The people responsible for these failures should not be allowed to rewrite history with a few carefully worded lines in a report.

If Council is serious about moving forward with the community, it must first confront what went wrong, tell the truth, and start rebuilding trust from there.

BTW If you’ve ever read a council report and found yourself more confused than when you started, don’t worry, it’s not you. It’s working as intended.

#KiamaCouncil #AccountabilityMatters #DeveloperContributions #GoldenValley #PlanningFail #Governance #LocalGovernment #TransparencyNow #CommunityDeservesBetter #InfrastructureFunding