Category: Social Justice and Change

What I Thought I Was Doing And What I’ve Learnt Instead

When I first began writing opinion pieces for the local paper, I thought I was there to change minds.

I believed that if I presented a strong enough argument, grounded in evidence and guided by conviction, I could shift people’s thinking. I thought that was my role: to persuade.

But over time, I’ve come to understand something more important. My job wasn’t to convince, it was to inform. It was to bring forward the issues that matter, so others could think for themselves. To create space for people to feel informed and empowered enough to participate. That, I’ve realised, is the quiet work of democracy.

I’ve also learnt that true influence rarely comes from telling others what to think. It comes from listening well, sharing openly, and making room for perspectives beyond your own. It’s about moving from an “I” focus to a “we” focus, not because we all agree, but because we believe in one another’s right to engage with the hard stuff.

This shift in understanding mirrors what I’ve seen in the movement for citizen juries and deliberative democracy. These processes don’t hand over power to the loudest voice, they invite ordinary people to consider complex issues deeply and together. And time and again, the results are thoughtful, measured, and grounded in lived experience. Participants surprise us, not because they suddenly become experts, but because they approach problems with humility, empathy, and care.

Still, the sector faces a challenge. It needs more than stories, it needs impact data. Decision-makers, especially in government, often remain resistant even in the face of compelling examples: on homelessness, electricity pricing, insurance reform, climate action.

There’s a frustrating gap between what works and what’s politically safe.

Part of the problem is fear. If politicians adopt citizen jury recommendations without scrutiny, they risk backlash. If they reject them, it breeds public cynicism. “Fake consultation drives people mad,” as former Premier Jay Weatherill warned.

It takes courage to own big problems, to share decision-making, and to act on what the public decides.

We also face a legitimacy paradox. Should citizen assemblies be embedded in our systems before they’re widely accepted? Or should they prove their value first in ad hoc ways?

The answer, I believe, lies in outcomes. Don’t make the process the debate, make the results visible. Show what people are capable of when they’re trusted to think together.

I’ve learnt that writing, like deliberation, isn’t about control. It’s about contribution.

It’s not about shaping the outcome, but about helping shape the conditions in which thoughtful decisions can emerge. It’s about lifting the level of conversation.

And that, to me, is the heart of it. Whether in journalism or policy, change happens when people stop trying to win and start trying to understand.

When we stop shouting from the margins and start gathering in the middle.

When we replace certainty with curiosity, and “I” with “we”.

#DeliberativeDemocracy #CitizenVoice #LeadershipWithCourage #ListenFirst #TrustThePublic

How to Master the Fine Art of Bureaucratic Spin (No Soul Required)

Satirical representation. No actual clowns were employed in the making of this council.

Looking to pivot away from meaningful communication and into a career where vague language, circular logic and passive voice reign supreme? You might just have what it takes to become a spin doctor in local government.

At Kiama Council, we’ve seen the craft honed to such dizzying heights, it really ought to be a university major. So, for those inspired by recent exhibitions of bureaucratic ballet, here’s a breakdown of the essential skill set, and the degree you’d need, to enter this murky but marvellously well-defended world.

📚 Degree: Bachelor of Arts (in Obfuscation and Delay)

Double major in Strategic Ambiguity and Circular Consultation

Core Subjects Might Include:

  • Intro to Passive Voice
    “Mistakes were made.”
    Learn how to strip agency from every sentence so no one ever knows who did what, or why.

  • Advanced Euphemism
    Translate “we stuffed it” into “unexpected budgetary variance within a dynamic delivery environment.”

  • Spin Cycle 101
    Turn every negative into an ‘opportunity for growth’, preferably in 600 words or more.

  • Community Engagement (Optional Elective)
    Because listening is optional. But looking like you’re listening? That’s gold.

  • Excel Acrobatics
    Essential for hiding real meaning inside colourful bar graphs with zero context.

  • Public Speaking for Politicians and Possums
    How to appear calm, cute, and a little bit confused, while firmly refusing to answer the question.

🛠 Real-World Skills Required

  • Deadline Evasion:
    An internal clock that knows how to stall until after the next election cycle.

  • Email Mastery:
    Say everything while saying nothing. Bonus points for including the words “noted,” “strategic,” and “ongoing.”

  • The Long Pause:
    Perfected by council spokespersons everywhere. Gives the illusion of deep thought while waiting for legal to respond.

  • Meeting Bingo:
    Learn how to use terms like “framework,” “lens,” “alignment” and “stakeholder pathways” in a sentence without blinking.

At Kiama Council, we don’t just admire this art form, we live it. From “monitoring future needs” to “aligning with state frameworks,” every missed opportunity is neatly packaged and returned to sender with a bow and a hyperlink to a 72-page PDF no one asked for.

So 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 #BureaucraticSpin #LocalGovLife #PassiveVoiceMasters #StrategicAmbiguity #StakeholderBingo #YouveBeenFrameworked

The Suggestion Box at Kiama Council Looks a Lot Like a Shredder

There’s a photo doing the rounds, a paper shredder with a sign that reads “Suggestion Box.” It would be funny if it didn’t feel so familiar.

Because when it comes to Kiama Council’s Housing Strategy, that’s exactly how community consultation feels to many people, invited to speak, only to watch their input disappear.

Since the release of version three of the Housing Strategy, a wave of feedback  has landed on councillors’ desks. Policy experts, community advocates, planners, and long-time residents have stepped forward. Some are offering bold ideas, like a Kiama Housing Innovation Team to tap into local knowledge and test new models. Others are raising concerns, that the document still ignores public feedback, lacks affordable housing solutions, and reads more like it was designed to tick state boxes than reflect this community.

But here’s the bigger question,

❓What stops a Council from welcoming innovation?
❓From inviting in the people already doing the work?
❓From trusting the community it serves?

It’s not a lack of expertise, we have that in spades.
It’s not a hostile public, we’re showing up, offering ideas, asking to be involved.
And it’s not the community’s fault that Kiama is only now getting a housing strategy. That should’ve happened 15 years ago.

So, what is it?

In many organisations, fear plays a quiet role. Fear of losing control. Fear of getting it wrong. Fear of opening the door to something that can’t be neatly managed. But the truth is, there is more to gain than there is to fear.
Innovation doesn’t weaken an organisation, it strengthens it.
Collaboration doesn’t dilute leadership, it deepens it.

Kiama is one of the most informed, engaged LGAs in the state. The expertise is here. The ideas are here. The willingness is here.

What’s missing is the invitation.

The solutions aren’t waiting in a future consultant’s report. They’re already here, in our community, in our builders, renters, designers, youth workers, social entrepreneurs, and retirees. They just need to be brought to the table.

This isn’t a call-out, it’s a call in.

Let’s stop shredding the feedback and start building the trust.

#KiamaCouncil #KiamaHousing #HousingStrategy #CommunityVoices
#PlanningReform #LocalLeadership #HousingJustice #CollaborativePlanning
#ListenActBuild #InnovationNotTickBoxes #UrbanDemocracy #InclusiveGrowth

Housing Strategies and Hollow Promises and Why Listening Isn’t Enough

It’s time to stop drafting strategies that sit on shelves. Let’s start building the courage to act.

If you’ve ever read a local government housing strategy, chances are it felt familiar, even if you were reading it for the first time. They tend to follow a pattern:
✔️ They acknowledge the issues.
✔️ They summarise the feedback.
✔️ They speak the language of care, equity, and inclusion.
But scratch the surface, and you’re often left asking: Where’s the action?

The latest Kiama Municipal Council Draft Housing Strategy in our region is no exception. To its credit, it captures what matters to people: housing that’s affordable, developments that respect the character of our towns, and planning that keeps pace with infrastructure. It admits where voices were missing, renters, younger people, Aboriginal residents, and it publishes community feedback clearly and transparently. That’s important.

But recognition is not reform. We don’t need another document that nods along with community concerns, only to drift into safe territory, generalities, delays, and vague promises of “sensitive growth” and “further consideration.” We need something braver.

Our housing problems aren’t unique, with communities across the country  grappling with rising prices, stagnant wages, rental insecurity, and generational lockout.

And in many places, solutions are already being tried. Community land trusts. Build-to-rent models. Tiny home villages. Prefabricated homes built by social enterprise. Councils developing and retaining their own affordable housing stock. There are people doing incredible work, often outside the traditional planning system, because they’ve had no choice but to act.

So why isn’t that reflected in our local strategy?

There’s no commitment to identifying what’s working elsewhere. No plan to pilot innovation. No acknowledgement of the community-led efforts already happening here. And no tools, no inclusionary zoning, no local affordability targets, no plan for securing housing for workers or renters or older people wanting to downsize and stay close to family.

Instead, we get the usual safety net of “alignment with state frameworks” and “monitoring future needs.” It’s the language of delay.

Listening should be the starting point  – not the end.

This is about ambition – not just process.

A genuinely community-driven strategy would do more than summarise feedback. It would:

  • Name and support local innovators already making change.

  • Seek out bold ideas from elsewhere and ask: could this work here?

  • Test small-scale pilots and learn from them.

  • Move beyond consultation and into co-creation, especially with those most affected by housing stress.

Transparent processes and pretty reports are not enough. People need homes,  and they need leaders ready to do more than listen.

It’s time to stop drafting strategies that sit on shelves. Let’s start building the courage to act.

#HousingStrategy #AffordableHousing #CommunityLedPlanning #InclusiveGrowth #LocalVoices #BuildBetter #PlanningForPeople #HousingJustice #PolicyToAction

What If We Spent Our Coffee Money on the Country We Want?

Most of us don’t think twice about spending $7 on a coffee, or $14 if it’s two a week. It’s a small indulgence in a busy life. But what if we all chipped in that same amount and chose to spend it differently?

What if that coffee money could fund the kind of country we actually want to live in?

Turns out, it could go a long way.

💡 Just $7 a year could change lives

A recent study found that if the federal government boosted mental health spending by just $7.30 per adult per year, around $153 million in total,we could prevent:
– 313 suicides
– 1,954 hospitalisations for self-harm
– Over 28,000 emergency department visits for mental health reasons

That’s the impact of one coffee.

But what if we gave up one coffee a week, or two, and asked the same question across different areas of need?

☕ A coffee or a future? Here’s what that money could do

If every adult in Australia redirected $7 -$14 a week to shared priorities, it could add up to $1.5–$3 billion annually. Here’s where that could take us:

🏘️ Affordable Housing

  • Fund tens of thousands of new social or affordable homes
  • Support rent relief for low-income families
  • Keep people safe, secure, and off the streets

📚 Public Education

  • Hire more school counsellors and learning support staff
  • Lower class sizes for better learning
  • Fund early childhood education in underserved communities

🚑 Rural Health Care

  •  Boost GP, nurse and allied health access in rural areas
  • Fund mobile clinics and regional telehealth services
  • Improve outcomes where help is often hardest to reach

🌿 Climate & Environment

  • Support renewable energy projects in the regions
  • Plant millions of trees and regenerate degraded land
  • Fund water security and sustainable agriculture

👵 Aged Care

  • Increase staffing and pay in aged care homes
  • Improve home care options so older people can age in place
  • Make dignity a baseline, not a luxury

💬 What if we had a say?

Now imagine if we didn’t just guess where to spend it, we got to choose.

Picture a national system of participatory budgeting, where each adult gets a voice in how their share of “coffee money” is spent. The government sets out the priorities, and we vote.

It’s already happening in some communities around the world. Why not here?

We’re used to thinking of change as something big and distant. But sometimes, it starts with a small sacrifice,shared widely.

What could we build if we all gave up just a little?

I’m not a researcher, and these figures are estimates based on publicly available data. But the idea is simple: small individual choices, pooled together, can make a big collective impact.

Shout out to The Conversation for the original research and article that sparked this reflection. Their work continues to inform smart, hopeful conversations across the country.

#CoffeeMoney #SmallChangeBigImpact #MentalHealthMatters #ParticipatoryBudgeting #BetterSpending #InvestInCommunity #AffordableHousing #PublicEducation #ClimateAction #AgedCareReform #HealthEquity #AustraliaBudget #EveryDollarCounts #HopefulFuture #RedirectTheSpend

Why Can’t Governments Let Go? When the Community Moves On But Power Clings to Conflict

Lately, I’ve found myself on a learning journey. Watching what’s happening in the world, and even in my own backyard, I keep coming back to the same question: How do our governments keep getting us into these messes? Conflicts that last for decades, policies that make enemies out of neighbours, and a constant sense that ordinary people are dragged into fights they didn’t start and don’t want.

So I started digging, and here’s what I’ve found. While everyday people often find ways to move on and connect, their governments often don’t. And that disconnect is costing us all.

The broader community don’t hold onto old grudges. They care about safety, family, work and being able to live in peace. They’re not the ones calling for wars or enforcing sanctions. In fact, across the globe, people are reaching across national and ideological lines to find common ground.

A young Iranian might admire Israeli medical tech. A Cuban musician collaborates with an American on YouTube. Indians and Pakistanis laugh together on social media. North and South Koreans cry when they’re briefly allowed to see long-lost relatives. These aren’t enemies. They’re people who recognise shared humanity.

Governments operate differently. Conflict can serve political goals. It creates a clear enemy. It unites people through fear. And it often justifies repression, spending or staying in power.

Sometimes it’s about ideology. For example, Iran’s government positions itself as morally opposed to Israel. China defines itself partly through its claim over Taiwan. And even in democracies, strong anti-enemy rhetoric can win votes.

Letting go of an old rivalry means rethinking identity, power and control. That’s not something governments do easily.

While politicians trade threats and play long games, it’s everyday people who suffer.

Civilians are the ones displaced, bombed, or cut off by sanctions. Families are split by borders. Passports become tools of isolation. Trade stops. Opportunities dry up. The people who want peace often have the least power to make it happen.

Despite all this, i think change is possible. In many cases, people-to-people diplomacy and cultural connection can begin to soften political hard lines. Civil society organisations, global communities, and public sentiment can create pressure for peace.

It may be slow, but history shows that citizen voices can grow too loud for governments to ignore.

“Governments start conflicts in suits and end them in silence. But it’s everyday people who pay the cost — and often hold the key to peace.”

Interesting read in the conversation

Do all Iranians hate the regime? Hate America? Life inside the country is more complex than that

#CitizensForPeace, #PeopleNotPolitics, #VoicesOfChange, #EverydayDiplomacy, #PeaceStartsWithUs, #EndTheCycle, #GlobalSolidarity, #CommonGround, #PowerOfThePeople, #HumanFirst, #ReclaimPeace, #ThinkBeyondBorders, #HopeInTheOrdinary

Empathy is not a declaration of loyalty, it’s a declaration of humanity ❤️‍🩹

This image speaks to me. It captures a truth too often lost in polarised times: empathy is not a declaration of loyalty, it’s a declaration of humanity ❤️‍🩹

When you grieve for a Palestinian child or worry for an Israeli hostage, it does not mean you’ve chosen a side. It means you have chosen to care 🕊️

The world will try to force you into a corner, to brand your compassion as bias and your sorrow as political. But refusing to dehumanise others is not weakness. It is the only strength that moves us forward 💪

You are allowed to feel — to mourn, to question, to hope — without needing anyone’s permission, and without needing to apologise for the complexity of being human 🤍

Holding space for suffering on all sides is not fence-sitting. It’s refusing to be blind 👁️

#EmpathyIsNotAllegiance #HumanityFirst #CompassionMatters #HoldComplexity #RefuseToBeBlind #PeaceWithJustice #ConscienceAndCare #SpeakWithHeart #ChooseToCare

Three men, three egos, and a time bomb. Trying to stay human in a world on fire

Trying to stay human in a world on fire

I’ve been writing this blog for close to 15 years. Often, it has been my way of making sense of things – the news, the noise, the strange mess of modern life. It started as a habit, really. A way to capture the thoughts that came tumbling in after reading the morning papers.

Every day, the first thing I do is pour a coffee from my beloved espresso machine and open the Sydney Morning Herald. But lately, I find myself hesitating. I glance at the headlines – war, retaliation, destruction – and feel the heaviness settle in before I’ve even taken a sip. For the past few weeks, so much of the news has been about Israel, Gaza, Iran, and now the involvement of the United States.

The problem isn’t that I don’t want to know. I do. I just want to understand, not simply react. And that’s harder to come by than it should be.

Too often, the reporting feels breathless. Headlines provoke instead of explain. And somewhere along the way, the context gets lost. We’re left with snapshots of horror and very little help in putting the pieces together. Rarely do we get articles that step back from the emotion, offer both sides, and help us see the broader picture.

That’s why this morning I turned to The Conversation, and I’m so glad I did.
One article in particular helped me take a breath and make sense of it all. It didn’t try to spin a side. It didn’t try to make me feel something. It simply laid out what’s happened – and what might happen next.

The article explores three possible paths forward now that the US has bombed Iranian nuclear sites:

1. Iran strikes back
Iran may retaliate in a limited way but is unlikely to escalate. Its missile stockpiles are dwindling, and the regime’s top priority is survival.

2. Iran backs down
There may be a path to negotiation, but only if Israel stops its attacks. Netanyahu, however, has made it clear he does not want to stop. Any ceasefire would be a major climbdown for Iran’s leadership, and they are not known for backing down easily.

3. The US engagement is limited
Most Americans do not support this war. Trump may not want a long-term military campaign. But once the bombs drop, it is hard to define that as limited.

Reading that article didn’t make me feel better. But it helped me feel steadier. It helped me remember that it is still possible to seek understanding.

So I kept reading. And what stood out most to me this morning was not the missiles or the maps, but the people behind them. The leaders. The ones making these decisions.

Donald Trump, back in charge, is doing what he always does – acting for effect, claiming victory before anyone knows what the consequences will be.

Benjamin Netanyahu, Prime Minister of Israel, is continuing a long campaign not just against Hamas or Hezbollah, but against the very existence of Iran’s nuclear program – and maybe its regime.

And in Iran, Supreme Leader Ayatollah Khamenei holds all the power. Even with a new president, nothing moves without his approval. He has spent decades holding that grip and won’t let go easily.

Each man is rigid. Each man is proud. And none are showing signs of compromise.
It is not a triangle of diplomacy. It is a triangle of ego.

So where does that leave the rest of us?

Thousands of kilometres away.
Nowhere near the missiles, but still carrying the weight of it.

Because in this era of 24-hour news, you don’t need to live in a conflict zone to feel the tension in your chest. It arrives with the headlines. It sits with you at breakfast. It hums underneath your day.

Is it any wonder our birth rate is falling?
Who could blame someone for looking at the world and wondering if it is safe to bring a child into it?

It is easy to feel small in the face of all this. To feel like nothing we do matters. But that’s not true.

All we can do – and it is enough – is focus on what is in our control.

How we treat each other.
What we choose to read and share.
Where we put our energy.
What kind of community we help build.

A while ago, I wrote another blog post about this very idea. About how sometimes the most powerful thing we can do in the face of chaos is return to ourselves. To our values. To our centre.

Because that’s where resilience lives.
And that’s where hope begins again.

#MiddleEastConflict #TrumpNetanyahuKhamenei #NewsFatigue #HopeAndResilience #TheConversation #BlogReflection #GlobalLeadershipCrisis #WhatWeCanControl

Smooth trip, pet Ubers and an iPad joyride

This is a post for all the beautiful Kiama people who’ve been reaching out with care and concern. I’ve heard you, and I’ve been focusing on getting my life back on track.

For those new here, it’s been a tough month. I’ve been calling out the toxic culture in our local council, and what I’ve learned is confronting. Some of our councillors have become so used to operating in the drama triangle that it’s become their norm. But here’s the truth, the only people who can get themselves out of that mess are them.

Last week, I drove to Sydney. This week, I decided to take the train. It was all going to be very civilised. A bit of theatre, catch up with friends, take in MJ the Musical, and head home refreshed.

And mostly, it was.

Let’s start with MJ the Musical. If you ever sang into a hairbrush, attempted the moonwalk on a slippery kitchen floor, or belted out Billie Jean with way too much drama, this show is for you. The dancing was outrageous. The staging was slick. The lead performer channelled Michael Jackson so well I kept forgetting I wasn’t watching the real thing. It’s not a deep dive into controversy. It’s about the craft, the music, the magic. I loved it.

Next day, I jumped in an Uber. Or more accurately, someone ordered an Uber for me. I got in, greeted the driver, and immediately noticed he looked distressed. His English was limited, but it became clear he was expecting a pet. Yes, it was a Pet Uber. Apparently, that’s a thing. And apparently, I am not one.

No dog. No cat. No ferret. Just me.

The poor man was very worried. I briefly considered pretending to be transporting an invisible cavoodle named Kevin but decided against it. He drove me anyway, bless him.

It was only after I arrived that I realised I’d left my iPad in the Uber. And if you know me, you know how much I rely on that iPad. It’s where I read. It’s where I write. It’s practically my second brain.

Cue the great iPad recovery mission.

The young person who booked the ride jumped into action. I jumped into Find My iPad. We both started trying to reach the driver. And then we made the discovery. I was watching my iPad on the move across Sydney. Marrickville. Glebe. Newtown. At one point it did a loop of the M5.

For four days, my iPad Ubered around Sydney. It had a more active social life than I did. My iPad had been everywhere man. I’m not saying it has PTSD, but I do wonder how many dogs licked it before it made its way home.

Eventually, thanks to persistence, goodwill and a few lucky breaks, I got it back. The driver was thanked and rewarded. The young person who coordinated the whole thing was thanked. I went back to Sydney to collect it and made a day of it.

This time, I saw The Spare Room, Helen Garner’s story brought to the stage. And what a joy. It’s sharp and funny and deeply moving. A play about illness and friendship that never preaches or pities. It just notices. It holds space. It lets the audience feel what they feel. I adored it.

As an aside Yes it is clear I love that pink cardigan – Theodore and Scanlan. It cost me an arm and two legs and yes Eevi it is worth every cent. ( Do you have one of those friends you go shopping with and they coming running up to you and say Lynne you must see this – its sooo you. You try it on – they say Lynne – its sooo you – you must buy it and of course you do) 

And then something even more astonishing happened. I had Yum Cha for the first time. Yes, I’m nearly 70. No, I don’t know what took me so long. Dumplings. Pork buns. Endless pots of tea. A trolley full of happiness. Why didn’t someone sit me down and make me do this 30 years ago?

The new-look Central Station is seriously something to be proud of. For once, you don’t feel like you’re arriving through Sydney, you feel like you’re arriving in Sydney. The whole place has had a glow up, and it shows. There’s light, space, smart design, and a real sense of arrival. The Grand Concourse feels exactly that, grand, and the way the old sandstone arches now sit alongside sleek glass and smooth escalators is nothing short of gorgeous. It’s functional, it’s stylish, and it finally feels like the gateway to a world-class city. Honestly, it’s the kind of station you can be proud of, the kind you want to show off, the kind that lets us stand tall next to New York’s Grand Central.

The trains though? Bless them. They still look like they were commissioned during the cassette tape era and haven’t had a proper bath since. Grubby, worn out, and clinging to their past lives with stained seats and faded signs. They roll into this architectural wonder like a teenager showing up to a wedding in a hoodie. But you know what? You step off that train, walk into Central’s new glory, and all is forgiven. Almost.

The train home ran on time. I had a window seat, a warm conversation, and a nap without snoring or dribbling. And now I’m home, reunited with my iPad, and back to reading with a grateful heart and a full belly.

Sydney, you’ve outdone yourself.

#SydneyAdventure, #PetUber, #MJtheMusical, #TheSpareRoomPlay, #YumChaFirstTimer, #LostAndFound, #TrainTripTales, #iPadRecovery, #TheatreLover, #Kiama, #TheBugle, #TheBugleNewspaper, #TheBugleApp