Category: The Art and Agriculture Years

Archive of Action4Agricuture introduced young people to agriculture through art (

We don’t need a hero. We need collaborative leadership.

Most of my recent writing has focused on the Kiama Council Section 7.11 development contributions issue “How Kiama lost $970,000 in developer contributions and no one explained why”

Today I’m stepping slightly to the side, not away, to show how that issue fits into a broader pattern. Because what’s happening with Section 7.11 is not an isolated event. It is a symptom of a deeper cultural problem in how Kiama Council handles complexity, conflict and community trust.

These moments of tension, whether it is development contributions or surf club leases, often follow the same script. And the script is familiar to anyone who has studied leadership dynamics or conflict psychology.

The Gerringong Surf Life Saving Club issue in the Kiama local government area has become a textbook example of the Karpman Drama Triangle. A well-intentioned community concern has been turned into a stage production. The roles are locked in. The hero has claimed their spotlight. The victim is entrenched. And the villains? They shift by the day.

The moment someone questions the process or raises a legitimate concern, they are quickly cast in that villain role. Not because they are wrong, but because they interrupt the script. We have seen this dynamic before. And we will keep seeing it if we do not name it for what it is.

This is not about surf clubs. This is about how we lead.

At the last Kiama Council meeting, Councillor Imogen Draisma supported Motion 20.1 relating to the Gerringong Surf Life Saving Club. It was an emotionally charged moment, and like many, she likely acted with good intent.

But the motion itself was deeply complex. It involved land classification, leasing laws, native title implications and long-term planning risks, issues that most people in the Kiama local government area have not been given the time or information to fully understand.

Now, that decision has resulted in her integrity being questioned in state parliament.

This is exactly what happens when we let the Drama Triangle run the show. Someone is cast as the hero. Someone becomes the victim. And someone else gets labelled the villain, often unfairly.

It stops being about good governance. It becomes performance.

And good people become collateral damage.

More and more, the front and centre issues in the Kiama local government area are being played out through this lens, public theatre that pulls us into binary roles and distracts us from the real work of governance. The Section 7.11 development contributions issue is another clear example. Rather than work through complexity, we are fed simplified narratives that cast people as saviours or saboteurs.

It is too easy to get caught in it. The Drama Triangle has a gravity of its own. One person steps in to save the day. Another is painted as the problem. The community becomes the audience, applauding the performance but not always understanding what is at stake backstage.

But it does not have to be this way.

What if we stepped outside the triangle?
What if we paused before playing out the roles handed to us?
What if we chose something different?

In the Kiama local government area, we have the opportunity to lead in a more collaborative way. To slow down. To listen. To ask better questions. And to remind ourselves that not every story needs a hero, a victim and a villain.

Sometimes it just needs a group of people willing to work together, with honesty and respect, to get to the heart of the matter.

Let’s try more of that.

#Kiama #KiamaCouncil #LocalGovernment #LeadershipMatters #CollaborativeLeadership #CommunityTrust #DramaTriangle #PublicEngagement #Section711 #GerringongSLSC

The Power of Storytelling and Digital Legacy

Documenting history matters, not just to remember names but to honour lives fully lived and the impact they had on the world.

Have you ever stopped to think about whose story in your life deserves to be told?

Have you considered documenting your family history?

When we want to learn about something, we turn to Google, but what about the stories that are not there?

The ones that exist only in memories, passed down through conversation but never written down?

My friend Gaye Steel, former marketing manager of McDonald’s and Telstra, once said,

“If you can’t be found on Google, you don’t exist.”

Of course, we know that is not true.

Our lives, relationships, and impact are not measured by search results. But in today’s world, if a story is not documented, it can be easily forgotten. That is why storytelling matters. It ensures the people and moments that shape us are remembered.

Many people throughout history are invisible in the digital space, and I have made it my mission to change that. The National Library has archived my blogs as part of Australia’s digital history, recognising the importance of recording our experiences. But you do not need to be a writer or historian to ensure that the stories of your loved ones are preserved.

One simple step is to label your treasured photos. Add names, dates, and locations to the back of old family pictures. Tell the stories behind sentimental objects in your home. Even a short note explaining why something matters to you can turn an ordinary object into a meaningful piece of family history.

My own family’s history is deeply tied to the Illawarra. My maternal ancestors arrived in Kiama in 1831, and my paternal family settled in Dapto in 1841. The men in my family were well documented, but the women’s stories were largely missing.

My great-grandmother’s obituary, which only refers to her as “Mrs John Lindsay,” speaks volumes about the era in which she lived. It highlights how women were often defined by their husbands with their own identities overshadowed. Despite being described as an “ideal wife and mother,” her individuality, accomplishments, and personal story were left untold. It raises the question of how many other women’s legacies have been reduced to a mere mention in relation to their husbands.

When my parents passed away, I realised there was no public record of them, no trace of their lives online. Growing up, we did not even have family photos displayed in our home. I only discovered a picture of my mother through a Jamberoo Family History Facebook post.

That moment changed everything for me. My cousin, Mark Emery, has been documenting our family history for The Bugle, and through his research, I found my parents’ wedding photo and a beautiful image of my mother at 15. By writing about my parents, I have not only preserved their names but kept their stories alive, ensuring future generations can find them, remember them, and understand their lives.

My own journey has been shaped by storytelling. After leaving home and marrying young, I unexpectedly became a farmer’s wife. Later, I managed a pharmacy, but a series of armed robberies deeply affected me – an event that forced me to re-evaluate my path.

Stepping away from pharmacy, I found purpose in community engagement. I helped establish the Kiama Wine Show, promoted dairy through school programs like Picasso Cows, and was ultimately named Kiama’s first Electorate Woman of the Year. These experiences reinforced something crucial.

For years, agriculture faced negative press, and a friend in marketing gave me invaluable advice. “If you don’t tell your story, others will tell it for you.”

Recognising the need to change this, I  was established a charity to support young agricultural advocates in developing their storytelling skills. Over two decades, the charity worked with top journalists to train young people in crafting compelling narratives, ensuring that their voices were heard and their contributions to agriculture were recognised.

If we do not tell our own stories, others will tell them for us, or worse, they will not be told at all.

More recently, I made the difficult decision to close the charity I had been running. The challenges of working with schools post-COVID, combined with my growing passion for local storytelling, led me to refocus my energy on my own community.

The Bugle covered some of my community talks, and before long, they invited me to write for them. What started as pro bono work turned into a contract role covering council and feature stories.

The most rewarding part of this work is meeting and interviewing fascinating people, uncovering stories that would otherwise go untold.

Throughout my career, I have learned that awards and recognition are not about personal validation. They are about elevating a cause. Every time I won an award, I nominated someone else the following year, and I encouraged them to do the same. I am particularly passionate about the Hidden Treasures Honour Roll for regional women. Last year, I nominated three local women. They were honoured to be included, and now they are eager to nominate others in turn.

We all have stories worth telling, whether they are our own or those of people we admire. So, I leave you with a few questions.

  • Who in your life has a story that should be shared?
  • Have you considered documenting your family’s history?
  • Would you like to learn how to record these stories?

Let’s make sure the voices of those we love are not lost to time. Whether it is writing a blog, labelling old photos, or simply sharing memories with the next generation, every story we tell adds to the rich tapestry of history.

#Storytelling #DigitalLegacy #FamilyHistory #PreservingMemories #LocalHistory #Kiama #TheBugle #CommunityStories #DocumentYourStory #HistoricalRecords

How we Move Beyond “Woke” and Reclaim Meaningful Conversations

The Power of Labels

Labelling an idea as “woke” can abruptly end conversations. It simplifies complex issues into dismissive categories like irrelevant or extreme. This shortcut undermines meaningful discussion and blocks understanding, creating barriers instead of building bridges.

Why Does This Happen?

  • Cognitive Dissonance: When ideas challenge deeply held beliefs, discomfort often arises. Labelling these ideas as “woke” offers an easy escape from confronting that discomfort, bypassing critical thought.
  • Fear of Change: Change, especially when tied to identity or values, can feel threatening. Dismissing ideas as “woke” can act as a protective reaction, shielding individuals from engaging with perceived challenges to their worldviews.
  • Simplification of Complex Issues: Many ideas dismissed as “woke” address nuanced topics like inequality or privilege. Reducing them to a buzzword eliminates the need to engage with their intricacies, avoiding the hard work of understanding.

How Can We Respond?

  • Stay Curious: Curiosity invites dialogue and defuses tension. Ask questions like:
    • “What specifically about this idea do you find problematic?”
    • “How would you approach this issue differently?”
    • This shifts the focus from the label to the substance of the discussion.
  • Refocus the Conversation: Bring attention back to the core topic rather than the label:
    • “Let’s explore the actual idea instead of getting caught up in terminology.”
  • Find Common Ground: Shared values often exist, even in polarized conversations:
    • “We both seem to value fairness—let’s discuss how we might approach this issue differently.”
  • Model Openness: Set an example by demonstrating a willingness to listen and engage thoughtfully:
    • “I can see why this might be difficult to accept—it took me time to understand as well.”

What’s at Stake?

Over-reliance on dismissive labels like “woke” limits dialogue, perpetuates division, and blocks progress. By avoiding deep engagement, we miss opportunities to:

  • Understand differing perspectives.
  • Foster connections across divides.
  • Develop solutions that consider a broader range of experiences.

A Final Thought

Effective conversations aren’t about winning—they’re about planting seeds of understanding and possibility. While not every conversation will yield immediate change, some may grow in ways you don’t expect. And remember, you might change your mind. Even if you strongly disagree with an idea initially, engaging in respectful dialogue can open your mind to new perspectives and challenge your own assumptions.

Have you faced similar challenges in conversations?

What strategies have worked for you?

Are you open exploring ways to move past dismissive labelling and towards constructive dialogue.

#BeyondWoke #MeaningfulDialogue #BridgingDivides #ChallengeYourBeliefs #BeyondLabels #ConstructiveConversation #OpenMind #CriticalThinking

Why Are We Fighting About Cows When the Real Problem is Us and Trust?

It’s the great cow controversy of 2024, and social media is on fire. This time, it’s not about dairy vs. oat milk or even beef vs. tofu. It’s about a tiny supplement called Bovaer, designed to reduce methane emissions from cattle, and the uproar is deafening.

On Facebook, it’s war. Some are decrying Bovaer as the latest corporate conspiracy, something Bill Gates would whip up in his private jet to poison our milk. Others see it as the saviour of the planet. But here’s what’s really happening: we’re missing the point entirely.

Let’s be honest. The problem isn’t cows. It’s us. The more people we have, the more food we need to produce. That means more cows, more methane, and, yes, more impact on the environment. But when a practical solution comes along to reduce that impact—something backed by a decade of research and field trials—we throw up our hands in shock. Why?

There’s a fundamental trust gap between the people making these solutions and the people consuming them. Scientists, bless their well-intentioned hearts, roll out their data and expect us to just get it. But most people don’t live in peer-reviewed journals. They live in real-world uncertainty, where the line between “helpful innovation” and “corporate takeover” feels razor-thin.

And social media isn’t helping. Instead of nuanced discussions, we’re fed bite-sized outrage. A single post about Bovaer can spiral into fearmongering faster than you can say “methane,” leaving consumers more sceptical than informed.

Take a moment to consider this: humans pop supplements every day with little to no evidence that they work. Collagen powders, detox teas, mystery vitamins—there’s a whole industry thriving on the “it can’t hurt, right?” mentality. But introduce a scientifically-proven supplement for cows, and suddenly we’re all chemical experts, clutching our organic milk bottles like lifelines.

The debate over Bovaer isn’t really about methane or cows. It’s about trust. Trust in the people who make our food. Trust in the researchers who develop solutions. And trust in each other to have real conversations instead of trading cheap shots online.

We can’t fix this problem by vilifying farmers who are trying to do the right thing, whether they’re grass-feeding their cows or testing methane-reducing additives. Nor can we solve it by blindly defending corporate-backed solutions without addressing consumer concerns.

Here’s the truth: no single fix is perfect. Grass-fed systems sequester carbon but still produce methane. Feedlot systems can use products like Bovaer but rely on grain, which has its own environmental cost. The real solution lies in recognising that everyone—farmers, scientists, and consumers—is on the same team. We all want sustainable food systems. We all want to protect the planet. We just need to stop fighting long enough to figure out how to get there.

So, next time you see a post about cows “killing the planet” or a product like Bovaer being the hero or villain of the story, pause. Ask questions. Demand transparency.

But don’t let fear or outrage guide the narrative. Because if we don’t tackle the root problem—how we produce and consume food—we’re just mooing in circles.

Will agriculture ever learn? How many own goals does it need to kick? Trust and Transparency is everything.

I rest my case 4 December 2024 SMH – Panic over additive in cattle feed sparks milk and meat furore 

 

#Bovaer #MethaneReduction #SustainableFarming #GrassFedBeef #DairyFarming #ClimateAction #FoodSecurity #LivestockSolutions #EnvironmentalImpact #ConsumerTrust

WTF is neoliberalism and why do experts insist on making it impossible to care?

The  Democrats’ loss is all over the news, and every expert with a degree and a platform is lining up to explain why it happened. Except, they’re not really explaining anything. They’re throwing around words like “neoliberalism” and “economic paradigms” as if everyone spent their weekend reading the same textbooks they did.

Here’s the thing: most people don’t speak “expert.” And they shouldn’t have to. The second you start explaining election results with dense, academic jargon, you’ve already lost the very audience you’re trying to engage. People don’t need lectures on the intricacies of market deregulation—they need to understand, in plain terms, what went wrong and why it matters to them.

What even is neoliberalism?

Good question. Stripped of the fluff, it’s the idea that free markets solve most problems, so governments should back off and let businesses run the show. It’s why services get privatised (think healthcare, electricity, even water), why taxes get cut, and why regulations on industries are slashed. In theory, it’s supposed to make the economy hum. In practice? It often leaves regular people worse off while the wealthy thrive.

Why does this matter to elections?

When experts say neoliberalism is why the Democrats lost, they mean this:

  • People feel abandoned. Voters want leaders who care about their daily struggles—affording groceries, keeping a job, paying for childcare—not policies that mostly benefit corporations or the wealthy.
  • Inequality is rising. When markets are left unchecked, wealth piles up at the top, and working-class people are left behind.
  • Trust is broken. If voters think the party is too busy courting businesses or “elites”, they stop believing Democrats are on their side.

All of this makes sense when you break it down. But when you call it “neoliberalism” and bury it in academic language, you lose the people who need to hear it most.

Why does the language matter?

Dense, inaccessible language isn’t just lazy—it’s dangerous. It builds walls instead of bridges. If voters tune out because they don’t understand—or feel talked down to—they won’t stick around long enough to hear your point. And then what happens? The people you wanted to reach stop caring, and the people who already agree with you start arguing over terminology instead of solving the problem.

Here’s the real question

Do you want to win over hearts and minds, or do you just want to sound smart to your peers? If it’s the latter, go ahead—keep dropping “neoliberalism” into every sentence. But if you actually care about changing anything, ditch the jargon. Speak plainly. Say what you mean. Explain why it matters.

Because if your big idea can’t be summed up in a way your neighbour would get, maybe it’s not that big—or that useful—after all.

#politics #neoliberalism #elections #languagebarrier #communicationmatters #plainlanguage #voterengagement #democrats #economics #accessiblewriting #jargonfree #socialjustice #progressivevalues #politicalanalysis #blogging

 

How 19-2 Explores the Moral Uncoupling We All Face Every Day

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There’s a moment in every episode of 19-2, the gripping Canadian police drama, where the characters are forced to make choices that don’t fit neatly into right or wrong. The brilliance of the series lies not in the action or the crime-solving—it’s in the quiet, relentless confrontation of moral compromise. And in that, 19-2 holds up a mirror to our own lives.

At its heart, the show is about people who wrestle with doing what’s right while navigating a system that often blurs the lines. Police partners Nick Barron and Ben Chartier don’t just face criminals—they face themselves. Each call they answer, each interaction with their colleagues, and each decision they make is coloured by personal histories, pressures, and the limitations of their environment.

One of the show’s most searing moments comes when Ben makes the devastating decision to arrest his father. Ben knows it’s the right thing to do—his father’s actions leave him no choice—but it’s a decision that isolates him from his family, compounding his own personal grief. In that moment, Ben sacrifices belonging for integrity, and we’re left wondering: how often are we willing to do the same?

Ben’s choice is the exception to the moral uncoupling that often defines the lives of the show’s characters—and, by extension, our own. How often do we sidestep what we know is right in the name of convenience, loyalty, or self-preservation? It might be as minor as not speaking up when someone makes an offensive comment or as significant as ignoring an ethical lapse in our workplace. These small acts of moral uncoupling—where we detach our choices from our values—are part of the human condition.

What makes 19-2 so compelling is that it doesn’t let anyone off the hook. There’s no easy redemption arc, no grandstanding heroics. Instead, the show reveals how moral compromise accumulates, creating cracks in character and conscience. It forces viewers to question their own boundaries and consider how they would act under similar pressures.

Ben’s decision to arrest his father is a rare and painful act of moral clarity. It’s the kind of choice that reminds us of the cost of living with integrity. It’s also the exception that highlights the rule: most of us, most of the time, compromise.

The series asks us to reflect on our own lives. Are we holding true to our principles, or are we drifting away from them in ways that feel comfortable but ultimately cost us something? In its portrayal of flawed people in a flawed system, 19-2 offers an unflinching meditation on what it means to be human.

Ben’s story reminds us that living with integrity isn’t easy—it often comes with alienation, loss, and sacrifice. But it also challenges us to reckon with our own moral uncoupling and consider what it would take to make the hard but right choice when it matters most.

#MoralIntegrity #TVShowsThatMatter #HumanCondition #PoliceDrama #19Two #EthicalDilemmas #MoralChoices #RightVsWrong #NickBarron #EverydayEthics #IntegrityMatters #BenChartier

Finding My Voice on as Lifelong Journey to Share My Values and Drive Change

I don’t hold a degree in journalism, and while I scored in the top 1% for English in the HSC, I’ve never considered that achievement a defining marker of my career. At best, it was proof that, for one brief moment, I could meet an examiner’s expectations. Oddly enough, instead of following that path, I chose a science-based degree at university. Now, as a person in their  sixties, I find myself reconnecting with the part of me that existed at 18, that young person who had a drive to express their values, communicate clearly, and—hopefully—contribute to meaningful change.

At this stage in life, I’ve traded in traditional credentials for something I value even more: a clear voice, a passion for justice, and a commitment to my community. I am not a journalist, but I have a desire to use whatever tools I can to amplify voices and perspectives often overshadowed or misunderstood. This journey has brought me back to writing, not as a career milestone but as a path to share thoughts and advocate for change.

In a way, my lack of a traditional journalism background feels like a strength. I’m not confined by rigid structures or prescribed formulas; instead, I can engage directly with issues that matter to me, particularly those around social justice, environmental advocacy, and community-building. Every article or post I create is an opportunity to speak authentically, reaching others who may feel the same pull toward positive change.

In essence, I consider myself a “values-based communicator.” This title resonates with my desire to express principles that matter, to bridge divides, and to build a more understanding world. It’s not about the credentials I lack; it’s about the passion and purpose I bring to my words. I hope that sharing these thoughts will inspire others who, like me, feel called to use their voice—even if they, too, don’t quite fit the traditional mould.

#ValuesBasedWriting #CommunityStorytelling #AdvocacyWriting #FindingMyVoice #DrivingChange #PassionForJustice #ExpressingValues #LifelongLearning #AuthenticCommunication #PositiveChange #StorytellingForGood

How Do We Shift from “I” to “We”?

In today’s world, we’re deeply invested in the idea of “I.” It’s a culture that celebrates individualism to the point where we believe the next breakthrough, the next hero, or the next charismatic leader will solve our problems. Political campaigns too often encourage us to rally behind a single candidate who claims they alone can fix what we’re unhappy about. Corporations and innovators tell us that the newest product or app can change our lives for the better. This mindset, however, is rooted in a story we’ve been told for centuries: the notion that one person or one idea can save us.

Perhaps this goes back to when we first conceptualised God—a singular divine being with the power to intervene and provide answers. Over time, this idea of salvation being delivered by one figure evolved, reinforcing a belief in “the one” who could make everything right. And today, that same mindset persists in our political systems, our social movements, and even in the way we live our daily lives. But how long will it take for us to realise that real change doesn’t come from one person; it comes from all of us?

The truth is, we each carry a part of the power to create a better world, but it only becomes meaningful when we join forces. Individual ideas have their place—they spark innovation and bring new perspectives. But those ideas, no matter how brilliant, will only ever be fragments until we bring them together under a shared purpose. This is the shift from an “I” culture to a “we” culture, a transformation that prioritises collaboration over competition, connection over division.

If we look at what’s working around us—communities, ecosystems, collaborative projects—they are rarely about the efforts of one person alone. Instead, they thrive because individuals come together, sharing their skills, resources, and insights to create something more impactful than any one of them could achieve alone. This isn’t about diminishing individual effort; it’s about amplifying it through unity.

As we move forward, let’s ask ourselves: what does it take to build a “we” culture? It means rethinking how we approach problems, being open to diverse ideas, and seeing ourselves as part of a larger whole. When we truly embrace the idea that change comes from a collective “we” rather than an isolated “I,” we can begin to reshape our world—not with promises of divine intervention or the arrival of a new hero, but through our own shared actions and values.

The power has always been with us. The question is, how long will it take for us to use it—together?

#WeCulture #TogetherForChange #CollectivePower #BeyondIndividualism #CommunityMatters #SharedVision #FromItoWe #UnityInAction #CollaborationOverCompetition #PowerOfWe

 

 

Trust, Rhetoric, and the Power of Trump’s Appeal to America’s Working Class

 

Trust. In today’s world, it’s everything—or so we say. Yet, watching the recent US election, you’d be forgiven for wondering where that trust is coming from and why it’s placed the way it is. In this latest round, America’s working class has once again cast its lot with Donald Trump, a billionaire who’s never lived their life, who’s never struggled to cover the bills or faced a family medical crisis with no safety net. And yet, for millions, he’s their man, their fighter, the one they believe will deliver the promises that have slipped through their fingers for decades.

How did we get here? How is it that a convicted felon, a wealthy man, steeped in privilege, can inspire trust as a working-class champion? Well, it’s not simple. There’s the power of rhetoric, sure. Trump’s got that in spades. There’s the disillusionment with the establishment, the sense of betrayal by anyone “in charge.” And then there’s that extraordinary way Trump seems to draw people in—people whose lives look nothing like his own.

Trump’s skill with rhetoric is undeniable. He zeroes in on the frustration and disappointment working Americans feel every day: wages that don’t go up, futures that feel shaky. He tells them he’s going to “drain the swamp,” take down the elites, and shake up a system that so many believe has forgotten them. He talks about bringing back jobs, fighting China, and standing up to the faceless forces keeping them down. His lifestyle may scream luxury, but his words? They speak right to the heart of their struggle.

Then there’s another piece to all this: Trump’s way of connecting with those for whom religion is everything. He talks about defending religious freedom, protecting conservative values, and restoring the “traditional” family in a way that resonates deeply with people who feel their beliefs are under siege. They look past his opulent life because he presents himself as the one willing to safeguard their faith in a secular world.

But here’s the surprising part: his followers don’t seem to need him to walk in their shoes. They don’t demand shared experience. Instead, they want someone to stand up for their right to live their way, protect their jobs, and fight for values they feel slipping away. Trump, for them, is that person.

So, what’s going on here? Rhetoric? Distrust of the establishment? The appeal of a “strongman” who’ll protect their rights? All of that, maybe. But here’s the kicker about Trump’s appeal: it’s not policy, and it’s not empathy. It’s about something much bigger. When people feel overwhelmed, they look for a saviour. They look outward, hoping for someone to come in and take up the burden, someone who says, “Trust me. I’ve got this.” That’s where Trump comes in.

It’s a handover of responsibility. People put their faith in him, hoping he’ll do the heavy lifting. They’re not asking, “Does he understand us?” They’re asking, “Will he take on this battle for us?” And for those weighed down by a world that feels too much, Trump is the easy choice. He promises to shoulder their struggles, to protect their way of life. It’s not about whether he lives like them. It’s that he’s willing to play the role of protector—a modern answer to that old yearning for someone, something, to step in and make everything right.

So, there it is. For many, Trump embodies that saviour figure, letting them look outward for answers and promises of intervention, rather than inward for change. It’s a comfortable, almost timeless choice, and one that’s powerful enough to keep millions of Americans trusting him, election after election.

#TrustInPolitics #WorkingClassSupport #TrumpAppeal #PowerOfRhetoric #AmericanElections #FaithAndPolitics #UnderstandingVoters #PoliticalTrust #ClassAndPolitics #ChangingAmerica