Tag: Kiama

Kiama Council’s Easter ambush sparks anger over cuts closed doors and police

Kiama Council dropped an extraordinary meeting agenda on the Thursday before a four day Easter break, then set the meeting on for the following Tuesday, the first day back. The agenda carried sweeping proposed savings across community life, including youth, cultural and community services, visitor services, tourism, library hours, Leisure Centre hours, the pensioner rebate, community donations and sponsorships, staff positions, and the proposed relocation of the Pilot’s Cottage Museum and Visitor Information Centre.

People in Kiama understand there is a budget problem. They understand Council is operating under a Performance Improvement Order and that difficult decisions are in front of it.

The anger has come from the way this was handled. Material of this scale was put into the public arena on the eve of a long weekend, when people were heading into Easter, then debated the moment the holiday ended. Councillors had already been through workshops and briefings. The community got a scramble.

The public forum timing sharpened the sense that this was being pushed through rather than opened up. Instead of the breathing space most people would expect before a decision of this size, public access was held immediately before the meeting itself.

People were expected to absorb complex proposals, organise their thoughts, speak, and watch councillors move into debate, all in the same late afternoon.

Then came the access arrangements. On the afternoon of the meeting, Council announced that the administration building would close at 4 pm, the public gallery would be limited to 20 attendees, protest material would not be permitted inside chambers or council workplaces, security would manage access, and NSW Police had been advised of the intended protest. That combination told its own story.

Community anger was being managed as a risk event at the very moment residents were trying to be heard.

This is the part Council seems not to have understood. When you put youth services, community services, library hours, tourism functions, the pensioner rebate, staff positions and local heritage on the table, people will react. When you do it before a four day break and bring it on for the first day back, they will react harder. When you then tighten access and prepare for protest, they draw their own conclusions.

Watch community concerns on WIN4 News here 

The question now is larger than one difficult meeting. Kiama has already seen police called to a tense council gathering in recent years. That gives this latest episode a wider significance. Residents are entitled to ask whether this is becoming a pattern, late release of major decisions, compressed opportunities for public response, and a readiness to treat dissent as a security problem rather than a democratic reality.

No one expects budget repair to be painless. People do expect honesty, time and respect. They expect to see the problem clearly, weigh the trade offs, and speak before the process tightens around them. That did not happen here.

You would hope this is not how Kiama Council plans to handle major public decisions from here. It looks too much like another way of shutting down community voices. And once a council starts hearing community anger as a threat instead of a message, it has lost sight of the room.

How a small town editor changed the landscape by channelling Hawke, Mandela and Attenborough

Wouldn’t life be easier if we knew when to calm the room like David Attenborough, when to hold the line like Nelson Mandela, and when to roll up our sleeves and push like Bob Hawke?

Joseph Weston understood timing.

He was the editor of the Kiama Independent in the late nineteenth century, a farmer in an earlier life, and a fierce advocate for systems that moved farmers from price takers to price makers.

He had range.
Emotional range.
Strategic range.
Editorial range.

I’ve spent a long time watching how change actually happens. It often slips in while everyone is busy arguing about something else. Weston seemed to understand that instinctively.

Start with women.

As editor of the Kiama Independent, Weston strategically expands who appears in the public record. Women begin to show up with careers. Paid work outside the home becomes part of everyday reporting. Secretaries. Clerical and office roles. Assistants in business and administration.

His commentary ensures these roles sit comfortably on the page.

Education is assumed. Literacy is assumed. Organisational skill comes with the territory. Women appear as capable participants in the life of the town.

Alongside this, the paper notes the first woman to graduate university with an Arts degree. She takes her place among the day’s business and the paper moves on. Education, work, and opportunity sit naturally within community life.

This is Weston in Attenborough mode.

He trusts readers to notice. He lets repetition do the work. Over time, expectations widen because what people see keeps widening.

Then he switches gear.

When the dairy industry is at stake, Weston becomes very Hawke. Energy up. Purpose clear.

He writes under the pseudonym The Dairyman. Farmers start asking each other who The Dairyman might be. They argue about the ideas and speculate about the author at the same time. The conversation spreads. Momentum gains traction.

Cooperative dairying becomes something people are talking about in sheds, kitchens, and at the factory gate.

This is Weston mobilising attention.

Running through both approaches is a third instinct, the Mandela one. A sense of timing. Knowing when to slow things down and when to apply pressure. Knowing that influence works differently depending on the moment.

With women’s roles, Weston widens the frame until it feels familiar.
With cooperative dairying, he sharpens the focus until it demands action.

Same person. Different tools. Wisdom we all can aspire too.

Joseph Weston understood how communities change. He worked with that reality. Low-key when low-key works. Direct when direction builds momentum.

For me

Joseph Weston is a role model who shows us how to rearrange the furniture, and when to do it.

FYI

Source 

When leadership fails, culture tells the truth

As I’ve said before, you can do all the leadership training in the world. It doesn’t always make you a leader. But what it does do, importantly, is help you recognise the difference. It helps you identify real leaders when you see them. More importantly, it sharpens your ability to spot toxic cultures. It teaches you to recognise when someone has enough self-awareness to grow, and when someone doesn’t. And once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

Leadership is hard. Public leadership is harder. But when harm is done, whether through action or silence, real leadership requires something more than defensiveness. It requires self-reflection.

If a CEO were to pause and look inward, here is what genuine self-awareness might sound like.

How did I get here?
I have spent my career navigating complicated political environments. I have seen corruption up close. I have worked in organisations where things went very wrong. I was not charged, but I was part of that system. I saw what unchecked power does. I know what it costs communities. I know what it costs people.

Did I bring that culture with me, even unknowingly?
Did I carry forward habits shaped by survival in a dysfunctional system? Did I seek control where I should have encouraged transparency? Have I mistaken compliance for leadership?

Have I confused being right with being in charge?
Leadership is not about managing perception. It is about creating space for accountability and trust. When people around me challenged decisions or asked difficult questions, did I see that as threat instead of engagement?

What role have I played in the harm others say they’ve experienced?
When people say they felt targeted, silenced, or undermined during my leadership, do I hear that as a personal attack or as something to sit with? Have I considered that harm does not require intention, that impact matters more than defence?

What am I afraid will happen if I admit I got it wrong?
Is it fear of looking weak? Fear of being held to account? Or is it fear of stepping into the unknown, into a space where control is replaced by vulnerability?

What would it look like to lead differently, now?
It would mean opening space for truth. It would mean commissioning an independent review. It would mean picking up the phone to those who were hurt and saying, “I want to understand.” It would mean listening, not defending. Owning, not spinning. Rebuilding, not retreating.

Because surviving a broken system is not the same as transforming one.

And if we do not break the cycle, we become it.

#LeadershipMatters #ToxicCulture #CouncilAccountability #TrueLeadership #CommunityWellbeing #EthicalGovernance #PublicTrust

When Kiama Council stops listening, the community steps up

In Kiama, we pride ourselves on being engaged, fair-minded, and not afraid to speak up when something feels wrong. So when members of this community take the time to submit formal complaints to Council -backed by evidence, dates, and clear requests for action – it’s not done lightly.

It comes from a belief that our local democracy still matters. And that someone, somewhere inside the system, will listen.  to put their concerns in writing, cite documents, ask for a review  – there’s a basic expectation: that someone, somewhere, will respond.

 

A simple acknowledgement.

A record of receipt.

A sign that the system is functioning.

But that didn’t happen here.

 

I submitted a formal complaint to Kiama Council about the handling of the ICAC referral. So did others. We raised questions about process, timing, and accountability. We asked for a review.

 

The response? Silence.

Not even a note from the Public Officer to confirm the request had been received. No response from the CEO. No indication that the concerns were being treated with the seriousness they deserve.

And this is what makes people give up. Not disagreement. Not debate. But the sense that no one is listening.

 

So let me say this clearly:

We are listening to each other.

We are keeping records.

We are not going away.

The community sets the standard.

We expect better.

 

We expect that when three councillors are referred to an anti-corruption body and then cleared, someone in Council will have the decency to correct the record — not leave a misleading notice online for months, casting doubt long after the facts are known.

 

We expect that formal requests will be logged, replied to, and dealt with transparently – not ignored.

 

And we expect that those tasked with upholding the integrity of the system will do more than protect it when convenient. They will protect it when it’s hard. When it’s messy. When it means holding powerful people to account.

The question is not whether councillors or community members are brave enough to raise these issues.

 

We already have.

The question is whether Council is willing to deal with the answers.

 

#KiamaCouncil #LocalDemocracy #CouncilAccountability #ICACReferral #GovernanceMatters #CommunityVoice #TransparencyNow #PublicTrust #LeadershipStandards #CivicEngagement

When silence becomes complicity in local democracy

If you are new here, welcome. I write about issues affecting local democracy, governance, and accountability in the Kiama local government area, with a focus on asking the questions others might avoid.

Three councillors. A high-stakes development vote. A referral to the Independent Commission Against Corruption. An election three months away.

These are the facts. What followed was silence.

It is now publicly known that three Kiama councillors were referred to ICAC after a unanimous vote to reject a controversial development application. That referral became public knowledge not through formal channels, but through the media. The councillors themselves say they were not notified by Council. ICAC has since dismissed the referral.

No action. No investigation. No findings.
And still, no public correction.

For those watching closely, the timing felt less like coincidence and more like interference. A reputational blow landing just as the election campaign began, targeting councillors who had been vocal on governance, transparency, and community rights. If that was not an attempt to influence the election narrative, then what was it?

And yet here we are. New councillors have been elected. Fresh mandates have been claimed. And not one formal effort has been made to review what happened or ensure it never happens again.

This raises a harder question: why?

Why would any incoming councillor, elected to represent the interests of their community, not want to investigate a potential misuse of process? Why would they not want to protect future candidates and colleagues from the same kind of political weaponisation?

This is not about loyalty to the past council. It is about the future of local democracy. If elected officials can be referred to an anti-corruption body without due process, then left to wear the reputational damage even after dismissal, something is deeply wrong.

And if that damage can be timed to land just before an election, we are not talking about governance. We are talking about manipulation.

The community deserves better. Not in whispers, not behind closed doors, but in public.

If there is nothing to hide, there should be nothing to fear in a review. Silence may feel safe, but over time it corrodes trust. And trust, once lost, is difficult to regain.

Local democracy does not fail overnight. It fails when decent people say nothing because speaking up feels too risky. The real question now is not what happened then, but what our current leaders will do with what they know now.

This article reflects my personal views and interpretations, based on publicly available information and in the interest of fostering open and accountable local government. It is not my intention to accuse any individual of wrongdoing, but to encourage reflection and action on matters that affect trust in our democratic processes.

#Kiama #LocalGovernment #CouncilTransparency #DemocracyMatters #PublicTrust #AccountabilityNow #ICAC #Governance #CivicEngagement #CommunityVoice #LeadershipMatters

A mural of memory and meaning at The Point Kiosk, Gerringong SLSC

Rose Leamon serves up muffins and warmth while Wendy Quinn shares a big smile at The Point Kiosk, where community connection is always on the menu.
Rose Leamon serves up muffins and warmth while Wendy Quinn shares a big smile at The Point Kiosk, where community connection is always on the menu.

Some stories belong in print. Others belong right here, on this blog, where I can speak directly to the community that holds them. This is one of those stories.

Right now, one in five adults in the Kiama local government area is reading these blogs. And I know many of you care deeply about the kind of community we are building together. That is why I chose to publish this story here. Because this is not just about a mural. It is about intergenerational wisdom, shared values, and the kind of spaces that help our young people grow up grounded, kind and connected.

When the Club Captain of Gerringong Surf Life Saving Club introduced me to Rose, Milly and Wendy, I thought I was going to write about a piece of art. What I discovered was something much bigger.

It starts with Wendy Quinn, a beloved local artist and teacher, who said yes without hesitation when asked to create a mural for The Point Kiosk. But she did not want to do it alone. She invited 19-year-old Milly Wall, club member, volunteer, and education student at the University of Wollongong, to join her. Together, they made something beautiful. But more than that, they made something meaningful.

The mural stretches across the back wall of the kiosk in a grid of black canvas panels, each one textured with real shells and fronds. Some of the shells were purchased. Others were salvaged from old classroom supplies. But many came from Wendy’s 95-year-old mother’s private collection, gathered over decades from beaches like Horseshoe Bay, Batemans Bay and Bawley Point, and kept safe in preserving jars.

“She gave them to me in preserving jars,” Wendy told me. “She has had them since the 1940s. I have saved them my whole life.”

Now they are part of a public space that welcomes everyone. The Point Kiosk is not just for club members. It opens from 6.30 to 10.30 in the morning to serve the wider community. The early risers, the Werri Beach walkers and talkers, the swimmers, the families, and anyone who wants a warm drink or a warm conversation.

The mural project was part of a broader effort to activate that space, led by Rose Leamon, a former Fortune 500 executive who left the corporate world to live a different kind of life by the sea. When Rose took on the challenge of operationalising The Point Kiosk, she brought with her the skills of a strategist, but also the heart of someone who understands that real leadership means making space for others to shine.

Wendy brought her artistry. Milly brought her energy. And what they created together is more than decoration. It is a story told in shells. It is memory and mentorship and moments passed from one generation to the next.

Wendy Quinn and Milly Wall deep in conversation outside The Point Kiosk. Mentor and mentee, sharing stories, ideas and mutual respect – proof that when generations listen to each other, extraordinary things can happen.

People stop to look. They point out favourite pieces. They tell stories of summers past. The mural does not just say this is who we are. It says this is who we are becoming.

In a world that too often forgets the quiet builders of community, this mural reminds us what matters. Shared purpose. Generosity. Creating spaces like The Point Kiosk, where young people grow up learning the most important things. Not just how to save lives in the surf, but how to live lives of meaning, together.

#ThePointKiosk, #GerringongSLSC, #WerriBeach, #CommunityInAction, #IntergenerationalWisdom, #ShellStories,  #Kiama,

Local democracy shouldn’t feel like defiance

Why did it have to come to this

That’s the question I keep circling back to.

 Why was it necessary to write a blog post in the first place?

Why did councillors feel they couldn’t speak freely?

Why was silence the safest option for so many, when the real damage was being done out in the open?

 If local democracy was working as it should, none of this would’ve been needed. There would have been transparency from the beginning. There would have been open dialogue between council and community. And there would have been clear lines between power and accountability—not blurred ones.

But the moment I stepped into a role that involved naming what I saw and asking questions about how power operates, it became clear what kind of culture I was stepping into.

I’m not brave. I’m persistent.

And I’m someone who understands the value of truth, even when it’s inconvenient.

 Anyone stepping into a civic reporting role, especially in a small town, should expect to be met with pushback. But what they shouldn’t expect is silence from those with the power to make things better.

I wrote because I believe in democratic process.

Because I believe a community has a right to know how decisions are made, who is making them, and whether the process is fair.

 This shouldn’t require courage. It should be normal.

It should be part of how our systems work.

Instead, we have a system where saying something out loud feels like an act of defiance.

 I spoke up because I care too much to pretend nothing is wrong.

 And here’s the thing: if someone is willing to put in the hours, do the reading, follow the trail of decisions and connect the dots – why would anyone think they’re going to give up now?

#Kiama #RegionalMedia #CivicVoice #CommunityAdvocacy #LocalDemocracy #IndependentJournalism #GrassrootsLeadership #DoDemocracyDifferently

Jane Frawley (aka Jane Stroud): When you find yourself caught in a nightmare, you can drag others down, or lift them up. The choice is yours.

When did we start confusing performance with progress?

In Kiama, there’s a habit, no, a culture, of dealing with uncomfortable truths by trying to shut them down. That didn’t start with this term of council. It started in the last one, when “somebody” decided that Code of Conduct complaints were a handy tool to silence critics.

Don’t like what someone said?
Call it misconduct.
Don’t like that they challenged the ruling and won in court?
Report them to ICAC.

The logic was never about right or wrong. It was about control. And that culture is still with us.

You only have to look at what’s playing out now to see it. The faces may have changed, but the tactics haven’t. Councillors are still turning on each other. Collaboration is still in short supply. And anyone trying to lead with transparency and community focus gets caught in the crossfire.

Meet Jane Frawley.
She’s now CEO of Kiama Council, now known as Jane Stroud .
But this isn’t her first encounter with controversy.

Under her former name, Jane Frawley, she was part of a corruption investigation into Logan City Council.

Let’s be clear: she was not charged.
But she was named. She was in the room.
She saw firsthand what failed governance looks like.

Image source 

You’d think someone who has been through that would show more caution, more integrity, and a deeper respect for other people’s reputations.

Instead, we’re seeing something that looks a lot like payback.
“If I’ve been dragged through it, let me take a few others down with me.”

And the pattern?
The collateral damage is disproportionately falling on women.

Make of that what you will. But it’s happening. And we need to call it.

If you’re frustrated, confused, or wondering what can be done -here’s the reality check:

🦁 Office of Local Government (OLG)
Supposed to oversee councils and act as the regulator.
But unless they decide to take action (and that’s rare), your complaint could end up in a drawer.
✉️ localgovernment@olg.nsw.gov.au | 🌐 www.olg.nsw.gov.au

⚖️ NSW Ombudsman
Handles complaints about public administration – but only if OLG refers the case.
No referral? No action.
✉️ nswombo@ombo.nsw.gov.au | 🌐 www.ombo.nsw.gov.au

🕵️ ICAC (Independent Commission Against Corruption)
They tackle serious corruption – fraud, bribery, gross misconduct.
They’re not here for toxic workplace culture or strategic silencing.
Curious what an investigation looks like? Ask our CEO. She knows.
✉️ icac@icac.nsw.gov.au | 🌐 www.icac.nsw.gov.au

🗳️ Your Local MP
Sometimes useful. Sometimes indifferent. You may get action -or you may get a form letter.
Find yours here: https://www.parliament.nsw.gov.au/members

🌳 The Listening Tree
Still the most honest option some days. No closed doors, no spin, no “thank you for your feedback.”
Say your truth to the gum tree. It won’t gaslight you.

So what now?

Jane Frawley/Stroud has a history. She wasn’t charged, but she was part of a council that was sacked.

You’d expect someone with that past to lead with humility.
Instead, we see a culture of blame, deflection, and internal destruction.

This isn’t about one person or one decision.
It’s about a pattern.
And patterns, when protected by silence, become power.

The way forward isn’t more letters.

It’s more questions.
It’s public scrutiny.
It’s collective pressure.
It’s remembering that while institutions have structures, communities have strength.

And it’s time we used it.

#Kiama #JaneFrawley #JaneStroud #KiamaCouncil #LocalGovernment #CouncilWatch #PublicAccountability #WomenInLeadership #StopTheCulture #ICAC #OLG #NSWOmbudsman #CivicVoice #GovernanceMatters #SilencedNoMore