In every healthy democracy, an independent and courageous press is not a luxury. It’s a necessity.
Local government doesn’t often make national headlines, but it governs the everyday – the planning decisions, the maintenance of public spaces, the quiet reshaping of communities over time. And without scrutiny, it all happens in the shadows.
That’s why local journalism matters. That’s why a civics reporter, who knows the system and knows the stakes, is essential.
But what happens when those in power try to shut that down?
In Kiama, the CEO of Council has worked hard to control the narrative. When one article triggered an internal investigation, it should have been the end of the story. Instead, it was just the beginning. The CEO refused to take down a ‘correction’ notice posted on the Council website – a thinly veiled attempt to discredit a local reporter doing their job.
It wasn’t about accuracy. It was about authority. It was about having the last word.
But here’s the twist – when Council tried to shut the conversation down, it only got louder.
I started blogging about the issues. With that came a new kind of freedom. No editor. No filter. And, as it turns out, a lot more readers. One in five adults across the region began following the posts. That kind of reach gets noticed – by the ABC, for example. They called me. And when that conversation aired, it caught the eye of Council. Suddenly they were scrambling for a right of reply. Then Surf Life Saving NSW got involved. And the original community – the one that had stayed quiet – started asking questions.
That’s the power of local journalism when it’s independent, informed, and relentless.
It’s not about picking fights. It’s about pulling threads. Following facts. Making complex processes accessible and public decisions accountable.
And when a CEO uses the machinery of council to push back against that kind of reporting, we need to ask – what are they afraid of?
Because in the end, it’s not the writer who loses. It’s the community.
When information is withheld, filtered or spun, the result isn’t clarity. It’s confusion. And the antidote to confusion is not control. It’s conversation.
A free, independent press helps communities understand how they’re governed. It opens doors, not closes them. It invites scrutiny, yes – but it also invites trust. The kind that is earned, not demanded.
So if your first instinct is to silence the press, maybe the real problem isn’t the article. Maybe it’s the accountability that comes with it.