At the very same time, Australia quietly shut down technical schools and weakened the apprenticeship pipeline that had served generations of practical, capable Australians.

The consequences are now staring us in the face.

We have a crippling skills shortage across construction, manufacturing and engineering. We have a generation burdened with student debt. And we have young Australians who feel locked out of home ownership.

Yet sitting in plain sight is a pathway that solves all three problems at once.

It’s called apprenticeships.

The numbers tell a different story. The financial comparison between university and apprenticeships is rarely discussed honestly.

A typical Australian university graduate now leaves with HECS-HELP debt often ranging between $30,000 and $60,000, depending on the degree. The Australian Taxation Office reports the average HELP debt sits above $24,000, and many graduates carry significantly more.

Those students have spent three to four years largely outside the full-time workforce, often earning very little while accumulating debt. Most graduates enter their first serious job around the age of 22 or 23.

Now compare that with the apprenticeship pathway. An apprentice typically begins at 17 or 18, earns wages from the very first day, and finishes their qualification around the age of 20 or 21.

Instead of graduating with debt, they finish with:

• four years of work experience

• income earned during training

• practical skills that industry urgently needs.

By the time many graduates are starting their careers, a qualified tradesperson may already have years of income behind them and accumulated savings toward a home deposit.

In an economy where the biggest barrier to home ownership is saving the deposit, those early years make an enormous difference.

Repayment of student debt may be income-contingent, but it still matters financially. Banks consider HECS repayment obligations when assessing mortgage applications because those repayments reduce disposable income.

That means two people earning the same salary can have different borrowing capacity depending on whether one of them carries education debt.

Put simply:

• The graduate begins with debt and delayed earnings.

• The apprentice begins with income and no education debt.

In Australia’s housing market, those early years can determine whether someone buys a home in their twenties or spends another decade trying to catch up.

Trades also create something else that policymakers often overlook - entrepreneurs.

By their early twenties, qualified tradespeople already possess:

• practical skill

• real-world experience

• industry contacts.

That combination makes it possible to start a small business far earlier than in many other professions.

Australia’s economy is full of companies that began this way — a tradesperson starting with a toolbag, eventually employing dozens of people. It is one of the most powerful engines of economic mobility and small-business creation in the country.

I know this pathway firsthand. I was booted out of school in Year 10.

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People often assume that leaving school early means someone wasn’t very bright. In reality, many of us simply didn’t fit the classroom model.

We were practical thinkers. We liked solving real problems, building things and seeing results.

In earlier generations, people like us would have gone to technical high schools where practical learning was valued. But by the time I came through the system, many of those schools had already been dismantled. So I started an apprenticeship instead.

By around 20 or 21, I was already a qualified tradesman with real experience in industry.

That early start allowed me to eventually build businesses in manufacturing that employed Australians.

And I am far from unique. Thousands of Australian tradespeople have followed the same path.

Australia’s current skills shortage didn’t happen by accident.

It was created by short-sighted policy decisions made in the 1990s, when governments began shutting down technical schools and pushing university participation as the national benchmark for success.

Students who were mechanically minded, hands-on or simply better suited to applied learning suddenly had fewer pathways available.

The message became clear: if you weren’t going to university, you were somehow second-rate.

This thinking didn’t just undermine trades — it also damaged an entire generation.

There is now a cohort of Australians aged roughly 35 to 50 who entered the education system just as vocational pathways were being dismantled. Technical schools had disappeared; apprenticeships had declined sharply. Yet the academic system being promoted didn’t suit everyone. Large numbers simply disengaged.

These were not people lacking intelligence or capability. Many were exactly the kind of practical thinkers who would have thrived in a strong technical education system.

Instead, they were left without a clear pathway into skilled work. A significant number ended up underemployed, on welfare or drifting between low-skill jobs.

The social cost of that policy failure has been enormous — and largely ignored.

Rebuilding Australia’s apprenticeship pipeline would not just address the skills shortage. It would help solve several problems at once.

First, it brings young people into the workforce earlier. Instead of spending years accumulating debt, apprentices begin contributing to the economy immediately.

Second, it reduces financial pressure on families. Many young adults today remain financially dependent on their parents well into their twenties while studying. Apprenticeships change that dynamic. Young people earn their own income and gain independence much earlier.

Third, it accelerates the pathway to home ownership. Earning earlier, avoiding HECS debt and building savings sooner all improve the chances of buying a first home.

Fourth, it rebuilds the transfer of practical knowledge between generations.

One of the great strengths of the apprenticeship model is that young workers learn directly from experienced tradespeople.

Working alongside older tradies doesn’t just teach technical skills. It passes on life experience, work ethic and practical problem-solving that simply cannot be taught in a classroom.

It strengthens industries and communities at the same time.

There is an old saying in manufacturing: measure twice, cut once.

Before we continue pushing every young Australian toward university debt, it may be time to measure the outcomes honestly.

A strong apprenticeship system would:

• rebuild Australia’s industrial capability

• create thousands of skilled jobs

• help young Australians buy homes sooner

• and restore dignity to hands-on careers.

The truth is simple. For many young Australians, the smartest path forward may not begin on a university campus.

It may begin on a workshop floor, learning a trade, earning a wage and building a future from the ground up.

Flipping through digital pages, you’ll see quickly that most albums are given about a 7, while actually good ones are given tongue-baths in 8s or 9s. You sit back and wonder - is modern music really that, well, above average?

No - and it stands to reason that it isn’t. In the 80s and 90s you needed record company backing to release and distribute your music onto a physical medium. Gatekeepers gatekept because their money was on the line. If artists didn’t get signed, they didn’t exist. Today, any melanin-deprived beat shuffler can excrete his ambient trip hop tracks on to Spotify or Soundcloud within minutes, for free.

We have more new music than ever before and according to Sturgeon’s law, 90% of it is shit.

So why the discrepancy? Because 100% of the music press are funded 100% by an amalgam of record companies, touring promoters, and/or the bands themselves. They also furnish the press with access to sources. (Hence the “access media.”) You can’t give a band a shit review because they’re paying for results - and the appearance of independent cultural legitimacy.

If hype stickers - those little blurbs on the front of CDs and vinyl with five stars, or high ratings out of 10 and pull quotes of “Outstanding!” from the press - still carried weight, all of them would say the same thing.

In the music biz, the fourth estate has been absorbed into the ancien regime in totality. The only aspect separating record companies from the press is which bank account the funds are deposited. There is no next big thing by accident. It’s all kayfabe - the pro wrestling term for maintaining the illusion every facet of pro wrestling is real.

The other kayfabe - on a societal scale - is pretending that the media is holding the government to account. In 2024, commercial free to air television made approximately $3.28 billion in revenue of which $59.3 million came from Federal government departments (2025), about a quarter of their combined $204.1 million spending on media buys.

OzTam estimates that broadcast TV and Broadcast Video on Demand (BVOD) reaches 71% of the population, on average. Men and women over the age of 65 take the largest share of broadcast TV viewership (20% and 24.3% respectively.) So, the government is pulling out all the stops to convince the most cashed up slice of the population that everything is hunky dory – because for the bulk of them, it is.

The Australia Institute found during the 2020-21 financial year the Australian Government spent more on advertising than Coles, Woolworths, and McDonalds together.

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During the height of the COVID lockdowns, the Victorian State Government spent $62 million on telling people to stay home or be shot by rubber bullets because grandma needed saving. Their Orwellian doublespeak “staying apart keeps us together” campaign hit taxpayer pockets to the tune of $11.5 million. They could’ve spent that money on something worthwhile, like machete amnesty bins.

The mainstream media is on life support and one of the decrepit legs propping it up is government. Every libertarian in Australia is united on this (at least) - we want to defund the ABC and transition it to a commercial or subscription model. If it’s so beloved, let it stand on its own. We all know that the A, B, and C should read “Australians Broadcasting Communism” even though they investigated themselves and found that they weren’t. You don’t say?

For this week’s boneheaded boffin brain fart, the government is spending $20 million on its “fuel saving campaign” telling us to (checks notes) keep our tyre pressure as per manufacturer recommendations.

Seriously?

The bulk of the mainstream media will report on this like it’s the most normal thing in the world, because they are direct government advertising beneficiaries. If we are waiting for the fourth estate to save us from COVID lockdowns, spiralling debt, NDIS graft, fuel shortages, or any of the other examples of government malfeasance and/or incompetence, don’t – because they’re robbing us to sell their gaslighting and BS back to us in between the fiftieth season of MasterChef (how much crying over croquembouches can Australia tolerate, really?) You can’t give a government a shit review, because they’re paying for results.

Though Noam “definitely a communist” Chomsky is cited over and over saying the media’s function is to “manufacture consent” for the government because of evil capitalist ownership. There’s nothing wrong with that – we want as many budding entrepreneurs starting up as many media outlets as our eyes and ears can handle. Crony capitalism, corporations captured by government and forcing out competition, is always a disaster. If you turn the screws on advertising, you take away the stenographers.

Media sentiment is all about following the (taxpayers) money. Medianet, one of Australia’s largest news aggregators and public relations wire services, wrote in an email blast the other week:

“Australia’s under 16 social media ban was a world-first in social media regulation. Three months later we’ve seen the media narrative shift from scepticism over the enforceability of the ban to widespread acceptance of it.”

They said convincing data moved the needle. When the government’s cheques cleared, there’s no wonder that they accepted mass censorship.

If governments want to spruik their “great achievements” by gaslighting the country, let the ruling parties fund it and see how far it gets – because people are smarting up, and fast.

That assumption has been fractured. One of the clearest pressure points is the Strait of Hormuz, a narrow stretch of water responsible for roughly one fifth of global oil flows. In stable times, it is simply another trade route. In periods of tension, it becomes something else entirely: trade leverage.

Recent reports indicate that vessels seeking passage through the strait may face restrictions, delays and/or additional conditions. More notably, there are indications that alternative methods of payment, ones that sit outside traditional financial systems, are being considered to facilitate that passage.

That is a detail that should make you sit upright in your chair. When one of the world’s most critical energy corridors begins exploring alternate ways to operate outside conventional financial rails, the issue is no longer purely geopolitical. It becomes monetary. Global trade does not just run on oil; it runs on settlement systems. And when settlement becomes uncertain, everything connected to it begins to shift.

Since the outbreak of the Russia–Ukraine conflict, sanctions, asset freezes, confiscation and payment restrictions have become standard tools of international statecraft. Each use sends a message not just to the target nation, but to every country observing from the sidelines. The message is clear: access to the global financial system hinges upon certain behavioural conditions.

That is an emerging issue for many governments which find themselves straying from the list of approved behaviours. When international trade participants begin to question whether they can reliably settle trade in reserve currencies, when payments can be delayed, blocked or even confiscated, and access to banking infrastructure withdrawn, the system itself starts to lose its perception of neutrality.

As trust declines, people’s behaviour naturally changes too. Participants do not just protest; they also adapt. If traditional settlement becomes uncertain, trade does not stop, it reroutes. Countries begin to explore bilateral agreements. Local currency settlements increase. Swap lines expand. And increasingly, digital assets begin to enter the conversation. Not because they are perfect, but because they are available.

This is where Bitcoin has begun to re-emerge; not as a speculative asset, but as a potential settlement layer.

It’s important to understand that Bitcoin does not require anyone’s permission, which is a huge part of its attractiveness. It does not rely on cooperating banks or central clearing systems. It allows two parties, anywhere in the world, to transfer value without needing approval from an intermediary.

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That does not make it dominant, but it does make it different. As it stands, Bitcoin is not untraceable and it is not yet capable of handling the full scale of global trade settlement. But it offers something that is becoming increasingly scarce: a neutral infrastructure layer that is not owned or controlled by any single nation. That distinction is critical. In a world of vastly competing interests, neutral systems become valuable.

That role was traditionally filled by commodities like gold; assets that existed outside the control of any one government. What is now emerging is the digital parallel. Not a replacement for existing systems, but a complement to them. Instead of relying on political alignment, they rely on consensus rules. Instead of relying on intermediaries, they rely on verification. Instead of relying on goodwill, they rely on transparent networks.

That shift matters. It lowers the barrier to trade in a world where political alignment is becoming far less certain. For Australia, this is not a theoretical discussion. We are a trading nation. We export energy, resources, and food to global markets. Our prosperity depends on reliable, efficient settlement systems. If those systems begin to fragment, if global trade moves toward a hybrid model of traditional and neutral rails, then we must be prepared to operate in both of these emerging environments.

That means we need to understand the technology. We must recognise the risks and ensure that Australian businesses are not locked out. Practical policy does not chase hype, but it does not ignore structural change either. When money changes, society naturally follows.

If global trade begins incorporating neutral settlement layers, several outcomes become more likely. First, power decentralises across the globe. Nations that once exercised influence through financial gatekeeping may see that leverage substantially reduced. At the same time, smaller players, including businesses, will gain more flexibility in how they transact.

Second, volatility increases before stability returns. Transitions between systems are rarely smooth. As new rails develop alongside existing ones, there will be inefficiencies and uncertainty. That is the cost of change.

Third, awareness grows. What begins at the level of global trade eventually filters down to individuals. People begin to ask fundamental questions: What is money? Who controls it? And what happens when that control shifts?

Finally, accountability improves. When systems become more transparent and transactions can be verified rather than assumed, the margin for mismanagement narrows significantly. That is not just a technological shift, it is a societal one.

The developments around the Strait of Hormuz may or may not represent a permanent turning point. The use of alternative payment methods during periods of conflict is not new. But the direction is becoming clearer. When trust erodes, systems do not collapse overnight, they morph and adapt. Quietly at first and then all at once.

To answer my initial question, I would say yes. For example, Nazi salutes are sometimes used in a mocking manner as form of protest against authority figures such as teachers, police officers, prison guards and politicians.

Nazi salutes can also be used in the course of satire. For example, a comedy show at the Adelaide Fringe had one of the comedians doing a segment on offensive gestures in which she did a Nazi salute as an example of one of the responses she received when asking members of the audience to do their favourite rude gesture.

In 2016, YouTuber Count Dankula made a video of his girlfriend’s pug which he taught to do a Nazi salute as a joke, yet was targeted by Scottish authorities because of it. Given this, I would argue that legislation banning the Nazi salute has the effect of chilling expression that has nothing to do with promoting the Nazi ideology.

As for bans on slogans, I find the legislation in Queensland deeply concerning. The legislation, recently passed, allows the Queensland attorney-general to proscribe certain slogans with no court oversight, and allows a person to be arrested if someone claims they are even slightly uncomfortable when the proscribed slogan is used.

As of now, two slogans have been designated as proscribed phrases:

1. From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free/ From the river to the sea

2. Globalise the intifada

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Legislation that bans slogans is subject to the same issues as legislation that bans symbols. For example, could I be arrested if I go to Queensland and tell people about my Year 10 school camp where we kayaked down a river to the sea?

It is clear this legislation is so far having the opposite effect of what is intended. The arrests have attracted national attention and public outcry will continue as the Queensland government continues its crackdown.

Legislation that bans symbols, slogans and gestures is in practice counterproductive and is particularly ineffective against ideologies such as Nazism and socialism, which base their ideological narrative on victimhood and an ongoing struggle against their perceived political enemies.

It does not eliminate the factors that drive hateful ideologies, nor does it make them abandon such beliefs. In fact, it makes martyrs out of those who would otherwise be unknown nobodies as arrests attract attention from both the media and members of the public leading to increased attention for the individual and their political ideology.

As every political activist already knows, getting targeted for the peaceful expression of ideas makes you look good and the government look bad. Unlike with other crimes, getting arrested for political crimes is a source of pride rather than shame for the individual.

It can also inspire backlash against the groups it seeks to protect and can drive further hatred by associating the protected group with ‘crackdowns on democratic freedoms’. Especially when the enforcement of the legislation disproportionately targets or seeks to protect a specific group.

It even makes it easier for actual neo-Nazis and other extremists to hide in plain sight. Without the display of their symbols, they can more easily blend in and infiltrate protests and organisations such as happened at the March for Australia.

I believe allowing groups such as neo-Nazis and other extremists to out themselves is the preferred option as society can be more informed and aware of their presence and numbers, and deal with it in an informed way.

The threat posed to artistic and comedic expression is significant, especially when posting memes using prohibited symbols in a satirical manner. This is especially relevant to the significant societal stigma and misunderstanding surrounding dark and offensive humour and the lack of requirement for malicious intent in regards for the use of prohibited symbols.

Those who use prohibited symbols (particularly the swastika) to make political comparisons on protest signs, flyers or street art as a form of political commentary also find themselves in legal jeopardy. Such commentary has long been used by various parts of the political spectrum to criticise political figures who are, or are perceived to be, authoritarian or supportive of authoritarian policies. I will include some examples below.

There are real-life examples of people being impacted by the legislation in this way: Alan Yazbek (the man in the third to last photo) was one of the first people to be arrested (and later pleaded guilty) under the NSW prohibited symbols legislation, and the last two images are from Dissent Bar and Cafe in Canberra which was recently raided by ACT Police over the displayed posters.

These examples show how legislation can be used to target those who were not the initial intended target of the legislation. Even though there is meant to be an exemption for criticisms of fascism, there is no protection for the use of prohibited symbols for political comparisons when the target of the comparison is authoritarian but not fascist.

Another cohort facing significant problems is spiritual groups such as neo-Pagans. Although there is a defence for the religious use of prohibited symbols, this exemption does not extend to spiritual groups that are not part of a legally recognised religion. Given the overlap of Nazi symbols and Pagan symbols due to the Nazi appropriation of Pagan symbolism, members of these groups risk being subject to legal proceedings. There is also the matter of whether a casual practitioner of Buddhism could find themselves criminalised if the government decides they are not devout enough.

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Another major concern is the criminalisation of those who display the symbols in the course of social commentary and blogs. Although there are meant to be exceptions for reporting events in the community in a ‘fair and accurate’ report, articles which use prohibited symbols in social commentary risk legal problems with the only potential defence being whether an article could be deemed educational or academic enough by government authorities.

And are there in practice different rules for major publications and minor publications for the display of prohibited symbols? Could minor publications that use prohibited symbols to report and comment on current events face charges if the government disagrees with what was written due to the ‘fair and accurate’ requirement?

I personally have displayed some of the prohibited symbols in the course of social commentary throughout this series. For example, I believe displaying the symbol in the first image to be necessary to show what most people would not realise is a prohibited Nazi symbol to support my argument. I also believe the images of protest signs that happen to contain Nazi symbols are a necessary addition to show examples of what is now a criminalised form of political commentary. And yet, could I be breaking the law in using these symbols in my articles?

The legislation also creates legal risks for ordinary people when it comes to the ignorance of others. For example, if I were to publicly post this image of myself outside a Buddhist shrine that I found in Kyoto on my trip to Japan last year that happens to contain a swastika, would I be arrested if someone doesn’t understand the context of the swastika and reports it?

Process is punishment even when charges are dropped. Most people in Western countries don’t know the context of the swastika and it is stupid to punish people for ignorance of others.

In my next part of this series, I will focus on bans on gestures and slogans such as in recent legislation in Queensland, along with how I believe such legislation is counterproductive when used against actual Neo Nazis and associated groups.

“We must not lose sight of the essential condition that this is to be a federation of states and not a single government of Australia.

“The separate states are to continue as autonomous bodies, surrendering only so much of their power as is necessary for the establishment of a general government to do for them collectively what they cannot do individually for themselves.”

The powers the states ceded to the Commonwealth were specific: trade and commerce, corporations, currency, banking, pensions, taxation, foreign affairs, communications, copyright, marriage and family law, quarantine, and defence.

There was no mention of hospitals, schools, disability services, home insulation programs, carbon emissions policy, or the host of other fields that the federal government now dominates.

Yet 125 years later, the original compact has eroded.

The Commonwealth captures most revenue—personal and company income tax, plus the GST—while states shoulder the bulk of visible services: schools, hospitals, roads, policing.

This is known as vertical fiscal imbalance and it is stark: Canberra raises the money; the states spend it.

When spenders never answer to voters for raising funds, accountability collapses.

The GST carve-up illustrates the problem vividly. Introduced by John Howard in 2000, the tax was presented as a state revenue source, with every dollar to be returned to the states and territories via the Commonwealth Grants Commission.

The Commission aims to ensure each jurisdiction can provide an ‘average’ level of services.

In reality, it has evolved into a mechanism that penalises strong performance and rewards fiscal laxity.

The 2026-27 figures, released last week, expose the inequity.

The national GST pool is $103 billion. NSW, with 31 per cent of the population, receives only 25.5 per cent of the pool—its lowest share ever. Despite 1.5 million more residents than Victoria, NSW gets $1.7 billion less.

Premier Chris Minns branded the system ‘past its use-by date.’

Western Australia, economically robust due to resources and sound management, saw its share climb from 8.3 per cent to 9.1 per cent. Queensland secures the biggest dollar gain—$1.7 billion more.

Victoria’s share dipped slightly yet still rises by $1.5 billion year-on-year.

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My home State of South Australia and perennial wooden-spooner, Tasmania, routinely receive far more than they generate domestically, insulated from the consequences of their spending decisions.

This is horizontal fiscal equalisation in action: equalising fiscal capacity so every state can deliver comparable services at comparable tax levels.

Admirable in principle, it proves destructive in practice. It signals to high-spending states that others will cover the shortfall. It tells prudent states their discipline will be redistributed away. State treasurers face little incentive to curb expenditure when the GST formula acts as a safety net.

The 1901 settlement never intended such dependence. States retained taxing powers—land tax, stamp duties, payroll tax—to fund their own responsibilities independently.

Over decades, however, the Commonwealth leveraged its revenue dominance and Section 96 grants power to intrude into state domains. Tied grants, special-purpose payments, and the current GST distribution have reduced states to administrative arms of federal policy.

The fallout is clear. States blame Canberra for shortfalls while expanding unaffordable programs. Federal leaders pledge services they do not deliver.

Voters struggle to assign responsibility. Waste proliferates: pink batts, school halls, and climate initiatives never contemplated in the founding agreement.

There are core, straightforward principles that ought to apply: those who spend the money should raise the money.

True accountability requires it. If a state wishes to fund lavish projects or swollen bureaucracies, its government should justify the cost directly to its electors. Hiding behind complex equalisation formulas fosters inefficiency and breeds interstate resentment.

Restoring federalism does not demand its destruction—only its renewal.

Options include returning meaningful taxing authority to the states, perhaps a state-collected portion of income tax with the Commonwealth withdrawing from that field.

Alternatively, replace the current GST model with per-capita or origin-based distribution that rewards prudent management.

Or the Commonwealth could exit areas outside its original remit, transferring both functions and revenue back to the states.

Opponents warn of a ‘postcode lottery.’ Yet Australians already experience wide variations in service quality, living costs, and outcomes across states.

What is missing is transparent accountability. A system where states raise what they spend would encourage competition in efficiency, innovation, and value.

High-performing jurisdictions would prosper; under-performers would face pressure to improve or explain their record to voters.

The GST began as a state tax collected federally for simplicity. It has morphed into a federal lever for control. Until we enforce the rule that spenders must also be raisers, Australia remains a federation in form only – centralised in substance, divided in effect.

The founders knew dispersing power safeguards liberty. We have spent a century concentrating it.

It is time to heed Griffith’s insight and revive the principle that once made the federation function: those who spend the money should raise the money.

In this three-part series, I will discuss the problems with criminalising symbols, gestures and slogans and how it negatively impacts freedom of expression, creating absurd and unjust situations affecting ordinary people.

When a symbol is banned, it does not eliminate the desire to express an idea. The typical outcome is that a new symbol is adopted to express the same idea and, if authorities clamp down on the new symbol, yet another new symbol is adopted. This creates an endless game of whack a mole in which a lot of symbols become illegal and normal people find themselves in legal trouble for displaying an ever-growing list of symbols that are prohibited and branded as things they are not.

Sometimes, political groups and movements will resort to using symbols or imagery that are impractical to ban. For example, Pro Palestinian groups started using watermelon imagery in response to censorship of the Palestinian flag because to ban the depiction of a common fruit would make government authorities look stupid given the person can plausibly deny its meaning and claim they just like watermelon.

Another example is the adoption of all black clothing and specific haircuts amongst neo-Nazis in jurisdictions that prohibit Nazi symbols. For the government to ban people from wearing all black and to dictate hairstyles would constitute huge government overreach, impacting many people who aren’t neo-Nazis.

The risk of harm to ordinary people becomes especially high when official lists of current prohibited symbols are not easily accessible online. For example, the image below contains a recently banned symbol in South Australia which is meant to be associated with a neo-Nazi group. The only reason I know this is banned is because I read about it in a news article.

Given this, I could easily see a normal person buying a piece of clothing from an Op shop or just finding a piece of media depicting this symbol and reposting it or drawing it without any awareness that they are displaying a prohibited symbol.

And who decides what symbols to ban? If the government can ban the swastika, then what is to stop them from banning other symbols such as the Gadsden flag or depictions of Pepe the Frog, which is used in a range of political and non-political contexts in online communities?

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Just like with any law that intends to limit political expression, it creates a slippery slope that will inevitably be exploited by authorities. I believe it is preferable to live in a society that tolerates the swastika rather than a society where the government can simply ban symbols associated with unpopular (or even popular) political movements.

Another problem is that symbols can have different meanings to different people. While the swastika, for example, is almost universally considered a hate symbol in the West it is actually an ancient symbol originating up to 10,000 years ago, representing good fortune, the sun, or life. Derived from the Sanskrit svastika (well-being), it was used for millennia by Hindus, Buddhists, Jains, and Native Americans before being adopted by the Nazis in the 20th century.

Other symbols such as the Rising Sun flag and the US Confederate flag are also controversial with different groups holding widely different stances.

There is little to no consideration given to the range of contexts of which even a usually hateful symbol can be used in a manner that is not intended to promote hate. Although there are meant to be narrow exceptions such as allowing recognised religions such as Buddhism to use the swastika in the practice of their religion, allowing the symbol to be displayed for academic and artistic purposes, for a news report with ‘fair and accurate’ reporting, or in a manner that is meant to be in opposition to Nazism, fascism, etc, the reality is that these are merely legal defences.

(Legislation for South Australia)

This means that even if you are using the symbol in a manner that is meant to be lawfully permissible, you can still be arrested, and you will be made to suffer the financial, psychological, and social strain of going through the legal system with the recognition of ‘legal exceptions’ being based on the current political climate. This creates a chilling effect on legitimate expression.

In my next part of this series, I will discuss some examples in which such legislation restricts legitimate expression.

The Electoral (Accountability and Integrity) Amendment Act 2024, in force since July 2025, fundamentally restructured how political competition is financed. It has been described as “world-leading” in its attempt to remove private money from politics.

The legislation makes it unlawful for political parties, candidates, or MPs to receive electoral donations. Instead, public funding replaces private contributions, supplemented by strict expenditure caps and enhanced disclosure rules.

Public funding is distributed largely on the basis of electoral support. Parties receive payments per vote (for example, around $6 per vote up to a threshold), with funding capped at actual campaign expenditure. Additional streams include administrative funding, policy development grants, and advance payments to assist new entrants.

Certain new entrants and non-incumbents will be allowed to accept electoral donations subject to donation caps, including an individual donation limit of $5,000.

The reforms also regulate the political expenditure of third parties including businesses, unions and think tanks, with groups wanting to influence the outcome of an election subject to an expenditure cap of $450,000.

In effect, it is an attempt to create a closed financial ecosystem for elections: no private donations, controlled spending, and taxpayer-funded campaigns.

The policy has long been advocated by the Greens, who argue that the only reason they are unable to win elections is because their opponents spend more money.

Libertarians argue that it is not the government’s role to dictate how people choose to spend their own money, including contributing to the promotion of their preferred political party or viewpoint. While it might be tantalising to consider that the taxes of Greens voters are helping to fund One Nation’s campaign expenses, it is also true in reverse.

The rationale for public funding is to eliminate the perception (and reality) of political influence tied to money. Large donations have long raised concerns about access, lobbying power, and policy bias. The South Australian government explicitly framed the reform as a way to ensure decisions are made “because they’re the right thing to do”, rather than in response to donors.

By banning donations entirely, the reform goes further than most jurisdictions, which typically rely on caps and disclosure rules. In theory, this removes a key pathway for corruption.

There is also a goal of restoring trust in democratic institutions. If voters believe elections are not “for sale”, confidence in outcomes may increase. Public funding signals that elections are a public good rather than a marketplace.

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Another claimed benefit is greater equality between political competitors. Campaigns are no longer dependent on access to wealthy donors or corporate backing. In theory, this should make elections more about ideas and policies than financial resources.

The inclusion of advance payments for new parties and candidates is also significant, as it aims to reduce barriers to entry and encourage political diversity.

Despite its ambitions, evidence from the South Australian election suggests several complications. One is the shift of political spending to non-party structures. While parties cannot accept donations, third-party campaigners can still raise funds and spend within regulated limits. This is similar to “Super PACs” in America, which can accept unlimited contributions from individuals, unions, and corporations to spend on advertising, provided they do not directly coordinate with a candidate’s campaign.

Such groups are likely to become major players in Australian election campaigns, raising concerns about transparency and accountability. Banning donations to parties does not eliminate money from politics; it simply redirects it.

Public funding tied to vote share also tends to favour larger, established parties. A large majority of public funding flows to major parties, with only a small fraction reaching new entrants. This will reduce competition rather than enhance it.

The transition to a donation-free system introduces legal and administrative complexity. Questions have already arisen about what constitutes a donation versus a campaign expense, as illustrated by controversies over privately funded travel during the campaign.

The South Australian experiment has implications beyond the state. It represents one of the most comprehensive attempts globally to remove private money from electoral politics. If successful, the model could influence reforms at the federal level or in other states. Public funding systems already exist in many democracies, but few have gone as far as banning donations entirely.

The reforms aim to shift the basis of political competition away from financial capacity. However, it also highlights that money remains integral to politics, even if its channels change. That raises the question of whether the broader ecosystem of political communication is actually more important.

Further, the reforms raise fundamental questions about the balance between equality and freedom. Strict controls on funding and spending may enhance perceptions of fairness, but they also limit how individuals and groups participate in political debate.

Full public funding of election expenses is a bold attempt to reshape democratic practice. Its core promise – to remove the influence of private money and restore trust – addresses longstanding concerns in modern politics.

However, while the reform reduces certain risks, it curtails individual freedoms and introduces new challenges. Ultimately, it shows that public funding is not a simple solution but a trade-off. It can reduce direct financial influence on politicians, but has unintended consequences. As other jurisdictions watch this experiment, its long-term impact will be crucial in determining whether full public funding represents the future of democratic elections or is yet another imposition on liberty.

I doubt very much there will ever be a law which bans the use of cash and coins: there does not need to be. More and more businesses only accept cards, with the necessary surcharge of course. When the majority of customers use cards, increasingly on their phones, and there is no longer any stigma in swiping to pay for small amounts, continuing to accept cash is expensive and inefficient. Business owners also do not need to worry about sticky-fingered employees.

This love of convenience has handed the government an easy victory; they can track, trace, and tax every cent. Paying and accepting government printed legal tender, with the aid of ‘Cash is King’ signs, is now a conscious, rebellious act which falls, mostly, on deaf ears.

The only thing easier than killing people with convenience is seducing them with safety. All new security laws come with the in-built mantra, ‘if you have nothing to hide; you have nothing to fear.’ Most Australians agree with this sentiment. I would say, if you have nothing to hide, you are either the best liar or the most boring person on Earth, but that is an indulgent digression.

One of my biggest annoyances, when government acts in loco parentis, is how they interfere with business. The government determines everything from how much people are paid; the qualifications they need, and when recess is. Now, they can talk to your boss for you if you do not like the number of times your work calls or emails. In a more mature age, ‘the right to disconnect laws’ would have been laughed out of Capitol Hill.

But our working population has been so cowed into believing that being employed is a victimhood category of its own, with the oppressor being their evil, rapaciously greedy fat cat boss, that the government needs to play Mummy and talk to the meanie for you. Adults can and should negotiate appropriate terms with each other; if no agreement is reached, you can suck it up or leave.

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This is, strangely, a niche attitude.

If you were trying to convince someone to pay or accept cash; resist privacy violations on security grounds, or let adults decide the terms of their working contracts, it is difficult. They have given up freedom for convenience, perceived security and fairness. It is not even that they see the trade-off as worthwhile; they do not know the trade was made.

And, like the trade, the consequences are invisible to most. The majority of our fellow citizens will go through their entire lives without they themselves, or even anyone they know, having a serious or disturbing encounter with law enforcement or security agencies. When someone ‘gets into trouble’, no matter how ridiculous the alleged infraction, they are presumed to be guilty. When you can criminalise going outside in the name of ‘public health’, which most people supported, you can do anything.

There is a strange disconnect when most view government as benevolent and benign even though they would almost certainly tell you they don’t. Everyone complains about politicians and inconvenient laws, but will baulk at calling such things tyranny. In our eyes, tyranny is what happens in foreign lands when people are censored, imprisoned and beaten for going against the state. Certainly not us, the Internet police (the eSafety Commissioner), fair work commissions, equality and human rights bodies. These are ensuring social cohesion by preventing hurt feelings: we care. It is tyranny when China does it, but civilised when we do it.

The quangos led by our public masters all lead need to fall into redundancy; Australians need to decide to act like adults and take matters into their own hands. As Tom Valcanis wrote, when governments won’t clean up the beaches, the libertarians will.

While it is important to elect freedom-loving politicians, until we revivify the spirit of freedom in the hearts of the citizenry, we will take the comfortable, convenient road to tyranny.

What was once a perfectly ordinary workplace arrangement, freely negotiated by millions of adults, has suddenly been recast as a grand ideological struggle requiring urgent intervention from the state.

In a free society, the question of whether someone works from home, from an office, from a co-working space, or from a makeshift treehouse, is not a matter for politicians and bureaucrats. It is up to the two parties actually involved: the employee and the employer. One offers labour, the other offers pay and conditions; they negotiate, they agree (or not), and that is how free adults conduct their affairs.

But liberty is always under attack, and the increasingly authoritarian uniparty cannot help itself. The blue team wants to bark orders and force people back into the office. The red team wants to legislate a shiny new “right” to work from home.

As Opposition Leader in the lead up to the 2025 Australian Federal Election, Peter Dutton and his Shadow Cabinet flirted with the idea of ending all WFH arrangements for public servants. They fumbled it, failed to articulate the policy detail, and left the door wide open for a fear campaign that arguably shifted the momentum of the entire election campaign against them.

Victoria’s Labor Government under Premier Jacinta Allan cynically seized upon a political opportunity, promising to legislate WFH as an enforceable right. The new laws, poorly drafted, sailed through the Parliament this month and come into effect on 1 September 2026.

British MP and leader of Reform UK, Nigel Farage, has joined the chorus abroad, declaring war on working from home as if he, too, should have a say in where strangers open their laptops.

Why do so many politicians feel the need to express an opinion on how other people work?

These politicians pretend they are taking different positions. They are not. They are expressing the same rotten instinct, which is the belief that government should dictate the terms on which other people live and work.

There are valid arguments to be made for and against work-from-home arrangements. It’s not always good, nor is it always bad. It doesn’t suit every role or personality type, and some bosses are far too inflexible while some staff certainly abuse the privilege. Of course there are trade-offs, and of course different arrangements work for different industries. That is precisely why the government should stay out of it.

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The truth is that work-from-home arrangements are messy, varied and deeply context-specific. A suburban accountant, a software engineer, a call-centre worker, a lawyer, a tradie, a nurse and a cafe manager do not operate with the same labour market realities. Even within the same business, one team may function brilliantly in a hybrid model while another needs face-to-face contact. Some workers will value flexibility over salary. Some employers will value in-person collaboration over convenience. Some will get that balance right and prosper. Others will get it wrong and lose staff, customers or both.

Good. That is what freedom looks like. Trial, error, negotiation, competition and adaptation. Not a one-size-fits-all edict cooked up in some ivory tower.

The libertarian view is not that every employer is wise, or every employee entitled. The libertarian view is that adults should be left alone to sort out their own arrangements without a politician inserting themselves into the deal like an unwanted middle manager.

Freedom does not guarantee perfection; it guarantees choice, responsibility and the ability to walk away. Funnily enough, that is what the modern Australian political class hates. They’re regulating us into mediocrity.

Big Government – be it red or blue – cannot tolerate the idea that millions of people might peacefully organise their lives without supervision. If employees and employers are free to strike their own bargains, what role is left for the minister, the regulator, the tribunal member, the commissioner, the policy adviser and the press conference addict? Very little, and that, for them, is intolerable.

So they reach for their favourite trick: moralise, politicise and regulate.

The Coalition’s ‘back to the office’ rhetoric was classic top-down conservatism of the most illiberal kind. Putting aside their inability to effectively communicate that they only wanted to apply their WFH policy to public servants, they foolishly dressed the idea up as productivity and discipline. But the underlying message was simple enough: politicians know better than agencies, managers and workers how work should be organised. It was command-and-control nonsense, the sort of thing conservatives are supposed to oppose (until they get a whiff of authority and decide they like wielding it).

Labor’s answer is no better. In some ways it is worse, because it comes wrapped in the language of rights and compassion, which makes the overreach sound noble. Jacinta Allan’s push to legislate work-from-home rights is not some great leap forward for freedom; it is a cynical political stunt, and a deeply illiberal one at that. It takes an issue that should be governed by voluntary agreement and drags it into the swamp of statutory entitlements, quasi-judicial enforcement and political posturing.

Politicians love to signal their virtues. But as we know, once the state gets involved, the compliance machine follows and our rights and freedoms are quickly eroded. Whether or not someone should be able to work remotely is a private matter between an employee and their employer. It does not require government intrusion.

To quote one of our greatest public intellectuals, oh derrrr!

In fact, 50% of polled Australians blame either the Federal or State/Territory government for our current inflationary predicament (40% of the ire reserved for the feds and 10% for the states.) If you thought Tim Tams floated up to eyewatering prices, brace yourself: inflation has increased from 1.9% to 3.8% over the last six months.

With petrol edging $3 a litre (half of that being excise and GST) and Energy Minister Chris Bowen insisting that Australia’s fuel supply is secure and that there is no need for rationing.

Is it though?

Deep in Bowen’s chest, where his authoritarian Labor heart pumps away with the lifeblood of socialism coursing through his taxpayer-funded cholesterol-clogged veins, he cannot wait to institute some form of control over energy. He is the Minister, right? That means dominion over all that would go boom or pop to make things go?

On the 13^th of March he told reporters: “I ask Australians: buy as much fuel as you need, no more, no less […] There are other people, I’ve seen it on Facebook Marketplace, filling up jerry cans, Bunnings running out of jerry cans… selling fuel at inflated prices.

“That is un-Australian. It’s dangerous. It shouldn’t be done.”

You mean, it’s un-Labor. Because if you were in charge, we could sit on the world’s biggest oil reserves and have refineries in every major city and somehow come up desperately short.

Labor’s response to a crisis – pick your crisis, any crisis – is to increase their power over ordinary people. They do it because they think we’re panicky little peasants who can’t think or act for themselves. Bowen, if he cracked open an economics textbook (we recommend Basic Economics by Thomas Sowell) would realise that there’s no such thing as an “inflated price” – prices are determined by the available supply and the demand for the product. It’s so obvious, I have to point it out to a Labor politician. (A Greens politician: prices are racist.)

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Would Bowen go to the football and stomp his foot seeing “inflated prices” for Four N’ Twenty meat pies at the concession stand? No, because the comparison is ludicrous. You can’t compare the value of frozen pies in a supermarket with the value of baked pies at a venue with no alternative. Vendors could charge $10 for sauce, but they don’t – because prices are determined by how much people are prepared to pay.

Trust me, it’s true: we’ve all stood in line waiting for the pie warmer to go ding and forked out half a week’s wages for what plops out.

With successive governments bungling Australia’s management of fuel reserves, the phrase “we won’t need petrol rationing” will be the new “two weeks to flatten the curve” – it’s not only going to happen, but it’s going to happen and it’ll be a good thing, it’ll happen and be extended beyond what’s reasonable, and anyone opposed to it is a dangerous cooker who hates grandma, untaxed sunsets, and dancing nurses.

Perhaps our forebears were made of harder stock, because Ben Chifley’s Labor government was brought down in spectacular fashion over petrol rationing, imposed well after the conclusion of World War II. There is High Court precedent that Federal governments can’t ration petrol by decree, but force it through importing or releasing less than what’s needed. So, screwing it all up, in other words.

Then leader of the Country Party (the forerunner to the Nationals) Arthur Fadden said, “I am inclined to think that petrol rationing was the rock on which the government finally foundered.”

I don’t know – did the 1940s ALP have a vast apparatus of spin merchants and bullshit artists on hand to sell their crappy superannuated rationing regime? It’s Iran! It’s Ukraine! It’s the vibe! Yeah, It’s mostly the vibe.

Then again, will it? Australians seem pretty cool with tyranny, re-electing the most draconian COVID governments back into power (c.f. WA, Victoria, Queensland.) Hell, Victoria will probably do it twice.

The Reserve Bank has just turned up the heat on rates and probably will again, which usually boils governments to death. I don’t think it’ll touch Albo and Grim Jim; seeing the conservative (lol) side of politics bifurcated between One Nation and the Coalition. Half of Australia blames the government for cost of living – so stop voting for big government parties, maybe? Just a thought. And no, One Nation is not a “libertarian” party, stop pretending.

Instead of closing down refineries and chasing green ideological pipe dreams, the government should (hey here’s a shocker) get out of the way. To paraphrase a young rebel princess from a long time ago in a galaxy far far away: the more Bowen tightens his grip on energy, the greater chance it will slip through his fingers.

Buttery fingers at that.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what government policy tells us about who society really values.Not what politicians say in press conferences, but what the rules quietly reward and punish.

Because when you strip away the slogans about “skills shortages” and “future jobs”, a very different story emerges.

Right now, an arts degree graduate can have up to $20,000 of their HECS debt wiped — courtesy of the taxpayer, no questions asked. No expectation that this produces anything measurable. No requirement that it fills a skills gap or contributes to productivity.

At the same time, if I hire an apprentice — a young person who turns up every day, learns a trade, and contributes real output while they train — my business gets taxed for it.

That isn’t rhetoric; it’s policy.

Under Victoria’s payroll tax system, apprentice wages are taxed at 4.85 per cent. That’s roughly $2,400 per apprentice, per year. If you train four apprentices, you’re paying close to $10,000 annually just for the privilege of building skills.

Over time, especially if the State Revenue Office decides to look back a few years, that can turn into tens of thousands of dollars — plus interest and penalties — even when you’ve acted in good faith.

So I’m left with a simple question: who does government think is more valuable to society?

The student who spends three years studying abstract theory, funded by debt that can later be forgiven?

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Or the employer who takes on the cost, risk, and responsibility of training the next electrician, fitter, or fabricator — the people who actually build, fix, and maintain the country?

The message seems pretty clear.

One path gets a gift.

The other gets a tax bill.

Imagine applying that logic anywhere else.

It’s a bit like rewarding someone for ordering a meal, then charging the restaurant extra for cooking it — and acting surprised when fewer kitchens stay open.

And then we wonder why young people are nudged toward university and away from trades.

This isn’t about attacking higher education. We need universities. We need graduates. But we also need a sense of proportion — and some honesty.

If government genuinely believes apprentices are critical to the economy, then why are apprentice wages excluded from WorkCover calculations but included for payroll tax?

If they’re trainees for one purpose, why are they treated as revenue generators for another?

And if governments are serious about closing the skills gap, why does the tax system actively discourage the very behaviour they claim to want more of?

Manufacturers aren’t asking for grants, subsidies, or special treatment. We’re asking for consistency.

We’re asking government to stop penalising businesses that invest in people, skills, and long-term productivity.

Exempt apprentice wages from payroll tax.

Align payroll tax with WorkCover definitions.

Stop punishing employers for doing the hard, unglamorous work of training.

Because every policy choice reveals a value judgement. And right now, the system is telling us that theory is worth a gift — while practical skills are worth a tax invoice.

If that’s not backwards, I’m not sure what is.

When space travel becomes mainstream like air travel did in the 1960s or thereabouts, a flurry of narcissistic elites and rich kids will reach for the moon as the ultimate flex. They’ll also be there to plant their social media flags in barren grey seas ripe for clout farming.

First selfie on the moon. First Coke drunk on the moon. First podcast on the moon. I’m sure a few spicy sites like OnlyFans will notch a lion’s share of adult-oriented firsts, considering American consumers spend more on that than the New York Times and OpenAI combined.

Eventually, the well will run dry of firsts as will our attention for them. First paper aeroplane that flew a distance of… eh, who cares.

Today, activists of the leftist persuasion are falling over themselves to come up with new firsts. They want to re-fight race relations, gay rights, women’s rights, and will even invent new categories and divisions just so they can look good instead of doing good.

Douglas Murray in his book The Madness of Crowds described it thus:

“[Activist] culture [can be likened] to a train that has just pulled near its desired destination, slowing down as it comes to a halt at the station. But suddenly, the train picks up speed again and begins careening recklessly down an unforeseen track.”

In the 1960s and 1970s, one could argue that these movements were necessary. In the eyes of the law at the very least, these injustices no longer exist. So why are well-off young people marching in the streets each weekend instead of, I dunno, getting drunk and making out?

If you really want to blaze a trail these days, you ought to be a libertarian.

Australia had the first “democratic socialist” Prime Minister in the Western world back in 1903, John Watson. Ever the protectionist, he was a staunch believer in worker’s rights and strict enforcement of the White Australia Policy. Someone no one should ever seek to emulate, ever. But hey, he was first!

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Because if you’re angling to pioneer some aspect of dunderheaded socialism, you’re shit out of luck. The leaderboards for most people starved, largest number purged, greatest number of generations immiserated… you really need to start gearing up for such goals in infancy, like aiming for admission at Harvard or Oxford university. NYC Comrade Mayor Zohran Mamdani started on his bullshit at just seven years old – and look where he is now!

In Australia, we’ve barely had a libertarian anybody do the first of anything. Our fearless Editor (David Leyonhjelm) was the first libertarian elected to Federal Parliament; David Limbrick the first elected to the Socialist Republic of Victoria; John Ruddick the first elected to New South Wales. On the global stage, we have Javier Milei of Argentina representing the first libertarian head of government – though if you want to keep warm at night, just mention this in a libertarian-leaning subreddit and the ensuing flame war will negate a need for blankets. How many examples is that? Four? How many chic leftie trends are cannibalising themselves right this very minute? Is this Keffiyeh I got for Palestine on eBay still good for Iran? Is Ukraine still a thing?

You should be thinking, can I be the first one to halve the public service? The first Australian to give people school choice? The first Australian to liberalise gun laws?

The great thing is that libertarianism doesn’t follow a whole lot of rules. You just go out and you do it. The damn government won’t clean up the beaches, so local Libertarian Party branches do it for free every other Sunday down in Victoria. Yeah! No permission required! Drive that train to the station!

That’s because we persuade people with the merit in our ideas, not with the threat of violence. Capitalism is great because even the most self-absorbed, selfish prick of a person needs to provide value somehow to gain the most benefit out of it. Of course, we don’t remotely live in that kind of society, when even microcosms of it can expropriate $15 billion from taxpayers and give it to criminals who spend it on strippers. Allegedly. Hell, funnelling money to a coterie of special interests has been done to death! Sooooo 1980s, right?

Just like buying up all the good houses, your parents and grandparents fought for these rights and all but won. It’s all been done and the vast majority of people – unless you’re clamouring for the same attention – won’t notice. These aren’t premieres, they’re repeats.

On the other hand, you could be like the upstart Will Shackel, who founded Nuclear for Australia as a wet behind the ears teenager. No updoots on the left-wing cesspits of InstaTok for him, but he did it anyway. Good for him! He was even on that big phone-looking thing old people have in their living room. It’s called a Tele… something.

So, if you want to make real waves, give liberty a shot. It will uplift your family, friends, and community and better yet – you just might be the first person to do it.

The Liberal/Nationals Coalition is powerless to block legislation unless it can enlist the support of the Greens and some crossbenchers. For obvious reasons, that is rare.

Even if the Coalition had won the 2022 and 2025 elections, it would still have had a problem in the Senate. The combined votes of Labor, the Greens and left-wing crossbenchers would have ensured that nothing controversial was passed.

This is not a new problem for the Coalition. In 2013, when Tony Abbott led his party to victory, the Senate proved his undoing. While he succeeded in repealing the carbon tax and passing legislation to deal with illegal immigrants, most of his economic policies were blocked in the Senate. That led to the perception that his government was failing, causing a decline in public support and his replacement in 2016 with Malcolm Turnbull.

Turnbull thought he could fix the Senate problem by changing the method of electing it. Rather than political parties negotiating to exchange preferences, in a system known as group voting tickets, preferences would be made optional and left entirely to voters.

Turnbull and his ministers, with Mathias Cormann the leader in the Senate, convinced themselves that under the new method the Coalition would gain sufficient numbers in the Senate to pass its legislation whenever it won government.

Historically, changes to the electoral system have had the support of both sides of politics. Not this time; Labor vociferously opposed the proposed changes (as did several crossbench senators, including me and Bob Day). As a result, the Coalition negotiated a deal with the Greens. The combined vote of the Coalition and the Greens ensured the changes became law and the 2016 double dissolution election was called soon after.

Labor opposed the changes because it foresaw a future in which it would be forever reliant on the Greens, with little prospect of achieving a majority in its own right. While the policies of the two parties overlap quite a lot, they compete strongly for the left vote.

The Greens supported the changes because they realised it would stop most minor parties from winning seats, and relished the prospect of having the balance of power with two Senate seats from each state.

As the 2016 and each subsequent election showed, Labor and the Greens were correct; Turnbull and the Liberals were wrong. Although the Coalition won the 2016 election (with a much reduced majority), its position in the Senate was not improved and it struggled to pass its legislation right up to 2022.

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There are competing arguments as to whether democracy was enhanced by the new voting system. While the group voting ticket system could be criticised for allowing political parties to exchange preferences in ways that disregarded the wishes of their supporters, it allowed minor parties to work together to win seats. It also only required voters to vote 1 above the line.

On the other hand, optional preferential voting in the Senate is confusing when there is compulsory preferential voting in the House of Representatives.

However, the method of voting is not the reason the Coalition has been so dismally unsuccessful in the Senate. They did poorly both before and after the system was changed.

The primary reason is the reluctance of the Liberals (as the dominant party in the Coalition) to establish beneficial relationships with minor parties on the right.

The party’s attitude, mostly found among its national and state directors rather than its elected representatives, is that any party that competes for primary votes is a foe, irrespective of any assistance they might provide via preferences.

There is also little interest in helping a candidate from a sympathetic minor party win a Senate seat rather than Labor or the Greens, if the Liberals cannot win it themselves

There have been exceptions – a couple of minor parties that supported them on every vote – but the contrast with Labor is stark. While Labor has always been open to negotiating with other parties, somewhat irrespective of policies or history, the Liberals engage reluctantly if at all. And when they do it is often too late, being close to the election when deals with other parties are already in place.

Their treatment of my party, the Liberal Democrats (now Libertarian Party), illustrates their thinking. Not only were they always reluctant to engage on the issue of preferences, in 2021 they changed the law to prevent my party from having the word “liberal” in its name. That cost the Liberals many preferences. The architect of the change was a former state director.

Under the group voting ticket system the Liberals could probably have won several more Senate seats if they had negotiated preference deals with some of the many minor parties. They not only did not know how to do this; they did not want to.

Under the Turnbull system, preferences are mostly exchanged via how-to-vote cards, which many voters automatically follow. If they had negotiated deals with minor parties on these, there is similarly a good chance the Coalition could have won more Senate seats.

Whether the Liberals can recover from their current malaise to regain government is a moot point at the moment, with One Nation snapping at their heels. But even if they do, unless they adjust their thinking to the realities of the voting system they introduced, their ability to govern will continue to be severely compromised.

Real name policies have long been associated with authoritarian regimes such as China, where users of a website are required to register their account under their real name and hence lose any anonymity and privacy. If implemented in Germany, it will most certainly spread to other Western countries.

Victims of stalking and domestic violence will pay a significant price by being forced to choose between safety (often life or death) and connection with others. Even if this demographic was to be granted a legal exemption, proving and getting police to believe that you are a victim of stalking or domestic violence isn’t always guaranteed.

The policy will have a chilling effect on expression and will be used by governments to target and punish those with dissenting political views including activists, journalists and whistleblowers. This is especially relevant given the recent increase in arrests in Western countries over what people have said online. Foreign students and refugees from repressive regimes would be at a heightened risk of repression and tracking from abroad.

The chilling effect would go further than just political discussions. Those who are HIV positive, those who need to keep their sexuality secret, and people struggling with addiction and mental health issues would be forced to either suffer in isolation or out themselves publicly and risk real world discrimination to get help and support online. People who have a reasonable interest in keeping their personal and professional lives separate would be placed in precarious positions; for example, a teacher with non-child friendly interests such as BDSM.

There are also practical considerations. For example, some platforms such as Discord require users to have a unique username. If you happen to be one of many people called Tom White, would you be barred from Discord because another Tom White beat you to it, or would you be able to add letters and numbers that aren’t part of your name?

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Would variations of names be allowed? I personally go by both Jess and Jessica. Would I be required to be Jessica in all online spaces? Should I assume going by a nickname online would be illegal? Would real name requirements extend to online gaming and role-playing usernames such as for World of Warcraft or online DND? If yes, being forced to use your real name rather than picking a fun fantasy name for your online avatar would ruin some of the fun.

Would those who are transgender but are yet to legally change their names be forced to use their legal name online? This reminds me of a situation involving a friend who is a detransitioner who tried to create a new Facebook account and had his account immediately banned because it didn’t match his current legal name. Would there be a legal loophole that allows people claiming to be transgender, non-binary, etc to use an alternative name?

What about people who use stage names for performing arts? Organisations such as SAG AFTRA, which is a guild that controls much of the entertainment industry in the United States, do not allow members to share the same stage name. Even when two people have the same legal name.

How would such a law apply to business social media accounts? Especially if a business is run by a sole trader rather than a company? Wouldn’t those with common legal names be at increased risk of copyright disputes if forced to use their real name in their business name?

Real name requirements aren’t just invasive, but they are also ineffective. For example, South Korea had real name requirements from 2004 to 2012. Studies found that there was no significant decrease in online abuse, with ‘hateful’ comments decreasing by less than 1% and no decrease in the spread of misinformation or conspiracy theories. One thing the policy does do is increase the collection of data and put people at risk of having sensitive data leaked in large scale hacks.

Given the significant privacy and practical problems with the policy along with evidence of its ineffectiveness, it’s clear there is no benefit. Its proposal is clearly driven by a desire to further suppress dissenting political views and the persecution of political dissidents in Western countries.

Even before Bondi, we had a raft of civil and criminal hate speech laws at the state, territory and federal levels. I do not need the Minns Government’s (yet to be released so it must be hiding something good) report on hate speech to know this approach has been a colossal failure.

You cannot banish the hatred from people’s hearts by making offense, phrases, or salutes, illegal. I am not even making the argument that such measures push certain attitudes underground: anti-Semitism was very public and common in the two years before the Bondi massacre.

I am arguing such approaches are futile. No one who is willing to commit or advise murder is going to be concerned about a hate speech law under the purview of some human rights bureaucrat.

All these laws have done is weaponise the worst attributes of snitches and authoritarians. We have seen broadcasters, cartoonists, ministers, and university students railroaded for non-woke approved opinions or jokes.

Likely, these laws have made society worse because issues like Muslim integration, and Aboriginality, could not be openly and honestly addressed. You do not make society safer by telling people some opinions or words are so dangerous that to utter them will land you in court.

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Hate speech laws have become an easy scapegoat for governments. They can ‘be seen to be doing something’, while not addressing difficult topics like immigration. As Chris Minns has already said, we do not get freedom of speech because we chose multiculturralism, and apparently with that, social cohesion delivered with a jackboot.

One of the justifications you will hear from the pro-hate speech enthusiasts is that we do not have the right balance in the laws, or they do not cover enough attributes, or phrases. Pray tell, what are the right laws? No one can say. It always seems to be more. We need more powers, more of your freedoms, more of your rights, then you will be safe.

Safety was supposed to come with the National Firearms Agreement (written about at length by David Leyonhjelm in Liberty Itch and his book Gun Control). It did not stop the Bondi massacre, the Lindt cafe siege, or any other shooting, whether it was‘inspired’ by a religion of peace or some garden variety nutter.

If ordinary citizens were armed, Bondi likely would not have happened or would have been over much quicker. Look at what some people were able to achieve with only their fists; firearms, pepper spray, or knives would have made a significant difference.

But alas, we banned guns in the past after a tragedy so we must do it again.

As Gerardine Hoogland’s piece The Case for “Liberty” Epigraphs, recently asked, “What has happened to our free press and their once fervent support for the freedom to speak and write?” Such a question could be posed about our universities, schools, workplaces, and government.

Freedom is now seen as a threat; something to be managed by our bureaucratic betters to ensure social cohesion. Government has fully taken on the role of the oedipal mother, and is promising eternal safety in exchange for eternal submission. Many, I am afraid, are happy to take that bargain.

During recent research for a different topic, I came across an 1869 edition of a regional newspaper, Wagga Wagga Advertiser and Riverine Reporter, – today known as The Daily Advertiser.

What struck me was not the old-style print associated with ‘ye olde’ printing presses, or the beautifully poetic writing of the editorials and letters to the editor, but something far less noticeable in size, yet more poignant for its brevity and literary power:

‘This is true liberty, when freeborn men,

Having to advise the public, may speak free.’

This iconic liberty-inspired phrase is most associated with John Milton, political thinker of the 1600s, but its genesis goes back to ancient Greece.

The Greek playwright, Euripides, wrote a play called Suppliant Women, from where the inspiration for this particular phrase derives. It is premised on the section where Theseus, king of Athens, explains how democracy and tyranny work to a visiting herald.

Milton wrote the now renowned but at the time, controversial, pamphlet, Areopagitica, in 1644 as a plea to the parliament of England to have a free press. He opened the pamphlet with reference to Euripides’ powerful words:

‘This is true liberty, when free-born men,

Having to advise the public, may speak free,

Which he who can, and will deserves high praise;

Who neither can, nor will, may hold his peace:

What can be juster in a state than this?’

In light of the tenuous nature of democracy and the current instability occurring throughout the West today, it is worthy of relaying here the entire section leading up to that infamous phrase:

‘This herald is a clever fellow, a dabbler in the art of talk.

But since you have thus entered the contest with me, listen awhile, for it was you that challenged a discussion.

Nothing is more hostile to a city than a despot; where he is, there are first no laws common to all, but one man is tyrant, in whose keeping and in his alone the law resides, and in that case, equality is at an end.

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But when the laws are written down, rich and weak alike have equal justice, and it is open to the weaker to use the same language to the prosperous when he is reviled by him, and the weaker prevails over the stronger if he has justice on his side.

Freedom’s mark is also seen in this: “Who has wholesome counsel to declare unto the state?” And he who chooses to do so gains renown, while he, who has no wish, remains

silent. What greater equality can there be in a city?’

That the first two lines were positioned directly underneath the title of the Wagga Wagga Advertiser and Riverine Reporter, and separated by the date which was written in large capital letters ensconced with double lines above and below, is testament to how our respect for liberty has slipped so far down the proverbial totem pole of free speech today.

The Daily Advertiser used that motto until sometime in the 1950s. Upon further research, I found that not one Australian news outlet has used such a motto to liberty since the early twentieth century. The only mention to free speech and a free press is contained within charters, policies or editorials, an example being the Australian Press Council’s Charter for a Free Press.

What has happened to our free press and their once fervent support for the freedom to speak and write?

We should not underestimate the impact a short and pointed phrase can have on our perceptions.

It was that single line alone of Euripides – borrowed by Milton – that gave me pause and set the tone for what I would then go on to read and later write about. But more than this, the power of such a potent phrase as this one is rooted in the authority of the ancient Greek democratic ideals – the very same ones which we inherited and have lived by for hundreds of years.

This is both provocative, in the sense of reminding us of where our freedom came from and how its precious underpinnings require constant vigilance to preserve; and alarming, in the fact that today in 2026, most western democracies have regressed to become captives of the Leviathan’s enormous surveillance tentacles.

I am an avid supporter of collecting, categorising and preserving worthy sayings, thoughts or memories, because it can serve us well when we seek to recall the minutiae of ideas, particularly the important ones relating to our civic lives.

It was a highly valued practice in the ancient world, and Renaissance era. Known as Commonplace, people in those times would collect and preserve statements they considered to be worthy of remembrance from either their ancestors or even contemporaries if considered credible and important enough.

In Latin, this is known as Meminesse – ‘to remember.’

We would do well to reprise this practice and hand it on to our descendants in the hope they will be enriched by the achievements of those who have paved the way for freedom, liberty and lives worthy of remembrance.

Very few governments even acknowledge they have a spending problem (in public at least), and almost none are willing to tackle it. A major reason is that voters repeatedly elect governments based on generous spending promises, while opposing increases in taxes. Australians are notorious for doing that.

Until a libertarian government can be elected, like in Argentina, or voters can be convinced to vote for fiscal responsibility, for which there are few precedents, the challenge is to reduce spending without it becoming too controversial.

Traditionally, budgeting systems are anchored in the past: each year’s allocations are driven by the previous year’s expenditures. This incremental approach offers stability and predictability, but it also tends to entrench inefficiencies, perpetuate outdated programs, and obscure opportunities for meaningful cost savings.

An alternative is what’s known as bottom-up (or zero-base) budgeting. It is based on the requirement to justify each expenditure starting from “zero” – providing a disciplined, transparent, and service-oriented framework that can reduce public spending without sacrificing essential services.

Instead of treating past expenditures as a baseline to be adjusted, zero base budgeting compels each department to articulate its objectives, identify specific activities to meet those objectives, and justify the costs of those activities from the ground up.

The method asks a simple but transformative question: If this service were being created today, would we fund it, at this level, in this form, and with these resources? This enables decision makers to reassess long-standing assumptions and uncover hidden inefficiencies.

It is also valuable for promoting accountability, because each activity must be justified. The process produces more detailed documentation of what services cost, why they cost that amount, and what outcomes they deliver. Such visibility helps policymakers, and the public, distinguish between high-value programs and lower-priority expenditures. Rather than relying on broad departmental totals or vague line items, decision-makers gain a clearer understanding of operational realities, which in turn fosters more targeted and evidence-based resource allocation.

It can also expose inefficiencies that incremental budgeting conceals. When the previous year’s budget serves as the starting point, spending habits can become entrenched even when circumstances change. For instance, a department that once required a large travel budget may continue to receive similar allocations long after technological improvements or policy changes have reduced the need for travel. Similarly, staffing levels may remain inflated even if service demand has decreased.

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Zero-base budgeting encourages managers to be more creative by asking whether tasks can be automated, partnerships can be leveraged, or processes can be redesigned. Through this scrutiny, agencies frequently discover opportunities to streamline service delivery, consolidate overlapping programs, or eliminate outdated activities altogether.

In the private sector, zero-base budgeting is a well-known technique for driving costs out of a business. Savings of at least 30% are typical.

In the public sector, perhaps the most compelling reason to adopt bottom-up budgeting is its capacity to reduce expenditure while preserving key services. Because it emphasizes outcomes and service priorities, it helps governments identify which functions are indispensable and which are not. Managers are compelled to rank activities by their importance, which creates a structured framework for making resource trade-offs.

Services are not arbitrarily protected simply because they are large, longstanding, or seen as untouchable, but because their value is clearly demonstrated through the justification process. Conversely, lower-impact or inefficient activities are far more likely to be redesigned or discontinued. In times of fiscal constraint, this prioritisation ensures that savings are achieved in a strategic, not indiscriminate, manner.

Zero-base budgeting also has the potential to foster innovation within the public sector. Traditional budgeting often focuses on maintaining the status quo; departments may feel pressured to request only slight increases or decreases in order to avoid political scrutiny. Zero-base budgeting, however, invites a more entrepreneurial approach by encouraging agencies to propose alternative ways to achieve their goals.

By re-examining how services are delivered – not merely how much they cost – governments can discover new methods that are both cost-effective and more responsive to community needs.

Zero-base budgeting is more time-consuming than incremental budgeting, and it demands substantial analytical capacity from both managers and finance staff. Agencies accustomed to stable budgets may initially resist what they perceive as a disruptive process. However, these challenges can be mitigated through phased implementation, appropriate training, and effective use of digital tools that automate much of the analytic work.

Governments that have adopted zero-base budgeting typically do so on a rolling basis, reviewing different departments each year rather than restructuring the entire budget simultaneously.

Ultimately, the case for bottom-up budgeting rests on a simple principle: public money should be spent in ways that demonstrably serve the public good. Zero-base budgeting provides a systematic method for ensuring that.

The first and most obvious issue is that when funding is based on the total number of votes received in an election, those who win more votes get more funding. This results in more funding for major parties and less funding for minor parties.

When combined with the severe restrictions on political donations, the potential for minor parties to grow, promote themselves and gain votes becomes severely restricted. Smaller parties that have less brand awareness need to spend more money to attract votes and grow their supporter base while major parties that already have significant brand awareness can spend significantly less to attract the same votes and support.

Restricting the ability of people and businesses to donate to political parties directly restricts public political participation. Political donations allow voters with limited ability to volunteer, and those with concerns about outing themselves politically to participate in politics, especially those who hold unpopular political stances. They also financially incentivise political parties to care more about the desires and needs of voters.

Although concerns about money in politics are not unfounded, restricting the ability of voters to financially assist parties they support while forcing them to fund political parties they don’t support is unfair and unreasonable. Surely requiring the public disclosure of political donations that are over a significant financial threshold would be a more fair and proportionate response. This would achieve the desired transparency without hampering political participation and the anonymity of the average voter.

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The restrictions on political donations are not the only problem caused by the new legislation. One of the reforms requires political parties to register eight months prior to an election to be able to run in state elections. With the next South Australian election on the 21^st of March 2026, just over nine and a half months after the legislation came into effect, this meant that new and reregistering political parties had just over one and a half months from when the legislation came into effect to register and be able to run in the state.

I find this to be both underhanded and undemocratic, especially given that at least three parties have been caught out by this requirement including the SA Libertarian Party and For Unley. This of course does not include other currently unregistered parties that stumbled across this new rule, realised they couldn’t run and decided not to register. The three affected parties are not just unable to run but are also unable to attract funding as there will be no votes on which to base funding and hence no funds for future elections and party promotion.

Despite the significant drawbacks of these new laws, this new party funding model creates an interesting opportunity: to defund the Big 4 (SA Labor, SA Liberals, SA Nationals and of course SA Greens). This is because under the new system, every first preference vote in the upcoming South Australian election becomes a donation to the political party that is preferenced first.

When you choose one of the Big 4 as your first preference, you don’t just contribute to their success in the election; you also grant them a small profit. When you choose a minor party that isn’t one of the Big 4, although the success of that party isn’t guaranteed electorally and Big 4 may still prevail, you at least deprive the Big Four of the profit they would gain from your vote and allow that funding to flow to a party you actually prefer.

All parties will be relying on their success in this election for survival, since most of their funding will depend on the votes they get. If enough people choose to put minor parties as their first preference, we can deprive the major parties of a portion of the financial windfall that will make up most of their income and resist the system that seeks to crush minor parties.

When I was a kid, my old man was really into computers.

That meant we’d putz around with a Commodore 64 (which I may have stomped on), do actual work on a 386SX, then upgraded to an Internet-enabled 486DX a couple of years later. I absolutely loved it.

Before the New Tax System computers were subject to some hefty levies. Thanks to economies of scale prices plummeted and stabilised. 10% GST on the whole kit and kaboodle, not 48% on, hell, I don’t know, silicon.

Back then, if your brand spanking new PC could play Doom, one of the early first-person shooter video games (if you’re too much of a boomer to understand, it’s the game you all pinned Columbine on) there was no chance in hell it would play Quake, a giant leap for graphics just two years later.

In the 90s, obsolescence didn’t need planning. It was a natural consequence of Moore’s Law, named for Intel engineer Gordon Moore. He said that transistor counts in central processing units doubled every 18-24 months. In between Rachel and Ross debating whether they were on a break, the blazing fast superchip powering your beige box might have turned into a Dorito.

Malcolm Turnbull knew how money worked, investing in one of our first ever Internet Service Providers, OzEmail, which sold internet access by the hour. It set you back $5 an hour (or $2.50 after 12am.) In today’s money, that’s $10.69. Logging on at 28.8kbps, it meant ten minutes checking your email and another forty-five downloading a thumbnail sized, minute-long video of Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee enjoying a pleasant sun-kissed boat ride. Surfing the net was prohibitively expensive.

But we could avail ourselves of Net Cafes. These were businesses that invested in computer and coffee hardware in bulk, and sold internet access by the hour or half-hour. It was cheaper than sinking money into your own setup, especially when its depreciation schedule was just a big “Yes.”

Somehow, I think in the age of “you’ll own nothing and be happy”, this will all make a comeback. Not in a pleasant, coloured-squiggle décor and big mug of latte kind of way either.

Hapless PC gamers like me have been subject to price slings and arrows for the last decade, despite mere incremental gains in computing power. Moore’s Law is dead. Remember that two-year obsolescence gap? My ten year old CPU can still play AAA games at 1440p (just pretend you know what that is and gasp.) We were subject to the Cryptomining squeeze in 2018, the semi-conductor shortage during 2020-2022, and now we’re battling AI slop merchants to procure two crucial computing components: RAM and graphics cards.

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Graphics cards mean rendering scenes of space aliens getting their heads blown off with lasers in photorealistic detail becomes possible in real time. It also powers Large Language Models and Stable Diffusion – the computing that powers Generative AI and machine learning.

Of course, those billions of parameters need storage. Hence, they’re stored in RAM. They need lots of it. With data centres hoovering up all the RAM they can slot, prices for consumers have soared – up 171% year on year. One of the world’s leading manufacturers, Micron Technologies, has pulled out of the consumer market altogether chasing those venture capital and government megabucks before it all evaporates.

The Australian Government, in its infinite stupidity, is also looking to dump money into AI data centres through its National AI Plan. “The government is backing local capability through significant investment in sovereign AI for the public service,” it says.

Is this how the real robot apocalypse begins? A Centerlink clanker issuing grants to NDIS “Learing” Centres in my name, forever? Naturally, the government is handing over billions of our cash to something that’s yet to return any investment, anywhere, ever.

They also need to pick a lane. Do y’all want Net Zero or data centres? I’ll break it down for the Cabinet in terms they can understand: Those data centres you want - they use lots of electricity. Either you build nuclear or you keep hoping the sun shines at night. I know which option they’ll pick, of course.

I’m not saying AI is a massive grift; but I’d hope any money I put into it at the start will make more at the end of it. The 1960s saw a massive AI boom, then a 1980s “winter”, and now we’re having another “boom”. If there’s a winter, it might resemble the one at the start of The Terminator. Oh man, how far away IS 2029 again?

If the government keeps distorting the market, data centres will become wholesalers of graphics cards and RAM, renting it out to us by the hour just like they used to with Internet. Computing as a subscription service – you know they all want it. Hell, it fulfills their dual-pronged authoritarian fever dream of monitoring our thoughts as well as our wallets.

The superhighway to serfdom terminates at the Comrade Albanese Information Commune, where we’re allocated three hours of Sims 4 gameplay per month provided our player characters all look different and earn the same salary.

My old man? He hung up his BASIC chops a long time ago. He’s content watching YouTube on his iPad while MasterChef plays on TV. It must be bliss.