What is an “Ordinary Australian”? And Why Do Politicians Keep Calling Us That?

There is a phrase that has become so common in Australian public life that most people no longer stop to think about what it actually means.

“Ordinary Australians.”

Politicians use it. Journalists use it. Activists use it. Commentators use it. Every election campaign seems to be designed around helping them, protecting them, supporting them or fighting for them. Every budget is supposedly crafted with them in mind. Every policy failure is measured by its impact on them.

Yet for all the times the phrase is repeated, nobody ever seems to ask the obvious question.

What exactly is an “ordinary Australian”?

I have spent a fair bit of time thinking about that question and, the more I think about it, the less sense it makes.

Is an ordinary Australian the nurse working a twelve-hour shift caring for patients while navigating endless paperwork and staffing shortages? Is it the teacher who spends evenings and weekends preparing lessons, mentoring students and helping shape the next generation? Is it the doctor carrying the responsibility of making life-changing decisions every day, or the paramedic who rushes towards emergencies while everyone else is running away?

Perhaps it is the engineer designing the bridges, roads, water systems and infrastructure that modern society depends upon. Maybe it is the architect designing our cities, the scientist developing new technologies, or the farmer producing the food that fills our supermarkets.

Or perhaps it is the electrician keeping the lights on, the plumber keeping the water flowing, the fitter and turner maintaining machinery, the welder building critical infrastructure, the truck driver delivering essential goods, or the small business owner who risks everything to employ local people and keep their doors open.

Maybe it is the retiree who spent forty years working, paying taxes, raising a family and contributing to their community before finally stepping away from the workforce. Maybe it is the volunteer firefighter, the sporting club volunteer, the charity worker, or the parent who quietly sacrifices their own ambitions to create opportunities for their children.

The more examples you consider, the harder it becomes to identify anyone who genuinely deserves to be described as ordinary.

What I have noticed, however, is that the people who use the phrase almost never include themselves in the category.

Have you ever heard a television commentator describe themselves as an ordinary Australian? Have you ever heard a senior bureaucrat, political adviser or member of parliament proudly identify themselves as ordinary? Have you ever heard one of the countless experts who appear on our screens and in our newspapers include themselves among the people they are constantly talking about?

Neither have I.

The phrase is almost always directed at somebody else. It is usually applied to people outside the political class, the media bubble, and the institutions that increasingly dominate public life. It is a label placed on the people who build things, grow things, fix things, teach things, create things and keep society functioning while others discuss them from a distance.

That is why the phrase feels so uncomfortable.

On the surface it sounds harmless. In reality, it carries an unspoken assumption that there is a distinction between those who lead public debate and those who are the subjects of public debate. Between those who possess wisdom and those who merely receive it. Between those who make decisions and those who are expected to live with the consequences.

The implication is subtle but unmistakable. There are apparently people qualified to explain how society should function, and then there are the “ordinary Australians” who should simply listen and comply.

This mindset helps explain why trust in so many institutions has declined so dramatically. Australians are not rejecting expertise; most people value genuine expertise and experience. What they are rejecting is the growing tendency of some people in public life to confuse expertise with superiority.

A doctor may know more about medicine than I do. An engineer may know more about engineering. A teacher understands education. A farmer understands farming. A manufacturer understands manufacturing. Expertise is valuable and should be respected.

The problem arises when expertise in one field becomes a licence to lecture everyone else about every aspect of life. When people who have spent their careers inside institutions assume they understand the lives of those who work outside them. When practical experience is dismissed while theoretical knowledge is elevated.

Too often we see those who create wealth, produce goods, solve practical problems and take commercial risks treated as though they are somehow less informed than those who have never faced those challenges themselves.

Australia did not become successful because of a handful of politicians, commentators or policy advisers. It became successful because millions of people from every background and profession contributed something valuable.

Teachers educated our children. Nurses cared for our families. Doctors protected our health. Engineers designed our infrastructure. Farmers fed our communities. Entrepreneurs built businesses. Tradespeople developed skills. Workers showed up every day and took pride in doing their jobs well.

None of those contributions are ordinary. In fact, they are extraordinary.

Not because they make headlines or attract media attention, but because they require commitment, sacrifice, responsibility and effort. They require people to put the interests of others ahead of themselves. They require people to contribute to something bigger than their own immediate needs.

For generations, Australia understood this. We respected achievement regardless of whether it came from a university lecture theatre, a factory floor, a farm, a workshop, a hospital ward or a family business. We recognised that a strong society depends on people with different skills, experiences and talents working together.

Somewhere along the way, that understanding began to erode. We started celebrating those who manage systems while overlooking those who make those systems possible. We became increasingly obsessed with credentials while paying less attention to character. We began dividing people into demographic groups rather than recognising them as individuals.

Perhaps that helps explain why so many Australians feel disconnected from modern politics and public life. They are tired of being categorised. Tired of being managed. Tired of being analysed. And above all, tired of being underestimated.

So perhaps it is time we stopped accepting the label altogether.

Perhaps it is time Australians stood a little taller and took a little more pride in what they contribute. The teacher, the nurse, the doctor, the engineer, the architect, the farmer, the tradesperson, the entrepreneur, the volunteer, the retiree and the parent all contribute to making Australia a better place.

None of these people are ordinary. They are the people who make Australia work.

Our future will not be determined by those who talk the most about Australia. It will be determined by those who continue to build it. Those who create, produce, teach, heal, invent, mentor, employ, volunteer and serve.

So the next time a politician appears on television claiming to speak for “ordinary Australians”, ask a simple question.

If the people who educate our children, heal our sick, grow our food, build our homes, create our jobs and keep our nation functioning are merely ordinary...

What exactly does that make you?