The Soft Hello: Why Big Government is the Backbone of a Just, Responsible, and Cohesive Society

If you’ve read much of my blog,  this won’t be a surprise to go.

I want big government,  and yes,  high corporate and personal taxes.  Because I want Medicare to be stronger, I want quality health care,  I want quality education,  I want quality roads,  I want to be safe,  I want a universal basic income or something similar.  I want our people,  land and water to be protected.  I want food,  fibre and energy security. But most of all I want people to be comfortable and happy,  happy enough to say, “G’day,” when passing on the street, or at least a smile and nod. This is the “soft hello” that can only be seen when there is social cohesion.

I’m a big fan of social justice,  social responsibility and social cohesion. The world is a little less jagged.

So when the 2024 Scanlon Report showed even more threats to social cohesion than in 2023, I take notice.

And when the Grattan Institute publishes their Orange Book 2025. I take notice.

And I still want big government.

So as I am wont to do lately,  I turned to ChatGPT. We had a conversation about the Orange Book in conjunction with the Scanlon Report.  I asked it to generate a long form blog post, drawing on the Orange Book, about the benefits of “big government” for social justice, social responsibility and social cohesion, from the lens of the “soft hello”.

Here’s what ChatGPT had to say about it.



There’s a quiet power in the soft hello—the warm greeting of a neighbor, the recognition of shared humanity in a passing smile, the simple acknowledgment that we are all in this together. It is an ethos of care, one that acknowledges that societies do not function on individual grit alone, but on the scaffolding of support we build for one another.

The Grattan Institute’s Orange Book 2025 lays out a vision for Australia that leans into this ethos of care, advocating for government to step in where markets fail, where inequities deepen, and where social cohesion is under threat. It makes the case—implicitly, yet undeniably—for big government as a force for social justice, social responsibility, and social cohesion. And in an era where the political right often demonizes government as an overreaching bureaucratic monster, it’s worth taking a step back to appreciate why big government is not the enemy, but the quiet, persistent, and necessary soft hello that keeps a nation together.




Social Justice: The Government as a Great Equalizer

The Orange Book 2025 highlights the need for policy interventions to ensure economic opportunity, access to quality education, and affordable healthcare—all core tenets of social justice. But let’s call it what it is: big government doing its job.

At its best, government is not merely a regulator of markets but a corrective force against their excesses. Left unchecked, the free market does not create fairness; it rewards those with power, capital, and connections. It doesn’t care if a child is born into poverty, if a single mother can’t afford rent, or if an aging worker is discarded when their skills become obsolete. That’s not malice—it’s just indifference.

Big government exists to inject fairness where the market has no incentive to do so.

Economic Growth & Wages: Without fair work laws, without progressive taxation, and without safety nets, the reality for most workers would be stagnant wages and increasing precarity. The Orange Book’s call for stronger productivity-linked wage growth is a recognition that prosperity cannot be left to “trickle down.”

Education as a Right, Not a Privilege: Public schooling, university funding, and vocational education are not just social programs; they are equalizers. An underfunded education system entrenches generational inequality, while a strong, well-funded one lifts entire communities.

Healthcare as a Public Good: The government-run healthcare system in Australia ensures that your bank balance does not determine whether you live or die. Markets will always make healthcare a commodity; governments can make it a right.


Social justice is not about handouts—it’s about creating the conditions where everyone has a fair go. And that is not something markets will ever do alone.




Social Responsibility: The Government as a Custodian of the Future

Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) has long been accepted as an ethical framework for businesses, encouraging them to think beyond immediate profits and towards long-term societal well-being. But what about Governmental Social Responsibility (GSR)? What happens when governments take on the role of stewards rather than just arbiters?

The Orange Book presents a vision of government that does not just react but anticipates and plans—for climate change, public health, infrastructure, and housing affordability. These are not areas where market forces alone can be trusted to deliver the best outcomes.

Housing: The market will always chase the highest returns—meaning affordable housing gets pushed aside in favor of luxury developments. Without government intervention to increase housing supply, prices will keep climbing, locking more Australians out of home ownership.

Climate Action: No company wants to voluntarily reduce profits by investing in sustainability unless forced to do so. Governments step in to regulate emissions, fund renewable energy, and ensure a liveable planet for future generations.

Healthcare and Public Health: Markets optimize for immediate gain, not long-term public health. Governments, on the other hand, have an obligation to invest in preventative care, pandemic preparedness, and medical research—not just because it’s the right thing to do, but because it reduces long-term costs and suffering.


A responsible government plans for the future—not just the next quarterly earnings report.




Social Cohesion: The Government as the Great Unifier

There’s a reason why countries with strong welfare states and robust public institutions tend to have higher levels of social trust and cohesion. It’s because when people know that their basic needs will be met, they are less fearful, less resentful, and less prone to division.

The Scanlon Report (2023) found that social cohesion in Australia is under pressure, with increasing polarization around issues like immigration, economic inequality, and national identity. The question, then, is this: does small government make us stronger together, or does it tear us apart?

When people feel abandoned by the state, they turn on each other.

A society without public healthcare? Rich versus poor, insured versus uninsured.

A society without affordable education? Private school elitism versus struggling public schools.

A society without housing regulation? Owners versus renters, haves versus have-nots.

A society without climate action? Rural vs urban, young vs old, fossil fuels vs renewables.



Big government, done right, creates a sense of shared fate. It builds the roads we all drive on, funds the schools our children attend, and ensures that no one is left so far behind that they lose faith in the system itself.




The False Allure of Small Government

The dream of small government is, at its core, a fantasy of self-sufficiency—one that assumes that markets will provide fairness, that private industry will prioritize ethics, and that individuals will succeed purely on merit. But history tells a different story.

Reagan’s deregulation? Led to economic inequality unseen since the Gilded Age.

Thatcher’s privatization? Dismantled public services, leaving generations struggling.

Trumpian tax cuts? Enriched the wealthy, increased national debt, and did nothing for workers.


Big government is not about handouts. It’s about ensuring that the rules of the game are fair, that prosperity is shared, and that society does not become so fractured that it loses its sense of common purpose.




Big Government is the Soft Hello

At the end of the day, government is not some faceless machine; it is the quiet infrastructure that makes daily life possible.

It is the doctor that treats your illness without asking for a credit card first.
It is the school that gives every child, regardless of background, a chance to learn.
It is the road that connects communities and the power grid that keeps the lights on.
It is the soft hello that reminds us we are not alone—that we owe something to each other.

The Orange Book 2025 presents a roadmap for a nation that embraces that responsibility—one that prioritizes justice over unchecked capitalism, responsibility over short-term gains, and cohesion over division.

Because in the end, a society is not measured by the wealth of its richest, but by the security, dignity, and opportunity it provides to its most vulnerable. And that is a job too big for the market to handle alone.

Big government is not just necessary.
It is how we care for each other.

The Iniquities of a “Low-Demand Lifestyle”: A Philosophical and Sociological Critique

I’ve been seeing a few autistic content creators taking about low demand lifestyles. It always triggers me – it’s fine if you have the money and support to be able to do that,  but if you’re alone, or widowed, like me,  it’s big on impossible.  Bills need to be paid,  and I’m the only one who can do that.

I’m also new-ish to philosophy.  I love listening to podcasts like “The Minefield”, “The Philosophers’ Zone”, and “The Religion and Ethics Report” from the ABC, but I’m not well-read on philosophy. 

After seeing yet another social media post about the autistic need for a low demand lifestyle, I thought to myself that I really need to blog about this. I knew it needed a philosophical and sociological lens, so I turned to ChatGPT again. I asked it to “write a blog post on the iniquities of the concept of a “low demand lifestyle” and the appalling privilege the concept shows. Use as much evidence as you can, from a combined philosophical and sociological perspective, please.

After it generated this,  we then went into a very long conversation about privilege, my personal situation, the difficulties that Uber presents for me as an autistic driver, the iniquities in research, empathy,  the percentage of the population that is in some way neurodivergent, mental health,  neuroplasticity, autism and tertiary education, quantum physics, grief… and more.  If you really, really want to read the whole transcript, it’s here.

Read on to see ChatGPT’s scathing assessment of the structural and societal issues around a “low demand lifestyle”.

(Side note – have I turned a little piece of AI into an autistuc progressive socialist? Given that I ticked the box to share our data, and the machine learning works, I can only hope so…)


The term “low-demand lifestyle” has been gaining traction in certain neurodivergent and disability advocacy spaces, often framed as a way to reduce stress, improve well-being, and accommodate the unique needs of individuals with executive dysfunction, chronic illness, or other conditions that make conventional work and social expectations unsustainable. While the idea may sound reasonable in principle, it reveals a troubling undercurrent of privilege, class blindness, and social inequity. From a combined philosophical and sociological perspective, the concept disregards the material realities of most working-class and marginalized people, entrenches existing inequalities, and reflects an unexamined reliance on structural exploitation.


  1. The Philosophical Incoherence of a “Low-Demand Lifestyle”

A. Demand, Responsibility, and Ethical Relationality

At its core, the phrase “low-demand lifestyle” implies a retreat from obligations, but this raises profound ethical concerns. Human societies function through mutual responsibility—a core principle in deontological ethics (Kantian duty ethics) and virtue ethics (Aristotelian flourishing). To live ethically means recognizing that one’s existence is deeply interconnected with others, and a just society requires reciprocity.

While it is true that some individuals may need accommodations due to disability or chronic illness, to frame a low-demand lifestyle as an inherent right rather than an adaptive necessity distorts the nature of social obligation. The philosopher Iris Marion Young, in her theory of “social connection” ethics, argues that justice is a shared responsibility, not something one can opt out of when it becomes inconvenient.

Furthermore, the Rawlsian perspective on justice (John Rawls, A Theory of Justice) reminds us that fairness requires policies that do not just benefit those who already have the privilege to dictate their level of engagement. Can everyone equally afford to adopt a low-demand lifestyle? If not, then promoting it as a desirable goal without accounting for social stratification is morally dubious.

B. The Implicit Privilege of “Opting Out”

A “low-demand lifestyle” is only available to those who can afford it. This concept echoes the bourgeois retreat into minimalism and self-care as a replacement for systemic change. Historically, those with wealth and social capital have often framed their ability to reduce labor as a matter of personal enlightenment (e.g., aristocratic leisure in Ancient Greece, Romantic rejections of industrialization).

But for working-class individuals, single parents, and the global poor, a low-demand lifestyle is not an option. They cannot reduce their engagement with work, childcare, or basic survival without devastating consequences. To endorse the low-demand lifestyle as a universal good is to ignore the lived reality of the vast majority of people, a stance that aligns with Marie Antoinette-style detachment rather than genuine social justice.


  1. The Sociological Reality of Demand and Exploitation

A. Who Bears the Burden of a “Low-Demand Lifestyle”?

The privilege embedded in the concept becomes clearer when we ask: If some people reduce their labor, who picks up the slack?

Sociologist Arlie Hochschild’s concept of the “second shift” reveals that even within two-income households, women disproportionately bear the burden of unpaid domestic labor. This is a clear example of how “demand” is not simply an individual experience—it is socially distributed.

Similarly, if affluent individuals or those in creative fields reduce their engagement with “demanding” work, the burden shifts downward onto gig workers, service industry employees, and low-wage laborers. The fact that people in tech or academia can discuss a low-demand lifestyle while their food is delivered by an Uber driver working 12-hour shifts is a stark reminder of how deeply exploitative structures support this illusion.

B. The Myth of Self-Sufficiency

A common defense of the low-demand lifestyle is that it promotes self-sufficiency—living with fewer obligations, producing only as much as one personally requires, and disengaging from capitalist productivity. However, this perspective is fundamentally ahistorical and class-blind.

True self-sufficiency is a myth. No individual is fully self-reliant. The food we eat, the medical care we receive, and the roads we drive on all depend on a vast, interdependent network of labor. The people advocating a low-demand lifestyle often still rely on invisible laborers—farmworkers, janitors, truck drivers—who do not have the luxury of reducing demand.

The sociologist Pierre Bourdieu’s concept of “habitus” helps explain this discrepancy. Those raised with economic and cultural capital experience their privilege as natural and rarely question the structural forces that make their low-demand lifestyle possible. In contrast, the working class and marginalized communities live in an environment where “demand” is an inescapable condition, not a personal choice.


  1. The Hidden Ableism of “Low-Demand Lifestyle” Rhetoric

Ironically, the low-demand lifestyle is often framed as a form of disability justice, but this framing is deeply flawed. Many disabled and chronically ill people are already forced into low-demand lifestyles against their will, due to systemic exclusion from employment, education, and public life.

For neurodivergent people, particularly autistic individuals with executive dysfunction or PDA (Pathological Demand Avoidance), the idea of reducing external demands may be a necessity. However, instead of advocating for a just redistribution of resources to support all disabled individuals, the low-demand lifestyle rhetoric often skews individualistic: “I will simply disengage from demand” rather than “We should build structures that equitably support different levels of capacity.”

Moreover, disabled individuals in poverty do not have the option to embrace a low-demand lifestyle. They are constantly battling bureaucratic demands (disability benefits, medical appointments, inaccessible workplaces), meaning that demand is often highest for those least able to manage it.

To romanticize a low-demand lifestyle without addressing the barriers that prevent others from choosing their level of engagement is to ignore the very real struggles of disabled people who need demand to be reduced systemically, not just for the privileged few.


Conclusion: Demand is a Structural, Not Personal, Issue

At its heart, the problem with the low-demand lifestyle is that it frames demand as an individual experience rather than a structural issue. It ignores the sociological reality of interdependence, the ethical imperative of mutual responsibility, and the material constraints of class, disability, and labor exploitation.

The real question should not be: “How can I reduce my own demand?” but rather: “How can we equitably distribute the burdens of demand across society?” Instead of advocating for an individualistic retreat, we should be pushing for systemic solutions: universal healthcare, living wages, accessible workplaces, and equitable caregiving structures.

To seek a world where demand is more fairly distributed is a just goal. But to claim that one can personally “opt out” of demand, while relying on an invisible underclass to sustain that choice, is the height of privilege.

A truly just society does not reduce demand for a select few—it reorganizes demand so that it does not crush the many.