history – The Auld Skald's Fudgel

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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 Lucinda – a yacht of tragedy and triumph, from floods to Federation

Once again, this is authored by ChatGPT in response to my prompts and instructions. When I asked it to write about the ferry tragedy in with the Lucinda was involved, it got it quite wrong. But even with prompts, it wasn’t 100% correct. The ferry tragedy was in 1896, not 1893 and there are a few other errors and aggrandisements; ongoing flaw of AI chat bots, giving what it thinks you want, not what is actually correct.

For the correct story of the ferry tragedy – https://blogs.archives.qld.gov.au/2023/02/07/australias-worst-river-disaster-the-pearl-ferry-incident/

The Context of Federation: Tensions and Negotiations

Before the dissolution of Queensland’s Legislative Council in the 1920s, the state had already been through the monumental process of Federation in 1901. As Australia moved toward becoming a unified nation, Queensland’s political leaders played a significant, though sometimes reluctant, role in shaping the new Commonwealth.

The road to Federation was fraught with debate over the distribution of power between the state governments and the new federal government. Queensland, along with other states, was deeply concerned about preserving state rights and autonomy. While the movement for Federation had been gaining momentum across Australia, Queensland’s politicians were particularly cautious, fearing that joining the Commonwealth might diminish their state’s political power.

At the heart of these discussions were not just legislative concerns but also strategic negotiations among political leaders. One such venue for these discussions was Queensland’s government yacht, the Lucinda, which became a symbol of the behind-the-scenes meetings and informal talks between Queensland’s Premier, Sir Hugh Nelson, and other key figures during the crucial months leading up to Federation.

The Lucinda Meetings: An Unlikely Venue for Federation Negotiations

The Lucinda was used by Queensland’s government to facilitate conversations about the state’s participation in Federation. In the late 1890s and early 1900s, these informal meetings were held on the yacht, sailing off the coast of Queensland, to avoid the more formal, contentious settings of parliament. The location of these discussions may have seemed unconventional, but they provided a space where political leaders could meet privately to discuss the delicate issues of state sovereignty, the proposed Constitution, and the balance of power in a new federal system.

The Lucinda meetings were pivotal for fostering a more cooperative relationship between Queensland and the other colonies, despite initial reservations. Premier Sir Hugh Nelson, a key figure in these meetings, worked to secure Queensland’s place in the Commonwealth while ensuring that the state maintained its legislative authority and autonomy. The Lucinda became a venue where strategic alliances were formed and compromises were made, though the overarching tension over the loss of power to a centralised government remained.

The historical irony is that, while Queensland’s leaders engaged in complex negotiations for Federation aboard the Lucinda, the state’s upper house, the Legislative Council, was by no means immune to similar political tension in the years that followed. The same concerns about balancing power and safeguarding state rights that had shaped the Federation process would later play a role in the fight over the Legislative Council’s future. The Labour government’s decision to dissolve the upper house in 1922, just over two decades after Federation, can be viewed as a direct consequence of those very debates about power, democracy, and the role of unelected bodies in the governance of Queensland.

Post-Federation Struggles: A Continuing Tension

In the aftermath of Federation, Queensland faced the challenge of reconciling its participation in a national government with its state-based interests. The fear of being subsumed by a centralised Commonwealth government remained strong in many quarters, and this tension between state and federal power would continue to influence Queensland’s politics throughout the 20th century.

Just as Federation had been a defining moment of political compromise, the dissolution of the Legislative Council represented another moment of political reckoning, but this time at the state level. Queensland’s decision to abolish its upper house was partly a reflection of the changing political landscape after Federation, where the dynamics between central and state governments were continuously evolving. Many saw the Legislative Council’s opposition to Labour’s progressive legislation as a direct challenge to the democratic will of the people, an affront that harkened back to earlier fears about non-elected bodies overreaching their authority.

Thus, the tension over Queensland’s Legislative Council was not just a local issue; it was part of a broader narrative of governance, power, and democracy in the post-Federation era. The Lucinda meetings, with their behind-the-scenes discussions of state rights and national unity, were a microcosm of the larger political struggles that would unfold both in Queensland and across Australia in the decades to follow.

The Lucinda and Brisbane’s Only Ferry Disaster: The 1893 Flood Tragedy

While the Lucinda is most famously remembered for its involvement in the informal Federation negotiations, it is also linked to a tragic event in Brisbane’s maritime history—the 1893 ferry disaster, which remains Brisbane’s only recorded ferry disaster.

The 1893 Flood Disaster: The Role of the Lucinda

On January 26, 1893, Brisbane experienced one of its most devastating floods. The heavy rainfall had caused the Brisbane River to rise rapidly, and the city was inundated by the floodwaters. Amidst the chaos, a significant tragedy occurred involving a cross-river ferry, The Pearl, which was caught in the surging floodwaters.

At the time, the Lucinda was anchored in the Brisbane River, as was customary for many vessels during the flood. However, the rising floodwaters caused debris, including logs and other detritus, to be swept along by the torrent. One such piece of debris struck The Pearl, pushing it toward the Lucinda. The force of the floodwaters was so powerful that it pushed the ferry up the Lucinda’s anchor chain, dragging it until it fell back into the river and capsized.

The Aftermath: The Loss of Life

In the wake of the disaster, it was revealed that The Pearl had been overloaded with passengers who were trying to escape the floodwaters. Tragically, the disaster resulted in the deaths of several individuals, although the exact number remains unclear. As the ferry was capsized and submerged, the lives of the passengers on board were lost, adding a deep layer of sorrow to the already overwhelming flood.

This incident shocked the people of Brisbane, not just because of the loss of life but also because it highlighted the unpredictability and ferocity of the floodwaters. The Lucinda’s involvement was more passive—serving as the anchor point from which the debris had pushed the ferry. Nonetheless, the tragedy underscored the vulnerability of river transport during such extreme weather events.

A Turning Point for River Transport Safety

Following the disaster, the Lucinda ferry tragedy became a pivotal moment for Brisbane’s river transport system. It drew attention to the dangers posed by the unpredictable floodwaters, particularly for ferries that were integral to the city’s transport network. Public authorities were forced to reconsider the safety standards and operational procedures for river transport to better prepare for similar disasters in the future.

The event also underscored the pressing need for more robust infrastructure and regulatory oversight to protect the public during extreme weather events, which Brisbane was not unfamiliar with. The Lucinda disaster became a symbol of the untamed power of the Brisbane River and the vulnerability of human settlements situated near it.

The Dual Legacy of the Lucinda

The Lucinda’s legacy in Queensland is marked by both its role in political history and the 1893 ferry disaster. While the yacht’s role in Federation talks helped shape the course of Queensland’s political future, the tragic events of the flood that same year offer a sobering reminder of nature’s power and the vulnerabilities of the city’s transport systems.

The disaster also reflects the broader historical context of the time, as Queensland grappled with the challenges posed by rapid development and the necessity for modern infrastructure to keep pace with the city’s growth.

The Hutt River Province – an exercise in democracy or an exercise in futility?

For me, the Hutt River Province always held a soupçon of bravado, maverick nuttiness and the mystery of the “wild West”.

From 1970 to 2020, this self-declared micronation existed as the physical evidence of a farmer’s rebellion against wheat quotas.

Courtesy of ChatGPT:

Title: Unearthing the Wheat Quota Quandary: The Hutt River Province Secession

In the annals of unusual geopolitical events, the secession of the Hutt River Province stands out as a peculiar chapter. Nestled in Western Australia, this self-proclaimed principality emerged from a dispute over wheat quotas that took root in the late 1960s.

The Seeds of Discord

At the heart of the matter was the Australian government’s introduction of wheat production quotas in an effort to stabilize the market. However, for Leonard Casley, a local wheat farmer, this policy proved to be more than a mere regulatory hurdle – it was the catalyst for an unprecedented act of defiance.

The Casley Rebellion

Leonard Casley, frustrated by what he perceived as unjust restrictions on his wheat production, decided to take matters into his own hands. In 1970, he declared his farm independent from Australia, proclaiming it the Principality of Hutt River. Casley argued that his “secession” was a legal response to the Australian government’s failure to address his grievances.

The Wheat War

Casley’s move was not merely symbolic. He began issuing his own passports, currency, and even established a government structure. In an attempt to assert control over his wheat production, he argued that as a sovereign entity, the Australian wheat quotas no longer applied to Hutt River. This declaration marked the beginning of what would later be dubbed the “Wheat War.”

International Recognition – or Lack Thereof

While the Principality of Hutt River gained attention in the media, the international community largely regarded it as an eccentric episode. Australia refused to officially recognize Hutt River’s independence, considering it an illegal and rebellious act. Despite this lack of recognition, the micro-nation persisted for decades, attracting tourists curious about this quirky rebellion.

The Legacy

Leonard Casley’s principality remained in a state of de facto independence until his passing in 2019. The Hutt River Province has since maintained a unique status, existing on the fringes of international diplomacy. The wheat quota issue, which germinated the secession, may have been an unconventional catalyst, but it ultimately resulted in the establishment of an eccentric micronation with a story that continues to capture the imagination of those intrigued by the unusual twists of geopolitical history.

In conclusion, the Hutt River Province’s secession was a remarkable tale of a farmer’s resistance to wheat quotas evolving into the establishment of a self-proclaimed principality. The legacy of this wheat-fueled rebellion endures, reminding us that even seemingly mundane policies can, under certain conditions, sprout into extraordinary geopolitical events.

And about wheat quotas, and Western Australia, again, courtesy of ChatGPT:

In the period between 1970 and 2000, the issue of wheat quotas and the governance of wheat production underwent significant developments in Western Australia.

Wheat Quotas Evolution:

Reform Initiatives: Over the years, the Australian government acknowledged the need for reform in its agricultural policies, including wheat quotas. The initial quota system faced criticism for being rigid and hindering farmers’ ability to respond to market dynamics.
Deregulation: In the 1980s and 1990s, Australia gradually moved towards a more market-oriented approach. Deregulation efforts aimed to provide farmers with greater flexibility and autonomy in managing their wheat production. This shift away from strict quotas allowed farmers to respond more dynamically to market demands.
Pooling System: The Australian Wheat Board (AWB) played a crucial role in administering wheat quotas. The pooling system, where farmers contributed their wheat to a collective pool, was a key aspect. However, changes occurred, and by the late 1990s, there was a move towards dismantling the single-desk selling system that had characterized the AWB’s role.

Impact on Western Australia:

Farmers’ Autonomy: The evolving policies allowed Western Australian wheat farmers greater control over their production. They could now make decisions based on market conditions, adapting to global demand and price fluctuations.
Market Dynamics: With the loosening of wheat quotas, Western Australian farmers became more attuned to international market trends. This shift had implications for the local economy, as farmers could now respond more directly to global demands, impacting both production strategies and regional economic dynamics.
AWB Changes: The Australian Wheat Board underwent restructuring during this period. The dismantling of the single-desk selling system meant that the AWB’s role in marketing and selling wheat became more decentralized. This shift aimed to enhance competition and efficiency in the wheat export market.

Conclusion:

The years between 1970 and 2000 witnessed a transformation in Australia’s approach to wheat production and quotas, reflecting a broader trend towards market-oriented agricultural policies. The reforms provided Western Australian wheat farmers with increased autonomy, allowing them to navigate the complexities of global markets more effectively. The changes in the Australian Wheat Board’s structure further facilitated a more dynamic and competitive landscape for wheat production and trade in Western Australia.