Recent Australian events have shown just how difficult it has become to be a voice of reason. On issue after issue, public debate has hardened into moral absolutes, leaving little space for caution, complexity or constitutional restraint. And the difficulty in dealing with this stems from government and the institutions that support it.
The 2023 referendum on the Indigenous Voice to Parliament was an early warning. Many of us who raised questions about constitutional entrenchment, legal uncertainty or long-term governance were not engaging in hostility but in civic scrutiny. Yet reasonable doubt was frequently recast as moral failure. Instead of persuasion, the campaign too often relied on accusation. And shamefully, the Prime Minister and many of his cabinet were guilty of that. The result was not unity, but polarisation — and a defeated proposal that might have fared better had reason been allowed to breathe.
The same pattern has appeared in debates over protest and public order. Following large-scale demonstrations, including the Sydney Harbour Bridge pro-Palestinian protest, discussion quickly collapsed into false binaries. Any enforcement of the law was framed as authoritarian even by those vehemently opposed to the rest for the protest. The reasonable position — that protest rights and the rule of law must coexist — struggled to gain traction. The argument that it should not be allowed to extend to disgraceful chants and appalling signage was met with vitriol and hatred and the old but it’s ’free-speech’ nonsense. We must all defend free speech, but that doesn’t and shouldn’t extent to a ‘free-for-all.” And it’s protected because it is vital to truth, democracy, and human dignity — but it is limited where it collides with violence, coercion, or the erosion of others’ freedoms. Absolute free speech is not workable in a real society because it would ultimately destroy the very freedoms it claims to defend hence the limitations.
Rising antisemitism and social tension since October 2023 have further tested Australia’s capacity for reasoned debate. Voices calling for moral clarity about violence, while also urging restraint, proportionality and community cohesion, have been drowned out by extremes on both sides. Condemning terrorism has been portrayed by some as political alignment; urging care in language has been framed by others as suppression. Reason, again, found itself attacked from all sides. And sadly we’re all witnessed the outcomes of that.
Even legislative debates have followed this trajectory. Proposals around misinformation and hate speech laws have been reduced to slogans about censorship or safety, with little public appetite for discussing difficult trade-offs: free expression versus harm, enforcement power versus abuse, short-term response versus long-term precedent. Those insisting on careful drafting and constitutional compatibility have been treated as impediments rather than safeguards. And this often arises because proponents on both sides don’t deal with facts but with headlines. Headlines are often meant to inflame debate rather than frame debate.
Social media has accelerated the collapse of nuance. Complex legal or constitutional arguments do not survive the demand for instant outrage. Calm voices are flattened into caricatures, accused of “both-sideism” or cowardice, simply for refusing to inflame. Ignorance and misunderstanding of the law flourish, and mistruths spread like wildfire and facts are buried in the melee.
Australia’s democratic system was deliberately designed to slow decision-making, distribute power and absorb disagreement. But we have lost the ability to absorb disagreement. Parliament, the courts and constitutional limits exist precisely because passion is a poor substitute for judgment. When voices of reason are sidelined, institutions weaken — not dramatically at first, but steadily. And I believe we are living that now with some of the decisions being made by parliament and the courts. And as a result, anger and frustration are growing, and that is decreasing the ability to reason.
There is a cost to insisting on reason in this environment. It brings isolation rather than affirmation, criticism rather than applause. Reason offers no chant, no banner and no sense of moral exhilaration. It demands patience at a time when impatience is rewarded.
Yet Australia’s stability has never depended on unanimity or righteous certainty. It has depended on restraint, proportion and a shared commitment to rules that outlast any single cause. In fact we have until recent years thrived on disagreement and encouraged alternative viewpoints. And we matured as a nation. But that is not where we are today. Now we have descended into warring tribes. And the fact that when reason prevails, crises de-escalate quietly, damage is limited and the system holds is lost.
Being the voice of reason isn’t about cold calculation. It isn’t driven by anger, ideology, or playing to the loudest crowd. In Australian politics, reason means exercising judgment under pressure—choosing what is right over what is easy, and holding principle even when it costs politically.
Hard times test a country. When met with restraint and fairness, they don’t weaken us—they sharpen our sense of responsibility to one another. That’s how trust is built and social cohesion is kept.
A politics without reason slides into division and outrage. A politics guided by reason resists that pull, values proportion over theatrics, and remembers that unity in Australia is earned through fairness, restraint, and respect—not slogans.
If we are to dig ourselves out the hole we are in we all have to strive to be that voice even when it means standing up to the tribe.
