In the National Interest – serie

The erosion of public trust in government has been a characteristic of liberal democracies in recent years. How much have the twists and turns in climate change policy over the past decade contributed to this in Australia? As a senior public servant during six prime ministerships, Martin Parkinson had a front-row seat from which to watch the inability of successive governments to tackle climate change. From an emissions trading scheme through to a National Energy Guarantee, this is a story of science and expertise ignored, short-termism, wasted opportunities and international disappointment. Climate change demands both a local and a global response, just as do pandemics, mass migration and ocean pollution. The increasingly urgent question is whether governments are up to the challenge or are prepared to bear the consequences of inaction or indifference. The history of climate change policy in Australia is a sorry story which should leave Australians demanding more courage and commitment from their political leaders.

The level of public frustration and disengagement with political leaders has never been higher. At the same time, the problems we need them to deal with, such as the COVID-19 pandemic, a crisis in aged care and accelerating climate change, are immediate and urgent. The system is designed to make our politicians accountable, so why are so many of them failing us, and why is there a crisis of confidence in their ability to rise to the challenges we face? Is our system so flawed that we have lost the capacity for progress? Or has our political establishment lost its way, and is it now betraying the people it is meant to serve while undermining its own legitimacy? Based on his experience working closely with a large number of ministers and their private offices, both at the federal and state level, and his time in the United States, Don Russell reflects on politicians, the political process and the role of government, and explains why our political leaders are as they are. Drawing on his experience, including his involvement in the golden age of public policy of the Hawke/Keating years, and his observations on Australia’s early success responding to the pandemic, he suggests that there is a pathway that can lead to dramatically better outcomes for the country and more satisfying and longer careers for our politicians. People want their elected officials to be informed, to be capable and creative, to be able to devise solutions that work, and then to be able to explain those solutions and bring the community with them. They want their elected officials to lead.

The Fourth Industrial Revolution, the digital disruption of business by the information and communications sectors, is well underway in Australia and around the globe. The COVID-19 pandemic has only accelerated the pace of change. We are witnessing a proliferation of new platforms and new markets, with AI replacing human expertise – we are seeing the transformation of the firm, how we work and the nature of society. These seismic changes are all impacting the global distribution of economic growth and income. And alarmingly, among the OECD economies, as a share of GDP, Australia’s ICT sector is around half the average, and falling further over time – it is second-last, only above Mexico. Given the scope and speed of change, Australia is now confronted by a stark choice between becoming a tech innovator, and so a producer of economic profits and high-paying jobs, or stagnating. We are at a crossroads, and our policy choices today will determine whether we remain one of the wealthiest and happiest nations in the world, or see our global position continue to slide. In Digital Revolution: A Survival Guide, Professor Simon Wilkie argues that, to preserve our status as one of the most desirable economies to live in, we need a policy revolution that addresses not just universal basic income, but tax policy, lifelong education, social inclusion and the nature of work. In short, the Fourth Industrial Revolution has the potential to usher in a period of sustained prosperity and increasing equality. But to achieve this demands no less than a rethinking of the social contract.

Nature creates viruses. But people and politics create pandemics. And pandemics create new politics. In the 1980s, the toxic politics of the response to HIV/AIDS turned a serious but manageable viral threat into a global pandemic that took the lives of 32 million people and brought illness and suffering to millions more. In 2020, COVID-19 emerged into a world where many governments had failed to heed the lessons of the past, and so they were unprepared and unable to stop its global spread. But some countries had learned the harsh lessons of HIV/AIDS, and had contained SARS1, Ebola, Zika and MERS. When coronavirus hit, they knew what to do to save their people from avoidable infections and deaths. In Unmasked: the Politics of Pandemics, Bill Bowtell draws on his four decades of experience in the global and local politics of public health to examine why some countries got it right with coronavirus while others collapsed into misery and chaos. He looks closely at the critical weeks when poor planning brought Australia to the brink of disaster, until the Australian people forced their governments to put public health before politics. Unmasked reveals how and why our politicians failed us during the greatest public health crisis of this century to date. (209 words)

Australia has enjoyed an unprecedented period of prosperity in recent decades, yet despite this there has been a widely reported loss of faith in politics and institutions. With the COVID-19 pandemic, Australia faces its most significant economic and social challenges in decades. How is politics placed to deal with these challenges and what is the capacity of our key institutions to do so? What are the lessons and warnings from history? In Challenging Politics, long-time politician Scott Ryan argues that the way we determine issues, the way we practice politics, and what we expect from politicians and government, is in flux. To some, the virtue of compromise has become the sin of sell-out. The louder voices of fringe and single-issue movements attract attention, money and commitment, and apply litmus tests to those who seek to govern. This makes it more difficult for our institutions, and therefore our politics, to function effectively. The long-talked-about collapse of the centre isn’t solely about extreme ideas. It is also about how our expectations of politics and our institutions have changed.

When Héritier Lumumba’s Collingwood teammates called him ‘Chimp’, it showed a lack of respect. When the Prime Minister referred to Brittany Higgins by her first name in parliament, it showed a lack of respect. When senator Bill Heffernan referred to then prime minister Julia Gillard as ‘deliberately barren’, it showed a lack of respect. When the federal government refused permission to fly the Indigenous flag in the Senate, it showed a lack of respect. When Bettina Arndt defended a 56-year-old man who had repeatedly raped fifteen-year-old Grace Tame, now the 2021 Australian of the Year, it showed a lack of respect. So when did respect disappear? When did we agree to abandon our respect for expertise, for other people’s experience and history, for the boundaries between the personal and the public, for facts as well as feelings? In a civil society, respect is a fundamental principle. Should the government of the day legislate respect? Should it lead the community or follow it? Victorian MP Jill Hennessy, in a passionate argument, exhorts us to reclaim the empathy that respect depends on.

What is it about the culture and structure of Parliament House that has allowed sexual violence and harassment to flourish? Jenny was a Labor MP for twenty-three years, a Cabinet minister for six years, and now gets to view the parliament through the reflective eyes of someone who is no longer there. I’m in my first term as a Labor MP. So we have a generation between the beginnings of our time in the parliament. When Jenny was first elected in 1996, I was in my final years of high school. In that time, the number of women in the Australian Parliament has increased, but unfortunately, they are still not being heard. And tragically, they are not always safe. As women, we believe in the power of politics to do good, and as feminists we recognise that politics is about power: getting it, holding onto it, and using it to improve citizens’ lives. Women wielding power in Parliament House, women fighting for equality and an end to discrimination across our country, have made their mark and they have caused change. But the underlying problem of men’s attitudes towards women, of men believing it is their right to assault or harass women, remains. For this to change, men will have to give up some of the harmful ways in which they use power—in the parliament and in our community. We are calling for actions to have consequences, and for an end to a culture of political impunity. We want to seize this moment to do the unfinished work—to make sure that women are not just in the room, but that they are safe there. We say enough is enough.

One in five Australian women has been the victim of a sexual assault. For these women, there is less than a 1 per cent chance that their rapist has been arrested, prosecuted and convicted of the crime. These are the bare numerical facts of system failure. We offer rape survivors a stark choice: go to the police, or remain silent. In recent times, the public pressure on survivors to report has increased, alongside a growing focus on two other options: civil action against the perpetrator, or going public. These evolving social responses are intended to offer an alternative to the tradition of silencing. However, each of these choices, for survivors, involves a further sacrifice of what they have already lost. The legal system’s responses to rape were designed without survivors in mind, and they do not address, in any way, the questions that survivors ask or the needs they express. Simply put, on the systemic response to rape, we are having the wrong conversation.

Over the past thirty years, the internet has transformed virtually every area of human activity, social and economic. The bulk of these changes have been positive, allowing people to work, imagine and connect with each other in new ways. The boost to economic activity has been enormous. But along with the benefits have come new risks. Our children can learn and play on the internet, but they can also be bullied there, or unwittingly stumble across extreme pornography. For ordinary citizens, the internet provides an unprecedented opportunity to comment and participate in public discourse; but the same digital platforms providing this opportunity can also be forums for the wide circulation of abusive, defamatory or grossly inaccurate material. And while the internet has created vast new opportunities for businesses and consumers, it has disrupted many traditional forms of economic activity. The result is a rich set of policy challenges for governments. Paul Fletcher is Australia’s Minister for Communications and has worked on internet policy issues for twenty-five years. In Governing in the Internet Age, he outlines the key challenges the internet has posed for governments as they seek to preserve their sovereignty, protect their citizens from harm, and regulate neutrally between traditional and online business models. Yes, the internet has changed everything—and that goes for governing, too.

Long-term population directions, in terms of both size and age composition, drive the destiny of all nations. While for decades we have worried about global overpopulation, it is far more likely that the period 1950–2050 will be an extraordinary population growth shock, culminating in severe population ageing and then decline. This shock will have four stages aligned with the stages of the life cycle of the baby boomers: childhood, adulthood, old age and death. Around ten years ago, the developed world as a whole entered the third stage of the population shock – old age. Over the next ten to twenty years, most of continental Europe, China, Russia and South Korea will join Japan as nations with sharply declining populations. The world and modern capitalism have never before been in such a situation. While Australia’s population will continue to grow over the next forty years, we will age significantly. Economic growth will slow, government and household debt will rise, and inequality will accelerate. Against that background, how will government chart our population and economic future?

The Morrison government’s moral decline happened first slowly and then all at once. We suffered through ‘Sports rorts’ and ‘Watergate’ and an MIA PM, before the dissembling response to allegations of sexual abuse at the very heart of federal politics threw into stark relief the cynicism and moral bankruptcy of a government ready to abandon any semblance of integrity to save its own skin. But at a time when the country is crying out for leadership, the Labor Party seems paralysed, so terrified it may lose votes from its opponent’s perennial wedging that, on key moral questions, it has failed to make the case to win them. Burning Down the House tells the story of how our political system went awry and how we have arrived at a place where a group of the most unlikely politicians contemplated the sort of Australia they wanted—responsible, humane, moral—and concluded that was not the Australia reflected in our current toxic politics. Into the breach has stepped a range of independents beholden to no-one but themselves and their electorates, ordinary Australians determined to burn it all down and build something new.

Disregard the critics. Australia’s ABC, at ninety years of age, is demonstrably more valuable to Australians now than it has ever been. The ABC’s home-grown Managing Director, David Anderson, gives us a rare insight into the ABC he knows intimately: a cultural powerhouse where Australian identity is celebrated, democracy is defended, and a very Australian brand of creativity is encouraged to flourish. This is a challenging era for many public broadcasters, with news media consolidation, globalised entertainment streams and unreliable social media. Yet the ABC has never faltered or lost its relevance: on the contrary. This book sets out why Australians turn to their ABC now more than ever for information and news, solace and entertainment, pride and patriotism. Anderson lays out how the ABC will continue to innovate and develop as our essential and beloved national institution over the years leading to its centenary in 2032, and beyond.

Technology described as artificial intelligence is becoming more pervasive, with AI algorithms transforming science and industry, along with our everyday lives. They can rapidly analyse and classify all manner of data. They can generate passages of text and produce realistic images. They are used to design medicines, to autonomously drive cars. They are our tour guides through the vast collection of information on the web. They observe us to suggest products to purchase, movies to watch and music to hear. They keep a watchful eye on us through cameras at supermarket self-checkouts. And their scope of application is only widening—increasingly, we are interacting with AI without knowing it. But what is AI really? Is it truly intelligent? Is it always a benignly useful modern-world companion? Not if we consider the increasing volume of AI-enabled criminal activity, or the ethical dilemmas posed by the use of AI-powered weaponry. Further, examples already exist showing that the careless use of AI can lead to the exacerbation of social inequalities. AI systems, no matter how complex their workings or impressive their abilities, are the product of deliberate human design—not just the design of algorithms, but also strategies for sourcing and managing the massive quantities of data on which they operate. But it’s not just the creators of AI who need to think about the impact of the technology. Given its ramifications, all of us need to start thinking about how we want to live with AI.

Authenticity. Vulnerability. Humility. Transparency. These are some of the 21st-century virtues proselytised by mindset gurus, paraded (if not practised) by big corporations, and lauded by professionals on LinkedIn. The quest for authenticity, for example, is central to progressive campaigns for greater diversity and inclusion, while our political and business leaders are highest praised if they appear to be humble. But are Australia’s newest virtues fit for purpose? In this provocative book, Lucinda Holdforth questions the new orthodoxy. She suggests that these virtues are not only unhelpfully subjective and self-referential but also, in the absence of broader civic values, fail to serve our democracy. This matters when experience around the world, especially in the United States, shows us that no democracy is guaranteed. Holdforth reminds us that arguments for transparency and authenticity are routinely used by totalitarian regimes to justify ultra-nationalism, artistic censorship and population surveillance. Vulnerability may be a facet of the human condition but that is surely no reason to make it an aspiration. Well-meaning people may talk about the power of ‘my’ truth, but if pushed too far this risks a dissolution of agreed facts and shared reality, breaking down the decision-making processes essential to effective democracy. If we agree that Australia needs confident, rational, optimistic and outward-looking citizens to shape our future, then Holdforth challenges us to reconsider the contemporary virtues shaping our society.

In 2023, debate about an Indigenous Voice to Parliament swirls around us as Australia heads towards a referendum on amending the Constitution to make this Voice a reality. The idea of a ‘First Nations Voice’ was famously raised in 2017, when Indigenous leaders drafted the Uluru Statement from the Heart. It was envisioned as a representative body, enshrined in the Constitution, that would advise federal parliament and the executive government on laws and policies of significance to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people. But while Indigenous people may finally get their Voice, will it be heard? In Time to Listen, Melissa Castan and Lynette Russell explore how the need for a Voice has its roots in what anthropologist WEH Stanner in the late 1960s called the ‘Great Australian Silence’, whereby the history and culture of Indigenous Australians have been largely ignored by the wider society. This ‘forgetting’ has not been incidental but rather an intentional, initially colonial policy of erasement. So have times now changed? Is the tragedy of that national silence—a refusal to acknowledge Indigenous agency and cultural achievements—finally coming to an end? The Voice to Parliament can be a transformational legal and political institutional reform, but only if we really listen to Indigenous people, and they are clearly heard when they speak.

In March 2020, schools and childcare centres across Australia were forced to close to control the spread of the recently arrived novel coronavirus (COVID-19). Families and carers suddenly had to adjust to long periods of home-schooling, disparities in the availability of technology, loss of social connections with friends and relatives, and an exhausting new balancing act of work, home and schooling commitments—all in a confined environment. In the wake of the resulting emotional burnout, heightened by spontaneous lockdown measures and growing COVID-19 cases, we witnessed an exponential rise in youth anxiety, triggering a mental health crisis in children as young as those of kindergarten age. Three years later, what does the post-pandemic child look like? What does the future hold for the millions of young Australians whose formative years were so disrupted? And what help must we urgently provide to this generation of children who found themselves coping with a once-in-a-lifetime pandemic? In The Post-Pandemic Child, Kim Cornish takes us through the key challenges now faced by Australian children, including the return to in-person schooling and the ramifications of online teaching and missed years of social interaction. She also examines the short- and long-term consequences for this ‘pandemic generation’, and the priorities in enabling these children to regain what was lost during the early years of COVID-19.

In mid-2023, Australia was rocked by a scandal surrounding the local affiliate of business management consultancy PricewaterhouseCoopers. The crisis raised serious concerns about the role of consultancy and audit firms within our public service, and caused governments to re-evaluate their relationships with these agencies. The key question emerged: are the big four consulting firms truly neutral advisers, or do their ties to corporate interests compromise the public sector’s integrity? The Consultancy Conundrum is a compelling examination of the role consultancy firms have played in shaping our current crisis of confidence in public institutions. Andrew Jaspan and Lachlan Guselli have brought together authoritative contributions from across the world to provide unique insights into the evolving role and expectations of our civil service, and the Faustian bargain it has made with the corporate world’s instant experts. Collectively, the writers ask: if we can’t trust the consultants, then who will give our governments the advice they need to secure our future? How do we rebuild a robust civil service to support positive change in a volatile world? And how do we go about shaping this new vision of our public service? With contributions from Jane Andrew, Marty Bortz, Allan Fels, James Guthrie, Chris Hurl, Duncan Ivison, Stuart Kells, Andrew Podger, Denis Saint-Martin, Andrew Sturdy, Erin Twyford and Christopher Wright.

In June 2022, the United States Supreme Court handed down a decision that overturned Roe v Wade, declaring that the American Constitution did not protect the right to abortion. Several US states immediately banned abortion, while others were quick to enact restrictive regulation. This decision sent shockwaves around the world, including in Australia. It gave Australians reason to pause and consider the extent to which reproductive rights are protected here, and the accessibility of reproductive health care in this country. Towards Reproductive Justice frames the right to terminate a pregnancy as a human rights issue and considers Australian laws and policies that have significantly advanced reproductive rights. These include legal measures to mitigate the impact of conscientious objection, and the introduction of safe access zones around abortion clinics. It also notes the wave of decriminalisation that has swept across Australia and the importance of removing abortion from the criminal law framework. At the same time, this book illuminates the enduring barriers to abortion access, acknowledging the remaining steps on the path to achieving full reproductive justice. Among these are the attitudes of some health professionals and health facilities, financial and geographic barriers to access, deficiencies in medical training, and persisting legal obstacles. Recent legal and policy developments are also examined, both those which contribute to the advancement of reproductive rights in Australia and those which detract from this crucial goal.

Technology is radically transforming society. From social media to artificial intelligence, our world is now governed by algorithms, powerful tools that not only predict human behaviour but affect how we look at each other, and ourselves. At the same time, we are seeing hard-fought-for women’s rights being recontested and women feeling increasingly threatened. In America, Roe v Wade has been overturned, while in Australia, the number of sexual assaults reported to police has increased year on year for the past decade. Could it be that the digital revolution is killing feminism? Time to Reboot explores the new digital gender divide. It shows how the algorithms favoured by Big Tech, designed to respond to and reinforce group characteristics, are dramatically recasting our relationships and our personal values. AI trained on biased data is generating a new wave of male privilege, sometimes subtle, sometimes blatant. In the 2020s, the ‘virtual rape’ of female players in online gaming is rarely commented on, while feminist values are in record decline among a younger generation swayed by an online ethos that promotes tech libertarianism and rewards the obsessive cultivation of self-image.  This book unpacks the uncomfortable parallels between a digital and tech consumer culture we find impossible to resist and the nascent decline of gender equity. It questions whether the technology that is meant to both guide us today and show us the future is, in fact, pushing women backwards—and if so, how we can fix this.

Imagine a time when any patient, no matter who they are or where they live, can visit their doctor or specialist online and immediately access all the relevant diagnostic information and medical records – a time when a holistic view of a person’s health data and outcomes is literally always at their fingertips. Some of this is a reality now, but the system is clunky, incomplete and inefficient. The fact is that the health sector in Australia, in comparison to industries such as banking and commerce, has been slow to adopt digital methodologies. And even when it has, there has been a frustrating lack of connectivity between e-health technologies, confronting clinicians and consumers alike with information silos. Richard Royle and David Hansen have been closely involved in e-health in Australia for over two decades and are committed to the creation of a digital health system that enables connected care for consumers and health providers across the country. With this goal in mind, in Connected Care: Digital Health in Australia they outline the challenges ahead, and what governments and health providers can do to help build and encourage the uptake of the necessary technology. Australia needs a properly interconnected healthcare system. This will reduce costs and increase efficiencies in what is currently an overstretched sector—and most importantly, it will save lives. A digital health community that reliably provides connected care will deliver greater wellbeing to everyone.

A strong higher education system is fundamental to civil society. The building of knowledge and the dissemination of information is vital to the proper functioning of our democracy. At the economic level, higher education is in the top three of our export industries; international students have become central to the hospitality, retail and agricultural economies; and the country desperately needs well-trained, knowledgeable citizens to shore up its future. Yet, in February 2024, a detailed review of higher education in this country concluded that the system is broken and urgently needs fixing. The problems that afflict it are legion, including over-investment in international enrolment, an epidemic of casualisation and the burning out of a generation of academics, culture wars over the content and orientation of university research and teaching, the lack of sectoral coordination around the national interest, and the consequences of decades of funding cuts. In Broken, Graeme Turner provides a reality check for those who imagine the academic life is one of privilege and leisure, laying bare the enormous challenges and lack of hope experienced by many in academia. He unearths the foundations of this crisis, then explains how the solution lies in an overhaul of the one-size-fits-all approach to university funding, the establishment of genuine full-time career paths, and the formation of an independent body to ensure our university system serves the national interest in both teaching and research, rather than the ferocious competitiveness of the marketplace. Above all, we need to jettison the current economic focus on education, and re-embrace the idea that higher learning is a fundamental public good—and should be funded as such.

In an age of existential threats for Australia and the world, what does society need from companies, and how should companies respond? Corporate social responsibility (CSR) has a leading role to play in answering these fundamental questions. Yet current Australian and international debate remains stuck in polarised positions on CSR and related topics, including environmental, social and governance considerations (ESG), and diversity, equity and inclusion factors (DEI) for businesses. In this groundbreaking book, Professor Bryan Horrigan provides a roadmap for navigating the complexity of CSR and the current controversies surrounding it. How is the corporate landscape changing for Australia and the world on corporate diversity, climate disclosures, and social and environmental harms? Do Australian businesses, the professions advising them, and even universities all have social licences to operate? Should they all speak and act publicly on controversial social and environmental issues, or stay out of the arena of partisan politics altogether? How far should corporate governance standards for ASX-listed companies go in addressing social, environmental and climate issues? Do Australian company directors face legal liability for mismanaging climate risk and disclosure, and what safeguards can protect them? And how does the Trump administration’s war on so-called ‘wokeness’ create ripple effects for corporate Australia, Australian politics and Australian universities? Professor Horrigan brings a unique blend of academic, practical and policy expertise to these topics. This book is essential reading for those in the public, private, not-for-profit and university sectors whose work concerns business and corporations in society.

These days, barely a week goes by without pointed media stories about the trans community, usually targeting trans women. They are likely to have a sensationalist headline and a salacious tone, and the writing is often ill-informed and vilifying. Favoured topics include women in sports, bathrooms, where prisoners are housed, and health care for trans and gender-diverse children and young people. What tends not to be reported is the abuse, assaults and online hate that have become a daily experience for trans women, and the bullying that trans kids experience at school. Some of this is due to the ripple effects of the animosity spewed out by the so-called ‘leader of the free world’. From the early days of his campaign for a second term as US president, Donald Trump has had the trans community in his sights, and he now appears intent on denying their very existence. But a broader dynamic seems to be a deep-seated intolerance, if not loathing, of trans people in our society. Why are trans people so hated? Why have they become contemporary ‘villains’ and the target of so much prejudice and bigotry? And most importantly, how do we change this? Is it possible to move from blaming, shaming and excluding trans people to respecting, protecting and including them? These questions are at the heart of Sex, Gender & Identity, alongside the goal of increasing community-wide understanding of this much maligned minority.

Australia’s climate debate has long focused on three central pillars: clean power, future economic prosperity and protecting the planet. After nearly two decades of “the climate wars”, we’ve heard the calls: we must decarbonise our energy system, we must develop our green industries and clean tech, and we must do more to keep global temperature increases within safe limits. Yet while climate change affects us all, the arguments for climate action are rarely framed in terms of the impact on ordinary Australians. In the face of high electricity and petrol prices, how can more households benefit from cheaper renewable energy and electric vehicles? Given our continued reliance on fossil fuel exports, how can Australia avoid falling off an economic cliff in the coming decades? With swathes of the country at risk of climate-related disaster, how can we enhance our resilience and avoid insurance loss? And what are the real benefits at home of seeking to be an international climate leader? In this clear-sighted volume, Woodroofe outlines why the next wave of climate and energy policy in Australia must focus intently on middle Australia, designing policies that make sense from the Cabinet Room to every lounge room across the mortgage belts and beyond. The price – economically, politically and environmentally – is too great if we do not.

‘Nothing about us, without us!’ A staunch declaration that flatly rejects the legacies of research and knowledge creation about First Nations peoples in Western institutions. After decades of exclusion from university campuses, the 1970s saw First Nations peoples’ entry to the academy—led by strong Indigenous women. They cleared the path for current generations of Indigenous students and academics. The task then was to forge a better future for our communities through higher education and community impact. First Nations academics and leaders in our universities fifty years later still face many challenges. Surviving in institutions built on Western knowledges and methodologies that once actively excluded First Nations peoples is difficult. However, as we race to address the threats of climate change and geopolitical instability, it is imperative that First Nations knowledges and perspectives from across Southeast Asia, the Pacific and Australia are brought to the conversation despite the challenges. Our task now is to embrace the legacy of those that came before us and elevate strong First Nations voices from across the globe. The only way to tackle the existential threats to Country and society is to come together as a community of knowledge holders and researchers. Indigenous and Western knowledges, together, will address the challenges of our time.

Stories of child sexual abuse appear in the media weekly, often framed as isolated incidents. But child sexual abuse and exploitation is one of Australia’s most pervasive human rights challenges, affecting over a quarter of children. The ripple effect – the burden on mental health, drug and alcohol services – means all Australians pay for the damage wrought by these crimes. Yet we continue to see a crisis to respond to rather than a harm that could be prevented. In Before the Harm, Sonia Orchard challenges this reactive model. Drawing on interviews with leading voices including Jess Hill, Grace Tame and professors Ben Mathews, Michael Salter and Daryl Higgins, alongside research and accounts from survivors and offenders, she shows that abuse is neither random nor unknowable. It often follows recognisable pathways – and this gives opportunities for meaningful interventions. We know that policing is chronically underfunded, that tech companies’ reluctance to make platforms accountable leaves kids at risk, that grooming is on the rise. But there is a growing body of evidence for prevention measures to better protect children in homes, online and in the community. Clear-eyed and compelling, Before the Harm reframes one of our most confronting social issues – and shows that protecting children begins long before a crime is committed.