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By any measure of moral progress, a society should be judged by how it treats those who are most vulnerable. Yet in Australia, people with disabilities continue to be treated not as citizens with equal standing, but as problems to be managed; an inconvenience to be contained within a labyrinth of bureaucratic delay and economic rationalisation.
Immunisation has protected communities for centuries, from early smallpox prevention in 200 BC to the eradication of deadly diseases. Yet today, vaccine confidence is slipping. Misinformation, social media, and shifting parental anxieties are fuelling a quiet backlash, raising urgent questions about trust and public health in a changing world.
As Australia heads toward a federal election, the government’s latest budget offers relief but fails the deeper test of justice. In a nation facing rising inequality and entrenched disadvantage, what’s missing is a vision anchored in the common good, a politics that serves not just voters, but the voiceless.
Covid offered a rare chance to reimagine the role of the state. What might have become a pivot to care and collective responsibility became a bonanza for entrenched interests. The crisis passed. Inequality returned. And the deeper reckoning that beckoned was quietly deferred, perhaps indefinitely.
Australia’s political class might make grand promises, but for those on the margins — homeless, underemployed, struggling with addiction — these pledges mean little. The people who have been left behind know the game is rigged. As elections approach, they watch from the outside, knowing their vote was never meant to count.
As cash fades from everyday transactions, its decline underscores a growing divide in access. With digital payments dominating and cash use dropping sharply, questions loom over the future of currency in an increasingly cashless society, and who might be left behind.
In 1940s Australia, neighbourhoods pulsed with neighborly connection — a stark contrast to today’s soaring rates of loneliness. As societies grow increasingly fragmented and isolation deepens, can that bygone era offer any lessons on healing our contemporary disconnection?
The Synod on Synodality has quietly rewritten the Church’s relationship with disability, shifting from a legacy of marginalisation to a vision of equality and dignity. This historic move acknowledges past failings while championing the rights of disabled people as full participants in faith and society. But does the rhetoric match reality?
With unaffordable housing pushing families into impossible choices, homelessness affecting 120,000 people, and systemic inequities deepening, we must ask: What kind of society do we want to build — and for whom?
Social Inclusion Week invites reflection on our shared humanity amidst deep divides. From childhood cliques to culture wars, the tension between inclusion and exclusion is a paradox rooted in belonging. Can we overcome fear and forge connections across difference, or will anxiety keep us apart? The answer shapes our society’s future.
As Prime Minister Anthony Albanese navigates a slow but steady decline in approval, his cautious leadership approach is increasingly under scrutiny. With rising pressures on housing, the economy, and global events, is it time for him to take the bold political risks necessary to stave off the threat of minority government?
There are approximately 300 Australians like Will currently held in forensic disability facilities, hospitals, mental health facilities, the prison system and providers of last resort. After two decades of seclusion, his story reveals a broken system where lives deteriorate, not improve, despite efforts for reform.
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