We have a trust crisis in Australia. The global trust survey conducted annually by communications firm Edelman has revealed a dramatic collapse in institutional trust over the last two decades. Edelmen frames the core foundations for trust as “competence” and “ethical behaviour,” and NGOs, business, the media and governments have all become less trusted over this period. Astonishingly, in Australia in 2020, not one of these four sectors was considered both competent and ethical. In fact, business was the only one to be viewed as competent, and NGOs was the only sector seen to be ethical.
This should not be surprising. We have experienced decades of increasing inequalities, the economic collapse of 2008 and continued political reliance on deeply flawed trickle-down economics. Public trust in our neoliberal economic system as a whole has been decimated. Perhaps most surprising though, Australia has the world’s largest trust gap between the informed public and the broader population; while the informed public is largely trusting, the population as a whole do not trust our institutions.
So why is this important? And why does trust matter in a conversation about the next economy? There can be no doubt that our society is undergoing significant change. From the GFC to COVID-19, and from the impacts of social inequality to the devastation wrought by the climate emergency, our economic system is at an undeniable breaking point. Economic history from around the world shows us that if trust and social cohesion is low at these junctures, it can result in the breakdown of democratic ideals. Whilst this can lead to obvious flashpoints like Trump and Brexit, the erosion of our democracy can occur in subtle and non-dramatic ways too. David Ritter (CEO, Greenpeace Australia Pacific) writes that the lack of government support for the arts, media and universities during COVID-19, alongside the continued suspension of Parliament, may well have created “the most undemocratic peacetime moment in the 120 years of the Australian nation state”. We are indeed at a critical juncture in Australian democracy, and one that is underpinned by a lack of trust.
While our democracy can at times feel stagnant, boring or ineffective, happily it is in reality an ever-evolving system, full of imperfections and faults, yet beautiful in its ambition. Democracy has never been static nor uniform. This is true across both space and time. Although the foundations of our democracy reach back through history, it is only in very recent times that our modern understanding of democracy has taken root. No-one today would claim that a society which didn’t give women or Indigenous people the vote is democratic; Australian democracy in 1900 looked very different to today. And democracy in India today looks very different to Sweden or the US. While we must defend the democratic ground that those before us fought to win, the ever-changing nature of democracy can be a great cause for hope as we explore a transition to the next economy.
Our question thus becomes: what is the next iteration of the great democratic experiment? How can we protect our democratic gains and make further advances as part of our movement towards the next economy? Many are now campaigning for technical improvements to our democracy, including political donation and lobby reform, the introduction of a Federal Independent Commission Against Corruption (ICAC), new electoral processes for party leaders, and even the development of new political parties or alliances of independents. Without addressing the broad public disengagement from politics and the collapsing levels of trust, however, many of these well-intentioned reform attempts will be unsuccessful or fail to achieve their intended impact. Our search for a renewed democratic model needs to begin with the story that we have been told about our society and about who we are as individual citizens. George Monbiot writes in his book Out of the Wreckage:
“We are astonishing creatures, blessed with an amazing capacity for kindness and care towards others. But this good nature has been thwarted by a mistaken view of our own humanity. We have been induced by certain politicians, economists and commentators to accept a vicious ideology of extreme competition, and individualism that pits us against each other, encourages us to fear and mistrust each other, and weakens the social bonds that make our lives worth living.”
This individualisation, or “atomisation” as Monbiot calls it, has a deep impact on wellbeing and mental health in our community. Social and economic hardship is reframed as personal failure: “if you do not have a job…it is not because of structural unemployment, but because you are unenterprising…if your credit card is maxed out, it is not because of the impossible costs of housing but because you are feckless and improvident.” Ultimately, this individualisation largely reduces our society to winners who receive accolades and awards for their personal success and losers who are shouldered with the blame for their circumstances.
In the Australian context this is perhaps accentuated by our national fair go mythology. If we believe we all have an equal fair go, then it is indeed the individual’s responsibility to either succeed or fail. However, increasing economic inequality and continued inequity in access to opportunity illuminates the stark reality that we simply don’t all have a fair go. Despite the regular utterances in our political class (on both sides of politics), the fair go is a modern Australian myth. Resolving our trust crisis and building a foundation for a thriving democracy requires a resetting of the story that we have been told and a shift from a culture of individualisation to a culture of community and interconnection.
Our recent experience of COVID-19 has surfaced the power and importance of local community. Whilst the media initially focused on fights over toilet paper, it was the random acts of kindness, generosity towards at-risk Australians and a shared experience of isolation that brought neighbours closer and created strong and lasting community connections. It is the great challenge now to sustain and expand these empathic connections and embed a renewed culture of connection and solidarity at the heart of our politics and discourse.
Luckily, there are a range of organisations working on this challenge. In the UK, following the successful takeover and re-vitalisation of the Local Council in the town of Frome, the Flatpack Democracy movement has built a suite of tools for reclaiming local democracy. With the goal of making democracy relevant, effective and fun, the movement has created a radical blueprint for rethinking the connection between communities and their local councils. Joy, fun and connection are critical elements here. As Rebecca Solnit writes, “joy doesn't betray but sustains activism. And when you face a politics that aspires to make you fearful, alienated and isolated, joy is a fine act of insurrection.” Another international example is the City of Amsterdam who have embraced Kate Raworth’s Doughnut Economics as a new policy framework. One of their nine principles is to “nurture human nature…strengthen community networks and work with a spirit of high trust.” Many other cities around the world are now rapidly following Amsterdam’s lead, with Raworth set to launch the Doughnut Economics Action Lab to support these initiatives.
Locally, Renew Australia aims to catalyse community renewal and economic development. The Coalition of Everyone is aiming to disrupt the politics of fear and to build a politics of hope by removing barriers to participatory democracy, through people’s assemblies and community gatherings. Transition Australia is part of the global Transition Towns movement working as local communities and building towards a sustainable future. The Next Economy works with communities to develop capacity on energy, housing, manufacturing and resilience projects. New Democracy is an independent think tank dedicated to restoring trust in public decision making. And Australia Remade is a unique alliance of citizens and community leaders who came together to imagine and create a renewed Australia based on nine pillars, including a thriving democracy, a natural world for now and the future, an economy for the people and a thriving First People’s heart.
These are just some of the inspiring organisations and movements working to strengthen our communities, build resilience and in doing so, transform our democracy. It is at our own doorsteps though, that this process of transformation truly begins; it is in our schools, our community centres, our local conservation groups, our streets and our neighbourhoods. As Monbiot writes, “community is the place from which a new politics begins to grow”. This is the reality that has surfaced in our experiences of COVID-19; a culture of solidarity and interconnectedness. This is the lesson that can be the seed of much more radical and systemic changes to the way our democracy functions. Seemingly radical ideas become plausible and then inevitable. Ideas like wellbeing budgets (see New Zealand, Scotland, Iceland and even the City of Sydney), citizen assemblies, citizen’s juries, and a range of democratic innovations based on new technology. With a renewed sense of democracy built on resilient, engaged communities, we can strive for a democratic revolution rather than accept the ongoing decay of our democratic institutions. With the urgent challenge of addressing increasing inequalities, our ambition needs to be for nothing less.
Democracy is a stunning act of human achievement; organising entire societies, millions and millions of people, based on shared principles, values and rules. It is the heart of a functioning and just society, from where public services can be managed, the market can be harnessed, and civil society can be built. It is the anchor that allows all our other systems to flourish. As such, any conversation about the next economy should include an exploration of democracy itself and the trust that underpins it. Perhaps the most profound impact of our trust deficit and political apathy is the slow decaying of hope and optimism in our society. However, we need only look around our neighbourhoods to see signs of democratic renewal. As Monbiot notes, “By confronting the politics of alienation with a politics of belonging, we rekindle our imagination and discover our power to act.” If we are to drive towards a new economic paradigm, then we must find our way forward to a society that assumes the best of one another, a democracy that invites participation and active citizenship, and an economic system that incentivises and nourishes the common good.
