A framed piece of writing on the wall of Readings Bookshop in St Kilda recently caught my attention. It carried a line by Antonia Pont: “Neoliberalism relies on us admiring horrible people.” Whether one agrees with it or not, the sentence prompts a broader thought about contemporary democracy. Australia remains a strong democracy, but like many established democracies it is navigating increasingly uncharted waters, testing how institutions respond to citizens who want not only a voice but also recognition, dignity and a sense that they matter.
Recent developments in Germany offer a useful parallel. Its established political order is being strained by fragmentation, declining support for traditional parties and the rise of forces outside the political centre. Australia faces its own, distinctly Australian version of that pressure, as the familiar Labor–Coalition landscape of the two mainstream political parties is increasingly challenged by alternative political forces. The Coalition is the longstanding national alliance between the Liberal Party and the Nationals. The systems are different, but the underlying question is similar: can established institutions continue to translate changing demands for recognition and influence into effective democratic participation?
In Australia, that question can sometimes be seen in the most ordinary places.
Cosmopolitan St Kilda, on the shores of Port Phillip Bay, is part of Melbourne’s federal electorate of Macnamara, represented by the Australian Labor Party, which is currently in government. Since 30 May 2025, a group of mainly older Australians has gathered there every Friday to protest government support for offshore gas exploration and development near the Twelve Apostles. I have occasionally crossed paths with them.
They are not professional lobbyists. They represent neither a corporation nor a political party. They simply keep showing up.
There is something quietly democratic about that persistence.
Lobbying is often associated with corporate interests, professional consultants and access to ministers. But lobbying, in its broader democratic sense, is simply an attempt to influence government decision-making. Citizens, community organisations, unions and businesses all have legitimate interests they may wish to put before the government.
Francis Fukuyama describes this human desire for recognition as thymos — the need to have one’s dignity and worth acknowledged by others and by society. In a democracy, that recognition is expressed not only through elections but also through the belief that ordinary citizens can make their concerns heard. Political participation, therefore, is about more than having the formal right to speak; it is also about knowing that someone is prepared to listen.
The St Kilda protesters represent a much more grassroots form of political participation. They have no professional lobbying operation. Their influence, if any, comes from persistence, visibility and the willingness to continue making their case.
Their target is also highly symbolic.
The Twelve Apostles are among Victoria’s most recognisable natural landmarks, dramatic limestone formations shaped by erosion along the Southern Ocean. For generations they have formed part of the landscape Australians associate with the Great Ocean Road and the Victorian coast.
That is why the protest is about more than a particular government decision. It is also about who gets to influence decisions concerning places that communities regard as part of their shared natural heritage.
The St Kilda protesters are not the first citizens to organise around the Twelve Apostles. Friends of the Apostles emerged in the 1990s in response to concerns about development and environmental management around the site, demonstrating that community advocacy over the area has a longer history.
The circumstances are different, but the question is familiar: when decisions affect places communities regard as part of their shared natural heritage, how effectively can citizens make their case?
A community group may have volunteers and persistence; a corporation can deploy lawyers, economists, consultants and professional lobbyists. The difference is not simply money, but also networks, expertise, media access and proximity to decision-makers. Two groups may have the same formal right to approach government, yet very different capacities to obtain its attention.
The right to speak and the ability to be heard are not necessarily the same thing.
That is why transparency matters.
Australia has a federal Lobbying Code of Conduct and a public Register of Lobbyists. The Australian Government explicitly describes lobbying as a legitimate democratic activity, while requiring third-party lobbyists to register and comply with transparency and ethical standards.
The OECD’s Anti-Corruption and Integrity Outlook 2026 finds that Australia fulfils 60 per cent of its criteria for lobbying regulation and 56 per cent for practice, compared with OECD averages of 43 and 38 per cent respectively. At the same time, the OECD notes that Australia’s lobbying register provides information such as lobbyists’ names, clients and former government positions, but does not identify the legislation or regulation being targeted.
The gap between formal regulation and the visibility of actual influence shows why transparency remains an unfinished task.
Having rules is not the same as making influence visible.
Lobbying remains a legitimate part of democracy. Citizens, community groups, unions and businesses all have a right to make their case to government. The concern arises when access becomes disproportionately shaped by money, connections or proximity to power.
At its heart, democratic participation is also about recognition — the belief that one’s concerns matter and deserve to be heard.
The Macnamara protesters have no professional lobbying operation and no guarantee of success. What they have is persistence.
Every Friday, they return.
That is democracy between elections: citizens organising, protesting and continuing to make their case. The question is not whether lobbying belongs in a democracy. It does. The question is whether political influence remains sufficiently open and transparent for citizens to have a meaningful opportunity to be heard.
Everyone may have the right to approach government. Not everyone has the same capacity to obtain its attention. Democracy depends not only on the right to speak but also on the possibility that someone in power will listen.
The challenge is to ensure that access does not become a privilege.
