Australia Just Gave Division the Middle Finger – Now What?

The Rejection We Needed

While the pundits debate policy details and campaign strategies, I'm more interested in what this result says about us – about who we are as Australians and what we value when push comes to shove.

Because make no mistake, this election wasn't just about tax policy or climate targets. It was a referendum on the kind of society we want to be.

For months, we've watched the American experiment unfold like a slow-motion car crash. We've seen what happens when a country embraces divisiveness as a political strategy. We've witnessed the erosion of civil discourse, the weaponisation of fear, and the celebration of national isolation as strength.

And you know what? We collectively looked at that path and said, "Yeah, nah."

That's not us being smug or superior. It's the majority of Australians recognising a cautionary tale when they see one and choosing a different way forward.

The Power We Have (That They Don't Want Us to Know About)

There's been this persistent narrative that Australians are becoming more divided, more fearful, more willing to retreat into tribal identities. The political playbook that's worked so effectively elsewhere – pitting "real Australians" against the "elites," stirring up fear of the other, promising simple solutions to complex problems – was deployed here too.

This election ripped a gaping hole into one of the most insidious lies of our time: that we are powerless. This is what neoliberalism wants us to believe – that polarisation is unstoppable, that your individual actions don't matter in the face of global currents. The state of hopelessness fostered by an increasingly divisive world that I describe here actually serves a political purpose. But, as I argue here, we're not just passive victims in this global drama. When you feel isolated, powerless, and disconnected, you don't fight back. This election’s landslide result is a thundering reminder that the collective power of individual choices can still reshape a nation's trajectory. Each person who walked into a voting booth and rejected the politics of division didn't just cast a ballot – they reclaimed their agency in determining what kind of society we become. 

I'm not suggesting that the Australian people are some utopian society marching hand in hand towards a future free from prejudice or conflict. We're not. We've got our own deep-seated problems, historical wounds, and contemporary challenges. But what this election showed is that when explicitly offered the politics of division as practised in Trump's America, the vast majority of us said “no-fucking-thanks”, and that means something. 

When Their Alcatraz Became Our Warning Sign

Here's where our timing was actually fortunate. We got to see the American experiment with divisive politics play out in real-time before making our own choice. We weren't voting in a vacuum – we were voting with front-row seats to the shit show that unfolds when a society embraces division as its organising principle.

Take Trump's recent call to reopen Alcatraz. It's not just a bad policy idea – it's a perfect metaphor for his entire worldview. "Criminal offenders, the dregs of society, who will never contribute anything other than misery and suffering... keep them far away from anyone they could harm. That's the way it's supposed to be."

Bloody hell. Let that sink in. The literal embodiment of isolation, avoidance, and unforgiveness is being championed as a solution. Not rehabilitation. Not addressing root causes. Not building stronger communities. Just walls, water, and the comfortable illusion that problems disappear when you can no longer see them.

It's cancel culture on steroids – and yes, I see the irony in a supposed "anti-woke" champion being the ultimate canceler. He's not just trying to silence voices; he's advocating for erasing entire groups of people from society. "The dregs," as he calls them. As if humans can be sorted into those who matter and those who don't (here's why I think cancel culture doesn’t serve us). 

How can you not anticipate collective hopelessness when a nation's leader speaks of shutting off and shutting away parts of society deemed unworthy? When did the proposed solution to complex social problems become essentially "out of sight, out of mind"?

This approach to governance – this fundamental division of humanity into “us = worthy, them = unworthy” – doesn't just damage those being excluded. It poisons the entire social contract. It tells everyone that belonging is conditional, that redemption is impossible, that some lives simply don't matter.

We witnessed how quickly this "us versus them" rhetoric tears at the social fabric. We saw how the drumbeat of exclusion and dehumanisation exhausts a nation's collective soul. Worse, we shared that sense of collective hopelessness as well. The whole world did. 

But having seen the movie already, we weren't interested in the Australian remake.

The Hard Work Ahead

Let's not kid ourselves – rejecting division is the “easy” part. Building something better is the challenge.

The landslide victory we just witnessed isn't the end of something; it's the beginning. Sure, it's a chance to recalibrate our political discourse and raise the bar for leadership. But more than that, it's a solid starting point for us to do some hard work ourselves. Yeah, we dodged a bullet - it could've been a hell of a lot worse. But now isn't the time to sit back and wait for the government to fix everything while we scroll through our social media echo chambers, patting ourselves on the back.

Democracy isn't a spectator sport that happens once every few years at the ballot box. It's a daily practice. And if we genuinely want to avoid the polarisation that's tearing other societies apart, we need to get our hands dirty in ways that aren't always comfortable.

The Conversations We're Avoiding

Let's be honest – most of us are absolute shit at having difficult conversations. We've become masters of avoidance, experts at surrounding ourselves with people who think just like us, and professionals at dismissing perspectives that make us feel uncomfortable.

I’ve said it before here, the algorithms feed us exactly what we want to hear. The communities we build (online and off) often become echo chambers that reinforce what we already believe. And when someone challenges our worldview? We label them, dismiss them, and shut them away in our own mental Alcatraz. 

This isn't just a right-wing problem or a left-wing problem. It's a human problem. We're all susceptible to the comfort of certainty and the seductive pull of binary thinking – us vs. them, good vs. evil, right vs. wrong. But real life isn’t one of Trump’s wet dreams. It’s just like us humans: messy, complex, and full of contradictions (spoiler alert: this is a good thing)

If we want to build from this election result – if we want to truly fight division – we need to practice sitting in discomfort. We need to get better at saying "I don't know" and "help me understand" instead of "you're wrong" and "let me educate you."

Listening as Radical Practice

There's something revolutionary about truly listening – not just waiting for your turn to speak, not formulating your counterargument, but genuinely trying to understand someone else's reality. It's becoming a lost art in our hot-take culture.

When was the last time you had a conversation with someone whose political views differ fundamentally from yours, and you weren't just waiting to pounce on their ideological fallacies? When did you last ask questions not to trap but to learn?

This isn't about giving harmful ideas a platform or tolerating intolerance. It's about recognising that most people – even those we disagree with – aren't cartoon villains. They're humans with complex histories, valid fears, and genuine concerns, even if their proposed solutions are misguided.

The path forward isn't found in "destroying" the other side with facts and logic. It's found in the harder, messier work of creating spaces where different perspectives can exist without immediate judgment – where we can explore the grey areas together.

The Courage to Be Wrong

Here's something I've noticed: the more uncertain the world becomes, the more certain people pretend to be. It's a defence mechanism. When everything feels chaotic, we cling to our beliefs like life rafts.

But what if our collective salvation lies not in certainty but in the willingness to be wrong? What if the most powerful words in creating a connected society aren't "I know" but "I might be mistaken"?

There's incredible strength in vulnerability – in admitting that you don't have all the answers, that your perspective is limited, that you're still learning. It's not weakness; it's the foundation of genuine connection.

This election showed that Australians can reject divisive politics on a macro level. Now we need to practice rejecting divisive thinking in our daily interactions – in our workplaces, our family gatherings, our community meetings, and yes, even in our social media exchanges.

The Society We Build, Not Just the One We Vote For

A more just, equitable, and connected Australia won't emerge automatically from this election result. It will emerge from millions of small choices we make every day – choices to reach across divides, to challenge our own thinking, to create spaces where difficult conversations can happen with respect and curiosity.

It will come from practising what anthropologists call cultural humility – the willingness to welcome different perspectives not as threats to be neutralised but as opportunities to expand our understanding. It will come from recognising that diversity isn't just about who's in the room, but whose voice is being heard.

The false binary that divides us – progressive vs. conservative, old vs. young – serves nobody except those who profit from our division. The real divide isn't between left and right; it's between those who are willing to engage in good faith and those who aren't.

We celebrate not because we’re Labor diehards, but because it’s a rare moment when a nation collectively says, 'enough of the bullshit – we can do better.'

So yes, celebrate this election result. Take a moment to breathe a sigh of relief. But then roll up your sleeves, because the real work is just beginning. Have that uncomfortable conversation you've been avoiding. Listen to understand, not to respond. Be willing to change your mind when evidence warrants it. Create spaces in your community where people with different perspectives can speak honestly without fear of being cancelled or shamed. 

This is how we build on the foundation this election has given us. This is how we honour the choice Australians made at the ballot box. Not by declaring victory and moving on, but by committing ourselves to the ongoing, imperfect practice of genuine connection.

Because at the end of the day, a society isn't defined by who it votes for. It's defined by how its people treat each other when nobody's counting the ballots.