Here’s something that doesn’t quite add up.
We keep being told the economy is on the brink. That things are spiralling. That everything is getting worse.
And yet — when you actually look at the numbers — that story starts to wobble. It doesn’t quite stack up.
Right now, in extraordinarily difficult international circumstances, Australia is ticking boxes most developed economies can’t.
- Low unemployment.
- Inflation coming under control.
- Growth holding up.
- Interest rates sitting in a workable band.
Is it great? No. But it is being competently managed.
Stronger, in fact, than most of the countries we’re usually told to compare ourselves to.
So, here’s the obvious question.
If the economy is holding up this well, why does everyone feel so grim?
Part of it is real.
People are under pressure. Groceries cost more. Rent is brutal. Power bills bite. Fuel is a nightmare. You don’t need an economist to tell you that — you feel it every week.
But that’s not the whole story.
Because alongside that reality, there is something else happening — something quieter, but just as powerful.
It’s the way the story is being told.
Pick up a paper. Scroll a feed. Turn on the news. The tone is relentless. Crisis. Decline. Failure. Repeat.
And it’s not just headlines.
Watch a morning segment on Sunrise and you’ll often hear politicians talking about the economy in language so dramatic, so catastrophic, you’d think Australia was on the brink of collapse.
When Bridget McKenzie was on recently, the tone wasn’t measured concern — it was full-blown alarm.
That kind of language might work for a grab or a headline, but it has very little to do with the actual state of the economy.
For those paying attention, the game being played is obvious. For everyone else, it risks landing as straightforward scaremongering — and that has real consequences for consumer confidence and how people see the country’s direction.
Because when everything is framed as a crisis, even when the underlying data tells a more complex story, it stops being analysis and starts being political theatre.
Good news barely gets a mention. Context disappears. Complexity gets flattened into whatever will land the hardest.
And over time, that does something.
It doesn’t just inform people. It conditions them.
It creates a country that feels like it’s going backwards — even when, on many measures, it isn’t.
Now here’s where the politics comes in.
On one side, you have a government — led by Anthony Albanese — trying, at times imperfectly and sometimes frustratingly, to manage inflation, steady the economy and roll out targeted cost-of-living relief.
Not flashy. Not dramatic. But steady.
- Energy bill rebates.
- Cheaper PBS medicines.
- Wage growth at the lower end.
- Increased rent assistance.
- Managing sudden oil shocks, securing supply and cushioning the immediate impact.
Not magic fixes. But actual policy.
On the other side, you’ve now got an opposition led by Angus Taylor, and the economic tone hasn’t shifted — if anything, it has sharpened. At a time of deep international turmoil, when the country needs seriousness, consensus and a sense of national interest, what we are getting instead is no coherent policy, no constructive vision — just point-scoring.
There is also a clear move toward finding someone to blame — with migrants increasingly cast as the problem, borrowing heavily from the playbook of Pauline Hanson and One Nation, and echoing the politics made familiar by Donald Trump.
The message is simple: everything is broken.
Because outrage is easier than solutions.
It’s cleaner. Simpler. Louder.
But here’s the problem.
If your entire economic argument rests on convincing Australians the country is failing — even when key indicators suggest otherwise — you’re not just holding the government to account.
You’re chipping away at confidence in the economy itself. And that has consequences.
Confidence isn’t fluff. It’s economic oxygen. The latest April figures show consumer confidence has already taken a hit. When people believe things are collapsing, they pull back. They spend less. Invest less. Assume the worst. Suddenly, perception starts feeding directly into economic behaviour.
Now let’s be clear.
This isn’t an argument for blind optimism. Or for pretending everything is fine.
People are doing it tough. That is real, and it matters.
But it is also true that Australia is navigating a difficult global environment better than most.
Both things can be true at the same time.
And if we lose the ability to hold those two ideas together — if everything becomes either “we’re doomed” or “everything’s perfect” — we stop having a serious conversation.
We just start yelling.
Because shouting that everything is broken might win a headline. It might win a few votes. But it doesn’t fix a single thing.
And if we’re serious about where the country goes next, we need more than noise.
We need perspective, a lot less hysteria, and a bit more honesty about what’s actually in front of us — from both the media and our politicians.
And with the budget just around the corner, we’re about to find out whether we get more noise — or more of the steady, grounded decisions the moment actually demands.
Denise McHugh is an experienced educator in Tamworth. She is Chair of the NSW ALP Education and Skills Committee and Deputy President of the Independent Education Union (IEU).
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