– while the climate movement is failing democracy.
Our democracy has become the bottleneck. A weakened democracy allows vested interests to block the path to sustainability and a safe climate.
In The Sustainable Hour radioshow on 6 May 2026, Professor Joseph Camilleri and climate campaigner Jane Morton both arrives at that same conclusion.
The escalating climate crisis we are witnessing is not simply a failure of policy – it is a failure of our democracy itself. The crisis is bound up with how decisions are made, who makes them, and whose voices are heard. Climate action, in other words, now depends on something deeper: reclaiming, restoring, and rebuilding how the big decisions that define our future are made.
Professor Camilleri put it plainly:
“The climate, the sustainability of the planet, is put in danger by the relatively short-term interests of certain privileged groups and a political class that basically is incapable of dealing with that problem head on. So the challenges confronting the quest for sustainability are inseparable from the challenge posed by a decaying democracy in our world today.”
While politicians and media people discuss emissions targets, technologies, and policy delays, we have become used to the language of records. Record‑breaking temperatures, record‑breaking disasters, losses and insurance payouts. Record‑breaking numbers of species going extinct.
The deeper reason underneath this mess is that the political system we currently rely on is simply not capable of responding. The flaw lies in the decision-making process itself.
. . .
Democracy reduced to a ritual
Camilleri argues that our democracy has been hollowed out. Voting every few years has replaced meaningful participation. Information about decisions is limited. Influence is unevenly distributed.
Freedom House reports that global democracy has declined for 18 consecutive years, while Economist Intelligence Unit found that fewer than 8 per cent of the world’s population now lives in a “full democracy”.
People feel it, even if they don’t always articulate it. There is this growing sense that important decisions are being made far away by others, for reasons that are never fully explained.
87 per cent of Australians agree we deserve a better return from the sale of our coal and gas exports, and between 74 and 77 per cent of Australians want more government action on climate change.
62 per cent of Australian voters think the government should prioritise investing in renewable sources of energy over fossil fuels in its future energy plan, according to recent polling from YouGov.
In a well-functioning democracy, you’d assume that this would lead to the government taking action accordingly. However that is not what is happening. The Albanese Government instead chooses to stand up for the fossil fuel industry’s vested interests, just like the Coalition Government did before it.
In a recent Sustainable Hour podcast episode, we heard Senator David Pocock point out that many of today’s challenges “are no longer about left versus right, but about vested interests versus the public good.”
This disconnect creates a dangerous space. When people feel unheard, that space is quickly filled with anger, division, and overly simple answers to complex problems. And when that happens, something essential is lost: the ability of citizens to shape the direction of their own society.
The climate breakdown is where that failure becomes visible and increasingly painful. Yes, we have known about the problem for decades. Yes, the science has been clear, and the risks have been communicated again and again. The technical solutions are not only increasingly available, they are also cheaper and better for our health. And yet, despite all of this, action has consistently fallen short.
Why?
Because the decisions required would challenge powerful interests: fossil fuel industries, financial systems, and even military structures that depend on large-scale resource use.
In such a system, short‑term gain continues to outweigh long‑term survival. Not because people are unaware or don’t understand the issues, but because the political system is not designed to respond to collective, long‑term needs. Democracies struggle with short electoral cycles that reward immediate gratification.
When a war in the Middle East threatens Australia’s oil import, the Prime Minister is suddenly busy talking about the importance of securing the supply, and spending billions of taxpayer-dollars on keeping the petrol and diesel prices artificially low, while the urgent need to phase out the use of fossil fuels is being completely ignored. This constitutes no less than yet another subsidy for the fossil fuel industry. A subsidy that regular tax payers will need to bear and that will translate into private profits made by these industries.
Advocacy groups estimate that governments have provided hundreds of billions of dollars in subsidies and tax relief to fossil fuel companies in recent years, even as those companies have reported record profits. While the exact figures depend on how subsidies are defined, the underlying tension is clear: public policy and public money continues to support industries that are driving the climate crisis.
How does fuelling the climate crisis serve Australians?
. . .
Inequality and the imbalance of influence
The rising inequality in society is part of this story. As billionaires accumulate more and more wealth, they also accumulate more influence over media, over politics, over the narratives we hear every day.
The richest one per cent captured nearly two‑thirds of all new wealth created since 2020, according to a report from Oxfam. Australia’s 200 billionaires are, on average, getting $87,000 richer every hour of the day.
The result is not just rising economic imbalance. It is democratic imbalance. When some voices carry vastly more weight than others, the idea of equal participation becomes difficult to sustain. And without that balance, meaningful climate action becomes even harder.
But don’t be too quick in making this into a ‘regular people versus the billionaires’ battle, because it is just as much a ‘humanity versus corporations’ battle.
Corporations are an artificial construct with a very specific mandate: to grow at all costs, while ignoring the impact on others so long as laws are abided by. This of course then requires a very robust system of laws to constrain the behaviours of corporations and ensure that they are aligned with long term human interests. Today however, corporations have grown so powerful that few governments dare challenge them.
As people all over the planet are experiencing, abiding by the current corporate laws obviously does not protect us against harmful corporate behaviour. But the multinational organisations can afford to outspend even nation states in lengthy legal battles, and this imbalance of power has led to their ongoing ability to play nations against one another and ensure that they dodge most taxes through various schemes.
The Canadian law professor and legal theorist Joel Bakan contends that today’s corporation is a pathological institution, a dangerous possessor of the great power it wields over people and societies. In his 2025-book ‘The Corporation: The Pathological Pursuit of Profit and Power’, he describes how the corporation is created by law to function much like a psychopathic personality, whose destructive behavior, if unchecked, leads to scandal and ruin.
Over the last 150 years the corporation has risen from relative obscurity to become the world’s dominant economic institution. It is estimated that fossil fuel companies spent over $5.5 billion on lobbying in the last decade, influencing lawmakers’ decision-making.
In Australia, the revolving door between fossil fuel executives and political staffers is well documented, and whichever government we elect, fossil fuel projects continue to be subsidised and expanded.
Since the 2022 election, the federal Labor government has approved 14 coal projects and 22 gas projects, even as climate impacts intensify. Billions of tonnes of carbon emissions are associated with those approvals, and there is no sign of stopping: the federal Department of Industry’s resources list shows 42 coal projects and 45 oil and gas projects under development.
In Canada, the Trans Mountain pipeline expansion was approved despite citizen opposition and climate commitments. In Europe, heavy‑industry lobbying pushed the European Commission to weaken and scale back ESG and climate‑reporting rules, a rollback so significant that it would have exempted 80 per cent of companies from disclosure requirements. This rollback goes against the clear will of the public. While the Commission watered down climate‑reporting rules under industry pressure, nearly nine in ten Europeans want stronger climate action.
In the United States, a widely reported example of democratic vulnerability came in 2021–2022, when a single senator whose campaigns had received substantial support from fossil‑fuel interests was able to block major elements of President Biden’s proposed climate and clean‑energy legislation. Analysts noted that this single point of obstruction reshaped the entire national policy trajectory.
Under the subsequent Trump administration, investigative reporting has described how negotiations between lawmakers and fossil fuel companies have become increasingly explicit, with several documented cases showing how industry representatives directly influence the design of Trump’s energy and permitting policies.
All of this is happening against a backdrop of accelerating climate impacts. Not surprisingly, the world has now had 12 consecutive months above that average threshold of 1.5°C global warming that 190 countries agreed in Paris in 2015 should not be reached. Insurance losses from climate‑related disasters have quadrupled since the 1990s.
Another obstacle to meaningful climate action, as Camilleri points out in our interview, is fragmentation.
Environmental groups, social justice movements, peace activists, housing advocates – all are working intensely, often effectively, but largely in isolation. Operating in silos. Each group pushes against the same barriers in the political system, often reaching the same unsuccessful results. But rarely do they combine their efforts into a unified force.
This fragmentation suits those who benefit from the status quo. Disconnection makes change easier to resist.
As a co‑host of The Sustainable Hour radioshow for the past 13 years, I’ve listened to hundreds of guests express their frustration with the political inaction, and the climate movements inability to create change. In the last couple of years, that frustration has only intensified. More and more people are switching off from the political news cycle altogether and turning instead to small, regenerative projects in their neighbourhoods. Not because they don’t care, but because they no longer believe the political system is capable of responding.
In my new role as President of Voices of Corio, a community group working to identify and support a strong local candidate for the next federal election, I’m encountering the same sentiment everywhere I go. When I ask people to get involved, the response I hear most often is a weary one: “Our democracy is broken.” The apathy is not rooted in indifference, but in a sense of hopelessness. A belief that meaningful change is no longer possible through the existing political structures.
. . .
Reclaiming democracy – together
The response being proposed is a rethinking of democracy itself.
On Saturday 9 May, a public gathering at the Melbourne Town Hall will bring together 2,000 thinkers, activists, and citizens to begin that conversation. Among the speakers at the event are figures such as Gillian Triggs and John Keane, exploring how democratic systems might evolve to meet the challenges of the present.
The idea is not simply to critique what exists. It is to explore how people can once again participate meaningfully in shaping decisions – not just as voters, but as contributors to collective deliberation.
The climate emergency is no longer a question of knowledge. Most people know what is happening. We know why it is happening. We know what needs to be done. The barrier is not scientific or technical. It is political. It is about how decisions are made, who gets to influence them, and whose voices are systematically sidelined. Which means the real question facing us is not so much whether we can decarbonise fast enough before a certain deadline. It is whether we will be able to rebuild the democratic capacity to act in the long‑term interest of life on Earth.
That is a different kind of challenge. It asks us to imagine democracy not as a ritual, or a spectator sport, or a distant institution, but as a living system – something we participate in, shape, and continually renew. It asks us to see democracy not as a noun, but as a verb.
And it asks us to stretch our political imagination. What would a democracy look like if it were actually designed to protect the future? What would it look like if ordinary people – not lobbyists, not billionaires, and not the short‑term political operators they sponsor – were at the centre of decision-making? What would it look like if we treated collective deliberation as a civic skill, not an occasional inconvenience?
. . .
Democracy reimagined
Experiments around the world are already pointing in that direction: digital deliberation platforms, community energy cooperatives, local climate assemblies. None of these are the final answer, but together they sketch the outline of a democracy that is more porous, more imaginative, and more capable of acting at the speed and scale this moment demands.
Taiwan has built one of the world’s most advanced digital‑democracy systems – an online citizens’ assembly not unlike the model Camilleri and his team have been experimenting with – and it has already delivered concrete outcomes, from new Uber regulations to reforms on online alcohol sales and beyond.
The story we heard in The Sustainable Hour from Goulburn in New South Wales, where a community‑owned solar farm opened in March, built through a cooperative with around 290 members, is a powerful source of inspiration. Here is a community that has transformed its own energy system through local democracy.
The idea of citizens’ assemblies keeps gaining traction: groups of randomly selected citizens, brought together to study, deliberate, and recommend solutions on complex issues.
In parts of Europe, citizens’ assemblies have successfully offered a way of bringing ordinary people into structured decision-making processes. According to Jane Morton, they represent a potential breakthrough:
“We’re in a vicious cycle where wealth drives influence, and influence protects wealth. Citizens’ assemblies could help break that deadlock.”
Jane points to Ireland’s Citizens’ Assembly that led to constitutional change on marriage equality and abortion. In France, a Climate Assembly produced 149 proposals, many of which were adopted into law. Poland’s Gdańsk Citizens’ Panel was used to shape flood‑resilience policy.
In his new book ‘Ecocivilization: Making a World that Works for All’, American author Jeremy Lent describes a range of similar deliberative assembly initiatives around the world, among them in Ostbelgien in Belgium, Barcelona in Spain, Rojava in Syria, and Kerala in India, as well as the digital platform vTaiwan which has been specifically designed to overcome polarisation and facilitate deliberative online conversation among tens of thousands of participants at once.
Camilleri agrees – with caution. “Such processes must be independent, well‑informed, and scaled over time, otherwise they risk becoming symbolic rather than transformative,” he says.
It is important to understand that this idea is not new. In ancient Athens – often described as the birthplace of democracy – many key public roles were not filled through elections, but by lottery, a process we now call sortition. Members of the Boule, a council of 500 citizens responsible for preparing legislation, were selected at random, as were many magistrates and juries.
The Assembly itself remained open to all citizens, but the system as a whole was designed to distribute power widely rather than concentrate it.
Aristotle, one of the most influential thinkers of the time, drew a clear distinction between these methods. He regarded sortition as inherently democratic, while elections, in his view, tended to favour the wealthy and well-connected, making them more oligarchic in nature.
What this points to is a principle we seem to have forgotten: if a system is to genuinely reflect the people, it must include a way of selecting participants that does not privilege status, money, or influence.
. . .
Where this leaves us
The climate crisis forces a choice on us. Either we continue with a political system that cannot respond to long‑term threats – and accept the consequences – or we reinvent the system itself. Not in some distant future, but now, while there is still time to steer the story in a different direction.
Both Camilleri and Morton, in their different ways, point to the same observation: the climate crisis is ultimately a democratic crisis. There is a flaw in the way we make big decisions in our societies.
If we allow the climate crisis to escalate onwards to the point of societal collapse, the question is not whether democracy will be able to survive – because it won’t. The only question confronting us right now is whether we can reinvent and reclaim democracy fast enough to meet the moment.
In that sense, the challenge is much larger than persuading a political majority in Parliament to come to an agreement on a certain emissions target or investments in certain types of energy. It is about whether we as a society will be able to rediscover ways of acting collectively in the long‑term interest of life on Earth.
That is not a technical problem. It is a democratic and educational one. And until it is addressed, we are likely to see progress on climate continue to stall because we lack a system capable of acting on it.
To boil it down to one simple line that can be remembered and can be mentioned again and again as we move forward: we need to rethink how decisions are made.
That includes decisions made in executive board rooms of the world’s wealthies and most powerful companies and enterprises.
Corporate lawyer Robert Hinkley argues that the real leverage point is not democracy itself, but the rules that govern corporate behaviour. If companies are legally required to prioritise short-term profit above all else, it is hardly surprising that political systems struggle to act in the long-term public interest.
From this perspective, a relatively simple change to corporate law – redefining directors’ duties to include responsibility toward society, the environment, and future generations – could unlock faster and more tangible change than attempting to reform democratic systems at large scale.
It is a compelling argument. Yet, it raises an obvious question: what kind of political system would be ready to pass such a reform in the first place?
If governments are currently unable to act on climate, despite overwhelming public support, are they likely to act against the interests of the very corporate structures that shape their decision-making?
If governments are currently unable to act on climate, despite overwhelming public support, how likely is it that they would act against the interests of the very corporate structures that shape their decision-making?
Which brings us back to where we were just a minute ago, memo to self: We need to rethink how the big decisions are made – both in our Parliaments and in the corporate board rooms.
Joseph Camilleri is Emeritus Professor at La Trobe University in Melbourne, one of Australia’s leading International Relations scholars, a Fellow of the Australian Academy of Social Sciences, Convener of Conversation at the Crossroads, and Co-Convener of SHAPE – Saving Humanity and Planet Earth.
Jane Morton is a clinical psychologist by profession. She went into semi-retirement to focus her efforts on campaigning for climate solutions. She is the author of ‘Don’t Mention the Emergency?’, and co-founder of a new activist group called Beyond Billionaires.
With thanks to Eddie Kowalski and Robert Hinkley for thoughtful input and reflections that helped shape this piece. It was first published on Mik Aidt’s Substack platform. Republished here with permission from the author.
Note: The 9 May democracy event at Melbourne Town Hall is sold out, but you are still able to participate via your phone or computer screen – online bookings here.
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→ ABC News Daily – 27 April 2026:
Why a gas tax is going viral (16 minute audio)
“If 87% of Australians agree we deserve a better return from the sale of our coal and gas exports — why hasn’t the Albanese Government taken action?”
“Something is breaking apart in the democratic world beyond the usual scandals of corruption or periodic rise of demagogues. We are witnessing a legitimacy crisis that goes all the way down to the foundations.
Across Europe and North America, citizens no longer believe their governments represent them. Poll after poll shows collapsing trust in democratic institutions. Voters who feel ignored — or actively betrayed — by political elites are increasingly willing to support authoritarian leaders who promise to “break the system,” even at the cost of basic civil liberties. In a deeply troubling sense, their disillusionment is justified.
Careful study of decades of U.S. legislation reveals that policy outcomes closely track the preferences of wealthy elites while bearing little or no relationship to what the majority of citizens actually want. Rather than being a glitch in democracy, we’ll see that this is a feature — one that has been there from the beginning.”
~ Jeremy Lent – 2 May 2026:
“Democracy” Was Never Designed to Work — But Something Better Is Emerging
“The crisis of democratic legitimacy is a design problem—and better alternatives already exist.”