Finding more in common

Common ground might be the most fertile for now.

The body of this article was written well before darkness descended on Bondi’s bright sands. We debated whether or not to publish it as part of our end of year reading pack; talking about social cohesion at such a time might seem opportunistic or worse, offensive. Our deep sadness, anger, frustration and grief have made it hard to know what is ultimately the right thing to say and do in such a time. Yet, we have decided to retain what we wrote – our greatest desire is for Australia to restore its hope and optimism for who and what we can become.

Maybe the reason our political conversations feel so divided, so endlessly exhausting is not because of some vague decline in “social cohesion.” Perhaps the deeper issue is that the overlap in our individual visions of the good life — what a flourishing Australian life looks like — has grown too small.

If Australians no longer share a broad understanding of what is worth building, protecting, or celebrating, then of course our politics will feel fractured. We are not merely disagreeing about methods; we are increasingly fighting over each other’s definition of the good itself. When your vision of the good life conflicts with your neighbour’s, politics stops being about improving the nation and starts being about stopping the other side from achieving what they see as good.

The risk here is enormous. A democracy cannot function if there is no shared space for action. If the overlap shrinks too far, then any government — of any persuasion — is left with almost no room to move. Every contentious policy area becomes a zone of inefficiency, a place where progress is slow, brittle, or impossible.

Conversely, every area where a broad majority of Australians share a common view of the good becomes fertile ground for political efficiency: governments can act confidently, opposition parties can critique constructively, and the public can trust the process.

We can see this dynamic clearly in something like the National Disability Insurance Scheme.

Despite its faults and complexities, the NDIS sits in one of the strongest zones of national overlap. Across parties, across demographics, and across ideologies, there is broad agreement on its core principles: it must be targeted, it must support our most vulnerable, and it must be financially sustainable for future generations.

Almost every corner of the political spectrum accepts that a significant portion of the federal budget should be dedicated to ensuring that Australians living with disability are cared for in ways that are meaningful, dignified, and life-enhancing.

Bill Shorten should be fundamentally proud of what he helped create. The NDIS is not only a major reform — it is one of the few pieces of modern Australian policy with genuinely durable, cross-partisan legitimacy. It illustrates what becomes possible when a policy idea emerges from a wide, shared understanding of the good life and the responsibilities we owe one another.

But look at the opposite case: housing, or the environment, or energy policy. These are areas where the overlap has become perilously thin. Competing visions of the good life sit in direct tension — growth versus preservation, affordability versus investment, local interest versus national responsibility, individual freedom versus collective stewardship.

When these visions collide, the political system seizes. Coalitions fracture, debates become moralised, and any attempt at compromise is treated as betrayal rather than progress.

This becomes even more dangerous when one side begins to interpret the other not as simply misguided but as morally deficient or corrupt. Once political opponents are recast as enemies of the good, the space for democratic collaboration collapses.

What, then, is the path forward?

We must rebuild the overlap. We must rediscover the areas where our visions of the good life still align and work intentionally to widen them.

That means accepting compromise on the minutiae so that governments — of all persuasions — have the space to act on the bigger picture. And it means collectively articulating a new, unifying vision of what flourishing in Australia actually looks like.

This vision need not be rigid or uniform. It should be something that can be pursued by governments from different traditions and ideologies — a shared horizon rather than a single path. But without such a horizon, we cannot hope for meaningful progress.

Without a common vision of the good life, every policy debate becomes a trench war, and every victory becomes burnt earth for the loser. Everything we value today — our stability, prosperity, and social fabric — depends on the political will and capacity to maintain and enhance what we share in common. If we allow our shared vision to shrink any further, we risk losing the very conditions that made Australia what it is.

A nation without overlap cannot move forward. Now is the time to rebuild ours.