A summer of calm, or a season of silence?

Across democracies, activism has always been a lightning rod for policy debates. Yet, in Australia, the tension is reaching critical mass. The latest flashpoint? NSW Premier Chris Minns’ recent proposal to give police extraordinary powers to outlaw any public assembly across the entire state for up to three months following a terrorism incident.

Although it’s been framed as an act ‘to protect community safety’, this move fits a predictable and troubling instinct: when challenged by oppositional voices, authorities jump to link nonviolent advocacy to violence and terrorism, and use this as a way to reach for the mute button.

This isn’t a new reaction to a new problem; it is the latest chapter in a decade-long trend. As a growing body of research shows, Australian governments have wielded legislative, policing, and rhetorical tools to suppress dissent for years.

Yet while this criminalisation playbook follows a well-worn path it does not achieve its ostensible safety goals. It demonises those who seek to preserve, protect, and enhance our communities, and judging from past attempts, it is likely doomed to fail.

1. Frame the enemy: Rhetorical criminalisation

Before a government can justify repressive laws or aggressive policing, it must first delegitimise the target. This is called ‘rhetorical criminalisation’, and works by reframing peaceful protesters not as citizens exercising a right, but as threats to social order, public safety, or the economy.

The recent response to pro-Palestine marches in NSW offers a textbook example. Politicians have deployed a whole dictionary of fear to strip these protests of their political context and recast them as chaotic or dangerous:

• ‘Sowing division and hate” or ‘Unleash[ing] violence’: NSW attorney general Michael Daley and Premier Chris Minns justified the proposed unprecedented bans on non-violent political communication using classic dehumanising language towards activists

• ‘Waving terrorist flags and glorifying extremist leaders’: Jillian Segal’s comments about the non-violent march across Sydney Harbour Bridge recast a peaceful assembly as a dangerous endorsement of violence.

This mirrors the exact playbook used against climate activists for the last decade:

• ‘Economic vandalism’: Used against Blockade Australia. Police and government ministers responded within hours to label protesters as ‘economic vandals’ who were sending a ‘kick in the guts’ to industry.

• ‘Extremists’: In Queensland, politicians and media outlets branded activists as ‘extremists’ and ‘green zealots’ to justify harsh new laws, a narrative that closely mirrored the talking points of the mining lobby.

• ‘Terror’ framing: In WA, the Premier adopted similar framing to corporate responses to the Disrupt Burrub Hub protests, publicly condemning protesters as seeking to ‘terrorise’.

2. Push the limits: Expansionary policing

Once the target has been rhetorically framed as a ‘threat’ or a ‘drain,’ authorities feel emboldened to expand the definition of policing. This often involves a shift from facilitating protests to pre-emptively dismantling movements, sometimes by using powers originally designed for much more serious crimes.

• Pre-emptive raids (WA): In Western Australia, police didn’t just wait for protests to happen. They deployed counter-terrorism units to raid the homes of climate activists and stationed officers inside a CEO’s private home before protesters even arrived.

• Taskforce intimidation (NSW): During the Blockade Australia protests, NSW Police formed ‘Strike Force Tuohy,’ a unit typically reserved for organised crime, to target climate activists. This included extensive surveillance and unprecedented charges carrying 25-year maximum sentences.

• Mass arrests: This paper examined patterns of policing responses to climate activism over more than a decade. From the 964 arrests between 2010–2019 to the 170+ arrests at the Port of Newcastle in 2024, the strategy it revealed was clear: overwhelm the movement with legal pressure.

• Move-on powers: We see this exact response in Premier Chris Minn’s previous attempt to stop protests via unprecedented policy powers, giving police the power to move on protesters near any place of worship, regardless of whether the protest was aimed at the religious group.

3. Make it illegal: Legislative criminalisation

Finally, once the public has been primed by rhetoric and the police have normalised aggressive tactics, the government cements the suppression with new laws. Often these are rushed through after a triggering event, with little to no community engagement or oversight, and few opportunities for debate. Minns’ proposal is the latest in a long line:

• South Australia (2023): The SA government passed anti-protest laws in just 20 minutes, eliminating any chance for democratic scrutiny. This law introduced fines of up to $50,000 for ‘obstruction,’ effectively legislating against the basic mechanics of protest.

• Queensland (2019): The ‘Dangerous Attachment Devices Act’ was fast-tracked specifically to outlaw tools used by climate activists, such as tripods and lock-ons, carrying penalties of up to two years imprisonment.

• New South Wales (2016): The Inclosed Lands laws, which drastically increased penalties for protests at mine sites, were rushed through in just eight days.

The paradox of repression: Why crackdowns can backfire

Here’s the twist in the story: the more authorities try to crush climate protest, the more resilient activists seem to become.

It’s not just anecdotal. Decades of research in social movement theory show that repression doesn’t always stop activism. In fact, under the right conditions, it can fuel it.

Sometimes heavy-handed state responses generate public sympathy and inspire more people to get involved. Studies by Chenoweth and Stephan (2011) on nonviolent resistance campaigns found that movements often grow after crackdowns, especially when the repression is seen as unjust.

That’s exactly what we’ve seen in Australia. Despite Adani (Bravus) bankrupting their senior spokesperson Adrian Burragubba and using private security and court orders to restrict access to their land, the Traditional Owners didn't disappear. Instead, they returned to occupy the mine site itself. Remarkably, in 2021, police refused to remove them, acknowledging their cultural rights to conduct ceremonies, proving that even the combined weight of bankruptcy and corporate litigation could not extinguish their presence on Country. Similarly, when protesters at the Port of Newcastle were slapped with mass charges, they didn't retreat. They organised a mass legal defence.

But beyond the streets, the ‘criminalisation playbook’ is also failing in the one place governments and corporations rely on most: the courtroom. While politicians rush to pass harsh laws, the courts are frequently striking them down.

• Laws scrapped: The High Court threw out Tasmania’s anti-protest laws for being too vague and restricting free speech.

• Charges dropped: Magistrates often refuse to play along. Activists facing prison for ‘interfering’ with mines have been released without conviction, and activists have been vindicated after fighting baseless corporate SLAPP suits.

• Corporate suits failed: When energy giant AGL tried to use copyright law to silence a Greenpeace campaign, the Federal Court ruled against them.

NSW Premier Chris Minns’ latest plan to blame peaceful protesters in order to ban protests is likely doomed to repeat this cycle. His previous attempts to ban protests outside places of worship were overturned. Meanwhile civil rights groups warn this new proposal is a gross overreach, won’t do anything to help stop antisemitism, and is instead a ‘divisive response’ to a tragedy that instead should prompt us to ‘unify, to wrap our arms around the Jewish community, and to check in on one another’.

Looking Ahead

This attempt to ban protest in NSW follows a path well-trodden by environmental activists. While the tactic isn't new, our response can be. We need to shine a light on why this happens and strengthen our fundamental right to disagree.

Authorities may keep reaching for the mute button, but as history shows, they are only turning up the volume. Non-violent resistance and ongoing community discussion and debate isn't just a reaction to these laws: it is the inevitable consequence of trying to silence them.