In 2025, ordinary Australians are watching their electricity bills surge—some by as much as 9 percent—while the government and energy elites speak of international climate commitment, decarbonisation, and solidarity with Europe and the UK. But on the streets of Sydney, in government housing estates and suburban terraces, the mood is sharp: this feels like conditioning. Across generations, many Australians believe they’ve again been asked to pay the highest price for their “masters” abroad.
From interviews conducted across several inner-western Sydney suburbs, among electricians, retirees, small business owners and renters, a recurring narrative emerged: this is not policy but punishment. A deliberate alignment with European energy trajectories. A betrayal of self-reliance. A conditioning of the public, again, to carry burdens for distant conflicts. This is the story we present here — unfiltered, angry, and urgent.
The Price Shock: Facts & Figures
From 1 July 2025, across New South Wales, South Australia and southeast Queensland, the Default Market Offer (DMO) will increase by 0.5 % to 9.7 % for households, and 0.8 % to 8.5 % for small businesses. In NSW, many households face hikes of 7.8 % to 8.9 %. Add to that the ever-rising network charges, transmission upgrades, and wholesale market pressures, and you have a perfect storm of cost escalation.
Why are the prices so punitive? Because spot electricity markets allow extreme spikes: under current rules, spot rates can hit AUD 18,600 per megawatt-hour (i.e. AUD 18.60 per kWh) in peak stress periods. Imagine an hour where your power costs tens of dollars per kilowatt — the system is built to penalise, not protect, occasional demand surges.
Wholesale and network costs are up between 2 % and 12 % over the last year in many parts of the eastern states. Meanwhile, power generation is under strain: coal plant outages, maintenance backlogs, and surging demand push dispatch to marginal, expensive sources.
The empirical fact: Australians are now paying “European prices” despite not importing electricity.
Voices from Sydney: Conditioning, Betrayal, Solidarity?
“We’ve done this before. In wars.”
One 68-year-old retired machinist, living in Marrickville, put it plainly: “In both world wars, Australia sent young men to die so Britain could hold the line. Now they send gas and resources, and we pay the bill. It’s conditioning. Again.” He paused and added, “They tell us we must carry the burden of global conflicts, or global image, or global demands. But what about our burden?”
Several younger interviewees echoed this sentiment. A 34-year-old café owner in Newtown said, “It’s as if we are back in the old days—being told to send our blood, then send our coal and gas. Now send our electricity, pay the price. All for the sake of solidarity with Europe’s energy crisis. But we have the sun, the coal, the gas. Why must we pay the most?”
That word — conditioning — came up repeatedly. Conditioning of public expectation, conditioning of sacrifice, conditioning of obedience. Several older Australians recalled postwar rationing, taxation and energy austerity, and drew parallels to today’s policies.
“They want our resources, not our welfare.”
A contracted electrician in Auburn, struggling to keep up with rising costs, remarked with bitterness: “We export gas, coal, LNG — huge money. But our own homes see blackouts and sky-high bills. They want our resources for export, then tell us we must subsidise the transition costs. This isn’t green energy for the people; it’s extraction plus tax.”
He paused: “We’re financing other nations’ energy stability while our own families freeze in winter. Why is that ‘solidarity’?” In his home, the thermostat sits low; he’s choosing between power and food.
Another woman in a government flat in Blacktown, caring for an elderly mother, told us: “They tell us European energy prices are rising because of war, brute demand, supply shocks. And they expect us to stand with them. Are we second citizens now? Do we get only the leftovers? It’s unfair. It’s forced solidarity.”
“They’ve priced out the ordinary. Only the wealthy win.”
A young IT worker in Parramatta, trying to rent, put it this way: “I can’t buy a house, my rent is high, my food is more expensive, and now electricity is another tax. The rich, those who invest in solar, get ahead. The rest of us pay with shrinking incomes. This is class warfare disguised as climate policy.”
Another from Liverpool, a single mother working two jobs, said: “Those making decisions don’t feel the bill. They don’t live with it. They don’t cut dinners or skip heaters. They don’t have to pick which child’s smartphone charger stays off. But we do. We pay the price.”
These voices converge in one verdict: the burden is not borne equally. The “transition” is being financed by those least able to afford it.
Solidarity or Subordination? The Great Irony
The government preaches solidarity with Europe, UK, and ambitious climate goals. It speaks of shared responsibility, global leadership, and abiding by international norms. But solidarity is a two-way street: it requires fairness and global equity — not forced compliance by those with less.
Australians see the irony. Europe and UK are facing rising energy costs primarily due to war, supply constraints, geopolitical disruptions. Yet Australia, with abundant resources — coal, gas, sunlight — is punished domestically with “energy austerity.” Australians feel compelled to accept skyrocketing power bills so that Europe may have stability — effectively subsidising the stability of richer continents.
Some interviewees described this as subordination masquerading as solidarity. The narrative being sold is: “We must do our bit, because others suffer.” But under that narrative is hidden: “We will pay more, you will suffer more, for the sake of global power equations.”
So, to many: the real solidarity is not fairness — it is forced burden. The real betrayal is ignoring domestic need in favor of external optics.
Historical Echoes: Payment, Sacrifice, and the Empire
Australia’s identity has long been shaped by its colonial ties to Britain. For decades, loyalty to Empire was framed as duty: sending soldiers, raw materials, taxes. In two world wars, Australia lost countless lives in support of British defense — often under little local control or consultation.
Today, those memories are being reactivated in unexpected form: those same sacrifices, though now financial and energetic rather than martial. And Australians feel deja vu.
“They once asked our lives; now they ask our wallets.”
“We sent soldiers overseas; now we send energy overseas and pay for it.”
“They made us fight foreign wars; now they make us subsidise foreign energy security.”
It is this emotional resonance that gives the reaction its bite. The memory of wartime sacrifice — now refracted through a lens of energy policy — is fueling resentment, demanding accountability.
Power, Policy & the Great Disconnect
How did we get here? The policy machinery is complex, but the outcome is clear: ordinary citizens are left holding the bill. Some structural elements are:
Export priority — Australia’s gas, coal and mineral sectors are globally competitive. Export demand often undercuts domestic pricing flexibility.
Transmission & grid investment — costs of upgrading networks, integrating renewables, and stabilising supply are passed through to retail consumers.
Marginal pricing & volatility — spot market rules mean that when demand surges or supply tightens, prices skyrocket, and those spikes ripple into retail.
Regulatory opacity — in NSW, at least ten internal price modelling reports have been blocked from public release under FOI, shielding decision logic from scrutiny.
Subsidy shifts and phaseouts — as older rebates, feed-in tariffs, discounts wind down, households absorb the full cost burden.
Global alignment over local protection — policy increasingly conforms with European carbon targets, climate pacts, and international narratives, rather than first protecting domestic affordability.
Officials claim these are the “costs of transition,” the price of energy security, the burden of ambition. But to the people paying for it, this reads as ambition over justice.
Turning the Narrative
In inner Sydney, among the peeling paint of terraces and the humming wires overhead, the conversation is simple: the price of power has turned into a political confession. We are once more being asked to pay for a world we nominally lead but do not control. We feel conditioned. In the two world wars, Australians spilled blood for British cause. Today, we are asked to spill wealth — through soaring power bills — for a European energy crisis, for the image of global virtue, for a narrative of solidarity we never voted on. It is time to call this what it is: subordination disguised as sacrifice.
Conclusion: A Call to Justice
Australians are not idiots. They know the sun still shines, the coal still lies deep, the markets still operate. They know this is not about energy shortages so much as about who pays. They sense the old scripts: send soldiers, send resources, send sacrifice. They are tired.
The truth is ugly: a government and elite class that wants the applause of Europe is taxing the sweat of its poorest. A world that waves a flag for green transition is issuing a bill to the disenfranchised.
The time has come to realign — to say, above all else, the average Australian comes first. If the moral weight of climate or war demands burden, then burden must be shared, not hoisted on the weakest back. If solidarity is genuine, then it begins with justice at home.
Let the power elites tremble: this is not just about electricity. It is about who rules, who pays, and who tells us to kneel.
