The recent spate of alleged murders in Australia—two women and two girls in just four days—has once again thrust the issue of domestic and family violence into the spotlight. But here’s the uncomfortable truth: this isn’t a new crisis. It’s a recurring nightmare. Personally, I think what makes this particularly fascinating—and deeply troubling—is how predictable the cycle has become. Outrage flares, calls for action echo, and then… silence. Until the next tragedy.
What many people don’t realize is that Australia already has over 1,000 recommendations on how to combat gender-based violence. The problem isn’t a lack of knowledge; it’s a lack of implementation. Katherine Berney, a policy expert, puts it bluntly: “We don’t have a knowledge gap. We have an implementation gap.” This raises a deeper question: Why are governments so hesitant to act on what they already know?
From my perspective, the answer lies in the complexity of the issue. Domestic violence isn’t a straightforward crime. It’s deeply relational, involving dynamics that defy simple solutions. Dr. Emma Buxton-Namisnyk highlights this when she says, “It’s highly relational. The victim and the offender don’t behave in ways that are the same as a victim of crime and an offender where there’s no relationship.” This complexity makes it harder to spin a compelling, populist narrative—the kind governments love to announce.
One thing that immediately stands out is the performative nature of government responses. When a tragedy occurs, there’s a flurry of activity—press conferences, promises, and plans. But as Buxton-Namisnyk points out, these responses often feel more like theater than genuine action. “It does worry me that there is a level of performativity,” she says. What this really suggests is that governments are more interested in managing public perception than in addressing the root causes of violence.
Take Queensland, for example. The state has slashed tens of millions in funding for domestic violence response, disbanded a specialist police command, and stopped reviewing recent deaths. Margaret McMurdo, a retired judge, laments that critical recommendations have been abandoned. Meanwhile, women and girls continue to die. This isn’t just a policy failure; it’s a moral one.
What this really suggests is that the problem isn’t just about funding or resources—it’s about will. Betty Taylor, a former member of Queensland’s death review advisory board, says it plainly: “We’ve got to listen to dead women.” But are we? Or are we too comfortable with the cycle of outrage and inaction?
If you take a step back and think about it, the issue of domestic violence is a mirror reflecting broader societal failures. It’s about power, control, and the devaluation of women’s lives. Berney notes that social problems don’t have linear solutions, especially when there’s a lack of political will. And yet, we keep expecting linear solutions—more funding, more laws, more announcements.
In my opinion, what’s missing is a fundamental shift in how we approach this issue. We need sustained investment, not just in crisis response but in prevention. We need to address the cultural norms that allow violence to thrive. And we need leaders who are willing to prioritize lives over optics.
A detail that I find especially interesting is how quickly public attention wanes. Buxton-Namisnyk asks, “Why aren’t we upset right now? Why were we so upset two years ago compared to now?” It’s a question that cuts to the heart of our collective apathy. Are we desensitized? Or have we simply accepted this as the status quo?
Personally, I think the answer is both. But it doesn’t have to be this way. If we only ever do crisis response, we only ever get crisis. It’s time to break the cycle. Not with more recommendations, but with action. Not with more words, but with will. Because the lives of women and girls depend on it.
