Virtue Without Voltage

The First Nations Clean Energy Strategy — where symbolism trumps substance and slogans masquerade as solutions.

By Michael Newman

“The Australian Government acknowledges the cultural load and burden that comes with government engagement and consultations. We extend our deep appreciation to all First Nations peoples and communities for sharing their knowledge and experiences to support the development of the First Nations Clean Energy Strategy…”

— First Nations Clean Energy Strategy 2024–2030 (FNCES)

One would have hoped that when this strategy was released in December 2024 by the Department of Climate Change, Energy, the Environment and Water (DCCEEW), the three goals, 11 objectives and 24 priority areas for action might have included some relevant numbers: expected cost, how many watts in which configuration would be required, and realistic deployment timelines to solve these long-known inadequacies.

Instead, it is packed with buzzwords, self-loathing and excessive virtue signalling. Take the following paragraph as further evidence:

“First Nations peoples’ intelligence, creativity, wisdom, resilience and initiative are assets to be recognised and celebrated, while also acknowledging and addressing existing disadvantage. By recognising the strength of First Nations peoples and their communities, it is possible to lay down pathways that support self-determination. This requires a broad understanding of the diverse needs of different people, and a genuine appreciation of First Nations politics and identity. This includes consideration of specific cohorts, including women, people living with disability, youth, LGBTQIA+ people, older persons, and First Nations peoples who live in remote and regional areas.”

If the nosebleed levels of obsequiousness in the strategy were directly correlated with energy deployment, we would be the very superpower our politicians and bureaucrats love to proclaim. Yet is this type of cringeworthy grovelling causing the government to create an industry for Aboriginal identity theft, undermining the very support mechanisms designed to help those with legitimate ancestry?

Michael Mansell, chair of Tasmania’s Aboriginal Land Council, and Nathan Moran, CEO of the Metropolitan Aboriginal Land Council, have spoken of a “growing cohort of fraudsters” with non-Indigenous backgrounds making dubious claims to Aboriginal heritage to cash in on government support programs. Are the claims valid?

One of the striking findings of Australia’s 2021 census was the growth in the Indigenous population. Compared to a decade prior, the number of people identifying as Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander increased by 264,328 to 812,728 (data accepted without question by FNCES). In other words, in just one decade, the Indigenous population grew by almost 50 percent—more than three times the growth rate of the population as a whole. Indigenous women are having 12 more children per 1,000 head of population than all Australian women, but that alone cannot explain the extent of the statistical anomaly.

While the appendices and data book attached to the FNCES highlight case studies, extensive consultations (which even discuss salmon farming and community gardens), and hyperlinks (many of which return ‘404 error’ pages) to a plethora of outdated state and Commonwealth programs—on top of a laundry list of publicly available statistics—none have been applied to produce meaningful short- or long-term solutions backed by numbers. It is all vacuous platitudes.

Is it any wonder the Voice referendum ended in a resounding NO? Australians saw through the noise. They knew handing even more power to the elites that run the institutions entrusted with delivery to First Nations communities would not lead to progress. How ironic that the strongest opposition to the Voice came from areas with the highest percentage of Indigenous voters—presumably a reflection of those who exercised democracy based on direct experience. The biggest supporters live in Canberra. Who knew?

The premise of FNCES is “an opportunity to review laws, regulations, and policies; to lift barriers and seek regulatory reform; and to inform government investment in innovation, technology, and infrastructure…” Does DCCEEW require five years to come up with this?

Instead of financiers, grid specialists and engineers, DCCEEW consulted fellow state and territory bureaucrats, not-for-profits, and the Climate Change Advisory Committee.

Despite 48 land councils, 243 native title bodies, 35 regional councils, over 122 Aboriginal agencies, along with two peak bodies which enjoy seats at the highest tables in the land—shouldn’t DCCEEW already be across the brief?

It does not take much imagination to understand that the majority of legitimate First Nations people are not after platitudes and ego stroking. Like their fellow Australians, they want a constant supply of cheap and reliable energy, from whatever form of generation it comes. During consultation, one participant said: “We have more sun than you can poke a stick at, and our trees grow sideways because we have more wind than you can imagine—but our energy is still not reliable.” Clearly, First Nations groups want results. Preferably now. Who can blame them?

Eighty-five percent of First Nations people live in major cities or regional areas. Fixing energy costs is the number one priority for all urban dwellers, not just those of Indigenous descent. For the 15 percent in remote or very remote areas, FNCES’s own research reveals a glaring cause of consistent energy interruptions: the lack of availability of $20 power cards (used in prepaid meters) in local stores. This forces users to drive long distances to obtain them. But it’s not just increasing energy costs. Thanks to poor grid configuration, consumers also suffer frequent disconnections. And as the cost of electricity rises, $20 power cards run out sooner. In recent times, economic hardship has made it difficult for many First Nations consumers to afford new cards.

Predictably, the report glosses over this data and instead focuses on how “a shared investment protocol is needed to successfully broker access to capital across the current tension between private finance, investment returns and self-determined First Nations clean energy projects.”

Companies such as Iberdrola, Rio Tinto and European Energy are already teaming up with First Nations groups to share equity—presumably as a way to accelerate deployment and reduce time to market. Industry is clearly responding where projects have critical mass and can achieve commercial returns. There are 21 proposed renewables projects in Australia involving Indigenous corporations. Only two are operational, according to the First Nations Clean Energy Tracker.

The government has a responsibility to point out the risks of investing in renewables. It is one thing for FNCES to highlight the need for broader ‘First Nations education’ through a ‘one-door information portal’ on renewables by pointing to success stories. It is another to gloss over failures that could undermine energy security for the very communities it claims to support.

To illustrate the point: in 2016, the incoming Northern Territory (NT) Labor Government pledged to reach 50 percent renewables by 2030 and issued permits for large solar farms. Construction began in 2019. But in 2020, after a December 2019 blackout in Alice Springs caused by a lack of solar availability, the government changed the rules.

Despite repeated warnings from Electrical Trades Union engineers about the risks of closing the gas-fired Ron Goodin Power Station, the system collapsed. The bureaucrats, driven by climate zealotry, believed they could bend the laws of physics.

The abrupt rule change in 2020 blocked the newly approved solar plants from connecting to the Darwin-Katherine Interconnected System (DKIS), forcing companies to bear added costs to meet new Generator Performance Standards (GPS). The NT Utilities Commission sought submissions, and several stood out.

Assure Energy:

“The costs of complying with the… requirements are too much to bear… we estimate the costs to be in excess of $10 million. The financial imposition of the proposed GPS… is not acceptable to us and would impact our ability to make future investment in the NT…”

ENI:

For its 45 MW solar portfolio, “the upfront cost of complying with the GPS provisions would likely be over $20 million, which excludes the recurring cost of remediating ongoing BESS [Battery Energy Storage System] degradation.”

The government-owned Jacana Energy acknowledged that GPS requirements, while aimed at stability, “may increase grid connection costs and potentially result in increased costs being passed through to customers.” Who knew?

The Utilities Commission tried to soften the blow by proposing flexible standards—if a generator could prove no harm to grid security. ENI rejected this approach:

“It is not the job of GPS to ensure a power system has adequate supply… that is the proper task of government policy… Using technical regulations to solve perceived failures… sets a very dangerous precedent.”

Almost five years later, ENI’s $40 million solar investment sits idle. One doubts a First Nations corporation could absorb the kind of financial hit a multinational might.

Sadly, documents like FNCES reveal themselves as box-ticking exercises.

Three quotes from feedback stand out:

1. “Our people aren’t getting the licences after doing industry skill TAFE courses. We don’t want the certificate; we want the licence so that we are job-ready and employable.”

2. “Having our voices heard within the current structures isn’t working… Nothing happens unless we’re meeting the Minister… Then our voices won’t be filtered.”

3. “Each of us has felt the pain and emotional trauma of being consulted wrongly… We need to see real action, not just more words.”

First Nations groups realise they are being used by bureaucrats and rent-seekers. They know Net Zero ambitions are being cynically rebranded as Indigenous empowerment. Presenting clean energy goals as a noble Aboriginal cause helps secure political cover and community buy-in. Whether it delivers? That’s less important.

But for most Australians, it is important. After decades of failed programs and wasted money, they want to see genuine results. They want investment and returns that better society.

It’s high time the government stopped patronising Indigenous Australians by constantly casting them as victims requiring bureaucratic salvation. A policy of truth-telling—and amplifying Aboriginal success stories in any field—would be a constructive start.

Michael Newman has four decades of business experience in North Asia and served as NSW’s Senior Trade and Investment Commissioner to the region.

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