When I think about fairness in society, I used to imagine it solely as the domain of governments crafting equitable policies or courts delivering justice. However, my understanding has evolved considerably. True fairness, I’ve come to realise, is woven into the fabric of our daily interactions, our online behaviour, and the countless small choices we make about how we treat people who think, believe, or live differently from us. Fairness isn’t just a lofty ideal for politicians to debate; it’s a lived practice that begins with each of us.

Social media has revealed something uncomfortable about how we engage with difference. I’ve noticed in my own scrolling habits how easily I dismiss viewpoints that challenge my assumptions. Research from the Pew Research Centre indicates that political polarisation has intensified dramatically in recent years, with social media algorithms creating echo chambers that reinforce our existing beliefs. But it’s not just the algorithms; it’s us. I’ve watched friends ruthlessly mock people online for holding different political views, reducing complex human beings to caricatures worthy only of contempt. I’ve been guilty of this myself by participating in emotional debates that felt satisfying in the moment but contributed nothing to understanding or fairness. When someone from a different cultural background shares their perspective on an issue, how often do I genuinely listen rather than immediately formulating my rebuttal? The caustic nature of online discourse terrifies me because it reflects a fundamental unfairness: the unwillingness to grant others the basic dignity of being heard and understood, even in disagreement.

This unfairness extends beyond political differences. I’ve observed how people with disabilities, those from migrant and refugee backgrounds, Indigenous Australians, and LGBTIQ+ individuals often face dismissal or hostility simply for sharing their lived experiences. When someone describes experiencing racism or discrimination, responses frequently range from outright denial to defensive hostility. According to the Australian Human Rights Commission’s 2021 report, one in three people have experienced discrimination, yet when these experiences are shared, they’re often met with scepticism or accusations of oversensitivity. I’ve caught myself doing this too, feeling uncomfortable when confronted with perspectives that reveal my own privilege or blind spots. True fairness demands that we create space for these difficult conversations, that we listen with humility rather than defensiveness.

At the governmental level, fairness manifests in policies that address systemic inequality. Australia’s welfare system, while providing crucial support, often traps people in poverty through inadequate payment rates. The Australian Council of Social Service reports that JobSeeker payments leave recipients living below the poverty line. Meanwhile, housing affordability has created a generation locked out of homeownership, with wealth increasingly concentrated among those who already own property. Economic fairness requires acknowledging that individual effort alone cannot overcome structural barriers.

Specific examples of fairness in operation at the government level include the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS), which provides individualised support and choice for Australians with disability, recognising that fairness means meeting people’s diverse needs rather than treating everyone identically. However, the NDIS has come under scrutiny for not being fair in a growing number of instances and providing lavish support that exceeds the bounds of what is needed. Another example is the recent increase in Commonwealth Rent Assistance, which, while still insufficient, demonstrates movement towards addressing housing affordability for low-income renters. Additionally, programs like the Adult Migrant English Program provide free English language tuition to eligible migrants and humanitarian entrants, recognising that fairness requires removing barriers to participation in Australian society. These initiatives show that government fairness is about creating genuine opportunities through targeted support, but the question remains—is this enough?

Indeed, policy alone won’t create a fair society without cultural transformation. At the personal level, I believe we must actively practise intellectual humility and empathy. This means questioning my assumptions, seeking out perspectives different from my own, and sitting with the discomfort that brings. On social media, it means pausing before posting that witty putdown and asking whether I’m contributing to understanding or just performing for my in-group. It means calling out unfairness when I see it, whether that’s casual racism, sexist jokes, or the dismissal of marginalised voices, even when that’s socially awkward.

Specific examples of fairness at the personal level might include deliberately amplifying the voice of a quieter colleague in a meeting whose ideas are being overlooked or offering to split a restaurant bill proportionally based on what each person can afford rather than insisting on equal shares when you know some friends are struggling financially. It could mean choosing to shop at a refugee-owned business or attending a community event celebrating a culture different from your own. When a family member makes a dismissive comment about someone’s gender identity or immigration status, fairness means gently but firmly challenging that statement rather than letting it pass to avoid conflict. These small acts may seem inconsequential individually, but collectively they create environments where everyone feels valued and included.

At the community level, we can support organisations that work towards inclusion, volunteer with groups serving disadvantaged populations, and advocate for policies that promote economic fairness. We can vote for representatives committed to reducing inequality and hold them accountable. We can examine our workplaces, schools, and social circles, asking honestly whether everyone has genuine opportunities to participate and thrive.

Creating a fairer society requires both systemic reform and personal transformation. It demands that we recognise fairness isn’t just about material distribution but about dignity, respect, and the fundamental recognition of shared humanity. It’s uncomfortable work that requires confronting our own biases and privileges. But if fairness is to be more than an abstract principle, it must live in how we treat the person with different political views, how we respond to someone’s story of discrimination, and how we show up in our communities every day. The question isn’t whether society is perfectly fair (it demonstrably isn’t) but whether we’re willing to do our part, however small, to bend it towards justice.

 

9/11/2025