Prices are going up. Food, fuel, power, water, rent, mortgages – it has become a universally known fact that the cost of essentials have been rising across the board. No one is quite sure how long the cost of living crisis will last or how bad it will get but the Australian government has been warning Australians of tough times ahead.
Such is the extent of the current situation that British economist Adam Tooze recently suggested that “crisis” doesn’t quite describe what the world is facing and instead coined the term “polycrisis” – a moment when people are confronted with several simultaneous global threats – to describe the present moment.
To learn more about how Australians are responding, we spoke to five people from different walks of life, in different parts of the country.
‘I dropped her a bunch of celery and she was like, ‘Oh my god!’’
Hazel O’Toole, 42, Western Australia
I know it sounds silly, but: grapes. That’s where I first noticed it. I’ve got three kids – two teenage boys. Teenage boys are constantly hungry – they’re a never-ending void – and you don’t want to feed your kids crap. I remember going into the shops one day and the lady was like, “That will be $26,” and I was like: ‘What? For a bag of grapes!”
I have the luxury of a buffer. I have a good job. I work from home most days of the week so I don’t have to drive into the city, which means I avoid fuel costs. There are many others out there who don’t have these things.
Right now, the big thing for me is saving up for a house. I’ve been in Australia for 13 years and I’ve had nine rentals in that time. I’ve never been evicted for doing something wrong. I usually move because the owners are selling up or I’ve chosen it.
What that means is a lot of moving and a lot of depleted savings. Moving is expensive. Two houses ago, around September last year, I nearly had a deposit together when the landlord rang and said he had a terminal illness, so he was selling up. I asked him when, and he said it’s already on the market. You don’t want someone in that situation to have to worry and I wanted to do the right thing. I normally make a point to get things professionally cleaned, but I paid more this time around to have it done quickly – the carpets, the windows, $750 for a gardener to have it pristine. It was a respect thing – if the shoe was one the other foot, you’d want someone to do that for you. But then, all that stuff adds up.
My real goal now is to get a house deposit together and it would be going a whole lot quicker if I was able to save.
Most of my friends are in similar roles to me, with similar earnings but I’ve noticed we’re definitely going out less, meeting at people’s houses more and we have our little jokes. A friend of mine really loves celery – I really don’t understand it – but a while ago she was talking about how much it costs now. I owed her a favour, so after she mentioned this, I dropped her a bunch of celery and she was like, “Oh my god! Do you know how much this costs?”
‘I lost everything’
Alison Manners, 42, Queensland
Go into your kitchen right now and imagine scraping every single shelf into the bin. Then imagine going out to buy all that stuff again - 15 different herbs and spices, a bottle of tomato sauce, mayonnaise. And then all of your cutlery. And after that, all your appliances. You will spend $200 on condiments before you even get around to buying food. It’s the sort of stuff you don’t realise is expensive because you pick it up as you go.
Now imagine doing that for everything you own, all at once. This is what happened after the flood. I moved to Rocklea because I got chickens during the pandemic and I wanted a yard for them, my two cats and my dog to run around in. Then in February, the rain started. It was steamy and humid and didn’t stop raining.
The house was on stilts so I thought I’d be okay, but the water kept rising. On Sunday morning, around 4am, I woke up to someone screaming for help and evacuation sirens. I went to my door and the water was about to breach the house and there wasn’t a way out. I called the SES but they said they couldn’t help until I was waist deep. The police said ‘call the SES’. Some friends found a kayak and rescued me, my cats and my dog. I went back for the chickens, so everyone was safe, but I lost everything.
You really notice how much prices have gone up when you have to replace your whole life. I’m a tattoo artist and self-employed so I’m better off than most. I wasn’t insured as a renter – who is? - but I had insurance on my car which was paid out. I paid off the old loan and went looking for a new car – have you seen the price of second-hand cars lately? It’s outrageous.
‘I use inflatable solar lanterns’
Iris*, 67, Victoria
I’m an avid watcher of politics, and seeing what was happening in the US and UK, I thought it would only be a matter of time before Australia would be facing the same. I converted a small spare bedroom into a pantry and purchased as much bulk staples as possible before the price increases hit. I was doing things like buying 25kg bags of oats, buying in bulk – as much as I could on a limited income. I don’t use lights, I use inflatable solar lanterns that I charge in the window during the day. I invested in blocks of natural soapstone – which has amazing heat retention properties – and I heat them in a cast iron pan. The stored heat is then released over a period of hours.
I also live in community housing in a regional area. It’s such an important service but not properly invested in. For example, there are solar panels on the roof, but they haven’t done the work needed to make them effective. The building is not energy efficient – there’s no insulation in the roof and the place is really draughty. Community housing is so important but it’s like they don’t put genuine effort into it because they don’t want to spend money on people they have decided are poor. I have two small portable solar generators I used for power – one the size of a briefcase and another the size of a large car battery. They provide most of my power, but it’s not enough to run the modem all day.
If I had my way, I’d be living completely off grid – it’s an environment thing but also about bills. I’m a pensioner. My rent’s around $460. After rent, I have about $600 a fortnight leftover. The last increase to the pension was $20 and housing took $12 of that. I’m about to get a $38 increase and I’m waiting to hear how much they are going to take this time.
My gas and electricity bills are small because I barely use them, but you can measure the cost-of-living increase by my bill. Twelve months ago my combined electricity and gas bill was $16 a month. In 12 months, it’s doubled to $32 a month. It makes me wonder what other people are paying. I feel so sad hearing about people living in abject poverty in a country that is so wealthy.
Right now, I’m looking forward to Christmas. We don’t do the commercial side of Christmas. To us it’s about getting together as a family and having a great day. Lots of really, yummy homemade food, spending time with the grandchildren. There’ll be seven of us; two grandchildren. It’s a day to relax and not think about anything else – and to be grateful because so many people are doing it tough.
*Name has been changed.
‘Running out of money would mean going hungry’
Phoebe Autumn, 36, Perth
Christmas is not something we can afford to celebrate in a big way. I live in the family home with my three brothers. Our father passed away in 2016 and we live together. Two of my brothers have complex mental and physical disabilities. They’ve been on disability payments for my whole life – it was recognised by Centrelink for a time though now there’s always the threat they’ll take it away. My other brother was on a disability support payment because of his autism but he works casually and now earns too much to receive it. Then there’s me, the trans sister trying to keep it all together – I’m currently on jobseeker, so my income is extremely limited and I’m going back to Tafe next year to train to be a nurse.
We also have a mortgage. When interest rates started rising, we started getting letters from the bank saying they wanted more money. After the third one we decided as a group we probably should increase our payments as a buffer. I think we could absorb another $100 or more but at some point we’re going to have trouble. When the home insurance comes due next year, that’s going to be another $600 – we are basically hand-to-mouth already. There’s no wriggle room.
Then there are all the other costs. My brother who works handles all the grocery shopping. He doesn’t tell me what he spends but we’ve had a few more conversations over time about whether we can afford essentials, like eggs, milk and vegetables. It’s also expensive to be trans in this country. Some medicines are covered by Medicare but most are not.
For us, running out of money would mean going hungry. Bills come first. I really don’t want to lose the house. Home to me is not an asset. It’s where I should be safe. Losing it is the big existential threat.
Really, I’d like some help. It would be great if we could actually have a conversation with our politicians about welfare. We’ve seen the pictures of Anthony Albanese with his mum and the public housing he was in. After that? Nothing. Literally nothing. This guy was supposed to be our guy. And he’s not. It bewilders me.
‘We’ve given up on the government’
Sara Walker, 56, Adelaide
During the pandemic, suddenly the government snapped its fingers and lifted us all out of poverty. It made a difference on so many levels. Then it was taken out from under us – and the worst part, the politicians keep saying they can’t afford to do anything. But they can give tax cuts to the ultra-rich. Here, out north, we’ve given up. We help each other where we can, but we’ve given up on the government doing anything for us.
As a family, we’re struggling. My husband and I are both on jobseeker. Our payments are $619 a fortnight each. The mortgage is nearly $1,500 a month, so it’s tight. We’ve got electricity bills, school costs and I have health issues, so we have medication costs. It’s all gone up. So has fuel. At times me and my husband have had a roster about who gets to have a main meal.
Right now, we’re campaigning to open a food relief centre like Heart & Soul and Puddle Jumpers in Adelaide’s north. There’s one in the west and there’s one in the south, but not here. In those places you can walk right up and get fresh veggies, fresh bread, no questions asked. Here, you have to ring up. There’s a half-hour window between 9am and 9.30am to call up and make an appointment. Then you have to go in and explain why you can’t afford to buy food to get a voucher.
It’s a ridiculous system. Nobody goes and asks for help who doesn’t need it. I’d rather go without than talk to someone who expects me to justify why I want assistance.
Christmas? You can’t escape it. It’s everywhere. It’s on the telly all the time, all these families with big turkeys, all gathered together. It might be a happy time for some, but for us, Christmas at this point looks like any other day. We can’t afford to do much of anything, though we will do everything possible, even if we have to sell something, to make sure our kids don’t go without a present. I know other families will go into debt. We won’t – we’ve been there and learned that mistake. But for us, to give something means giving something up.
