Jaspreet Singh Rajpura
Let us stop treating threats against elected representatives as an unpleasant side-effect of modern politics. When politicians require specialist security teams to attend public events, when death threats become routine, and when an MP can be deliberately struck outside her own electorate office, something far more serious is happening.
Australia was confronted with that reality this week when independent federal MP Helen Haines was attacked outside her office in Wangaratta, Victoria. Police allege a vehicle deliberately struck her twice. Haines suffered catastrophic injuries and lost one leg, while surgeons have been fighting to save the other. A 43-year-old man has been charged with offences including intentionally causing serious injury and harming a Commonwealth public official. The motive remains under investigation.
The attack would be horrifying in isolation. It is even more disturbing because it has occurred against a backdrop of rising hostility towards public figures.
Australian Federal Police received 1,067 reports of threatening, harassing, nuisance or offensive behaviour involving parliamentarians, high office holders and protected locations during 2025–26 — up 12 percent from the previous year and almost double the 555 reports recorded in 2021–22.
Across the Tasman, New Zealand is hearing similar warnings.
Speaker Gerry Brownlee says threats against MPs have increased “astronomically”. Figures obtained by RNZ show Parliament’s specialist Security Information, Risk and Advisory Service handled 216 requests for advice or support between September 28 and October 18 alone, and was deployed 81 times during that three-week period.
These are not numbers that should be normalised.
Democracy depends on disagreement. Governments should be challenged. MPs should face hard questions. Citizens have every right to protest, criticise, organise and vote politicians out of office.
But democracy begins to fail when disagreement becomes intimidation and anger becomes violence.
There is another uncomfortable truth here. Across both Australia and New Zealand, many people are genuinely frustrated with politics.
Households have endured high living costs, expensive housing, pressure from mortgages and rents, grocery bills that consume more of the weekly budget and anxiety about employment and the future. When people believe politicians do not understand their lives, distrust grows.
That frustration is real and governments ignore it at their peril.
But hardship is an explanation for public anger, not an excuse for political violence.
No rise in food prices gives someone the right to threaten an MP. No mortgage increase justifies stalking a politician. No unpopular law makes an assault legitimate.
And it would be equally irresponsible to claim, without evidence, that economic hardship caused the attack on Helen Haines. Police have not established the alleged attacker’s motive. The wider political climate deserves examination, but individual acts must be judged on evidence, not fitted into a convenient political narrative.
The same caution applies to social media. There is little doubt that online platforms have transformed political debate. Anger that once remained in a conversation between a few people can now be amplified to thousands within minutes. False information, conspiracy theories and personal abuse can travel rapidly, while algorithms often reward content that provokes a strong emotional reaction.
Politicians in both countries have repeatedly described receiving threats and abuse online. Some Australian MPs have stopped publishing details of where they will be in public because of security fears.
But again, we should be precise. Social media can amplify hostility; that does not mean every act of political violence originates online.
The deeper danger is the gradual normalisation of dehumanising political language.
Once opponents are no longer described as people with different ideas but as enemies, traitors, criminals or existential threats, the boundary between political disagreement and personal hatred begins to weaken.
That responsibility does not sit only with anonymous social-media accounts.
Political leaders themselves must consider the language they use.
A democracy cannot demand civility from ordinary citizens while rewarding politicians who inflame divisions because outrage produces headlines, donations or votes. Leaders across the political spectrum should be able to attack each other’s policies fiercely without encouraging the belief that their opponents are somehow illegitimate human beings.
The attack on Haines should also force Australia and New Zealand to confront a difficult security dilemma.
One of the strengths of Australasian democracy has traditionally been the accessibility of politicians. MPs attend markets, cultural celebrations, community halls, sports events, schools and small public meetings. Constituents can often walk into an electorate office and speak directly with staff.
That accessibility is valuable. If increasing threats force every politician behind security barriers, democracy loses something even if no further attack occurs.
The danger is not only that politicians might be physically harmed. It is that good people may decide public life is simply not worth the risk.
What happens when capable teachers, doctors, business owners, lawyers, community leaders or young people look at politics and conclude that standing for Parliament means exposing themselves, their partners and their children to death threats?
The political system gradually becomes poorer.
Brownlee has made precisely that point, arguing that people prepared to seek public office should be encouraged rather than frightened away.
Governments therefore face responsibilities on several fronts.
Police and parliamentary security agencies must take credible threats seriously and ensure MPs and their staff can work safely. Technology companies should face greater scrutiny over how their systems amplify threatening and extremist material. Political parties themselves need to reject intimidation even when it is directed at opponents they strongly disagree with.
And governments must continue addressing the legitimate grievances that fuel public alienation — housing, living costs, healthcare, wages and trust in institutions.
But one principle cannot be negotiable.
Violence is not political participation.
The ballot box exists because democracies settled long ago that governments should be changed through votes, arguments and peaceful organisation — not fear and physical force.
Helen Haines should have been able to walk outside her electorate office without losing a leg.
A New Zealand MP should be able to attend a community meeting without wondering whether a threat made online will become an attack in person.
And citizens should be able to despise a government’s policies while still recognising the humanity and democratic rights of the people serving in it.
If we lose that distinction, the consequences extend far beyond any individual politician.
Because when elected representatives become afraid of the public, and the public begins to see violence as an acceptable response to politics, it is democracy itself that retreats.
