If this disaster was unfolding on the shores of Sydney Harbour or along Melbourne’s beaches, you wouldn’t be able to turn on the TV or scroll your phone without hearing about it. It would dominate national headlines. There would be urgent press conferences, ministers in hi-vis vests flying in on short notice, and emergency measures announced before the sun went down. But here in South Australia, where families, businesses, and communities are living through the reality of the algae bloom crisis, we find ourselves dealing with silence. Quiet suffering. Minimal coverage. And the feeling that unless we shout, nobody will listen.

That silence is deafening for the small business owner who has watched customers vanish almost overnight because the water that once brought families down to the coast is now clouded and unsafe. It is deafening for the fisherman who has built a livelihood on waters that have sustained generations, only to find them restricted, uncertain, and unpredictable.

This isn’t just an environmental issue. It’s not something we can box away under “nature taking its course.” It is social. It is economic. It is deeply human. And the longer we look away, the more damage quietly unfolds — damage that affects how we live, work, and plan for the future in South Australia.

What we’re experiencing is not a “blip.” It’s not an isolated event to be tidied away with a quick press release or a temporary patch. The algae blooms we are seeing — year after year — are warnings. They tell us that the systems we rely on are under pressure. They remind us that complacency is not an option. And they demand something very simple: the political courage to act.

But here’s the truth: South Australians are not strangers to hardship. We are resilient, resourceful, and proud of our ability to weather storms. We’ve proven that when communities pull together, we don’t just survive — we come out stronger. That same spirit is alive right now along our coasts. It’s in the café owner who keeps opening the doors even though foot traffic has halved.  It’s in the families who adapt their routines, still making the most of the beautiful place we call home.

What they deserve — what we all deserve — is for government to match that resilience with action. Not band aid solutions. Not token gestures. But serious investment, serious planning, and serious accountability.

That means treating this as the crisis it is. Supporting businesses so they don’t go under before the problem is addressed. Backing our fishing industry so families who’ve worked the seas for generations don’t become collateral damage. Investing in real scientific monitoring so we aren’t always reacting too late, but instead predicting, preparing, and preventing.

And just as importantly, it means honesty. People are tired of polished statements that downplay the situation. They want leaders who will say it like it is. Who will stand up and admit when things aren’t being handled well enough, and who will work with communities instead of talking at them. Honesty builds trust. And right now, trust is in short supply.

I’ve always believed that politics should be about telling the truth, even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially when it’s uncomfortable. Because people can handle the truth — what they can’t handle is being ignored and underestimated.

There’s something profoundly unfair about how South Australians are forced to shout louder to get the same attention that would automatically be given elsewhere. But I refuse to see that as a reason to give up. I see it as the very reason to fight harder. To demand better.

I know that some people reading this might think, “It’s politics. That’s just how it works.” But I don’t believe that. I don’t believe politics has to be about excuses and spin. I believe it can be about people. About listening. About turning frustration into solutions and turning despair into hope.

To every small business owner who is hanging on, to every family watching their weekend rituals change, to every fisherman wondering about the next season — I hear you. And I will keep raising my voice until yours is impossible to ignore.

This is not about politics. It is about people. It is about the South Australians who are being left behind in silence. And it is about building a future where we refuse to let crises like this define us, because we had the foresight and the courage to act.

This is our home. Our future. And it deserves every ounce of attention, investment, and protection we can give it.