Our policy, our plan to get there is in Australia’s Net Zero Plan that we’re also releasing today, in terms of sectoral plans. And we think we’ve got the sweet spot. There will be criticism from some who say it’s too high, there’s some who will say that it’s too low.  Anthony Albanese

Anthony Albanese’s “sweet spot” in climate policy is about as sweet as a flat Bundy and Coke left out in the Brisbane sun. What the PM touts as a masterstroke looks more like a slow-motion capitulation choreographed in mahogany boardrooms and sold to us punters as responsible pragmatism. The government’s shiny new 2035 target—a 62-70% emissions cut that sounds impressive until you do the maths—wasn’t hammered out in cabinet or informed by climate science. It was negotiated over wagyu steaks and aged shiraz, where Australia’s real policy decisions get made these days.

This isn’t the sweet spot of heroic transformation; it’s the well-worn groove of a political class that’s forgotten whether it works for voters or shareholders. Welcome to democracy, Aussie-style: where fossil fuel moguls and their corporate cheerleaders call the shots, while our elected representatives compete in an Olympic-grade grovelling contest before the sacred altar of “economic competitiveness.”

The PM’s cricket metaphors are more revealing than he’d like. Sure, there’s a sweet spot in sport—that magical moment where physics, timing and technique align to send the ball sailing over the boundary. But in Albanese’s hands, it’s become something else entirely: the political equivalent of bowling underarm while claiming you’re playing Test cricket.

The Corruption of Process

Australia’s climate targets weren’t pulled from atmospheric science or democratic mandate—they trace the exact line where the Business Council of Australia planted its corporate flag. Environmental groups demanded at least 80% cuts, climate scientists pointed to net zero by 2035 as barely adequate, and the Climate Change Authority modelled scenarios up to 75%. But when the Business Council got the vapours at anything above 70%, suddenly that became the ceiling for Labor’s “ambitious” vision.

This isn’t compromise—it’s corporate capture dressed up as consultation. That eight-point wiggle room gives the government maximum scope to aim low and still pop the champagne, while industry gets cast-iron guarantees that nothing too disruptive will rattle the quarterly dividend payments.

Watch the choreography: The Business Council expresses “deep concerns” about economic impacts. Mining executives stage whispered conversations about jobs and competitiveness over $200 lunches in Collins Street’s finest establishments. The Minerals Council reminds politicians which marginal seats depend on coal jobs. And presto—the government suddenly discovers that higher targets are simply “unrealistic,” as if the laws of physics were subject to corporate comfort levels.

The Aristocracy of Influence

The real tragedy isn’t just pissweak climate policy—it’s the systematic corruption of democratic governance itself. We’ve cultivated a political class more eager to curry favour with the titans of industry than to tackle the programs that might actually drag our collective arses out of the fire. Cabinet ministers book more face-time with fossil fuel executives than climate scientists. Policy frameworks emerge from industry “working groups,” not public consultation.

The result is governance by corporate veto, where the Business Council’s concerns carry more weight than the Climate Change Authority’s modelling, where the Minerals Council’s economic scare campaigns trump the Bureau of Meteorology’s climate warnings. It’s a system perfectly calibrated to produce policies that satisfy boardrooms while the continent goes up in smoke.

Consider this arithmetic of surrender: Current policies deliver a measly 15-23% emissions cut by 2030, falling well short of our already pathetic 43% target. Yet somehow this same government expects us to swallow the story that it’ll triple that pace in the following five years to hit 62-70% by 2035. It’s policy-making by fairy dust and wishful thinking, justified by whatever consultants can cram into a PowerPoint deck.

The Business Lunch Republic

This is how captured states operate. The fossil fuel industry doesn’t need to slip brown paper bags under the table—it simply defines the boundaries of “realistic” policy. When Santos executives warn that faster decarbonisation would require “radical overhauls,” politicians nod sagely and trim their targets accordingly. When the Australian Industry Group bleats about job losses, ministers scramble to prove their economic bona fides.

Meanwhile, the same government that conjures $368 billion for nuclear submarines and $230 billion for tax cuts suddenly discovers that serious climate action would break the budget. The money’s there, all right—it’s just allocated according to priorities set in corporate suites rather than polling booths.

The renewable energy story tells the tale perfectly. We’re supposedly racing toward 82% renewable electricity by 2030, up from today’s 45%. Even the most optimistic assessments suggest this demands massive grid investments, streamlined planning approvals, and coordinated national effort that would make the Snowy Scheme look like a weekend DIY project. Instead, we get press releases about “making good progress” while transmission projects gather dust in state bureaucracies and planning systems designed to protect the incumbents who’ve been flogging coal for generations.

Democracy on the Auction Block

The rot runs deeper than climate policy. We’ve built a system where access equals influence, where the right lunch invitation carries more clout than electoral mandates. Industry associations don’t just lobby—they ghost-write legislation. Corporate executives don’t just advise—they set policy parameters through the simple expedient of defining what’s “achievable” in the real world.

Watch the linguistic gymnastics: Targets become “aspirational” when business objects. Policies become “technology neutral” when fossil fuel companies want their slice of the subsidy pie. Timelines become “flexible” when implementation threatens profit margins. This vocabulary of surrender gets road-tested in focus groups and polished in business forums before politicians wheel it out in parliament.

Climate physics doesn’t negotiate, but apparently climate policy does. Atmospheric chemistry doesn’t wait for stakeholder engagement, but climate targets do. The government bangs on endlessly about what’s “achievable”—as if this represents some immutable law of nature rather than a political choice about whose interests matter most.

The Price of Capture

The real cost isn’t just botched emissions targets—it’s the systematic hollowing out of democratic governance itself. When policy gets written in corporate boardrooms rather than through public debate, when industry concerns trump scientific advice, when business lunch chatter carries more weight than electoral mandates, democracy becomes dinner theatre performed for the real power-brokers.

Australians deserve climate policy designed for the climate, not the comfort of fossil fuel shareholders. They deserve a government that governs for voters, not donors. They deserve democratic institutions that serve public interests, not private profit margins.

Beyond the Boardroom

The captured state isn’t some inevitable force of nature—it’s a choice. Other countries have rammed through serious climate policies despite howls of industry protest. Other governments have prioritised long-term survival over short-term corporate comfort. The technology exists, the science is crystal clear, and the public increasingly demands action that matches the scale of the challenge.

What’s missing is a political class with the spine to govern rather than simply manage corporate expectations. What’s needed is democracy that serves voters instead of shareholders, policy-making that puts scientific evidence ahead of business comfort, leadership that grasps the difference between governing and grovelling.

The real sweet spot isn’t where Labor thinks they’ve found it—in that cosy space between industry demands and political convenience. It’s where democratic governance meets scientific necessity, where public interest trumps private profit, where leaders finally cotton on that you can’t negotiate with the laws of physics, no matter how impressive the boardroom or expensive the wine.

Until then, we’re stuck with polite applause as the continent burns, while politicians pat themselves on the back for finding the perfect compromise between ecological collapse and quarterly earnings reports. The only question is whether voters will demand something better before the whole bloody show goes up in flames.