The economy that rural Australia actually needs

This is the reality for people living in rural and remote Australia, where I have spent most of my life. There’s a lot to love, the kind of space that takes your breath away, neighbours who become family and communities that genuinely show up for each other.

But I’ve also seen the other side.

For five years I managed the Rural Adversity Mental Health Program in New South Wales, I lived through the Black Summer fires, prolonged droughts, widespread flooding, and a pandemic that changed everything. I saw what those events did to the people around me, including my own husband, not just in the moment, but in the years that followed.

Rural communities bear the brunt of climate change which impacts our livelihood, local economies and our health. Our burden of disease is higher, our access to health services is more complicated, and too many policy decisions simply aren’t designed with us in mind. The people working in rural health are extraordinary, but they’re stretched thin, under-resourced, and often operating in a system that wasn’t built for them.

As a health economist, I know these challenges won’t be solved by a new program or service. It’s time for the economic narrative that underpins rural and metro economies to change.

Thankfully an alternative already exists: the wellbeing economy. Championed by political economist Dr Katherine Trebeck, it’s a growing global movement designed around what actually matters, people’s health, the environment, fairness, and community connection, rather than just profit and productivity.

It’s built on straightforward principles: everyone should have enough to live in comfort and safety, the natural environment should be protected, communities should have a genuine say in decisions that affect them, and the economy should prevent problems not just pick up the pieces afterwards.

When I first came across these ideas, they struck a chord. Because this is exactly what rural and the rest of Australia needs.

Think about what it would mean if our economic system actually prioritised prevention. If funding flowed into keeping people well, rather than waiting until crisis. If environmental policy genuinely reflected the reality of communities living on the land. If rural people were actively involved in designing the services they depend on.

For rural and regional communities facing rising costs of living, worsening health and escalating natural disasters, while navigating the transition to renewable energy, this shift could be transformative.

The current approach, where we prioritise economic growth and hope benefits trickle out to the regions, isn’t working. Rural Australians know this. We feel it every time we drive hours to see a specialist, every time a local service closes or another family leaves town, every time a disaster hits and recovery funding runs out well before the recovery does.

It’s why I joined Ethicol, a firm that puts the wellbeing economy at the centre of its work. I wanted to shift the conversation from what things cost to what they’re actually worth. Not through radical overnight overhaul, but through genuine, sustained change in what we measure, what we fund, and whose voices count.

If you live in rural or regional Australia, this conversation matters to you. Because if a wellbeing economy is embraced, we have the most to gain. And if it isn’t, we have the most to lose.

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