If you want proof that Australia's media elite are completely detached from everyday Australians, look no further than the Australian Financial Review's attack on me and a short piece of fiction I wrote. The response was not thoughtful, not analytical, and certainly not intellectual. It was a sneering hit job designed to mock, belittle, and silence anyone who dares to challenge the cosy consensus of the political and media class. A fictional short story imagining Ben Roberts-Smith's rise to the prime ministership triggered a dismissive and sneering response from the Australian Financial Review.
The AFR column by Hannah Wootton relied on sarcasm and personal jabs rather than engaging with the political themes explored in the narrative.
The story resonated because it reflects growing public frustration with political elites and the increasing disconnect between establishment institutions and everyday Australians.
Ironically, the AFR critique conceded the plausibility of the scenario by acknowledging that Pauline Hanson supporting Roberts-Smith is believable if he were cleared of wrongdoing.
The backlash from elite media ultimately underscores the relevance of the fictional narrative and reveals a deep unease about the possibility of significant political realignment in Australia.
The piece imagines a scenario in which decorated Australian soldier Ben Roberts-Smith is acquitted of criminal charges and subsequently enters politics with the support of Pauline Hanson and One Nation. In this imagined future, he taps into widespread public frustration with the political establishment and leads a populist landslide to become Prime Minister.
It is fiction. A thought experiment. A simple "what if" scenario exploring the political mood of a nation increasingly fed up with elites who lecture them, ignore them, and govern against their interests. Yet this clearly labelled fictional story triggered an extraordinary reaction from the Australian Financial Review, a publication that prides itself on representing the views of the corporate and financial elite.
Rear Window columnist Hannah Wootton decided to ridicule the story, dismissing it as "fan fiction" and a "fever dream." Instead of engaging with the ideas behind the narrative, she chose sarcasm, mockery, and personal attacks. This is hardly surprising when one understands that Rear Window is not a serious forum for political or literary analysis but a gossip-style column aimed at entertaining an affluent readership with insider snark.
Wootton's column reveals far more about the mindset of the elite media than it does about my story. She attempted to undermine the piece by pointing out that my Substack newsletter has a single advertising client, not realising the fact that the advertisement is for a business I partially own, that the income from my Substack comes from my loyal and subscribers, and that my newsletter is the biggest Substack in Australia (probably read by more people than read the Australian Financial Review and, most certainly, her column). So this irrelevant jab has nothing to do with the quality or purpose of the story. It is the kind of cheap shot one resorts to when there is no substantive argument to make. When ridicule replaces reasoning, it is a clear sign that the critic has already lost the debate.
Most tellingly, while attempting to mock the premise of the story, Wootton inadvertently admitted its plausibility. After spending much of her column ridiculing the idea of Roberts-Smith entering politics, she conceded that if he were cleared of wrongdoing, it is actually believable that Pauline Hanson might support such a move. In other words, after pages of sneering, she acknowledged that the central idea behind the story is not as far-fetched as she would like her readers to believe.
The real reason the story struck a nerve is simple. It taps into a growing sense of anger and disillusionment felt by millions of Australians. Across the country, people are struggling with rising living costs, declining job security, and a political class that appears more interested in virtue signalling than in serving the national interest. Many Australians feel that their voices are ignored while decisions are increasingly made by bureaucrats, global institutions, and disconnected elites.
Political fiction has long served as a way to explore these societal tensions. From dystopian novels to speculative political narratives, such works allow societies to examine possible futures and confront uncomfortable truths. My story fits squarely within this tradition. It is not a prediction and it is not a manifesto. It is an imaginative exploration of what could happen when public frustration reaches a tipping point.
The ferocity of the AFR's response demonstrates just how threatening these ideas are to the establishment. When a simple fictional narrative provokes such hostility, it reveals a deep anxiety within elite circles about the possibility of genuine political realignment. The notion that an outsider could rise with popular support and challenge the entrenched political order is clearly unsettling to those who benefit from the status quo.
This episode also highlights a broader cultural divide in Australia. On one side are ordinary Australians who see the story as an imaginative reflection of their frustrations and aspirations. On the other are sections of the media and political class who react with disdain and ridicule, preferring to mock rather than engage. This disconnect only deepens the sense that the establishment is out of touch with the people it claims to represent.
Let me be absolutely clear. "Ben Roberts-Smith: Prime Minister? (A Short Story)" is a work of fiction. It does not predict the future, nor does it advocate for any specific political outcome. What it does is shine a light on the growing dissatisfaction with the current political landscape and invite readers to consider how that sentiment might manifest itself.
The Australian Financial Review's attempt to ridicule the story has only served to amplify its message. Their sneering response confirms exactly what many Australians already suspect: that the elite media are more interested in protecting their own worldview than in engaging with the concerns of everyday citizens. When fiction alone is enough to provoke such panic, it suggests that the ideas it explores are far closer to reality than the establishment would like to admit.
In the end, the loudest attacks often signal that a nerve has been struck. The establishment may sneer, mock, and attempt to dismiss dissenting voices, but their reaction only reinforces the central message of the story. Australians are waking up, and the elites are terrified of what that awakening might bring.
https://nationfirst.substack.com/p/afr-elites-fear-the-story Ben Roberts-Smith: Prime Minister? (A Short Story)What proceeds is a work of fiction…
The courtroom was silent in a way that felt unnatural, not tense, not anxious, but something heavier and more final. Reporters leaned forward like hunters sensing the moment, observers sat frozen, and at the centre of it all stood Ben Roberts-Smith, a man built for war, now forced to fight a different kind of battle in front of his own nation.
The verdict came down in a single, unshaking voice.
"Not guilty."
Continue reading on to find out how a decorated war hero cleared in court could turn the tables on the political establishment and storm all the way to The Lodge...