Public Health Theatre: Now Playing Across Australia

Alan Gor 17 October 2025

Grab your popcorn, because Australia’s public health establishment has turned the vaping debate into a full-blown stage production. The actors are polished, the script is well-rehearsed, and the media always gives it five stars.

The only problem? It’s all performance, and none of it is helping real people.

Act One: The Press Conference

Enter Health Minister Mark Butler, the star of the show. Every few months, he steps up to the podium to announce another “crackdown” on vaping, complete with dramatic language about “protecting young Australians” and “stopping Big Tobacco’s next trick.”

The cameras zoom in, the microphones line up, and the minister delivers his lines with the confidence of someone who knows the applause is guaranteed. He boasts about “historic reforms,” “record-breaking seizures,” and “a new era of protection for our youth.” One of his favourite announcements was the seizure of 2.5 billion cigarettes and thousands of illegal vapes. It made for great headlines, full of tough talk and patriotic flair.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth: there are millions of illegal vapes already circulating in Australia. That so-called “big win” is like bailing out a sinking boat with a teaspoon and then celebrating because the deck looks slightly drier.

Still, the cameras rolled, the journalists clapped, and the show went on. Another act of public reassurance was complete. The audience at home was told that something was being done, even if nothing was actually changing.

Act Two: The Moral Panic

When the minister exits stage left, the supporting cast steps into the spotlight — the media.

Suddenly, the country is flooded with stories about “teens addicted to vapes” and “schools struggling to cope.” These stories sound dramatic and urgent, but most are built on shaky foundations. They rely on small surveys, cherry-picked data, and emotional anecdotes that make for good television but bad policy.

Take the Cancer Council’s “Generation Vape” report. It claimed an “explosion” in youth vaping, but quietly left out two key details. Teen smoking rates remain at record lows, and most young people who experiment with vaping do not use it regularly. Once you read the fine print, the so-called crisis looks far less dramatic.

But facts don’t make front-page headlines, and nuance doesn’t drive clicks. So those details were ignored.

The result is a nation in panic. Parents are frightened, schools are overwhelmed, and politicians get to look like heroes for “saving the next generation.” Meanwhile, adult smokers, the very people vaping was designed to help, are left without options.

That isn’t public health. That’s moral theatre, where emotion replaces evidence and fear replaces logic.

Act Three: The Police Raids

Every good drama needs an action sequence, and this one delivers it with flair. Cue the police raids.

News crews are invited to film as officers storm warehouses filled with boxes of seized vapes. Border Force officials pose beside mountains of “contraband” while reporters speak in grave tones about “crushing organised crime.” The images are striking, the message is clear, and the illusion of progress is maintained.

But beneath the surface, the truth is far less glamorous. Each time authorities shut down one illegal seller, another appears within days, often selling cheaper, riskier, and completely unregulated products.

This isn’t a victory against crime. It’s a recruitment drive for it. The black market thrives on prohibition because it feeds off scarcity. When safer legal options are banned, the underground economy steps in to fill the gap, and consumers pay the price in quality and safety.

Yet the cameras never film that part. As long as there’s a photo opportunity, a ministerial quote, and a headline about “protecting our borders,” the performance continues uninterrupted.

Act Four: The Science Spin

And now, the academics take the stage.

The same familiar faces appear on cue: Simon Chapman, Becky Freeman, and a handful of others who have built entire careers around opposing vaping. They repeat the same lines every time that flavours are hooking kids, that vaping is a Big Tobacco trick, and that we’re facing a “new epidemic of addiction.”

What they rarely acknowledge is that other countries have already written a very different script. The United Kingdom, New Zealand, and Sweden have taken the opposite approach. They treat vaping as a harm reduction tool for adults who smoke. And the results speak for themselves. Their smoking rates have fallen to historic lows.

They also avoid mentioning the Roy Morgan data showing that youth smoking in Australia actually increased after the vape ban came into force. When that finding threatened to undermine the official narrative, the data were quietly reworded and recontextualised to soften the political fallout.

This isn’t how science is supposed to work. Real science evolves with evidence, not ideology. But in Australia’s public health theatre, the script comes first and the data must fit the story.

Act Five: The Fallout

When the stage lights fade and the cameras stop rolling, the people left behind are ordinary Australians.

Smokers who want to quit are told to “talk to their doctor,” only to find that most doctors won’t prescribe vapes at all. Adults who already quit smoking through vaping are now treated like criminals for using the very tool that helped them improve their health.

Young people still get vapes easily, but now they come from black market sellers with no safety standards, no age checks, and no accountability. And while government officials congratulate themselves for “taking action,” the underground trade grows stronger every day.

The government calls it public health. But for millions of Australians, it feels more like punishment disguised as protection.

The Encore: The Media Chorus

Public health theatre only works if the media plays along, and in Australia, it does so with enthusiasm.

Outlets like Croakey Health Media provide glowing coverage from writers such as Alison Barrett and Melissa Sweet, who repeat government talking points about “protecting kids” and “fighting Big Tobacco” almost word for word.

Not once do they mention the Roy Morgan reversal, the AIHW data showing smoking rates rising again, or the lived experiences of ex-smokers now caught in legal limbo. The narrative is tightly controlled, and dissenting voices are quietly excluded from the conversation.

You can always tell when journalism stops investigating and starts performing. It’s when you stop hearing from the people who actually live the consequences.

Curtain Call: What Comes Next

Australia doesn’t need another crackdown. It needs a reality check.

If this were truly about health, the government would start listening to the audience, the people living with these policies every single day. Real public health means listening to lived experience instead of lecturing on it. It means using evidence instead of emotion, and regulating for safety instead of banning for headlines.

Because right now, Australia isn’t solving a health crisis. It’s acting one out.

And until the performance ends, ordinary Australians will keep paying the price for tickets they never asked to buy. STAY TUNED FOR THE SEQUEL