A recent occupational health and safety (OHS) prosecution over a quad bike fatality gained some mainstream media attention, primarily due to one of the owners being an independent New South Wales politician, Helen Dalton. Strip out the political newsworthiness, and there are some serious OHS lessons for all employers to be learned from the Court judgement.
Every time a sporting body is confronted with concussion data, someone inevitably asks whether the game can be played without the risk. In most industries, that question is the starting point for a “so far as is reasonably practicable” (SFAIRP) analysis. In sport, it’s treated as heresy. But if we apply the same occupational health and safety (OHS) logic to Australian rules football that we apply to construction, mining or manufacturing, the answer is, if you want to eliminate concussion and the risks of chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), you have to eliminate the mechanisms that cause it. And once you do that, you no longer have the game as we know it.
The death of 23‑year‑old footballer Nick Lowden should force the Australian Football League (AFL) and every sporting body that claims to care about player welfare to confront the fact that the risks of brain injury in Australian football are no longer mysterious, emerging, or debatable. They are foreseeable, documented, and cumulative. And once a risk is foreseeable, the occupational health and safety (OHS) duty to eliminate or minimise it so far as is reasonably practicable (SFAIRP) applies.
A Four Corners investigation to be broadcast on June 29, 2026, examines Lowden’s death. (This article is based on some preliminary reporting on the issue by the Australian Broadcasting Corporation)
One of my ongoing frustrations — and this blog is a good example — is that occupational health and safety (OHS) is rarely read or heard outside its own bubble. Yet OHS cannot fix OHS problems on its own. We depend on HR, engineers, accountants, risk managers, IT specialists and others, but we almost never get these disciplines in the same room, hearing the same information, facing the same hazards, and designing solutions together.
A recent HR interview with Dr Kat Page offers a useful example.
If the first lesson from IAWBH2026 was that psychological risks must be treated as system hazards, the second is that most organisations remain structurally ill-equipped to manage them. Despite years of policy development and training initiatives, the evidence presented at the recent International Association on Workplace Bullying and Harassment conference in Canberra showed persistent gaps between intention and outcome.
Business management advisers keep calling everyone a “leader”, but the term has become so vague it obscures who actually holds the power — and therefore the accountability — to prevent work-related harm. Psychosocial hazards aren’t fixed by slogans or culture talk; they’re shaped by decisions about workload, staffing, supervision and resources.
This article is based on my presentation to the Central Safety Group members on May 12, 2026, about leadership and occupational health and safety (OHS).
In the mid‑1970s, I arrived at Dandenong High School still clinging to the small importance I’d felt as a primary‑school Prefect. That confidence evaporated the day a student yelled “bums to the wall” as Science Teacher and Year 7 Coordinator Tim Richardson walked past. I didn’t yet know what a paedophile was, but Richardson would not be prosecuted for sexual offences until 2018, dying in jail a year later.
This experience reflects a broader cultural pattern of denial that still shapes how organisations respond to psychosocial hazards today. Australian companies, executives and employers are grappling with “new” duties to prevent psychological harm, yet Richardson’s story shows just how long our institutions have excused what should never have been excused.
