As thousands of young people voice their dissent over the NSW government’s lockout laws, the fight against restrictions on Sydney’s nightlife has become about more than just a right to party all night, and one of civil liberties

“What do you mean, it’s slightly harder for me to get a Jägerbomb at 1.30am? Damn you, Mike Baird!”

That’s how comedian Jordan Shanks, 26, characterises the resistance to the Sydney lockout laws in his eight-minute diatribe on YouTube. Though he’s against the controversial measures introduced in 2014 to reduce alcohol-fuelled violence in the city’s late-night hotspots, he comes across a bit bitter that this, of all issues, seems to be the one that’s galvanising his generation.

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“No one kicked up a fuss when [New South Wales premier Mike] Baird announced he was going to tear up the Native Vegetation Act, no one cares that he’s continuing and expanding coal seam gas drilling,” he tells Guardian Australia.

“The only thing anyone cares about is that it’s harder for them personally to get pissed exactly when and where they want to get pissed.”



The New South Wales government introduced laws requiring venues to refuse new guests entry from 1.30am and stop selling alcoholic drinks from 3am two years ago, following two high-profile one-punch deaths in Kings Cross.

A backlash to the laws – sparked by entrepreneur Matt Barrie’s scathing 8,000-word opinion piece in early February – has been gaining momentum and coincides with a scheduled review. A rally on Sunday was attended by 15,000 people, organisers Keep Sydney Open say; police say it was closer to 5,000.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest An anti-lockout laws rally on Sunday 21 February in Sydney was, according to organisers, attended by 15,000 people. Police said that number was closer to 5,000. Photograph: Zak Kaczmarek/Getty Images

Either way, many most belonged to a generation that is often painted as apathetic, self-interested and unlikely to take part in any battle not fought online. Turns out, the way to engage young people in local politics? Threaten their drinking culture.

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That’s being flippant, of course – it’s easy to see why people have mobilised on the issue. Compared to climate change, for example, or the detention of asylum seekers – both knotty, global, with no obvious solution – the lockout seems straightforward to understand and overcome.

Not to mention it has a tangible impact on their day-to-day lives, says Shuang, 24, a designer, who went to last Sunday’s rally. “Global warming isn’t making me have less fun ... yet.”

She wonders if people who “normally hate activists” and, like her, attended Sunday’s protest “knew they were activists that day”.

“Fuck,” replies her friend Matt, 29. “Am I an activist now?”

Keep Sydney Open’s complaints with the lockout laws are broadly representative of the most common complaints heard from the public: live music venues have closed, jobs have been lost and “the magic around our city is fading” – all for a minimal impact on violence. Its petition to the premier has received nearly 51,000 signatures.

Analysis by the NSW Bureau of Crime Statistics and Research in April 2015 and again in February 2016 shows a decline in assaults in areas covered by the lockout laws, but not by as much as Mike Baird has publicly stated. Statistics show assaults were declining in those areas anyway prior to the introduction of the laws, with that decline accelerating since the laws came into effect.



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Jaymes, 25, another Sydneysider who attended Sunday’s rally, says: “The policy can be restated, quite plausibly, as ‘you’re too irresponsible to be allowed out after dark, so don’t complain if the senseless violence of a few results in the curtailed freedoms of many’. And of course that pisses young people off.”



The exemption of The Star casino from the lockout zone has added fire to the debate, Jaymes says. “People hate a hypocrite.”

The government’s “knee-jerk reaction” to alcohol-related violence punishes business owners and workers without addressing the root cause, says Eliot, 22. “A lot of people, particularly uni students, rely on these venues for income. By shortening their operating hours you are in effect shorting workers’ pay. I know, after having spent five years in hospitality, how important late-night shifts are.”

But framed another way, the debate is almost like a domestic between a parent and their adolescent child. The state government, following unacceptable behaviour, has revoked privileges and introduced a curfew, and those affected are complaining it’s unfair, biased and other people’s states let them order shots after 10pm.

Setting aside the venue closures, job losses, impact on live music and nightlife, the principle is patronising. “It makes me feel like I’m being treated like a child,” says Cat, 27, an IT consultant.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Demonstrators take to Sydney’s CBD on 21 February to oppose to the NSW government’s lockout laws, which require venues to refuse new patrons entry after 1.30am. Photograph: Paul Miller/AAP

As Keep Sydney Open argues that entertainment and safety aren’t mutually exclusive, the case against the lockout becomes one of civil liberties: treat people like adults, and they’ll behave like them.

Except, insist emergency services, they don’t.

“A lot of people are talking about personal responsibility,” says Scott Weber, the president of the Police Association of NSW. “But after you’ve had 10 to 15 schooners of beer, personal responsibility goes out the window.”

After you’ve had 10 to 15 schooners of beer, personal responsibility goes out the window Scott Weber

Weber is spokesman for the Last Drinks Coalition, a group of doctors, nurses, paramedics and police unions in favour of the lockout. He speaks with frustration of the backlash to a “modest restriction” that has “definitely worked”.

“Doctors, nurses, ambulance personnel, police, we’re all saying the same thing – this is actually preventing injuries and saving lives. We live in a democracy where everyone can say their piece, but in saying that, there are some arguments that are more right than others.”

Weber says the lockout is working in Sydney, just as it did in Newcastle in 2008: the city’s just going through an adjustment period, of “people realising their drinking culture needs to change”.

In two years, there has been a significant decline in late-night foot traffic in Kings Cross, and Weber relays anecdotal evidence that people are preferring to go out in their own neighbourhoods – to venues they’re likely to return to and may already be known by staff and patrons – where they’re more likely to drink responsibly.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest The NSW government introduced the controversial lockout laws following two high-profile one-punch deaths in Sydney’s Kings Cross. Photograph: April Fonti/AAP

But others, like Kitty, 30, say the bad behaviour that used to be a feature of the CBD and Kings Cross has simply relocated to areas outside the lockout zone, like Newtown where she lives. “The crowds are just being pushed out to the casino or ‘burbs that don’t have the infrastructure to deal with them,” she says. King Street in Newtown, home to many of the neighbourhood’s now thriving pubs, is a “total no-go zone” because of “pissed bros”.

(Several Newtown bars have been observing 3am lockouts and bans on shots and ‘doubles’ after midnight in a six-month trial of self-imposed regulations that will conclude on 1 March.)

“People tend to write off this argument as just young people angry that they can’t party all night, but this is about so much more,” says Alison. “How can we call ourselves a global city when our government thinks it’s a better idea to shut down nightlife, instead of introduce 24-hour public transport or any of the other measures used around the world?”

Our government thinks it’s a better idea to shut down nightlife [rather than] introduce 24-hour public transport Alison

But comparisons with European cities in particular (why can’t Sydney be like Berlin?) don’t take into account their different drinking cultures, says Weber, in which two bottles of wine might be shared between a table of 10. “Australians look at that and ask, ‘Where’s the rest’?” he says.

Both sides seem to broadly agree that Australians have a troubled relationship with alcohol. The point of contention is whether the lockout laws serves to improve the issue, or merely papers over it.

“The problem isn’t drinking, it’s Australia’s attitude to drinking. We can’t ‘have a few’ and that’s a major issue,” says Bette, 22, a student, adding “Australia’s entire history is integrated with violence from invasion to now – it’s not going to change just because we can’t go out till late.”

Weber agrees the lockout is “like a suture over an open wound” over the wider issue of alcohol abuse, but says the first step is enforcement, then education. The measures are modest, he repeats, and could have been far more restrictive. “If you were going by the evidence, you’d probably close at midnight” he argues.

“We don’t want to lock people out. We want to be an international, vibrant city. And I think we still are.”

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But for all the community-minded concerns, the issue is felt most keenly at an individual level – by victims of alcohol-related violence, by hospitality workers and musicians left out of pocket, by emergency service personnel rushed off their feet, by Sydney residents who want agency over how they spend their free time.

Former high court judge Ian Callinan, tasked with providing the state government with an “independent, open and transparent assessment” of the laws that will inform their future, is expected to complete his report by August. Until then – and potentially afterwards – the night will be contested territory, even as many sleep through it, oblivious.

“If I’m being honest, I don’t really care about the night-time economy or emerging artists,” says Cat. “Selfishly, I want the freedom to make my own mistakes. Mistakes which – and this is important – probably won’t involve punching somebody to death on Oxford Street.”