Opposition to renewable energy infrastructure has become an increasingly visible force in Australia’s energy debate.
Take Farmers Fightback, a group defending generational farmers against government overreach, with a particular focus on renewable energy. At a rally in Marnoo, Victoria, the group hosted One Nation leader Pauline Hanson, who hammered a ceremonial nail into a coffin marked “Net Zero”.
As the Coalition promises to “take a chainsaw” to Labor’s renewable energy policies, disputes over renewable energy are increasingly playing out in national politics.
But what motivates people to become so deeply involved in opposing renewable energy? And what keeps them involved?
Concerns about agricultural land, landscapes, bushfire risk and local communities are important. So too are questions about who benefits from renewable energy development and who bears the costs.
Yet these concerns alone don’t explain why people organise, protest and sustain opposition movements over many years. Our recent research suggests part of the answer lies in the social connections, shared identities and sense of purpose that develop within opposition movements.
For some participants, opposing renewable energy becomes much more than a campaign against infrastructure.
The unexpected social benefits of opposition
Research exploring the social dynamics of renewable energy opposition in Victoria’s Wimmera Mallee region found that, while people became involved for different reasons, participation in opposition movements often brought unexpected social benefits.
For farmers living in geographically dispersed communities, participating in opposition groups increased opportunities for social interaction. People described forming new friendships, attending more social events and regularly checking in on one another.
The shared experience of dealing with uncertainty and stress also opened opportunities for conversations about mental health and wellbeing, topics that can sometimes be difficult to discuss.
Public demonstrations provided a morale boost, while those taking on organising roles gained recognition and a sense of purpose. Many farmers described a moral responsibility to protect their land, communities and way of life for future generations, including standing up for neighbours who couldn’t advocate for themselves.
In other words, the opposition movement wasn’t simply a place to express dissatisfaction with renewable energy. It became a source of friendship, belonging and collective purpose.
When a shared concern becomes a shared identity
Social identity research shows that our sense of who we are is shaped partly by the groups we belong to. When people share experiences, values and grievances, they can develop a collective identity that influences how they see themselves and others.
We saw this process unfolding in the Wimmera Mallee. Farmers who initially became involved because of concerns about renewable energy infrastructure developed strong bonds through meetings, protests and shared efforts to protect their communities.
Over time, opposition became more than something they did. It became part of who they were, reinforcing their sense of purpose and responsibility to one another.
This identity was also deeply connected to place. Many farmers saw themselves as custodians of agricultural landscapes shaped by generations of farming, with a responsibility to protect them for the future.
Seen through this lens, a proposed electricity transmission line represents more than a change to the landscape. It can feel like a threat to people’s identity, autonomy and way of life.
But the same shared identity that brings people together can also deepen divisions with those outside the group.
The other side of belonging
While these social connections can bring people together, they can also deepen divisions. Our research found that a strong sense of belonging within opposition movements was often accompanied by an “us versus them” mentality. The “us” included those who shared their concerns and values, while the “them” encompassed governments, renewable energy developers and others perceived as supporting the renewable rollout.
For some farmers, this distrust extended well beyond renewable energy. Some traced their scepticism of government authority back to COVID-19 restrictions, which they viewed as government overreach and were not going to “roll over” that quickly again.
As these group identities strengthen, disagreements can become increasingly polarised. People on the other side are no longer simply seen as having different opinions, but as acting against the community’s interests. Farmers who agree to host renewable energy infrastructure, for example, can be viewed as betraying their communities. These tensions have spilled into everyday life. A Senate inquiry into climate and energy misinformation heard evidence of landowners and their families experiencing harassment, abuse and even death threats.
As these divisions deepen, they shape not only who people trust, but also which information they believe.
When trust matters more than facts
One revealing example from our research was a claim that the Victorian Government planned to cover 70 per cent of the state’s agricultural land with renewable energy infrastructure.
More than half of the farmers we interviewed repeated some version of this claim. It has also popped up in new media platforms. It’s an extraordinary figure, and if true, it’s hardly surprising that farmers would be alarmed and motivated to oppose the rollout.
But where did it come from?
We traced it to a Victorian Government policy paper, which suggested that meeting net-zero targets using only onshore renewables could require up to 70 per cent of agricultural land. However, the government described this as an implausible scenario, intended to demonstrate the need for offshore wind, not an actual land-use plan.
Complicating matters, the original report appeared to have been removed from the government’s website. Some farmers raised this during interviews, interpreting its disappearance as further evidence of government secrecy.
This isn’t simply a story about misinformation. The energy sector is incredibly complex, and verifying every claim requires time, expertise and access to reliable information. Instead, people often rely on sources they know and trust to make sense of it all.
When trust in government and industry is already low, information shared by peers and trusted networks can carry more weight than official evidence, even when that information is misleading. The example highlights how trust can determine what people accept as credible information, and why correcting the facts alone may do little to decrease the temperature in energy debates.
What does this mean for the energy transition?
Renewable energy disputes are about more than infrastructure. When opposition becomes intertwined with people’s identities, friendships and sense of belonging, conflicts can become harder to resolve.
For governments and developers, this reinforces the importance of meaningful community participation, recognising local values and building trust.
But understanding opposition also requires asking not only why people are fighting against infrastructure, but what they gain from fighting alongside one another. Because sometimes, what sustains a movement isn’t just the cause people are fighting for. It’s the community they’ve built in the process.
