The $150 time capsule: How Queensland’s petty theft law forgot inflation

Forty years later, petrol sits near $1.80 a litre, and that same house costs about $1.2 million, yet the Regulatory Offences Act 1985 (Qld) still caps “unauthorised dealing with shop goods” at that same $150. No indexation. No CPI adjustment. No acknowledgement that four decades of inflation have quietly passed.

The number has not changed since Bob Hawke was prime minister and cassette tapes were cutting-edge. What began as a compassionate reform, a way to spare people criminal records for trivial theft, now quietly punishes poverty. The line between a fine and a conviction is still drawn in 1985 ink, even as the cost of living has quadrupled.

The relic in the room

Section 5 of the Regulatory Offences Act 1985 makes it a minor offence to unlawfully take goods from a shop if their value does not exceed $150. Cross that figure by a single dollar, and the same conduct leaps into the Criminal Code under section 391, punishable by up to five years’ imprisonment.

The purpose was pragmatic. Parliament wanted to keep small thefts small; to let police issue fines rather than drag minor offenders through the courts. It worked when $150 meant something. In 1985, $150 was almost half a week’s wage and could buy a major household item. Adjusted for inflation, that figure now sits closer to $550.

What $150 means today

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Fast-forward to 2025. $150 buys a modest trolley at Coles: a few packs of meat, some fruit, laundry detergent, and nappies. The same law that once kept televisions out of court now sends struggling parents there for stealing groceries.

The statute has not evolved; it has ossified. Its “compassion clause” has become a trapdoor between survival and stigma. A law written to decriminalise poverty now risks criminalising hunger.

Sticker-price justice

The $150 threshold refers to the sticker price, not cost, profit, or inflation-adjusted value. The court looks only at what the goods were advertised for sale at on the day of the offence. If the tag says $149, it is a regulatory fine. If it says $151, it is a criminal charge. A half-price sale can literally reduce your legal exposure.

Lawyers have occasionally argued that “value” should reflect the retailer’s actual loss or profit margin, but the courts have never accepted it. In R v Croft [1981] Qd R 441 and R v Butler [1990] 1 Qd R 601, the Queensland Court of Criminal Appeal confirmed that “value” means the market price at the time and place of the theft. In plain English: the tag, not the ledger.

It is a rule that prizes simplicity over fairness. Sticker-price justice may be administratively tidy, but in a cost-of-living crisis, it feels morally threadbare.

What ‘serious’ really means

Crossing that $150 line is not academic; it changes everything. A regulatory offence under the act is a fine. It does not create a criminal record. You pay, learn, and move on.

A criminal offence under the Code is different. Even if the court imposes no jail time, and it usually does not, you can still walk away with a conviction recorded. That record appears in police checks, visa applications, and blue-card renewals. For professionals, it can alter a career.

For a lawyer, doctor, or accountant, that single conviction must be disclosed to the relevant regulator. The Queensland Law Society, for example, requires practitioners to report any criminal conviction, regardless of penalty. A low-value theft charge can still raise questions of honesty and fitness to practise. In serious cases, it can lead to suspension or refusal of a practising certificate.

Imagine the irony: a young solicitor, short on cash, steals $200 worth of groceries and faces the same disclosure obligations as someone who misappropriates trust money. And yes, a conviction can mean incarceration. While first-time shoplifters rarely serve prison time, repeat offenders or those on probation can.

What was meant as a civil slap on the wrist can still end in custody, because the law’s arithmetic has not moved since 1985.

That is what “serious” really means: not intent, but consequence. Once the figure tips past $150, you move from paperwork to prosecution; from mistake to stigma.

The law that forgot inflation

The $150 ceiling was last amended in the early 1990s, when it was raised from $75. It has never been revisited. Every other government charge, speeding fines, licence fees, stamp duty, quietly climb with CPI. But mercy did not.

The result is a moral absurdity: a law drafted for the price of a television now governs the price of a takeaway dinner. The state adjusts every financial instrument that raises revenue, yet leaves untouched the one that reflects compassion. Inflation applies to punishment, not leniency.

A modest proposal

The solution is simple: index it. Link the $150 threshold to the Consumer Price Index or average weekly earnings. Even a small, scheduled adjustment would restore the balance Parliament intended.

If that had been done routinely, the limit today would sit around $550, realigning harm with consequence. Such a change would cost the state nothing yet reaffirm a basic principle of justice: that punishment should fit both the crime and the times.

The moral of the margin

In 1985, stealing a television was petty.

In 2025, stealing groceries is serious.

The law has not aged; it has fossilised.

Queensland’s $150 threshold is a relic of cassette-tape mercy in a contactless world. It once stood for compassion; now it stands for inertia. Inflation changed everything, except empathy.

Rebecca Ward is an MBA-qualified management consultant with a focus on mental health. She is the managing director of Barristers’ Health, which supports the legal profession through management consulting and psychotherapy. Barristers’ Health was founded in memory of her brother, Steven Ward, LLB.