Until we care enough to intervene, Australia will remain a country where our very comfort will continue to blind us to our housing problems, writes Adam Abbasi-Sacca.
I live on a leafy street in Sydney’s inner west, opposite quite a large park.
Dreamy, right? Wrong.
In the past year, the street has become home to every type of Winnebago possible. I pass this town of campervans and car live-ins on my commute to work, and say goodnight to them through my bedroom window before I fall asleep.
Some of these vehicles are unregistered. A few haven’t moved in a year (the grass beneath them has stopped growing from lack of sunlight and rainfall). Some have notices taped onto them, or markings from where those notices have been ripped off. Others are registered and move after four to five weeks… eventually returning.
And without glamorising the situation, it can be frustrating. Especially for those paying exorbitantly high rent or mortgages, year on year, for basic accommodation in this city.
This had me thinking: is it even legal to live in your car on Sydney’s streets?
As it turns out, it generally is.
The NSW Local Government Act does not prohibit sleeping or living in a vehicle, provided the car is parked legally. In general terms, the same applies in ACT and Victoria, although some councils are tightening by-laws to curb long-term vehicle dwellers. It is also legal in Western Australia, South Australia, and Tasmania, albeit there are restrictions for areas like parks, reserves and beaches.
Only Queensland, under the City of Brisbane Act, makes it illegal unless you’re at a designated campsite.
So, unless you’re a Queenslander, it appears you’re generally in the clear. (Like my newly found neighbours.)
Curious, I decided to call my local council about the situation. They advised that I was one of several residents who contacted them about this particular incident. But they said it was “complicated”; coordination with other state government departments was required. When I asked what they were doing about it, they suggested I contact the police.
I did. The constable laughed.
He said this wasn’t a police matter unless the vehicles were unregistered or breaking the law in some way. “That’s a council issue, why’d they tell you to call us?” he said.
Ah, we love a grey area.
Those sleeping in their vehicles must know it too. Every few weeks, the number of vans seems to grow because they know no one’s really enforcing anything. No matter how socially displeasing it is.
Admittedly, my initial reaction to my new neighbours was frustration. I’m not proud of that. But the longer I sat with it, I was slapped in the face by my own privilege.
Cost-of-living pressures across all states in this country have pushed Aussies to the edge. If you’ve lived in your car for over a year (not as a traveller saving on accommodation, but as a local with no better option), then it’s safe to assume your circumstances aren’t great.
The social isolation, stigma and lack of access to facilities – none of that is dreamy.
So I called the council again with a different question: “What kind of support are you offering these people?”
The response was disappointing.
Unless someone explicitly consents to receive help, there is not much they can do to intervene. A one-time outreach visit every few months is apparently the extent of it.
Is that really enough? Of course not.
Many people living like this are not asking for help. This can be due to pride, shame and mental health struggles (to name a few reasons). Leaving this “grey area” unchecked for extended periods of time just further disconnects people from the communities they’ve already slipped away from.
Clearly, viewing this reality made me uncomfortable. It just took me to write this to understand that my feeling is based on the social divide highlighted by these vehicle-residences. What does it mean to be a wealthy country (with a sufficient level of taxation compliance) if we can’t direct meaningful resources towards those sleeping rough in plain sight?
Because when we shift the lens from our privileged inconvenience to inquiry (and from annoyance to accountability), it becomes clear this isn’t just about parking or overstaying.
It’s about being overlooked.
How easily everyday Australians can fall through the cracks, and how slowly we respond when they do.
We don’t need any more nights hiding behind grey areas and bureaucracy; we need clearer compassion, regular follow-ups, and to better utilise resources that are funding existing systems.
Until we care enough to intervene, Australia will remain a country where our very comfort will continue to blind us to the crisis happening right outside our bedroom window.
Adam Abbasi-Sacca is an Iranian-Italian Australian freelance writer and commentator, as well as an ex-legal eagle with a background in policy and international affairs. Contact on Instagram via @adamabbasi_ or TikTok @adamfromaustralia.
