Three days earlier saw the arrest of Zoe Buhler, a pregnant mother in regional Ballarat, who was handcuffed in her home by Victoria Police -still dressed in her pink pyjamas. The image was jarring: a domestic scene transformed into a demonstration of political power. Her alleged crime? Criticising the government on Facebook and attempting to organise a local rally. The charges were later dropped, confirming that public gatherings were not restricted in her region. Yet a message of zero tolerance towards public dissent had already been sent.
Complicating matters, the Melbourne protest organisers agreed at the last moment to officially cancel the event after the Victorian government promised that its 'Roadmap' to reopening-due for release the following day, Sunday 6 September-would soon end lockdowns, provided the protest was called off. Needless to say, the government reneged on its promise, and this lockdown continued for another 52 days, near to the end of October 2020. In response, all future protests organized by 'Melbourne Freedom Rallies' prominently declared: 'This protest will not be cancelled or postponed.'
The cancellation may have been poorly communicated-or simply ignored. And the dystopian footage of Zoe Buhler's arrest, having gone viral worldwide, handcuffed in her home for a Facebook post, had surely ignited further outrage.
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So: how many would dare show up at the Shrine? If none, it would confirm what Premier Andrews was attempting to make plain-that in this extended crisis, he had assumed total political control, installing himself as emperor over democratic process, science, reason, public dissent, and every aspect of human rights. However to my relief, as seen in video from the live-stream, and also reported through government media, 300 courageous Melburnians arrived in defiance of the Premier's threats, and saved our city from such a fate.
The turning point towards victory
History may not repeat, but it rhymes. At Thermopylae, King Leonidas and his 300 Spartans held the pass for three days before being overwhelmed. Their sacrifice stalled the Persian advance, buying precious time for the Greek city-states to prepare-culminating in the Hellenic victory at Plataea the following year. Yet the true power of Leonidas' defiance lay not in strategy alone, but in symbolic choreography: a performance of resistance designed to inspire. It became legend. The idea that a small band could hold the line against an empire-against overwhelming odds-became a foundational myth of democratic identity.
For the 300 Melbourne rally protesters, the goal of ending lockdowns was not achieved that day-not even close. Continued lockdowns in Victoria persisted well into the winter of 2021. Yet 5 September 2020 marked a turning point in the protest movement's momentum. As with Leonidas at Thermopylae, the outcome was never in doubt-but the meaning lay in the stand itself. What mattered that day was not victory, but the refusal to yield quietly. Melburnians became galvanised. At that site of reckoning, their defiance sparked a movement that could never be cancelled or postponed.
The protest movement swelled, as more and more saw the need to push back against government overreach. Another pivotal moment came on 18 November 2021, when the Herald Sun published an article entitled, Time to put away tear gas, Cops want legal protests. In it, senior officers expressed a preference for facilitating lawful, peaceful demonstrations over continuing their aggressive dispersal tactics-signalling both a tactical shift and a symbolic recalibration in their stance towards protests.
A legend that echoes through the centuries
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Filmmaker Topher Field, known for his 2021 documentary Battleground Melbourne, had been a constant voice at Melbourne's rallies, dating back to the very first, modest anti-lockdown protest on ANZAC Day, 25 April 2020. Now with the tyranny of lockdowns vanquished, the freedoms of speech and assembly regained, on 20 November 2021 at the Flagstaff Gardens in Melbourne, he stood before a sea of patriots stretching beyond sight in every direction-a crowd as vast as Xerxes' army, surpassing even 150,000.
When authority overreaches, when responsible governance devolves into rule by force rather than consent, then duty falls to the people to restore balance. Invoking the timeless moment when free citizens must rise-not in pursuit of power, but in defence of principle, Topher articulates a defiant civic ethic rooted in personal responsibility, inecho of Leonidas' legendary stand:
I along with many courageous Victorians tried to save our city, Melbourne, as it became the most locked down city on earth. Our love of freedom compels us to stand, unbending, no matter the cost.
Daniel Andrews has abused us, threatened us, sent armed agents of the state to some of our homes. And yet, here we stand! Daniel Andrews has arrested us, imprisoned some of us, and sent men to shoot [rubber bullets] at us! And here we stand!
Future generations are watching us. They are reading about this moment in a history book, and they will go to you and they will say, 'What did you do?' I am proud to say that I risked everything. And will accept nothing less than freedom! Freedom for me, freedom for my children, and freedom for us all!