Is Australia’s gas reservation scheme really aimed at Santos?

by bpckle | Oct 23, 2026 | In the Media

Australia is one of the world’s major exporters of liquefied natural gas (LNG). Yet, there are mounting concerns about whether gas from the east coast gas market will remain available and affordable for ordinary Australians.

The federal government’s proposed Domestic Gas Reservation Scheme aims to address these concerns. It will require LNG exporters to supply gas to domestic customers, helping ensure households, manufacturers and businesses can access enough energy. The laws were introduced to federal parliament on October 14, and are yet to be finalised.

But the scope of this scheme has sparked vigorous debate. A key question is whether the scheme addresses a market-wide problem or places a disproportionate burden on single companies, notably energy giant Santos. Will the scheme unfairly target Santos – or give it unfair benefits?

The government has drafted the laws with exemptions designed to accommodate existing gas contracts. But does this benefit Santos, specifically through its Gladstone LNG project, over other companies?

The challenge for policymakers is to ensure the scheme recognises genuine differences between gas producers, without threatening domestic supply or inflating gas prices.

Santos in the spotlight

Santos is an Australian oil and gas company with several major projects across the country, including the Barossa LNG and Beetaloo Basin gas fields.

Most recently, its LNG plant near Gladstone, Queensland has been thrust into the spotlight. This plant is also home to two other major LNG export facilities: Queensland Curtis LNG operated by Shell and Australia Pacific LNG, a joint venture of Origin Energy and ConocoPhillips.

While these projects have supplied gas to the domestic market, Santos’ Gladstone LNG project has relied on gas purchased from the east coast market. This domestic gas is vital to meeting its export commitments, including long-term LNG contracts with South Korea and Malaysia.

The proposed reservation laws could place a greater commercial burden on Santos, given how much its Gladstone project relies on domestic gas. However, Santos could also avoid the most taxing obligations through potential exemptions for existing LNG contracts and contract extensions.

In a National Press Club address in September, Santos Managing Director and CEO Kevin Gallagher said the government’s efforts to honour existing contracts and support gas investment are “very welcome”. However, he emphasised the need for “clear, transparent rules” rather than “sweeping ministerial discretion”.

Overall, this suite of issues creates a challenge for regulators and raises important questions about how existing contracts should be treated, how exemptions should be applied and how the scheme will ensure all exporters contribute fairly to domestic supply.

Why existing contracts matter

Companies enter long-term agreements on the assumption they can obtain the gas needed to fulfil their commitments. Abruptly changing the rules could expose exporters to substantial costs and damage Australia’s reputation as a reliable trading partner.

The government has previously indicated contracts entered into on or before December 22 2025 would be protected under the reservation framework.

But should contract extensions, which prolong an existing supply agreement beyond its original expiry date, also be protected?

This question is particularly relevant to Santos’ agreement with major South Korean LNG customer KOGAS, which covers roughly 3.5 million tonnes of LNG annually and includes a potential five-year extension from 2030. Critics argue exempting this extension could allow Santos to keep exporting gas without being subjected to any domestic supply obligations well beyond the original contract terms – and potentially with no benefit for Australian consumers.

The scheme’s laws must therefore make clear whether extensions qualify for protection, under what conditions and for how long.

Paper compliance

The scheme will succeed if it compels gas companies to meaningfully contribute to domestic supply – not just appear compliant on paper.

One concern is some contractual arrangements could allow companies to meet their obligations without actually increasing the total volume of gas available to Australian customers.

For example, an exporter might buy gas from another producer under an existing supply agreement. It can then count that transaction towards its reservation obligations, even though the gas was already available to domestic customers.

The government recognises companies should be free to use standard commercial arrangements, including buying gas from other producers, to meet their obligations.

However, the scheme must distinguish between two types of commercial arrangements. Some arrangements deliver additional gas to the domestic market. Others, however, merely change which company is credited with supplying a certain amount of gas but don’t contribute any physical gas to the Australian market.

Attracting investment

LNG exporters operate within a high-cost industry shaped by long-term contracts, expensive infrastructure and international competition. Poorly designed obligations could increase costs and make contracts more complicated, discouraging companies from investing in new gas projects.

Energy heavyweight Shell has warned the proposed reservation scheme could be a “sledgehammer” to future investment, arguing it is too restrictive or could make gas production unprofitable. These concerns are worth considering, particularly given Australia remains dependent on gas peaking plants.

However, the scheme can’t only focus on securing future investment. This would likely lead to broad exemptions that defeat its original purpose.

Measuring true success

The success of the scheme should ultimately be judged on four key factors:

• how much extra gas actually reaches Australian customers

• which exporters receive fewer obligations, and on what grounds

• whether exemptions simply allow companies to export vast volumes of gas without consequence

• whether the scheme improves domestic supply without discouraging investment.

When considering exemptions and reductions, regulators should apply consistent criteria and explain their decisions. They should also monitor whether reported compliance actually translates into more gas for Australian buyers. This information should be made public.

It’s unknown if Santos will face a greater burden because its Gladstone LNG project operates differently. But while economic differences should inform the design of the rules, they should not provide an escape route.

Samantha Hepburn does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

From ‘gentle’ and ‘graceful’ to the ‘cane toad of the sky’: how Australia turned on the common myna

by bpckle | Oct 23, 2026 | In the Media

The common myna is sometimes referred to as “Australia’s most hated bird”. Originally from South and Central Asia, the introduced species from the starling family is abundant, raucous and bold.

Mynas thrive just about everywhere they’ve been introduced, from Taiwan to Mauritius to Florida. In 2000, they made the list of the 100 worst invasive species worldwide compiled by the International Union for Conservation of Nature.

This year, Queensland communities are trying to eradicate these introduced birds. But the same story has been written many times. In 2012, Canberra residents launched their own grassroots efforts to keep myna populations down. In 2004, an ABC article titled “Myna fightback” called for war on the bird.

Mynas – and humans’ efforts to monitor, trap and kill them – make for easy headlines. But there’s a cycle. People notice mynas are in abundance. Community organisations distribute traps. Bounties are offered. Myna numbers appear to decrease. But then people get complacent and the bird bounces back.

Every Australian knows common myna birds are bad, rabbits are worse and feral cats kill native animals unchecked.

But how do we decide what makes an introduced species “good” or “bad” – and will we ever concede that some species are here to stay?

Our new series on invasive species explores these questions.

We don’t know if myna numbers are actually soaring in Queensland, or whether people are simply noticing them more. But my research suggests introduced birds come under more scrutiny at times of anxiety about national identity. Earlier panics over the “immigrant bird” (the red-whiskered bulbul) made it explicit.

It’s too soon to say if similar dynamics are playing out for mynas. But it does raise a question. Is it time to acknowledge mynas are here to stay?

From admiration to loathing

I’m a fifth-generation settler Australian. But the ancestors of the mynas in my suburb were probably here before mine were. They’ve been in Victoria since 1862. In Queensland, they were introduced around Ingham and Townsville in 1883 in the hope they would control locusts and other insects (not unlike the later cane toad).

Attitudes towards mynas have shifted greatly over their 164 year presence in Australia. Though the bird’s ability to eat or damage fruit crops was recognised as early as 1868, its value as an insect eater seemed to balance this out.

Around the turn of the 20th century, birdwatching became a well-organised and popular Australian hobby. The “birdos” of this era often praised the myna.

An anonymous 1886 writer in Sydney’s Globe newspaper described mynas as “dear, gentle, sprightly, and highly amusing”. In 1906, naturalist Charles Barrett described Melbourne’s mynas as “extremely spruce and graceful”.

Even as late as 1971, Alec Chisholm – perhaps Australia’s most revered birdwatcher – wrote in the Sydney Morning Herald:

Obviously, then, this bird from India is now part of the Australian landscape. And it is not, I suggest, an objectionable feature. It does no economic damage, and its assured strutting, combined with its hearty chatter as it forages for insects and scraps in streets and parklands causes it to be regarded as an entertainer

In North Queensland, mynas were accepted much as they were in Melbourne and Sydney. In 1949, an amateur naturalist from the region declared the myna “may be foreign in origin – but he’s Aussie here”.

It was only in the 1970s that public opinion noticeably turned. Hatred for the myna became entrenched in the 1980s and 1990s as part of a broader backlash against what were increasingly called “invasive” species.

The “cheerful” and “dapper” bird was gone. Now it was “bold, arrogant […] and fiercely aggressive”.

Some language bordered on crudely xenophobic. In 1988, a piece in the Canberra Times described a stand of old, native trees as:

housing commission flats for mynahs, with an occasional crimson and eastern rosella occurring in a neighbourhood swamped and dominated and altered by the migrants, a metaphor for the worst fears of those opposed to “Asian” migration

A 1990 piece by the same author described mynas as “invaders” and “foreign bullies”.

Despite the shift in public opinion, it wasn’t until the late 1990s that peer-reviewed research began being published on the effect mynas had on native wildlife.

Researchers found mynas could outcompete native parrots for scarce breeding space. The most high-profile research called mynas “flying cane toads” and the “common thugs of the bird world”.

Here’s the thing. The common myna has certainly expanded its range and numbers over the decades. But the bird hadn’t changed. It looked and behaved the same as it did in the 1860s or the 1940s. What changed was public attitudes, which transformed it from a friendly creature into something malevolent and repulsive.

Here to stay?

Hatred of mynas is now the norm in Australia. But these birds are likely here to stay, no matter how we feel about them. Where trapping programs are common, mynas live in smaller groups and spend more time hiding. The sense trapping is reducing their numbers might be an illusion. Sometimes, in some places, we might be able to eradicate the common myna – but not everywhere.

Even if we do successfully bring myna numbers down, that will not resolve all our ecological issues. Efforts to reduce their numbers by trapping can create a gap which can be filled by the noisy miner. While this bird is a native honeyeater, it can also drive more vulnerable species away from dwindling habitat. There’s a risk of swapping one “problem” species for another.

As an environmental historian, I worry many people who are passionate about native wildlife are wasting their energy and talents fighting an unwinnable war. But I can also understand the desire to cull mynas.

Humans grow attached to the places we live. We tend not to like it when our places change around us – even when change comes in the form of a bird. Of course, some ecological changes do represent a crisis – but not all. Sometimes, the best response is to sit back, observe and hope for a new equilibrium to emerge.

Simon Farley does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.