Should Tasmania engage with Victoria?

A radical thought to bring the two southern most states together in matrimony.

Here’s a thought that might make a few heads turn, and perhaps some jaws drop. What if we, as Tasmania, just called it?

For too long, we’ve watched our beautiful state struggle. The statistics speak for themselves: some of the worst health outcomes in the country, the lowest wages, an aging population, concerning education results, and a disheartening rate of our bright young people leaving for greener pastures.

Our state parliament often feels bloated and, frankly, broken. We have 29 local councils for a population of just over half a million people, and we send 12 senators to Canberra. Twelve (can you name them without googling?).

For what, exactly, when compared to states many times our size?

Meanwhile, just across Bass Strait, Victoria is larger, wealthier, younger, and, arguably, better at pretending to function. They have their challenges, of course, but at least they seem to have the resources to grapple with them.

So, here’s the “rotten apple” of an idea: What if Tasmania became part of Victoria?

I’m not talking about becoming a colony or a pity project. I’m talking about a full, constitutional merger. One government. One set of laws. One budget. And yes, one shared pool of senators. A bigger voice in Canberra, but a smaller local soapbox that’s perhaps less prone to infighting and more focused on genuine outcomes.

The practical bit: Stripping back for strength

Imagine the structural changes:

• Abolish the Tasmanian Parliament. This might sound drastic, but consider: 35 MPs in the Lower House, 15 in the Upper, often seemingly caught in a cycle of blame rather than action. If these individuals genuinely want to serve, their energy could be directed into genuinely impactful roles within new regional councils.
• Ditch the 29 councils. Replace them with perhaps five regional governments, aligned with our federal electorates: Bass, Braddon, Lyons, Franklin, and Clark. These would be large enough to wield real influence on critical issues like roads, waste management, housing, and local health services, yet still close enough to the community to understand local needs. This isn’t about press conferences; it’s about practical governance.
• Join Victoria in the Senate pool. Instead of an outsized 12 Tasmanian senators (the same as NSW, astonishingly), our politicians would need to earn their seats in a combined Victoria-Tasmania block. This would force a proper contest of ideas and policy, rather than allowing small vote counts to secure disproportionate mandates.
• Shared services and savings. Health, education, infrastructure, imagine the efficiencies and scale that could be achieved by running these jointly with a larger state. Less duplication, more direct delivery for citizens.

And, Tammy, you would still stand and win for senate by getting the local Tassie votes, as the main parties ruthless cull the deadwood among their senatorial ranks.

The emotional bit: Letting go for a better future

Yes, we’d lose something. Our distinct flag, our Premier, our idiosyncratic charm. But we’d also lose the unsustainable fiction that Tasmania, alone, can afford to keep pretending it’s a fully functional, self-sufficient state in every domain.

And we’d gain something far more valuable: a future where decisions are made by capacity and strategic vision, not by lingering nostalgia or political convenience. A future where our young people don’t have to choose between leaving their home state and languishing due to limited opportunities. Where local government means real, tangible governance, not just parochial pageantry.

We could stop being the “poor cousin” and start being a robust, integrated part of something larger that truly works.

The political bit: The elephant in the room

Of course, in the current climate, this idea will likely never happen. Too many politicians would lose their comfortable positions. Too many mayors would lose their chains of office. Too many senators would lose their lifetime flights and perks. Every vested interest would scream bloody murder.

But don’t mistake impossibility for stupidity. This isn’t about surrender or losing our identity. It’s about scale. It’s about recognising that a state with fewer people than Newcastle might genuinely be better off as part of something larger, more resilient, and more economically diverse.

So go ahead. Call it radical. Call it treason. Call it Victorian if you must.

But deep down, I urge you to ask yourself: Would we actually be worse off? Or just a little less proud, and a whole lot more functional?