From a simple idea to a city-wide business community

There is a history behind Business Greater Hobart that has never really been told.

Today, people see an established organisation advocating for businesses, appearing in the media, taking positions on issues affecting the city and, more recently, celebrating the achievements of Greater Hobart's small businesses.

But it did not begin that way.

It began with a fairly simple belief held by accountant and small-business owner Louise Bloomfield: Greater Hobart's small businesses needed a stronger local voice.

Turning that belief into an organisation proved much harder than expected.

The idea of a new chamber

Louise's first thought was not to create a completely new organisation.

Hobart had historically had a Chamber of Commerce, and she initially explored whether there was a way to take that organisation forward. At the time, however, its ownership and control arrangements meant she was unable to negotiate a workable path.

So she began exploring the possibility of establishing a new chamber.

That sounded straightforward.

It wasn't.

One of the first obstacles was discovering that even the word "chamber" was protected and that approval was required to establish a new organisation using it.

Finding a clear path through that approval process was surprisingly difficult. There followed a long period of questions, discussions and attempts to determine what form a new Greater Hobart business organisation might take.

Senator Eric Abetz provided guidance and encouragement while the possibilities were being explored.

Madeleine Ogilvie also played an important role in those early discussions. She sat down with Louise and helped work through how the concept might actually become something practical.

There is, after all, an enormous difference between saying Greater Hobart should have a stronger local business voice and answering the much harder question:

How do you actually build one?

Several models were considered.

Louise met with people including Bob Gozzi, who was enthusiastic about becoming involved in the early stages.

There were also discussions with the Tasmanian Chamber of Commerce and Industry about whether a Greater Hobart body could sit within a broader TCCI structure, potentially operating as a dedicated regional committee with its own leadership.

For a time, it appeared that a workable model might emerge.

Then COVID arrived.

COVID changed everything

Almost overnight, priorities changed completely.

Businesses closed. People were confined to their homes. Governments redirected enormous resources towards keeping businesses, workers and households afloat.

Plans that had seemed possible only weeks earlier disappeared.

When the world began opening again, the funding and organisational opportunities that had previously been discussed were no longer available.

Louise was effectively back where she had started.

On her own.

At that point, she made the decision that if Greater Hobart was going to have an independent business organisation, she would simply have to build it.

The Confederation of Greater Hobart Business

If establishing another organisation using the word "chamber" was going to be unnecessarily difficult, then a different approach was needed.

The solution was a unique name:

The Confederation of Greater Hobart Business.

But a name alone did not create an organisation.

It needed structure.

It needed governance.

And it needed a constitution.

Louise wanted the new organisation to retain the traditional purpose and intent of a chamber of commerce while being designed for the modern world.

She had access to two constitutions.

One was an original chamber constitution dating back approximately 76 years.

The other was a modern constitution only a few years old.

The older document was particularly valuable because it captured the original intent of a chamber — what such an organisation existed to do, whom it represented and the principles upon which it operated.

The newer document showed how those principles could function in a contemporary regulatory and technological environment.

Louise worked from both.

Her aim was to preserve the fundamentals while ensuring the new organisation could operate in ways an older chamber could never have contemplated, including allowing people to participate in meetings through technologies such as Zoom rather than requiring every meeting to be held face-to-face.

Once the structure had been developed, Louise engaged a law firm, at her own expense, to properly construct and review the constitution.

The intention was to establish something lawful, robust and capable of surviving well beyond its founder.

That cost money.

In fact, almost every stage of establishing the organisation cost money.

And very little of it came from anywhere other than those building it.

Independence had a price

There is another important part of the organisation's early history.

Private financial support was offered.

At different times, funding worth thousands of dollars was available to the new organisation.

For a group operating on very little money, it would have made a substantial difference.

But some of that support came with a condition.

Louise would have been required to provide the University of Tasmania with representation on the board.

She declined.

It was not a decision made lightly.

The organisation needed money badly.

But Louise did not believe that a major institution should receive a guaranteed position governing an organisation established to represent small business in exchange for financial support.

At the time, the debate surrounding the University's proposed move into central Hobart was particularly intense, and the Save UTAS campaign was highly active.

Businesses held strong and differing views about the issue.

Louise believed the Confederation needed to remain able to represent those businesses independently.

UTAS was also a major institution rather than a small-business operator, and she did not believe guaranteed board representation reflected the constituency the organisation had been created to serve.

So the funding was refused.

That decision had consequences.

Rooms still needed to be hired.

Catering still had to be paid for.

Legal fees still had to be met.

Websites, events, meetings, printing and administration still cost money.

From the beginning, the organisation also deliberately avoided becoming dependent on government grants.

The assistance it did receive was largely practical in nature, such as support or discounted venue hire through council.

The Confederation was not designed around continually applying for government funding.

There was a reason for that.

An organisation established to advocate to government sometimes has to tell government that it has got something wrong.

It needed to be able to do that without wondering whether tomorrow's funding depended upon today's silence.

Nobody owned its voice.

The launch

Eventually, the Confederation was ready to launch.

The event was held at the Pavilion, with support from the Hobart City Council.

It was a large and exciting gathering.

Politicians attended alongside a substantial number of small-business owners.

The usual format for an event of that type would have been predictable.

Politicians would make speeches.

Everyone else would listen.

Speeches had indeed been planned.

Then Louise made a last-minute decision that captured exactly what the new organisation was supposed to represent.

If the Confederation had been created because small businesses were not being heard strongly enough, why should its first major event consist of people who already had public platforms doing all the talking?

So the format was turned around.

Instead of giving the microphone to the politicians, it was given to the business owners.

Small-business operators were invited to stand, tell the room who they were, explain what they did and put a face to their business.

It became one of the defining moments in the organisation's history.

The Confederation had not been created so that people who already had a platform could have another one.

It had been created to shine a light on those who usually did not.

The microphone belonged to them.

Then came the hard work

Launching an organisation is exciting.

Keeping one operating week after week is considerably less glamorous.

Louise made a commitment that members would have access to regular meetings without having to pay another fee every time they attended.

Membership was deliberately inexpensive, at around $55, because the Confederation was not intended to be an exclusive business club.

It was meant to be accessible to the very small businesses it sought to represent.

Meetings were held across Greater Hobart.

In Hobart.

In Glenorchy.

In Kingborough.

In Clarence.

To this day Greater Hobart Business still holds monthly meetings for members.

Each week brought another venue, another speaker, more catering, promotion, administration, setting up and packing down.

Louise and her husband, Paul, undertook much of that work themselves.

There were venue costs.

There were catering costs.

There were countless smaller costs associated with establishing and sustaining a new organisation.

By Louise's calculation, the exercise ultimately left her around $10,000 personally out of pocket, without attempting to place a value on the enormous number of unpaid hours involved.

But the Confederation had never been intended as a money-making exercise.

That was not why it existed.

Sometimes people just needed somebody to listen

COVID made the organisation's purpose even more important.

There was enormous and understandable attention on employees who had lost work.

But behind many businesses was an owner who had invested everything.

Their savings.

Their house.

Their reputation.

Their family livelihood.

For some, their entire sense of identity was tied to a business that suddenly could not operate normally.

Louise became particularly concerned about mental health and suicide among business owners during and after COVID.

That concern helped shape the Confederation.

Sometimes people did not need another seminar.

They did not necessarily need someone telling them how to run their business.

Sometimes they simply needed somewhere to sit with other business owners and say:

"This is happening to me."

And discover that someone else understood.

They could talk.

They could vent.

They could ask questions.

They could discover that the problems they were experiencing were not theirs alone.

Most importantly, they could be heard without judgement.

That became one of the most valuable functions of the organisation.

Advocacy began producing results

As the membership and network grew, the Confederation also began advocating collectively.

During the COVID period, a business support grant became available with a turnover threshold that the organisation believed excluded some of the smallest businesses — often the very people with the least capacity to absorb the financial impact of the pandemic.

The Confederation advocated for that threshold to be lowered.

Ultimately, businesses with turnover as low as around $20,000 were able to access support.

From the perspective of a government budget, such businesses may appear tiny.

But that misses what small business often looks like in the real world.

For the person operating that business, government assistance could determine whether bills were paid.

It could determine whether food went on the table.

Small business really can mean small business.

Those operators deserved representation too.

Slowly, the doors began opening

Over time, something began to change.

People knew who the Confederation was.

It no longer had to explain itself from the beginning every time it entered a room.

Louise was able to join council-related community and stakeholder groups where she could speak directly about the experiences of business operators.

She also became involved in retail safety discussions, taking the concerns of shopkeepers directly into those conversations.

The TCCI provided support through various areas of representation.

Gradually, the Confederation became an organisation people contacted.

Council recognised it.

State Government recognised it.

The media recognised it.

When journalists wanted to understand what was happening to local businesses, the Confederation became one of the organisations they could approach.

That was an important transition.

Tasmania already had established statewide business organisations.

But there remained a regional gap.

The concerns of a shopkeeper in Hobart or Moonah could be very different from those of a business elsewhere in Tasmania.

Parking, street changes, safety, planning, development, traffic and council policy could all have intensely local consequences.

It was neither fair nor realistic to expect statewide organisations to fight every local battle.

Greater Hobart needed a genuinely regional voice.

The Confederation was becoming that voice.

Other organisations came with it

Another important development occurred when the Moonah and Glenorchy business association was winding up.

Rather than allowing everything it had built to simply disappear, the organisation chose to merge what remained with the Confederation.

Its residual funds were transferred across and helped support the organisation for a period.

It was a significant moment.

One piece of Greater Hobart's existing business history had effectively entrusted its remaining legacy to this newer organisation.

The Confederation was no longer simply an idea being tested.

It was beginning to become part of the region's business infrastructure.

Louise's election changed the organisation again

In 2022, Louise was elected to the Hobart City Council.

In one sense, it was a natural continuation of the work she had already been doing.

For years she had been attempting to carry the concerns of businesses into places where decisions were made.

She was now sitting at one of those decision-making tables herself.

But there was a practical reality.

Louise still had an accounting practice to run.

Council brought with it a substantial workload.

And the Confederation had already required years of considerable unpaid effort.

It was no longer realistic for her to continue driving the organisation at the same level.

The Confederation needed someone who understood what it was trying to achieve but was also willing to take responsibility for its next stage.

That person was Edwin Johnstone.

Edwin Johnstone

Louise had first come to know Edwin through his advocacy around Hobart parking.

Edwin had previously taken up a parking petition after seeing that sections of the community were unhappy with the way parking policy was being handled.

Whether a petition ultimately produces every result its organisers hope for is not always the best measure of the work involved.

What mattered was that Edwin had seen an issue, recognised public concern and been prepared to do something about it.

Anyone who has organised a petition knows the work involved.

Talking to people.

Explaining the issue.

Gathering signatures.

Following up.

Maintaining momentum.

Dealing with criticism.

And doing a very large amount of unpaid work.

Edwin had already demonstrated that he was prepared to do that.

He had also stood as a candidate in the same election in which Louise was elected.

His approach to small-business advocacy was strongly aligned with the purpose of the Confederation.

Over time, Louise persuaded him to take over the organisation.

She was enormously grateful that he did.

Importantly, Edwin did not simply preserve the organisation exactly as he inherited it.

He changed it.

The branding evolved.

The website was improved.

The presentation became more professional.

Eventually, the Confederation of Greater Hobart Business became the much simpler:

Business Greater Hobart.

That evolution was important.

An organisation built around one individual can disappear when that person leaves.

This one had demonstrated that it could continue, change and grow under new leadership.

Collins Street

The Collins Street debate became one of the clearest demonstrations of that next stage.

In many ways, it was an extension of the type of advocacy Edwin had already undertaken through his earlier parking work.

Businesses were concerned about the proposed changes.

Business Greater Hobart became heavily involved.

Edwin spoke directly with traders.

Petitions were organised.

People along the street were approached.

Louise worked alongside him, as did others, including elected members who shared concerns about both the proposal and the consultation surrounding it.

Eventually the petition attracted sufficient support to trigger a public meeting.

Securing that meeting was itself a significant achievement.

Council had already experienced a difficult large public meeting during the UTAS debate, and there was understandable concern about how another highly contentious gathering would be managed.

The Collins Street meeting was therefore tightly structured.

It was also passionate.

People attended from both sides of the debate.

There was a substantial pro-cycling contingent, including people from outside the immediate Collins Street area who cared strongly about the broader issue.

At times the atmosphere became unpleasant.

Some speakers were laughed at.

People on both sides held very strong views.

Ultimately, the vote in the room went in favour of the cycling position.

Those opposing the project did not win that particular battle.

Later, as incidents and accidents associated with the changed street environment became part of the continuing debate, concerns about the project did not disappear.

But something else had happened that was arguably more important to the history of Business Greater Hobart.

The organisation had arrived

Before Collins Street, the Confederation had been gradually earning recognition.

After Collins Street, there could be little doubt that it had developed into an organisation capable of undertaking substantial public advocacy.

It could talk directly to traders.

It could organise petitions.

It could generate media attention.

It could gather and examine information.

It could mobilise people.

And it could cause a major civic issue to be formally debated before a packed public meeting.

That represented a significant change.

The organisation had moved from asking to be heard to demonstrating that it could make itself heard.

Edwin also emerged more strongly through that process as a public advocate in his own right.

Louise had spent years getting the Confederation to the point where people would invite it into the room.

Under Edwin, Business Greater Hobart demonstrated that it could knock on the door itself.

That was another important stage in its development.

From advocacy to celebration

Then came another milestone.

Business Greater Hobart held its first major small-business awards night.

For those who had been involved since the beginning, it represented something much larger than a single event.

The organisation had begun with business owners coming together during extraordinarily difficult times simply to talk to one another.

It became an advocate.

It became a recognised stakeholder.

It became capable of mounting substantial public campaigns.

And now it had developed the capacity to do something else.

Celebrate business.

That matters.

Small-business owners spend much of their working lives dealing with problems.

Staffing.

Rent.

Rates.

Insurance.

Tax.

Compliance.

Stock.

Customers.

Cash flow.

The phone ringing when they do not want it to, and failing to ring when they desperately need it to.

There are relatively few occasions when somebody stops and says:

"You built something."

You took a risk.

You created a job.

You served your community.

You kept going when it would have been easier to stop.

You succeeded.

That deserves recognition.

The awards represented another step in the maturation of Business Greater Hobart.

It was no longer simply helping businesses survive or making sure they were heard.

It was helping them take pride in what they had achieved.

Why it was built

Looking back, the organisation required an extraordinary amount of blood, sweat and tears.

Louise, Edwin and Paul could have done many easier things with the money they invested.

The thousands of unpaid hours could have been spent elsewhere.

Edwin could undoubtedly say the same of the work that followed.

But community organisations often begin in exactly this way.

Somebody looks around, sees something missing and asks:

If we don't do something, who will?

That is the central story of the Confederation of Greater Hobart Business.

Louise saw businesses she believed were not being heard strongly enough.

Edwin later saw issues where he believed somebody needed to stand up and speak.

Neither position required every businessperson to agree.

That was never the point.

The point was that businesses should have the opportunity to be heard.

The need for that type of advocacy remains.

Strongly held ideas can sometimes find their way into public policy without enough effort being made to determine whether they genuinely reflect the experience of the people who will have to live with them.

That is not inherently a left-wing problem or a right-wing problem.

It is often a consultation problem.

Good government should be able to listen to people with whom it disagrees.

And good advocacy organisations should make sure those people cannot simply be overlooked.

Perhaps there will come a day when council consultation becomes so effective that organisations such as Business Greater Hobart rarely need to fight those battles.

That would be a good outcome.

But even then, the organisation would still have an important role.

Bringing businesses together.

Building relationships.

Providing leadership.

Supporting people when times are difficult.

And celebrating them when things go right.

The microphone still belongs to them

Business Greater Hobart today is different from the organisation first imagined by Louise Bloomfield.

It should be.

The name has changed.

The branding has changed.

The leadership has changed.

Its capacity has grown.

But its original purpose can still be found in that first launch at the Pavilion.

A room full of politicians and small-business owners.

A program that could easily have consisted of the people with the most power making speeches.

And a decision instead to put the microphone into the hands of the people the organisation had been created to represent.

That is where it began.

Not with substantial government funding.

Not with a large institution owning or directing it.

Not because somebody handed its founders a ready-made organisation.

It began with an idea, two constitutions, some people prepared to help, a substantial amount of private money and an even greater amount of unpaid time.

Above all, it began with a conviction that Greater Hobart's small-business people deserved a voice of their own.

Years later, despite all that has changed, the simplest explanation of its purpose remains the best.

The microphone belongs to them.

It always did.