Australia has committed to net zero and, at least on paper, has the solar and wind resources to get most of the way there. The question SBS World News reporter Alexandra Jones goes to answer in Dubbo, New South Wales, is not whether the transition is happening. It clearly is. The question is who it is happening to, and whether the people most directly affected have any real say in how it unfolds.

Dubbo is ground zero

The Central West of New South Wales was designated as Australia's first Renewable Energy Zone, a state government framework that designates specific regions as priority areas for large-scale clean energy investment. The idea is to concentrate infrastructure where the grid connections and land resources make sense, rather than scattering projects randomly. In practice, it means this part of rural New South Wales has become home to some of the largest solar and wind projects in the country in a very short period of time.

The first site in the report is an agrisolar farm running under 64,000 solar panels, where agriculture and electricity generation share the same land. In a flat, sun-drenched region where viable farming is already difficult, the economics of running panels above grazing land or certain low-growing crops can work for both the landholder and the energy company.

Community ownership is real, but not automatic

In Orange, a landmark community cooperative is breaking ground on one of Australia's largest community-owned solar projects. This matters because it is the exception, not the rule. Most large-scale renewable projects are financed and owned by institutional investors or utilities, meaning the revenue from the electricity they generate flows largely out of the region. Community cooperatives change that equation: the returns stay local, and residents have genuine governance over the project.

In a separate development, an Aboriginal Land Council has secured an ownership stake in a major battery storage facility in the region. Researchers cited in the report estimate that if outstanding First Nations land claims were resolved, it could unlock up to 18 times more solar capacity and 22 times more wind energy than is currently accessible in those areas. That is a striking figure, and it frames the land rights question not just as a matter of justice but as a practical constraint on Australia's clean energy potential.

Not everyone is winning

For neighbouring landowners who are not participating in the projects and whose land simply happens to sit near a large solar or wind installation, the picture is less positive. Some report falling property values, a concern that has been raised consistently in rural consultations across Australia and that has not been well addressed by either developers or government policy to date.

A NSW Parliamentary Inquiry into Renewable Energy Zones has acknowledged the human cost of this transition. One of its recommendations is mental health support for affected communities, a signal that the disruption to regional identity and livelihoods is significant enough to require intervention beyond just compensation for landholders directly involved in projects.

The broader point

Australia's clean energy transition is not stalling. The investment is real, the projects are being built, and the country has the geography and solar resource to become a significant clean energy producer. What the Central West story illustrates is that the speed and scale of deployment has outpaced the social and regulatory frameworks needed to share the benefits and manage the costs fairly. Community consultation, First Nations equity, and property value protections are not optional extras. They are the difference between a transition that regional communities support and one they resist. The hardware is going in. The governance still has a way to go.