This article was published in Lot's Wife on 18/10/2010
In any emotional political debate, you can't go too far without encountering a reductive popular mantra. Abortion is no exception, and "If you don't want an abortion, don't have one" must surely take the cake.
Of course, it's all too easy to shoot down. An ideological statement like "If you don't agree with process x occurring freely in society, then don't participate in it" is enough to make even the most ardent libertarian blush, and the implication that one should only look after one's own affairs is kind of disturbing for anybody with a semblance of social conscience.
All the same, this isn't some lazy attempt to create a straw-person argument. The reason this quote is cited is to examine a particular mentality that pervades many areas of the pro-legalisation argument: namely, the framing of abortion as a primarily, even exclusively feminist issue. The subtext is simple: "Men, steer well clear of this one".
There are reasons why such attitudes have proven so popular. You don't need to major in Gender Studies to comprehend why abortion was so historically central to the women's rights movements of the '60s and '70s. It was the ultimate battleground: the female right to physical self-determination against the paternalistic morality of the (still heavily religiously-informed) patriarchal state. Yet, it's simultaneously important to acknowledge how much things have changed in the intervening time period.
This is not to say that the fight for gender equality is over. Still, the dynamic has shifted. When the placards are laid to rest, the fact remains that abortion is still a difficult moral and ethical question that has never really been satisfactorily resolved. It's a grey area, and many males choose to abstain from commenting under the pretext that their gender has no role in the debate; or else, they are happy to leave the ultimate decision in the hands of the mother in each individual case. This is a noble and well-meaning position, but it's misguided. Laws exist for a reason, and it is the role of all adult members of society to decide what those laws should be. Abortion is no exception. Unless one has no problem with the theoretical concept of legalised full-term termination, there needs to be an acceptance that some sort of regulation must exist.
This is where the persistent framing of the abortion debate as a purely feminist issue becomes a major flaw, and one that significantly affects the parameters that many allow the debate to operate within. Some people simply have legitimate concerns about abortion, and it's pretty silly to paint their opinion as some kind of relic of antiquated sexist ideas about female free will and rationality. This is why glib lines like "If you don't want an abortion, don't have one" don't add anything to the debate; it is, of course, entirely possible for men to have a serious intellectual or ethical concern over the issue. To strip them of their opinion because of, say, their incapability of experiencing pregnancy, is little more than a debate-stifling exercise that, in any case, misses the point.
Beyond all the emotion, it is possible to present the debate in relatively rational terms: that is, the right to biological autonomy of an adult human being against the right to life of a developing human foetus. It is widely accepted that an adult person's rights are more important than that of the foetus, but simultaneously it is reasonable to assume that the right to existence is, in its basic principles, a more fundamental right than the right to physical freedom (as the latter right is incorporated within the former). Pregnancy, by definition, entails a situation where a right to autonomy is in direct conflict with a right to life. To make matters more complex, the foetus is in a constant stage of development; during which, theoretically, its rights grow increasingly in relevance (although some might justifiably question why this ‘right to life increasing in proportion to development’ assumption does not apply in law after birth, through infancy and childhood). Nevertheless, the generally accepted status quo in most Western states is that at a certain stage of the development of the foetus (about 20-24 weeks), its right to life becomes a factor; a substantial enough concern for it to impose, in some ways, on the adult woman’s basic right to biological freedom. This basic conclusion is actually implicitly disputed by much in the way of pro-choice rhetoric: after all, “Get your laws off my body” is, by its very nature, a rejection of abortion legislation altogether. In such cases, the point is clearly made: until the child draws breath, the rights of only one body are of concern - that is, the right of the mother to have freedom over her own biological processes.
And yet, nobody really disputes that latter right. From humanist objectors to clinic-picketing Christian fundamentalists, it is difficult to seriously characterise the contemporary pro-life stance as being about an attempt to deprive adult women of the right to control what happens to their bodies. Indeed, it seems quite clear that the primary concern of the anti-abortion movement is the foetus itself, and the belief that its humanity (or potential humanity) ought to grant it some kind of right to existence under law. If we accept that this is the case, then the perceived rights (or lack thereof) of the foetus is the only significant variant between a hard-line pro-life and hard-line pro-choice position. This makes sense – after all, if one were to accept that the foetus were in some sense a human being possessing some of the rights that entails, one would have to conclude that abortion was at the very least ethically problematic. Once the historical and ideological baggage is removed from the argument, its essence is clear: the only logical conclusion is to re-frame the abortion debate as an issue of human rights and interpretations of personhood.
Ideal abortion legislation hinges on this realisation. Perhaps the abortion law reforms of the late 20th century gave us the best possible legislation; perhaps they didn't even go far enough. Whatever the case, the debate continues - and it's one that we all have a stake in.
A day like most: waking up, going to work, eating lunch, going home. Such mundanities offer a ritualised structure, ensuring protection from the dangers of thought or self-analysis.
I don't love you any more. Why am I unable to tell you? Why do I keep up this charade? Why imprison myself when emancipation is just a few words away?
I have many tools of self-enslavement, and I call on them. Distraction, duty, anything.
Chadstone to Sunshine: A Brief History of My International Adventures (2/5/10)
This piece was published in Esperanto on 1/6/2010
I’ve never been overseas. As a born and bred Canberran, a trip to the Gungahlin Library was the equivalent of a Contiki tour; a visit to the rugged surroundings of Tuggeranong Hill like a weekend in Nepal. Thus, it is understandable that I greeted my first unchaperoned trip to Melbourne with the kind of excitement not matched since some guy didn’t have a gun in his pocket. At the tender age of 15, with the harmonious strains of Linkin Park tinkling from my Portable CD Player, I embarked in Melbourne with one plan in mind: to go to Chadstone food court and eat a potato cake – they’re called scallops up in Canberra, you see – whilst checking out all of the interesting things that my life savings of $35.70 would never be able to afford. This pilgrimage having been concluded, I found myself with a whole week to spare in Melbourne and nothing to do. In reality, there were plenty of things I could have done. Visit Luna Park, for instance; go to the footy and hone my heckling skills; even hang out on the steps of Flinders St. Station and talk to goths about Siouxsie Sioux. But no, I had loftier goals in mind. Having visited one obscenely large shopping centre, a red-blooded heterosexual teenage male urge within me had been awakened: I needed to go to an even bigger one. There was another, I had been told, far beyond my vague south-easterly bearings: a magical shopping land located in the barely pronounceable suburb of Maribyrnong. Highpoint had summoned me, and I felt compelled to answer the call. How I got there, I’m not sure. But what I do remember is the revelation that slowly dawned on me: shopping centres aren’t that great. Actually, they’re horribly boring, and most of the unhappy, lifeless people there just wanted to get out as soon as possible. I found myself loitering amongst a nightmarish cluster of indistinguishable shops, punctuated by a legion of dismal spruikers urging me to try beauty products. It was 4:30 PM, and I could feel the awful hollowness of the soon-to-be-abandoned shopping complex closing in on me. Furthermore, Chadstone was totally bigger. I had to escape, and find my way back to the comfortable semi-familiarity of Oakleigh East. In an ingenious moment of idiocy, I managed to accidentally catch a bus to Sunshine Railway Station. As I sat on the cold, empty platform watching the V-Line trains amble past, I distinctly recall a couple of thoughts crossing my mind: firstly, that Sunshine was a really stupid name for a suburb; and, secondly, that perhaps these feelings of loneliness, vulnerability and embarrassment were all, in some way, essential aspects of travelling. I am certain that this experience shall put me in good stead for any future international exploits - after all, what dangers can foreign lands hold for me now? Provided I stay away from public transport, shopping malls, poorly-cooked potato cakes and Linkin Park, I imagine that my first trip overseas will be a resounding success. All I need is to work out how to get to Melbourne airport.
It is possible that there is no more reviled member of society than the paedophile. In the tabloid media, epithets such as ‘monster’ or ‘animal’ are considered acceptable parlance for describing such a being. On Facebook, a group with a membership of 182,901 asks why scientists don’t experiment on convicted paedophiles, as opposed to animals. Such pages allow users an opportunity to suggest creative methods in which a paedophile might be brutally tortured, and many oblige. Clearly, in the view of a significant proportion of society, the death penalty is the least that child molesters ought to face.
It’s not surprising that child sex abuse provokes this kind of rage. Some of the responses, however, perhaps ought to be. It is disturbing to see that some are so content to advocate the death penalty (and worse) for child molesters, particularly given the fact that Australia has not employed capital punishment for over 40 years. What seems clear is that such people are yet to come to grips with why that form of sentencing has been abandoned.
Humans are capable of doing horrible things to each other. That is far from a recent phenomenon. A far newer development is that some societies, in full awareness of this fact, have begun viewing the death penalty as essentially barbaric and inhumane and altered their laws accordingly. There is no way of getting around this: to call for the death penalty for child sex offenders is reactionary and shockingly regressive, and a symptom of the largely unconstructive discussion that makes up public discourse on paedophilia.
Even the terminology is flawed. A paedophile, correctly defined, is an adult who is sexually attracted to children. That this term is also employed by the media and the wider public to refer to somebody who sexually abuses children is problematic in the extreme, as it asserts an equivalence that, logically, cannot exist. If one must feel a sexual urge towards a child or children in order to commit an act of sex abuse, common sense dictates that at least some who feel that desire will not act on it.To argue otherwise is tantamount to asserting that all men are rapists, and ignores the powerful inhibition, guilt and compassion reflexes that inform much in the way of human behaviour.
Australian law isn’t so clear on the distinction, either. Child pornography legislation, as it stands, severely punishes the viewer; essentially, it punishes paedophiles for being paedophiles. The exploitation and abuse that are central to the production of child pornography make its illegality vital; nevertheless, the hefty penalties inflicted on those who are found with such material in their possession are disproportionate.
How, then, should paedophiles and child sex offenders be viewed by society? A good start might be to establish why and how paedophilia originates. Astoundingly, such information is highly inconclusive. Several theories abound: that it is a result of unhealthy exposure to sex at a young age (e.g. through abuse); that it is a pre-determined sexual orientation; or that it is a mental disorder related to developmental difficulties. It is possible that some or all of these are factors, but the result is clear: through no choice of their own, whether as a result of biology, socialisation or both, some people at some stage find themselves sexually attracted to children.
The manner in which society deals with this fact is, to say the least, deeply defective. Paedophilia is stigmatised to the extent that few support services exist to assist those who feel such urges, and treatment is only offered to those who have already offended. Unsurprisingly, many of those who are captured and then released into the community go on to re-offend; unsurprising, because the vast majority of the data being collected on paedophilia is being taken from people who had the predisposition to act on their impulses in the first place - it is on this skewed information that treatment is being based. No wonder that paedophilia, like most criminal tendencies, is (probably erroneously) associated with lower levels of compassion and empathy; no wonder that it is such a little understood condition as a whole. Comprehensive study of paedophilia is going to remain out of reach until non-offending paedophiles allow themselves to be examined psychologically, and whilst the media continue to promote vigilantism and hysteria, this is extremely unlikely to happen. Likewise, without appropriate counselling, the paedophile is considerably more likely to turn to other paedophiles for support through sexual-desire based frameworks such as chat-rooms and P2P networking, and thus pave the way for their own future sexual offences. It’s not an ideal situation by any standard, and, while police may be becoming increasingly adept at catching offenders, the problem is not being addressed at its root; as a result, child sex abuse continues more or less unabated.
We live in a human society. For that society to be progressive, humanist paradigms are necessary; paradigms that extend even to those who break social order and harm others. Paedophiles are people too – sick people, in the literal sense of the term, who need to be treated as such. If we are serious about protecting children from sexual abuse, it is critical that greater understanding and openness replace the mindless vilification that dominates discourse on paedophilia.
This is kind of old news now, but for people who have been living under a rock, comedian Catherine Deveny was fired from The Age a week ago over her twitter 'commentary' during that ridiculous homage to B-grade 'celebrity', the Logies.
During her 'commentary' (which, true to form, was a piss-take from start to finish), she wrote "I so do hope Bindi Irwin gets laid" and, later, "Rove and Tasma look so cute ... hope she doesn't die, too". She wrote a lot of other things too, and they followed the same irreverent, absurdist tone.
The outrage is, of course, predictable. Her sacking, two days later, is also pretty typical. Enough people get upset, ring into talkback radio stations, the tabloids make a big deal of it and people get fired. Hardly anyone thinks about it on more than a gut level; it's almost like a subconscious reaction.
The trouble I have with the 'outrage' is that it's so devoid of context. It's also somewhat of a straw man. "Children getting laid? What a horrible thing to say!" But no-one's disputing that. If Catherine Deveny had said it to her face, it would have been indefensible. If she had written a column seriously exhorting such a premise, it would have been indefensible. But it was a brief, flippant comment on twitter. It was a completely absurd thing to say, and therein lay the humour. Anyone who thinks that a) she was making a serious suggestion, or b) that anyone could have taken it that way in context, has missed the point completely.
So, why are we so easily offended by these things? Why must a comment like this result in someone losing their job? Why, as journalist David Marr points out, are we not content to simply disagree with or disapprove of something?
Deveny is an intelligent, witty writer. Yes, she's a provocateur; yes, she occasionally comes across as misandrist; yes, she can come across as elitist. But her columns were well-written and entertaining, and deservedly popular. What a lot of her detractors miss is the self-deprecation inherent in her often highly exaggerative language and pitch-black humour. Then again, subtle humour isn't in fashion nowadays, and I fear that the outrage merchants are doing their best to ensure that comedians are more 'wholesome' (read: unchallenging of the status quo).
I think the crucial point is this: whatever you think of Deveny, she shouldn't have fired. Even if you think that she's a horrible woman and that her comments were tasteless and repulsive, it was not a sackable offence. Furthermore, unless twitter has suddenly become a subsidiary of Fairfax, it had nothing to do with her job.
The only reason she was sacked was due to panic from The Age's editors over its public image - a huge mistake, because Deveny's popularity lies in her irreverence, and her dark sense of humour. Like so many corporate organisations, The Age has become too sensitive to the shock jocks and tabloid writers whose careers depend on sensationalising and stirring up (often ignorant) public anger. If we permit those media outlets to exercise that amount of control, it is a detriment to society as a whole.
This piece was published in The National Times on 29/6/2010
Teenagers view pornography. It’s not exactly breaking news, but you could be forgiven for thinking otherwise. Australian law still prevents minors from legally viewing sexually explicit material, despite studies over recent decades that have shown that between 80 and 90% of 17 year old males have already been exposed to it on multiple occasions (1). In an age where the internet is fast becoming omnipresent, it’s likely that those figures have increased. Some might see this as a reason to promote tighter regulation of new media, but the statistics overwhelmingly support a different conclusion: that a considerable, far from indefensible demand for this kind of material exists. It is, surely, completely normal for teenagers to seek out sexual depictions as part of their personal education and psychosexual development - to suggest otherwise is as archaic as condemning masturbation. Furthermore, it seems a major inconsistency that teenagers are legally permitted to sexually experiment within their own age group (2), yet not view the act itself (3). The truth is that there is a major dichotomy between what medical professionals understand is healthy and positive and what Neo-Victorians wish to protect society from. We live in an age where the mere depiction of the human body can still create social panic, while a reactionary government turns to censorship in an effort to control new technology (technology which, as Senator Conroy’s defence of the Government’s internet filter scheme shows, is still being dealt with in ‘old media’ terms). The status quo reflects an almost wilful ignorance of the fact that, apart from sexual education classes and awareness campaigns about rape and sexual assault, a substantial proportion of information about sex available to (particularly male) adolescents is being provided through pornographic media. While studies about the effects of pornography on children and adolescents are not entirely conclusive, one does not have to be a Rhodes Scholar to reach a self-evident conclusion: pornography, tool of personal pleasure that it is, must have some kind of impact on the way teenagers view sex. Thus, pornography which depicts sexual acts and the human form in a positive, respectful, non-sexist and healthy manner is going to have a positive effect on attitudes towards sex and women, particularly on the developing mind of the adolescent; likewise, pornography which portrays people in a degrading manner, promotes misogynistic attitudes, presents universalised, exaggerated depictions of the human form or normalises an unrealistic depiction of sexual acts, is likely to have a negative impact on the way adolescents view sex and other people in general. Unfortunately, the reality is that the vast majority of internet pornography falls into the latter category, and for curious, relatively undiscerning adolescents, this kind of material must surely play some role in the way their views of themselves, women and sex are formed. Pornography is, by and large, a commercial enterprise. It is extraordinarily lucrative because it is far cheaper and simpler to produce than most other forms of entertainment media. It appeals to more basic cognitive processes (i.e. the sexual urge), and thus allows for far less of a critical interaction with what is portrayed. The law’s general failure to regulate it means that there are few, if any, ethical or artistic standards involved in the production of internet pornography, yet, the substandard and often exploitative product remains popular and commercially viable. This is far from an ideal situation.
Society must, at some stage, accept that not only is there a widespread demand for pornography, but that it also has the potential, in the process of adhering to certain values, to aid healthy adolescent sexual development. It may seem ludicrous to envision Government funded pornography, but there is no reason why such an enlightened initiative would not be theoretically feasible. Through broadcasters such as the ABC, the Government already gives funding to comedy, entertainment, current affairs programmes and sport; the only reason, it seems, that pornography could not join those ranks is its general lack of perceived legitimacy. It is something that is widely consumed, both by adults and adolescents, yet still treated as something dirty that ought to provoke feelings of shame and guilt. Part of the blame for this lies with the equation of the term ‘pornography’ with the degrading and exploitative material that is widespread on the internet. One might contend that feelings of shame that might occur whilst viewing that sort of material are in fact appropriate; nevertheless, its popularity remains sourceable to the lack of a widely available alternative. Such an alternative could take many forms. A Government funded website or periodical aimed at adolescents between the ages of 13 and 18, for example, containing erotic and/or informative sexual content (written as well as visual); a high standard of journalism that is simultaneously accessible to the demographics in question; a feminist, but not misandrist, bent; a diverse, open-minded and celebratory view of sex; at least a small quota of queer material; healthy and realistic depictions of the human form, both male and female; opportunities for reader feedback; and rigorous production and employment standards that guard against exploitation. It is not expected that such a publication would eclipse the popularity of conventional internet pornography, but its key function would be to provide an alternative, and perhaps diversify the market. It may seem far-fetched, but there is little standing in the way of this being realised – little, that is, but alarmist and hypocritical societal attitudes towards sex and the depiction of it. The sexual urge is healthy; responding to visual (and other) stimuli is healthy; curiosity and sexual self-awareness are healthy. It is natural for adolescents to wish to explore sex, and it is important that the right kinds of materials are available to them. The sooner our society accepts this, the better.
This piece was published in the National Times on the 29/4/2010.
There’s no doubt that the process of writing letters to the editor has changed significantly in recent decades. While it was once the exclusive domain of the pen or the typewriter, it is doubtful whether, in the second decade of the 21st century, more than a minuscule number of submissions ever find themselves acquainted with an envelope.
Likewise, methods of reader interaction are also shifting. Many online news stories and opinion pieces now allow readers to post comments underneath, providing an instant, if slightly more casual, method of feedback. Still, there appears to be enough people willing to have their say through the more traditional means — or, so it seemed.
In April 18’s Sunday Age, a letter with my name attached was published — a few paragraphs in response to an opinion piece from the previous weekend’s issue on why we loathe hirsuteness. What is specifically peculiar about this is that it was not actually a letter at all, at least in the generally understood sense. This was an online comment that, following an email from the production editor seeking my permission and contact details, found its way into the letters to the editor section.
On further inspection, I was not alone. One more letter out of the 15 in the edition had been sourced from an online comment on an opinion piece. While there is no reason to suspect that anything improper has taken place, it does raise the question: is this now common practice? And, if so, why?
One possibility is that both the quantity and quality of letters are declining, and editors are finding themselves forced to turn to the internet to fill space. Or, perhaps, it could simply be a case of a creative editor thinking outside the box; either way, this appears to be yet another small step away from traditional print conventions as news organisations struggle, successfully or otherwise, to adapt to the age of the internet.
What this means for the future of the letters to the editor section is unclear. Feedback is no less an attribute of the internet newspaper than the print newspaper, but the concept of a selection of a small number of well-written letters and regular, identifiable contributors may soon be a thing of the past. Instead, it seems likely that it will be replaced with a wider variety of viewpoints, expressed eloquently and otherwise, by an array of essentially anonymous pseudonyms. There are both benefits and disadvantages to this scenario; but it is unlikely that appeals to tradition will be enough to stop it being realised.
While some may mourn the loss of these institutions, the print media’s increasing dependence on the internet can neither be ignored nor reversed. In that sense, publications that show initiatives such as the Sunday Age’s may, in fact, find themselves best placed to survive the migration.
“I’m definitely not a paedo,” insists Peep Show’s Mark Corrigan, and I can hear angry and indignant echoes all across campus (what, can’t you?). Even so, if we can establish that the vast majority of us are not turned on by pre-pubescence, how do we explain current trends of body hair removal?
Admittedly, that link may be tenuous. Whatever the case, 21st Century Australia is in the midst of a veritable waxing epidemic, and I’ll be darned if something shouldn’t be done about it.
What is pubic hair? It’s a visual symbol of sexual maturity, for one; on par, I would argue, with things like breasts and, er, testicles. Okay, so I’m not about to commission an oil painting of my balls, but they supposedly serve some purpose. But I digress. The point is, it seems odd that people are so eager to get rid of something that is inherently linked to adulthood and sexual development.
To me, it seems as if a great deal of the negativity directed towards body hair can be sourced from those bastards who advertise stuff. Yes, body image dissatisfaction is big business, and there’s an awful lot of money to be made from saturating people’s minds with ‘ideal’ images that are essentially unattainable: thin, glossy, smooth-skinned women, few of whom are spared the horrors of the airbrush unless their last name happens to be ‘Hawkins’. There’s a fair gulf between these images and genuine physical beauty - the latter, I contest, lies among uniqueness, imperfections and subjectivity, not some generic, universalised caricature (burn, Barbie, burn!). But when the media tells us the opposite every day, it’s bound to have some impact on the psyche. That’s right, ‘media’ - I’m blaming you for the deaths of trillions of pubes.
It’s not just the advertisers and the women’s magazines, though. I often wonder whether a fair proportion of adolescent males, their only real point of reference being Busty Blondes 3 and Zoo Magazine, grow up under the impression that the unrealistic bodies they see are representative of the way sexually attractive people look. In any case, a consensus appears to have been reached: pubic hair is gross. Hirsute days of the ‘60s and ‘70s, adieu; you have gone the way of Betamax, the Soviet Union and baby boomers’ souls.
But before I go out and book my male Brazilian, let me say one thing: I think pubic hair is sexy, and I’m right goddamnit. All the same - trim it, wax it, make little animal shapes or declare it a national park - it’s a personal decision that ought to be based entirely on the owner’s preference, without the influence of Cosmo, Barbie fetishists or dashing young gentlemen who write for Esperanto. Nevertheless, it would be remiss of me not to mention the sage advice a friend once offered: “Just think of it as your own small fluffy pet, in your pants”. Whilst you meditate on this wisdom, I’m going to go buy extensions.
Unlike many, I tend to see culture and language as essentially divisive factors. They are the modes through which we view ourselves, how we express ourselves, and powerfully shape who we are, yet more often than not it is primarily cultural differences that cause conflict, violence and discrimination, whilst language difference is an impediment to communication and understanding.
Now, Australia is in the process of trying to model itself as a multicultural society, and apart from a few instances, this has worked fairly well. So why do so many Indigenous people seem to be excluded from this society? I suspect that at least some of the blame might lie with the attributes referred to above.
Indigenous culture, as we know, has undergone a process of change over the past 200 years. Once a collection of perfectly functional, culturally rich societies, it has been systematically damaged through the process of white invasion. Yes, it persists in some places, and some still find it possible to maintain a traditional lifestyle, but this is certainly not the case for the majority. Western society, with its technology, money, alcohol, lack of spirituality and absence of respect for the environment, has exerted a hugely destructive influence over the intervening time period. What we see in many Indigenous areas bears little resemblance to traditional Indigenous culture whatsoever, but instead exists as an uncomfortable hybrid of Indigenous and Western society that mostly seems to take the worst elements of both. One of the things that that hybrid undoubtedly creates is a lack of personal identity - i.e., you are not part of a traditionally structured Indigenous community, but a damaged, dysfunctional one; likewise, this community is kept apart from the remainder of Australian culture, a society that many Indigenous people are made to feel they have no place in. Various Indigenous groups integrate more fully, and I'm certainly not suggesting that all Aboriginal people are disadvantaged, but there remains that essential push and pull between two conflicting cultures that can only result in, for many, a real lack of identity or sense of belonging.
So, what sort of viable solutions to this problem might we consider? In the long run, it seems that you have to go one way or the other: either a full reclamation of Indigenous identity and culture within a self-governing, traditionally oriented state; or a complete integration of sorts within mainstream Australian society. The former is probably ideal, but some might argue that we have gone too far down the track for it to be possible; the latter would almost certainly involve the renunciation of much in the way of traditional Indigenous culture and languages.
Don't get me wrong. I hate many, many aspects of contemporary Western culture, and am in no way suggesting that it is superior or preferable to its Indigenous counterpart. Nevertheless, from a functionalist sociological point of view, I fear for the long-term viability of traditional Indigenous culture, and often wonder if its active promotion is actually holding back Indigenous people from integrating more fully within Australian society. If this were the case, then my personal choice would be clear: if it means relinquishing another culture (and throughout recorded human history we have seen so many rise and fall) to better the quality of life of Australia's indigenous population, then I think we would be ethically and morally obliged to support that idea.
How might it be achieved? Simply, through education processes. Teach history, by all means, and teach Aboriginal kids about their heritage - but leave the culture and language to the past, not the present. If kids, with the encouragement of their families, grow up wanting to understand and experience their cultural heritage, then certainly encourage them to do so - but otherwise, I believe that a Westernised education process has to be the priority. Even if it takes generations for visible effects to take place, I believe the results would be substantially positive.
This is not a popular view, to say the least. Many react angrily and defensively: "Isn't that racist?", one girl asked me. Another was horrified to hear that I was arguing for the 'death' of a culture. But the prolongation of a particular culture isn't what we're fighting for here - it's the well-being of a proportion of society who, through a mix of circumstances and systemic injustices, find themselves disadvantaged and on the fringes of society. If we do not wish to condemn future generations to a perpetual cycle, radical propositions such as these need to at least be seriously considered and discussed.
Literacy - it's that stuff youse all need to read good, and, regretfully, it has come to our attention that there are areas of the world that are still deprived of access to education and basic standards of literacy.
Chief among these jurisdictions is a place known as 'Youtube', a world full of crappy music videos, suspiciously appropriated episodes of TV shows and narcissistic twats lecturing their webcams. However, there lies within this thriving metropolis a dark underbelly of stupidity known to some as the 'Youtube comments section'.
Possessing an average age of 13 and the general writing skills of a dead bat collective, the poor souls that inhabit these regions have long been devoid of a proper education due to the discriminatory policies of schools that refuse to take in students with IQs below -1.
Professor Anketell of the Two-Minute Noodles University has had a long history in dealing with such cases, but even he was shocked by the degeneracy of the youtube population.
"I have been to the worst of deprived areas such as 4chan, the Internet Movie Database discussion boards and Bebo," Anketell proclaimed to nobody in particular, "but these young street urchins really took the cake. Not only were they devoid of any understanding of spelling, logic or breathing, but half of them seemed to be operating with keyboards permanently stuck on caps lock. How is someone supposed to express themselves with a broken keyboard, anyway?"
The worst cases were usually identified by the nom de plumes by which they described themselves. Anketell categorises them as 'functioning' (aliases such as hotbabe13, ilovesex and britneyisdabomb) and 'non-functioning' (usually a collection of letters and numbers smashed into the keyboard in no particular order, although this can often be confused with applications of '1337' language - the latter, in fact, signifies a far more primitive form of life, and is most likely the work of members of the orang utan population).
Anketell describes the main difference between 'functioning' and 'non-functioning' users as the following: "With the former category, a blow to the head with a blunt instrument and/or an intensive literacy program may yet restore some semblance of intelligence. Alas, the others we must abandon as lost."
Therefore, it is our goal to find such users and give them the aforementioned bonk on the head, before they lose all hope of achieving a minimum standard of literacy or intelligence. We can only hope that people will consult their hearts and contribute whatever they can to our operation while we can still make a difference, and save denizens of Youtube from being completely overwhelmed by idiocy.
Scrolling through the list of the 2009 Academy Awards nominees, one particular category seems conspicuously absent.
Directors, cinematographers, sound mixers, costume designers: all of the above are eligible for an individual award which recognises their contribution to their field as being the finest of the past 12 months. Yet, when it comes to acting, no such definitive recognition is offered. Instead, the award is divided in two; distinguished, more than a little questionably, by gender.
There is no doubt that such distinctions are, in some cases, required. In tennis, basketball and football, for example, men and women compete separately. This is primarily because there are physical differences between the male and female body that prohibit competition on an equal plane, at least at an elite athletic level. No credible feminist discourse could invalidate this basic fact, and yet, it is no less absurd to extend such disparities to the realm of acting. Nevertheless, the enduring use of the archaic term ‘actress’ suggests just that.
When one considers some of the great performances by ‘actresses’ such as Gena Rowlands, Jeanne Moreau and Liv Ullman, it becomes more than a little preposterous to place similar talents such as James Dean, Max Von Sydow or Marlon Brando in a different class. They were all (just like the ten nominees announced on Tuesday) exponents of the same craft, with comparable abilities, engaged in the one profession: acting. To segregate the sexes when it comes to recognition of their acting achievements is not just a contradiction of this basic point; worse, it implies a gender handicap that should not exist.
Apart from the corresponding ‘Supporting Actor’ awards, there are no other categories that discriminate according to gender. Nevertheless, talented directors such as Kelly Reichardt, Claire Denis or Sally Potter might note somewhat ruefully that a broader application of the policy might be the only way that they could ever win an Oscar (Kathryn Bigelow’s 2009 nomination, only the fourth achieved by a woman in 82 years, notwithstanding). Of course, it would be patently ridiculous if a ‘Best Female Director’ award were ever instituted, and the current lack of recognition of female film-makers is as much an indictment of the male-dominated nature of the industry as it would be if a unified ‘Best Actor’ award were to become disproportionately weighted towards male performers. Maintaining separate awards for each gender does nothing to challenge the patriarchy that is the film industry; if anything, it only serves to gloss over the problem.
Perhaps there will be those who see the status quo as, simply, a diplomatic method of honouring two great performers at the same time. Others may scoff at the social relevance of the specific categorisations offered by what is, after all, a fairly self-important and irrelevant ceremony. On the contrary, it is through these little things that a wider, systemic sexism is allowed to be perpetuated, and they are the battlegrounds on which cultural change must be fought for. The amalgamation of the Academy Awards ‘Best Actor’ categories would be a small step, but it would be a step in the right direction.
Sent out to members of the "Fuck Off, Xenophobes - We're Full" Facebook group, which I created and administrate.
Zombie invasions: usually confined to the realms of video games and horror movies, they are an actual phenomenon that occurs about once every year here in Australia. In order to avoid causing panic amongst the population, this annual day of terror has been given the less threatening name of ‘Australia Day’, a day which most sensible citizens choose to spend in the basement.
The zombies themselves are many, but they are easy to spot. For example, they usually congregate in groups, dress themselves in Australian flags and shout profanities. Their primary sustenance seems to be beer - unlike traditional zombies, they don’t eat brains, a fact which has been linked to their own deficiencies in this regard. Nevertheless, they are still quite dangerous, and have a penchant for attacking people who make eye contact with them and/or are of non-Anglo-Saxon appearance.
While most government agencies recommend that citizens stay indoors and wait until the ghouls have passed out from excessive alcohol consumption, there are some who brave the outside world and help maintain some semblance of order amidst the anarchy. If you are one of those courageous souls, here are some guidelines to help you survive the most dangerous 24 hours of the year:
1) Ensure that you have a basic knowledge of martial arts, in case a zombie requests you to “kiss the fuckin’ flag”. A swift kick to the balls of the antagonist is efficient, completely defensible in court and very, very satisfying.
2) Carry a can of kerosene and a cigarette lighter at all times. Setting an assailant’s flag-cape on fire is an effective distraction and will allow time for escape.
3) Keep a boombox on hand wherever possible, along with a CD of traditional Indian music. This “foreign shit” is known to enrage zombies, who generally prefer the foreign shit from America. Play CD loudly until zombies are driven away - if this doesn’t work, resort to heavy weaponry.
4) Summon the Pied Piper of Hamelin and get him to play ‘Waltzing Matilda’, ‘C’mon Aussie C’mon’, that terrible ‘True Blue’ song or a simple ‘Aussie Aussie Aussie’ chant, and dance off in the direction of a cliff. Alternately, he may choose to take them back to his magical kingdom to be zombie slaves. We’re not fussed.
So, whatever your plans for survival this Australia Day, just remember to keep safe, and do not go to the cricket under any circumstance. While we are sadly anticipating another day of zombie carnage on Tuesday, let us all be joined in the hope that, one day in the not too distant future, Australia will be a relatively zombie-free country; for, when that day comes, January 26 may even start to represent things like inclusiveness, optimism and celebration, instead of stupidity, racism, violence and those damn zombies.
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