A long-dead friend of mine, a war hero, poet philosopher and writer very often used those words and by the Editor’s leave, this article is dedicated to R.A. (Bob) Swan, who was also a man of great humility but found himself tested by dealing with idiots, hence the little saying, but I make no such attribution to readers. After great degree of deliberation I have decided to reveal through the pages of Tasmanian Times my profound disillusionment with the state of Tasmania; its governance and the way people are treated and interacting. This is something I do this with a great sadness because I’m getting itchy feet and it could be time to move on.
Naturally enough, there are several people who write for Tasmanian Times with whom I do not agree but the editor says that all views are worthy of presentation and who are my to disagree: firstly, he is in charge and secondly, I’m not a great believer in censorship. So if I continue to write, there will be an occasional air of opening the torpedo tubes, or running out the guns and preparing to fire. However, I am not really in the mood to be particularly splenetic as summer is coming on and with it the promise of Christmas and times of year that are important to me. This will be a fairly long article, but you can’t expect too much in the future from old men.
That’s me!
Many people know me as Chris of Howrah, sometime regular caller on ABC radio and letter writer to The Mercury. For some reason, people seem to remember my voice and ask where I’ve been. An acquaintance asked me just the other day why I hadn’t been on the ABC radio lately, except breakfasts. Another asked me why I hadn’t written to The Mercury. Fair questions I suppose for although they say no man is an island, I’m the one at the end of the long chain. And yet, Tasmania has some close links, one with the other and the 6° of separation touted around a few years ago doesn’t mean much here. Although the statement contains unintended, unwanted, undertones, relationships between Tasmanians are very similar to shavings on the floor of a carpenter’s shop. Or if you like, iron filings attracted by various magnets. Bitter experience has shown me the problems with what would normally be called free speech. Under some circumstances, it’s anything but and word travels. The grapevine is very strong and I have no wish to be grafted to it for any reason.
As this is intended to look at the state we’re in, I thought I’d begin with the Mercury and I have little hesitation in saying that I believe the standard of the newspaper has stabilized and improved over the past few years. Sue Neales’ journalism is of the highest quality, although it would be extremely unfair to single her out from the others such as Michael Stedman, Damien Brown and Linda Knight, all of whom I have spoken to at one stage or another had been treated with courtesy. It bodes well for the state that some government members apparently consider The Mercury to be part of the opposition, which is totally unfair. The Mercury continues to publicize matters that should be in the public domain and if that hurts, then I’m afraid that’s too bad. Without a free press, there is no real democracy but I must say that the Northern papers are too parochial by far.
I’m quite content to telephone the ABC occasionally and have a joke with Andy Muirhead over breakfast and Christopher Lawrence in the afternoons. I have had a series of exchanges with the Sydney Broadcasting Corporation of which 936 is a branch office about the way I have been skillfully blocked when trying to ring up Mr. Cox and talk current affairs. Being an old hand at bureaucratic guerrilla warfare, my view is that their public relations people are little short of pathetic. I don’t particularly want to go any further down the track, but en passant, I just want to mention in passing that a friend of mine who is fluent in many languages telephoned the ABC in his hometown to correct pronunciation of the name of the secretary general of the United Nations. Being fluent cut no ice with the pompous sod paid from the public purse who answered the call. It so happens that the English tongue does not wrap itself around Korean names too well and you would think that when a speaker of that language corrects newscasters, they would take some notice but they have of book of foreign-language pronunciations. So you will hear them still in some states, talking of Mr. Ban Ki-moon, when the correct pronunciation of the first name is closer to the German bahn (or road) and the other nice alternative is to run it altogether and call him Bankeymoon. What ever else I say about the ABC in this state, they are generally courteous (and Stan the newsreader on 936 thanked me for the pointer) but not Sydney: my friend was told to “bugger off” in those precise words. That’s the big city for you! I wonder when the Korean enclave arrives in bandit country, the ignorance will show through but I never bet, not on certainties.
It is abundantly clear that as I do not agree with many of the ideas circulating within the ABC that might be called the dominant paradigm – they know full well in there (at what should be Hobart’s central railway station) that I cannot hold a telephone for too long and I’m not prepared to wait for over half an hour after ringing. And in my view it’s not my loss. So to those people that ask regularly, that’s the reason. Furthermore, the ABC declines to accept my academic credentials and experience and that’s their loss. I might add on local issues, the quality of comment is usually good but if it’s anything beyond the borders anyone or anybody will do and the problem is as usual with the ABC, you never know what their biases are, although in some instances they cut through like a searchlight on a dark night. Even in the first decade of the 21st century, they continue to reach back for hacks, has-beens who never were or if they were, should never have been.
The new version of the Tasmanian Times is a very neat product. It compares very well with other Internet news services and its breadth is quite astonishing, which is all to the good because someone coming across it for the first time can always find something to read and either be entertained or outraged. That’s the beauty of the Internet. And apart from a very neat and erudite piece from the editor recently, there have been some wonderful cartoons and insightful quotations. All concerned deserve plaudits for providing a voice for those who otherwise have none. Together with honeyed words from the editor, it has inspired me to go local.
At the risk of being dubbed a plagiarist, I did enjoy the quote of the day from Noah Webster, who from memory, vies with some of the better compilers of dictionaries. A 19th century, Connecticut Yankee, he was an educator, wordsmith and although unfashionable today, a Christian. So am I if you want to bring on the Panthera leo. Those words from Mr. Webster rang a bell and it’s something that I want to elaborate upon. The quote began: “If the Citizens neglect their Duty and place unprincipled men in office, the government will soon be…” and my ending would be “stuffed.”
My values – for what they’re worth.
I usually like to know which direction people are coming from when they start an argument or present a view. I think it is unconscionable for some people to affect neutrality, when the person in the street knows their biases and beliefs, something that is magnified in Tasmania. For years, the media and again the ABC largely through Radio National has adopted causes on the taxpayer’s money, without any apparent check on what they do. For instance, why should the flatulent jackass Philip Adams prate away at night and not tell us what his guests are and what they believe. A regular, Bea Campbell is an extreme left-winger, a former communist as you would expect; P.J. Rourke is the loosest of cannons defying categorization, and wherever would Adams be without those masters of circumlocution and equivocation from the US, including Noam Chomsky and the overtly biased John Pilger and Robert Fisk. For those of us who are politically aware, listening to them can be very entertaining and sometimes engaging but overall that little radio show harbors a clutch of subversives, who hate America, loathed John Howard, scrutinize the Rudd Government microscopically and look for chinks and weaknesses in Barack Obama.
I am not advocating that there should be a right wing alternative. We are seeing in Europe a rise of the extreme right, including fascism and that is deeply troubling because of their love of violence. In some respects, ultranationalism is a response to almost unfettered migration but that will keep for another day. While talking about right-wing politics, we should remember that the agenda was set by those who were once called economic rationalists, although I never thought for one moment that they were rational. For my money, we have had enough of the right for a while and the mad Monk and Joe Hockey, fall into the category of what I would call piddling idiots. The current problems of the federal Liberal Party resemble those of the Tasmanian branch of the Labor Party. They need to reread Bob Menzies “ forgotten people” speech, which is curiously timeless and should be mandatory for politicians. As for radio, like TV, there is always the off switch and the prospect of listening to Mozart, Beethoven or music for civilized people.
Someone was foolish enough to ask me how I would define myself politically and it gives me great pleasure to reproduce part of it here. I am an unreconstructed social democrat, (small s, small d) probably more in the European tradition. I don’t believe in unrestricted free markets as the events of this year have shown and the signs that in America and other parts of the world, including Australia, the lessons have not been learned attracts little press coverage. Certainly, executive salaries are in the hair-sites, and in the US, a new round of executive bonuses will be stopped. I’m not enough of a constitutional lawyer to know whether the Rudd government can do this same thing by statute but it would seem to me that legislation is required and the state of the federal parliament, especially the Senate, makes for is somewhat problematic outcome. My former father-in-law observed of the government of Malcolm Fraser that he was strong with the weak and weak with the strong. That would seem a reasonable epitaph along with a reference to trousers.
Executive bonuses can be controlled and much as I admire the skills of Tiger Woods, this week he became the first sports billionaire. With due respect to him and his talent, he plays good golf but there seems something dangerously lopsided in a world that is obsessed with sport. The million-dollar transfers in English football years ago raised eyebrows but a billionaire golfer? I’ve chased the little white ball myself into the rough and the undergrowth to say nothing of bunkers and it’s a game of skill. More than anything, it pits the individual against the golf course or links and himself. It lacks the slather and whack of tennis but once again, my heart was in my boots when I learned that Tiger had exceeded the $1 billion mark and supplanted Michael Schumacher as the leading earner in the sport. In my teens, I was something of a petrol head and followed the Grand Prix circuit, sometimes traveling to Europe. Today the amount of money and sponsorship deals are frightening reading, because basically they don’t produce anything except entertainment. I’m sick and tired of hearing about how Grand Prix racing improves the standard and quality of our motorcars and their fuel consumption. It’s been far too long and the argument is old hat. In fact, my view is that this nonproductive sphere of activity has the capacity to render the population virtually mindless, spectators and not participants and this has made its way into the political arena.
In Tasmania, there is boundless opportunity to excel in niche areas whether that be food, wine, beer or craftsmanship. Marketing is the key and there have been too many ideas worthy of further development that have fallen by the wayside through lack of funding and support and because both major parties appear to support the chop it down and chip it mentality along with using the mineral wealth of the state in its crudest form — dig it up and send it out with few exceptions. I recently noticed that an enterprising lady has started a Hobart Farmer’s market to sell foodstuffs. I rather hope that it succeeds and acts as an outlet for the fine, clean produce of this state. You might be interested to know that the parish church of All Saints South Hobart has a similar thriving market on a Saturday morning.
Individual thrift and hard work is to be encouraged and praised as well as rewarded. However, at the same time, we should beware of the traps of scapegoating the unemployed, especially those whose skills are no longer needed. This crap is the staple diet of commercial TV shows. And as for the campaign to “dob in a dole bludger” I have nothing but contempt. I don’t condone the activities of those who take without giving but dropping people in it was once a hallmark of East Germany, Eastern Europe and other states.
I’m also opposed to globalization and I think it needs a serious rethink. Talk of no international boundaries, the migration of labor, total abolition of tariffs and before you know it, Australia really will be part of the Third World. In many respects, I’m pleased that I’m getting on in years because I don’t want to see the reemergence of the “greed is good” mentality or as Will Hutton wrote of Thatcherism, it was a reincarnation of capitalism red of fang and claw.
The most distressing development for me has been since the end of the Cold War. We knew then who our enemies were and the situation appeared much more stable than these days. I particularly despise managerialism and the treatment of the individual in its crudest sense as being a number, not an individual, and either a revenue-earning unit or a non-revenue earning unit. These were the people that told us there was no such thing as society and if there was no such thing as society then how in the hell can we have a sense of national identity and belonging. It is a particularly greasy pole but is still pushed as an agenda by some. If as Bronwyn Bishop, the sometime choice of the PBL group for leadership of the Liberal party and putative PM chooses to recall, she along with John Howard persisted with the nonsense of there being no such thing as society and in those glorious words: “just individuals making their own way.” Bollocks!
Lest I be seen as too one-sided, I have written with a friend, a fair amount of material about the nature of Australian society. To many people, I don’t expect the name Dr Hugh Emy to mean very much. When I was an undergraduate at Monash University, he was already a fast rising star in the political science department. However, he did not enjoy the best of health and died far too early. His most outstanding contribution was a very astute dissection of Australian society and the predilection of the average citizenry to be much more focused on what could be screwed out of government without necessarily doing anything in return. This will be a continuing theme among those with whom I write, namely that just as we elect a government to govern in our interests and for all people (excuse the hollow laugh) far too many people forget reciprocal rights and duties that are tied up with being a citizen. And this can be viewed at a micro or macro level. Given the size of Tasmania, macro is virtually micro but how about a few basics?
A civil society loses civility.
What has concerned me greatly over a number of years is the steady decline of what my grandmother would call proper manners in everyday life. We are not all created equal and I can be irascible with the best or the worst of them and if you see me in the street, wearing a T-shirt with “Captain Grumpybum” embroidered on it, that’s me. A lot of that is behind me because I suffer chronic pain, largely under control but I have my moments. Nevertheless, I wear it to remind myself of what I shouldn’t be and to avoid my grandmother rotating in her grave. She was very firm when I was in her care about the need for common civility and above all, the very obvious statement: “there is no reason to be rude.” When I think back to my grandparents I realize just how much more I should have inculcated and if I think too hard about the matter, I get emotional for private and personal reasons. It may seem archaic or even condescending to some (including a former harridan of a female MP) but I like to open doors for the female of the species, give up seats to people that need them more than me and on the few instances in recent years when I’ve traveled by public transport, I’ve seen the way kids behave and it’s all me, me, me. On one occasion I snarled at a young oick to vacate his seat for a woman who was young and very pregnant. After mustering something about grandpa (I wouldn’t want to own him) he grudgingly gave way. An isolated incident perhaps but a sign of the times and I’ve seen it everywhere in major cities around the world. More disturbingly, a friend of mine (no longer) bragged that if women wanted equality, then he had every right to a seat on a tram ahead of women and the elderly.
I’ve now been in Tasmania for well over 20 years and I have seen considerable change occasioned by growing suburbs pushing out agricultural land and political shenanigans that I would prefer to forget. In those days, Tasmanians always seem to be so very friendly and I have my own theories about what has caused a general hardening of attitudes in interpersonal relationships. Unfortunately the culture lag between this island and the mainland has grown shorter and while we welcome migrants, it can be very easy to pick some from states where eye contact is avoided at all cost. But as recently as 1999, a mere 10 years ago, when I toured the state with the company of friends, I was struck by the openness and friendliness of everybody even in the larger towns. External factors such as economic difficulties have made life more difficult and possibly prompted what appears to be an underlying anger in many people.
As I noted above, I’m in a small writing partnership with a few other social scientists and we’re trying to fathom what it means to be Australian and Tasmanian – I’m more of a researcher. We are part of the global society and everything moves so quickly except if you want a particular form of service on a Saturday morning in Hobart, let alone anywhere else in the state. In some ways that is endearing, in others totally frustrating. Globalization and its multitudinous tendrils have forever changed all landscapes, political, governmental and societal and with regret, this has percolated unerringly to the personal. We have become in the words of some so-called theorists, hyper-individualized and our affective relationships usually focus on the family and work, sometimes an unhappy combination, with loyalty problems. Do you remember the managerial crap that an organization’s finest assets were its human beings/workers? It doesn’t seem to make much difference when they sacked them.
It is my belief that it is easy to stand back and see that the cement that held Tasmanians together as a community and a society is cracked and quite possibly irreparable. I do not want to talk about politics because the writings in Tasmanian Times over the past few weeks have been quite eloquent (incisive, direct and in my view accurate) in their description of the government and I don’t think there has anything been said that I would not have mentioned and in most instances I found myself in near enough to total agreement. It grieves me that a party of which I have been a member (office holder, footslogger and conference delegate to say nothing of electioneering) since the 1970s has degenerated into a self-perpetuating cliques and tribes and while the denials will be hot and strong, the evidence is as plain as the nose on your face despite the user-friendly ads on TV which have a whiff of an early election. Being an extremely strong believer in democracy and the right of the people to be heard, the miniaturization of the system in Tasmania has made life extremely difficult, and effective representation well-high impossible..
Our politicians are overworked, notwithstanding the words of the ill-informed who regularly writes about politicians ripping off the public purse. In my younger days, I was something of a political gopher and I can tell you that it’s very hard work. Instead the critics should take a close look at the unelected officials and what I refer to as the ancillary staff taken on board to plug the gaps and make decisions that should have been made by a larger ministry. In a healthy democracy government works best when there is a strong opposition and the government has a restless backbench. That does not mean cliques or cabals plotting to overthrow the leader: we have seen far too much of that in Australia. I was thinking more of so-called ginger groups which keep parties on their toes. These are the people that deal more closely with electors because they are not ministers. How many of them are on the government side in Tasmania these days?
The word regret crops up regularly in this piece and for very good reason: I think we have lost certain critical attitudes and beliefs and reading through the pages of Tasmanian Times, I could not help but agree with many recent contributors as I said earlier. One particular article caught my eye and the writer talked about the ALP becoming interested only in power, self-perpetuation and rule by the few, and the words of Peter Henning on September 24 are entirely appropriate.
However, I looked in vain to find any mention of those who pull the strings from outside. I know they’re there because of the unhealthy relationship between governments of all persuasions and business. Try to obtain information and you run into the brick wall of “commercial in confidence.” That is one area that needs detailed review and if necessary, drastic action to ensure that people know what’s going on and who has the vested interest.
To my profound regret, I have watched the certainties of Australian and Tasmanian society crumble. There is little respect for politicians, the church, the legal system (courts and police) and much more of the invisible architecture that once provided a democratic canopy over our head. Again with regret, I fear there is very little that can be done to heal the gap between the people and government. I know politicians work hard and so do their staff and it’s pretty thankless when you receive no thanks or gratitude and despite approaches, I never considered for one moment an offer to stand for the Senate (not that I think I would’ve been elected but you should never put yourself up for a job you don’t want). To a certain extent, the fundamental problems facing us can be sheeted home to the devil’s deal between the Labor and Liberal parties a few years ago drove the deep wedge into the community in order to wipe out effective representation of people who despise as greenies or rabble-rousers. The people have a right to protest and it’s interesting to watch the way the politicians discriminate between the activities of for instance, “the Angel of the Weld” on the one hand and the easy ride given to truckies and timber workers on the other and, of course, if public servants.
Furthermore, I have an uneasy feeling at times that the police are being used in a political fashion and surely, we can’t have forgotten the lessons of the 20th century and police states. When I was in full-time work, I acquired a reputation for having a somewhat quirky sense of humor and at times an acid tongue but there were on my office wall, a series of quotations which I thought were apt and useful. When I retired, I ceded them to my successor who removed them, which proves that university degrees do not necessarily imply intelligence. I also had a small book of my own personal quotations, my own inventions, which I keep for special occasions.
I’m not sure whether the people of Tasmania are angry, restive, resigned, turned off, apathetic, feeling impotent or just plain fed up with politics and politicians. I keep banging on about democracy and it is a tribute to our teaching that so many have forgotten so much in such a short space of time. The very freedoms that we enjoy were hard-won by the societies from which we came and while we can’t claim to have reached anything near perfection, the vast gap between theory and practice in Tasmanian politics is astounding. And I would define any practitioner of political science to tell us that democracy is healthy in this state. And the last of this little homily is that democracy is a reciprocal arrangement involving rights and duties on both sides and unfortunately that is lost on both sides at times.
A few words on politicians – just for the heck of it.
Politicians forget that they are there as our representatives and when the time comes, we will make our judgment accordingly. The problem is that we will be starved for choice. In the unlikely event of majority government, politics will become more interesting and at least one would hope, pause for thought. Sometimes watching state news on TV, I get a sudden lurch in the gut. How anarchic could Tasmania become if people decided to deface their ballot papers en masse. And then I was reminded of the killer quote attributed to the East German playwright Bethold Brecht. How he managed to stay out of jail in such a restrictive society usually means one of two things: collaboration with the regime or being too famous to jail. The quote I wanted has vanished in a computer meltdown but it’s something along the lines of “the government, having lost the confidence of the people must now find a new people.” (If anyone can verify this please let the editor know”). But it was much easier to validate some other of his words. And I only include them because they spoke to me and the reader can make up their own mind.
“No one can be good for long if goodness is not in demand.”
“Everyone needs help from everyone.”
The finest plans have always been spoiled by the littleness of them that should carry them out. Even emperors can’t do it all by themselves
Many writers, much younger than me share my apprehension about Tasmanian society. In aggregate it could be what it termed in academe “work in progress.” I feel overstretched owing to demands on my time from overseas. With the younger people, I don’t know whether I’ve put any ideas in their head (I’m sometimes accused of being rather wicked but it would be untrue) however, chewing the fat sometimes produces good thoughts and at my age and poor health, so in a way, I am totally unafraid of death as its inevitable and the last great adventure human beings face. That does not mean I believe in unnecessary suffering and I am 100% behind Nick McKim and the notions of dying with dignity. The thought of being in a hospital bed with tubes in every orifice, immobilized and in a semi-comatose state has no attractions for me whatsoever. I have every sympathy for Roman Catholics and others who oppose the legislation. They have that right; they are acting according to the teachings of their Church and if they have the numbers, they will prevail but I am hoping that when the sands of time start to run out for me, it will be possible for me to decide when to go. Sometimes I wonder whether the naysayers have ever been in the position of nursing a loved one through to death. If the illness is prolonged and palliative care is called for, I can tell you that they are two words. There is certainly care but I know from experience that total relief from pain is impossible.
Now some time on and possibly too far for short attention spans, I want to try and put my views on the decline of Tasmanian society into perspective.
The milk of human kindness – two case studies.
Lesson One – Much ado about Pony Poo and rightly so.
My computer melted down earlier this past week forcing me to take extraordinary steps to use my backup system. Training speech to text software takes time, especially when you have an extensive vocabulary. I found myself extremely disconcerted over breakfast on Wednesday morning (September 30, 2009) when I read in the Mercury the story of the little girl who tried to sell “pony poo” and like many people who live out from the city, left an honesty box. When I read the excellent article by Ms Linda Knight – “Poo pinchers really stink, Hayley finds.” I was firstly outraged and secondly sick in the guts – no two bones about it! We are all tested by honesty boxes and to choose to be deliberately dishonest is to be a thief. I noted one make of motor car where someone had taken bags of manure and left nothing and left Hayley Badcock in tears. In my view that is contemptible: what a way for a five-year-old to find out about human nature! I hate to see kids exploited in any way shape or form but worse still is when they learn from adult behavior just how lousy some people can be. It’s not as though collecting animal manure is a particularly easy or pleasant task even for children or flexible adults and at $2.50 a bag, it was a steal in more ways than one. I can sympathize with Hayley’s parents, especially the thought of an excited child hoping to find that hard work had been rewarded. Can you imagine the excitement of Hayley arriving home hoping to find money in her “honesty” box only to find, in effect she has been robbed. I can both understand and sympathise with the Badcocks as they try to explain to a little girl why people do bad things
I did my share of railing and complaining and I am grateful for Ms Knight’s patience with the old chap when I spoke to her. Therefore, I was highly delighted to read the sequel on Friday morning: “Hayley gets tip: we’re not all bad” (Mercury October 2, 2009 page 7). The one statistic that stung me had not appeared in the earlier article – 10 bags taken in a week and only one person paid. The fact that the Mercury’s website been inundated with comments expressing disgust at the theft shows that those with computers and literacy were sufficiently moved to help the little girl either by messages of support, while others took the time to drive to Sandford and put money in the box. It’s impossible to know whether someone was grabbed by conscience pangs and paid up — I’d like to think so but I wouldn’t hold my breath. From other people, I learned that there had been a fairly steady stream of people to the Badcock property and the picture of Hayley with her pony, Toby said it all. To certain extent, it restored some of my faith in human nature and Tasmanians but at the back of my mind, I wondered what would’ve happened without the publicity or whether the upswelling was caused by the approach of Christmas, when for a while we become something resembling a community of human beings for an all-too-short time.
For years it has been recognized that unscrupulous adults use children in advertising and as virtual props for one scheme or another. No doubt a cynic would say that a roadside sign painted by a child does not mean that the child benefits from the honesty box. Would people stop more readily if the sign was more professional? In the UK the Romanies were blame-objects for exploiting children and I can remember my father telling me to follow the Gypsies wagons because the manure was better than stable-fed horses. I don’t know because I’m long past picking up animal manure and we get ours, through friends. But in the past, some 10 years ago perhaps, we often drove to Richmond and by the roadside there was often cow dung for sale. I’m well aware of what the great guru Peter Cundall talks about when discussing the virtues of compost and manure. I disagree slightly with him about cow manure because from my grandfather, I learned to make a liquid brew which was so potent that it had to be diluted and it did wonders for tomatoes. By the same token, Peter holds that there’s not much nutrient in horse manure. I think it makes a good mulch and the late Queen Mother used manure from the horses of the Coldstream guards for growing roses. I had pretty fair success myself, using the stuff dried and then laid down as a mulch and dampened. When the circus came to town, my wife was horrified when I came home with several bags of cannonballs – elephant dung and I’ve never grown better tomatoes!
I happened to be visiting a city abroad not so long ago and like many fine historic buildings, there is a constant need for finance for the upkeep of the building. All the large cathedrals in England charge one way or another except if you are worshiping and then, there’s moral suasion to put something in the collection bag or tray. A lot of churches had poor boxes and the proceeds were distributed to the needy of the parish. In this post-Christian era, when no one takes too much notice of churchmen unless they cavort on donkeys or make jackasses of themselves in other ways, it is hardly surprising that I read how many churches in England had been vandalized, stripped of lead and copper and of course, the poor box. My deceased father-in-law was a clergyman and there was a parish fund to help out the indigent. There wasn’t much point in having a poor box in St.Kilda in Melbourne: it was surrounded by pubs and some people had no shame. Apart from theft, they seem to think that the church was there to use as a public convenience and when various bodily wastes were found on new carpet, the church was locked up by day and night.
Lesson Two – Down and out in Hobart Town.
A friend of mine related a tale to me, which gave me pause for thought and reflection, especially in view of what I had written above. It transpired that a taxi was requested to collect someone from an address in Hobart, Liverpool Street to be precise than the person had no money. Taxi drivers usually avoid people in this situation like the plague. I’ve talked to quite a few taxi drivers in my time including Ross Butler MP and he was more restrained than some about picking up drunks and cashless passengers. Drunks who throw up, people who go indoors to get their money and never reappear and some who turn really nasty. It would be a nice little project to write a story on the experiences of taxi drivers. I suspect they are the same the world over because even in New York, I found some really great guys and when one found I came from Australia, he wouldn’t take a cent: “ Your guys were in ‘Nam, bless you.” In New York of all places!
Back in Hobart, it appears the general call went out over taxi radio without any takers, itself hardly surprising. Somehow, a taxi driver was called to pick up a couple in the city and when he opened the door for the couple, it transpired that it was a husband and wife; with the wife being the victim of a traffic accident and rushed to Hobart by ambulance but with no money.
I don’t know what went through the taxi driver’s mind but a powerful imagination is not required, is specially when he learned that the destination was a country town. I do if not know whether he experienced any anxiety before allowing them into the cab but he took them in and drove them home. Apparently this situation was by any standards rather poor and he was offered all manner of securities, which he declined but he did say that he wanted to be paid. I can imagine the conversation in the cab and the promises about paying the fare and it was not an in considerable amount. A few days later, the cab driver was called into the city and paid by the grateful people. I understand the man is a practicing Roman Catholic which in my book makes him a Christian and furthermore, a remarkably charitable man. It says a great deal for him and his personal values.
My conclusion is community spirit, Christian charity and typical Tasmanian generosity is not dead. Reports of its demise are premature but it manifests itself much more in personal acts of random kindness. I guarantee that if I chose, I could find many more acts of not so random sheer bastardry. When I hear President Obama and our national leaders talking about the green shoots of recovery they are centred basically on economics. You don’t hear so much about sacrifice, obligations, service to others and respect for all. We are the poorer for it.
The future of this state is in our hands. We have the choice to vote for candidates whom we believe will govern in our interests and the interests of the state, not narrow sectional beliefs. This is the classic conundrum of democracy even with compulsory voting. A lot of it goes back to the structure of the parties, those who are politically active and how candidates are selected. They say if you pay peanuts you get monkeys. Presumably if you pay hay, you get donkeys. If I were younger or could find the fountain of eternal youth, perhaps, just perhaps I would stand up to be counted but looking at the political situation at present the only outcome I can see is a hung parliament. “May you live interesting times” is either a Chinese proverb or something attributed to the Chinese. I expect our traditional quiet period over Christmas and New Year will be punctuated with insincere statements of goodwill but come February, it will be on for young and old. I hope the election campaign won’t be dirty but that is more in hope than belief.
