Chris Harries Re-defining Australia’s common values asks for a humble inquiry into what drives us as individuals.

For instance, if, perchance, I was born in Iran there is perhaps a 95% chance I would be a practicing Muslim. I would cherish the values of Islam and argue fervently for them, die for them even. In short, I would not be who I am. Only a slender thread of chance made the difference.

If, perchance, I happened to be born in Brazil, I would be, most likely, a practicing Catholic. If born in Australia, I would most likely be nominally a Christian who does not go to church. If I was born in a remote village in New Guinea, I would believe, without question, in the power of my deceased ancestors.

Why do each of us cherish our personal values and worldviews with the passion that we do? Why are so many of us angry with people who have contrasting opinions?

When there are literally thousands of different ways to view the world, what can possibly make our own worldview superior to anybody else’s? Oddly, few stop to ask the most obvious question of all. Few stop to ponder what makes us who we are.

The nature-versus-nurture conundrum has been around for eons and has been the subject of untold scientific explorations — such as the study of twins who have been separated at birth and then have gone on to live out their different lives.

Without invading that complex area of social science too deeply, we should be fascinated by the things that, although staring us in the face, we tend to turn a blind eye to.

For instance, if, perchance, I was born in Iran there is perhaps a 95% chance I would be a practicing Muslim. I would cherish the values of Islam and argue fervently for them, die for them even. In short, I would not be who I am. Only a slender thread of chance made the difference.

If, perchance, I happened to be born in Brazil, I would be, most likely, a practicing Catholic. If born in Australia, I would most likely be nominally a Christian who does not go to church. If I was born in a remote village in New Guinea, I would believe, without question, in the power of my deceased ancestors.

Religious belief makes for convenient comparison, because it generally comes with a label. But the same observation applies to many other cultural values we may or may not cherish. Like our attitudes to war and justice, women’s rights, abortion, sustainability … and so forth.

So, let’s surmise for a moment. How would history have changed if two contemporary humans — say Adolf Hitler and Mother Theresa — had been swapped in their hospital cots at the time of their births? Would the vices of Adolf and the virtues of Mother Theresa have been reversed? Who is to know? But we can safely say history would not have been the same as actual history, as is now recorded.

Clearly, the major driver of ‘what we intrinsically believe’ comes simply from sheer chance — the place in which we happened to be born, the parents we inherited and the accidental influences that touched us in our critical, formative childhood years.

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There is a second blindspot too. Whilst chance may determine what we think, gender seems to be the critical factor that spells out intensity of opinion — that is, whether diversity of opinion remains harmonious or becomes destructive.

A survey of national media shows that dominant opinion writers/commentators are almost exclusively male. Andrew Bolt, Piers Ackerman, Phillip Adams, John Pilger, John Laws, and so forth. So too the bulk of participants in Internet opinion forums.

We tend to turn a blind eye to the obvious — virtually all warfare has men at the helm on both sides. Like most mammals, humans are driven by natural aggression. And testosterone seems to be the major factor deciding how tolerant we are of cultural diversity. It is the gender factor, more than anything else, that drives us to deride, put down, hate, or conquer those whose worldviews appear, at face value, to be contrary to our own.

Earnest menfolk are the ideological campaigners who, in the absence of antlers, use words in a headbutting warfare as they champion one ideology over another. By contrast, women tend to volunteer opinions when asked, but are much less driven to persuade the rest of society to follow suit. I very much doubt if Mother Theresa, if swapped with Hitler at birth, would have taken up his belligerent role.

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Finally, we humans are subject to yet another powerful instinct. Like many mammals we are naturally tribal. Even in modern technological society we can’t stop ourselves from belonging to and identifying with a group, whether it be a sporting club, a religion, a political affiliation, a pressure group or a regional social grouping.

No doubt a survival mechanism has created this tribal drive in us, and there is nothing intrinsically wrong in our selfish instinct to protect our group’s interest.

However, this instinct has its dark side. Time and again it stops most of us from being able to relate, with total compassion, with those on the opposing side. That is, the people behind the barricade on the other side, the victims of warfare, persecuted minorities … and so forth. Our selfish instinct stops us from really understanding how other people think. ‘To walk a mile in another person’s shoes, as the saying goes.

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Seen these ways, if we acted with humble intelligence we would have to accept that our personal worldviews, far from being invincibly logical (as they appear to ourselves), are mostly a combination of accident-of-circumstance and base human instincts. Logic is a minor player. I am what I am mostly because of where I was born and whom I was born to and whatever happened to me after that.

Yet, as if turning a blind eye to these glaring realities, we tend to defend to the bitter end our worldview — our perceived gospel of truth — as if this was derived from a lifetime’s diligent, bipartisan summing up of facts.

That sobering insight should make us all immediately more tolerant and more understanding of those from other cultures, and of those within our own culture, who hold contrasting worldviews to our own. After all, there is barely a whisker between ‘us’ and ‘them’. Nothing but a whisker separates Bin Laden and George Bush; John Howard and Phillip Adams; myself and the Iraqi immigrant down the road.

These observations should also inform us that any absolutist, doctrinaire outlook is actually a feature of gross human blindness, even arrogance. A universal human frailty it would seem, because it is so commonplace.

So, should we then just believe in mush — where anything goes, nothing is sacred? There is a middle way. We also know that humanity has always advanced through an intelligent, dialectic contest between contrasting worldviews. Mush doesn’t provide answers when lives are shattered, for instance.

In order to advance as an intelligent, functioning society, we need to cherish our strongly held personal worldviews and be prepared and able to shout them from the rooftops if need be — but always with a touch of radical doubt, knowing that there is no chance we alone can have got it right. It is lack of humility that leads so many to absolutist positions and general intolerance of others.

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Our national attempts to define a set of criteria (common values) that all Australians should accept can be an exercise in maturity, but only so long as it generates a better reflection on the deeper things that drive human destructiveness.

The bottom line for a viable, sane society has to include just a handful of obvious line items, such as the need for planetary survival and a law and order system that is not broken down — the things that would be certain to gain close to 100% consensus of opinion.

Beyond that we need a national culture that does not merely tolerate, but cherishes and maximises democratic participation. One that enjoys its internal contrasts and protects its harmless minorities. Lastly, one that makes generous allowances for the conscientious objectors in our midst to be respected (even if that respect is not necessarily returned). These people, rather than being despised, should be highly valued as an ever-present social conscience.

It remains to be seen if we humans, by over-riding our base instincts, are able to rise to such a level of maturity. That is the challenge regardless.

Chris Harries
August 2006

Chris Harries is a Tasmanian-based writer and social advocate. He is a former adviser to Green MP, Senator Bob Brown.