New World in the Morning?

Nostradamus

However, I am interested in the notion of community and remain extremely impressed by the way Tasmanians rallied to help the victims of the Victorian bushfires. This was Tasmania at its very best. Am I asking too much when I pose the question: can we not regard our neighbour as ourselves and act accordingly? I can remember when Tasmanians looked strangers in the eye and said G’day as they passed in the street. These days, we look sideways to see whether we going to be attacked, abused, hassled or met with outright hostility. In many respects, we are the poorest state in Australia however much I might joke about not being part of the Commonwealth. But poverty does not just mean less in wages: it extends to the way we regard each other. Times are hard economically and they will get harder in the very near future. More people will become unemployed and crime will probably rise as a result. More disturbingly, the Rudd government’s payments to the elderly and disadvantaged appear to have been fed into poker machines or other forms of gambling. Gambling is one of the biggest social problems we face. I oppose it on moral grounds because I believe that people try to get financial advantage by betting on something, whether it is horses, a row of symbols in a poker machine, the trots, dogs or two flies climbing a wall. The great Lemon once said: “you can’t legislate to stop people gambling; it’s in the nature of Australians.” He’s absolutely right but the tragedy of gambling is those that have the most to lose are the ones attracted to making money, by pokies located inappropriately in socially disadvantaged areas. Paradoxically, those areas have more of a sense of community at times than the posh suburbs of Hobart and Launceston.

New World in the morning?

I HAVE TO ‘fess up and tell regular readers that my absence from the pages of Tasmanian Times has been brought about by sickness and family visitors. I will leave the former to your imagination but I had to make time for family: they live in a very strange place north of Tasmania, where I would rather not go and as I often say 25 years in Melbourne is a life sentence in most jurisdictions. Quietly putting this article together I came across some inspiration in the form of an allegedly Swedish proverb: “Fear less, hope more; Eat less, chew more; Whine less, breathe more; Talk less, say more; Love more, and all good things will be yours”.

The world turned on despite my absence and Tasmanian Times now contains such a wonderful richness and diversity of views that we are obviously building up a media which meets the criteria of the site’s founder and editor. It may sound a little trite but after my first reading of the pages yesterday, the first for nearly 4 weeks (and that was a cursory glance) I began to hear a voice which said: “Yes, we can.” So Obama over-used it but so what? This wonderful island state of ours still has the potential to become great and an example for others to follow, provided we can get sufficient support and people pulling together instead of apart. I had a brief conversation with the editor sometime ago about writing on social problems. I didn’t get past depression but there are many others and there is a common link if examined carefully.

Consider this for a moment: Tasmania is often touted as a very affordable state in which to live. In some respects that is correct but in others it is so much pie-in-the-sky. We pay more for gasoline, energy and a variety of retail goods. The contrast with another South island some distance to the east could not be starker; especially with the price of diesel being $1.03 per litre and their dollar is worth less than ours. Gasoline and transport generally are a national problem and it is surely time to ask our politicians at both state and federal level just how the hell New Zealanders can buy cheaper fuel for cars, which themselves are cheaper than ours. This old crusty went with a party and were quite literally staggered by how well the South Island of New Zealand markets itself. Since our return, I’ve noticed an improvement certainly at the airport but instead of sending our politicians to Europe or America to learn about tourism, re-institution of direct flights to New Zealand and some politicians prepared to use their so-called study leave for specific purposes would do no harm.

Our city councils and town planners could also learn a few things. The small city of Invercargill in the very south of the South island is beautifully laid out and although its population isn’t large, it is clean, spacious and has wide-open public spaces – a far cry from Hobart. In fact Bridgewater is probably the only suburb that I have seen which comes remotely close to being as well laid out. As I periodically watch the greed of developers pushing through housing on the Eastern shore and across the Derwent above Taroona, I recoil from the visual excrescence that passes for development. I read a small item in the Mercury sometime ago that Hobart had some way lost its sister city status with Invercargill. I don’t know how this came about so I probably shouldn’t comment, let alone pass judgment but it is our loss. Half the problems (at least) in Australia, stems from the asinine notions held by the powers that be that because something hasn’t worked elsewhere, it can be made to work here, because this is Australia. In the course of a recent conversation with a migrant, I told him I was proud of the land of my birth but would never go back there and I added, “I regard myself as Australian by nationality but Tasmanian by choice.” And provided people read these columns this theme will be developed further, with the editor’s indulgence.

As a resident of the Eastern shore who has suffered from the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune directed by so-called developers, who have turned beautiful country and arable land (which we may one day live to regret) into deserts of tar, cement, and totally inappropriate housing, jammed cheek by jowl with their neighbours, I heard the Premier talk of his dreams for the city of Hobart, meaning mainly the CBD and the waterfront. I found a lot of what he said and described quite potent and attractive and yet, I had this sinking feeling inside that will never see the light of day. There are too many vested interests to accommodate and the Premier is unlikely to be able to bulldoze his way through to making Hobart the most attractive capital city in the Commonwealth. And when I reflect a little on such matters, I day dream about mounting a soft power coup d’état; expelling the money changers and traders from the temple in a biblical sense and having sufficient support to start tearing down architectural monstrosities such as Ground Zero; the Treacle Tin and quite a few other eyesores. I would need no help from the loquacious import from Sydney who writes for the Mercury on Saturday but it’s only a dream – first we take Hobart, then the North and finally the mainland. I really must stop eating mints because they obviously have some side-effect!

Before I leave the subject of architectural excrescence, I was a Christmas gathering with some people who knew quite a bit about developments on Tolman’s Hill. I had acquaintances that purchased a house up there and just had to leave because of the wind and the danger. One person I spoke to was a civil engineer and I will not embarrass him by mentioning his name but he said that in his opinion no development should’ve taken place up there because it is a catastrophe waiting to happen. I’m not sure what sort of catastrophe he had in mind but having nearly been blown out of a person’s very small backyard the only way was straight down — a long way down. Driving there can be quite hairy too: how do we do it? Allowing Tolman’s Hill, on the western shore and houses to be built on land that is obviously not stable geologically on the Eastern shore will one day become a nightmare. As of course, will Ralph’s Bay which is supported by the major political parties.

While I’m banging on about the Eastern shore, I speak as a resident and voter in the electorate of Franklin, which promises to be quite interesting at the next state election, which is about a year away I gather. We need piped gas to the Eastern shore and especially to the DFO at Cambridge. We also need fast broadband. I have so-called broad band and by comparison with Wi-Fi in New Zealand it is pathetic and expensive. Furthermore, with the ugly sprawl spreading across the hills past Rokeby and down towards South Arm and through Acton, public transport badly needs upgrading but isn’t that the case everywhere?

In many respects, it is quite refreshing and reassuring to read about the current state of the economy in Tasmania. I sincerely hope that what is written is true and our problems are manageable. When I get around to writing the definitive article on the social problems of Tasmania, it will probably be something of a Herculean effort. We are constantly bagged and tagged by those from the big island to the North as receiving far too much federal money for such a small population. I do not personally agree with that view, especially when it comes from the denizens of corrupt and drug-ridden states. Only a fool would deny that we have corruption here or that there is a drug problem but in a relative sense, we can count ourselves fortunate. However, many things do not happen in isolation. I would like to think we have rid ourselves of the intellectually bankrupt notion that there is no such thing as society, only individuals making their own way, which was rehashed and reformulated by many notables including Ronald Reagan, Margaret Thatcher and more importantly the glassy eyed ideologues of the feral right who pass themselves off as economists. Much very valuable work has been done on the subject of social capital in Australia and I cannot claim to be an expert on the subject.

However, I am interested in the notion of community and remain extremely impressed by the way Tasmanians rallied to help the victims of the Victorian bushfires. This was Tasmania at its very best. Am I asking too much when I pose the question: can we not regard our neighbour as ourselves and act accordingly? I can remember when Tasmanians looked strangers in the eye and said G’day as they passed in the street. These days, we look sideways to see whether we going to be attacked, abused, hassled or met with outright hostility. In many respects, we are the poorest state in Australia however much I might joke about not being part of the Commonwealth. But poverty does not just mean less in wages: it extends to the way we regard each other. Times are hard economically and they will get harder in the very near future. More people will become unemployed and crime will probably rise as a result. More disturbingly, the Rudd government’s payments to the elderly and disadvantaged appear to have been fed into poker machines or other forms of gambling. Gambling is one of the biggest social problems we face. I oppose it on moral grounds because I believe that people try to get financial advantage by betting on something, whether it is horses, a row of symbols in a poker machine, the trots, dogs or two flies climbing a wall. The great Lemon once said: “you can’t legislate to stop people gambling; it’s in the nature of Australians.” He’s absolutely right but the tragedy of gambling is those that have the most to lose are the ones attracted to making money, by pokies located inappropriately in socially disadvantaged areas. Paradoxically, those areas have more of a sense of community at times than the posh suburbs of Hobart and Launceston.

I have had strict instructions not to write long articles so I’ll finish here with a poetic reference sent to me by a well-wisher: It spoke to me.

Acquainted with the Night

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain – and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
O luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

By: Robert Frost (1874 – 1963)

From “New Hampshire”, 1923

Nostradamus