THIS IS one of the most momentous weeks in Tasmania’s history.
A week when Tasmanians can seize the future.
Or remain trapped, tentative, terrified; chained by the shackles of the past.
Make no mistake.
The Masters and Overseers want you to remain in the stocks. Just as as too many Tasmanians have been since the rough cargo of the UK’s most unwanted first touched this island. First encountered its native born; first embraced and brutalised them.
Fear is embedded deeply in this island. From the fear of the unknown of the first settlers; to the fear of the invader of the first inhabitants; from the fear of the stalag of Governor Arthur to the fear of the wild of the edge-dwelling settlers and free-spirited Van Diemonians.
And so it has been in all Tasmania’s settler history. A fear. A fear that we might not measure up; that we might not be good enough; even that we might not survive.
And we have clung, desperately, to a cargo-cult mentality, which has tugged its forelock and assumed that others know better. That unless we fall at the feet of corporate masters, bleeding our offerings of cheap power and ample resource, they will reject us … and we will be lost.
Do not fall for it.
Do not fall for the Jurassic Bark of old men like Robin Gray, Paul Lennon, Tony Rundle, Michael Field.
Cast off fear.
There is no certain future.
The truth is; there never has been.
Only a belief in the goodness of each other; that things can be better; more moral; more truly human.
You have a stark choice on Saturday.
Or the uncertain, but fully-human future.