Following the Prime Minister's RM Williams inspired Youth blog, which lasted all of two weeks, Youth Minister Kate Ellis has launched a similar idea. The $80,000 Australian Youth Forum website aims to start a "national conversation with young Australians" and was launched last Thursday along with a few other youth-related trinkets. Kate Ellis gloated in Parliament that nothing like this had ever been done under the previous government, which she said "sidelined youth and abolished the portfolio."
But it has since emerged that consultations with many youth organisations was minimal. Worse was a recent incident where young people were flown to Canberra to discuss a report. Only trouble was the report had not been released and they had no access to it. Like an episode of The Hollowmen, they spent the day being scurried around the halls of parliament waiting for Kate Ellis to arrive and discuss a report they were not able to see. Ellis never showed up. The whole affair wasted a serious amount of time and money and reflected the low priority the portfolio has.
So is it worse to blatantly not do anything for young people or just pretend to do it?
Along with this report, more young people trinkets were launched last week. No fewer than three press releases were put out on the same day explaining the components of this new "strategy for young Australians". The first was the "national conversation" which would include the occasional live web chat (the next one is on 12 November), round tables and ideas via YouTube, twitter and the like. The second press release showed the dosh being spent on youth centres and the final component was a competition to get young people to submit "fresh" ideas for a youth forum in 2010.
These are all admirable enough but a conversation is normally a two way activity. Submissions coming in have been minimal — a week later there have been no YouTube videos (apart from Kate Ellis' own) and only four subscribers to the Australian Youth Forum YouTube channel . On Twitter, despite some expression of support for the initiative, no one has actually suggested anything under the #youthconvo tag. On the website itself there has been a bit of activity, mainly because on Wednesday Canberra delegates were encouraged by their minders to write something. The most ideas and "votes" were under the gambling section, many relating to limits on pokies access. But it was difficult to come up with ideas for the other sections, many of which had vague banners like "the vision", "core priorities for action", "the goals" and the "next big question". It's hard to encourage people to come up with ideas when the language used is so uninspiring.
The first live chat between students at Lyneham High School in Canberra and the PM highlighted another kink in the new youth "strategy", namely it promotes technology for technology's sake. Lyneham High is about a 15 minute drive from Parliament House and it would have meant more for the PM or even Kate Ellis to actually go down and have a face-to-face chat with students. Young people love technology — we get it. We like Facebook and MySpace and twitter, but not every message put in an IT box and wrapped up in a technology bow means that we will automatically buy it.
It was almost better under the Howard regime, which unashamedly abolished the portfolio. It was never likely to gain much of the youth vote. The Rudd Government, which got an impressive chunk of younger voters on side during the Kevin 07 campaign, has to look like it's doing something. There are some serious issues affecting young people — youth allowance and teenage unemployment are just two examples. The latter has jumped from 14.3 per cent to 19.5 per cent, significantly more than the 5.8 per cent general unemployment rate. All these blogs and conversations aimed at reaching out to young people are nice ideas but communication is only beneficial if something concrete emerges. Depressingly, it seems you only need to be seen to be listening. If you were to survey a bunch of people aged between 18 to 25 and asked them which was more "yoof" friendly, the Howard or the Rudd government most would almost certainly say the latter despite little difference between the two. I suppose this just means that spin works after all.
The Goanna is Bella Counihan.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Dolls on a roll
On paper most sports seem slightly ridiculous. Soccer you move a ball around with your feet and try and get it into a net. Snooker you push a ball around a felted table with a stick. But on paper, roller derby looks straightforward - chicks on skates, racing each other around a track, blocking and pushing until one on their team laps the rest to score points. But take that premise and combine it with fantasy aliases, mild violence and some serious camp kitsch fun and you've got something like your local netball team but with a punk rock edge. Never mind watching the cricket or the tennis on a Saturday arvo, the cultural history and spirit of this increasingly popular activity stands out as a completely different kind of spectator sport: a combination of athleticism, biff and entertainment which is hard to beat.
Roller derby has had a sudden surge in popularity, stemming from a revival of the sport in Texas in the early 2000s and it is quickly spreading. The second wave of this sport ties deeply into a sub-culture of punk rock, rockabilly, 50's bowling shirts, Betty Boop and the like. There are international leagues in Belgium, Canada, Germany, Ireland, the Netherlands, New Zealand, Sweden, Switzerland, and the United Kingdom. There is even an United Arab Emirates league called Abu Dhabi Roller Derby It reached Australian shores and became a cult phenomenon, with clubs in Sydney, Melbourne Adelaide, Brisbane and even Canberra. This new wave has been encouraged again by depictions of the sport in films and docos. In Australia there has been the ABC's "Roller Derby Girls"and the new American film "Whip it", whose character Babe Ruthless joins a local roller derby team.
Roller Derby's second wave is very much about a do it yourself mentality. Like many clubs, Canberra's League (whose symbol is a knuckle duster) started with people interested in the sport meeting over the internet and getting together in parking lots and halls to learn how to skate. The first Canberra public bout held on Saturday (a Halloween theme) was something to behold. Despite being held in Tuggeranong or "Thuggeraong", the outer suburbs of Canberra, the line went around the block. It was a sold out venue with a 1,000 tickets snapped up fast. The crowd was also a varied bunch with many kids and families in attendance. As the audience settled, one by one the skaters came out to pumped up music with their aliases printed on their helmets- not unlike the pilots' helmets in Top Gun. Pink quad skates, green striped stockings, faces with war paint and some granny chic on show - it was a pretty curious mix.
The entertainment value from a spectator's point of view is great. Sport meets a fantasy world of pun filled names, 60s kitsch and great costumes. You can't help but be reminded of the WWF but without the fakery. The Harlem Globe trotters also come to mind as sport is mixed in with performance art (perhaps why so many arty types join up). The names are just about the best part of the entire affair. No one skater can have the name of another and there is an international register to ensure no cross over. This also means that skaters are forced to get creative. Canberrean skaters on show include; Bambi von Smash her, Roulette Rouge, Bullseye Bettie, Sue R. Rat, Ova Bearing, Amykazeee and the DutchAss. Even the referees, also known as team Zebra are a part of the show - the head ref for this bout being "Fair as Bueller." By half time many in the crowd were wondering over to the recruitment desk already with their new alternative skate aliases in mind.
Is it all that violent? Well yes and no. You compare it to most other contact sports, probably not, but does it make your standard emo skater look like a wuss? Well, yes. During the bout there was some serious falls as the skaters tried to duck and weave their way through the blocking group or block the opposing team's jammer (Bambi von Smash her and Ova bearing were the star jammers of the day). With the pushing and shoving, skaters even sometimes tumble into the crowd. Injury of course is a reality. Most of the skaters said that learning to fall was key but with six hours training a week, emphasizing flexibility, endurance and general fitness it made the possibility less likely. It is no mean feat after all to skate around and around in two minute "jams" while trying to block and push other skaters. Despite its amateur feel, the sport needs some pretty serious commitment and athleticism.
The emphasis in the earlier incarnation of this sport was most certainly placed on gratuitous violence. But with a grassroots effort it has turned into something very different. It's about the fun and tongue in cheek of it all without denying the way it can empower women to do something for themselves.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Trying to be a duck, but turning out to be a turkey
Listening to Parliament can bring to mind that great description of the Aussie accent as being like a flock of ducks. Sometimes in the intensity of Question Time the ducks sound more like a rafter of turkeys. The voice of parliament inevitably reflects its membership. Only Senator Doug Cameron's Scottish purr stands out against the broad spectrum of the Australian accent. Pollies often try and play up or tone down the Australian accent depending on the audience. The accent can sometimes send as many messages as the words themselves, so while we listen attentively to what pollies are saying are we ignoring how they say it?
In the Australian community we have a large variety of accents but in Federal Parliament our MPs usually have swung around from the educated to the ocker in the spectrum of the Australian accent - from touches of bogan to admiringly anglicised. Many moons ago, former PM Robert "British to his bootstraps" Menzies, who drifted far more towards the traditional English public school accent, elongated his 'a's and 'o's. This accent represented at the time his education and his sophistication and gave Menzies a cultivated air as well as links to the empire. Bob Hawke by comparison, a couple of generations later, was the opposite of Menzies in many ways but particularly in how he spoke. Hawke was at the other end of the spectrum with a kind of Les Paterson accent which connected him with the common man.
Despite both Menzies and Hawke growing up in small towns in the bush, and both being well educated (Hawke was a Rhodes Scholar) we get a completely different feeling about their origins because of how they spoke. We got the idea that Hawke was a bloke, Menzies was not, that Menzies was cultured, Hawke was not. Accents have always sent messages out about who we are and our origins and particularly so in politics.
One sees politicians these days switching between the two extremes of the Aussie accent to fit the circumstance. Nowadays, the ever populist Rudd recently has been caught out. He got a serious mocking from the media for his "fair shake of the sauce bottle" experiment where he dipped into some ocker sounds dropping his usual diplomatic neutral tones. When Rudd, who really has a general Australian accent sitting fairly comfortably between the accents of Menzies and Hawke, tries to move his accent and language away from who he is, to try and appeal to some in the community, the Australian public is pretty quick to sniff it out. We know Rudd isn't just another bloke at the pub:
There are of course some parliamentarians who naturally stray closer toward the Kath and Kim accent - most notably Julia Gillard. National senator Barnaby Joyce we also buy as a country bloke at heart. And it is arguable that these pollies gain a benefit from these accents - they can tone it down when they want and easily ham it up without being called out as fake (like Rudd). They, as accent chameleons, have the benefit of being able to do both. Although to the outsider it all sounds the same as Gillard found out on a recent trip to the US. When the American kids she visited asked her if Australians spoke English, Gillard concluded that perhaps the accent was "foxing them a bit."
It has been often said before that parliament does not really represent Australia - we all don't sound either like Rudd or Gillard. There are no Greek accents, no Irish accents, no Asian accents, not even a New Zealand accent (those from across the pond representing about 390,000 of the current Australian population - about the size of Canberra's own population). There are many in parliament that show the extremes of the Ozzy accent and who have a specific or individual way of speaking - a few distinctively Adelaidean lilts (Conroy and Pyne) as well as those Taswegian voices (Abetz and Brown).
But the few foreign accents in the parliament, like Doug Cameron's, is a novelty. Accents have power in this country. A friend of mine trying to pick up in a bar, thought it would be advantageous to put on an Irish accent and exclaim to the first girl that came along "I usually only dance with me mammy but I'll make an exception for a lady". The accent plus the language sent a message that he would be funny, charming and all the other things we associate with that Emerald Isle and the girls bought it (or so he says). Accents send strong and pervasive social messages but when it is faked we usually know. When you're pretending to be a duck, its easy to see that you're being a turkey.
Bella Counihan writes for The Goanna
In the Australian community we have a large variety of accents but in Federal Parliament our MPs usually have swung around from the educated to the ocker in the spectrum of the Australian accent - from touches of bogan to admiringly anglicised. Many moons ago, former PM Robert "British to his bootstraps" Menzies, who drifted far more towards the traditional English public school accent, elongated his 'a's and 'o's. This accent represented at the time his education and his sophistication and gave Menzies a cultivated air as well as links to the empire. Bob Hawke by comparison, a couple of generations later, was the opposite of Menzies in many ways but particularly in how he spoke. Hawke was at the other end of the spectrum with a kind of Les Paterson accent which connected him with the common man.
Despite both Menzies and Hawke growing up in small towns in the bush, and both being well educated (Hawke was a Rhodes Scholar) we get a completely different feeling about their origins because of how they spoke. We got the idea that Hawke was a bloke, Menzies was not, that Menzies was cultured, Hawke was not. Accents have always sent messages out about who we are and our origins and particularly so in politics.
One sees politicians these days switching between the two extremes of the Aussie accent to fit the circumstance. Nowadays, the ever populist Rudd recently has been caught out. He got a serious mocking from the media for his "fair shake of the sauce bottle" experiment where he dipped into some ocker sounds dropping his usual diplomatic neutral tones. When Rudd, who really has a general Australian accent sitting fairly comfortably between the accents of Menzies and Hawke, tries to move his accent and language away from who he is, to try and appeal to some in the community, the Australian public is pretty quick to sniff it out. We know Rudd isn't just another bloke at the pub:
There are of course some parliamentarians who naturally stray closer toward the Kath and Kim accent - most notably Julia Gillard. National senator Barnaby Joyce we also buy as a country bloke at heart. And it is arguable that these pollies gain a benefit from these accents - they can tone it down when they want and easily ham it up without being called out as fake (like Rudd). They, as accent chameleons, have the benefit of being able to do both. Although to the outsider it all sounds the same as Gillard found out on a recent trip to the US. When the American kids she visited asked her if Australians spoke English, Gillard concluded that perhaps the accent was "foxing them a bit."
It has been often said before that parliament does not really represent Australia - we all don't sound either like Rudd or Gillard. There are no Greek accents, no Irish accents, no Asian accents, not even a New Zealand accent (those from across the pond representing about 390,000 of the current Australian population - about the size of Canberra's own population). There are many in parliament that show the extremes of the Ozzy accent and who have a specific or individual way of speaking - a few distinctively Adelaidean lilts (Conroy and Pyne) as well as those Taswegian voices (Abetz and Brown).
But the few foreign accents in the parliament, like Doug Cameron's, is a novelty. Accents have power in this country. A friend of mine trying to pick up in a bar, thought it would be advantageous to put on an Irish accent and exclaim to the first girl that came along "I usually only dance with me mammy but I'll make an exception for a lady". The accent plus the language sent a message that he would be funny, charming and all the other things we associate with that Emerald Isle and the girls bought it (or so he says). Accents send strong and pervasive social messages but when it is faked we usually know. When you're pretending to be a duck, its easy to see that you're being a turkey.
Bella Counihan writes for The Goanna
Sunday, October 18, 2009
What the Hex is going on?
If you happened to be in Canberra for the weekend but limited yourself to the usual tourist circuit, you missed out on quite the exorcism. Danny Nalliah, the head of Catch the Fire ministries - convinced that Canberra witches' covens had cursed our federal government with blood sacrifices on Mount Ainslie - gathered some 50 Christians to the North Canberra mountain to drive Beelzebub out.
By 2009 we might be done with these kinds of ideas but there are still people desperate for answers no matter how ridiculous they sound. Meanwhile the mainstream sits on a secular high horse poking fun at such bizarre behaviour. But Nalliah has developed a presence in Australian public life, not only in the Christian evangelical world but also links in the political world (see here and Peter Costello's message to a ministry gathering on Australia day, here).
Media reports of this "prayer offensive" have become the darling of the off-beat section, ridiculing the event and its prayer vs. black spells premise. But this being the age where you can be believe in spells and be totally in touch with media and the interwebs, Catch the Fire has cottoned on to the rest of Australia's mocking pretty quickly (see here). In response, Pastor Danny went on radio to explain this act of "spiritual warfare". He said witches have cast spells on our politicians to make more liberal laws about homosexuals and abortions and if we don't do something soon (like a mass prayer to ask God to get back on our side) we're going to have more natural disasters, including bush fires.
Witches of course do exist, although the more PC way to describe the group these days is Wiccans or Pagans and according to the Pagan Awareness Network, the pagan religion is one of the fastest growing religions in Australia. In the 2006 census, 1000 declared themselves Druidists, 15,000 belonged to the pagan religion and 8,000 were Wiccans. The total of all of these rivalled the amount of declared atheists (although fence-sitting agnostics totalled 20,000 and those that chose to declare no religion or did not state were about 6 million). It seems more people believe in Magick than emphatically believe there isn't a God.
Fiona Patten of the Australian Sex Party issued a statement before Saturday's event pointing out further strange statistics. She said since Kevin Rudd became PM, the number of MPs in the Parliamentary Christian Fellowship had risen from 75 to 84 which is "way out of proportion to the 9 per cent of the Australian public who claim to be committed weekly worshippers". The Australian Sex Party said it would protest at the event, just to add to the bizarreness, and the Pagan Network also intended to show up - but not in protest. They would have people on the ground listening "very carefully", presumably in case anything was incited against witches and the pagan community by Nalliah who has already landed himself in hot water for similar incidents (see here).
Apart from a protest and pious people gathered on a hill, what does one expect of an exorcism? It was very easy to conjure up Hollywood associations, spinning heads and all. The reality was the weirdest festival you've ever been to. The crowd of 200 divided neatly into about a third Catch the Fire followers, another third gay and atheist activists, Wiccans and metal t-shirt wearing young people and the remainder were a bewildered group of observers in the circus. These three groups, I wager, will never likely be seen together again.
Entering into the crowd of Nalliah devotees, Christian and Australian flags waving, was akin to going to a pokies venue on Christmas eve - people desperate, alienated and confused participating in something that gives them hope. Nalliah at the centre of it dressed in white suit jacket, shades and a small mega phone permanently in front of his face spoke much of forgiveness and healing of the nation, interjected only with the odd "hallelujah" and "praise Jesus". Many in the crowd spoke in tongues or mumbled prayers, the first of a series of communions on different parts of the hill, the relocation of the prayers perhaps to do with the spiritual mapping spiritual mapping.
In the background near the "black altar" - a communication tower further up the hill - were protesters singing It's Raining Men and waving placards. Into the middle of the Catch the Fire group walked a young gay man who stripped down to his underwear and threw his arms in the air, facing off with Nalliah and his entourage. Other protesters adorned themselves in rainbow flags, witches' hats and t-shirts with slogans: "I am what you are afraid of".
Pre-exorcism, Nalliah explained to his followers "If the Muslims can go all the way to Mecca, are we willing to sacrifice a bit to save our nation?" Well apparently yes, many are willing to sacrifice their time and energy to go to a car park at the top of a Canberra hill to fight invisible spirits affecting our policy makers. Among the reasons for being there given by observers, one man expressed concern about Nalliah's influence (he was relieved the "sane people" had outnumbered Nalliah's group). And one witch/Wiccan repeated the truism that there's not usually much on in Canberra.
- by Bella Counihan
By 2009 we might be done with these kinds of ideas but there are still people desperate for answers no matter how ridiculous they sound. Meanwhile the mainstream sits on a secular high horse poking fun at such bizarre behaviour. But Nalliah has developed a presence in Australian public life, not only in the Christian evangelical world but also links in the political world (see here and Peter Costello's message to a ministry gathering on Australia day, here).
Media reports of this "prayer offensive" have become the darling of the off-beat section, ridiculing the event and its prayer vs. black spells premise. But this being the age where you can be believe in spells and be totally in touch with media and the interwebs, Catch the Fire has cottoned on to the rest of Australia's mocking pretty quickly (see here). In response, Pastor Danny went on radio to explain this act of "spiritual warfare". He said witches have cast spells on our politicians to make more liberal laws about homosexuals and abortions and if we don't do something soon (like a mass prayer to ask God to get back on our side) we're going to have more natural disasters, including bush fires.
Witches of course do exist, although the more PC way to describe the group these days is Wiccans or Pagans and according to the Pagan Awareness Network, the pagan religion is one of the fastest growing religions in Australia. In the 2006 census, 1000 declared themselves Druidists, 15,000 belonged to the pagan religion and 8,000 were Wiccans. The total of all of these rivalled the amount of declared atheists (although fence-sitting agnostics totalled 20,000 and those that chose to declare no religion or did not state were about 6 million). It seems more people believe in Magick than emphatically believe there isn't a God.
Fiona Patten of the Australian Sex Party issued a statement before Saturday's event pointing out further strange statistics. She said since Kevin Rudd became PM, the number of MPs in the Parliamentary Christian Fellowship had risen from 75 to 84 which is "way out of proportion to the 9 per cent of the Australian public who claim to be committed weekly worshippers". The Australian Sex Party said it would protest at the event, just to add to the bizarreness, and the Pagan Network also intended to show up - but not in protest. They would have people on the ground listening "very carefully", presumably in case anything was incited against witches and the pagan community by Nalliah who has already landed himself in hot water for similar incidents (see here).
Apart from a protest and pious people gathered on a hill, what does one expect of an exorcism? It was very easy to conjure up Hollywood associations, spinning heads and all. The reality was the weirdest festival you've ever been to. The crowd of 200 divided neatly into about a third Catch the Fire followers, another third gay and atheist activists, Wiccans and metal t-shirt wearing young people and the remainder were a bewildered group of observers in the circus. These three groups, I wager, will never likely be seen together again.
Entering into the crowd of Nalliah devotees, Christian and Australian flags waving, was akin to going to a pokies venue on Christmas eve - people desperate, alienated and confused participating in something that gives them hope. Nalliah at the centre of it dressed in white suit jacket, shades and a small mega phone permanently in front of his face spoke much of forgiveness and healing of the nation, interjected only with the odd "hallelujah" and "praise Jesus". Many in the crowd spoke in tongues or mumbled prayers, the first of a series of communions on different parts of the hill, the relocation of the prayers perhaps to do with the spiritual mapping spiritual mapping.
In the background near the "black altar" - a communication tower further up the hill - were protesters singing It's Raining Men and waving placards. Into the middle of the Catch the Fire group walked a young gay man who stripped down to his underwear and threw his arms in the air, facing off with Nalliah and his entourage. Other protesters adorned themselves in rainbow flags, witches' hats and t-shirts with slogans: "I am what you are afraid of".
Pre-exorcism, Nalliah explained to his followers "If the Muslims can go all the way to Mecca, are we willing to sacrifice a bit to save our nation?" Well apparently yes, many are willing to sacrifice their time and energy to go to a car park at the top of a Canberra hill to fight invisible spirits affecting our policy makers. Among the reasons for being there given by observers, one man expressed concern about Nalliah's influence (he was relieved the "sane people" had outnumbered Nalliah's group). And one witch/Wiccan repeated the truism that there's not usually much on in Canberra.
- by Bella Counihan
Monday, October 12, 2009
Agro in politics
Not many people would try and bust their way into a Young Liberals meeting (in fact most would try and fight their way out). But this is exactly what happened at a flare up of factional rivalries at MP Alex Hawke's electoral office last month, when Hawke called police claiming about 40 uninvited people tried to force their way inside his office.
Then came the "agro husband punch up" with premier Mike Rann at the National Wine centre. These incidents have drawn the public's attention once again to the personal lives of politicians and the rivalries between them. We might not have as much biff as in other political systems. But when anything does happen, we all flock to it like kids on a school oval rushing towards a scrap between two ten-year-olds.
The Mike Rann incident — like so much in state politics at the moment — was personal. The assault led to revelations that Rann had had considerable personal contact with the estranged wife of the assailant, including phone calls and up to 10 text messages a day. The husband, Mr Rick Phillips, described the liaison as a "clandestine one-on-one relationship." Due to the public nature of the wine centre encounter, Rann has now been put on the back foot, and has been forced to explain this relationship to the community. He has even revealed threats made to him and his family.
The publicity of the Young Liberals brouhaha seemed to be intentional. Hawke claimed that a group of 40 were gatecrashing a meeting of Young Liberals. The 'gatecrashers' and the police say, however, that it was factionally motivated and, according to Sergeant Michael McInnes, "for the purposes of creating a little bit of a media stir". The group who tried to enter the meeting (many card-carrying Young Liberal members) in turn claim that Hawke refused them entry because he was concerned they were allied with his factional rival and previous boss David Clarke.
Branch-stacking is considered an art in many political circles. But stacking the odds in your favour by locking out some Young Libs and calling the police is a desperate tactic. Hawke is left looking like a fool and has incuured the wrath of some in his own party. Inter-factional rivalries have, of course, gained media attention before, notably the Peter Baldwin bashing in 1980. Baldwin, who belonged to the left faction of the ALP, was allegedly bashed by underworld figure Tom Dominican, allegedly on orders (I'll use that word again) from right winger Graham 'Richo' Richardson. His bruised face after the attack was plastered all over the papers. Hawke's stoush seems tame by comparison.
We have always had a bit of biff in Australian politics — remember the infamous handshake between Mark Latham and John Howard? And a lot of verbal biff — Paul Keating being the most prolific and the most inventive with his insulting language. But other countries make us look mild. All you need to do is type "parliament" or "politicians" and "fight" into YouTube to see what things could be like. Our parliament has never descended into physical punch ups like those in Taiwan or Korea. We have never had a political speech like that of Czech politician, Miroslav Macek, who began with a swift backhander to his rival, Czech Health Minister, David Rath, claiming "he deserved it".
But when there are scuffles, so goes the media, rumour and soap opera.
Bella Counihan is The Goanna.
Then came the "agro husband punch up" with premier Mike Rann at the National Wine centre. These incidents have drawn the public's attention once again to the personal lives of politicians and the rivalries between them. We might not have as much biff as in other political systems. But when anything does happen, we all flock to it like kids on a school oval rushing towards a scrap between two ten-year-olds.
The Mike Rann incident — like so much in state politics at the moment — was personal. The assault led to revelations that Rann had had considerable personal contact with the estranged wife of the assailant, including phone calls and up to 10 text messages a day. The husband, Mr Rick Phillips, described the liaison as a "clandestine one-on-one relationship." Due to the public nature of the wine centre encounter, Rann has now been put on the back foot, and has been forced to explain this relationship to the community. He has even revealed threats made to him and his family.
The publicity of the Young Liberals brouhaha seemed to be intentional. Hawke claimed that a group of 40 were gatecrashing a meeting of Young Liberals. The 'gatecrashers' and the police say, however, that it was factionally motivated and, according to Sergeant Michael McInnes, "for the purposes of creating a little bit of a media stir". The group who tried to enter the meeting (many card-carrying Young Liberal members) in turn claim that Hawke refused them entry because he was concerned they were allied with his factional rival and previous boss David Clarke.
Branch-stacking is considered an art in many political circles. But stacking the odds in your favour by locking out some Young Libs and calling the police is a desperate tactic. Hawke is left looking like a fool and has incuured the wrath of some in his own party. Inter-factional rivalries have, of course, gained media attention before, notably the Peter Baldwin bashing in 1980. Baldwin, who belonged to the left faction of the ALP, was allegedly bashed by underworld figure Tom Dominican, allegedly on orders (I'll use that word again) from right winger Graham 'Richo' Richardson. His bruised face after the attack was plastered all over the papers. Hawke's stoush seems tame by comparison.
We have always had a bit of biff in Australian politics — remember the infamous handshake between Mark Latham and John Howard? And a lot of verbal biff — Paul Keating being the most prolific and the most inventive with his insulting language. But other countries make us look mild. All you need to do is type "parliament" or "politicians" and "fight" into YouTube to see what things could be like. Our parliament has never descended into physical punch ups like those in Taiwan or Korea. We have never had a political speech like that of Czech politician, Miroslav Macek, who began with a swift backhander to his rival, Czech Health Minister, David Rath, claiming "he deserved it".
But when there are scuffles, so goes the media, rumour and soap opera.
Bella Counihan is The Goanna.
Friday, October 9, 2009
When it comes to youth voting, we are still in the dark
There's an old Scottish joke - how many Scotsmen does it take to change a light bulb? Och! It's no that dark!
But how many voters does it take to swing an election? There is now about 2.5 per cent of the population aged over 16 and under 18, who could be voting in Australia's next election if recommendations in the latest electoral green paper are taken up. There are arguments coming from either side but other countries are already embracing the concept of the teenage vote. The Scottish government recently allowing these under age voters to participate in a one-off independence referendum to be held in 2010. It is allowing 125,000 teenagers to vote in a significant decision about their country's future. But there is a catch — the minority government in power seems to have empowered these new voters to swing the vote in their direction rather than promote democratic participation. So is giving the vote to younger people always about strategy and not about democracy?
Voting is a noble idea. It provokes passionate responses. We fight and sometimes die to protect the franchise. But with voting comes the awful business of political parties. Democratic participation is only an ideal and the reality is often reduced to voting for barely distinguishable candidates. Citizen Kang comes to mind in an episode of The Simpsons where two aliens inhabit the bodies of Bill Clinton and Bob Dole during an election campaign. They are easily able to manipulate the voters by slight variation of their policies to wit:
Kang (Alien Bob Dole): Abortions for all.
[crowd boos]
Very well, no abortions for anyone.
[crowd boos]
Hmm... Abortions for some, miniature American flags for
others.
[crowd cheers and waves miniature flags]
Voters, as groups classified by age or socioeconomic status, are prejudiced towards or against certain issues. The individual perspective and ideas are often lost as politicians play to voters preconceptions about policy and parties. Young people, as a voting block, are inevitably prejudiced — towards change, progression and liberal values. This is to not say there aren't any 16 and 17-year-olds hanging pictures of Margaret Thatcher on their walls, but as a group young people's natural inclination is towards the left. So the worry is, if we know how a particular group is going to vote, can we separate the legitimacy of their right to vote from the politics of it all? Are we talking about improving democracy or simply improving the chances of one side winning over the other?
Initially it seems as though the Coalition would naturally be against younger voters and Labor for them. But we have some Julie and Julia spanners in our works. The deputy leader of the Liberal party, Julie Bishop, announced recently that "obviously we are keen for as many people as possible to be engaged in the democratic and political process in Australian public life." Seemingly this is in contrast to the shadow special minister for state, Senator Michael Ronaldson, who released a statement saying that younger voters would be a ''threat to democracy''. The other Julia spanner, Deputy Prime Minister Julia Gillard, seems to be pretty against the idea, going by what she said in a special youth Q and A broadcast on ABCTV recently. She argued that compulsory voting is such a peculiar and successful system in Australia that having a voluntary option would be a step back and that equally a compulsory vote for 16 and 17-years-olds would not work because not all were capable to vote.
Both of these spanners in the strategy over democracy argument have legitimate points. Without the process being compulsory, a voluntary vote would inevitably encourage extremes. Only those dedicated activist, badge-wearing, Rick from The Young Ones types would vote leaving the mainstream behind. But as Bishop points out, we should have more participation and more engaged citizens. We should definitely examine who gets the vote in this country, including non-citizens as well as under age voters. So maybe it's not all tactics. Maybe the idea of whom we let vote is actually important to people, even politicians. And they might even express views that are contradictory to those that would benefit their parties. Ultimately, however, it seems unlikely we will change that voting light bulb in the immediate future, leaving some for the moment in the dark.
Bella Counihan is the Goanna.
But how many voters does it take to swing an election? There is now about 2.5 per cent of the population aged over 16 and under 18, who could be voting in Australia's next election if recommendations in the latest electoral green paper are taken up. There are arguments coming from either side but other countries are already embracing the concept of the teenage vote. The Scottish government recently allowing these under age voters to participate in a one-off independence referendum to be held in 2010. It is allowing 125,000 teenagers to vote in a significant decision about their country's future. But there is a catch — the minority government in power seems to have empowered these new voters to swing the vote in their direction rather than promote democratic participation. So is giving the vote to younger people always about strategy and not about democracy?
Voting is a noble idea. It provokes passionate responses. We fight and sometimes die to protect the franchise. But with voting comes the awful business of political parties. Democratic participation is only an ideal and the reality is often reduced to voting for barely distinguishable candidates. Citizen Kang comes to mind in an episode of The Simpsons where two aliens inhabit the bodies of Bill Clinton and Bob Dole during an election campaign. They are easily able to manipulate the voters by slight variation of their policies to wit:
Kang (Alien Bob Dole): Abortions for all.
[crowd boos]
Very well, no abortions for anyone.
[crowd boos]
Hmm... Abortions for some, miniature American flags for
others.
[crowd cheers and waves miniature flags]
Voters, as groups classified by age or socioeconomic status, are prejudiced towards or against certain issues. The individual perspective and ideas are often lost as politicians play to voters preconceptions about policy and parties. Young people, as a voting block, are inevitably prejudiced — towards change, progression and liberal values. This is to not say there aren't any 16 and 17-year-olds hanging pictures of Margaret Thatcher on their walls, but as a group young people's natural inclination is towards the left. So the worry is, if we know how a particular group is going to vote, can we separate the legitimacy of their right to vote from the politics of it all? Are we talking about improving democracy or simply improving the chances of one side winning over the other?
Initially it seems as though the Coalition would naturally be against younger voters and Labor for them. But we have some Julie and Julia spanners in our works. The deputy leader of the Liberal party, Julie Bishop, announced recently that "obviously we are keen for as many people as possible to be engaged in the democratic and political process in Australian public life." Seemingly this is in contrast to the shadow special minister for state, Senator Michael Ronaldson, who released a statement saying that younger voters would be a ''threat to democracy''. The other Julia spanner, Deputy Prime Minister Julia Gillard, seems to be pretty against the idea, going by what she said in a special youth Q and A broadcast on ABCTV recently. She argued that compulsory voting is such a peculiar and successful system in Australia that having a voluntary option would be a step back and that equally a compulsory vote for 16 and 17-years-olds would not work because not all were capable to vote.
Both of these spanners in the strategy over democracy argument have legitimate points. Without the process being compulsory, a voluntary vote would inevitably encourage extremes. Only those dedicated activist, badge-wearing, Rick from The Young Ones types would vote leaving the mainstream behind. But as Bishop points out, we should have more participation and more engaged citizens. We should definitely examine who gets the vote in this country, including non-citizens as well as under age voters. So maybe it's not all tactics. Maybe the idea of whom we let vote is actually important to people, even politicians. And they might even express views that are contradictory to those that would benefit their parties. Ultimately, however, it seems unlikely we will change that voting light bulb in the immediate future, leaving some for the moment in the dark.
Bella Counihan is the Goanna.
Monday, October 5, 2009
It's irresistible to poke fun at Joe Hockey for liking Delta Goodrem
Politicians and music will always be like oil and water but it's still funny when the two ideas mix. MySpace recently released a list of some prominent pollies and their favourite tunes. The list reveals the musical leanings of Kevin Rudd, Malcolm Turnbull, Joe Hockey, Julie Bishop and gyrating rocker turned environment minister, Peter Garrett. Apparently Rudd likes a bit of Sinatra and John Denver (Denver circa 71' even looks a bit like Rudd), while Turnbull digs some 80's classics. This does reveal what the pollies want to project about their musical taste and personalities but when politics and music mix, politicians will always come out on the bottom.
Bill Clinton playing the saxophone with dark sunglasses all those years ago has become as much of a cliche as the pot smoking and the stained dress. When John Howard came out and said that he liked Bob Dylan's music but not his lyrics — it both revealed a truth about his politics and a palpable dagginess. Many of Boris Yeltsin's most embarrassing moments were also to do with music, not least booze. Remember his famous drunken erratic dancing or when he tried to conduct a military band after stealing the baton from the bandmaster?
Peter Garrett's musical fame actually helped into politics, but he was quickly derided because he was seen to have abandoned the principles he laid out with his band Midnight Oil. His connection with music ultimately has come to harm his credibility — spawning headlines like "its hard to sleep while your cred is burning." Without his musical associations, we wouldn't probably have judged his political career so harshly.
When politicians reveal their musical taste it always gives us a few chuckles. Musical taste is, of course, entirely subjective. But in this list it's easy to see that some are trying to project something about themselves. In choosing Handel's Messiah, Rudd represents his Christian side. With John Denver's Fire and Rain we see a baby boomer/folk side. His choice of The Power and the Passion by Midnight Oil seems a plug for his environment minister. The Turnbull faves were arguably a bit more varied and belonged mainly to the 70s and 80s — what you would expect of someone from his generation. It's hard to tell what Joe Hockey is trying to say with some of the evocative titles in his list, Sweet about Me by Gabriella Cilmi , Catch my disease by Ben Lee, Kenny Roger's The Gambler and (wince) Believe Again by Delta Goodrem. All catchy songs but if you only had the titles to go by, it would paint an odd picture of Hockey.
Overall, despite some tragic moments, it wasn't all bad. There were some great songs on there, including Bob Dylan's All Along the Watchtower (a Garrett selection) or Dusty Springfield's Son of a Preacher Man (a Julie Bishop pick). But when you peruse the list you come away with an impression of dorkiness and a sense the MPs were consciously trying to say someting about themselves.
The truth is, politics is the opposite of music. Not to get a bit Hallmark card here, but music is about freedom of expression and truth. Politics could be nothing further from this and it is a fundamental reason why they seem incongruous when they are put together and why Garrett has been persecuted for crossing that musical floor so to speak.
The underlying reason politicians and music make an odd pair is that music means something to people, while politics, and politicians in particular, really doesn't. We associate music with good times and even a way to mark chapters of our life. Rudd himself said that "music has a strong nostalgic element" and that his play-list " reflects some of my treasured memories and life experiences.". It's not often you see a politician's face, or remember a particular vote in parliament, and connect it with a personal moment in your life. It's good to know that politicians have lives outside what we see in parliament. But when the two worlds mix, we just can't help but to poke fun.
BELLA COUNIHAN IS THE GOANNA
Bill Clinton playing the saxophone with dark sunglasses all those years ago has become as much of a cliche as the pot smoking and the stained dress. When John Howard came out and said that he liked Bob Dylan's music but not his lyrics — it both revealed a truth about his politics and a palpable dagginess. Many of Boris Yeltsin's most embarrassing moments were also to do with music, not least booze. Remember his famous drunken erratic dancing or when he tried to conduct a military band after stealing the baton from the bandmaster?
Peter Garrett's musical fame actually helped into politics, but he was quickly derided because he was seen to have abandoned the principles he laid out with his band Midnight Oil. His connection with music ultimately has come to harm his credibility — spawning headlines like "its hard to sleep while your cred is burning." Without his musical associations, we wouldn't probably have judged his political career so harshly.
When politicians reveal their musical taste it always gives us a few chuckles. Musical taste is, of course, entirely subjective. But in this list it's easy to see that some are trying to project something about themselves. In choosing Handel's Messiah, Rudd represents his Christian side. With John Denver's Fire and Rain we see a baby boomer/folk side. His choice of The Power and the Passion by Midnight Oil seems a plug for his environment minister. The Turnbull faves were arguably a bit more varied and belonged mainly to the 70s and 80s — what you would expect of someone from his generation. It's hard to tell what Joe Hockey is trying to say with some of the evocative titles in his list, Sweet about Me by Gabriella Cilmi , Catch my disease by Ben Lee, Kenny Roger's The Gambler and (wince) Believe Again by Delta Goodrem. All catchy songs but if you only had the titles to go by, it would paint an odd picture of Hockey.
Overall, despite some tragic moments, it wasn't all bad. There were some great songs on there, including Bob Dylan's All Along the Watchtower (a Garrett selection) or Dusty Springfield's Son of a Preacher Man (a Julie Bishop pick). But when you peruse the list you come away with an impression of dorkiness and a sense the MPs were consciously trying to say someting about themselves.
The truth is, politics is the opposite of music. Not to get a bit Hallmark card here, but music is about freedom of expression and truth. Politics could be nothing further from this and it is a fundamental reason why they seem incongruous when they are put together and why Garrett has been persecuted for crossing that musical floor so to speak.
The underlying reason politicians and music make an odd pair is that music means something to people, while politics, and politicians in particular, really doesn't. We associate music with good times and even a way to mark chapters of our life. Rudd himself said that "music has a strong nostalgic element" and that his play-list " reflects some of my treasured memories and life experiences.". It's not often you see a politician's face, or remember a particular vote in parliament, and connect it with a personal moment in your life. It's good to know that politicians have lives outside what we see in parliament. But when the two worlds mix, we just can't help but to poke fun.
BELLA COUNIHAN IS THE GOANNA
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