rare political comment

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Life is a near death experience

On his 2008 album City That Care Forgot, Dr John sings that ‘life is a near death experience’. Ever the pragmatist, Dr John, and on this album, a rather angry one, addressing the concerns of post-Katrina New Orleans.

It’s an album that takes on wider meaning in the aftermath of Queensland’s devastating run of floods and storms — burdens shared in NSW and Victoria, Tassie too — and WA’s fires and now, most recent horror of horrors, the earthquake that has torn New Zealand’s Christchurch apart.

I can’t imagine it, that suddenness: a terrorist couldn’t have timed it better. A crowded city centre, a lunch time crowd running errands, shopping, eating … and then the moment when it all goes to hell. Buses crushed, buildings collapsed, cliffs fallen…

There’s word that a youth hostel is the site of multiple fatalities, bringing to mind the horrible arson in Childers that killed so many backpackers. That distance from home, that has to add salt to the viciously ripped wound; a long-ago far-away farewell and no homecoming, just a box, and grainy, goofy pictures from the interwebs plastered on websites under the title of ‘coverage’ as we try to make sense of it all.

It’s the arbitrariness of death that helps to make it such a fearsome force. Even when human agencies are at hand, there’s that element of chance, of randomness. That building, that car, that spot on the sidewalk… but not mine. The person next to me. But not me. Not this time.

Dr John’s album is an indictment, a plea, a rallying cry. It points the bone at callous politics and immoral big business; it urges strength in the face of indifference. It urges perseverance and pride, and finds strength in history and community.

My friends scuffling with contractors/permits and roofers/on top of tons property damage/feel like insurance companies screwed us

The song title? We Gettin’ There.

There might be a bit of Aussie irony in Dr John…

Australia and New Zealand are fortunate places; not perfect, by any means, but the ongoing crises demonstrate that the quality of compassion hasn’t been lost. Our musicians don’t have to write protest songs after a national tragedy to make the rest of the country give a damn. The two countries rally around their own, they help any way they can. Mere hours after the earthquake, Australian relief workers were winging their way across the Tasman. The message is clear, from the Government all the way down to the folks leaving messages of support on the interwebs: we share your pain; we’ve got your back. Godspeed.

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Media Diary goes into PR mode

Following up yesterday’s woefully presented remark about the effect of cyclone Yasi on Queensland, the editor of The Australian’s Media Diary has updated the offensive post headlined, dismissively and offensively methinks, Much Ado.

What a shame that the full context for posting the two pars of reportage wasn’t posted in the first place — it might have helped reduce the outrage to a mere WTF?

If this was the best summary quote that the editor could find to give a picture of what was happening — bearing in mind the effects of the cyclone were still being felt at the landing point at that time (in fact, storm and flooding flow-on will continue for days) — I can’t help but think something was amiss. To pass the caller’s comment on without the context now supplied (a “good news” story from somewhere in north Queensland), and with what comes across as a patronising tone (“palm trees have of course lost fronds”): why? I guess those having their roofs torn off were otherwise engaged at the time and couldn’t make it to the phone to call Sydney talkback.

I’m still not sure why this item even made it onto a blog dedicated to the comings, goings, pratfalls and indiscretions of the media.

So what we’ve got is:

Headline: FAIL

Content: FAIL

Presentation: FAIL

Timing: FAIL

The update isn’t much better. A bunch of tweets showing that, really, the editor really did give a damn (just not on the blog), the unconvincing defence of the decision to post those two pars, and then a return salvo at the irate but telling blog at Grog’s Gamut taking the original post to task.

Nice try, Much Ado, but something is rotten.

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So that would be a FAIL for Media Diary then

Had dinner, another coffee, taken some deep breaths… and after re-reading and re-reading these bizarre two paragraphs posted at 9.17am today at The Australian’s Media Diary, I’m still going WTF?

A resident of north Queensland has just called into Sydney radio to say the roof of their cubby house was blown off during Cyclone Yasi.

Also, reports of garage doors being battered. Some poles are down. Palm trees have of course lost fronds.

I’m trying to understand why this piece of copy made it to the internet.


With a headline of “Much ado”, the tone of the piece is pretty much set. Cyclone Yasi: nothing to see here, folks. Much ado about nothing. Probably not the sentiments of those who have lost their homes and their farms, whose businesses are closed if not destroyed. The storm is still making merry with the inland, roads are blocked and washed away, power and communications are cut … we don’t even know, 12 hours after this post hit the Australian’s blog, just how much damage has been done. The Premier of Queensland says thousands will be homeless.

So is it a bad joke? Whose? Why repeat it as the sun is coming up on an unknown amount of devastation — there’s been a hell of a lot more than a few palm fronds blown away up north.

Is it repeating a serious caller — again, from whom, and why select this one for a moment of fame on a blog dedicated to “this week’s take on the Australian media”? (Why is it even on this blog?) “North Queensland” is a very big place — was the caller in Cooktown, perhaps, outside the immediate rage of cyclone Yasi? Or was it a resident cracking hardy while all around them turned to sludge? That’s one hell of a dry wit (always possible; northerners are a breed apart and hard to shake: see the duckhand video for making light of danger or, as the blog would have it, officialdom and hyperbole (a new euphemism for cyclonic winds, presumably)). Actually, that comment under the video does tend to suggest a tone that just maybe this cyclone isn’t as dangerous as we’re being led to believe – the absence of corpses might allow those who think that way a chance to say, see! But maybe it’s the ‘hyperbole’ that’s partly to thank for the absence of body bags.

But back to the Much ado piece that so incensed me: Why publish these two paragraphs that, on face value, do nothing other than trivialise the anguish of hundreds of thousands of people? Is the second paragraph also courtesy of the caller, or is that editorialising/reportage?

Without context, these come across as someone’s idea of a joke: I’ve got no idea who would be laughing.

It certainly detracts from the piece underneath, which seems to hose down a Crikey report, and its apparent endorsement by the blog, alleging a failure to give a damn about the people on Palm Island.

The Much Ado post reflects badly on the writer, it reflects badly on the masthead, and it further exacerbates the stereotypic perception of journalists as little more than vultures and sharks.

I’ve emailed the blog’s editor to ask about the context for posting this item, but I think my concerns above are valid.

ON a technical side, I also wonder if it’s not just a little disingenuous to have an open comments box on a column that, if previous articles on the blog can be judged by, never publishes them. What’s it there for: the Christmas party brag sheet?

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Such vileness at The Australian

It’s not unusual for me to be embarrassed to be associated with News Ltd, but now, I’m actually ashamed. This piece of gutter commentary, no doubt aimed to garner a few of those precious internet hits that consume News’s online presence, simply amazes me. Lives torn apart, farms in ruins, infrastructure on its knees, the storm not even over yet, and this creature is lamenting the absence of what? Death? Corpses?

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Whew… relief after Yasi

The massive cyclone Yasi is dragging its wind and rain inland with flood warnings extending all the way to Alice Springs and South Australia as Julia Creek and Mt Isa brace for impact from the (by then) category 1 storm.

Back on the coast where the cyclone was at its most fierce, the damage is being counted: the good news is, so far, no deaths, no injuries. In other words, all those warnings and all those preparations did the job, and communities well used to wild tropical weather pulled together and, for the most part, kept their cool.

Communities have been devastated and the economic impact, from the cost of restoring infrastructure to re-establishing crops, will continue to be felt. Homes have to be rebuilt, businesses restored, power reconnected. Farmers are once again being drawn across the rack of nature — it isn’t that long ago that cyclone Larry blazed a path of destruction through the same area. There’s a lot of heartache on the road ahead.

But from the summaries at news.com.au, it seems life has won this round — no graves to be dug so far, but three storm babies born.

For the second time in a month, I’ve felt strangely driven to keep vigil with those in my home state who are facing such fearsome odds, such horrible travails. I’m relieved that, this time round, the price appears to be paid solely in materials, however beloved, and money, not lives. There is some comfort in that.

Here is one place where you can donate to help victims of both Yasi and the earlier flood devastation.

Maybe Opposition leader Tony Abbott, instead of asking for donations to help fund his opposition to a Medicare levy proposed to help pay for post-flood damage, can ask contributors to donate to this instead and actually do some good.

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International Day of the World’s Indigenous People

International Day of the World’s Indigenous People: that’d be today. And a time to think about those ugly questions such as health divides, sexual and substance abuse, unequal opportunities, exploitation … in between bitching about the iPhone reception being dodgy and the latte being bitter.

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‘Goth looking but genius’ – WTF?

pauley perrette as abby in ncis

I was reading this article about a mummy exhibition, sadly in the US so I can only admire from afar, when I was struck by an assinine comment, in relation to the wundertabulous forensic tech Abby (played by Pauley Perrette) in NCIS. A mummy expert is saying how she loves the character, a positive role model for women seeking careers in science. And the journalist added this note of explanation:

“Perrette plays the Goth-looking but genius Abby Sciuto on the top-rated television drama.”

“Goth-looking but genius”.

Why BUT. Why not AND? Why is it even relevant to this piece about mummies that Abby’s gothic? But it’s the ‘but’ that gets me. As if goths can’t be clever.

Phooey to your but.

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Wendy Rule, Midsummer fairies and the Christmas club

wendy rule

Wendy Rule

It’s Midsummer tomorrow here in Melbourne and we’re in the swing of the season with drinks tonight and what should be a fab outing to the Botanic Gardens for A Midsummer Night’s Dream tomorrow. We kicked off last night with Wendy Rule’s Fairy Ball at the gorgeous Thornbury Theatre (except for the loos, which smelled like a bat cave by the end of the night, and the absence of napkins to accompany the scrummy finger food).

Rule is a Melbourne singer-songwriter with an international reputation in pagan circles. She and her guitars were backed with cello, vibraphone, percussion, violin and clarinet last night, playing two sets that included songs from her forthcoming album, Guided by Venus, as well as favourites such as Wolf Sky, Artemis and Hecate.

The first set, heavy on slow songs, struggled to make an impact over the chatter and the delightful squeals of children dancing and playing with balloons, but the second, ramping up the tempo and volume, got us where we needed to be, and filled the dance floor.

The most powerful gig I’ve seen Rule play was in a delicious venue in Brisbane, a converted church, where, to judge by the vibe and appreciative quiet in the room, the audience was mostly pagan, there not just for the music but for the message as well. There was a similar atmosphere last year when Rule and cellist Rachel Samuel played a gig in our backyard. That was a different ‘our’, and a different backyard, but the magic of that night endures.

A highlight of last night’s gig was Zero, a song Rule dedicated to the energy of creativity. Midsummer was a good time, she said, for looking ahead to projects about to begin, and back to those accomplished. A time to take stock, and draw up energy for the year ahead.

Sitting at the gig, watching the parade of fairy wings and glitter faces, I was reminded of a recent discussion on Radio National about atheism. The discussion itself was illuminating, offering a wide variety of experiences explaining why callers did not believe, or had abandoned their belief, in a deity. (The Life Matters episode was anchored off a new collection of essays about atheism, 50 Voices of Disbelief co-edited by Aussie Russell Blackford.)

The program’s website has a comment board, where one delightful respondent opined that those who didn’t belong to the Jesus club had no right to celebrate Christmas. So, presumably, all these little fairy kids in front of me, prancing and laughing in their colourful costumes, were denied a present under the tree because of their parents’ non-Christian beliefs. As if Santa Claus has anything to do with the Christian faith. Given the festival has been appropriated from pagan origins anyway, how downright cheeky and short-sighted. And, of course, how bloody typical of the fascism that turned me off organised religion in the first place.

Humans are social animals who like to feel they belong. I get that. What I don’t get is that we make this feeling through a policy of exclusion. You can belong to God’s love club, but only if you meet certain requirements. Otherwise, you burn, and good riddance to you. Is this “with us or against us” approach really the best social construct we can find?

Don’t get me wrong. I fully appreciate the commonsense laws, fundamentally Christian, that grease the wheels of modern Western society. The do unto others, the shalt not kills and covets… a lot of these make perfect sense. But to tell me who I should love? To dictate my path to understanding my spirituality and my relationship with the world and the people around me? To tell a whole lot of other people that they’re damned because they belong to a different club, and treat them as such? I don’t think so.

Christmas is a time to get in touch and share the love. We should be doing it all year round, but we’re busy, aren’t we? But to take time out as a community, to draw a breath, once a year, and remind ourselves of who and what’s important, of our blessings and our achievements and our goals, well, that seems a good idea to me. Regardless of which club you belong to.

Merry Christmas. Or whatever you call it, and however you celebrate it. Enjoy, and share the love. Blessed be.

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Traveston Dam overturned

A small sigh of relief, thanks to Peter Garrett, the federal Environment Minister, who has rejected a Queensland Government proposal to build a massive dam near Gympie. The ABC reports on Garrett’s decision here. The dam was always a bottom shelf idea, dragged into contention during the state’s recent, dire drought. So why am I breaking my convention and mentioning political stuff on what is, nominally at least, a writer’s blog? Because Gympie was kind of my turf, way back when, and the thought of prime agricultural land being deluged by a dam that just didn’t add up in the efficiency and environmental stakes, made my blood boil. It must be a big relief for those affected, who haven’t been able to develop or plan for their properties under the shadow of the flood. I wonder what happens now to the land already bought to make way for the dam?