Monday 30 January 2012

The Fuss on Australia Day

The Australia Day fiasco when Prime Minister Julia Gillard and Tony Abbott were made to flee a pro-Aboriginal demonstration in Canberra deserves more insight than the simple and outraged response it has received in the mass media.

Threatening behaviour is wrong and nobody should be fearful for their safety. In my experience a protest can turn nasty when the group anger is not held or channelled by proper organisation or leadership. But the events outside the Canberra restaurant were significant for reasons other than just rowdiness. They forced into public consciousness Australia’s Shadow – the unresolved grievances of indigenous people and the stark divide between black and white in this country.

Many indigenous people continue to live in third-world conditions with third-world diseases and life expectancy in one of the richest countries on the planet. Their marginalisation is a result of the history of Australia – which was founded on the destruction of Aboriginal society and the physical annihilation of Aboriginal people. The present is haunted by the ghosts of the past, but as a nation we are still unable to come to terms with this and act meaningfully. Why?

One reason has to be our relationship to the past and how we relate to time itself. The deep cultural penetration of advertising and public relations since the second half of the 20th century means we live with a largely cheerful, saccharine world view. “Buy this product and your life will be good” or “Listen to this advice and all will be well.” Whether it’s selling soap or a policy on asylum seekers, simple messages are the norm and self-interest is paramount: the self-interest of the company, organisation or political party conveying the message and the self-interest of the individual consuming it. The truth, which is often complex and requires a perspective beyond the ego, is nowhere in sight.

The effect of advertising and public relations is to create a culture of the “ever-present” where the past does not exist. All that exists is this present opportunity to consume, this golden moment where you can make your life complete with x product. The full roundedness of life with its gamut of emotions and relationships disrupts and interrupts this world view. Why would anybody be angry on Australia Day? What is there to complain about?

We are not merely shaped in the present by our past, but the past actually lives in the present. We see this in a multitude of ways – in our genetic makeup, which comes down from our ancestors, or in the way our evolutionary history can still be seen in our body and mind if we investigate closely. Psychology has long known about the ways in which the mind can be triggered by events that occurred in the past as if they were happening in the present. We humans evolve with our own past, piling the new on the old heap of history. If we mature enough, that heap can be fertiliser for our own good; if we don’t, we become captive to its worst aspects.

Time, I believe, is not really linear, more a progressive spiral or series of circles. The point is that we must first admit, take responsibility for and reclaim where relevant the past. It can’t simply be erased or denied. To deny it would mean, as the Australia Day fracas showed, potentially destructive consequences. This is not to say that opening to the past may not be difficult or challenging, but the rewards are usually great.

We can start by acknowledging all the ways we act in our everyday lives that enhance and enliven connection and relationship: from cooking and gardening, to looking after children and helping a colleague at work; from walking in the sunshine to smelling a rose and being thankful for its perfume. We don’t live in a bubble; we are in a world of connections which we have the power to change.

Sunday 8 January 2012

On Wonder

I'm not sure if it makes any sense, but I try to cultivate wonder. When I walk along the creek that runs near my home, I say hello to some of the trees I pass. I also thank the spirit of the creek for showing me its beauty and wisdom: the water gliding past rocks, the dappled sunlight through the wattles, the swallows and willy wagtails flitting about the path.

Wonder is a precious thing that liberates and enlivens. It's an open-hearted attitude of innocence that, when its thread is followed in depth can lead to big questions like: Who am I? How can I bring more quality into my life? In our secular, materialist society where experience of life is narrowed by denial of the numinous, transcendent aspects of being, we are forced to seek out and snatch moments of wonder where we can. Often we go to nature - a weekend in the mountains, a holiday by the beach, or we might choose to live in a place with an inspiring view.

Talking to trees and land spirits might seem crazy, but until recent times the experience of the sacred, contained in a multitude of religions across many cultures, was the dominant way. And it had been so since the dawn of history. It is not abnormal today for an indigenous person, say someone from Australia, to walk in a particular place and feel the spirits talking to them. Yet in the dominant Western culture, any similar response would be seen as a throwback to the superstition of the dark ages.

The loss of wonder, the experience of the sacred, has had a devastating impact on our world. Large-scale destruction of nature and cultures has been the result as greed and commercialism have become primary human goals. A return of a sense of sacredness must be part of the road back to a healthy relationship with the planet and ourselves as we face the enormous ecological and social challenges of the 21st century.

The first step has to be an acceptance of the non-rational aspects of mind and being. There are many ways in which pseudo-religious experience breaks into profane Western society - for example in war remembrance services, attended by thousands of people, which are highly ritualised and steeped in myth. The decisive move is to embrace that which may not fit into a rationalist norm but nevertheless feels right. There's usually no sense of shame or embarrassment when, for instance, someone directly addresses a loved one who has just died in a speech at a funeral. Spirits are real, just not in a scientific, rationalist sense.

The sacred, often through ritual, can deeply enrich a person's life. I think of the words of American mythologist Joseph Campbell in his book, Oriental Mythology (Penguin Compass, 1991) when he describes the rites of the ancient Japanese religion of Shinto as occasions "for the recognition and evocation of an awe that inspires gratitude to the source and nature of being". He tells how a Shinto shrine ceremony, with ritualised priestly intonation, music and dance, enlivens and deepens a person's sense of the world:

"One turns again and looks at the rocks, the pines, the air and sea, and they are as silent as before. Only now they are inhabited, and one is aware anew of the wonder of the universe."