Review 21.16
01 December - 31 December, 1996

In the 1970's you wore a badge to tell the world how you felt. Anti-War, anti-Tours, pro-Ho, pro-Women's Lib, you name it, there was a badge for it. Reliable sources tell me that Gough Whitlam won in '72 solely thanks to the "It's Time" badge: the sad Liberal slogan in reply - "Not Yet" - looked rather out of place on something as opinionated as a badge, and anyway, people mistook it for an injunction to practise chastity. These days, of course, when the radicals of the 70s wear Armani suits while reasonably extolling the virtues of privatisation, badges are somewhat passe. These days, the ribbon is the go.

The ribbon is meant to work on the same principle as the badge once did: it's meant to show the world just where the wearer stands. It's an old technique: as a little child my mother would be wrestled to the ground on election day by my great-grandmother and have a British Labour yellow ribbon pinned to her jacket. The catch these days, of course, is knowing what the particular colour signifies: red for AIDS awareness, white for domestic violence (anti), pink for breast cancer (I think), blue for French nuclear tests (again, anti), green for St. Patrick's Day parade marshals. The message isn't as obvious as "Stop work to stop the war" or "Shame Fraser, Shame", but for those happy few in the know (the people that Paddy McGuinness calls "the chattering classes") the occasional flash of recognition is guaranteed to warm their bleeding hearts.

I wonder though what those St. Patrick's Day parade marshals would make of the suggestion, recently floated in Philip Adams' column in The Australian, that all those Australians mortified by the racist outbursts of the Member for Obnoxly should wear orange ribbons. Anti-racism's one thing, but orange? Jaysus, perish the thought. Now I'm not against the idea of wearing ribbons - preferably if people know what your ribbon signifies - but I think we need a lot more than ribbons and good intentions if we're going to seriously tackle racism post-Hanson.

Having said that, one has to applaud the originator of the idea, Australian reader Ms Leith-Miller (and also Adams for publicising it). One has to applaud them, because what they're saying is: let's not wait for our politicians and our public figures to sort this out. Let's make a go of it ourselves. We'll show leadership.

And they're right. So here's my suggestion. Whenever a friend says "I don't agree with everything that Pauline Hanson says, but I do think that Aborigines get too much money", challenge them. Tell them that 64% of Aboriginal males earn less that $12,000 a year, compared to $45,000 of non-Aboriginal males. Tell them that the life expectancy for Aboriginal females is as much as 20 years less than for non-Aboriginal females; for males 14-18 years. When a workmate says "It's all right for schools to have multicultural days, but what about Aussie kids?" ask them how many days there are in a school year, and how many of those are spent recognising the diverse backgrounds of all Australians. And while you're at it, ask why they feel a 12 year-old girl wearing a Polish smock is such a threat to their own child's cultural identity.

The same goes for Asians taking jobs, or single mums rorting the system. Find out the facts. Dig up the articles in your newspapers, ring ATSIC and ask for information, ring up the Immigration Department and find out how many immigrants came into Australia last year.

So you don't argue your point any more, you wear a ribbon. You don't tackle racism by politically confronting it, you "ban" it, except you can't ban it, particularly when it's covered by parliamentary privilege. But the so-called race debate is a political issue, and it will only be moved by people - ordinary people - engaging in it, not bureaucrats, not media pundits, not politicians.

I know the objection to my argument. People aren't interested in politics. The middle classes, by and large, never were: they were too busy trying to make a decent living and send their kids to good schools. I understand all that - I'm doing the same myself, although I must say I'm often fascinated by the way that many of these same harried middle-class types have, since financial deregulation, become experts in interest rate fluctuations and GDP figures and the Aussie dollar's exchange rate to the Greenback, yet can apply this technical expertise to no other area of their lives.

But hey, what would I know? I was in Sydney the other week, so I wandered over to Macquarie's Chair to listen to President Clinton's speech. I was up the back in the cheap seats - so cheap we had to stand, if you get the drift, surrounded by the very middle-class types that I just had a swipe at; smart suits, smart haircuts, predominantly European. No badges here, nor ribbons neither. When the Prime Minister made reference to the role of Asian-Australians in building this country, they cheered and clapped, loudly and pointedly. I've seen the polls, I know the sad news they bring about the lay of the land, but I thought - this is interesting. And then, when President Clinton told us what a good thing we had here, and not to mess it up, the cheering and clapping was louder still, and more sustained. At that moment I felt proud to be an Australian, although slightly puzzled by the fact that an American politician had managed, on this warm Sydney afternoon, to bring out the best in us.

After the hoopla was over, I had an encounter with the Prime Minister, who was pressing the flesh on the way back to his car. Using probably much the same technique as my great-grandmother in pinning the yellow ribbon on my mum (i.e. entrapment), I passed on - politely, I hope - my wish that he would continue to speak out against racial intolerance, etc., etc. Now, just imagine what would have happened that day if all those people who had clapped so loudly at the PM's pro-multicultural comments had said much the same, politely, yet pointedly, when he came off the podium to meet and greet. Just imagine.