Now, instead of this story being interpreted as another example of Britain expecting Australians to fight on its behalf, it is often interpreted (as this blog comment does) to be about "freedom from tyranny in all its forms, so that our Australian way of life will continue". It gets better: "There is already anti Australian sentiment from Chinese, and muslims, and other races over our Australian way of life here, and we must do all we can to instil in all Australians, migrants included, what the humble digger died for."
A less controversial site on Gallipoli is Sands Of Gallipoli which asks visitors to tell their own stories, or This One which has ample information on the natural history of the Gallipoli area. It seems that anything Gallipoli is fascinating to Australians. It has become defacto Australian soil, “hallowed ground” to which young “Aussies” (read: Anglo Australian) may make a “pilgrimage” (this word is actually used a lot in the media).
Personally, without wanting to detract from the truly tragic losses incurred by many families, I fail to see how young Antipodeans invading Turkey has any real connection with the “way of life” of a 14-year-old nation on the other side of the earth. What it does say to me is that Australia was a “part” of Britain for many years after federation, and that myths are far more powerful than facts.
As This Blog says: “Therein resides the ongoing tragedy of Gallipoli as a story that most assuredly condemns Australians to repeat the mistakes of a past half told. Pity the young for they will be sacrificed in its name. Anzac has a compelling storyline and narrative structure — these are protected by powerful custodians — but it is ultimately a legend that can kill.” Iraq, anyone? Some frightening resonances there.
What for me shouts “Quick, become a republic! Stop dying on others’ behalfs”, says “(White) Australia is based on important military sacrifice and the sacrifice of the individual for nationalistic ends,” to others. Strange, no? See you bright and early rain or shine ;)
What for me shouts “Quick, become a republic! Stop dying on others’ behalfs”, says “(White) Australia is based on important military sacrifice and the sacrifice of the individual for nationalistic ends,” to others. Strange, no? See you bright and early rain or shine ;)
4 comments:
The really bizarre thing is that in the sixties and seventies, commentators were predicting that Anzac day would die out in Australia. Anzac day was attacked by students in the early sixties as an excuse for a booze-up and a glorification of war, and in the early eighties feminists attempted to join the march and lay wreaths at Anzac memorials 'in memory of all women raped in war' (you can imagine how well that went down with the RSL).
I think we'll look back at the revival of Anzac day (and the revival of 'vernacular patriotism' - best represented by wearing the Australian flag on any part of the body) as one of Howard's 'achievements'. And the media plays a huge role in it - publishing supplements which endlessly repeat the narrative of 'they fought for our freedom'. This works for WWII, perhaps, but I'm not sure how well it works for WWI. It just seems a shame that the one day we 'officially' reflect on our history presents such a narrow view of what our society deems to be historically 'significant'.
I've always been a little bit fascinated with Anzac Day. Being a pacifist, it doesn't sit comfortably with me that our nation's 'birth story' is one about war. I am not wanting to detract in anyway from the tragedy that was Gallipoli or any other war in general. Nor am I against commemorating the men and women who have died in war. However, I agree with a lot of the arguments made by many scholars and activists over the years about how the Anzac legend excludes women, disabled people, many migrants etc. If an Anzac is the quintessential Australian, then I wonder: who am I, where do I belong and what part do I have to play in creating this nation's history. I find that it means that I'm not hugely patriotic. My sense of self is not tied to national stories but more to local or family stories.
Having said that, I think I can understand the need for many young Australians to hold onto this story for a sense of solidarity. This is something my friends and I have talked about quite a bit recently. When I asked a close friend of mine why she went to the dawn service in Martin Place every year she replied, "It's our culture, you know, our heritage. Who would we be without it?" For people my age, the focus seems to be on using this day to retell national stories in order to remind ourselves who we are- that we supposedly have a common history and set of values and that that binds us together not so much as a ‘nation’ but as ‘Australians’.
This is, to some extent, a product of globalization. In a world where national borders are becoming more fluid, people seem to feel a need to protect a unique national identity against global forces. But more than that, I wonder if it has a little to do with the life stage of many of the young people. Many of the travellers to Anzac Cove are high-school leavers and in their twenties (though there are a number of older ‘pilgrims’ as well). I wonder whether the turbulent nature of this particular period in life (with people moving in and out of jobs, in and out of study, relationships etc) leaves people feeling that they need something solid to hold onto while everything else changes. ‘Australianness’ helps people know who they are, where they have come from and that there are other people out there like them and who will understand them. This is speculation, but I think Bruce Scates provides a really interesting study that taps into this in his article, ‘In Gallipoli’s Shadow: Pilgrimage, Memory and Mourning and the Great War,’ Australian Historical Studies, no. 119 (2002), pp.1-21.
I was (un)fortunate enough to take a stroll through circular quay and the rocks on ANZAC day and I went home with such a different idea of what the day means. In the past, I've crawled out of bed and had breakfast while watching the march through the city, often through no choice of my own, but not begrudgingly. I used to get frustrated sitting in school anzac/remembrance services at the lack of respect displayed by my peers, but things have changed. The footy boys now wake up early, and attend the dawn service -a few of them even joined the army. After the service? They go out drinking, like the rest of sydney it seems.
As I walked down the street, heritage listed terraces to my left, a pub bursting at the seams on my right, I was able to imagine for a split second what it must have been like when the war veterans all returned. The blokes leading the two-up games were dressed in 'period' costume and the roar from the crowd echoed off the walls. But the queues hundreds of metres long and the stumbling drunk men in suits brought me back to the 21st century, not to mention the two punch-ups I witnessed in half an hour.
The Rocks was... well... honestly, it was worse than New Years Eve and it was only 3:30 in the afternoon!
I agree with Michelle in regards to patriotism. I hate that people today use the term to justify their often plainly racial and stupid actions.
I think that war is a terrible thing. I too find it puzzling that it plays such a huge part in 'australian-ness'. I find it frustrating that WWI and II vets are treated one way and the Vietnam /Iraq vets are treated another. I hate that Australia is full of contradictions. My country is an oxymoron!
Maybe Anzac day has always been like this and I've only just been exposed to/noticed it.
Not particularly insightful I know, but it's been occupying my thoughts.
I think that an interesting thing to note is that the culminative cultural meaning has formed over time, and the Anzac day we celebrate now is quite heavily removed from its inception. A lot has been contested (and rightly so) about Gallipoli itself, but that shouldn't neccessarily detract from the appeal for ordinary people with a history of military service, who want to support their relatives living or otherwise on what is now really our only commemorative occasion for anyone from the community who found themselves in a theatre of war (as ironic a title as it may seem).
I know what you're thinking, re: Rememberence day, but really, when was the last time you remembered to have your minute at 11am?
Personally, both maternal great-grandfathers (one from WWI who went too young and one from WWII who probably went a little too old) were morally opposed to marching, they didn't see either war as anything worth celebrating. So their medals are in a drawer somewhere, gathering dust. But that's their wish. If it matters to people that much, let 'em go. It makes them feel like they're part of something, and really, how often do we make a point of including the elderly in public events?
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