Sunday 23 February 2014

Lighting the Dark

"This is what going to Church should feel like," Biz says to me as we walk our suburban streets hand in hand. We cross the road to the train station on our way to the 'Light the Dark' candlelight vigil.
 
Normally I face forward in the train to see where I'm going and Biz likes to sit backwards. I choose to shake things up and join her in sitting backwards to watch the scenery fall behind, like I'm acknowledging where we've been over where we are going.

Sydney teems with people, each with their own identity, their own thoughts. They are all going somewhere. I catch the eyes of a few people going in the opposite direction but on the whole to most I am but a momentary blur in the corner of their eye. Some are moving in the same direction as us and we filter into the town hall square with them under the shadow of the ornate stone masonry Church that stands to one side. There is already a gathering of people waiting in anticipation for the nights event. They are mostly older folk with bright eyes and smiles etched into their faces.

Their presence surprises me. I recall one of the defining moments in the development of my identity when I was a teenager. In the movie 'The Breakfast Club' I identified with the 'freak' as they were discussing not turning into their parents (not that my parents were an issue). She said “it's unavoidable, it just happens, when you grow up, your heart just dies.” Judd's character interjects with “who cares!” and through tears she replies “I care.”

Well I'm all grown up now and the young who now swarm into the square probably see me as a bit of an oldie but that's ok. I've gotten this far in avoiding the death of my soul and around me I see hope in my fellow bleeding hearts that I will not turn into what I hated the idea of becoming. And shouldn't our hearts bleed for the refugees we deny hope and for Reza Berati the gentle giant who came to us for protection and a new life and instead was brutally killed?

The dark envelopes the few thousand gathered here and we stave it off with the lighting of our candles. The candle I brought with me was the candle that the Church community of Deloraine gave me when I was commissioned as a Chaplain back in 2007. It has a now faded cross painted on it above the Deloraine High School emblem and written beneath are the words 'Here is my servant, whom I have chosen.' This candle of symbolic and sentimental value hasn't held a flame for seven years but tonight I light it because while I may not be a Chaplain anymore, I still feel called to serve the beliefs and values that I held and that I hold.

We find a vantage point near the rear of the crowd overlooking a sea of flickering flames to the town hall steps where the organisers have set up their cameras and microphones. With hot wax already periodically dripping onto my hand that holds the candle we are encouraged to vocalise or whistle rather than clap in response to the activists and religious leaders that are to address the crowd. Chris Taylor of the Chaser is up first acknowledging that he is not one of the religious leaders, “there's still time!” some wacko yells. From that light moment Chris builds to something heavy and the response is a clamouring of whistles, woohoo's and a few thousand raised candles. I'm glad we've left applause behind, it doesn't suit the atmosphere.

We listen to refugees and activists and people representing different faiths. I appreciate the different faiths and denominations expressing solidarity with each other, and with those of no spiritual belief, in standing together with those that we have neglected. The Jewish leader expressing that his people still remember the trauma of fleeing from persecution and so stand with all asylum seekers receives one heck of a 'hell yeah.' And the Christian leader who addressed Tony Abbott's quote that 'we will not succumb to moral blackmail' as meaning that Tony is choosing to take us on a course to moral bankruptcy elicits a chorus of “Shame, Shame Tony Shame!”

Sydney has often felt like a place without a soul to me in my short time living here. As tonights events end and as people mill around the square and I see their faces lit by the candles they hold, I sense a heart here connecting me to these others. There is a pulse here despite where forces of selfishness and fear and bigotry want to take us.

Biz and I move toward the memorial for Reza at the foot of the steps leading into the town hall. An Iranian flag is flown for him and mourners gather round flowers, pictures and messages to Reza that people are encouraged to write. We deliver our message. We walk away from that scene, a scene that is usually reserved for viewing on our tv screens of pain half a world away. But this is not half a world away, this I see with my own eyes, this that has happened in our name. This is not the Australia that I want.

Perhaps I should be facing forward as I ride home on the train but I don't know if we've turned a corner yet so I find myself facing backwards again. And it falls away behind me as I plug some Billy Bragg 'waiting for the great leap forward,' into my ears. That sacred moment of fellowship where people of different ages and shapes and sizes and cultures and beliefs can come together as one to stand for something bigger than themselves. If I was more poetically inclined I'd turn to Biz and say “yes, that is what going to Church should feel like.”


Wednesday 12 February 2014

Graphic Novel, Not Graphic Enough!

Graphic novels are cool and have a long tradition of being a subversive tool in storytelling and shaping people's worldview. Let's dissect the graphic novel that was commissioned by Australia in an attempt to dissuade those who might consider seeking asylum in Australia. 


The novel depicts a young Afghan man who works hard in his job as a mechanic but is very poor and probably always will be. The parents dream of a bettere future for their son where he can shake off the grime of his present life and enter a clean and civilised society. So they sacrifice everything and send him on the treacherous, life threatening trip to the promised land – Australia.


Firstly, is this an accurate depiction of the asylum seekers that Australia receives by boat? This story of an economic migrant does happen yet when someone is found to be an economic migrant they do not receive refugee status, we are not expected to help these people, they were never granted asylum in the first place. The numbers suggest that this is not the typical story of a refugee where well over 90% of asylum seekers that arrive by sea are given refugee status which means that they are fleeing persecution. Human rights dictate that it is not illegal for them to seek asylum in Australia by whatever means they choose and as a signatory to the UNHCR refugee convention we must protect them.

Bob Carr was one who claimed last year that most asylum seekers where just economic migrants, every fact checker out there shot him down in flames.


So if we were to have a more accurate depiction of an asylum seeker that arrives by boat then this graphic novel is hardly graphic enough. I ask, where are the depictions of war, oppression, violence, slavery, abuse, threats and famine? To depict this Afghan man as representative of asylum seekers or even representative of Afghan men seeking asylum is a gross and insensitive injustice to those fleeing such persecution. Maybe the opening panels should look more like this:


we took in Vietnamese refugees back in the day

The story goes on to depict the journey from his homeland and through dodgy people smugglers to where he finally boards a rickety and overcrowded boat bound for Australian waters. They travel through rough seas before gratefully being picked up by an Australian Customs or NAVY boat. Oh how I wish the typical story would end with the refugee being welcomed...however...




The graphic novel concludes with the asylum seeker being processed and then flown to an isolated island to remain indefinitely in detention surrounded by disease spreading mosquitoes, no privacy and his own despair and dark thoughts. They could've gone further but I guess that they didn't really want to depict self harm or suicide attempts. The picture that I find most galling at the end though is the man regretfully daydreaming about home. It paints home as a rosy picture, so in place of mosquitoes and despair he is surrounded by a loving community and is celebrating, perhaps celebrating his own wedding as he prepares for a better future which will never be.

I would imagine for the typical refugee that their dreams of home would be contaminated with nightmares and fear of the things they have seen and never want to see or experience again. Is that depicted in the novel? - of course not.
Essentially if the graphic novel was more graphic it would depict an Australia that takes those that are fleeing nightmarish realities and then coldly returns them in an orange lifeboat to a remote Indonesian shoreline, washing their hands of any responsibility to what may happen next. Or cruelly dumps them in concentration camps where it dehumanises them further till they mentally break into tiny pieces. We don't even bother to send seasoned professionals to cater for their mental health anymore. Essentially we are saying to the typical refugee that is fleeing for their lives, 'don't bother coming here, we will not help you, we may even send you back.'


offensive in its generalisation but makes a valid point
And the release of this grahic novel for Australian dissemination continues the long line of recent propaganda from the Coalition of the children overboard lies, alarmist billboards and the broken record reptitious use of the term 'illegals.' To Labours advertising in national media that refugees 'Won't be settled in Australia,' now reconfigured by the new Government to 'No Way – They will not make Australia home.'

As a critic I would rate the Government's graphic novel 5 stars for its ability to provoke an emotional response in me but I'll have to take a star away for each of the following factors. Not graphic enough, not realistic enough, not batting for the home team by portraying Australia as a nation of bastards, offensive to those fleeing for their lives and the dialogue left a lot to be desired. 0 stars. Perhaps the sequel will redeem the series but I fear it will not. How do you rate this novel?

It can be found in full here: Storyboard Afghanistan