by Peter Drew
Recently I told my parents that I was writing this book. They were a little defensive at first, but once I assured them that it was written in good faith and with the intention of clearing the air, both were supportive. They expressed concern for how this book might affect my brothers, especially Julian. I’m also concerned about that, but I’m more concerned it might not affect him at all. I hope that he can hear my message: that I love him and that he need not feel ashamed.
My parents asked whether I’d include a particular story. I had already written it down but was unsure about including it. The fact that my parents brought it up, out of the blue, was enough to convince me that I should share it with you. So here it is …
In my first year of high school I got in a fight with a bully named Ben Dell. That fight would define my future in ways I still haven’t resolved. Actually, we had two fights.
The first happened at recess on a Wednesday. My friends and I were playing handball near the library when Ben kicked our ball away. Chris Marinos got in Ben’s face and I jumped to Chris’s defence. Ben tried to hit me but I just kept blocking his shots and landing punches of my own. Suddenly someone yelled ‘Teacher!’ and the fight was over. Ben totally started it and I totally won. Surely I’d never hear from Ben Dell again.
The problem was that we were nerds and Ben couldn’t handle the humiliation of losing to a nerd. My friends and I hung around the library because that was the lowest-status patch in the whole school. We were trying to hide. I can’t imagine why Ben had even walked near us unless he was visiting the library to borrow a book titled Smashing Nerds: A Beginner’s Guide.
The next day I started to hear subtle rumours, like: ‘Oi Drew, Ben Dell’s going to smash you tomorrow at lunch. You’re fuckin’ dead!’ The fact that the whole school seemed to relish the prospect of seeing me ‘smashed’ left me feeling a little deflated. Although I wasn’t surprised; even at age thirteen I was an arrogant kid – but not so arrogant that I wasn’t afraid.
That night at the dinner table I told Dad about the upcoming fight. Dad turned to Julian and said, ‘You take care of your little brother.’
The next day a crowd of a hundred kids had gathered around the library when I arrived for lunch. Ben swaggered up and started getting in my face. ‘I don’t want to fight,’ I said, so Ben pushed me. I pushed Ben, so Ben punched me hard in the face. It was as hard as a prepubescent boy can punch, but not as hard as a kick to the head, which is what I gave Ben. He crumpled. Just as I was about to cement my victory in front of the entire school and elevate my status above the rung of ‘arrogant nerd’, someone shoved me to one side. It was Julian.
Ben was slightly bigger than me but Julian was much bigger than Ben. He didn’t stand a chance. Julian pulled Ben’s jumper over his head and started raining down blows. I immediately felt sorry for Ben, who cowered into a ball. Then, as my brother stood over his quivering victim, he proclaimed to the wincing audience the words that would go down in family lore as the epitome of righteous victory: ‘Don’t mess with the family!’
A moment later the teachers arrived, but Julian and his mates had disappeared. I got detention. Ben never bothered me again. On the one hand it wasn’t a bad result. For the next year nobody came near me. But later they did. I learnt to never tell my family when I was being picked on. From then on I dealt with the bullies myself.
Obviously, part of me wishes I’d dealt with Ben myself, but that’s not the point of the story. It’s really a story about Julian. The reason my parents brought it up is because Julian is still proud of it. He’s happy that he helped me because that’s the closest we came to showing affection towards one another. I was vulnerable and he helped me. Now he is the vulnerable one and I wish I could help him. But Julian is too proud to ever admit weakness, let alone surrender to love.
One of Julian’s favourite quotes comes from the psychologist Abraham Maslow: ‘I suppose it is tempting, if the only tool you have is a hammer, to treat everything as if it were a nail.’ But Julian’s version is even better. He says, ‘When you’re holding a hammer, everything looks like a nail,’ implying that your very perceptions are dictated by your abilities. When we lack the tools to heal we go looking for things to hate, because it’s less painful than hating ourselves. The fact that Julian seems to understand that much about our predicament only demonstrates the difference between knowing the path and actually walking it.
Ultimately I don’t believe that the wrongs of the past can ever be audited to perfection. There is no such thing as an immaculate history – not for individuals or families, or for nations. But I do believe in slow and humble progress. I believe that every one of us needs to be forgiven, and we long to enact that need through art, culture and ceremony. With the courage of truth and love, who knows what potential we might manifest? I hope we never stop growing up.
EPILOGUE
Ten Rules for Great Propaganda
For those of you who have read this book because you’re interested in political art but not necessarily in my family history, I offer my sincerest apologies. The fact you’ve read this far is truly admirable. In fact, you’ve been so patient that you deserve a treat! So here are my ten rules for great propaganda. I hope you find them useful in overcoming your appetite for political art.
Raise a question, not a statement
Admittedly, ‘Real Australians Say Welcome’ is not a great example of this approach. By asking a question you engage the audience in discussion rather than conflict. That’s a good place to start.
Be clear
Every artist hides in ambiguity. Admit that you want to be understood by attempting to be understandable. You don’t need to squeeze the entire universe into every artwork. At least make the question clear. The answer can be as ambiguous as you like.
Empathise with your enemy
Try to understand the people you oppose because they’re not really your enemy – they’re actually you with a different worldview. What is it that they’re really trying to protect? Maybe you can show them another way to protect it.
Flatter your enemy
Appeal to their strengths. Like it or not, the world actually needs conservative people. Show your enemy that you admire their strengths and they’ll be more willing to admit their weaknesses.
Negotiate
What are you willing to forgo in order to get what you want? Until you have an answer to this question you’re not ready to negotiate, so why should the other side negotiate with you?
Irritate both extremes
Try to pull your audience towards the centre by irritating people at both extremes of an issue. Unless you’re being attacked in equal measure by the extremists on both sides, you’re doing something wrong.
Be an adult, not a utopian
Humans are not perfectible; only children and utopians think otherwise. Don’t believe me? Try perfecting yourself and see how far you get. By acknowledging your own faults you’ll discover empathy for everyone else’s.
Create myths
You’re not a scientist, or a historian or a dentist. You’re an artist, so do what only artists can do and create myths. Myths have a dynamic power unlike anything else because they are inherently imaginative. Myths are open to interpretation. They invite the audience to adapt and reimagine the story as they see fit. Above all, myths invite the audience to embody values in ways that histories cannot. That’s what makes myths live in the world.
Surrender to love
Love is more than an ornamental compensation for the Faustian bargain between innocence and power. Love is the essential circuit-breaker. Without love you’re just another powerbroker, so believe in love.
Use the street
The street is the oldest forum we have. It is the place between places. Art on the street assumes no authority beyond the value of voice over property. Therefore, don’t be surprised if your art gets vandalised in turn. Just remember, there’s always another wall.
Acknowledgements
Thanks
to Anna Goldsworthy for pointing me in the right direction at a moment when this book might have come to naught. Thanks also to Chris Feik and Jo Rosenberg for always making me feel that I was in safe hands. Finally, thanks to my wife, Julie, for gently reminding me, about twice a year, that I needed to write a book. If I ever write another one it’ll be about Julie and what being with her has taught me about the relationship between love and creativity.
Image Credits
All images copyright © Peter Drew except for the following:
Pages 23, 24, 25 and 26: artwork copyright © Ali Reza Muhammad
Page 36: photograph copyright © Ali Morad
Page 41: artwork copyright © as follows:
Top row: left © Nathan Nankervis, centre © Marc Martin, right © Evie Barrow
Middle row: left © Sara Dickins and Alana Waterson, Poppies for Grace, centre © Neryl Walker, right © Julia Busuttil Nishimura
Bottom row: left © Kitiya Palaskas, centre © Alice Lindstrom, right © Rachelle Blake
Page 95: out of copyright; image courtesy of the National Archives of Australia
Page 97: out of copyright; image courtesy of the National Archives of Australia. NAA: D596, 1909/687
Page 98: out of copyright; image courtesy of the National Archives of Australia. NAA: MT19/4, 1916/MONGA KHAN
Page 100: artwork copyright © Jake Holmes
Page 118: still from Monga copyright © Manal Younus
Page 131: artwork copyright © Andrea Smith
Page 132 top: artwork copyright © Paul Kisselev
Page 132: bottom: artwork copyright © Gabriel Cunnett
Page 142: photograph copyright © Harjit Singh
Page 143 and 146: photographs copyright © Daniel Pockett
Pages 156 and 157: out of copyright; photographs courtesy of the National Archives of Australia. NAA: D596, 1928/10702
Pages 160 and 161: photographs copyright © Jessica Clark
Pages 182, 219 and 231: photographs copyright © Julie White