The effect of this argument and perception is to diminish other manifestations of ‘the Australian spirit’. There are, perhaps, many contenders for ways of evoking the Australian spirit – whatever that may be. A cursory list could encompass qualities such as the stamina of convicts; the mateship of bushmen; the endurance of colonial pioneers; the boldness of settlers; the enterprise of gold-seekers; the initiative of migrants (of any period); the attachment to fairness by those who strove for justice; the egalitarianism of members of the labour movement; the resilience of Indigenous people; and so on. Each of us could find historical models representing ‘Australian values’. Each of these archetypes, and the qualities they could represent, has been celebrated in songs, stories, literature, art, history and fiction. None, however, has gained anything like the popular attention and regard as has the archetype of the ‘digger’, partly at least because government has sedulously cultivated no other aspect of Australian history. Clearly, the labour movement has a sectional appeal, as do Indigenous heroes: the digger, however, can be represented as apolitical, and able to encompass all military endeavour, adapting from the classic citizen soldier of the world wars to the regular ethos of the Australian Defence Force as it has developed over the decades after 1945.
As we have seen, the periodic trauma of the two world wars was – thankfully – not repeated in the succeeding half century or later. Korea and Vietnam brought suffering to families, but had no major impact on the nation as a whole. Yet involvement in further wars was incorporated into the rhetoric of Anzac, sometimes seamlessly, sometimes with some stretching, but all bolstered, especially in the past decade, by a concerted effort by government to maintain the privileged position that war exerts over the national historical understanding. The result is that it has been possible to assert that military history’s archetypal digger remains ‘more evocative of the Australian spirit’ than any other figure.
One of the principal ways this occurs is that Anzac Day has become a commodity, able to be managed and indeed manipulated. Anzac Day brings an annual flood of emotion, some of it heartfelt and raw, some ersatz and some frankly manufactured. Still, in 2012 there are several Australian families this Anzac Day who will be remembering Australian soldiers who were alive last Anzac Day. This has been going on now for the past decade, and shows no sign of ending. That alone makes the day different now, and we need to respect that emotion. But Anzac Day overwhelmingly relates to a war that happened almost a century ago. As the centenary of the Great War approaches, we see no diminution of interest in that conflict; rather the opposite. This growing interest can be exaggerated. Much is made, for instance, of the back-packer phenomenon on Gallipoli, although many fewer young people visit Gallipoli than go to Surfers Paradise or Bali for ‘schoolies week’. Still, we can agree that interest in the Great War generally is not diminishing. The recent release of the recommendations of the bipartisan Centenary of Anzac Commission suggests that even if Australians do not actually know much about the war (or the century of conflict that followed it) they somehow know that it is important and think that the government ought to be doing something about it.
This relationship with the Great War is often seen sentimentally. Popular treatment of it often proceeds from quite misleading assumptions. For example, there is a presumption that it is a part of every Australian family’s history, that we all have a personal connection to Gallipoli or the Somme (or Kokoda or Changi or wherever). In the Australian War Memorial’s excellent on-line gallery, which provides terminals for visitors to search databases and digitised sources, a sign invites visitors to look up ‘relatives’ who served in war. The assumption is clear. The arithmetic as ever eludes me, but with only 40 per cent of Australian men actually serving in the war of 1914–1918, and at least 40 per cent (and probably more than half ) of today’s population hailing from elsewhere, the chances that any given Australian visitor to the War Memorial has an Anzac in the family is probably quite remote. For most visitors, the Anzac is most likely related to someone else. War memory, therefore, arguably belongs most directly to old Anglo-Celtic families who know of and value their direct connections with those who served in or lived through the Great War. Logically, even if we count connections made by marriage, they must be a relatively small minority. So even though the loss of 60 000 dead in that war traumatised a society of 5 million, looking at that loss through a demographic telescope in 2011 reveals a relatively small impact on or connection with most people in a nation now of over 22 million. Still, the myth persists. A webbased amateur essayist asserts that ‘Anzac has become a central part of family life and an element in the transmission of family memories’.15 Plainly, though, it is not for everyone, or even most. One of the challenges that the Anzac Centenary Commission faces is to find ways to enable non-Anglo-Celtic Australians to understand Anzac Day.
For this essentially minority interest to remain of such central concern, several main carriers work to perpetuate and transmit the idea of Anzac: government; veterans’ groups and the media. Each has a legitimate interest in and agenda for continuing to commemorate Anzac Day, and each contributes to the way the day is marked. Although they constitute a minority, no one would deny that large numbers of the descendants of ‘old Australians’ regard the day as a significant part of their identification with family, community and nation. No one would deny the sincere and just attachment they hold towards the day and all it represents. There are, however, limits to that attachment, as the case of the proposed new world war memorials in Canberra suggests.
One of the tests of whether war occupies a prime position in Australia’s conception of its history might be seen in the erection of – or the failure to erect – two memorials to the world wars on the shore of Lake Burley Griffin in Canberra. The debate over the need for and nature of these edifices exposes the arguments relevant to this myth. Here is the story, so far.
In 2005 the private company Memorial(s) Development Committee (MDC) proposed to the National Capital Authority (NCA, the agency responsible for the federal areas of Canberra) that it approve two new memorials dedicated to Australia’s involvement in the two world wars. The NCA swiftly and seemingly enthusiastically endorsed this proposal, and steered the plan through the National Capital Memorials Committee (a committee nominally chaired by the prime minister). The company comprised a group of ex-servicemen, ex-officers of no outstanding public profile; most, except its spokesman, former army officer Mike Buick, remain effectively anonymous. But they soon acquired influential friends and supporters. The NCA entered into a favourable memorandum of understanding with the MDC, and the National Capital Memorials Committee both endorsed the idea and (on the NCA’s recommendation) allocated the proposed memorials a lake-side site on what is known as the Rond Terraces. Successive governors general – Michael Jeffrey and then Quentin Bryce (and Mr Michael Bryce) – accepted invitations to become MDC’s patrons. The MDC claim to have obtained the support of two prime ministers – John Howard and then Kevin Rudd – and between the two prime ministerial endorsements the Department of Veterans’ Affairs donated $250 000 to conduct a design competition.
By late 2008 the MDC had seemingly secured a prime site, bipartisan political backing, an architect and a design, and only awaited NCA approvals (and donations of $21–25 million) before work to erect the memorials could commence. The proposed design, by Brisbane firm Richard Kirk, comprised two 20-metre monoliths incorporating various design elements, including a ‘field’ of illuminated poppies and ideas such as panels listing Australia’s 100 000 world war dead by the communities from which they hailed.16 After five years of representations at the highest levels of government, the MDC’s members, faceless or not, could have had reason to believe that once they had secured enough of the (somewhat sizeable) donations they required, their task was within sight of accomplishment.
The MDC’s plans, however, had not gone unnoticed by several interested parties. Members of the Walter Burley Griffin Society expressed concern that
the proposed memorials compromised one of the principal elements in Walter and Marion Mahoney Burley Griffins’ vision for the design of Canberra. A quite different group, the Medical Association for the Prevention of War, noticed that the memorial represented a massive and prominent endorsement of a militarist conception of Australian history, and that it would probably only be possible by donations from arms manufacturers and companies that made their profits through defence contracts. Individuals who valued or used the lake shore and felt that the memorials would unjustifiably curtail broader, community-based uses of the Rond Terraces also began to feel or express unease. Each time the proposal was mentioned in the Canberra Times, it attracted a flurry of letters expressing concern or outright opposition.
The MDC issued a brochure explaining its proposal, a document that suggested both that it was ignorant of the setting and indeed of the history to which it professed to be devoted. It depicted the ‘two massive granite memorials’ on what it seemed to think was called ‘Anzac Avenue’. (Not only is the boulevard called ‘Anzac Parade’, but the Rond Terraces are not on it.) The MDC also seemed unaware that a major national memorial service occurred at the Australian War Memorial at dawn each Anzac Day. How else could they propose that their memorial be illuminated by the rising sun at dawn on 25 April? Further, the MDC seemed uncertain whether the memorials would commemorate all those who served, or only those who died. In endorsing the project, its ‘inception patron’, Tim Fischer (a serial supporter of wacky military historical ideas, such as pardoning the convicted multiple murderer ‘Breaker’ Morant) explained that it would allow ‘Nurse Vivian Bullwinkel of Sandakan’ (a place Sister Bullwinkel never saw) and Roden Cutler ‘of the Syrian campaign’ (a country Roden Cutler never saw) to gain ‘collective recognition’.17 Presumably by some perverse reasoning, arguably the two best known veterans of the Second World War needed to be remembered in some additional way. The brochure revealed that MDC’s proposal, although supported at high levels, was at best half-baked.
In October 2010, the various groups which had individually expressed opposition came together as the Lake War Memorials Forum, a loose coalition of concerned citizens. Some represented groups such as the Walter Burley Griffin Society or the Medical Association for the Prevention of War, others (such as several architects or historians) acting as individuals. The forum was formed without a formal constitution or office-bearers, but out of groups acting in broad concert. Its campaigning coalesced after a report on the Canberra ABC television program Stateline. Opponents from these various groups expressed their views – that the memorials embodied an unwelcome militarism, conflicted with Griffin’s vision, and unnecessarily sought to duplicate (and detract from) the functions of the Australian War Memorial. Crucial to the forum’s case was the covert nature of the process that the MDC and the NCA had followed thus far. The MDC’s members had not, however, sought or welcomed public comment on the proposal. Indeed, they had assumed that the Australian community would accept as self-evident that commemoration of war was unquestioned. The following six months were to disabuse them of that comfortable assumption. It is this response that makes the case of the lake war memorials so relevant to discussion of the myth in question.
The MDC’s case for the erection of the memorials was disarmingly simple: indeed, it comprised only one (highly arguable) proposition. It argued that, as several other conflicts in which Australia had participated were represented in memorials on Anzac Parade, why should not the two world wars. The MDC discounted the Australian War Memorial, a massive edifice a few hundred metres distant at the head of Anzac Parade. It argued disingenuously that, because it commemorated the Australian dead of all wars, it did not constitute a memorial to the world wars (conveniently ignoring that 100 000 of the 102 000 names on its Roll of Honour related to those wars). Although this argument seemed to convince no one who was not an office-bearer of the NCA, it had sufficed to gain the MDC a prime spot of commemorative real estate, and soon afterwards government funding for a design competition.
Despite consistent opposition in the local press, between its inception in 2005 and late 2010 the MDC had never actively tested its proposal against public opinion. On 21 October 2010, however, it held a small ‘consultation’ at the Ainslie Football Club. The event involved about a dozen invited guests and mostly comprised presentations by MDC’s architects or consultants, explaining and justifying the choice of site and design. When some of those present questioned the need for the memorials they were firmly told that such questions were beyond the scope of the gathering.18 The MDC disdained debate. Its vice chairman replied to a three-page letter discussing counter-arguments merely with ‘your unsurprising opinions are noted and do not dissuade either I or my fellow committee members from our purpose’.19
By contrast, the Lake War Memorials Forum adopted an essentially open approach, creating a website and inviting contributions and comments, posting copies of all letters to the editor, articles and op-ed pieces that appeared, regardless of whether they were for or against the memorials. In fact, virtually all the comment that appeared, on the forum’s website or in the media generally was opposed to the memorials, and overwhelmingly so. The forum website invited visitors to ‘vote’ and leave a comment, using software that prevented multiple votes. As of 18 July 2011, 356 people had voted – all but eight against the proposed memorials. Many also left comments. Most were Canberrans, but there were dozens of people from interstate. Several common trends became apparent, as in these representative contributions:
I am an ex-servicewoman and mother of a serving soldier. What more can be said about World Wars that is not already conveyed by the AWM?
O’Connor, ACT
Apart from looking pretty ugly, I express concern on behalf of my father, now deceased … he would be horrified at this glorification of war.
Birchgrove, NSW
I believe that those courageous and honourable souls who gave so much … would not seek this ‘extra’ glorification.
Evatt, ACT
While I pay my respects to the fallen – after all, my grandparents lost 9 relatives, cousins and closer, in the two world wars … I believe a line has to be drawn before we get to warrior worship.
Ryde, NSW20
More than one letter to the Canberra Times began ‘my immediate family lost two members in each of the world wars …’. Others, such as historian Professor John Mulvaney – who decried the memorials as ‘vulgar and costly blots on the landscape’ – were veterans but did not say so.21 The newspaper’s correspondence columns, which had become a principal site of debate, showed the proportion of letters against the proposal far outweighed those agreeing with it: over eighty letters appeared, with fewer than six arguing in its favour. On radio a similar proportion prevailed. While Canberra’s federal representatives (of both parties) proved to be wary of doing anything as risky as expressing an opinion, Mike Buick was and has remained virtually the only MDC representative speaking publicly for the memorials.
In contrast to the MDC, the Lake War Memorials Forum welcomed public comment, holding a public meeting in the Albert Hall. A dozen notable figures spoke against the proposal. They included novelists and poets such as Marion Halligan and Geoff Page, journalists and historians such as Geoff Pryor and Michael McKernan, heritage experts such as Dianne Firth, and included both a former director of the Australian War Memorial, Brendon Kelson, and a former chief of the Air Force, Air Marshal David Evans. The striking feature of the meeting, which voted unanimously against the memorials, was that almost all of the participants were over 50, and that opposition to the memorials came from precisely the generation that might have been expected to be most favourably disposed toward them. A great many of those objecting to the memorials were in fact children of Second World War veterans. Indeed, soon afterwards, the two largest RSL sub-branches in the ACT voted unanimously to ‘not support’ the memorials. Even the director of the Australian War Memorial, Major General Steve Gower, published his view
that the proposal was ‘unconvincing’ and he later spoke against it to a Joint Standing Committee on the subject.22
It would seem that if various commentators from a retired air marshal, the children of world war veterans and the director of the Australian War Memorial have spoken in concert, the MDC has misjudged Australians’ willingness to accept the endless commemoration of the two world wars. While the great majority of those who attended the meeting and who responded to the forum’s website support the existence and the work of existing commemorative institutions, notably the Australian War Memorial, there is a definite and vocal move against the creation of further monuments to war. Soon after, the Report of the Anzac Centenary Commission reached a similar conclusion. It had commissioned social research which found that ‘there was no particular need seen for a new permanent memorial to be established to mark the 100th anniversary of Anzac Day’.23
The fate of the world war memorials is not yet decided. Thanks to some energetic work in alerting ordinary citizens of their nature and likely impact, and some effective counter-lobbying by some of the members of the forum, the memorials’ fate is a great deal less certain than it was. This also, therefore, suggests that concerns over the paramountcy of war in Australian history as a whole might be less acute than Marilyn Lake and Henry Reynolds feared. Perhaps the ultimate failure of the lake war memorials proposition – as I believe it will fail – will come to be seen as the turning point in Australia’s love-affair with war.
What do we make of all this? We have a fairly clear disjunction between the way many Australians view their military history (essentially uncritically) and the way many historians regard it (dismayed by the way official agencies have fostered an unbalanced view of Australia’s history). We see that one aspect of the Australian historical experience – war – increasingly tends to crowd out or overwhelm all other aspects, even though many other parts of Australia’s history are worthy of attention and empathy. We find that when a small group in Canberra propose to erect monolithic new memorials to the world wars, large numbers of the children and grandchildren of those who served in those wars go to some trouble to oppose the idea. We find that despite official support for the memorials, large numbers of ordinary Australians (that is, not historians) turn out to public meetings, submit comments to websites and write to newspapers complaining that there is more to Australia than war and that a memorial duplicating the existing Australian War Memorial is not needed or wanted.
Anzac's Dirty Dozen Page 28