Australia and Asia: Ties that are neither here nor there

Eilish Kidd, Contributor, Jakarta

---------------------------------------- Australia's Ambivalence Towards Asia JV D'Cruz and William Steele Monash University Press, 2003 466 pp -------------------------------------------

Historical associations with Britain and America, involvement in wars from Vietnam to World War II, paranoia about everything from the "yellow peril" to the "red menace", the infamous White Australia Policy -- Australia's relationship with Asia has never been an easy one.

Australia's Ambivalence Towards Asia argues that modern Australia is tainted by the residual effects of powerful resentments and fears -- and that certain innate prejudices are still very much in evidence.

This may not be a startlingly original proposition but certainly this book weighs into the discussion at a timely moment.

Prime Minister John Howard's recent determination to strengthen ties with the U.S. has given rise to the suspicion that he seeks to drag Australia back to the 1950s. Undoubtedly, some in Australia do nostalgically recall the days when little effort was made to reconcile the nation's geographical position in favor of an obstinate view of itself as simply "white".

This book serves as a reminder of what Australia stands to lose if it cannot maintain and strengthen its links to Asia.

Australia's Ambivalence Towards Asia scarcely refers to what has been achieved in Asia-Australian relations in the last few decades. Actually, its outlook is pretty bleak.

From recent events, its pessimism may be justified. In 1995 the Keating government introduced a program to specifically promote the teaching of Asian languages in Australian schools.

Last year, the Howard government cut funding to this program.

But D'Cruz and Steele do not credit the individual Australian with much intelligence, taking aim at long-running TV soaps like Neighbours and Home and Away that have for years depicted the typical suburban existence in Australia.

Traditionally, the only Asian character would be a Vietnamese boy called Dong. Young Dong would be a bit troubled at first (the aggressive neighborliness of the place being enough to put anyone off) but would soon start to feel at home, his new friends teaching him to say "mate" and kick a footy.

Inevitably after a few episodes, Dong would be fondly farewelled -- to be replaced by the next "exotic" (say a deaf- mute or an Aborigine).

In a society as multicultural as Australia, such entertainment offerings run the gamut from the scary to the ridiculous in their feeble attempts to reflect daily life.

Yet the truth is that most Australians do know this, even though the authors would probably not agree.

D'Cruz and Steele tell of an immature country with an unshakable confidence in its own superiority. Anglo-Australians espouse Western democratic ideals as uncritically as they might pick up a trashy best-selling novel at the airport. And this particular "bestseller", D'Cruz and Steele imply, is one that Australians are eager to pass on, dog-eared and fulsomely recommended, to its Asian neighbors.

This attitude is particularly insidious because it is often unconscious. Several examples are given of Australian writers, politicians and intellectuals -- intelligent left wing types who "ought to know better" -- betraying such ingrained arrogance.

Mary Delahunty, a well-known journalist and Labor Party MP, is chastised for blithely remarking: "Democracy is a lot like motherhood. We are all for it, but in Australia these days we do very little to buttress it."

D'Cruz and Steele see this as evidence of an assumption: "Who are the 'we' being referred to here, for whom a number of political shibboleths are 'sacred and inviolate'? The 'we' here performs an interesting feat, for while it includes some, it is also exclusionary; 'we' meaning Anglo ethnic Australians then excludes all those in Australia who do not subscribe to the Anglo-ethnic ethos."

So Delahunty is guilty both of an unquestioning belief in the superiority of Western thought and of marginalizing those who are not "Anglo ethnic" in Australian society.

But "Asian values" exist in the West and so-called "Western values" are found in Asia. Even if you accept the premise that democracy is essentially a Western ideal (many would not) the criticism of Delahunty does seem a little forced.

Equally, little evidence is advanced to support some highly contentious claims about attitudes found in Australia's gay community. Unless you are white, male and middle class, the authors say, you may not fit in.

Worse, gay people don't seem to care about this exclusionary behavior: "Curiously Asian MSM's (Men who have Sex with Men) experience of racist abuse is accepted yet is seen as a crime without perpetrators, there is a complete unwillingness to investigate gay racism."

There may be truth in this, but who exactly is supposed to be "investigating"? One can't help but imagine some sort of gay board of directors. The argument would be more convincing if the reader knew where it was coming from (it could be based on watching the TV show Queer as Folk).

Quite a lot of this book is devoted to an analysis of Blanche D'Apulget's Turtle Beach. According to Prof. D'Cruz, it was reading the novel -- about an Australian journalist in Malaysia -- that first compelled him to write this book.

Turtle Beach, published in 1982, has been the subject of previous controversy -- most notably in 1992 when it was made into a film that almost caused a diplomatic incident. Coming under fire from Malaysian leader Mahathir Mohamad, the Australian government quickly distanced itself from the production (going so far as to remove any mention of state funding from the film's end credits). Malaysia particularly objected to scenes showing the massacre of Vietnamese refugees by Malaysians -- an event invented by the novelist but which she maintained is "emotionally accurate".

D'Cruz and Steele are more concerned with what they perceive to be the novel's racist undertones. This is where D'Cruz and Steele have fun and the chapters on Turtle Beach are wittier than the rest, delighting in such D'Apulget jolting observations as, "There were about thirty people, all Malay ... and all as similar as beer bottles on a shelf, within the limits of their sex".

Yet they seem to be doing little more than equating bad writing with a "bad Australia" -- as though D'Apulget's shortcomings point directly to the shortcomings of the populace because, after all, they bought the book.

Perhaps what frightens D'Cruz and Steele is merely the power of pop culture. A bit like the proverbial pill in the spoonful of jam, so a dangerous message can be far more effectively delivered through such a vehicle. Similarly, many have worried that Bryce Courtney's novels might be indoctrinating the masses in a South Africa that is more fantasy than fact.

This is certainly a reasonable concern, but isn't an in-depth analysis of a novel of dubious literary merit rather an easy way to score academic points?

Another factor worth bearing in mind is that Blanche D'Apulget ended up married to one of the shapers of Australia's relationship to Asia -- former Labor PM Bob Hawke. It may be that this connection has led some to view D'Apulget's efforts in rather a different light.

D'Cruz and Steele reassure the reader that their objective was not to demonize D'Apulget and that she is "evidently a person of good-will".

No one is more filled with good will than the authors themselves. Their prayer for the future of Australian and Asian ties is "for less ice at the heart". The book cumulates in the allegorical hope for Australians and Asians that: "Together they design and build a bridge and together they cross it."

The sincerity of this cannot be questioned but does stand out rather sharply from the more generally pragmatic tone of the book.

Few people would argue with the fact that Australia is ambivalent toward Asia, but the country's own ambivalence toward itself is probably just as worthy of comment as Australians are obsessed with the idea of finding an "identity".

Books such as this will always find a readership among people anxious to better understand themselves and their place in the world.

But Australians reading this book may find themselves getting a little riled. No doubt this is a natural reaction to criticism (even if, paradoxically, one somewhat agrees with it) but it is more than that.

This book's relentless tone of moral superiority wears thin after a while. One is reminded of a dinner party guest who goes on and on about how bad everything is -- how corrupt, greedy and basically hopeless -- in an effort to dazzle with the laser clarity of her perceptions.

Reading Australia's Ambivalence Towards Asia, one could be forgiven for imagining that the authors are of but a handful of Australians capable of penetrating the fog of racist ideology.