Professional Australians

Greg Egan in my opinion is Australia's best author, and would rank him as the person on this planet I would most like to have a beer and a chat with. While he writes mainly in Science Fiction, he is not scared to add wider social issues into his novels. Most post-cyberpunk sci-fi authors often limit themselves to the near future, Egan does not always do so, but his novels which do have implemented near future Australian social and environmental issues. Distress , published in 1995, is one such novel.

Distress contains a lengthy commentary on the Australian "elites". Egan writes from the viewpoint of an Australian character named Bill Munroe who was one of the original pioneers on the bio-engineered coral island of "Stateless" out in the Pacific. Stateless had earned the enmity of modern nations as it was built on stolen biotech intellectual property from America by the biotech engineers who created the technology.

In the novel, Australian is one of the strictest nation-states toward Stateless. It has trade restrictions on the island and won't allow any direct flights. The main character, Andrew, has to fly up into South East Asia to catch a flight to Stateless which is east of Australia. The following discussion is between Andrew and Bill Munroe takes place on Stateless and explains why Munroe came to live in Stateless and why Australia is the strictest nation-state toward Stateless;

I said, "Did you really come here [Stateless] for the light?"

Munroe shook his head. "Hardly, I just had to get away."

"From what?"

"All the noise. All the cant. All the Professional Australians."

"Ah" I'd first heard that term when I was studying film history; it had been coined to describe the mainstream directors of the 1970's and 80s. As one historian had put it: 'They possessed no distinguishing features except for their nationality; they had nothing to say, and nothing to do except foist a claustrophobic vocabulary of tired nationalist myths and icons on to their audience, while loudly proclaiming themselves to be "defining the national character", and to represent, in person, "a nation finding its voice".' I'd thought this was probably a harsh judgement - until I'd seen some of the films. Most of them were stultifying horse opera's - rural colonial melodrama's - or sentimentalised war stories. The nadir of the period, though, was probably an attempted comedy in which Albert Einstein was portrayed as an Australian apple farmer's son, who 'splits beer atoms' and falls in love with Marie Curie.

I said, "I always thought the visual arts had grown out of that long ago. Especially in your mode [painting]"

Munroe scowled, "I'm not talking about art. I'm talking about the entire dominant culture."

"Come on! There is no 'dominant culture' anymore. The filter is mightier than the broadcaster." At least, that was the net-swoon line; I still wasn't sure I bought it.

Munroe hadn't. "Very Zen. Try exporting Australian medical biotech to Stateless, and you'll soon find out exactly who is in control."

I had no answer to that.

The discussion between Andrew and Munroe picks up again soon after;

He [Munroe] said, "Don't you ever get tired of living in a society which talks about itself, relentlessly - and usually lies? Which defines everything worthwhile - tolerance, honesty, loyalty, fairness - as 'uniquely Australian'? Which pretends to encourage diversity - but can't ever stop babbling about its 'national identity'? Don't you ever get sick of the endless parade of buffoons who claim the authority to speak on your behalf: politicians, intellectuals, celebrities, commentators - defining and characterising you in every detail ... from your 'distinctive Australian sense of humour' right down to your f**king 'collective subconscious iconography' ... who are all simply, liars and thieves."

I was taken aback for a moment, but on reflection this was a recognizable description of the mainstream political and academic culture. Or if not the mainstream, at least the loudest. I shrugged. "Every country has some level of parochial bulls**t like that going on, somewhere. The US is almost as bad. But I hardly notice it anymore, least of all at home[Australia]. I suppose I've just learnt to tune it out, most of the time."

"I envy you then, I never could."

The tram slid on, displaced dust hissing softly. Munroe had a point: nationalists - political and cultural - who claimed to be the voice of their nation could disenfranchise those they 'represented' just as effectively as sexists who claimed to be the voice of their sex. A handful of people pretending to speak for forty million - or five billion - would always wield disproportionate power, merely by virtue of making the claim.

So what was the solution? Move to Stateless? Become a-sex? Or just stick your head in a Balkanized corner of the net, and try to believe that none of it mattered.

Munroe said, "I would have thought that the flight from Sydney was enough to make anyone want to leave for good. Physical proof of the absurdity of nations."

I laughed drily. "Almost. Being petty and vindictive with the East Timorese is understandable; imagine dirtying the bayonets of our business partners for all those years, and then having the temerity to turn around and take us to court. What the problem is with Stateless, though, I have no idea. None of EnGeneUity patents were Australian-owned, were they?"

"No."

"So what's the big deal. Even Washington doesn't go out of its way to punish Stateless quite so ... comprehensively."

Munroe said, "I do have one theory."

"Yeah?"

"Think about it. What's the biggest lie the political and cultural ruling class tells itself? Where's the greatest disparity between image and truth? What are the attributes which any self-respecting Professional Australian boasts about the most - and possesses the least?"

"If this is a cheap Freudian joke, I'm going to be very disappointed."

"Suspicion of authority. Independence of spirit. Nonconformity. So what could they possibly find more threatening than an island full of anarchists."

in the previous diary I pointed out the disparity between Bush's inaugural speech and the reality of his situation. Bush is not unique, the denial of reality extends to Australian politics as well. In 1995, Egan pointed out that the emperor was wearing no clothes - ten years later, Australia remains bare arse naked.

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