And this is one aspect unprecedented in moments of history, in terms of the level of difficulty presented in this current conflict. We saw this element in Nazi Germany (where a culturally split society effectively imploded and divided amongst itself), but this new era is particularly complicated. In 2001, we had come out of the 80's and 90's, having consciously embraced (however immaturely and ultimately underdeveloped) that now defunct term, "multiculturalism". It's amazing, now, to consider that this was actually an ideal - even more amazing to think that this was one of the most over-used catch-phrases of Australia Day (Keating, in particular, was a great believer in it). But by the turn of the century, certainly, we lived in a Western society more diverse than it had ever been, before. Muslims, after all, were always here. Did they ever bother us? Did we care? No. Only at one point did a division involving Islaam make itself known - something we will discuss, a little later. On the whole, we never blinked an eyelid at the Muslim down the road. We would have walked past many women in the hijab, and while we may have thought it odd, we certainly didn't make the association with it that we make, today. 

 

We were, in this way, on the right path - at least, as a matter of intenion. Sure, it was still ultimately naive in many ways, and it had a long way to go in eradicating racism; but every direction must start at an imperfect beginning, and we were at least developing a concept of fragmented unity - the idea that to "be" Australian was a subjective matter that, quite happily, stretched over a wide cross-section of beliefs and lifestyles, and the retainment and incorporation of other cultures and nationalities. I dug that. I think, looking back now, many of us took that for granted, and it seems almost cruel to consider where and how it all went so terribly wrong.

 

But we had only just set off in this much better direction (this decidedly more evolved direction), when the essential problem of it - that we were still ultimately ignorant of the history of our society (for it's all very well to decide to paint a better future, but it actually insults - and is undermined by - the brutal, unfair realities of the foundations of this society) - hit us square in the face, one day in September. The indigenous debate through the late 80's and 90's best defines this paradox - the clash of good intentions with the convenient cultural ignorance of those intentions - and the unresolved dynamic visible in our inability to resolve the colonialist past of our nation (one that has by no means left us, today - any notion that the indigenous population have risen above their conquest and now live in a setting of equality where all that "nasty business" is behind us, is a truly ignorant notion) is, to my mind, one of the core problems we face in today's dramas (where sadly, the indigenous debate has been almost entirely forgotten).

 

Whatever the case, this latest era was deeply complicated by the diversity in our society that the end of the last century had started to embrace. Bush and Co. used this beautifully, and recognised an opportunity to foster a seemingly foolproof environment of war that created a localised paranoia amplified by the concept of the "enemy within" (which meant that the voting public didn't just allow their leaders to do whatever they wanted to other countries, but so too, their very own). The other problem with times of war is that they create a political environment that assures power for political parties, like no other (as long as they're perceived to be winning the war, of course, or fighting a valid war - what may ultimately bring this administration undone - fingers crossed). Corrupt politics is quite aware of the relation between war and the consequenting mentality of national collectivism (so too is the media, who use it to their own advantage, as we discuss often, here). Every "us", every frightened, threatened group, needs a leader; this is why war provides the social environments in history that have been the most political. Before 9/11, politics was dead - it was passe, darling, nobody was interested, anymore. Now, we're interested. But for too many, the interest is a kind of frightened co-dependency, and it has left them vulnerable to the manipulations of political power-maintenance.

 

And so, what better opportunity for the powers that be, than a war on a concept. Other wars direct themselves towards specific nationalities. But not this one - this was the world's first war on a conceptual noun. It is impossible to separate this from what has followed, because it has inevitably created a fear like no other. Firstly, there's the ambiguity. The first thing we do when threatened is to identify the enemy, and most importantly, to put a human face - a target, in other words - to it. But this was a war on "terror". Our enemy was a concept, and this concept would need to be personified in order to be eliminated. We had to work out who, exactly, terror "was". And that was difficult, and not exactly helped - perhaps conveniently - by our leaders. 

 

And so, one does what one can in such a battle. If we were first unsure of who terrorism was, we could at least cling to who it wasn't. And it wasn't "us", after all. It was "them". Our enemy would become anyone who was not "us". And this is where the trouble first started, and how the concept of what it was to be "Australian" changed course. It was no longer a superficial concept - a mere ideal - that symbolicly captured the way of the future, of mutliculturalism and social harmony. Australia Day is no longer so shallow as to be simply symbolic. It is now a very desperate case of survival, a measure of evil that we perceive our very lives to rest upon. Terror is not Australian. So are you an Aussie? Because either you're with us, or against us. And if you're not an Aussie, you'd better watch out.

 

Because realistically, even today, all these years later, "who" is terror? The ambiguity has stretched, in an alarmingly vague manner, to embrace a variety of cultures and people. Osama was designated baddie no. 1, the "mastermind" of terror (and even so, we still have no conclusive proof he actually had anything directly to do with 9/11, and at best, we can only loosely associate him with it, and be sure only in that he certainly approved the act); but the ultimate irony far too many miss of Osama is that he is essentially, in nationalistic terms, a displaced individual, a rebel of his own country (his "evil" is a retaliation and a rejection of his country's - his own family's - associations with America). Osama is not enough. And so, the conceptual shadow of terror has spread to include many different elements we mostly have little understanding of the connection of - if there's indeed any connection, at all. Saddam Hussein had nothing to do with 9/11, after all, but Bush sold his war on the basis that it was part of the War On Terror (even though it was planned before the 9/11 attacks, and has ironically only aided the growth of terrorism in this region). 

 

And so, alongside our newfound collectivism and the importance of being "one of us", under the unfortunately broad term of "terror", we slowly identified that other, and it became a variety of things. We looked for something, quite logically, that acted as a kind of perceived motif, a variable that showed its head in the various cases of terror prsented to us by the Western governments. We knew very little - and still know very little, really - about the hijackers of 9/11. But one thing was quickly presented to us, in a manner that was fatally extreme: they were Muslims. 

 

And this is not to say that those attacks didn't have an Islaamic context. Most certainly, they did. But the operations of a small network of terrorists - with a very distinct ideology - was quickly generalised to all Muslims; a generalisation that, with a most unbecoming convinction in its ignorance, completely misunderstood the complex cultural tapestry of Islaam - one even more rich than the spritual diversity of The West. When we followed the release and controversy of the documentary, Jesus Camp, one of the things that most amazed me was to see the Christian groups coming out against the film, on the basis that it unfairly suggested that all Christians - and on a more specific level, all Pentacostals - were adequately reflected by the ideologies presented in the film. Never mind that these mortified, offended, angry protests came from the same Christian groups that were happily demonising the whole of Islaam on the basis of 9/11 (because apart from 9/11, the thing we most often overlook is that nothing else, apart from the London attack - in five years, encompassing the "evil" of only a handful of individuals amongst a population of billions of Muslims - has happened). We don't like it so awfully much when people generalise, and hence lay blame upon, us, when we perceive ourselves as being separate to the accountable group. Australians have long dug themselves out of the aboriginal debate by protesting that the wrong-doings against the aboriginals were not committed specifically or directly by them; but we're not so quick to afford this rationale to the others we scrutinise and judge (particularly the Muslim community). What charming, self-centred double-standards we have.

 

But us humans have a tendency for double standards, of course. In the war mindset, numero uno is protected at the expense of all others, and the very concept of justice (and fairness) has a way of splitting in two. There's one set of rules for "us", and another for "them". And in our panic, we can't afford benefit of the doubt, to a point where we forsake the most obvious rationale. We're simply too paniced - there's too much at stake for rationality. We return to our most primitive psychodynamics - an utterly despicable mode of humanity. And we fall victim to psychological mechanics we should be above. But within a short time of 9/11, all muslims "were" terror.  

 

I'm arachnophobic. I hate spiders. When I was a small child, I had a frightening experience of a funnel web that decided I had to be killed in order to protect itself. Never mind that I was prodding it, and harassing it - causing it pain and fear - for my own pleasure and gain. I saw this spider as an evil creature, who attacked me from nothing more than the basis of it's existence being the carrying out of evil. And from that day, I hated spiders. All of them. My association became so great, that even poor little harmless Daddy Long Legs became something I simply could not tollerate. If any spider came anywhere inside my home, I killed them. I hated it. I hated killing them, that is (thankfully, I now get to stand back, while my partner does the glass jar and paper trick!). I hate hating spiders, in fact (and though I have spent a great effort in overcoming this, recognising what is so very wrong with it, it lingers still, today). An irrational, ignorant, most unjust mechanism was triggered when I was a small underdeveloped mind, and I have never been able to completely shake it. The fear consumes me, and I am led by an instinct to destroy the source of that fear, in order to eliminate the threat (even though that threat is mostly unrealistic). The human mind is indeed a flawed thing - it comes from a most imperfect place, and we must, over the course of our lives, endeavour to perfect it. In many ways, the human mind responds to a perceived threat, quite logically - in order to protect itself - but this means that sometimes, we respond unnecessarily. It requires us to stand back, assess the situation, and recognise the errors of our response. Some of us make great strides in doing this. Many of us make little ground at all. 

 

The problem with our identifying of Muslims as being the threatening "other" was that Muslims were an integral part of our multicultural society. They didn't just exist "over there". They were here, among us. And this is where the racism and culturalism has begun to devour our own society. The terrorists of 9/11 waged their war on our homeground. We've responded by waging our own war, here, ever since. Ours is a cultural war - fueled by a largely irrational fear of a potential terrorist attack (in five years, what has happened? I mean, let's stand back and grasp the real threat that has eventuated - very little; and, of course, the irony was that whatever threat was there, it grew after our reaction to a perceived threat, dangerously ushering towards a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy). It has manifested now into somthing that has nothing to do with 9/11 itself, but rather our response to it. We point the finger at 9/11 as the instigator of what has evolved in this society, and one could say that this wouldn't have happened without 9/11 (and another could also say that 9/11 wouldn't have happened without the meddlings in the Middle East that none of us cared about, or even knew of). But the last great turning point in all this is our reaction to the terrorism, and the fact that we, far from overcoming it, have embodied it's intention completely, and have let it tear our own culture apart. If Islaamic culture is underdeveloped and inferior to ours, then we are now hurtling towards it, ourselves. This society - a large part of it, at least - is going backwards, now.

 

Our war-time collectivism has revived not only racism in our culture, but all kinds of discrimination; the mindset is a disease that slowly affects things far beyond the specific initial context. As I've said before, we've seen a push against the acceptance of homosexuality, we've seen a revival of fundamental Christianity (clearly linked, for reasons I'm sure I don't have to explain, to the perceived battle against Islaam), and we're now returning to a 50's mentality of that evolutionary phenomenon so apt in a time of war (Quick, everyone! Breed more of us!!), "family values" (charming idea, if it didn't persecute those who don't fit into the model - as many don't, through no fault of their own). The sifting of our society into "for" and "against", "us" and "them", has now branched far wider than identifying potential terrorists. Everybody is copping it - anybody who doesn't fit the mould of "us". Multiculturism has been killed by monoculturalism; and monoculturalism is a nasty thing, indeed - particularly when it is quickly imposed upon such a diverse society as our own. "One nation", cried Pauline Hanson, four years before those planes hit the towers. At the time, we ridiculed her. We drove her out of office, and she was denounced, as she should have been. But three years ago, a nation carried Pauline Hanson through a reality TV show, and today, she has started to make her comeback. That her face and her vile racism would make an appearance in the Big Day Out fiasco, this week, has an unmistakable symbolism, and a most unsettling, ominous logic. People assured us that this flag scandal was not racism; but there she was, cut perfectly into a montage of Howard and (this, I found bitterly disappointing) Rudd, speaking from her same old perpsective - an ignorant, racist perspective. It was Pauline Hanson, after all, who famously posed with the Australian flag draped around her in a symbol of her utopian monoculture; and here she was, saying nothing new. Except, now, she was saying the exact same thing Howard and the others were all saying. The nation agreed with Pauline Hanson. Digest that for a moment, if you can. I tuned into talkback radio, this week (an unfathomably unpleasant experience, it must be said) to listen to the public reaction to the Big Day Out debate, and one caller noted Hanson's relevance to the issue, admitting that whilst he originally saw Pauline's perspective, all those years ago, as "wrong" (alongside most of the country), listening to her respond to the Big Day Out scandal, he realised, "she has a point, you know?" He concluded that she was ultimately "ahead of her time". And as much as I hate saying this, I'm afraid he's right. Pauline Hanson was, in the most awful mannr, ahead of her time. And it sends a shiver down my spine to sense that the time for the Hanson ideology - an ignorant, fearful, irrational ideology - is slowly blossoming.

 

Every monoculture in history has taken for itself a symbol - a visual representation of identity. On the simplest of levels, this has a practical purpose in times of conflict. The concept of "pride" - a word being thrown around far too much, these days - is all very well, but beneath this word we use in a manner that sells the psychodynamics at play short, we live in a time where, as we've discussed, the declaration of our collective identity is an important factor in the schemas of survival. The one statistic being thrown around a lot this week in the press was the leading flag manufacturer of Australia, who proudly declared that sales of Australian flags have risen 70%. It is an undisputable statistic, and anyone hitting the malls over recent years wouldn't be terribly surprised by this. Five years ago, if you asked me where you would go to buy and Australian flag, I wouldn't have been able to tell you. Now, I can not only tell you where, but I can tell you where to buy them for the best price. 

 

When I returned to my original home, the day the towers came down, I remember walking down my old street and having my memory jolted, upon seeing what was the most infamous house in the neighborhood. It was populated by what I can best describe (and it's a vile way to describe it, I know, but you'll at least get the picture) as an Australian version of those mid-west small town Americans we see in the movies who are generally referred to as "inbreds". In their front yard, they erected a giant flagpole; at the top of which, proudly flew the Aussie flag. 

 

When my friends would come over, they would find great amusement in their patriotism. "Are they for real?" they would laugh, their faces screwed up.

 

"Afraid so," I'd laugh, in return.

 

"What freaks!" most of them would exclaim.

 

"I know," I would confirm. "They're the designated weirdos of our street."

 

Designated - I must add - from nothing more than a family home that took it upon itself to erect an Australian flagpole in their front yard. In the 90's, that made you a "freak". Such a level of patriotism was treated as a symbol of some incomprehensible deviation from normality - not because we hated the flag or our country, but simply because it had no revelance in a way that would warrant a flag in the family yard. Why anyone would put their identity forward in a way so boldly connected to this symbol was anyone's guess - but at very least, whatever reason that was, it made them a weirdo. 

 

How times have changed. Count how many houses you drive past in a week that are proudly flying the Australian flag. I was recently shocked, upon attending my Mother's house-warming barbeque in Newcastle's most affluent area (where she now lives). Not only was I surprised to see countless flags along the streets, as we arrived (I must confess, I at least presumed they would be a presence confined to lower and middle class suburbs); when we sat down with my Mother's new, rich neighbours, the predictable friendly banter of the upper class (that vile competing that goes on, where they outdo each other based on the faux-casual mentioning of material possessions) turned into a competition of who owned the most ellaborate flagpole set-up; "My Aussie flag cost more than your Aussie flag", "Oh, you know who just bought the most amaaaazing flag - it's remote control - the Burroughs family, in number 17" - that sort of thing. 

 

At one point, one of them noticed my facial expression, which I can only imagine was being a little more sincere than it was in my interest; "Are you okay, dear?" she asked.

 

"Oh!" I gasped, realising I was so shocked by what I was hearing, I'd forgotten to lie with my face. "No, no", I chuckled, assuming the appropriate dishonesty. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just amazed, is all. I didn't realise they were making flags like that for the home."

 

"Oh, yes," one of them laughed, because I was soooo naive, darling, I mean, really. "There's such a high demand for them now, after all." She held up her crystal champagne glass, and gestured a semi-toast. "There's nothing wrong with being proud!"

 

But in the summer of 2005, there was something very wrong with the association between our nation's flag and the concept of "pride".