Antipodean sojourn II: the natural environment

The first thing to strike me about Australia was its relative aridity as compared to the parts of North America with which I am most familiar. Even from the air one can see the brownness of the grass below. Australia as a whole is fairly dry, with much of its interior – the famous outback – occupied by desert conditions. There is no lengthy river system, such as the Mississippi-Missouri, flowing through the heart of the country. As a consequence, the most fertile and arable parts of Australia lie in the southeastern corner, which, not incidentally, contains most of its 20 million people. This has political ramifications insofar as the two most populous states of New South Wales and Victoria tend to dominate the political process, much as Ontario and Québec do here in Canada.


The second thing to note about the country is the beauty of its natural environment. For most of my visit I stayed at Glenn College on the campus of La Trobe University near Melbourne. Although some of the conference participants thought the campus ugly, I found it to be an incomparably lovely setting. (Perhaps Australians are so spoilt by the beauty of their own country that anything only moderately beautiful seems ugly in comparison.) Indeed many, if not most, of the photographs I took were of the exotic (by southern Ontario standards) flora and fauna inhabiting the land. A small stream wends it way through part of the grounds, and I loved to walk along its banks between Glenn College and Union Hall, where much of the conference took place. My best photographs were taken here.


Every morning I was awoken by the loud laughing sound of the kookaburra and the screech of the cockatoo – sounds that most North Americans would tend to associate with the jungle. I didn't get close enough to either of these creatures to photograph it, but at one point, while I was walking by the stream, I found myself only a metre away from a purple swamphen, which can be seen at right. The most visible of the many birds in the vicinity are the magpies, which are said to have a lovely song, but which, if I did manage to hear it, I failed to connect with this species. Another common bird is a variety of crow whose cry resembles that of a duck.


My host, Ken Dickens, was kind enough to walk me to a corner of the campus where the local kangaroos tend to congregate shortly before dusk. Sure enough, there they were. We were able to get close enough for me to capture them on camera. Was one of them a mother carrying a joey in its pouch? I couldn't tell from this distance. Needless to say, a mother with offspring would not have welcomed a closer look from us. What about the famous koala? We didn't see any of these. I was told that koalas are rather reclusive and stay up in their trees, uttering a loud grunting sound similar to that of a pig. It would have been a treat to see a platypus, one of the most unusual mammals on earth, but we didn't.

In future posts I will be writing about the climate and the heavens above Australia, the people and their ways, and the political system. Incidentally, yesterday was Australia Day, commemorating the first European settlement of the country in 1788.

Next: Antipodean sojourn III: the skies and seasons.

Antipodean sojourn: Transforming education

As promised, here is the first of my accounts of my visit to Australia last week. Slightly more than a year ago I was invited by Richard Edlin to be one of two keynote speakers at the Transforming Education Conference, subtitled "Grounded in Christ... Engaging the Culture." I was given the opportunity to speak on three occasions and on three related topics, the first two of which are immediately related to the subject matter of my book. The first, delivered on wednesday morning, the 17th, was titled "Visions and illusions in politics and life." The second, the following morning, was titled "Liberalism and its alternatives." The third and final address, delivered on friday, was titled "Illusions and vision for education." After each address someone got up to give a reflection on what I had said. One of these was Henry Contant, a fellow Canadian who is Executive Director of the Society of Christian Schools in British Columbia. Late friday morning I also fielded questions from interested conferees in a more informal setting. I found it a most enjoyable experience. My remarks were well received and I had fun engaging people during the break times.


Carolyn Kelshaw and Richard Edlin

The second keynote speaker was Dr. Stuart Fowler, whom I can only describe as the elder statesman of the christian parent controlled school movement, as it is known in Australia. He spoke on friday afternoon and presented something of a history of the movement from its beginnings in 1962, through the granting of substantial government funding a decade later, and up to more recent times. I was favourably impressed by the dedication of the parents and teachers who have spearheaded the movement and lovingly nurtured these schools.


Stuart Fowler

Most of all, I was overwhelmed by the kindness and hospitality of everyone present. Australians are a most likable people living in a stunningly beautiful country. I'll write further about the people and their country over the next few days.

CPCS and NICE have produced two volumes containing essays related to previous Transforming Education conferences. The first of these, edited by Jill Ireland, Edlin and Ken Dickens, is titled Pointing the way: Directions for Christian education in a new millennium (2004), and contains essays by Fowler, Edlin and others. I was sent a copy of this early last year. The second collection, also edited by Edlin and Ireland (and with a much improved and more readable font), is called Engaging the culture: Christians at work in education, and was just released at last week's conference. I myself will be contributing to a future such volume.

Because Australia is such a huge country, people came, not only from the major urban centres on the south and east coasts, such as Brisbane, Sydney, Melbourne and Adelaide, but from as far away as Perth and Darwin on the west and north coasts respectively. An equivalent conference here in Canada would draw people from Toronto, Halifax, Vancouver, Yellowknife and Iqaluit. Attending such a gathering seems to be a priority for christian school teachers, who might otherwise find their geographic remoteness from fellow teachers lonely and discouraging. This is good reason to pray for future such conferences – that they might renew and strengthen participants to persevere in their calling, wherever they may be.

Next: Antipodean sojourn II: the natural environment.

Antipodean sojourn III: the skies and seasons

One of the obvious benefits of visiting Australia in January is that it’s summer in the southern hemisphere. One need hardly emphasize that anyone facing the prospect of a long Canadian winter would jump at the opportunity for even a brief respite from the ice and snow, as well as from the long nights and short days. In recent years I’ve discovered that I seem to suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder, which is worst right before Christmas and then slowly improves over the following months. As I do not require a lot of sleep, I was quite happy, during my Melbourne visit, to wake up with the sun around 5.30 in the morning – with the help of the kookaburra, of course. My first and last nights were spent at the Holiday Inn at the airport, where my rooms faced east. This accorded me a breathtaking view of sunrise.

Somewhat to my surprise, being in the southern hemisphere played havoc with my sense of direction, which is usually quite good. When Ken Dickens and I drove into the city on Wednesday afternoon, I acted as navigator and kept a map open as we tried to find our way to the state parliament building on Spring Street. Unfortunately, my sense of direction often failed me, due, I am forced to conclude, to the sun being in the “wrong” part of the sky! I am generally not aware of taking my bearings from the sun, but I suppose I must do so on at least a subconscious level. I did get used to it eventually, but at first it was mildly disorienting.


The sun didn’t set until about 9.30 pm. Although I love the long days, I did not spurn the darkness. In fact, after sunset I deliberately walked into the grassy area to the north of Glenn College to view the night sky. Wanting to pack as much as possible into my visit, I had brought along a 36-year-old foldup National Geographic map of the heavens, showing sky charts for the 12 months and for each hemisphere. Never having seen the southern hemispheric constellations, I looked forward to taking these in for the first time. The first night was somewhat cloudy, so I had some difficulty identifying all but the major stars – except for those of Orion, which is visible in the northern hemisphere as well and is sufficiently distinctive to make it easily recognizable. The second night was clear, so I went out again with my sky charts and was quickly able to locate the famous Southern Cross, which adorns the flags of Australia and New Zealand, as well as those of Papua New Guinea, Christmas Island, the Australian states of Victoria and New South Wales, and the Northern and Capital Territories. I was able to identify this constellation by its relationship to Alpha and Beta Centauri, which point to it. (As some may know, Alpha Centauri is a three-star system, one of whose members, Proxima Centauri, is closest of all the stars to our solar system, at a “mere” 4.22 light years away.) Unfortunately, because of the artificial light on campus, I could make out only the three brightest stars of the cross.


In the northern sky is Orion, which appears “upside down” relative to its position as seen in the northern hemisphere. One of the conference participants gave me an amusing account of an aboriginal interpretation of this inverted constellation. It seems that the scabbard hanging from Orion’s belt was deemed by some aboriginal communities to be a phallus pointing upwards. Its bearer, Nirunja, was seen to be chasing the Seven Sisters (the Pleiades) with evident amorous intent. One assumes this piece of native folklore isn’t covered in school astronomy units until the upper grades! I understand that other aboriginal Australians view Orion as an emu, which is probably more suitable for the younger pupils.

Back to the daylight hours. I was told that Australians tend to suffer from skin cancer at higher rates than people in other western countries, due, of course, to prolonged exposure to the sun. Therefore, many Australians wear hats, including the famous Akubra hat, which has attained something approaching iconic status in that country. I myself would like to have acquired one of these – or at least a near imitation. However, as I found them priced at a level too high for my comfort, I decided to forego the privilege.

Ever since John F. Kennedy popularized the bare-headed look in the early 1960s, few North American men wear hats anymore. I suppose I’m the exception to this nearly half-century-old fashion trend. Indeed, people tend to know me by my hats, which change with the seasons and take up far too much space at the top of our front closet. Here in Canada, of course, the motivating factor is not so much the sun as the cold. To be sure, some think I’m making a fashion statement, but I actually get sick less frequently than I used to in my younger days before donning the chapeau. Probably the only thing that would keep me healthier would be to spend our winter months in – well, Australia.

Next: Antipodean sojourn IV: Australians.

Antipodean sojourn IV: Australians

I’ve discussed earth and sky; now it’s time to look at the people of Australia. Prior to my trip down under, I did some research into the manners and mores of my host country, so as not inadvertently to commit a faux pas and risk offending someone. I understood that there are some countries where, if you do not polish your shoes or if you fail to inquire about the health of a contact’s family, you will be considered a hopeless boor and no one will have anything to do with you. From my research I discovered, among other things, that Australians dress informally and have egalitarian sensibilities. (Okay; so leave the bowtie at home.) Among the things to avoid are: (1) failing to buy the next round of beers, if you are next in line to do so; (2) mentioning your hosts’ convict forebears; (3) assuming that Alice Springs is a suburb of Adelaide; (4) inquiring of a Sydney Anglican whether he believes in the Real Presence or the apostolic succession of bishops, and (5) asking whether your new acquaintances know Paul Hogan or Rupert Murdoch personally. Armed with this information, I figured I couldn’t go wrong.


What I found when I actually arrived was that Australians are a warm and hospitable people, with unfailing good humour and a ready willingness to forgive the missteps of visitors. The first people I met at the Melbourne airport were Richard and Annette Edlin, whom I quickly came to like very much. They are originally from New Zealand but have lived in Australia for some years now. The person with whom I spent the most time was Ken Dickens, who had been designated my host during my visit. Once more, I found him to be an amiable person and enjoyed the times we spent together, including our memorable excursion into the centre of Melbourne wednesday afternoon. Thanks are due him for his generous hospitality. Over the following days I met and talked with scores of people, most of whom were attending the Transforming Education Conference. I was so warmly embraced by them that I immediately felt at home and scarcely thought myself to be a stranger in a new country. It’s difficult to imagine a nation filled with such genuine people having any external enemies.

There are, of course, many similarities between Australia and Canada. (To be sure, climate is not one of them.) Both are immigrant countries with predominantly European roots. Both grew to nationhood within the context of the British Empire/Commonwealth. Both countries’ constitutions combine a Westminster-style parliamentary/cabinet system with American-style federalism. But there are differences as well.

Australians are mad about sport — virtually any sport. But among their favourites are rugby-related Australian-rules football, football proper (formerly called soccer) and cricket, all of which I have reason to think I saw briefly on the television set in my room at the Holiday Inn. (All right, I confess — I'm not much of a sport fan.) Last year the Australian Soccer Association became the Football Federation Australia, which means that there are now at least two games being played under the name “football.” If there is any confusion about this, I didn’t detect it. Back home we have hockey. And then, of course, there’s hockey. Oh, and did I mention hockey? (Oh yes, also CFL football, but who pays attention to that?) The Commonwealth Games will shortly be taking place in Melbourne, and no visitor to that city would ever be allowed to leave without being informed of this repeatedly on every street corner. After returning to Canada, I discovered that a Greek Cypriot, 20-year-old Marcos Baghdatis, has been dazzling the spectators at the Australian Open Tennis Tournament, also in Melbourne. The impressive thing is that, unlike many North Americans, Australians do not seem content to remain spectators. Most everyone I saw during my visit appeared to be fit, suggesting that ordinary Australians themselves participate in sporting events, or at least engage in vigorous physical activity.

Australian humour is unique as well. Canadian humour tends to be self-deprecating. We’re good at poking fun at ourselves, as evidenced by our venerable national institution, the Royal Canadian Air Farce. (I’ll leave out Rick Mercer, who can be somewhat caustic at times.) By contrast, Australians like to give each other a hard time – something that may take some getting used to on the part of outsiders. However, if they give you, the visitor, a hard time, that means they like you and have come to think of you as one of their own. There’s no complaining about that. (Um, let's put aside Dame Edna Everage for now.)

My second evening in Melbourne, Richard and Annette invited me to tea in their rooms at Glenn College, where a number of people had gathered to socialize. That was my first taste of Australian conviviality. I had not yet uttered a word — my first keynote address would come the following morning — yet I was already being made welcome. I even received a gift for my daughter: a set of children’s Hebrew letter flashcards and an accompanying workbook to help children learn and practise writing the shapes of the letters. (With her fascination for foreign languages, our Theresa took to these immediately.) At the end of the conference — after my third keynote — I was presented with two wrapped gifts: Steve Parish's Australia: the journey, a beautiful photographic survey of the country; and Australian Politics and Government: The Commonwealth, the States and the Territories, a useful look at Australian federalism.

Small wonder I fell in love with the country and its people. One day I would love to return and take my wife and daughter with me.

Next: Antipodean sojourn V: politics.

Antipodean sojourn V: politics


When my trip to Australia was still in the planning stages, I wondered whether I might be able to visit the national capital of Canberra. However, after looking at a map, I quickly realized that distances are as great in Australia as in North America and that it would be 6 hours driving distance from Melbourne. Obviously that would be impossible during such a brief visit. So, knowing that Melbourne is the capital of Victoria, Australia’s second-largest state, I requested of my hosts to be taken to visit the state parliament building in that city. Advance research indicated that parliament would not be sitting in January, when MLAs and MLCs would be on summer holidays. So I would be unable to see question time in the lower chamber. Nevertheless, even a visit to the buildings would be informative and likely to enrich my teaching of Canadian politics, given the similarities between the two countries’ constitutions.

Wednesday afternoon, the 18th, was designated free time for the Transforming Education conferees. Group tours were organized for wine-tasting (which quickly filled up) and riding Puffing Billy, Australia’s oldest functioning steam train. But Stuart Fowler had arranged through his MLA for a private tour for Ken Dickens and me of the Victorian Parliament building, which celebrates its 150th year in 2006. Because Ken lives in Sydney, neither of us knew Melbourne. However, I had purchased a map of the city, which helped us (eventually) to find our way into the central district.

We were a little late arriving at Parliament, mostly because my northern-hemispheric sense of direction didn’t serve me all that well in my unofficial role as Ken’s navigator. All the same, upon arrival, we didn’t have to wait but were greeted immediately by a bright young parliamentary clerk, who looked to be just under 30 years old and reminded me a great deal of one of my former students. Adding to this sense of familiarity, I was favourably impressed that, prior to our visit, he had taken the time to visit my websites to discover my research interests. As it turns out, he himself has a fascination for Canada, so we were able to compare notes between our respective countries’ political systems.

The Victorian Parliament, like those of four other Australian states, is a bicameral body, consisting of an upper chamber, the Legislative Council, and a lower chamber, the Legislative Assembly. Only Queensland has a unicameral parliament. Here in Canada, of course, all ten provincial legislatures are unicameral, Québec being the last to abolish its Conseil législatif in 1968, in an action eerily reminiscent of the opening volley of the French Revolution nearly two centuries earlier. (It even renamed its Legislative Assembly the National Assembly!) But because five of the six state parliaments are bicameral, they preserve more of the Westminster constitutional traditions, including the conventions of reading the Governor’s speech in the upper chamber and introducing money bills into the lower.


Even the internal layout of the two chambers reflects something of British parliamentary tradition. The Legislative Assembly, like the House of Commons, is predominantly green-coloured, while the Legislative Council, mirroring the House of Lords, is a red chamber. Nevertheless, although most parliamentarians face each other across the floor, the seats form a U at the end, as illustrated at left. Although the bottom of the U is often where members of minor parties sit, in the current parliament, with the Australian Labor Party holding an unprecedented 62 of 88 seats, the government benches extend around the U to the other side as well. The few Liberals and the even fewer Nats are crowded into the seats at the speaker’s immediate left.

I was surprised to learn, however, that, unlike British and Canadian practice, the state premier and the leader of the official opposition do not occupy the front benches of the Legislative Assembly. Rather both sit at a table in the middle of the floor facing each other across a row of law books, an arrangement perhaps intended to symbolize the rule of law in parliamentary government. The traditional Mace, carried by the Serjeant-at-Arms, lies between them at the other end of the table, perhaps as a way of keeping them from coming to metaphorical blows.


Between 1901, when the Commonwealth of Australia came into existence, and 1927, when Canberra became the federal capital, the federal Parliament met in this building, the House of Representatives and Senate occupying the two chambers. During this time the Victoria state parliament met in the Royal Exhibition Building several blocks to the north in Carlton Gardens. So the present parliament building has historic significance for the entire country, and not only for Victoria.

Between the two chambers lies Queen’s Hall. At one end stands a white statue of Queen Victoria, which, our guide informed us, is identical to the statue silently presiding over the interior of the Parliamentary Library in Ottawa. Victoria, of course, lent her name to the state, and references to “the Queen” abound in Australia’s constitution, which came into effect on 1 January 1901, exactly three weeks before her death.


Prior to my arrival in Australia, I discovered a fascinating anomaly in Australia’s relationship to the United Kingdom prior to the Australia Act 1986. When the Statute of Westminster was enacted, effectively recognizing the constitutional equality of the various “dominions” to the UK itself within the Empire/Commonwealth, there were a number of loose ends in these countries that would be tidied up only in the ensuing decades. In Canada, for example, until patriation in 1982, any change to the British North America Act, our chief constitutional document, required an act of the British Parliament, which Ottawa would have to request explicitly. In Australia, 1986 was the watershed year. After 1931 the appointment of a governor general by the reigning monarch would be on the advice of His Majesty’s ministers in Australia and not in Britain. However, due to an apparent oversight, the six Australian states remained in a position of technical subordination to Britain. State governors continued to be recommended by the Secretary of State for Commonwealth Relations in London, albeit with the input of the relevant state ministers. As J. D. B. Miller wrote nearly half a century ago:

In law, a State Governor could be ordered by the Commonwealth Relations Office to dissolve, or not to dissolve, his State parliament, or to refuse assent to a law passed by that parliament. In this sense the paradoxical situation exists of the British government being unable to interfere in the affairs of the Australian Federal government but able to interfere in those of the States.

This possibility was removed for good 20 years ago, after which time the relevant state ministers would advise the Queen whom to appoint as governor. (In Canada, of course, it is the Governor General in Council, i.e., the federal government, which appoints the provincial lieutenant governors.)

At the La Trobe University bookstore I purchased two books of relevance to the political system. The first is Australian Political Institutions, a standard undergraduate survey text. The second is Haig Patapan, Judging Democracy: The New Politics of the High Court of Australia, an analysis of the increasingly significant role of the High Court in shaping the domestic political process – a tendency very nearly universal in western constitutional democracies but which has nevertheless sparked severe criticism in those same countries.

Next: Antipodean sojourn VI: tying up loose ends.

Antipodean sojourn VI: tying up loose ends

One month ago today I left for Australia. It thus seems appropriate to wrap up this series with a catch-all post to cover whatever I've not yet mentioned of my trip:

Melbourne is a traction fan's delight. It has a quite complete tram (i.e., streetcar) system covering the city and its surrounding suburbs. I myself have long been a fan of electric rail transportation, ever since as a child I discovered the remnants of one such line that went through my hometown prior to 1961. During our visit to the centre of Melbourne, Ken Dickens and I rode one of these trams twice.


A tram on Spring Street, Melbourne

Melbourne has a huge Greek community — making it by some accounts the largest Greek city outside Greece itself. I rather imagine I have relatives there and would be surprised if I didn't. However, given that our immediate family has not kept up with any of them, I didn't think it proper to dig too deeply into the matter and show up at the door of one of their — well, restaurants, expecting to be fed. At the end of our day in the city centre, Ken Dickens and I ate dinner at Tsindos restaurant.

At La Trobe University I was baffled to see signs for a MUSLIM MALE WASHROOM and a MUSLIM FEMALE WASHROOM. Do the differences between Muslims and nonmuslims really extend even to the processes of elimination?

The restaurant at the Holiday Inn at the airport serves a series of curry dishes, obviously indicating an Indian influence on the country's cuisine. Similarly, McDonalds restaurants in Australia — or at least Melbourne — have a tandoori chicken sandwich on their menu. If McDonalds of Canada served this, it might be enough to get me to eat at one of their establishments.

Between 1910 and 1966 the country's currency was the Australian pound, which was divided into 20 shillings, each of which consisted of 12 pence. Obviously modelled on the British pound sterling, this cumbersome system was replaced by the Australian dollar and a decimalized system of coinage. Today there are no one cent pieces, but there are 5, 10, 20 and 50 cent coins, along with one and two dollar coins.

Tipping for services rendered is not generally practised in Australia. It is expected that those waiting tables, cutting hair, &c., are already being paid adequately for their work. Moreover, sales taxes are not added to the price of something at the till; they are already incorporated into the listed price — something I quite prefer to North American practice.


In the Legislative Council chamber,
Melbourne

Thirty-one years ago today the Order of Australia was established to recognize citizens who have distinguished themselves in exemplary service to the larger society. Closely modelled on the Order of Canada, it originally consisted of four grades: Knights/Dames, Companions, Officers and Members. In 1986 the first category was abolished. One assumes this means that there will be no more Australians with "Sir" or "Dame" before their names.

The Australian Labor Party deliberately spells the second name of its title without the "u." Can we assume that this indicates a generally pro-American orientation on its part?

Some of the Transforming Education conferees told me that the federal government has mandated the posting of a brief document, Values for Australian Schooling, in classrooms across the country, including those of independent schools. The precepts contained in the poster seem decent enough, but one might well question whether the entire project is an example of the "unnecessary interference or control" condemned by the document itself.

All Australians of a certain age remember what they were doing when they heard that Governor General Sir John Kerr had dismissed Prime Minister Gough Whitlam on 11 November 1975. The ensuing constitutional crisis served to encourage republican sentiments in Australia. A referendum was held on the issue in 1999, but the motion to replace the Queen and her representative with a president failed at least in part due to disagreement over the means of putting such a president in office.


Trams and Heineken
at Swanston & Lonsdale Streets

Not only did this visit mark the first time I had been to the southern hemisphere; it was also the first time I had crossed the International Date Line. Thus on saturday, the 21st, I left Melbourne early in the afternoon and arrived in Los Angeles in the late morning of the same day. After crossing the Date Line, it was friday again for a few hours, which meant that I had been flying since the following day. This probably isn't what H. G. Wells had in mind with his famous time machine, but it does play tricks with one's head.