The following speech was delivered at an antiwar rally in Sydney's Hyde Park,
March 20, 2005.
The other day, the Aboriginal filmmaker Richard Frankland
said this: "When you've got a voice, you've got freedom, and when you've
got freedom, you've got responsibility. Negotiating with politicians doesn't work.
You've got to change attitudes." That's the task for all of us here today.
It's not an easy one. In fact, many good people in Australia and other countries
believe their voice cannot possibly be heard: that the forces of bigotry and violence
are far too powerful.
And yes, they are powerful. John Howard can lie repeatedly to the Australian people
and get away with it – it seems. There is no Labor opposition in federal parliament.
They've become a bad joke, to the point where Kevin Rudd, the opposition spokesman
on foreign affairs, refuses to say anything critical of the government that is
not immersed in crude sophistry.
We also know that those who are paid to keep the record straight, who are meant
to challenge Howard's lies and uphold our right to freedom of speech, a freedom
that is a cornerstone of any true democracy – I refer of course to the media:
journalists, broadcasters – we know where they stand. We know that, apart from
a few honorable exceptions, they are not merely craven and silent, but occupy
a place in this society not dissimilar to the media in the Stalinist regimes of
Throughout my career I have reported, often undercover, from countries ruled by
repressive regimes where dissidents would read me reports in the press that were
no more servile and false than the reporting you read every day in the Murdoch
papers in this country. In Eastern European states, for example, the papers had
tame correspondents in Moscow who would parrot the Kremlin line. Now read the
Washington correspondent of the Sydney Morning Herald, Michael Gawenda,
and there is no difference. The same parroting of Bush's dangerous absurdities,
such as his claims of bringing democracy to the Middle East – when the very
opposite is true.
Considering this, we might ask: Is there no shame?
Is there no shame that, in its annual review of press freedom three years ago,
the international media monitoring organization, Reporters Without Borders, placed
Australia 41st in the world. Countries with greater press freedom were the following:
Lithuania, Bosnia, El Salvador, the Dominican Republic, Bulgaria, Hong Kong. All
these countries have either been run by dictatorships, or racked by war or by
civil upheaval; yet in 2002 they had greater press freedom than Australia, which
was just ahead of autocracies. None of this, or the reasons why, are ever mentioned
at the numerous back-scratching awards ceremonies so beloved by the Australian
Honorable exceptions aside, supine journalists, like cynical opposition politicians,
like corporate academics, represent unaccountable, violent power and a corrupt
democracy that today offers us no more choice that between a McDonald's and a
Hungry Jack's. But they do not represent us. And they don't speak for us. And
they don't speak for humanity. And they don't speak for democracy. And they don't
speak for all the moral decencies by which most people live their lives. In fact,
they speak for the very opposite.
I may have first understood this when I reported from repressive Czechoslovakia,
with its Stalinist regime, in the 1970s. The dissenters who spoke out in that
country seemed so few, yet I wondered why the regime went to such lengths to silence
them and attack them and sneer at them, usually via the state press. I put this
question to the great protest singer Marta Kubisova, whose thrilling voice sang
the anthems of the Prague Spring in 1968. Meeting me in secret, she replied by
reading to me the words of one of her most defiant songs, written by a banned
Czech group called the Plastic People of the Universe. I have abridged it slightly.
"They are afraid of the old for their memory,
They are afraid of the young for their innocence
They afraid of the graves of their victims in faraway places
They are afraid of history. They are afraid of freedom.
They are afraid of truth. They are afraid of democracy.
So why the hell are we afraid of them? ... For they are afraid of us."
What all of you should remember on this second anniversary of the brutal assault
on Iraq is that you are not alone: that you are part of a great worldwide movement
that refuses to accept the dangers and moral indecencies of Bush and Blair and
Howard. Yesterday, all over the world, people like you expressed their defiance
and anger at the unprovoked attack on Iraq, a defenseless country, and the killing
of more than 100,000 people and the theft of their resources and the poisoning
of their land: all of it justified by demonstrable lies. Go back to a speech John
Howard made early in February 2003. He spoke for 53 minutes and lied about weapons
of mass destruction at least 20 times: 20 lies in less than an hour. Even Bush
and Blair would have trouble topping that.
Then he sent Australian troops off to take part in an invasion, which, under the
universally acknowledged and respected terms of the Nuremberg judgment in 1946,
the cornerstone of international law, was "a paramount war crime."
That's not my rhetoric, nor is it agit-prop. It's the law of civilized people.
And it's our job to help people understand the great crime committed in their
name, and how those who claim to speak for us, such as the media, have normalized
the unthinkable: as if no crime has been committed, as if thousands of people
have not been murdered, as if it was all merely a respectable adjustment of the
"world order." My point is, they are not respectable; they may wear
the suits of respectability and travel with their fawning courts, but they are
prima facie criminals, be assured.
The other day, an ABC [Australian Broadcasting Corporation] foreign correspondent
was promoting his book of professional adventures in a Sydney bookshop. He told
his audience that it was good to be back in a country where politicians at least
didn't kill each other. That's true, but what he didn't say was that the same
politicians collude in the killing of men, women, and children in other countries:
in Fallujah, where the truth remains unreported in the so-called mainstream media
in this country – including the ABC, which has allowed itself to be intimidated
by the Howard government for giving us, now and then, a glimpse of the truth about
Bush's criminal assault on Iraq.
The time is long overdue. That time is for journalists to break ranks and speak
up. It's time for teachers to write on their blackboards that great truism of
Milan Kundera: "The struggle of people against power is the struggle of memory
against forgetting." It's time for those who know the dangers, but who say
nothing – academics, lawyers, union leaders, even members of Parliament –
to break their silence before their own privileges are undermined by the steady
assault on centuries-old, hard-won civil rights, vividly expressed in the abandonment
of Australians tortured in other countries by their government and the locking
up of people in this country indefinitely: indeed, the erosion of the bedrock
of our justice system: innocent until proven guilty.
Above all, never forget how important and right you are. It is you, in company
with millions all over the world, who have taught again the great lesson of democracy.
You didn't stop the invasion of Iraq, but you and the millions like you, in Spain
and Britain and France and Italy and Brazil and the United States, have alerted
the world to the true darkness of the regime in Washington and its collaborators.
Never in my lifetime as a journalist have I known ordinary people all over the
world to be more aware of the dangers and the issues that face us. Many can't
be with us today; but their support is, I believe, a presence. Think back to the
popular movement, much of it led by women, that prevented conscription being introduced
in Australia during the First World War. Those campaigners also felt rather isolated
at times; but they weren't: they were the voice of what was right.
Had it not been for you and your movement, I believe Iran and North Korea would
have been attacked by now, and in the case of North Korea, nuclear weapons might
have been used.
Be proud of these achievements: be proud that the seedy, violent power of Bush
and Blair and Howard has been exposed by you and that behind their bravado, they
are afraid of you, and of the millions like you, so, in the words of the song,
why the hell should we be afraid of them?