Friday, August 23, 2019
Pauline Hanson climbs
down on Uluru
In Aboriginal Australia, the story’s perhaps never over
until there’s a moral, or at least a laugh to it, and so the fact that Pauline
Hanson has had to back-down, literally, on her (yet to be) televised stunt to
climb Uluru should come as no surprise.
I can’t speak for the elders who gave her “permission” to do
the climb, just before she actually tried to do it, but it appears to me that
they played her to perfection, in assessing the high-likelihood that she would
back-down, so proving them right about their amply-telegraphed decision to
close the climb permanently, from October 2019 (in opposition to which, of
course, was the originating and political purpose of Hanson’s stunt). As well as admiring the elders’ shrewdness and
perceptiveness here, I find it hilarious (as well as thought-provoking) that
her “permission” was all part of the practical joke played on her – and so also
on a large cross-section of white Australia.
As for the media figure who compared closing the Uluru climb
to closing Bondi Beach, fair call, mate.
We flock to Uluru because it is iconic as well, and also because – of course
– it has a proverbial lifeguard tower, staffed by deeply-tanned Anangu, who
volunteer their time to see that (hopefully) no harm comes to the many often-clueless
peeps who get into a spot of bother on the climb. That is, we like to “swim between the flags,
sort of” on dry-land, as well – to first get “their” permission, and then
proceed jauntily to take little or no responsibility for our own actions, as
many of us are, quite foreseeably, sucked out by the “rip”.
So it is indeed a sad day, folks, when the Anangu volunteer “lifeguards”
say that they are closing their tower of safety for good, and probably one-day
even removing the “flags” (viz safety chains) from white Australia’s carefree
(and in case you’ve forgotten, ICONIC) playground. After
almost sixty years of being reckless and irresponsible tools – and then/yet (mostly)
living to tell the tale – how dare they spoil our lame, flocking feats with an
act of closure, especially when the
sound of closure (and here a big thanks to their new kartiya friend Pauline H!) is the distinct and humbling sound of
them laughing at us?
