Grand final 2008 - not what we expected!

The papers have chosen their narrative: Hawks valiant; Cats caught napping; goliath taught a lesson. Fair enough. But while the scribes luxuriate in their warm bath of hindsight, the believers are left in search of a more sophisticated tale. For mine, Saturday 27 September was the day Shakespeare returned to walk the earth and scripted Geelong’s players in a tragedy.

The raw material was there. A long suffering kingdom had conquered vast unknown lands; wrestled crocodiles in the swamps; tamed lions in the desert; stared down its inner demons and emerged stronger. Everyone believed. Geelong had discovered alchemy and would never again suffer the indignity of talent squandered. The stubborn path of history had been altered, permanently. And the message reinforced itself in a spin cycle of columnist/believer feedback. Perfect conditions for imperial overstretch if ever there was.

When we broke the drought in 2007 the sheer emphatic-ness of it all was overwhelming. We were a million miles ahead. We’d crossed a bridge to the ranks of those who win grand finals. Behind us lay the romantics, St Kilda, Footscray, the ghost of Fitzroy. Ahead lay the hard-nuts, Hawthorn, West Coast etc. We were in for a decade of fearsome conquest. Other teams would bow to our will, and loath us. We’d all become cocky. The prospect was glorious. We reloaded our wardrobes with merchandise, new logos, shiny silver dvd box-sets. The club treasure chest overflowed; we were rich from the pillaging. We sported team colours in summer and eagerly anticipated the coming season.

And true to our expectations, more conquest came. The victories piled up like carcases on a sausage factory floor. We were a machine. From coast to coast we danced gracefully around our prey, hypnotising them with lightning fast handball and surprising them with bone-tickling tackles. West Coast was humiliated - so spectacularly that the locals stayed to watch the chain gang marching through the streets. Whole seasons were redeemed in single matches – ’92. ‘94. ’95.

Shakespeare became a Geelong supporter on the 23rd of May when Geelong sauntered like half-cut sailors into the MCG and were ravaged by a team of Popeyes in Collingwood jumpers. Where we saw an anomaly, Shakespeare saw hubris, flawed-genius, variegated motivation. Geelong beanie pulled low on his brow, he scribbled some notes and shuffled into the cool autumnal night; a script in the making.

The season rolled on through winter and the columnists lined up to pronounce Geelong a premier in all bar cup. Such rhetorical excess was not consistent with old-Geelong, but maybe new Geelong was different. We were that good, so why not just speak the truth rather than mumbled, heavily caveated, jinx-avoiding half-statements.

Shakespeare attended training these past few weeks, scribbling in his notebook at the back of the past players stand. He saw the cracks that didn’t appear on any x-ray. He was prodding and probing the character of our stars. Behind the confidence, and the uniform devotion to team rules hummed a familiar tune.... we’re still Geelong.

Gary Ablett, was destined for casting as the valiant gladiator, sold out by his comrades on the field of battle; like father like son. Cameron Mooney played the court jester, whose commitment to the court could never be discerned through his riddles. Tom Harley: the righteous king who died on the battle field, dream of empire abandoned, but honour intact. And Joel Selwood, the young prince who will one day be king, proved his worth to maidens and minions alike, accompanied by his hard-toiling friends Joel Corey and Jimmy Bartel. Someone had to play the beautiful princess - who better than Matty Scarlett, so sensitive and supportive, and loyal to the death. And then the others, unnamed, who ran from the fight and took off to France in disgrace, perhaps they’ll return, but if they do, they’ve a lot to prove.

We’re left feeling cheated, as though the glorious sunshine we’ve basked in for the past 12 months, the generous praise of fellow football fans, the certainty of victory, were all permanent fixtures – as if this was a new way of living, a transformation of norms and expectations. I’d adjusted to the new way, attributing superhuman capabilities to our players. Our princes had cracked the code and discovered how to spin mortal football acts into gold. Geelong was a glamour port, a gateway to the architectural porn of the surf coast and a city of artists. This new way felt too good to be mere complacency dressed up in fancy clothes. It was nouveau football. It was a mirage.

So onward to 2009, with the hope of Shakespearean revenge to keep our chastened heros on track. Some scores get settled, some lie dormant for decades, some evaporate with the passing of generations. This one, I hope, will be swiftly dealt with. But those who know old-Geelong fear it might take a while for the sublime to return and sweep away the disappointment. We have hope.

Legend has it that Shah Jahan, the Mughal Emperor who built the Taj Mahal, had intended to build an identical palace on the opposite bank of the Yamuna River, entirely of black marble. This dark palace would complement the soaring lightness and purity of the Taj - capturing the dark side of life. It's easy to understand such a gesture as we contemplate the Shakespearean disaster of Geelong in 2008. After the white-marble radiance of 2007 it’s time to embrace the black-marble of Grand Final Day 2008.

Out of hibernation.... Onward to india

Bidip took a year out, returned to the grindstone, and has been blessed with an opportunity of a lifetime: three bouts of three hundred days in incredible india. I'll be tapping from the wintry mists of Delhi from January 09....

Here is a taste of what's to come:

Into hibernation....

Three things to note:

a) Zimbabwe is a mess - nuff said.

b) Exams are imminent, and mild fear is coursing through my veins

c) Bidip and exam brilliance are highly incompatible.

Noting the above, Bidip shall be retired until at least July. The real world is there for the living.

Thanks for listening to my musings!

Out of the ice, into the fire

I'm taking a holiday (of sorts) in a certain repressive country in southern Africa, a place where aformentioned films are seemingly being re-enacted.

I'll be in touch.

Out of the woods.....

Here is some good news.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/6416835.stm

Five Nights of Bleeding

The solace of cinema proved elusive this weekend. By accident more than design I watched two films on Africa's brutal tendencies. In 'Blood Diamond' the horrors of civil war and child soldiers tore through Sierra Leone. In 'Last King of Scotland' Idi Amin's insanity tore through Uganda. Meanwhile in South Africa a dear friend recovered in hospital after being shot in a robbery. None of these stories have a silver lining, none depart from reality, and none reflect well on Africa.

For some reason I was reminded of Jamaican-Brit poet Linton Kwesi Johnson's 'Five Nights of Bleeding.' (imagine a thick Jamaican accent and a slow, rhythic cadence - its about riots in London).

Madness, madness

Madness tight on the heads of the rebels

The bitterness erup's like a heart blas'

Broke glass, ritual of blood an' a-burnin'

Served by a cruelin' fighting

5 nights of horror and of bleeding

Broke glass, cold blades as sharp as the eyes of hate

And the stabbin', it's

War amongs' the rebels

Madness, madness, war

-

Night number one was in Brixton

Sofrano B sound system

'im was a-beatin' up the riddim with a fire

'im comin' down his reggae reggae wire

It was a sound checkin' down your spinal column

A bad music tearin' up your flesh

An' the rebels dem start a fighting

De youth dem just tun wild, it's

War amongs' the rebels

Madness, madness, war

-

Night number two down at Sheppard's

Right up Railton road

It was a night name friday when ev'ryone was high on brew or drew(?)
A pound or two worth of Kali

Sound comin' down of the king's music iron

The riddim just bubblin' an' backfirin'

Ragin' an' risin'

When suddenly the music cut -
Steelblade drinkin' blood in darkness, it's

War amongs' the rebels

Madness, madness, war

-

Night number three, over the river

Right outside the Rainbow

Inside James Brown was screamin soul

Outside the rebels were freezin' cold

Babylonian tyrants descended

Bounced on the brothers who were bold

So with a flick of the wris', a jab and a stab

The song of hate was sounded

The pile of oppression was vomited

And two policemen wounded

Righteous, righteous war

-

Night number four at the blues dance, abuse dance

Two rooms packed and the pressure pushin' up

Hot, hotheads

Ritual of blood in the blues dance

Broke glass splintering, fire

Axes, blades, brain blas'

Rebellion rushin' down the wrong road

Storm blowin' down the wrong tree

And Leroy bleeds near death on the fourth night

In a blues dance, on a black rebellious night, it's

War amongs' the rebels

Madness, madness, war

-

Night number five at the telegraph

Vengeance walk thru de doors

So slow, so smooth

So tight and ripe and -smash!

Broke glass, a bottle finds a head

And the shell of the fire heard -crack!

The victim feels fear

Finds hands, holds knife, finds throat

Oh, the stabbins and the bleedin' and the blood, it's

War amongs' the rebels

Madness, madness, war

Madness applied

This man is a friggin saint and a fabulous mate. The picture was taken in 2003 in Attridgeville Township outside Pretoria. Since then on this site he has built a hospice to care for dying HIV/AIDS patients. He raised the money and runs it. It granted the gift of dignity to the dying where there was little. Why someone would invade this place and shoot him is beyond my capacity for comprehension. All thoughts towards a speedy recovery.

Conclusive evidence that the world is ****ed up

Irish priest shot in South Africa
Thursday, 1 March 2007 16:22

A missionary priest who is originally from Belfast has been shot in South Africa. Father Kieran Creagh, who works with Aids sufferers, was attacked at the hospice he built in Johannesburg. He is now said to be in a stable condition in hospital. Father Creagh's brother Liam said it was a traumatic experience: 'Two men came in and over-powered the guards. 'They went up to the apartment where he stays at the hospice and they rang the bell. He thought it was a patient coming to get him. 'He opened the door and I think there was a bit of a struggle. 'They fired two shots at least. One shot hit him in one of his lungs, and it is lodged there, and the other shot went through his arm.'
_______________________________________________

South Africa: Gang Shoots Priest in Hospice Attack

Cape Argus (Cape Town)
March 1, 2007

The Irish priest who was the first person in South Africa and Africa to volunteer to take part in the country's first HIV vaccine trial run by the South African Aids Vaccine Initiative in 2003, is fighting for his life after being shot three times. Father Kieran Creagh heard a bell ring at his flat at the Leratong Hospice in Soshanguve, near Pretoria, last night and thought it was a nurse summoning him to come and pray with a dying patient. But when he opened the door he was confronted by eight gunmen. He was shot three times. Creagh, director of the hospice and who lives on the premises, was alone in his flat when he was attacked by the gang, which appears to have taken his cellphone and DVD player.

This morning Creagh was in critical condition in ICU at the Zuid Afrikaans Hospital. Matron Ramigia Tloubatla, who accompanied him in the ambulance and was at his side throughout the night, said surgeons were planning to operate soon. She said Creagh had remained awake and had spoken to her about what had happened. "He said somebody rang the bell and he thought it was a nurse calling him to a patient. But when he opened the door he was confronted with a gun ... and then they were all on top of him. About eight guys," she said. - Staff Reporter

__________________________________
Please keep Kieran in your thoughts and prayers (of whatever brand).

Random London

Every minute in this manic city a thousand unusual things unveil themselves. Alas, most disappear in the moment of their discovery. On the way to school this morning I was lucky enough to spot three.

1) A quiet balding man, resplendent in track pants and a belly-bloated t-shirt, stepped out of the silverlink carriage at Caladonia Road Station, turned on a sixpence, and waved goodbye to the train until it disappeared around the bend.

2) At Kings Cross Station, a girl of 20 grinned at the world through double dimples. In the middle of each dimple she wore a metal stud, the perfect complement to her multiple nose rings, her tattooed neck and her boyfriend's gravity defying mohawk.

3) In covent garden two monocyles were chained to adjacent lamp posts.

Cultural imperialism out, cultural dialectic in.

THIS article offers some really interesting counterfactuals about cultural imperialism. Seems the relationship between globalisation and western culture is not a linear as we may assume.

And on the general topic THIS excellent piece in Foreign Affairs castes some interesting light on the US's embrace of rising India and China. It's the topic of our times - how to change the global architecture to accomodate these emerging giants. Institutions created in the 1940s ossify the world view of WW2's victors (particularly its western ones). Unreformed, they just won't cut it in future. These are very interesting issues - particularly for the US. How will it cope with sharing the limelight (and giving up a degree of autonomy)? And how will it manage the relative demographic and economic decline of Europe? Worth a read.

I'm thinking of introducing a rating system for articles - given that not everyone I know has my quota of reading hours each day. I'd give the first article 3.5 stars (a worthwhile caveat to a tired debate), and the second 4.5 stars (the most accessible synthesis of the India/China challenge I've read).

South Africa: Complex evermore

I really wish I had written more during my time in South Africa. There's a reason so many amazing novels come out of that country - South Africa represents the frontline of humanity. It grapples with all the uncomfortable issues that the rest of us squirm to avoid: Race; class; poverty; violence; religion; language; identity; all are write large across its much traumatised landscape. It is quite simply like nowhere else on the planet.

A NY Times article - HERE - catches a glimpse of South Africa's social complexity. It looks at how Afrikaaners are dealing with their dual history of victimhood and victimisation, and the reaction of other ethnic groups to their expression of cultural pride. People need identity, and history - and its bloody hard to be weighed down by histories mistakes. I met plenty of young Afrikaaners who were so proud of their new nation, proud of their heritage and language, but well aware of how history and the world stereotypes them. I also met a fair few unreconstructed isolationists (like the Orania types in this article). Alistair Sparks (I think) noted that the ANC are fonder of the Afrikaaners than they are of British South Africans - In their view the white english-speaking liberals were all talk and no action during apartheid, and dual-passport holders. The Afrikaaners at least were committed to the land, perhaps a little too ruthlessly. That the ANC and the National Party have since merged is testament to this - strange bedfellows in a strange bed. Anyway, have a read before it disappears into the NY times vault.

Hi, I'm from Oceania

Today, for the first time in my life, I was tagged as a representative of 'Oceania.' How very exotic and Miss World that sounds. It made me think a little about being Oceanian (is that the correct name?). I thought of my friends who work for the EU and their unitary joy at being 'European.' I thought of the debate about 'Asian values' and about the ANC's soaring rhetoric on 'African unity', and I thought of the hymns to Bolivarian solidarity sung by Chavez and his South American pals. But who weeps tears of joy for Oceania? It sounds like a theme park - all watersides, fish tanks and polenesian goddesses. Perhaps Disney will make a movie about Oceania and we can all understand what it is we belong to. In the meantime, I'm going to try an experiment - if asked where I'm from I'll say "Oceania", bursting with pride. Lets see if anyone sniggers.

Thesis titles: colons; attention seeking; in-jokes; and pictures

Our thesis titles are due Thursday. I've been grappling with how to combine the essential ingredients for a winning title with a relatively dry topic - investment rules. A winner needs to combine 1) colon or semi-colon, 2) gratuitous attention seeking language to differentiate from the mountain of turgid rants, 3) subtle in-jokes only decipherable by geeky insiders in your academic sub-field, and 4) appropriate pictures or cartoons. Here is my initial effort with accompanying translation.

Some retreat, no surrender; the application of ‘national interest’ assessments for FDI in the Australian resource sector.

Accompanied by this image:

Some retreat, no surrender romps home on the first three criteria and seamlessly links to the fourth (I'm sure Andy W wouldn't mind). Semi-colon - tick, attention seeking - big tick, in-joke - double tick (a political economy guru once wrote a book called 'the retreat of the state' in which she argued that global companies were diminishing state sovereignty AND she was the head of my LSE department for many years). I reserve the right to change the fourth for fear of being tagged flippant, but I think it could work well. It captures the confusion of the state (played by Elvis) in the face of foreign investment, and the ambiguity that lies within 'national interest assessments. Now for the 9990-odd other words....

Hoorah for Max

My disappointment when Maxine McKew departed the ABC has evaporated under the searingly hot news that she will run for parliament. How fabulous to have such a savvy, intelligent woman added to the mix. And in running for the PM's seat, she redefines political genius. How surreal it will be to watch Howard vs McKew in a baby-kissing competition deep within a suburban shopping centre - life imitates Lateline. Alongside Garrett, the ALP is building a formidable arsenal of notable Australians with serious brain power and community credibility. The rough sketch of an alternative government is taking shape, and it's exciting. There is a long way to the line, but somebody should modernise the 'its time' jingle - because it is.

Pragmatic idealists unite

Politics is the art of the enlightened trade-off. To define it otherwise would be to paint the world in one-dimension. If my current academic preoccupation is any guide, pretty much everything is linked to pretty much everything else, and the world is rendered complex because of it. In such a world it is impossible to quarantine any issue from its broader context. In this we can find an explanation for Peter Garrett's willingness to counternance US bases in Australia, despite his previously states views. He has prioritised his environmental/social justice concerns over his views on Australia's strategic relationship with the US - pragmatic idealism manifest. I loved Tracee Hutchinson's piece on this issue - HERE - in which she associates a degree of idealism with the decision of most politicians to get involved in politics. There is definately a place in the world for non-pragmatic idealists, but outcomes-based politics demands the occasional compromise. Ce la vie.

If I ever find myself in a lift with Peter Garrett I'll tell him "Sir, you are one of the main reasons I became passionate about politics. Viva the oils." 'Diesel and Dust' did so much to get indigenous issues on our national agenda - to bring the desert into our lounge rooms. I'll never forget an oils concert at the Tennis Centre in which they sang 'beds are burning.' In the middle of the song, as the mulleted many sang 'the time has come, a facts a fact, it belongs to them, lets give it back' Peter Garrett stopped the music, turned the lights on the crowd and yelled "say it like you mean it!" Suddenly a punchy song's familiar lyrics rang out as a profound political statement. It was a stunning use of rock music as a political medium - few there would forget it. There's no contradiction between holding strong views and being involved in politics. In fact, leaving the Peter Garretts out of politics would be a waste of passion and a diminution of the legitimacy of power. So roll on idealists one and all. Pragmatism is ok so long as the flame of idealism burns on.

"The elephant in our rooms"

I've always been sceptical about Timothy's who don't go by Tim - there is something a little too stiff about it. Adding a Professorial title and a double-barelled surname would seem to necessitate a walking stick and monacle. But Professor Timothy Garton-Ash is ok.

His article on the future of capitalism is worth a read - if just for his line about 'manufacturing desire'. Link to it HERE

"Marx thought capitalism would have a problem finding consumers for the goods that improving techniques of production enabled it to churn out. Instead, it has become expert in a new branch of manufacturing: the manufacture of desires. The genius of contemporary capitalism is not simply that it gives consumers what they want but that it makes them want what it has to give. It's that core logic of ever-expanding desires that is unsustainable on a global scale. But are we prepared to abandon it? ."

They train 'em young

One half of a phone conversation six rows in front of me on the 168 bus. Participant: 20-odd, dolled up, big loopy ear-rings and excellent elocution.

"Darling... so naice of you to cawll..... rearlly brilliant.... darling...... darling, families can be so tiresome..... weddings hey..... DID HE?....... oh darling......yes....yes.....yes, you're right darling.....no darling, lets make a decision on that next week....know what i mean?....yes darling, no point rushing it...... so I'll see you next weekend then?..... I suspect we'll jet down on friday darling.... yes, so tiresome.... yes, drama drama....mmmm blah blah blah..... (giggle) ....yes darling....ya....ya....ya ya....ha!.... Fantastic news darling, rearlly fantastic.... kisses darling....ta ra."

Do we fit in yet?

I stumbled across this description of Australia in my readings on regionalism. Interesting from the perspective of how we view ourselves.

"Australia’s problem is self-evident. ‘Think of a Canada that had been towed away from where it is, and moored off Africa, and the problems of Australia’s physical location become clear’. But looking for Australia two decades later, salvage crews exploring mooring places off the coast of Africa are likely to come up empty-handed. Responding to dynamic economic growth in Asia, then Opposition Leader John Howard appealed to physical and economic geography when he stated that ‘there is no doubt that we are incredibly fortunate that our geography has cast us next to the fastest growing region in the world’. Geography-as-destiny.... ‘Without actually becoming Asian’, Gavan McCormack writes, ‘Australia is struggling to articulate a regional universalism and to become simultaneously post-European and post-Asian, transcending both its own European racial and cultural heritage and any racially or culturally specific Asia’."

Katzenstein (2000)

Thinkwanks

There is a fine line between think tanks and think wanks. On the one hand enlivened debate with sharp analysts, on the other dreary cliche-fests with balding plodders. Tonight I walked the line. What is it about foreign policy discussions that attracts pompous, opinionated old men who love to float their well rounded vowels across a room, at length. Is it old age that leads them to confuse questions with soap boxes. Not content to enjoy the thoughts on offer they stand, with notes, and deliver a monologue of commentary, a conceptual jungle, swarming with anecdotes, the dropping of names, and a sprinkling of ideas stolen from this week's Economist. One ventures (one does) to suggest that this is the adult equivalent of student union meetings, albeit more tightly managed. Beware think tanks that masquerade as clubs that for the retrospectively fabulous. Humanity doth not advance in such rarefied surrounds.

Bureaucratic activism - Dr Elbaradei (IAEA)

IAEA Director-General, Dr Mohamed Elbaradei spoke at school today. It's sad that his criticism of the nuclear weapons state's unwillingness to disarm (as required under the 35 year old Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty) could be described as radical, but that's where the disarmament debate is at. Unusual (and welcome) to see an experienced international bureaucrat willing to stick his neck out to describe the shortcomings of the system, and a pleasant surprise to hear him talk passionately about development as a component of international security - "if we had more Mother Theresa's we'd have less suicide bombers." Here are some of his main points:

- The current security system is not sustainable because it is not equitable. States have legitimate security concerns that need to be met. For example Iran feels threatened by 140,000 US troops in Iraq, quasi-nuclear Israel, nuclear Russia, nuclear Pakistan and a history of regional conflict - these perceived vulnerabilities need to be offset somehow.

- Need an international security system that does not rely on nuclear weapons. So long as one state has them, proliferation will happen. Proliferation is not a technological issue, but a threat perception issue. Proliferants tend to be in unstable regions - the instability is a root cause of proliferation and must be addressed.

- Current peace and security architecture ignores the plight of those less strategically relevant (DRC, Rwanda, Sudan, etc). A new system needs to be based on human security. The individual right to security is entwined with the right to peace, dignity and freedom.

- There is a contradiction between nuclear weapons states modernising their arsenals (eg: UK Trident) while at the same time preaching to nuclear aspirants that nuclear weapons are not the path to their security. What possible use do nuclear weapons states have for 27,000 warheads "short of an alien invasion." Despite the legal obligations under the NPT, the issue needs political resolution.

- The unilateral approach to security is easier ("instant gratification"), but delivers less long-term benefits. Multilateralism is harder but the only way.

- On Iran, engagement is necessary. Sanctions are only one tool and need to be supplemented by direct engagement. "Isolation strengthens the hardliners, engagement empowers the moderates." Need also to deal with the longstanding bilateral grievances between the US and Iran.

- Elbaradei was particularly taken by Bill Clinton's view - Powerful states needs to build a world they would want to live in should they ever cease to be the big guys on the block.