Why is our response to humanitarian crises so complicated — and inconsistent?
Over the last two years, many in Australia and around the world have watched in horror as Sudan, Gaza and other zones of mass violence descend into humanitarian crises of devastating proportions.And while the cause of each crisis is unique, the consequences tend to share common characteristics — for especially civilians: millions of people are displaced and left without homes to return to; basic social infrastructure, hospitals and schools are reduced to ruins; tens of thousands of men, women and children are targeted for killing or die due to fighting, disease and the lack of food; sexual violence and torture are widespread; and starvation is deliberately employed as a weapon of war.The scale and sheer desperation of the humanitarian crises in Sudan and Gaza ought to sear the souls of anyone committed to the notion of human dignity and the belief in a common humanity. But the tendency of so many in Australia — though we are by no means unusual in this regard — is to permit humanitarian concern and moral attentiveness to the plight of others to pass in and out of focus.Is there a moral imperative on citizens to remain attentive, to enlarge their capacity for sympathy, to make democratic “noise” in the policy deliberations of our elected representatives? If so, how might the capacity for that attentiveness be cultivated, and in what ways should it manifest in order to serve the people we are trying to protect?
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52:49
Is it only “joy” when it’s shared?
“Joy” is a strange kind of word. It describes a feeling that we all know, but do not know exactly how to value. It’s not happiness — which can, after all, be interior, quiet and express itself as a kind of contentment — nor is it merely pleasure (even though, in many languages, “pleasure” and “joy” are etymologically related). Joy is not only more exuberant than happiness, it is also weightier than pleasure. Montaigne was onto something when he wrote, “Profound joy has more seriousness than gaiety about it …”In what circumstances, then, do we find that it is fitting to use the word “joy”? It is almost always when it is coupled with a sense of struggle, the experience of coming through disappointment and failure, the attempt to achieve something that is inherently difficult. That’s why it does not strike us as inappropriate when joy is tinged with sorrow (as when a loved one is not present to experience it) or when sorrow is lightened by joy (the same way that lamentation, for instance, can be an expression of an underlying hopefulness).All of which is to say, whatever “joy” is, it isn’t easy.But then there’s one additional element that invariably seems to be present when we reflect on the nature of “joy”: the fact that it seems to require companionship, or at least company. It needs to be shared.
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54:03
Australian voters have spoken — do we know what they said?
After any election, a narrative of sorts must be woven out of the disparate threads of the votes of so many individuals in so many seats. Which is to say, there has to be an act of discernment to hear what “the people” are trying to communicate — to make their will legible, as it were.Despite a relatively modest increase in Labor’s primary vote, the Albanese government added between 15 and 18 seats to its majority in the Lower House, while the Coalition has been reduced to a parliamentary rump.The election outcome, then, was decisive — but what does it mean? Was this simply a matter of the electorate wanting the stability of incumbency in uncertain times, overshadowed by an increasingly unpredictable US president? Was it about punishing the Coalition for its flirtations with Trumpism-down-under and its incoherent policy offerings? All of the above?Was it also a sign that voters have wearied of “culture war” politics, and desire the centrism and modesty of responsible governance? Did the prime minister reflect the better angels of Australians’ nature back to them with his humility and emphasis on kindness? Or is Labor’s parliamentary majority less significant than it seems?
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54:29
Is disillusionment a feature of democratic politics, not a bug?
Democracy is often lauded as a peculiarly just and effective form of government — one that enjoys the benefits that flow from twin virtues of popular engagement and political accountability. And yet the effectiveness and resilience of democratic politics depends on the trust voters have in political institutions.When those institutions are felt not to be responsive to the needs and fears of citizens, when politicians seem not to represent those who voted for them (and seem instead to serve their own interests or the interests of ulterior “others”), or when governments seem impotent in the face of geopolitical tensions, global supply chains or complex market realities, such conditions can provide a breeding ground for disillusionment.In such circumstances, voters may be more inclined to punish incumbents than to invest their replacements with some democratic mandate — so beginning the electoral cycle of organised popular disaffection.Can a democracy like Australia break that cycle, or is democratic disillusionment an inevitability?
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53:40
What are we doing when we vote?
This year marks the 100th anniversary of the first federal election to be held in Australia after the passage of Senator Herbert Payne’s private member’s bill, which made voting compulsory. In 1922, only 57.95 per cent of registered voters turned out. Payne’s home state of Tasmania had the poorest showing (45.93 per cent), whereas Queensland — where voting in state elections had been compulsory since 1914 — saw the highest (82.66 per cent). As Judith Brett writes:“It was clear that Queensland’s compulsory voting for state elections had carried over to the federal sphere, perhaps from habit, perhaps because Queenslanders didn’t distinguish between state and federal elections and thought they would be fined for not voting. Or perhaps, as advocates of compulsory voting hoped, it was because being forced to vote made people more politically aware and engaged.”Whichever reason best accounts for the enviable voting behaviour on the part of Queenslanders, the prospect of making Australia’s federal elections more truly representative — and therefore, ideally, endow its governance with greater legitimacy — overcame lingering fears in some quarters about the violation of individual liberties.When Australians went to the polls on 14 November 1925, not only did voter turnout jump to 91.39 per cent, but the requirement to vote did not lead to a rise in informal voting. Voting is part of our cultural fabric, and compulsory voting — along with preferential voting and a non-partisan election commission — has saved Australia from some of the anti-democratic distortions we’ve seen in other nations.But because voting is what Australians do, how often to we reflect on what we’re doing when we vote, and what we’re communicating about power, accountability, ourselves and our aspirations for Australia?
In a world marked by wicked social problems, The Minefield helps you negotiate the ethical dilemmas, contradictory claims and unacknowledged complicities of modern life.
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