By Jester J
(Above: Beautiful Cronulla - no room for racists!)
On Saturday I headed for a quick body surf at Cronulla. A few parents and kids braved the shore-dump at North. The morning crew gathered at the kiosk, for a chat over coffee or breakfast. People strolled with dogs, friends or both. Pretty quiet all round, with Christmas zooming closer and a cool wind. It was ten years to the day since a riot, which the people of Cronulla, and Australia, have learned from and want to put behind them.
I'd been there days before that event. Some blokes drank as they strutted, bumping into anyone who didn't step aside, mimicking behaviour that they were allegedly protesting against. Alcohol was banned, but nearby cops laughed and chatted with them.
In the surf others boasted, “We've come down from Queensland to support our brothers! We want to crush some cockroaches!” Ten years and I still remember their tone of voice and idiotic smiles.
Australian flags decorated every available pole, while a helicopter filmed low to the water, from Voodoo to The Point, in a continuous loop. Moron smiles grew gleeful. They were news!
Alan Jones' putrid voice filled the airwaves, encouraging everyone to teach alleged troublemakers a lesson. Miranda Devine dripped venom on “the mean streets of Lakemba” where Australia's largest mosque is situated.
Most in Cronulla were horrified at what played that day. “100% Aussie Pride”, written in the shore's wet sand, quickly became “100% Aussie Shame”. It summed up the feeling.
A young former professional surfer was arrested for his role in the riot. Already in fragile health, he suicided. The day's hero was a middle aged policeman, now suffering post- traumatic stress disorder.
People change
Last Saturday things were different.
Since a 'Memorial to the Cronulla Riot' had been announced, the last of the suburb's Australian flags disappeared, confirming a long term trend of questioning and change.
No one wanted the racists, who thought ordinary people of Cronulla incapable of learning from experience, to come. Their stickers “Australia rocks, Cronulla riots” never appeared, or if they did, disappeared quickly. Outrage and resistance grew amongst residents and the wider community. Injunctions followed, and soon a fascist 'family fun day' was the fall-back.
Near Wanda, the most northerly and isolated beach, two carparks were closed and patrolled by numerous police.
A mate commented, “Oh it's for the racists, eh.”
Soon a police helicopter did circuits watching for trouble instead of fanning it.
The racist triumph finally degenerated into barbecued pig for just 40 people, completely isolated from every single local.
Sucker punch
Counter-protesters fell for the fascist sucker punch. They imagined the Muslim community needed them, but that community, like Cronulla locals, had shown discipline and stayed away.
Some anti-racists wore masks, because fascists photograph and assault them. They fought police who, despite being a key enforcer of the state, this time had been partly serving the people's needs. Several Aboriginal protesters rightly pointed out the irony of whitefellas telling others to get out of Australia.
It suits the state to paint the left and right as equally 'radicalised', and the group were forced back on foot, three kilometres along the beach and shopping mall to the railway station, copping abuse from all and sundry.
The mate with me at Cronulla ten years ago reckoned they snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. They looked like a less reasonable mirror image of those they oppose. They knew nothing of the people or place they were going to, or the changes of ten years.
My friend knows my politics, and often criticises them. But this time he said, “That crew aren't like your lot. They're irrational. They don't respect people. You do.”
There's a time and place to take on far right politics. This wasn't one of them.
Ten years ago ignorance took to the streets in Cronulla. There's still some of that, but mostly now it comes from small groups who don't understand that the people en masse create revolutionary change. No amount of fake burqas, barbecued pigs or shouting from the sidelines can replace slow, detailed work amongst the people.
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