J.J.C. Bradfield, the driving force behind the creation of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and a prophet of diverting rivers to irrigate the Australian desert, was fond of quoting the great American engineer Daniel Burnham: ‘Make Big Plans, for little plans have no magic to stir men’s blood.’[15] Restoring damaged land and river systems, devising ways to make the water we have go further, managing our farmland, forests, cities and towns more efficiently and intelligently: these are projects which do not stir the blood. But that does not make them any the less important.
Certainly they are more important, more worthy of money, resources, discussion and effort than what has replaced dams, bridges and pipelines as the white elephants of our age. I am referring to the Major Event. I come from Melbourne, and in 2006 we hosted the Commonwealth Games. This privilege was secured after the only other city willing to do the job withdrew its bid. And so, at vast expense — how vast is hard to say because all the figures are very woolly, but their very wooliness suggests that it was a lot — Melbourne staged a largely meaningless sporting event organised around a largely meaningless group of countries. It was strange living through it — for months it seemed that some sort of cosmic mother-in-law was coming to visit, and that she mustn’t see that the bedroom was untidy or the renovations were unfinished, and we simply must install a new patio, even though we can’t afford it.
We do a lot of this sort of thing in Melbourne: the FINA World Swimming Championships of 2006 springs to mind, as does the F1 Grand Prix. Now there is bizarre event. It is the twenty-first century equivalent of a medieval tourney: a stupendous display of conspicuous and pointless consumption. It is Austin Powers-land, defiantly politically incorrect, complete with leggy pit girls and tobacco ads. It is worth visiting, once, to experience the roar and the smell, as someone once described it, of burning money. And yet this vast travelling festival global capital runs at a dreadful loss. Year after year, the circus flies in, loses money — our money, much if it — and then leaves.
The economic justification for Major Events is revealingly vague. There is talk of visitor numbers, turnover generated, money spent in secondary areas, growing the brand (Melbourne is a brand, apparently). It is much like the Snowy. If you point out that the power that is generated is too expensive, then you are told that it also provides irrigation water. If you argue that the water has been wasted, grossly subsidised, and that we have no business growing rice in Australia, then you are told that the same water generates power. And that anyway, there are flow-on benefits, and the whole thing was inspiring and made people proud, and that only mean-spirited bean counter of questionable patriotism would look too closely at the bottom line.
The nation-building challenges that face us now are not glamorous. They are to adapt our ways of living, working and travelling to the realities of the land that we inhabit. Among other things, this involves fostering some of the qualities which John Monash identified in the Australian soldier of 90 years ago: a high-quality education; an openness to new ideas; an independent but unselfish cast of mind; and — crucially — involvement with the institutions of civil society.
As an historian, I read a lot of old newspapers. Something which often strikes me is how many clubs and committees and associations there used to be, and how actively involved ordinary people were in the affairs of unions, political parties, local councils, churches, debating societies, and much else. Some people still do all these things, of course, but they are a small minority now: it used to be the common thing. Some of these civic groups achieved great things, such as female suffrage. Others did no more than run a tennis competition. And there were groups that were pernicious: dedicated to fostering racial and sectarian prejudice, for example. For all that, there was and still is value, in and of itself, in such civic participation.
Our political culture is becoming dangerously distanced from ordinary people. Our political parties are machines of power. Their membership bases are tiny, and democracy at branch level is a sober farce. At the same time, governments are increasingly interventionist, centralist and disdainful of due process. The recent change of federal government offers hope for reform, if only on the premise that a change is as good as a holiday. But it does concern me that the Rudd administration shows some of the managerialist, reflexively authoritarian tendencies that marked its predecessor.
If there is a weakness in our nation that needs repair, needs building, it is in the institutions of civic society, in empowering and encouraging participation. The process of decision-making may take longer. Internal dissent and discussion others may frustrate or embarrass those in executive authority. But if nothing else it might prove a protection against our weakness for white elephants.