First Nations groups used feasting on abundant resources for communicating and settling differences, as evidenced by records of the gatherings to collect Bogong moths in the Snowy Mountains and Bunya pine nuts in Queensland. Could our predecessors in Manly have gathered to feast on oysters and fish in a similar way?
I remember the 1940s when the fishermen from Farrell’s boatshed at Little Manly would post a lookout at Manly Cove, waiting for the annual arrival of kingfish schools. When spotted, the lookout would run over the hill to Little Manly to sound the alarm, then skiffs would row eagerly round Smedley’s Point to the beach adjacent to the East Esplanade, row around the school with the net behind and pull it in, full of kingfish. Perhaps knowledge of the movement of these fish came from the earliest inhabitants, just as the whalers of Twofold Bay learned from the First inhabitants how to work with the orcas to round up whales for the kill. Their teachers knew the orcas would help them if they just threw out the whale’s tongue for an orca snack.
Jumping forward to the Menzies era, true democratic exchange used to occur outside St. Matthews Church on the Corso. There were no television cameras, no internet commentary, just the thoughts and feelings of the participants, namely the large crowd of villagers assembled to hear the political reasoning of Bill Wentworth and Douglas Darby, who used to stand on a small wooden platform (the “soapbox”) to address the crowd. Could this spot be the location of ancient gatherings to listen to one another and to settle differences peacefully?
Not everyone was a Liberal voter. Some were clearly socialist or communist. But they all liked to cry out with catchy phrases to make their viewpoint known. Although the crowd mostly sided with Bill, the atmosphere was tolerant and the answers to the interjections came from the speakers in the form of witty ripostes. Voters felt they had a direct connection with their local member from those Corso events. Moreover, the member had a direct connection with voters, through the cheers and jeers that emanated from the good-hearted crowd.
How do these recollections fit in with elections of the twenty first century? Do the internet and fake news mean that true democracy is dead? I doubt it. The residents of Manly are too connected to real life to fall for the likes of a Donald Trump copy. Tony Abbott and his Liberal supporters thought he had the game all sewn up, but Zali as a local sporting heroine and her supporters said, in effect: “We’ve had enough of this BS! Let an intelligent woman have a go, let’s get some responsibility back to Parliament with an authority which can test the integrity of members.” Let’s give our First Nations a Voice there, just as big business has been doing for decades, but without the secretive payments to the major parties.
Could taking our citizens back to the Fifties restore the one-on-one feeling of real political debate? Could a Corso soapbox and a lively assembly of engaged citizens in front of St Matthew’s church be precisely what contemporary politics needs? Were he still with us, Bill Wentworth, as descendant of an Australian-born pioneer of representative government and a lifelong worker for the betterment of First Nations people, including his post as Commonwealth Minister in charge of Aboriginal Affairs, would be delighted to see this hallmark of democracy return. We have jazz, food, wine, and all manner of festivals here, why not some vivid vestiges of democracy too?