Is the voice really a choice?

Background

The 2023 referendum “proposes an alteration to the Constitution to recognise First Peoples of Australia by establishing an Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Voice to make representations to the Parliament and the Executive Government of the Commonwealth on matters relating to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples.” Alterations to the Constitution can only result from a referendum being carried. Since Federation, only 8 of the 44 proposals for constitutional change have been approved.

There is a groundswell of opinion and rhetoric building on both sides of the upcoming referendum. There are good and persuasive arguments on either side of the fence. Many people are seriously conflicted, teetering one way then another, on a, somewhat, rickety fence. It’s that fence that I want to talk about – Australia, democracy, and the Constitution. Their foundation is shaky – perched precariously upon stolen Aboriginal land. The modern nation we call Australia has been built upon the many sovereign First Nations that made up this vast continent – land continuously occupied by the same people for over forty thousand years – land never ceded.

So what is Australia?

In 1770, British naval officer, James Cook, claimed the eastern seaboard of the great southern continent for the British crown. The colonising of the, newly named, New South Wales, began in 1788. Soon other colonies were established and eventually the entire content was claimed for Britain. The self-governing British colonies gradually established democratic parliaments throughout the 19th century, culminating with a vote for the federation of the six colonies and the foundation of the Commonwealth of Australia on 1 January 1901. So began Australia, a federal parliamentary constitutional monarchy, comprising six states and ten territories. A process of increasing autonomy from Britain continued into the 20th century, highlighted by the Statute of Westminster Adoption Act 1942, and culminating in the Australia Act 1986.

Only one slight problem: First Nations people were already here.

The conflict wrought by invasion, variously known as the Black Wars, the Frontier Wars, and the Homeland Wars, was the rightful action of sovereign nations to defend their lands. More importantly, and with adverse affects to Aboriginal people to this day, this war has never been resolved. The First Nations were never recognised, their sovereignty never acknowledged, and no treaty was ever negotiated. The colonies, followed by the states and territories, made a concerted effort to dispel First Nations sovereignty. They would ‘rightly’ claim there were never any treaties, for there were never any existing nations. They were wrong. To perpetuate this falsehood, fanciful myths were fabricated to depict Aborigines as aimless wanderers, existing hand to mouth, without a notion of law or statehood. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Over two hundred and fifty nations lived across this continent in relative peace, in harmony with the environment, guided by a rich, complex, and sophisticated system of lore, that guided every aspect of their lives. They were generous, accommodating, and caring. When the pale strangers came on their floating islands with tall trees, they accommodated them according to their lore. When the visitors stayed they wondered who was taking care of their country. When the newcomers broke their lore, they were punished accordingly. When the invaders began to take their lands, they resisted, and defended their lands with their lives. When the colonisers kept coming they did all they could to survive.

The illegitimate birth of a nation was a fait de compli.

Perfunctory and arbitrary lines were drawn across the continent, three tiers of government set in place, and the stolen lands settled. A deafening silence ensued. First Nations people were all but erased from history, relegated to the stone age – a once noble, but dying race, inevitably doomed in the face of European superiority. Colonial newspapers that once championed the rights of settlers subject to the terror of the murderous ‘Natives’, turned their attention to the agriculture, industry, and growing population of a new nation. Silently, the genocide continued. Church run missions and government reserves, prohibition of language and lore, assimilation and reeducation, stolen children, incarceration, and servitude. Agency of any description was stripped away, their lives dictated by misguided and ineffectual government policies.

Governments have been enacting laws that affect the lives of Aboriginal people – whether they liked it or not – since colonisation began. The invading colonial governors were ordered to treat the ‘Natives’ as British subjects, with all the protections any subject should expect. That didn’t happen. The newly federated states and territories made laws that controlled every aspect of their lives – where they could work, whether they were paid, where they could live, where they could travel, and whether they could keep their children. The 1967 referendum adjusted Section 51 (xxvi) of the Constitution, which “gave the Commonwealth power to make laws with respect to ‘people of any race, other than the Aboriginal race in any state, for whom it was deemed necessary to make special laws.” The Commonwealth henceforth, enacted laws that continue to affect the lives of First Nations people.

Although the 1967 referendum carried the yes vote, it never really addressed the issue of why “the Aboriginal race” needed their own “special laws”. No matter what angle you try and take on this question, the elephant in the room, is that the Australian Constitution is racist. In fact, the Constitution currently contains no protections against racial discrimination and the Parliament is capable of suspending existing statutory protections. The protections under Racial Discrimination Act 1975 – the federal legislation designed to ensure equality of treatment of all people regardless of their race – have been removed on three occasions: each time for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. Go figure. The Constitution has enshrined racism of any race, but to date, the (Constitutional) racism has only been directed at First Nations people. “Special” indeed. So, why, oh why would First Nations people want a voice embedded in a blatantly racist Constitution? The answer to that echoes in the halls of Westminster.

Democracy

Ah… democracy… one man, one vote… oh, only if you were a landowner… and male… but that’s another story. Unfortunately, many people equate democracy with human rights – for example, the right to free speech, wrongly attributed to our Constitution. Many people also interpret the win at the 1967 referendum as the right for Aborigines to vote as citizens. Not true. As above, there was an adjustment regarding race – the other change was including Aboriginal people in the census. In fact, as early as the 1850s Aboriginal men had the same right to vote as other male British subjects aged over 21 in Victoria, New South Wales, and South Australia. In 1895 Aboriginal women could also vote in South Australia. However, there were multiple changes to voting rights, and it wasn’t until 1984 that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people gained full equality with other electors under the Commonwealth Electoral Amendment Act 1983. Again, we must ask the question: why were First Nations people singled out to vote or not vote.

Unfortunately for minorities, in democracy, the majority rules. The Aboriginal population has sat at around 4% of the national population for some time now, and this is reflected in states and territories, with some variation in the NT, and certain council municipalities. So, even if every Aboriginal person eligible to vote, made exactly the same decision, in any election or referendum, there is little likelihood their vote would be effectual. Again, many people understand democracy as meaning everyone has the right to be heard. Well, yes, and no. Unless your cause can generate support from more than half the voting population, you’re not likely to be heard at all. There really are no ‘noisy minorities’ – just minorities. The point is, First Nations people have never held any significant power in Parliament. They have continually been at the mercy of the invaders. They have never been given their UN sanctioned right to self-determination.

The truth of the matter is not the accepting of western laws by First Nations people, but the dismissal of First Nations lore by the invaders. This disparity is at the root of racism here in Australia. It has been anathema to western sentiment that a ‘stone age’ people could possibly have formed a system of governance equal to Westminster. Yet, they did. A complex system that ensured everyone had what they needed, everyone had purpose and meaning, and everyone had responsibilities to each other and their environment; rules that governed kinship and marriage, diplomatic relations with neighbouring nations, and codes for international travel. The same contempt is still afforded any First Nations person who dares compare their lore to western law. The fact that indigenous lore supported life and land successfully for tens of thousands of years, and western law, in only five hundred years, has wrought damage to the entire planet, seems to escape the attention of many people.

Legitimate beginnings or not, the nation of Australia, its Constitution, governments and laws, are here to stay (for now). Equally, the fact that First Nations never ceded their lands remains a moot point. Nevertheless, the Constitution, systems of government, and laws, can all be amended, but any changes that will benefit to the lives of First Nations people is subject to the rule of the majority vote. This is why some First Nations support the enshrining of a First Nations Voice in the Constitution. The Uluru Statement From the Heart states, “In 1967 we were counted, in 2017 we seek to be heard.” If they can’t legislate for themselves, at least they can directly advise the people that can. However, there are also First Nations people that oppose the enshrined voice, saying that it will make no difference, will fail like every other indigenous advisory body, and impede the road to treaty.

So, how should we vote?

Well, let’s think. Yes or No. (Of course there is the option of not voting at all, however we’ll leave that to individual conscience, democratic duty and all that). A Yes vote carried would of course set the wheels in motion for an indigenous voice to be enshrined in the Constitution, though it won’t determine how this Voice will work – who will make up the Voice, how they will address Parliament, how often etc. A No vote carried would be the end of the matter – well not exactly. Both outcomes will affect First Nations people. A Yes result will of course please the voice supporters, Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal, but it will also inflame ideologies already voiced during the campaign. On one hand, there will be claims of racism, or even “reverse racism” because Aboriginal people have been singled out. On the other hand, some First Nations people, against the voice, will feel further disenfranchised. A No result will disappoint voice supporters, and vindicate the no supporters, but it will also leave the First Nations voice supporters blindsided. Regardless of the outcome, this referendum will be divisive.

Perhaps we believe we have no choice; that the only way forward for First Nations people is for the people of Australia to exercise their democratic power and amend the Constitution, a position no other advisory body has achieved. The strength of an advisory body being enshrined in the Constitution is that it can only be removed by referendum, making it relatively permanent . However, the ability of a constitutionally enshrined advisory body to influence law making is not likely to be any different than any of the the non-permanent bodies that have come and gone to date. Fundamentally, we all know that repeating the same action to achieve different results demonstrates stupidity. Well, here’s the rub: We have used the same basic legal mechanisms to manage the lives of Aboriginal people – enact laws on their behalf, enforce them with police or military, punish them when they don’t comply, commission reports and inquests – repeat – and expect a different (better) outcome each time.

Makarrata

Makarrata is the culmination of our agenda: the coming together after a struggle. It captures our aspirations for a fair and truthful relationship with the people of Australia and a better future for our children based on justice and self-determination.

First Nations people have always had a voice, but more often than not, their voice has fallen on the deaf ears of the Australian populace. More nuanced though is the inadequacy of the English language and western philosophy to make sense of First Nations lore. Without the connection to, and caring for, country over millennia, it is difficult, even for the most altruistic listener to fully understand. When First Nations say they have always been here, they are not measuring against a western linear timeline, rather, they are describing their innate and unique belonging to this continent. So, before deciding how to vote, listen to First Nations people with an open heart and an open mind. Allow truth to rise to the surface of every conversation, every debate, and every encounter, before, and after, this referendum. Australia, can be for First Nations, and for other nations, but only if we work together, and that, my friends, is the only real choice.

Addit – September 2nd

Having written this post three months ago, I like many of you, have swung back and forth on the yes or the no. It’s been difficult, and my heart goes out to all the First Nations people who have, yet again, been the focus of undue racist slurs, absurd accusations, and blatant ignorance. As I heard one young Aboriginal man state last week – there’s racism, and then there’s Aboriginal racism. So, where are we at? I can appreciate the call from First Nations people for a ‘progressive no’. I don’t believe an enshrined voice is going to make any difference to what has already been in place. However claiming it is divisive, fails to recognise that our nation is already divided, rich and poor, male and female, black and white. I can’t see much good coming from a Yes vote, but I most definitely only see ill coming from a No vote. It’s like the old adage about democracy – its the worst form of government, except for all the other forms of government. My greatest hope is that all Australians have a good look at how this nation came to be, interrogate our systems of governance, and listen to the wisdom and knowledge of the longest living culture on this planet. Which only makes me think that we have put the cart before the horse. We shouldn’t be asking ourselves whether we should be listening to First Nations people, rather, we should be asking ourselves why they shouldn’t be leading us into the future.

Why I don’t give my kids pocket money for doing household chores

Growing up in the suburbs in the 1970s it was pretty standard for kids to get pocket money. I guess it still is today. But here’s the hitch. It was mostly premised on the carrying out of household chores. But not just any chores. The balance was steeply pitched towards chores of a manly nature. Putting the garbage out, mowing the lawn, hosing down the driveway, cutting back the ivy on the back fence. In fact, not only were these the favoured chores for earning pocket money, they could be deemed for extra cash, especially when doing it as a ‘favour’ for dad. Household chores considered domestic in nature weren’t really considered in the equation, and if they even received a mention, it was usually only token, something along the lines of, aren’t we all thankful for mum. These chores included, but were not limited to, meal planning, cooking, cleaning, washing, drying, mending, shopping, and budgeting. No one got extra cash for doing the jobs mum didn’t want to do -cleaning the toilet, washing the nappies, and dealing with any other body fluids festooned upon the house or yard.

Thing is, I don’t think much has changed at all. I reckon it’s worse.

Nowadays, most mums and dads both work. Yet, survey after survey show that the motherload of household chores are still carried out by mum. But it goes further and deeper than that. By and large men still get paid more than women. This is a carry over of when men were the breadwinners. If you supported a wife and/or children you were paid more than your single workmates for doing the same work. Domestic duties, child rearing, and keeping house and home were, and remain, unpaid labour. They are still considered women’s work. Take share houses for example. How often are all the daily cleaning duties, allotted to woman, equally weighed up against the weekly bin run, or the monthly grass cut, allotted to men. More to the point, if outside help is considered necessary, its usually the manly chores that are covered. Hiring someone to mow the lawns is okay, because its ‘real’ work. Hiring a cleaner is considered indulgent or laziness, but only on behalf of women. Of course in an all female share house, or a single mum household, they just crack on with it, while holding down a job of course. And have you seen the state of all male share houses? Get my point?

But wait there’s more. If a child is sick, or a parent needs care, who gets to stay home. Mum of course. Now I do understand anatomy, and how that all works, so I know there is only one physiological reason for it being mum, and that is if a child is still breastfeeding. Once weaned there is no reason dad can’t stay home. Of course many men would consider their staying home ludicrous, after all they’re the breadwinner! Hmm, I did mention, didn’t I, that women still get paid less than men, doing the same job? So, often men will be taking a bigger loss to stay at home. Which all perpetuates the poor status of women’s work. What do we call that again? That’s right, unpaid labour. Just for the record, the monetary value of unpaid care work in Australia has been estimated to be $650.1 billion, the equivalent to 50.6% of GDP. Women spend 64.4% of their average weekly working time on unpaid care work compared to 36.1% for men (https://www.wgea.gov.au/sites/default/files/documents/australian-unpaid-care-work-and-the-labour-market.pdf). Essentially, women do twice as much unpaid work as men. So this really is a BIG issue.

If you want to pay your kids pocket money, or not, have a good look at what’s expected of them, and teach them that sharing a house requires a fair distribution of tasks, and work load.

A mouthful of C words – review

A Mouthful of C Words | Stage Whispers

A Mouthful of C Words emulates the structure of Arthur Schnitzler’s 1897 play, La Ronde (Reigen), in which the intimate encounters of various couples create a mobius strip of connection. One character from each of the ten scenes, continues into a subsequent scene until the cycle is complete. In each scene, a sexual act is simulated or referenced. This sexual sinner takes place in the limited gene pool which is known as Hobart, Tasmania.

Whilst intended for a mature audience, this play is not gratuitously offensive and the C words are not the particular word one might assume. A Mouthful of C Words is about a city, community, connection, change, crisis and courage. It is also contemporary, making reference to the Tasmanian Housing Crisis, the relocation of the UTAS Campus and the influx of Chinese to Sandy Bay. A Mouthful of C Words conjugates Cancer, Capitalism, Colonialism, Consent and Class. Yet the play does not take itself too seriously and is able to laugh at itself, taking a swipe at the festival of which it is a part.

The strength of A Mouthful of C Words is in the acting and the writing. The play, one of many reworkings of the original, is a collaboration between five writers – Matthew Cook, Hera Fox, Stephanie Jack, Carrie McLean and Andy Vagg. Some of the writing is beautifully poetic, the dialogue is fresh and incisive; the characters are strong. Some of the situations are absurd, some poignant and some disturbing. Across the ten scenes, even with last minute cuts and changes, the writing remains even. It is a remarkable cooperative effort.

Only two actors take the dozen or so characters in what must be an exhausting 100 minutes of unrelenting concentration. Jem Nicholas was given permission to play a part intended for a transgender woman. Nicholas was equally convincing as a jaded divorcee as she was as the high energy anti-colonial ‘Missy’. She gave a beautifully human and gracious portrayal of a sex worker. As a politician, she was both ridiculous and vulnerable. In every instance she was credible and engaging.

Fengyi Liu was equally versatile. He was eerily threatening as the property owner in latex gloves, yet sweetly charming as the young Incel cancer patient. The confused young evangelist was vastly dissimilar to the homeless fellow in the laneway.

Both these actors are Hobart based yet with significant interstate and overseas experience. Both are involved in other aspects of theatre with extensive resumes. A Mouthful of C Words is worth seeing for the acting alone.

The set by Nicole Robson utilises lit up photographic collages. Use is also made of the rear rock wall of the Peacock Theatre. The reflective tape on the black curtain is simple but effective part of the mis en scene.

The music by Natlaya Bing and Joshua Santospirito is a unifying facet of the production. A percussive motif is augmented by Vivaldi’s Spring, a hospital soundscape, and the ambience of a café or a Friday night at Salamanca. This creates a coherence to the otherwise disparate scenes.

Lucien Simon is to be commended for his vision and Chris Mead for his commitment to the project. A Mouthful of C Words never confuses, but charms and challenges.

NB: 41. There were 41 C words used in the above review.

Anne Blythe-Cooper

Photographer Nicole Robson

A Mouthful of C Words | Stage Whispers

https://www.stagewhispers.com.au/reviews/mouthful-c-words

Copyright © 2013 – 2023 Stage Whispers.

Ghost

I am a ghost among
the gum trees, an
apparition of imagination,
sent here, born here from
those sent, sentenced, given
a new life in a new Land, Diaspora,
the chosen ones, the forgotten,
the despised, excess of
Empire. Abandoned.

I did not choose to be
here, my Fate was sealed on
distant shores, by desperate folk,
living disparate Lives, unknown and
uncertainty befell them, no Land to
claim, no home to shelter, sent
sailing to the four winds, many
never to see their home
Land again. Awash.

The Land I dwell in is
not my own, never was,
never will be, covered with
Names so familiar, with buildings
upon places, hiding Knowledge I will
never comprehend, the Fate that
befalls me is that I live out a
Lie, under the premise of a
Nation fabricated. Alone.

When I was a child

When I was a child, I spoke like a child
for I was a child, inside and out.
When I was a child, I spoke like a child
for a child should only ever have to be,
a child true to themselves.

Liar, liar pants on fire,
Nose as long as a telephone wire.

Old Giuseppe should’ve known better
than to play with things he knows not.
Sticks and stones may break my bones
but names will hurt forever, more,
more, more and more it hurts.
Deeply, deeply, its so hard to endure, a
child should never have to bear such things.

Liar, liar pants on fire,
Nose as long as a telephone wire.

The innocence of babes, from
the mouths of babes we speak.
But is anyone listening? I doubt it, for
children should be seen and not heard,
better still, lock them in the attic, put them
in a box; does it matter if it’s real, or just
putting us in place, for a child only knows
what it’s taught, such willingness to learn,
can have such devastating effect.

Liar, liar pants on fire,
Nose as long as a telephone wire.

Speak now or forever hold your peace,
don’t let the sun go down on your anger.
Kiss and make up, is really only make up,
to a child who knows little else, than
sugar plums and faeres, make up, believe
it is what it is, the tooth faere always came,
Santa always left me something, even if it wasn’t
what I wished for; how could a child know, that a
parent would never listen, that such one way love
and emotion could lead to such disappointment,
what would a child know, no wisdom to speak, of course.

Liar, liar pants on fire,
Nose as long as a telephone wire.

I have spoken with the tongues of angels,
I have seen visions of the Apocolypse.
The dilemma of Cassandra has been my
constant companion, the innocence of youth,
the miracle of life, the question of death, the
Wonder of the Universe, the fate of us all.
What would a child know, what would I know at all?
I still search and wonder, what could possibly still be
thought; the more I know, the more I know I don’t
know, the child never ceases learning, even if they
cease the will to live, for life brings death and death
brings life, the Ancients have always known, that the
innocence of children is more precious than any possession.

Liar, liar pants on fire,
Nose as long as a telephone wire.
I don’t care, I don’t care,
I can buy another pair.
What’s the difference you may say,
I’ll tell you that another day.
Just for now shut your mouth,
It’s just a bunch of words gone south.

When I was a child, I spoke like a child
for I was a child, inside and out.
When I was a child, I spoke like a child
for a child should only ever have to be,
a child true to themselves.

I believe, I BELIEVE

I believe in God, the Father almighty,
creator of heaven and earth.
I BELIEVE IN THE DEVIL, THE FATHER OF EVIL
CREATOR OF SIN AND EVIL.
I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord.
He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit
and born of the Virgin Mary.
I BELIEVE IN THE DEVIL, LUCIFER, FALLEN ANGEL,
CONCIEVED IN THE KNOWLEDGE OF AN OMNISCIENT
AND OMNIPOTENT GOD.
He suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, died, and was buried.
He descended to the dead.
HE RESIDED WITH THE DEVIL AND THE DAMNED
BRINGING SALVATION TO THE DEAD SAINTS
On the third day he rose again.
He ascended into heaven,
and is seated at the right hand of the Father.
THE DEVIL REMAINED IN HELL,
AND CONTINUES HIS WORKS OF EVIL UPON EARTH
He will come again
to judge the living and the dead.
HE WILL CAST BILLIONS INTO THE LAKE OF FIRE
FOR ALL ETERNITY.

I believe in the Holy Spirit,
THE DEVIL INCARNATE
the holy catholic Church,
NOT THE CATHOLIC CHURCH
the communion of saints,
THE EXCOMMUNICATION OF UNBELIEVERS
the forgiveness of sins,
THE PUNISHMENT OF SINNERS
the resurrection of the body,
THE CASTING INTO THE LAKE OF FIRE
the life everlasting.
AND ETERNITY IN HELL.
Amen.
AMEN.

Alien

I am an Alien
a foreigner in an
unknown Land. A
sojourner, a traveler,
no History, no connection
only shadows and whispers
of faraway places, of cities
and Culture so familiar yet
so far abroad. Distanced.

The Land where I walk
so vast and unfamiliar
only the foreign is familiar
the introduced and the built
the Weeds speak volumes, the
litter glistens in the endless
sea of brown, the relentless
Sameness that surrounds
our suburbs. Decamped.

My world is upside down
seasons topsy-turvy, with
trees that keep their leaves
and shed their bark, the face
of the Moon winks from the
other side, compass points
turn the other way, the burning
Sun drops suddenly from the
summer sky. Disturbed.

In the deepest DNA the
weather resides, spring leads
to winter, autumn followed by
summer, solstice on the go, day
by night, Mars or Venus, I can
never be Shaw, she sells seashells
by the seashore, language lost
heaped upon the fire, burning
desire to know. Deceived.

Baa baa black man

Land of plenty, land of the free
Only if you’re a white man, come across the sea
No room for the Natives, only for our sheep
Riches only Empire warrants to reap

Baa, baa black man, have you any wool
No sir, no sir, we burned it all you fool,
Call up the master, don’t tell the dame,
Let’s shoot all the little boys who live by the flame.

Captain Cook took a look
Then we sent all our crooks
Landed gentry seized the Land
Turned a profit, something grand

On the sheeps back
We invaded the blacks
Trampled all their history
Brought death and misery

But we legislated
And boldly vindicated
What can only be described
As murder and genocide

Terra nullius, tell another lie
Terror Australis, Blackfella die
Terror incognita, no one will know
Whitefella terror is never on show.

Nationhood and settlement
Never gave a second thought
To millennia of acknowledgement
That country is their sacrament.

An injustice to every person,
Every tribe and every Nation,
That this vast Land created
Since before time instigated.

Enclosures and clearances
Girt the Land with fences
If you can’t work Land for profit
Then we’ll just take it by forfeit.

Rule, Britannia! Rule the waves
Britons never, never will be slaves
While we flourish great and free,
All come under our decree.

The earth is our dominion
And that’s not just opinion
The Lord has given us the right
To rule over all with might.

Rule, Britannia! Rule the waves
Britons never, never will be slaves
The fall of other nations poor
Shall raise Britannia forever more.

Terra nullius, tell another lie
Terror Australis, Blackfella die
Terror incognita, no one will know
Whitefella terror is never on show.

Nationhood and settlement
Never gave a second thought
To millennia of acknowledgement
That country is their sacrament.

An injustice to every person,
Every tribe and every Nation,
That this vast Land created
Since before time instigated.

Land of plenty, land of the free
Only if you’re a white man, come across the sea
No room for the Natives, only for our sheep
Riches only Empire warrants to reap

Baa, baa black man, have you any wool
No sir, no sir, we burned it all you fool,
Call up the master, don’t tell the dame,
Let’s shoot all the little boys who live by the flame.

You Want a Physicist to Speak at Your Funeral

The following, written by NPR commentator Aaron Freeman, is a gem!

You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.

And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him/her that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let him/her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her/his eyes, that those photons created within her/him constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.

And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.

And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly.

Amen. 

The Poseidon Adventure

Work-in-progress Showing

Tuesday 19th November at 4.00pm

Waterside Pavilion

Mawsons Place, Hobart

Poseidon, king of the oceans, has awoken from a two-hundred year slumber and has missed the industrial revolution! He finds himself in a marvellous new world teeming with tantalizing plastic! But is plastic all that it appears to be? Why has Amphitrite, queen of the oceans, never left her palace all this time? And who is making all this plastic that is choking the oceans and killing the creatures? The Poseidon Adventure is a play exploring the dilemma we face together and the mighty task of cleaning up our oceans.

Please RSVP by 5pm Friday 15 November to andy@andyvagg.com

The Poseidon Adventure was seeded at the 2018 Tasmania Performs Artist Residency