It has recently been an active time around the Australian National University, with voices pooled to fight for shared interests. We are fighting significant cuts to the School of Culture, History, and Language, vast changes that will impact life at the Bruce and Fenner Hall, as well the demolition of the Arts Centre as part of the Union Court redevelopment plans. Students and staff are continuing to demand that University fully divest from fossil fuel companies, and last month the ANU Refugee Action Committee created a campaign to make the University a refugee sanctuary. Across the board, the ANU is under pressure for prioritising financial concerns over all else. In light of this, our April edition takes the opportunity to critically engage with the role of grassroots activism.
A grassroots initiative ourselves, we at Demos Journal are committed to listening to and supporting local groups. We feel the value of solidarity; of finding and connecting with communities we call our own.
Pieces in this edition remind us at once of the surprising diversity and harmony within our community. Esther Carlin’s series of telling, contemplative portraits offers a gentle window into the personal worlds of different students at Fenner Hall — a surprising reminder of both the diversity and harmony in our communities. Likewise, Gus McCubbing’s interview with Roxley Foley reveals an inseparable form of belonging and connection to Country through his firm groundedness in Indigenous rights activism.
While many pieces explore the role of grassroots activism in effecting change, others explore the institutional structures set up to inhibit such activism. This is particularly apparent in Dr David West’s piece, ‘The Managerial University: A Failed Experiment?’ This work explores the way in which neoliberal rationality has created deeply hierarchical universities, where “academics whose opinions no longer have any authority are instead endlessly consulted.” With the advent of managerial universities, it is no wonder students and staff at our own University have to campaign so strongly at the grassroots level to have their voices heard. West’s piece begs the question: When managerial power imbalances permeate society so deeply, is meaningful grassroots resistance possible? Similarly, Mia Stone explores the way neoliberalism infuses the activities of those who originally sought to challenge it, forcing activists to couch their demands in palatable terms that align with neoliberal rationality, such as growth and jobs.
Yet, if neoliberal, anti-grassroots ideology permeates even the efforts of those fighting against it, what hope is there for creating grassroots democracy? While some may respond to this question with despair, the pieces showcased in this edition have an inspiring belief in the relevance of grassroots responses to bringing about sustainable, democratic and creative solutions to the gross injustices of our time.
Hanna Sandgren, writing on the fraught position of being a non-Indigenous conservator working on Indigenous cultural heritage, explores the capacity of grassroots community engagement in cultural heritage to go beyond the colonial ‘yes’ or ‘no’ consultation with Indigenous communities that is taught by Western conservation frameworks. Instead, she urges us to learn from Indigenous methods of caring for works.
On the issue of climate change, many renounce the ability of individuals or grassroots groups to affect change, claiming the enormity of the problem necessitates top-down, government leadership. Authors such as Minna Featherstone, by contrast, point to the unique role of grassroots activism in creating democratic climate policy, through campaigns targeted at reducing the political influence of the fossil fuel industry. A recurrent theme in this edition is the ability for grassroots activism to reimagine the political landscape – through enacting democratic change in the present rather than campaigning for it in the future.
Other pieces interpret ‘roots’ as an opportunity to reflect on origins. Understanding where we come from is important. When we feel lost where we are, it can be comforting, or even reinvigorating to return to origins. Yet, revisiting our origins is rarely a simple exercise.
Aditi Razdan probes the line between cultural appropriation and cultural ‘appreciation’ through reference to the complex history of Hinduism: a culture that is “by no means evenly distributed or egalitarian.” Her essay, and personal account, returns continuously to the Western world’s insistence that its symbols be monolithic, and how they should appear and apply. She notes that this is itself a form of neo-colonialism. Tensions such as these can be clarified if we return to a historical context, appreciating the complexity inherent in each ‘culture’, and the multitude of dominant voices in each.
An attempt to return to the past to better comprehend the present is also evident in Lauretta Flack’s personal and historical exploration of Australian queer history. If the current narrative of ‘gay culture’ is overwhelmingly white and cis-male, then perhaps it is possible to reconstruct it through reference to one’s own lesbian life, as well as the oft-silenced voices of the women of Australia’s past. This intermingling reflection of the past in the present is important, because as Flack writes, “there’s a whole future of girls out there trying to hear us.”
A temporal fluidity also structures Vee Naidoo’s conception of her “diaspora consciousness.” With reference to her own experiences, she argues that dispersal cannot always be attached to trauma— to do so “reductive of lived experiences.” Rather, she has found in her past a degree of cultural flexibility – that is, an ability to see the world through a “double consciousness” as both the majority, and the minority. It is only through a return to origin that each of these writers are able to better construct their perceptions of the present.
Just to indulge, finally, in an editorial note on meaning making, it has been interesting to observe the techniques our contributors have employed to unearth the roots they wished to explore. Satire has the unique power to tear our unexamined, deeply embedded assumptions apart, and Kim Huynh’s clever subversion of casual assertions of Western cultural superiority packs a punch, waving them in front of our face in a slightly jarring, unpleasant but satisfying way, much like a certain pungent fruit he leaves us with.
Shan Crosbie’s organic lines and dynamic female forms in The Three Graces, combined with its rich tones and compositional balance draws you into a playful yet robust embrace full of the warmness of female friendship, reminding us of the power of our often under-appreciated constant supporters.
We have provided just a snippet of the edition to come. We are proud to publish an array of insightful, critically engaged, passionate non-fiction pieces, and are equally excited by the beautiful, original, moving and thought provoking artworks and poems in this edition.
In welcoming new members to join our team: Annette, Emma, Judy, Kira, Rachel and Siobhan, we also reflect on how lucky we are to have the support of our local Canberran community – a community of writers; a community of where grassroots initiatives are supported by organisations like Stir; a community of dedicated activists. It is our hope to join with other groups in solidarity of our shared goals, to rediscover connections in our communities, and, in doing so, to grow to new heights.
