Amy Cooper
Face to face with imported hate
It gives me absolutely no pleasure to say I told you so after on Thursday we received a frightening glimpse of the Chinese bullying and nationalism that I had predicted was about to be unleashed here.
As the Olympic torch hit town, so did more than 10,000 revved-up, flag-wielding Chinese, many with something far less innocent in mind than celebrating the Olympics. They weren't protesters, because protesting is about justice, not about loudly and publicly condoning mass murder and oppression. The best term for this bunch would be genocide cheer squad.
Right up until the start of the day I had hoped the aggressive rhetoric and fanatical nationalism spouting from some members of the Chinese community represented the extreme views of a minority. Sadly, they appear to be the prevailing viewpoint, and certainly that of the crowds who bussed into Canberra with mayhem in mind.
The first scenes as I arrived at Canberra's Parliament Lawn at 8am on Thursday morning were dismaying. Groups of yelling Chinese were running through the assembling Tibetan protesters, swiping them with their huge red flags and barging them out of the way. The first person I met was Deborah Macdonald from Brisbane, who was standing, shell-shocked at the edge of the lawn. The pro-Tibet protester had just been set upon by one of these groups. "They surrounded me, about 40 of them," she told me. They were pushing and shouting at me and they ripped my Tibetan flag from me, threw it on the floor and stamped on it until the stick snapped.
"I saw them treating a Tibetan monk the same way. He just kept saying to them: 'I wish you well,' but they wouldn't back off. They were screaming insults at him."
I stayed close to the Tibetan protesters for the duration of the relay. I wanted to witness first-hand what happened to them. I'd doubted it would be pretty, but I hadn't been prepared for the overwhelming torrent of hatred which gushed forth from this massive Chinese crowd; foul language, jeers, threats and, at times, violence. What shocked me most was that their vitriol was not just reserved for Tibetans and their supporters. It was liberally dispensed to everyone who wasn't Chinese.
Although there was nothing to identify me as a Tibetan supporter apart from my proximity to the Tibetan contingent, I was repeatedly sworn at and harrassed. At one point a snarling young man thrust his face into mine and screamed: "One China! F*** Tibet!" His features were contorted with hate and I was convinced he was going to hit me. Luckily there was a policeman nearby so he didn't get the chance.
I was luckier than many. Ben Jones, an Australian Tibetan supporter, was surrounded by a mob who wrenched his flag from him and beat him. "They punched me in the stomach until I managed to run away," he said. "They are preying on people who are on their own. They're just bullies."
A Sydney Tibetan, Kunchok, was also cornered when alone. "About 30 of them surounded me and ripped my flag from me and then kicked and punched me," he said. "I just smiled at them and this seemed to make them more furious. They said: 'why are you smiling? Why aren't you getting angry?'"
Kunchok's attackers were stopped by onlookers so he could escape, but he was followed and assaulted again. "I am still not angry," he said. "They don't know any better, that's all."
In contrast, whenever lone Chinese demonstrators became entangled with Tibetan groups, they were treated kindly. When one Chinese girl was overcome with emotion and began to cry, a Tibetan woman tried to comfort her.
One frightening scene followed another. As we approached the Commonwealth Bridge, attempting to follow the relay, we were confronted by a sea of red flags and enraged faces. "They look like an attacking army," said one man. "It doesn't feel right."
Further along, we found our way intentionally blocked by baying hordes. They closed in, surrounding us on all sides. The police struggled to force them back. They and we were outnumbered. Eventually they had to divert us away from the area for our own safety. It was terrifying.
One of my most disturbing memories of the day is of a group of about 100 Chinese waving their flags and chanting, in perfect unison: "We are the future." It chilled me to the bone.
I witnessed a Tibetan child forced to see his mother having her hair yanked and another Tibetan pursued into a public bathroom by a group of Chinese youths where, he later told me, he was punched in the stomach and winded.
Once safely coralled inside a park by the river, the Tibetans sat down while monks led them in prayers for peace. But they were to be granted none; within moments another screaming group had descended on them, drowning out the monks' chants with foul language. The police had to move them on.
It was a graphic illustration of the abuse Tibetans have been trying to convince the world about for so long - with one crucial difference. Here, they were not carted off to jail, tortured or 're-educated' for praying and protesting, as they would have been inside Tibet, because Australia is a free country. This fact was lost on the mob, though. If they had been allowed to hurt the Tibetans more, they would have. They appeared determined to import the brutality of their motherland here.
For the first time, I learned how it felt to be on the receiving end of unbridled persecution and contempt. I experienced the attempted suppression of free speech and of the right to protest. I saw, up close, the ugly face of a despotic regime and its rabid supporters and their hostility towards the rest of the world. It was indefensible behaviour and I never want to see it happen here again.
If that's the sort of hospitality in store at the Beijing Olympics why would anyone want to go near it? Personally, I'll be booking a trip somewhere safer: the Gaza Strip perhaps, or a Shia militia outpost in Iraq.
Meanwhile, as the totalitarianism roadshow of the torch relay continues to appall the world, we can only hope to see intensifying pressure on China to clean up its act and control its knuckle-headed ex-pats abusing the tolerance of other countries to preach - and practice - hate.
As I write, news has come in that Chinese leaders have agreed to talk to the Dalai Lama. It's a step in the right direction and should be applauded. It may not be too late to undo the damage caused by days like Thursday.
- by Amy Cooper at 11:38 PM
- Comments (8)
Australia must save Olympic dignity
As the tour de farce of the 2008 Olympic torch relay approaches our shores, it's become hard to see it symbolising anything but the ugly face of a world gone mad.
In Europe the relay became a grotesque travelling circus dominated by images of both torch bearers and protesters manhandled by the ubiquitous posse of blue-tracksuited Chinese paramilitaries sent to "protect the flame."
British Olympic committee member Sebastian Coe called them "thugs." Torch bearer Connie Huq - who was more concerned by the blue guards' intimidating behaviour than by the protester who wrenched the torch from her - said she was barged and "barked at" by the guards. In a sad, weird irony, this goon show appears to have generated the "journey of harmony's" only unity so far: widespread distaste.
Despite the outcry in Europe, today comes the news that despite all his claims to the contrary the prime minister, Kevin Rudd will now allow these heavies to be let loose on the streets of Canberra when the torch arrives on Thursday.
What a party it's shaping up to be. Canberra is already bracing itself for an influx of thousands of hot-headed Chinese youths whipped into nationalistic fervour by idiots such as local student Zhang Rongan, who's been firing off Kung-Fu movie-inspired public statements all week. ''Are we going to let our motherland be shamed again?" he rants. "Overseas students in Australia, we have a responsibility to go defend our sacred torch. We can't let our sacred torch be put out on Australian soil!''
There are more crazed outpourings on the same website - talk of putting down the "ethnic degenerate scum," and "running dogs." It's the sort of language taught in the Osama Bin Laden school of international diplomacy.
Rather than silencing Zhang and his fellow PR disasters, the Chinese authorities here appear to be tacitly backing them by supplying free transport and accommodation for Australian Chinese travelling to Canberra for the relay. Coachloads of them are expected to make the journey from Sydney on Thursday.
For me, this mustering of rabid zealots brings back unpleasant memories of the busloads of soccer hooligans who used to converge on English cities looking for a fight on match day. They didn't care much about the game itself - they were lured by the prospect of tribal violence. They were young and stupid too, and they did damage to the sport that will never completely be mended.
Neither this dangerous, partisan nonsense nor the inflammatory presence of the torch-guarding thugs should be welcome in this country, and especially not when its target is a small group of peaceful protestors whose only aim is to draw attention to the desperate plight of their people.
The Tibetans travelling to Canberra on Thursday would rather not be demonstrating. None of them enjoy the experience and in fact, many dread it. Most Tibetans prefer to shun the spotlight under any circumstances, but those who have been imprisoned or tortured - which is the majority of the community here - find public protest almost unbearably traumatic. Just being close to symbols of Chinese authority brings back terrifying memories and even the most stoic men and women find themselves overwhelmed by emotion. But they force themselves to front up because there is no other way to tell people how close they are to extinction.
It's hard to imagine how that small crowd of Tibetans (there are only just over 500 in Australia) will feel on Thursday if they are surrounded by jeering, triumphalist hordes and confronted by Chinese paramilitaries, knowing that if they lose their composure even for a second they're likely to be branded at worst, violent criminals and at best, spoilsport nuisances.
Without sensitive handling, the whole affair threatens to descend into the most grisly spectacle the torch relay has yet produced. And how sad it would be if that were to happen on the same soil as the "best ever" 2000 Olympics.
While everyone has the right to make their point peacefully and no-one should be banned from the parade route, any aggressive Chinese crowds should be kept away from the Tibetan protesters and the heavy-handed torch guards should remain inside their bus, as Kevin Rudd originally promised. In the run-up to Thursday, Chinese community leaders should be taking their lead from Tibetan protest organisers and urging calm, tolerance and moderation.
Less than 24 hours after the torch passes through Canberra this nation will commemorate its Anzacs and the values they fought for: freedom, democracy, respect, equality. If we also remember those values on the eve of Anzac Day and take a firm stance against bullying and bad behaviour, perhaps the tarnished Olympic torch will find its dignity again here in Australia.
- by Amy Cooper at 08:04 PM
- Comments (51)
If only we could leash the adults
I'm bemused about all the fuss from parents over Clover Moore's proposals to fence off children's playgrounds in off-leash dog parks. I wish there were more fenced off parks for both kids and my dog.
Why? Any extra safety barrier between the small and vulnerable and an outside world increasingly fraught with dangers strikes me as sheer good sense.
Perhaps not as many Aussies as Brits have the tragic tale of two-year-old James Bulger permanently seared onto their consciousness. I do. I worked on the story of the murdered toddler when I was a cadet news reporter in the UK. What remains with me most about the abduction and brutal killing of the child - apart from the stomach-churning details of his demise - is how quickly and easily he was taken from his mother in a public place. She let go of her boy's hand and was distracted for about a minute - perhaps less. It was enough time for his killers to spirit him away. They were in the middle of a suburban shopping mall.
Every time I walk through my local park and see a toddler wobbling towards the road, disappearing behind trees or attempting to scale the low sea wall while mum or dad chats on the phone, drinks wine with friends or works out on the fitness station, I think of James. I thought of him the other day when a distraught little girl wandering alone in the same park asked me: 'where's mummy?' Mummy was moving the car to avoid a parking ticket. Dad was at the other end of the park with their other child, riding bikes.
I wish it weren't so, but any of those children could be the next James. Predators and perils lurk in the safest-looking, most respectable places. Surely an enclosed area set aside for kids and their parents can only be a useful facility?
After James' murder there was a huge resurgence in the use of child restraints. My mother couldn't understand why they ever went away. She says mine saved my naughty little hide on numerous occasions when I was struck by the urge to run into traffic or topple something huge and heavy onto myself.
But today, people appear reluctant to acknowledge that toddlers are serially inclined towards self-destructive acts (and disappearing ones, too). Parents want their kids to roam free and run wild and it would be wonderful if we lived in a world where they could, but sadly we don't.
As for the dogs, I usually keep mine on his leash in non-fenced parks for the very same reason littlies should be on theirs. While he adores children and other dogs, I know I cannot always protect him from a combination of his native predilections and the ignorance of adults. Given the chance, he will of course delve into a carelessly discarded garbage bag and eat something harmful, sniff a syringe out of curiosity or wander too close to one of Sydney's unpredictable park 'characters.' He's a dog with dog behaviour, which means if I want to fulfill my duty to care for him properly in a rough old world, his liberty will inevitably be compromised. Same with kids.
Neither are equipped to be responsible for their own safety; that's our job. Children at least have one advantage over their canine contemporaries: they eventually grow into adults entitled to wander wherever they want (unless they're Tibetan - and I'll be returning to that subject next week). Until then, I reckon fences and restraints are a small price to pay for the security and wellbeing of those we are entrusted to protect.
In the heat of their turf war, the fenced-park opponents have overlooked this simple fact. Fences mean safety for both dogs and kids and unless you can find a way to leash the grown-up, human threat outside those barriers, they should be considered an asset.
- by Amy Cooper at 09:10 PM
- Comments (2)
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