tag:blogs.sunherald.com.au,2008:/amycooper/6 2008-07-01T15:27:07Z Amy Cooper is the Sun-Herald's chief party correspondent. She puts Sydney's social habits under the microscope. Movable Type 3.36 tag:blogs.sunherald.com.au,2008:/amycooper//6.603 2008-06-28T05:55:01Z 2008-07-01T15:27:07Z

I'm enjoying the non-stop party that's Queenstown Festival at the moment and so, it seems, are representatives of just about every country on the globe. It's a glorious mix of languages and faces....

Amy Cooper I'm enjoying the non-stop party that's Queenstown Festival at the moment and so, it seems, are representatives of just about every country on the globe. It's a glorious mix of languages and faces. (yes, they have one too - even a pretty place like this must have an underbelly) at 2am on June 23. "The offender was allegedly making unwanted advances to a female in the bar when another person stepped in," remarked local police constable Sean Drader. "A bit of a scuffle ensued and the offender spilled out the doorway into the arms of a waiting constable." And another: 'Police were forced to break up a large brawl at the top of the stairs at The World at 2am on June 17. A 21-year-old Englishman and 22-year-old Welshman were arrested for fighting.' On June 24 another English tourist was arrested for 'hurling a beer bottle across Camp Street at 2.30am.' Says Drader: "He was highly intoxicated and thought we were being racist when we tried to arrest him." And here's my favourite: 'A 23-year-old Englishwoman was arrested for urinating in the doorway of Outside Sports on Shotover Street at 12.10am on June 22.' The long-suffering Drader, who I doubt will ever take a holiday in the UK, reports that "her friend was taking pictures of her while she was doing the business." It's nothing new to see my compatriots taking their uniquely ugly brand of drunken sideshow on the road, but it's embarrassed me here more than usual because everyone else is playing so nicely. The Japanese visitors are politely shopping and videoing, the Brazilians are busy looking gorgeous, the French and Germans are skiing, the Dutch are snowboarding in silly hats. Even the Americans are behaving. No-one exports misbehaviour quite like the Poms. And I'm fed up with it. it started me thinking though and I've come up with a use for our vast mobile army of pissed pests. If you've read my other blog entries you'll know how I feel about the Beijing 'Genocide' Olympics. I've always been in favour of boycotting the whole farcical showcase for a heinous dictatorship, but now I've changed my mind. Frankly, if the UK boycotted it no-one would notice anyway because we're crap at sport. So here's a better idea: let's send in a team of our elite beer hooligans and let them perform their own events in Beijing. A mass display of Olympic standard bottle hurling, projectile vomiting, incoherent shouting, wobbly brawling and doorway peeing would have China promising to be nicer instantly - as long as we took our sports team away. Alternatively they might just round them up and shoot them. Either way, it's a win. Meanwhile, if anyone asks me where I'm from while I'm here in beautiful Queenstown, I'm Australian. As long as I speak very quietly and try not to wee in any doorways I reckon I can get away with it. ]]> tag:blogs.sunherald.com.au,2008:/amycooper//6.593 2008-06-14T12:02:25Z 2008-06-15T13:11:46Z

I was one of the thousands who flocked to the Dalai Lama's teachings at Olympic Park this week to enjoy the uplifting atmosphere that always surrounds the Tibetan leader. But even his feelgood effect couldn't obscure the increasing urgency of...

Amy Cooper I was one of the thousands who flocked to the Dalai Lama's teachings at Olympic Park this week to enjoy the uplifting atmosphere that always surrounds the Tibetan leader. But even his feelgood effect couldn't obscure the increasing urgency of his people's crisis. thousands of aggressive, sometimes violent Chinese bussed into the capital with the aim of stifling the Tibetans' freedom to protest. It was a harrowing spectacle during which I witnessed several Tibetans - including children - being harrassed, assaulted and provoked, and so it was a treat to see them having some fun this time. Of course they were joined by the usual roll call of celebrities, bigwigs and well-wishers who gravitate toward the Dalai Lama and all things Tibet. As I wrote in today's Sun-Herald News Extra, at times I felt as if I was at one of the social functions I report on for the S section. Everyone from Rove McManus to Anita Keating had turned out, and although I fear the glamourisation of the Tibetan cause often does it more harm than good (two words: Sharon Stone), the star-studded crowd added to the festive feeling. But behind the conviviality, the spectre of Tibetan suffering still lurked. The shadows cast across the Showground by the grand arches of the Olympic Park stadiums - those monuments to a previous peaceful and happy Olympic Games - seemed to me a symbolic echo of the emotional shadow that the Beijing Olympics represents for Tibetans. Almost three months after the unrest began and with the Games only weeks away, the global attention drawn to the Tibetans' plight by the torch protests is in danger of fading, while their situation remains dire. Nearly all I spoke to at Homebush are still desperately worried about relatives inside Tibet. One man hasn't heard from his father in Lhasa, the Tibetan capital, since Chinese police stormed into his house there shortly after the troubles erupted. Arrests and disappearances continue to occur in Tibetan areas. Telephone and email contact with what is essentially a locked-down area is practically impossible and even when it's not, Tibetans outside Tibet are afraid that any contact with those inside will put their families at risk. "People there who have relatives overseas are being scrutinised and questioned, sometimes arrested," said one Tibetan. "Just one phone call could mean serious trouble for them." The Dalai Lama himself is firmly pro-Beijing Olympics and has urged his people against further protests - even when the torch is paraded through Tibet this week. "Millions of Chinese people feel proud of it," he said at a private reception on Wednesday. "So we must respect it." He is still optimistic that talks between his representatives and the Chinese leadership will resume before the Olympics begin and he appeals for his people to follow a similar path of diplomacy. "The Tibetan issue must be solved between Tibetan people and their Chinese brothers and sisters," he said. "The time has come to set up friendship between Han Chinese brothers and sisters and Tibetans. Here in Australia I think it would be really worthwhile. Usually it is lack of communication, remaining distant, then when something happens ... official media can create some picture that we are anti-Chinese." He has remarkable faith in the good nature of a nation whose government's reaction to him has always been relentlessly vituperative. Offically issued insults from China include: 'criminal,' 'traitor,' 'demon,' and the almost comically melodramatic: 'wolf in monk's robes, a devil with a human face but the heart of a beast.' Still, His Holiness remains optimistic that in China compassion and tolerance will eventually prevail. I must admit I find it hard to share his optimism after witnessing the unbridled hatred directed at the Tibetans by those Chinese in Canberra. The arrogance with which they assumed the right to harrass Tibetans on Australian soil was of grave concern, and this eagerness to export their totalitarian government's suppression of human rights into other countries should worry us deeply. Before the Dalai Lama's arrival here, Chinese foreign minister spokesman Qin Gang issued a stark warning to Australia "not to allow the Dalai to engage in separatist activities on Australian territory." This attempt to influence Australia's policy towards the Tibetan leader is an astonishing piece of hypocrisy from a country that condemns international criticism of its woeful human rights record in Tibet - and in fact any criticism at all- as unwelcome interference in its internal affairs. The presence of those Chinese flag-waving, snarling crowds at every stage of the torch relay around the globe was a sinister demonstration of the Chinese government's long reach into free Western societies. China already meddles as much as it can in the domestic policy of neighbours too dependent on its financial clout to defend their sovereignty. One example of this bullying is currently on display in Nepal, home to about 20,000 Tibetan exiles. Almost every day since 10 March the Tibetans' peaceful protests in the Nepalese capital Kathmandu have been broken up by local police using extreme force. On Tuesday 239 Tibetans were rounded up there; yesterday another 182. The protesters constantly report beatings and sexual assaults. Chinese police and embassy officials have been seen - and photographed - at these crackdowns directing the Nepalese police, while China has repeatedly told the Nepalese government it "will not tolerate" the protests and has urged it to quash them with even greater force. Nepal, a poverty-stricken nation, needs China's support too much to do anything but aquiesce. While the rest of the world is always swift to condemn the self-serving interference of countries such as America in other countries' domestic affairs, China has largely escaped criticism for identical behaviour. Some commentators believe that this could be a dangerous oversight. John Wu, a Tibet scholar from the University of Sydney, writes in the latest issue of Australia's Tibetan Voice magazine: "The implication of a totalitarian state's political and ethnic machinations beyond its geographical boundaries is a phenomenon that no Western government can afford to ignore." Wu believes that the influence of the Chinese government upon the Chinese community here, displayed so graphically in Canberra, poses a threat to Australia's largely harmonious multiculturalism and could be a serious problem "if hostilities were to one day arise between the West and China after the manner of the Cold War." At Homebush, Melbourne Tibetan Sonam Rigzin told me he believes that China's government "poses a huge threat to world peace." The free world, he says, has failed to grasp the extent of Chinese imperialism - even after the nationalistic displays at the torch relays. "We should wake up to the fact that China presents an imminent clear and present danger," he said. "It's not an exaggeration to say that they want world domination. And while they have as much right as any other country to be a superpower, that power wielded by a dictatorship to suppress human rights and religious freedoms is a major worry." This possibility, says Sonam, imbues the Tibet issue with an even greater sense of urgency. A more compassionate, tolerant attitude to Tibet could be the first step in China's transformation to a benevolent, mature superpower. "By freeing Tibet, you liberate China too. The Tibet issue is almost negligable, really. We understand impermanence - we accept that perhaps we are facing our demise. But this is bigger than us. The rest of the world can use Tibet to urge China to change its ways before it's too late. That's the greater issue here - and there is still time to solve it now, before China becomes so powerful that it doesn't need to listen any more." As we spoke, nearby Tibetan monks were creating an intricate, beautiful sand mandala of the Buddha of Compassion. At the end of the teachings today they will sweep it away, because to Buddhists sand mandalas symbolise the impermanence of all things. As Sonam says, Tibetans are reconciled to this notion and they know that like everything else, this black period in their history will end. It is up to us to help ensure that ending is a happy one. ]]> tag:blogs.sunherald.com.au,2008:/amycooper//6.583 2008-05-31T13:10:38Z 2008-05-31T14:17:20Z

My beauty salon buddy is a straight male friend. We go for all kinds of treatments together and I don't consider this in any way odd....

Amy Cooper My beauty salon buddy is a straight male friend. We go for all kinds of treatments together and I don't consider this in any way odd. the Avon Man. Like women, the boys are determined to employ every weapon available in the battle against nature and their arsenal is vast: products promise youthful skin, more lustrous hair and even instant six-packs (I think you paint them on or something). It's men's right to enter the fray- but I can't help wondering if they handle it as well as we do. Recently I've watched a male friend of mine spiral into product dependency. He started with aftershave balm, which led to moisturizer and then a three-step cleansing routine. Now he takes herbal pills to slim his waistline and worries about enlarged pores. He owns some stylish pots and tubes, but each comes with a free gift: a new set of anxieties. He's even begun to dislike his ears. He was happier before he started exfoliating, but he can't stop now because he's hooked on substances he'd never heard of a couple of years ago. It's as troubling as seeing a remote tribe discover cigarettes. I'm not alarmed by the prospect of men losing their manliness, smelling nicer than me or stealing my bathroom space. It's the inner effect that worries me. "Men are more rational in their shopping habits than women," says one cosmetics firm executive, and that's how male ranges are marketed. Rational tools, for rational jobs. Goal-oriented. Some use business-speak: 'no nonsense', 'instant solutions', and 'results every time'. The packaging is slick and streamlined, to match Blackberries and briefcases. Others address man's inner grunt, with testosterone-inspired names more suitable for weapons than cosmetics. Women's products are different. They seduce in the language of emotions. They promise to soothe and caress, comfort, de-stress, transform. They describe our relationships with our body parts as if they were moody partners in need of couple counseling: "Instant intervention against stressed hair. Eases brittleness, restores control." One cream in my cabinet wants to reward my hands for all their hard work; another even offers to 'awaken' my thighs and bottom. Of course we want results too, but deep down the journey is what we really love - the hopes and dreams, the pleasure and pain of the cosmetics hall, the kaleidoscope of packaging, the smells and textures and wicked extravagances. Smoother skin and shinier hair are our justifications for seeking bottled emotional succour, and we understand nature will eventually win. The potions just make it easier to bear. "It doesn't work!" growls my male friend after he's spent a small fortune on a 'scruffing lotion'. Actually, it has improved the look of his skin - it just hasn't achieved the outstanding results he'd expect from a decent drill or a top-of-the-range camera. He is disappointed. But he won't withdraw from battle once engaged, so he'll go and buy another one. That's the problem - men fight to win, even against omnipotent nature. Freakshows like poor, stretched Burt Reynolds and the eerily rearranged Mickey Rourke are extreme examples of the consequences of refusing to accept defeat gracefully. Most, thankfully, w]]> tag:blogs.sunherald.com.au,2008:/amycooper//6.575 2008-05-18T14:14:53Z 2008-05-18T15:00:03Z

Sorry to rain on your meringue, but it seems to me that weddings always end badly, whether sooner or later....

Amy Cooper Sorry to rain on your meringue, but it seems to me that weddings always end badly, whether sooner or later. six stabbings (from two different weddings). That's just the tip of the iceberg. I know, because I once worked for a women's weekly true life magazine and every week our mailbag was crammed with readers' stories about wedding brawls. The editorial team became so case-hardened by these stories that we only printed the ones with truly astonishing details - church fixtures used as weapons, a very high body count or the bride setting her canine pageboy (a rottweiler, as I recall) on the groom's mother. My favourite was the wedding in Manchester, UK, which culminated in the entire bridal party of 40 being arrested. The most peaceful wedding I remember covering for that magazine was one which took place in America's toughest penitentiary. The groom was inside for armed robbery and the ceremony took place within a cordon of prison guards, which made for a trouble-free and surprisingly moving occasion. These are extreme cases, but very few of my married friends can report a reception free from some sort of disagreement, tension or frank exchange of views. And those who can't were too drunk on the day to remember much about it at all. No doubt, weddings come with such a high risk of strife attached you'd probably be safer on a night out at one of those bars on the top ten of NSW's most violent venues. It's no surprise, when you think about it. Weddings are the most potent cocktail of potential mayhem most of us will ever face. Into those few hours of celebration are poured the long-held hopes, dreams, ambitions and expectations not just of the bride, but several of her nearest and dearest too. Very rarely do these coincide. Add the simmering stew of historical resentments common to all but the most saintly family, mix in bucketloads of alcohol and some bridesmaids pissed off about their ugly frocks, and all you can do is be thankful no-one has nuclear weapons. But perhaps explosive weddings bode best for the future happiness of the couple. After such a concentrated, cathartic airing of fury they may be better prepared to move on to a calmer life together, all grievances extinguished in one big hit. Of all my friends' weddings, the gentlest one led to the shortest marriage. After the break-up one year later, the bride wondered aloud to me if things might have been different had her family actually voiced their unanimous contempt for the groom on the day. I thought it would have been wonderful if someone had beaten him up, too. You live and learn. Perhaps instead of a wedding rehearsal there should be a Jerry-Springer-style gathering of all the guests in which everyone is encouraged to drink heavily, express their discontent and, if necessary, come to blows. Once all bruises are healed, the wedding could proceed without incident. Everyone would be happier, and the cells emptier. ]]> tag:blogs.sunherald.com.au,2008:/amycooper//6.570 2008-05-10T13:31:55Z 2008-05-10T17:05:20Z

On Mothers' Day, spare a thought for the women who bring dictators, psychopaths and serial killers into the world. Not only do they miss out on the flowers and soppy cards - they're blamed for their bad seeds' misdeeds, too....

Amy Cooper On Mothers' Day, spare a thought for the women who bring dictators, psychopaths and serial killers into the world. Not only do they miss out on the flowers and soppy cards - they're blamed for their bad seeds' misdeeds, too. always blame the mums!' At least she can relax a little now I've reached an advanced age without having a photofit image published in a newspaper (I'm afraid the one above is how I really look). But my friends with babies live in fear that one wrong glance, one failure to pacify, one plush toy with a strange face or even a Celine Dion CD overheard from within the womb might have already formed a future Saddam. Celebrities don't help the maternal cause either. For them, a mad, bad mum is a trophy, like an Oscar. They complain about how Mom has written another embittered book, posed for Playboy or simply refused to be that other type of Hollywood mum: the obliging, comfy handbag you take to premieres when your image needs polishing. And even she inevitably cops the blame when her little legend implodes or marries for the ninth time. Of course being a mother doesn't guarantee instant sainthood and there are bad mums, just as there are bad dads and bad cooks, singers and hairdressers. But most just do their best and spend the rest of their life worrying that it wasn't enough. Just yesterday, Mum asked me: "did I push you too hard when you were at school?" Not at all, I replied, truthfully. The only complaints I remember having back then were not being given a stable of thoroughbred racehorses for Christmas and not being allowed to go and camp in Simon Le Bon's garden. They seemed reasonable at the time, but so did pedal pusher pants and Adam and the Ants. There's nothing wrong with me that I didn't put there myself - and lots right with me that Mum can take full credit for. So this Mothers' Day, let your mum off the hook. If, like me, you can remember wailing at her during kiddy tantrums: "It's not my fault! I didn't ask to be born!", try this new mantra: "Mum, I'm not your fault." This especially applies if you are on death row. This does not apply if your mother is Britney Spears. ]]> tag:blogs.sunherald.com.au,2008:/amycooper//6.559 2008-04-25T13:38:56Z 2008-04-27T07:39:13Z

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....

Amy Cooper 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. tag:blogs.sunherald.com.au,2008:/amycooper//6.556 2008-04-19T10:04:19Z 2008-04-20T07:26:01Z

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....

Amy Cooper 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. 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. ]]> tag:blogs.sunherald.com.au,2008:/amycooper//6.550 2008-04-12T11:10:22Z 2008-04-12T12:49:32Z

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....

Amy Cooper 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. tag:blogs.sunherald.com.au,2008:/amycooper//6.541 2008-03-29T09:46:17Z 2008-03-30T14:43:30Z

In the week since I last wrote about the crisis in Tibet, events in the region have delivered both hope and despair to those who long for a peaceful solution....

Amy Cooper In the week since I last wrote about the crisis in Tibet, events in the region have delivered both hope and despair to those who long for a peaceful solution. 15 monks who were arrested on March 10 for their peaceful protest in Lhasa. These young men were not involved in any violence, but still remain in detention. Similarly, there is no information about the fate of the monks from Lhasa's Jokhang monastery who last week interrupted a government-organised press visit there to tell journalists tearfully that: "what the government is saying is not true." As a local Tibetan ex-political prisoner says: "I have seen first hand what happens to people there who demonstrate like that. Those monks were brave because they knew that by speaking out they were probably signing their own death warrant." But despite the distressing news, there are still notes of hope. Influential individuals around the world are starting to voice their objections to the Chinese government's treatment of Tibetans. There is also a growing feeling that the Olympic Games must be protected from any further irreparable damage caused by the Chinese government's resonse to the Tibetan crisis. In the Washington Post, sports writer Sally Jenkins says: "Officials [in China] have violated the basic spirit of the event and reneged on every promise they made to the International Olympic Committee about their willingness to accommodate the world. "The party Beijing is preparing to throw bears no resemblance to any recent Olympics: shootings, beatings, jailings, buggings, environmental crimes and paramilitary police flooding the streets..." To protect the ideals and integrity of the Games, Jenkins suggests moving them out of China altogether and into a country better suited to host them. While this would be a crushing disappointment for the ordinary Chinese citizens eagerly anticipating the event, it is also crucial to remember that the Games belong to the world, and not exclusively to the nation who happens to be hosting them. Even those with little interest in the polemics of the Tibetan situation agree that the famous Olympic ideals should not be tarnished further by associations with a brutal regime. Athletes are speaking up, too. In France, a group of top sports stars have signed a written appeal to Hu Jintau not to spoil the Games. They say: "the Chinese government promised to respect human rights. Yet, the violent repression in Tibet seriously questions this commitment given to the Olympic movement". Other religious communites are expressing support for the Tibetan struggle for religious freedom. In the Jerusalem Post, Ari Rifkin compares the oppression of Tibetans to the historical persecution of his own race. "How long will it be," he asks, "before Tibetans are viewed as a relic, and perhaps bothersome, minority in their homeland similar to the condition of Native Americans in the United States, Formosans in Taiwan, or Serbs in Kosovo?" Other commentators are dismayed by the inflammatory tone of the Chinese official pronouncements, and the aggressive nationalistic fervour they appear to be stirring up within a population conditioned to accept without question their government's every utterance. Says Tibetan scholar and activist Josh Schrei: "I am legitimately frightened by the venomous rhetoric that the Chinese government hurls at the Dalai Lama. I am even more alarmed to see a dramatic rise in nationalist vitriol emanating from the Chinese people -- and especially young Chinese students -- towards Tibetans, who, with rare exception over the last 50 years, have been, though discontent, peaceful. Until last week, Tibetans had not been involved in a serious outbreak of violence since 1959. And yet the Chinese government and the Chinese people are behaving as if they are - in the words of one Beijing official 'engaged in a fierce battle of blood and fire with the Dalai clique, a life-and-death struggle between the foe and us...' The above comment contrasts starkly with the language used in the Dalai Lama's public statements. In his latest, he says: "Chinese brothers and sisters - wherever you may be - with deep concern I appeal to you to help dispel the misunderstandings between our two communities. Moreover, I appeal to you to help us find a peaceful, lasting solution to the problem of Tibet through dialogue in the spirit of understanding and accommodation." Despite his consistently conciliatory overtures, the Tibetan leader has been variously branded a "liar" and "devil" in response. But he remains confident there is a diplomatic solution to the crisis. Robert Thurman, one of the world's foremost Tibet scholars, manages to find inspiration in the actions of both sides. In the Washington Post he writes: "The promise of the present moment has been precipitated first by the innovative leaders of China, gingerly stepping out into the glare of world publicity and opinion by hosting the Olympic Games and second, just now, by the brave people of Tibet stepping out on their own past the plans of their leader and, against great odds, standing up for the truth of their existence as Tibetans. Risking their very lives, they protest the total destruction of their culture, environment, and way of life." Thurman's article stresses the immediate opportunity for China to set an example to the world with an act of compassion, dignity and wisdom. He believes, as does the Dalai Lama, in a future where all Chinese and Tibetan people can have a respectful, mutually beneficial friendship. Right now, such a scenario is hard to envisage. But history has repeatedly proved that human beings, wherever they hail from, are just as capable of magnanimity and tolerance as they are of cruelty and injustice. We can only hope, as the optimists among us do, that China will begin to view the outside world's urgings to change their policies on Tibet not as an affront or an intrusion but a precious chance to finally set things right there and lead the way into a new era of peace and cooperation. Now that would be a gesture worthy of the greatest ever Olympics party in Beijing. ]]> tag:blogs.sunherald.com.au,2008:/amycooper//6.535 2008-03-22T06:26:53Z 2008-03-24T12:18:26Z

Last time I returned to the UK, a customs official nodded at my British passport and said: "welcome home, ma'am." I felt a little warm and fuzzy then gave it no further thought, because in the free world those of...

Amy Cooper Last time I returned to the UK, a customs official nodded at my British passport and said: "welcome home, ma'am." I felt a little warm and fuzzy then gave it no further thought, because in the free world those of us living away from our birth countries take for granted our right to go home whenever we want. http://www.rsf.org/article.php3?id_article=26290 http://www.freedom4tibet.org/ http://www.atc.org.au/content/view/13/76/ ]]> tag:blogs.sunherald.com.au,2008:/amycooper//6.530 2008-03-16T09:19:25Z 2008-03-16T12:52:16Z

While waiting for a taxi to take me and my dog from Avalon to the Eastern suburbs I wondered, not for the first time, if I should learn to drive....

Amy Cooper While waiting for a taxi to take me and my dog from Avalon to the Eastern suburbs I wondered, not for the first time, if I should learn to drive. The fare was inducement enough; it could have flown both dog and I to Fiji and bought us dinner on arrival and not in a scruffy little place either, but a big posh one. Yes, it seems crazy not to drive. But last time I took a very long taxi ride I decided the same thing, and that was two years ago. I am now a thirty-something non-driver. You may mock. Drivers often do. But I have come to the conclusion that driving is not part of my destiny (or destination). I'm a member of a small, rather sheepish club called The Driven, and we're born that way. Some of us just aren't meant to be at the wheel, just as others are not meant to dance Swan Lake or write a thesis on the Patagonian toothfish or be allowed around sharp objects unsupervised. Early indications were that the latter was true of me and vehicles of every description. In the UK we had to sit a Cycling Proficiency Test before being allowed on the roads on our pushbikes. I was the first person ever in my school to fail it. First I flunked the slalom, and you could have driven a stretch Hummer between those cones. Then, when the instructor requested an emergency stop, I flung myself one way and the bike the other and it hit him. And as it was a boy's bike and not a little pink one like all my friends had, it hurt. His reaction offered the unfortunate episode's sole useful lesson: people reserve all their best swear words for cyclists. After a similar episode with a friend's mum's Mini Metro in an empty car park, any driving ambition I'd had ceased and I grew accustomed to life in the passenger seat, the bus seat, the train seat and the back of a cab. I also learned to ride horses, but they're not really effective urban transport unless you're in the mounted police. My non-driving friends and I enjoy the same elements of the passenger lifestyle. We like the view from the windows, the opportunity to read, listen to your iPod, use the phone or do your make-up. We're more likely to walk short distances, which is good for our health. We can drink as much as we like and still get in the car, which is not so good for our health but great fun. And a lengthy and passionate kiss is much easier if neither of you are driving. I like to consider myself a helpful passenger. If someone cuts up or otherwise slights my driver, I will relay the necessary finger signs and abuse so he can continue to concentrate on the road. I can hold drinks and read maps. When in enviro-friendly company I can also boast about my tiny carbon footprint. And I don't have hefty insurance, petrol and parking fine costs to pay. In short, I know my place in the car: on the left. But still. On days like today I yearn to drive spontaneously to the first beach that takes my fancy, playing my own choice of music rather than asking a belligerent cabbie to switch off his talkback radio or his blaring footie. I'd quite like one of those 'new car smell' air fresheners all of my own. And maybe a car, too. Only a little one, mind; never, ever one of those massive armoured 4WD vehicles women round here use to transport their kids, as if the kids were ammunition or personnel. You might as well taxi a 747 around town - except that would be safer. It would just be nice to be more, well, portable. And as cycling is clearly not an option, it may at last be time to hit the road on four wheels. Am I mad? tag:blogs.sunherald.com.au,2008:/amycooper//6.524 2008-03-08T06:35:16Z 2008-03-08T07:53:21Z

I've been thinking a lot about drinking lately, and this news story about late developing tipplers has me pondering the subject even more....

Amy Cooper this news story about late developing tipplers has me pondering the subject even more.]]> In this job, alcohol is ubiquitous. When you work days in an office, everyone has a bottle of water or a cup of coffee on their desk but when you work nights at parties, no-one is ever without a glass of wine, champagne or some specially created cocktail. In the party world that is my office, booze is the oil, the currency, the constant guest and often the actual raison d'etre for every gathering. And so I see the entire spectrum of drinkers. I witness the angry, the sad, the silly, the indiscreet, the exhibitionist and even the abstainer. And I often wonder: how much is enough? According to that news report, some booze - especially wine - is better than none, but not too much. That makes sense, of course. Moderation always does. But I also believe when you're drinking, attitude is just as important as amount. It certainly defines my own relationship with booze. For me, if it isn't happy drinking, I simply don't do it. I've just had one of those months scripted by Satan; a time when no-one would blame a person for reaching into the booze cupboard and its medicinal temptations without restraint. But despite the presence of some very decent premium vodkas and a sexy, peaty malt whisky, I haven't. I don't drink for consolation or for comfort, whether alone or in company. I want my bond with the bottle to be purely celebratory. I drink only in good times, with good people. I was brought up both to enjoy and respect alcohol - wine, especially. As soon as I was talking, Dad taught me to say 'In Vino Veritas' - truth in wine. He did it mainly to shock the neighbours, but at the same time he bequeathed a piece of Yoda-like wisdom. There is a particular moment wine drinkers know. It's like that time in the late afternoon film-makers call the 'magic hour', when the light is luminous and three-dimensional, and you see the world with a special kind of clarity. With wine and me, something similar happens at the second glass. Thoughts focus, insights flow and solutions arrive so rapidly I often write them down (and yes, they're still viable in the morning). Several glasses later, of course, come the crazy schemes: the plans for world domination, the sea-change visions and the inventions, but the two-glass truths are trustworthy. In these moments I've looked at the man across the restaurant table and known without doubt he's not right for me. I've decided to make a career move, leave a country or gamble on a hunch. I've never regretted a single choice I've made at the second glass, and I know myself well enough to ignore the later ones. It only works though, if that wine is drunk in the spirit of optimism, with a happy heart and preferably in the company of great friends. And I guess that then you could argue that it isn't the wine at all causing the inspirations and epiphanies, but the mindset. I don't think that matters, nor do I know anything useful about the potential physical health benefits attached to alcohol. But I do believe booze can be your buddy - as long as you keep it as a fair weather friend. tag:blogs.sunherald.com.au,2008:/amycooper//6.516 2008-02-24T10:39:46Z 2008-02-24T11:02:58Z

This Friday, the 29th of February, is the once-every-four-years day on which women traditionally have been allowed to propose marriage to their tardy men....

Amy Cooper This Friday, the 29th of February, is the once-every-four-years day on which women traditionally have been allowed to propose marriage to their tardy men. online agony aunt Jenny Colgan. Or: "Wait till his team wins a big game." But here's the best: "Don't get down on one knee, especially if you're in stilettos. Women rarely look good in this position." (My unreconstructed male friends think differently, but I'll spare you their lewd observations.) Another friend admits she is seriously considering proposing to her boyfriend on Friday. "I might ask his mum for permission," she says. "How feminist would that be?" She admits the ring is a problem. "I can't present him with that," she says. "So maybe a watch. Or a cigarette lighter ..." I ask her if he'll be pleased. "I think so," she says. "But I guess I could be stealing his thunder. I know he'd deliver a lovely proposal himself. Oh dear. Maybe I should just let him do it..." I leave her looking perturbed. Eventually, Jess reveals something. "If I ask him," she says, "how will I be completely, totally sure he really wanted to get married? Everyone knows what I'm like. They'll all think I just bullied him into it. Maybe it would be true." And there it is - the funny, frail little truth at the heart of all this confusion. We want to know we're loved, but there are so few ways left for men to prove it. We don't need their money, their brawn or their protection, and we definitely don't need to marry them. And so the engagement ring, free of all its old economic, pragmatic and social agendas, has become one of the few remaining symbols of pure love. Who can blame us for holding out for that? Meanwhile, I'm considering popping the question to every man I meet, all day on Friday. Why? Apparently, Leap Year tradition demands that all rejections must be accompanied by the gift of a silk dress. If I start early in the morning I could have one hell of a wardrobe by nightfall. ]]> tag:blogs.sunherald.com.au,2008:/amycooper//6.510 2008-02-16T11:50:38Z 2008-02-16T12:28:24Z

This week I attended the launch of Meet My Friend, a social networking website on which people recommend their single friends to other singles. Great idea....

Amy Cooper Meet My Friend, a social networking website on which people recommend their single friends to other singles. Great idea.]]> greatboyfriends.com this week to see how it was faring. The site has now been changed to a similar concept to Meet My Friend, with recommendations from both sexes and mainly friends. I couldn't find anyone on there recommended by an ex. I rest my case. ]]> tag:blogs.sunherald.com.au,2008:/amycooper//6.504 2008-02-10T08:01:59Z 2008-02-10T09:18:27Z

As I watched the erotic and gripping but ultimately depressing movie Lust, Caution last night, I was reminded again why I believe Valentine's Day should be replaced with International Heartbreak Day....

Amy Cooper As I watched the erotic and gripping but ultimately depressing movie Lust, Caution last night, I was reminded again why I believe Valentine's Day should be replaced with International Heartbreak Day. Without spoiling the movie's plot (although I will warn you that during the latter half its stars tie themselves naked into knots beyond the scope of even the most complicated naval nautical manual), what happens between the lovers is a grander scale version of what lovers do to each other everywhere, every day and always have. Hurt, betrayal, let-down. And although it's safe to say none of us had experienced the above in quite as extreme a manner as the movie's characters, we all felt the pain. Relished it, even. "Do you think we should have gone to see 27 Dresses instead?" said my friend as we wiped the tears away and drank therapeutic wine. No, we agreed. Romantic comedy is irritating but grand, mad, bad love - especially when adorned by the bare bottom of Tony Leung - is a far better way to spend $15. Love-related misery makes friends of us all. I remember a while ago a heartbroken neighbour used to play Nothing Compares 2 U by Sinead O' Connor so regularly and loudly I eventually had no choice but to try to drown it out with my favourite Hawaiian Slack Key Guitar Music Greats CD. Bad idea. Within minutes everyone was yelling at me, while no-one had complained about our resident prince/princess of pain. I'd thought they'd much rather listen to Lovely Hula Hands than the soundtrack to someone's private hell. But of course, this wasn't true. The world loves a wounded lover, and - as long as they display a little more variety in their musical choices - so do I. The cries of the heartbroken rarely fail to move even tough nuts, because it's a pain we all know and even if we're lucky enough not to, we understand. If Princess Diana hadn't been a habitual love casualty, I suspect she wouldn't have held quite the same sacred place in the global consciousness. Her agony was ours. She behaved, in heartbreak, as we all can; the brave face hiding hideous meltdowns only publicly hinted at but recognized by anyone who's loved and lost. Obsessive phone calls, tears, tantrums, compulsive shopping, 'look at what you're missing' dressing. I suspect the palace walls often resounded with the strains of Di's own heartbreak soundtrack, probably provided by Elton John. Imagine if we had an annual worldwide celebration of heartbreak rather than Valentine's Day which, let's face it, is an ordeal for many, a chore for some and a mixed experience for anyone with a less than fulsome love life. International Heartbreak Day celebrations could include radio stations devoted to heartbreak requests, back-to-back tearjearkers on TV, special comfort chocolate gifts to buy for yourself or your heartbroken friends and an amnesty on drunken phone calls, recriminations and emails. You could take out newspaper ads to your exes with creative insults instead of fluffy nicknames. Imagine how cathartic it would be. And how unifying. The whole world could bond over heartbreaks old and new - our pain reminding us all that we're human. A much better shared experience than Valentine's Day, which splits everyone so neatly into losers and winners in happiness. It wouldn't be anti-love. Just the opposite, in fact. It would honour how crucial love is, how central to our lives. After all, you suffer most for things you believe in, and without remembering the hurts it's hard to appreciate the successes. I'd be willing to organize the Australian celebrations, with just one proviso: no Sinead O' Connor.