Why I Love Australia Because it’s Very Good but Not Great

Several reasons “very good-ness” far outweighs “great-ness.”

Photo by Dan Freeman on Unsplash

Sometimes I just sit at home and ponder the advantages of living in a very good, but not great, country.

Anytime I fly home from the world I feel overwhelmed with gratitude to be back in Australia. Sometimes I shed a tear when the above vista appears in my tiny plane window.

To clarify, the window is tiny, not the plane. It’s usually a very big plane, full of happily returning Aussies.

Australia is certainly not great, in the MAGA sense of blind commitment to some outdated and offensive utopian ideal, but it is bloody good.

Here are a few random reasons I feel happy, and kind of special, to be living “down-under”.

BTW, I can call it that because I’m an Aussie. With a certificate to prove it. Please don’t if you’re not or you haven’t. It sounds silly.

But first, a geography lesson

We are a continent and a country. Yup. We don’t share this big island with anyone. Not even the people who rightly own it, which is an excellent example of ‘not-great’.

We are surrounded by huge bodies of water. New Zealand and Papua New Guinea are our nearest neighbours. They’re an easy-going bunch, so we chat over the back fence, share a beer, get along fine and keep the fence in good order.

We have a lot, like A LOT, of Pacific island nations in our vicinity. This gives us somewhere else to build sandcastles, drink alcohol, and risk skin cancer.

Not that we don’t have amazingly beautiful beaches and a ringside seat to the hole in the ozone layer. But if there’s one pleasure Aussies have, it’s being able to leave and go annoy people in distant lands.

During Covid, the initially smug idea of being totally isolated was a blessing. We raised the drawbridge and locked the shutters. Safe but trapped. That pissed some people off and thrilled the rest.

By the by, we use “pissed” in two ways. You can be pissed (drunk) or pissed (angry). Being both is a bad combination. We encourage pissed and happy. Angry-pissed, not so much.

In a throwback to the British Empire or some other stiff-upper-lipped despotic regime, most Aussies are obedient citizens. During Covid we behaved, drank copiously, and hardly complained.

You can count on one hand the people who didn’t get fully vaccinated. No seriously, it was like five people.

The United States of Australia

We have six very beautiful and distinctive states, plus two fabulous, and several randomly interesting, Territories. Although few here could actually name them or find them on a map. Much like Hawaii or Alaska.

Our capital, Canberra, lies within my state (New South Wales) but in a Territory named, unsurprisingly, the Australian Capital Territory.

Canberra is a nice place for old people taking a Sunday drive, or a perfect location for an apocalypse movie. It is spotless and stately but has all the appeal of a pair of sensible shoes. And by sundown, the streets are deserted.

We have two cities most people overseas have heard of: Sydney and Melbourne. Melbourne is pronounced “Melb’n” not “Melborn.” That’s just annoying, please get it right.

Likewise, Brisbane is “Brizb’n”. Or “Brizzi”, but that’s also annoying. Don’t do it unless you’re a local. Brisbane is in the sunshine state, Queensland. The people of Queensland are the friendliest I’ve ever met, except for an obnoxious server at an Applebees in upstate NY.

Sydney is Sydney. No one talks about the other major cities so call them what you wish.

Lucky, lucky, lucky

I assume most Aussies, except for a few irrelevant nutbags, feel the same way toward this beautiful “lucky country*” as I do.

*The Lucky Country is a 1964 book by Donald Horne. The title has become a nickname for Australia and is generally used favourably, although the origin of the phrase was negative in the context of the book. Among other things, it has been used in reference to Australia’s natural resources, weather, history, its early dependency on the British system, distance from problems elsewhere in the world, and other sorts of supposed prosperity. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Lucky_Country

I’m not sure what was ‘lucky’ about “dependency on the British system”. A couple of my ancestors got a free boat trip from Essex, England, to Botany Bay in 1836. It was a one-way ticket and leg irons weren’t optional.

When my family migrated here in 1967, without leg irons, it felt very British, but by the late 70s that all changed. It began to feel like we were the United States’ kid brother. Always trying to emulate and outdo, but never possessing the same size balls.

The scenery and wildlife

Every state (and Territory) can boast about its beautiful and unique natural wonders, and like all other thriving countries, takes great pleasure in polluting them with carbon emissions and thigh-high litter. Again, “not-great”.

My state, New South Wales, boasts The Blue Mountains, southwest of Sydney. It’s a dissected plateau, not a mountain range, and a smallish one at that. And not really blue, more a murky greyish colour. If you squint into the sun, from a distance, you can make it seem blueish, but I wouldn’t advise it.

We like to go to ‘the mountains’ once a decade. When we’re not in Canberra.

Australian wildlife was decimated during our horror bushfire season at the end of 2021. If there is an alternative fun bushfire season, I don’t know about it.

Photo by Michael Held on Unsplash

The suffering of koalas, birds and every other species made us realise how much we care about them despite being usually disinterested. Prior to that, we left it up to Japanese tourists to get peed on by and make a fuss about our koalas. Also “not-great”.

Which brings me to…

Who are Aussies?

We’re just kidding, most of the time. We like to “take the piss” (ie mock) out of several categories of people.

If you are an entitled twerp, we’ll mock you.

If you pretend to be something you’re not, we’ll mock you.

If you’re unbelievably rich, we’ll either ignore or hate you. We’ll scold you for your wealth and toss you aside. This occurring even though we are a hedonistic and determinedly capitalist nation.

Generally, an Aussie will tell you straight to your face if they don’t like you. We like self-deprecation and humility. My New York ex-pat hubby and stand-up comic supreme mocks himself without mercy to get ahead of the game.

On the other hand, we’re suckers for a genuine hard-luck or tragic story. Generous with time, cash and often passwords.

We used to use the term ‘Aussie Battler’, meaning a working-class person, struggling against the odds and trying heroically to survive. No, not like Rupert Murdoch.

It’s a cringey term now and rarely used, except by television journos about scam victims. If I ever give my life savings to a Nigerian Prince with a safe-deposit box full of gold, call me a f*wit or an ahat. Anything but an Aussie Battler.

Opportunity (White privilege) for all

The propaganda that got me here in the first place was spun to my parents by the “Department of (White Only) Immigration”. Not that we ourselves were in any way racist and even more ‘not’ now.

It was government policy and we had nothing to do with it. Trust me. I had never met a POC in London in the 50s or early 60s, but I knew I’d be nice to them if I did.

Luckily that era of unbounded racism ended. So now we are free to pretend everyone is welcome in Australia, except for the original owners. It’s a bit like taking over the house and kicking the landlord in the nuts. Definitely no “greatness” there.

The National Sense of Humour

Over the last thirty years, our distinct, quirky and often fringe, non-PC Aussie humour has become publicly acknowledged.

It made a slow pivot somewhere between the imported, very British Benny Hill Show and Crocodile Dundee.

Our chuckles came from dodgy ‘larrikins’, irreverent young guys and girls ‘taking the piss’ out of everything culturally Australian.

They were brash but self-deprecating. Some thought they were culturally ‘cringeworthy’, but it was just our immaturity as an intellectually confident nation.

“You grow up the day you have your first real laugh at yourself.” Ethel Barrymore, American Actor, 1879- 1959

A reasonable parliamentary democracy

Before 2016, I used to be embarrassed that our parliament was populated by politicians with the decorum of the housewives of Orange County.

Thank you, Mr. Trump, for making me feel so much better about that.

The US has a complex puzzle box of checks and balances built in to its democratic process, which few but the really clever dicks understand.

When the outrage gets too much for Aussies, the party in power pulls a coup, buries the victim in the back benches of Parliament, and keeps going. I think there was a recent period when we had ninety-nine Prime Ministers in three weeks. Or something like that.

Last election, fatigued by the fear of an evolving Trump wannabe, we replaced our conservative, religious right Prime Minister with an innocuous potato of a man with lefty leanings. And so far so good.

Photo by Franco Antonio Giovanella on Unsplash

We Are a Work In Progress

We’ve acknowledged and apologised for our past shameful treatment of Indigenous Australian peoples. We honoured a moral obligation to say “Sorry” in May, 1998, and drove the rednecks underground for a while.

Still, the First Nations peoples, the traditional owners of this vast continent, continue to lack representation and autonomy in most aspects of policy- and decision-making.

The fact we can acknowledge this means we’re working on ourselves. Not fixed yet, but working on it. Unfortunately, no one really works quickly here. If you do, your colleagues will say,

“Hey mate, you’re working too quickly. Don’t make us look bad.”

We Put Socialism in our Social Welfare System

I’m retired but I paid taxes all my life. Except when I was a baby, because it’s hard getting a job when you randomly pee in your pants. Like retirees forced back into the workforce.

I don’t have to worry about that because I also paid into a superannuation (retirement) scheme. The government rewarded me by co-paying into my retirement fund.

I feel the government likes me because they covered lots of huge bills during my very recent back surgery. I also choose to buy private health cover, which makes me feel even more special. Ripped off but special. I have no clue how it all works but I know my surgery could’ve cost me $15000, and it actually cost me $1400.

I was in a clean, comfy private hospital with happy nurses. Except for one who walked in and out with a face like a slapped arse. I could’ve gotten the same treatment in a world-class public hospital but I like to feel special by “going private” as we say.

The real difference between public and private is the cuisine. Boiled tofu versus a delightfully truffle-seasoned mushroom risotto. What can I say, I’m vegetarian but actually enjoy my food.

The “great” vs “bloody good” debate

In my opinion, Australia doesn’t need to pursue ‘greatness’. I’m convinced the US’s constant concern about national ‘greatness’ spawned Trumpism and ultimately the January 6th coup attempt.

Every fallen democracy or republic aspired to be great when bloody good would’ve sufficed. Rome imploded and no one talks about ‘Great Britain’ anymore.

Great breeds arrogance and a sense of national superiority that requires the subjugation of its minorities, working class, and lesser nations that get in its way, to maintain.

Great is fine for actors, art and rock bands, but crap for countries. Sometimes we’re arrogant about being Australian, but deep down we are scared of the big boys in the playground. When China, America, North Korea, and Russia stop playing nicely together, they scare the crap out of us.

In my opinion, that’s a good thing. It breeds not only vigilance and respect, but a need for cooperation and diplomacy, and maybe some serious ass-kissing. Until we are invaded or nuked, we’ll keep offering a beer and a steak on the barbie.

I love this country even though I can’t boast about its greatness. Ask any Aussie if that is a worthy aspiration. They will probably dismiss you with a “Yeah, nah,” buy you a beer, and remind you that sometimes “bloody good” is good enough.