Faith in Australia

Christopher Dawson, the historian and cultural critic, warned that "a society which has lost its faith becomes sooner or later a society which has lost its culture." His words, spoken nearly a century ago, echo with an eerie resonance in our present moment. As Australians, we find ourselves standing at a cultural crossroads, where the values that have long underpinned our nation are not merely being questioned but, in many quarters, outright rejected. Yet, amid the disquiet and uncertainty, there remains a glimmer of hope-a hope that lies not in a blind clinging to the past, but in a thoughtful reaffirmation of our faith in Australia and the values that have shaped our shared history.

Australia's story is one of resilience and diversity, a tale of a people who, despite facing unimaginable hardships, built a nation that has become the envy of many. The foundation of our country was laid by a disparate array of people: convicts and soldiers, settlers and farmers, labourers and tradespeople, teachers and publicans, whalers, and Indigenous Australians. These pioneers have allowed generations of Australians to prosper in freedom-freedom to speak, worship, and be oneself without fear. The welcoming country they created has attracted millions of migrants. As a result, a symphony of languages fills the air in our cities, and a medley of tastes and traditions enriches our streets. A remarkable 30 per cent of Australia's population was born in another country. This figure is twice the percentage of Americans or Britons born abroad.

Dorothea Mackellar poetically immortalised Australia as a "sunburnt country." It is a perfect image. Australia's sunny shores have attracted migrants from 190 countries. They represent a kaleidoscope of cultures, religions, and ethnicities united in seeking a better life. Their optimism is evident in the continued growth of migrant families, contrasting sharply with demographic stagnation in the rest of the population.

Australia has much to be proud of, yet a dissonant note has infiltrated the national conversation. Increasingly, voices-be they politicians, intellectuals, or media personalities-portray Australia as a nation mired in xenophobia, sexism, and racism. This narrative clashes with the reality of a country that millions from around the world continue to choose as their home. It presents a paradox: while Australia remains a beacon for those seeking a better life, we are increasingly encouraged to view our past and present with shame.

Australia Day, once a symbol of national pride, has become a focal point for controversy. We are told that the convicts who landed on our shores, in chains, in 1788 (and would rather have been anywhere else) constituted an "invasion," turning what was once a celebratory occasion into a day of disgrace. In recent years, this rewriting of history has led to the cancellation of citizenship ceremonies, the refusal of public figures to acknowledge the day, and even the removal of Australian flags from supermarket shelves. It seems that patriotism, once a virtue, is now seen as something to be shunned.

Of course, Australia, like any nation, faces numerous challenges, and yes, we sometimes falter. Acknowledging and understanding our history-the good and the bad-helps us to learn, grow, and strive for a more just and equitable society. However, there is a fine line between honest reflection and self-loathing, and when we cross that line, we risk falling into a state of despair and nihilism.

To understand how we have arrived at this point of cultural crisis, we must examine the institutions that shape our collective consciousness-especially our universities.

Launching the University of Sydney in 1850, the poet turned politician William Charles Wentworth claimed Australia's first university would seek "to enlighten the mind, refine the understanding, and elevate the soul." In his 1852 book, The Idea of a University, John Henry Newman offered a similar rationale for establishing a Catholic university in Dublin. Both Wentworth and Newman defined education in moral terms. Following Plato, they believed that education makes good people and good people act nobly. Unfortunately, educational institutions have not always lived up to their lofty aims.

In his Confessions, Saint Augustine describes his arrival at the ancient equivalent of a university as follows: "To Carthage, then I came, where a cauldron of unholy loves sang about my ears." One can only imagine what he would say if he entered university today. You can learn practically anything at an Australian university-how to keep business accounts, calculate planetary movements, or speak Japanese. At Swinburne University, students learn to do handstands as part of the Circus Arts degree. But elevating the soul is no longer part of the curriculum-nor is our shared cultural inheritance.

Consider Shakespeare, for example. In 2024, students studying in Chinese universities are more likely to encounter Shakespeare than their Australian counterparts. Academics dismiss the Bard of Avon as a white male relic of a patriarchal era. Shakespeare has been replaced by the American pop singer Taylor Swift. According to Australian academics pursuing Swiftian studies, Ms Swift's work has "impacted contemporary life … across the intersection of music, economics, business, media studies, health." One scholar claimed Ms. Swift's lyrics contain a "fascinating array of modern sonnet sequences." Who needs Shakespeare's sonnets when we have Taylor Swift's?

Universities, which owe their existence to the ideals that define Western Civilisation, no longer believe in the values that led to their creation. A few years ago, in response to a generous philanthropic offer to support the teaching of Western Civilisation, one hundred academics from the University of Sydney published an "open" letter opposing the teaching of any aspect of Western Civilisation. Instead of preserving the culture, the university announced that its mission is helping students to "Unlearn Truth." "The way the world works has changed," they say. "Things you thought you knew … are no longer true. [You must] … unlearn old wisdoms and discover new ones." ("Wisdoms," indeed. It seems that even grammar must be unlearned.)

Of course, adapting to new knowledge and perspectives is crucial, but how do we progress as a society if we discard the very concept of truth? In his book, The Undoing of Thought, the French philosopher Alain Finkielkraut writes: "When hatred of culture becomes itself a part of culture, the life of the mind loses all meaning." I am sad to say that higher education provides numerous examples. Visit any university, and you will encounter an infinite number of sexual genders and a raft of linguistic absurdities, such as replacing breastfeeding with "chest-feeding" and substituting "birthing-person" for what was once known as mother. Writing a satirical novel about campus life has become impossible because reality surpasses any invented exaggeration.