Creating our own history

In Boston recently, I overheard the following exchange between an Australian tourist and an American tour guide.

"There's nothing in Australia," said the Australian. The American begged to differ. No, the Australian insisted, "There's nothing to see. No history." The American remarked on how many Australians he saw travelling. "You guys are everywhere."

It was an exchange that had taken place countless times before and which will no doubt occur again. It was significant because it illustrated some key differences between two outwardly similar countries: Australian self-deprecation versus American pride and America's inward focus versus Australia's focus on the outside world.

Australians are eager to gobble up the world around them. Per capita, we travel more than anyone else in the world. A year overseas after high school or university is near ubiquitous among those who can afford it - and those who can't afford it, save until they can. It seems extravagant at first glance, but $5,000 for a trip overseas is an infinitely more affordable financial goal than $100,000 for a deposit on a house.

In contrast, 80 per cent of US citizens don't own a passport and, broadly speaking, their knowledge of the world outside their borders reflects this.

When US singer Chris Brown visited Melbourne in May, he was dismayed to discover that it was cold. More disturbing than his ignorance was the fact that so many Americans who discussed the incident online seemed to think there was nothing ignorant about it. Why would anyone expect them to know the meteorological intricacies of far-flung continents like Australia?

Indeed, why would anyone expect them to know that the Northern and Southern Hemispheres are in opposite seasons at any given point in time?

While Australians are excited about the outside world, the United States is excited about, well, the United States.

At the Independence Day parade in Washington DC earlier this month, high school marching bands from across the country and immigrants from around the globe marched down Constitution Avenue to declare their love of all things American.

Onlookers dressed in the stars and stripes, children munched on red, white and blue popsicles, and families drank from “Take Pride in America” cups.

In Australia the only people who wear the flag are British backpackers who've mistaken it for the Union Jack.

Australian discomfort with patriotism is understandable - it's closely related to its ugly cousins, nationalism, racism and excessive self-love. If there's one thing Australians have traditionally riled against, it's a self-loving tall poppy. But patriotism is not without perks.

Travelling through the US, one of the most striking things has been Americans' passion for their country - its history, its stories and the genuinely democratic ideals it was founded upon.

Patriotism rolls naturally off the American tongue - and across the political spectrum, too. Love of America may have become synonymous with love of the Republican Party - and not unintentionally either - but Caroline Kennedy's A Patriot's Handbook sits alongside George Bush magnets in museum bookshops.

The problem is when the display becomes purely symbolic.

Americans of all walks of life may have marched in Washington on July 4, but exactly which United States and which values they were marching in support of wasn't clear. Their voices were drowned out by the trumpets and drums.

Code Pink, a grassroots women’s peace group, marched the same day calling for US troops to be brought home from Iraq. More than the giant Yankee Doodle balloons and high school baton twirlers, their demonstration was a living expression of independence, free speech and democracy.

Ironically but unsurprisingly, they were not permitted to join the parade and instead marched through the crowd alongside it.

What's inspiring about US patriotism isn't the blind love of country, but the commitment to shared values and dreams: a commitment which sometimes involves challenging your country to live up to those values and dreams.

So what might a productive Australian patriotism look like, beyond the occasional vulgar reference to the ill-defined "unAustralian"?

Part of it comes down to telling our own stories more often, through literature, film and whatever medium is available to us. The Australian woman in Boston was right about one thing - there is a sense that we have no history.

Changing that means telling and consuming our own stories. It means creators digging up what is interesting about Australia and the rest of us not automatically dismissing anything home grown. It also means creating the history of tomorrow; creating our own visions and narratives for Australian culture, not through drawn-out discussions that ultimately lead nowhere, but through our lived existence.

Queuing for 15 minutes to see the first Australian flag isn't our style - and let's hope it never is - but good patriotism is about more than just symbols. It's about believing that the stories and experiences of people in this country are worth being told.