My brother’s keeper or my brother’s problem?

Going for a surf at the city beach of Maroubra in Sydney isn’t always fun. There is always the threat of being bullied by the group of resident surfers. It’s happened to me just for catching a wave they wanted, or for parking my car in a spot they have “reserved”.

In surfing culture this process of dominating a territory and imposing its cultural laws on others is entrenched, and is known as “localism”.

The “Bra Boys” dominate Maroubra Beach. Some of them travel the world chasing giant swells. Most have tattoos marking their “brotherhood”: that’s what they like to call themselves.

These surfers have recently made a “documentary” about themselves called The Bra Boys. I went to the premiere at the New South Wales State Theatre.

When I arrived I was confronted by a lot of security guards, two bag checks, and a metal detector. It made me feel as though I was “dangerous” or in the presence of a “dangerous gang”. Surf star of the film Koby Abberton stood in the foyer. He wore a tuxedo. His shirt was open to make sure everyone saw the tattoo around his neck: “My Brothers Keeper”.

The film uncritically documents the history of Maroubra Beach and the Bra Boys. Some grew up in the housing commission estates that border the south end of Maroubra Beach. The film sets up a ghetto imaginary of Maroubra. There are lots of shots of Long Bay Jail, police helicopters, street brawls, and graffiti. There are no shots of the last decade’s gentrification of Maroubra - the cafes, boardwalk, multi-million dollar houses and apartments, sporting facilities, and the like.

Overall, Maroubra Beach is painted as a home away from home. As producer Sunny Abberton says: “Maroubra Beach has been Mum and Dad to so many kids” And the “brotherhood” a family many of the members never had.

The film sets up a classic working-class narrative of a hard luck story where young men from the wrong side of the tracks struggle against the odds to make it good, and show pride in their beach by defending it from “outsiders”.

A surfing magazine editor claims this is just “good old localism”. He even says that “without localism all order at surfing beaches would fall apart”. But he’s wrong. Surfers regularly share waves with no more than skill, a hoot and smile. It’s not that pride in your beach is wrong, it’s how it is expressed that is important.

In the film the Bra Boys portray violent localism in a heroic way.

Extensive footage is shown of a brawl between the Bra Boys and off-duty police officers in December 2002 and a fight between some Bra Boys and some Lebanese-Australian thugs the day after the Cronulla Riots is covered. The Bra Boys claim to have “saved” Maroubra.

The violent culture some Bra Boys grow up in is also evident in the court case of Jai Abberton. Jai was acquitted from charges related to murdering Anthony Hines, he shot him three times in the back of the head. Hines was another Bra Boy known to be a drug dealer, rapist and stand-over man. Professional surfer Koby Abberton, Jai’s brother, went on trial for accessory to murder.

The Bra Boys film sucks you into quite an ugly world of surfing, localism, violence, mateship and masculinity. This “brotherhood” fight together, surf together, and support each other. And the audience is taken into this world through the surfing footage, fights, and court cases. But to accept this position belies the fact that those in the cinema will never belong to the Bra Boys, no matter how well the film allows them to “join in”. The bonding process the film shows actually works to put everyone else “outside belonging” unless the Bra Boys say you’re OK.

When a newcomer wants to join in it has to be on their terms. If he steps out-of-line he’s mocked, abused or even beaten up. The cruelty acts as a test. The filmmakers interview a young Bra Boys’ mum, who approves of this behaviour because they “look after” her son. But it’s a process of bastardisation.

This bastardisation means that young members regularly get into strife with others because they have a learned habit of resorting to, and justifying, violence as a way to put things “right” when they feel that they aren’t.

They learn that they are expected to stick up for each other to chase off outsiders - people their mates claim need to be taught a lesson. And everyone but their group are “outsiders”. The young blokes learn to hate who their mates hate, and when they have bonded they sometimes act first and think later.

The violence and “us v the rest of the world” mindset stems from the bastardisation, bonding, and particular version of mateship the Bra Boys believe in. They have developed a form of care that doesn’t exclude violence. It’s a misguided form of care perhaps, but care nonetheless.

There are better ways to do mateship. It can actually mean looking after your brother so they don’t get into stupid fights in the first place, it’s not about joining in regardless of whether your brother is in the right or not.

What the film reveals in the Bra Boys is an uncritical acceptance of violence and localism. They then go on to espouse and romanticise them in the film. But it is these things that cause problems for their “brothers” in the first place.

The attitudes in the film continues to disguise, perpetuate and reproduce an “us and them” mentality that limits opportunities for younger member of the group.

At the end of the film the Bra Boys say that “everyone is welcome at the beach, as long as they respect our history and culture”. But that’s not really true. The respect is one way because the Bra Boys way is considered the authentic or authoritative way to do things.

Other ways of doing things can be done, but they are only tolerated rather than on equal footing.

No effort is made by the Bra Boys to understand how others might see and feel things differently at Maroubra, or to understand those with different needs. The filmmakers ignore the innumerable assaults and intimidation of other surfers, or the Bra Boys’ attack last year on members of a University Christian Youth Group while they were having an end of year BBQ in the park.

Under the guidance of the advertising gurus, John and Jack Singleton, the film cashes in on the anti-hero ethos of surfing, albeit upping the ante and bringing it into the 21st century - “more shocking, tougher, meaner and badder”. The Bra Boys’ tattoos become a brand, much like the Bondi Blonde logo that was plastered all over the State Theatre. The beer company sponsored the night.

Quite simply The Bra Boys sells a story that people who don’t surf want to hear. Most surfers have moved beyond the “counter-culture” ethos that is packaged and sold to them, like in the advertisements for the Bra Boys' new line of clothing. We’re just blokes who go to work like everyone else but love a surf as well.

At the end of the film a raffle was held to raise money for a bus to bring disadvantaged kids from inland to the beach. The very same young men the Bra Boys have intimidated over the years when they arrive on their own. The Bra Boys are pretty far from role models while they continue to promote violence, thuggish behaviour, localism, and disrespect.

If you think that all surfing “brotherhoods” are like the Bra Boys, you’re wrong. There are surfing “brotherhoods” who use their solidarity to fight dodgy developments and help people in third world countries. Now they’re surfers worth getting stoked about. Go check out Surf Aid International and the Surfrider Foundation.