Reading, in my opinion, is one of life’s greatest pleasures. Because I am almost insatiably curious, I read a lot, whether it is text on a computer screen, newspapers, magazines or books. This does not mean, however, that everything I read is fun or enjoyable. If we are to learn, we must be willing to delve into issues that may be stressful, sad, shocking and so on. An example is the 72nd book I have read since arriving in Korea in late 2007: The Fatal Shore / The Epic of Australia’s Founding by Robert Hughes.
Coming in at 600 pages, plus another 50 of back matter, this is not exactly a piece of fluff. I have never been to the Land Down Under, although I find it a fascinating place for a number of reasons. Thanks to the superb work of Hughes, I now have a much better grasp of that country’s history, starting with its genesis in 1788. And let us not forget that aboriginal people such as the Eora, the Badjalang, the Inawongga, the Karangpurru, the Menthajangal and others had been living on the island-continent of Australia (certainly not what they called it) for 40,000 years before the first contact with Europeans. I winced when reading of their loss and near-extinction.
Australian history is said to have a melancholy air to it, and I assumed that meant what had happened to the natives. It surely does, but there is more. Australia's birth took place on January 20, 1788 when the first of many ships bearing British convicts landed at Botany Bay. His Majesty’s Government had long been in the habit of sending the dregs of English, Irish, Scottish and Welsh society to the American colonies. But when the Yanks rebelled—and this was one of their many reasons for doing so—an alternative had to be found. Over a period of 80 years, about 165,000 men, women and even children were “transported” 13,000 miles to the Antipodes. The forms of punishment awaiting them ranged from mild to severe to downright sadistic.
Life was tough in Sydney (the capital until 1908), but worse in Paramatta, Port Macquarie and Moreton Bay, and Port Arthur in Van Diemen’s Land (later renamed Tasmania). A particularly vicious penal settlement was established at Kingston on Norfolk Island. During that dark time, administrators and overseers ruthlessly whipped the people under their command. Order and discipline had to be maintained, and the floggers stayed busy. A man who completed his sentence still had the "stain” of convictry which clung to his family for several generations. According to Hughes, Australians made a collective effort to forget their painful past. During the Australian centennial in 1888, nary a word was spoken about how and why the country had come into existence. There had been too much shame, too much suffering, too much degradation. The Aussies compared themselves unfavorably with their American cousins. Needless to say, the USA could hardly make a legitimate claim of virtue, not with its history of African slavery.
Slowly and haltingly, a civilization was scratched out of the parched earth of Australia, aided by large-scale sheep herding and the discovery of gold in 1851. The people took their place in the roster of nations, although I am somewhat perplexed as to why they never declared their independence from Britain; Australia remains part of the Commonwealth, as does Canada.
In this book, I read about good guys (such as Alexander Maconochie), bad guys (Joseph Foveaux), progressives (William Charles Wentworth), stiff-necked government defenders (John Eardley-Wilmot), bushrangers (William "Jacky-Jacky" Westwood), scoundrels (Isaac Solomon), cannibals (Alexander Pearce), angelic women (Lady Jane Franklin) and the last full-blooded native of Tasmania (Trucannini). One man (William Buckley) escaped, headed to the outback and lived with the natives for 32 years before returning to be among his own. Because meticulous records were kept, we know that some recalcitrant convicts got more than 2,000 lashes. Just like at Tyburn back in England, a ghastly number of people "danced the hempen jig"; that is, they were hanged.
Hughes, whose book was published in 1986, avers that Australia is still haunted by its convict past, but I am not so sure. Contemporary Australia has been diluted by waves of free immigration over the past 160 years, and those people—including Greeks, Germans, Lebanese, Vietnamese, Italians and Somalis—would find any such heritage quaint but irrelevant. Nevertheless, some modern-day Aussies do genealogical research in hope of finding that one of their ancestors came over in the convict ships, wore the chains and suffered the cat o’ nine tails. To them, I suppose, it is proof of their families’ having endured and overcome truly miserable conditions.
The convicts did well, getting the wheels moving for what would become a modern, highly developed country. Australia has the world's 13th largest economy and is ranked near the top in every index in terms of quality of life, health, education, economic opportunity and human rights. Aussies today are justifiably proud of their homeland.
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