The suburb I grew up in was nice, peaceful, and largely homogeneous. Largely, in that there was still a sizeable contingent of non-Australians, but it was manageable. Almost all the other kids on my street were Australian. We would meet up to play, and my parents would likewise spend time with theirs. It was a good life.
Unfortunately, the 2010s and 2020s would see most of the area almost wholly corrupted and turned into Little India. Two of my favourite fish and chip joints would become Indian and Sri Lankan takeouts. The old video rental store my brother and I frequented became one of three-plus spice marts on the main strip. Even a pizza franchise there would eventually have Indians enter management, who would exclusively hire their own kin and shoulder out my cousin from his first job.
Outside of a three-year stint in the Sutherland Shire, I have lived here my whole life. I now live only a two-minute drive from the street I grew up on, where I knew my neighbours. When my family moved back here in 2016, we never got to know most of the foreign arrivals, and I myself know exactly none of them. I have more meaningful relationships with people in Mudgee – over three hours’ drive away – than on my own street.
Yet I share with those distant friends a racial tie to this country, a common culture, and a united faith. Before even knowing those people personally, there was something deeper grounded our fellowship. But what do I share with a Sikh from Punjab, or a Hindu from Mumbai? There is no common ancestry, culture, or faith, absolutely nothing except that we are both human and give each other a brief nod and “good arvo” whenever we cross paths.
It was this new reality that eventually caused me to contact my local MP. I gave him this same story in an email, and concluded with an offer to meet for coffee to share my grievances in greater detail. To my surprise, and although it took him a little to respond, he agreed to meet, and we had coffee at a local café.
I recorded a detailed account of our discussion when I arrived home, within the hour of it having occurred, which I have summarised here:
I restated my story as given here and in the initial email, and added to it my core problems with the direction of the country. Namely that whatever the alleged benefits of mass immigration (and I deny most such claims) to the economy, culture, and so on, the key question left out is this: for who? For whom is this prosperity? For whom is the culture? The very purpose of a government is the maintenance of the well-being of the people from whom it emerges. As such, the Australian people is whom the Australian government serves. I also made it clear that the Australian people was always an ethnic construct, not mere values or culture, but a people tied by blood to the British colonists. I even outright stated to this federal MP my support for the White Australia Policy.
At least externally, he appeared receptive and challenged by my comments, even remarking that I had clearly thought and read a lot on these matters (if I may toot my own horn). That said, many of his responses appeared to be an expression of general sympathy coupled with some tangential points, such as that most people forget what made this country great and rich in the first place.
I eventually asked him a more direct question. I told him that if I were alive 70 or so years ago, I would without question have voted for Labor (his party), due to its pro-worker, pro-Australian posture. But as it stands, Labor claims to be the party of the worker, and yet supports numerous policies that unquestionably suppress the worker and cripple our birth rates, and I cited the examples of mass immigration, abortion, and the sexual revolution. I then asked how Labor could claim to be pro-worker and yet support these policies?
A good five or more seconds of silence followed, his eyes raised upwards in thought.
Then he said “I’m thinking…”, and another five or more seconds of silence passed.
He finally answered by pivoting to his own story on why he joined the Labor Party, followed by a reasonable rant about Liberal energy policy. True as his claims were, he did not have an answer to the actual question.
I restated the question again after this, and this time he cited his desire to ensure we have close security partnerships with our Asian neighbours. When we finally shook hands and said our goodbyes, I gifted him a copy of Anglophobia: The Unrecognised Hatred by Frank Salter and Harry Richardson of the British Australian Community. I left with the strong impression that, at a minimum, he was compelled to think about these questions at a level he was not accustomed to. For all I know, he could be reading Anglophobia as I write this article.
I greatly appreciated his cordiality and receptiveness, and even just his willingness to meet. That was the greatest surprise of the whole occasion. Most of us (rightly) have a view of our politicians as a detached merchant class that trades in antiwhite, anti-Christian malice. But in my case, that was not so. I met with a Member of Parliament, a flesh and blood human, in a one-on-one setting. No cameras or mics, no scripts or teleprompters. I therefore have hope that I at least put a stone in his shoe (the exact words I said to him as we departed).
And so I want to make this the central thrust of my article: all capable men should take the effort to reach out and talk to their representatives, to impress upon them the full gravity of our grievances. Whether it is a federal member, a state member, or a local councilman, and despite their presuppositions and donor interests, they are still fundamentally human, and humans can be persuaded.
I would also suggest you avoid getting caught up in the surface-level particulars of the issue: what percentage of house price increases is caused by immigration, or the truthfulness of this and that racial stereotype. These issues are relevant and they may appear in the natural course of conversation, but your priority is to probe the deeper presuppositions. Why do we care about the economy? For whom is it intended? What is Australia? Questions that explore the axioms of good governance and societal ethics. I would bet my (meagre) savings that 99% of politicians have not had the time or the will to consider these questions, not to any meaningful depth, and certainly not outside of the liberal, post-Second World War frame.
Is persuasion guaranteed? Of course not. In fact, given the state of affairs, the odds are against you, but they are never zero. Who is to say that your words won’t cause a lightbulb to go off in a politician’s head? That he won’t read the book you gifted him? That he won’t start discussing these matters with colleagues?
Or, nothing comes of it. His prejudices take over and immediately override everything you say as soon as he begins his journey home. Maybe he takes a glance at your book only to throw it in the bin as soon as you are out of sight. I do not know for certain whether my representative has thought at all about what I said since meeting, or that he kept that copy of Anglophobia.
What then? Well, nothing. You met, had a chat, then continued on with your day. You had nothing to lose and everything to gain. At the very least, you had a pleasant chat over a cup of coffee.
Header image: A Sikh parade in western Sydney (Instagram).
