Granite Country

South of my days' circle, part of my blood's country, rises that tableland, high delicate outline of bony slopes wincing under the winter, low trees, blue-leaved and olive, outcropping granite- clean, lean, hungry country.

We’ve just returned from a spell in Judith Wright’s granite country.

Despite the fact that it’s nominally spring, there were frosts in the morning, and a fire was necessary at night.

It’s hard, flinty country, where they grow rocks with spectacular success. There are lots of boulder farms. Boulder farms are like prickle farms in the sense that a successful product is assured despite the season.

Lately, the season hasn’t been too good. Fires are a problem, and this country burns pretty well with the wind behind it.

Apart from the boutique wineries, and the national park, Stanthorpe is well worth a visit. It’s a community untypical of Queensland country towns – partly, I’m sure as a consequence of a thriving Italian influence. Whilst most of these families are third or fourth generation Australians, they maintain the entrepreneurial spirit of their immigrant parents, and there is a style and flair not apparent in other places.

I like the plonk up here, and my bride enjoys the countryside. We were able to tour the wineries with the roof down, and that provided a feast for the senses. It was just cool enough to be bracing, and the sun was pleasant whilst driving until about 10am.

The problem, of course, is that the driver can’t taste, so it pales somewhat.

The solution, I’m sure would be to resurrect an idea from the twenties – the charabanc. The marketing possibilities are endless. One of the Stanthorpe entrepreneurs should pick it up.

Yoof

I've been a bit quiet on the blog recently, having been to the mountains and back - but that's another story.

Last week I disposed of a trailer, which was excess to requirements now that all offspring have left home, and there is no longer a need to own something capable of moving books, CD's, computer games, bed and desk in one hit.

I'd bought a tradie's trailer for this and it was well-suited to the job being secure, waterproof (it always rains when we shift) and about the right size. I also thought that it would be relatively easy to sell when the time came, and I was right.

After only one day's advertising, I had a call last Sunday from a young carpenter (who called me "mate") wanting to come around and have a look at it. He turned up, driving a diesel ute with P plates, and looked about 18 or 19. He hailed from out of town, so was anxious to get the deal done and tow the trailer home.

We agreed on a price - very little haggling occurred, and he presented me with cash. He was $100 short, so went out to talk to the "missus" (his term - she was about his age) who was sitting decoratively in the ute, and returned with the extra dosh. The only slight complication was an incompatible trailer cable, but he went to Supacheap and bought one. We sorted the rego transfer, I gave him a receipt, and he drove away with the missus and trailer. I put the four figure cash amount in a safe place until I could bank it on Monday.

When I got to the credit union the next morning I discovered that he's given me $100 more than what I'd thought we'd agreed to, and what I had written on the receipt. We'd counted the initial sum together, but not the extra bit from the missus.

I phoned him - and he said that there must have been a misunderstanding, as he paid me what he thought I'd asked, and there was no need for me to refund the $100 which I told him I was prepared to do. All he wanted was for me to amend the receipt - for his tax.

I posted him an amended receipt.

On reflection, I read all sorts of doom and gloom about the current generation and their fast and loose lifestyles. Maybe.. but my experience, through my own kids and the young people (mostly teachers and therapists) that I work with, tells me otherwise.

This young tradie is another example.

It's always easier for cranky old buggers to be negative than positive about Millenials, but maybe if we looked for the good stuff, we'd find it. There are a few bloggers of the far right persuasion who need to consider this.

Entitlement

The English language is a wonderful tool. The derivation of the term “entitlement” is an example. The "titled" part of it intrigues me.

One of the dictionary benefits of the term is –

the right to guaranteed benefits under a government program, as Social Security or unemployment compensation

Connecting with many of my fellow section members a few weeks ago has alerted me to the fact that I am one of only a couple of these blokes who is still working and hasn’t been forced on to some form of benefit as a result of operational service. In my mind this indicates two things – one is that I’ve been very lucky – the other is that it provides sad evidence of one of the often-overlooked outcomes of war.

The statistics in relation to Vietnam Veterans are no different from those out of conflicts ranging from World War One, through World War Two, Korea, and more recently, Timor Iraq, and Afghanistan.

Recent publicity about the children of a partner of an Afghanistan casualty has only reinforced the notion that when it’s all over, any compensation has to be fought for.

I completely fail to understand the mindset of many conservative commentators who advocate military adventure as the first, last and only solution to international disagreement, or in the current context, international terrorism. This reptilian brain reaction continues to hold sway with those who believe that you can destroy an idea by killing those who support it. I would have thought that the Vietnam experience might have focused some attention on this enduring myth, but it seems to have gone through to the keeper.

At least many in the military have begun to see that protection of the people and the provision of basic security is the first step to a successful counter-insurgency, and the term “victory” as applied to these conflicts continues to be used by the commentators rather than the commanders. The commanders have heard of Maslow’s hierarchy.

Apparently the commentators haven't.

But back to “entitlement”.

The word conjures up images of Lords and Ladies, royalty, and a whole heap of concepts that went out with button-up boots. It belongs to the monarchy, wigs on judges and executive car parks.

As an avowed republican, I’d like to see the term relegated to the dustbin of history.

The more accurate term is “compensation”. It’s about time two reforms were organized –

Compensation for war veterans of all conflicts should be brought into line with the benefits that accrue to ex-politicians, and the term “entitlement” should be removed from all reference to service pensions.

And perhaps, a secret ballot of all registered veterans should be held before we commit to any new conflict. That would be interesting.

Small is Good

This article in this morning’s Courier Mail caught my eye.

If you can cut through the usual emotive codswallop that characterises the Courier, some of it is significant in that it captures what I consider an important issue regarding the delivery of educational services to bush kids.

Education Queensland (along with all other state education authorities) is keen to close small schools, because they are deemed “inefficient”. This has nothing to do with education, and everything to n do with corporate managerialism. The industrial model of schooling places output for dollar above all else.

Government (or at least the politicians who form government) can’t measure educational outcomes. NAPLAN testing is a lame attempt at measurement, politically driven, and without any sound research backing. Interestingly enough, however, small schools continue to do well in their NAPLAN results, although in many cases these same results can’t be published because of the risk to privacy generated by situations in which the whole school population may belong to two or three families. Those wanting to close small schools are probably grateful for this phenomenon.

What isn’t measured is the resourcefulness, resilience, flexibility and independence generated in a small school situation. In a setting where one teacher (and one or two teacher aides) deliver all programmes across all age levels. These kids learn to organise themselves, are supported by their peers, learn to become both interdependent and independent, and develop a strong sense of cohesion.

I’ve know for a long time that kids with disabilities generally thrive in these situations because they are accepted and supported. It’s a bit difficult to exclude someone who is your neighbour or your sibling in the 18 hours a day when they’re not at school.

I was schooled in a series of bush schools. On one occasion, the principal (who also happened to be my father) broke his ankle, and was laid up for a few days. School continued, managed by the older kids. I’m talking 1950s, of course – it wouldn’t be possible now. There are too many plaintiff lawyers, and modern kids as a rule wouldn’t have the gumption to mange this kind of challenge at primary school age.

So, over time, more of these dynamic little centres of learning will close, and the communities they anchor will be the poorer for it. It will no doubt keep the bean counters handy – but more efficiency? – I don’t think so.

As Albert Einstein was fond of saying –

Not everything that can be counted counts and not everything that counts can be counted.

Where was Kilcullen when we needed him?

I have kept all the letters I wrote in Vietnam. My mother gave them to me on RTA saying "These might be interesting in the future".

My mum was a very wise woman, and right about most things.

It’s interesting to go through these letters now with modern considerations of counter-insurgency warfare in mind. Thanks mum.

Quite often, I wrote to my parents bemoaning the fact that we were tromping around the jungle looking for “outlaws and delinquents” when we could have been more productively occupied working on civil aid projects in the villages, or at least doing our best to secure those villages, or training the ARVN to do just that.

This may, of course, have been prompted by my dislike of this actual tromping, particularly when it involved carrying the best part of my own body weight in assorted gear, and knowing that the next step might be complicated by an M-16, even though we were luckier than some and in my time operated predominately in the north-west of Phuoc Tuy where mines were rare.

Unfortunately, much of what is written about Vietnam these days elicits more heat than light. It doesn’t seem to be a topic that invites quiet reflection. Instead, writers are stuck on a few memes, including “the war was lost by the politicians”, or “we were winning when we left”, or (the more gung-ho) “we should have nuked them”.

In the light of more recent history, particularly in Iraq, it’s interesting to conjecture what might have been - if some of the thought which changed for the better the way the Coalition was operating had been around in the sixties and applied to Vietnam.

What if a group of dissidents, opposing the conventional strategic thought, had been around in those days? What if the commanders at the time had listened to them?

Where were people like Kilcullen – people who needed to be saying things like body counts were irrelevant, that the war needed to be fought politically as well as militarily, and that we needed to be providing security to allow the locals to assume responsibility, rather than taking that responsibility from them, and blaming them when it wasn’t working?

Instead, we had commanders who not only didn’t fully understand the security environment, but were completely inept at managing the both the politics and the media. Back then the US military wasn’t listening to anyone.

Perhaps one of the few good things that came out of Vietnam was the understanding that modern counter-insurgency warfare is complex and that patience could be a virtue. The “up-the-guts” tendency of the senior US commanders at the time was revealed as the madness that it was, and at last arrogance has taken a back seat to common sense.

We will need to wait for history to deliver a verdict on both Iraq and Afghanistan. The terms “won” or “lost” are irrelevant when applied to insurgency, a point that seems to be well lost on most media and politicians.

We don’t know what’s over the horizon, but I, for one, feel a lot more optimistic than I did a few years ago. This interview gives me hope.

Check it out.

A Long Day's Journey

Through some poor forward planning, I ended up having to drive 880kms alone in one day last week.

This exercise broke all the self-imposed rules I’ve set myself around working (and driving) in the bush. These rules include no night driving, ensuring I’m not driving alone, driving no distance greater than 500km in one day, and achieving a 50/50 balance between working and driving. This last rule exists because the skills required for work and those for staying alive on the road are very different. They both require heaps of nervous energy, and it’s necessary to do well at both. A time-based balance helps with this.

The situation came about because I’d made a promise last year to a school community which I had no choice but to keep. The timing was governed by vehicle availability. With both the commitment and the timing non-negotiable, the situation became even more difficult with the inconvenient scheduling of a Toowoomba workshop that I had to attend which turned the journey back into a one-day rather than two-day driving exercise, interspersed with some work in schools on the journey home.

I follow a principle that tries to deliver time per school in direct relationship to remoteness, which is exactly the opposite of what happens with most bush consultancies. The equation put simply means that the further away from the District Office you are, the more time you get.

What made the whole deal even more frustrating was that I wasn’t able to get to a battalion reunion on the Gold Coast due to this work commitment.

Anyway, I set out at first light – 6.15am – along the 10 foot wide bitumen strip. The first leg was 200km long and there was absolutely nothing in terms of geography or settlement on this stretch – just mongrel country and lots of furry creatures.

Once the sun came up and I could actually see more than glowing eyes, I identified roos, wallabies (at least three different varieties), goats, wild pigs, horses, goats, bunnies, sheep, foxes and a wild dog or two. The only thing I didn’t see (although have before) were camels.

I avoided all of them, although one pretty-faced wallaby did his best to T-bone the side of the vehicle. I didn’t see him until it was too late to slow down, and heard a slight “bonk” as his tail flicked the panel near the fuel cap. Another wallaby stood bewildered smack in the middle of the road, and I gently nudged him with the bumper whereupon he galvanised into action, fell over, got to his feet (and tail) and made a first leap of about three metres before he vanished into the scrub.

There were literally hundreds of macropods scattered along this first 200km, and I was well-occupied avoiding them. I’ve learned a few basics the hard way – when you see one, look for others (they’re rarely alone), drive in the middle of the road (gives you more avoidance room), constantly scan your visual field (old infantry trick - you're more likely to perceive something if your eyes are moving), and be wary where you see depth gauges on the guide posts. Depth gauges mean water - water means wallabies.

Sheep are stupid, but you’ll rarely hit a mature goat. Kids (the goat kind) are a different story. Horses can kill (they go through the windscreen) and a well-built bovine can destroy a conventional vehicle.

Never swerve to avoid wildlife – just brake – and watch out for road kill when overtaking or passing other vehicles. On this stretch, the only traffic was furry. I saw one other vehicle – a council truck – in 200km.

After this first leg, I began to relax a bit, and pulled up to refuel. Some twit (with Victorian plates) had parked his ute and trailer between the bowsers. This wouldn’t have been an issue, but he had a flat tire and slowly and carefully began to change it on the forecourt. I had no option but to wait for him – one bowser only – and no other refuelling option.

300 km later I was past the most boring part of the drive. The rest of the trip was a doddle. The road widened, the sun rose higher, and the options around refuelling (and food breaks) improved. One of the things I enjoy about the bush is precisely this lack of options. It simplifies life no end.

The vehicle (a Mitsubishi Outlander) was quiet and comfortable, and seemed to have plenty of power in reserve for overtaking. It had a CVT (constantly variable transmission) which although fiendishly complicated, made very efficient use of the power and torque of the 2.4 litre motor. Apparently these gearboxes are very difficult (and expensive) to repair, but I guess Mitsubishi provides a 5 year unlimited warranty which would compensate.

It didn’t have the touring range of the diesel Hyundai that I most often use, but was a more refined bucket of bolts. Range has become an issue since the government fuel contract went from BP to Caltex. There are no Caltex outlets in places like Charleville (for example). Some shiny bum in Mary St who probably hasn't lived west of Toowoomba or north of Gympie thinks he/she has done a great job with the contract.

I arrived home at about 5pm, and after putting the car through a wash to remove the accumulated road crud, signed it off and took it back to the garage. I felt surprisingly fresh – thanks mainly to Paul Kelly. I’d taken four Kelly CDs with me, and singing aloud when you’re by yourself is OK – it annoys nobody. It’s also energising and wards off fatigue – although the other golden rule I never break is a 10 minute pause every 2 hours.

The next day was a bit of a struggle. Maintaining concentration at the workshop was a challenge. I was in nervous energy deficit.

Bullying

The mainstream media has made a meal of the recent sad incident in Mullumbimby.

This is, of course, hardly surprising. Every parent has concerns about the safety of the kids at school. This issue worries many, so reporting it will sell many newspapers and enhance TV ratings.

It is interesting to reflect on the causes for an apparent increase in this behaviour, although measuring the rates of this violence (both physical and verbal) is fraught. It’s certainly not new.

I was schooled in a series of small country towns, and don’t remember it being an issue, but at one point I spent a couple of weeks at a city school. There was bullying going on there, although it seemed to be almost accepted by the kids as normal. It was pretty full on (putting kids in rubbish bins, for example) and I thought of it as “ganging up”. I wasn’t targeted – I think they understood that as a kid from the bush I would have fought like a cornered cat, and that would have caused a problem.

Nevertheless, I remember being horrified by it, and have never forgotten. I must have been about ten at the time.

So whilst it’s not new, the behaviour itself has assumed a viciousness that I don’t recall seeing all those years ago.

Perhaps the MSM needs to look at the content of much of what it sells before they come over indignant about what they perceive as an epidemic. If there was a count of the number of episodes of cruelty and derision screened nightly in their programmes, it might reveal an incidence of bullying which would make some of the stories they publish about schools look like a Sunday school picnic.

You could start with the likes of “Big Brother”, and list numerous “reality” shows which make a feature of abuse, scorn and humiliation. They used to rate well – although this seems to be declining.

The media is either part of the problem or part of the solution.

The solution? The kids spend only 6 hours of 24 at school. They’re bringing this culture with them from home and community. Let's look at corporate activity, the way many of our political leaders behave, and how sport (particularly professional football of all codes) is promoted.

The fact that this kind of interpersonal behaviour is generally accepted in the wider community can be revealed by a quick read of a political blog. Those with dissenting opinions are generally abused and humiliated.

Maybe the problem lies outside the schools – and maybe that’s where we should be looking for a solution. I don’t see much bullying in the bush schools where I work. The culture of these schools and communities won’t abide it.