In around 1970, when the Australian government were actively seeking UK immigrants, I went to an official government presentation in Kent. The main feature was a film which depicted all the tempting attractions of the Aussie lifestyle - sunshine, beaches, surfing, sports, barbies and the like. I was ready to sign on the dotted line. Then the mood changed, and the film proudly showed a camp for aboriginal Australians. Behind the wire fences, the camera showed a clearly dispirited group of people.The men were propped up against the hut walls, and clutching beer bottles, while the children were playing aimlessly in the dust, but the main impression I retain after 50 years is of the flies settled round their eyes and mouths, with none even finding the energy to brush them away. This was an official film promoting the country, remember, and the commentary made it quite clear that this was an achievement to be admired. So, I didn’t sign up, and I can’t help wondering if less than one lifetime has been enough to eradicate this way of thinking.
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