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  Don’t Go Back to Where You Came from

  TIM SOUTPHOMMASANE is a lecturer at Monash University’s National Centre for Australian Studies and a research fellow at Per Capita, a public policy think tank. He is also a columnist with The Age in Melbourne, a member of the Australian Multicultural Council, and a director of the National Australia Day Council. A first-generation Australian, Tim completed his doctorate in political philosophy at the University of Oxford. His previous books include Reclaiming Patriotism and The Virtuous Citizen.

  Don’t

  GO BACK

  to

  WHERE

  YOU CAME

  FROM

  Why multiculturalism works

  TIM SOUTPHOMMASANE

  For Sarah

  A NewSouth book

  Published by

  NewSouth Publishing

  University of New South Wales Press Ltd

  University of New South Wales

  Sydney NSW 2052

  AUSTRALIA

  newsouthpublishing.com

  © Tim Soutphommasane 2012

  First published 2012

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part of this book may be reproduced by any process without written permission. Inquiries should be addressed to the publisher.

  National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

  Author: Soutphommasane, Tim.

  Title: Don’t go back to where you came from: why multiculturalism

  works/Tim Soutphommasane.

  ISBN: 9781742233369 (pbk)

  9781742241203 (epub)

  9781742243788 (mobipocket)

  9781742246109 (epdf)

  Subjects: Multiculturalism – Australia.

  Cultural pluralism – Australia.

  Dewey Number: 305.800994

  Design Josephine Pajor-Markus

  Cover design Xou Creative

  Cover images Thinkstock

  Printer Griffin Press

  This book is printed on paper using fibre supplied from plantation or sustainably managed forests.

  Contents

  Introduction

  1 The life and times of multiculturalism

  2 The Australian model

  3 How racist is this country?

  4 A bigger Australia

  5 The sovereignty of fear

  Afterword: Having a go

  Acknowledgments

  Notes

  Index

  Introduction

  Mention multiculturalism and veils, and one naturally thinks of the controversies that have raged over burqas and hijabs. Yet it was through a very different kind of veil that I was introduced to debates about multiculturalism in the late 1990s. At the time, Pauline Hanson was at the peak of her popularity, leading her One Nation Party’s crusade against Asian immigration, multiculturalism and political correctness. During lunchtimes at high school I found myself in debates with students and teachers about whether Hanson was racist; whether she was right about the country being swamped by Asians. There were a good number of teenaged Hansonites among my fellow students. Occasionally someone in class would express their admiration for Hanson, or their disdain for ‘gooks’ and ‘coons’. With my interest in politics awakened, I began reading about multiculturalism and came to be introduced to the ‘veil of ignorance’.

  The idea was conceived by American political philosopher John Rawls. In his classic A Theory of Justice, Rawls famously proposed that we could imagine a hypothetical social contract in a liberal society by placing ourselves behind a veil of ignorance. Imagine we didn’t know about our sex, ethnicity, race or religious affili- ation. Imagine we didn’t know anything about the social position of the families into which we were born. Imagine then trying to agree upon some principles according to which society should be organised. And, finally, imagine being bound by these principles once you stepped from behind the veil and discovered your social identity. According to Rawls, constructing a just society requires us first to put ourselves in this ‘original position’. Lest we leave the original position only to discover we were individuals with socially disadvantaged identities, we would want society to offer equal opportunity to all, not to mention limit its inequality. We would want some guarantee of social justice.1

  As imaginary devices, the original position and veil of ignorance aid in clarifying the nature of our concern with multiculturalism. They remind us what is at stake. How we deal with cultural diversity is far from a marginal affair, relevant only to newly arrived minorities. Just how we conduct our disagreements about matters of integration, immigration and nationhood says a lot about the state of our society. Multiculturalism requires us to confront the matter of social justice – to reflect upon how we collectively live up to ideals of fairness and equality. Too often we celebrate our diversity without first asking whether a fair go and egalitarianism extend to all Australians, regardless of their cultural backgrounds. Too often we are guilty of complacency. What, for example, might have been the case had the gook-baiting, coonhating Hansonites among my old classmates paused to imagine themselves trapped in the body of an Asian or Aboriginal? What if they had placed themselves in the original position? And what point of view would today’s critics of multiculturalism adopt if they weren’t to know whether they would find themselves to be Muslims once they stepped out of the original position?

  The purpose of this book is to lift a different veil of ignorance. In recent years, it has been hard to find multiculturalism discussed in anything but negative terms. The years of the conservative Howard government, and a resurgent Australian nationalism, seemed to quash enthusiasm for cultural diversity.2 If anything, the international zeitgeist appeared to confirm that it was time to move on. There is apparent consensus that multiculturalism in Europe has failed to prevent Muslim minorities from becoming, in the words of political scientist Francis Fukuyama, ‘a ticking cultural time bomb’.3 Across Western Europe, successive governments have embraced more muscular, assimilationist policies. For example, in October 2010 German Chancellor Angela Merkel declared that ‘Multiculturalism is dead’, amid calls from some German politicians for a halt to immigration from Turkey and the Middle East. Not long after, in early 2011, British Prime Minister David Cameron joined in repudiating ‘a state doctrine of multiculturalism’, as did the then French President Nicolas Sarkozy.

  Such developments have emboldened many local commentators and politicians to suggest that Australian governments should do the same.

  Yet there are signs of multicultural renewal underway in Australia. In 2011, Minister for Immigration and Citizenship Chris Bowen extolled ‘the genius of Australian multiculturalism’.4 In February 2012, a cabinet reshuffle included the reinstatement of a Commonwealth Minister for Multicultural Affairs. If there has been any crisis of Australian multiculturalism, it has been intellectual, one manufactured by critics. Unlike Europe, high unemployment across generations and regular street riots aren’t the characteristic experience of Australian immigrant populations – quite the opposite. After all, it is the sons and daughters of immigrants who dominate enrolments in the law and medicine faculties of our leading universities. Unruly minorities haven’t been the ones responsible for the worst of recent rioting, as the 2005 episode at Cronulla reminds us. Even so, many Australians regard the concept of multiculturalism with suspicion. It is associated with a form of social engineering which elevates the value of immigrant cultures over those of traditional, mainstream Australia. Contemporary debates about racism, population growth and asylum seekers
suggest that Australians are still grappling with how to negotiate cultural diversity and its challenges. ‘Less than a decade ago,’ political theorist Geoffrey Brahm Levey wrote in 2011, ‘multiculturalism looked to be secure and to have won the day’.5 Much has since changed.

  It is strange that so many are hostile towards multiculturalism. As I will argue, there is every reason to believe there is a good story to be told about it. We have forged a model of cultural diversity that has been a success, by all objective measures. Amid all the talk about multicultural failures across Western liberal democracies, Australia has proven itself to be an exception. The problem is that we’ve allowed ourselves to forget the distinctive qualities of the Australian experience. Critics of multiculturalism construct straw men and wrongly extrapolate from troubles overseas. Its supporters, meanwhile, rest their case on the ornamental qualities of diversity. Progressive liberals, in particular, embrace the supposed sophistication of cosmopolitan lifestyles. A multicultural Australia has been reduced to the novelty of being able to eat a different ethnic food each day of the week.

  This book avoids taking a lifestyle approach to multiculturalism. Cultural diversity isn’t only about the range of available cuisines. When we suggest that it is, we can struggle to articulate any deeper significance to culture than food. Such superficiality encourages people to dismiss multicultural policies as mere ‘symbolism’ or ‘gesture politics’. Focusing on lifestyle can mean that we fail to recognise the civic dimensions of diversity. We can lose sight of how diversity demands of us answers not only about culture, but about justice and citizenship.

  It is important, moreover, to be unapologetic about the word ‘multiculturalism’. Many frequently believe that it evokes a bygone phase of Australian national development.6 One temptation has been to qualify or even discard the terminology. It may be one thing to refer to the reality of a society composed of people from many ethnic and cultural backgrounds; yet another thing to refer to public policies recognising cultural diversity in a society. It is this second version of multiculturalism – its philosophical or public policy sense – that is the more controversial one. For some, such as former Prime Minister John Howard, there is no issue with referring to a ‘multiethnic’ or ‘multiracial’ society, but to speak of ‘multiculturalism’ in Australia is a different matter.7 One may accept or tolerate diversity without also wishing to endorse it through government policy.

  The word ‘multiculturalism’ can admittedly mean different things to different people. It could be regarded as an example of an ‘essentially contested concept’, a word whose meaning is subject to perennial dispute.8 Whereas conservatives tend to regard it as a form of cultural relativism, progressives tend to view it as a corrective to outmoded views about assimilating immigrants into a majority culture. Even then multiculturalism can defy easy categorisation. There would be some conservatives, for example, who would sympathise with the multicultural impulse to ensure that individuals are free to express their allegiances to their traditional cultures. Some social democrats who believe in a strong welfare state demur that recognising cultural differences may come at the expense of economic redistribution. Some progressive liberals, believing in the ultimate value of individual liberty, have a different objection: that valuing cultural diversity in the form of group identities may be destructive of personal choice and autonomy. Whichever way one turns, there is disagreement. Little wonder the word may appear so confusing and unattractive.

  Of course, imprecision or vagueness aren’t on their own a valid reason for giving up on a word. If that were the case, we might as well not talk about justice or liberty or equality or democracy. If there is such endless debate about a concept, it is probably because it is an important one. The burden for anyone who invokes multiculturalism, then, isn’t to define it in a way that strips it of all controversy. But there must be an effort to avoid laziness and indifference. If we write into multiculturalism our ideological assumptions, as we inevitably do, we should at least acknowledge them.

  In this book, multiculturalism will be used in both its sociological sense and its philosophical one. This is for two reasons: first, any social reality of cultural diversity seems to be hollow without there also being a public policy of multiculturalism. Where a society doesn’t endorse diversity in some measure, it is likely to fall short on the measures of justice and citizenship. Prejudice, bigotry and racism thrive in the absence of public policies that affirm the freedom of citizens to express their different cultural identities. Second, there has in fact been considerable clarity to the meaning of Australian multiculturalism, which only rarely is acknowledged. As it has existed in policy terms, Australian multiculturalism has been an expression of liberal citizenship and an exercise in nation-building. Cultural diversity goes together with individual liberty: everyone should have a right to express their cultural heritage and identity. This comes, though, with the territory of citizenship. All citizens, whatever their cultural background and beliefs, have a duty to abide by the civic values of an Australian liberal democracy. Far from radical, multiculturalism stands for the proposition that Australian citizenship doesn’t rule out being able to have some cultural identification as Italian or Chinese or Lebanese, and so on.

  I don’t claim in this book to offer a disinterested treatment of our political and cultural debates. My aim is to offer a defence of multiculturalism that is grounded in liberal political philosophy. But while principles are important, they shouldn’t be divorced from reality. I begin, therefore, in Chapter 1 with a brief history of Australian multiculturalism, exploring political and policy developments from the early 1970s through to the present. The advent of a culturally diverse society has been accompanied over the past four decades by an official multiculturalism – a policy that has itself evolved through a number of distinct stages. In Chapter 2, I explore the contemporary debate about diversity, including the recent retreat from ‘the M word’. I examine the theoretical foundations of Australian multiculturalism and compare it to other models of integration that exist in Western liberal democracies. Chapter 3 evaluates the performance of the Australian model: to what extent do racism and minority under-representation exist in politics, government, the workplace and the media? The following two chapters examine the heated debates about population growth and immigration (Chapter 4), and about asylum seekers and refugees (Chapter 5). While these issues aren’t always considered in discussions about integration and identity, they arguably represent the greatest potential challenges to a multicultural Australia. Not enough has been said about whether support for multiculturalism requires support for a bigger Australia, and about the impact on social cohesion of public hostility to population growth. There is also the danger that hysteria about asylum seekers may contaminate public attitudes towards immigration and diversity, if it hasn’t already. I conclude with some reflections about the future directions for multiculturalism, with special attention to ‘the Asian century’. To date, much of the renewed discussion of Australia’s place in Asia has focused on the economics of our relationship with the region. Yet it might be in another realm – the cultural – that the most profound challenges of ‘the Asian century’ lie. It might just be the Australian multicultural experience that will offer us the best guidance.

  1

  The life and times of multiculturalism

  The precise time of multiculturalism’s birth is open to debate. Some would say that pluralism has always been present in Australia, given the original presence of some 700 indigenous nations, speaking more than 250 languages – all long before the arrival of the British. Others highlight that the First Fleet included soldiers, sailors and convicts with ancestral origins in Europe, Africa and the Middle East. Others, meanwhile, note that the goldfields of the 19th century were something of a cultural laboratory, populated as they were by diggers from a multitude of nationalities. Yet few would seriously dispute that cultural diversity, at least as we know it today, is the distinctive creation of the s
econd half of the 20th century. Our multicultural society is a product of the successive waves of mass immigration following the Second World War, which have brought more than 7 million people to settle in this country.

  And if by multiculturalism we mean a form of government policy responding to ethnic and cultural minorities, there is little ambiguity about the moment of its introduction. Its arrival was modest, the details largely unknown to most Australians. But the first official use of the word ‘multicultural’ in August 1973 would signify the arrival of a revolution – not one of the sort identified with coups or wars, but of that species that Donald Horne called ‘revolutions in consciousness’.1 It came in a speech delivered by Al Grassby, the then Minister for Immigration in the Whitlam Labor government. ‘A multicultural society for the future’, as the speech was titled, offered a contemplation of what Australia would look like by the year 2000.2 The composition of the Australian population, Grassby noted, would be much different as a result of mass immigration. Increasing diversity had ‘gradually eroded and finally rendered untenable any prospects there might have been twenty years ago of fully assimilating newcomers to the “Australian way of life” ’. It was time to enlarge our understanding of the national identity to reflect the cultural and social impact of Australia’s new arrivals:

  Our prime task at this point in our history must be to encourage practical forms of social interaction in our community. This implies the creation of a truly just society in which all components can enjoy freedom to make their own distinctive contribution to the family of the nation. In the interests of the Australians of the year 2000, we need to appreciate and preserve all those diverse elements which find a place in the nation today.3

  For Grassby, the goal was to ensure that Australians of all backgrounds would always be proud to declare, in their different accents, ‘I am Australian’ – just as Roman citizens in ancient times could boast ‘Civis Romanus sum’.