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Considering how whistleblowers were punished for reporting the misdeeds of our warriors alongside the judicial exposure of war crimes, we've experienced something of a cultural about-face when it comes to celebrating the Anzac mythos.
The illusion of warfare as a contest between professionals should have disappeared forever as the twentieth century brought numerous examples of barbarous armies butchering civilians. And unfortunately, the pattern now is that some 90 per cent war casualties are civilians.
Charged with breaching national security for exposing alleged war crimes by Australian forces in Afghanistan, former Australian military lawyer David McBride's trial in Canberra rekindles a debate that tests the boundaries of military obedience and public interest. At the heart of this legal battle lies the question: when does the duty to expose wrongdoing outweigh the duty to follow orders?
Next week, former army lawyer David McBride will face trial, accused of leaking classified defence information. Meanwhile, the prospect of meaningful whistleblower reforms that would shield Australian public servants who contemplate exposing wrongdoing through the media seems remote.
The opacity of the Australian public service, and its disposition to secrecy, has left journalists in a bind. Leaks constitute the oxygen of the secret state, but publishing that material remains a dangerous affair.
A casual reader, picking up Tony Kevin's book without much background knowledge on the events which it covers, might assume that the work was alarmist conspiracy theory, so wildly is it at odds with the standard fare which one reads in the papers about Russia and contemporary politics in general. Frighteningly, it is not.
Assange's latest court appearance coincided with the launch of the Right to Know campaign, backed by the major press organisations in Australia as well as the Media, Entertainment and Arts Alliance. To its immense credit, the MEAA has consistently defended him. But many prominent Australian journalists have not.
The gradual additions to Australia's national security framework, in the absence of an entrenched constitutional right protecting the press, has made the conditions ripe for such raids. As Andrew Wilkie warns, such matters begin incrementally: a law here, a raid there, then 'one day you wake up and we look like East Germany'.
References to Watergate are flying thick and fast - again. Earlier this week, Donald Trump abruptly dismissed FBI director James Comey in the middle of a probe into Russian interference in the 2016 elections. It is difficult to overstate how bad this move is, and how much it has rattled political and bureaucratic firmaments. There are differences, however, between then and now. Trump is not Nixon, for one thing. Perhaps we can be thankful for that, in that infantile impetuosity is not paired with a much more cunning mind.
The theme for this year's International Women's Day is 'Be Bold For Change'. This involves an aspiration for action, assertiveness urgency. Because the changes required are considerable, in number and in scope. Statistics still reflect a 16 per cent gender pay gap. While there has been some movement of gender diversity on boards (25.3 per cent as at 31 January 2017), only 17 per cent of CEOs in Australian companies were women. The attitudes that underpin such dire statistics run deep.
Manning became the victim of an institutional drive to target whistleblowers, with the centrepiece of the prosecution focusing on computer crimes and the Espionage Act. Despite the eventual commutation of her 35 year sentence, the severity of that sentence demonstrated the gulf between the cosy, public relations air of an administration keen to project certain achievements and its stomping on those keen to disclose inappropriate and illegal conduct in the security and intelligence services.