What's the worst that can happen? I've been turning to this question with some frequency over the past year, as denial, deflection and sometimes outright lies run like an avalanche, seeming to bury things we hold precious.
As a writer I must ponder what it takes to persuade people, especially when they have stopped listening. When someone dismisses what I say because they have decided that I am a 'lefty', it can be frustrating. There are things that matter, beyond what others imagine us to be and how they see themselves in opposition. If the terms of engagement — like fairness, transparency and the common good — aren't a mutual priority, then what language could we possibly speak that might be understood?
This is a time of intense contraction, people collapsing inward from anger and despair, or keeping to the tribes they have defined for themselves. There is a palpable sense on all sides that something fundamental is being lost. Under such conditions, it is hard to get people to concede that what they believe might be incomplete. No one wants to give anything up.
This is an attempt to get people to give something up. Here is how to do it: ask what is the worst that can happen. Then accept that it may have already happened. But not to you.
If we are called racist, then the worst has already happened. Someone has felt that their worth as a human was brought into question. Histories of oppression called up in a moment, as fresh as the sting of a whip or baton. If we are a public figure being racist, then the effect is magnified. Racism acts like a contagion, infecting the systems in which we live unless it is quelled. In which case, entire groups of people have been made to work — to educate, to fight, to heal (again) — because of us.
What is the worst thing that can happen if the constellation of Indigenous peoples — Arrernte, Gamilaroi, Noongar, Wiradjuri, all of them — lit the way for parliament, through the formal voice that they propose?
The worst has already happened. The scale of historical loss and ongoing deficit is incalculable: land, language, culture, children, health, security. Having to rethink the way parliament works for First Nations is not in the same universe by comparison — though if we must take the work involved to be onerous then it can be. But it would make possible one of the best things: law-making that accounts for adverse impacts on Indigenous peoples. That is a conservative outcome, such is the baseline.
"Having to accept the damage of what we said or did will never be the worst thing. But it can be the start of better things: a chance to learn and expand, to build rather than destroy."
What is the worst thing that can happen when a woman tells the truth about a man, that he harassed, assaulted or raped her? It has already happened: an intimate violation of body and mind.
A woman or a child having to survive a man, not just once but again and again, their life an ongoing choice to outlast what was done to them — that is its own league of 'worst'. The evidence suggests that in contrast not much happens to men, given that these crimes are under-reported and the hostilities that women and children face on multiple fronts can be difficult to overcome. Powerful, abusive men have held on to their careers after lying low for a time. The institutions or industries to which they belong might teeter. That is still not the worst thing.
What is the worst thing that can happen if we brought all refugees in offshore detention to our shores and let them begin their lives? The worst has already happened. Men have died in despair by their hand and others, and from rampant neglect on the part of the Australian government. Children have given up in the most profound way possible.
If we accept that the worst has already happened, if politicians can find character enough to own what they have sanctioned, then space can be made — for life, and perhaps a measure of redemption where there has been dishonour.
Having to accept the damage of what we said or did will never be the worst thing. But it can be the start of better things: a chance to learn and expand, to build rather than destroy.
This is only a mental exercise, limited in its fashion; a single key in an infinite corridor of closed doors. Yet it is the perception of threat that drives people into lockdown, which makes it worth pondering.
What is the worst thing that can happen? The question measures our strength by testing for brittleness. It may be that intransigence mars our discourse because we do not really give ourselves enough credit to withstand change. But what if we allowed ourselves the chance to survive the process of changing our minds — becoming a better person, a better people?
Fatima Measham is a Eureka Street consulting editor. She hosts the ChatterSquare podcast, tweets as @foomeister and blogs on Medium.
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