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Heroes

by Simon Longstaff

Most Australians like to savour a good victory. Recall the national euphoria when the Americas Cup was finally wrested from the hands of the New York Yacht Club. Or note the sense of pride whenever Australian scientists come up with a world-beating discovery. It's not just that Australians like to win - one imagines that every nationality shares that characteristic.

Beyond this, the national temperament seems to be especially fired by improbable success. The bigger the challenge, the tougher the odds, the better. This is the country of giant-killers: where the underdog reigns supreme and the 'little Aussie battler' is regarded with a special kind of affection. So goes the myth.

This is also the land in which failure is mercilessly punished. 'Tall poppies' might be the butt of taunts and jibes. However, for as long as they perform, they are likely to enjoy a grudging kind of respect. In fact, 'success' will often excuse a multitude of sins. Consider the 'robber barons' of the 1980s. The likes of Bond and Skase broke nearly every rule in the book of business integrity. They are now justifiably held up as deserving of criticism. But, what would have happened if they had remained successful? Was their real crime to fail?

Our attitude to victory and defeat is strongly linked to the way in which we judge heroism. For the most part, our heroes are successful people who overcome overwhelming odds. Our demons are the failures. Yet, on this day of all days, we are forced to think again. Taken quite literally, Gallipoli was a defeat. Why then is a sense of the heroic etched into the fabric of the day?

As we have seen, the conventional images of heroism are those in which victory is snatched from the jaws of defeat. Yet, they sit alongside a different tradition that finds its expression in the celebration of events like the Eureka Stockade and Gallipoli - a tradition in which noble failures have their place in the pantheon of heroes. There stand men and women who have defended their cause and earned high regard - even in defeat.

Is this, perhaps, an explanation for the renewed significance of Anzac Day? Nobody can watch the diggers march and honestly think it a celebration of virile war-mongering. Those frail old men and women stand for something else - they are emblematic of the only kind of good that can be salvaged from disaster - courage and compassion.

Some imagine heroes as rare individuals stamped with a special character. On the face of it, the evidence for such a view is compelling. After all, acts of heroism seem to set people apart by requiring more than can reasonably be expected of anyone. Few will blame a poor swimmer for failing to attempt the rescue of a drowning stranger caught in the flood. Fearful, cautious, the reluctant rescuer is just like the rest of us. But for those who make the attempt, the accolade of 'hero' is deserved. No wonder they seem to be a breed apart.

Yet, a fascination with the extraordinary can blind us to the wonder of the ordinary. The spotlight of public attention naturally focuses on those scenes of epic struggle that I began with. But those who think to peer into the shadows of everyday life will find acts of simple heroism that are just as compelling. Think of good and loving parents who sacrifice everything so that they can raise happy, healthy children who care about the world in which they live. Think about friends and family who keep their grief in check while holding the hand of a dying loved one. Think of people with moral courage enough to risk rejection by speaking up in support of an unpopular cause in which they believe. These, and others like them, are the unsung heroes of our community.

Looking around the world, it is easy to become depressed or cynical. The atrocious things that we do to each other, and those with whom we share our planet, are on a scale that makes any attempt at living a good life seem futile. But there are points of light to be found within the darkness. These are the heroes of whom I have spoken. Some are incandescent, flashing their message in a pulse of searing illumination. But, for the most part, the dark is eased by the steady glow of ordinary folk who bear life with dignity and compassion.

Some think that heroes are forged in the white heat of the dangerous moment.
But there is another kind of hero,
the person of quiet decency whose achievement
is built over an entire career.

We are held by the intensity of lightning,
yet fail to mention the thunder that rolls on
into the distance long after the lightning's
moment has passed.

We are captured by the tumultuous descent
of the waterfall while the steady progress of
the river is ignored.

And we marvel at the ocean's power,
unaware of the fact that we stand upon
ground claimed for us by the silent witness
of the ancient cliff.

It is time we paid more attention to the ordinary heroes who try to do what is right - even if they fail. It is through people such as these that we get to see the best of human nature. They are a force for optimism and a powerful antidote to the cynicism that permeates most aspects of contemporary society. And they are all around us - if only we care to look.

It is significant that our nation's collective act of remembrance will be focused, today, on the tomb of the unknown soldier who lies in Canberra. He could have been anyone - most likely an average bloke going about his job, happy enough to be doing his duty. Unknown, he is to be discovered in the lives of ordinary people displaying a profound but simple kind of heroism in the conduct of their daily lives.

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