Nick Ryan: The shame of crowds flocking to climb Uluru
The rush to climb The Rock before it is closed is sad and an actual figure we can use to quantify disrespect – a stark reminder of how far we’ve still got to go to truly be one nation.
Opinion
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- Conga line of tourists climb Uluru for last time
- Authorities warn of hefty fines for ignoring climbing ban
TODAY Uluru rests.
The hordes who came to climb it have gone, their precious individual right to not give a shit about anyone else exercised and upheld.
What’s been happening at Uluru in the weeks leading up to the closure of climbing access has been a stark illustration of how, when it comes to really respecting each other, many of us truly have a Dead Heart.
A couple of weeks ago The Australian newspaper ran a striking image across half its front page – a congested line of climbers packed tight along the ascent to the top of the rock.
It was a brilliant photograph, A-grade photojournalism.
A picture telling a thousand words, every one of which should catch in the throat if we tried to speak them.
Similar scenes were captured this week and shared widely on social media, huge snaking queues of people desperate to express their disrespect before the opportunity was to be cruelly denied them.
Journalists covering the story have been getting a range of responses when asking why climbers are setting out to trample on the wishes of others. Those responses span the whole spectrum of disrespect.
There’s the “ This place belongs to all Australians, so we’ll do what we please here,” position.
In a sense that’s true but the simple fact is it carries a completely different significance to one group of Australians, and that just has to take precedence.
You could say St Peter’s Cathedral sits on land that belongs to us all but that doesn’t mean I’ve got the right to set up an abseiling business on its bell tower.
This is the more aggressive form of disrespect, the kind of crap peddled by Pauline Hanson when she likens the Uluru closure to the shutting down of Bondi Beach, before attempting the climb and piking it halfway through.
It’s the more vigorous way of telling traditional owners you couldn’t care less about their traditions and beliefs.
And then there’s the more passive kind, the “I know it’s not cool but it’s on my bucket list, so I just had to do it,” position.
This is, in some ways, even worse.
This is where absorption in the individual trumps everything else, where the self reigns over the society.
It’s saying to traditional owners, “ I see what you’re saying, I even understand your position, but that only applies to everyone else – my right to do what I want overrides everything else.”
I say all this as someone who once climbed Uluru. It was the early ’80s, I was a kid and didn’t know better.
I wouldn’t do it again.
Ignorance is the flimsiest of excuses, but if it applied back then, it certainly doesn’t now.
Climbing numbers have steadily declined over the years, and it was figures falling below a certain threshold that was the trigger to close the climb for good.
The surge in numbers in recent months, the rush to get in before closure, is sad and worrying, an actual figure we can use to quantify disrespect.
It’s a stark reminder of how far we’ve still got to go to truly be one nation.