The genius of Janus

JANUS, who gave his name to January, was a dinky-di deadset Roman.

Most other gods in Roman mythology were nicked from the neighbours — mainly begged, borrowed or stolen from the Greeks. But not Janus. Not only was he a Roman original but he embodied, or more accurately emheaded, a quite original notion. The idea of looking in both directions. And not only before you crossed the road lest you be skittled by a chariot.

Imagine playing heads and tails without the tails. Imagine coins with two heads. With two heads better than one, Janus became the god of go-betweening. He looked simultaneously yon and thither. There and here. Forward into the future and back into the past. So if you wanted to mark a beginning or a transition, Janus was your man. Or rather, your god. Hence Ianuarius, the first month of the Roman year. Janus was also put to work over doorways, gates, passages. He had a mate called Portunus, also popular on portals, and the two shared responsibility for safety in harbours.

There are a few marble Janus heads in my antiquities collection, keeping an eye or four on things. But they’d be better employed in diplomacy, stuck over the doorway of the United Nations, as Janus marked the starts and stops of conflict. When a war broke out, the doors of the Temples of Janus were opened wide. When the war ended, they’d be closed. I’m not entirely sure about that symbolism but, given that Roman emperors were as warlike as George W. Bush, they’d have been open a hell of a lot.

These days, of course, being two-faced is less mythical and more ethical. Specifically, unethical. To be two-faced is no longer a prerogative of a deity but a criticism of a human being. Something oft unsuspected and unexpected in an alleged friend, partner, colleague or employer.

Sadly, however, we expect two-facedness in our politicians. Where it can also be known as duplicity or hypocrisy. (Did the Romans also have a god called Hypocratus?) Particularly during election times. The PM, MP or wannabe pronounce on their good intentions, pull more policies out of hats than a magician does rabbits, fully intending to con us. To lie.

Our coat of arms, writ huge on Parliament House, displays two Australian animals that are big of bum and small of head. That should be a warning. The emu is 80 per cent bum, covered in feathers, with a skull the size of a domestic chook, while the roo is equally ample of buttock, with a cranium closely resembling a rabbit’s. And the pollies sit inside on their backsides backsliding on their policies and promises. Lying their heads off.

I don’t believe for a moment that Tony Abbott tells fibs about “no budget cuts to …” (fill in the blank as you choose). I prefer to accept Malcolm Turnbull’s argument, heard when announcing the ABC cuts that were promised not to happen, that Tony’s pronouncement could be explained by one or more of the following: a) the PM’s absent-mindedness; b) his early onset dementia; c) he was taken out of context; or d) my hearing aid batteries were flat.

I belong to the Ausflag committee, dedicated to updating our national flappy thing. Like New Zealanders, we’re concerned that you can’t tell it from New Zealand’s. Now I’m forming a new committee to update our coat of arms, at least the giant metallic one atop Tony’s joint. Despite their clear heraldic relevance — to warn us of the bum-versus-brain ratio — down comes the giant chook and the ginormous kanga and up goes Janus. Or, as I think we should rename him for this particular purpose, J. Anus. With the emphasis on the Anus.

Now back to the beginning. Where we sing Auld lang syne, the Romans trumpeted Janus at the New Year. As I do now. Have a happy one.