The problem with going after ‘woke’ diversity? It’s actually good for us

Two weeks into the federal election campaign and, surprise, surprise, Peter Dutton has returned to condemning “the woke agenda”, echoing President Donald Trump’s attack on diversity programs in the United States and promising to do the same here if elected on May 3.

Within days of becoming president, Trump signed off on the elimination of government diversity programs, ordered that only “two sexes – male and female” be recognised, confirmed transgender members of the military would be removed, and announced that for the first time in its history, the US will have an official language – English.

Peter Dutton and Donald Trump have both run unapologetic “anti-woke” campaigns.Credit: Alex Ellinghausen, AP

In December, Dutton said he would not stand in front of the Indigenous flag if elected. In January, he vowed to slash cultural diversity staffers among the public service, and by February, he pledged to wind back spending on Welcome to Country ceremonies. Last week, he returned to this vague and fertile ground, saying he plans to crack down on the “woke” curriculums to avoid kids being “indoctrinated with something that is the agenda of others”. One feels he’s just getting warmed up.

The kindest thing that can be said about dismantling diversity programs is that it’s retrograde. And by retrograde, I’m not just referring to a Happy Days self-image of society in which everyone is white and middle class, men rule the workplace, women run the home, and all is seemingly well in the world – though these kinds of pictures stem from the same outlook.

Half a century ago – the time of “greatness” MAGA supporters and some within the far-right of the Liberal Party long to return to – Western society had a very different understanding of what it was to be human. Back then, evolutionary scientists believed the success of Homo sapiens – the great “social leap” propelling humans ahead of all other primates – was underpinned by the concept of Man the Hunter. It was man’s hunting prowess, they believed, that led to cooperative thinking and language, and enabled men to bring back the bacon for their families – just like the Cunninghams.

In this theory, only two adult roles had relevance: hunter husbands, and gatherer/carer wives. To firm up this model for humanity, scientists turned to baboons and rhesus macaques, where males are aggressive and competitive to establish dominance, and females are the sole carers for their babies. Society was (and still is, in many areas) welded onto this anachronistic notion of who humans are.

However, this picture has been almost entirely debunked. It’s now accepted that humans evolved in extremely complex social structures called “cooperative breeding”, where shared care of children was the norm, women contributed to the supply of food, and children often had many “parents”. It’s probable that this village system of child-rearing – requiring so much cooperation, trust and understanding – is at the heart of human’s explosion in emotional intelligence and neurological development and our success as a species.

The baboon is no longer considered a relevant model; it is now accepted that humans have more similarities to chimps and bonobos (peaceful, sensitive primates). Human’s biggest difference from these other great apes, though, is social structure. For cooperative breeders, diversity and fluidity are key, which is what you tend to see in human societies.

Recently, Australian researcher Dr Lynne Kelly’s book The Knowledge Gene documented the critical role neurodivergent people have had in societies. Crudely put, ADHD types are the creative entrepreneurs and autism spectrum disorder types are the ones that lock in, store and finesse new ideas. Both groups – currently “othered” by our education system – appear to have been integral to the functioning and wellbeing of these (non-literate) ancient indigenous societies.

In numerous indigenous societies around the world, people that exist outside the male-female polarity (the two-spirit people of North American tribes, and fa’afafine/fa’afatama people within Samoan culture, for example), are often highly valued in their communities, sometimes as shamans, healers or chiefs, other times as foster parents, knowledge-keepers or warriors. In these societies, their points of difference are seen as unique assets which help the tribe, rather than something for which to be shunned.

There’s also growing research on post-menopausal women, showing that in traditional societies, the presence of older women significantly benefits the health and wellbeing of families. Among one of the few other animals known to experience menopause – orcas – the presence of older females increases a pod’s chance of survival.

Ecologists have always espoused that the health and resilience of a habitat is related to its diversity because diversity enables flexibility when encountering challenges. Indigenous communities – especially pre-contact or those uncorrupted by colonialism – also tend to embed this knowledge.

There is plenty of evidence that legitimises the value of diversity. But leaders who insist on modelling themselves on baboons are unlikely to ever understand that.

Sonia Orchard is author of Groomed, a memoir about abuse and the Australian justice system.

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