DMETRI KAKMI

January 25, 2010

IF, AS Thomas Carlyle said, ”the history of the world is but the biography of great men”, then the history of the last century or so must be a record of sports people. I came to this conclusion when a man on a train vociferously declared that Ben Cousins was his hero. His friend, who was a bit long in the tooth, denied this. For him Peter Carey was ”the greatest man that ever lived, a real f—ing hero”.

I nearly fell off my seat. This rough-as-bags man bound for the outer western suburbs thought Peter Carey, the celebrated Australian author, was a hero. I was stunned and impressed, my prejudices waylaid for the moment. When his friend angrily contradicted him, Peter Carey’s fan clarified himself. ”Sure he was,” he said. ”He kicked more than 500 goals and played in three premierships.” Now, I don’t know much about football but I do know that Peter Carey, the scribe, has not taken to wearing tight shorts and running around an oval, clutching an oddly shaped ball as though his life depended on it.

The conversation got me thinking. What constitutes a hero in the 21st century? Is there such a thing as a hero today, or has the noun been so debased that it has lost its meaning?

By definition, a hero is someone who exhibits extraordinary bravery, fortitude or greatness of soul, a man admired and venerated for his achievements and noble qualities. For me, a hero is someone whose personal inspiration, fortitude, actions and beliefs contribute to the betterment of this thing we call civilisation. Martin Luther King falls into that category, as does Aung Sun Suu Kyi.

Call me obtuse but athletes don’t fit the bill. They are merely men and women of ability, individuals who excel in a chosen field but have no lasting impact. If I had to name two athletes who deserve to be called heroes, they would be Cathy Freeman and Nicky Winmar. Freeman defiantly wrapping herself in the Aboriginal flag in the 1994 Commonwealth Games, and Winmar’s famous ”proud to be black” photo are defining moments, beyond sport.

As I stepped out of the train station that afternoon, I ran into a group of boys who were playing a boisterous game of football by the railways, heedless of the fact that an elderly woman was attempting to cross the space without being injured. It occurred to me that these boys would not agree with my definition of a hero. Very possibly my heroes would be dull and obscure to them.

It’s easy to point to the media or blame society for our ills, but it is harder to acknowledge that our lack of shared ethics and moral code have contributed to our present condition. In these post-reality-television days, we uphold aggression (often confused with assertiveness), avarice, selfishness and excessive competitiveness above all else. At the risk of sounding like an old fart, it has to be said that in a society where people crave a smidgeon of respect and consideration, there is a distressing lack of both. Why? Because each time we valourise a vainglorious sportsman, we support questionable values and encourage the kind of intemperate individualism that removes participants from social responsibility.

It’s much better to champion individuals whose actions truly deserve praise. When I got home, I made a list of contemporaries whom I consider to be heroes. They are a diverse lot and obscure in the extreme, but I can’t help thinking that their existence makes the world a better place, or attempts to, at any rate. For your edification, they are in no particular order:

Mukhtar Mai, the Pakistani woman who suffered a gang rape and had the courage to challenge the legal system that let her down. As if that wasn’t enough, she also took on the Pakistani government after Pervez Musharraf tried to shut her up. She deserved to be Woman of the Year in 2005.

Ismail Khatib, the Palestinian father who donated his 12-year-old dead son’s lungs, heart and liver to three Israeli girls who had been waiting for transplants. The remarkable thing about this gesture is that Ahmed Khatib had been killed by Israeli soldiers.

Rita Borsellino, an anti-Mafia activist and Sicilian politician. After her brother was killed by the Corleonese, Borsellino founded a group whose main goal is to weaken the hold of the Mafia on young Sicilians. For the past decade she has also been chairwoman of a non-profit organisation that promotes medical research into thalassemia.

Wole Soyinka, Nigerian writer, political activist, and Nobel prizewinner for literature. During the Nigerian civil war in 1967, Soyinka was imprisoned without charge or trial. While there he wrote poems that were later published in Poems from Prison. Read his autobiography Ake: The Years of Childhood and be transported.

Tiwonge Chimbalanga and Steven Monjeza, the Malawian gay couple who had the audacity to marry in public. They were subsequently arrested and charged with unnatural practices between males and gross public indecency. The chilling video footage of their court hearing should make one glad to live in Australia.

Of course, the last time I presumed to tear down a much-loved public figure, I was taken to task by a woman who relished her parochialism. The point is not to tell people who they can and can’t like. They can tell as much for themselves by looking: the fakes bray for attention, while the real heroes quietly toil with their heads down. The point is to examine the values embodied by the idol and the impact they have on the mind, and go from there. The choice is simple: One shrivels consciousness. The other expands it.

Dmetri Kakmi’s book ‘Mother Land’ was shortlisted for the NSW Premier’s Literature Awards.