Where There Are Monsters...

This afternoon, just before two o’clock, Mum dropped me at Victoria Square. I was there for the start of a pro-Palestine march to Parliament House, but as I walked toward the crowd I saw the most magnificent sight, which you can see below.

If you can’t read it, it says:

"1986 – HALLEY'S COMET– 2062 BENEATH THIS PLAQUE LIES A CAPSULE CONTAINING MESSAGES FROM SCHOOL CHILDREN AND RESIDENTS OF SOUTH AUSTRALIA IN THE YEAR 1986 TO CITIZENS OF THE STATE 2062. A  COMBINED RESIDENTIAL CHILD CARE AGENCIES PROJECT."

I absolutely love this. I absolutely love everything about time capsules; they are very much a stand alone piece of conceptual artwork. And I remember when Halley’s Comet came in March 1986. I was four turning five that year. I remember it clearly. My dad said we couldn’t look at it directly, so he made us look at the shadow on a piece of paper.

Having been involved with astronomy myself a little bit, I know you can look directly at Halley’s Comet. Dad was probably just being extra careful, mixing up solar eclipse viewing etiquette with his old wild ideas about how the world works.

What I remember most was asking my dad if we could watch Halley’s Comet together when it came back. Vividly I recall him saying he would be pushing up daisies by then. I didn’t understand what that meant, and he outright said he would be dead by then, then looked at Mum and laughed. I knew what death was, but I had no real comprehension of it.

I’ve thought about my dad’s comments that night throughout my forty four years on earth. It was the first time I realised my dad might not be around forever. This plaque reminded me of him, and how unbelievable it still is that he’s gone.

I have a girlfriend I once made a pact with to watch Halley’s Comet together in 2062 when it returns. If I’m still alive, I’ll be eighty or eighty-one depending on the time of year it comes. I doubt I’ll live to that age, but if I do, I’ve decided I’m not going to watch it with this friend. She’s the one whose husband spent twelve thousand dollars on a Chanel handbag for her. I love her, but she’s the sort of person who is incredibly charming, and through that charm and a touch of insincerity makes a fool of you or makes promises she can’t keep.

I think I’ll watch it with my brother and his family. No doubt they’ll still be kicking on. They are extremely healthy. Obsessively so.

I have a fun fact about Halley’s Comet. Mark Twain was born on November 30, 1835, just after Halley’s Comet’s 1835 return. He then died on April 21, 1910, one day after the comet reached perihelion, its closest point to the Sun, during its 1910 return. I have always thought that is an incredibly magical coincidence.

When I did a series of drawings of Lady Justice in 2013, I drew Halley’s Comet in every picture to represent the majesty of Mark Twain. He himself believed he would go out with the comet. This was his prediction in 1909:

“I came in with Halley’s Comet in 1835. It is coming again next year, and I expect to go out with it. It will be the greatest disappointment of my life if I don’t. The Almighty has said, no doubt: Now here are these two unaccountable freaks; they came in together, they must go out together.”

After that nice little detour down memory lane, I wandered over to the crowd. At first, it didn’t seem like many people were there — you can see what I mean in the photo below.

But when I spotted a woman I know, I sat down to wait, and soon more and more people began to arrive. I snapped a photo of this lone vigilante below—if you can’t read his T-shirt, it says “True Blue Aussies.”

The moment I saw his T-shirt, I knew he wasn’t there to support Palestine. I watched as he spoke to the man beside him, asking things like, “Are you okay with Hamas?” before launching into a bit of a lecture. He wasn’t aggressive, but he was condescending. Police came over, spoke to him, and then he walked away.

I didn’t actually mind him being there—everyone has a right to their opinion. I was even hoping he’d come over to me; if he’d asked whether I was okay with Hamas, I would have asked, “Are you okay with Israel?” and built my argument from there. He didn’t, and I don’t think he was thrilled that I took his photo.

As the crowd swelled, I looked around at the signs. I particularly liked the one below.

People started walking towards King William Street. I turned around and saw a group of socialists, which I liked.

Then we walked slowly down King William Street. People were banging drums, chanting, yelling—it was loud. Very loud. I lost the woman I knew, so I walked alone, proudly, towards Parliament House. I took the two photos below from within the crowd.

Outside Parliament House, I found a good spot and got ready for the speeches. There were a lot of people—thousands, it seemed.

There were a number of speakers, including a few who’d also spoken at the September march. Greens Senator Barbara Pocock took the microphone—passionate and incredibly impressive.

If I weren’t such a wounded, flawed, and tainted soul, I think I’d have liked to be a politician; it’s just that for nearly thirty years I’ve been a member of the wrong party. The speakers were great—they really revved up the crowd. One woman said something I loved: “Where there are monsters, there are heroes.” She was referring to a South Australian doctor returning today from volunteering in Gaza.

But the one who really caught my attention was Ahmed Azar—you can see him below.

He’s involved with one of the socialist groups. A couple of days ago he was protesting for the freedom flotillas trying to reach Gaza. He was then arrested at his home, in front of his family, for his protest activity. At the station they said they’d release him on bail — but the conditions were strict, including a ban on entering the CBD, which would have meant he couldn’t come to the march today. So he refused to sign the bail conditions and chose to spend the night in a jail cell. I really supported this. He was saying “fuck you” to authority and I liked that.

It did, however, make me wonder if he would end up with a criminal conviction—in which case I would have stood in solidarity with him. He also spoke about the new law he was arrested under and how the Malinauskas government set it up to restrict freedom of protest. I really liked this guy. I hope I get to meet him sometime. I like his principles and how he did the right thing by spending the night in jail so he could speak at the march and rally today.

There were a few more speakers, and then Peter Combe sang a peace song to close the event. I wasn’t sure if he’d written it or just woven in his own words, but either way it was good. I didn’t warm to him, though. In my view, he spoke with an air of arrogance, as if he were doing everyone a massive favour by being there. I used to love his music back when I was watching Halley’s Comet with my dad, but after today that childhood adoration has dissolved. You can see him below.

As people began to leave, I walked up the steps of Parliament House to look at a piece of artwork someone had made. I wish I had the artist’s name, but there was no one around to ask.

It was a Palestinian flag made of hearts. Each heart represented 100 Palestinian children killed, with some of the children’s names written on the hearts as well.

I thought it was magnificent—shocking, heartbreaking, awe-inspiring—and, to me, the very definition of conceptual art. It inspired me. I want to create like this: art that means something, that carries a real message. It’s not the sort of work you could ever make money from—money defies the point. It’s about saying, “Wake up and pay attention.”

On my way to the cab rank out the front of the casino on North Terrace, I spotted this cheeky character.

I’m not entirely sure what he was meant to be—a dragon, maybe?—but he posed for photos with all sorts of people, which I loved. Spread the message.

I saw the march on Channel 7’s 6:00 pm news, and The Advertiser ran an online piece about it. In my view, they framed the protesters as if they were supporting terrorism. The article opens with:

"Thousands of people joined a pro-Palestine rally in Adelaide’s CBD on Sunday and repeated a phrase adopted by terrorist organisation Hamas, despite a ceasefire in place which will see the release of hostages and Israeli forces pulling back in Gaza. 

Pro-Palestine supporters at the rally, starting at Victoria Square and marching towards Parliament House, could be heard chanting “from the river to the sea” as they marched.

The phrase refers to the territory between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea and is interpreted by some as a call to eliminate the Israeli state."

People say “from the river to the sea” is a genocidal phrase. I completely disagree. What feels genocidal to me is bombing hospitals and schools; denying a population food, water, and medical supplies; killing journalists; sniping children; and telling people to flee to a “safe zone” and then bombing the safe zone.

There may be a ceasefire, but Israel hasn’t even begun to make things right with the Palestinians. Until that day comes, I’ll make my way to Victoria Square—or any other square—and march for a people whose existence, in Gaza, the West Bank, and East Jerusalem has been dictated by bloodthirsty, genocidal war criminals.