CART (2)University of Adeaide
04/05/2015
Distinguished guests,
Graduands and their families and friends
It is a very great pleasure for me to be here and finally accepting a degree in this wonderful Bonython Hall at the University of Adelaide – my old alma mater.
The last time I had the opportunity to do so was in 1970 when I graduated with an Arts degree from this university.
But I did not attend the graduation ceremony.
Back then, it was fashionable to boycott one’s graduation.
It was a political protest.
I can’t remember now whether it was a protest against the war – the Vietnam War – or whether it was a more general protest against the entire capitalist system – with no doubt some women’s liberation thrown in.
(We did not use the term ‘feminism’ much back then.)
Whatever the reason, I did not turn up to accept my degree.
Nor did most of my friends.
We got our degrees in the mail.
So it is good to finally have the opportunity to be here – in person – and to be accepting the honour of this degree.
I thank the University for choosing me – and for not holding against me my earlier act of protest.
IT IS probably difficult for students today to have any idea of the kind of political atmosphere that existed on university campuses in the late 1960s.
It was a time of political dissidence worldwide but especially in the West.
There was loud and persistent opposition to
- the war in Vietnam,
- to American ‘imperialism’ – as we liked to call it then and, especially,
- to what was known as the military-industrial complex that was said to run the US and its wars.
Much of the protest came from students and other young people.
1968 was the year of massive protests.
Students tore up the streets of Paris. There were riots in many major cities and universities around the world became political battlegrounds.
University administration offices were occupied by students who were angry to discover that their universities, supposedly places for learning, were often being funded to do research for the war effort.
Here in Adelaide, we were not certain that the University was engaged in war research but we felt we enough other complaints to justify occupying the Vice-chancellor’s office anyway.
Late one afternoon, a small group of us – probably no more than 10 or 12 people – walked through the front door of the administration building and straight into the Vice-chancellor’s office.
Surprisingly, we met no resistance.
In fact, we met no one.
The offices were empty of people so we were able to simply stroll in and inspect the place.
One of leaders ensconced himself behind the VC’s desk.
We’d seen footage from other campuses – Sydney for instance and Columbia University in New York – of students being forcibly evicted by police. Often tear gas was used.
We met with no such opposition.
After half an hour so we grew bored. How were we going to stir up student sympathy for us and our cause if there was no police brutality?
In fact, there no police!
So one of our number rang them.
I’m the Vice-chancellor at Adelaide Uni, he said. Some students have taken over my office. I’d like you to come and arrest them.
The Vice-chancellor told us you might call, the police said. He has no problems with you being in his office.
The Vice-chancellor at time was Geoffrey Badger. Later Sir Geoffrey Badger. Back in the day when we still had Knights and Dames. Oh wait…
Geoff Badger was a very smart man and he certainly had our measure. Unlike other universities, where Vice-chancellors totally overeacted and turned resistance into mayhem, Badger knew that if he ignored us we would have no option but to go away.
He was right.
Totally deflated, we left.
The revolution was averted.
THAT WAS then. Your issues are different today – and your ways of demonstrating are probably less confrontational. Which does not make them any less heartfelt.
What I would like to say to you today is that the lessons we get from having spent some years at a great place of learning like the University of Adelaide are often not apparent until we leave.
You might have acquired some specific skills or training, such as medicine, or you might have opted for a more generalised field of study, such as philosophy.
Either way, you have engaged your brain in ways that will serve you for the rest of your life.
You have learned to think.
I hope you have also learned to challenge received wisdom, and to test conventional thinking, because it will be up to you to ensure that the rules that govern us conform with contemporary values.
For most of us, our lives are not disrupted by war. Unlike the boys I went to university with, the young men here today have not had to face conscription into military service.
But you will have other challenges.
They are more likely to be economic, scientific, environmental and technological as well as figuring out how better to manage ourselves politically.
All of these challenges call for people who can tackle problems.
People who can think.
People like you.
There are boundless opportunities today for people like you.
Don’t be afraid to be bold and to take risks. Perhaps jump into new areas. Take advantage of being young to learn as much as you possibly can.
When I was a kid, people would say: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Not that there were that many options for a girl growing up in Adelaide when I did: especially if you didn’t want to be a teacher or a nurse.
That’s why we had to start the Women’s Liberation’s Movement – which began, in Adelaide in 1969, on this campus with six of us meeting in a room over the refectory.
But we no longer ask people what they are going to do when they grow up.
Not once they are past about 5 years of age.
Not because we don’t grow up, but because our lives are likely to be fluid and changeable and exciting as work and projects become available that none of us could have imagined even a few years ago.
You might have careers but you are unlikely to hold the same job for life.
You are probably going to switch occupations, certainly employers, possibly countries as you make your way though life.
All you really need is your head, your heart – and your imagination.
Seven years we did not have the iPhone.
That tiny device has revolutionised our lives.
It has put street directories and encyclopaedias and countless other enterprises out of business, but it has created untold and previously unimaginable new possibilities for communications, for entertainment – even totally new activities such as the ubiquitous ‘selfie’ – for enterprise, and even for activities such as philanthropy and charitable giving.
The world you are graduating into is an unbelievably exciting place, with possibilities that are so rich.
I envy you starting out and wish you happy and fulfilled lives.
And I thank you for forgiving my youthful recalcitrance and having me back to receive this honorary degree.