Black Tie Dinner, Australian Bravery Association
Memorial Director, Matt Anderson's address at the Black Tie Dinner, Australian Bravery Association on 10 February 2024.
Your Excellencies, LTGEN Frewen, Distinguished Guests, ladies and gentlemen.
Dhawura nguna, dhawura Ngunnawal.
Yanggu ngalawiri, dhunimanyin
Ngunnawalwari dhawurawari.
Nginggada Dindi wangirali jinyiin
I pay my respects to the traditional custodians of the lands on which we meet, and to their Elders, past and present.
And, as we do every at the Australian War Memorial every evening, I acknowledge those who have served – in any capacity - those still serving – in any capacity - and the families who love and support them.
As you’ve just heard from Kay’s kind introduction, amongst the many privileges of service, I had the honour of being Australia’s High Commissioner to Samoa from 2007-11.
We lived in the capital, Apia, on the small island of Upolu.
To paint a map for you, Samoa is in the middle of the Pacific, about half way between Australia and Hawaii.
At 6.46 am on 29 September 2009, I was awake, getting my then 3 year old son, Harry, changed in his room, when he told me ‘daddy, there’s something in the cupboard.’
That was his innocent comment about the tremors - or the ‘earth trembles’ as my two young daughters called them – on feeling some pretty regular seismic activity in the Tonga Trench, the deepest part of the Pacific Ocean, about 100 miles to our South East.
There was a rattling of doors and windows, but nothing out of the ordinary.
A few seconds later the cupboard door flew off its hinges, and I had a second to cover my son as the door fell on me.
I scooped him up, put him on our driveway, and went back inside to be met by my wife, Lou, and my two daughters as they rubbed their eyes, staggering down the hallway as if gaining their sea legs on an ocean liner in the midst of a storm.
We went outside and huddled as a family. We stood for several minutes listening to our house shake, every dog in the village howl, and our belongings crash and smash to the floor.
We didn’t know it at the time, but we had just experienced an 8.3 magnitude earthquake.
We also didn’t know it at the time – but my wife and I exchanged glances as we both had a horrible premonition – four 15 metre waves, travelling at 400 km per hour, were on their deadly way.
Nothing brave about any of that.
I was, effectively, a passenger on a small island in the middle of the Pacific.
And our island was now in harm’s way.
The bravery I was to witness came later – and all of it by others – those who I have discovered walk quietly amongst us and, indeed, fill this very room tonight.
Those of you who go the wrong way.
Those who take a conscious decision to move toward danger rather than away from it.
On 29 September 2009 the earth moved and the sea roared.
I was to be witness to the worst of Mother Nature
and the very best of human nature.
In the days and weeks that followed I was to see my own staff – the often overlooked consular officials who were at ground zero, with their backs to the ocean, looking for their countrymen and women during 7.6 magnitude aftershocks – and the Doctors, surgeons, anaesthetists, paramedics, Australian Federal Police disaster victim identification experts and the ADF – a C-17, 8 C130s and eventually, HMAS Tobruk and HMAS Kanimbla – who came to help me:
reduce suffering,
restore dignity and
offer that most precious of all commodities; hope.
5 Australians were killed, and we performed 22 aeromedical evacuations.
Hundreds of Samoans also died or were injured, and 16,000 were left homeless.
It was suggested that I might like to talk this evening about bravery in a military context.
Which, of course, I’m happy to do. As the Head of Military History said to me yesterday, ‘war’ is our middle name!
And we need look no further than Doug Baird, with us tonight, and the extraordinary valour demonstrated by his son Cam whom we honour and remember today, 10 years on, for his most conspicuous acts of valour, extreme devotion to duty and ultimate self-sacrifice at Ghawchak village, Uruzgan Province.
And we remember Private Robby Poate, killed in action in Afghanistan on 29 August 2012 – and who was honoured in the Memorial’s first Last Post Ceremony in its current format more than 10 years ago - joining us tonight are Hugh and Janny Poate.
Yes Janny – I have Robby’s remembrance band on.
But I chose to open with the events of 29 September 2009 as they were a reminder to me - as is this audience - that Australians do not need to go to war to display astonishing acts of bravery.
The ADF were certainly involved in the humanitarian response, and I couldn’t have mounted the response and recovery without them, but so too were the non-uniformed first responders, and they too were magnificent and brave.
So tonight I’d like to speak of courage in all its forms; as Robert Kennedy said, ‘for every ten men who are willing to face the guns of an enemy there is only one willing to brave the disapproval of his fellow, the censure of his colleagues, the wrath of his society. Moral courage is a rarer commodity than bravery in battle or great intelligence.’
Kennedy was echoing the sentiment of one of our former Governors-General, Field Marshall Sir William Slim who, when addressing Cadets at the Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst said that ‘moral courage is a much rarer thing than physical courage…I have known many men who had marked physical courage, but lacked moral courage…but I have never met a man (or woman) with moral courage who would not, when it was really necessary, face bodily danger.
Moral courage,’ he said, ‘is a higher and rarer virtue than physical courage.’
But in any event, what is bravery? What is courage?
As Peter White, in your most recent Australian Bravery Association newsletter wrote:
‘the meaning of bravery has transformed significantly through the centuries, reflecting the changing values and challenges of each era.
From the physical valour of ancient warriors to the intellectual daring of Renaissance thinkers, the moral courage of knights, and the political activism of modern heroes, bravery has adapted to the demands of its time.
What, to me, remains constant is the admiration and inspiration that brave individuals evoke, serving as beacons of hope and progress for humanity.’
Certainly, that was the view of the Founder of the Memorial, Charles Bean.
Originally the official war correspondent he would later be appointed the official historian.
Bean landed with the Australians at Gallipoli on the 25th of April.
He stayed with them at the front, through the entire war, refused evacuation when he was wounded and then, over 23 years, would write and edit the 12 volume official history of the First World War.
And we he sought to sum it all up – from Gallipoli to Pozieres, Beersheeba to Le Hamel and Mont St Quentin, he wrote:
‘What these men did nothing can alter now.
The good and the bad, the greatness and smallness of their story will stand …
It rises, as it always will rise, above the mists of ages, a monument to great-hearted men; and, for their nation, a possession forever.’
He would later distil this service down even further as he and the very first Director of the Australian War Memorial, and Gallipoli veteran, John Treloar sought to make sense of it all.
“What,” they asked each other “are the values, the virtues we saw in these men and women we regard as being essential.
Not just for in victory in battle. What did it reveal to us, as a nation, about the depth and breadth of our character?”
What had we learned from their service and their courage?
Those values now feature in the 15 stained glass windows – stunning portraits of 14 men and a woman from the First World War - standing sentinel over the Tomb of the Unknown Australian Soldier
They were designed by Napier Waller – an artist before the war, who lost his right arm after sustaining horrific injuries in the battle of Bullecourt – and who taught himself to paint with his left arm, saying ‘an artist paints with his head, not with his hand’.
Those fifteen lessons of service portrayed in these men and women.
They are as relevant to those engaged in the profession of arms as they are to our first responders, and surf lifesavers and our innocent bystanders who chose to become involved.
To those of you who chose to go the wrong way.
RESOURCE, to find strength from within.
CANDOUR, to be open and honest with those you lead, and those you are led by, remembering that to lead is to serve.
Under the nurse facing directly down Anzac Parade to the Parliament, DEVOTION. To give yourself, without reservation, to the people and the cause on which you are committed.
CURIOSITY and INDEPENDENCE, always ask questions – be curious! - and don’t be afraid to walk your own path.
COMRADSHIP – or as Nelson Mandela said, when asked why he chose to have dinner with his jailer – ‘Ubuntu’ – people are people through through other people.
ANCESTRY, be proud of where you’ve come from and of who you are.
PATRIOTSIM, CHIVALRY. We are or should be servants to a greater cause – service beyond self - and do what’s right, not what’s popular. Kennedy’s very definition of moral courage.
Loyalty, coolness, control, stay true to your beliefs and to those you serve and serve with, know when to – and when not to – speak out and to act.
AUDACITY, nothing in your life will be achieved of value without taking a risk.
I was honoured to host last week the Chief of General Staff for the Canadian Armed Forces, General Wayne Ayr. During a visit to the Hall of Memory, I explained the stained glass windows, in much the same fashion as I’m outlining them to you, and wondered which one spoke to him. He chose AUDACITY.
The CDF joined us slightly later, and I posed the same question. All were poignant, but if asked to choose one, he too settled on AUDACITY.
ENDURANCE, you never give up.
And DECISION, make a decision. Own the consequences.
As Kerry Stokes, our former Chair of the Australian War Memorial Council once told me, in his experience, when faced with a decision, the harder of two courses is, almost always, the right one.
When I think of this, I’m reminded of the decision to remain open to the public during the development.
It would have been easier to close for three years.
To allow unimpeded access for the excavation of the equivalent of 50 Olympic swimming pools that required 9,500 truck and trailer loads to remove the spoil.
It would have been easier not to split the precinct in four.
But then we would have denied Australians the opportunity to commemorate, to attend the daily last post ceremony, to place a poppy against the name of a friend or relative on the Roll of Honour.
And to visit the tomb of the Unknown Australian Soldier.
And we certainly wouldn’t have received the Best of the Best 2023 on Trip Advisor – which puts us in the top one percent of all destinations worldwide. Nor would we have been rated by UK-based magazine Time Out in August 2023 as one of the top ten free things to do worldwide!
Staying open was the right thing, but it was, and remains the hard thing.
It is a credit to my Council, my remarkable staff and wonderful volunteers that we have been able to welcome so many, and to continue to lead the nation’s commemoration and understanding of the Australian experience of war.
When I’m with the young men and women about to graduate from the Royal Military College or the Australian Defence Force Academy, I ask them to make a choice.
To choose just one value from the Hall of Memory – and make it their compass heading for the remainder of their career.
Should they do so, the women and men of the Australian Defence Force will be well led.
One of my early honours as Director was to accompany the Governor-General in launching a book, For Gallantry, which contains the profiles of Australians from all walks of life, who have been recognised for actions of outstanding physical and moral courage.
Through the generosity of Deb and Richard Rolfe, it is on your tables tonight.
A spoiler alert for those of you who have not read it, it tells the stories of ordinary Australians who proved capable of the extraordinary.
As I summarised at the launch, amongst them is:
‘a tram conductor who sacrificed his life to warn others as his tram hurtled out of control;
a Chief Petty Officer who remained with his trapped young seamen, giving them comfort even as their ship (HMAS Voyager) sank to the sea floor;
a farmer who used his body to earth a high voltage current to save the life of a young child;
a geologist and a police constable who braved the terrible aftermath of terrorist bombings to help the injured and dying;
prisoners of war who died rather than betray their ideals;
a dental student who went to the aid of a swimmer during a frenzied shark attack.’
Again, uniformed and civilian.
Australians do not need to go to war to display astonishing acts of bravery.
As so many of you here today remind me, you don’t need to wear a uniform to serve.
The mission of the Australian War Memorial is to lead remembrance and understanding of Australia’s wartime experience.
Every night at the Last Post Ceremony, we take time from our busy lives to honour our fallen, and to remind ourselves we are richer for the example of all who have put service before self.
We acknowledge that they gave their lives for us, for our freedoms and in the hope of a better world.
We do not glorify war.
Indeed, when the Governor General, Lord Gowrie, VC, opened the Memorial on Remembrance Day 1941, he said the challenge – which remains to this day – was to ensure that when people leave the War Memorial, they must utter never again’.
Each night, we tell a single story not only of how they died, but who they were when they lived.
When we remember them, and we remember tonight Corporal Cameron Baird, VC, MG and Private Robbie Poate, when we speak their names and tell their stories, we declare they did not die in vain.
Of course, for every Victoria Cross or Cross of Valour that has been awarded, there are countless acts of heroism or bravery that passed without recognition.
I thank you and honour you, as Members of the Australian Bravery Association, for your service, for your example and for seeking to raise awareness of the good that is within our society and, I believe firmly, when tested, lies within us all.
Your Association also reminds us that there can be a significant and ongoing cost to the individual of these acts of bravery.
I am richer for being in your company.
The need for the Memorial came to Charles Bean after the Somme Offensive in 1916, where, over 42 days the Australians made 19 attacks, 16 of them at night and, as a consequence, Bean witness a staggering 23,000 casualties, of whom 6,800 were killed.
Bean wrote:
‘They are not heroes. They do not intend to be thought of or spoken of as heroes. They are ordinary Australians doing their particular work as their country would wish them to do. And pray God. Australians in days to come will be worthy of them.’
And may we prove worthy of the example you, the members of the Australian Bravery Association, have set for us all.
Lest We Forget