Official Address at the opening of the new Charles Bean Research Centre

Distinguished guests, colleagues, and friends. It is very much my honour, as it is my pleasure be able to share a few words with you at this launch of the Charles Bean Research Centre and opening of the CEW Bean building. And what a fabulous facility it is, well-fit for the demands of modern researchers for access to materials both physical and digital.

In the few minutes I have with you, I think it appropriate to share some thoughts on the legacy of Australia's Official Historians, of which Bean was of course the first, and I am the most recent...and certainly, I trust, not the last, thought probably the least! Though separated by birth by some 95 years, and by a chasm of cultural and social changes within our country over such a span, there is a string that links Bean’s original project to all the series that came after, and to the work we are continuing here at the War Memorial. Indeed, if we are achieving anything in the most recent Official History of Iraq, Afghanistan and East Timor is a result of standing on the shoulders of those who have gone before. Not just Bean, but Gavin Long, Bob O’Neil Peter Edwards and David Horner (who I believe is here tonight?), and their own teams.

Charles Bean, however, as many of you know, was Australia’s official war correspondent during the First World War and later became our first Official Historian. His 12-volume history of that conflict shaped not just how we remember the war, but how we understand ourselves as a nation. He was never simply chronicling events—he was building a national story. He knew this at the time, and it shaped his work accordingly. For Bean, the character, the very essence of the new nation, was revealed and represented in places like Gallipoli and on the Western Front, and he wrote about those events with something of a dual sense of reverence and national purpose.

That legacy is enormous. And when I was appointed as the Official Historian for Australia’s Military Operations in Iraq, Afghanistan, and East Timor, I was (and I remain) deeply aware of the tradition I was stepping into.

But I’ve also come to this role in a very different time—and with a different perspective. While I have great respect for what Bean achieved, my approach is guided by the principles of critical historical inquiry, rather than with a purpose to build a nationalistic narrative. This is no surprise. Rather it reflects the way that history is seen, written and used in the 21st Century, as opposed to what it was in the early 20th Century. Today, I believe our job as historians is not just to preserve memory, but to interrogate it—to ask difficult questions, to look beyond comforting myths, and to tell the truth as best we can, no matter how complex or uncomfortable.

Bean then was a patriot-historian. His history was shaped by the values and priorities of his era. In many ways, his work helped to forge and shape the ANZAC legend itself – and edifice of Australian ideas of identity. My role is not in opposition to this purpose, it is not to tear that down, but instead to examine it carefully—and to expand the historical narrative to include the parts of the story that may have been left out had the current Official History series been written in the 1920s not the 2020s. The approach is not superior – but it is different. We lose some of Bean’s essence, but we gain something new. This is as it should be. History changes as a discipline in line with how society itself changes. It is why History is seen as an art, not a science. Evolution is a good thing.

In the work I and the team have done with the Official History of Australian Operations in Iraq, Afghanistan, and East Timor, we have thus made a deliberate effort to include those complexities: the difficult decisions, the political context, and yes, even the controversies. These are not always easy things to write about. But if we believe that history matters, then we must also believe that honesty matters.

So how do I see my relationship to Charles Bean? In some ways, I am of course continuing the path he began. Like Bean, I see Official History as a national responsibility. Like him, I believe deeply in the importance of honouring those who served—and of keeping a detailed, enduring record of our military past.

But in other ways, my work represents a shift—a maturation, perhaps—of the discipline. Where Bean sought to build national identity through story, I see my role as challenging us to think more critically about what those stories mean, and what they leave out. It’s not a rejection of his legacy, but a continuation of it—adapted to a different era and shaped by the values of rigorous scholarship and open inquiry.

Ultimately, however, I believe history should serve democracy. It should help us understand not only what we did, but why we did it—and at what cost. That means embracing the complexity, not simplifying it. It means remembering with respect, but also with responsibility. It is this pursuit of understanding which differentiates the Official Histories, and indeed the Australian War Memorial that sponsors them, from any other institution. Real understanding leads to meaningful commemoration.

In closing, I see the journey from Bean to myself not just as a shift in method, but as a reflection of how Australia has grown. From heroic narrative to critical reflection—from myth making to maturity. And that, I think, is a sign of a healthy, confident nation—one that isn’t afraid to look closely at its past. Thank you.