Pray Nice Australia

All images by Michelle Passmore

The Pakistani man in the gulf between the two opposing protests, circled by cameras, is sparring with a young ethnic woman. “Muslims will cut your head off—I have seen it” he yells, “they will not shake your hand, they will cut your head.” His rants are echoed by the larger party of protesters and refuted by the smaller one. The microphones probe their way into the circle, the cameras searching out action. Both sides shout and taunt, drawing each other in, enclosing a young woman.

“Women have no rights in Islam—they will rape and kill you!” one indignant Aussie shouts, his fist tightening around an emptying can of energy drink. The woman, I later learn she is from India, attempts to defend her position. “Muslims have a right to be here just as much as you do,” she retorts. Defences are up, adrenaline is pumping, faces red, rationale and diplomacy gone and forgotten. Drowned out by a torrent of “go back to where you fucking came from,” she cries and walks away. She tells me after the protest, as we sit down and share a muffin, that she is an atheist and confesses that she felt afraid in that circle, surrounded by Australian men.

Someone has given the ethnic racist a microphone. He’s on the shoulders of two obese men, paraded around like a tiny statue or symbol, proof that their bigotry is justified and that they are not racist. The indignant Pakistani is screaming propaganda at all who will listen. He is dancing and sweating and shouting, working his little mind into frenzy. The cameras click away. They swarm around him, the media, the bogans, the hippies, some defending, some attacking, some documenting. “ALL Muslims will cut off your head and rape your daughters” he says, and I can’t help but wonder why we are listening.

The answer is frustrating and obvious. People are listening because he has dark skin. Is there such thing as benevolent racism? Either way, I did some research on this small, sunglass-clad anomaly. He’s the leader of an orthodox Christian group whose product description is the same old tripe that the monotheistic religions all preach. So he has vested interests. We all do. But he has the microphone.

I walk away for a bit and sit on the brick wall outside the Christian church, one of three churches already calling the narrow street home. A lady from the counter-protest offers me an egg and salad sandwich. I take it and notice my hands are shaking. It was naive to expect any kind of peaceful discussion, but even if there was a chance to talk with one of the Stop the Mosque protesters, what could be said? In this exchange of esoteric facts, both sourced from opposing ideologies, there isn’t a lot of room for common ground.

Over the past months, Australia has been bombarded by news of beheadings, "death cults" and "the enemy", successfully turning Australia’s base level apathy into a fully-fledged fear of Islam. The Courier Mail’s six-page spread titled "Breeding the Aussie Jihadist" detailing homegrown terrorists, planned beheadings and ISIS raids didn’t sedate any fight or flight responses. The Australian Federal Police strapped cameras to officers and invited the press to the nation’s biggest ever terror raid. And the Daily Telegraph tells me ASIO powers are expanding again. I can’t help but wonder where all the headlines on Israel and Palestine have gone. I haven’t heard the words ‘budget’ or ‘economic crisis’ in weeks.

It starts raining as I retreat from the main group—there are around 200 protesters left. They continue to shout at each other over the wall of cops. I can hear ‘fuck you’, ‘you ignorant cunt’, ‘this is our country’ but I can no longer distinguish which side is screaming what. A large Samoan and I watch the carnage as we shelter beneath my cardboard sign, my catchy slogan directed at the dark clouds overhead. The Samoan casually admits he doesn’t care about the mosque and that he only came here for the fight. He identifies which members in the crowd are also here to brawl. The clenched fists, the raw faces, the fixed eyes, all signs of fighters he tells me. I ask him why but he changes the subject, instead speaking of his Christian heritage that he has abandoned. He says they are all fucked, especially the hippies and when I disclose that I am one of them, things become weird. When I get the chance to leave, I take it.