No doubt everyone who has had the honour of being named Australian of the Year has done much to deserve it. I am sure that to a man and a woman they have been people who have done much good and little harm. But there is only one Australian of the Year, so far, that has profoundly moved me and that is this year’s winner; the extraordinarily ordinary Rosie Batty.
Most Australians of the Year are drawn from the ranks of the high achievers, those who are driven to succeed in some form of public life – sport, politics, academia, the arts et al. We admire them, sometimes we may envy them but we don’t feel that they are anything like us.
Until 2014, Rosie Batty was just like us. A single mother doing the best she could for her son with whatever she had. Then tragedy struck and Rosie Batty’s son was killed by his mentally ill father. When the news hit the airwaves, we held our collective breaths. It was such a terrible event and all of us – whether we have children or not – could identify with the grief, rage and terror we would feel if the person we loved most in the world was ripped away from us in such an awful way. As much as we try to make ourselves safe, somewhere deep inside we all know just how vulnerable we really are. Danger is a reality, safety is an illusion. Terrible things can happen and they can happen to anyone. On the 12th of February, 2014 a terrible thing happened to Luke and Rosie Batty.
But that event is also where Rosie Batty gave us all something that we have been starved of for a very long time. In the face of our worst fears she gave us hope. She showed us the grace, courage and decency of ordinary people. She stared the worst thing most of us can imagine in the face and emerged whole. Instead of descending into despair, or hatred, or rage, she found a strength she probably had no idea she had. She was even able to continue to grant essential humanity to the man she had once loved and who had killed the son he also loved while in the grip of his delusions. She may have hated his actions but she did not appear to hate him.
Then she went even further and decided to take this horror and use it to do what she could to save others from facing the same ordeal. She has become a campaigner against the greatest scourge of our society – domestic violence. She has found her voice and her power and we listen to her in a way we do not listen to anyone else. She has even had to face the naysayers who have tried to blame her for not protecting her son better from his father. I suspect many of these people are the very same who decry women who do try to keep their children from their fathers. It remains true that women are damned if they do and damned if they don’t.
The naysayers are in a tiny minority, thank goodness, and it has been heartening to read the avalanche of goodwill and congratulations that has greeted Ms Batty’s appointment. And it is not just her courage that we celebrate; it is her ability to remind us about the courage in ourselves. So many of those who aspire to be our leaders play to our worst selves, manipulating our prejudices, fears and petty jealousies for their own benefit. Batty has reminded us that even in our very worst moments we can still access our best selves. Unlike other Australians of the Year, however worthy and deserving, she is us and we are her. She represents our worst fears and our best hopes.
I am very moved by Rosie Batty as Australian of the Year for 2015. I think it was a brilliant and inspired choice and I think – in and of itself – it will give others facing terror in their own intimate relationships a little more courage. But I do not wish to forget her son while admiring his mother. Her triumph is also her tragedy. Grateful and impressed as I am about her voice raised in defence of others, I profoundly wish that she could have come to prominence in another way.