Tertiary education is a huge export market for Australia and if last night's conversation is any indication, it must be hurting.
Raj: "Hey so tell me Anthony ..."
-- "Yes Raj?"
Raj: "Tell me ... you know ... this stuff about Indian students in Australia ..."
-- "What do you mean, Raj?" [I do like using the name 'Raj'.]
Raj: "Just all these things we are hearing about the attacks on Indians ... I'm thinking of sending my daughter to Sydney to study ... is it safe for her to go to university there?"
-- "Probably not, Raj. Australians can be very racist ... Raj it's probably best that you don't take the chance. Spend your money somewhere friendlier, Raj."
Raj: "Really?"
-- "Really, Raj. Really."
Naughty, naughty me for breaking the rules. Firstly, I exceeded the Raj word count limit. Secondly, I didn't promote and defend Australia. You must never admit that anything is wrong in Australia. Even the indefensible must be denied.
Take the referendum for instance ... the Australian public voted to keep the Monarchy ... oh yes ... that old thing? ... oh no one voted for her ... umm yes it still passed ... yes we are democracy but ... never mind you wouldn't understand ... it's very complicated ... but no one in Australia agrees with it ... OK?
Raj's question forced me to dig deep to find my answer. I had to get past that patriotic bully who thrusts other, easier answers into my mouth while shoving my own opinions away from my tongue.
The land of milk and honey does not tolerate criticism and most of us give in to this bully. In these moments I pray to Germaine Greer. I ask her to save me from becoming Steve Irwin. To give me strength to fight Bully Cat. Even still, I answered Raj last night my cowardly eyes were darting around the room ensuring there were no Australians within earshot.
I do believe the things I said to Raj. At least I think I do.
I don't think Indians are in physical danger in Australia; at least no more than anyone else. And no more than I me, here, in India.
What I really meant is that they're not welcome ... that if I was Raj and had a 15 year old daughter ... knowing what I know about Australia ... I wouldn't want her to study there.
I wouldn't like to be a foreign student in Sydney. We treat them like second class citizens, all the while convincing ourselves that they brought it all on themselves. That it's all their fault.
But it's got nothing to do with fault.
Working with foreign students at uni is hard on us, but I believe it's even harder on them.
Let me use India as an example. People work in a manner that seems (to us) like complete chaos. It can be shocking. Everything is done at the last minute and it seems like a storm of unstructured confusion. Outsiders can take months (or never) to adjust. It all gets done in the end, though. Somehow. Amazingly.
Take an Indian out of that environment and put them into a group assignment at Sydney Uni. They would be bewildered about what was going on, similar to our own reactions on arriving to India. They are amazed at all that cautious, unnecessary planning and structure ... and must wonder why these Australians are so uptight? Why don't they just relax? It will get done. Why all those lists?
I would react like this if I had to work in Germany.
Indians would have no idea how to work like us, so would probably just withdraw. The potato students eagerly interpret this withdrawal as laziness; not confusion. I feel embarrassed at all the concessions my Indian colleagues make for me their country, compared with inflexible we are with them.
There are exceptions of course ... there are those foreign students who assimilate so carefully that they no longer seem foreign. We like those ones. We applaud their efforts as they pull a second ecstasy out of their bra, or talk about their vibrator.
But I'm talking about the other ones. The majority. The ones who remain different to us. The ones we don't like.
They are the ones we make generalisations about. We actively search for examples of their foibles and indiscretions. We tell everyone about how "impossible" they are -- and we're usually right at that particular moment. But we're still wrong. Because when push comes to shove, we're just allowing our inner kindergarten to rule us.
Living in Vietnam and working in this region, I am seen as a foreigner, or as different, or as a walking ATM. I live as a second class citizen and I don't like it. It is commonly assumed that my differences are wrong, and that therefore I am inferior or incompatible. Even my English teacher, a seasoned potato hangerouterer, will laugh or gasp at the most ordinary of comments. People rarely say or do anything obviously hostile, but you can always feel your status.
The shoe does not feel so good on the other foot.
Foreign students in Australia must also be able to sense this after a few months living there.
Once they return back home, it's a different story. When I hear that someone was educated in Australia I view them more favourably in a job interview. It is more likely that it will be easier to work with them. They are usually more focused and hard working, at least in the ways that I define. They are likely to take risks, more likely to plan better. I wonder why the behaviours that I now see, were not apparent with these same foreign students at uni ... and whether I played a role in that?
I imagine Raj's daughter walking home from UTS ... to her student apartment on Elizabeth St ... at night time in winter ... possibly wearing a sari ... getting jeered at by some homeless people or drunk teenagers on Eddy St ... and I think to myself "Fuck it - that's not my definition of milk and honey".
I believe that an Indian girl would be treated better in San Diego or Boston than in Sydney. Sure, I'd pick Sydney over Kansas. But then Kansas still has the liberal use of 'nigger' or 'curry muncher' working against it. I make a mental note to remember to steer Raj away from Kansas when I see him tomorrow ... to explain that when I was talking about the USA I did not mean Kansas.
I was ashamed to admit all this to Raj, but would have felt worse about lying. He was asking about his daughter. This is not small talk to him. These are serious issues and decisions, and I had the responsibility to tell him the truth ... or at the very least, my honest opinion.
It's all so fucking complicated and silly.
