Jacqueline Maley, a virtue signaling scribbler for the SMH, declares all Aussies “racist”.
Picture this: repulsive corruptocrat “Sam” Dastyari walks into a pub to promote a book, where he is verbally attacked by an obscure group of “rednecks”, or “patriots”. Next thing you know, its all over the news, the lame stream media blows it all out of proportion and every SJW in the land pontificates about “racism”, including our hopeless PM Turnbull, who used it as a welcome opportunity for virtue signaling. All purely accidental, nothing staged, all by chance. Have you bought his book yet, Moonbats? Go for it!
Sam Dastyari is a renowned self-promoter and one of the savviest media manipulators in Parliament. He is a performer – some say a clown – at ease on his feet in the Senate, or grilling officials in Senate estimates, or in front of the camera. He is tough and can handle himself.
But somehow, the fact of Dastyari’s innate ebullience made this week’s attack on him even more poignant.
When men like this are able to openly hunt a Muslim man in a public bar, the claim that Australia is not racist is blown out of the water.
Sam Dastyari racially attacked
Labor Senator Sam Dastyari has been racially abused in a pub by right-wing outfit Patriot Blue in Melbourne.
The Labor senator was filmed, against his will, being bullied and racially vilified by a coven of burly, high-vis vest-wearing halfwits at a university bar in Melbourne.
They called Dastyari, an Iranian-born non-practising Muslim, a “terrorist” and a “monkey”.
When Dastyari called them racist, they asked him: “What race is Islam?”
The scene was instantly familiar to anyone who has ever been bullied – the thugs’ slow circling of their prey, the escalating taunts, the malicious dance on the edge of violence. They enjoyed every minute.
Where is the outcry for Andrew Bolt and Tony Abbott who were assaulted by lefties? Dystari had it coming. He richly deserved it. He has a long history of insulting Australians on a daily basis.
Unapologetic over the Sam Dastyari confrontation, a far-right campaigner says he will continue to target pollies.
And on Dastyari’s face, the uneasy calculations of the victim: Can I laugh this off? Can I ignore them? Will anyone step in to help?
The bar staff didn’t, but Dastyari’s fellow Labor MP Tim Watts was nearby, ducking in and out of the shakily-filmed video.
Watts stuck close to his friend and delivered what might just be the line of the year when he asked one of the men: “What race is dickhead?”
As Australians we like to tell ourselves that we are not a racist country, that our multiculturalism is a success (indubitably true), that attacks like these are isolated and confined to the extremes (the men were part of a “patriots” group that seems to have only two membership criteria: you have to be white, and of subnormal IQ).
But to speak as frankly as Watts, when men like this are able to openly hunt a Muslim man in a public bar, the claim that Australia is not racist is clearly bullshit.
The attack was condemned by both sides of politics as “un-Australian”, which is about as meaningful as saying the deadly Charlottesville white nationalist rally was “un-American”, or that the 2004 Redfern riots were “un-Sydney”.
Actually, the attack on Dastyari was marinating in Australian-ness – the beery, blokey, hostile masculinity of the perpetrators, the fact it happened in a bar, the cool attempts of the victim to order beer while being lambasted, the slack vowels of the bullies as they told the senator to go back to Iran.
Also particularly “Australian”, was the way media outlets, including, astoundingly, the ABC, later sought out the main bully, who is known to police for having previously threatened a rabbi, and granted him an interview.
Channel Nine’s A Current Affair and Melbourne radio station 3AW gave him minutes of airtime.
What were these journalists hoping to get out of their talent, a known white nationalist and criminal? A considered elucidation of his arguments? A much-needed counter-balance to the charge that he was racist?
In any other country, if a dark-skinned man is called a “monkey”, the person labelling him that doesn’t get a platform on which to further publicise his moronic views.
Eighty years ago, men not so different from him were wearing jackboots and smashing the windows of Jewish shopkeepers.
But this is Australia in 2017, so we put him on television.
Hopefully the wide publication of the incident will serve to remind us why our anti-discrimination laws are more necessary now than ever.
As we await the results of the same-sex marriage postal survey next week, the “no” campaign is preparing itself to ensure “protections” for freedom of speech and freedom of religion are inserted into legislation legalising gay marriage.
They see no problem with introducing more (slightly different) discrimination into law designed to remove it.
That’s because these culture warriors seek the drastic rolling back of all forms of anti-discrimination law, and this is as good a place as any to start.
The Dastyari incident shows why we can never let that happen – because racism and racist abuse is still very Australian, and if we want to stamp it out, few things have greater moral force than Australian law which strongly condemns it.
The only thing that was unusual about what happened to Dastyari was that it was captured on video and publicised by the perpetrators themselves, who posted it on their Facebook page.
These kinds of incidents happen all the time, off-camera, to people of colour much less high profile and less well equipped to bat them off. Most go unreported.
From a young age, women learn to walk through life dragging their ankles against a low current of sexual harassment, a current which sometimes swells and turns into something worse – an incident, a humiliation, violence. We’ve been hearing a lot about that recently.
So, too, Muslim people and people of colour accumulate these sorts of incidents as they move through life.
It is a low level drumbeat, just bearable as a constant background noise, right up until the moment it loudens and becomes impossible to ignore, like a smartphone in your face, or a fist.