Crumpled in a cupboard drawer in my spare room are a dozen or so old T-shirts that get rummaged out for gardening and heavy duty renovation jobs like floor sanding or painting. There are a couple of frayed remnants from my student days with up front political messages – Mabo and land rights, feminist ‘reclaim the night’ rallies, make poverty history and local river care campaigns.
It's been years – well, decades really – since I’ve bought a T-shirt with a political message but I’m now on the look out for one that boldly proclaims my right to freedom of association. Even if I only wear it down to the local shops on Saturday mornings, or while digging a new bed in the veggie garden. But will even these brief airings of a T-shirt with a blunt political message about citizens’ rights brand me as a lawless troublemaker?
Will my neighbours be dobbing me in to the cops, convinced my backyard herb beds and weirdly shaped heirloom radishes are home grown Wicca-woman hallucinogens? Will I be banned from the local bakery when I try to buy my usual Saturday morning lamington? Or brusquely moved on when I stop to chat to the friendly bloke in bike leathers outside the local library, even if we’re just babbling on about Fred Saberhagen’s “Book of Swords’’ trilogy?
Among all the talk of government bans on bike gangs there seems barely a shred of concern for diminished civil rights if these laws gain a toehold. No, we don’t want drug running, drive-by shootings and deaths at city airports. The police should be tough on violent crime and crack down on perpetrators.
But new laws in South Australia – the Serious and Organised Crime Control Bill – will not only apply to so-called outlaw motorcycle groups. They will apply to all citizens. NSW Premier Nathan Rees wants similar anti-biker laws introduced and the Victorian Police Association has called for a national ban on bike gangs. The worry here is that we’re demonising people who don’t conform to narrow societal rules.
As civil rights lawyers have pointed out, South Australia’s proposed crime control laws will make it illegal to associate with members of “ a declared organisation.’’ The laws define association as including communication by telephone, fax, letter, email and other electronic means. Apparently, you’re in the frame for consorting with a criminal after more than six communications with someone from a declared organisation .
So, tough luck if you send a flurry of text messages (happy birthday, did U get present, does sweater fit and is colour OK, how’s the dog, mum says dinner Sunday, see U then) to a relative who’s a member of a declared organisation.
And what if the plumber, builder or bricklayer you hire to help with home renovations is a member of a banned bike gang ? What if the woman who runs the local hairdressing salon is married to a Commanchero, Bros or Rebels biker? What risk of criminal association is there if you a) pay her to cut your hair b) her daughter is best friends with your daughter, and they have sleepover at bikie mum’s house c) you ask her over for a weekend barbecue or Tupperware party.
And if you’re scoffing at the idea of finding yourself in such a situation, then you should definitely widen your social circle.
Civil rights are for everyone. They’re not restricted to people you like or those who look and think just like you. Yes, people who may look mighty weird or too-hairy-scary to your conservative, judgemental eyes have the same rights as you. That’s democracy for you.
In years of writing about environmental issues, I’ve met dozens of motorcycle-riding conservationists. I’ve met bikers who have doctorates in environmental management and eco-tourism. I’ve interviewed bikers who work in the film industry and who build sets for the opera.
I’ve watched in amusement (and not a little sadness) as work colleagues have pronounced prim-lipped judgements on leather-clad blokes with Celtic warrior tattoos, nose-piercings and mirror shades, unaware that among this gaggle of supposedly scary-looking blokes is a talented book illustrator, an organic tropical fruit farmer, landscape gardener and motor cycle mechanic who’s also a long-time practising Buddhist. Hell, they’re just free-spirited people who ride bikes.
Yes there are bad’uns in bike clubs, but there are also bad’uns in rugby league teams and Aussie rules football clubs. There’s been a string of media reports about sexual assaults, drug dealing, brawls and stand-over tactics among footy players out on the town for the night. Concern is also building in regional towns about violent drug-addled behaviour that seems to follow Australia’s rodeo circuit.
So, Premiers Rann and Rees, are you going to outlaw footy “thugs’’ and amphetamine-fuelled blokes in cowboy hats who drive low-slung rumble utes plastered with “Lost in a Bundy haze’’ stickers?
Among my friends is a bloke I’ll call Paddy, who rides a bike, wears club colours on the odd occasion and looks like he’d pass muster as a tattooed berserker warrior. You might turn up your nose at him, and shudder at the notion that he’d move in next door. If you made these judgements, you’d be way wide of the mark. Paddy is a social worker, at one of the more pointy ends of the social spectrum. He’s spent years working with homeless, alcoholic men. His wife is a nurse and his daughter is at uni, studying to be a vet. Yep, he rides a motorcycle but he also likes gardening, reading military histories, cooking Thai curries and wandering around museums. And he’ll beat you off the board at chess.
That’s why I want a T-shirt proclaiming my right to associate with whoever I damn well please, no matter how many tattoos, body piercings and skull-rings they might be wearing.