Back of the class: attending the Access Ministries Rally (part 1)

Probably not going to win any photo-journalism prizes.

In the campaign to change the state government’s legislation concerning Special Religious Instruction in primary schools, I’ve spent the majority of my time safely tucked behind a computer screen. Today I got out there to test my nerve by attending a rally held by Access Ministries at Melbourne Town Hall. It wasn’t a decision I took lightly – I knew the rally wasn’t for me, being a parent who opts-out her child, I knew I was gate-crashing – but I was also very sure about why I was attending (to listen to the other side, to find out if any of the recent criticisms have hit home) and how I would conduct myself while I was there (quietly).

Why did it test my nerve?
By nature I’m not someone who would ever go to an event uninvited. If you’re a friend of mine you’ll have noticed that I never pop round for a cup of tea unannounced. I also haven’t been inside a church for quite some time and when you’ve left a faith there’s always the ghost of that trailing you (it was the town hall but with that many people gathered to sing hymns and pray, it might as well have been a church). I worried that I’d stick out and had silly conversations with myself in my head – would a Christian wear these big chunky earrings? is this too much black eyeliner? will a version of Declan Stephenson tower over me and bring me to tears? As I said, silly. I decided to go dressed as me, speak calmly and politely to anyone who questioned my being there but remain true to my opinions while respectful of their right to hold this event.

Secret Squirrel
Outside the town hall at 2.15pm, I watched them trickle in. It was clear the majority were over 55 but there were a few families with young children, too. It was no stampede. A man in a heavy coat at the front entrance (no, they hadn’t hired in the heavies – this was probably someone’s grandpa) directed everyone up the stairs – he looked over at me a couple of times while I fiddled nervously with my iPhone, wanting to leave it until the last minute to go inside, but when I eventually plucked up the courage he just smiled and said “Here for Access?” and I smiled back, thinking “Well, you’re 50% right, I am here.”

At the top of the stairs one woman encouraged me to register, which I subtly by-passed, while another handed me a donation envelope and an 8-page newspaper devoted to the SRI cause. Most people were chatting in groups – presumably from the same church. I found myself a seat at the back and scoped the room. It was about half full at this point. I noticed a few women my age who had brought their children along but it certainly wasn’t a turn-out of parents of young children (more on that later). There were a few strays like me and I wondered if any of them were Twitter associates – it turns out that at least one was, but like me he kept a low profile, there to observe and listen. Until the first speaker I kept myself busy by reading the material they’d handed out at the door.

The donation envelope:
Obviously it’s a free choice to believe that Access Ministries is a worthy cause, but my eyes did grow rather wide at the boxes to tick for donation amount: $25, $50, $100, $1000. A thousand dollars! My word, if I had a thousand dollars to spare, it would not be going to a tax-payer-funded organisation that exists to evangelise to Australian children. But up to you, of course. There’s also the option to put Access Ministries in your will. This request for funding leads me on to something significant that CEO Evonne Paddison said during her bit – which is that Access Ministries aim to become a completely self-funded organisation. As she explained it, they don’t want to be beholden to the changing whims of politicians – they want to exist with or without government funding. I don’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing – and feel free to chime in here. Do they want to become so rich and powerful that they can do what they like regardless of what the government in power say? (Is that even possible?) Or are they simply being prudent?

The newspaper:
It’s 8 pages of articles, Q&As and letters in support of CRE (as they have chosen to refer to it, rather than SRI), and it’s as you’d expect – CRE is wonderful, CRE teaches our children values, The Age is a ‘city and inner suburb’ publication that fails to take into account all the outer suburbs who want CRE, there is no proselytising in CRE, schools love CRE, children love CRE, the state government loves CRE, CRE is the time when children hear positive news and so on and so on… Just as you’d expect, really. Perhaps the only thing to say about it is that it’s all very measured. The articles mention the vitriol that has allegedly been dealt out by opponents and the so-called one-sidedness of the media on the topic, in a rather passive-aggressive way (this was later echoed in some of the speeches). It’s very convenient for Access to think that all opponents are foul-mouthed religion-haters who have no basis to their objections – it would take a far braver organisation to really listen.

Anyway, it was my turn to listen today, which I did – without note-taking and without interrupting. Tomorrow, in Part II, I’ll tell you what I heard.

What you can do now:
Go to the Fairness In Religions In Schools Facebook page and click LIKE.
Follow these active campaigners on Twitter:
Paul Gallagher
George Higinbotham
Tim Heasley
Leslie Cannold
Mike Stuchbery
Kate Turner
(There are many more…)

Complain to any or all of the following, if your family’s belief system is not represented by their policies or if your child has come home upset by or having been misled by an SRI volunteer:
Martin Dixon, Education Minister martin.dixon@parliament.vic.gov.au
Ted Baillieu, Premier ted.baillieu@parliament.vic.gov.au
Dennis Torpy Acting General Manager – Student Wellbeing Division, Department of Education and Early Childhood Development torpy.dennis.v@edumail.vic.gov.au

Sign up for the Fairness In Religions In Schools newsletter, which will give you ongoing support during this campaign.