This is a collection of raw material dating back to the 1950s by journalist John Stapleton. It incorporates photographs, old diary notes, published stories of a more personal nature, unpublished manuscripts and the daily blogs which began in 2004 and have formed the source material for a number of books. Photographs by the author. For a full chronological order refer to or merge with the collection of his journalism found here: https://thejournalismofjohnstapleton.blogspot.com.au/
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Thursday, 26 July 2007
Solitary Courage
"What matters to most people in work is the status accumulated by the approval of colleagues. If the pack is howling off in one direction, very few journalists want to break ranks and head off on their own... There is a touch of the herd in the unselfconscious manner in which artists, journalists, publishers, writers and academics set off in one direction, mooing as one, and then agree as if by telepathy to wheel round and moo off in another."
Nick Cohen.
It's so dammed true. They chant multiplicity, diversity, open-mindedness, tolerance, diversity, thinking outside the square, but dare disagree with them and you soon find out how tolerant they are. That was certainly the case with the dads stuff; the journalist pack have been happy to regurgitate the feminist line as somehow being a progressive view of the situation; without any objectivity and without critical stance or even a nod at the possibility there might be two sides to the story; swallowing the line whole. I had been a journalist for 20 years in Sydney when I wandered into the Family Court; often working within 10 or 15 minutes of it and assuming that it worked like any other court. I was a modern progressive pro-feminist SNAG, Jesus I'd even been gay in the old days, they wouldn't treat me as some patriarchal brute, surely. But of course, they treat all men alike, with complete contempt; and if you display too many signs of intelligence you can be accused of using the system against your former partner, or of having a "controlling intelligence"; and lose your kids any way.
I'm thinking about this a lot because of the speech I have to give in Parliament House next month. It's only 15 minutes, but I'm nervous.
It all began when we separated. I was gobsmacked at how dishonest and how patently corrupt the court was; and for awhile managed to get a few stories in the paper. These stories then take on a life of their own, circulating on the internet. This one, written seven years ago and spread across two pages, has circulated again just recently in discussions on the court: "The boy was eight weeks old when his father called welfare authorities and pleaded with them to take his son into foster care. He alleged that the mother was being violent towards the child, throwing him against walls and trying to smother him. The authorities ignored him, as they did for years to come, but the father persevered. Twenty years, 550 days in court and tens of millions of dollars of public funds later, the matter, which has run across civil, criminal and family law jurisdictions, reached its final chapter this week."
THE STORY CONTINUES:
"Although in one brief incarnation he had worked as a sex shop attendant, his typewriter perched on the glass cabinet of dildos, such places always made him feel uncomfortable. He was immediately embarrassed to be there, hated to think that he would appear as one of the desperates, genuinely seeking orgasm amongst the grime, rather than possessing the comfort of an observer. So much for the abandonment of Mardi Gras. Already there were quite a number of men milling about, the ticketless. Most of them were middle-aged. None of them was attractive. Louis knew the attendants, chatted on. He was obviously a regular.
"After five minutes they were upstairs. It was pretty tacky. Men stood around in the corridors outside booths. They were all waiting for something, the heat to start working, lurid passion in dark corners, voyeurs and participants, the magic of hormones and muffled gasps. Again Louis knew people, and introduced him to a few. Then Louis dolled out some of his discount tokens, explaining that the live show would be starting soon and he needed to the tokens to be able to watch it. A series of booths circled what he soon discovered was a stage.
"It's started, Louis said,l pointing him into a booth and then disappearing."
THE BIGGER STORY;
Why is Australia involved in this???
AFP/AAP
Sixty Taliban killed in fierce Afghan clashes
Afghan and US-led forces have killed more than 50 Taliban in a 12-hour battle in the country's opium-growing heartland.
Coalition warplanes were called in to bomb rebel hideouts in the most intense clash, which broke out in the insurgency-hit southern province of Helmand, a US-led coalition said in a statement.
"More than 50 insurgents were confirmed killed with an unknown number wounded," the statement said.
"Sixteen Taliban compounds, three enemy motorcycles and five enemy trucks were destroyed as well."
One coalition soldier suffered a broken hand during the battle, while there were no civilian casualties.
The Taliban were not immediately available to comment on the official casualty figures.
Helmand has seen some of the most bitter fighting, particularly in rebel-infested Musa Qala district, near the scene of the latest battle, where the coalition says 160 militants have been killed since Sunday.
The province produces most of Afghanistan's opium, the source of the heroin that reportedly funds much of the Taliban's operations.
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