[This post has been edited down from the original article ten years ago on our sister site, Honest History: 'Singing country: the musical legacy of David Morrison, Australian of the Year – and a straw in the wind at the Australian War Memorial?’, Honest History, 2 February 2016. That article drew upon Honest History's interviews with Lieutenant-General David Morrison and John Schumann.]
Part 1 of this post
The Anzac legend and Anzackery
Broadening our conversation with General Morrison, we asked him about his views on the role of Anzac today, given his ambivalent remarks about it in some of his speeches. For example, at a White Ribbon breakfast in Adelaide in November 2014, he talked about the ‘totems’ and stories that contribute to male bonding in the ADF, bonding which is ‘exclusive, not inclusive’.
They [the stories] reinforce a view of “us and them”. In hyper masculine environments, like armies, “them” is defined by being weaker physically, not drinking “like a man”, not bragging of sexual conquest, being more introverted or intellectual, and of course being female.
I think that such distortion is a strong element in one of our great foundation narratives, not just for the Army but for Australia. I am talking about Anzac. The Anzac legend – as admirable as it is – has become something of a double-edged sword …
Where do women, or Indigenous soldiers fit in that narrative? They don’t and so, over time, such stories become myths and then myths become legends and then they become some unalterable truth.
Our talk with General Morrison, though, focused on the Anzac legend and commemoration.
There is almost no country on earth that remembers its military service the way we do. Australians have an overwhelmingly positive view of military service, particularly the qualities like mateship and professionalism that it demonstrates. Our military is an overwhelming force for good. On the other hand, if we have a utopian view of military service – if we look through rose-tinted glasses – we do everyone a disservice. We need to tell true stories.
General Morrison said he admired Joan Beaumont’s book, Broken Nation, and James Brown’s Anzac’s Long Shadow for this reason. He agreed that we needed to avoid the overblown version of remembrance that had been characterised as ‘Anzackery’. He mentioned his speech to the Anzac Day Dawn Service in 2015 as a summary of his views in this area. While the speech includes a list of battles and refers to military sacrifice it is notable also for its recognition of the impact of war and for its historical perspective and for its recognition of the ‘line’ that connects us to Australians of a century ago.
It is a line made more whole by our recognition of the first people of this land and our sorrow for their treatment. It is a line given colour and vibrancy by our cultural richness and diversity, drawn as it is from migrants from all corners of our world. It is a line rooted in our freedom of expression and of belief, and the affirmation of our democratic nation state.
The role of the War Memorial in ‘On every Anzac Day’
John Schumann said the War Memorial had been very helpful in the production of his song and its later incorporation in the Memorial’s ‘Year in Review’ video. The separate ‘official video’ accompanying the song acknowledges the ‘enthusiastic support’ of Director Nelson and his staff in facilitating access to materials at the Memorial and in other aspects.
When the song was launched at the Memorial in April 2015 Director Nelson acknowledged the ill treatment Indigenous servicemen received when they returned home to an unequal society. ‘The music and words [of the song] will burrow deep into our collective consciousness’. The song was sung at the opening of the Captain Reg Saunders Gallery at the Memorial on Remembrance Day 2015 in the presence of Director Nelson and the Chairman of the Memorial’s Council, Admiral Doolan. (Reg Saunders is said to have been the first Indigenous officer in the Australian Army.)
The Memorial’s enthusiastic support for a song that acknowledges not just Indigenous uniformed service but also Indigenous dispossession contrasts with the Memorial’s current official attitude to the Frontier Wars. A note on the Memorial's website (no longer there in 2026) argued that the Memorial’s Act precludes it recognising ‘internal conflicts between the Indigenous populations and the colonial powers of the day’. Elsewhere on the site the number of deaths in those conflicts is put at 2500 settlers and ‘about 20,000’ Indigenous Australians although recent research suggests the number of Indigenous deaths could be somewhere between 65 000 and 100 000.
The Memorial through Director Nelson has often made clear that it believes it is not the place to commemorate the Frontier Wars. Yet the Director has clearly recognised the fact of dispossession and trauma.
It is certainly my view and I certainly don’t say this with anything but immense respect for Indigenous peoples, and a sense none of us will ever be able to understand what they went through when that first fleet arrived and everything that came afterwards and to some extent still happens today.
Now in 2015 and 2016 the Memorial has endorsed and used a song which seems to equate Indigenous Australian resistance to that dispossession with Australian resistance to hostile aggression in the twentieth century. Does ‘On every Anzac Day’ mark a course correction, however slight?
Conclusion
Schumann’s song is apparently having a positive impact on Indigenous recruitment to the ADF, partly by appealing to Indigenous warrior tradition. In association with this, past Indigenous uniformed service is gaining overdue and deserved recognition. It remains to be seen whether the official endorsement of the song – including its words about invasion and dispossession – by the ADF and the War Memorial will help move Australia towards recognition of Indigenous non-uniformed service to country in 1788 and afterwards. It is a moot point whether stressing past, present and future Indigenous service in uniform precludes or delays recognition of non-uniformed service.
Whether, how, where and to what extent Australia recognises non-uniformed Indigenous service in defence of country is ultimately up to men and women of Arrernte, Gadigal, Ngambri, Ngunnawal, Noongar, Walpiri, Wiradjuri, Wurundjeri, and other Indigenous heritage, not to white fellas. But white fellas have to cooperate and that is why we should note and recognise the actions of General Morrison and Director Nelson in blessing and supporting a song that includes the words ‘One invading mob’s too many’ and hints that ‘fighting First Australians’ have not always worn the Queen’s uniform.
Appendix: On every Anzac Day (lyrics by John Schumann)
Ghosts and memories are loitering still in the corridors of time
There’s sorrow, smoke and stories in the barracks of my mind
I’m with him still in the trenches, I can see his dark, brown eyes
And his courage gave me courage when I was sure we were going to die
I asked him once why he volunteered for that hellhole far away
To fight for someone else’s king and the land they took away
He said “One invading mob’s too many” and then he walked away
And I lost him in the crowds waving flags on the side of the road — like every Anzac Day
From Murray Bridge and Mundrabilla, from Naracoote and Perth
First Australian station hands, shearers, gangers, clerks…
And there was no black, there was no white, just a dirty khaki brown
And on our upturned slouch hat brims, we all wore the “Rising Sun”
Soldiers, brothers, all Australians, we had no time for race
When the bullets are whining past your head, you’re all just shades of grey
He kept his medals in their box in a drawer — he tucked them well away
But he’d pull them out and put them on and put them back again — on every Anzac Day
Armentieres and Flanders, Tarin Kowt and Salamaua-Lae
Amiens and Morotai, Long Tan, Dispersal Bay
Somalia, Crete and Kapyong, Iraq and the Solomons
Paschendaele, Maprik and Tarakan — they were there — the first Australians
And when the show was over and we made it back to Australia’s shores
From Pozieres and Herleville Wood, Benghazi and Fremicourt
We drifted back into our lives, and we all tried to hide the scars
Of the tears and fears and terrors that still tracked us down the years
He tried to join the RSL but the bastards wouldn’t let him in
They didn’t see a soldier, just a first Australian
And I wonder what it was that we fought for and what it was we gave away
There’s reconciliation still to come — on every Anzac Day
So when the sun sets in the evening, when the dawn lights up the sky
We remember those first Australians, who joined and fought and died
From the missions, bush and station country, towns and Torres Straits
We remember the fighting First Australians — now — and on every Anzac Day
PICTURE CREDITS: studio portrait c. 1917 of two Aboriginal servicemen from Taree, NSW, 6564 Private William 'Nip' Simon (left) and 6551 Private Harold Howard Maher (AWM); studio portrait c. 1916 of 2949 Private Miller Mack, 50th Battalion (AWM).
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