Racism at the bank

What does it take to convince people that their objection to refugees arriving in Australia by boat has no rational basis?

There’s a deep and irrevocable fear in the minds of many Australians, a fear of alien arrivals, a fear of invasion. While this fear is expressed as anger about people not ‘joining the queue’ or not ‘coming here in the normal manner’ it really is just that – fear; there’s no evidence that refugees who arrive by boat could be a danger to us, or even disadvantage any other person in our community. So, when that fear has no historical basis (a generation ago in Australia a fear of Japanese people was understandable) it really is a kind of social pathology.

Where does it come from? 

Last night I listened to a Buddhist monk talk about conflict. His simple approach is that we should attempt to ‘be’ the person we despise.  So I suppose I should attempt to see from the perspective of a person who is frightened of refugees.

How do I do that? I’m not sure. It’ll have to be a future project. But in the mean time let me tell you about something that happened at the bank a few months ago.

I was attempting to cash a cheque at my local Commonwealth bank. This particular branch is often full of people from all over the world: Vietnam, Cambodia, Africa, Iraq, Korea, Sri Lanka and Europe (including Britain). Some of them are refugees, others simply immigrants, but on any given day it’s guaranteed that over three quarters of the people in the bank will be of Asian, African or Middle Eastern origin.

It was a Thursday afternoon, a time when many banks in poor neighbourhoods are full. And yes, the word ‘poor’ is appropriate; it’s a suburb once full of poor English immigrants and aboriginal people living in Government housing. Nowadays the newly renovated low-cost housing is inhabited by refugees or young people who can’t afford to buy closer to the city. White anglo saxons like me are now a minority.

So, there we were, about fifty customers in a small Commonwealth Bank branch; and, having just arrived, I was at the end of the queue. After about a minute of waiting I heard an angry customer ticking off a bank teller. Many people get angry at bank staff, I’ve done it myself years ago, but it’s something I consider futile as it’s not the tellers who make the rules. But this person was ramping it up, letting everyone know he was upset. He was a drunk white man, early thirties, well over six foot and well built, looked like a labourer.

It soon became clear that he was upset about not being able to withdraw money immediately, and the teller, a young Asian woman, was trying to inform him that he’d have to wait. His voice became louder, he looked around to see who was watching and listening, and the largely ethnic crowd simply looked out the window or at the floor. Staff behind the counter were tense and scared. Then he said, “I put fifteen thousand dollars into this fucken bank and I can’t take out a lousy one hundred.” The woman mumbled an apology and the white bloke then said, “It’s OK for you. Ya fucken boat people, coming here and taking all the jobs.”

That’s when I piped up. I can’t help myself. Always have done, always will. I called out with my broadest Ozzie accent, “Hey mate, pull your head in...” (a colloquialism meaning ‘be quiet’ or ‘hush up’) “…you don’t need to be abusive.”

The big fellow turned towards me, took one look at the minuscule frame of a short fifty year old middle class entertainer and said, “What’s it got to do with you?” Then he walked towards me. I just stood there thinking ‘what the fuck have I done now?’ as he stopped and looked down at me. I said, “You won’t get any where by abusing people fella”. He began a sentence along the lines of “I don’t give a flying fuck what you think…” when another voice behind me called out, “Shut up you bloody racist.”

I turned to see a small African guy, early twenties, wiry and cocky. The big guy then walked towards him and asked what he wanted as the African guy called him a big fat redneck. And I thought, ‘Oh shit, what have I started!’ as the Ozzie bloke started poking the African fellow with his finger. Things looked like they were really hotting up when a middle aged Asian woman, the manager as turned out, stepped in and told us to go outside. The Ozzie bloke then looked at her, and I could see he wanted to hurl abuse at her as well, but instead he just turned to me, held up his palms and said, “I just want some money for the weekend.”

In that moment I could see the guy was tired, upset and helpless, and I could identify with that; we’ve all been there. So I told the bloke to come outside, and he did but not before once again threatening the African fellow.

Outside, he told me he was down from the mines and I told him I’d toured to many of the mine sites. We chatted about where he worked – a site I’d perormed at – and it turned out the mulitbillionaire company he worked for had bungled his payment so it was in late. He wanted the bank to understand, well at least someone to listen anyway; so I did my best. Then the little African guy came out of the bank and glared at him. Once again it was on, swear words from both of them, before the African guy scooted off towards the car park. Then the Ozzie bloke went off in the same direction, and I just thought ‘stuff it, I’ve done my bit’, so I went back into the bank.

By this stage the queue was even bigger and once again I was at the end when the manager came out and insisted I go to the front. So, amidst many smiles of thanks from the staff and customers, I did my banking, withdrew some money and left.

And after I bought a paper and some groceries, I was heading towards my car when I noticed two security guards chatting to a white woman. They were saying something about an African guy. I wandered over and told them what I’d seen at the bank. They allowed me in on their conversation, and the security guards questioned the woman: “Are you sure it was a gun?”. The woman responded with, “Yes, I’m…well, it looked like a gun…it was…well, he was pointing it at the other fellow.”

I looked down at the pavement, felt kind of sad and left them to sort it out.