The year that made me was 1966. My voting habits were formed in 1966. There was an election in November 1966 but me being only 20 years old I could not vote. The big issue that dominated the election that seemed to go on for the whole year was conscription and Australasia’s commitment to the war in Vietnam. I felt it was easy to decide on how to vote. It was a matter of conscience. The moral issues were clear. After the election I was shocked at how the public voted. I did not understand it. I was taken aback at the enormity of the vote to increase Australia’s Military involvement. None of my family voted against our involvement in Vietnam. Not one. All were enthusiastic supporters of Australia's involvement. Every one spoke only in derogatory terms of people who wanted us to cease our involvement. In the early 60’s the Federal Government had prepared the people for military adventures by announcing that they would bring in National Service and conscription would be instituted. They did this inferring that Indonesia was a problem and this procedure was needed for our National Security. For me it all worked like clockwork. Time moved on inexorably along towards the day my number would be pulled out of the hat and I would be called up. Actually it wasn't numbers that were pulled from the hat but dates. The people whose birth dates were pulled from the hat were called up. The ballot that I was involved in took place shortly after the election. My birth date was picked. The election depressed me greatly. I could not understand the thinking that led to our involvement in Vietnam. I became more depressed as time went on. Quite quickly I became alienated from my family. My father for instance saw my behavior as being particularly shameful. He did not like me speaking in public. He would try to stop me and remove me from any situation where his friends might hear what I had to say. He thought that anyone who identified as being left politically could not be trusted. To vote labour was somehow un patriotic. Un Australian. He could not resist telling me how I should act and interfering in any anti war sentiment I expressed. For instance he would remove any bumper stickers I put on my car protesting against the war and conscription. I found this humiliating. I felt this showed how little he respected me. I never forgave him. Neither did he ever protest when one of his acquaintances would say to me that I should be put up against a wall and shot for thinking the way I did. My father particularly hated it when I tried to grow my hair long. He stood in front of me and insisted I cut my hair. He stood over me and made me shave my mustache off. He wasn't alone in this. Adults would walk past me in the street and make scissor cutting motions at my hair. This happened in Wangaratta. Looking back with the benefit of hindsight I wonder if they ever reflected that only a limited window occurs when males can grow healthy long hair. Experience has told me that baldness exists for longer than long hair. Did my father ever think that I had a life of my own to lead? I don't think so. I found all this behavior unedifying and not worthy of so called adults. To me the crucial point was what if we reversed the situation. I saw it as a moral issue entirely. If Australia was artificially divided into North and South what should we do about it. Was it a legitimate exercise to try and re unify the country. If efforts were made to re unify the country should we accept resistance to our efforts by foreign military forces. Adults also believed that if we withdrew from Vietnam then all countries in between Vietnam and Australia would fall like domino's to Communism. One after another. All the way to Australia. I could not see the connection between the two and felt it was immoral to say so. To me a simple moral issue existed. What was Australia doing? Was there anything remotely correct in what it was doing. The answer was plainly No. It was plainly wrong. People should have voted against it. Finally I got a letter from The Department Of Army. There was no mistaking what it was. I believed it would tell me to report for National Service. This was the end of the process. Inside the envelope was a little card that said I was not needed at this time. However I should keep myself ready to be called up at any time. I later found that the explanation for this was that the call up had produced more people than were needed so they didn't take anyone whose birthday was past October. After all I had been through I felt a little disappointed. It was certainly an anti climax. I walked out of the house and told my girlfriend. I knew I would never be called up. 1966 made me. I had started out on the right politically. I finished 1966 on the left. Subsequent events have only radicalised me further. I still think people vote for the wrong reasons. No one I know ever applies morality when they come to vote. They will vote for immoral people time after time. I am convinced this makes them immoral also
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