I recall when the defining image of Anzac Day was a shot of craggy faced old diggers in uniform, slouch hats on their heads, medals on chests, marching with pride, many pushing their comrades in wheelchairs. Now the media is saturated with images of young Australians, standing on the beach at Gallipoli, in over-sized sunnies, hoodies and beanies, 'tattoos' of Aussie flags painted on their cheeks, themselves swathed in the Australian flag, like this image here and here. While we've still seen images of veterans on parade, flags being lowered, hymns being sung, and soldiers playing two-up, pictures of young people participating in Anzac Day services, particularly at Gallipoli, have proliferated in the Australian media in recent days. Admittedly, none of the original Anzac diggers are left, and there are fewer veterans around from other campaigns. But I'm curious as to why we weren't seeing more images of the young Iraqi veterans at Anzac Day events? And why the media wasn't taking the opportunity to tell their stories. Perhaps because Iraq is a war Australia shouldn't have fought in and hence once they want to forget? But Anzac Day had come to symbolize so much more for Australia than just Gallipoli - it was always an opportunity to commemorate the fallen from other wars. So why, I'm wondering, when Australia has fought so many other battles, is there now a focus on Gallipoli and on young Australians making the pilgrimage there? When, how and why did Gallipoli begin to inspire young Aussies?Some revealing comments come from Australia's politicians who joined the grief tourists in Turkey - an act itself that's an indication of how important the event - and being seen to participate in the event - has become to Australians. Interviewed at Gallipoli, Foreign Minister Stephen Smith said: "There was a very good crowd of young Australians there, I think reflecting that these days it's both a commemoration of those that lost their lives... but also a celebration of some of our national characteristics and values and virtues." Smith explained what those were: "The great Australian notion of a fair go, of looking out for one's mates, of a sense of humour in adversity, and the sure and certain knowledge that however bad circumstances might be, there was always someone else worse off who needs a helping hand." He said: "Short moments on the beach, and long months in the trenches, in conditions of the greatest adversity have taken on profound significance over time - they now say something about our characteristic as a people and our spirit as a nation." And: "The soil on which we stand today has extraordinary significance for our people and our nation," he said. "It is a place of terrible loss, solemn memory and now immense national pride."
As an Australian who has been away for a decade, I'm struggling to understand when and how Gallipoli took on this "extraordinary" meaning for Australians. New South Wales Premier Nathan Rees, who was with a school group who travelled to Gallipoli on a Government scholarship, said: "Anzac days at school often had real diggers from the wars come and talk. With the last digger dying 10 years ago that option is not available for the new generation of students." So because the Anzac diggers have all gone, the kids go to Turkey instead? As a travel writer, I'm grappling to understand how a new generation of young grief tourists has formed, but perhaps this statement by Australia's ambassador to Turkey Peter Doyle is the most revealing: "The Anzacs … helped to tell us who we are, we created their legend, and made them our heroes," he said. Ah-huh...