It’s a provision that engages with a whole complexity of ethical and legal issues.  It is compounded by the recent case of a Victorian doctor who is threatened with legal action having refused abortion on the grounds of gender selection.

Below are where my thoughts have gone in this complexity, but before that some clarity between the status quo and the proposal.

At the moment, on matters of conscience:

• Doctors ARE expected to inform the patient as soon as is reasonably possible that the doctor cannot pursue a certain path of treatment because of a matter of conscience.
• Doctors CAN NOT prevent a patient from seeking that treatment elsewhere.
• Doctors CAN NOT be compelled to provide, assist, or facilitate a treatment against their will.

The doctors who I have talked to about the matter of abortion have told me that when they are approached for abortion they will respond, with varying emphases with something like this: “Are you aware of all your options? I cannot in good conscience recommend the option of aborting your child.  I am more than happy to continue caring for you as your doctor.  If you do seek a second opinion and have an abortion, I will continue to care for you as your doctor and provide your post-operative care.”

In my opinion, I think all that is entirely reasonable.

But some don’t.  Some think that the doctor should go one step further and make a referral: “I cannot in good conscience recommend this option, but this doctor will so go and see her (or him).”  This is what is being proposed.  There are a number of problems with this.  In order of less serious to more serious:

• Injury against the doctor:  Referral is an act of facilitation.  There is no freedom of conscience here.
• Injury against the doctor-patient relationship: This is a key consideration. Conscience is not an aberration.  To compel referral is to instantiate the notion that on certain matters a doctor’s conscience undermines their professionalism and taints their duty of care.  This is not how it works.  When a doctor exercises the conscience it is not them saying “I’d love to care for you properly but my deeply held but somewhat stupid beliefs get in the way”; it is them saying “If I were to recommend this option to you I believe I would be failing in my duty of care.”  It is an ordinary therapeutic decision.
• Injury against a “third” party:  Abortion is not the only place where conscience is exercised.  Organ donation is another situation interacting with conscience issues such as “When has life ended?”  The decision in this case is “in my opinion, this person [the donor] is not dead, I would be failing in my duty of care towards this person if I were to harvest their organs.”  Similarly the decision with abortion is “in my opinion, this person [the unborn child], is a living human person, I would be failing in my duty of care towards this person if I were to facilitate their termination.”  In both cases the doctor has a duty of care towards the person(s) presenting to them – and that includes the unborn child.
• Injury against the patient: The impact of abortion on a woman has physical and psychological impact.  While much has and maybe shouldn’t be said about this in general terms, a doctor must have the freedom to assess the likely effects of the procedure and not be compelled to participate or facilitate if the risks are considered too high.  Compelling a doctor to abandon that judgement is an ill-advised step to say the least.

The proposal to compel referral is of great concern to me.  The larger proposal does great evil.  That is bad enough.  This particular aspect goes one step further and compels individuals to participate in and facilitate the exercise of that evil.  It is tyrannical.  It is oppressive.  It is a form of control the prospect of which should nauseate all those that value freedom and life.

Consider that which is being proposed this week by Greens MP Kim Booth – legislating that electronic pokie machines shall only be licensed if they implement a $1 bet limit.

It’s a simple measure, but so very very effective against problem gambling.  Instead of losing >$1000 per hour, losses are reduced to a $100 or so.  It doesn’t stop people gambling, but it does reduce the harm.  In 2011 Andrew Wilkie talked about all this at the Cathedral’s Friday Forum.

There’s a couple of things I don’t get:

1. Why does anyone think that unrestricted pokies are a good idea?  Seriously, to have machines in which are basically money harvesters of the Sheriff of Nottingham variety is just plain stupid.  And this isn’t about freedom.  Pokies would still exist.  And if people really did want to donate their money to Federal, or to the State Government, I’m sure they’d be allowed to.
2. Why on earth are the Liberals not backing this move?  It would be an excellent rub in the fact for the State Government.  It could be played as sound economic management (removing fiscal dependency on gambling, stimulating middle class consumption [that $200+ million would be free to be spent...], etc. etc.), and they have a track record of supporting such measures.  If they get in the tent on this one they could tweak it to make it a bit more palatable (exceptions for the two casinos for instance) but still achieve a good aim.

So I’ll say it, for the first time in a long time, I hope the Greens win this vote.  And I hope the Liberal and Labor parliamentarians get enough fortitude on this issue to take it through to the end.

I realised something this week.  It was to do with the direction of Tasmanian society.  It was to do with the nature of the Western world and some sad realities about political leadership.  It was a confrontation of some of my assumptions.

My confronted assumption was this:  The context for how our society is shaped and operated by our leaders is, ultimately, a philosophical battle – a battle of ideas, of thoughts, of values.   Sometimes the battle-lines are hard to draw, but they manifest in a number of ways: Should we be “optimistic” about human nature, or recognise (and limit) human sinfulness?  Should individual freedoms outweight communal protections or vice versa?  What are the proper limits for government?  What societal values are absolute, untouchable, unamendable?

I wrestle with these questions. I find myself in an almost constant mode of cogitation, assessment of motivation, application and reconsideration.  It’s a distracting past-time, as my family can attest. It is the manifestation of a discontent I have about our state, our nation, our  world: Things should be better, life should be affirmed more, security and healing should be accessible and sustainable.  Perhaps it’s eschatological or existential angst, but this is what I do.

I just assumed that this is what others did, particular those who are in leadership, political or otherwise.  It was clear that people arrived at different conclusions to me.  But disagreement is a part of life, and can even serve to further the thinking.

But it seems my assumption is wrong.  It seems that not all of our leaders think deeply about the world.

My assumption came undone at a debate I attended this week.  It was between David Rietveld, rector of Wellspring Anglican Church and Nick McKim, leader of the Tasmanian Greens.  The debate dealt with euthanasia and same-sex marriage.

Rietveld led off well.  Posing the question “Why are we talking about euthanasia now?” he dipped into a consideration of the historical and philosophical basis of Western thought, highlighting the issue of rabid individualism.  But McKim didn’t follow suit.  It was strange, as there was much he could have said to make a similarly scoped defense of his position.

Rather, his response was simply to explain his position (rather than justify it), and to expound it through narrative and emotion.  It was mostly “debate” of the political sort – quotes, snippets, and soundbites that can simply be asserted to prove a point with no further thinking offered or expected.  The most sound rebuttal was simply “I don’t accept that argument.”   That’s fine, but why?

The most telling moment came during the Q&A period when McKim was asked to engage with Rietveld’s initial question of “Why do you think we are talking about this now?”  His response was an honest “I don’t know, I just know what I think, what my position is.”   And there it was.  My assumption about political thoughtfulness unravelled.  As I tweeted at the time “Come on Nick, we want to know how you think about the world!”

It was a nice debate.  It was polite, gracious and done in good humour.  But I left with a growing sense of consternation.

If the thoughtfulness behind McKim’s (and other’s) social agenda is only “well, that’s what my position is, that’s what I think, that’s how I feel” our state has a whole different set of problems – something that I have glimpsed before.

It is no wonder that the clincher for same-sex marriage, in McKim’s heart and mind,  is that there are many gay couples who are feeling hurt because they cannot be married.  It’s not an evil motivation, but empathy is not enough to justify a reform of this scale.  Do we really want to steer the debate towards those who will feel the most or the least hurt by the proposed changes – a fight over who feels the most aggrieved?  That way lies anarchy, volatility, and divisive insecurity of identity and purpose.  The fact that someone feels hurt may (rightly) motivate political activity, but it doesn’t follow that it should shape the result.  Rather, political reform should be guided by deep, mutable, thoughtful awareness of the world.

My concern here is not that someone may have different awareness to me!  But “I don’t know why, it’s just my position” is an admission of an absence of thought and awareness!  It is one thing to see someone wrestle with the big questions of this world and come up with a different conclusion.  It is another thing to come to grips with an admission that one of our leaders doesn’t even wrestle with those questions at all.

A few things to conclude

1. I’m hope I’m wrong. I would love to talk deep things with Nick McKim one day.
2. This doesn’t mean Nick’s voice is invalid.  As he himself said, he has the privilege of being a member of parliament and he pursues his position. Good on him.
3. If we disagree with McKim’s position, then thoughtful rebuttal is not effective, as it’s on a different playing field.  Rather we need to be sharing stories, moving emotions, demonstrating our thoughts are “real” and applicable to the world.
4. Relatedly, there is a challenge for me: I’m not sure I could articulate my machinations, could I say anything other than “that’s my position”  What’s my life giving plan for Tasmania?  I’m not sure I could answer that quickly.  I want to be able to.

More thought is required it seems.

I’ve had a play around, here are some places of interest to me:

• Pittwater/Seven Mile Beach/Acton Park – click
• Southern Launceston – click
• Forestry Operations near Waratah – click
• The Tarkine – click
• Changes in the level of Great Lake – click
• Growth in Melbourne’s urban sprawl – click

Check it out. If you find anything interesting post the link (there’s a “Share This View” button) in the comments.

Thanks Troy.  I assume you are referring to my post from quite some time ago about Dr. Owuor’s prophecy concerning Tasmania.  As far as I am aware there has been no earthquake in Bass Strait that has caused a tsunami to inundate Tasmania so I’m not sure what you’re getting at.

I am still intrigued that a post I wrote in response to a query from one of my congregation still generates so much traffic, and interest, on this blog.  It’s not something I have a particular interest in!  So excuse me silence, but is definitely silence from an absence of prophecy fulfillment.

In the unlikely event that a tsunami happens here in Tasmania, assuming I have access to the Internet, I can promise you I will make a comment about it on this blog.

For those who are unaware, three seats from the Legislative Council, the Tasmanian Upper House, were up for election this last weekend.  The result is clearly a victory for the conservative side of politics.  An incumbent Liberal Party member, Vanessa Goodwin, received more than 50% of first preferences, outdoing most expectations in her seat of Pembroke.  Another Liberal, Leonie Hiscutt, clearly out-polled her rivals in the socially conservative North West seat of Montgomery, but recording a massive 40+% of first preferences in historically Labor stronghold booths in the working (and welfare) areas of Burnie.

But it was Jim Wilkinson, the Independent in the seat of Nelson (of which I am a constituent), that was most interesting.  Jim is the long-term member, who in his early days had championed gay law reform through the LegCo.  But last year he committed the “sin” of voting against the “Same Sex Marriage Bill” on the basis of thoughtfulness and legal experience.  He was massively targeted by the gay lobby and activist groups such as GetUp! and faced a formidable opponent in the young articulate Greens candidate Tom Baxter.  Jim won.  He polled 48.8% of the first preferences against Baxter’s 25%. In a four horse race there was an understandable swing against the candidates/parties that ran last time and therefore also a swing against the Greens.  The recipient was Labor-aligned Helen Richardson who, while socially progressive, had shaped her campaign around apparent deficiencies in Wilkinson’s work ethic and accessibility.

Yet Nick McKim, and others such as Rodney Croome, somehow see the election as a win for “progressive values.”  Consider the quotes in this article from The Mercury:

Greens leader Nick McKim said the state was becoming more progressive.

“The result is a clear reflection of changing public attitudes on progressive social issues like marriage equality,” Mr McKim said.

“A majority of voters across the three electorates voted in support of marriage equality candidates, showing clearly that Tasmania is becoming more progressive.”

Tasmanian Gay and Lesbian Rights Group Campaign co-ordinator Rodney Croome said he was encouraged by the result and held out hope newly elected Upper House members would recognise that most Tasmanians were in favour of marriage law reform.

“I think the people of Nelson have sent a message to Jim Wilkinson to support this bill, and I hope he will at least consider changing his position and allowing this bill to be debated,” Mr Croome said.

Now I’m not crowing here (I hope).  It seems to me that the success of the conservative candidates could easily be attributed to the fact that people care less about the social issues, and voted in accordance with the current tsunami of ill-will towards the incumbent Labor-Green government.  In other words, the only thing we can say for certain is that the people of Nelson wanted Jim Wilkinson as their member, why they chose him over the others is a question for which there can only be conjecture.

Nevertheless… really?  The election of three conservatives is an indicator of “progressiveness”?

I understand the need to save face, and maintain morale in the “progressive” troops, but McKim’s echodome of self-approval here is beyond belief.  The comments on that Mercury article are mostly, and rightly, derisive.  The level of disconnect that can take reality (the victory of conservative candidates, the indication that most voters either didn’t care about the relevant issues or didn’t agree with McKim’s views) and spin it 180 degrees into an apparent success story is astounding.  And how on earth can Croome suggest that the electorate is sending a message of disapproval to Jim Wilkinson when that electorate just re-elected him?

I understand the disappointment that McKim and others are feeling.  But surely someone, some adviser, some mentor, someone with a sensible head on their shoulders should have been suggesting something more humble, more real, more leaderlike as a response. Something like – “I congratulate Mr. Wilkinson on his victory.  I am grateful that our candidate was able to raise awareness of a number of issues that we believe are important to Tasmania.  We were not able to persuade the electorate in this instance, but we will continue to make our case and trust the people to make their assessment as all democracies allow.”

I’ve got nothing against “spin” per se.  Providing commentary, emphasising characteristics of circumstances in order  to pursue certain values and communicate certain messages is the stuff of civic engagement.  I wonder though, is the delusion exhibited here by McKim an example of spin gone to far, or of spin done really really badly?  Whatever it is, it is definitely circumactio absurdus.

The wrestle is this: what to do about it?  And, in particular, in what manner should the church and Christians collectively respond to this issue?  We want to be both correct, and also right – acting truthfully, constructively, lovingly, righteously…. godly?

For the sake of discussion let me consider two broad options.

As a first option, we could take an approach that is politically passive or, at least, politically impartial.

By this approach we present reasoned and reasonable arguments, do our best to make ourselves understood, and entrust our elected leaders to be reasonable people.  This is a good approach.  But the problem of this sort of political pacifism is: What if they don’t listen?  What if they are not reasonable?

And that is exactly what we are facing.

My concern here is not about agreement or disagreement.  But it should be the case that a point of view, even if it is eventually disagreed with,  be given a place for articulation, and be responded to in a manner that demonstrates that the principles have been understood and weighed.  The processes embraced by the likes of Lara Giddings, Nick McKim and Michelle O’Byrne has been the antithesis of this.

We have now seen, as a point of fact, how Giddings/McKim/O’Byrne do things:  Private Members Bills instead of scrutinised government business, “discussion papers” that are one-sided polemics, rushed “consultation periods” with no requirement for the submissions to be considered or reported on, dismissive oratory that prejudicially invalidates opposing views, and emotive skewing of the debate towards minor wedge issues and ad hominem.

All this is a demonstration of  unreasonableness and an unwillingness to listen.  If they cannot be reasoned with, what else can be done…?

Another approach is to demonstrate popular support for a point of view.  Surely if they won’t listen to argument they will listen to feet on the streets or emails in the inbox or signatures on the petition?

But this is also not the case.  Again, the concern is not about disagreement – I wouldn’t want a government to be driven by rank populism – but it is about respect.  In the recent debate the ratio of those publicly active was at least in the order of 3 to 1 towards being against the bill.  Giddings/McKim/O’Byrne responded with occasional disdain, but in general remained not only unmoved but disinterested.

It seems they have an unwillingness to take pause, consider, and indicate to the people that their presence and their voice has been heeded, even if it is ultimately rejected.  There has not been a demonstration of true leadership, no attempt to swing the consensus, no attempt to make the case, no attempt to address the populace or even to attempt to persuade.  There is only distanced belligerence which is more the stuff of student politics, not adult discourse.

Popular expression has been disregarded.  So what else can be done…?

Some women have posted this on their facebook. Is it time for this?

Is it time to turn to the other option – political activism, even militancy?

After all, it can be done.  And it is not necessarily a wrong thing to do.

We could, for instance, start picking on politicians.  Calling them out and threatening them with electoral repercussions.  This is what “Marriage Equality” activists have done in the current Legislative Council elections.  Why shouldn’t we do the same?  Why shouldn’t we send a message that the imposition of ideology is a Yes-Ministerly “courageous” thing to do?

We could, for instance, raise money, organise letter-box campaigns, and generally get all “GetUp” on people.  If we could stomach it, of course.

At least half a million protest against gay marriage in France. Source: Reuters

We could, for instance, start a protest party and ramp it up so that its brand is equally as recognisable and as “40%” and so send a message at the next election.

We could, for instance, do what the French have done over gay marriage and take to the streets.  And not just silently and prayerfully as the recent silent vigils were but noisily and angrily.  We might even be willing to be arrested.  After all, isn’t this our time to lie in front of a figurative bulldozer or two?

We could do a lot of things.

But should we?

I admit to being conflicted.  None of these sort of suggestions are necessarily bad – depending on how they are executed of course.  Civil disobedience is not necessarily an evil and it is sometimes warranted.  Without a few good people doing something, and being noisy about it, the space for evil and tyranny to flourish exists.

Bonhoeffer famously stated that, “We are not to simply bandage the wounds of victims beneath the wheels of injustice, we are to drive a spoke into the wheel itself.”  But when do we know that it is time to ram home that spoke?

My wrestling continues, and I would appreciate some pushback and thoughts in the comments below.

But my deliberations have brought me to a certain point: and that is to dispense with the dichotomy of politically pacifist / politically activist.  It is the wrong framework.  Rather, the response of the Christian citizen (or any citizen for that manner) can and should be guided by a continuum of engagement.

In theological terms it is an engagement that is inherently missional.  As Christians we recognise the authority of Christ and his way of life and peace and justice.  As Jesus command his disciples in Matthew 28, all authority has been given to him and so we are to go and make disciples of all nations, baptising (or “saturating”) them in and with the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  We are to lead and disciple our nation, and that includes our government, with the ways of Christ.  If we consider Paul’s treatment of government in Romans 13:1-7 – which acknowledges a derivative authority attached to the purposes of rendering justice and managing the common welfare – we have a particular application for how we act politically.  We are to call the government to be a good government, rendering justice and promoting welfare.

And the means for this are manifold for the Christian community:

Firstly we pray.  It’s not for no reason that Paul writes to Timothy: “I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people— for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness.”

Everything else falls out of prayer.  Not only is prayer effective simply in its nature as intercession; it also moves and affects those who do the praying.  In prayer our heart for justice and welfare is strengthened.  Our yearning for peace is increased. And we seek for our attitude towards the intransigent and powerful to be tempered or inflamed in accordance with God’s wisdom.

The object of this activity is God.  It is an act of faith, an act of trust.

Secondly we are to demonstrate within ourselves the justice and welfare that we are calling the government to exercise.  This simply means to demonstrate what a gospel-centred community looks like. A favourite example of this for me is the description of the distinctives of the Christian Community in the 2nd Century letter to Diognetus.  Consider this from chapter 5 of that epistle:

5:6 They marry like all other men and they beget children; but they do not cast away their offspring.
5:7 They have their meals in common, but not their wives.
5:8 They find themselves in the flesh, and yet they live not after the flesh.
5:9 Their existence is on earth, but their citizenship is in heaven.
5:10 They obey the established laws, and they surpass the laws in their own lives.
5:11 They love all men, and they are persecuted by all.
5:12 They are ignored, and yet they are condemned. They are put to death, and yet they are endued with life.
5:13 They are in beggary, and yet they make many rich. They are in want of all things, and yet they abound in all things.
5:14 They are dishonoured, and yet they are glorified in their dishonour. They are evil spoken of, and yet they are  vindicated.
5:15 They are reviled, and they bless; they are insulted, and they respect.
5:16 Doing good they are punished as evil-doers; being punished they rejoice, as if they were thereby
quickened by life.
5:17 War is waged against them as aliens by the Jews, and persecution is carried on against them by the Greeks, and yet those that hate them cannot tell the reason of their hostility.

This includes caring for those who have fallen under the wheels of state.

The object of this action is the poor, weak and broken.

Thirdly we engage as citizens.  We are interested in society, we do not withdraw.  We put forward our case reasonably and carefully.  We exercise our democratic rights.  We attempt to convey our philosophy as well as our conclusions.  We attempt to understand different views and, when we disagree, to do so with respectful consideration for the principles.

In short, we speak.  Sometimes we do this by standing silently on parliament lawns.

The object of this action is each other and our fellow citizens and their representatives.

Fourthly when necessary, we hold to account.   The where and when of this requires wisdom and discernment.   We surely encourage the exercise of the democratic electoral power of the populace.  We may occasionally rebuke.  We may even sometimes stand firm against the impositions of others – exercising civil disobedience, boycotts or other actions if and when it is appropriate.

The object of this action is the tyrannical powerful and those who have exercised their power negligently, ineffectively or unwisely.

In general, the point is this: One form of action cannot be done without the preceding forms of action having been performed, and continuing to be performed.  That is to say:  Everything requires prayer.  It is also to say: to speak about justice we must have first demonstrated justice in our midst, and continue to demonstrate it.  It is also to say: we cannot hold others to account until we have first prayed, acted, reasoned, and dialogued.

It may or may not be the time for the Christians in Tasmania to cross a line of activism.  I’m still thinking about that.

But one thing is for sure – we MUST keep on praying, we must look to the health of our own communities, we must continue to articulate our reasons with love and care and courage.  Without these things any further action is likely to be ill-advised and wrongly motivated.  In fact, without these things our actions are likely to puff us up rather than achieve the culture of life for which we yearn.

In the end we must realise that our problem is not with Lara Giddings, or Nick McKim, or Michelle O’Byrne as persons.  My conclusion has saddened me, that as officeholders they are shallow, blind and hardened to the things that make for compassion, life, peace and care.  But no amount of activism will undo that, certainly not the level of argument or persuasion that I can muster.

All my activity, whether it be political or anything else, is nothing unless it is in tune with the real authority: the God who applies justice and true judgement, as the psalmist writes:

12 Arise, Lord! Lift up your hand, O God.
Do not forget the helpless.
13 Why does the wicked man revile God?
Why does he say to himself,
“He won’t call me to account”?
14 But you, God, see the trouble of the afflicted;
you consider their grief and take it in hand.
The victims commit themselves to you;
you are the helper of the fatherless…

17 You, Lord, hear the desire of the afflicted;
you encourage them, and you listen to their cry,
18 defending the fatherless and the oppressed,
so that mere earthly mortals
will never again strike terror.

(Psalm 10 NIV)

PS. Yes, yes, there’s an election on. So in case I have to (its hard to tell when the Electoral Act kicks in) this post and all its content is authorised by me, Will Briggs, of Kingston, Tasmania.
PPS. Fist photo credit: http://www.sxc.hu/browse.phtml?f=view&id=855384

These are subjective rankings, based on varying combinations of flat white/short black/piccolo/macchiato.  I tend to choose single origin as it demonstrates both the taste of the barista and how much they care.  I look for flavour, texture, aesthetic and, to a lesser extent, the environment of the shop.

Feel the love people, no disparagement intended, just an articulation of appreciation.

This post may get updated as I remember things.

Tier Two

Tier two coffee shops are where I go for a decent drinkable coffee, when I am looking for a place that is convenient (nearby), comfortable, and conducive to conversation.

Coffee-wise, I expect a decent coffee on a par with what I can make at home.  A “high tier two” shop can provide an enjoyable flat white, but not anything black.  A “low tier two” may require resorting to a mocha.  If I have to add sugar the coffee has dipped into tier three.

In this tier:

Atlas is definitely high tier two, a good solid flat white on one of the busiest pedestrian corners in the city.  Staff friendly, welcoming and have a good memory for faces and names.  A little noisy at times.

YOLO in Macquarie is nearby to me and is a comfortable place to have a chat.  Flat whites are decent, but I enjoy the mocha more.  Nothing amazing, but if you’re with a group of friends that don’t care too much about coffee, this is a reasonable option.

[Update 11/5/13 - POP Cafe in Collins is conveniently located for my walk back from the gym on Thursday mornings and includes suitable brekky munchies. A pleasant coffee - staid standard beans but very well extracted.]

Tier One

Tier one coffee shops are basically the shops that are really worth going to.  Coffee is their reason for existence.  They know their coffee, will have a standard blend and one or two single origins and demonstrate significant skill in extracting each roast to maximise its characteristics.

Honourable mentions in this category include the newly found Zimmah in Murray Street.  The barista seems to be something of a long-standing barista mentor.  He clearly emphasises strength and depth in his extraction, to the point of risking bitterness but winning the bet.  This shop may be the first to replicate the Melbournian “unmarked excellence hidden down an alleyway” style.

A second honourable mention goes to Villino in Criterion Street.  Villino was an early standard-setter in the Hobart coffee scene and has not fallen off its pedestal.  A good range of beans ready to go with some decent nibblies.  They have recently expanded to include Ecru as a hole-in-the-wall takeway which I have not sampled. It did seem a little strange to expand in that direction as Villino itself is not particular spacious, in fact it can be quite cramped.  They lose some kudos from me for having a $10 minimum on the EFTPOS – grrrrr.

I have two number ones.  Both have been around for about 18 months – the same amount of time I have been in Hobart.  Both started strong and have improved over those months.  Each has its own strengths.

If you were to ask me, “what is the best coffee you’ve ever had in Hobart”, I would have to give it to Yellow Bernard.  YB is very close to my office.  Barista Scott is less scientist and more artful magician.  Standard is high and on occasions I have been handed a triple-shot single origin flat white that has simply blown me away – often with an emphasis on the fruity zing at the front and the chocolately body.

YB’s pretty much sells nothing but coffee and they are excelling at it.  They are working their brand well.

If you were to ask me “what is the best coffee shop in Hobart”, I would have to give it to Pilgrim.  The standard is exceptional and consistent.  Barista Will (and his colleagues) have won awards, and rightly so.  Will is more the precision engineer and has taught me about brew ratios and other extracting principles.  The latte art is extraordinary and award winning – for me good art is icing on the caffeinated cake.  The location is a nice 5-10 minutes walk for me, so it gets me off my butt.  The ambience, while often busy with medicos from the nearby hospital, is rarely overwhelming and it’s a great place for a conversation.

[Update: The extension, Property Of: Pilgrim is now open. And it's awesome. Get the Caveman. Just do it.]

Pilgrim are expanding soon, it will be great to see where they take it.

Usually the Lower House (in Tasmania this is called the “House of Assembly”) in a parliament is about each member representing a different area.  Usually the Upper House in a parliament is about structural representation (of states or other entities).  Usually it is the Lower House that is all about the party politics, and it is the majority in the Lower House that forms government.

In Tasmania we’re a bit weird.  Our Lower House has the structural representation – five members for each electorate – and the Upper House has the “one rep for one region” framework.  But it actually works pretty well – the party politics is by and large confined to the Lower House, and the Upper House is reasonably independent.  In Tasmania where people tend to know each other, and where there is quite a restricted spending limit on LegCo candidates, that independence is reasonably well protected.

What it means is that our Legislative Council actually does its job, by and large.  It is a good “House of Review.”

A good upper house acts like a shock absorber to the system.  Governments come and governments go and with that can come some quite volatile changes.  A good upper house reduces that volatility.  Extreme or unworkable laws are either fixed or rejected and the government in the lower house is forced to do its job properly.

I like that.  In the last little while in Tasmania our Upper House has rejected insensitive unconstitutional law such as Same-Sex Marriage, and has attempted to fix the mess that is our government’s so-called “Forestry Peace Deal.”  Sometime in the next few months it will consider an unconscionable and unnecessary abortion law that was recently rushed through the Lower House by some extremist private members and their gutless colleagues – but more about that in a minute.

Some people don’t like having an Upper House.  They feel like it gets in the way of reform.  I can understand that.  In certain areas I’m a reformer myself and I can feel the frustration.

But that doesn’t mean that an Upper House is a bad idea.  It actually keeps the reformer honest.  Because Upper Houses tend to move slower, with less volatility, they require reformers to actually  get out there, change hearts and minds, and see it through until that change is reflected in the Upper House itself.  This is good because reform that rests on nothing but ramming something through a vote in one house is not reform, its just imposition.

It is a necessary instrument.  Sometimes its wrong.  But you know the adage about the law – “It is better to let nine guilty men free than to convict one innocent man”? Something similar applies here – I would rather have nine good reforms delayed a bit in order to get some sound arguments, than let one harmful destructive reform go through on the whim of one house.

But, back to the current issue.  Some time around June the Upper House will consider the Bill that passed the Lower House two days ago.  And, assuming that the GetUp party (aka The Greens) doesn’t get their candidates up, all members of the LegCo will give it  a thorough analysis and review.

What they will not be interested in are extremist slogans from either side (yes, they are on both sides!).  What they will be considering is whether or not it is Bad Law.  Yes, they will ask whether the aim of the Bill is good.  But they will also consider whether the Bill achieves that aim, and what the side-effects of the Bill are.

The fact is this Reproductive Health (Access to Terminations) Bill is Bad Law.  Even if you think that abortion is fundamentally OK (which I don’t), it is Bad Law.  Even if you wouldn’t necessarily be unhappy to see abortions regulated outside of the Criminal Code (my position), it is Bad Law.  And of course, if you absolutely disagree with abortion in every circumstance, it is Bad Law.  In conclusion, it is Bad Law.

We citizens must interact with the members of the LegCo, respecting them as our Upper House.  Slapping them with tirades won’t work.  Rather, we should be politely explaining why absolutely eliminating any notion of the rights of the child in law is a bad idea.  And we should explain that the apparent aim of the Bill (decriminalisation) can be achieved without infringing on the freedom of conscience and civil liberties of medical practitioners and a whole swathe of ordinary people.

You see, when an intransigent and arrogant government fails to do it reforming work properly and sensitively, we have an Upper House to hold them to account.

I like having an Upper House.

• “We’re better off aborting our children than have them abused by you!” the disturbed woman shrilled as she pointed at my clerical friend.
• “Instead of abortion, would you rather we go back to the fifties where we had forced adoptions?” a journalist asked another of my friends.
• “I met the father of that child a few years later.  He was such a loser, I am glad I chose not to bring a child into that situation” intones the testimony on a website.

Each statement has an underlying story, a resonant sympathy, of those who have experienced pain or trauma in this very real world.  As one who has experienced some pains and traumas (we all have), I can grasp at least something of that.  These are human statements.

In these statements I hear echoes of something that maybe we’ve all uttered at some point in our lives, even if only in the deepest churnings of our gut.   A primal existential roar from the deep – “I wish I’d never been born!”   

At those moments we are in deadly earnest.  It’s not necessarily suicidal, it’s a raw nihilism, trying to eradicate pain by eradicating meaning, purpose, even existence itself.

To a greater or lesser extent I think we’ve all been there.  This is a human thing.

And it should engender a human response.  I’ve seen and experienced dismissive, angry responses – “Pull yourself together, don’t be so stupid, I don’t have time for this!”  I’ve seen and experienced compassionate responses – “Whether you like it or not, I love you and value you, and will invest in you.”

But I have never seen or experienced a response of agreement – “Yes you’re right, it probably would have been better if you hadn’t existed at all.”  Perhaps some people do that, out of some cruelty or extremely misplaced act of tough love.  In my mind such a response is unthinkable, it is… inhuman.

And this is why I don’t get the statements above: the implication that to terminate an unborn child is somehow an act of compassion towards the child.  It’s as if we would say to those who have experienced difficult, traumatic and abusive situations, “yeah, it would probably would have been better if you hadn’t been born.”  Surely we would cry out not with agreement, but with hope – “we value you, we honour you, we respect you, you are something to us, something good!”

Something saddens me and wearies me as I look at some of the basic narratives of our society.  The insertion of this new plot – “death is compassion”, “non-existence is an act of love” – sings a sweet song.  But it’s sickly sweet, poisonous and inhumane.  I am bewildered that those who lead us are so quick to embrace it’s tune.

The abortion issue is complex.  It does affect us all, it’s an “everyone” issue because we were all a foetus once.  Empathy and understanding is needed by everyone on all sides.  But let us not go here.  Let us not be a society that says with its rhetoric and its laws, yes, we wish that you’d never been born.