Even without private clubs, the 'egalitarian' Australian beach is a national myth
Last week news that Waverley council was considering a proposal to rope off a section of Bondi beach for an exclusive “Euro beach chic” club got under a lot of peoples’ skin. More than 5,000 people have signed a petition urging the council to turn down the proposal, calling the idea “un-Australian”. “Public access to the beach is a democratic and egalitarian principle that should never be compromised,” declared the Inner West council mayor, Darcy Byrne.
It’s easy (and quite fun) to imagine how the Amalfi Beach Club’s investment bankers and Instagram influencers would fare at the hands of the beach-going masses. But the idea of the beach as the great equaliser is one of Australia’s most beloved national myths. Free and open to all, the beach is the embodiment of our rugged egalitarianism; proof that, unlike snobby England and status-obsessed America, Australia is a place where everyone’s on a more-or-less equal footing.
Like most of our national myths, though, the idea that the beach is for everyone is full of holes when you look at it closely. While it’s true swathes of Australian beaches aren’t segregated or privatised like their European counterparts, access to the beach in Australia – particularly in major cities – has often been affected in more subtle ways by income, race and postcode. From small coastal towns to the sands of Bondi, Australian history is littered with examples of “locals” defending “their” beaches from outsiders, showing that we’re a lot less equal than we like to think.
Covid shone a light on this nasty locals-only mindset in a big way. Back in April the Waverley mayor, Paula Masselos, was forced to walk back a plan to restrict access to Bondi, Bronte and Tamarama to local council residents. Signs taped up around Queensland’s Palm Beach in April read: “If you don’t live here, don’t surf here! Local 4221 residents or within a 5K radius ONLY until Covid-19 restrictions are lifted.”
Exclusionary beach culture goes back a long time. In the 1990s Bondi locals successfully opposed the planned Bondi beach rail link, a nobrainer infrastructure project to make one of the most famous beaches in the world accessible by train. Save Bondi Beach Incorporated, the community group that torpedoed the BBRI, argued that a train to Bondi would bring crime, social unrest and homelessness.
Making the beach difficult to get to via public transport is a time-honoured tactic to keep the western Sydney undesirables away. Any attempt to improve public transport access to the northern beaches (not called the “insular peninsula” for nothing) is met with ferocious opposition from locals. Even the state government’s relatively modest attempt to boost bus services via the B-Line a few years ago was resisted by the likes of the former Mackellar MP Bronwyn Bishop, who said the quiet part loud when she argued the beaches’ lifestyle would be “threatened” by more people “coming into the electorate”.
As roped-off as the eastern suburbs and the northern beaches are to nonresidents, the gold standard of beach policing remains Cronulla. The text messages that drew 5,000 white racists to “support Leb and Wog bashing day” at Cronulla beach in 2005 told recipients: “Bring your mates and let’s show them this is our beach and they are never welcome.”
Even before the riots, Cronulla beach could be a hostile landscape for anyone who wasn’t blond, tanned and white. In the aftermath, racists claimed beaches around the country as the battlegrounds for their vision of a return to white Australia.
At the height of the “African gangs” hysteria in the lead-up to 2018’s Victorian state election, far-right extremists targeted people of African heritage at St Kilda beach. The beach has since become a focal point of far-right activity.
None of this is news to people outside the beach bubble. “This ain’t Home and Away.I didn’t grow up round all those beaches, but I still got bros at the Bay,” boast the Pasifika rappers OneFour, who come from the western Sydney suburb of Mount Druitt. A lot of effort has gone into keeping people like them far from the beaches – unless a stretch in Long Bay prison counts.
Waverley council have already indicated its opposition to the Amalfi Beach Club proposal and it’s highly unlikely to go ahead. “Our beaches and parks are public open spaces, for the enjoyment of everyone,” council spokespeople have declared.
But let’s not kid ourselves. For millions of people, the beach is effectively roped off already.