Has Australia finally shed its long-standing cultural self-doubt? It’s a question that’s been simmering for decades, and now, it seems, we might have an answer. Back in the 1950s, A.A. Phillips coined the term 'cultural cringe' in his groundbreaking essay for Meanjin, inspired by an ABC radio show called Incognito. The program, airing on Sundays, featured two performances—one by an Australian and one by an international artist—challenging listeners to guess which was which. Phillips argued that the show’s premise rested on a deeply ingrained belief: Australians would automatically assume the foreign artist was superior, and only feel a fleeting sense of pride when proven wrong. This 'disease of the Australian mind,' as Phillips called it, suggested that homegrown culture was inherently inferior to imported works. And for decades, this mindset seemed incurable, its echoes lingering even today.
But here’s where it gets hopeful: another ABC initiative, this time a weekend radio countdown of the Top 100 Books, might just be the antidote Phillips was looking for. With a staggering 288,000 votes, the list was dominated by Australian talent. Trent Dalton’s Boy Swallows Universe claimed the top spot, while Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief took second place. Hannah Kent, Pip Williams, Anna Funder, and Geraldine Brooks—all Australian authors—rounded out the top 10, with 26 homegrown titles making the full list. And this is the part most people miss: even authors like Tim Winton, whose Juice landed at 101, and Alexis Wright, Melissa Lucashenko, and Kate Grenville, were celebrated in the broader literary landscape. Australia’s literary prowess is undeniable, yet some of its most internationally acclaimed writers, like Richard Flanagan and Peter Carey, barely needed a mention to prove their global impact.
But here’s where it gets controversial: Is this literary boom a sign that Australia has moved beyond its cultural cringe, or is it merely a surface-level shift? Years ago, I proposed the term 'cultural creep' to describe Australia’s quiet rise as a cultural powerhouse, particularly in art forms often overlooked at home. The word 'creep' was intentional—a nod to the subtle, almost unnoticed way Australian talent has infiltrated the global stage. Yet, the #MeToo movement complicated this narrative, revealing that the international arts world is rife with its own 'cultural creeps.' Still, by then, Australian writers, actors, and artists were already fixtures at international award ceremonies, their success so commonplace it hardly needed a catchy label.
What’s truly remarkable is the recognition these writers are now receiving at home. Trent Dalton, inspired by fellow Australian Steve Toltz, whose A Fraction of the Whole didn’t make the Top 100, speaks to a cycle of inspiration. How many young Indigenous writers have been empowered by Alexis Wright? How many new immigrants see Shankari Chandran, whose parents were Tamil refugees, as a role model? This isn’t just a literary moment—it’s a cultural turning point.
As Phillips might have said, this homegrown celebration produces 'a nice glow of patriotic satisfaction.' But is it enough to fully eradicate the cultural cringe? Or is there still work to be done? What do you think? Is Australia’s cultural confidence here to stay, or is it just a fleeting moment in a longer journey? Let’s discuss in the comments—I’m eager to hear your take.
