A Quiet Kind of Patriotism
Why I still love Australia — and why I no longer celebrate January 26
Every year, on the 26th of January, Australia becomes visibly divided.
Most of the country enjoys a day of celebration and fun, while a significant number of its citizens turn to mourning and protest. It’s been this way for some time, maybe forever, but has become more obvious the older I get.
Australia Day is our national day of celebration, or so it should be.
For Indigenous Australians, the day represents pain—a reminder of culture taken, land lost, and a way of life forever altered.
In 2017 I decided to stop celebrating Australia Day in the way that I had been brought up to celebrate, choosing instead quiet reflection, gratitude and the occasional visit to an Invasion Day protest.
Over the last 10 years, my views have remained consistent, but for a long time I was hesitant to speak publicly or take visible action.
Last year I chose to turn to writing to voice my position.
I originally wrote this newsletter in 2025.
Since then, not a lot has changed. The discourse remains divided and the progression for closing the gap has stagnated.
An argument that appears straightforward to me is overlooked by so many.
Look, I get it, and I’m not here to point fingers. Nobody wants to be told what to do or when to celebrate something they love so dearly.
My job here is to ask questions and share my thoughts.
I’m as patriotic as the next bloke, but I am blessed (or cursed) with the tendency to step back and try to see things beyond just my own perspective, instead seeing one that puts the good of the whole (Australia) above the good of the part (the individual).
Or in other words, as Marcus put it…
"What brings no benefit to the hive, brings none to the bee.”
Anyway, here is my 2025 newsletter on kindness, fairness and the argument over Australia Day with a few updates and additions.
Enjoy.
Remind yourself always to be a good man… always, though, in kindness, integrity, and sincerity.
— Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 8.5
I am writing to you on January 25.
One day before Australia takes a national break and is encouraged to celebrate our wonderful country and sing its praises—often despite opposition or calls to amend said date.
Growing up, I loved Australia Day…
Sausage sangas
Backyard cricket
Green & gold face paint
A beer with mates or family
How good.
And honestly… Australia is bloody good.
Over time though, I became aware of the pain this day carries for some members of our society—particularly Indigenous Australians.
So, I stopped celebrating in that way.
Not Australia.
Not my home.
Not my family and friends.
Just that specific day, in that specific way.
Not because anyone told me to.
Not because I felt pressured.
But because once I understood the pain it carried for others, changing my behaviour felt… obvious.
Now, I celebrate Australia every day in my own way.
I give thanks daily for the country I live in.
For the freedom I enjoy.
For the beauty of this land.
For the life I get to build here.
I make an effort to give back where I can—give money, attend protests and fundraisers where I can.
To praise my circle and show up with integrity.
Essentially do my bit to raise the collective consciousness and add positive energy to this place I call home… because Australia is incredible, and I’m deeply proud of so many things about this country:
Great food
Multicultural
Relaxed nature
Sporting culture
Healthcare system
Great beer and wine
Employment opportunities
Largely non-violent society
Naturally beautiful and diverse
I love my country.
And loving the place I was born — the place I’ve been blessed with — doesn’t make me a bad person.
Being patriotic is not wrong.
But throwing that love of country in the face of a fellow Australian on a day that represents trauma, loss and dispossession for them?
That doesn’t sit right with me.
And here’s the thing—this isn’t abstract pain, this is real stuff.
For example, Indigenous Australians, in the same country, under the same flag and legal system:
Live around 8 years less than non-Indigenous Australians
Are imprisoned at roughly 13 times the rate
Are around 10 times more likely to be removed from their families
And die by suicide at roughly twice the national rate
Same passport.
Same anthem.
Very different outcomes.
That gap isn’t theoretical. It’s lived—by our fellow Aussies.
So when the original custodians of this land tell me, tell us, that a date represents loss, not pride… I really do think it deserves more than a shrug and a public holiday.
No one ever told me to stop celebrating January 26.
I just did.
Literally, the thought just popped into my head in my mid-20s and I’ve never been able to unhear it…
“Wait — so I can still love Australia, celebrate it every other day of the year, and just not be loud about it on the one day that deeply hurts some of my fellow Australians?”
It made sense to me then it makes sense to me now.
Father’s Day taught me something similar.
When I was 26, I found out a close friend of mine lost his father in a bad car accident when he was young.
I was heartbroken for him.
So I changed how I approached that day.
Not because Father’s Day is wrong, but because empathy and solidarity with someone I cared about mattered more than tradition.
Now on Father’s Day…
I message my mate to tell him I love him and that I’m thinking of him, then I hug my Dad and tell him I’m proud of him and that I love him very much.
Same love.
Different expression.
It wasn’t about cancelling anything.
It was about letting empathy override habit.
This isn’t about erasing history.
It’s about acknowledging it — and choosing unity anyway.
A national day should unite.
If a simple date divides our country for even one second, it’s worth asking whether the date is serving the purpose we want a national day to serve.
And no—this isn’t about removing every tradition that offends someone.
It’s about listening when the first people of this land tell us this one does.
That’s not weakness.
That’s maturity.
That’s what the modern Aussie ethos was built on—sticking up for the battlers and looking after your mates.
Every single day, in so many ways, we choose between two paths:
Ego and self-importance
Or kindness, integrity and sincerity
So I try to treat January 26 like every other day.
I practice gratitude.
I act with integrity.
I try to be the man philosophy asks me to be.
I speak out against bullies when and where I can — especially when bullying hides behind nationalism, tribalism or “just tradition.”
Because love for Australia is love for mateship.
And love for mateship is love for fairness, respect, and equality of opportunity.
Freedom.
Respect.
Fairness.
Equality.
We didn’t choose this history—but we do choose how we respond to it.
Respect isn’t about guilt.
It’s about responsibility.
And responsibility is simply the price of belonging to something bigger than yourself.
Lead with that.
Be the change you want to see.
You have that power.
With gratitude,
SAV
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