In past years, we’ve closed the book on December with the tradition of naming a 'Eureka Street Person of the Year,' an individual who, for better or worse, defined the preceding twelve months or someone who somehow upheld dignity and justice in the course of the year. It’s a neat trick, packaging an era into a face and a name. But after a couple of office discussions, we agreed there's something about this year that defies the simplicity of a single figure. So instead of handing out accolades, we’re taking a glance back to briefly reflect on the character of the year itself. Eureka Street Plus readers will know we indulge in a little Friday ritual, a column of scattered observations and modest provocations sent out each week to subscribers. As the curtain falls on 2024, it seems fitting to lean into the spirit of stray thoughts with a smattering of final words from our editorial team.
Dignity on trial
Michael McVeigh, Head of publishing and digital content at Jesuit Communications, publishers of Eureka Street.
If we’re concerned about respecting the dignity of each person, then we must also be concerned about justice. Our justice systems must treat each person, each life, with equal dignity. If justice is merely a tool in the hands of the powerful, then it no longer deserves the label. Those who are concerned about justice would be feeling a little dismayed this year. Internationally, the ICC made valiant efforts to hold leaders accountable, issuing arrest warrants for Putin and Netanyahu, though major powers dismissed these actions, exposing the limits of global justice systems shaped by national interests. In the US, Donald Trump’s legal cases unraveled with disheartening ease, while Joe Biden’s pardoning of his son Hunter drew criticism, underscoring the politicisation of justice. In Australia, principles of fairness were sidelined as the Government imposed restrictive measures on asylum seekers, Queensland passed laws contravening human rights, and parliamentary debate on abortion legislation was effectively silenced for years. All in all, the picture seems grim. But especially in dark times, we should recognise and celebrate those who try to hold up a candle. Thus, I thought it appropriate that my final thought be a note of gratitude to the judges and advocates who continue to work towards justice and human dignity at all levels, even in the face of powerful opposition. We see you, and appreciate you, even if it sometimes seems your efforts are in vain.
The Year of the Silent
Andrew Hamilton, Consulting editor of Eureka Street.
2024 was a year of loud noises: the explosion of bombs dropping, roar of fires burning and floods rushing, the shouting of politicians the seething of social media, and the jangling of bitcoins. It is tempting is to seek the most significant person of the year among the noisiest and the most famous. Yet the persons who were most significant in shaping our world were the most silent and unnoticed. For that reason I name 2024 the Year of the Silent. The Silent include those who lie dead under the rubble and sand of Gaza and those condemned to live a half-life. They will be our judges. Among them, too, are those who, after the high and noisy rhetoric of election campaigns, decided their results. In Australia, they include also the families in impoverished and despised communities are given no say about the ill-treatment of their children. Among the Silent are the people whose voices are too soft to be heard, but who help shape the small communities in which cultures are kept living. They include people who cultivate silence and those attentive both to the beauty and delicacy of the natural environment and to its despoliation. The Silent are at the heart of the broken world and also of its refashioning.
Community immunity
Michele Frankeni, Editor of Australian Catholics, Madonna magazine.
Of the myriad things I hold against the Morrison government, near the top of the list was its laidback attitude to the acquisition and distribution of the Covid vaccine. I desperately wanted to see family without endangering their lives. A vaccine sceptic, I’m not. Growing up, stories of loved ones lost to diphtheria, polio, and whooping cough highlighted the life-saving power of vaccines, once hailed as mid-20th-century miracles. Yet, Australia’s child vaccination rates have declined for three consecutive years, as outlined in the NCIRS’s annual update. Access barriers, such as cost or travel difficulties, explain some cases of under-vaccination, while vaccine scepticism, fueled by distrust in medical authorities or anti-vaccine influence, accounts for outright refusals. The recent appointment of vaccine sceptic Robert F. Kennedy Jr. to lead America’s federal health agency exacerbates these challenges, giving credibility to misinformation that undermines herd immunity. Non-vaccination risks the vulnerable, including the immunocompromised, infants, and the elderly, who rely on community immunity to stay safe. My hope for 2025 is a renewed collective appreciation of vaccination’s miraculous impact and a commitment to combating the misinformation threatening public health.
Things can only get better
Laura Kings, Assistant editor of Australian Catholics.
The news in 2024 has been bleak, but there are grassroots glimmers of hope.
The Bad: Globally, wars rage in Europe and the Middle East, and atrocities continue unchecked. Climate change poses an existential crisis, while inequality grows wider. Closer to home, the Voice referendum’s failure has left Indigenous advocacy in disarray. NDIS funding cuts, backed by an ableist campaign portraying disabled people as rorters and deviants, have devastated many. Watching political leaders perpetuate this narrative for gain was heartbreaking.
The Ugly: Hate, ignorance, and bigotry seem more visible than ever, both in politics and public discourse. A heckler at a recent gig by Indigenous artist Emily Wurramara epitomised this ugliness, shouting, ‘Play the didgeridoo!’.
The Good: Hope exists in small, tangible ways. Many schools are slowly improving practices for neurodiverse students, improving teaching practices and creating safer spaces for vulnerable kids. Community kindness is gaining momentum, and new leaders, like the recently appointed Australian-Ukrainian Cardinal, bring inspiration.
Despite setbacks, I see progress. Emily’s song Lordy, Lordy asks, ‘What do we do now?’ My answer: keep hoping, working, and believing. Change happens in small steps. How about you? Can things get better?
What the Church proposes
Julian Butler, Editorial consultant of Eureka Street.
Is it possible the Catholic Church has something to propose and offer to secular government at the end of 2024? I have grown up though a period where the Church has been on the receiving end of recommendations from the secular West. And for good reason. I am writing from Boston, Massachusetts after all. Still, no place has had the kind of government scrutiny offered by Australia’s Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse. This was undoubtedly a good thing. It forced the Church, among other things, to reckon with its failures and redefine itself as a pilgrim people striving toward authenticity.
The relieved Catholic Right and the languid Catholic Left (all caps) would both disagree, I think, that the Church has anything to offer in 2024. The Right seem to think the mere idea of synodality too much, a trojan horse, albeit one whose entrants may have been for now subdued. The Left seem disappointed the synod was all about process and precious issues were not persuasively prosecuted. And there is the rub. Maybe what the Catholic Church has to suggest and offer at the end of this year is the possibility of good process, attentive to communities.
If we were doing a “person of the year”, I would find it hard to disagree with Time magazine. Trump is the lightning rod for our times. He has companions on the world stage of longer standing –Erdogan, Orban, Putin, Xi. Even as it would be folly, and absurd, to suggest he has exhibited some of their ruthless excesses, he represents a nationalistic, proto-authoritarian moment right in the middle of western democracy. As governments in France and Germany fall, this looks like the new normal. Amidst this ferment stands the Church, whose hierarchy hung on to its monarchical, authoritarian trappings way too long. Within which some such trappings do still very much exist. But which, for a while now and accelerated by Pope Francis, has found global ways of expression much more focused on persons as they are in community, rather as than economic units or votes to be won. This will never be a democratic proposition but it is a participatory one, built on a style of communication which assumes the dignity and decency of all those engaged in the conversation, and just as much of those who are not but should in time be included in that process. The Final Document of this year’s Synod on Synodality left many disappointed, but it shouldn’t have. For Catholics it gives a vivid impulse for the Church, engaged in the world seeking to discover the movements of the Holy Spirit in and through that engagement. For the world it’s whole impetus, as something begun and ongoing, suggests the possibility of a process that begins and ends beyond zero-sum relating and sectional winning. But the document remains worth reading. Just maybe it suggests something about the way we can some together.
The age of anxiety
David Halliday, Editor of Eureka Street.
Earlier this year, a GP friend of mine vented about a trend she'd noticed in her practice: patients weren’t coming in with the usual sprains, colds, or cuts anymore. Instead, they increasingly wanted treatment for anxiety. And fair enough. It's a year that maxed out our collective bandwidth grappling with a succession of crises, whether it's Trump's election, or the unchecked advancement of AI sucking up trillions in investments and energy as carbon emissions surge, or ongoing conflicts in Ukraine, Gaza, Syria, Sudan, Myanmar to name a few; or whether more locally it's Australia’s housing crisis, soaring gambling losses, skyrocketing anxiety among teenagers, or climate change leading to a temporary breaching of the 1.5°C warming threshold set by the Paris Agreement. Pick your poison. In all the mess, you'd be forgiven for thinking anxiety is becoming a universal emotional baseline, a condition of modern life resulting from torrential crises demanding our limited attention. But here’s a thought: what if it’s not entirely a bad thing? To feel anxious about Gaza, our children, AI or the climate, is, in essence, to care. Uncomfortable as it is, anxiety might reflect something noble in our refusal to turn away entirely and stay engaged in conversations that matter. And in every act of concern, in every conversation marked by patience and grace, is the hint of progress. Perhaps, then, we’d do well not to banish anxiety but to befriend it as evidence of our shared humanity.
Michael McVeigh is head of publishing and digital content at Jesuit Communications, publishers of Eureka Street.
Michele Frankeni is editor of Australian Catholics and Madonna magazine.
Julian Butler SJ is a Jesuit undertaking formation for Catholic priesthood. He is currently studying theology at Boston College’s Clough School of Theology and Ministry. He previously practiced law, has degrees in commerce and philosophy and has worked in Jesuit school, communication and social ministries.
Andrew Hamilton is consulting editor of Eureka Street, and writer at Jesuit Social Services.
Laura Kings is assistant editor of Australian Catholics.
David Halliday is editor of Eureka Street.