At this time of year, we're reminded that Australia has a problem: an ongoing and deeply divisive conflict over Australia Day. For many, January 26 is a joyous celebration of national pride; a day of barbecues, citizenship ceremonies, and fireworks. It evokes images of sandy beaches, community festivals, and flags fluttering under the summer sun. But for others, especially for Indigenous Australians, it is a day of mourning, marking the beginning of dispossession, violence, and generational trauma. Far from fostering national unity, Australia Day has become a battleground of contested memory and competing narratives. The debate intensifies each year, spilling into heated discussions about identity, history, and politics. What should be a moment of shared celebration now serves as a reminder of the unresolved tensions at the heart of Australia’s story. Resolving this division is critical for national harmony, but how can we find a path forward?
At the heart of this conflict lies the weight of history. For Aboriginal Australians, January 26 is ‘Invasion Day,’ ‘Survival Day,’ or a ‘Day of Mourning,’ as it marks the arrival of the First Fleet in 1788. It signals the beginning of colonisation, a process that led to the dispossession of land, the dismantling of cultures, and the marginalisation of Australia’s First Nations peoples.
This legacy and its effects are felt today. The socioeconomic disparities between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians are stark: reduced life expectancy, chronic health issues, lower educational attainment, and higher rates of incarceration. The intergenerational trauma of the Stolen Generations remains unresolved.
For some non-Indigenous Australians, however, January 26 represents a celebration of their nation’s achievements and identity, a day to reflect on progress, multiculturalism, and shared values. Many view the date as symbolic of belonging and continuity, a fixed point in the calendar that anchors them to the nation’s story.
This tension between the celebration of progress and the mourning of dispossession fuels the Australia Day debate. Calls to ‘change the date’ are met with resistance, often framed as attacks on tradition. Social media amplifies these clashes, with some Australians dismissing Indigenous concerns as ‘political correctness’ or ‘wokeism.’ Comments like ‘1788 was a long time ago just get over it’ ignore the enduring scars of colonization, which do not heal easily across generations.
This already fraught debate has been further inflamed by political opportunism. Australia Day has become a symbolic battleground where right-wing populists have attempted to exploit national pride and cultural nostalgia. We've seen Peter Dutton adopt a populist weaponising of identity politics as a substitute for policy questions around issues like the Voice, flags, and now Australia Day. He has framed the national day controversy as a struggle between ‘ordinary Australians’ and an out-of-touch elite, painting critics of January 26 as enemies of tradition. Dutton finds his ammunition among two groups: older generations who rightly want to celebrate the best aspects of our story and immigrant generations (the main groups at Australia Day parades) who want to show the most reasonable gratitude for what Australia has given them.
This rhetoric resonates with many Australians who feel alienated by rapid societal change. By caricaturing progressives as ‘elites’ and Indigenous advocates as ‘divisive,’ populists reduce the complexities of the issue to a binary conflict. The result is a cultural war of ‘us versus them,’ where the nuances of history and identity are flattened into slogans and soundbites.
Media outlets like those of the Murdoch press amplify these divisions, presenting any critique of Australia Day as an attack on the nation itself. Yet this approach overlooks the fundamental problem: January 26 is not a date that unifies, it divides. The refusal to address the historical and emotional weight of the day only deepens the rift.
'Such a change would, of course, not come overnight. Building a new tradition takes time and commitment. But the rewards of a national day that unites rather than divides are well worth the effort.'
Somewhat ironically, the symbolic significance of January 26 is a relatively recent construct. Originally known as Sydney Anniversary Day, the occasion was a local celebration commemorating eight days after the First Fleet’s arrival at Botany Bay. For much of its history, the date was a modest affair, recognized formally in 1935 but observed without much fanfare.
It wasn’t until the 1990s that Australia Day became a major national event. Increased funding for the Australia Day Council and a concerted push for patriotic celebration elevated its status. In 1994, Jeff Kennett spearheaded efforts to fix the public holiday to January 26, cementing its place in the calendar.
This transformation, however, came at a cost. What was once a relaxed, inclusive occasion has become a flashpoint for division. The competing narratives around Australia Day, one of celebration and the other of mourning, underscore the difficulty of using a single date to encapsulate a complex national story.
In a surprising about-turn, in 2019, Jeff Kennett described Australia Day on 26 January as ‘a joke’ and ‘lacking credibility’, suggesting a move to the first of January. We now have a deeply entrenched politicized rhetorical civil war over Australia Day on 26 January. It will not go away.
As the Australia Day debate reaches an impasse, it is clear that neither clinging to January 26 nor ignoring the controversy will resolve the issue. What is needed is a new approach, a national day that reflects both the shared values and diverse experiences of modern Australia.
One potential solution lies in Wattle Day, celebrated on September 1. Rooted in nature, the wattle is a symbol of resilience, renewal, and shared heritage. Unlike January 26, it carries no historical baggage, offering a fresh start for an inclusive celebration.
Traditions can evolve. Just as Canada embraced the maple leaf as a national emblem, Australia can adopt the golden wattle as a unifying symbol. Wattle Day could begin modestly, with schools, councils, and community groups celebrating the day in parks and public spaces. Over time, it could grow into a public holiday that honours the land, its people, and their shared future.
This shift would not erase history but acknowledge it. Wattle Day could complement other moments of reflection, such as NAIDOC Week, ensuring that the stories of First Nations peoples remain central to the national narrative.
A Wattle Day holiday would also offer practical benefits. Falling after three months of winter without public holidays, most people really need a public holiday and it would provide a welcome respite before the busy spring season. Citizenship ceremonies could feature sprigs of wattle, symbolising unity and renewal.
A Wattle Day national holiday would be enjoyed by all Australians. Eventually, it would put aside the annual symbolic conflicts which now mars every January. And over time, Wattle Day could inspire broader cultural shifts, perhaps even a new national flag featuring a bright yellow wattle against a green background or against a blue sky.
Such a change would, of course, not come overnight. Building a new tradition takes time and commitment. But the rewards of a national day that unites rather than divides are well worth the effort.
Ultimately the Australia Day debate will not resolve itself. Continuing to celebrate on January 26 guarantees further division, deepening the fractures in Australia’s national identity. Embracing Wattle Day as a new national holiday offers a possible way forward, a chance to leave behind the pain and controversy of the past and build a more inclusive, harmonious future.
In the land of a thousand wattles, it’s time to let this unifying symbol take root. A Wattle Day Australia Day could become a celebration for all Australians, offering hope, healing, and a shared vision for the years ahead.
Dr. Stephen Alomes of RMIT University is an historian of Australian nationalism and a painter of wattles.