Malignant Magic

The pitfalls of privilege

Money buys magic. It seems to me that art and beauty have become the bastion of the affluent class. But this idea extends further, not limited to creativity, the monied class also embraces a form of social conscience that is out of reach and out of mind for those not included in this social strata.

Recently I have been house sitting in a character home in East Victoria Park - one of the more ‘well to do’ suburbs of Perth, Western Australia. These streets are lined with the promise of success. The children raised in these homes have all the opportunities that life can bestow. That is not to say that this is a guarantee of some kind of utopia, only that it presents itself as an environment of promise and future thriving.

I am struck by the personal touches that these homes display. From the planter boxes to the fairy tree, the handmade art and the many personalities of gardens. Gardens that spill onto the footpath, bursting with lush greenery. Often the plants are herbs and vegetables and an endless array of exotic flowers - consistent beauty that nurtures and delights the senses.

Bicycle wheel sunflowers

The natives around here are, as you can imagine, educated, articulate and well groomed. The school childrens’ uniforms are elaborate, complete with matching scarves, polished shoes and blazers. After school they head to the local fro-yo shop and Crow Books for a post day wind down. Then back home, through the stained glass windowed front door, across the polished hardwood floors, through the hallway with its Waterhouse and Mucha on the walls, into the recently renovated vaulted ceiling kitchen for a snack, before retiring to their expansive upstairs bedrooms. The bay window next to the bed overlooks the leafy courtyard, a scene of vibrant colour and picturesque serenity.

In this world children look up. The sky is the limit. Their heads held high. This world has opportunity and seemingly limitless potential. Private schools, pocket money, overseas holidays, art, music and creativity. These are not just concepts for these kids, they live it. They know who Bach was, they’ve heard of DaVinci and mother has schooled them in the current events of the day: Climate Change, the war in Ukraine and The Voice are things they know and discuss. They have a sense of their own agency, that they matter and ultimately can and will have an impact on the direction of society.

YES, of course!

Other than the gravitational constant, this place is entirely another world to some of my previous house sits. The lower socioeconomic areas in which I have resided do not present the same abundant grace. By grace I mean they have a certain ‘gracefulness’ - a dignity, a refinement.

Areas like Kwinana and Nollamara for example consist almost entirely of stock design housing, with its drab brick, often in a state of disrepair. The garden, if they have one, is generally dead. The lawn yellow in summer, the garden beds bare except for weeds and rubbish. The streets here are not well maintained and the people are fat, sick and unkempt. Not everyone of course but when you do see a healthy specimen it is an oddity. Children are not seen often, they don’t frequent the parks and there is no fro-yo. They don’t look up, they slouch and look at their battered sneakers. Opportunity here is not boundless. Art is a framed footy jersey and current events are restricted to the upcoming UFC fight or sporting event. These kids are not going to be shapers of society, captains of industry or members of the intelligentsia. Gavin is getting a trade - hopefully. Beckie will be a homemaker.

Like the cycle of poverty where people become trapped in a spiral of self limiting economic opportunities, a comparable phenomenon is occurring with their psychological and spiritual development. They become trapped in a feedback loop of pragmatism, no magic lives here. No fairies live in the trees around here. There are no bicycle sunflowers. And mum and dad don’t grow vegetables.

If you overhear a conversation in East Victoria Park it will be generally something considered, elaborated on, there is a level of investment in outcomes and making things better. Contrast this with Kwinana, the discourse is purely utilitarian. It is restrictive and instructive, not expansive. In short it does not convey hope. Children see this and they in turn become the bearers of the flickering torch of bad ideas.

These two disparate classes of people seem to be on their individual tracks to their respective parallel futures. We celebrate one and pity the other. And short of accidents and chance these separate futures are entirely likely. But do the opportunities of the blessed life constitute a better life? There are traps to privilege and wealth. The expectations and responsibilities of children of affluence can be crushing. It can destroy you. And if you manage to negotiate youth and land that law firm position, that investment banker role what then? Your life is one of stress, expected productivity and constant effort. You have further to fall.

Gavin avoided jail for his multiple DUIs and has a good job as an apprentice plumber now. There’s a couple of cars up on blocks out the front of Gavin’s place and one of these days he’s going to cut back those weeds. But on Sunday he kicks back with a beer and watches the footy on the tube. His signed Eagles jersey hangs proudly above the set.

In a universe that is indifferent we could weigh these two lives the same. But are we indifferent? After all we celebrate those who have attained the trappings of success. We anoint them leaders and bestow upon them the power to mould the future, to steer the big ship.

Where does the fairy garden lead? Do the mundane and bland suburbs afford one a kind of protection against the perils and potential evils of the managerial class? It is after all those that wield the power that are the ones who do the damage. Gavin didn’t start no war but Gavin’s kids may very well have to fight in one.

Ultimately it is a question of power, not happiness.

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