Australia’s smartest meth dealer found in Leichhardt. ABC chairman Maurice Newman branches out into staff supervision. And Sydney property developers whine because, well, they just didn’t automatically get everything their own way.

Here, ladies and gentlemen, no more than 20 minutes late, is episode 5 of The 9pm Edict. Finally.

You can listen to this episode below. But if you want them all, subscribe to the podcast feed, or even subscribe automatically in iTunes.

For more information on what I discussed today, try the NSW police media releases about Sunday’s explosion and Monday’s arrest, the Urban Taskforce media release and the ABC’s story on same, this Sydney Morning Herald story on various NSW Labor connections, Kristina Keneally’s Wikipedia entry, my post on Maurice Newman’s speech and the PM report on same, and Marcus Westbury’s column for The Age.

If you’d like to comment on this episode, please add your comment below, or Skype to stilgherrian or phone Sydney +61 2 8011 3733.

[Credits: The 9pm Edict theme by mansardian, Edict fanfare by neonaeon, all from The Freesound Project. Photograph of Stilgherrian taken 29 March 2009 by misswired, used by permission.]

“That ‘This is Not Art’ thing this weekend, it’s like a fucking freak show walking past,” says the old guy in the yellow-tiled front bar of The Clarendon Hotel.

It’s just gone noon on Saturday. Apart from ’Pong and I having a burger and beer, he’s the only customer. His worldview of what Newcastle‘s Hunter Street should be like is challenged by the stream of paste-white black-clad comic fans, straggly-bearded eco-hippies, random hipsters and nose-ringed alternagothpunkteendykes strolling past the boarded-up shopfronts.

Noticing a skinny guy wearing yellow overalls and a torn red-striped t-shirt, our frowning drinker puts down his VB. “Hey, is there a circus in town? Because I can see a clown”, he calls out to the barman.

The barman smiles politely, but says nothing.

“Hey, is there a circus in town?”, he mutters, and takes another sip. He looks out at the soulless office buildings that replaced the landscape of his memory, in silence.

Yet these weird out-of-towners, with their experimental robotics, knitting and YouTube mashups, have brought more life to this industrial city’s ailing heart than any grandiose “development” plan.

As night falls they, like us, wonder why there’s virtually nowhere to eat. One Balinese restaurant, full up. One café, the Bogie Hole — named after a nearby ocean rock bath and not what you just thought — stays open to a decadent 8pm. On a Saturday. Then the streets empty. Suburban pubs close and disgorge drunken hordes, who then flood to CBD beer barns to drink even more, fight, vomit and stagger home.

Next morning, we see how Newcastle reckons it’ll save itself. Ah, Honeysuckle! “The Hunter’s premier waterfront playground.”

It’s exactly like every other premier waterfront playground everywhere else. Boxy big-windowed apartment blocks, distinguishable from each other solely by the colour of the concrete panels, or perhaps the angle of the posts supporting motorised canvas awnings.

At ground level, such unique features as umbrellas bearing the names of Italian beers, a Hog’s Breath Café, a Subway store, a bar called “isobar” in lower case.

Honeysuckle is an historical precinct, we’re told by a standard premier waterfront playground historical interpretation sign, black type on burnished steel. In one small area, an old railway track peers out, sitting flush with the colour-matched concrete paving. History as decoration.

Two floors up, a blond boy maybe eight years old has breakfast with his younger blonde sister, sitting on blond-wood designer chairs at a blond-wood designer table while their platinum-blond mother flips through the catalogs. Perhaps there’s just one more thing she needs to buy to complete her perfect premier waterfront lifestyle.

Later she, or her clone, in khaki cargo pants and a Quicksilver hoodie drinks white wine at a premier waterfront playground café with half a dozen identical premier waterfront playground friends.

Outside, tugboats shepherd the 75,000-ton Panama-flagged bulk carrier Energy Trade and another fifty thousand tons of coal out of the world’s busiest coal-shipping port, bound for Yokkaichi, Japan. Another, the Cypriot Pedhoulas Merchant, leaves less than two hours later for Tachibana. The empty 150,000-ton Hanjin Madras is brought in to take their place.

Marcus Westbury, who founded This Is Not Art a decade ago to showcase independent, emerging and experimental art, tells me there’s no residential real estate slump here. Expensive residential properties like Honeysuckle are being built and occupied, but they’re clustered around an empty commercial core.

“There’s one big problem with how Newcastle’s been thinking about how it’s going to fix itself: that some big mega thing will arrive fully formed and make that end of town interesting,” he says.

The Fix Our City consortium, for instance, supports a plan to rip out the railway to Newcastle station that separates the old CBD from the waterfront and replace it with a massive new development. The developers wave some push-poll claiming “93% of the public agreeing with the need for change.”

Naturally, they want NSW government support.

As an outsider, I can’t help but think deliberately destroying a working, historic transport link is nothing but a land grab.

Meanwhile, Westbury has been showing us Renew Newcastle. Frustrated with seeing buildings lay empty for years, he founded this project to organise artists, cultural projects and community groups to use and maintain these buildings under license until they’re commercially viable or redeveloped. So far it’s supported three dozen projects ranging from craft and fashion galleries to an animation studio and a tea house.

“The barrier to entry is capital,” says Westbury, noting that urban development processes are geared to big projects. “If you make it possible for people who don’t have money to be able to do things, then a whole new range of things become possible.”

On Sunday afternoon, eighty people packed Renew Newcastle’s HQ, the deconsecrated St Mark’s Catholic Chapel, to learn Westbury’s methods. Expect to see similar projects in a run-down urban environment near you.

[This article was originally written for Crikey -- which explains the "mainstream media style" in parts -- but it was bumped when a far more newsworthy Letter from The Phillippines arrived, chronicling the country's terrible natural disasters. This is an edited and expanded version.]

Marcus Westbury, who I’ve written about before, has noticed something special about Australia’s new defence minister.

“John Faulkner [pictured left] hasn’t changed his glasses for so long they’re almost fashionable again,” he tweets. “Do you think if I start referring to John Faulkner as ‘the hispter’ it will catch on? He has the retro ironic glasses for it.”

“It’s gonna be awesome to see those glasses in the back of an F-35 or sticking out of a tank. Cartoonists will love this,” Marcus reckons. And I reckon too.

So, dear Australian political writers and cartoonists, can we please start referring to Senator John Faulkner as “The Hipster”?

Marcus also wonders about the fate of the Rudd government’s transparency program, which Faulkner was driving in his role as Special Minister of State. “It was the most impressive thing about the Rudd government,” says Marcus. “What now?”

I can’t be “objective” about Marcus Westbury and his truly awesome TV series Not Quite Art. Marcus, I am totally envious and I want to have your babies!

OK, failing that (for various biological and logistical reasons) I’ll simply demand that everyone — and I do mean everyone — watch Not Quite Art when series two is squeezed like a threatening pimple from ABC1′s transmitters across Australia tonight at 10pm. Or ABC2 at 7pm Sunday. Or streamed from ABC iView. Or downloaded illegally from the torrents.

Quite frankly, if you reckon you’re interested in “art” and “culture” and how it’s evolving, then you must consider Marcus’ worldview. If you fail to watch this program, you’re missing out on a delightful, witty and above all intelligent journey.

Now I suppose I’ll have to explain why this series is so important…

First, though, I’d better explain why I can’t be “objective” — in quotes because I think this whole “objective” thing about writing reviews and journalism is a crock of shit. We all have our biases and pre-conceived ideas — whether we like them or not, whether we even realise it or not — so we might as well try to put them on the table.

My bias?

I want Marcus’ job!

But I’m not cool enough any more.

Sulk.

Back in 1993 I discovered the writing of Neal Stephenson through the pages of Wired magazine. While researching his massive article Mother Earth Mother Board the “hacker tourist”, as he was styled, travelled three continents following the route of the global fibre optic network, writing entertainingly about its history and its impact.

I was jealous. Stephenson had the freedom to spend several months and 42,000 words on something he loved and was paid for it. I wanted to do that! Travel, and write and talk about stuff I’m interested in.

Then last year I read Marcus Westbury’s opinion piece Mozart cover bands rake in the moolah, about how “an overwhelming amount of arts funding in Australia goes to organisations that either exclusively or primarily play covers”.

Think symphony orchestras, opera companies and state theatre companies that produce comparatively little in the way of original, innovative or even Australian work. Like classic hits radio, they are busting out the chart-toppers of the 17th, 18th, 19th and 20th centuries…

[G]rab yourself a copy of the Australia Council’s annual report. The nation’s cover bands, mostly the state-based symphony orchestras, collectively receive just under $50 million each year from the council.

Whether that figure seems average or outrageous would depend on the context that you choose to put it in. The context that I put it in is the $4.8 million pool that every single musician in Australia who isn’t in a symphony orchestra competes for every year. That’s more than a 10-fold disparity between the orchestras and everyone else combined.

Wow! This certainly resonated with my thoughts. And then:

Culture isn’t something that happened in Europe centuries ago that needs preservation. It’s actually all that messy, beautiful, inspiring and wonderful stuff that is happening around us right now. Arts funding should reward innovation not preservation and vibrancy over bureaucracy

Yes! Precisely!

I watched Not Quite Art series 1 — which of all the programs the ABC put into that 10pm Tuesday arts timeslot pulled the biggest audience — and I loved this man’s worldview. He trotted around Australia showing us the cool stuff!

So I was well pleased when I pressed “play” on the preview DVD the lovely people at ABC TV sent me and heard these words at the start of Not Quite Art series 2 episode 1, “Culture Shock”:

This is a series about culture. Not just this kind of culture [gesturing to the theatre around him] but the living cultures all around us — the ones that are evolving and changing so rapidly that if you nod off for a little while, well, you just might miss it.

Marcus and his nerdy brown pullover led me on a journey through living cultures including Newcastle-bred DJ Mark Newlands, who referred to “the cave-man era before the Internet” and reminded us that “Technology marches on. Either get with it or get fucked”; video game critic Ben “Yahtze” Croshaw whose program pulls 4 million viewers; animator Paul Robertson, who reaches his global audience from his bedroom; a wonderful woman called Jodi Rose who records the sounds that bridges make; and to a remote part of the Northern Territory (pictured above, where Marcus removes his pullover!) and… well I won’t tell you all the tales.

But then he said something which had me spluttering my coffee and and gasping for breath.

What interests me isn’t the technology, but how it’s changing us.

Damn you, Westbury! I said that! On my About Stilgherrian page! Well, in a few more words…

I’m not that interested in technology itself. I’m more interested in the social questions.

What does it all mean for your life? Your family? Your business? Your community? For the law and politics? How will it change the very core of what it means to be human?

This little cunt Marcus Westbury is not only thinking my thoughts, he’s getting paid to put them on TV!

So I take it all back! Do not watch this program. It’s a program I’d want to make, if I were still hip and cool and knew people at the bloody ABC. Do not watch Not Quite Art.

As any management consultant will tell you, develop a shared vision and folks will endure short-term pain — like interest rate rises and having to change the light bulbs.

Actually I’m not that cynical about it. I’m quietly enthused. After a decade of Howard’s backward-looking short-term thinking we seriously need to look to the future. Fast. Of course, back when Barry Jones was science minister we had a permanent organisation to keep watch, the Commission for the Future. Maybe I’ll read Lessons from the Australian Commission for the Future: 1986-1998 [PDF file] when I get the time. But I digress…

If Chairman Rudd wants 1000 of our “best and brightest” in Canberra on 19-20 April, who should they be?

It’s flattering that Nick Hodge and Peter Black nominated me, bless their sycophantic little hearts. And I’ve already gained four votes at Bloggerati. I’d love to be part of this Summit, sure, because I’d be Fighting the Hallucinating Goldfish hands on. However I have a few more modest suggestions…

Before I name names, though, a reminder about the categories, and some thoughts on the type of people we need to see.

We’re choosing 100 people to work on each of 10 topics:

1. Future directions for the Australian economy — including education, skills, training, science and innovation as part of the nation’s productivity agenda
2. Economic infrastructure, the digital economy and the future of our cities
3. Population, sustainability, climate change, and water
4. Future directions for rural industries and rural communities
5. A long-term national health strategy — including the challenges of preventative health, workforce planning and the ageing population
6. Strengthening communities, supporting families and social inclusion
7. Options for the future of indigenous Australia
8. Towards a creative Australia: the future of the arts, film and design
9. The future of Australian governance: renewed democracy, a more open government (including the role of the media), the structure of the Federation and the rights and responsibilities of citizens
10. Australia’s future security and prosperity in a rapidly changing region and world.

Maybe that’s not the best breakdown, but that’s what we’re stuck with. I guess it’s what the focus groups are saying.

So how do we pick the people? I reckon:

1. The majority should be under the age of 40, with a significant number under 30. This is about the future.
2. The majority should be people most of us have never heard of, not people in the news every week. This is about fresh ideas. This implies that communities need to start identifying and nominating them now.
3. No-one anywhere in the selection process should ever starting thinking about quotas. None of this 1970s crap about “we must have equal numbers of men and women,” or “make sure there’s a few Asian faces in each group.” The selection should be on talent alone. I’m well aware that’s the most controversial of my suggestions, but if you’re still measuring gender or ethnicity at all it means you’re still classifying people into those categories.
4. Don’t confuse “opinion” with “vision”. I won’t expand upon that point, or I might rule myself out!
5. No-one should get a guernsey simple because they did Great Things in some field some time in the distant past. Yes, we need people with experience, but current experience — people who are shaping the future already, and who deserve a wider audience.

Right, time for some names. Here’s my first 5, and I’ll add more over coming days. I’ll list each one with suggested topic numbers in [square brackets].

• Dr Dick Quan, tutor in community medicine and tireless collector and promoter of modern art. [5, 8]
• Human rights lawyer Julian Burnside, who’ll help find the right balance in government. [9].
• Producer and festival director Marcus Westbury, creator of Not Quite Art (amongst other things). [8]
• Sociologist Mark Bahnisch of Larvatus Prodeo fame. [6, 9]
• Futurist Mark Pesce. Yeah I’ve been reading his stuff again lately, but there’s vision. Plus if I don’t mention him the bloggerati will cast me into the outer darkness. [2, 8]

I haven’t listed anyone for topics 1, 3, 4, 5 or 7 because I know bugger all about them. And while I have a passing interest in topic 10, I don’t know any of the players. Any thoughts? And what do you think my my choices?

Melbourne’s Neil Mitchell has already labelled this Summit a “wank tank”, but then talkback hosts always seem to want action immediately with thought and analysis later (if at all). Discount him. Still, if you want this Summit to matter, and if you want to get your people there, then you need to take the right action.

Talking amongst ourselves is all well and good. But to nominate someone you need to get in touch with the selection committee by… well, we don’t know yet. Stand by.

Oh, and if you’re going to nominate me, category 9 please.

If art is about creativity, then why does most of the government funding go to a few relics from the past?

Last night’s exhibition launch at Gallery 4A included reminders that contemporary art galleries struggle to survive: a begging bowl on the bar, and speeches studded with polite requests to become a member or make a donation, and genuinely thankful thank-yous to the private patrons.

Yet as Marcus Westbury writes in the Sydney Morning Herald today, the Sydney Symphony Orchestra gets nearly $9M funding annually — more than all of Australia’s visual arts artists put together. Or all writers and publishers. Or all the dancers.

Scathingly referring to the SSO and their ilk as “Mozart cover bands”, he writes:

Opera Australia receives more than $10 million a year from the Australia Council. Sure, opera is lavish, expensive and glorious but I simply cannot think of a single sensible, logical or sane reason why one opera company is valued roughly on par with more than 400 separate organisations supported by the music, dance, literature and inter-arts boards of the same organisation.

Great art to me creates a resonance and opens up possibilities; it isn’t the echoes of the past. It’s not something you reproduce proficiently. Art is made out of anger or curiosity or awe or beauty or because you’re in love or want someone to fall in love with you.

Artists don’t just preserve the past. They make new things from the sum total of human experience. They tell new stories and find new ways of telling stories from the tools and influences that they have around them.

Culture isn’t something that happened in Europe centuries ago that needs preservation. It’s actually all that messy, beautiful, inspiring and wonderful stuff that is happening around us right now. Arts funding should reward innovation not preservation and vibrancy over bureaucracy.

My my, Marcus! Put that sort of thing into the SMH and the entire arts-administrator industry will be a-flutter! Well done.