Every April 25, Australians gather at dawn to honour the ANZACs—those gallant Diggers who stormed Gallipoli's shores in 1915, forging a national identity through blood, sweat, and mateship. For generations, ANZAC Day has been a sacred ritual, uniting us in reverence for sacrifice and pride in our Anglo-Celtic heritage. Yet, in 2025, this hallowed day is under assault, not by foreign enemies but by homegrown progressives bent on rewriting history. Woke academics, multicultural zealots, and timid politicians are recasting the ANZACs as imperialist pawns, diluting their legacy to appease a fragmented "nation of tribes," as historian Geoffrey Blainey aptly termed our divided society. This betrayal dishonours our heroes and saps Australia's resolve at a time when global threats loom large. We must defend ANZAC Day's true meaning, rooted in unity and sacrifice, before it's lost to the altar of political correctness.
In 1915, Australia was a young nation of under five million, predominantly Anglo-Celtic, bound by a shared loyalty to the British Empire. When the call came, over 416,000 men volunteered, a staggering testament to a unified spirit. At Gallipoli, the ANZACs faced hellish odds—Turkish machine guns, scorching heat, and disease—yet their courage and camaraderie birthed a legend. They weren't fighting for abstract ideals but for mates, home, and a way of life grounded in Christian values of duty and sacrifice. ANZAC Day emerged as a solemn vow to remember them, not just for their deeds but for the cohesive nation they represented. Dawn services, with their bugles and prayers, became a touchstone for Australians reinforcing a shared identity.
Today, that unity is fracturing, and ANZAC Day is in the crosshairs of progressive revisionists. University historians and media pundits, cloaked in academic jargon, increasingly frame the ANZACs as tools of British imperialism, complicit in colonial oppression. Some, like those at certain sandstone universities, argue Gallipoli glorifies a "whitewashed" history, urging a focus on Indigenous or migrant narratives instead. Others push for ANZAC Day to be "inclusive," downplaying its Anglo-Celtic roots to avoid "offending" diverse communities. This is no mere reinterpretation—it's a deliberate attempt to erase the cultural bedrock of 1915 Australia. Blainey's "nation of tribes" captures this malaise: a multicultural society where competing identities trump collective pride. Unlike 1914, when a singular ethos drove men to enlist, today's fragmented populace struggles to rally around a common cause, let alone defend the ANZACs' legacy.
This revisionism isn't just academic—it's political. The Albanese government's obsession with identity politics, epitomised by the failed Voice referendum, has emboldened the woke brigade. By prioritising Indigenous grievances or multicultural platitudes, Labor signals that Australia's foundational stories, like Gallipoli, are negotiable. The push to "decolonise" history has even seeped into schools, where some curricula downplay ANZAC heroism in favour of globalized or victimhood narratives. This mirrors Blainey's warning in The Australian about a nation unprepared for war, not just militarily but spiritually. A people ashamed of their past cannot muster the resolve to face threats like China's provocations, such as warships entering our waters in 2025. The ANZACs' unified spirit, which saw Australia invest in HMAS Australia and capture Rabaul, is a distant memory in a country now paralysed by guilt and division.
The cost of this betrayal is profound. ANZAC Day's power lies in its ability to unite Australians across generations, reminding us of the sacrifices that built our nation. When I stood at a dawn servicelast year, an elderly veteran's trembling salute beside me spoke of a bond unbroken by time. Yet, if progressives succeed in recasting the ANZACs as oppressors, that bond frays. Young Australians, fed a diet of historical shame, may turn away from dawn services, seeing them as relics of a tainted past. Multicultural communities, encouraged to prioritise their own narratives, may feel detached from a day rooted in Anglo-Celtic sacrifice. The result is a nation adrift, lacking the cohesion that once propelled us through wars and crises. Blainey's critique of our defence failures—Darwin's port leased to China, dwindling recruits—parallels this cultural surrender. A nation that cannot honour its heroes cannot defend itself.
The Christian heart of ANZAC Day is also under siege. The Diggers' courage was often sustained by faith—chaplains held services amid Gallipoli's chaos, and soldiers' letters brimmed with Biblical hope. Yet, secular elites, eager to sanitise history for a diverse audience, strip away this spiritual core, reducing ANZAC Day to a vague celebration of "values." This echoes the secular drift you've lamented in our talks about Easter, where Christian traditions are sidelined for consumerist or multicultural agendas. By ignoring the faith that fortified the ANZACs, we lose a vital link to their resilience, one that could inspire us against today's moral and strategic challenges.
Enough is enough. Australians must reclaim ANZAC Day from the progressive vandals. Start by rejecting the guilt peddled by academics and activists. Teach your children the unfiltered truth of Gallipoli—its heroism, not its "imperialist" footnotes. Attend dawn services, not as a ritual but as a defiance of those who would rewrite our story. Demand schools prioritise ANZAC history over decolonised dogma, and call out politicians who pander to tribal identities at the expense of national unity. Churches, too, have a role—hold ANZAC services that honour the Diggers' faith, as many did in 1915. Your local parish could lead the way, blending hymns with remembrance to rekindle that Christian spirit.
Above all, recognise that defending ANZAC Day is defending Australia itself. The Diggers didn't fight for a fractured, apologetic nation but for a united one, bound by shared blood and belief. As global tensions rise—China's shadow looms, per Blainey's warnings—we need their spirit more than ever. Let April 25, 2025, be a rallying cry: no more surrender to woke revisionism. Stand at dawn, head high, and honour the ANZACs as they were—heroes of a proud, cohesive Australia. Anything less is a betrayal of their sacrifice and ours.