“Ah.” I’d first heard that term when I was studying film history; it had been coined to describe the mainstream directors of the nineteen seventies and eighties. As one historian had put it: “They possessed no distinguishing features except for their nationality; they had nothing to say, and nothing to do except foist a claustrophobic vocabulary of tired nationalist myths and icons onto their audience, while loudly proclaiming themselves to be ‘defining the national character’, and to represent, in person, ‘a nation finding its voice.’” I’d thought this was probably a harsh judgment – until I’d seen some of the films. Most of them were stultifying horse operas – rural colonial melodramas – or sentimentalized war stories. The nadir of the period, though, was probably an attempted comedy in which Albert Einstein was portrayed as an Australian apple farmer’s son, who “splits beer atoms” and falls in love with Marie Curie.

I said, “I always thought the visual arts had grown out of that long ago. Especially in your mode.”

Munroe scowled. “I’m not talking about art . I’m talking about the entire dominant culture.”

“Come on! There is no ‘dominant culture’ anymore. The filter is mightier than the broadcaster.” At least, that was the net-swoon line; I still wasn’t sure I’d bought it.

Munroe hadn’t. “Very Zen. Try exporting Australian medical biotech to Stateless, and you’ll soon find out exactly who’s in control.”

I had no answer to that.

He said, “Don’t you ever get tired of living in a society which talks about itself, relentlessly – and usually lies? Which defines everything worthwhile – tolerance, honesty, loyalty, fairness – as ‘uniquely Australian’? Which pretends to encourage diversity – but can’t ever stop babbling about its ‘national identity’? Don’t you ever get sick of the endless parade of buffoons who claim the authority to speak on your behalf: politicians, intellectuals, celebrities, commentators – defining and characterizing you in every detail … from your ‘distinctive Australian sense of humor’ right down to your fucking ‘collective subconscious iconography’ … who are all, simply, liars and thieves?”

I was taken aback for a moment – but on reflection, this was a recognizable description of the mainstream political and academic culture. Or if not the mainstream, at least the loudest. I shrugged. “Every country has some level of parochial bullshit like that going on, somewhere. The US is almost as bad. But I hardly notice it anymore – least of all at home. I suppose I’ve just learned to tune it out, most of the time.”

“I envy you, then. I never could.”