Born in 1971

If you were born in 1971, you arrived in a country where the arguments were getting louder and more urgent. The Vietnam War was winding down but not done, and the anti-war movement was at its peak. Gough Whitlam and the Labor Party were sharpening their pitch — "It's Time" was still a year away but the energy was building.

The South African rugby tour of 1971 was a defining moment: protesters invaded the field at Brisbane's Exhibition Ground, flour bombs were dropped from light aircraft, there were running battles between police and demonstrators, and Australians were forced to confront the question of apartheid directly for the first time. Sport and politics had collided messily and productively. Rock music was the sound of the young nation: Daddy Cool, Billy Thorpe, Lobby Lloyd, Chain — live music in the pubs was becoming a distinctive Australian form.

The drive-in was still popular, the milk bar was still the social centre of the suburb, and the backyard cricket on Christmas Day was as sacred as ever. But something was loosening. The children of the migrants — the Greek and Italian and Eastern European kids who had grown up in Australian classrooms — were now young adults, bringing new food and new energy and new politics.

The country was a richer, more complicated place than it had been twenty years before.