Dennis Altman AO, one of Australia’s leading voices in gay rights and political commentary, reflects on more than 50 years of activism, writing, and cultural insight in his new collection, Righting My World. From the groundbreaking publication of Homosexual: Oppression and Liberation in 1971 to his ongoing work on HIV/AIDS, queer rights, and global politics, Altman offers personal essays and political commentary that chart the progress of LGBTQ+ movements while confronting persistent prejudice. This powerful collection captures both the personal and the political, offering readers a unique perspective on identity, community, and social change.
Looking back over the past fifty years of writing and activism, what moments or achievements do you feel most proud of, and why?
By chance I was in the United States at two pivotal moments—the beginnings of the contemporary gay movement and the onset of the AIDS epidemic. In both cases these led to my writing books which I hope had some impact on people struggling to understand themselves and how to affect change. But perhaps the single moment that comes to mind was when I was awarded the Shivananda Khan Award for Extraordinary Achievement by APCOM [the Asia Pacific Coalition on Men’s Sexual Health]. I spent almost thirty years working in the AIDS/HIV movement, including a difficult period as President of the AIDS Society of Asia & the Pacific. Recognition of my work by a regional community peak body is something of which I am very proud.
Righting My World spans personal essays as well as political commentary. How did you decide which pieces to include, and do any hold particular personal significance for you now?
Because I wanted this collection to speak to readers for whom my memory is now history, I leant towards pieces that captured some of the struggles and feelings that my generation experienced. Going through old pieces I was struck by how many of my occasional writings are not worth republishing, even if they felt important to me at the time. I was remarkably lucky to be helped in the selection by Susannah Ostojic, a graduate student at LaTrobe, who helped enormously in the selection. Of course the personal pieces are the most revealing—in particular the essay I wrote after the death of my partner, Anthony Smith.
Your first book, Homosexual: Oppression and Liberation, had a huge impact in 1971. How do you view the progress of gay rights and queer visibility since then, both in Australia and globally?
I don’t think any of us back in the 1970s could have imagined the success of the movement in countries like Australia, symbolised by the vote for marriage equality [discussed in the book]. Equally we could not imagine the ways in which gender would become problematised and the rise of a significant trans movement. Today it is trans people who face the brunt of hostility and stigma, even in countries like the United States and Great Britain where one might expect greater progress. But outside countries like ours, in western Europe and Latin America, the picture is much bleaker. In some African countries, which inherited British laws against homosexual conduct, new laws have been introduced which are far more punitive. Authoritarian rulers including Putin, Trump, Orban and the Ayatollah are pursuing vendettas against our communities which in some cases literally put lives at risk.
In your collection, you reflect on grief, ageing, and cultural heritage. How has your understanding of identity and community evolved as you’ve grown older?
In the introduction and afterword that I wrote for this collection I reflected on the way in which the events of the last two years have made me much more conscious of being Jewish and engaged in the struggle to support Palestinian aspirations for recognition and equality. [I include a piece written in 2009 about Israel/Palestine which is sadly equally relevant today]. It is a cliche to note that we all have multiple identities and they can both limit us and give us a sense of community. But community is a much overused word—just sharing a particular ethnicity or sexuality does not make a community. In the Morrison government there were three openly gay MPs: I was delighted to see all of them lose their seats because our shared sexuality meant less to me than their political positions.
Many of your essays engage with US politics, from Nixon to Trump. How do you see the current political climate affecting global queer movements and human rights advocacy?
I don’t think it is only my age that means I feel we live in the worst climate for human rights since the end of the Cold War. The deliberate policies of Trump to end overseas development assistance and cripple the work of international organisations alone is causing death rates across the world to increase. But Trump has given oxygen to right wing ethnonationalists across the world, whether it be Modi in India, Netanyahu in Israel or the increasing support for anti-immigrant policies across western Europe. I’ve been engaged in working with queer asylum seekers and am very conscious of how many people across the world need flee their own countries to live in safety
With activism now often occurring online and through social media, how do you think the strategies and challenges of modern queer activism compare to those you experienced in the 1970s and 1980s?
If we are speaking of queer activism, what is striking is that young people now have access to so much information—and so many role models in the public arena. Who fifty years ago could have imagined one of our most respected ministers would be an Asian lesbian? But sometimes it seems as if activism either takes the form of ticking likes on social media or angry confrontations in the streets. There is an equal need for working through institutions, of doing the hard work of persuasion and policy change, something that organisations like
Equality Australia and
Throne Harbour do so well. At the same time we need to be aware of the possibility of working too well within the system so one is co-opted, the subject of one of the essays in the book.
Finally, if you could speak to a young activist or writer just starting out today, what advice or encouragement would you offer them?
Sadly those of us who see ourselves as progressive are too prone to seize on minor differences at the expense of solidarity. Not everyone who questioned same sex marriage was a homophobe, not everyone concerned about the impact of puberty blockers is transphobic. So generosity and a willingness to hear other people’s doubts –while also prepared to call out clear examples of injustice.
Looking back over the past fifty years of writing and activism, what moments or achievements do you feel most proud of, and why?
