The IPA’s How Australia Was Made essay series is a powerful corrective in an age of woke conformity.
For the last several decades, and resulting from the shared legacies of Marxism and postmodernism, the integrity of Australian academia has been in decline. Whereas the medieval purpose of the university was to advance knowledge, irrespective of whatever heresy the advance yielded, today’s tertiary institutions have regressed into ideological echo-chambers dominated by ill-read, radical professors, ever-expanding bureaucracies, compulsory unionism and curriculums that pander, predominantly for fiscal reasons, to international students.
Australia’s 42 universities are debased institutions, responsible for much of society’s malaise.
The cult of accreditation—conceived loosely during the Menzies era, given real life by the Dawkins Revolution of the late 1980s and solidified by the Howard, Rudd, Gillard and Albanese governments—has proven a destructive force, devaluing higher education qualifications in the name of mass intellectual upskilling. The Australian economy, once reputed globally for its materials and manufacturing sectors, is now built upon the trading, as opposed to the generation, of assets. In a world that is quickly embracing artificial intelligence, the capabilities of which are co-accelerating, these realities should cause alarm. The author contends that Australia’s future does not to any serious extent depend upon the continuation of the country’s 42 universities. These are debased institutions, responsible for much of society’s malaise.
As the digital revolution progresses, we might reconceptualise the Aristotelian proposition that the acquisition of knowledge enables human flourishing. What does it mean to acquire knowledge and flourish as humans in a world in which technology is reshaping economic doctrines? More simply, in this environment, what is the point of learning history, art, philosophy, law, medicine, science, and so on? The point, arguably, is that these things are good things to learn; that is, a person who increases their knowledge does not commit a detrimental act. In fact, their act is authentic. Authenticity is the relentless pursuit of knowledge, with that knowledge later exercised honestly. The two elements of this assertion—pursuit and honesty—combine the conscientiousness of Jung with the moral empiricism of Kant. In this way, then, authenticity distinguishes itself as a highly individualistic ambition, which thrives when practised collectively within a homogenous society.
In illustrating the decline of Australia’s universities and suggesting that individualism is a natural consequence of any community whose populace are authentic, the case for autodidactism emerges. But in our (purported) age of misinformation and conspiracy, what is it, exactly, that the conscientious person should teach himself? It is true that, at the turn of every corner, he encounters Scruton’s “noise” and is ever tempted by Huxleyan vices. Arguably, the only defence against such obstacles is that which Camille Paglia has long advocated for: an understanding of human history as a continuum, rather than as random events occurring in isolation. By grappling with the big picture—suddenly, in this light, Tom Roberts’ iconic 1903 painting assumes even greater depth—the autodidact is best positioned to pursue and exercise his knowledge.
The Institute of Public Affairs’ How Australia Was Made essay series is, therefore, a vital undertaking. The series, coauthored by Bradley Bowden and Scott Hargreaves, presents Western Civilisation’s development as a historical continuum and draws a relationship between this continuum and contemporary Australia. The result is a profoundly informative collection that demystifies what postmodernism has deliberately sought to obfuscate: the truth. Presently four volumes, Bowden and Hargreaves harbour designs to expand the series further.
The series’ first volume, Christianity and the Resurrection of Western Civilisation (354–1274), traces Christianity’s impact on the West between late classical antiquity and the Middle Ages. Bowden and Hargreaves argue that Christianity served as a “preserving gel” for Greco-Roman culture. Examined is Augustine’s synthesis of Christianity with Neoplatonism, Aquinas’s shift towards Aristotelian empiricism, and Benedictine monasticism’s importance in preserving classical knowledge. The legacies of these doctrines are successfully related to modern Australian society and education.
In Between Faith and Reason (1494–1648), tensions between faith-based governance and political realism are explored. Savonarola’s theocratic Florence is notably contrasted with Machiavellian pragmatism. Further insights concern Luther, Calvin, Descartes and Bacon. Of particular interest to this author is the treatment of Thomas Paine, who is positioned as a key influence upon the Castle Hill rebellion and Australia’s idiosyncratic democratic character. Bowden and Hargreaves describe this character as a “fusion” between British constitutionalism and Paine’s hostility towards inherited privilege.
The Enlightenment’s “long century” is surveyed in The Enlightenment and the Advance of Liberty (1689–1815). Locke’s suspicion of state power is juxtaposed with Rousseau’s theory of popular will. Also investigated are the economic theories of Hume, Smith and Malthus; of the three, Malthusian catastrophism is rejected. Burke’s and Blackstone’s efforts to solidify British liberty in constitutional terms, rather than those rights-based abstractions that ignited Continental revolutions, are related to Arthur Phillip’s governance of Sydney. Bowden and Hargreaves are right to draw attention to the importance of Kable v Sinclair. The suit demonstrates the immediacy with which Australian colonial authorities were prepared to depart from English common law to establish a jurisdiction that responded to its unique challenges but that also retained the Crown’s relative administrative stability. Federation serves as a later manifestation of this same principle.
How Australia Was Made demystifies what postmodernism has deliberately sought to obfuscate: the truth.
Democracy, Communism and the Female Experience (1776–1850) navigates the emergence of those ideologies which remain of incalculable effect, including feminism. Mill is lauded as an antidote to Marx, as is Tocqueville for his prescient warnings about democratic conformity.
Jefferson’s agrarianism is contrasted against the federal inclinations of Hamilton. Australia’s distinctness as a democratic polity is again highlighted, with emphasis given to Deniehy’s abject rejection of Wentworth’s proposal to establish a system of titles in New South Wales. In light of the sheer number of political dynasties that have since arisen in Australia, one does wonder if there exists a de facto bunyip aristocracy that is more problematic than an organised peerage.
How Australia Was Made offers a compact, intelligent solution to our era of institutional decay. For the authentic Australian seeking a foray into the many interconnected episodes that have culminated in today’s world, Bowden and Hargreaves offer a sound port of call.
Alexander Voltz is a composer, music editor of Quadrant and columnist for Sky News Australia.
This essay was the winning entry in a competition run as part of this year’s IPA Academy. At the time of writing, the How Australia Was Made essay series comprised four volumes. A fifth instalment, Greece and Rome: the Birth of Western Civilisation (500BC -AD354), has since been published. All are available on the IPA website (www.ipa.org.au/howaustraliawasmade).
This article from the Winter 2026 edition of the IPA Review is written by composer and columnist Alexander Voltz.
