The real front line against Australia’s far-right.

There’s been a steadily increasing acknowledgment of the danger posed by the far-right in Australia. So much so, that our chief domestic spy agency broke from its usual silence to voice its concern. And now deep in to the pandemic, we have seen examples of the far-right across the globe attempt to capitalise on a world in fear to further peddle their narrative. But is it the groups themselves that we should be concerned about? And what is the most effective way we can address this threat? Let

A review of That Fry Boy by James Fry – Compulsive Reader

That Fry Boy By James Fry New Holland Publishers Paperback, 240 pages, February 1st 2015, ISBN13: 9781742576725 James Fry was a happy child; a well-loved and well-cared-for child. So why, by 13 year of age, was he already an alcoholic and drug addict, stealing money from his parents and skipping school day after day to get drunk and high with his friends? In this painfully honest exploration, Fry looks deep into the heart of his addiction and finds its early roots in the post-traumatic st

Removing hate from the debate

Multicultural NSW recently launched Remove Hate from the Debate, a website designed to help people address online hate speech. Hate speech, as defined by the UN, is “any kind of communication… that attacks or uses pejorative or discriminatory language with reference to a person or a group on the basis of who they are”. This includes race, gender, religion and sexual orientation (but is not limited to these). Online hate speech can exacerbate negative thinking and quickly escalate disagreements,

I was radicalised by a neo-Nazi group. It could just have easily been Isis | James Fry

It wasn’t long after my 13th birthday that I descended into a spiral of heavy drug and alcohol abuse. It wasn’t long after the abuse began that I met Mal, aged 29. It wasn’t that I hadn’t learned my wrongs from rights, more that they didn’t matter to the group of kids I then found myself around. Grades or sporting prowess accounted for nothing. Instead, accomplishment was measured by something that might actually be achievable: criminal records and the ability to tolerate copious amounts of dru

The sound I didn't expect to hear in a juvenile detention facility

I turned to my escort as we walked together through the desolate central yard of Frank Baxter. It wasn’t the ten foot or so tall razor wire fence or the CCTV cameras in such abundance even Orwell would shiver that I found the most unsettling. It’s what was not there that threw me. Sound. Aside from the odd crackling of a guard’s radio or clanking of heavy steel on steel as doors were locked behind us, there was none. Not a whisper. Dead silence. ‘So the centre’s not full?’ I asked the juvenile j

I've Seen What Happens When You Don't Fund Drug Rehabs

We called him Peaches. Not because of his cheery disposition, but because the obese dealer was always sucking on a peach whenever we saw him. As soon as my mate Tony had begged, borrowed or stolen the fifty dollars — being the minimum price for the lowest weight of ice that was being dealt at street level at the time — he would jump on the phone to Peaches and make the journey to the usual meeting spot. Sitting in the gaming room at an Oxford Street pub, it never took long for Peaches to arrive