By Rakesh Ahuja
In life, personal experiences and anecdotes accumulate exponentially. Some just flit across the mind over the years; others recur frequently. The latter episodes usually represent a moment or event which cast an indelible mark on one’s life journey. I have decided to record such snippets. These are in no order, and I will provide dates and personal and circumstantial contexts where possible.
ITEM 1: US President Johnson’s visit to Canberra (21 Oct 1966); Vietnam War protests
President Johnson visited Australia in 1966. Surprisingly, it was the first visit by a serving US President to Australia. Harold Holt was the PM who subsequently coined the slogan “All the way with LBJ”. The Vietnam war was in full swing. In the footsteps of the student anti-war protests in Europe and the United States, student activism was also building up in Australia. There had never been anything like it in Australian universities.
I was then working as a Chartered Accountant and had recently been promoted to a junior associate partnership (unprecedented at just 22, I add immodestly, something I marked with my first taste of alcohol at the Jungle Bar in Civic Hotel). Thus far, nothing my contemporaries were doing out there had touched my consciousness of affairs beyond accountancy. But recent associations with newly minted graduates migrating to the Australian Public Service in Canberra had expanded my intellectual horizons somewhat. I knew that I had to experience the uni student ethos. I resigned from CA and decided to study at ANU. Gradually, the wider political, economic and social concerns expanded my narrow accounting universe. The Vietnam War was the first prominent issue that touched my mind.
I recall that day. Johnson’s motorcade was going through Civic past East and West Row buildings. The feature photo above shows it all. Margaret and I had just gotten out of my car to go to the GPO. Those were innocent Canberra days. No visible police, no barricades, no security outriders, public standing in a self-orderly fashion, no Telstra tower…..and my indolently parked mini (visible on the right).
This calm scene was not so replicated that evening. The famous Megan Stoyles led an ANU student’s march emblazoned with the infamous “Make Love not War” T-shirt, which became something of a catch cry across the western world against the Vietnam War. The constabulary approved the march along a small stretch of Northbourne Avenue past the Rex Hotel where Johnson was staying. I can confirm that this assent came forth with wry amusement, for there had been no such thing since the national capital had been unveiled in 1913, and no one expected much to come from a riff-raff of uni ratbags. In fact, thanks to Megan’s fiery oratory and attractive amply chesty presence, the march made world news, partly propelled by NSW Premier Askin’s injunction to “run the bastards over!”. I participated in it. I confess, though, that it was less than a principled decision; I had decided to stand for the coming ANU Student Association elections and considered it prudent to do so.
There was an interesting consequence of my participation in the protest, which speaks much for how Australia has evolved over the 60 years. Two days after the march, a lady accosted me as I was leaving a lecture (by the redoubtable Elizabeth West) at the Political Science School in the old wartime buildings on Childers street. Introducing herself (by implication as being) from the Department of Education, she invited me for a cup of coffee in the common room. Her message was clear enough: I was not a citizen of Australia and should desist from any public expressions concerning Australian policies, domestic or foreign. (It would have been easy to identify me amidst the predominant shades of white of protestors.) I had enough nous to know that that was not just the DoE speaking. I was treated with kid gloves.
Looking back, my participation in the protest was indeed condemnatory – and it justified deportation on various legal grounds (in conjunction with the provisions of the White Australia policy still on the books). I suspect that Professor Crisp and (a sternly objective Indophile) Sir John Crawford VC ANU had something to do with it, as also other possible variables such as being elected to Chair the ANU Students Union Board.
That episode was one of the defining moments in my life’s journey, one which led to an abiding interest in geo-political/economic/social developments.
PS My two TweetTakes related to the visit:
My Tweet – 11 August 2022
US President Johnson in Canberra 21 October 1966, astonishingly the first visit to Australia by an incumbent President. Innocent days: no visible police, no barricades, no outriders, public standing in self-orderly fashion…and no Telstra Tower. bit.ly/3dmVESO
#CanberraCBD 60 years ago. Then, one anecdote had the USAmbo describing Canberra as “half the size of Arlington and twice the silence”. Apparently, #PM_Ming was not amused. Apocryphal or not, the impassive, cheerless crowd confirms the proposition partly.@ DrIanHall @Rory_Medcalf
ITEM 2: Stepping into the Australian National University
Date: 2 August 2025
Geeti Bhagat has invited me to join her on August 6, 2025, at the launch of a book about Dr. Swaminathan, the architect of India’s Green Revolution. I met him in the mid-1990s during my posting in New Delhi. We remained in touch about Australia–India cooperation in matters Agriculture.
Geeti’s invitation recalled a bunch of memories. Sir John Crawford was the Vice Chancellor of the Australian National University in the late 1960s. I resigned in 1967 as a junior partner in the Chartered Accountancy firm of Peat Marwick &Mitchell. I wanted to pursue higher studies. So, being in Canberra, I applied to the (elite) Australian National University. Understandably, I was rejected because I had no Certificate attesting to even basic schooling. I had been taught mostly at home, inspired by the Fabian philosophy.
I was, however, a Chartered Accountant and still had enough of the Indian Civilisational DNA and nous of creatively using alternative means – jughaad – to bypass silly formalities such as not having a school certificate.
I had begun to immerse myself in Australian culture and politics soon after my arrival there in 1961. I had become aware of Sir John Crawford at a dinner in Honour of Indian PM Indira Gandhi in 1967. Australian PM John Gorton was the host. His Political Advisor, Ainsley Gotto – I did her tax returns, as it were – Canberra was a large incestuous village of singles then – had invited me to partner her at the dinner. I met Jack Crawford there.
At the time, Australia-India relations were minimal, cricket being the only major point of contact between the two. Crawford – one of Curtin’s seven “Dwarfs” – was an agricultural economist. He was one of the founders of the Consultative Group on International Agricultural Research (CGIAR) and the first Chairman of the CGIAR’s Technical Advisory Committee (TAC). I did some research, which was difficult in those pre-Internet times, and discovered his close association with Swaminathan (and Amartya Sen). John Crawford, I adjudged, was an Indophile.
So, I presented myself to the Vice Chancellor’s Office at ANU and asked to see him. Those were laid-back days in Australia, and even a foreign-looking brown fellow, with a (then frowned upon) beard but without an appointment, was not summarily thrown out. I knew that my only advantage was my Indian name, and all I wanted was the Vice-Chancellor to hear it.
The secretary went in, and lo and behold, I was ushered in quiveringly to see the renowned Sir John Crawford. I recall being nervous, but I used an Accountant’s trick to always use the credit first and then deal with the debits. I gave a spiel about Indian agriculture, disapprovingly noting the Gandhi government’s rejection of Israel’s offer to help in the face of the famine that was then raging in Bihar. I noted too our meeting at Gorton’s dinner in Indira Gandhi’s honour. He offered a whiskey, and we were buddies for about ten minutes.
(It was much later that I learnt about Crawford and Swaminathan’s shared vision and collaboration for addressing Global Hunger. It is ironical that in the context of Israel’s use today of Starvation in Gaza to achieve its strategic ends, both were admirers of Israel’s extraordinary advances in harnessing the desert for feeding its people. I had unknowingly struck the right chord with Crawford with my remarks about Agriculture, the Gandhi government and Israel.)
He listened to my problem – wanting to do higher studies without having been formally schooled. He picked up his green phone and called Professor Crisp, the Head of the School of Political Science and International Relations. Judging from Crawford’s expression, it was clear that Crisp was not going to countenance anyone like me as a student in his reputed School in the Western academic circles. Crawford cajoled Finn – as I came to know him later – and a formula was found. Professor Crisp would assign me three 400-word essays, one on Australian politics, one on the Cold War and one on the Pacific Island nations. He would accept me if I ‘passed’. Deadline: 1 month.
I slogged from morning till night at the General Studies Library, a privilege given to a non-student thanks to Crawford. In the event, it was the last one I found most difficult. But that is by the by. I met Professor Finn Crisp’s standards and started studying at the ANU at the ripe old age of 23. That was the age when most students graduated!
