Andrew Miller: Telethon is a shining light in some dark and turbulent times

Telethon has been a cultural fixture for West Australians since 1968. It is as familiar to generations of WA school kids as sunburn, seagulls and Mr Whippy’s Greensleeves wafting on the sea breeze.

During the 1970s we had cardboard strips with coin-shaped slots for 5¢ pieces, which we collected so that Telethon could give money to children’s and other charities. Lots of people, working together.

Those of us who follow the news — perhaps too closely — appreciate hearing positive stories about humanity.

Telethon works year-round to collect more dollars per capita than any similar event in the world. This unique record, with its parade of Australian celebrities, little star patients and emphasis on paediatric medical research, is a cause for hope because of what it says about who we are.

During the marathon live telecasts in the 70s, we lounged on hotly contested beanbags, too close to our only TV, and pestered Mum until she went to the front hall to dial in a pledge.

Rows of operators sat in the TV studio, answering calls as a variety of acts played around the clock. We were beyond excited to hear our names, or those of anyone we knew, read out on air as the tally mounted.

Human instinct is immutable on our timescale — the evolution of our motivations is glacial. The hunting and gathering strengths we have, from what Richard Dawkins called our selfish gene, will always prioritise the protection of the individual.

This is counterbalanced though by an innate desire to help certain others in our species when possible. Those who are part of a beneficently led, sharing community are more likely to survive, but the essence of community is changing rapidly.

We are struggling to tame our new global digital connections, which suck time away from analogue local engagement.

In online echo chambers information is distorted by tech-giant algorithms that monetise polarisation. Their metrics of authority are followers and reach. Lies and road rage on the information super-highway are contributing to unnecessarily divisive politics and even war in too many places. Misinformation must be countered by democratic governments and independent fact-checking — with platforms held to account.

Even our positive online interactions are parasocial avatars — they are no healthy substitute for face-to-face interaction. Most couples first meet via an app these days, but they still seek out communal experiences because we are genetically social creatures. Going to the cinema and dining out remain popular, even though we could order in food and stream our movies.

We need to talk with real people — and not just the ones we identify with. Exposure to diversity breeds tolerance and xenophobic feelings are diminished by proximity and inclusion. When you have played footy or shared a meal with someone it will become harder to fear and dehumanise them.

The same goes for people with disabilities — which is no constant category.

There is no them and us, it’s just sooner or later. We might be a master of the universe today, but we have no idea what diagnosis might be around that next bend — for us or our loved ones. Even the most able grow old and start to creak.

While digital moguls and politicians try to divide and conquer us, there are fundamental reasons to believe that we can be inspired to achieve great corporate good.

Philanthropy directed to children with disability is a supplement, not a replacement for taxpayer-funded government programs, but it is an important reminder that our busy community often still practices empathy. We should find reassurance in this decency.

Whenever strangers suffer — from floods, bushfires, or medical problems — the Australian public will make sacrifices, donate our savings, and even willingly face danger to help people we may never meet.

This tendency to do good comes right from our DNA, and that’s a fine reason to believe that our beautiful, complicated world may yet be OK.