Observers first noticed them in the late 19th century. Strange cults in Melanesia whose members believed they would be showered with the manufactured goods - clothes, tools, medicines and mirrors - they'd seen used by missionaries and colonists if they adopted certain rituals like ecstatic dancing. Or throwing their colonial money into the sea.

Login or signup to continue reading

World War II intensified these beliefs as islanders watched in astonishment the technological marvels like ships and planes and crates of goods dropped by parachute by first the Japanese and then the Americans.

The term "cargo cult" was coined.

I'm convinced it didn't end when word spread that there was no magic behind the cargo being dropped from the sky or landed by sea. I'm also convinced the cargo cult was not restricted to remote islands in the Pacific.

I've seen it operate up close right here in Australia.

When I arrived in regional Australia 20 years ago - on the South Coast of NSW - it was a Shaolin temple the then mayor was convinced would rain down prosperity on an economically challenged region.

Elaborate plans were drawn up. Artists rendition of a miniature Forbidden City plonked in the middle of the Aussie bush. Visits to China were conducted on the ratepayers' dime. Public land was made available. Hopes were raised.

But it came to nought. Worse than that, it was revealed to be a mirage. The temple never materialised. The Shaolin Abbot, Xi Yong Shin, with whom the council had been dealing came under intense scrutiny in China. Two weeks ago authorities approved his arrest on suspicion of embezzlement and commercialising Buddhism.

The promised cargo never arrived.

A few years later, it was a motor sport complex that promised to turn around the local economy. There'd be jobs and an influx of visitors. Money would rain down on the region. Bored teenagers would miraculously stop doing burnouts on local roads. Just build it, proponents hollered.

But the environment got in the way. The site for the racetrack was also home to endangered flora, protected by federal legislation. The idea quickly sank, along with the hopes of frustrated petrol heads. The bored teens still perform circle work on local roads.

Before the temple, before the racetrack, there had been other hare-brained schemes. A casino on a flood prone island in the........

© Canberra Times