Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS writer
Over the past few months I’ve made some choices to break the rules and while my low risk rule breaking has felt good, kind of empowering, it has raised some questions: when is it OK to break the rules? Is it OK to break the rules if you won’t get caught? Is it OK to break the rules if you’ve assessed the risk and think the rule is not applicable in these circumstances? Is it OK to break the rules if the rules are unjust? What happens if everyone breaks the rules?
It happened on a girls’ weekend away. The last day of our weekend involved cycling to, and walking around, Point Nepean National Park. Point Nepean has a wide walking path, with a low fence protecting the forbidden areas. Signs dot the fence with warnings: “Dangerous currents” and “unexploded Bombs” and “please keep to the track”. Old army fortifications dot the peninsula, scattered amongst bushland and giving way to views across to Point Lonsdale. The two points are known as Port Phillip Heads and form the narrow and dangerous entrance to Port Phillip Bay. We’d stopped to checkout Cheviot Beach, but still no sign of Harold Holt whom I suspect of breaking the rules that day he disappeared in 1967.
We needed a place to sit and share a bubbly to celebrate the weekend. Conditions were perfect:-very low tide; sunny but not roasting; enough breeze to keep the flies away and a solid bike ride and hike behind us. The taste for champagne and anxiety about finding “the right place” was building. Climbing to the tip of Point Nepean we came across a grassy knoll sited atop an old gun emplacement battery. With fantastic views and enough space for all of us, it was unfortunately located on the “bomb side” of the fence.
Even though I fancy myself as the leader of these weekends, it was Beth who went under the fence first, telling me later that she didn’t see the Bomb sign, only the dangerous currents warning – and obviously there were no dangerous currents at that time. This assessment supported by the fact that there was another group already on the beach, blatantly breaking the rules. It didn’t take me long to follow Beth, even though I’d seen the bomb warnings. My cognitive behavioural therapy training pitching the questions: What is the worst that can happen? – Answer: We could get blown up. Q: How likely is it that this will happen? A: Not very.
For Rachel, the lure of champagne and the need to join in outweighed the risk of breaking the rule. Kate struggled with her belief that the rule probably had a sound basis in terms of protecting the environment, and what would happen if everyone broke the rule? Erin heard voices from the past warning her about doing the wrong thing.
One by one each of our group weighed up their assessment of the risk or the moral dilemma in going under the fence. In less than 5 minutes all scrabbled under the fence despite varying degrees of physical capability (sore knees, arthritic wrists, reduced flexibility) to enjoy a sublime picnic on the grassy knoll looking over to Point Lonsdale.
Just as I began to relax and think we might not get blown up, ranger Kate came striding up the hill towards us shouting “You’re in a restricted area, you’ve just gone under the fence right where there’s a sign saying keep out, you’ll need to move now”. We all scrambled to our feet, secretly very pleased that we’d managed to have our picnic before being discovered, apologised and wriggled back under the fence. Ranger Kate charged on in search of the group of walkers down on the beach.
All of those feelings that come with being brought up a good Catholic girl and being caught red-handed welled up inside me, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a good call to break the rule that day. My feelings were vindicated upon reading that one of the traits of a good leader is knowing when it’s OK to break the rules. That is the challenge, when is it OK to break the rule? My rule breaking is not of the kind that will get me executed in a foreign country or drowned at Cheviot Beach. Perhaps we each have our own rule breaking barometer and for me that’s a glass of champagne with excellent company on a grassy knoll.