Anzac Day isn't a funeral. It's not supposed to be a hollow reenactment of 1915 either. It's a day when the nation stops to look at itself in the mirror of its military history. But this year, that mirror cracked. While thousands gathered across the Gold Coast to honor the fallen, the atmosphere shifted from somber reflection to open hostility in seconds. Indigenous speakers, invited to share their perspective on service and sacrifice, were met with a chorus of boos. At the same time, disgraced former soldier Ben Roberts-Smith was spotted in the crowd, acting as if the last few years of federal court findings simply didn't happen.
The contrast was jarring. You had people whose ancestors fought in every major conflict—often without being recognized as citizens—getting heckled for speaking their truth. Then you had a man a judge found complicit in war crimes standing there like a guest of honor. It’s a mess. If you think Anzac Day is just about wearing a sprig of rosemary and staying silent, you’re missing the point of why these ceremonies exist in 2026.
The Gold Coast Disruption and What It Means
The incidents at the Gold Coast services weren't isolated accidents. They were a collision of two very different ideas about what Australia is. When Indigenous elders and speakers took the stage to acknowledge the "Frontier Wars" or the specific struggles of First Nations soldiers, a segment of the crowd decided they’d heard enough. The booing wasn't just rude. It was an attempt to gatekeep who gets to be a "real" veteran or a "real" Australian.
I’ve spent years watching how we memorialize war. Usually, it’s safe. We talk about mateship and courage. Those are great values, don't get me wrong. But when you introduce the reality that Indigenous soldiers returned from WWI and WWII to a country that still stole their wages and denied them land, people get defensive. They feel like their "sacred day" is being hijacked by politics. Here’s the reality: Anzac Day has always been political. Creating a national identity out of a failed campaign at Gallipoli was a political choice. Ignoring the black soldiers who stood in those same trenches is an even louder political statement.
The booing at the Gold Coast event highlights a growing rift. We want the myth of the Anzac, but we don't always want the truth of the soldier. If we can’t listen to a few minutes of Indigenous history without losing our cool, we aren't actually honoring the freedom those soldiers supposedly fought for.
Ben Roberts-Smith and the Shadow over the Shrine
While Indigenous voices were being drowned out, Ben Roberts-Smith was seen attending a service nearby. It’s a bold move. For those who’ve been living under a rock, Roberts-Smith—a Victoria Cross recipient—lost a massive defamation case where a judge found, to a civil standard, that he was involved in the murder of unarmed prisoners in Afghanistan. He hasn't been charged with a crime in a criminal court, but the weight of those findings is staggering.
His presence at an Anzac Day event is a lightning rod. For some, he’s still the hero he was marketed as for a decade. For others, his presence feels like a stain on the medals of every honest soldier who followed the rules of engagement. When he shows up, it forces everyone to ask: What are we actually celebrating? Are we celebrating the person, the medal, or the institution?
The irony is thick. The crowd boos an Indigenous speaker for talking about historical facts, yet many of those same people would likely shake the hand of a man linked to war crimes. It shows a weird hierarchy of "respectability" in Australian culture. We’re okay with uncomfortable military actions if they fit the hero narrative, but we’re uncomfortable with uncomfortable history if it challenges our sense of being the "good guys."
Why the Frontier Wars Belong in the Conversation
One of the biggest triggers for the booing was the mention of the Frontier Wars. This is the conflict fought on Australian soil between colonizers and Indigenous groups. For a long time, the Australian War Memorial resisted including this in their galleries. They argued it wasn't a "military" conflict in the traditional sense.
That’s a weak argument.
If you’re a soldier, you’re a soldier. The Emu War has a place in our weird history, but the actual defense of Country by First Nations people is too controversial? Give me a break. Including the Frontier Wars in Anzac Day isn't about "woke" agendas. It’s about accuracy. You can’t tell the story of Australian bravery and sacrifice while ignoring the first people who fought to protect their homes right here.
The Double Standard of Sacrifice
- Indigenous soldiers fought in WWI before they were even counted in the census.
- Many were denied entry into RSL clubs after the war.
- Soldier settlement schemes—giving land to returning vets—largely excluded Black Diggers.
- The "Aboriginal Advancement League" was often the only place these men found support.
When an Indigenous speaker stands up in 2026 and mentions this, they aren't attacking the Anzacs. They’re completing the story. They’re saying, "We were there too, even when you didn't want us." Booing that is basically saying you prefer the lie over the legacy.
Moving Past the "Lest We Forget" Cliche
We say "Lest We Forget" every single year. It’s on every banner and every cheap t-shirt. But it seems like there are a lot of things we’re desperate to forget. We want to forget the war crimes reports. We want to forget the White Australia Policy’s impact on the military. We want to forget that the Gold Coast was built on land that saw its own share of bloodshed long before 1915.
If we want Anzac Day to survive another hundred years, it has to grow up. It can't just be a day for beer and two-up. It has to be a day where we can handle the truth. That includes the uncomfortable presence of people like Ben Roberts-Smith and the uncomfortable truths spoken by Indigenous elders.
The hecklers on the Gold Coast think they’re defending tradition. They’re actually killing it. By making the ceremony a hostile space for anyone who doesn't fit the 1950s mold of a soldier, they’re ensuring that younger, more diverse generations will eventually walk away from the day entirely.
What Actually Happens Next
Don't expect the RSL or the government to fix this with a press release. This is a culture shift. If you’re heading to a service, or if you’re involved in organizing one, the path forward is pretty clear.
First, stop treating Indigenous participation as a "special guest" slot. It’s part of the core history. It belongs in the main program, not as a footnote. Second, we need to have a serious conversation about how we treat figures who have been found to have violated the very values the Anzac legend is built on. You can’t talk about "honor" while ignoring documented dishonor.
Next time you hear a speaker say something that makes you squirm, don't boo. Listen. Ask yourself why it makes you uncomfortable. Usually, it’s because they’re pointing out a gap in the story you were told in primary school. Filling that gap doesn't take away from the sacrifice of the men at Gallipoli or Kokoda. It just makes the tribute honest. An honest tribute is the only one worth having.
Support local veteran organizations that focus on mental health and transition services rather than just the pageantry of the day. If you want to honor the fallen, start by respecting the living—all of them.
