On Sunday Australia found out who in 2008 the governments of Australia thought was the first Australian amongst 21 million equals. And as Kevin Rudd officially gifted a certificate and a post-modern chunk of perspex to indigenous activist Mick Dodson, a large proportion of Australians were probably postulating, as they do every year, that Tabasco Sauce is more Australian than the person chosen.

A look through the list of Australians of the Year for the previous ten years reveals five doctors/scientists, four sportspeople, and one musician. If there’s any consistent theme to the list of recipients it’s that captaining the Australian test cricket team is the surest way to win the gong. While latte-sipping lefties write furious entries in their Moleskine journals between Arabic language classes about how Mark Taylor and Steve Waugh in no way represent Australia just for swinging a lump of wood around, there are an awful lot of Australians who do think that these men are the epitome of Australian-ness. The same latte sipper may have been ecstatic when Tim Flannery was triumphant a couple of years ago, while the cricket-loving Aussies may never have heard of him, let alone have had any idea what AGW stands for.

There is a lot of risk involved in trying to define exactly what is “Australian”. Just look at how badly Baz Luhrmann summed it up in his arrogantly titled film, with no insights into Australian-ness beyond tired and inaccurate cliches and marketing slogans. And Australians, by-and-large, didn’t appreciate Luhrmann’s attempt either, with his effort attracting derision from commentators across the country’s social and political spectrum.

But despite the risk in attempting to pin down such a nebulous concept as Australian-ness, we do it all of the time. A couple of weeks ago the federal Opposition fingered Vegemite as the very heart of what it meant to be Australian and attacked the government for proposing to (even though they weren’t really) tax the condiment for its high salt content.

If Our Don Bradman were alive today he’d surely be uncomfortable about the way that he’s become a political and social cricket ball, bowled and cover-driven back-and-forth for the purposes of political gain and ham-fisted attempts at heritage building. Our Don has become so symbolic of Australian-ness that nobody dare suggest he shouldn’t be a part of the process of gaining Australian citizenship, and politicians fall over themselves to endorse Bradman more emphatically than the others for fear of being branded unAustralian.

And there it is: “unAustralian”. Perhaps it is through labelling stuff as not Australian that we actually define what is Australian. That derisory term has become one of the main weapons in Australians’ arsenals, deployed as a last resort when all other insults have failed. It’s unAustralian to not bet on the Melbourne Cup. It’s unAustralian to have a go at somebody for taking a sickie from work. It’s unAustralian to drink light beer. Ex-Prime Minister John Howard used to love accusing people of being unAustralian if their opinions didn’t fit with his own set of values and world view, and politicians of all hues continue to do the same.

We’re only 200-odd years old — a toddler in the context of other nations — and Australia is still suffering from somewhat of an identity crisis. We’re still trying to sort out our stories, our icons, and our heroes, and we’re far from achieving any sort of consensus view. This is partly because of our demographics and the lack of homogeneity across the population. Because all non-Indigenous Australians have a connection to another country if you go back only a handful of generations, and with a large proportion of first- and second-generation immigrants still feeling a connection to both their country of residence and their country of origin, there is no single-strand of familial history or conformity of feeling about Australia’s role in one’s life. Add to the mix our post-settlement British heritage and our pre-settlement Indigenous heritage, and we’re facing a massive diversity of views within our 21 million-strong citizenry.

Despite this, there are certain things that are more-or-less accepted (with some dissent, of course) as defining Australian-ness. We’ve got the story of Gallipoli and the argument it weaves about Australian character. We’ve got sport and the central role it plays (through participation and spectating) in the lives of an awful lot of Australians. We’ve even got the flag, which is very quickly becoming a potent and important symbol of Australian identity for many Australians. Patriotism (how American does that word sound?) is spreading and strengthening, and even becoming rather aggressive. Bumper stickers bearing flags, daring readers to “love it or leave it” are everywhere, and the tabloids love playing up stories about evil Australia-hating bureaucrats who order true Aussies to remove flags from poles that don’t meet planning regulations.

But for all the things that unite us, there will always be things that divide us. In an extreme example, the Cronulla rioters and their supports reckon that “Lebs” on the beaches that their “grandfathers fought for” is unAustralian, along with Muslims and foreigners in general. Conversely, most Australians think that the Cronulla rioters and their bigoted views are unAustralian. And herein lies the crux of the issue: one person’s Australian is another person’s unAustralian. (It goes without saying, however, that the filthy views espoused by the Cronulla rioters and their ilk could never be considered Australian by any thinking person with a scrap of humanity.)

From the usually controversial selection of Australian of the Year, to the search for national symbols and themes, it’s tempting to conclude that Australia is struggling to find and identify itself. But could it be that the diversity in views about Australian-ness is the very thing that makes us Australian? Is it simply impossible to represent “Australian-ness” with one person, one set of icons, or one set of ideas? Should this ongoing tussle over the representation of Australia actually be celebrated as a sign that our country is diverse, free-thinking, and independent? That Australia can mean 21 million different things to 21 million different people, and that this, in itself, is a beautiful thing?

So as we settle back into work, struggle with our Australia Day hangovers, and deal with the fact that the summer silly season is officially over, perhaps we should have a think about the 2009 Australian of the Year and try to see his achievements as only one small part of what makes this country the greatest in the world. And even if we can’t get excited about Mick Dodson and struggle to see in him our own idea of Australian-ness, maybe we should see him as a symbol of our diversity and celebrate that instead.