AMONG the insults flung at nations, none is more misplaced than the familiar jibe that Australia was colonised by convicts, Britain's rejects. Of course it's true. But there's a deeper truth behind the deportations.

It is that the supposed undesirables packed off to Australia were not the dregs of society as still commonly perceived. Most were people denied a place in society, which they could have served well given the opportunity.

This was brought home to me a few years ago by a booklet published by North Yorkshire County Record Office. Entitled Bound for Van Diemen's Land, it was an account by retired headmaster John Howard of a voyage by a convict ship to Tasmania in 1843-44.

Among its 254 prisoners was a man deported for 14 years for stealing a piece of cloth and a coat from a cart. Another man received seven years for stealing old rope. A soldier discharged because of injury was sentenced to seven years for stealing a saucepan.

On the voyage, the prisoners were given tasks. Divided into groups of 20 or so, each group was placed in charge of a convict designated Mess Captain. As Howard says, this gave these leaders a "realisation of self-respect...They grew in stature among their fellows and gained a standing of which, hitherto, they had been deprived.''

A tailor-convict was employed repairing clothing. Three worked as barbers. Those who could read and write helped a ship's officer teach others. Howard revealed: "On their arrival in Tasmania, many could not only read accurately and with confidence, but they had even succeeded in studying the whole of the gospel according to St John."

What is clear is that on this convict ship, as doubtless on every other, Britain was deporting, not undesirables, but people with precious skills. Bargemen, coachmen, drovers, stone cutters, slaters, joiners, glaziers, a chair-maker, a sugar-baker, a buckle-maker, a horse-hair manufacturer. There was even a priest, a lawyer and a professor of languages. As Howard observed, they provided "the broad spread of experience and expertise that could be husbanded and encouraged to contribute widely to the expansion of colonial life.''

And that's what happened. In a land where the prime requirement was work, the prisoners provided it. And most were only too happy to do so.

Now, more than a century and a half later, we in Britain taste the bitter fruit. Last year Australia staged what are acknowledged to have been the best Olympic Games ever. Doubting Britain's ability to stage the games in 2012 and perhaps even in 2016, Chris Smith, the Secretary of State for Culture, the Media and Sport, admits: "The idea of trying to move thousands of spectators and athletes around London with the current transport system fills me with alarm. Then there's the question of facilities and accommodation.''

He adds: "If you could run a Games as successfully as Sydney did it would be a very good thing for London, but it's a big if.'' In other words, compared to Sydney, London is a run-down mess.

You could call this the convicts' revenge. Indeed, I will call it that. But, of course, the greatest tragedy is that we are still failing to harness the potential of many of our people. The crime and unemployment figures mirror a waste no less worse than when we despatched often hungry and desperate citizens to the far end of the world.

THE President of America is recognised as one of the most powerful men in the world. But, of course, none ever admits to wanting to wield power. At last week's changeover, outgoing Bill Clinton and incoming George W Bush both spoke of their privilege to "serve.'' Obedient and humble both, no doubt.

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