The approaching conclusion to a dramatic and well'contested Ashes series will no doubt bring with it attendant feelings of jubilation or heartache.

Indeed, the loss or victory of one's national team is often accompanied by stronger emotion than news of a declaration of war or a global disaster. So, what is going on here? Why does a trivial event that will have no direct bearing on the quality or colour of the vast majority's life attract more attention than politics, which will?

The origins of sport are perhaps innocent enough, depending on how charitable one is about the violence long associated with it. The anthropologist Kate Fox in her excellent book on English culture, "Watching The English" (Hodder & Stoughton), accounts for why English culture in particular has been the origin of so many sports and games that have risen to prominence. In short, her argument is that the English, and Australians fit pretty well into the category as presented in the book, use them as props to assist in social situations. Without such devices, and there are others, we are hopelessly inadequate in comparison to other cultures at interacting. Well, that sounds friendly enough. We use sport to help us all to get along. OK, one result of this Ashes series may be closer relations between the Australian players and the English players, but this will only extremely rarely extend to the spectators. So, what connections do the spectators, you and me, have with the players? What is it about sport that makes Australians hate to lose to the English more than the Welsh, say? Clearly, when sport is being played at the national level, there is much more to it.

The national team is a side of, in effect, our chosen gladiators. Armchair experts can live vicariously through the triumphs and frustration of their nominated heroes. The team allegedly represents the common Australian and any success will reassure us of our own worth and spirit. How representative of a country a sporting side can be, beyond the players' ability to hit a red ball with a stick of wood better than others, or whatever, is open to debate. In any case, I am able to appropriate an Australian's success in any sport and effectively carry a much smaller version of the medal or cup that was won around with me, as my success. National sport and national pride are linked. Surely such cuddly nationalism is fairly harmless?

At the heart of nationalism lies the feeling that my country deserves special obedience or respect by virtue of the fact that it is mine. If I had been born on the other side of the world, for example, then my corresponding ideology should adjust to reflect the nationalism of that country. It is not the merit of the system or of the values that are important, but rather that they are attached to my country. Properly educated within this framework makes it easier to adopt different standards when examining different contexts. The so'called War On Terror has provided many examples of how nations are prepared to follow International Law and norms when suitable, but discard them when they are deemed imprudent to the nation in question's interests. There is a wealth of evidence for this, but Chomsky's "Rogue States" (South End Press) is a good place to start. Of course, it is easy to condemn the nationalistic hypocrisy of other countries, but hard to face up to one's own. Naturally, Australia supports the UN and human rights, but when criticism is forthcoming, our government can completely dismiss the findings of the UN Committee on Human Rights concerning treatment of Aborigines as an insult to Australia, and other criticisms of detention centres can be safely swept aside.

Now, it is a good idea to draw a distinction between countries and the acts of their governments. There is much confusion about this. Criticising the actions of the Israeli government does not amount to anti'Semitism, just as disagreeing with US foreign policy does not entail that I hate Americans. Expressions such as "unAustralian" or anti'American have been creeping into the political dialogue. This has heightened following the 9/11 attacks on the US, when attempted analysis of the actions in terms of US foreign policy history was quickly marginalised. Actually, I am not even sure what unAustralian means. I don't like Vegemite? I don't stand to sing the national anthem? I don't get upset if England wins the Ashes?

Reinforcing national pride is a way of encouraging obedience and conformity. This makes sense for a government: patriots are far more likely to sacrifice their lives if a government thinks a war is a good idea, and are also more likely to accept that national interest ranks ahead of moral decisions or decisions that take into account other human beings in other countries. In this formulation, it is easy to see the absurdity. We don't accept such behaviour from our children: "It was in my interests to secure the use of his lunch money." Nor should we accept such justifications from our government. Australia's withdrawal from the Kyoto Protocol and its bullying East Timor over oil reserves are two examples of this. Feeding, clothing and caring for the whole world should be humanity's goal. The more that nations compete with each other, rather than cooperate, the harder this will be. The yawning gap between what we are capable of and what we currently do should be embarrassing. Freedom, justice and human rights do not belong to any country and apply to all equally. Nations are unimportant on this level.

Sport has another less obvious function useful for a government. It distracts the population and anaesthetises them in the same manner that television can. People use a great deal of intellect in understanding all sorts of complicated information about the bowling of Shane Warne, yet show little interest in the Australian'US Free Trade Agreement, for example. We devote huge amounts of time and energy in understanding and discussing sports. Governments are aware of this. Following mass demonstrations by South Korean students in 1980 which culminated in the Gwangju massacre, President Chun Doo'Hwan instituted a program which became knows as the "3 Esses", namely Sex, Screen and Sport. These were the means used to pacify the civilian population and keep them concentrating on trivialities. Both the professional baseball league and soccer league date from this time.

It is easier for me to list the Australian cricket side than for me to name the most important politicians in Australia now. In a sense, I can understand why it is not a good idea for politics and celebrity to mix. At least theoretically, if not practically, politics should be about issues and rational debate rather than personalities and public image. The celebrity we accord our sports stars has an insidious side to it however. An incorrect LBW decision will absorb more of the nation's consciousness and engender more debate in the pub than the flouting of the Geneva Convention or the contravention of International Law. This is not necessarily irrational. Sensible people realise that the latter are more important than the former, yet we choose to spend more time and energy focused on the former.

Sport has changed a lot with professionalism and corporate sponsorship. In November 2000 a group of Thai Nike employees delivered an open letter to Tiger Woods saying that it takes a Thai garment worker 38 years to earn the same amount of money that he receives from Nike in one day. This and other startling information can be found in "50 Facts That Should Change The World" by Jessica Williams (Icon Books). In these times more than ever, we need to find a sense of perspective.

I enjoy cricket and will continue to watch it. But the next time you find yourself being upset or thrilled that your national side has or hasn't performed well, or devoting too much time to sport, it might be wise to start scrutinizing the activity of your government. They are distracting you for a reason. The Ashes may go to England or Australia may manage to retain them, but at the end of the day, there are greater things in the world to be concerned about.