One of those beautiful Adelaide ironies, along with the fact we cherish our relaxed lifestyle but bristle when anyone else eulogises it, is the fact we maintain a lofty and wholly unwarranted love affair with a long-lost reputation as an arts and cultural hub, yet usher in an inevitable furore whenever any art or culture threatens to push the proverbial envelope.

It was, as it ever is, the same this week, when Bill Henson (not, apparently, he of The Muppets fame, but he of the controversial “provocative” photographs infamy) spat the dummy and shunned our fair state rather than deal with another barrage of moral outrage.

He has, after all, seen a bit of it before. A few years back, a slew of his images was seized by police and derided by politicians. The sensibilities of an entire nation were shocked until the Classification Board reviewed the works, slapping them with a PG rating. As in, recommended for viewing with parental guidance. Yup.

The moral panic in this instance was prompted by an off-duty crusading cop taking it upon himself to lobby the Premier/Arts Minister to intervene to censor the SA Art Gallery’s biennial “Dark Heart” exhibition, of which Henson was to be a star attraction.

Gallery director Nick Mitzevich had described the theme “an inherently emotional and immersive exhibition, one that is unafraid to ask difficult questions”. Unfortunately for him, it asked some difficult questions.

The risk we run in doggedly preserving our “unhurried” aura is that Adelaide starts to resemble the Jack Daniels distillery in those old whisky ads, wherein “no-one’s ever in too much of a hurry”.

To his credit, Jay Weatherill responded that he would not “be censoring the Art Gallery’s decision-making”, but by then the Henson horse had bolted. While some decried the shame and embarrassment of scaring off an artist of world renown because his work (whisper it) incites controversy, others (including some sections of the media) did their best “toothless redneck waving a shotgun while standing on the front porch in their boxer shorts” impression, effectively shouting “Good riddance, ya hoity-toity varmint!” while shaking a clenched first at Henson’s retreating back.

Sadly, despite its pretensions to be a cultural mecca, much of Adelaide is still trying to prosecute the Oz trials. French audiences rioted in 1913 when Stravinsky unleashed The Rite of Spring; Adelaide audiences would probably do the same if the ASO performed it today.

The truth is, we haven’t lost our “arts capital” crown because every other state has appropriated our annual arts festival concept. We’ve lost it because art is inherently brave and adventurous, and Adelaide audiences are inherently timid and conservative.

It’s not just art, of course. Name a new concept – a road, a stadium, a shopping complex, a mine – and you can be sure there will be an action group formed to lobby against it before you can say “Major Project Status”.

The risk we run in doggedly preserving our “unhurried” aura is that Adelaide starts to resemble the Jack Daniels distillery in those old whisky ads, wherein “no-one’s ever in too much of a hurry”.

The gallery fracas only exacerbated what was quite the odd week in the state’s political life. Holden briefly and bizarrely resurfaced as the central issue du jour when the Fin Review cottoned onto the fact the carmaker was threatening to close down without more government cash and oddly opted to announce this fact not merely as “news” but as a page one exclusive (!). And, in an even stranger outbreak of amnesia, major news outlets around the country decided to follow this bombshell as if it were the first any of us had heard of it!

If South Australia is change-averse, the auto industry is one of those fundamental truths we hold to be self-evident. While it seems even General Motors needs persuading it has a business case to remain in Australia, local politicians will countenance no such doubts. As John Button, former Labor minister and titular author of the Button Plan wrote in his autobiography, “Scratch an Australian and you’ll find a petrol head”. Motoring is in our blood, and manufacturing is in our DNA. You won’t find many politicians prepared to go into bat for controversial art displays, but if there’s a largely unviable industrial behemoth to support, it’s standing room only.

Ian Macfarlane appears the right choice to make his chainsaw-voice heard on Holden around the Abbott cabinet table, but he is also part of a long history of former industry ministers who have exacerbated the auto-sector welfare cycle, like kind-hearted but gullible Samaritans giving whisky to an alcoholic.

Any co-investment solution must also articulate a pathway to relative independence. Sure, no-one wants to see the back of a company whose roots date back to the establishment of a little saddlery business, J.A. Holden & Co., in 1852. But for now, taxpayers continue to gift a foreign auto company billions of dollars to retain that iconic brand. That’s one of those not-so-beautiful Adelaide ironies.

Tom Richardson is InDaily’s political commentator, and Channel Nine’s state political reporter.