Social Justice Report 1998 : Introduction: A Handful of Soil
Social Justice Report 1998
Introduction: A Handful
of Soil
The removal
of the children from Wave Hill by MacRobertson Miller aircraft was
accompanied by distressing scenes the like of which I wish never to
experience again. The engines of the 'plane are not stopped at Wave
Hill and the noise combined with the strangeness of an aircraft only
accentuated the grief and fear of the children, resulting in near-hysteria
in two of them. I am convinced that the news of my action at Wave
Hill preceded me to other stations, resulting in the children being
taken away prior to my arrival.I endeavoured
to assuage the grief of the mothers by taking photographs of each
of the children prior to their departure and these have been distributed
among them. Also a dress length was given (to) the five mothers. Gifts
of sweets to the children helped to break down a lot of their fear
and I feel that removal by vehicle would have been effected without
any fuss.Report from
Northern Territory Patrol Officer, 23 December 1949. [1]
Wave Hill Station
was built on a pastoral lease granted over the land of the Gurindgji
people. On 23 August 1966, about 17 years after the children were removed
from Wave Hill, the Gurindji and others walked off the property in support
of the payment of wages to Aboriginal stockmen: $25.00 a week. They
established a settlement at Wattie Creek, known as Daguragu, and the
strike grew to a claim for their traditional land within the Wave Hill
Station lease.
In 1966 Aboriginal
people in Australia were deprived of many of the most basic rights.
The doctrine of 'terra nullius' had clear-felled Aboriginal entitlement
to their traditional estates throughout the country and the social Darwinian
beliefs which underpinned that doctrine continued to shape official
policy and the treatment of Aboriginal people. The policy was one of
assimilation. The exercise and enjoyment of human rights by Indigenous
Australians was effectively conditional on the removal or abandonment
of their distinct culture and identity.
At the beginning
of 1966 the Cattle Station Industry (Northern Territory) Award of
1951 prescribed minimum conditions and terms of employment for employees
on cattle stations in the Northern Territory. Aboriginal people were
excluded from its operation. Aboriginal stockmen were treated as wards
of the state under the 'protection' of the Crown. The terms and conditions
of their employment were prescribed under the 1953 Wards' Employment
Ordinance. In 1966 the lowest ward's wage was about one-fifth of
the Award minimum for whites: it was less than half the unemployment
benefit then payable to other Australians. [2]
In March 1966 the
Conciliation and Arbitration Commission upheld an application to extend
the protection of the Award to Aboriginal workers. The application was
made by the Northern Australian Workers Union. No Aboriginal witnesses
were called to give evidence. The Commission accepted the unchallenged
evidence of pastoralists that 'at least a significant proportion of
the Aboriginals employed on cattle stations on the Northern Territory
is retarded by tribal and cultural reasons from appreciating in full
the concept of work'. [3] The Commission further accepted
that, if equal wages were granted to Aboriginal workers, many would
lose their jobs, displaced by white workers.
However, this consequential
unemployment was not regarded as blatant racial discrimination. Rather
it was seen as an advantage. It would further government policy by encouraging
Aboriginal people to leave their traditional lands on cattle stations
to enter government 'settlements' or church 'missions'.
If, therefore,
as a result of our decision substantial numbers of Aborigines moved
to settlements or missions it is our view that the policy of assimilation
and integration will be assisted rather than hindered. Those Aborigines
who move will be those who are now having the greatest difficulty
in understanding the concept of work and fitting into our economic
community whilst those who remain will be the most advanced and therefore
the easier to assimilate on the station properties. [4]
In the view of
the Conciliation and Arbitration Commission the exclusion of Aboriginal
people from equal protection under the Award was contrary to 'overwhelming
industrial justice'. There can be little doubt that the Commission's
judgement was well intentioned and based on a determination to advance
the interests of Aboriginal people. It was cast however within a framework
of values that excluded the views of Aboriginal people themselves. The
real impact of 'dislocation ... to the Aborigines' was simply not perceived,
save in terms of their assimilation and what others thought was good
for them.
The Commission's
appreciation of the impact of its decision on pastoralists was not so
remote. The extension of protection under the Award and the payment
of equal wages was delayed by three years to 'give the pastoralists
an opportunity to consider the future of their Aboriginal employees
and to make arrangements for their replacement by white labour if necessary'.
[5]
This episode in
the story of the Gurindji people draws out many perennial issues concerning
the values and the complex dynamics that shape the inter-relationship
of Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians. The events at Daguragu
are located in a precise time, in a precise location, with particular
actors: but these events also hold an emblematic quality. They embody
general themes and forces which have permeated Australian history and
which remain active today.
The process, reasoning
and application of the decision in the Equal Wage Case also reveals
the potential distance between the perspectives of Indigenous and non-Indigenous
Australians. The values and assumptions which shape laws, policies and
practices directed at Aboriginal people bear no necessary relationship
with the interests of Aboriginal people as they understand and experience
them. No Aboriginal voice was heard in the Conciliation and Arbitration
Commission's proceedings. Indigenous interests were interpreted by others.
Even the positive
recognition of the right to equal wages was undercut by its practical
application. The right to equal pay was not protected by a corresponding
right to equality of employment. The collateral damage caused by the
decision and the impact of consequential unemployment was viewed only
from the vantagepoint of furthering government policy. While relieved
from the specific paternalism of payment under the Wards' Ordinance
the wider effect of the decision was considered within a broader paternalism
of what others thought to be in the best interests of Aboriginal people.
The actual implementation of the decision was assessed primarily from
the perspective of its impact on the interests of pastoralists. The
exercise and enjoyment of the human rights of Indigenous Australians
remained a sub-set of government policy and the vested interests of
others.
The story of Daguragu
illustrates another factor which continues to exert a powerful influence
over the relationship between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians.
There is a direct connection between past events and the present. Justice
today requires specific redress for the continuing effects of past discriminatory
treatment.
This is not merely
a point about divergent historical perspectives: what has been the experience
of Indigenous people and what has been the experience of other Australians.
An account of Australian history to include fully the reality of Indigenous
experience is essential to a common understanding of the Australian
story. Yet the further point we need to absorb about the past and the
present is much sharper and more tangible. Past events directly affect
rights today.
If, therefore,
as a result of our decision substantial numbers of Aboriginals moved
to settlements or missions ... the policy of assimilation and integration
will be assisted.
As anticipated,
throughout the Northern Territory substantial numbers of unemployed
Aboriginal workers, their families and entire communities were moved
or turned off their traditional lands. This dislocation was only one
episode in the historical dispossession of Indigenous Australians throughout
the country. It was effected in a range of ways: sheer force; the removal
of children from their families; the withdrawal of 'permissive occupancy'
because titles to traditional lands had been granted to others and Aboriginal
people no longer provided a useful pool of cheap labour; in many cases
people were induced to move 'voluntarily' to settlements and missions
simply to gain access to food and basic services as competing land use
destroyed the resource base of traditional life.
All these factors
combined to dislocate, erode, and in many cases destroy, traditional
connection to country. In consequence today, where native title has
survived formal extinguishment, many Indigenous people will be unable
to establish their rights through an inability to demonstrate their
maintenance of connection with their land in accordance with traditional
laws and customs. The assimilation policy was specifically intended
to eradicate the observance of traditional laws and customs. Proof of
these traditions is now required to establish native title. The amended
Native Title Act 1993 expressly requires the demonstration of
a current 'traditional physical connection' for the registration
of a claim. Past laws, policies and practices have precise ramifications
today.
The historical
denial of rights has continuing effects and past denial is compounded
by the further, consequential deprivation of rights today. This compounding
effect is more than bitter irony: it demands a just response, specific
reparation and the maximum protection of Australia's residual native
title estate.
If we are to achieve
a just and stable basis for the reconciliation of Indigenous and non-Indigenous
Australians we must become conscious of how these patterns of the past
influence and recur in contemporary circumstances. We must realign the
values and dynamics which have so consistently distorted and damaged
our relations.
Some of the most
severe abuses of the human rights of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander
peoples are beyond any form of reparation other than the most sincere
expression of sorrow and apology based on a frank acknowledgement of
history. Equally there are concrete measures required by way of direct
compensation and remedial action to relieve the contemporary effects
of past discrimination.
If the events surrounding
Daguragu reveal issues which require resolution, then the circumstances
in which a portion of Gurindji land was finally returned to the traditional
owners provides us with an image of our potential for such resolution.
On 16 August 1975
Vincent Lingiari accepted the return of title to land belonging to the
Gurindji people. Standing on their country in the Northern Territory,
the then Prime Minister addressed the Gurindji:
On this great
day, I, Prime Minister of Australia, speak to you on behalf of the
Australian people - all those who honour and love this land we live
in.For them I want
to say to you ...I want to acknowledge
that we Australians still have much to do to redress the injustice
and the oppression that has for so long been the lot of Black Australians
...Vincent Lingiari
I solemnly hand to you these deeds as proof, in Australian law, that
these lands belong to the Gurindji people and I put into your hands
part of the earth itself as a sign that this land will be in the possession
of you and your children forever. [6]
With this the Prime
Minister poured a handful of soil into Vincent Lingiari's hands.
Vincent replied:
'We are all mates now'.
He then spoke to
his people, recognising how 'important White men' had come to return
their land and how in the future the Gurindji could live together with
white fellas as friends and equals.
They took our
country away from us, now they have brought it back ceremonially.
This was a time
before the passage of the Racial Discrimination Act 1975, before
the Aboriginal Land Rights (Northern Territory) Act 1976, and
almost twenty years before the Mabo decision. Aboriginal people
had no recognised right to land. The Gurindji had petitioned the Governor-General.
The petition was refused. The return of their title was ultimately achieved
by negotiation and agreement with direct Aboriginal participation. The
Wave Hill pastoral lease was surrendered and the Commonwealth Government
issued two fresh leases, one to the pastoral enterprise and the other
to the traditional owners.
Negotiation and
agreement remains the most positive, direct and flexible approach to
the re-alignment of competing interests.
The words spoken by the Prime Minister acknowledged the past, recognised
that there was: 'still much to do to redress the injustice and oppression
that has for so long been the lot of Black Australians ...'. These
words were accompanied by immediate action. The return of title was
a tangible act of justice. It stood in earnest of a wider commitment
to the future.
In response to
this commitment Vincent Lingiari spoke on behalf of the Gurindji. Considering
the history of that country, the physical violence of the frontier period,
the taking of Gurindji children from their community and the conditions
of exploitation that sparked the walk off, there is a considerable grace
and generosity in the acceptance of a future relationship founded on
equality and friendship.
The manner in which
the land was returned held importance.
They took our
country away from us, now they have brought it back ceremonially.
[7]
The gesture of
pouring the soil of the country into Vincent Lingiari's hands has a
depth of symbolism which satisfies the common human need for ceremony
to mark out significant events. The richness of Indigenous cultures
in ceremonial activity is clear. The ceremonial components of Anglo-Australian
culture are frequently overlooked, undervalued or regarded sceptically.
In the specific circumstances of Australia it should be recalled that
the claim of possession and the assertion of sovereign power over this
land was done with the ceremonial raising of the British flag: a symbolic
assertion of sovereign power. The subsequent dispossession of Indigenous
people was effected through the exercise of that power.
It is fitting that
some ceremonial acknowledgement accompanied the return of title. Interestingly
the pouring of the actual soil of the land has a resonance with an ancient
common law ritual performed when title to land was received. The owner
would be 'seized of possession' and would immediately exercise the right
of ownership by breaking the branch of a tree growing on the land or
by turning the soil.
Within the cultures
of Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians common ceremonial gestures
may be found or fresh symbols created. Without substance behind them,
such things are sterile. But the burial of grievance and the birth of
a new relationship require expression in a form which can lift us beyond
immediate circumstances, to express our resolve and to give vision to
our common future.
Bringing Them Home
The stories presented
in Bringing Them Home, the Report of the National Inquiry into
the Separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Children from
their Families, introduced many Australians to the reality of assimilation
policy. The underlying purpose of assimilation retains an appeal to
some Australians. The reality of its practice, translated into human
terms, is less attractive.
The issues and
general patterns which I have sought to draw from the events surrounding
the Wave Hill Station walk-off and the eventual return of a portion
of Gurindji land, have direct relevance to the removal of Indigenous
children for their assimilation into the white Australian community.
They are also relevant to our contemporary responses to this practice.
The primary purpose
of this Report is to present various responses to Bringing Them Home.
This is not done to re-open the substance of the Inquiry, its findings
or the basis of its recommendations.
The objective is
to record the diverse range of responses and the perspectives they illustrate.
The publication of Bringing Them Home (the Report) had a marked
impact on the Australian community. The ensuing public debate was sustained
and intense. It stimulated the expression of views reflecting contemporary
attitudes and values which directly and indirectly affect the circumstances
of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples today.
These views range
over the past, the present and look to the future. Because of the deeply
emotional and intimate nature of the subject matter of the Report, many
people who may not often express their opinions publicly were moved
to write to newspapers or find some other way of making their views
known, frequently with a great deal of passion and candour. Politicians
at all levels of government and commentators in all forms of the media
made statements, published editorials and opinion pieces.
These responses
warrant some more permanent publication. Bringing Them Home was
not limited to an examination of history, but it did examine a disturbing
aspect of our past, and the responses to its findings have, in their
own right, become part of the historical record of Australia.
This report is
divided into various chapters presenting the broad reactions of Indigenous
people, non-Indigenous people and the Churches. These chapters do not
pretend to be exhaustive or definitive, they sample and attempt to illustrate
the wide variety of responses generated by Bringing Them Home.
The essence of
Bringing Them Home rests in the stories of Aboriginal and Torres
Strait Islander people. It is their personal experience, dependent on
a willingness to open the most intimate details of their childhood,
which informed the Report in a way that historical records and abstract
research could never do. Courage was required to participate in the
Inquiry and the vulnerability entailed in the process certainly did
not end there. The publication of Bringing Them Home brought
their stories within the public arena. The range of reactions to the
Report obviously had immediate implications for individual Indigenous
people and their communities.
As a non-Indigenous
person temporarily acting in the role of Aboriginal and Torres Strait
Islander Social Justice Commissioner, I considered it particularly important
to ensure that the views of Indigenous people entered directly into
this Report. Consultations conducted in different parts of the country
provided some opportunity for this to occur. Chapter 1, The Aftermath
for Indigenous People, is based on our consultations. I regret that
resources severely limited the extent of our coverage and, as with other
chapters, the perspectives presented are indicative than comprehensive.
Naturally, various views were expressed. A substantial degree of comment
was directed to the responses and comprehension of the wider community
to experiences that are unique to Indigenous Australians.
Chapter 2 Non-Indigenous
Community Responses canvasses the diverse opinions expressed publicly
in reaction to the Report's findings and the subsequent debate concerning
the stolen generations. The Australian community's contemporary responsibility
and the significance of apology are thematic in these responses.
Christian Churches
played a particular institutional role in the practice of removing Indigenous
children. Chapter 3 Church Responses, records the apologies and
statements made by different denominations, together with their further
commitments to reconciliation with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander
peoples.
The final chapter
presents the responses of Australian governments to the recommendations
of Bringing Them Home. It reports on action taken to implement
those recommendations. Chapter 4 is the product of a specific Follow
Up Project to the Inquiry. Its provenance and methodology are described
in the chapter itself. This work was sponsored by the Stegley Foundation
and the Australian Youth Foundation.
The responses to
the Report of the National Inquiry into the Separation of Aboriginal
and Torres Strait Islander Children from Their Families deserve consideration,
not merely as reflections on the past, but as indicators of the future.
Reconciliation
The wider objective
of this introductory chapter is to consider the implications of the
various responses for the reconciliation process. Genuine reconciliation
between the Indigenous and non-Indigenous communities of Australia has
deep potential to enhance the exercise and enjoyment of human rights
by Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. It has the further
potential to give new outlook and energy to the entire nation.
As we have seen,
the story of the Wave Hill walk-off, the Equal Wage Case and the eventual
return of Gurindji land illustrate issues and dynamics which perennially
shape the relationship between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians.
These factors shaped the laws, policies and practices of assimilation;
they are present in the diverse responses to Bringing Them Home.
They influence our potential for reconciliation. A consideration of
reactions to the issues raised by the National Inquiry may assist us
to understand what is necessary to achieve reconciliation, what impedes
the process, and how these impediments may be overcome.
It is useful to
recall the perennial issues and dynamics.
First, the experience
of dispossession, exploitation and denial of rights has instilled a
deep sense of grievance and injustice in Aboriginal and Torres Strait
Islander peoples. There is an adamant determination to recover those
rights.
Second, when Indigenous
rights are in fact recognised, the overarching framework of non-Indigenous
values and interests constantly affects the understanding, application
and enjoyment of those rights. There is a crucial interaction between
these factors. The interpretation of Indigenous rights not only reflects,
but reinforces, very different experiences, interests and expectations.
The reaction to the Wik decision is a recent example of this tendency.
Underlying the surface debate about rights, there is a collision of
perspectives and values.
Third, and instrumental
to this lack of a shared perspective, historically the voices of Indigenous
peoples have not been heard. They have not been called to give evidence
in their own cause. Others continue to speak for them and decide what
is in their best interests.
The sharing of
experiences and the convergence of perspectives is essential to renovate
our relationship and to find a way to reconciliation. An essential part
of achieving a common perspective is to simply listen to the experiences
of Indigenous Australians expressed in their own words. A more substantial
exchange is also required. Just as Gurindji land was ultimately returned
through direct negotiation, equally the participation of Indigenous
Australians must be central to a process of reconciliation based on
negotiation.
Reconciliation
must be grounded on agreement if it is to have any credibility or stability.
The convergence of Indigenous and non-Indigenous perspectives is essential
to the process of reconciling our understanding of history and our aspirations
for the future. Yet that is insufficient by itself. There must also
be a negotiation process to reconcile and realign our interests and
rights. If reconciliation is to be achieved it must ultimately rest
on a tangible foundation of justice.
The responses to Bringing Them Home raise all these issues. They
illustrate the collision of different perspectives. They also provide
a functional model as to how Indigenous and non-Indigenous interests
may be brought into closer relationship.
The experience
of the removal of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children from
their families has fuelled a powerful drive to make the suffering which
separations caused known to the community in whose name it was done.
Awareness of the depth of anguish and harm, particularly the present
repercussions of that damage, has not previously penetrated the non-Indigenous
community. The telling of the stories of separation broke a silence.
Perhaps the most powerful and consistent strain of Indigenous response
to Bringing Them Home relates to the need for a thorough absorption
of the stories, leading to acknowledgement and apology for the wrongs
which were done. This is not the pursuit of guilt. It is the pursuit
of understanding and recognition.
The absence of
a formal apology by the Prime Minister on behalf of the Australian Government
was a critical matter consistently identified by Indigenous people in
the course of our consultations. The denial of such an apology is regarded
as compounding the hurt and it deepens the divide between our communities.
The human quality of being able to extend yourself imaginatively into
the suffering of another people and the moral quality of accepting institutional
responsibility were matters which drew an intense Indigenous reaction.
The human, moral and symbolic qualities of a national apology were seen
to be essential to any adequate response to Bringing Them Home
and to any prospect of reconciliation.
While such an apology
seems increasingly to be considered necessary by the broader Australian
community, this gesture by itself would be insufficient: tangible responses
are required. These are not confined to the provision of services to
assist in the tracing of relatives, the reunion of families, oral history
programs, health and counselling services, the amendment of welfare
and juvenile justice law, policy and practice: the issue of compensation
remains a live issue. Compensation is not confined to personal loss
and harm caused by removal. It includes the further flow-on effects
of dispossession and the loss of rights to land.
The Indigenous
perception of the inadequacy of government responses to recommendations
on these matters is met, not merely with disappointment and a sense
of exclusion from government processes, it confirms an expectation that
this would be so. There is a strain of Indigenous response which reveals
the cumulative effect of paternalistic policies and the lack of participation
in government processes: of constantly being the subject of other people's
decisions about what is best for you, what you deserve, what you are
entitled to. There is a widespread sense of powerlessness and distrust
of governments and the interests they serve. Whether it is equal pay
for stockmen, native title or the rights of those removed, the interests
of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people seem to remain a subordinate
consideration, apparently accommodated as a matter of political calculation,
rather than on the basis of principle and respect for human rights.
There is also a
deep scepticism expressed by Indigenous people concerning the ability
of the Commonwealth Government to comprehend the past and present experience
of Aboriginal people and Torres Strait Islanders. There is a consequential
reluctance to yield genuine responsibility and control to Indigenous
communities. While Government policy advocates notions of 'self-management'
and 'self-empowerment' these catchcries are advocated in
substitution for Australia's recognition of the right to self determination
in the Draft Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.
Advocacy of empowerment becomes a means to disempower.
The Indigenous
sense of injustice is so deeply inscribed that it forms an expectation
of injustice. Now reconciliation is urged. The suspicion as to what
motivates this, and who will be the ultimate beneficiaries, should not
be difficult to understand. Among many of the stolen generations there
is a distrust and pain which in some people may never be assuaged.
The experience
of telling their story to the Inquiry was a positive and cathartic process
for some who gave evidence. The recounting and official recording
of individual experiences gave a certain degree of recognition. The
word 'validation' was frequently mentioned in our consultations
with Indigenous people. Occasionally this word seemed to express the
relief of telling a personal history and discharging a sense of guilt
about what had happened. As though in some way, as a child, the individual
was responsible for their removal, akin to the sense of responsibility
and guilt that some children may experience when their parents separate
or divorce. The psychological damage caused by the removal of Indigenous
children was both gross and extremely subtle. The recognition that individual
removals were truly the implementation of general assimilation policies,
based on factors totally beyond the control or responsibility of the
children or their families, cast individual experiences into a new light.
In this context the idea that Indigenous people told their stories in
some endeavour to inflict a sense of guilt on non-Indigenous people
becomes distinctly ironic.
For a number of
people who participated in the Inquiry the process was not cathartic.
It opened wounds and left them despondent. There is criticism of the
Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission for the inadequacy of
counselling support for witnesses during the Inquiry.
The telling of
the stories of removal is commonly viewed as somehow exclusively directed
at the non-Indigenous community but, beyond the impact on the individuals
who gave evidence, there were many other effects within Indigenous communities
and families. In some cases the stories triggered reunions, informed
younger generations of their parents' and grandparents' earlier lives,
expanding understanding in learning of the precise experience of their
relatives and in appreciating the cumulative effects on their communities.
Those who were removed, and had an individual, personal experience of
separation, encountered a wider range of experiences and the different
ways in which children were treated in different institutions. The systemic
patterns of removal policies were revealed.
Finding and reuniting
with lost relatives, whose lives have taken vastly different courses,
can be fraught. It can create intense problems regarding identity and
acceptance. The full range of possibilities presented by reunion after
long separation was experienced by individuals, families and communities.
The effects of laws, policies and practices of separation have generated
many issues for reconciliation between Indigenous and non-Indigenous
people, but there are also issues for reconciliation among Indigenous
people themselves.
In balance with
these difficult and complex responses within Aboriginal and Torres Strait
Islander communities there is a powerful and positive sense that a significant
number of Australians have now heard of the stolen generations and know
at least something of their experiences. This knowledge has aroused
a range of reactions in the wider community. Some people remain uncomfortable
with the expression 'stolen generations'. They regard it as unduly emotive,
but its entry into the language of public debate marks an inescapable
engagement with a part of our history that was previously hidden from
general view. The issues that flow from the forcible removal of Aboriginal
and Torres Strait Islander children have been raised ineluctably. They
demand consideration and response. Whatever the response, the issues
can no longer be ignored. In this fact alone there is a modest convergence
of Indigenous and non-Indigenous perspectives.
More substantially,
the stories of children, mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, brothers,
sisters and grandparents were truly heard by many Australians. They
extended themselves imaginatively into the position of parents whose
children were taken from them, through no fault of their own, but because
of who they were and the fact that some remote source of power had generally
decided that their children would be better off without them. This primary
sense of identification with the human quality of Indigenous experience
transcended race, ethnic background, culture, politics and arguments
about legal rights. While such responses were primarily emotional, many
people went on to grapple with the issues lying beyond their instinctive
reactions.
Confrontation with
the harm done to Indigenous Australians in the past, which was firmly
based on the benign certainty of knowing what was best for Aboriginal
and Torres Strait Islander peoples, led many Australians to a more thoughtful
consideration of contemporary matters. It challenged a view, still commonly
held, that Indigenous Australians should ultimately reconcile themselves
to cultural absorption within the wider Australian society. For a great
many people it was their first introduction to the history of government
policies and de facto practices implemented over a long period of time
to assimilate Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples.
The realisation
that it was necessary to rule a line under the past by apology became
indistinguishable from wider national support for reconciliation and
for the recognition and protection of contemporary rights, advocated
by such groups as ANTaR: Australians for Native Title and Reconciliation.
In this way the first Sorry Day was observed: not only as a moment of
silence and respect for the anguish of the past, but as the marking
of a new relationship for the future.
Yet, if there was
one pronounced strain of non-Indigenous reaction to Bringing Them
Home resulting in a shift in awareness, then it is equally clear
that there were many other more critical responses shaped by the enduring
divide between Indigenous and non-Indigenous perspectives.
The Prime Minister
expressed his personal sense of sorrow for the experiences of Indigenous
people, but he did not consider it appropriate to offer a national apology.
He was by no means isolated in this view, or in declining to accept
any responsibility for events of the past. The elapse of time; the belief
that separation policies were fundamentally well-intentioned; the perceived
anachronism of judging past events by today's standards; and the lack
of immediate personal involvement were all seen to exonerate both the
present generation of non-Indigenous Australians and current Australian
governments. The methodology and balance of the Inquiry and its Report
were challenged. Raking over the past was seen as unhealthy and unhelpful.
Revisiting the past was perceived as a device to generate guilt, to
be used in an attempt to prise out compensation monies and other advantages.
While it was considered
acceptable to express personal sorrow and to sympathise with Aboriginal
and Torres Strait Islander people for their evident pain, such responses
were basically premised on a denial that Australia's Indigenous peoples
were wronged in any way which gives rise to contemporary liability,
either moral or legal.
In my view these
criticisms, the absence of a formal, national apology and the repudiation
of institutional responsibility are misconceived. However, as I have
already said, it is not my intention to revisit the Inquiry or to argue
its findings and recommendations. It is my purpose to consider a range
of responses to Bringing Them Home and how they reflect on our
potential to achieve a genuine reconciliation between the Indigenous
and non-Indigenous people. The volume of critical reaction is fully
acknowledged, it includes a spectrum of attitudes held sincerely by
many people who do not intend to diminish the pain experienced by Aboriginal
and Torres Strait Islander people.
If we cannot allow
the sincerity of competing views, no matter how much we disagree with
them, then we have very little prospect of constructive engagement.
I have little doubt that many Australians were deeply disturbed by the
histories of abuse and the damage done to so many lives, so counterproductive
to our collective interests and to the view of our society as staunch
in its foundation on the values of fairness, decency and respect for
the human rights of all its members.
It is in this light
that I suggest that the more critical responses to Bringing Them
Home be considered. It is our responsibility to step outside our
narrow personal construction of the world and endeavour to understand
the perspective of others. Unfortunately, in my opinion, the inability
to do precisely this is what characterises so many of the more negative
responses. They remain enmeshed in a view that is formed by values and
interests set within a non-Indigenous perspective. The experiences and
the rights of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people are judged
primarily by their potential impact on the self-interest of others.
In a curious way, as has been the constant dynamic of our history, what
is seen to be a fair and appropriate response, what is seen to be ultimately
in the 'best interests' of Indigenous people remains, in reality, what
is in the best interests of non-Indigenous Australians.
Apart from the
obvious issue of compensation, this attitude is perhaps most clearly
demonstrated by those who generally regard the 'raking over' of the
past as unhealthy and backward looking: that it will do Aboriginal and
Torres Strait Islander people no good; they should get ahead and concentrate
on the many pressing problems of today. In whose interests is it to
pass discretely over the history of the forcible removal of Indigenous
children? How much entry into the position of Aboriginal and Torres
Strait Islander people is there in negating the deeply felt need to
mark the loss within their communities, and for other Australians to
stand with them on a day of remembrance? The criticism of Sorry Day
as an unduly emotive and sterile exercise is strange in a country which
rightly honours the defeats and sorrows of the past in other contexts.
There is another
flashpoint which breaks open sharply divergent and antagonist perspectives.
It is the finding that the forcible removal of Indigenous children constituted
genocide. The very idea that assimilation is in anyway equated with
genocide evokes the strongest non-Indigenous reaction. Whether or not
the finding is legally correct is beside the point in exploring the
gap between Indigenous and non-Indigenous responses and how these responses
may be drawn into a closer, reconciled relationship.
To most people,
genocide is equated only with the deliberate physical extermination
of a people. Given the removal of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander
children was primarily based on a benign intention to advance their
interests, to call this genocide seems unreasonable and unjust. It demonstrates
an irrational, highly emotive reading of events which erodes the credibility
of the Indigenous position and reduces any willingness to acknowledge
less contentious matters. It produces anger and denial.
From the Indigenous
perspective, expressions of personal sorrow without any acceptance of
responsibility are regarded, at best, as dismissive when contrasted
with an experience which not only traumatised individuals, but intentionally
threatened the integrity of Indigenous culture and the survival of Aboriginal
and Torres Strait Islander peoples as distinct peoples. It is incomprehensible,
in the face of a protracted nation-wide effort to remove their children,
that the suffering could have been ignored, and that so few people spoke
out against it. Given the policies of removal were squarely based on
race, with a dominant white society taking and absorbing their children,
the term genocide is regarded as perfectly apt. It justifies the need
for the present representatives of that same society to acknowledge
the wrong, to make a formal national apology and provide reparation.
The failure to do so seems unreasonable and unjust. It evokes anger
and a denial that anything has really changed.
Perhaps the recognition
of how the term genocide generates common emotions provides us with
a way to enter into the viewpoint of the other. It is ineffectual to
ignore or dismiss either the Indigenous or non-Indigenous sense of unreasonableness
or injustice. Both are powerfully felt, and we cannot make any progress
locked into positions of anger and denial. This is not to undercut the
objective basis on which a just reconciliation must rest, but it does
offer the potential to arrive at a fresh perspective and understanding.
The term genocide
evokes such strong reactions because there is a shared repugnance for
the abuse of human rights that it describes. This can be recast into
the positive: an affirmation of a shared respect for human rights. With
such a starting point for reconciliation we can address substantive,
practical issues. Reconciliation must look to the comparative position
between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians. It must embrace the
primary issues of sustenance: health, housing, education and employment.
It is not merely an accident of language that the appalling infant mortality
and peri-natal morbidity rates for Indigenous infants results in vastly
disproportionate 'hospital separations' today, and that the juvenile
justice systems of Australia continue to separate Indigenous children
from their families at rates well beyond those for other Australian
children. These are the embedded legacies of history, compounded by
contemporary practices. These chronic disparities are tangible impediments
to reconciliation.
The renovation
of our future relationship, based on respect for human rights, must
also address another primary, practical issue: the honourable burial
of grievance. The making of peace with the past. Care for the human
spirit is a profoundly practical concern.
The stories of
Bringing Them Home not only tell of the experiences of children
and their families at the time of separation. They reveal, in the most
trenchant way, the aftermath of pain, anger and distrust which continues
within Indigenous communities. The aftermath not only affects the view
looking out to the surrounding non-Indigenous society, it affects the
functioning and well being within Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander
communities. At a certain level it does not matter whether the issue
is rendered in terms of 'responsibility', 'self empowerment', 'self
management' or 'the right to self determination'. It is about the carriage
of trauma, the ability to function in the present, the power of decision-making,
regard for the broader Australian community and the expectation of how
we will get along in the future. How much honesty is there in examining
the past? How much trust does this give for the future?
Many Australians
know this. It is not a matter of guilt or admission of liability. It
is an extension of understanding for the hurt that has been endured
and respect for certain losses that can never be recovered. It is a
response that does not diminish our country, but will demonstrate our
contemporary national values. It is not about a rearguard action for
the past. The respectful marking of grief and past wrongs entails some
judgement of our past: but it speaks more clearly about who we are now
and our resolve for the future.
Just as the return
of Gurindji land was done in a manner distinctive of our country and
its history, so the formal and symbolic acts of reconciliation will
be found within Australia. It is necessary that our resolution is freely
negotiated to reflect our temper, our values and our place. But it is
also useful to consider the approach of another Commonwealth country
that has recently grappled with the same issues, flowing from a similar
history. Canada has clearly determined to face its history. In the response
of the Canadian Government, spoken on behalf of its citizens, I find
no sense of diminishment, quite the contrary. It is clearly a springboard
to a creative and productive future.
As Aboriginal
and non-Aboriginal Canadians seek to move forward together in a process
of renewal, it is essential that we deal with the legacies of the
past affecting the Aboriginal peoples of Canada, including the First
Nations, Inuit and Métis. Our purpose is not to rewrite history
but, rather, to learn from our past and to find ways to deal with
the negative impacts that certain historical decisions continue to
have in our society today.The ancestors
of First Nations, Inuit and Métis peoples lived on this continent
long before explorers from other continents first came to North America.
For thousands of years before this country was founded, they enjoyed
their own forms of government. Diverse, vibrant Aboriginal nations
had ways of life rooted in fundamental values concerning their relationships
to the Creator, the environment and each other, in the role of Elders
as the living memory of their ancestors, and in their responsibilities
as custodians of the lands, waters and resources of their homelands.The assistance
and spiritual values of the Aboriginal peoples who welcomed the newcomers
to this continent too often have been forgotten. The contributions
made by all Aboriginal peoples to Canada's development, and the contributions
that they continue to make to our society today, have not been properly
acknowledged. The Government of Canada today, on behalf of all Canadians,
acknowledges those contributions.Sadly, our history
with respect to the treatment of Aboriginal people is not something
in which we can take pride. Attitudes of racial and cultural superiority
led to a suppression of Aboriginal culture and values. As a country,
we are burdened by past actions that resulted in weakening the identity
of Aboriginal peoples, suppressing their languages and cultures, and
outlawing spiritual practices. We must recognise the impact of these
actions on the once self-sustaining nations that were disaggregated,
disrupted, limited or even destroyed by the dispossession of traditional
territory, by the relocation of Aboriginal people, and by some provisions
of the Indian Act. We must acknowledge that the result of these actions
was the erosion of the political, economic and social systems of Aboriginal
people and nations.Against the backdrop
of these historical legacies, it is a remarkable tribute to the strength
and endurance of Aboriginal people that they have maintained their
historic diversity and identity. The Government of Canada today formally
expresses to all Aboriginal people in Canada our profound regret for
past actions of the federal government which have contributed to these
difficult pages in the history of our relationship together.One aspect of
our relationship with Aboriginal people over this period that requires
particular attention is the Residential School system. This system
separated many children from their families and communities and prevented
them from speaking their own languages and from learning about their
heritage and cultures. In the worst cases, it left legacies of personal
pain and distress that continue to reverberate in Aboriginal communities
to this day. Tragically, some children were the victims of physical
and sexual abuse.The Government
of Canada acknowledges the role it played in the development and administration
of these schools. Particularly to those individuals who experienced
the tragedy of sexual and physical abuse at residential schools, and
who have carried this burden believing that in some way they must
be responsible, we wish to emphasise that what you experienced was
not your fault and should never have happened. To those of you who
suffered this tragedy at residential schools, we are deeply sorry.In dealing with
the legacies of the Residential School system, the Government of Canada
proposes to work with First Nations, Inuit and Métis people,
the Churches and other interested parties to resolve the longstanding
issues that must be addressed. We need to work together on a healing
strategy to assist individuals and communities in dealing with the
consequences of this sad era of our historyReconciliation
is an ongoing process. In renewing our partnership, we must ensure
that the mistakes which marked our past relationship are not repeated.
The Government of Canada recognises that policies that sought to assimilate
Aboriginal people, women and men, were not the way to build a strong
country. We must instead continue to find ways in which Aboriginal
people can participate fully in the economic, political, cultural
and social life of Canada in a manner which preserves and enhances
the collective identities of Aboriginal communities, and allows them
to evolve and flourish in the future. Working together to achieve
our shared goals will benefit all Canadians, Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal
alike. [8]
1.
MacDonald, R., Between Two Worlds: The Commonwealth Government and
the removal of children of part descent in the Northern Territory,
IAD Press, 1995, p. 55.
2.
Report of the Aboriginal Land Commissioner (Toohey J.) on the Land Claim
to Daguragu Station, November 1981, par 31.
3.
(1966) 113 C.A.R. 651 at 663.
6.
Whitlam, G., The Whitlam Government 1972-1975, Viking Press,
1985, p. 471.
7.
Vincent Lingiari, quoted by Deane, Sir William, 'Some Sign Posts from
Daguragu', The Inaugural Vincent Lingiari Lecture, in Public Law
Review, Vol 8 No 1, March 1997, p. 20.
8.
Statement of Reconciliation by Canadian Government, spoken by
the Honourable Jan Stewart, Minister of Indian Affairs and Northern
Development on the occasion of launching Gathering Strength - Canada's
Aboriginal Action Plan, 7 January 1998, Ottawa, Ontario.
3
April 2003.