6 posts tagged “australia day”

Up on one of our walls in the living area is a framed certificate given to my mother on the 10th January 1958, who was then just nine years old, marking her crossing of the equator on the boat bringing her and her family to Australia.  The Australia Day long weekend made it fifty years since they arrived here from Finland, another part of the post-war migration history of this country.

I've often thought what it must have been like for my mother's family, leaving the familiar surrounds of Lappeenranta to make a new life on the other side of the world in a country they'd barely heard of.  It's a beautiful little town.  From what I understand, my grandfather discussed it at length with his neighbours and good friends, the Tarjavaaras, and they made a joint decision to come out here.  Pappa was doing ok for himself as a builder, and I've gotten the impression over the years that a possible political career through the trade union was also in the offing, but along with many other Finns they decided to move on.  I think they considered Canada (similar climate at least) but for whatever reason Australia was the final choice.

So here I am, here we all are, fifty years on.  At last count my grandparents' family of five has grown to include six grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren, with me as the southern outpost here in Canberra and my uncle, Ossi, the furthest up north in Cairns.  My mother, to her credit, actually organised a reunion of sorts in Sydney for all those who travelled aboard the ship, the Skaupa I think it was.

I'm now thinking about marking the anniversary this year by organising for their names to be added to the Welcome Wall at the Australian National Maritime Museum, but we'll see.  Would be best to run it by the family first, perhaps.   

In a comment on yesterday's post, Chezz-C'tack made a point I also wanted to touch on - is 26 January the most appropriate day to celebrate nationhood?

Well, I'm actually partial to using another day too.  While there's nothing wrong with marking the date that British settlement started, bringing with it (eventually) traditions of government and law that we've adapted over time to generally serve us pretty well since then, here in the 21st century it may be time to move on.  As there are a lot of negative associations for indigenous people, and that it may not hold a great deal of significance for the substantial part of our population who arrived, or had predecessors who arrived here well after original settlement (I'm thinking particularly of the post world war two migration into Australia) it's worth considering alternatives. 

Let's face it, it would need to be a public holiday, which may be problematic for choosing January 1, New Years Day, as the anniversary of Australian Federation.  Though it could work, maybe if we tacked on an extra day.  Federation was quite an achievement for a modern democracy, reading through all the convention transcripts last year really opened up my understanding of how distinctive our system of government, and the way we came to it, actually is.

Perhaps 27 May would be appropriate?  It marks the date that Australians decided to extend Commonwealth constitutional powers, over-riding State laws, to create and implement law benefiting indigenous people (I think the ABSTUDY scheme might be a good example, along with land rights law).  By celebrating this event, a symbolically powerful act where over 90% of the population voted in favour of the amendment (and constitutional amendment in Australia tends to be pretty hard to achieve here for various reasons), we could in effect take the day to celebrate indigenous culture and achievement.

Which I think is what I'll be doing tomorrow with the boy, right after his daily nap.  The National Museum of Australia is having a family day full of activities, demonstrations and whatnot celebrating indigenous culture.  In light of these posts I thought it appropriate, and I'm now really looking forward to the time when R's old enough to start asking questions about our country's indigenous past - both good and bad. 

I think the best thing I can do is to be honest with him.  Yes, some Australian settlers killed indigenous people, and they, too, fought back.  Sometimes with good intentions, and sometimes with bad ones, government officials took the children away. 

But there's a lot for us to learn if we want to, and we have to want to, about country, about this land which simultaneously compels and repels us with fire and flood, sun and rain.  Step out onto the inland plains on a clear night and watch the galaxy for a while.  Go for a swim in a clear water pool and look out for bunyips!  Search for the tell-tale signs of pipis on the beach as the waves run back to the ocean. 

Love where you are and where you come from, because it's special here.  And don't, don't be afraid to say sorry, and to do what you have to do to be able to move on, to grow, to change.  I think that's what I'll have to say, and how I might be able to explain to him the framed photograph with that grinning kid, hanging on my parents bedroom wall.   

The issue of monetary compensation for the damage caused to individuals and families, as a result of the child removal policies of previous governments, appears to be difficult for many Australians to process.  We are, broadly speaking, perhaps very broadly speaking, supportive of the need for an acknowledgement of past wrongs.  But I can't help wondering if the idea of "giving more cash to blackfellas" is one affected by Hansonesque notions of indigenous Australians currently receiving more government benefits and handouts than "ordinary Aussies". 

The Federal Minister for Indigenous Affairs, Jenny Macklin, has already ruled out a compensation fund being set up -  

An inquiry into the Stolen Generations recommended reparations be made but Indigenous Affairs Minister Jenny Macklin has ruled out compensation as part of an apology.

"What we will be doing is putting the funding in to health and education services, and providing additional support for services needed for counselling, to enable people to find their relatives," she said.

"We think the best way to give force to the apology is to provide funding to close the gap in life expectancy between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians."

"So we won't be creating a compensation fund."

But there's no reason why the states and territories couldn't set up their own - Tasmania already has, for example -

It is the only state to offer a compensation scheme and Premier Paul Lennon is urging other government's to follow Tasmania's lead.

Mr Lennon says the 106 people will be compensated for being taken from their families.

"The Aboriginal children who were taken from their parents, for no other reason than the fact they were Aboriginal, were denied the right that children shouldn't have to argue for in our community, and that is right to be bought up in a family," he said.

There was also a significant case before the Supreme Court of South Australia last year, Trevorrow v State of South Australia, which determined that the state was liable for damages caused by failing to heed the advice of the Solicitor-General about the removal of indigenous children.  It's a long decision (1,240 paragraphs) so probably for legal geeks only, but here's an excerpt from the conclusion reached by Justice Gray -

1233	I am satisfied that the conduct of the State, amounting to misfeasance in public office, together with the false imprisonment of the plaintiff, has been a material cause of the plaintiff’s long-term depression. It was this conduct that ruptured the bond between the plaintiff and his mother and natural family. The breaches of duty of care that occurred were also a material cause of his depression and other losses. Those losses include the loss of his Aboriginal identity. Although there may have been other contributing causes, the conduct of the State was a material contributing cause.
1234	In the result, the State is liable to the plaintiff in respect of misfeasance in public office, false imprisonment and breaches of duty of care both in regard to his removal, placement and return. The misfeasance in public office and false imprisonment occurred in circumstances where the State acted deliberately and unlawfully and in circumstances where it was reasonably foreseeable that there was a risk of harm. The same damages are recoverable as a consequence of the common law causes of action for breach of duty.
1235	Where it is clear that a plaintiff has suffered loss the court should do its best to place a dollar value on that loss notwithstanding the paucity or absence of evidence. The court is not permitted to abandon the task through want of evidence, but a discretionary judgment should be formed.

 From what I remember and have read in one of the news articles linked to above, a case brought before the High Court of Australia in 2000 failed to get started as too much time had elapsed.  But the decision above, to me, highlights that legal remedies may be available, but it'd be a whole lot easier for everybody if we saved money on the legal fees and put it into an actual fund instead.  It's difficult to determine amounts, I know, but I remain confident that we're cluey enough to be able to work out a scheme that is fair and reflective of community expectations.

Ok, long post already.  Might do a part 4 instead about Australia Day to finish this up.

[Update 30 January] Last night, ABC Radio National's Australia Talks programme considered this issue as well and it's well worth a listen.  Go here to download the whole show. 

Not so preachy today, just a bunch of links to the facts about current indigenous health and disadvantage:

First up, the Bringing Them Home report of the National Inquiry into the Separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Children from Their Families;

Summary at wiki of the health and other issues of disadvantage experienced by the Australian indigenous population;

At the Australian Bureau of Statistics, a summary of selected findings from the 2002 National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Survey, and a range of other statistical information available here at the ABS;

Publications available online at the Commonwealth Department of Families, Housing, Community Services and Indigenous Affairs;

and finally, the Reconciliation Australia homepage.  There's some really good info here, with part of the site specifically dealing with an apology including a FAQ section. From the "sorry" section -

There are a range of opinions in the Indigenous and non-Indigenous community about the apology, some based on fact, some not. We don't all have to agree, but it's important that Australians understand the background and meaning of the apology and its potential to generate better outcomes for all of us.

...and in reference to the beginning of yesterday's post, here's an excerpt from the FAQ -

4. Why should Australians today apologise for something we aren’t responsible for?

Individual Australians are not providing the apology.  The apology is being provided by the Australian Government in recognition of policies of past governments.  Similarly, the former Australian Government apologised to Vietnam veterans for the policies of previous governments.  The current Government is apologising for wrongful policies of governments.  No individual Australian is being asked to take personal responsibility for actions of past governments.

Tomorrow, part 3 - the C word, compensation, and maybe a conclusion of sorts considering Australia Day itself.   

I've been mulling over whether or not to write this but the issue has simply been bugging me for the past week and a bit, especially in the lead-up to Australia Day.  I've been prompted by the following statement at the site of local blogger Samuel Gordon-Stewart  at this post -

...I did not steal children and therefore I have nothing to apologise for...

It was the only time I'd ventured a glance at his stuff and, given it appears that Samuel regularly checks Google for his own name, it may be that this will prompt another post by him on the same topic.  We'll see, and welcome Samuel if you do read this.  I don't expect nor necessarily intend to change your opinion or that of anyone else.

I acknowledge at the outset that I believe it's hard for a white Australian to write about indigenous issues without having some sort of academic, policy or life background.  Professionally I've had some exposure (in a way it's been hard not to) but I think I'll kick it off with a personal recollection of my exposure to just one or two aspects of the maelstrom that is the Stolen Generations issue.  Part Two will be about the facts and Part Three will touch on the vexed issue of compensation and seek to come to a conclusion of sorts.  I expect I'll be updating and adding as time goes on but that's just the way I do it.  I didn't want to spend several days writing an essay prior to putting it up.

My simple view is this:  In the same way that we, as Australians, take pride in our past achievements and successes, we also have a responsibility to take responsibility for what we have done wrong.    

So.  Me.  And Dwayne.

Some day I'll have to talk to my child about one of the family photographs hanging on the wall of my parents' bedroom.  It was taken in Townsville in the early 1980s, and shows all of us seated against a blue sheet background.  My two sisters, toothy grins and pretty little dresses.  My father, army fit but with hair just beginning to thin.  My mother in a dark blue dress with just the hint of stress in the corner of her eyes.  Me, the little blond-haired boy, smiling and looking off centre, presumably at the photographer.  And Dwayne, light brown skin, liveliness in his eyes, his typically huge cheeky grin and a hearing aid just visible in his right ear.

Dwayne came from Palm Island and his mum was having a few problems looking after him given his hearing problem and other dramas.  His dad was out of the picture and, honestly, that's all I know about the whole situation.  My mother, who knew Dwayne from the special school that she helped out at, agreed to take him in.  So that's how we came to have a foster brother for about a year.

I think I've mentioned before how the several years I spent as a small kid in Townsville are the ones that have left the deepest impression on me.  Dwayne was a big part of that.  Kids being kids, we didn't really start to get along at all until towards the end of his time with us.  He was a year younger than me, in between me and my sister J.  I don't think they remember much about him but it's something I'll discuss with them the next time we see each other (which, as I've gotten older and my affections mature, feels increasingly like too long a time).

The primary school we went to, Vincent State Primary, had a special school attached for kids who couldn't hear, or who had cerebral palsy, or other difficulties, and we all shared lunchtimes and play facilities.  Given mum's involvement with the classes we often went on the weekend outings to places like Blue Creek, or the Botanic Gardens, wherever.  I'd like to think that back then I stood up for them whenever they were teased by the other kids with the usual cries of "spastic!" flung at them, but I honestly can't remember.  I probably stayed silent, cowardly, not letting on that just the other day I'd played, laughed and chased in the clear and clean waters of Blue Creek with the very objects of their derision.  It's something that's really stayed with me though, manifesting itself as a deep seated protective and defensive instinct, an emotional reaction, that I don't think I'll ever be able to shake. 

But when you're six or seven years old you don't really think too much about why that kid's a different colour or why that kid's walking funny, or why that kid talks weird and can't seem to hear you.  Kids are just kids.  And people are just people.  We're arseholes, heroes and ordinary schmooks, all of us, sometimes simultaneously and sometimes stubbornly.  

It sort of meant that as I got older the usual, everyday prejudices of colour and disability that I encountered never quite sat right and I couldn't seem to overlay them onto my personality like everyone else seemed to.  It was like that at Loganlea High when I was 12 years old - why did Bruce, a brilliant fellow student and indigenous kid, have to cop so much shit just 'cos he was black?  Why was his older brother expected to be a vicious fighter at the train station after school - was it because "their heads are harder with their thicker skulls"?  Why were people being so fucking stupid?

Several years ago I attended cultural sensitivity training run by an indigenous man who started off my asking us to talk about our experiences with black people.  So I talked about Dwayne, about how we'd taken him into our family for a while.  But this bloke evidently decided that Dwayne, from his point of view, had been removed and proceeded to snark me for the rest of the afternoon.  And what could I do?  I wanted to explain that it wasn't like that, that we didn't take him on because he was black and needed to be rescued, he was just a kid who needed a home while his mum got it together.  Did we really do something wrong?  If it was ultimately a rewarding experience for me, not knowing how Dwayne feels about it, does that still make it an injustice perpetrated against him and his family?

As I've been writing this the boy has woken up, and I've been playing with him, changing nappies (category 5 with B grade viscosity and a near hull breach in the upper right quadrant, thanks for asking.  Wait, you didn't actually ask did you?), and thinking back to the question I posed at the beginning about how I'll talk to him about Dwayne, and about the broader issue of our nation's indigenous past and what it might mean for the future he's got a part in.  It's starting to come together with the aid of posts like this one, and of course it's something I'll also have to discuss with his mum.  But basically - I had a brother named Dwayne for a time, and, with the usual dramas families have, we got along alright.  We weren't really that different - we both liked playing with toy soldiers and tanks in the gravel amongst the stilts of the house, and we ran around and chased and fought each other a bit as well, just as kids do.  He was always faster than me, but I was stronger.  I think about him from time to time, and I hope he's doing alright.  That's about it.

Part Two tomorrow, perhaps - the facts.

I recently read Underground by Andrew McGahan (a few of you, particularly those in Brisbane, might remember his first novel Praise published back in 1992).  As he says on the book's website, McGahan wrote it as he was feeling a bit pissed off about the current state of political affairs and thought he'd get it down on paper instead of ranting about it at the pub.  And boy, doesn't that sound familiar.   

The book itself is ok but not great, you can read the Age's review here and one at the ABC here.  But it was interesting reading it in the lead up to today, Australia Day, and while all the bullshit about the Big Day Out flag ban was on.  Not to mention the Department of Immigration and Multicultural Affairs being renamed to the Department of Immigration and Citizenship - or, as the public sector wags have it, from being DIMA to being [a] DIC.  Making Kevin Andrews, as Minister, the DIC Head.  Who said they were all grey, faceless cardigans with no sense of humour?

Anyway, there was one particular three page passage in Underground which really struck a chord with me.  And rather than try and summarise it, as that would take too long and I'm meant to be rushing off to work at a friend's vineyard any minute now, here's a nice big chunk for you to have a look at.  And think about.  Enjoy.

 ... Instead, when I looked around at the country, I felt a vague sense of disorientation.  Where, to put it one way, had all the fun gone?  Yes, we had the war on terror, it was no time for games, but that wasn’t the whole story.  We’d fought other wars before without losing our sense of who we were.  This was something deeper, something that was missing from the character of the place.  Where was all that irreverent energy that we’d once been famous for?  Where was the vitality, the fuck it all brashness, the she’ll be right flair?  That was my , the of the seventies and eighties.  Not sophisticated, perhaps, and maybe not even really grown up.  But at least the place was alive.  Everywhere you looked – no matter what aspect of society, left right, rich, poor – you saw people acting with gusto.  Rudely, crassly, violently… but with colour.

 

You only have to consider what sort of Prime Ministers we had in the seventies and eighties.  Now they were identities.  Gough Whitlam – so enraptured and radical that he outraged half the nation to the point of civil uprising, and moved the other half to a fervour of worship so profound they deify him to this day.  And Malcolm Fraser, the man who toppled him – conspiring to freeze Parliament and then plotting with the Governor-General to depose his rival, the greatest constitutional crisis of the century.  The nerve that took.  The cunning.  And then Bob Hawke, a raucous cockatoo of a man, a squawking dwarf with charisma to burn – and anyway, how could you not love a PM who once held the world record for downing a yard glass of beer?  And then, finally, Paul Keating, the arch manipulator, an oily, stylish, backroom brawler dressed in designer suits, with a mouth that was both patrician and straight from the sewer.  A man who was capable of the sneering remark that his own country was ‘the arse-end of the world’.  And meaning it.

 

Oh, yes.  Liars, cheats and swindlers, every one of them, but they had personality, and none of them were afraid of anything, at home or abroad.  The country they led seemed to be the same.  Loud and boastful and too full of itself by half, but getting the joke, too; more than happy to take the piss out of itself, if need be.  That’s the country I remember living in.  Okay, I’m looking through rose-tinted glasses, and I know it was far from perfect, but somehow during the 1990s everything changed.  That breezy sense of confidence and of openness and of progress forward… it faded away.

 

…

 

It didn’t matter that the country got rich again after the recession of the nineties, and then richer still – the weird thing was, this time around, no one seemed to be taking much pleasure in the process.  It was grey, corporate money – that’s why.  A wealth that was nervous and greedy for more.  A wealth not for sharing. 

 

But we were happier than ever, apparently.  Everyone said so.  Safer.  Smarter. Setting the whole world an example to follow.  It was in the newspapers and on the TV screens every day.  And that, too, I found disturbing.  It felt as if that old bluff boasting of ours had turned somehow into a genuine arrogance.  As if our old sense of humour had shrivelled up.  Because if anyone dared raise a criticism about the new mood of the country, well, they were un-Australian, they were being negative, and we’d lost all patience with that.  Instead, we were flying flags and singing national anthems.  Even on Anzac Day – the crowds grew every year, but why were we there?  Out of respect for dead soldiers? Or for nationalist glory?  I honestly couldn’t tell. 

 

Nor, in my memory, had I ever heard so much talk about what exactly it was to be Australian anyway, or who had the right to claim it.  ‘I’m proud to be Australian!’ we were suddenly declaring everywhere.  Defiantly.  Aggressively.  As if to not say it was a weakness.  And those declaring it the most were those of us who were white, who were born here.  Which drove me mad, because what did we mean by it?  Yes, we were born here – but why was being born somewhere something to be proud of?  We might as well have said, ‘I’m proud I have blue eyes.’  Or, ‘I’m proud I have two legs.’  Or, I’m proud I wasn’t born with congenital heart disease.’  It would’ve made as much sense.  Being born Australian wasn’t an achievement.