{"id":695,"date":"2008-05-30T00:02:17","date_gmt":"2008-05-30T00:02:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/lanuera.com\/cmwp\/?p=695"},"modified":"2008-05-30T00:02:17","modified_gmt":"2008-05-30T00:02:17","slug":"reconciliation-week-2008","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/church-mouse.net\/?p=695","title":{"rendered":"Reconciliation Week 2008"},"content":{"rendered":"
T<\/span>he following speech was given by Professor Lowitja O’Donoghue<\/strong> at the Public Lecture and Prayers for Reconciliation<\/em> at St Peter’s Anglican Cathedral, Adelaide on Tuesday 27th<\/sup> May 2008.\n<\/div>\n
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Thank you very much. \n<\/p>\n

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It is a great honour<\/strong> to be here tonight to kickstart Reconciliation Week for 2008. \n<\/p>\n

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I would like to thank, especially, the Very Reverend Dr Steven Ogden<\/strong>, Dean of St Peter’s Anglican Cathedral, for inviting me to present this lecture. I’m sorry he is unable to be here tonight. \n<\/p>\n

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I would also like to thank Reconciliation South Australia<\/strong> for their role in organising this evening and liaising with me about it. \n<\/p>\n

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It is a pleasure to be here and to be able to speak to this ecumenical gathering from this beautiful pulpit. <\/strong> \n<\/p>\n

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It’s been a good week for women <\/strong>in the Anglican Church…first you ordain a female bishop, and now you allow me to address you from the pulpit! \n<\/p>\n

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But don’t worry it’s not going to be a sermon! \n<\/p>\n

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I have decided to retire from public speaking and so tonight is my swansong<\/strong>. I think it is appropriate to include a special treat for you, as part of it. \n<\/p>\n

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But more about that later. For now I will leave you to speculate about that tantalizing thought! \n<\/p>\n

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Before I go any further I would like to acknowledge the Kaurna people<\/strong> and thank them for their welcome. \n<\/p>\n

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Reconciliation Week is always, in part, a celebration<\/strong>. It celebrates the belief in the fundamental equality of all<\/strong> human beings. And, stemming from this belief is a world view about how human beings should be treated. \n<\/p>\n

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Reconciliation celebrates our intentions to connect and reconnect<\/strong> in ways that honour our understanding of human equality and worth.<\/strong> \n<\/p>\n

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For me, this is the most simple and yet most profound message<\/strong> of Christianity. And I am at a time of my life where I reflect a lot. I reflect about what holding this belief means for daily living and action. \n<\/p>\n

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I reflect about the consequences when this belief is abandoned<\/strong>. And of course it has been abandoned in the treatment of Aboriginal people. \n<\/p>\n

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While Reconciliation Week offers the hope of what we can become<\/strong>, it also reminds us of what we have been<\/strong>. It is therefore an occasion of great sadness as well. \n<\/p>\n

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For me, Reconciliation Week has always been a busy time of speaking out and speaking up<\/strong>. As a public figure, I am usually called upon at this time to explain things and to motivate people. \n<\/p>\n

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Yet as I said earlier, it is also a time when my own heart is very heavy<\/strong>. Heavy with the sadness of how little has been achieved. \n<\/p>\n

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And heavy with thoughts, memories and feelings from my own past. \n<\/p>\n

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I want to tell you just a little about that tonight. \n<\/p>\n

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When I was just two years old, <\/strong>I was taken<\/strong> (along with my sisters, Amy and Vi) from my mother. <\/strong>My older sister Eileen, and my brother Geoffrey, had already been taken. \n<\/p>\n

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I was taken to the Colebrook Home, an institution established by the United Aboriginal Mission, first in Oodnadatta, then Quorn and later at Eden Hills. \n<\/p>\n

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I did not meet my mother, Lily, again until I was in my early thirties<\/strong>, and working as a nurse in the outback. \n<\/p>\n

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Apparently, when she heard that I was going to visit her, she waited in the dust by the side of the road for days<\/strong> in anticipation. \n<\/p>\n

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And then of course, when I arrived, she discovered that we did not share a common language to communicate with. We could not speak to each other<\/strong> – except through our eyes. \n<\/p>\n

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And what I saw was a woman who had been undone by her grief<\/strong>. She spent a lot of that visit looking at the floor. \n<\/p>\n

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I cannot imagine what the whole experience of separation must have been like for her. She must have felt totally powerless. And she was.<\/strong> \n<\/p>\n

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Try to imagine it! Five<\/strong> of her precious children taken from her, and… \n<\/p>\n

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  • There was no informed consent. <\/li>\n
  • She would have had no legal recourse. <\/li>\n
  • She would have had no moral support.<\/li>\n
  • And no understanding that she might never<\/strong> see her children again. <\/li>\n<\/ul>\n

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    For myself and countless other children, these so called<\/strong> ‘child protection’ policies and practices established a vicious cycle of damage<\/strong> which has continued from generation to generation. \n<\/p>\n

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    And let us be very clear here, children were not<\/strong> taken because of policies about childhood neglect. They were taken on the basis of race<\/strong>. \n<\/p>\n

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    Because so many of our children were stolen from our families, we were robbed of the opportunity to learn our own ways<\/strong> of bringing up children. \n<\/p>\n

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    You do not learn about love and care from books – you learn that by experience. \n<\/p>\n

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    What could be more fundamental<\/strong> than the knowledge of how to raise the next generation? \n<\/p>\n

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    In fact, we were robbed of any chance to learn about our cultural ways at all. \n<\/p>\n

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    This history is important in understanding how a whole generation<\/strong> was denied the chance to pass on cultural knowledge. \n<\/p>\n

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    It was, of course, government policy of the time to take ‘half caste’ children – which is what we were known as – and ‘civilize us’<\/strong>, to be acceptable in white society. \n<\/p>\n

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    In a book written in Adelaide in 1937, called Pearls from the Deep<\/em>, we were seen as [and I quote]: \n<\/p>\n

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    “waste material”…”rescued from the degradation of camp life”…”brought up from the depths of ignorance, superstition and vice”…”to be fashioned as gems to adorn God’s crown”.1<\/sup> \n<\/p>\n<\/blockquote><\/div>\n

    [End quote]. \n<\/p>\n

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    The thinking in those days was that ‘full blood’ Aboriginals would die out in time. \n<\/p>\n

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    And, that although ‘half caste’ children could never be fully integrated, we could<\/strong> learn the skills to serve our white superiors. \n<\/p>\n

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    For the girls that mostly meant becoming a domestic in a white household. And for the boys it meant labouring work. \n<\/p>\n

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    At the Colebrook home we tji tji tjuta<\/em> – Colebrook kids – were expected to be grateful for being saved. <\/strong> \n<\/p>\n

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    My own personal memory of Colebrook is that it was a time of rigid discipline<\/strong>, joyless religious observance<\/strong>, lack of privacy<\/strong> and a stultifying denial of autonomy<\/strong>. \n<\/p>\n

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    I remember endless<\/strong> hymn singing and continual praising of the Lord for pretty awful<\/strong> food! \n<\/p>\n

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    Boiled cabbage was their speciality. Our little hearts would sink when we saw more cabbages being delivered! \n<\/p>\n

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    I especially remember the trouble we got into if we spoke in our own language. It was absolutely forbidden<\/strong> to do so – or to mention anything of our former lives and families. \n<\/p>\n

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    I am sometimes identified as one of the ‘success stories’<\/strong> of the policies of removal of Aboriginal children. \n<\/p>\n

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    But for much of my childhood I was deeply unhappy<\/strong>. I felt I had been deprived of love and the ability to love in return. Like Lily, my mother, I felt totally powerless.<\/strong> \n<\/p>\n

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    And I think this was where the seeds of my commitment to human rights and social justice were sown. \n<\/p>\n

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    Naturally, I can become very sad when I think about that particular history. And it is a history experienced by many <\/strong>Aboriginal families. \n<\/p>\n

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    As a result many of my people have deep-seated fears about being removed from their communities by white fellas. It is a real issue in relation to welfare interventions and imprisonment. \n<\/p>\n

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    It is partly why a code of silence<\/strong> surrounds abuse in Aboriginal communities, because people do not want to see the fracturing of families and communities, yet again.<\/strong> \n<\/p>\n

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    I want you tonight to understand the tragic depth of this history<\/strong> – but also to feel uplifted and optimistic to act for a better future<\/strong>. \n<\/p>\n

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    And with this in mind, I come to the moment of your special treat for this evening! \n<\/p>\n

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    I told you earlier that this speech is my swansong, and so I thought it would be fitting to give you a song! \n<\/p>\n

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    One of the hymns we would sing at Colebrook was “whiter than snow”. \n<\/p>\n

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    When many of us tji tji tjuta<\/em> get together now we sing these songs and have a great laugh about it. \n<\/p>\n

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    I have never sung solo in public before. So you are especially privileged! \n<\/p>\n

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    [Sing:….. Whiter than snow.….. Yes whiter than snow….Now wash me in the blood of the lamb and I shall be whiter than snow….] \n<\/p>\n

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    And as you can see, it really worked.<\/strong> Just look at me!<\/strong> \n<\/p>\n

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    I might even treat you to another song later…. \n<\/p>\n

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    2008 has been a momentous<\/strong> year in Australian history. \n<\/p>\n

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    I was in Canberra on February 13th<\/sup> when Prime Minister Kevin Rudd delivered the Apology. \n<\/p>\n

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    Rudd’s Apology speech was magnificent. He got it so right<\/strong>. \n<\/p>\n

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    What was so good about it was that he achieved that perfect balance between apologising for past wrongs and looking forward to a future<\/strong> built on healing and mutual respect. \n<\/p>\n

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    His words were so eloquent. They deserve to be quoted at some length: \n<\/p>\n

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      For the pain, suffering and hurt of these Stolen Generations, their descendants and for their families left behind, we say sorry.<\/em> \n <\/p>\n<\/ul>\n

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        To the mothers and the fathers, the brothers and the sisters, for the breaking up of families and communities, we say sorry.<\/em> \n <\/p>\n<\/ul>\n

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          And for the indignity and degradation thus inflicted on a proud people and a proud culture, we say sorry.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/ul>\n

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            ………………..<\/p>\n<\/ul>\n

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              For the future we take heart; resolving that this new page in the history of our great continent can now be written.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/ul>\n

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                \n We today take this first step by acknowledging the past and laying claim to a future that embraces all Australians.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/ul>\n

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                  \n A future where this Parliament resolves that the injustices of the past must never, never happen again.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/ul>\n

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                    \n A future where we harness the determination of all Australians, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, to close the gap that lies between us in life expectancy, educational achievement and economic opportunity.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/ul>\n

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                      \n A future where we embrace the possibility of new solutions to enduring problems where old approaches have failed.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/ul>\n

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                        \n A future based on mutual respect, mutual resolve and mutual responsibility.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/ul>\n

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                          \n A future where all Australians, whatever their origins, are truly equal partners, with equal opportunities and with an equal stake in shaping the next chapter in the history of this great country, Australia.<\/em> \n <\/p>\n<\/ul>\n<\/div>\n

                          He expressed perfectly the theme of Reconciliation, which we will be focusing on tonight and during this coming week. \n<\/p>\n

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                          I can barely describe the mix of emotions<\/strong> that I felt on that momentous<\/strong> day last February. \n<\/p>\n

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                          There was overwhelming joy. There was a sense of gratitude<\/strong> (yes!) and relief<\/strong> that something which Aboriginal people were entitled to, had finally happened<\/strong> after all these years. \n<\/p>\n

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                          A weight was lifted from my shoulders. \n<\/p>\n

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                          There was a tangible sense of real hope and optimism<\/strong> for the future. \n<\/p>\n

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                          I felt proud to be an Aboriginal woman<\/strong>, and for the first time<\/strong> in a long time, I felt proud to be an Australian. <\/strong> \n<\/p>\n

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                          There was an amazing feeling of solidarity and connectedness<\/strong> with my own people…as well as with all the non-Indigenous<\/strong> people who were there to witness this historic occasion. \n<\/p>\n

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                          Tears flowed freely. People embraced each other. \n<\/p>\n

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                          There was such generosity of spirit. \n<\/p>\n

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                          Differences were forgotten…at least until the Leader of the Opposition spoke in reply. \n<\/p>\n

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                          Nelson misjudged the occasion terribly<\/strong>, resorting to blaming the victims and self righteously trying to justify the stance adopted by his former leader. \n<\/p>\n

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                          You could see he was trying to be all things to all people<\/strong>… to both placate the conservatives within his party and to appeal to those who are more progressive. \n<\/p>\n

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                          And of course he inevitably failed. <\/strong> His speech gave<\/strong> with the one hand and took<\/strong> with the other. It was small-minded. It diminished him as a person and it diminished his party. \n<\/p>\n

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                          I was reminded of the words of Archbishop Desmond Tutu in 1998, who said: \n<\/p>\n

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                          It is <\/em> not<\/em><\/strong> <\/em>small people<\/em><\/strong> who ask for forgiveness. It is large hearted, magnanimous, courageous people who are ready to say what are some of the most difficult words in any language: <\/em> “I am sorry”.<\/em><\/strong> But once uttered, they open the way to a <\/em>new opportunity<\/em><\/strong>, the possibility of a <\/em>new beginning<\/em><\/strong>, the chance <\/em> to start again<\/em><\/strong>, having learnt a lesson from the past’.<\/em>2<\/em><\/sup> \n<\/p>\n<\/blockquote><\/div>\n

                          There is no question that many Christian churches were complici<\/strong>t in the removal of children. Most of them formally apologised over a decade ago. \n<\/p>\n

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                          In their submissions to the Inquiry into the Separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children from their families (the Bringing Them Home Inquiry), most of the Christian churches acknowledge their role. \n<\/p>\n

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                          For example, the Catholic Church wrote of their sincere regret [and I quote] \n<\/p>\n

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                          ‘that some of the Church’s child welfare services and organisations that provided residential services and institutional care to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children … assisted governments to implement assimilationist policies and practices’<\/strong>. 3<\/sup> \n<\/p>\n<\/blockquote><\/div>\n

                          Other submissions freely admitted and regretted their mistakes in this area – however well-intentioned they may have been at the time. \n<\/p>\n

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                          The Anglican Church offered an unreserved apology<\/strong> for the involvement of Anglicans, commenting that while they may have acted as part of existing networks of welfare arrangements, and that individuals may have believed they were acting in the best interests of the children concerned, nonetheless<\/strong>… and I quote: \n<\/p>\n

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                          No amount of explanation can detract from the now observable consequences of those misguided policies and practices<\/strong>. A great wrong <\/strong> has been done to the Indigenous people of Australia. It is for participation in that wrong that this apology is offered’. 4<\/sup> \n<\/p>\n<\/blockquote><\/div>\n

                          The Perth Diocese of the Anglican Church acknowledged that their complicity had contributed to the dislocation of Aboriginal people and to their loss of land, language and identity<\/strong>. Significantly, they also acknowledged that they had therefore also contributed to the present high rate of continuing social dislocation and Aboriginal imprisonment<\/strong>.5<\/sup> \n<\/p>\n

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                          The Uniting Church admitted they were ‘blind to the racist assumptions that underlay the policy and practice’<\/strong>. They mentioned that while many children were provided with a loving, secure environment, there were also times where children were met with violence and abuse<\/strong> at the hands of some of the very <\/strong> staff whom they should have been able to trust’<\/strong>.6<\/sup> \n<\/p>\n

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                          The Churches of Christ also acknowledged their complicity in a ‘destructive system’.<\/strong> \n<\/p>\n

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                          These are just some examples. There are many more. \n<\/p>\n

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                          Of course, the Australian Churches have done much more than just apologise<\/strong>. \n<\/p>\n

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                          They have been active partners<\/strong> in the Reconciliation movement. Their contributions are evident in a whole range of areas: \n<\/p>\n

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