They say saying
sorry is the hardest thing to do. So, are you sorry? Really,
truly sorry? That seems to be a key question in the big house in
Canberra this week. The other key question seems to be, why
should I feel sorry? Perhaps I’ll start with the latter first.
Being born in
the late 50s meant that by the time I grew into some form of
understanding my community was still firmly of the view that the
First Australians were inferior in many ways. I can’t recall
anyone actually coming out and saying this to my young face, but
I picked it up.
I recall a boy
who I befriended at primary school. We played about in the yard
at recess and lunch times and we shared some common friends.
Occasionally I would go to his house after school to play –
usually because he lived near my other friends.
At some stage,
and I cant recall the exact details, it emerged that his family
had an Indigenous background. As I said I can’t recall the
details but I do recall all of us kids sitting around trying to
work out if he was an quadroon, a septroon, an octoroon or
whatever. I don’t think it really mattered but what I do recall
was that he had something we didn’t and as young boys, jealousy
rose and eventually divided us. Or at least that’s what I
thought.
I think what
drove us apart was something far more subtle and devastating.
Racism.
What
precipitated our breakdown was that the local school was
required to register all children who were of Indigenous
descent. In Tasmania in the 1960’s race was (and I would argue
still is) an important factor in ones life chances. How news
leaked out – perhaps office staff or some nosey parent – is
still a mystery. When it did get out our friendship was never
the same.
While I did
continue to hang out with him into my teens, I must admit there
was always uneasiness between us. Eventually we had a bust up
over something and went our separate ways – as teenage mates
sometimes do.
The latent
racism that infected my relationship with someone I was, at one
time, close to, remains around me. It emerges from time to time
in the most extraordinary ways. Like the time a much older man,
for whom I held great respect, made a comment about the “coons”
in town. I thought I misheard him referring to a family or
someone I didn’t know so I asked him to repeat the name. Then it
all came bellowing up. A stream of racist vitriol that still
shocks me when I think about it.
There was a
child support worker, employed to assist families in need, who
once confessed to me that she very rarely made recommendations
to follow up on Indigenous families she was attending to because
they “went walk about” and would waste her time. She was busy
and there were other “people” more in need than “those”
families.
Last Wednesday
we saw in our parliament the empty chairs of those whose racism
is not disguised. John Howard, by his refusal to attend,
demonstrated in no uncertain terms his contempt for a people he
obviously views as being beneath him. While some pollies might
of had legitimate excuses for not being there, the news reports
of comments made by many others reveals to us that, for them,
saying sorry is an act they too deem beneath them.
So what are we
to make of Rudd’s speech? Well, it wasn’t a great or even
particularly good piece of oratory. It was obviously written by
a committee, fine tuned by bureaucrats worried about the legal
implications and delivered by a former toe cutter in the Goss,
Queensland government. While some of the words were fine, they
were delivered without real emotion or engagement.
In short, Kev
attempted to short circuit a number of potential problems his
government will have. While he might have good intentions, he
should pay heed to the comments made on the ABC by Anthony
Albonese. Albonese said that the transition from the Howard
government to the Rudd government was incredibly smooth. I
wonder why? Possibly because there are really few differences
below the surface. Saying sorry is one thing. Acting in a way
that demonstrates true remorse and an attempt at rehabilitation
is another.
It’s been said
that you can’t tell what goes on in a person’s heart. You can
only find out who they are by watching what they do. So while
Rudd has said he is sorry on behalf of former governments and
parliaments of Australia, the question is, what is he and his
government going to do? Will they do more than change the name
of the occupation and martial law imposed in some remote
communities? Will they really put more money into Indigenous
health and education projects? Will they truly demonstrate their
regret and sorrow by doing now what they say other governments
have neglected?
I am reminded of
the hype and pageantry that surrounded Tony Blair’s election in
Britain. He broke the back of the conservative rule but within
two years was continuing the same policies – very similar to
what Bracks and now Brumby are doing in Victoria. Blair’s words,
speeches and declarations were delivered with sincerity and no
doubt, good intentions. But then he too had to return to the
real politic he was engaged with.
The tears we saw
flow from the eyes of Australians of all ages and races as Rudd
delivered his speech were real. They were as intense and deep as
the sobs that came from some in the crowds. The challenge for
the government, should it really want to be remembered for
something, will be to turn the national interest away from self
interest and selfishness, to collective interest and healing.
Indeed, many Indigenous commentators noted that this was just a
first step on a long journey. So, to Rudd, well done in taking
that first step. My hope is that he has the “ticker” to last the
distance.
Am I sorry? I’m
sorry for my young friend all those years ago and the ways in
which I acted and reacted. I’m sorry for my own inherent racism,
a racism that rises from time to time in inappropriate ways. I’m
sorry for all those communities who are excluded from the
‘economy’ because they have no ‘real wealth’ to be extracted.
But most of all, I’m sorry that we as a nation are still,
collectively, today, so small hearted and morally poor, that
saying sorry is, obviously, still the hardest thing to do.