Russell Broadbent (McMillan, Liberal Party) Share this | Hansard source

I am the member for the Victorian seat of McMillan—and I am sorry. McMillan is geographically beautiful but has the same history of the destruction of Indigenous culture and community as much of this great southern part of the land of Australia. I am sorry for what has happened. The Minister for Families, Housing, Community Services and Indigenous Affairs said only a few minutes ago that one of the responses to her yesterday was: ‘As you say sorry, we forgive. Forgiveness is freedom, a licence to move forward.’ Those are my words, not hers. In fact, the sentiment of forgiveness being freedom and a licence to move forward is a glimpse of a better tomorrow for many people, particularly for Indigenous people but also, of course, for non-Indigenous people. Freedom abounded yesterday in this House.

I have been completely taken aback by the experience of yesterday—and I do not come to this matter newly born. The member for Pearce mentioned former senator and member of the House of Representatives Fred Chaney. Fred Chaney was a close friend of Barry Simon, the former member for McMillan. I was taken by the scruff of the neck by both men early on in my political activity and addressed this issue, because I came from a community in small town country Victoria where seldom would we come across an Indigenous person or have to address these issues. The issue did not come before me to be confronted, and now we have been confronted with this issue. The nation was confronted with this issue, and the people of the nation responded in a way that we can only be proud of. The momentum that grew over the 10-day or two-week period culminated in yesterday. As Greg Combet, the member for Charlton, and I walked out of the building in procession to the Senate, I said to him: ‘You can come to this House and stay for 23 years and you may never experience another day like today. You may never experience this, and it is an honour to be in this House at this time.’

I have been taken aback by the responses not only from those who have spoken on the issue, such as the Prime Minister—and I applaud him—and the Leader of the Opposition. I note the magnanimous and magnificent way in which the Prime Minister stretched out his hand in a bipartisan manner and then walked in unity with the Leader of the Opposition across to the Indigenous elders. It was a moment to behold, one recognised by the nation. The speech I wrote five days ago was a speech to draw my colleagues, whether they be Liberal, Labor, Independent, Demcrat or Green, together to take to the table for yesterday’s sitting. But that happened as a consequence of yesterday and there was no need for that speech because so many, in unity, came to a place in their hearts and their minds where they saw this nation’s heart crying out for a decision of intent, a decision in unity and a decision for both the individual parliamentarian and the corporate being of the parliament. They came in bipartisan concern over an issue that has been gurgling around in this nation for too long. In a symbolic way it was dealt with yesterday as the Prime Minister of this nation spoke the initial words of the apology. But the words of the scribes in our newspapers have really grabbed my attention. Tony Wright, writing in his column today, says:

Never, perhaps, has a deeper silence descended upon a prime ministerial speech in the House of Representatives.

In the crowded galleries above the gathered representatives, a handkerchief fluttered here, a hand moved to brush away a tear there. An old woman laid a comforting arm around the shoulders of—who knows, her daughter? Eyes were drawn to each of these small stirrings because all else was still, as if the whole place was holding its breath.

“For the pain, suffering and hurt of these stolen generations, their descendants and for their families left behind, we say sorry.

“To the mothers and fathers, the brothers and sisters, for the breaking up of families and communities, we say sorry.”

Here was the word, used twice in two quick sentences by Prime Minister Kevin Rudd, that everybody in those ranked, packed galleries had come to hear. There was, quite audibly, the exhalation of breath.

That same release—the hope of an expulsion, really, of a national burden—could be felt across the country, in public gatherings before giant screens in places such as Melbourne’s Federation Square and Sydney’s Martin Place, to clubs and parks in small towns and school classrooms ...

In Inverloch 40 people gathered on the beach at the time that the Prime Minister and the opposition leader were making their address. Forty people from my electorate were on that beach in Inverloch: a mixed group of people, one that would not be joined on any other issue, the idea, driven out of the Uniting Church grabbed hold of by the thought of reconciliation of the nation. Forty people were standing on a beach and they were equally as important as the thousands who were out the front of this building. How many other 40s were around Tasmania? How many were around New South Wales, Queensland, the Northern Territory and Western Australia? We know of many.

How many souls were simply on their own celebrating the moment? How many who were on their own stopped and said, ‘Thank God for that; thank God we’ve done that’? They probably did not have a badge. They would not have had a T-shirt. They would not have had friends to hug. But I bet there were more than a million who stopped on their own and said: ‘This nation has moved. This nation has done something.’ A friend—a good friend—of mine rang me the other day and said, ‘Don’t apologise for me.’ He does not identify, and I do not think any of us can. We can have empathy, we can have concern and we can talk about the issue, but we cannot know the loss of a child or the removal of a child. My only experience of that is seeing a whole family completely disintegrate after a car accident, which I was in, when my friend was lost. There was complete disintegration. They had all the support and money that they needed, but the family disintegrated. What would it be like if you had none of that support? I do not pretend that I know how that would feel. It is like saying to a mum with a disabled child, ‘I know what you’re going through.’ You do not. You do not live it 24 hours a day.

I wanted something, and then I ran across the sports pages of the Age and the story of Syd Jackson was there. I can identify with Syd Jackson. He is one of the greatest footballers I have ever seen pull on a boot, along with Barry Cable and others mentioned in this article. But when you read it, you can identify:

‘A lot of my friends passed away early because they’d had a pretty tough life, and even now, I’m forever going to funerals in connection with people I knew at a young age,’ Jackson said.

‘I always wonder where I’d be without football ...’

But also:

... six decades after he was taken from his mother’s back at the age of three in Leonora in central WA—Jackson will welcome the long-awaited apology to his people from Prime Minister Kevin Rudd as a chance for the nation to truly embrace reconciliation.

But he also will feel for his cultural brothers and sisters, including his own two siblings, who were never given a chance like him to also have a meaningful identity.

‘People win cases after being wrongly put in jail and are given compensation, while we’ve had the same thing for generations,’ Jackson said yesterday.

‘I was lucky because I got some support, but there are many faceless people without identities who did not have access to the social benefits this so-called lucky country had to offer. They just disappeared from the community.

‘They had police problems, no jobs and just couldn’t get on in life and they should be compensated. But I don’t know what adequate is and it will never be enough because they lost their family, their language and their culture and have been discriminated against all their lives in terms of those social benefits.’

It is an article that you really have to grab hold of and read. The report continues, and this is the piece that really grabbed hold of me:

But he now believes the message of apology will help ease the pain.

‘People look at me walking around in my suit and doing my work and wouldn’t get close to understanding the grief I carry around in my head every day,’ he said.

The grief he carries around in his head every day. I have to refer to Mike Steketee’s article. He says:

Research quoted in the 1997 Bringing Them Home report by the Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission gives the lie to those who argue that most children were rescued rather than stolen. Some, particularly those placed with families rather than in institutions, did receive greater opportunities than otherwise. But that did not necessarily make up for losing their parents. The studies found that indigenous people removed as children were less likely to be in a stable relationship with a partner, twice as likely to report having been arrested and convicted, three times as likely to have been in jail and twice as likely to report drug use. Their health was worse and they were disproportionately represented in Aboriginal deaths in custody.

There is much evidence to support all of that.

As the member for McMillan, I said I was sorry. As a member of this great House, I was proud to be a participant yesterday. But I believe this is a first step. It is unburdening for me and this nation to put yesterday behind us, and we can engage the day with a view to a brighter future, a future with hope for many. However, that deserves the response not only of the bipartisan commission that has been outlined but also of this parliament as we address the issues that have been raised by others this day. As Sir William Deane said, we will not have achieved our goals until such time as a black baby has the equal opportunity of a white baby in Australia.

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