Graham Perrett (Moreton, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Hansard source

I was sitting in parliament on 22 October 2018 when the then Prime Minister delivered the national apology to victims and survivors of institutional child sexual abuse. The apology, similar to the National Apology to the Stolen Generations, which was actually delivered on my first day at work in this building, was a recognition by the government of the day of the appalling treatment of some of this nation's most vulnerable people. That day, I remember looking up at the faces in the gallery of some of the people who had lived and survived this abuse, some of whom had endured and thrived, but too many of whom were damaged irreparably. All those people there that day and every person who faced these abuses were in my thoughts as the apology was delivered in this parliament. It was delivered with humility and honesty, and with a hope for healing and a commitment to make sure this doesn't happen again, as stated by previous speakers.

The apology acknowledged the appalling abuse endured by vulnerable children by the very people who were supposed to care for them. This gross betrayal left immeasurable and lasting damage, and the apology, delivered in the people's house, was an admission that the victims and survivors were not at fault for this abuse. It was an apology for not providing protection from these abuses. It was an apology for not listening, not trusting their words and not believing them. It was an apology for allowing these perpetrators to be relocated and shielded rather than held to account for their vile actions, and an apology for the lifelong impacts on their physical health, mental health, relationships and the ability to live a life of full potential. For way too many, they missed out on the ability to live a life of freedom rather than enduring incarceration. It was an apology also to their children, to their parents, to their siblings, to their families, to their friends, to their spouses and to their allies. We know these people were there with them and helped them carry the lifelong burdens inflicted on them. The apology was also to those victims who were no longer with us—all too many of them—and to their family and friends who missed out on a life with them.

My wife used to work for knowmore, the Commonwealth legal service established in 2013 to help the victims of institutional child sexual abuse. My wife is a very tough woman to put up with me. I know the member for Hinkler is nodding.

I'll take that interjection. Yes, she is a tough woman. She's been dealing with child protection, child abuse and domestic violence for 32-plus years. She has seen and dealt with horrors over the years that made me weep, and that was only after I heard her curated details second-hand. However, my wife told me, in her time working for knowmore, that the historical horrors she heard during her time as a solicitor were the worst things she had ever heard in all those decades of fighting to make kids safe. I heard the echo of her stories about her clients when I looked up at the faces in the gallery gathered here for that apology.

It was an apology to all those who suffer in silence and are living with their abuse without the knowledge or the recognition from others, including those closest to them; to the people who have not yet reached out to knowmore or whatever law firm, and probably never ever will; and to those who will bear their cross alone and silently. I've met those people in my office, and I'm sure other MPs have. So I return to what I said earlier: this was not your fault. There is no shame you need to feel for the actions of those grubs who were assigned to care for you and look after you. The apology and the anniversary of the apology is an opportunity to draw attention to the lifelong effects that these abuses cause and to offer an opportunity for help and for healing.

One of the quotes from the royal commission into this abuse highlights the effects and the unacceptable conditions faced by victims and survivors:

… we were treated as slaves, beaten and abused, used for the Brothers perverted desires. … No love or kindness, no safety or warmth. Always hungry and always frightened.

That sort of horror can cause the wiring of a child's brain to be set for life in ways that are not like many of the people in this parliament or many of the people in society. They are always frightened. If you found yourself in an orphanage or foster care or were a First Nations child on a mission, the machinery of state was geared against you. If you were one of those children and were able to escape this abuse, the local police would find you and bring you back, sometimes placing you right back into the arms of the very perpetrators you were running away from. If you tried to speak up, you would cop more physical and emotional abuse and would then be told to keep quiet. First Nations children were silenced by isolation and discrimination, cut off from country and culture. Children who could not speak up for themselves, kids with profound or severe impairment, were abused every day when they were being dressed and bathed. Silence was coerced by beatings, by forced labour, by threats of starvation, by the punishment of perpetual fear.

Just imagine growing up with those life experiences. How would you have coped with that past? That affects and touches on your present and future. How could you sustain healthy relationships today, moving forward from that sort of abuse? How would you interact with government agencies and the police after having those lived experiences? How would you find a loved one after those experiences?

If the price of peace is eternal vigilance, this institution of parliament owes protection to all our children, and we must be eternally vigilant in ensuring that no generation ever endures such an horrific scourge again. We will remember. Six hundred institutions did eventually sign up to the redress scheme. I'm not going to thank them for that, but I will note it. But I won't forget the grubby institutions and their shonky leaders and shonky lawyers who refused to sign up for the reparation scheme or the ones who had to be dragged kicking and screaming to the negotiating table, denying justice, denying process, denying everything and causing more misery along the way—adding the misery of today to the horrors endured yesterday. To the children who were done wrong by, whatever your age today, I salute you. Your voices were heard by your parliament, and you have created change. I won't forget. We won't forget.

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