Skye Kakoschke-Moore (SA, Nick Xenophon Team) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

In 1991, Paul Kelly and Kev Carmody wrote the now famous song From Little Things Big Things Grow. Apparently they were sitting around a campfire, and a few hours later they had written a six-minute song. The song tells the story of Vincent Lingiari and the Wave Hill walk-off in 1966, through to Prime Minister Gough Whitlam symbolically handing their land back eight years later, an event which became a catalyst for the Aboriginal land rights movement. What I have learned in my past six years of being involved in politics is that some of the most significant reforms can grow from what seems to be a small idea or issue. Of course, some of the most obvious injustices are not always quickly or easily fixed by legislative reform. But—to take from the words of Kelly and Carmody—gather round, people; let me tell you a story.

A week before Senate estimates last month, I was having a conversation with my staff that went like this: 'What flight are you on at the end of estimates?' 'I'm on the Thursday night flight because estimates only runs for four days this time,' was the reply. 'Are you sure?' I asked. 'Well, the sitting calendar only shows four days.' And then it dawned on us: cross-portfolio Indigenous matters, which usually occur on the Friday of the estimates week, are not included on the sitting calendar. Consideration of cross-portfolio Indigenous matters started following a recommendation of the Standing Committee on Community Affairs in 2008, where it was established that it was just too difficult for senators to navigate various committees to ask questions on these matters.

Of course, estimates provides a perfect opportunity to raise the issue with the government. So, during questioning of Prime Minister and Cabinet, I asked Senator Brandis why cross-portfolio Indigenous matters were omitted from the official sitting calendar. Senator Brandis said:

I do not know the answer to that question.

Discussion ensued about who is responsible for creating the calendar. Senator Brandis ultimately said:

As to your point, Senator Kakoschke-Moore, that the cross-portfolio Indigenous questions are not shown as a specific estimates day in the calendar, I must confess I have never noticed that before, but I suspect you are right.

I queried who I should speak to about rectifying the significant omission and, in referring me to the managers of government business in the House and the Senate, Senator Brandis said:

There is certainly no reason why that Friday should not be marked in the calendar as an estimates day.

The government has since agreed to add the day to the calendar. It has therefore taken eight years for anyone to notice the omission and then have it rectified. It seems to me this omission is symbolic of the way Indigenous people are often treated by politicians and policymakers. I have only been in this place as a senator for a relatively short time, but I can already provide a number of examples where Indigenous people have been an afterthought or completely forgotten.

One of the first examples I encountered was in relation to the government's proposed childcare reforms, which were considered by a Senate committee. The government proposed to cut budget based funding, 80 per cent of which goes to early childhood education in Indigenous communities. Despite this, the government failed to consult with stakeholders such as SNAICC during the initial reference group consultation period on the design of the reforms package. When questioned about the number of Indigenous organisations involved in this consultation process, the department were unable to name a single organisation, and the response from them on this issue was quite unsatisfactory.

However, the Nick Xenophon Team was listening to SNAICC and other Indigenous stakeholders, and we managed to secure the budget based funding, as well as an additional $49 million for early childhood services in Indigenous, remote and disadvantaged communities, through negotiations with the government about the childcare reform package. But we should not have had to be the ones to do it. The cuts to these services should never have been on the table in the first place.

Another example stems from a meeting I had with a number of Victorian and South Australian traditional owners in relation to the Murray-Darling Basin Plan, and, in particular, the northern basin review. They told me there had been no integration in the review of Indigenous cultural consultation. They pointed to 1½ pages, which included a large photo, in the Northern basin review report. The report's preface highlights key perspectives from stakeholders that were represented during the review, including—and I am quoting from the report here:

These are incredibly powerful words.

I was therefore quite surprised that, in this 52-page report, only 1½ pages were dedicated to describing the importance of environmental water to Aboriginal people. That section of this report states that Northern Basin Aboriginal Nations, representing 22 first nations, made contributions to the northern basin review. However, based on the 1½ pages in this report, I am still not clear on what NBAN's view on the review was, particularly the recommendations of the review. The traditional owners told me, 'We have not been asked what we want,' and they made heartbreaking comments such as, 'We have been forgotten again.'

A third example I have been involved in arose from issues in relation to the remote health workforce. Following the tragic murder of South Australian remote area nurse Gayle Woodford, the federal government commissioned the Remote health workforce safety and security report. The damning report, which was released in January 2017 by workforce representative body CRANAplus, noted:

Twenty-five percent of questionnaire participants reported that the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities in which they worked had no Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander Health Workers. The absence of Indigenous clinical staff impacts negatively on both the cultural safety of services available to communities, and the safety of RANs and other members of the remote health workforce.

The report continued:

Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Health Workers identified that some hazards and risks they experienced were the same as those experienced by RANs, but many were different. If an angry or drug affected person came to the clinic intending to harm staff, everyone would be at similar risk. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander health staff were more susceptible to internal family and community violence—domestic violence, community punishment, or assault by others trying to project blame onto others.

The report went on to make 31 recommendations about improving the safety and security of the remote health workforce. Yet, when I asked during Senate estimates almost two months later when we could expect a departmental response to the report, I was met with silence. It seemed the department had not turned its mind to responding. They were not sure how they would respond and said no funding was available to respond. I was told a roundtable would be held in May, although the department was unable to give me any information about the dates or the agenda.

Other Indigenous health workforce reforms are being pushed for by groups such as the Congress of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Nurses and Midwives, and their CEO, Janine Mohamed, who is a fantastic advocate. Simple requests, such as embedding cultural safety—which can also be called education about racism—into health practitioner regulation law, are falling on deaf ears. To achieve parity, the number of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander nurses needs to dramatically increase. Providing a safe workplace is an obvious way to attract Indigenous people to the workforce. The positive outcomes that would flow from increased participation by Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples in the health workforce are dramatic, and include closing the life expectancy gap within a generation.

While I was not directly involved in the human rights committee inquiry into the government's proposed changes to 18C of the Racial Discrimination Act, I want to note that it is another example of the omission of Indigenous peoples from the process. None of the five witnesses called to give evidence represented an Indigenous group, and, when the Aboriginal Legal Service of the ACT and New South Wales attempted to speak, they were not allowed to do so. The government are proposing to water down race-hate laws, yet they would not hear Indigenous views on their proposal.

Eight years we waited for Indigenous cross-portfolio issues to be included in the sitting calendar. Eight years was the time Vincent Lingiari waited for a resolution. As Paul Kelly and Kev Carmody wrote in their song:

That was the story of Vincent Lingiarri

But this is the story of something much more

How power and privilege can not move a people

Who know where they stand and stand in the law

The waiting must stop. Instead of our first people being an afterthought, make them the first thought, because from little things big things grow.