Welcome to Eureka Street
Looking for thought provoking articles?Subscribe to Eureka Street and join the conversation.
Passwords must be at least 8 characters, contain upper and lower case letters, and a numeric value.
Eureka Street uses the Stripe payment gateway to process payments. The terms and conditions upon which Stripe processes payments and their privacy policy are available here.
Please note: The 40-day free-trial subscription is a limited time offer and expires 31/3/24. Subscribers will have 40 days of free access to Eureka Street content from the date they subscribe. You can cancel your subscription within that 40-day period without charge. After the 40-day free trial subscription period is over, you will be debited the $90 annual subscription amount. Our terms and conditions of membership still apply.
An Arabunna man, Uncle Kevin Buzzacott devoted himself to the protection of that delicate, glorious country of north eastern South Australia with its Great Artesian Basin’s ancient waters threatened by the succession of powerful mining companies operating Roxby’s Olympic Dam.
The bandage around my knee drew the practitioner’s eye, and my attempt to talk it away as a minor issue was no match for her professional perseverance. While I waited, she called in a specialist from orthopaedics, who took a good look at the affected area and warned me that unless I presented myself at outpatients very soon, ‘this could kill you’.
On the face of it, the decision of the Queensland Government to pass an amendment to permit holding children in police cells was a desperate and discrediting action. Underneath it, however, was a complex coming together of events, prejudices and attitudes.
In the midst of societal debates about crime, rehabilitation, and policing, unexpected voices often surprise us, leading to thoughtful and transformative discussions. A conversation about youth crime between an ABC presenter and the Secretary of the Police Association challenges preconceived notions about youth justice and rehabilitation, paving the way for compassionate responses and a more humane society.
When is a child fully responsible for their actions? The State Attorneys General have met to seek agreement on raising the age of criminal responsibility to 12, provoking questions around whether children can be held fully accountable for their actions at such a young age, and whether the criminal justice system needs to focus on rehabilitation over punishment.
Singapore's notoriously strict drug laws mean that people caught with over a certain amount of drugs face the death penalty. While the Singaporean government claims its policy deters drug trafficking, critics say there is no evidence that the death penalty is effective, arguing that these policies do not address the root causes of drug use and addiction.
Two months into a 10-month prison sentence, I was placed in solitary confinement after having a nervous breakdown. I’d originally made a fruitless attempt to keep my breakdown to myself, because I’d been told what would happen if Corrective Services found out I was having mental health issues. One of the first friends I made in prison, like many of the inmates, was suicidal. ‘The best advice I can give you if you’re struggling with your mental health’, he told me, ‘is to do everything you can to keep it from the officers.’
The danger is that unless commissions and inquiries are accompanied by other ways of telling other truths they will inadvertently help to shrink that national story into the story of victims who in fact have never been only victims, and of unmentioned perpetrators who in fact have never been only perpetrators. They risk preaching to a more-or-less converted majority and to an implacably unconverted minority.
Having previously spent time as lawyer working predominantly in the Children’s Court of Victoria, there isn’t too much about the State’s treatment of young people that shocks me. That is, until a few weeks ago when I was drawn to the final item of The Weekend Australian’s editorial column. Under the heading, ‘Hurt boy’s inhuman treatment’, was set out the details of a 15-year-old West Australian boy who had been ‘locked alone in a glass-walled observation cell of a juvenile detention centre in the southern suburbs of Perth for 79 days.’
A truth that virtually dares not speak its name is that the spread of Covid 19 into regional New South Wales was largely a product of the illicit drug trade. Understanding why and how this occurred points in the direction of much needed social policy.
The tidal movement from treating children as persons each with their own dignity, and worthy of respect and of encouragement to a good future, to treating them as adult and incorrigible criminals worthy only of punishment is both irrational and injurious of society as well as of the children themselves. Yet it is deeply rooted in the mindset of all Australian Governments.
A state government has an obligation to do what is possible within the limits of state resources to help its people, to make the state an inclusive place where all have access to essential services and housing. However, over the last few weeks, with the announcement of the funding restructure for homelessness services, this idea of a fair go seems to have dissipated.