In the years before then Prime Minister Kevin Rudd’s Apology to the Stolen Generations in February 2008, politicians debated the value of the gesture. Some contrasted symbolic reconciliation with real reconciliation. Those of us with a theological bent were reminded of debates between Catholics and Protestants about sacraments. Whether in the Eucharist, for example, Christ was made really or merely symbolically present. In both cases opposing the real to the symbolic devalued the real power of the symbol to create a new reality.
All apologies are symbolic. They do not change the facts of past injury and insult, but enact a changed relationship with the possibility of further change in the parties involved. They affect relationships — those most cloudy but also most tangible of things. Apologies embody a way of relating built on respect. In doing so, they also acknowledge a moral code shared by both parties, and a shared acceptance that it has unjustifiably been disregarded.
They also imply a pledge to act differently in the future. The respect embodied in an apology is based in the recognition that both parties share a common humanity that lies deeper than the differences based on religion, race and wealth. All these things are expressed in the gesture of apology.
In the Apology to the Stolen Generations the Australian Government spoke on behalf of all Australians in recognising that it acted wrongly in removing Indigenous children from their parents. It recognised also that the reason for the removal was the disrespectful claim that its targets were defined, not by their shared humanity, but by their race. This disrespect caused lasting damage to the children and families.
It was of great significance that the Prime Minister made the Apology in person to representatives of the Stolen Generations and that they accepted it. His gesture stated that all Australians are equally entitled to respect, and that the government and all Australians are responsible to ensure that all Australians are treated equally, regardless of race and history.
The symbolism of the Apology embodied strong statements about the way we Australians commit ourselves to treat one another. They can never be unsaid. They can, however, be disregarded. For that reason the Apology continues to be important. It is a measuring stick by which both the conduct of government and the treatment of Indigenous Australians can be judged.
'The Apology, however, is not simply a marker of failure. It also points to small but precious signs of respect in the Australian community.'
The dignity, seriousness and non-partisan spirit of the Apology stands in judgment on the rancorous disregard of parliamentary conventions, partisanship and lack of seriousness and of courtesy in the years following. It also, of course, judges that of many preceding years. This behaviour embodies a deep lack of respect, which makes it natural to see apologies as a sign of weakness and a stratagem of last resort for deflecting blame. The polarising attitude can be seen in the words attributed to PG Wodehouse, 'It is a good rule in life never to apologise. The right sort of people do not want apologies, and the wrong sort take a mean advantage of them'.
The Apology has also set a standard by which to measure the treatment of Indigenous Australians today. In particular it highlights the disrespect underlying the election-driven Intervention that preceded the Apology, and the subsequent humiliating and disempowering measures directed against Indigenous communities. Though not driven as directly by racially biased ideology, too, the disproportionate rate at which Indigenous children are removed from their mothers, Indigenous children are incarcerated and decisions are made without proper consultation about Indigenous communities, indicate a serious institutional lack of respect.
This record also indicts the barrenness of the claims for real reconciliation when opposed to symbolic reconciliation. Without the change of heart and attitudes enacted in the Apology, Indigenous Australians will continue to be the victims of policy decisions made about them without their participation, and of administrative actions taken by people prejudiced against them.
The Apology, however, is not simply a marker of failure. It also points to small but precious signs of respect in the Australian community. The courage of young Indigenous Australians calling out discrimination and racial abuse, and the increased credence given them, for example. Also the significant number of Indigenous Australians who are entering the professions, the arts, and being employed in managerial positions is another candle in the darkness. At events and celebrations in the Australian community, too, it has become increasingly common to acknowledge the Traditional Owners of the Land, and for Indigenous Australians called on to speak at these events to longer be seen as guests but as hosts.
These things do not make up for the institutional disrespect suffered by Indigenous Australians. They are candles in the dark, offering us hope, that the spirit of the Apology may engender respect in the relationship between the first and the later Australians.
Andrew Hamilton is consulting editor of Eureka Street.
Main image: Candles spelling out sorry on the front lawn of Parliament House in Canberra (Getty images/Andrew Sheargold)