Who stole the nation's heart?

by Simon Longstaff

Even a casual review of Australia's place in the world indicates that we have enjoyed a disproportionate influence in its highest councils. Australia is, at most, a middle power in military and economic terms. Yet, during the past fifty years or so, the mighty of the world consistently have courted Australia's good opinion and involvement as an ally in their affairs.

Although acknowledging the quality of our armed forces, keen interest in Australian participation does not arise from a need to bolster military might.

Rather, Australia's favoured position always has been linked to the perception of our nation as a decent country, armed with a certain moral authority. It was Australia's good name that allowed us to play a leading role in campaigns such as that waged to bring apartheid to an end in South Africa, to ease the Cambodian transition to independent, democratic rule and, most recently, to bring peace to the people of East Timor.

Now we find ourselves in the spotlight and our good name lies in the balance as the international community weighs up our commitment to human rights. Challenged to give an account of our conduct, past and present, the official response has been to tell the rest of the world to mind its own business. To our embarrassment, this was precisely the response from South Africa a decade ago.

The slide in perceptions of Australia began some time ago. Vocal critics questioned our integrity when condemning apartheid while failing to make meaningful progress in addressing the scandalous conditions under which so many indigenous Australians live.

In Australia's defence, it has been argued that successive governments have at least tried to improve the situation, devoting considerable resources to address what has proved to be an intractable problem.

However, the reality on the ground continues to mock our good intentions, and a range of government policies and pronouncements reinforce a perception of indifference and insensitivity. Our latest stance has been to quibble over words, adopting fine legal distinctions that might offer a technical defence while ignoring the deeper and more troubling ethical issues that cannot be hidden by diplomatic gloss.

This seems to have been Australia's approach when responding to international criticism of mandatory sentencing. The latest example of this style of response can be seen in the Commonwealth Government's submission that the stolen generation should be dropped from our lexicon because it is not literally true that a whole generation was stolen.

This latest move is indicative of a fundamental schism in our society's understanding of the issues. Nobody doubts that many of those involved in this sorry chapter in our history were well-intentioned. Nobody doubts that it is not a literal truth that a whole generation was removed from its home. But this is not the point. It is at a deeper level that the truth is to be found.

First, that even some governments sought to rid the continent of its Aborigines is of staggering importance. Second, whatever the number, we must understand that at least a whole generation was adversely affected. The reverberations from these events echo even now and will continue to do so until justice is seen to be done.

The contagion poisoning our national consciousness is indifferent to race. If not treated then it will eventually paralyse our entire polity with shame.

There are many types of wrong to be addressed in our collective past and Aborigines do not have a monopoly on legitimate grievances. That they attract so much attention does not mean that the concerns of others are of any less importance. Instead, we need to understand that the character of a society is judged by the way it treats its most vulnerable. By any measure, the indigenous people of Australia meet this unhappy condition.

The issues we need to address are as much a scar on the spirit of our nation as they are a question of practical policy. That is why we need to find a form of politics that is true to its roots as a noble ideal for a good society.

Alas, the language of politics, where deeper truths fire us to be better citizens, is being buried under the cold literalism of government. One inspires; the other merely describes. The issue of reconciliation demands leadership of a kind that can master both forms of language. We have seen our leaders rise to the occasion before, so why not now? People in government are neither better nor worse than the rest of us. When we look at them, we see a reflection of who we are as a people. Like it or not, the rest of the world sees us through much the same lens.

Australia built its place in the world by being a decent nation of moderately good people. We have made our fair share of mistakes, but the world previously accepted that our heart was in the right place. Looking at us now, they're not so sure.

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Dr Simon Longstaff is Executive Director of St James Ethics Centre.

This article was published in The Australian on 4 April 2000, page 13

© St James Ethics Centre

© St James Ethics Centre