The facts of our past:

An apology to indigenous people?

by Simon Longstaff

One of the most compelling debates of recent times has concerned whether or not an apology ought to be offered to the Aboriginal people of Australia as a way of saying sorry for a host of wrongs done to them since the time of European settlement. The argument about this has clearly polarised public opinion.

On one hand, there are those who can see no reason to apologise. Part of their argument is that it is wrong to apply contemporary standards when judging the actions of past generations. Added to this is the argument that good intentions should be recognised as such and that they should count for something. Given this, an apology is rejected on the grounds that it is tantamount to a condemnation of people who mistakenly tried to do their best. A further line of argument advanced against the idea of an apology is that, even if wrongs were done, it is unfair to saddle the current generation with the guilt of these misdeeds.

People in favour of offering a formal apology approach the question from a number of different angles. First, they argue that some of the things done to Aboriginal people were clearly wrong to do at any time. It is this line of argument that supports the view that slavery was wrong in ancient Greece, or the southern United States – even at a time when majority opinion and established custom supported the practice. That is, it is perfectly reasonable to conclude, in 1997, that slavery was wrong in 1797 or at any other time.

Beyond this, supporters of the idea of an apology argue that some of the things done to Aboriginal people were known (or should have been known) as being wrong at the time they occurred. It is argued that although some of the people involved in these affairs might have genuinely believed that they were doing good deeds, a number were self-consciously engaged in a process that they knew to be ethically dubious.

Second, supporters of an apology point out that it is possible to apologise for the terrible deeds that were done without in any way stigmatising the people responsible.

For example, most would apologise to another if they accidentally caused harm. Likewise, many parents (who are older and wiser than their children) will apologise for the unintended harmful consequences flowing from the well-intentioned (but mistaken) actions of their child – “I'm sorry that my child did X, he didn't realise what he was doing”. In neither case is it necessary to apportion blame as part of the act of expressing sorrow and regret. So, in the case of a national apology, we might assume the best intentions of earlier generations and still offer an apology for what was done.

In the end, the issue of offering an apology becomes a question of how we, as a modern nation, respond to the facts of our past. This is a question for today. If we justifiably celebrate the achievements of the past, then it is difficult to see how we can selectively turn our back on the parts we prefer to keep hidden.

How we respond to the expectation that an apology be offered will tell our descendants something significant about the kind of people we are. It would be a tragedy if they ultimately judged us as well intentioned but wrong. Do we really wish to leave them, as a legacy, the need to debate whether or not to offer an apology for today's failings?

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

This article was first published in City Ethics (now Living Ethics), issue 28, winter 1997

© St James Ethics Centre

© St James Ethics Centre