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Social Justice Report 1998 : Appendix 1: Letters to the Editor

Social Justice Report 1998

Appendix 1: Letters to
the Editor

I write this
letter to those who have chosen not to say 'I'm sorry' to us Indigenous
Australians.

After watching
all the media news on the night of May 26, and all you 'Australians'
... simply refusing to say 'I'm Sorry', I felt ashamed to be an Australian
and I would like to clarify the 'Sorry' issue as I understand it.

Indigenous people
who have been the victims of the practice of forced removal of children,
including myself, do not seek individual apologies or an expression
of personal guilt or responsibility from the average Australian for
this recent inhumane practice.

What we seek
is an expression of sorrow - an admission of sympathy and regret that
Australians were subjected to arguably the worst kind of horror and
genocidal activity by other Australians.

To illustrate
my point I would like to ask the average Australian what they would
say if they had the opportunity to meet with Walter Mikak or other
victims of the Port Arthur tragedy.

Like myself,
I would imagine that they might say something like: 'I'm sorry for
your loss' - an expression of sympathy and communication about how
such an event affects them.

By saying 'I'm
sorry' to someone who has known sorrow or pain, we do not necessarily
take on a personal responsibility for events. Rather, we express that,
as humans, we regret that other humans are hurt.

Contrary to the
belief that all injustices were inflicted 200 years ago in our deep,
dark history on ancestors long gone; the pain and suffering of the
stolen generation lives on today and will continue for some time to
come.

Our wounds heal
slowly and, in fact, are continually re-opened when the leader of
our country consistently refuses to validate our suffering and admit
to any sorrow for the crime against humanity.

Mr Howard does
not seem to have a problem expressing national sorrow, concern or
condolences when other tragedies happen in Australia and around the
world.

I'm also sure
that he would be the first one to take the high moral ground and condemn
any country that would steal babies on the basis of race, in a bid
to achieve some kind of perverse ethnic cleansing.

It is a continuing
source of pain that he cannot say that he is sorry that people in
Australia suffered so.

When I was eight
years old, I witnessed government men, accompanied by police, enter
my school and take away my cousins, who were living in my home and,
according to our traditional kinship structures, were my brother and
sister.

We had no warning
of this and no subsequent justification by officials, and I did not
see my cousin again for 15 years.

I ran home to
tell my father and the memory of Aunty's (Mother's) wailing will forever
be in my memory.

The horror continued,
for in the same week, officials came to our home and took my other
baby cousin from her cot. We were not to see her for another eight
years, until she was returned physically scarred from abuse as well
as suffering untold emotional torture.

After her abduction
my parents took to hiding the rest of the kids in the house, not unlike
the kids during the Nazi holocaust. We did not understand why we couldn't
go to school or go outside.

Despite my expertise,
I, like many Indigenous people, do not see Sorry Day as a chance to
get a pound of flesh or beat non-Indigenous people up with guilt.

I see it as an
opportunity for our nation to finally show maturity and integrity
in expressing regret, sorrow and a commitment to empathy and harmony
in the future.

Like ANZAC Day,
National Sorry Day is about recognising and validating pain and sorrow,
as well as condemning inhumane and racist practices - lest we forget.

Russell Logan,
'Sorry Day response is a national shame',

Letter to the editor, The Illawarra Mercury, 13 June 1998



Russell Logan (Mercury June 13), in describing National Sorry
Day from an indigenous Australian perspective, expresses with courage
and dignity his hope for a reconciled, harmonious future.

That Mr Logan,
who has suffered at first hand the horror of unjust, discriminatory
government policies, should feel compelled to share his experience,
his expectations of National Sorry Day and his hopes for all Australians,
serves to demonstrate his genuine commitment to national unity ...

The practice
of separating Aboriginal children from their families, simply on the
basis of race, continued into the 1970s.

Five of my own
children represent to me what I would have lost if they had been snatched
away. This is not ancient history, the pain is there today.

I cannot imagine
any Australian not being able to feel sorrow that children and their
families were forcibly denied the right to each other's love and to
live within their community.

Nobody is asked
to accept blame or to feel guilt for acts they did not commit but
to acknowledge the hurt suffered by fellow Australians through racist
government policies.

John Howard should
lead the way by nationally recognising these hurts and credibly committing
his government to the reconciliation of this nation.

Lest we forget,
indeed, Mr Logan.

Anne Marsh,
'Personal suffering and reconciliation',

Letter to the editor, The Illawarra Mercury, 2 July 1998, p.
18



When trying to understand how the Holocaust could ever have happened,
I have often asked, 'How could they - those officers who were fathers
themselves?' How, as, weeping, I read of the atrocities against Australia's
Aborigines, I ask again, 'How could they - these women who were, in
many cases, mothers? If they were Christians, what happened to 'do
unto others'?'

It is now clear
that the line which afforded some comfort - 'They thought it was for
the best' - has no basis. So far it seems the Aboriginal people have
been denied the benefit of a proper grieving process - with discussion,
and contrition. In the grieving process for life's well-recognised
tragedies - rape, murder, wrongful arrest, cot death, still birth
- discussion and public acknowledgement are crucial to the healing
process.

The least that
must be done, as a start, is a national day of mourning and apology
where newer Australians embrace original Australians and admit the
wrong. It may be painful for us - but, so what?

Holly Kerr
Forsyth, 'Poor fellow my country',

Letter to the editor, The Sydney Morning Herald, 30 May 1997,
p. 20



As a member of the Cattlemen's Union negotiating team to the Cape
York Land Use Agreement I felt a personal sense of achievement when
we received a national award at the recent Australian Reconciliation
Convention in Melbourne.

Our efforts to
achieve stability and harmony at the community level in a negotiated
outcome on land use involving pastoralists, Aborigines and environmental
groups were recognised as a practical step towards reconciliation
in Cape York.

Any hype and
glory attached to the award was tempered by the reality of the discussion
at my table during the awards dinner when several people of Aboriginal
descent spoke with frankness and feeling of having been separated
from their families at a very young age by force or deception and
subjected to a life of brutality, confusion, indifference and prejudice.

To dispel any
false illusion these people were not from some remote island or community
but lived, worked and raised their families within our so-called modern,
multicultural, urban society.

Painful separations,
lost families and identities, heartbreak, broken relationships, alcohol
abuse and jail could only instil a sense of deep regret in all Australians.

I also learned
of decades of struggle, disappointment and frustration by these people
in their efforts to reunite their families. The joy of their few successes
was evident.

However, stories
of lost applications, suppressed information, deceit and bureaucratic
mishandling left me wondering if a national apology and compensation
were the real issues.

If we do not
already have a positive program of national reunification for this
so-called lost generation, Prime Minister Howard, then you have a
moral responsibility to put one in place immediately, whether you
feel sorry or not.

I remain appalled.

David Kempton,
'At the least, we should reunite our lost generation',

Letter to the editor, The Australian, 10 June 1997, p. 14



I am in full support of a formal apology to the Aboriginal peoples
of Australia from the government for the stolen children Report. I
believe an apology is part of the healing process for the truth to
be told, acknowledged and accepted as part of Australian history.
Compensation will play an important role in the overall physical and
emotional healing.

People need to
be reminded that Australian history is not about football, meat pies,
kangaroos and Holden cars.

We need to stand
and acknowledge all events - good and bad. Australian collectively
need to redress the imbalances that exist in this country where Aboriginal
and Torres Strait Islanders are involved, not to mention South Sea
Islanders.

The common catchcry
is 'why should we be held accountable for past policies and governments?'

Reality check
everybody - low health status, life expectancy rates, huge unemployment
levels, poor academic performances, deaths in custody, to name a few
issues for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders which did not develop
overnight.

Jenny Timor,
'Support for an apology',

The Daily Mercury (Mackay), 11 June 1997



I am a white mother of two. I live in a nice, comfortable, middle-class
suburb. I have the luxury of being able to stay at home to look after
my children. I can't begin to imagine the pain that I, my family and
my children would feel if someone were to take my children away.

I have heard
Australian after Australian speak with bitterness, anger and condemnation
of the stories contained in the Report.

I am sad that
there appears to be so little compassion and understanding. I don't
know the answers to this issue, but I do know that if we are all to
live together as Australians we must understand that this happened
and that many of our fellow Australians lived with, and continue to
live with, unimaginable anguish at the loss of their children, their
parents, their grandchildren, their brothers and sisters, nieces,
nephews and friends.

I don't believe
that we should feel guilty. We should express sorrow and compassion
for fellow Australians who have suffered the loss of their families.
Saying sorry is not saying that you are guilty and it is not committing
us to anything.

For the sake
of us all, and for our country, I sincerely hope and pray that we
can all display some real humanity to those in need of healing words.

Janine Symons,
'We must say sorry',

The West Australian, 17 June 1997, p. 13



Reconciliation needs to be based on truth, and to allege total evil
intent in this issue is not the truth, as many Aborigines themselves
admit. But because the consequences were so often (not always) disastrous,
and some were treated appallingly by their carers, the deepest of
apologies are also in order, symbolic of national repentance. And
beyond that let's determine to do better in our relationships, not
only with our Aboriginal friends but with all others who have made
Australia their home.

Lesley K.
Hicks, 'Aboriginal issues 'survey',

Letter to the editor, The Sydney Morning Herald, 20 June 1997,
p. 18



I played no role in the program to take Aboriginal children from their
parents and try to educate them in the ways of the Europeans. I'm
not sure I was aware. I don't believe I can be in any way held responsible,
nor should I be directly or indirectly blamed for the folly of past
generations. But that doesn't mean I'm not sorry. I openly apologise
for the behaviour of my ancestors for this appalling and shameful
miscalculation.

Rex Jory,
'Why I'm saying sorry',

The Advertiser, 17 June 1997, p. 13



To the first Australians.

I write these
words hesitantly, for they may not be what you want to hear. Yet I
am hopeful that you will receive them as they are meant. ...

We have taken
your lands, scattered your tribes, sundered your families, mocked
your beliefs and denied your humanity. All this was done and we apologise
profoundly for it.

Yet please hear
us when we say that at times there was also good intent, for many
among our white forebears held to the 18th century ideal of the noble
savage who could and should be raised to some higher state by the
imposition of a template of perceived European virtue. This they sought
to do without malice but in misguided benevolence, in error but with
all sincerity.

We now recognise
that, while their aims were honourable, their means were wrong and
the ends were tragic. We understand and regret the hell that was visited
upon you.

Even in our own
country, much of what you endured and continue to endure was the exercise
of unmitigated evil, as the Report of the Human Rights and Equal Opportunity
Commission has shown with its grievous catalogue of human bondage,
violence and sexual abuse. For this we also apologise and ask your
forgiveness for the unforgivable.

Mike Carlton,
'The words that the PM couldn't say',

The Sydney Morning Herald, 31 May 1997, p. 34



I hope it doesn't sound condescending to say that readers' letters
are the lifeblood of a newspaper. They bring us to earth with a thump.
For all my lofty prescriptions for the ills of the world, my biggest
mail bag came after a frothy piece I wrote about Cahill's famous caramel
sauce.

Until now, that
is. All week I have been deluged with generous letters about last
Saturday's column on the Stolen Children. Thank you all.

Mike Carlton,
'A red-letter week',

The Sydney Morning Herald, 7 June 1997, p. 34



I am sorry
and apologise for the actions of the Government of Australia which
tore Aboriginal children from their parents.

I am sorry and
apologise for the mandate which was given to the Government of Australia,
by the people of Australia, which legalised this kidnapping.

I am sorry and
apologise for the actions of the history writers and educators who
see fit to exclude any reference of depth to the culture, background,
language and existence of the numerous tribes of Aboriginal people
who lived in this country before the white man came.

I am sorry and
apologise, and have a sense of guilt, for my own ignorance and lack
of motivation to learn more about the ways and philosophy of the Aboriginal
people.

I am sorry and
apologise for the missionaries who put such emphasis on covering the
nakedness of the Aborigines and brainwashing them with an alien theology,
because their nakedness tempted the white man beyond his ability to
resist and because the Aboriginal beliefs were not even explored but
assumed to be of no worth. As it was also assumed that God had not
known Australia existed until the white man brought him here.

I support the
right of people to have freedom of speech but I am ashamed and apologise
for the crass bigotry and ignorance that is spewed forth by people
more intent on appealing to uncivilised prejudice than to peaceful
coexistence in a world that is already too small.

K. Lin Clayton,
'Well, I'm sorry and I apologise',

Letter to the editor, The Canberra Times, 30 May 1997, p. 12



To all indigenous people in Australia I, on behalf of my ancestors
and all white people in Australia, would like to sincerely apologise,
first for ripping at your roots by stealing children in order to 'civilise'
them and also for everything and anything else that you or your ancestors
have suffered at the hands of whites. ...There are plenty of Australians
who share my view and I want our voice to be heard too.

Kathy Martin,
Letter to the editor,

The West Australian, 4 June 1997, p. 12



... I want to apologise deeply to the Aboriginal community for what
happened to their children at that time.

I am partly to
blame for I saw what was happening in the 1950s and '60s and did nothing
about it. I sat on my hands. I was taken in by the propaganda of the
time, that showed happy Aboriginal children at bedtime climbing the
mansion stairs to the sumptuous bedrooms of assimilation. If I had
looked more closely, I would have seen desperately unhappy, fearful
kids marching and exercising to the white man's metronome.

Oh, we meant
well, but what would we have done if truckloads of black people had
arrived and forcefully kidnapped our offspring and took them away?

What we did was
akin to genocide.

Tony Olliver,
'Partly to blame',

Letter to the editor, The Advertiser, 9 June 1997, p. 8



When I was growing up at home with my (white) family my mothers taught
me what it meant to apologise. She told me, 'sorry means you regret
what you did to another. And it means 'I promise never to do it again'.'
While my mother was teaching me these lessons aboriginal children
were being removed from their families in a systematic and cruel way.
I did not know this until recently and it is a matter of deep regret
to me and shame.

I am very sorry
for what we, as the people of Australia have done in breaking up families
and the whole sense of belonging of aboriginal people. In saying this,
I give you my undertaking that I will be alert and will work to see
such inhumanity will not occur again. This is my promise. I do not
know what can be done about the enormous and unbearable grief which
has been caused by these past practices. I'm sorry for that too.

Rosemary Grant,
in Margaret Reynolds (ed.), On the occasion of National Sorry Day,
26 May 1998: A collection of personal letters and extracts from Parliamentary
Debates presented to the Indigenous Peoples of Australia
, 1998,
p. 12



As an avid, sometimes despairing, reader of letters to the editor
I feel obliged to comment about the opinions expressed concerning
the Sorry Book.

I signed the
Sorry Book willingly and without reservation. The schoolchildren who
initiated the Sorry Notes, which later developed into the Sorry Book,
did so because they wanted to express their grief and sorrow.

They, as children,
cried out for Aboriginal children and parents who were forcibly parted,
some never live to see each other again.

The children
who wrote the original notes put their sorrow into words, simply and
with directness and courage of an innocent belief in what is right.
Children, unlike many adults, are not afraid to look into another
person's eyes.

The children
did not seek to blame. They did not say 'don't blame me, I didn't
do it'. They just wanted to express their sorrow. They did not quibble
over the various meanings given to the words 'sorrow' and 'sorry'.

We treasure our
own children. The loss of a child for any reason is a shattering experience
no matter your race or colour.

I am grateful
and humbled that it was the compassion of children that enabled me
to also express sorrow.

Garry Ryan,
Letter to the Editor,

Northern Daily Leader (Tamworth), 26 May 1998, p. 6

3
April 2003.