|
It is not easy to live as a non-Indigenous person in a western society that has made a significant impact on the lives of Indigenous people. As descendents of those who migrated to Australia, we can struggle to find the right words, express the appropriate symbols and live a way of life that discloses a mutually acceptable relationship with our land’s Indigenous people. We know, deep within our hearts, that any relationship we might want to establish has been significantly shaped and influenced by our past. Misunderstanding, ignorance, violence and racism have been key ingredients of our colonial history.
In Australia, political leaders over many decades have constantly re-named and attempted to re-define the relationship they wish the nation to have with its Indigenous people. In more recent years, some have preferred to emphasise new beginnings and possibilities. They argue against apologies for past hurts, reparation for ancient wrongs or formulation of treaties that might, in different ways, respect cultural rights and even recognise political forms of sovereignty. Instead, they prefer to seek a ‘practical’ reconciliation based on economic, social and health achievements and improvements. However, despite this political rhetoric and formulation of social policy, researchers have found that there is no evidence that such policies and programs are delivering better outcomes for Indigenous people at the national level than did previous ones.
One of most obvious difficulties for Australian political leaders is that, when compared on almost any social indicator, Indigenous people in Australia are faring much worse than non-Indigenous people. In addition, they are faring worse when compared with Indigenous people in countries such as New Zealand, Canada and the United States of America. This comparison includes rates of life expectancy, chronic disease, imprisonment, youth suicide and unemployment. It also includes many other indicators of social exclusion and marginality when compared with those that measure the benefits and privileges that the majority of people in western society enjoy. Research suggests that, while the Australian economy is growing rapidly, the social, health and economic outcomes for Indigenous people are likely to get worse, rather than better, over the coming decades.
There has never been a treaty negotiated or signed between the Indigenous people of Australia and its colonial government (unlike New Zealand and various tribal groups in Canada and the United States of America). As a result, there remains an unresolved challenge about the possibility of ever achieving reconciliation between the nation and its Indigenous people. The question continues to face all Australians: how does a nation become healed of its past hurts, violent memories and a litany of ancient and present injustices? How does it recognise the past but also foster a spirit of deep, inner reconciliation between ancient ‘holders of the land’ and more recent migrants? How can it develop a more unified nation without some return to, and acknowledgement of, the past? Is there a place or a process that could express a nation feeling ‘sorry’ for its past and, if so, how can that experience forge a new future with its Indigenous people? Can non-Indigenous and Indigenous people come together without some experience of ‘sorrow’ for the past but with a renewed hope for the future?
The following story recounts a real event that occurred within a remote Indigenous community a few years ago. It describes a common occurrence within many Indigenous communities, a community’s response to an unexpected death. As it remembers an Indigenous response to sadness and tragedy, it highlights Indigenous understandings of the word ‘sorry’. It suggests some possibilities for a renewed use of the word ‘sorry’ by non-Indigenous people with implications for national reconciliation.
It was around the middle of the day when the community heard the news the family was coming. We left what we were doing and quietly walked to a large open area. According to an age-old custom we gathered as one. We prepared to meet the returning group by putting white ochre on our foreheads. Some of the men also put it on their chests and some of the women on their breasts. We sat and waited, talking quietly, men and women in separate groups. It was time for ‘sorry business’.
A few weeks previously a number of people from our community had gone east to a neighbouring community for a sporting weekend. There had been a car rollover on one of the dirt roads and a young girl, a year old, had died. They were now returning home.
Finally, they arrived. The convoy of vehicles, including the parents of the deceased young girl, entered the community slowly and deliberately. They stopped a few hundred metres from us. The group disembarked after their trip of a few hundred kilometres. They, too, put white ochre on their bodies and separated into men and women groups. The ceremony began with the usual gestures of formal recognition. Senior men, armed with boomerangs and shields, approached one another then moved back. Some men and women, tilitja or kinship brothers or sisters of the deceased, then came forward to lead the ceremony. The two groups came together. As one group of men met another, so did the women. People would approach according to their kinship designations within desert society. Everyone was related in some way to the deceased and her parents. As brothers or sisters, cousins or parents each group came together. There was much wailing, hugging and crying and occasionally someone would cut themselves on their head with a rock and then be gently restrained. Forwards and backwards the people moved, certain people directing and guiding the various groups. Many tears were shed as the community shared and wailed its loss.
This was a ceremony to demonstrate grief and share sorrow with the family and relations of the deceased, especially the young father and mother. Everyone in the community stopped what they were doing and came together. They showed the extended family that they cared and wanted to share in their sorrow. There was no talk of blame as to who caused her death and who should be punished - this might happen at another time - this was ‘sorry time’. There was also no talk of the funeral. That would be discussed after the ‘sorry business’ ceremony had been fully and finally completed.
‘Sorry time’, ‘sorry business’, ‘sorry ceremonies’, are all English phrases used to describe elaborate and traditionalist Indigenous rituals that continue to be expressed in Australia today. They convey simple and enduring social and religious realities. People share sad and tragic times with others. They support each other when there are experiences of great sadness and loss. These ceremonies reinforce the primacy of relationships between people and across families and communities. They confirm the need for social connection and inter-dependence. They enable those who have suffered to move beyond loss and tragedy with a renewed sense of the affection and care of others. They publicly proclaim that those who mourn shared no part in the tragedy and the suffering that unfolded. They provide a social context for linking the present with the past, while offering a renewed and shared future for all.
In Australia, the Federal Government has refused to say the word ‘sorry’ in its formulation of social policies with Indigenous people. It continues to believe that such a process would only open itself up to an endless line of claimants and a long process of litigation. The Government has reason for concern. There is the example of the ‘Stolen Generations’. These ‘stolen generations’ describe the removal of children from Indigenous families, over a number of decades (largely, for the purpose of assimilation and in the first half of the twentieth century), and placed in institutions run by non-Indigenous people. These people, now adults, feel deeply and painfully the effects of their separation from family, land and culture.
The refusal by the Government to use the word ‘sorry’, or enter into any process of apology or restitution, may derive from some sound legal advice. However, as Indigenous people gather for those times when expressions of being ‘sorry’ are considered important, any refusal to be ‘sorry’ or share being ‘sorry’ can have serious implications. When the Government refuses to say ‘sorry’ for its past policies, Indigenous people can perceive that, not only are non-Indigenous people NOT sorry for what occurred, but they actually support the practices and attitudes of the past. Saying ‘sorry’ for the national government may be economically or politically expedient. However, in the longer term, it simply postpones the memories and healing this country needs, and the possibility of a shared future between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people.
The Government’s refusal to say ‘sorry’, and admit its sadness over past injustices and the causes of present day Indigenous disadvantage, continues to reflect the state of this nation’s soul. It suggests that, as non-Indigenous people, we are not yet at peace with Indigenous people and our place in this land. We remain a fearful people. Any process of reconciliation is as much about relationships, as it is about political or economic achievements. It offers the promise and process of dialogue but also an admission of the ways things have truly been. When entered into with honesty and sincerity, a process of ‘sorry business’ can generate a deeper relationship and bond of respect, and offer a shared future with greater purpose and resolve. As this national Government continues to express fear and rejection towards those seeking asylum in this land, many ordinary Australians continue to fear facing the truth of their own migration and the legacy of privilege it provided. We can all learn much from the ancient ritual of Indigenous ‘sorry business’ and the freedom it offers.
(First published in Chinese in Renlai, October 2005)
From Australia to America...
|
