“Truth-Telling” is the generally accepted term for an overarching project of eliciting and recording events and their sequelae consequent upon past and ongoing interactions between Australia’s indigenous and non-indigenous peoples.
As customarily conceived, the emphasis is predominantly on the adverse consequences of the interaction, as perceived and experienced by indigenous individuals and groups. These adverse consequences encompass a broad range of atrocities, including (but not limited to) appropriation of country and resources, banishment, subjugation, enslavement, extinguishment of culture, educational exclusion, segregation, discrimination, disenfranchisement, vilification, deceit, indoctrination, kidnapping, family disintegration, murder and outright massacre. By no means are all these but things of the past.
Truth-Telling is, then, an attempt to redress the imbalance in the received historical narrative propounded by non-indigenous people. It aims to “set the record straight”, not so much by correcting inaccuracies (although this undoubtedly forms part of the project) as by inserting and raising into prominence entire chunks of story hitherto absent from the existing record. To paraphrase another catchphrase of the national agenda, much of the project concerns itself with “filling the gap”. Moreover and crucially, this rectification embodies core elements of the human experience, such as anguish, disorientation, longing and homecoming.
Thus conceived, Truth-Telling is a good thing.
Of the oft-quoted triad of indigenous Australian aspirations that we might construe as substantially political in nature (viz, Voice, Truth-Telling, Treaty), it is Truth-Telling that holds the greatest prospect of enduring success. This is because, while having undoubted political import, it is able to reside outside, and independently of, the established political architecture. (It shares this advantage with my suggested scheme for a Voice.) It does not require permission from anyone, and it is beholden to no one.
While the process rightly focusses on egregious events and experiences hitherto buried, denied or neglected by the nation as a whole, the very concept of truth-telling demands a degree of objectivity such that both positive and negative dealings between the two parties are recognized and recorded. In no way is such a policy intended to diminish the force of indigenous grievances, nor is it designed to infuse the process with some spurious measure of the “balance” urged on media commentators by adversaries in the political arena. Inherent in that sort of “balance” is a species of fence-sitting inimical to the truth, presupposing as it does a degree of contrived distortion of focus. No, all we are suggesting here is that the “whole truth” be revealed, both the good and the bad. Only then might we and future generations discern the mechanisms predisposing to atrocity and those predisposing to harmony. To this end, accounts from both indigenous and non-indigenous individuals should be sought. There are non-indigenous families whose present-day members view with abhorrence the actions of their forebears in the oppression of indigenous people. Their testimony could prove valuable in informing our understanding of both the genesis of iniquity and the evolution of its repudiation. Actions have both motives and consequences; we seek to comprehend both. Regardless of the source, we aspire to the truth, unadulterated by racist apologists, so-called “fake news”, artificial intelligence, or the like. Anything less is counterproductive.
People from various quarters (including the victims) may deplore the whole process as one of “dredging up the past” or “reopening old wounds”. But there is no compulsion on victims to participate. And there is clear evidence that, far from healing, the wounds continue to fester anyway.
Some may condemn the endeavor as an attempt to instill guilt in people removed in time or place from the events in question. I don’t believe this is at all the intention of the project, but so what if it were? If a sense of guilt is required in order to motivate change for the better, it is not such a bad thing. The perpetrators denied, concealed, excused or lauded their actions; to the extent that we are at all complicit in that behavior, we share their guilt. And of course our guilt is writ large in the actions of those who acted, and continue to act, on our behalf, especially governments, religious organizations and their lackeys (police, social workers, etc). Spare me the self-exculpatory protest that they were — are — “just doing their job”. Are we meant to excuse the murderers of Auschwitz in like wise? No one is “just” doing their job: always there are ramifications. Especially in an ostensibly free society such as ours, it is odious to insist that the feeding of one’s own family necessitates the destruction of another’s. As for the temerity of burdening the beneficiaries of barbarity with any sense of guilt for their good fortune, let alone even hinting that some financial or social disadvantage could now befall them — well, we can’t have that now, can we? Let not those floundering in the water rock the boat from which they were jettisoned! All too often, the shamelessness of the privileged is on display. So precarious is their prosperity that any threat to it (real or imagined) simply cannot be countenanced. How ironic it is, then, that the demands of indigenous people require little or no sacrifice on the part of present-day non-indigenous Australians. The generosity of spirit of the former sits in stark contrast to the selfishness of certain factions of the latter. I think it is fair to say that most indigenous Australians do not wish to deprive their non-indigenous counterparts of anything. But they do expect a holding to account, especially of the institutions mentioned above, and meaningful measures to redress past and ongoing wrongs. Such measures may involve sacrifice of some sort, but generally not such as to deprive any individuals of sleep, let alone anything more dear to them.
As an aside: It could be argued that present-day people (anywhere in the world more broadly) have no right to expect unfettered enjoyment of a legacy built on the crimes of their forebears. It could also be argued that the dismantling of such legacy in the present could even set a precedent to dissuade future perpetrators from heinous behavior, knowing their own precious offspring could in future be visited with unpalatable consequences. I shall advance no opinion here on these theses. They are, however, fervently espoused and acted upon in some quarters. Intimately linked as they are with continued resentment and perpetuation of conflict, such arguments merit close scrutiny, but not here.
Be that as it may, present-day descendants of the squatters (and others of their ilk in Australia) would appear to have virtually nothing to fear in relation to their current circumstances. All the more reason, then, to exhibit humility in their good fortune and endeavor to find mutually acceptable ways of redressing the injustices inflicted upon their indigenous fellow citizens. It would seem churlish for them not even to wonder whether they should try to do something to make amends. At the very least, they should be supporting the Truth-Telling project, regardless of any dark places where its light may finally shine. This in itself is an act of reconciliation.
People tell a story for a reason; sometimes there are multiple reasons. And a story may also come to serve purposes which neither the storyteller nor the audience could have foreseen. The manner in which a story is told, the sorts of information imparted, the level of detail involved, the claim to veracity, the citation of evidence, the language in which it is couched — all these can vary according to context of use. How a story is recounted for entertainment around a campfire will most likely differ from how it is presented in a court as testimony in support of a land rights claim. It would seem prudent, then, to incorporate consideration of such disparate uses in the design of the storytelling process. There are people who specialize in eliciting people’s stories and reformulating them for specific purposes. Among these we might make mention of doctors (particularly psychiatrists), psychologists, lawyers, historians, journalists and writers. There is a growing representation of indigenous people in these disciplines. Regardless of ethnicity, this wealth of expertise should be tapped, to give the truth-telling process the best chance of yielding results fit for as many purposes as might be imagined.
What purpose could Truth-Telling serve? In essence, the answer is simple: to change people’s minds. Any further delineation of purpose depends on the context, but the mental impression produced should always be the paramount consideration.
In the first instance, we might hope for at least a scintilla of peace in the minds of the witnesses. The recall, recounting and recording of atrocity is not for the faint-hearted. Courage has its costs. All participants should be offered appropriate psychological and social support. With the prevalence of human atrocity in the world at large, and the accumulation of a not inconsiderable body of experience in dealing with the fallout of investigation and attestation, techniques that might prove helpful in this particular context should not be hard to find. There is a measure of comfort to be had in the sharing of experience in a secure environment. Catharsis may have psychological merit for the individual, but the sharing of experience also unites people, as indigenous storytellers from countless generations well know. And unity is crucial to the success of the broader program of indigenous advancement.
How might Truth-Telling be best used to change (or influence) the minds of non-indigenous people?
Let us start with the children. It is not simply a matter of educating them about the unexpurgated history of the nation: there are deeper truths to be explored.
This is the Australian story, but it is the old Jewish fable of Cain and Abel, thousands of years later, continents removed and generations apart. It is the story of Nazism, Tiananmen, Rwanda, Ukraine and Gaza. It is the story of us all. It is the story that has to be told. We need to be reminded of what we have done, what we are, and what needs to change. Whether — and what — we learn from history is a moot point, but starting from a distorted history can hardly be conducive to improvement in the human condition. Without honesty in the telling, we deceive not only ourselves but future generations as well. The school curriculum needs to be wrested from the hands of the self-serving self-righteous and fashioned so it bequeaths to future generations the true story of their ancestors. Any attempt to minimize, excuse, distort, withhold or dismiss the iniquities that occurred only exacerbates the atrocity. Avarice, cowardice and prejudice — three recurring pillars of oppression — must not be allowed to derail the train of truth, and specific strategies to counter them may need to be devised. Whether or not we perpetuate the atrocity is in the hands of our generation. It is the minds of future generations we wish to influence, but in doing so we shape our own.
Every parent thinks they know what is best for their progeny, seeking to imprint or impose their own ideals on succeeding generations. To the extent allowed by those controlling the society, this is the privilege of parenthood. And to some extent it accounts for the success of the species in the context of evolution. While it can be meritorious, all too often it is presumptuous and arrogant. Industrial revolutions of one sort or another, religious upheavals, climate change, natural and man-made disasters — not to mention individual personalities — all demonstrate the unpredictability of the future and the futility of straitjacketing future generations with the norms of the past. Were Hitler and Putin preceded by an unbroken line of evil ancestors stretching back eons? No. That is not the way humans work. But it is probably still worth while attempting to instill and foster some fundamental philosophical (as opposed to religious) values into our young (and ourselves); otherwise we condemn our species to perpetual barbarity. It then becomes a question of what those values should be. The Australian Truth-Telling project offers us an opportunity to discover them.
It is invidious to expect indigenous Australian Truth-Telling to take on the added burden of addressing the current wave of deceitfulness rampaging throughout the world. There is no necessity for it to do so. The content notwithstanding, the process itself stands as a beacon in the gloom. Its very existence should be an object lesson to the young that real facts are important and that disregarding them diminishes one’s own credibility and integrity. And others would do well to see what true dignity, courage and principle look like.
Justice for indigenous Australians is a huge topic in itself. Actions speak louder than words. The actions of the perpetrators of atrocity always speak louder than the words of the victims. Let us have Truth-Telling and see how loud are the actions of the nation in response.
Truth-Telling obviously plays a crucial role in exposing the nature and extent of the injustice — past and ongoing. One would hope that such exposure would motivate responsible agencies (governments, religious organizations, etc) to institute appropriate measures to rectify the wrongs and recompense the victims. Should these agencies prove reluctant to implement such measures, data garnered from the Truth-Telling process could well be exploited in other political and judicial settings to achieve what is owed.
Indigenous Australians would be quite within their rights to demand far more than they do. Such restraint as they exhibit should be recognized, respected and admired. It behoves the rest of Australia to take cognizance of its good luck in this regard and make every effort to accommodate the aspirations of the descendants of its first inhabitants.
As we have already observed, many non-indigenous people take umbrage at any suggestion that indigenous Australians deserve “special” consideration, lest they themselves “miss out” on anything. Again we are treated to the lamentations of the privileged. So apparent is their grievance, and so strident are they in their expostulation thereof, that only the heartless could fail to sympathize and rally to their cause. Call me heartless then, for I cannot. To think that they can look forward to suffering for, on average, something like 8 years longer than their indigenous cousins is cause for grave concern indeed. Were I a crocodile, I am sure I would be moved to tears. Popular culture goes so far as to recognize their peculiar affliction and identify it as a “First World problem”. The only trouble is, too many people have too narrow a view of what constitutes privilege. The Truth-Telling project provides a perspective-correcting lens. Truth-telling is the antidote to hypocrisy.
Everyone has grievances for which they crave redress or compensation. By no means do I wish to deny other individuals or groups the right to have their own grievances addressed. But one group should not make attention to their own interests a prerequisite for attention to others’. Furthermore, it is folly to presume that one’s own plight is every bit as dire as, or worse than, someone else’s. It is not a “race to the bottom”. Having said that, it is hard to conceive of a greater grievance than that of a mother whose children were subjected to a callous generation-spanning government policy of systematic kidnapping, interdiction of mother tongue, expungement of culture, indoctrination and slavery. It is churlish to insist that her grievances await the resolution of someone else’s. That only compounds and perpetuates the atrocity. Of course there should be justice for all. Let us not squabble about who should be served first.
Some might argue that, like the Voice proposed in the referendum, the Truth-Telling program is divisive. Indeed, I have alluded to reasons why it might be perceived as such in certain quarters. It would be naïve to think that there is no possibility of untoward repercussions from the Truth-Telling project, but desisting seems unconscionable. The time for silence is past. Adopting a posture of so-called “self-censorship”, out of concern for any possible backlash, only pays lip service to the victims and disrespects their experience. Time to deal with the consequences of the truth, once the truth is revealed. Everyone should know the truth and live with it, not just the victims.
I have advanced the idea that the overarching aim of the Truth-Telling project should be to change people’s minds. This is not simply a matter of imparting information, correcting misconceptions, inducing a sense of collective shame, or eliciting some semblance of sympathy. The most important thing is to inspire action that forges productive links, extirpates injustice, promotes well-being and leads to a more harmonious society. Each of these is a huge task in itself, especially when you appreciate that my use of the term “well-being” here is meant to encompass the whole range of health, accommodation, employment and other social dimensions of human experience. Exactly how Truth-Telling can inform strategies in these domains falls outside the scope of this essay, so I shall content myself with making a few remarks on the changing of minds.
There are numerous ways of slicing and dicing the material — statistical, historical, sociological, psychological, geographic, personal — to cite a few examples mainly pertaining to the academic realm. In the broader societal context, we seek to perpetuate the stories, keeping them alive and making them relevant to successive generations. When it comes to retelling the stories to the general public, we don’t want people’s eyes to glaze over. Attention span is very short these days, with so many other concerns clamoring for attention. And so we require freshness in the (re)telling.
This is what artists do best.
And here we mean practitioners of any of the myriad art forms humans are wont to devise. We are fortunate to have artists of the highest caliber in our indigenous population. All that is required is to give them every support and encouragement to venture down the track of changing people’s minds in the most meaningful ways they can.
Already, many indigenous artists are doing just this. Not only in traditional indigenous art forms but also in areas more generally associated with the non-indigenous majority, such as novels, movies and stage productions. The ramifications of this phenomenon are many and far-reaching, but it is obvious that dissemination of the legacy of the Truth-Telling process among the broader community is by no means the least of them.
Some art forms seem particularly effective in engaging people, taking them along for the ride, and achieving a sort of cult status; musicals are one example. Imagine, then, the power of a blockbuster musical based on the Stolen Generations. It is not at all a question of trivializing the phenomenon, but rather one of communicating to those who didn’t experience it themselves the impact of the atrocity on those who did and on their descendants. Musicals can have very potent effects on the mind and the emotions. A cleverly written and composed one — perhaps incorporating a compelling “earworm” — could accomplish almost overnight something that any number of educational programs and marketing devices would, if they were lucky, take years to emulate.
We have seen reenactments of Phillip’s invasion, but I think we have yet to see any of indigenous children being kidnapped. On the screen, perhaps, but I am talking of true-to-life live theater. What if the roles were reversed? Non-indigenous child actors being “kidnapped” by indigenous adult actors. Confronting, to be sure, but how powerful! Consummate skill would be required throughout the entire design and execution of the piece. Stage it on the lawns or steps of a Parliament House and you have the attention of a nation.
People may not want to know and may prefer to distance themselves from such uncomfortable facts, but the job of the artist is to make it so they can’t look away. Isn’t that what all artists aspire to anyway?
These are only suggestions. Each artist will have a unique idea, a unique approach and a unique product. The point is to make the whole exercise worth while in the most profound way.
One aims for a visceral reaction, but even that is not enough. A work should point to practical actions an audience can take, show them the gateway to the arena, and leave them motivated to do what is required. A lot to ask, but that is the challenge.
Some comments regarding the practicalities of the Truth-Telling project may not go astray.
It will be apparent that there should be some urgency attached to the gathering of testimony from those likely to pass in the near future. As well, while everyone’s experiences are unique and to be respected on their own account, there will no doubt be situations which perhaps warrant some special attention. Among these might be a diminishing group of survivors of some localized tragedy. Or there may be individuals whose experiences are so unparalleled that their absence from the historical record would pervert both the course of justice and our appreciation of the true extent of injustice in the first place. (By way of illustration, consider how much the poorer would be a history of motor vehicle accidents that failed to mention that there are instances where someone has been bereaved of their entire family as a result of such an event.) It is not a question of whose pain is the greater. Rather, it is a question of portraying the phenomenon more comprehensively. Stories such as these should be sought and recorded with some urgency, and not necessarily left until some more bureaucratic process dictates that it is now “their turn” to be told.
While some scheduling of storytelling sessions will no doubt be required, the process should remain open-ended, to allow further testimony to be gathered as the opportunity presents itself. Some people may be reluctant to disclose certain aspects of their lives until circumstances become more conducive at some later stage. Some documents of relevance may emerge at a later date; they should not be excluded from the Truth-Telling archive merely because they failed to come to attention within some arbitrary time frame.
Obviously, each story needs to be told in whatever language the storyteller feels most comfortable in telling it. In the case of poor diction, it may be advisable to have another speaker of the language present, in order that there can be on-the-spot clarification of the speaker’s intent. In fact, it is probably not a bad idea to have someone fluent in the language present during the interview anyway, just to ensure that what is recorded will be readily understandable by someone else at some future time. There may not be another chance to rectify any deficiencies in the recording, technical or otherwise.
English being the official language of Australia, it will be important to have faithful English translations of testimony originally given in some other language. There may even be occasions where intermediate translation into a language closely resembling the storyteller’s own may be worth while. Accommodating all these contingencies should form part of the planning phase of the project. One must, of course, recognize that certain nuances conveyed in one language may defy accurate translation into another, but one just does the best one can.
Psychosocial support should be readily available for those giving evidence, should they wish to avail themselves of it. This support would preferably come from indigenous people in the first instance, but support from non-indigenous people should not to be eschewed out of hand but rather actively encouraged, not only as a means of “closing the gap” but also as a way of forming closer ties between the two groups.
Measures need to be in place to ensure that the Truth-Telling archive is readily and freely available to everyone, including historians, jurists, politicians, journalists, authors, scriptwriters, artists, educators and students — not to mention descendants of the storytellers themselves. Putting in place such measures is, in fact, likely to prove the most challenging part of the entire project.
The tangible form of the Truth-Telling archive is a vexed issue. Given that it constitutes a prime national asset, every effort should be made to ensure its preservation far into the future. It needs to survive all manner of threats, both human and non-human. (A simple example of the latter would be bushfires.) To this end, multiple archival systems may need to be employed.
Indigenous people themselves already have knowledge transmission systems spanning millennia. It is crucial they be used in this connection too, for in the end they may prove the most long-lasting of all.
It is naïve to think that currently available digital mechanisms and stratagems will suffice for this purpose. Degradation of media, supplanting by new technologies, hacking, theft, physical destruction, loss of supportive infrastructure and lack of expertise are by no means theoretical risks. Carefully chosen writing materials and conservation techniques mean that records on paper are subject to fewer threats and still have a greater chance of surviving in the long term. Etched in rock or stone is better still! Always there are advantages and disadvantages. As I said, a vexed issue indeed. Expert advice should be sought, both within Australia and overseas.
When devising both the form of the archival material and its repository, due consideration should be given to the concept of redundancy. It is astonishing how often people put all their eggs in the one basket and end up suffering the (generally quite predictable) consequences of such foolhardy behavior.
Implementation of an archival strategy is likely to be expensive, in terms of housing, materials and upkeep. It may benefit from Government and/or philanthropic assistance, but such external support is probably not a sine qua non and in any case should not be sought or accepted if it entails any surrendering of control, dignity or authenticity by indigenous people.
The length of this essay attests to the importance I place on the Australian Truth-Telling project. I discern five aspects of the project; viz, truth recounting, truth recording, truth preservation, truth dissemination, truth honoring. I have touched on a number of these, but each merits in-depth consideration of aims, implementation and connections with other indigenous campaigns.
Although Truth-Telling is of central importance, it is not an absolute prerequisite for other endeavors such as those falling under the rubric of “closing the gap”. Work towards achieving these other goals should not be postponed until the bulk of the Truth-Telling enterprise has been completed. I am pleased to observe that this does not seem to be the case anyway, but I emphasize the point because I see other areas that appear to espouse this notion of priority and where expenditure of effort and resources could, I think, be more productive elsewhere.
I see no necessity to wait for the establishment of the much-vaunted Makarrata Commission in the expectation that it will conduct the Truth-Telling project. The less the involvement of Government in this crucial enterprise the better, in my opinion. It remains to be seen whether such a body ever gets formed and does what is required. It is pleasing to see the emergence of groups and processes that recognize the urgency of the task and are already getting on with the job.
To what extent the rest of the Australian population, particularly those wielding political and economic power, heed the lessons of the Truth-Telling project remains to be seen. The lamentable dearth of meaningful response to the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody is evidence that people may end up not truly listening after all. But no one can listen if nothing is said.
Australia needs to know the truth.