12+   I grew up in Perth, Western Australia, in the 1960s and '70s, with very little interest in Indigenous or Aboriginal issues, as we called them in those days. It wasn't until I left Perth for Sydney in the early 1980s and then headed overseas to live in England from the late '80s to the mid-'90s that I started to question the "true history" of Australia.

Please note: Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people are warned this blog post contains the names and images of people who have passed away. "Aboriginal" and "Indigenous" are used synonymously for Australia's First Peoples. I wrote the post on the traditional lands of the Gadigal People of the Eora Nation.

By the time I returned to Sydney in 1996, my views on Australian history and Indigenous "issues" had radically changed from those of the twenty-one-year-old who had left Perth in 1983. Partly, the change was because I was older and had followed Henry Rollins' sage advice:

"A  great way to learn about your country is to leave it." 

But mainly, it was due to the documentaries I'd seen aired in England in 1988 while Australia was celebrating the Bicentenary of colonisation and the books I'd subsequently read there, written by Indigenous and non-Indigenous writers.

Long Journey of Understanding

I continued my long journey of understanding Indigenous people, the discrimination they had endured, and the disadvantages they faced compared to other Australians after I returned to Australia. I read more books, watched more documentaries, and attended talks and workshops. 

In 1997, the National Inquiry into the Separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Children from Their Families tabled the Bringing Them Home report in the national Parliament. A key recommendation of the report was for an official apology for the forcible removal of Indigenous children, known as the Stolen Generations. However, the conservative Prime Minister John Howard refused this request, claiming he did not hold to the "black armband" view of Australian history.

Howard's truculence was gobsmacking. But then, as Henry Reynolds explores in his book Truth-Telling (one of my favourite books of 2023), there is a "great forgetting" of Indigenous people in Australian history during the first sixty years of the 20th century:

"It meant that two and even three generations of Australians were nurtured with a national story that left out much of the most significant aspects of their colonial heritage."

Howard and I belong to the "great forgetting" generations. The difference between us (apart from our age and politics) is that I've bothered to look into the history swept under the carpet by White Australia after Federation in 1901. So, unlike him, I subscribe to the black armband view of Indigenous Australian history.

Step Towards Healing

In 2007, with a change of government, the Labor Prime Minster of Australia, Kevin Rudd, finally formally apologised to the Stolen Generations:

I move: That today we honour the Indigenous peoples of this land, the oldest continuing cultures in human history. We reflect on their past mistreatment. We reflect in particular on the mistreatment of those who were Stolen Generations—this blemished chapter in our nation’s history. [Extract]

It was a moment of pride for all Australians and a step towards reconciliation, truth-telling and healing for Indigenous people.

Unfortunately, the negative No-vote campaign and the result of the October 2023 Referendum to recognise Indigenous people in the Australian Constitution and enshrine a Voice to Parliament on matters affecting them suggests Australia has not progressed far beyond that first step.

I was part of the Yes-vote campaign. When I joined in May, I thought I had a reasonable grasp of the facts, but I soon realised I still had much to learn about the long fight for Indigenous/First Nations recognition and respect in Australia. Unlike the No-vote campaign's catch cry, "If you don't know, vote No", I wanted to be informed, so I read more books, attended forums and workshops, and watched webinars.

Pride and Shame

I had many proud moments while campaigning. I co-led a committed team of like-minded volunteers in my neighbourhood. We learned to develop thick skins as we were accused in the streets and on social media of "dividing Australia by race" and of "being racists". But we were also buoyed by the support of people across all demographics. 

I also met a fellow campaigner on social media, and one of the most joyous days during that period was meeting him in person at a Yes-vote rally. He's from the western suburbs of Sydney, and I live in the eastern suburbs. We wouldn't have met without the Voice campaign, yet we still get together regularly for breakfast.

But perhaps my proudest moment was when I popped back to Perth for a family wedding on the weekend before the Referendum and had a photo with my dad and brothers all wearing our "Yes" t-shirts.

Of course, my saddest and most shameful moment, as I wrote in Some Things Change, Some Stay the Same, was seeing the Referendum results on TV early on Saturday evening. I was devastated, but my thoughts were with Indigenous Australians, who, once again, had been let down by the country.

As Indigenous campaigner Noel Pearson observed:

"We are a much unloved people."

Hope for the Future

I launched Tall And True in 2017. Since then, I have shared many posts and stories reflecting on my journey of understanding Indigenous issues, looking under the "carpet" of Australian politics and history, my connections with Indigenous people like Alice Nannup and My Nan, and what I've learned from all of this. 

In a post about NAIDOC Week in 2020, I commented that it's "a celebration of Indigenous Australian culture and survival" and "an opportunity for Australians to acknowledge our Indigenous people and to reflect upon a sad and shameful history". 

I had hoped NAIDOC Week 2024 might also celebrate the recognition of Indigenous and Torres Strait Islander people in the Australian Constitution and the establishment of a Voice to Parliament. 

But it seems we'll have to wait for the passing of the "great forgetting generations" and hope that the younger, better-educated and more empathetic generations strive for a greater understanding and love of Indigenous people.

© 2024 Robert Fairhead

I dedicate this post to my stepmother, Melanie, who passed away on 12 July 1994, and my Nan who also passed away on 12 July 1996.

N.B. You might like to read the short story I wrote during the Voice to Parliament campaign, drawing on autofiction from my "journey of understanding", Some Things Change.