The Sydney Morning Herald
http://www.smh.com.au/news/9902/24/text/features1.html

STOLEN GENERATION

Genocide amid the wattle

Date: 24/02/99

As the Federal and NSW Governments prepare to fight stolen children 
test cases, Professor Colin Tatz explains to DEBRA JOBSON why 
Australia's treatment of Aborigines adds up to an attempt at 
extermination.  

WHAT images does the word "genocide" conjure for you? Do you see 
Hutus in Rwanda wielding their pangas to slash Tutsi to death? Do you 
imagine Jews with their ribs sticking out in Nazi camps? Do you 
recoil at remembered images of the Pol Pot regime's rows of skulls?  

The killing fields have been the fixation and fascination of 
Macquarie University's Professor Colin Tatz who, amid the peaceful 
suburbia of North Ryde, heads one of just three academic centres in 
the world devoted to studying genocide.  

Tatz, long-time explorer of the dark side of the earth, has just 
released a monograph in which he urges Australians to rethink 
genocide.  

He wants us to not only consider black blood spilt on the wattle in 
our frontier wars, but also how there was "premeditation" in attempts 
to erase the group known as Aborigines through assimilation policies 
and, especially, removing children from their families.  

"Certainly the quantum leap from images of Auschwitz to sad and 
ragged children clustered in old sepia photographs is beyond most 
Australians," he writes in Genocide in Australia.  

As allegations that the Federal Government has been guilty of 
genocide in its treatment of Aborigines are about to be raised again 
in a Federal Court case in Darwin starting next Monday, his paper is 
bound to stir up the "black armband" debate about history all over 
again.  

Matching the international Genocide Convention against our entire 
history, he found Australia culpable in three, or possibly four 
areas, using the definition "that genocide is the systematic attempt 
to destroy, by various means, a defined group's essential 
foundations".  

The murders of Aborigines last century, and the child removal and 
forced assimilation policies of this century all amount to genocide, 
he argues. The curiously named "protection" policies, in which 
Aborigines were locked away in the local equivalents of concentration 
camps, could fit the definition of genocide, too, he says.  

Tatz's new paper for the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and 
Torres Strait Islander Studies is not likely to find much favour with 
Prime Minister John Howard, who has said most Australians would not 
accept that child removal policies were genocide. Nor is he likely to 
find a fan in the Federal Minister for Aboriginal Affairs, Senator 
John Herron, who has said he saw genocide in Rwanda and it has not 
happened here.  

However, for those who believe these things are all in our past, Tatz 
has warned in his paper Genocide in Australia: "It will haunt." Tatz 
will assist with the haunting. As an expert witness in the Federal 
Court case beginning next week, Tatz will give evidence on the 
international legal meaning of the word "genocide".  

In two test cases bound to refloat calls for the Federal Government 
to apologise and make reparations to the "stolen generations", two 
Northern Territory Aborigines removed as children, Lorna Cubillo and 
Peter Gunner, are claiming damages from the Federal Government.  

About 750 other Aborigines are waiting with similar allegations that 
the Federal Government unlawfully removed them from their families 
under the Aborigines Ordinance and also allegedly breached its duty 
of care to them, says Koulla Roussos, senior solicitor with the 
stolen generation litigation unit at the North Australian Aboriginal 
Legal Aid Service. "We are hoping the precedent may affect over 2,000 
other claimants," says Roussos.  

For those who can only envisage Auschwitz-style tactics when they 
think of genocide, Tatz has a story to show that people can still be 
complicit in attempts to obliterate a group, even with goodwill.  

As a Jew, born white in South Africa, Tatz derives from the victim 
and the conqueror sides of the power equation and in his adopted 
country of Australia, he says, he nearly become an accomplice of 
genocide 37 years ago. "For years I have thought about how close I 
came to a stupid decision," says Tatz.  

It involved a beautiful black baby his wife Sandra was asked to hold 
for half an hour. A student of and activist in Aboriginal affairs, 
Tatz visited the Retta Dixon home in Darwin with Sandra as part of 
his research into the Northern Territory wardship system. This is the 
home in which Lorna Cubillo will allege she was beaten and 
mistreated.  

A staff member handed Sandra the baby when she took Tatz on a tour of 
the home. "Would you like him?" she asked, tour over. The couple had 
two young children, but liberal ideas of helping a child out of an 
institution into a good loving home tantalised them. As they 
pondered, Tatz says, they realised that it would be wrong. "We 
thought: this kid is going to grow up black, but to grow up black and 
Jewish is too much to impose on any child."  

They said no. With each new revelation about the destructiveness of 
child removal policies, Tatz has become proportionately more 
grateful. Apart from the appalling injustices and suffering a Human 
Rights Commission inquiry has revealed, a study of the United Nations 
Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide 
which this country ratified on July 12, 1951, has made it clear to 
Tatz that such removal was a crime.  

According to the convention, which has effect in international law, 
genocide of a group includes forced assimilation and "forcibly 
transferring children of the group to another group". Tatz says that 
in NSW the reason most often stated in official records was the 
standard: "For being Aboriginal."  

While the Federal Government fights off damages claims in Darwin, the 
NSW Government is also about to embark on a legal battle against 
paying compensation in the State's first stolen children test case, 
starting in the Supreme Court on April 19. Joy Williams, who was 
taken from her mother when she was 10 hours old, is seeking 
compensation from the State Government, alleging false imprisonment, 
negligence and breach of fiduciary duty.  

Karen McMahon, the solicitor with the Kingsford Legal Centre handling 
Williams's case, says common law does not provide for any claim to be 
made on the basis of genocide. "What is not likely to be in dispute 
is that the Aborigines Welfare Board owed a duty of care to the 
children removed, but the dispute will be over whether their actions 
amounted to negligence," she says.  

The Public Interest Advocacy Centre has urged the NSW Government not 
to go the route of litigation, but to set up a Reparations Tribunal 
to deal with stolen generations claims. While the Government has not 
ruled it out, the Herald understands that in its draft official 
response to the Human Rights Commission's swag of recommendations 
urging State Government action to redress past child removal, there 
is no such tribunal. Meanwhile, it is fighting stolen children's 
court damages claims.  

WHAT of the other types of genocide of which Tatz has found us 
guilty? That dirty word still avoided by nearly all historians 
describes the killings, from the murders of Aborigines in Tasmania 
beginning in 1806 to the West Australian Forrest River massacre of 
1926, contends Tatz. As he has predicted, that past is still reaching 
into our present.  

Last weekend, the immediate past head of the reconciliation process 
for the Uniting Church, the Rev John Brown, met some of the 
descendants of the Myall Creek massacre of 23 Aborigines on June 10, 
1838, about 50 kilometres west of Inverell. They are planning a 
permanent monument. Brown has no trouble calling the massacres 
genocide.  

The third act of genocide where Tatz has found Australia culpable is 
"the 20th century attempts to achieve the biological disappearance of 
those deemed 'half-caste' Aborigines" through its assimilation 
policies.  

The fourth, the one which he believes other scholars should take up, 
is an argument that protection policies may have fallen within the 
international definition of genocide by "causing serious bodily or 
mental harm to members of the group".  

Tatz gives as an example the imprisonment which might have been be 
meted to Queensland Aborigines under the guise of "protection" on 
settlements and missions.  

Following a Human Rights Commission order, one small piece of 
accounting with the nation's past treatment of Aborigines was 
recently settled. In a hard-won victory, following a court battle, 
the Queensland Government four months ago apologised and paid $7,000 
apiece to seven Aborigines who had alleged they were severely 
underpaid for work on the notorious punitive "mission" Palm Island 
from 1975-84.  

Tatz still believes his strongest case of genocide having occurred 
here is in the matter of the stolen children.  

A Northern Territory man, Alec Kruger, who lost a High Court test 
case fought largely on whether the Aborigines Ordinance under which 
he was taken was constitutional, lost a formal complaint to the Human 
Rights Commission, but has appealed.  

Whatever technical arguments there may be about genocide, solicitor 
Roussos appeals to all involved to think of the thousands of 
Aboriginal people who are still waiting for tangible recognition of 
their suffering.  

Lorna Cubillo's grandmother used to coat her light-skinned body in 
ash to stop her from being taken from the Banka Banka station just 
outside Tennant Creek where they lived because she knew of the 
official policy of "removing" such children.  

However, in the 1940s, when Cubillo was about six, she was taken to 
Philip Creek mission run by the Aboriginal Inland Mission, 40 
kilometres north-east of Tennant Creek. Her grandmother joined her, 
but she was segregated from her because "full-bloods" were not 
supposed to mingle with others.  

One day, a truck turned up and 17 Aboriginal children were put on it, 
told they were going on a picnic. The mothers knew differently. 
Cubillo remembers them falling to the ground, crying. She remembers 
looking back and seeing smoke and dust and hearing screaming and 
wailing.  

In the open truck, Cubillo was given a baby to hold. The baby was 
suffering from diarrhoea and Cubillo transferred water from her own 
mouth to stop her from dehydrating - all the way to the Retta Dixon 
home in Darwin. At this home, she will allege in court, she suffered 
regular beatings.  

Peter Gunner, 52, was also hauled away at the age of seven in the 
back of a truck from Utopia outside Alice Springs. He was taken to St 
Mary's Home. He will allege that promises to his mother, Topsy 
Angala, that he would visit on school holidays, were never kept and 
that he suffered regular beatings, food shortages and a lack of 
basics such as clothing and blankets.  

Both Cubillo and Gunner will allege unlawful removal "with wanton, 
cruel and reckless indifference" to their welfare and rights. They 
will allege injury through post-traumatic stress disorder, emotional 
distress and psychological trauma.  

They will also allege injury through isolation from their people's 
social, cultural and spiritual life and denial of equal opportunity 
in social, educational and cultural prospects compared with non-
Aboriginal Australians. They will allege that they were not allowed 
to speak Aboriginal languages. They will also claim compensation for 
loss of their entitlement to land and other advantages they could 
have enjoyed under the Northern Territory Aboriginal Land Rights Act. 
 

The Federal Government, which has engaged a Melbourne QC, Doug 
Meagher, will seek to have both cases struck out on technical legal 
grounds. Its arguments will include that it is too long after the 
alleged events for the Commonwealth to be able to defend the claims 
adequately. The plaintiffs' team, headed by another Melbourne QC, 
Jack Rush, is keen to get to the substance of the claims.  

Although no dollar figure has been put on compensation, the Federal 
Government is no doubt mindful that these are test cases and a win 
for the plaintiffs may potentially lead to large payouts. Yet, 
Roussos and others representing the stolen ones fear many will die 
before they see an outcome.  

Barbara Cummings, a spokeswoman for the Northern Territory Stolen 
Generation Aboriginal Corporation, who was also an inmate of the 
Retta Dixon home, says: "We are all tired and saddened waiting for 
justice. We want the Government to feel our loss. We are the children 
of stolen dreams and stolen hopes."  

Before the Human Rights Commission inquiry, says Cummings, she never 
used the word genocide. She had another, perhaps more Australian, 
term for it. "The Government tried to wipe us out."  

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is prohibited. 


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