The guilt trip is a fruitless journey

Some weeks ago I had a piece published in a mainstream broadsheet newspaper. Aware that the general public doesn't have the same sophisticated grasp of Indigenous justice issues as you clever dicks who read journals like On Line Opinion, I kept it pretty straightforward.

The article gently explored the notion that Australia was “invaded”. I mentioned Jandamarra and the resistance wars, but concluded that it seemed more important to work for a just society than to agonise endlessly over the invasion issue.

I made the fairly unremarkable observation that the “practical reconciliation” ambition to improve outcomes in health, housing, education and employment was important - but that this had to be accompanied by a recognition that Aboriginal people are Australian citizens with rights and entitlements.

That they were here first.

Nothing to raise the hackles here. Just some “line and length” stuff about Indigenous disadvantage and the pressing need to make amends.

A few days later, a letter from A. Correspondent of Seaside Suburb bobbed up on the paper's letters page, pointing out that “with rights come responsibilities”.

Fair enough, too.

But AC ended his letter with the curious observation that “neither hereditary guilt, nor guilt by association has any place in a democracy”.

It struck me as odd, because I'd not even mentioned the “g” word in the piece. Never do.

It's just one that seems to crop up automatically whenever people wag their chins about Indigenous affairs.

Long ago I did a few units of psychology. My progress in this field of endeavour was sadly limited, not least because the tutorial sessions coincided with live bands in the student union building.

But I've watched Jerry and Oprah often enough to play pop psychologist, and my preliminary diagnosis is that the “guilt people” may be suffering from unresolved personal issues.

I've done 13 years in the Catholic education system, so I know a bit about guilt.

But I can't hold a candle to these folk who are determined to divulge that they are “not guilty” of dispossessing blackfellas, conducting massacres or stealing children. I've got a message for these proclaimers of purity: “You're right”. In fact, you are absolutely and unreservedly innocent.

But this isn't about you.

This is about getting the justice done.

The trick is to agree that Indigenous Australians don't get a fair go and to agitate for something to be done about it. I don't think I'm Robinson Crusoe in feeling personally guilty about some of the foolish things I've done over the years.

When we make bad decisions we ought to accept responsibility for the consequences of our actions. I'm sure AC would back me up on this one. But I don't feel guilty about the stolen generation, or about the brutal mistreatment dished out to the blackfellas before I even arrived on this mortal coil. That would be absurd.

Don't get me wrong, I feel deeply saddened and pretty angry that these things were allowed to happen. But not guilty.

What I feel most of all is a sense that we must do something now to try and put things right. I reckon we should look, for example, at self-determination - at enabling Indigenous Australians to have a voice in this post-ATSIC world.

I reckon we should look at land justice - through native title, or any other tool that comes to hand. I reckon we should look at giving Aboriginal Australia a fair go in health, housing, employment and life chances in general.

All those years ago on that hot summer day in Redfern Park, Prime Minister Paul Keating touched on the guilt issue. He referred to the report of the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody, saying that it “showed with devastating clarity” that the “past lives on” in terms of the inequality, racism and injustice faced by Indigenous Australians.

But he went on to say that the document should not fill us with guilt. "Down the years, there has been no shortage of guilt, but it has not produced the responses we need. Guilt is not a very constructive emotion."

It seems to me that for some folk, the option of donning the hair shirt seems curiously attractive.

It's no business of mine what you mob get up to behind the venetian blinds - whatever floats your boat is fine with me.

But I can't see how sticking pins into your feet will bring us any closer to sorting out the unfinished business.

We need to give the self-flagellation a rest, and concentrate on getting the justice done.