My name is Sue Gilbey. I live in an urban eco-village located on the land of the Kaurna people, in what is now Adelaide. I say that to acknowledge the people who lived here first and to boldly state that I will endeavour to be as good a custodian of my little bit of land as they were.
On October 31, in the Bremen Town Hall in Germany, I was deeply honoured to receive the International Bremen Peace Award in the individual category of Unknown Peace Worker. I was nominated by the Australian Peace Committee.
The other prize recipients were Animus and Pulse, two divisions of a Bulgarian organisation taking courageous action on violence against women in the Exemplary Organisation category, and Bishop Rubin Phillip from KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa, an outspoken advocate against apartheid and for refugees from Zimbabwe, in the Public Engagement category.
Below is an abridged version of my acceptance speech.
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Australians are brought up to believe we are from the lucky country.
I am grateful for the opportunity to draw the attention of a worldwide audience towards the peace work that is necessary in our "lucky country". For some, Australia is far from lucky.
Most people in Europe hear about Australia when some unfortunate person, often a tourist, gets eaten by a shark or a crocodile. But few know Australia is the only so-called developed country that does not have a bill of rights.
If we had a bill of rights, I would not be receiving this prize, because we would not be able to treat people who came to our shores, seeking asylum, so shamefully.
Many Australians were horrified that the Australian government would lock up men, women and children — families whose only crime was to seek a better life.
Often, they come from countries where we are engaged, with the US, in wars that have nothing to do with us.
Because of the government's treatment of refugees, a mass movement emerged in the early years of this century. Lawyers worked pro bono to defend the rights of people in detention. The sessions at the Refugee Tribunal were recorded, and volunteers transcribed the tapes, word for word, for the lawyers to use.
I was one of those volunteers, transcribing countless sorry sagas of people from countries such as Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Sri Lanka, China, and others. It was difficult, painstaking and heartbreaking work. The only reward was the possibility the individual might be released from detention and have a chance at a decent life.
Hearing public servants working on the cases trivialise these stories of horror was a defining time for me.
It accentuated a xenophobic attitude fostered by the government and readily adopted by what seemed like a majority of the population. The effect was the marginalisation of a group of people based on both religious and racial differences.
But marginalising a group of people based on race is nothing new to Australia.
We have a shameful and bloody colonial history, which is never taught in our schools. Most Australians cringe when they hear the word "genocide" uttered from some faraway land, but never give a thought to the genocide that occurred on our own shores.
Aboriginal Australia is one of the world's oldest surviving and continuing cultures, going back at least 40,000 years and probably longer. It is a testament to the spirit of the Aboriginal people that they survive still.
Since colonisation, every generation of Aboriginal people has faced a new challenge. There are too many to mention here, but consider this: the government recognised them as people only in 1967. Before that, their lives were controlled by the Flora and Fauna Act.
There would not be an Aboriginal person alive today who was not affected in some way by the Stolen Generations, a policy that meant children were taken from their mothers based on the colour of their skin.
It was only in 1992 that the fiction of Terra Nullius was overturned. Terra Nullius literally means empty land — as if no person lived here when the British arrived.
There is a lot that needs to be done to correct these wrongs.
Australia is also the only so-called developed nation to NOT have developed a treaty with the indigenous people of the land. A treaty with built-in compensation would be a good way to start to remedy some of the wrongs.
But it gets worse.
In 2007, under the leadership of then-prime minister John Howard, a state of emergency was declared in the north of Australia. The army was sent in to administer what is now known as the Northern Territory intervention. The Racial Discrimination Act was suspended, and Aboriginal people on welfare payments had half their money "quarantined" and put under the control of the government.
There have been countless debates about the intervention's outcomes two years down the track. But the fact remains that the intervention is racist. It makes me ashamed of being Australian.
We have a different government in place now, which for a while seemed to herald a change of heart. But as time passes, I seriously question what has changed. People seeking asylum in Australia are now invisible, as they are processed offshore, so we do not even see what happens to them.
The NT intervention remains. The people felt so disempowered by their own government that they sought help from the United Nations. But even with UN recommendations, nothing changes, and the disgrace that is racist Australia remains.
But this is not a note of despair to end on. It is a somewhat utopian note of hope. I believe that there is never a reason to excuse a country's actions.
Australia, like all other countries responsible for depriving people of this most fundamental set of things — that is, their rights as humans — should be brought to account.
I hope I have in some way raised awareness of the situation and I will continue to work with integrity in keeping with the aims of the award I am so grateful to have received.
[ about the Bremen Peace Award.]