'Race politics'
Andrew Markus,
Monash University
John
Howard is a very successful politician - he has won three federal elections
in a row, and in the game of politics in Australia few have done better
than that.
John
Howard is astute.
He
has an understanding of the Australian electorate - he understands that
on some issues a leader can be well ahead of public opinion. On other
issues he must be in the pack. To be successful, there has to be a balance
between vision - and bread and circuses.
John
Howard made a choice in the second half of the 1980s. This choice was
to serve him well in the long term, but at the time it led to more than
one humiliating defeat.
He
would lead in the economic realm: radical reform of the Australian economy,
taxation system and industrial relations would be his legacy for future
generations.
In
the realm of social values and national identity he would take his place
alongside conservatives. Howard would tap into a mood in the electorate,
first clearly identified and mobilised by Professor Geoffrey Blainey,
a public intellectual much respected by the future prime minister -
and much honoured since 1996.
Let
us briefly examine the first run - an unsuccessful trial run - for the
new politics of race based nationalism. It is 1988, the aftermath of
Labor electoral victory. Bob Hawke is Prime Minister, John Howard Leader
of the Opposition.
In
May 1988, at the first meeting in Canberra's new Parliament House, Howard
refuses to endorse a resolution which states that Aboriginal people
have been dispossessed of their land.
He
refuses to accept the view that there is any aspect of past policy for
which he bears responsibility. Articulating the rhetoric that is to
be the hallmark of Pauline Hanson by some eight years, he declares --
'I do not accept the doctrine of hereditary guilt. I acknowledge that,
in the past, wrongs were done to Aboriginals, but they weren't done
by me. They weren't done by my parents. They weren't done by my generation
... I am strongly against dividing the country between black and white.
I think that is a recipe for disaster.'
Multiculturalism
is denounced as a symptom of loss of national direction: 'to me multiculturalism
suggests that we can't make up our minds who we are or what we believe
in'. In January 1989 he states:
There
is not the time here to discuss the development of policy following
the 1996 electoral victory - a task which I have attempted in my book Race: John Howard and the Remaking of Australia, published last
year. But let us recall four moments, one occurring after its publication
but its course entirely consistent with the analysis there presented.
[1]
It
is the 26th of May 1997. Prime Minister Howard delivers the opening
address to 1000 delegates at the Reconciliation Convention in Melbourne,
held to commemorate the 30th anniversary of the 1967 referendum.
He
states that that it is an 'occasion for frank speaking'. He explains
that he is optimistic about the process of reconciliation because of
his faith in the 'decency, tolerance, generosity and common sense of
the Australian people', who 'respect the right to a 'fair go' for all
irrespective of colour, background or belief'. He states that Australia
is 'one of the fairest, most egalitarian and tolerant societies in the
world'.
In
the face of hostile response from his audience, some of whom boo, while
many others rise and turn their backs, the prime minister becomes increasingly
vehement. Speaking in a booming voice he hectors the audience, stating
that reconciliation will not work 'if it puts a higher value on symbolic
gestures and overblown promises rather than the practical needs of Aboriginal
and Torres Strait Islander people in areas like health, housing, education
and employment'.
Reconciliation
will not work if the views of extremists prevail: the disadvantages
and past injustices have to be acknowledged, but reconciliation cannot
be based on a sense of guilt and shame, on calls for different laws
for different racial groups, on disruption of national events and levelling
of charges of racism against those who do not agree with particular
points of view. It is necessary to reject 'extremist views on all sides'.
His government will adopt a 'practical, on-the-ground approach' and
target the 'true causes' of indigenous disadvantage through programs
in health, housing, education and employment.
He
expresses his personal 'deep sorrow for those …who suffered injustices
under the practices of past generations', but in facing 'the realities
of the past' it is necessary to reject the view that 'Australia's history
[is] …little more than a disgraceful record of imperialism, exploitation
and racism'.
To
cries of 'shame' he becomes increasingly angry, thumping the lectern
and pointing at Aboriginal leaders in the audience, declaring that he
has spent a 'great deal of time in trying to find a just, fair and workable
outcome' following the High Court's Wik ruling. His ten-point plan provides
an 'equitable balance' between the respect for the principles of native
title and the interest of pastoralists and others 'in securing certainty'.
In 'the name of truth' he repudiates the claim that the ten-point plan
takes away the rights of indigenous people. His plan is 'fair and equitable'
and 'the only basis of a proper approach'.
[2]
It
is the 10th of June 1998, three nights before the 1998 Queensland state
election. The opinion polls point to a surge in support for Pauline
Hanson's One Nation. Prime Minister John Howard appears on the Stan
Zemanek radio show- broadcast on 35 stations in the eastern states and
renowned for its pro-Hanson sympathies - to appeal to One Nation supporters
to give their second preferences to the coalition.
He
seeks to convince listeners that the coalition is worthy of their respect.
His government is determined to fix up the 'Native Title mess'; it will
not accept one law for Aborigines and another law for farmers and miners.
It has reduced immigration to a 'pretty modest level'.
The
family reunion program was 'out of control' in the past but now it has
been 'very very significantly limited'. In case the listeners miss the
point, the prime minister repeats: family reunion has been 'very very
significantly limited'. Without referring specifically to immigration
from Asia, he states: 'we have reduced the emphasis on family reunion
and we are now bringing in far more people from different parts of
the world who have skills and who can make a contribution'.
A
two-year waiting period has been introduced to limit immigrant access
to welfare. And for the benefit of Queensland listeners, subjected to
One Nation's criticism of the United Nations, he states that his government
had changed the approach to international treaties that would limit
national sovereignty; he was 'angry' about the treaties that governments
had entered in the past.
[3]
It
is 27-28th of May 2000, the climax of the ten-year process of reconciliation.
This is to be occasion for acceptance of the 'Declaration Towards Reconciliation',
of nationally broadcast public ceremonies and the People's Walk for
Reconciliation across the Sydney Harbour Bridge.
An
estimated 150,000 to 250,000 walk, but the prime minister and key members
of his cabinet are absent. The 'Declaration' is not accepted by Howard
because of disagreement over some of its key elements. There is no national
apology at the major public ceremony, held at the Opera House. Political
commentators write of 'a roadblock to progress', the absence of closure,
of splits where there should have been unity.
[4]
It
is the 7th of October 2001, two days after the calling of the federal
election. The government announces that asylum seekers have thrown their
children into the sea in an attempt to prompt rescue by the Australian
navy. In one interview Prime Minister Howard states: 'I don't want people
like that in Australia. I tell you - I don't want people like that in
Australia! Genuine refugees don't do that.'
Ministers
Ruddock, Reith and Downer join in the condemnation. Ruddock observes
that 'I regard these practices as some of the most disturbing practices
that I have come across in the time that I have been involved in public
life - clearly planned and premeditated'. On October 10 Reith produces
two photographs of children in the water; he also states that there
is film footage, 'someone has looked at it and it is an absolute fact
- children were thrown into the water'.
The
so-called border protection issue features throughout the election campaign.
While Labor seeks valiantly to keep in step the government trumpets
its asylum policy. At the Liberal Party launch the Prime Minister declares:
'We will decide, and nobody else, who comes to this country'.
In
the last week of the election, voters in marginal seats receive postcards
from the Prime Minister reminding electors that 'we decide who comes
into this country'. Liberal Party director Lynton Crosby defines the
two issues before the electorate: economic management and border protection.
What
do these incidents tell us about the state of diversity in Australia
today.
Let
me make three attempts to address this issue.
[1]
First,
I will return to the alleged children-in-the sea incident.
The
press has been obsessed with the issue of whether there was deliberate
deception of the Australian electorate.
I
suggest that there is another issue of possibly greater significance.
Why
has it been almost universally accepted that the throwing of children
into the sea would necessarily indicate that the parents had no regard
for their children - and would be unfit to be granted asylum in this
country?
Had
children been thrown into the sea it could as easily have been interpreted
as evidence of the love of parents, a desperate plea to a humane society
not to let young lives be wasted in the no man's land of despair, the
refugee camps which disfigure the Asian landscape.
If
the parents were uncaring they could have abandoned children, leaving
themselves unencumbered. Would they drag children over borders, from
country to country, at great expense and heightened risk, merely to
provide themselves with a bargaining chip once they reached their destination
in the First World?
What
does it say of Australian society that there can be blindness to this
reality? What does it say that such interpretations are placed on the
conduct of asylum seekers, not least by the prime minister and senior
ministers of this country?
And
this in the context of the irony - which is unlikely to be lost on subsequent
generations - that those in government making the allegation that parents
have no regard for their children are the same ministers who bring pressure
on captains of barely seaworthy craft - carrying children - to put out
on the high sea, they are members of a government which incarcerates
young children alongside severely traumatised and depressed adults in
isolated, remote locations, in the attempt to deter future arrivals.
[2]
Second,
let us reflect on the distance between the Australia of 1988 and of
2001. In 1988 the attempt to introduce the politics of race based nationalism
was a failure; in 1989 John Howard lost the leadership of the Liberal
Party, a position he was not to regain for six years, following the
failure of three successors. In 2001 the same or a similar form of politics
proved to be resoundingly successful.
Fear
is a potent force in politics. In recent times Labor has based electoral
campaigns on fear of the GST, with spectacular success in 1993.
The
fear of outsiders, of infiltration and destruction from within, has
been a theme raised on more than one occasion within the conservative
side of politics.
In
the 1950s Prime Minister Menzies made much of the communist threat and
by innuendo questioned the loyalty of Labor. Some of his hard men were
more direct in their public accusations. Such campaigning, kicking the
commie can, was parodied as a hunt for reds under beds - but it was
hardly a laughing matter for those who fell victim to paranoia and suffered
destruction of their livelihoods and reputations. In 1954 Menzies won
an election he was expected to lose - following a dramatic turn in electoral
fortunes in the context of the sensation caused by the defection of
Third Secretary Petrov from the Soviet Embassy in Canberra.
Some
may think that in 2001 we witnessed a re-run of 1954 - in the guise
of reffos under the beds.
Menzies
and Howard harvested fear: fear of communism, fear of armed invasion,
fear of land rights, of multiculturalism, of national borders, of Muslim
asylum seekers. Both prime ministers dealt with issues of fundamental
importance for Australian - in a way to exploit them for political gain.
[3]
Now
a third - and final - attempt to provide insight into the state of Australian
diversity.
Neville
Roach has been widely honoured as a great Australian - a leader of industry,
a worker for community understanding, advisor to many Australian governments.
A much more balanced individual that those like myself, perhaps given
to overstatement.
And
yet on 25 January of this year Neville Roach made the decision to resign
from his posts as chairman of the Council for Multicultural Australia
and chairman of the Business (Migration) Advisory Panel. Further, he
courted the media in doing so, a measure of his concern for the future
of the country he choose to make his own.
Neville
Roach explained that the issues that most concerned him related to asylum-seekers,
family reunion, non-discriminatory immigration and Aboriginal reconciliation.
He
lamented that in areas vital for the future the government was allowing
the lead to be taken by the prejudiced elements in society, and to some
extent contributing to prejudice, rather than fostering toleration and
understanding.
One
of the features of the present day is a willingness to close eyes. Simple,
clear-cut, 'strong' solutions are unquestioningly presented as a virtue;
attention to the complexity of human behaviour is seen as a luxury not
be indulged.
Thus
much discussion is in terms of abstractions, divorced from informed
understanding of the human condition. A recent, much acclaimed, study
of the racist perspective posits that one of its key features is 'an
epistemology of ignorance', 'a schedule of structured blindnesses' -
a refusal to see.
We
need to recognise that the cast of mind that encourages us to turn away
from the suffering of others, to demonise rather than relate to fellow
human beings, has its impact not only on asylum policy; it informs approaches
to a range of concerns in this diverse nation of Australia.
