Anne Urquhart (Tasmania, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Hansard source

In 2007, the Council of Australian Governments committed to closing the gap in life expectancy between Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders and non-Indigenous Australians. In 2008, during his apology to Indigenous Australians, then Prime Minister Kevin Rudd promised to deliver a report card each year on the government's efforts to close the gap. For over a decade now we have sat in this place listening to report after report, speech after speech, from government after government. And as we listen, risking becoming numbed by statistics and disconnected from the reality of the human lives they represent, around us in this building over 2,500 clocks are ticking out the time, letting us know as each hour passes that we still have not turned the tide on Indigenous disadvantage, reminding us that a nation not yet reconciled isn't truly whole and reminding us that, for eight long years, Liberal coalition governments have kicked the can down the road on responsibility for and progress on closing the gap. Last week, Prime Minister Morrison delivered the latest iteration of this report. Sadly and disturbingly, the data shows that massive disadvantage remains and that on many of the targets there has been no substantial change.

For so many First Australians, life is deprived, frightening and unjust. They are still far more likely to be jailed, far more likely to die by suicide and far more likely to have their children removed than non-Indigenous Australians. Out of the 17 targets, only three are on track. As my colleague in the other place Linda Burney pointed out: even if the adult incarceration goal were to be met, the rate would still be more than 11 times higher than that of the non-Indigenous population; even if the youth incarceration goal of a reduction of 30 per cent by 2031 were to be met, the rate would still be more than 12 times higher than for the non-Indigenous population; and, even if the out-of-home-care goal of a 45 per cent reduction by 2031 were to be met, the rate would still be five times higher than for the non-Indigenous population.

This year, Mr Morrison presented the parliament with a new agreement: the National Agreement on Closing the Gap, a full and genuine partnership with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people in making policies to close the gap. It is a welcome step, but should it really have taken eight long years to work that out? Lasting change will only stem from Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people having a genuine say in the policies that affect them, a voice that will help to finally end what the Uluru Statement from the Heart describes as 'the torment of our powerlessness'.

In north-west Tasmania, we have a wonderful organisation called No. 34 Aboriginal Health Service. They encourage their community to achieve better health outcomes by offering a wide range of medical, support and referral services, as well as programs to improve health and wellbeing and promote connection to country, culture and community. They look to reduce the barriers for clients to access medical care, and to facilitate pathways that are culturally safe and easy to engage with.

At one of their events I attended recently, we were invited to watch a film made by Arts Health Agency in collaboration with No. 34 staff and clients—one of a number of projects that they had made together since the first COVID-19 lockdowns. Part of its strategy was to maintain connections through art-making, story-telling and the sharing of knowledge. The film project was made with the women's group narta sista, most of whom live with chronic health conditions. It explores their deep connections with each other and how a health service supports their social and emotional wellbeing. It looks at the present and the past. It looks at the way the removal of children by white authorities, as well as other racist policies, divided families and still does to this day—how these policies separated whole communities, so sisters, aunties and cousins would cross the street and not acknowledge one another because one was whiter than the other. The film is also a conversation about what the women are learning from each other and what kind of 'old' they want to be in the future. What does cultural care look like as we age?

I want to thank narta sista for their generosity in sharing their stories. I felt deeply honoured to hear them. The film strengthens their solidarity and resilience, and the women of narta sista are proud of their achievement. The film is part of their voice and their truth. They have the power to decide how, when and even if to share their stories. That power is incredibly important, because only they fully understand the torment of the powerless, which they have known.

There are many good and healing stories in places like No. 34, and there are other signs of hope. The Liberal Premier of Tasmania has recently appointed Tasmania's former Governor Kate Warner and law professor Tim McCormack to lead talks with the state's Aboriginal community in an effort to find a path to reconciliation and a treaty. If the Liberal Premier of Tasmania can do that, then I dream that I might one day hear the words 'voice, treaty and truth' uttered by a majority of those on the other side of this chamber. Honestly, it baffles me why a request to consult people on matters that affect them is seen by some here as such a big ask.

It was a grave disappointment to hear the Prime Minister last week rule out the First Nations voice to parliament before the next election. Voice means First Nations people having a say in decisions, policies and laws that affect them. After centuries of violence, theft and dispossession, isn't that the least that we can get sorted—not a third chamber of parliament but a mechanism safely enshrined in our Constitution: a place to talk and a place to listen, a place that cannot be swept away every time the political tide turns? Voice, truth and treaty—First Nations people have asked for these things, demonstrating an extraordinary patience, a patience that Linda Burney describes as so great that it counts as an expression of profound generosity.

Most of my colleagues know that I'm a pretty impatient person. Once I can see that something needs doing, I can't see the logic in delay. As I walk around this parliament building, its walls adorned with so many breathtaking works of Aboriginal art, as well as those 2,500 clocks, which seem to be ticking louder than ever, it feels as though time is slipping away. But sharing stories and truth takes time—healing takes time—because there is so much to find out. A makarrata, a coming together after a struggle, is a beautiful concept that a Labor government will make real. An Albanese Labor government will establish an independent makarrata commission as a priority, to oversee processes for treaty-making and truth-telling. It will also work with a constitutionally enshrined voice to parliament. Closing the gap requires tangible action, which Labor will deliver, such as: doubling the number of Indigenous rangers; setting a target to increase First Nations employment in the Australian Public Service to five per cent; supporting the good work of many of Australia's largest employers to increase the rate of First Nations employment; improving access to training and apprenticeships for First Nations people; addressing the market in fake art, which robs many First Nations artists of income; supporting growth for Indigenous owned businesses in domestic and international trade; reaffirming the importance of Indigenous rights in future international trade agreements; and providing an additional $10 million each year for Indigenous protected areas.

Listening to and empowering First Nations people will be at the very core of our approach to closing the gap and reconciliation. Australia needs a government that will deliver the Uluru statement in full—voice, treaty and truth. Only a Labor government will make that happen.