If Reconciliation Is ‘Dead’, Where Do We Go From Here?

Growing up in a Koori household, Reconciliation Week always occupied a peculiar space in my mind. It was an event I was never a fan of — but nor did I entirely dismiss it. For many years, it occupied a neutral space in the political landscape of my family: a well-meaning initiative that, while frustratingly hollow at times, felt benign enough in its earnestness that it didn't provoke outright distaste.

Reconciliation Week often inspired little more than sarcastic quips, side-eyes and giggles while yarning in our cramped family living room, the waiting areas of our local Aboriginal Medical Service and the common areas at University Indigenous institutes. It was within these private areas of Aboriginal social life that I felt an overwhelming sense of, “If it makes people feel better, why not?” 

However, as I grew older, the scales began to tip. The deepening wrinkles on the faces of my elder family members mirrored the growing weight of their disappointment. Another year, another racist politician. Another year, another preventable death in the community. Another year, another gunji (cop) harassing my family for driving in the “wrong” suburb. Another year, and more of the same bullshit. 

Despite the continuing injustices, there have been genuine improvements in other areas for First Nations people. However, these are far outweighed by the continuing realities we face, such as mass incarceration and the 97% of First Nations people who experience racism ‘often’.

I love seeing more First Nations people in media than ever before, the support for reintroducing our languages and the increasing attention to our perspectives. In many ways, it’s been both exciting and unnerving to have non-Indigenous people perceive my Aboriginality as “cool.” But what does that mean when I get the next funeral notice? What does that mean when I see my people working twice as hard to escape poverty? Or when I witness my coastal homelands being desecrated for tourism, watching non-Indigenous people exploit my land, leaving nothing for my burray (children)?

It’s why the shift this year with First Nations people my age calling for an end to the Reconciliation agenda does not surprise me — in fact, I’ve joined them. But where do we go next?

If the current framework of Reconciliation cannot deliver the next crucial wins for First Nations justice, we’re going to need to explore a new way of reckoning with the past and present to model new relationships for our future.

One prominent alternative has come from First Nations Futures, a not-for-profit organisation looking to create new mechanisms for redistributing wealth. This year, it has rebranded Reconciliation Week as Redistribution Week, using an educational campaign to platform First Nations activists and thinkers to discuss the redistribution of wealth, land, power, labour and responsibility.   

Redistribution is often tied to the concept of reparations, and recognising that there is an inequitable allocation and access to resources between First Nations and non-First Nations people. First Nations Futures offers its funding platform as a way to begin this process, supporting its nine community-led partners across the continent. Anyone can co-invest part of their income weekly or monthly to engage in a relationship with mob, through long-term and unrestricted funding that respects community self-determination. 

In my view, a formalised truth-telling process will be critical for achieving First Nations justice process. This process would create a record of testimony and evidence documenting colonial wrongdoings, providing a foundation for future treaties. Such treaties would officially recognise and address the specific impacts that settler-colonialism has had on nations and clan groups across the continent.

This isn't just integral for future processes, but also for connecting and healing as a continent. By facing the truth together, we can create the basis for healthy relationships.

Late last year, Yuin activist Keiran Stewart-Assheton wrote in the lead-up to the Referendum, “As for the rest of Australia, there is a reckoning with the truth that needs to occur before First Nations peoples are ever asked to risk our sovereignty again. There is a sickness and a trauma that lies at the heart of the Australian nation. This wound needs to be addressed, and reparations need to be made.”

Currently, the First Peoples’ Assembly of Victoria and the State have committed to Australia’s first-ever independent truth-telling process, the Yoo-rrook Justice Commission. While it has had many wins, there have been issues with follow-through from the Victorian government. 

Last September, Yoorrook handed down a report that made 46 recommendations for reform in the criminal justice and child protection systems. Then, in April this year, the government published its response, which disappointingly accepted only four recommendations in full and 24 in principle. 

The success of any movement for First Nations rights needs a whole-community approach to providing support and enacting accountability from those in power, following and sharing updates from this process provides visibility and reach for this important step. 

Treaty has been a prominent topic since the 1970s, especially after the Hawke government promised in 1988 to deliver one after the presentation of the Barunga Statement, a painted document from Aboriginal people in Northern and Central Australia to recognise Indigenous rights and a Treaty. Of course, this did not eventuate but the hunger for Treaty from First Nations people has not waned. 

This demand from mob became the inspiration for the North-east Arnhem band Yothu Yindi anthem, “Treaty Yeah, Treaty Now”. Even though it's 30 years old, if you played this song aloud today, Blackfellas of all ages would dance and shout along. I remember being 18 when it played over the sound system at my local grocery store. My mum and I looked at each other in shock since we were hearing this in a regional town in a shop that was often covered in Australian flags. It wasn’t long before we started laughing and dancing together down the potato chip aisle.

Witiyana Marika, a founding member of Yothu Yindi, said to the ABC last year that a national Treaty would, "bring unity for balanda — the non-Aboriginal [people] and for the First Nations".

"To be recognised for who we are and where we are. The soil already has a law, before Captain Phillip arrived and (created) all the boundaries."

But a Treaty involves negotiations between all the parties involved and there are concerns over the lack of equity, considering the historical and ongoing dispossession of Indigenous peoples and the wealth accrued by the nation-state at their expense. How can we fairly enter negotiations and what can we, as First Nations people, leverage in such negotiations? 

I believe that leveraging people power and social license is crucial so that that non-Indigenous citizens and residents are just as invested in a just and equitable outcome. That's why showing up to protests, signing petitions, contacting your MPs, choosing your vote in elections thoughtfully, shouting in social and mainstream media is so important — it demonstrates a discontent and a threat to revoke social licence if our elected representatives don’t perform to our standards. This collective pressure can significantly influence decision-makers and push for meaningful change in Treaty negotiations and beyond.

I refuse to let bygones be bygones. I will no longer quietly giggle or side-eye in private, hidden away out of sight and out of mind from non-Indigenous Australia. There are tangible changes that need to be made, and generations of First Nations activism have laid out the steps for us to follow. It's time to stand up, speak out, and demand the justice and equality that we deserve. It's time to start walking the talk.