Tent embassy versus sandstone institution politics

Tracee Hutchison, a Melbourne writer and broadcaster, wrote an interesting article in The Age on April 1. Although wary of the potential to get caught - hook, line and sinker - on April Fools Day, I read cautiously through the story and was pleasantly surprised with her balanced coverage of the significant position taken by our more prominent grass-roots activists. She said:

Robert Corowa is a Fire Man from Bunjalong country in northern NSW. He and I are perched around a healing fire, the centrepiece of Camp Sovereignty in the Alexandra Gardens. It was lit from the embers of the campfire at Canberra's now-dismantled tent embassy and brought to Melbourne by Robert for the Queen's Games. His was a very different kind of torch from the one normally associated with international sporting events.

We've put some gum leaves on the fire and now we are moving around it, gathering up the smoke in our arms, a gesture not unlike something you would do if you were immersed in water to wash yourself clean. It's an ancient and gentle healing ritual and part of the welcome Robert has extended to every visitor to the camp in the past two weeks.

A couple of weeks prior to this incident I too was asked to go through the obligatory smoking ceremony by Robert Corowa before I could settle in for a cuppa around the camp fire with old acquaintances in the Black GST protest camp site at Kings Domain in Melbourne. Robert was at his charming best as he asked visitors, including myself, to gather prepared gum leaves to place on the small fire and proceed slowly through the cleansing smoke.

The Robert Corowa I remembered from my public service days in Canberra throughout the 1980s was an athletic Queenslander who had a partiality to wearing the finest threads to work. Robert also possessed a confident aura to match his extravagant attire. The 2006 version of Robert Corowa, Fire Man extraordinairre, may be minus a couple of his shining pearlers and designer finest, replaced with bright coloured sandles and yellow raincoat, but he certainly hasn’t lost his charisma.

The image that lept out at me when I read the local paper on my first morning in Melbourne on Monday 13 March was a classic photograph of Robert holding hands with a senior member of the Victorian constabulary as he walked him through the fire ceremony. That one image set the scene for how the police and “others” would view the protest campers and day-visitors to Kings Domain for the duration of the Commonwealth Games or Stolenwealth Games as the protesters called them.

Robert, in a remarkably clever political manoeuvre, committed the highly ranked officer to not only walk through the fire but also to affirm strong public words of support of the protest camp at the culturally significant, and highly public, parkland site. Even John Howard’s best spin doctors would not have been able to sell the cause of the protesters, and their alledged “illegal” assembly, as effectively as Robert had done in that prominent newspaper story.

As I prepared myself for the launch of my recent book at the protest camp the following day I was far more relaxed about the reception I would get as a consequence of the Fire Man’s smoothing the way, for amicable coexistence, with the huge contingent of undercover police. It was apparent to all protesters that they were being constantly monitored by law enforcement agents: from behind tinted car windows, and those who were unobtrusively blending in with the protest crowd as well as others from overhead in Black Hawk helicopters, cognisant of the fact that the Queen was sleeping at the Governor’s Mansion less than 600 metres away on the other side of the impressive parklands.

I was honoured to have had Isabel Coe (NSW), Robbie Thorpe (VIC) and Kevin Buzzacott (SA) jointly launch my book on a fresh autumn morning, while cumulus clouds rolled in menacingly from the west, with the Aboriginal flags partially blotting out the imposing city skyline a stone's throw away. Isabel shared her story of her close friendship with Evonne Goolagong Cawley, who I identified as No. 1 in my book of sports racial vilifications: Evonne’s opponent at a White City doubles tennis tournament in the 1970s said, “That’s the first time I’ve been beaten by a nigger”. Robbie and Kevin were passionate in their call for unity in the continued fight against racism in this country.

Two weeks later and I was back in Melbourne at a different venue with different black warriors - albeit more affluent.

On this occasion I was one of many Indigenous academics in attendance at the National Indigenous Higher Education Network (NIHEN) conference at LaTrobe University. At this venue the Robert Corowa spiritual welcome was replaced by a formal greeting by the Pro Vice Chancellor (Equity and Student Services), a non-Indigenous lady, who respectfully acknowledged the traditional custodians in her address.

NIHEN conferences are held quarterly at different universities around the nation and are attended by Heads of Indigenous Units with an assortment of titles: professor, director, co-ordinator and so on.

The dichotomy of life styles of the protesters and academics, although patently obvious in career paths and material pursuits, is nevertheless similar in their long term aspirations and overall concern for the future well-being of the Indigenous community.

Whereas the protesters slept in tents in sleeping bags on moist grass, or on elevated foldout bed if lucky, the NIHEN delegates had comfortable to luxurious hotel accommodation. The protesters had a willing group of volunteers, VIC-ANTAR who provided catering (vegetarian stews, barbqued sausage sandwiches, tea, coffee, drinking water, fruit and vegetables) whilst NIHEN delegates were well looked after by outsourced caterers. And if the food wasn’t to their liking, they had their university issued credit card to satisfy their refined taste buds. Protesters walked, hitched or caught public transport while the NIHEN delegates had plastic cab charge cards at the ready in case of an emergency.

Over a cuppa around the camp fire protesters talked about the passion for their cause and how it has become more difficult in recent years to recruit long term campers. They said many of them were getting older and their ill health had become a major contributing factor to the long term maintenance of protest camp sites. However they expressed optimism that a younger and equally passionate generation of protesters would emerge and take over the fight.

Over a curry at a renowned Indian Restaurant in Fairfield the conversation from delegates at NIHEN ranged from the history of Spain (Roman presence, Visogothic Kingdom, Muslim Spain, The Reconquest) to Roman architecture and food. Many spoke of their children’s tertiary studies and their recent investment property acquisitions and a few expressed concerns about the rise in interest rates if there was a change in government.

No fire-in-the-belly type outrage of Indigenous disadvantage was presented for debate over red wine and imported beer during the butter chicken, lamb rogan josh, vegetable korma, basmati race pulao, nan tandoori bread and raita feast.

The issue of ATSIC’s demise was discussed at a meeting the following day, and concern raised by delegates at the alarming rate of Indigenous employees departing the public service. One Indigenous professor commented that he wasn’t the slightest bit surprised by the decline in Indigenous employees and observed that he had often ventured into ATSIC offices to see many Indigenous staff playing solitairre on their PCs during working hours. A nod of support from fellow delegates quickly changed the sombre mood of genuine empathy to one of “pick up your act or move on” standpoint on Indigenous work ethics: acknowledgement of competent Indigenous public servants was implicit in the dialogue.

The most pleasing aspects of the conference to me was hearing NIHEN delegates speak fondly about their Indigenous graduates who are now entering the workforce in improved numbers annually. In particular they spoke of those students who are graduating with specialist degrees in Medicine, Law, and Engineering and who insist on entering the workforce without the glare of media spotlights. Acknowledgement also of all undergraduate and postgraduate success stories by delegates painted a picture of optimism in the future leadership stakes.

So what lessons have I learnt from my visits to Melbourne’s Indigenous gatherings?

Indigenous protesters and their makeshift campsites may not be in vogue in 2006 but they are still a powerful tool to draw attention to, and address, Indigenous disadvantage in much the same way as their conservative black academic brothers and sisters, sitting in lofty positions in their sandstone institutions, are doing with their softly softly approach.