The irony of boat people phobia
Published in Brisbane Courier Mail, 30 July 2010
Why do politicians pursuing power prey on the most powerless people?
Asylum-seekers arriving in boats are mostly women and children, yet they have conveniently become a demonised dartboard in the current federal election. They are the balloons that must be speared before they enter our comfort circle.
Boat people are nothing new. White Australia began with boat people. Australia Day celebrates the arrival of the First Fleet, and the Sydney Opera House is inspired by this historic spectacle of white sails in the sun.
To the local people at that time, the boats carried invaders who had to be feared and resisted. It must have been a nightmare for the elders when 11 convict ships from Great Britain, led by Captain Arthur Phillip, appeared on the horizon of what is now Sydney Cove on January 26, 1788. Some of their worst fears were realised with the introduction of foreign diseases, criminals and firearms.
Fast forward to 2010 and this xenophobia about boat people invading our sacred shores continues. Ironically, the resistance is now led by
fair-skinned people against dark skinned people.
And what weapons are these invaders supposedly carrying? Difference. More dangerous than explosives because it is a moving target that cannot be contained. Hence the holding centre gives us peace of mind that their foreign poison will not leak.
Opposition Leader Tony Abbott regurgitated the same old stereotypes of asylum-seekers: ‘‘We’ve got illicit drugs, we’ve got plant and animal diseases, we’ve got all sorts of other potential criminal activity’’. This is probably what an indigenous elder may have declared two centuries ago, after the convicts settled and hoisted their flags. Abbott’s idea of ‘‘turning the boats back’’ is about as likely as turning the clocks back to pre-white Australia.
Ask anyone who has ever worked with these boat people about their degree of desperation. No human being would risk the lives of their
beloved family in treacherous waters unless they were in an irreversibly life-threatening situation, with nothing more to lose.
Prime Minister Julia Gillard vows to ‘‘stop boats, not when they are on our horizons, but before they leave port’’. This may be closer to a solution if it is coupled with a strategy to redress the root causes of the desperation. That way, we would be dealing with the sources, symptoms and solutions.
It is ironic that some of these ‘‘invaders’’ are themselves fleeing from the effects of western invasion. The Iraqis are a case in point, many of
whom have found their homeland unliveable after the Coalition of the Willing (that included Australia) invaded their country to overthrow
their dictator in 2003.
So what exactly is this difference that is so threatening to Australia?
It should not be that some are Muslim as we have had Muslims in Australia since the Macassar fishermen pre the First Fleet, then as British convicts in subsequent fleets in the 1700s, then as Afghan camel drivers in the 1800s. Indeed, it was these Afghans who helped open up the
inland rail lines and telegraph lines in this vast continent that would eventually link Adelaide to Darwin. So it was beneficial to take in Muslims and animals at that time.
It should not be that they are criminals, as there is no empirical evidence for this stereotype. Unlike the convicts who were Australia’s first
boat people, many of whom committed petty crimes, there is no evidence that today’s boat people generally have a criminal record.
Yet there is abundant evidence that boat people love to give something back to Australia. Due to their deprivation, they cherish the new homeland that may be taken for granted by those of us who were born here. The Vietnamese and Iraqi refugees are testament to the aspiration to seize and celebrate their citizenship. As a Multicultural Affairs Commissioner who attended many citizenship ceremonies,
I heard the stories of many of these boat people who shed tears as they grabbed the certificate with both hands. They have become the
staunchest ambassadors of Australia’s generosity, both at home and abroad.
What is probably most threatening about their weapon of difference is that they are not so different. If we listen to their narratives, from chapter one – their love of family, their fear of persecution, their experience of war, their loss of relatives, their prayer for a safe haven – they are suddenly not so different in their aspirations, and them become us.
Beneath the grainy images of skinny, sea-sick, unshaven vagrants, they have faces, names and dreams – just like us. Of course there are bad apples in every bunch – indigenous people and boat people. But if fair-skinned politicians are going to throw darts and generalisations, it is best that they start with fair dinkum facts about the majority. Otherwise, they will drown in a tidal wave of ironies about so-called invaders.