Myall Creek Massacre

The Hon. AILEEN MacDONALD (21:45:59):The Sydney Morning Herald

Over the long weekend I attended the 185th anniversary of the Myall Creek massacre. As a first-time attendee I was stuck by the peacefulness of the setting, the way the descendants of the survivors embraced all in attendance and the warm welcome afforded all. I was inspired by the people who had made the memorial happen and carried the flame for so long. Frankly, they had nothing to be thankful for and every reason to dislike non‑Aboriginal people for what had occurred 185 years ago, yet I was embraced by love and forgiveness all that day. Before attending, I read the news stories of the day and the articles in . Two days prior I attended an online forum hosted by the Armidale Friends of Myall Creek, trying to gather as much information as possible to understand what had occurred. However, I cannot comprehend the actions of the 12 men in a murderous rampage who killed 28 Aboriginal men, women and children.

In an inaugural address delivered to the University of St Andrews on 2 January 1867, John Stuart Mill stated: "Bad men need nothing more to compass their ends, than that good men should look on and do nothing." The Myall Creek massacre could have been one of those events where men turned a blind eye to evil and continued to go about their business as if nothing had happened. However, in this case some of the evil men were brought to justice because good men acted, such as William Hobbs, the overseer at Myall Creek Station, and George Anderson, a hut keeper. Both lost their jobs at Myall Creek Station. Davy, an Aboriginal man, paid the ultimate price and lost his life because of his willingness to tell the truth.

Others who intervened included men such as Andrew Burrowes; Charles Reid; Edward Denny Day; James Dowling, Chief Justice at the time; Judge William Burton, who presided over the second trial; John Hubert Plunkett, Attorney General and a President of the Legislative Council whose name is engraved above us in the Chamber, assisted by Roger Therry; and, of course, Governor George Gipps. It is worth noting that Governor Gipps, who had been in the colony only a few short months, was anxious to carry out the British Government's instructions to protect Aboriginal peoples.

That was unheard of at the time. It came against a backdrop of articles in The Sydney Morning Herald that supported those on trial and suggested they should be set free, and a concerted effort to stop witnesses from giving evidence and jurors from attending the trial.

These were the good men responsible for reporting the atrocious crimes, investigating and bringing them to trial, attending as witnesses and prosecuting them so that seven of the 11 men arrested were convicted and hanged on 18 December 1838. The trial was historic in that, for the first time, non‑Aboriginal men were sentenced and convicted for their part in the killing of Aboriginal people.

I now have a better understanding of the journey undertaken and have immense respect for Aunty Sue Blacklock and her family, who are descendants of one of the boys who escaped the massacre. I see that while truth‑telling can be painful and hard for us to hear, it is essential to healing. That healing, in turn, allows us to walk together—a walk where we share the journey with respect and commit to reconciliation. We must do all we can to close the gap so that our brothers and sisters are not over‑represented in the criminal justice system, in poor health, in receipt of substandard education and subject to lower socio‑economic outcomes, but are empowered and recognised.

As I walked the trail from the amphitheatre to the memorial site, I walked with young families—mothers holding their babies on their hips and children playing around them—and saw the significance of what was happening. At this spot exactly 185 years ago a similar scene of peace and innocence was brutally destroyed. Yet as I looked at the eyes of the children and their mothers, I saw hope for a better future. I saw forgiveness and reconciliation, and that, more than anything, was a very powerful message to me on that day. We can and must do better. Lest we forget.

‍