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NIT FORUMS: History repeats, over and over
Issue 121 - 25 Jan 2007
Issue 121, January 25, 2007: There's nothing new in the conduct of Queensland officials over the death of Mulrunji Doomadgee, writes NICOLE WATSON*
The past is not dead. In fact, it's not even past.
On 28 November 2004, Queensland Premier Peter Beattie and his Minister for Police, Judy Spence, boarded the government jet to fly to Palm Island. The purpose of their trip was to restore calm after civil unrest sparked by the death of Mulrunji Doomadgee in police custody. According to the Premier, the unrest was due to a 'failure in leadership' of the Palm Island elders. "We do not have one law for whites and one law for blacks," he gushed.
The Premier's subsequent dealings with the community could hardly be described as examples of model leadership. They included flying to the Island to open a Police Citizens Youth Club during the period of mourning, his insensitive demand that police run the centre and an allegation of attempted bribery of the Palm Island Council.
His claim of 'one law for all' was also lost on those responsible for finding out what happened to Mulrunji. From the outset the police investigation was compromised by the appointment of officers who were friends of the man at its centre, Senior Sergeant Christopher Hurley. Impropriety also extended to the State Coroner, Michael Barnes, who initially refused to disqualify himself from the inquest after it emerged that he had indulged in a drinking session with some of the lawyers. His position became untenable when it was revealed that in his former role at the Criminal Justice Commission, Barnes adjudicated over complaints against Hurley, twice clearing him of allegations of misconduct.
From the Premier down, there seemed to be an unspoken belief that Hurley would be vindicated and the outrage of the Palm Island community was merely the whining of a troublesome minority. Indeed, the Premier appeared to be visibly shocked when the Acting State Coroner, Christine Clements, found that Hurley struck Mulrunji repeatedly, causing his death. The response by the Queensland Police Union was to personally attack Clements, an outrageous disregard for the independence of the judiciary but an approach that is consistent with the unsavoury behaviour discussed above.
This behaviour has rightfully attracted public censure in recent months, but is by no means new. Its origins lie in the State's historical use of the police to implement its most oppressive Indigenous policies. Meaningful reform will depend upon many things but most crucially acknowledgement by the Queensland government that this history pervades the culture of the Queensland police, spilling out to their daily contact with Indigenous communities. It almost certainly resounded in the events that took place at the Palm Island Police Station on that fateful morning of November 19, 2004.
The use of the police to suppress Indigenous resistance is a time-honoured Queensland tradition. In the 19th century the State used its heinous Native Police to 'disperse' Aboriginal people who posed a threat to European expansion. When bauxite deposits were discovered in Cape York a century later, the Queensland Government once again used its police force to do its dirty work. The State attempted to close the Mapoon Aboriginal Reserve in order to make way for the mining company, Comalco, but the community stood firm. Their resistance was crushed by armed police in 1963.
From the early 1900's to the closing decades of the 20th century, police officers were appointed as 'protectors' who exercised control over the employment and property of Queensland's Indigenous wards. While some would have exercised their powers judiciously, others exploited them. For example, historian Ros Kidd has written that police fraud against Aboriginal accounts was widespread.
It is sadly ironic that one of the few recorded episodes of organised resistance against the protectionist system occurred on Palm Island in 1957. The reserve superintendent at the time was an ex-policeman, Roy Bartlam, who was notorious for his brutal punishments and zealous enforcement of racial segregation. Tensions boiled over on June 10 when Bartlam attempted to deport an inmate who had the courage to speak back to a European. The community rallied behind the man and declared a strike that was eventually broken by police raids. Given this history one can only imagine the thoughts of Palm Island's elders in November 2004, when Tactical Response Group commandos arrived to suppress the 'riot'.
By the 1970's the belief that the human rights of Indigenous people could be violated with impunity was firmly entrenched in Queensland Police culture. When the writer, Ward McNally, conducted a fact-finding tour of the State in the early 1970's he received anecdotal accounts of sexual harassment of Aboriginal women by police. Verballing of Indigenous people was so widespread that Senator Neville Bonner introduced a private member's Bill in an attempt to end the practice. The Bill was never passed into law. A decade later the Kelvin Condren case suggested police verballing was alive and well.
Given this history it is unsurprising a Queensland police officer has never been charged with a criminal offence for causing harm to an Indigenous person. Instances where such behaviour has attracted civil liability are rare. One of the few reported cases is Henry v Thompson (1989) Aust. Torts Reports 80-265. In that case the plaintiff was arrested for using obscene language. On arrival at the watch-house the Officer-in-charge aided the two arresting officers in an horrific assault on the plaintiff that included jumping up and down on his head.
The District Court found the three police officers liable for civil assault and awarded $25,000 in damages to the plaintiff, $10,000 of which represented exemplary damages that are awarded in order to punish for reprehensible conduct. The State of Queensland paid not only the costs of the officers' legal representation but also the damages awarded against them, with the exception of the exemplary damages. An appeal (solely on the issue of quantum) by the officers to the Queensland Supreme Court in 1989 was unsuccessful.
The appeal judgment makes for disturbing reading, particularly its revelation that the officers were promoted after the assault. This insult to Indigenous people is even more poignant when one considers that the appeal was resolved in the same year that Tony Fitzgerald delivered his ground-breaking report, at a time when police behaviour was under the public spotlight. The same contempt for external scrutiny re-emerged in Brisbane in 1994, in the aftermath of the Wyvill Inquiry into the death of Daniel Yock. Like Mulrunji, 18-year-old Daniel was also arrested for street offences and died in police custody soon after his arrest. Commissioner Wyvill found that there was insufficient evidence for criminal charges to be pressed against any of the police involved. With astounding insensitivity to the young man's grieving family, the Police Union revelled in their victory, even demanding a public apology.
Twelve years later the Union were once again oblivious to the human tragedy behind another death in custody. To those outside of Queensland, television footage of the Union's representative accusing the Acting State Coroner of 'conducting a witch-hunt' had a touch of unreality, as did that of the reactions of Palm Islanders to her findings. Behind the tears and exclamations of joy were people so accustomed to unfairness that they were stunned to receive simple justice.
Just as history continues to be the source of this injustice, it is also the key to reform, if made a prominent and continuing feature of police education. That most officers remain ignorant of the above history was borne out by Clements' findings. On page six of her report, Clements described the circumstances in which one of the witnesses, Constable Steadman, was sent to Palm Island: "I accept his evidence that he had no previous experience of policing in indigenous communities and that he did not receive any additional training or information prior to arriving on Palm Island.... The only information he had received about policing in an indigenous community was what he had received at initial training at the academy."
In any other jurisdiction Clements' report would be unremarkable. Her findings were measured and based upon meticulous analysis of the evidence, in other words, she was doing precisely what a Coroner is supposed to do. That merely performing her job made Clements a controversial figure is indicative of the morally bankrupt culture that is the Queensland justice system. This moral bankruptcy came to the fore in December when Leanne Clare determined that there was insufficient evidence upon which a jury could convict Hurley of any criminal offence. Consistent with the earlier examples of his poor leadership, the Premier likened Mulrunji's death to a football match, by urging Indigenous people to accept the 'umpire's decision'. It is unthinkable that the Premier would have responded so distastefully had he been addressing the family of a slain police officer whose killers were yet to be brought to justice.
While the appointment of Sir Laurence Street to review Clare's decision has been welcomed, it will not address many of the questions raised above. In particular, the outrageous latitude given to Hurley during the police investigation, despite being the man at its centre, will not be subject to scrutiny. Nor will Street examine the decision to send in Tactical Response Group commandos to Palm Island or their alleged use of excessive force. It is unknown if Street will comment on Clare's refusal to publicly explain the grounds for her decision. One would hope that he does. After all, in an age when one can seek written reasons for all kinds of administrative decisions, ranging from the withdrawal of Centrelink benefits to assessments by the Australian Taxation Office, it is bizarre that the DPP can decline to provide written reasons for a decision not to prosecute over the death of a human being.
As a teenager I remember being almost overwhelmed with anger when my father revealed to me the violence that he suffered at the hands of police as a Black Panther in the 1970's. As an adult this anger has gone cold; perhaps in the revelation that the unwritten law that a Queensland police officer can brutalise an Indigenous person with impunity, is as old and rigid as the State's founding document.
But there is also another unwritten law - the incredible resilience of Queensland's Indigenous leadership. From the Palm Island strikers of '57 to those who rallied for the sacking of Leanne Clare in December; our leaders have consistently demonstrated the very strength of character, foresight and humility that is so wanting in Premier Beattie. Now is the time for him to find those qualities within himself and his Government. He must recognise the history that pervades the culture of the State's police and find the courage to act upon that recognition. Should he fail to step up to the plate, it is a certainty that black families will continue to lose young men in police custody and officers who are genuinely committed to working with Indigenous communities will never gain the trust of those they aim to serve.
* Nicole Watson is a Murri lawyer, based at the Jumbunna Indigenous House of Learning at the University of Technology, Sydney
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