Yes volunteer Bronya Metherall reflects on the October 14 referendum, writing that, as millions of Australians voted yes for a First Nations Voice, the work is far from finished.
More than five million Australians voted at the October referendum to support the Voice – a vision that evolved from years of patient community conversation and consensus-building. As many of us navigate the grief following the referendum result, there are seeds of new hope emerging.
For those of us who spend our working lives in the social, health and service sectors, the Voice represented much more than a symbolic gesture. A constitutionally enshrined Voice to Parliament was an opportunity to re-boot decades of decision-making structures. Most Australians could agree that the “rinse and repeat” of paternalistic policy making have ultimately failed to meaningfully empower Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities, nor substantially improve lives. It was, and still is, time for a fundamental shift.
I backed the Yes campaign because I have seen Voice in action. I believe it remains relevant even now.
Thirteen years ago, I found myself in the Kimberley in the north-western town of Broome. As I touched down from the East Coast, red dust quickly invaded all parts of my being. I was to be Patrick Dodson’s legal intern and I was nervous as all get out.
I was arriving in the midst of something unprecedented in the Kimberley. Dodson and the Yawuru elders and community were developing an ambitious cultural and economic management plan, following a landmark native title settlement for the Yawuru people. Community development housing, training and employment, education and language preservation schemes were growing across the region. Local voices were central to and driving the model.
At the time of my visit to the Kimberley, Dodson was not yet a Senator. But he was indisputably a giant. Known across Australia as “the father of reconciliation”, I knew I was headed into the unknown, somewhere where I felt small, out of place and distinctly non-Aboriginal.
It didn’t take long for the generosity of that special town to reveal itself to me. Within days, I was invited to join the local sporting league, assist in youth workshops, join picnics, traditional camping trips and even hauled out to the infamous Derby race day. I learnt to catch mud crabs and how to cook them the ‘Yawuru’ way, forking crab claw meat through sticky mounds of rice soaked in sweet soy, garlic and chilli. Trust me, you’ll never eat crab the same again.
I sat with Dodson in his office one afternoon that year, my notepad and voice recorder poised, as he embarked on an oral history of the multi-decade struggle for Aboriginal justice, truth and land rights. Over three patient hours, he stitched together for me with extraordinary eloquence, the plight and journey of his people. It has taken me years to understand what of course Dodson knew then with intense clarity. That, in spite of our ugly past, we could be a better Australia, together, and we had to try.
This year, thousands of us turned out to try.
The movement for Yes in 2023 has been a living example of the ‘public square’ at its most palpable. Kids, retirees, families, singles, migrants, health workers, unionists, lawyers, environmentalists, athletes and artists all showed up in droves. We walked bridges, flooded community halls, coordinated beach picnics, phone boothing parties, marathons, cross-cultural fireside yarns, local barbecues, kitchen table conversation gatherings and weekend market stalls.
High on hope, we marvelled at the beauty of this seemingly ‘new’ Australia, and when votes were finally counted on the 14th of October, many of us clung to each other and wept in collective grief.
It is this community cohesion and compassion that has brought me comfort in what has otherwise felt like a spiritual devastation for our nation. Dodson's words to me, “carry your hope for an inclusive Australia”, continue to ring in my ears.
As we reckon now with the meaning of the ‘No’ result, and the inevitable debates ensue on the role of politicking, digital misinformation and fear-mongering, some irrefutable facts have now emerged.
We are now nearly six million Australians strong. In 2023, a generation of children have witnessed allyship at an unprecedented scale and are unlikely to forget it. We have new local connections and neighbourhood networks, grown in recent months on a shared solidarity for First Nations justice. This alone, though not nearly enough, should be harnessed as we look ahead to amplify the voices of our local First Nations communities and leaders.
Is it possible that the movement for ‘Yes’ has built something not seen before in Australia? Have we laid the foundations for a new, collective power?
Only time will tell.
Allies must not simply consider their job done, nor the weight of the job ahead simply too hard. Now more than ever it is necessary to sustain, grow and scale this support towards a new pathway for justice.
About the writer
Bronya Metherall is a founding member of national cross-sector coalition, Allies for Uluru and brings over a decade of leadership experience in the civil and non-profit sectors across disability, health, human rights, and Aboriginal justice. Past roles in Australia and around the world include The Fred Hollows Foundation, the National Children’s and Youth Law Centre and the Cerebral Palsy Alliance. Bronya holds a LLB of Laws and Social Sciences with a Major in Anthropology from Macquarie University (Australia). She is a mother to two young children, a travel fanatic and a passionate citizen of Wollongong, nestled between the mountains and the sea on the NSW Illawarra coast.