Bennelong Society Conference 2006:
Leaving Remote Communities

Are Indigenous youth losing the story?

What happens when young indigenous people leave remote communities?
An educational perspective from Alice Springs

Mark Doecke

Our story is in the land ... it is written in those sacred places.
My children will look after those places, that's the law.

My children got to hang onto this story.
This important story.
I hang onto this story all of my life.
My father tell me this story.
My children cannot lose it.

---Bill Neidjie, 1985
First Australians Exhibition
National Museum of Australia, Canberra

I walked out of my office at school one day and noticed a young Aboriginal man---perhaps about 19 or 20 years of age--- sitting in the foyer. What was unusual was that he was dressed in a suit. An ill fitting suit with a yellow t-shirt clearly visible underneath the suit, and the fairly roughly done up tie, actually made him appear---at first glance---to be one of the Sudanese refugees which have been relocated to Alice Springs. He was sitting there patiently waiting. But I wasn't sure what or who he was waiting for.

I was on the way to the Community Liaison Office, so I asked one of our CLOs if they knew anything about the young fellow out in the foyer. One of them did know, and if fact had been warned by a teacher of a school in the Pitlands---the Pitjantjatjara lands of northern SA---that this young fellow might turn up. His name was Moses (not his real name) and he was looking for work at Yirara College. Apparently he had grown up with mostly white people, some of that time in Adelaide, had good English, was more comfortable with whitefellas, but had not progressed far academically. Back in his home community Moses was regarded as an oddity. Apparently, he actually wanted to speak to me but he hadn't told my secretary that he wanted to meet with me. He was just sitting there---in fact had been there a long time---hoping that I would talk to him and offer him a job.

So I invited him in. I asked him what sort of job he wanted. He told me he had been a classroom assistant back in his home community in South Australia, and so he wanted to do the same thing at Yirara College. He wanted to help other students to read and write. I asked him to read something for me. He apologised for not having brought his glasses. I then asked him for some contact details---what was the address of where he was staying in Alice Springs? What was the phone number? None of those things he could answer. Afterwards while he was waiting for our CLO to take him home again to save him the taxi fare he said he'd wait in our staffroom as he was keen to talk to one of our indigenous staff members---a fellow who was married to someone from his area. A little while later I saw him sitting by himself in the staffroom, while this particular indigenous staff member was on the opposite side of the room making no attempt to acknowledge the presence of our visitor, let alone talk to him. It seems our staff member---Simon---was quite comfortable to just ignore Moses, and Moses did not actually make a move to introduce himself to Simon.

For me the saddest part of this encounter was when our CLO told me, after he'd delivered him to where he was staying in Alice Springs, that the young man had arrived in Alice Springs, withdrawn all his money from his keycard, gone to the shop to buy a suit for this interview at Yirara College, in the expectation that he would get a job. I felt like weeping when I heard this.

There are a number of reasons why I tell you this story in the context of this conference: Firstly, this polite, pleasant, eager to please young man is caught between two worlds, and it seems he is unable to live in either. He is a misfit, an oddity, someone who had no real identity in the Aboriginal or the non-Aboriginal world. Secondly, how did this happen? I'm not sure. I think he was just another case of someone whose family couldn't or wouldn't look after him. Probably substance abuse was the reason. Perhaps he was a foetal alcohol syndrome child, and there was some brain damage as well. It seems he was probably fostered with white people for some of his early years, and so became more comfortable in the non-indigenous world. Thirdly, for whatever reason---constant upheaval and mobility, placement in different homes and situations--- he had not managed to receive a consistent education. He had no literacy skills. And he had even less skills, let alone acceptance and identity, to actively participate in the indigenous world.

My experience is that there are many young and not-so young indigenous people like this out in our more remote towns and communities. They are like Moses in that they are not sure where they really belong---or where they are going. I have no figures. I cannot refer to empirical research in this area. All I can say is that there are huge numbers of young indigenous people who, whilst not necessarily matching the exact profile of this young person I refer to---are nevertheless, equally at risk. Many of the young people who leave Yirara College, particularly those who leave after only a short time, are at risk. They are at risk of being unemployed their whole lives, of long-term substance abuse, of chronic health problems at a young age or even an early death, at risk of perpetrating acts of violence or abuse against others, at risk of never ever being able to contribute in a meaningful way to either indigenous or mainstream society.

And these numbers, it would seem to me and many of my long serving colleagues at Yirara, are increasing. And mobility, the drift to the towns, is accentuating this alienation from family and community. What is the future of these young people? Are they losing their story?

Many indigenous young people from remote communities are caught between different worlds in their thinking. Media---mostly TV and DVDs---play a significant part in what shapes their view of life and the world. There are many occasions at Yirara when students, whilst watching a movie or television programme---will ask a houseparent, 'Is that a true story?' Generally what they see on the screen they believe to be a reflection of true life. They have few discerning skills when it comes to both the media, and much of what they see in the dominant Australian culture. In their home communities televisions are often left on all night. With 4 channels now being available in most remote communities (including SBS) children of a young age are exposed to unacceptable levels of violence, sex scenes and adult themes.

I recall discussing an evening news item with a indigenous friend in Docker River---a remote community near the WA border, west of Ayers Rock, when I was living there several years ago. This man has good spoken English and has worked at both the school and the health clinic at Docker River. He asked me about this particular news item. I explained it to him. But it was clear that he had totally misunderstood the news item. I can't remember what the story was, but he got it so completely wrong that it occurred to me that even traditionally oriented indigenous people with some education and good oral English struggle to understand much of what they see on the television. What does this mean for our young people?

There is still such a huge gap between the thinking of remote indigenous people and mainstream Australians. Aboriginal families do not sit down with their children as they watch television and discuss what they see with them. They do not read books together. Our students, when they return home on holidays, do not discuss what they are learning with their families. Why not? Because their families do not understand what is happening at school and do not know what to ask. The young people, for their part, being typical young people do not volunteer information. But that is also partly because they know their parents, uncles, aunts and grandparents live in a world so removed from what they are experiencing at boarding school. How do we bridge this great gap?

Young indigenous people from all over Australia are increasingly adopting a certain type of dress, and even speech. Some of it reflects the rap and basketball culture of black Americans. Some of our perceptive older girls have named local young urban Aborigines 'wannabies'---they want to be black Americans. The Nike shoes, the designer label tracksuits and t-shirts, and the speech they adopt give the impression to non-indigenous people that these young people are very Western in their thinking and mode of operating. But scratch the surface of the Western trimmings, and you find some very traditional worldviews. For example, many of our students, whilst acknowledging cause and effect along the lines of what they have learn at school will, in relation to getting sick, secretly tell their friends or family that they got sick because someone used sorcery against them. It is not unusual, when one of our students has a more serious ailment, for family to turn up at the college and take them from our care (which, in their eyes, is clearly deficient) in order to present them to a traditional healer.

Aboriginal boarding colleges like Yirara, or schools that have significant numbers of indigenous students, are an important half-way house for indigenous people from remote communities as they increasingly access the non-indigenous world. We need safe places where young people can gain important literacy, numeracy and living skills, and at the same time develop discriminating skills so they participate, if they choose, in wider Australian society. Currently Aboriginal people are very susceptible to all sorts of scams, to con-artists, to power-wielding whitefellas who want to control them. Thirty years of equal wages and self-determination has only resulted in increased dependence upon welfare handouts, increased reliance on whitefellas to run their communities. We should be aiming to help indigenous people become more independent and able to manage their own affairs, when in fact we have made them more dependent upon non-indigenous people.

So what does this all mean in the context of the drift from remote communities to towns and urban centres?

1. Indigenous young people from remote communities are struggling with even basic non-indigenous worldviews and culture, let alone more sophisticated aspects of non-indigenous Australia. Throw them into the urban context and they will be totally adrift. Yes, they will quickly adapt to the new situation in terms of surviving and even becoming quite street-wise. But their chances of becoming productive members of wider society are actually diminished. Who will mentor and teach them when they are less in touch with functional and healthy extended family?

2. Many of the people moving to town are in fact regularly commuting between bush and town. Indigenous people are seasonal: There is a season for everything, including when it is good to be in town, and when it is preferable to be out bush. The social and sporting calendar dictates much of this movement. Just because they move to town for some reason does not mean they intend living there most of the time. In terms of our students, they enjoy the best of both worlds. Much depends upon where family is, where the action is, what sporting or other event is on.

3. Even the younger generations of indigenous people value their country, their land as their home, and it has a hold over them. Many still have strong language and culture. Land and country is an important part of this, and when links to their country are gradually eroded, so is their identity. The more they are separated from language, culture and identity, the more at risk they are. Why else do most find it very hard to attend boarding schools interstate? Someone who's lived a long time in the bush recently said to me, 'Whenever people are taken from their land it is a disaster!'

4. As indigenous people increasingly move from bush to town, they are not gradually being 'assimilated' into mainstream society. Instead 'black ghettos' are being set up---in town camps, in streets, and in suburbs. Houses are overcrowded. Visitors come and go all hours of the day and night. No-one keeps an eye of whether the children are attending school. Homework is impossible in such situations. For the neighbours it means house prices go down. Crime goes up. There is more tension between black and white people. There are calls for more police resources.

5. The financial cost of keeping remote communities alive may be high, but the social, emotional and financial costs of increased numbers of indigenous urban dwellers are being underestimated. The ramifications of this drift in terms of juvenile crime, health needs, housing, is huge. Some people initially come to town to get onto the grog for a few days. Gradually they become more dependent upon alcohol, and other family members are drawn into the cycle of alcoholism. The way many remote community people currently live in Alice Springs makes it even harder for young people to find meaning and identity in life.

6. Many people from remote communities move to town with reluctance: A family member needs to access medical treatment, so the whole family moves with them. Currently, there are 75 people each day in Alice Springs needing to use dialysis machines---most of those are indigenous people from remote communities. Consider, as they move into Alice Springs for the long term, and bring their families with, what this entails. But most do it reluctantly. They would rather stay out bush if they could.

7. Many families, while having to move to town, do not like their children living in town all the time. That's why they are grateful for schools like Yirara where they feel their children are safe. Some do not even allow their children to have weekend leave in town with relatives. Some of our students go out on leave and return to school early because the house where they are staying is full of drunks, and they feel unsafe. Abstudy restrictions mean that families from the bush now living in town and still wanting to send their students to a safe boarding school situation are unable to do so.

I believe that whilst the cost of remote communities appears to be unsustainable, the alternative is, in the long run, more costly. Remote communities are still some of the 'safest' places for women and children. Most in central Australia are officially alcohol free, although grog runners threaten this status from time to time. There are few restrictions on alcohol in town, and the social cost is huge. While other substance abuse---petrol sniffing and marihuana usage is high in remote communities, it is no less in urban centres, and is harder to treat in town because of anonymity. It is easier for the victims and perpetrators alike to be invisible. In remote communities children and teenagers have greater identity, are more part of reasonably healthy and safe families, although some are neglected. In towns families from remote communities are more likely to be dysfunctional with great substance abuse, particularly alcoholism. People in towns have less control over who visits them, and who sponges off them. Mutual obligation---the traditional platform for indigenous economic activity still works well in remote communities. But in towns it means that the 'good' families are constantly harassed by drunk relatives. So deeply ingrained is reciprocity that most indigenous people do not have the cultural mechanisms to say 'no' to the relative that sponges off them. To do so is to be alienated from their own society.

I would argue that, as people move from bush to town, rather than allowing remote communities to gradually disintegrate as numbers dwindle and services are withdrawn, that governments consider the cost to the community of this change of demographics, and what is best in the long term for traditionally oriented indigenous people. Most articulate and thoughtful indigenous people I know tell me that many are moving to town, but it's not good, but that governments need to continue to help make communities good places to live. Clearly there has been and continues to be much wastage in the way monies are spent on remote communities, but I believe money can be spent more wisely and differently. So I propose that governments and other agencies work together to make remote communities more attractive and productive places for people to live in, and suggest the following list as a rudimentary basis for beginning that process:

1. That remote community councils are more accountable, financially, to an outside body, so that there is less chance of profiteering, embezzlement, and financial mismanagement. Appointments of community advisors/clerks should be contracted, with renewal of contract being based upon performance and negotiated criteria overseen by that outside body working with the local indigenous council.

2. That all indigenous housing projects in a community must have significant local indigenous labour involved in the construction. Put simply: the house is not built or not completed unless locals help build it. Naturally they would be paid appropriate wages for this work.

3. That governments be prepared to spend money in training for and creation of real jobs, not just painting rocks and picking up rubbish. In his Menzies Research Centre paper of 2004, Do Indigenous Youth Have a Dream?, veteran Northern Territorian and former Commonwealth public servant, Bob Beadman, argues that welfare reform is at the top of the agenda 'to fix things for the kids'. He points out that 30 years ago most jobs on communities were done by local people. Beadman would like to see a job skills audit in each community, so that all future training is properly targeted with a guaranteed job at the end of it.

4. That the government relax the rules on how much indigenous people can work before Centrelink payments are reduced. There is little incentive to indigenous people to work at the moment. Much work in communities is part-time or short-term, yet even so, that can affect social security payments. The long term (if more costly) view of government should be to get as many indigenous people into employment as possible. If people knew that they could earn extra money without losing some of their welfare entitlements, I believe more would work.

5. Bob Beadman also argues for providing welfare benefits in the form of food vouchers, rather than cash, in cases where the benefit is being spent largely on grog or illicit substances. I would suggest that in remote communities a partial food voucher system would make it harder to gamble, harder to pressure relatives into giving petrol money to go to town and buy grog, and would increase the likelihood of children and youth being fed. Noel Pearson told the ABC's 7.30 Report in November last year that if parents were 'blowing' their welfare money on drink, pokies or gambling 'there's got to be intervention'. School breakfast and lunch programmes are useful, but they are not to replace the primary responsibility of families to properly feed their children. It's interesting that one of the main reasons why many of our male students initially enrol at Yirara (and for some this continues to be the motivation to return) is the food, and the fact that there is plenty of it.

6. That school attendance is linked to Centrelink payments. Indigenous people in remote communities will not make their children go to school unless there is some sort of financial incentive to do so. Without a drastic improvement in literacy and numeracy standards indigenous people will never be able to be employed. While they are unemployable, services to remote communities will continue to rely on non-indigenous people, and the cycle of dependence continues.

7. A number of years ago I heard Noel Pearson say to a conference of Principals something to the effect of, '...what Aboriginal people desperately need is not more land rights...what they desperately need is the restoration of law and order in their communities'. Earlier this year Mal Brough spoke of the need in communities for strong governance and law and order. The Prime Minister recently referred to this when he stated that real economic and social progress in indigenous communities can only be built on a foundation of law and order. When I lived at Docker River one of the reasons our indigenous teachers were often late to school was because they had been kept awake at night either by petrol sniffers or the sounds of domestic squabbling and violence. There needs to be some sort of police presence in most communities, and police need to be given real powers to deal quickly and effectively with such things as grog being brought into the community, substance abuse and violence.

8. Towns need to be less attractive to people who come to town just to drink. Liquor restrictions in towns, for example, have been proven to reduce alcohol consumption by both locals and visitors from remote communities. More events need to be staged in the larger bush communities. I have asked the local Alice Springs council to try and stage events attractive to youth---for example music concerts, AFL games and Croc festivals during or near school holidays. Otherwise such events draw big crowds from bush and attendance at school is disrupted because it takes many days, sometimes weeks for people to return home. I think it should be harder for people to receive Centrelink payments in town, if their main home is out bush.

Conclusion

Are Aboriginal youth losing the story? Yes....they probably are. The old people are not entrusting the stories to their young because they feel the young are not interested. The young are extremely vulnerable to whatever is popular at the moment, with few discerning skills. Only with a reasonable mainstream education and a society which affords them some protection from those who prey on the vulnerable, can they have the skills to hang on to their past. If they don't know and value their past, their future is bleak. Our role as institutions, as governments, as individuals and as a society is to give them a story to look forward to. My view is that to give them a future we need to do all we can, even at great cost, to make indigenous communities good and healthy places to live. After all, it is still the land they feel they belong to.

Do Aboriginal youth have a dream? I don't know---but let's make sure we give them the skills and the opportunity to dream and to live out that dream....

References/Further Reading

Gregory Andrews, Difficult Development Partnerships, Mutitjulu Working Together Project, Uluru, November 2005.

Bob Beadman, Do Indigenous Youth Have a Dream?, Menzies Research Centre, 2004.

Pauline Fietz, Submission to the Senate Inquiry on Petrol Sniffing re the Docker River Model, February, 2005, as published in Youth Link Up, CAYLUS, July 2006.

Ralph Folds, Crossed Purposes---the Pintupi and Australia's Indigenous Policy, UNSW Press, 2001.

Noel Pearson, Address to National Primary Principal's Conference, Brisbane, 2001.

Prime Minister's Address to the Nation on Reconciliation, 2006.

Richard Trudgen, Why Warriors Lie Down and Die, Aboriginal Resource and Development Services, Darwin, 2000.