Dr Ros Kidd
Historian - Consultant - Writer
The requirement for accountability
When I
started my research in 1990 I had no idea how governments in Queensland
had controlled the lives of Aboriginal people. That’s why I chose the
question as the subject of my doctoral thesis. I am appalled by what I
have learned over the last 15 years as my investigations continue.
How must it feel to be contracted out to work, for 12 months at a time,
separated from your family and community, sent as a servant to a family
of strangers who might treat you badly, and no-one to keep you company
or hear your pleas for help. Under the system run by Queensland
governments until 1970, this was the plight of tens of thousands of men,
women – and children. Yes child labour was still common in the pastoral
industry in the late 1950s, although authorities knew of widespread
injuries.
Over the decades authorities send people out to work, including young
girls, and they have no idea what conditions these workers have to
endure, because, as the files state so often, no officials make regular
inspections. They send young girls to work on remote properties despite
multiple instances of sexual and physical abuse. As a mother and
grandmother, it makes my blood run cold imagining my children, even my
adult children, trapped in such a system.
From the beginning of the twentieth century the Queensland government
sent Aboriginal people out to work in their thousands. And because they
said – and I’m sure this sounds familiar – that Aboriginal people were
somehow incapable of managing their finances competently, the government
gave itself the power to manage those finances for them. This included
setting a price on their work, always at a discount despite knowledge
that Aboriginal labour was at a premium in many pastoral areas and also
in the domestic sphere as white servants took up more lucrative factory
and retail jobs.
Very few Aboriginal people would have known they were being sold short.
They were not told what wage they were contracted for. They were not
told how much ‘pocket money’ their employer was supposed to pay them
during their contract term, nor how much the government demanded the
employer pay direct to their control. But the government knew, because
it was warned year after year, decade after decade, that workers were in
all likelihood not getting their pocket money. As late as the
mid-1960s, when this flawed system was almost at an end, auditors said
there was still no way of knowing whether Aboriginal workers ever got
this cash portion of their wage.
As a worker it was hard and humiliating to get money from the police
protectors who controlled your savings. For many the trip to the police
station took hours, or might even by a once-a-month visit to town; yet
police could declare they were too busy to process a request to withdraw
money. Or, more likely, could refuse such a request – the files are
full of such refusals, even for people with relatively large bank
accounts.
The system of using police protectors untrained in financial and
clerical work was fraught with risk. The government knew this, but it
made good economic sense given police were not paid for their duties as
protectors. The files are full of criticisms of account-keeping
irregularities, questionable thumb printing (the main validation of
withdrawals for many decades), and there are many, many instances of
dubious practices – such as keeping a batch of unused withdrawals
already thumbprinted and witnessed. But the government continued this
system until around 1970.
In 1933, as a measure to reduce police fraud according to the
government, all Aboriginal savings were centralised in one account at
head office. Immediately the government sidelined around $15million
(today) into investments to raise revenue for Treasury, leaving only 20%
of savings available to those whose money it was. Investing the major
portion of Aboriginal savings was a lucrative practice which continued
into the 1970s.
The government also took money from private savings without the
knowledge or consent of account holders. It imposed levies towards the
cost of running missions and settlements; it imposed levies towards an
unemployment relief fund; and it put monies due to absconders or
deceased workers into a separate trust fund, ostensibly for distribution
to descendants but often applied for other purposes. It took money out
of the accounts of people in country areas to subsidise the cost of
buildings and amenities on local reserves. In 1943 it set up the
Aboriginal Welfare Fund, which absorbed the earlier levies and also the
profits from community enterprises. Time after time auditors, and even
directors complained the Welfare Fund was being used to pay for items
rightly the responsibility of government. The government was still
using this fund in 1993.
The government also intercepted workers compensation, inheritances,
child endowment and pensions. In 1953 it had stockpiled over $400,000
(today) of child endowment funds just for Palm Island mothers at a time
when epidemiological studies revealed malnutrition as the key factor in
deaths of 50 per cent of children under three and 85 per cent of
children under four. Concerned that the commonwealth might discover the
stockpile authorities decided to spend the money on construction. When
baby welfare funds suffered budget cuts of two-thirds in 1959 settlement
superintendents were told to meet the deficit of around $55,000 from the
child endowment accounts.
Even before the pensions were made available to Aboriginal people the
government was discussing in 1959 how it could divert these welfare
payments to revenue; they applied to handle the bulk payments, passing
on only one-third to pensioners, and cut annual grants to missions to
reflect the pension income. In 1960 the director told superintendents
over $500,000 of pensions ‘goes direct to Revenue’. And when the
compulsory wage levy into the Welfare Fund was dropped after 1966, the
government began to merge child endowment income through the Welfare
Fund. Endowment was paid into this Fund as late as 1984.
After 1975, when federal Racial Discrimination legislation made it
illegal to underpay workers on the basis of their race, the Queensland
government continued to underpay its Aboriginal employees despite top
level legal advice confirming this was unlawful. The policy of paying
illegally low wages continued until 1986, when Aboriginal community
councils took over community administration and paid the legal rate. By
simply calculating the wage differential against the number of community
employees in that eleven-year period, it seems that the Queensland
government saved itself over $180 million. Ultimately, after adverse
findings in a 1996 HREOC Inquiry and commencement of litigation in the
federal court, the government offered $7000 compensation to each
affected employee, although it held files showing many were owed several
times this amount. The final payout was $40 million; a tidy profit to
the government of more than three times that figure.
It was only right at the end of this appalling saga of financial
deprivation that Aboriginal people were finally given bank books to
check money going in and out of their accounts. But these books
recorded only the balance left in accounts at 1968, showing nothing of
what had happened prior to that time. Many people were shocked at how
little was there despite decades of work and decades of financial
denial. Those who protested then, and now, were told the government has
lost many of the files and can rarely give a full account of what
happened to their money. Can you imagine any other financial
institution brushing off aggrieved clients using incompetence as an
excuse?
Was
Queensland the only state to run such a system? The answer is no. I’m
just compiling an investigation of states and territories around
Australia and, once again, I am deeply disturbed by what I discover.
Governments gave themselves the right to control Aboriginal labour,
wages and property as early as 1871 in Victoria, 1898 in NSW, 1905 in
Western Australia, 1911 in South Australia and 1911 in the Northern
Territory. Right across Australia Aboriginal labour was described as
essential to the pastoral industries from the first years of white
settlement into the late 1960s in many areas. Yet most controlled
workers never received even a minimum wage in the Kimberley and only a
pittance in the Northern Territory, in other states they were contracted
at cheaper rates than white pastoral workers. Where wages were set,
government files show authorities knew cheating was common with many
stockmen deprived of any cash payment because it was said to be absorbed
through exorbitantly priced food, tobacco and clothing at station
stores. In several states large lump sums of private savings were
simply and regularly declared ‘unclaimed’ and transferred to Treasury.
For
probably 100 years child labour was a key component of Aboriginal policy
and a key financial resource through the control of wages. For many
decades hundreds of Aboriginal children were indentured to labour as
servants, some from as young as 6 years of age. There was no-one to
protect their interests, as government files frequently reveal. Whether
children were controlled only to the age of 21 years, or, as in
Queensland, Western Australia and the Northern Territory, controlled
also as adults, it was the governments which took direct control of
their wages, and it appears it was a common experience that governments
failed to return that money to the workers; and failed even to keep
proper records of the money they were handling.
Federal
child endowment, payable since mid 1941, was an absolute financial
bonanza to the states and territories, most of which promptly applied to
act as agents for bulk payments, to ensure mothers didn’t spend the
money to the detriment of the child. What then can be said of the
millions of dollars which was retained in government hands to be used
for capital works and vehicles as happened in Queensland, Western
Australia and the Northern Territory. The first two states, and likely
the Northern Territory also, promptly reduced state subsidies to reflect
the income from federal funds.
This
misuse of endowment, granted specifically to enhance the health and
wellbeing of children in need, effectively enhanced the wellbeing of
consolidated revenue even while the files record the abysmal
destitution, substandard conditions, malnutrition, sickness and high
mortality of those whose money it rightfully was. A survey in 1937 in
NSW showed the Protection Board controlled over 70 per cent of all
endowment yet many mothers received nothing. It appears endowment was
used to build sub-standard homes which the Board then rented or sold to
Aboriginal families. Missions and pastoral stations in the Northern
Territory and Western Australia also banked a fortune each quarter, yet
it appears no-one put in place a secure system to make sure the money
was paid to the mothers. In 1950 the director stated that missions in
Western Australia were dependent on endowment income for their financial
survival. Pensions from the 1960s were similarly exploited. So we’re
not talking a few rotten eggs here. I would argue this misuse of
welfare payments was systemic, identifiable, and never rectified.
So how
do we find out what happened to this money. As I mentioned, I hope in a
few months to complete a National Report which looks at controls of
Aboriginal labour, wages and trust money around Australia. Of
necessity, since I have only finite brain-power, this relies on work
already done by others in several key texts, or on more intensive
research undertaken in NSW for the current reparations process. We
really need intensive research into primary files in each state and
territory; my work here in Queensland shows just what can be uncovered.
To
understand the dimensions of these ‘protection’ strategies, to
understand the vast sums of money never publicly accounted for, is
surely the starting point. It is a beginning in the rewriting of our
history to re-instate Aboriginal labour to its central position in our
development as a nation, which for so long depended on the success of
the pastoral sector and thereby on the Aboriginal workforce. And it is a
beginning in overturning those prejudicial assumptions that Aboriginal
poverty and despair today are based in a historical failure to
participate in the labour market and/or a ‘cultural’ inability as
financial managers. Aboriginal people during the twentieth century have
earned millions of dollars which they never got a chance to apply for
their own benefit. And much of that money seems to be missing.
Governments took the role of financial managers; it is governments which
must now be called to account. But how do we do this?
This is
the task I set myself in my latest book, which will be published in
September. I have called it Trustees on Trial, and it undertakes
a close analysis of the spectrum of financial controls here in
Queensland, an analysis which is mediated through national and
international case law regarding the duty of governments to discharge
their discretionary powers over the interests and assets of Indigenous
peoples. By studying the transition, particularly in Canada and the
United States, whereby courts moved from a position which accepted the
rights of governments to administer Indigenous peoples without
accountability to an external agency such as the courts, to the position
today in those two countries where the courts hold governments to the
same accountability standards as any other financial organisation, we
can cast the Queensland experience in a new perspective. A more
specifically legal perspective.
If, as I
argue, the Queensland government has an enforceable fiduciary duty to
Aboriginal people taken under its ‘protection’, then the Queensland
government has a duty to be fully accountable for its financial
dealings. This legal accountability incorporates a proscription on
using trust monies for its own gain, a proscription on mixing trust
monies with its own, and an obligation to produce full records of its
dealings on all trust monies. Failure to find records is not an excuse;
it is an instance of breach of trust. Where the government is unable to
demonstrate an identifiable audit trail, that money cannot be deemed to
have been paid. In short, the boot is on the other foot. It would no
longer be up to an individual to produce a document showing fraud on
their account, assuming the government can find such a document for
them. It would be up to the government to demonstrate that it’s
management matches the standard demanded of all financial institutions.
And that
takes me smoothly to the last point I’d like to raise today. A key case
in Trustees on Trial is the massive US class action which
commenced in 1996 and continues today. In this case five Native
American plaintiffs asserted that the government was trustee of their
funds and therefore owed them a detailed accounting of its handling of
their money. The judge agreed: in a 1999 judgement he ordered the
government to account for every cent it had held in trust since 1887.
This of course the government cannot do. It has fought a long and
unedifying battle to deny this obligation, and has been found in
contempt of court on more than one occasion. Most recently, it has
asserted that the $100 million cost of fixing its deplorable accounting
system should be charged against the Indian money it holds in trust!
We could
learn much from the long struggle of the claimants, who number 500,000
and include deceased account holders. So in October this year we will
bring the lead plaintiff, Elouise Cobell, to Australia, a visit
organised by QPILCH (Queensland Public Interest Law Clearing House) who
provide pro bono advice, including to Aboriginal people wanting to
discuss their legal options. Elouise and I will share a platform in
Brisbane, along with Tiga Bayles, chairman of Murri Radio. We will
discuss the realities of government trust management of Indigenous
money, and the unremitting struggle for justice. We’ll also be
travelling to Sydney and Melbourne.
So there
is plenty we can do. Our premier might have assumed, by offering $4000
for Stolen Wages or $7000 of under-award wages, that this would bring
resolution. In my view he assumed wrong. There is no financial
institution in Australia, having presided over decades of lost files,
disputed accounts, official reprimands for misuse of trust funds, a
swathe of critical audit reports, and failure to implement recommended
security measures; – no financial institution would think it could get
away with losing millions of dollars for thousands of clients and assume
a $4000 payment is sufficient reparation. I cannot believe that our
government would think this is good enough for its Aboriginal client.
There is
nothing Aboriginal about an authority taking your money and losing it.
Every person whose money is held in trust is due a full accounting for
every cent of that money. We must stand together in this struggle for
justice. We must tell our government loud and clear that we will not
condone it. If we disapprove of the way this government is behaving
on our behalves, we must say so. There should be no colour bar to
justice.
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