An Australian walks into Jerusalem. A 14, 057km journey toward a distant destination. But in a shaded garden last Monday afternoon, I was no foreigner. It was the anticipated launch of Prof. Noura Erakat’s book, ‘Justice for Some’. From the crowd, a question about Australia was put to Erakat. Her answer seemed to shrink the distance I had so strongly felt from my homeland.
1967. On this side of the world, it was a year of war and ruin culminating in the beginning of Israel’s occupation of Palestinian territories. Meanwhile, back at home, it was a year with a sense of overdue progress and hope resulting in Indigenous Australian’s becoming ‘counted’ in the nation through significant amendments to the constitution. One peoples are occupied and the other begins its movement toward liberation. Same year, same world. So, where are they now and why should it matter?
New Beginnings? ‘Terra Nullius’ vs ‘Sui Generis’
When British explorers arrived on Australian soil 249 years ago the lands were declared ‘Terra Nullius’ which translates to ‘nobody’s land’. This was despite the existence of 750,000 people. Practically, it allowed Britain to construct the national and legal edifice of the land at the expense of diminishing the culture and practices of the existing peoples.
This is not unlike the framework that has been employed by Israel to Palestinian land. As Erakat made clear in her book, the legal principle known as ‘sui generis’ has allowed Israel to sophistically navigate the occupation. Like ‘Terra Nullius’ this principle translates to ‘unlike anything else’. It is enforced when there is a supposed ‘unique’ situation. Just like colonial Australia, the land was ultimately deemed an entity without a ‘real’ sovereign and, therefore, lawmaking was justified by settlers. Indeed, this framework has allowed Israel to create and employ the laws that effectively ‘justify’ the occupation.
Certainly, these legal beginnings are not the same. However, one thing’s for sure: they both allowed a story of injustice to transpire.
Constructing the past: comparing histories
In the shadow of its colonial era, Australia emerged as one nation with two peoples and its image in this supposedly post-colonial world is one of both progress and significant shame. It is uncontroversial to recognise that there was systemic genocide and racist policies that effectively wiped out a large proportion of the indigenous population. Aboriginal ties to the land were severed with the confiscation of land for European settlements and practices such as the forced removal of children from Indigenous families contributed to a system of significant oppression. Indeed, in more recent times the nation has done work to recognise and rectify the effects of this history.
Perhaps the most monumental development was the legal recognition of Indigenous claims to the land. Known as the ‘Native Title Act’, it officially recognised that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples have a right to their lands and so, the historical principle of ‘Terra Nullius’ was effectively eroded. Additionally, in 2008, Australia, as a state, officially recognised and apologised for its historical relations with Indigenous Australians.
Nevertheless, the generational effects of such history still continue to haunt Indigenous Australians. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people are one of the most incarcerated peoples in the world. This group makes up 3% of the nation’s population and yet comprise approximately 27% of Australia’s prisoners. Today’s figures also show that life expectancy estimates for Indigenous Australians remains significantly lower than that of non-Indigenous Australians. The fact is that their quality of life is poor. And so, whilst theoretically, an image of reconciliation has been created, the road to prosperity and equality still needs to be mapped out by the Australian nation.
Indeed, the Palestinian situation in relation to the establishment and development of the Israeli state share features of this colonialist paradigm. The dynamics in occupied territories speak to the same form of oppression that the Indigenous peoples of Australia have experienced historically and in modern times. Certainly, the systemic form of land dispossession and military violence are a prime example of this. Nevertheless, it is clear that the Palestinian struggle does not ‘mirror’ Australia’s Indigenous movement. The fact is that due to genocide and policies of assimilation at the beginning of Australia’s history, over time, demographically speaking, there is a disproportionate number of Indigenous Australians to non-Indigenous Australians due to Indigenous peoples being integrated into broader society over time. As a result, sovereignty for today’s Indigenous leaders fits within the sovereignty of the Australian nation and is defined as establishing an identity and its connection to the land. This is dissimilar to the situation in Israel-Palestine where you have an almost equal proportion of Israelis and Palestinians who pursue sovereignty in terms of state-building. Indeed, policies concerning Indigenous Australia are based on the reality that coexistence is necessary, whereas the focus of the Palestinians and Israelis is on the pursuit of separate states altogether. Although the similarities to an Indigenous context are noticeable when establishing rights to land and self-governance, they do not encapsulate the entirety of the Palestinian struggle and so would undermine the movement. Therefore, it is necessary to look at other ways in which we could frame these parallel struggles without dissolving the uniqueness of the peoples involved and the differences in their respective movements. Erakat had an answer for this.
Bridging struggles: connecting futures
“So what about Australia?” she said to the crowd, “This is the universality of the struggle against settler colonisation.” Erakat sees the Palestinian cause as a universal struggle. However, as she points out, the question of Palestine is usually only viewed in relation to Israel; it is only seen as a fledgling and hopeful state. And so, its cause is only framed in relation to things such as sovereignty, nationhood and land. Specifically, the cause is captured in what Erakat calls, ‘finite terms’ that effectively shrink the issues into an impossible equation. An equation that Australia holds up with the way in which it engages with the conflict.
As a nation, we view this conflict without reference to our own history. In fact, it is quite clear that we look through an uncritical lens that is largely influenced by our powerful Israeli lobby and foreign policy imperative to follow our ‘great and powerful friend’, The United States of America. The reality is that Australians have not seen a genuine debate about the conflict in years. Not only is this unhealthy within our framework of liberal democracy but it has also inadvertently allowed the general public to disengage with the peoples and their histories.
Therefore, in offering a solution, Erakat suggests that we look through another lens: a lens that brings these peoples and histories to the forefront. To instead use an equation with room to move; with infinite variables such as shared histories and terms of belonging. Here, creating connections between the respective struggles of Indigenous Australians and Palestinians becomes important.
This idea is supported by referencing the framework of ‘political solidarity’. Leading scholar in this area of thought, Jumal Juma, explains this concept by showing that because of the intrinsic interconnected ways that land dispossession and systemic violence are linked globally, it is necessary to “unify our struggles” and go beyond solidarity by “working towards a joint global struggle.” Arguably, this connection frames ‘strategic’ alliances with the ability to transcend traditional forms of power in the global realm. Here, solidarity is not just the ground upon which these connections stand together but rather it is a transformative process with real capabilities.
Evidently, this type of unification is already on the rise. Here in Jerusalem, Indigenous Australian artist, Richard Bell, made this connection clear. During a ‘Qalandiya International’ contemporary art event, Bell set up a replica of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy that has sat on the front lawn of Australian Parliament for over 40 years. With a sign in Arabic guiding people inside, Bell spoke passionately about the struggles of oppressed peoples who feel alienated from their homeland. Similarly, groups such as ‘Solidarity for Palestine-Aboriginal Land’ are becoming increasingly active and have started a wave of solidarity rallies that connect Aboriginals with Palestinians. Indeed, moments and projects like this evoke the global memory and are reflective of the strategic importance of solidarity.
These types of movements are the corridor through which international input can enter the peace process in a meaningful way. As an Australian, I see this as a legitimate way in which we can mobilise to help resolve the conflict whilst, at the same time, allow us to consider and improve the settings of our own nation. Like an unwanted uncle at a family barbeque, we must allow histories to show up from distant relations. After all, we might just be surprised with what they bring to the table.