tag:theconversation.com,2011:/fr/topics/ms-dhu-26621/articlesMs Dhu – The Conversation2021-06-03T03:31:33Ztag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1614122021-06-03T03:31:33Z2021-06-03T03:31:33ZAustralia’s news media play an important role reminding the country that Black lives still matter<p><em>Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised this article contains names of people who have passed away, and descriptions of these deaths.</em></p>
<p>One year has passed since George Floyd’s death under the knee of a Minneapolis police officer. Floyd’s name is imprinted upon our consciousness, as it should be. </p>
<p>However, in Australia we know less about the <a href="https://newsroom.unsw.edu.au/news/business-law/black-lives-matter-movement-australia-first-nations-perspectives">more than 474 Indigenous people who have died in police or prison custody</a> in the 30 years since the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody.</p>
<p>While Floyd’s death and the Black Lives Matter movement sparked extensive media attention, Australian Indigenous deaths in custody have had a harder time attracting sustained coverage, particularly from mainstream news outlets. Media attention on the issue has been episodic and too often absent.</p>
<h2>The Great Australian Silence continues</h2>
<p>As Darumbal and South Sea Islander journalist Amy McQuire <a href="https://7ampodcast.com.au/episodes/black-witness-white-witness">says</a>, there is a national apathy in response to First Nations deaths in custody. McQuire, who consistently reports on deaths in custody as an independent journalist, says: “When Aboriginal people die in custody there is a national silence”. Some deaths in custody break through, but many more pass unnoticed.</p>
<p>The royal commission stated that to reduce Aboriginal deaths in custody it is critical to reduce imprisonment rates (which have <a href="https://www.ceda.com.au/NewsAndResources/Opinion/Indigenous-affairs/Costs,-consequences-and-alternatives-to-imprisonin">doubled</a> since 1991), and to improve the exercise of the duty of care owed to people in custody. </p>
<p>Two Indigenous deaths in custody, 20 years apart, demonstrate the failure to achieve both.</p>
<p>In 1994, 30-year-old Aboriginal woman <a href="https://communityyarns.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/The-girl-in-cell-4.pdf">Ms Beetson</a> died of treatable heart disease in Sydney’s Mulawa women’s prison. </p>
<p>She was admitted to prison unwell; previous open-heart surgery and other concerns were highlighted on her admittance form. She was given a cursory medical examination and her symptoms were put down to drug withdrawal. Over a week, she became weaker and sicker, received no effective medical attention and died alone in a cell.</p>
<p>In 2014, Yamatji woman Ms Dhu, 22, was arrested for unpaid fines, against royal commission recommendations. She was held in a South Hedland, WA, police watch house for three days in intense pain and growing sicker. </p>
<p>The usual assumptions were made about drug withdrawal and that she was “<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2016/dec/16/ms-dhu-endured-inhumane-treatment-by-police-before-death-in-custody-coroner">faking it</a>”. She died of staphylococcal septicaemia and pneumonia.</p>
<p>Twenty years apart, the circumstances around Ms Beetson’s and Ms Dhu’s deaths reflect the same inadequate medical treatment, inhumanity, lack of professionalism and failures. Both medical conditions were treatable and both deaths preventable. </p>
<p>But the story of Ms Dhu’s case broke through, due to local and effective activism, and because the media landscape had started to change.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/not-criminals-or-passive-victims-media-need-to-reframe-their-representation-of-aboriginal-deaths-in-custody-158561">Not criminals or passive victims: media need to reframe their representation of Aboriginal deaths in custody</a>
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<p>The year before Ms Dhu’s death, The Guardian began publishing an online Australian edition. Guardian journalist <a href="https://www.walkleys.com/spotlight-on-calla-wahlquist-and-lorena-allam/">Calla Wahlquist</a> reported at least one story every day from the inquest into Ms Dhu’s death. </p>
<p>The Guardian’s sustained deaths in custody reporting and its “<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/series/deaths-inside">Deaths Inside</a>” database have made a difference to deaths in custody coverage.</p>
<h2>Australian media needs to keep addressing deaths in custody</h2>
<p>Media attention was important in helping to <a href="https://wendybacon.com/2021/Deaths">create the conditions</a> for the royal commission’s establishment. Among the more influential and agenda-setting stories were those by Western Australian freelance journalist <a href="https://www.icij.org/journalists/jan-mayman/">Jan Mayman</a> reporting on Roebourne teenager John Pat’s 1983 death for The Age, and a <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/4corners/black-death---1985/2835060">1985 Four Corners program</a> presented by David Marr.</p>
<p>In its report and <a href="https://theconversation.com/not-criminals-or-passive-victims-media-need-to-reframe-their-representation-of-aboriginal-deaths-in-custody-158561">recommendations</a>, the royal commission recognised the important role of the media as a form of “collective conscience”, contributing to the possibility of increased justice for Aboriginal people. </p>
<p>The <a href="https://www.naa.gov.au/sites/default/files/2020-02/research-guide-aboriginal-deaths-in-custody.pdf">release</a> of the royal commission’s final report was a Black-lives-just-could-matter moment in Australia. </p>
<p>Here was the blueprint for transforming the life chances of Aboriginal people, and the relationship between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal Australians. Implementing the report’s 339 recommendations could reduce imprisonment rates, deaths in custody, inequality and disadvantage.</p>
<p>When the <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/other/IndigLRes/rciadic/">report</a> was released, the media was again <a href="https://wendybacon.com/2021/Deaths">interested and engaged</a>. Aboriginal people’s points of view were heard, and Aboriginal deaths in custody became an important story that put individual deaths into context. However, this kind of reporting soon fell away.</p>
<p>Four years after the report, governments were claiming successful implementation of the royal commission’s recommendations. However, the <a href="https://www.aic.gov.au/publications/sr/sr21">Australian Institute of Criminology</a> was reporting deaths in prison at record levels. </p>
<p><a href="https://wendybacon.com/uploads/appendix-c_reportage-article.pdf">Research</a> by the Australian Centre for Independent Journalism found the media uncritically reported government implementation claims as if they were true.</p>
<h2>Non-Indigenous journalists need to step up</h2>
<p>While First Nations journalists, such as Amy McQuire, Gamilaraay and Yawalaraay woman <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/profile/lorena-allam">Loreena Allam</a> and Muruwari man <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2020-06-28/covering-black-deaths-in-australia-led-me-to-a-breakdown/12390416">Allan Clarke</a>, are telling stories of injustice meted out to Aboriginal people, non-Indigenous journalists must also keep telling stories about the injustices caused by colonisation.</p>
<p>It took an event in the US to spark the Indigenous lives matter response across Australia. Journalists must continue to report on the chain of events that lead to Black deaths at the hands of the state. </p>
<p><strong>How we can do this:</strong></p>
<p>We can report the facts, for instance, Indigenous adult and youth apprehension and imprisonment rates, Aboriginal youth and adult suicide rates, coronial inquest findings and recommendations.</p>
<ol>
<li><p>We can interview witnesses, family members and representatives, police and prison officers, and other experts and report what they and other informed commentators say about the facts, consequences and causes of those deaths. </p></li>
<li><p>We can investigate and discern the patterns emerging from these deaths; the similar facts and <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2020/jun/11/the-story-of-david-dungay-and-an-indigenous-death-in-custody">common factors</a>, the same systemic failures, the ongoing evidence of institutional racism.</p></li>
<li><p>Through our journalism we need to honour each person who has died, and try to bring some comfort to their affected families and communities.</p></li>
</ol>
<p>As investigative journalist Allan Clarke <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2020-06-28/covering-black-deaths-in-australia-led-me-to-a-breakdown/12390416">says</a>:</p>
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<p>Australia, we can do better and we must do better.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><em>See <a href="https://jeraa.org.au/listen-reporting-black-lives-matters/">here</a> for resources and guides for what we as journalists can do.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/161412/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Bonita Mason does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>George Floyd’s death and the US Black Lives Matter movement sparked extensive media attention. Why aren’t Australian Indigenous deaths in custody getting the same amount of media coverage?Bonita Mason, Senior Lecturer in Journalism, University of South AustraliaLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1439142020-08-05T02:03:35Z2020-08-05T02:03:35ZWhy the Black Lives Matter protests must continue: an urgent appeal by Marcia Langton<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/351194/original/file-20200805-43856-1w1c7gb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=23%2C38%2C5152%2C3305&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Glenn Hunt/AAP</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>This is an edited transcript of the 2020 Thea Astley Address delivered by Marcia Langton at the <a href="https://byronwritersfestival.com/">Byron Writers Festival</a>. It’s a longer read at 4,500 words. You can listen to the the speech <a href="http://byronwritersfestival.com/digital/byron-writers-festival-2020-thea-astley-address-marcia-langton-black-lives-matter/">here</a>.</em></p>
<p><em>Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised this article contains names and images of deceased people.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>Hello, I’m Marcia Langton and welcome to the 2020 Thea Astley Address.</p>
<p>I acknowledge the traditional owners of Bundjalung of Byron Bay Arakwal people, the Minjungbal people and the Widjabul people as Traditional Owners and custodians of their homelands in the Byron Shire. I pay my respects to their Elders, past and present. I also acknowledge the Wurundjeri people of the Kulin nations on whose lands I live and work and salute their Elders throughout the thousands of generations.</p>
<p>I hope Thea Astley in the other world has watched the last few weeks of the Black Lives Movement and pondered on the history of Palm Island. </p>
<p>When she wrote <a href="https://www.booktopia.com.au/the-multiple-effects-of-rainshadow-thea-astley/book/9781925603569.html?source=pla&gclid=CjwKCAjwjqT5BRAPEiwAJlBuBYeY0hDlO4z9GLJcIPIB4s5IEmI4U_F6_b4Tupfv8uSjyM77KmvPSRoC90gQAvD_BwE">The Multiple Effects of Rainshadow</a> published in 1996, she could not have imagined that the injustices meted out to the Palm Islanders from 1919 when the settlement was established, to 1957 when the Palm Island strike was savagely put down, would result in a telling instance of how Black Lives Matter in history, in the present, and for our future.</p>
<p>Thea Astley passed on in 2004, the same year as Mulrunji or Cameron Doomadgee, who <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2014-11-19/palm-island-community-still-struggling-after-death-in-custody/5901028">died in a police cell</a> on Palm Island on Friday, November 19, in an encounter with Sergeant Chris Hurley. The office of the state coroner reported on the inquest on May 14, 2010. </p>
<p>Doomadgee was a resident of Palm Island. He was found dead in a cell in the police station on Palm Island. A post-mortem examination showed that he had a cut above his right eye, four broken ribs, his portal vein had been ruptured and his liver had been almost cleaved in two.</p>
<p>The Doomadgee case tells us that there is something rotten in the state of Denmark, and leaders from every Australian government are oblivious to the stench. It is an exemplary case of the persistent habit of police forces and criminal justice systems to fail Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people. At this point in time, the numbers of deaths in custody <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2020/jun/06/aboriginal-deaths-in-custody-434-have-died-since-1991-new-data-shows">exceed 400</a> and they’re probably closer to 500 since the <a href="https://apo.org.au/node/30017">royal commission</a> commenced in 1987.</p>
<p>The deputy state coroner, Christine Clements, had conducted an inquest into the death and stood down to avoid a perception of bias. She <a href="https://www.courts.qld.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0008/86642/cif-doomadgee-mulrunji-20060927.pdf">published her findings</a> on September 27, 2006. </p>
<p>She found </p>
<blockquote>
<p>the deceased died from intra-abdominal haemorrhage due to or as a consequence of the rupture of his liver and portal vein. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>And concluded that </p>
<blockquote>
<p>Senior Sergeant Hurley, the police officer on Palm Island at the time of the death of the deceased, caused these injuries to the deceased.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>She also found </p>
<blockquote>
<p>Senior Sergeant Hurley and the deceased fell through the doorway of the police station onto the floor and then Mr Hurley, angered by the unruly behaviour of the deceased, hit the deceased whilst he was on the floor a number of times, in a direct response to himself having been hit in the jaw and then falling to the floor.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And lastly, she wrote </p>
<blockquote>
<p>the fatal injuries suffered by the deceased were not caused in or as a result of the fall but by Senior Sergeant Hurley punching the deceased after the fall.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>But the later inquest report which superseded the one I’ve just read from, was careful to account for what followed.</p>
<p>The then Queensland attorney-general, Kerry Shine, initiated <a href="https://www.news.com.au/national/policeman-charged-with-manslaughter/news-story/4a3e53fb24191f4bb91188a6f20fdaf5?sv=e2306db5bad364524d4c8767a8593e08">criminal proceedings</a> against Hurley for the manslaughter and the assault of Doomadgee, following the receipt by him of legal advice from former New South Wales chief justice, Laurence Street.</p>
<p>The trial was conducted in the Supreme Court in Townsville in June 2007 and the jury <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/7.30/hurley-acquitted-after-controversial-case/2679506">acquitted</a> Hurley of both charges. </p>
<p>The Doomadgee case tells us that over a period of 14 years the Queensland Police and criminal justice system denied justice to the deceased and the family. </p>
<p>Lex Wotton later took a case against the Queensland government after Peter Beattie, the premier, had sent in riot police to put down the protests of the community. The racism and the impunity of the police in their attacks ended up <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2018/may/01/queensland-to-pay-palm-islanders-30m-over-police-response-to-2004-riots">costing</a> the Queensland government $30 million. </p>
<p>But there are hundreds of other cases where justice has been denied. Thirteen years ago, Chris Hurley was the first policeman to stand trial for an Aboriginal death in custody. Hurley pleaded not guilty. And as you know now he was acquitted of all charges.</p>
<h2>Court finds police acted with impunity</h2>
<p>Returning to Lex Wotton: on the day of Doomadgee’s autopsy results arriving on Palm Island, Wotton read them out to a large crowd of the residents. This occurred about a week after his death. Led by Wotton, angry residents marched from the town square and burned down the police station, courthouse and police houses. Officers tried to barricade themselves as they were attacked with sticks and rocks, and told to leave the island.</p>
<p>Wotton was later <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2020-03-04/lex-wotton-nominee/12023890?nw=0">convicted</a> of inciting a riot and served 19 months in jail before being released on parole in 2014. </p>
<p>The Federal Court found in litigation taken by Wotton in November 2016 that police were racist in their response and ordered compensation for one family, prompting momentum for the community to take a class action. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="Protestors holding a sign that reads, 'Free Lex Wotton'" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/351198/original/file-20200805-46094-1l68lac.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/351198/original/file-20200805-46094-1l68lac.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351198/original/file-20200805-46094-1l68lac.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351198/original/file-20200805-46094-1l68lac.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351198/original/file-20200805-46094-1l68lac.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=501&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351198/original/file-20200805-46094-1l68lac.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=501&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351198/original/file-20200805-46094-1l68lac.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=501&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="caption">Protestors calling for the release of Lex Wotton in 2008.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Tony Phillips/AAP</span></span>
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</figure>
<p>Federal Court Justice Debbie Mortimer <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-12-05/palm-island-riots-federal-court-upholds-discrimination-suit/8093182">found</a> police had acted with impunity. She also found the Queensland police service’s failure to suspend Hurley after Doomadgee’s death was unlawful discrimination. </p>
<p>In that case, Wotton and his family were awarded $220,000 in damages for racial discrimination in December 2016. Doomadgee’s death resonated on the island, in the Queensland government, nationally and internationally for another 14 years. </p>
<p>And despite the sadness and grief felt for his far too early death, a measure of justice was finally delivered after these years of protest and litigation, when the Queensland government settled an out-of-court class action for the egregious attacks on the residents of Palm Island by the Queensland riot police. And as I said, the class action resulted in a $30 million payout.</p>
<h2>Systemic racism that pervades the police</h2>
<p>That Hurley, like all other police involved in the long history of Aboriginal deaths in custody, was cleared of any wrongdoing, with all that the history of this case tells us about Aboriginal deaths in custody, the cynical contempt for justice demonstrated by the Queensland police and many in the judiciary, cannot be ignored. </p>
<p>And it was not ignored. The death of Doomadgee became the subject of books, documentaries and litigation, including, as I said, the successful class action. One of the outstanding books on the subject is Chloe Hooper’s <a href="https://www.penguin.com.au/books/the-tall-man-9780143010661">The Tall Man</a>. It was also made into a documentary.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Hurley had been transferred to a police station on the Gold Coast where he was charged while serving as a police officer with assault, dangerous driving and other offences. </p>
<p>Criminal lawyers were moved to write blogs about Hurley. On July 15, 2017, Paul Gregoire and Ugur Nedim of Sydney Criminal Lawyers <a href="https://www.sydneycriminallawyers.com.au/blog/senior-sergeant-chris-hurley-a-criminal-with-a-badge/">referred to him</a> as “a criminal with a badge” on the website of their law firm, summing up for all of us the true state of affairs denied by the entire criminal justice system in Queensland. </p>
<p>They detailed his criminal activities on the Gold Coast. He was <a href="https://www.goldcoastbulletin.com.au/news/crime-court/christopher-hurley-fights-charges-after-pacific-pines-car-chase/news-story/e5390208c6480b14fa6713179d973225">found guilty</a> on two counts of dangerous driving during a high speed police pursuit in the suburb of Pacific Pines on the Gold Coast in May 2015. </p>
<p>He pleaded guilty to <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2017-01-24/suspended-cop-chris-hurley-fined-assault-female-police-officer/8209328">assaulting</a> a female police officer in a Gold Coast shopping centre 12 months earlier. </p>
<p>He was found guilty of <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-12-02/chris-hurley-fined-$900-assaulting-motorist/8087284">assaulting</a> Luke Cole during a roadside arrest in November 2013, when he unjustifiably put the driver in a chokehold. At the time of his hearing for that offence, Hurley was already suspended without pay due to a string of charges against him. He took medical retirement. However, the bloggers <a href="https://www.sydneycriminallawyers.com.au/blog/senior-sergeant-chris-hurley-a-criminal-with-a-badge/">write</a>, </p>
<blockquote>
<p>if one takes a closer look at Hurley’s police career, or rather, the times he’s been on the wrong side of the law, what one finds is an example of the systemic racism that pervades the Queensland police service and on a broader scale, many other Australian institutions.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>Findings from Guardian investigation</h2>
<p>There is no time here to recount the many failings of the Queensland Justice System in the Doomadgee case and so many others involving Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander detainees. </p>
<p>But the findings of the <a href="https://www.naa.gov.au/explore-collection/first-australians/royal-commission-aboriginal-deaths-custody">Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody</a>, which commenced in 1987, were highly relevant to the coroner who conducted the second inquest into Doomadgee’s death, if it was totally ignored by the subsequent criminal trial of Hurley.</p>
<p>The denial of rights of, and natural justice to, the victims in the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander deaths in custody saga, the arrest and incarceration of Aboriginal adults and children, have reached the level of a national crisis. </p>
<p>This is the view of many Indigenous people, human rights advocates, many in the legal fraternity and thousands of citizens. It is not the view, however, of the political leadership in Australian governments. </p>
<p>Even the most reasonable reforms have been rejected. Those who campaigned this year to <a href="https://theconversation.com/ten-year-olds-do-not-belong-in-detention-why-australia-must-raise-the-age-of-criminal-responsibility-142483">raise the age</a> of criminal responsibility from 10 to 14 years of age are bitterly disappointed by the decision of the Council of Attorneys-General this week to <a href="https://www.als.org.au/bitter-disappointment-at-delays-in-raising-the-age-of-criminal-responsibility/">delay a decision</a> until next year, citing as the reason the risk to community safety, particularly on behalf of the Western Australian government.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/ten-year-olds-do-not-belong-in-detention-why-australia-must-raise-the-age-of-criminal-responsibility-142483">Ten-year-olds do not belong in detention. Why Australia must raise the age of criminal responsibility</a>
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<p>How bad is it?</p>
<p>Throughout the first half of 2020, as people chanted “Black Lives Matter” across the world in protest of the killing of George Floyd and too many others, the Guardian Australia <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/ng-interactive/2018/aug/28/deaths-inside-indigenous-australian-deaths-in-custody">conducted a study</a> of Aboriginal deaths in custody in Australia. </p>
<p>After reading 589 coronial reports, the team at the Guardian found “a record of systemic failure and neglect” and reported on a number of key issues that are too often ignored by police and the criminal justice system. There are too many myths about trends in deaths and incarceration rates and how Aboriginal people in custody are treated, both by the police who charge them, and when they are in custody, whether in police custody or in a correctional facility. </p>
<p>So, the Guardian team write,</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The key finding of the Royal Commission was that Aboriginal people are more likely to die in custody because they are arrested and jailed at disproportionate rates.</p>
<p>That remains as true in 2020 as it was in 1991. In 1991, 14.3% of the male prison population in Australia was Indigenous. In March 2020 it was 28.6%. So, the numbers have increased dramatically but so too has the proportion.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The proportion has doubled since 1991. And,</p>
<blockquote>
<p>According to data released by the Australian Bureau of Statistics this month, 4.7% of all Indigenous men are in jail, compared with just 0.3% of all non-Indigenous men.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And the Guardian writers continue,</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Then as now, non-Indigenous people died in greater numbers and at greater rates in custody than Indigenous people. But then as now, Indigenous people made up just 3% of the total population.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>That means more Aboriginal people are imprisoned and dying as a proportion of their total population. And they continue,</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Using the most recent census and Australian Institute of Criminology figures, to calculate a crude rate per 100,000 people, showing Indigenous people are 10 times more likely to die in prison than non-Indigenous people.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Their examination of coronial reports also showed a stark difference in the treatment of Indigenous people who died in custody compared with non-Indigenous people, and they write,</p>
<blockquote>
<p>While the most common cause of death for both Indigenous and non-Indigenous people in custody was medical issues, or what coronial reports referred to as natural causes, Indigenous people were much less likely to have been given all of the medical care they needed prior to their death.</p>
<p>Agencies such as police watch houses, prisons and hospitals failed to follow all of their own procedures in 37% of cases where Indigenous people died, compared with 21% for non-Indigenous people. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander defendants were more likely to receive a sentence of imprisonment upon conviction than non-Indigenous defendants.</p>
<p>Almost a third of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander defendants were jailed, compared to 18% of non-Indigenous defendants, despite the two groups having similar conviction rates: 85% to 81%.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And the Guardian revealed that,</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Police in New South Wales pursued more than 80% of Indigenous people found with small amounts of cannabis through the courts while letting others off with warnings, forcing young Aboriginal people into a criminal justice system that legal experts say they will potentially never get out of.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And the Guardian concluded that,</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Between 2013 and 2017 the police disproportionately used the justice system to prosecute Indigenous people despite the existence of a specific cautioning scheme introduced to keep minor drug offenses out of the courts.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>No justice, no prosecutions</h2>
<p>So, I ask rhetorically, where is the stench coming from?</p>
<p>I worked for the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody from 1989 to 1990. After the primary recommendation of the royal commission that incarceration or arrest and imprisonment of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people should be a last resort, the key recommendation pertained to the principle and implementation of duty of care by all involved in the criminal justice system from police to correctional services officers. </p>
<p>We can see from the evidence unearthed by the Guardian team that the failure of police and correctional service officers to exercise duty of care remains the primary contributing factor to Aboriginal deaths in custody. The Guardian team found that, for instance,</p>
<blockquote>
<p>An Aboriginal woman with a chronic injury and a tooth abscess was denied pain medication for six weeks after being transferred to Townsville Women’s Prison in 2010. Her medical records had not arrived with her and apart from issuing Panadol, authorities did not believe she was in need of pain relief. Six weeks after the transfer she took her own life. The coroner said the pain was a contributing factor in her despair during her final weeks.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>In another instance,</p>
<blockquote>
<p>An Aboriginal man in the grip of cardiac arrest was made to walk to a guard station to use a portable oxygen unit before an ambulance was called. Another Aboriginal man died of heart disease lying on a concrete bench in a Darwin police watch house cell. The coroner said, a sick middle-aged Aboriginal man was treated like a criminal and incarcerated like a criminal. He died in a police cell which was built to house criminals. In my view he was entitled to die as a free man.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And,</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The well-known case of Mr Ward, a Ngaanyatjarra elder, who the coroner found was cooked to death in a prison transport van in circumstances described as wholly unnecessary and avoidable.</p>
<p>Families of those who die experience poor treatment. Coroners have criticised unnecessary delays in notifying next-of-kin. In one case a father found out his son had died when another prisoner called him several hours after the death, long before police notified him officially. In many cases police investigating a death on behalf of the coroner failed to interview anyone other than the prison or police officers directly involved. Aboriginal witnesses were left out.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And so, having read so much from that very important Guardian report, I want to acknowledge my gratitude to the Guardian for covering this issue of Aboriginal deaths in custody so assiduously.</p>
<p>Like hundreds of other Australians, I was distressed by the death of <a href="https://www.hrlc.org.au/news/2017/8/2/three-years-since-ms-dhus-tragic-death-in-custody-unfair-laws-remain">Ms Dhu</a> in custody in a police cell in Western Australia, and then later, the death of <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2020-04-09/tanya-day-coronial-finding-into-death-in-custody/12134398">Tanya Day</a> in a police cell in Victoria. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="Tanya Day's children holding a picture of their mother." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/351195/original/file-20200805-5580-ha5q2k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/351195/original/file-20200805-5580-ha5q2k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=454&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351195/original/file-20200805-5580-ha5q2k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=454&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351195/original/file-20200805-5580-ha5q2k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=454&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351195/original/file-20200805-5580-ha5q2k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=570&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351195/original/file-20200805-5580-ha5q2k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=570&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351195/original/file-20200805-5580-ha5q2k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=570&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Tanya Day’s family have been campaigning for justice after the death of the Yorta Yorta mother and grandmother.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Julian Smith/AAP</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>There are too many other cases of Aboriginal women who have died in police custody to recount here. Their lives were cut short by violence compounded by what seemed to be a contempt for Aboriginal women, that can pass for normal and acceptable across all classes and cultures in Australia. </p>
<p>There has been no justice, no prosecutions, just a cold silence from the authorities. Only their families, a few journalists and a very small number of people holding vigils, until the Black Lives Matter protesters this year have brought these matters to our attention. These deaths are the tip of the iceberg. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/aboriginal-woman-tanya-day-died-in-custody-now-an-inquest-is-investigating-if-systemic-racism-played-a-role-122471">Aboriginal woman Tanya Day died in custody. Now an inquest is investigating if systemic racism played a role</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>The death of Ms Dhu</h2>
<p>Most others have passed without any public attention or anything like justice. </p>
<p>Ms Dhu, a Yamatji woman, was 22 years old when she died in Port Hedland, Western Australia in 2014. She had been arrested for unpaid fines on August 2, then detained for three days at the South Hedland police station under a controversial policy of paying fines through jail time. She owed $3,622. </p>
<p>During those three days, she cried in agony for hours and vomited as pneumonia and septicaemia, resulting from untreated broken ribs, took her life. The police took her to the Hedland Health Campus three times while she was in custody. She was twice discharged back into police custody without treatment and clearly without any competent diagnosis. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="Supporters of Ms Dhu outside a coroner's court." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/351197/original/file-20200805-5896-17suf0y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/351197/original/file-20200805-5896-17suf0y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351197/original/file-20200805-5896-17suf0y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351197/original/file-20200805-5896-17suf0y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351197/original/file-20200805-5896-17suf0y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351197/original/file-20200805-5896-17suf0y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351197/original/file-20200805-5896-17suf0y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Ms Dhu, a Yamatji woman, died in police custody in 2014.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Richard Wainwright/AAP</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Medical personnel stated that she had behavioural issues. She continued to complain that she was unwell. In CCTV footage from her third day in custody she appeared barely conscious, prompting police to take her back to the Hedland Health Campus a third time. Shortly after her arrival she went into cardiac arrest and died. Her death and its circumstances were ignored by authorities.</p>
<p>In October 2014, Ms Dhu’s grandmother, Carol Roe, working with the Deaths in Custody Watch Committee, <a href="https://www.themonthly.com.au/issue/2016/july/1467295200/marcia-langton/two-victims-no-justice#mtr">issued</a> a public appeal for an independent investigation to be held for a series of reforms, such as stopping imprisonment for the non-payment of fines, and infringement to be implemented and for demonstrations to be held. </p>
<p>A coronial inquest commenced in Perth on November 23, 2015. The <a href="https://www.coronerscourt.wa.gov.au/I/inquest_into_the_death_of_ms_dhu.aspx">coronial inquiry</a> was an extraordinarily painful document to read. Some of it was televised and I myself cried at the appalling treatment of Ms Dhu. </p>
<p>The police and the health campus staff denied that they were in any way racist. That they seemed oblivious to their responsibilities of duty of care to Ms Dhu and performed their duties with general contempt and incompetence, as revealed in the evidence to the inquest, says otherwise.</p>
<h2>What the royal commission recommended</h2>
<p>So I ask this question again: Are the police and correctional services racist? Is there structural or systemic racism in the Australian criminal justice system?</p>
<p>The answer to these questions that emerge from the thousands of pages of evidence is a resounding yes.</p>
<p>Until measures are taken to prevent police and correctional services officers from failing in their duties to the Indigenous people they detain or any Australian they detain, and ensuring that an encounter with them is not fatal, we must say yes, and demand that all Australian governments implement the recommendations of the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody.</p>
<p>And here I want to be specific. Governments <a href="https://humanrights.gov.au/our-work/indigenous-deaths-custody-chapter-8-custodial-conditions">must ensure that</a>,</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Police services, corrective services and authorities in charge of juvenile centres recognise that they owe a legal duty of care to persons in their custody. That the standing instructions to the officers of these authorities specify that each officer involved in the arrest, incarceration or supervision of a person in custody has a legal duty of care to that person and may be held legally responsible for the death or injury of the person caused or contributed to by a breach of that duty, and that these authorities ensure that such officers are aware of their responsibilities and trained appropriately to meet them both on recruitment and during their service.</p>
<p>That these authorities ensure that such officers are aware of their responsibilities and trained appropriately to meet them. That police and corrective services establish clear policies in relation to breaches of departmental instructions. </p>
<p>Instructions relating to the care of persons in custody should be in mandatory terms and be both enforceable and enforced. Procedures should be put in place to ensure that such instructions are brought to the attention of, and are understood by, all officers and that those officers are made aware that the instructions will be enforced. Such instructions should be available to the public. </p>
<p>In all jurisdictions a screening form be introduced as a routine element in the reception of persons into police custody. That in every case of a person being taken into custody and immediately before for that person is placed in a cell, a screening form should be completed and a risk assessment made by a police officer or such other person who is trained and designated as the person responsible for the completion of such forms and the assessment of prisoners.</p>
<p>The assessment of a detainee and other procedures relating to the completion of the screening form should be completed with care and thoroughness.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Recommendations of the royal commission included not just the compulsory Custody Watch Service be implemented in every jurisdiction, but also that:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Upon initial reception at a prison all Aboriginal prisoners should be subject to a thorough medical assessment with a view to determining whether the prisoner is at risk of injury, illness or self-harm. Such assessment on initial reception should be provided wherever possible by a medical practitioner.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And further:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>That where persons are held in police watch houses, that authorities arrange in consultation with police services for medical services, and as far as possible other services, to be provided, not less adequate than those that are provided in correctional institutions. </p>
<p>That the use of breath analysis equipment to test the blood alcohol levels at the time of reception of persons taken into custody be thoroughly evaluated by police services in consultation with Aboriginal legal services, health services, health departments and relevant agencies. </p>
<p>Protocols be established for the transfer between Police and Corrective Services of information about the physical or mental condition of an Aboriginal person which may create or increase the risks of death or injury to that person when in custody.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The hundreds of recommendations of the royal commission are very detailed, and these in particular and many more, addressed the practices of police that we now know have not changed since the royal commission report was made public, with the result that there have been hundreds more cases of Aboriginal deaths in custody. </p>
<p>These recommendations also extended to correctional services officers and likewise, they too have failed in their duty of care far too many times.</p>
<p>Another important recommendation was that,</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Police services should be immediately in negotiation with Aboriginal health services and government health and medical agencies, to examine the delivery of medical services to persons in police custody. </p>
<p>Such examinations should include, but not be limited to, the following: The introduction of a regular medical or nursing presence in all principal watch houses in capital cities, and in such other major centres as have substantial numbers detained. In other locations the establishment of arrangements to have medical practitioners or trained nurses readily available to attend police watch houses for the purpose of identifying those prisoners who are at risk.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And, the establishment of protocols in relation to those measures:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The development of the protocols for the care and management of Aboriginal prisoners at risk with attention to be given to the specific action to be taken by officers with respect to the management of intoxicated persons, persons who are known to suffer from illnesses such as epilepsy, diabetes or heart disease or other serious medical conditions. </p>
<p>Persons who make any attempt to harm themselves or who exhibit a tendency to violent, irrational or potentially self-injurious behaviour. Persons with an impaired state of consciousness, angry aggressive or otherwise disturbed persons, persons suffering from mental illness and other serious medical conditions. Persons in possession of or requiring access to medication and other such persons as agreed.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The tragedy of this situation is that hundreds of people have died because those recommendations were not implemented fully. In fact, we can see from just the few cases I’ve mentioned today that in many parts of Australia the recommendations, if they were ever implemented, have certainly not been implemented in recent times and that in each case the responsible officers should have been held responsible for those deaths and they were not. </p>
<p>Not one of them has been convicted for the deaths of detainees in their care. They utterly failed in their duty of care and they were contemptuous of the lives that they contributed to taking.</p>
<h2>Protests must continue</h2>
<p>So, I want to conclude by pointing to the performance of the Aboriginal health sector, the Aboriginal community controlled health sector, during the COVID-19 pandemic. As a result of their excellent performance, at about midway during the pandemic, there had been only 56 positive cases amongst our population of 800,000 and no deaths. </p>
<p>More recently, in the last week, we’ve heard that there have been quite a few positive cases in Victoria of Aboriginal people. But as yet, fortunately no deaths.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/why-self-determination-is-vital-for-indigenous-communities-to-beat-coronavirus-137611">Why self-determination is vital for Indigenous communities to beat coronavirus</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Compared with Australia’s record and the record of many other countries, that is an outstanding outcome. And it is due to the very clear understanding in the Aboriginal community-controlled health sector that the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander population was particularly at risk and indeed probably most at risk because of pre-existing medical conditions. </p>
<p>And all of the planning and implementation of plans and measures to ensure that COVID-19 did not enter Aboriginal communities and populations were aimed at protecting the most vulnerable and the sickest people in Australia.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="Protestors during a traditional smoking ceremony at a Black Lives Matter rally" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/351199/original/file-20200805-46600-1g2pnqc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/351199/original/file-20200805-46600-1g2pnqc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351199/original/file-20200805-46600-1g2pnqc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351199/original/file-20200805-46600-1g2pnqc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351199/original/file-20200805-46600-1g2pnqc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351199/original/file-20200805-46600-1g2pnqc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/351199/original/file-20200805-46600-1g2pnqc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Protests for Black Lives Matter, like this Sydney rally in July, should continue.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Joel Carrett/AAP</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>This should likewise be the intention of all police and correctional services facilities in their dealings with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people. Governments need to recognise that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people are particularly at risk of losing their lives when they go into detention. </p>
<p>It is now too late for all of those people who’ve died in custody at the hands of careless and negligent officers, but it is not too late for the generations to come. It is a primary responsibility of the Australian government and the state and territory governments, to act immediately and responsibly to prevent further deaths in custody of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people.</p>
<p>To achieve this, they must reduce the incarceration rate. They must reduce the arrest and imprisonment rates. Australians like myself expect to see the principle of Black Lives Matter implemented as soon as possible and the deaths prevented. Should we accommodate the tactics of governments who delay the implementation of these recommendations?</p>
<p>I say no.</p>
<p>I say <a href="https://theconversation.com/instead-of-demonising-black-lives-matter-protesters-leaders-must-act-on-their-calls-for-racial-justice-143269">the protests</a> must continue.</p>
<p>I say the human rights organisations, the <a href="https://changetherecord.org.au">Change the Record</a> campaign, the Black Lives Matter campaign, must turn their minds to these particular recommendations to stop further deaths in custody.</p>
<p>I thank you for listening to me.</p>
<p>Black Lives Matter.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/143914/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Professor Marcia Langton does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>It’s a tragedy that hundreds have died because the recommendations of the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody were not implemented fully.Professor Marcia Langton, Foundation Chair in Australian Indigenous Studies, The University of MelbourneLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1218142019-08-27T04:44:54Z2019-08-27T04:44:54ZLegal and welfare checks should be extended to save Aboriginal lives in custody<p>As the inquest begins into the death in custody of Yorta Yorta woman Tanya Day, who fell asleep on a train in Victoria before she <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2019/aug/24/tanya-day-death-custody-inquest-family-want-answers">was arrested</a> for public intoxication, questions are being asked about what it takes to stop Aboriginal people dying in custody.</p>
<p>Earlier this month was the fifth anniversary of the death of Ms Dhu, a young Yamatji woman <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2017-07-20/ms-dhu-family-to-sue-wa-over-death-in-custody/8728620">who died</a> after four days in South Hedland police lockup. The Western Australian coroner said: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>In her final hours she was unable to have the comfort of the presence of her loved ones, and was in the care of a number of police officers who disregarded her welfare and her right to humane and dignified treatment.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And in 2016, Wiradjuri mother Rebecca Maher died in custody after police failed to conduct any physical checks for her safety or take her to hospital, where <a href="http://www.coroners.justice.nsw.gov.au/Documents/Findings%20-%20Rebecca%20Maher.pdf">expert evidence</a> indicated she could have survived. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/deaths-in-custody-25-years-after-the-royal-commission-weve-gone-backwards-57109">Deaths in custody: 25 years after the royal commission, we've gone backwards</a>
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</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p><a href="https://www.sbs.com.au/news/indigenous-australians-more-likely-to-be-imprisoned-than-african-americans">A recent analysis</a> found Australia’s incarceration rate is sitting at 0.22%, the highest it’s been since 1899, with Indigenous people <a href="https://www.abs.gov.au/ausstats/abs@.nsf/Lookup/by%20Subject/4517.0%7E2018%7EMain%20Features%7EAboriginal%20and%20Torres%20Strait%20Islander%20prisoner%20characteristics%20%7E13">making up 28%</a> of those in prison. Tanya Day, Ms Dhu and Rebecca Maher are among the <a href="https://www.smh.com.au/national/how-many-times-does-one-person-have-to-be-tested-20190724-p52adv.html">400 people</a> who have died in custody, more than 25 years since the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody. </p>
<p>But how many deaths could have been avoided? </p>
<p>In Ms Dhu and Maher’s inquests, the families believed access to a custody notification service would have been an important check in the absence of police care.</p>
<p>The custody notification service is a 24/7 “telephone hotline” for Aboriginal people <a href="https://theconversation.com/nsw-ditches-another-protection-for-indigenous-people-in-custody-42811">to receive</a> legal advice and a welfare check. The Royal Commission <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/other/IndigLRes/rciadic/national/vol5/5.html">recommended</a> it be</p>
<blockquote>
<p>mandatory for Aboriginal Legal Services to be notified upon the arrest or detention of any Aboriginal person. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>A custody notification service is necessary as a health and legal line, including to alert police when a person needs medical help and make crucial referrals to community-controlled health and legal services. </p>
<p>But custody notification services aren’t accessible to people in protective custody, such as for intoxication. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/ms-dhu-coronial-findings-show-importance-of-teaching-doctors-and-nurses-about-unconscious-bias-60319">Ms Dhu coronial findings show importance of teaching doctors and nurses about unconscious bias</a>
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</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>And the services operate inconsistently across Australia, on short-term funding arrangements. Often they do not enable a conversation between the person in custody and the person on the line. Generally, the police are the ones who contact the service.</p>
<p>If Aboriginal deaths are to be prevented, the custody notification service needs to be funded nationally and implemented locally. It must encompass a well-being and legal service to Aboriginal people in police custody, a direct line to the Aboriginal person in custody and a mechanism for police accountability.</p>
<h2>Northern Territory: too little and too late</h2>
<p>In the Northern Territory, protective custody <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/cgi-bin/viewdoc/au/legis/nt/consol_act/paa1978227/s128.html">was introduced</a> to decriminalise intoxication. But it has led to police stations becoming <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/other/IndigLRes/rciadic/national/vol2/100.html">known as</a> “drunk tanks” exclusively for Aboriginal people. </p>
<p>Between 2003 and 2012, eight Aboriginal men and women died in the Northern Territory while in, or associated with, protective custody. </p>
<p>The Northern Territory government set down <a href="https://legislation.nt.gov.au/en/Subordinate-Legislation/Police-Administration-Amendment-Regulations-2019">regulations</a> for a custody notification service only last month – the last Australian jurisdiction to commit to such a service. </p>
<p>While the regulations provide little detail, they do have two notable exclusions: protective custody and paperless arrests.</p>
<p>The regime of <a href="http://theconversation.com/paperless-arrests-are-a-sure-fire-trigger-for-more-deaths-in-custody-42328">paperless arrests</a> allows police to take a person into custody where they would otherwise <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/cgi-bin/viewdoc/au/legis/nt/consol_act/paa1978227/s133ab.html">receive an</a> on-the-spot fine. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/paperless-arrests-are-a-sure-fire-trigger-for-more-deaths-in-custody-42328">Paperless arrests are a sure-fire trigger for more deaths in custody</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
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<p>Under these laws, Warlpiri artist and children’s book illustrator Kumunjayi Langdon died on <a href="https://justice.nt.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0009/208962/d00752015-perry-langdon.pdf">a concrete bench</a> in police lockup in Darwin in 2015 from treatable heart disease.</p>
<p>Both paperless arrests and protective custody already provide fewer procedural protections than arrests for an offence that result in charges. Removing access to the custody notification service for Aboriginal people arrested under these laws is another denial of safeguards.</p>
<h2>New South Wales is leading by example</h2>
<p>New South Wales led the way with its state-wide custody notification service, implemented <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/cgi-bin/viewdoc/au/legis/nsw/consol_reg/learr2016542/s37.html">in 2007</a>. It is set apart from many other custody notification services in Australia by providing direct contact with the person in custody.</p>
<p>Like the NT and most other Australian jurisdictions, NSW police have the power to detain an intoxicated person for their own protection. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/why-aboriginal-voices-need-to-be-front-and-centre-in-the-disability-royal-commission-115056">Why Aboriginal voices need to be front and centre in the disability Royal Commission</a>
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</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Maher died in custody in 2016 within five hours of being held in protective custody for intoxication, and wasn’t given access to the custody notification service.</p>
<p>She was held under part 16 of the Law Enforcement (Powers and Responsibilities) <a href="http://www7.austlii.edu.au/cgi-bin/viewdb/au/legis/nsw/consol_act/leara2002451/">Act 2002</a> (LEPRA), which allows for the detention of intoxicated people. It means she didn’t receive the benefit of a notification to the Aboriginal Legal Services given to those arrested under part 9 of the same law.</p>
<p>In July 2019, the NSW coroner in the inquest into Maher’s death identified the custody notification service was too narrow in its application. </p>
<p><a href="http://www.coroners.justice.nsw.gov.au/Documents/Findings%20-%20Rebecca%20Maher.pdf">She recommended</a> that an Aboriginal person detained under part 16 of LEPRA is given the same access to the service as an Aboriginal person held under part 9, and that the service should be sufficiently funded to extend to these people. </p>
<p>What’s more, the federal government <a href="http://www.coroners.justice.nsw.gov.au/Documents/Findings%20-%20Rebecca%20Maher.pdf">is working with</a> the NSW government to ensure the custody notification service is funded so it “extends to protective custody”.</p>
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<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/we-need-evidence-based-law-reform-to-reduce-rates-of-indigenous-incarceration-94228">We need evidence-based law reform to reduce rates of Indigenous incarceration</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
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<p>The custody notification service needs to be rolled out to protective custody across the nation to enable Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people in custody to have a direct line to the service. </p>
<p>For this service to effectively stop deaths in police custody, it must be fully-funded, consistently-funded and available to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people in custody, not only those arrested.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/121814/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Thalia Anthony receives funding from the Australian Research Council</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Alison Whittaker does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Tanya Day, Ms Dhu and Rebecca Maher are among the 400 people who have died in custody more than 25 years since the Royal Commission. How could those deaths have been avoided?Thalia Anthony, Associate Professor in Law, University of Technology SydneyAlison Whittaker, Research Fellow, University of Technology SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/603192016-12-20T05:12:11Z2016-12-20T05:12:11ZMs Dhu coronial findings show importance of teaching doctors and nurses about unconscious bias<p>In delivering her <a href="http://www.coronerscourt.wa.gov.au/I/inquest_into_the_death_of_ms_dhu.aspx?uid=1644-2151-2753-9965">findings of the coronial inquest</a> into the death of 22-year-old Ms Dhu during time spent in a Western Australian jail cell, state coroner Ros Fogliani was highly critical of some actions of police and medical staff.</p>
<p>She reportedly said Ms Dhu’s medical care in one instance was “deficient” and both police and hospital staff were <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2016/dec/16/ms-dhu-endured-inhumane-treatment-by-police-before-death-in-custody-coroner">influenced by preconceived notions</a> about Aboriginal people.</p>
<p>Ms Dhu died on 4 August 2014 from staphylococcal septicaemia - a severe bacterial infection - and pneumonia, which were complicated by a previously obtained rib fracture. Released CCTV footage showed Ms Dhu moaning from pain, saying it was ten out of ten.</p>
<p>It was <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2016/dec/16/ms-dhu-endured-inhumane-treatment-by-police-before-death-in-custody-coroner">reported an emergency doctor</a> considered her pain real but exaggerated for “behavioural gain”. Another doctor also noted Ms Dhu suffered from “behavioural issues” while a constable thought she was “faking” her suffering.</p>
<p>Ms Dhu’s case is not the first instance of mistreatment of an Aboriginal person in custody or a medical setting, nor is it likely the last. And while coroner Fogliani’s recommendations included mandatory, ongoing cultural competency training for police officers, to assist with health issues and other dealings with Aboriginal people, this isn’t enough.</p>
<p>For thirty years, Australian institutions have implemented cultural awareness programs. The thinking was if they taught staff about Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander cultures, it would result in better lecturers, clinicians and policy-makers – and magically produce equity.</p>
<p>But this assumes Aboriginal culture is the problem. Like a deaf student in an all-hearing classroom, it is not the deaf student or their needs that are the problem, but a system that thinks an all-verbal and all-hearing teaching style is equal. The idea of equality itself entrenches systemic discrimination. </p>
<h2>Unconscious bias</h2>
<p>In April, Darwin Hospital staff were <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-04-05/no-investigation-into-gurrumul-yunupingu-hospital-treatment/7299640">under fire for allegedly leaving</a> Aboriginal singer Gurrumul Yunupingu to bleed internally for eight hours. Media reported hospital staff noted Gurrumul’s liver damage was self-inflicted (a result of repeated heavy alcohol use) rather than being due to his chronic hepatitis B infection he had since he was a child.</p>
<p>We don’t know whether these allegations are true, but we do know unconscious bias exists in Australia. It <a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4169280/">refers to the instant judgements</a> we make about other people and situations based on our own values, experiences and cultural and gender beliefs.</p>
<p>These judgements <a href="http://jama.jamanetwork.com/article.aspx?articleid=1104296">impact significantly</a> on hiring and promotion decisions, how medical students make decisions, and in public discourse. </p>
<p>Regardless of merit or facts, research shows black or Indigenous people are <a href="https://www.aamc.org/download/102364/data/aibvol9no2.pdf">more likely to be seen</a> as less trustworthy; women to be risky prospects, and overweight people as irresponsible. Those with power and privilege judge those with less power for their inability to compete on terms set by the powerful.</p>
<p>So how is unconscious bias different to racism? Like an iceberg, unconscious bias is said to represent the beliefs, values and experiences (below water) that give rise to overt expressions of discrimination (above water). </p>
<p>There are two problems with these definitions, however. They don’t reveal how beliefs, values and experiences got into the subconscious in the first place. They may also imply it is not the responsibility of those with unconscious bias to change their implicit beliefs and explicit actions. </p>
<p>In Australia, the inability to deal with unconscious bias and racism has serious <a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3912280/">health effects</a> on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people. These include increased stress, <a href="https://www.mja.com.au/journal/2011/194/10/racism-determinant-social-and-emotional-wellbeing-aboriginal-australian-youth">mental ill-health</a> and suicide, <a href="https://www.mja.com.au/journal/2012/197/1/can-we-educate-out-racism">systemic racism in education</a>, <a href="http://www.newsouthpublishing.com/articles/black-and-proud/">sports</a>, <a href="http://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=2298241">justice</a> and the public sector. </p>
<p>In a national survey of Aboriginal patients, 32.4% <a href="https://equityhealthj.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/1475-9276-12-47">reported racial discrimination</a> in medical settings most or all of the time. These people felt they had been treated unfairly (which included being treated rudely or with disrespect; being ignored, insulted, harassed, stereotyped or discriminated against) because they were Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander.</p>
<h2>Equality vs Equity</h2>
<p>Public discussion about racism in Australia is often met with denial, discomfort and fragility. Some blame AFL player Adam Goodes for <a href="http://www.theaustralian.com.au/sport/afl/adam-goodes-booing-controversy-cant-blame-him-if-he-quits/news-story/162cd69f17eceb9f149c728df46df728">calling out racism</a> – shooting the messenger is a common reaction. </p>
<p>Some stand with whistle blowers and defend their right to speak truth to power. Others <a href="http://www.heraldsun.com.au/blogs/andrew-bolt/column--we-lied-were-not-racist/news-story/ad3074d5129c884ee4ee228ce2fe520e">completely deny racism’s existence</a>, wishing it would go away because “we treat everyone the same”.</p>
<p>But the impulse to treat everyone the same confuses equality of inputs with equality of outcomes. As the below diagram shows, treating everyone with equal inputs (the same boxes) produces an inequality of outcomes (not everyone can access the game). </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/130139/original/image-20160712-13847-1jvofml.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/130139/original/image-20160712-13847-1jvofml.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/130139/original/image-20160712-13847-1jvofml.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/130139/original/image-20160712-13847-1jvofml.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/130139/original/image-20160712-13847-1jvofml.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/130139/original/image-20160712-13847-1jvofml.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/130139/original/image-20160712-13847-1jvofml.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Equality can only work if everyone starts from the same place, whereas equity is about making sure people get access to the same opportunities.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="http://interactioninstitute.org/illustrating-equality-vs-equity/">Interaction Institute for Social Change | Artist: Angus Maguire/madewithangus.com</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Alternatively, treating everyone differently, according to their needs and humanity is more likely to produce equality of outcomes where everyone can access the game. Equity deals not only with overt discrimination but the systemic factors that give rise to it. </p>
<p>Australian universities, medical schools and health systems grappling with how to include Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people in their institutions as participants and staff – and how to produce equality of outcomes – need to deal with both overt and systemic factors of racism.</p>
<h2>Cultural awareness isn’t enough</h2>
<p>Teaching health professionals about Indigenous health will effectively require <a href="http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.3109/0142159X.2011.609251#.V2ubGaIeHHE">teaching about unconscious bias</a> and racism; <a href="http://www.rrh.org.au/publishedarticles/article_print_2679.pdf">one’s own culture, values and motivations</a>. It requires training in “unlearning” preconceptions, regular reflections on one’s own practices; as well as education about Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander cultures.</p>
<p>Most importantly, if the clinician cannot see themselves, their privilege and power as a potential problem, this will inadvertently re-establish racism and unconscious bias.</p>
<p>Educators have found patiently moving Australian medical students who were initially hostile to Aboriginal health curricula through their discomfort to reach the “a-ha” moment, <a href="http://search.informit.com.au/documentSummary;dn=348841783319907;res=IELAPA">is a key teaching strategy</a> in producing better prepared doctors. </p>
<p>Further, cultural awareness training assumes that even if we could train every individual staff member in a hospital to be perfectly culturally competent, they would then go on to magically produce better health outcomes.</p>
<p>But the systemic factors – workplace culture, policies, power, funding and criteria on which decisions are made – <a href="http://arrow.monash.edu.au/vital/access/manager/Repository/monash:151212">are critical</a> if we want a culturally equitable society.</p>
<p>Improving outcomes for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people includes moving from a goal of equality to equity; teaching about racism and unconscious bias, not just culture; and making explicit the deeper transformational work of institutional decolonisation. We need to ask: how can power be shared? On whose terms are decisions made? Who owns institutions and services? Whose criteria are used to judge effectiveness? </p>
<p>The answer is that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander definitions and measurement tools of success are more likely to contribute to producing better outcomes than those where unconscious bias and racism is implicit. The work of admitting and addressing institutional racism remains.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/60319/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Gregory Phillips receives postdoctoral research funding from the Victorian Department of Health. He is a member of The Australian Greens.</span></em></p>Ms Dhu’s is not the first report into mistreatment of an Aboriginal person in custody or a medical setting, nor is it likely to be the last.Gregory Phillips, Associate Professor, Research Fellow in Aboriginal Health, Baker Heart and Diabetes InstituteLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/690442016-11-28T23:50:34Z2016-11-28T23:50:34ZSeeing Ms Dhu: how photographs argue for human rights<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/147670/original/image-20161128-32049-1n035v0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">A light graffiti image of Ms Dhu is projected on a building in Perth.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Ethan Blue</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Ms Dhu was a 22-year-old Yamatji woman who died in custody in the South Hedland Police Station in August 2014. Arrested for unpaid fines, she was already suffering from pneumonia and septicaemia caused by a broken rib, inflicted by her partner some months earlier. She became very ill overnight and died. </p>
<p>The 2015 coronial inquest into her death heard that police officers had believed that Ms Dhu was “faking”. At the inquest, footage was shown, reportedly revealing that police treated her roughly. Her family has asked that the CCTV footage of Ms Dhu’s final, agonising hours of life be released. So far, the <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-09-28/family-of-ms-dhu-criticise-coroners-decision-footage/7885962">coroner has refused this request</a>.</p>
<p>For her family, the grief of seeing their girl die is outweighed by the need to demonstrate the injustice of how she died. An internal police investigation into Ms Dhu’s case found that 11 police officers failed to comply with police procedures, but none were fired or suspended. </p>
<p>It is time that authorities listened to the Aboriginal people most closely concerned, and agreed to release this footage.</p>
<figure class="align-left zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/147672/original/image-20161128-32008-1xtl3xa.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/147672/original/image-20161128-32008-1xtl3xa.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/147672/original/image-20161128-32008-1xtl3xa.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/147672/original/image-20161128-32008-1xtl3xa.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/147672/original/image-20161128-32008-1xtl3xa.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/147672/original/image-20161128-32008-1xtl3xa.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/147672/original/image-20161128-32008-1xtl3xa.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/147672/original/image-20161128-32008-1xtl3xa.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Ms Dhu’s grandmother, Carol Roe (left), and mother, Della Roe, speak to the media before the inquest.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Angie Raphael/AAP</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Ms Dhu’s family’s demand to make her treatment in prison public echoes the argument of many visual theorists today: if others are forced to undergo suffering and pain, surely the privileged observer has a moral duty to witness, acknowledge and respond to what they see? But even more than this obligation to witness injustice, today photographic evidence has come to stand as proof. </p>
<p>Critic Susan Sontag famously argued that “without photographs, there is no war” – meaning that we need to see distant events to be convinced of their reality. There is no doubt that such images have tremendous power, serving as witness to atrocity, heartbreak and injustice. Following WWII in particular, the horrors of war were effectively conveyed via photography – with the revelation of the treatment of Jews in concentration camps such as Buchenwald in April 1945 shocking the world.</p>
<p>However, such images are not straightforward in their effects. In Australia, as many Aboriginal people have argued, such imagery may disempower their subjects, showing them as abject, distant or less-than-human. For example, one of the most effective critiques of Aboriginal treatment during the 1950s was a film, <a href="http://search.informit.com.au/documentSummary;dn=661042902941182;res=IELIND">Their Darkest Hour</a> (1957), made by West Australian MP William Grayden about Ngaanyatjarra people in the Warburton Ranges area, on the south-eastern fringe of the Gibson Desert. </p>
<p>This film included graphic, shocking imagery of ill and malnourished Aboriginal people. It successfully mobilised public concern across Australia and overseas well into the 1960s, contributing to a growing international concern about racial discrimination.</p>
<p>Specifically, it is credited with fuelling a wave of public support for the Aboriginal rights movement. This eventually led to the successful 1967 referendum to empower the Commonwealth in Aboriginal affairs. Yet, today, its subjects and their relatives resent the film’s shameful exposure of their lives and question the benefits that have ensued for them personally. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/147671/original/image-20161128-32049-1q7zrsl.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/147671/original/image-20161128-32049-1q7zrsl.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/147671/original/image-20161128-32049-1q7zrsl.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/147671/original/image-20161128-32049-1q7zrsl.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/147671/original/image-20161128-32049-1q7zrsl.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/147671/original/image-20161128-32049-1q7zrsl.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=501&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/147671/original/image-20161128-32049-1q7zrsl.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=501&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/147671/original/image-20161128-32049-1q7zrsl.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=501&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Light graffiti, Perth.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Ethan Blue</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Aboriginal people now demand control over their own representation, using photography to assert a strong identity. They demand change on the basis of rights, rather than pity, with its overtones of patronage and condescension. </p>
<p>The Bicentennial was a turning point that forced the nation to acknowledge Indigenous dissent, as protests and marches literally demonstrated their demands. Visual symbols such as the 1972 Tent Embassy, a stroke of media genius, could not be denied. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/147675/original/image-20161128-32012-15xlt34.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/147675/original/image-20161128-32012-15xlt34.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/147675/original/image-20161128-32012-15xlt34.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/147675/original/image-20161128-32012-15xlt34.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/147675/original/image-20161128-32012-15xlt34.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/147675/original/image-20161128-32012-15xlt34.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/147675/original/image-20161128-32012-15xlt34.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/147675/original/image-20161128-32012-15xlt34.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The sovereignty sign at the Aboriginal tent embassy in Canberra repainted in January 2012 on the embassy’s 40th anniversary.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Alan Porritt/AAP</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Last week, Queensland Aboriginal man Noel Pearson tapped into this history of imagining Aboriginal suffering, in <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/books/noel-pearson-lambasts-racist-abc-at-paul-keating-biography-launch-in-sydney-20161121-gsucm5.html">accusing the ABC of “racism”</a>. Pearson suggested that the ABC needs:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>blacks to remain alienated from mothers’ bosoms, incarcerated in legions, leading short lives of grief and tribulation – because if it were not so, against whom could they direct their soft bigotry of low expectations? </p>
</blockquote>
<p>But many advances in the status of Aboriginal Australians have been prompted by revealing atrocious conditions and ill-treatment. Most recently, the ABC’s Four Corners revelation of a pattern of abuse, deprivation and punishment of vulnerable children within the Don Dale youth detention centre aroused intense public sentiment, prompting an inquiry into juvenile detention in the Northern Territory.</p>
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<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/m4Wv41sgljY?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
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<p>While we cannot – yet – see the CCTV footage of Ms Dhu’s treatment in custody, her family and supporters have tried to keep her presence alive in the city of Perth through clever use of light graffiti. Since 2015, they have been projecting night-time images of her face onto skyscrapers to assert her continuing memory and visibility. These storeys-high portraits of Ms Dhu and her family disrupt the urban landscape. </p>
<p>We believe that authorities must listen to her family and release the footage of Ms Dhu’s final hours. In revealing to all the injustice she suffered, her family hope that this graphic proof will arouse public opinion so that finally some good may come from her tragic death.</p>
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<p><em>An Indigenous-curated exhibition, Rightfully Ours, Rightfully Yours, will open at the Perth Centre for Photography on Thursday, December 8. This exhibition will focus specifically on photography and Indigenous rights in Australia. It will <a href="http://www.pcp.org.au">open alongside</a> a recreation of a historic photographic exhibition originally mounted by UNESCO in 1949 to explain the new Universal Declaration of Human Rights. These issues will also be the focus of the <a href="visualisinghumanrights.com.au">Visualising Human Rights Conference</a> on December 5-6 at the Maritime Museum in Fremantle.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/69044/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Jane Lydon receives funding from the Australian Research Council. She is on the Council of the Australian Academy of the Humanities. </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Donna Oxenham does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Noel Pearson has accused the ABC of racism in dwelling on indigenous alienation. But many advances in the status of Aboriginal Australians have been prompted by revealing ill-treatment, which is why Ms Dhu’s family want footage of her last hours made public.Jane Lydon, Wesfarmers Chair of Australian History, The University of Western AustraliaDonna Oxenham, Research Assistant, The University of Western AustraliaLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/572722016-04-14T20:06:22Z2016-04-14T20:06:22ZWhy we should honour the humanity of every person who dies in custody<p>It’s now 25 years since the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/other/IndigLRes/rciadic/">tabled its final report</a>. The anniversary will undoubtedly be marked by analysis and commentary, as well as reflections on statistics, key trends and issues relating to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander incarceration and death.</p>
<p>But in the midst of all this, we mustn’t lose sight of the human dimensions of this important social justice issue. </p>
<p>Sometimes the language of statistics and level of analysis used to discuss deaths in custody make us lose sight of something more fundamental. We are talking about people – people with families and friends, people who loved and were loved, people who may have died prematurely or in brutal circumstances.</p>
<p>To start redressing this oversight, let me share with you the story of a beautiful 22-year-old Yamatji girl arrested for overdue fines two years ago, who died in police custody soon afterwards. She is just one of many hundreds, each of whom deserves our attention. </p>
<h2>Remembering Ms Dhu</h2>
<p>Ms Dhu was born in Geraldton, Western Australia, in 1991. Her family describe her as “happy-go-lucky” and “always with a smile on her face”. She was caring, full of love and cheer, with a fierce sense of loyalty to friends and family. In her spare time, she liked to paint and make artwork. She dreamed of travelling one day. </p>
<p>She is dearly missed by her parents, Della Roe and Robert Dhu, by her grandmother Aunty Carol Roe, by her uncle, Shaun Harris, her brothers, sisters and extended family.</p>
<p>Ms Dhu died on August 4, 2014, at 1.39pm of septicaemia and pneumonia while in police custody for outstanding fines of A$3,622. Under Western Australian law, <a href="http://search.informit.com.au/documentSummary;dn=992196902668096;res=IELIND">fine defaulters can be jailed</a> and “pay down” their fines at a rate of A$250 per day in custody. </p>
<p>Ms Dhu died because she was unable to convince those around her – largely officers of the law and medical staff – that she was in a state of medical emergency. She died not surrounded by loved ones but by people who, until her last breaths, didn’t believe her cries of pain were real. </p>
<p>You may have read about her death, but you probably haven’t read much about what kind of person she was in life. </p>
<p>When a non-Indigenous person dies, we might read something in the mainstream media about what this person was like – that she had an <a href="http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/news/nsw/georgina-bartter-deadly-ecstasy-pill-takes-a-beautiful-girls-life/news-story/a7553b11783761ff898a59ea6f4d6725">infectious sense of humour</a>, for instance. But this honouring of the deceased is <a href="https://andrewjakubowicz.com/publications/race-media-and-identity-in-australia/">rarely afforded to someone who dies in custody</a>, especially <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/journals/CICrimJust/2015/2.html">when they happen to be Indigenous</a>. </p>
<h2>Changing the record, challenging the narrative</h2>
<p>You may have read about the circumstances of Ms Dhu’s death because it was recently the subject of a high-profile coronial inquest. </p>
<p>You may have read how the nurse on duty described her behaviour and symptoms as “unremarkable” and gave her a triage score of four, the second lowest. And how <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2015-11-26/medical-staff-did-not-check-ms-dhu-vital-signs-properly-inquest/6977712">the medical notes tendered in the inquest</a> describe a patient who had presented for “behavioural gain”.</p>
<p>You may have read about how the doctor on duty described her physical symptoms, which included being hunched over and limping, as “<a href="http://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2015/nov/26/ms-dhu-inquest-family-lose-battle-to-show-cctv-to-disprove-aggression-claims">a little bit attention-seeking</a>”. Or about how officers on duty thought Ms Dhu was “<a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-03-21/ms-dhu-inquest-no-compassion-for-dying-aboriginal-woman-custody/7265066">pretending to faint to get quicker medical treatment</a>”. </p>
<p>These are harsh indictments of how trained professionals perceived and reacted to a woman dying of what are largely preventable and certainly treatable illnesses. But, again, they tell us very little about Ms Dhu herself; they speak only of how others perceived her.</p>
<p>Such details are haunting not only because of the stark nature of their content, but for what they represent: a complete denial of human compassion and dignity, and a national failure.</p>
<p>They speak of a failure to learn from past mistakes, including a failure to implement the 339 recommendations of the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody. That <a href="https://newmatilda.com/2014/11/07/barnetts-petty-law-and-order-policy-encourages-deaths-custody">could have prevented Ms Dhu’s death</a> (recommendation 120 explicitly called for an amnesty on warrants for unpaid fines) since these were based on the much longer history of Aboriginal deaths, <a href="http://connection.ebscohost.com/c/articles/11081781/deaths-custody-australia-untold-story-aboriginal-torres-strait-islander-women">each as tragic and as preventable</a>.</p>
<p>Indeed, reading through the reports of the 99 deaths investigated by the royal commission gives a damning sense of deja vu.</p>
<p>Consider the story of the <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/other/IndigLRes/rciadic/individual/brm_nb/">41-year-old mother of five</a> who was distressed, hysterical and crying before her death, unable to convince authorities that she needed medical attention. </p>
<p>The story of the <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/other/IndigLRes/rciadic/individual/brm_mgcb">38-year old mother of two</a> who died in a watch-house from pneumonia after being arrested for unpaid fines, for failing to lodge an income tax return ten years earlier. </p>
<p>The story of <a href="http://netk.net.au/Aboriginal/Aboriginal24.asp">a woman from Ceduna</a> who died while in police custody, arrested for outstanding fines. </p>
<p>The story of a <a href="http://trove.nla.gov.au/work/16415407?selectedversion=NBD6393205">22-year-old</a> found hanged in a single cell at Midland Police Station in Perth, shortly after being arrested on a warrant for outstanding fines. </p>
<p>The royal commission heard 95 other such stories. And then there are the dead whose stories we will never know, as well as <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-04-09/near-deaths-in-australian-prisons-going-largely-uninvestigated/7310608">the many “near misses”</a>.</p>
<h2>Fighting for justice</h2>
<p>To <a href="https://changetherecord.org.au/">change the record</a> on Indigenous deaths in custody, we must first change the narrative. This starts with honouring the lives of those who died in custody.</p>
<p>Ms Dhu was arrested for unpaid fines. Was this crime worth her life?</p>
<p>We need to think about this so-called crime in light of the broader social context. We should remember not just how she was treated by medical staff who showed no compassion and by the state police who failed to follow procedure.
We need to ask what kind of society believes jailing fine defaulters is a humane policy. </p>
<p>We also need to consider why our fellow citizens continue to see Aboriginality not in terms of an identity of proud and diverse peoples, but in terms of criminality and <a href="http://ncis.anu.edu.au/research/representation_identity.php">deficiency</a>.</p>
<p>Most importantly, we should think about the families waking up every day, adjusting to life without their daughters, sons, brothers and sisters; without their granddaughters and grandsons; without their nieces and nephews. We must think not only of the grief and anger they feel, but of their strength in fighting this battle on the ground.</p>
<p>“<a href="http://www.army.gov.au/our-work/speeches-and-transcripts/message-from-the-chief-of-army">The standard you walk past is the standard you accept</a>.” A lot of people walked past Ms Dhu – and all the others who have died dreadful deaths while under the “care” of the state. And so on this day we must ask ourselves: what standard are we willing to accept?</p>
<p><em>This article is part of <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/royal-commission-special-report">a special report</a> marking the 25th anniversary of the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody. <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/royal-commission-special-report">Check out the rest of the package</a>.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/57272/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Amanda Porter conducts research with the Aboriginal Legal Service of Western Australia. </span></em></p>The statistics used to discuss deaths in custody can make us lose sight of the fact that it’s people we’re talking about. People with families and friends, who died prematurely – and often brutally.Amanda Porter, Postdoctoral Fellow, Jumbunna Indigenous House of Learning, University of Technology SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.