Andrew Giles (Scullin, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

I was not able to attend the Light the Dark rally a couple of weeks ago, although I would have liked to have done so. While I was flying to Canberra to start a week's deliberations in our national parliament, thousands of Australians stood together in remembrance of a man they had never met. A solemn vigil was held for 23-year-old Reza Barati, who was killed in Papua New Guinea: in respect, in sorrow but also, I like to believe, in hope. Light the Dark inspired me by showing our communities at their best—looking out for others, and looking for something more. And it challenged me to shed some light myself. There is too much concealment, too little accountability in this place. This goes to the heart of the functioning of our democracy.

But the challenge goes beyond this. This is not simply about process. How we treat those seeking asylum in Australia raises major issues, all of which deserve serious debate. Our responsibility is to ensure that this debate happens, in a constructive way: I think my constituents are entitled to nothing less, to say nothing of the displaced persons. And, when we ask what is to be done, we should consider all the dimensions of this issue. In this short contribution, I am not concerned to set out policy solutions but rather to consider the tenor of this debate and the principles that should inform it. I note that my thinking has changed in some significant respects over the years I have been interested in these issues.

While much of the recent focus on asylum seekers has, understandably, been in relation to the conditions at regional processing centres, I have been thinking lately about those in Australia too. Last week I visited the Melbourne Immigration Transit Accommodation facility in Broadmeadows, a few minutes drive from my electorate. As the name suggests, the facility was originally intended as short-stay accommodation for those refused entry at airports, or for people who breach visa conditions or have visas cancelled. More recently, this has changed. Much of the population detained at MITA is comprised of people who are referred to, wrongly, by this government as 'illegal maritime arrivals'. These people are not illegal, of course; it is not illegal to seek asylum.

There are 274 human beings in MITA, with 118 men, 79 women, some of whom are pregnant, and 77 children. I am not placed to tell their stories, how they came to be there, their hopes, their dreams, their fears. But I want to recognise their existence. Some have been in this 'temporary' accommodation for some years, and a place designed for short periods of confinement is now used for longer stays. This carries consequences that are of concern to me. I visited MITA to better inform myself about what happens within the facility and to better appreciate the circumstances of the people who live within it. I acknowledge the professionalism of the departmental staff who escorted me and my staff, and the employees of the contractor at the facility, all of whom responded to my queries frankly. I was impressed with their humanity and obvious care for and connection with those people they are responsible for. This was something of a contrast to the physical environment. The fence is a stark reminder that not all are free to leave. In the course of my visit, I was struck by many things, most especially by seeing a young boy who appeared to be around the same age as my son. It is impossible not to be affected when you put yourself in the shoes of that boy's parents.

Down the road from MITA, in the Scullin electorate, I spoke with Peta Fualau from Whittlesea Community Connections about the issues they face in assisting people released from detention into the community. Challenges are compounded by a shortage of information and a lack of transparency. When people are released, there isn't a process to link them into local services. Most arrive by way of word of mouth, and very limited services are available. This poses grave concerns. I think about the isolation and what it means for very vulnerable people who have been through so much.

And I say to those people who are in the Scullin electorate, and elsewhere, that I am thinking of you too. We face some very difficult questions in relation to the policy settings we adopt in immigration. Again, I do not presume to have the answers to those questions, but I am committed to doing all I can to find those answers, away from rhetoric, away from politicking. And I know this: no-one in this country should be invisible. We need a real policy debate in Australia about immigration and asylum—critically, a debate about real people which recognises and is based on our common humanity. There can be no room for triumphalism in this place when there are 45 million forcibly displaced people in the world.

I hope to help light the dark that all too often obscures the real issues underpinning our immigration debate, or what passes for it, and to open up the key question that should inform policymaking: what are we trying to achieve? Point scoring is not the goal, nor is making ourselves feel better. I suggest instead that we concentrate our efforts in ensuring that Australia, as a relatively small but prosperous democracy, does its fair share globally and that we do the right thing by all of those in our care—those people we are responsible for. We can do better, and I will do my best to focus this debate on its real subject: desperate people in need of support.