Brendan O'Connor (Gorton, Australian Labor Party, Minister for Skills and Training) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

I rise to reflect on the passing of one of Australia's most revered and influential Aboriginal leaders, Dr Lowitja O'Donoghue. Lowitja O'Donoghue was a proud Yankunytjatjara woman of great intellect, great courage and great dignity. She dedicated her life to improving the health and lives of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, and her fearlessness to enact change has left an indelible mark on the pages of Australian history.

From fighting racism to becoming Australia's first Aboriginal nurse, from campaigning for constitutional reform to fully count First Nations Australians in Australia's population to negotiating the development of native title post the Mabo High Court decision while the first chairperson of the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission, Lowitja O'Donoghue was a formidable woman, whose legacy will continue on.

More than just a leader for the Indigenous community, she was perhaps one of Australia's greatest leaders, with the vision of creating a more united and reconciled Australia.

Through her impressive negotiations, conducted with a fierce grace, she worked across all sides of politics to address Indigenous human rights issues, including health, housing, community development and land rights.

Her life was shaped by the racism she faced and a traumatic childhood separated from her family, community, culture and country.

Born in August 1932, in the north-west of South Australia, Lowitja O'Donoghue was the daughter of an Aboriginal woman, Lily, and an Irish father, Tom O'Donoghue. At two years of age she was taken from her family and brought up by missionaries in a training institution set up for so-called 'half caste' Aboriginal children to be assimilated into white Australia away from 'the sounds of the corroboree', as described by the missionaries.

Her name was changed to Lois, and she was no longer allowed to speak her native language, in which she was fluent, even at that young age. She was not allowed to ask questions about her origins or even about her parents. It wasn't until 33 years later that she was reunited with her mother. Lowitja didn't have a birth certificate, but the term 'half-caste' was applied to her government file—a term that Lowitja found offensive, and she worked to change the language of quantum being used to describe being of Aboriginal descent. As the child of a white father, she was encouraged by the Chief Protector of Aborigines to become exempt, which was a process where you signed a document to renounce your Aboriginality and declare yourself a white person so you were eligible to do things only afforded to white people at the time, including getting married and drinking in pubs. She rejected this advice and instead took the more challenging path. She not only refused to deny her Aboriginal roots but it strengthened her resolve to dedicate her life to improving the lives of our First Nations people.

While she never felt a strong connection to her European heritage, she has said she felt a kinship with the Irish people. On St Patrick's Day in 2016 in this place, I mentioned Lowitja O'Donoghue in the context of the influence of the Irish upon modern Australia. Lowitja herself described the Aboriginal-Irish connection as 'dynamic', remarking that there are many Aboriginal people who have an Irish background. She expressed in her 1994 biography and elsewhere an affinity between the two backgrounds, borne through:

… the combination of the Aboriginal, you know, fight for justice and, you know, what we know of the Irish and their fight.

Another of those First Nations Australians with Irish heritage is, of course, Pat Dodson, the former Labor senator known as the Father of Reconciliation—a great friend and mentor to many. He described Lowitja O'Donoghue as:

… an extraordinary person of great courage and strength. Her leadership in the battle for justice was legendary. Hers was a strong voice, and her intelligent navigation for our rightful place in a resistant society resulted in many of the privileges we enjoy today.

Another great Indigenous leader and advocate for Indigenous Australians' rights to land, Noel Pearson, said:

She was our greatest leader of the modern era, …

…   …   …

… she was full of grace and fortitude. She was the definition of courage and never lapsed in her principles. Her love and loyalty to our people across the country was boundless.

We owed her an unpayable debt for the sacrifices she made while she lived. Her memory will never be forgotten and her legacy will endure.

While Lowitja's life was full of many achievements, too many to list here, I will remember her best for her work with the former prime minister Paul Keating as the lead negotiator on the Native Title Act after the 1992 Mabo decision. As the inaugural chairperson of the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission, she brought together a group of Aboriginal leaders for an eight-month consultation on the design of the Native Title Act. At that time it was the first and only time the Aboriginal community of Australia was brought into the Commonwealth cabinet room. And Paul Keating, the former prime minister, in his 2001 Lowitja O'Donoghue Oration said:

I like to think that together, she and I were able to lead our respective political forces towards an historic outcome for a race of people dispossessed and decimated by the process of settlement.

Keating described her as:

A leader whose unfailing instinct for enlargement marks her out as unique.

He went on to say:

Without any position of mandated authority from her people, she caused their mobilisation in what was, the first time, that Aboriginal people were brought fully and in an equal way to the centre of national executive power. In the 204-year history of the formerly colonised Australia, this had never happened. Never before had the Commonwealth government of Australia and its Cabinet nor any earlier colonial government laid out a basis of consultation and negotiation offering full participation to the country's indigenous representatives; and certainly not around such a matter as the country's common law where something as significant as native title rights could arise from a collection of laws which had themselves developed from European custom and tradition.

…   …   …

She knew that in the dismal history of indigenous relations with European Australia, this was an illuminated breakout, a comet of light in an otherwise darkened landscape.

Lowitja later turned down Paul Keating's offer of the governor-generalship. Such was her integrity and forthrightness that she told him, 'I'm a republican, and so are you.' I want to acknowledge the impacts and the immeasurable legacy she leaves behind and pass on condolences to her family and the broader First Nations community as they mourn the loss of Aunty Lowitja.

Sharon Claydon (Newcastle, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

It's with a heavy heart that I rise to also make a contribution on this condolence motion marking the passing of an extraordinary woman, Dr Lowitja O'Donoghue. I add my voice to the outpouring of grief and the beautiful tributes to Dr Lowitja O'Donoghue AC, CBE, DSG, a trailblazing Aboriginal leader, who died on Kaurna country surrounded by her loved ones not so long ago. I think all of those distinguished letters at the end of Dr O'Donoghue's title give you some insight not just into how profoundly influential she was in First Nations communities in Australia but into how indebted Australia—and, indeed she had an impact on an international scale as well—is to her leadership. Her passing will be felt right across Australia.

Lowitja lived an extraordinary life. I spoke recently about her courage, her leadership and her determination when I rose in this House to speak on the national apology to the stolen generations on an important anniversary we just had. Dr O'Donoghue was born near Indulkana in the far north of South Australia in 1932. Lowitja's mother, Lily, was a Yankunytjatjara woman and her father, Tom O'Donoghue, was first-generation Irish Australian. The Coniston massacre, which was the last documented massacre of First Nations people in Australia, had occurred in the Northern Territory just a few years earlier. That's the historical context of her life.

At age two, she was taken from her mother and placed in a mission home in South Australia, like so many other First Nations people of her time. Her name was Anglicised. She was prohibited from speaking her own language and, along with her name and language, her family and identity were stolen from her. The mission—and this was the United Aborigines Mission, an order that I'm very familiar with through my own work in Fitzroy Crossing many years ago, as it was the UAM that also missionised and worked in the Kimberley region—was, for Lowitja, a very harsh experience. It was a very harsh disciplinary regime, without love and with frequent incidents of abuse, and I don't think we should ever sugarcoat that or gloss over that. She witnessed so many incidents of abuse that, of course, many, many decades later we would finally call to account through the royal commission into child sexual abuse in institutions in Australia. Many of these institutions were faith based religious organisations, the very institutions that people were asked to trust. That trust was profoundly betrayed. We know that now through the many volumes that the royal commission has left. So it was a pretty traumatic life for her and, of course, for her family and all of those kinship networks that are impacted when kids are ripped and forcibly removed from families. She was, like so many, without a birth certificate. The white missionaries gave her the birthdate of 1 August. Of course, we know that as the horse's birthday in Australia. I know, from my time as a young anthropologist working through many of the historical records that were held by the Aboriginal protection agencies across Australia, that literally thousands of Aboriginal kids were given this birthdate of 1 August, because they didn't have a birth certificate and that was as far as our imagination was able to stretch in those days, it would seem. It's a pretty heartbreaking thing for a lot of Aboriginal people to find out later on in life—why their birthday was 1 August. So even her birthday was stolen from her.

At age 16, Lowitja was sent to Victor Harbor as a servant for a very large family, a job which she did for two years until she fought ferociously to become a nurse. When the matron at the Royal Adelaide Hospital refused her because she was Aboriginal, she took her battle to the state Premier and anyone else in government who would listen to her case. Gosh, how thankful are we today for her determination and tenacity. She went on to become the first Aboriginal nurse in Australia.

She said in 1994:

… I'd resolved that one of the fights was to actually open the door for Aboriginal women to take up the nursing profession, and also for those young men to get into apprenticeships.

These were two really stark barriers and examples of discrimination that she had experienced and seen, and she was determined to rip those barriers away. That was, for her, the impetus for a lifelong dedication to activism and not just calling out discrimination but doing the really hard work of reform. For that, we are deeply indebted to Lowitja O'Donoghue.

When she left us, she had a very long list of amazing achievements and outstanding accomplishments, and I'm going to go through just some of those. She was Australian of the Year in 1984, in recognition of her work and her personal contribution to bridging the gap between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians. She was named a national living treasure in 1998 and appointed a Companion of the Order of Australia—that's the AC component of her title—the following year. She was also made an honorary fellow of the Royal Australasian College of Physicians, in 1998, and the Royal College of Nursing, Australia. That was, I'm sure, a really proud moment for a woman who had originally been refused entry. She holds multiple honorary doctorates and fellowships, and was patron of the Lowitja Institute, which of course will continue to do extraordinary work to ensure her legacy continues. In 1990, she became the founding chairperson of ATSIC, which was an extremely memorable moment. She had, indeed, been very instrumental in the establishment of ATSIC and the negotiations around that and then did our nation the great service of becoming the inaugural chairperson of ATSIC. Noel Pearson reflected on those times and wrote:

These were ATSIC's best years. They were years of great coherence in indigenous affairs …

I think he is absolutely spot on there.

She had an extraordinary capacity to bring people together both within and across First Nations communities in Australia, with the vastly different experiences of colonisation that occur in different states and territories. There were lots of common aims and objectives, of course, but she was able to navigate all of those meaningful differences that do exist, and she was, likewise, able to traverse all of those complex pathways through government, bureaucracy and the broader national population and speak to them with great meaning and gravitas. When Lowitja O'Donoghue spoke, people listened. Noel Pearson also reflected:

Without Lowitja's Atsic we would never have defended Eddie Mabo's great legacy and negotiated the Native Title Act and Indigenous Land Fund.

They are two profoundly important legacies that she has left.

Let's not forget, also, the critical role that she played in the National Apology to the Stolen Generations. One of the comments on her passing from the former prime minister Kevin Rudd was that she had, obviously, been knocking on doors and trying to advise about the importance of having a national apology to the stolen generations, but she went straight to Kevin Rudd upon his election and said it's time: 'This is your moment. This is your time to do this now.' That was one of the nation's most significant truth-telling events. She was able, as she always did, to transcend her own experiences through life—all of those hardships and all of her own and her family's pain and grief. She rose above all of that, reached out and could see the significance of an apology to this nation. It was something that she saw as embracing our opportunity to face squarely a really traumatic part of our nation's history. But the only way that we could all heal and move forward was to confront that history face on and have the apology.

There was lots of resistance at the time and lots of people who thought that this was an opening of the door to all sorts of litigation and all kinds of negative impacts—but she was able to prosecute—and I think history shows, very successfully, that that was indeed the wrong way to look at this and that this was a moment for our history to engage in some serious truth-telling. That is confronting and that is uncomfortable sometimes, but you come through that with a renewed sense of hope and possibility for just relationships going forward.

Sadly, Lowitja didn't get to see a national voice to parliament or her people formally recognised in the Constitution, which I know she would have liked to have seen established, but I suspect that, if she were with us now, she would be advising us all. It was not in her nature to just give up on fighting for justice, and it might take different forms and take different directions. We are yet to see what will happen for us as a nation there, how we will grapple with the ongoing nature of our relationship with First Nations people and what that just relationship is going to look like going forward.

Lowitja O'Donoghue didn't get to be reunited with her mother until she was more than 30 years of age, following a trip to Coober Pedy with South Australia's then Department of Aboriginal Affairs. Her biographer, Stuart Rintoul, describes how, not long after she arrived in Coober Pedy, Lowitja found a group of people sitting outside a store looking at her and saying, 'That's Lily's daughter.' From them, she learnt that her birth name was Lowitja and that her mother was a heartbroken woman living in poverty in Oodnadatta. In the weeks that followed, Lily waited for her daughter in the outback town of Oodnadatta, staring off into the desert. That reunion was not easy. There was tension. There was a language barrier: they couldn't talk to each other. I remember Lowitja explaining in one of her reconciliation lectures, if I'm not mistaken, that the only language she had was to look into her mother's eyes, and what she saw was a woman broken by grief. That was a very hard thing for both of them to reconcile. But Rintoul, Lowitja's biographer, writes that Lowitja would later talk of that reunion as a lesson in the limitlessness of hope and the strength of patience. Wow. I hope that I would have capacity to be that generous in my self-reflection had I been walking in the shoes of either Lowitja O'Donoghue or her mother, Lily, at that time.

When Rintoul asked Lowitja why she'd lived the life she had, she simply replied, 'Because I love my people.' Thank you, Lowitja, for your love, your humour, your strength, your determination, your perseverance and that limitless hope and strength of patience that you lived with every day. Thank you for teaching so many others to follow in your footsteps and for giving your country everything you had. Your legacy is immense. We are forever in your debt, and our hearts are at half mast today, but it is your time to rest now. You've done everything you can. The rest is for those of us who follow—to ensure that your legacy continues to grow and lives on. Vale, Lowitja O'Donoghue.

Marion Scrymgour (Lingiari, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

I rise, like all of my colleagues who have stood, to talk about a woman who surpasses all of us and whose courage and legacy, even when she was alive, were a living legend for all of us. I know, having been a young person coming up through the system at that time, what it's like walking in the footsteps of women like Dr O'Donoghue. Trying to meet the same principles by which she lived her life was always going to be a tough task. For someone like me, she was 30 years my senior. Going through, I saw a similar role. Dr O'Donoghue's upbringing and that early start in her life mirrored the life of my father, who was a member of the stolen generations.

I remember receiving the news on the day that she passed away, when Minister Burney sent a notice around to all of us that she had passed. It was a sad occasion. We all feel the loss of a family member, and she was like a family member to all of us. We might have come from a different tribal group—she'd come from South Australia, and I'm from the Northern Territory—but it didn't matter where we were from. It transcended—we were all together, fighting a fight and continuing this journey for social justice and equity for Aboriginal people.

I think it was around 1990 when the government established and she became the inaugural chairperson of ATSIC, the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission, right up until about 2005. The member for Newcastle was absolutely right: in that time, ATSIC was probably the most organised, the most fearless and the most proactive in terms of organising and addressing some of the issues on the ground across our communities Australia-wide, not just in the Northern Territory.

ATSIC was seen as the repository or the body that governments, if they couldn't deal with something, could just shove everything into, and I think it became unwieldy. It became, I suppose, the dumping ground for everything across Australia that had an Aboriginal tag on it. Lowitja and the many people involved in that early movement were able to work through that. It was her intellect, her grace and the way in which she worked with successive governments to work through the politics, particularly on the ground and in the Northern Territory, that enabled her to work through that and get what everyone in those communities wanted: a resolution and an outcome.

I was coming into—and, like her, had spent my life in—the Aboriginal health sector. When I think of her, I think of people like Barbara Flick and of the many Aboriginal women who were triple certificate nurses who had fought to be recognised in that system for their qualifications and to be able to work in the mainstream health sector. That was tough for them. But, in talking to and meeting with her, there was never any sense of resentment or hatefulness from Dr O'Donoghue. It was all of that early life that shaped her to be true, courageous and fearless, and, as Minister Burney said in her statement, what a courageous and fearless leader she was. She was certainly a trailblazer.

For Aboriginal women, she was certainly the person who cleared that path for many of us to be able to go down it and not be afraid, because she was never afraid. If you look at her early life—I'm not going to go over any of that, because I think there have been so many people who have spoken before me that have gone through her early life—and everything that she achieved, it was certainly a pathway that had been cleared for Aboriginal women, particularly young women, and for people like myself to be able to aspire to that through sheer hard work. Keeping your convictions and never losing who you are were always things that came through every time I had the privilege of talking and meeting with Dr O'Donoghue. It was always the same message: never forget who you are, be true to your convictions and, if it's a fight, do it with grace and do it with dignity. You can still get the same outcome if you do it in a way that—I'm just trying to find the right words here. You can have the biff, but she always used to say that honey can bring people—

An honourable member: Into respect.

Yes. She didn't always agree with people, and it was on both sides of politics. I remember working in the health sector and both Pat Anderson, a good friend of mine, and me coming down and meeting with Dr O'Donoghue, with the then Aboriginal affairs minister, Robert Tickner, and with Carmen Lawrence, who was the health minister and also from Western Australia—so I'm going back a number of years—and talking to them about an unpalatable subject. We could see that everything, including the issue of Aboriginal health, was put on ATSIC and that ATSIC commissioners and elected members had to make decisions that they just wouldn't have expected to have happen in the mainstream.

We felt that, whilst health was hived into ATSIC and hidden away in ATSIC, it meant that Aboriginal people, particularly in the Northern Territory, didn't have access to the MBS, the Medicare Benefits Schedule, or the Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme. We did a lot of research which showed that, for every dollar that was spent on someone in the mainstream for MBS and PBS, 40c was spent on Aboriginal people in the Northern Territory—and a lot of that was attributed to ATSIC. So the blame was pushed onto ATSIC. I remember those meetings and coming down and talking to Dr O'Donoghue, talking to Dr Carmen Lawrence, who was the health minister, and also talking to Robert Tickner, who was the Aboriginal affairs minister at the time, to transfer the responsibility of Aboriginal health from ATSIC into the mainstream health system, where it sits today.

Whilst it was a big hit for ATSIC, I pay tribute to Dr O'Donoghue. With her intellect, her insight and her advocacy, we were able to get that transition which would have at that time been quite highly political and sensitive, particularly if Aboriginal people felt that money was being removed from ATSIC and put back into the mainstream health system. It's a testament to her insight and the work that she did. I think that, when we look at where the ACCHO sector is today—the Aboriginal community controlled health organisation sector—and at Aboriginal people getting access to the Medicare Benefits Schedule and the Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme to have access to the best health care, that is testament to Lowitja. I also have to acknowledge Carmen Lawrence and Robert Tickner as the ministers at that time.

I heard the member for Newcastle talk about how Lowitja was the steadying ship, and she did have a lot of respect. People did respect her because she was able to listen to all sides of that debate and then work it through with those communities and organisations. Anyone who's sitting in this room who's got any knowledge or understanding of black politics in this country will know she had the ability to balance the differing levels of culture, language and identity, bringing together particularly—and I can only speak for the Northern Territory—Aboriginal people from many different cultural backgrounds, and the ability to keep people focused and energised as to what their job was. That is a testament to Lowitja.

The regional councils at that time, in terms of ATSIC under her stewardship, were probably the best in the Northern Territory. If you go back to 1990 to 2006, when she stopped being the chairperson, you only have to look at what ATSIC did in terms of getting outcomes with housing, with education, with jobs—all of those things that we talk about today and we say, 'We're back to where we were before.' Sometimes it's hindsight, and back to the future is often a good thing. We can look back on some of those examples. Maybe we need to look back at what she had achieved and bring back some of those policies and have a look at them. It made sense then and it makes sense now. We shouldn't be afraid to look at the lessons of yesterday as examples for today.

There are many people that criticise ATSIC—and I've heard those criticisms in this parliament since I've been here and even before I came into this parliament—and they say, 'It was a basket case.' Often, if people criticise ATSIC and call it a basket case, they're reflecting on the stewardship of a great lady and a dame and someone that was highly respected in Dr Lowitja O'Donoghue. She was someone who held the ship. She steadied the ship. She carried it through some stormy waters, and then she stepped away. I think that when she stepped away—and I say this a lot in the Territory: if you want someone to do the job and you want them to do it right, get a woman!

When you look at Dr O'Donoghue and what she did, she did it in a frank way. She did it in a fearless way. She did no favours for anyone, and I think that's what's really important. She kept her dignity. She didn't need favours to be done. But she took no prisoners. I remember many conversations with her, particularly through the health discussions, where I, being a young person and thinking that I knew everything, was pulled down a peg or two—and that's okay. Often we need a bit of pulling down every now and then to make us see.

It was a loss for this nation, as well as for the Aboriginal community and her family, when she passed. I know the South Australian community. I remember being in Adelaide a long time ago, Member for Boothby, and she was sitting at the DFO near the airport, which I like to visit every now and then when I'm in Adelaide! She was at Harbour Town and she was sitting there having a cup of coffee, and I walked over. As always, in her presence, you felt compelled to bow because of her greatness and who she was and who she represented. She always made you feel special, and that was what I'll always be grateful for.

I have a favourite author—and I've read I Know Why the Caged Bird SingsMaya Angelou. Always, when I look at her and when I look at Dr Lowitja O'Donoghue I can see similarities between these two women. They were remarkable women.

I want to read something that I've always had, which is really close to me. I know that this sums up Dr Lowitja O'Donoghue, because she was brilliant, and her ability—and that's what was important, having the ability—like Maya Angelou, to harness the power of words to inspire people was truly remarkable. If you read her books and her teachings, it's not hard to be inspired. But I want to leave a little poem which I thought about with the passing of Lowitja. It's 'Still I Rise', and it says:

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I'll rise.

Vale and rest in peace, Dr Lowitja O'Donoghue.

Louise Miller-Frost (Boothby, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

I'd like to thank the member for Lingiari for her fine words, for her personal insights and for the affection with which she personally remembers Dr O'Donoghue. That was very special—listening to you. It's with heavy heart that I am also here to pay tribute to Dr Lowitja O'Donoghue, a great leader, an extraordinary woman and a woman who made a difference. As the Minister for Indigenous Australians, Linda Burney, said:

Lowitja's story is the truth of this country.

Lowitja was born in the APY Lands of South Australia to a young Pitjantjatjara mother and an Irish father. At the age of two she was taken from her mother, along with her older sisters Violet and Amy. Two older siblings, Eileen and Geoffrey, had been removed eight years earlier as well. Her name was changed to Lois, and she was not allowed to ask about her family. Lowitja would not see her mother again for three decades, when, in 1967, working as a remote area welfare officer, she had a chance meeting outside a Coober Pedy store with an aunt and uncle who recognised the family resemblance: 'That's Lily's girl.' In the weeks that followed, Lily waited for her daughter in the outback town of Oodnadatta, staring off into the desert, waiting for her daughter to come home. The reunion was not easy. They no longer shared a common language. They did not embrace. They didn't know how to be with one another. Lowitja later said:

By the time I met my mother, of course, it was far too emotional to talk about …

It was at this stage, aged in her 30s, when she learnt her birth name.

The children had been taken to the United Aborigines Mission home, Colebrook children's home, in Quorn in the Flinders Ranges. Nine years later they were transferred to the United Aborigines Mission's new Colebrook Home in Eden Hills in the electorate of Boothby where she attended the local Eden Hills primary school and then Unley Girls Technical High School.

Colebrook children's home was a place of rigid discipline, joyless religious observance, allegedly bad food and endless hymn singing, and praising of the Lord. She felt powerless and unloved and she was often in trouble. She said:

"I remember in my very earliest days standing up for what I believed in … One of the earliest memories I have is of coming between the matron and the strap. I would often stand in the way when the strap was intended for others, with the result being that I, too, got a beating."

She asked herself the unanswerable, painful questions:

… where is my mother, why doesn't she come for me, doesn't she love me?

Despite this, the Colebrook children were encouraged to participate in local community events. Many of the locals I speak to have great memories of their Aboriginal school friends.

Colebrook House in Eden Hills has now been demolished and in its place is Colebrook Reconciliation Park, a beautiful reflective place where we are reminded of the stories of the children taken from their parents many hundreds of kilometres away and raised to be servants, and of the mothers left behind with empty arms.

Despite the circumstances under which Lowitja O'Donoghue came to Eden Hills and her experiences at the children's home, we are proud of having been a little bit of her story and we are sad at the experiences she and the other children had at Colebrook. It's important that these stories, painful as they are, are not forgotten.

Lowitja dedicated her life to improving the lives of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians, and she deserves Australia's deepest respect, gratitude and love. Lowitja made a difference. Despite the trauma and disadvantage, she went on to have a stellar career full of many firsts—albeit firsts that shouldn't have had to be firsts. As the member for Lingiari said, she was a trailblazer for Aboriginal women, in particular, and for Aboriginal people generally. She lobbied South Australian Premier Tom Playford to become the first trainee Aboriginal nurse in South Australia, training at Royal Adelaide Hospital, where she rose to become staff sister and charge nurse. She said:

I'd resolved that one of the fights was to actually open the door for Aboriginal women to take up the nursing profession, and also for those young men to get into apprenticeships.

In the 1970s she became the regional director of the then Department Aboriginal Affairs in South Australia, the first woman to hold a position like this in a federal government department. She was appointed the founding chairperson of the restructured National Aboriginal Conference in 1977, and of course she was chairperson of the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission, ATSIC.

She was the first Aboriginal Australian to address the United Nations General Assembly, which she did in 1992 during the launch of the United Nations International Year of Indigenous Peoples; she was involved in the negotiations for native title legislation following the Mabo decision; and former prime minister Kevin Rudd consulted her on the Apology to the Stolen Generations. Notably, she turned down the offer of the position of Governor-General, proudly declaring, 'I'm a republican.'

Dr Lowitja O'Donoghue did not lead an easy life. The circumstances of her childhood and upbringing we would not wish on any child. She had to fight every step of the way to pursue her career. But I pay my respects to a woman who overcame adversity, kept going when obstacles were put in her way and ultimately made a significant difference with the actions of her life. She won many awards: she was Australian of the Year; she had a CBE—Commander of the British Empire; and had many honorary doctorates—she was an honorary professor at Flinders University. But, most importantly, she made a difference. She made a difference to the lives and prospects of Aboriginal Australians. She made a difference to this country and to all Australians. She advanced the cause of reconciliation through her words, through her actions and through her life.

I'd like to offer my condolences to her family and friends, and to the wider First Nations community. Vale, Dr Lowitja O'Donoghue. May she rest in peace.

Madeleine King (Brand, Australian Labor Party, Minister for Northern Australia) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

I too rise today to pay tribute to Dr Lowitja O'Donoghue, and to extend my deepest sympathies to her family and loved ones.

Dr O'Donoghue was, without doubt, one of the most remarkable leaders this country has ever known. Many have spoken here about her childhood and the unimaginable disadvantages she endured, as have so many of our Indigenous sisters and brothers. She was removed, or stolen, from her mother and assigned a birth date. She endured so much that many of us have not. Even after a childhood of immense trauma, she dedicated her life to the advancement of reconciliation in Australia, and played a pivotal role in national initiatives that have had a profound effect on Indigenous Australians and, therefore, upon all of us.

Dr O'Donoghue was never one to shy away from a challenge, as many others have noted in this place. She was a woman of many firsts. She was the first Aboriginal nurse in South Australia. In 1973 she was the first woman to be appointed as a regional director of an Australian federal department, being the Department of Aboriginal Affairs. She was the founding chair of the National Aboriginal Conference in 1977. She was the first chair of the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission in 1990, and she was the first Aboriginal person to address the United Nations General Assembly, in 1992.

She has, quite rightly, received many awards in recognition of her contribution to this country and to many others. In 1976, she was the first Aboriginal woman to be made a Member of the Order of Australia. In 1983, as was mentioned earlier, Dr O'Donoghue was named a Commander of the Order of the British Empire for her services to the Indigenous community of Australia. The year after, she was acknowledged by the Prime Minister, Bob Hawke, as Australian of the Year. In 1993, Murdoch University was the first university to grant her an honorary doctorate. That was the first of many honorary doctorates. I believe she got another nine from universities right around the country in recognition of her vast contributions. In 1999 she was made a Companion in the Order of Australia for public service through leadership to Indigenous and, importantly, non-Indigenous Australians in the areas of human rights and social justice. I think it is very important that her Companion of the Order of Australia citation mentions her contribution to non-Indigenous Australians as well. Her honours continued. In 2006, she was invested as a Dame of the Order of Saint Gregory the Great, a papal honour awarded by then Pope John Paul II, which just goes to speak of how Dr O'Donoghue was regarded right around the world.

In the nineties, when Dr O'Donoghue was the chair of ATSIC, she worked alongside other prominent Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander leaders and then prime minister Paul Keating to negotiate the terms of the Native Title Act following the Mabo decision. Keating would later recount the influence that Dr O'Donoghue had on delivering that act, saying:

… she decided, alone decided, that the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples of Australia would negotiate, and I emphasise negotiate, with the Commonwealth government of Australia—and that the negotiators would be the leaders of the indigenous land councils. She decided that. And from that moment, for the first time in the 204-year history of the settled country, its indigenous people sat in full concert with the government of it all.

The Native Title Act passed in 1993, and finally Indigenous Australians had a legal process to claim native title over the lands and waters that they had lived on for tens of thousands of years before colonisation—the eternity that existed before colonisation and, indeed, exists today. Today, around 40 per cent Australia is covered by native title, most of which is in our northern regions, and of course it has a great interaction with the resources sector of this country. Sixty per cent of resources projects are on land covered by native title. The member for Newcastle mentioned this in her contribution, but I think it's important to reiterate that today, in 2024, we should not underestimate how difficult it was to enact and then go on to implement the national Native Title Act. There was an extraordinary scare campaign around native title following the Mabo decision and then Paul Keating's progress with the bill and the act itself. Most of that was, sadly, driven out of my home state of Western Australia, which the leaders of that state at the time would have said had a lot to lose from native title. It was an enormous and frightening scare campaign which set the tone for many discussions since between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians.

But the reality is that the Native Title Act and all that has come after it have been absolutely transformative for the resources sector but also, more importantly, for our wider community. Now we see an extensive array of voluntary land use agreements under the native title regime, and these agreements benefit Indigenous communities while also enabling responsible resources developments right across the country. These land use agreements and other agreements entered into between Indigenous communities and resources companies have the deep involvement of local communities—and not just Indigenous communities, I might add. Some of the neighbouring communities have benefited greatly from the consequences of the Native Title Act development over the years. There has been active involvement by communities in mine development, planning, rehabilitation, and all the extraordinary activity that goes on within the resources sector. We know the work Dr O'Donoghue did, alongside Paul Keating and many, many others, in developing that act has had enormous benefit for Indigenous populations and, more importantly, for the wider community.

We know that Dr O'Donoghue was a strong advocate for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people to be recognised in Australia's Constitution. Sadly, Dr O'Donoghue did not get to see that constitutional recognition in her lifetime, but I know we can all agree here today that Australia is a better place because of her and her extraordinary contribution to this country. Even after her passing, her legacy will live on through the lives of those she has changed forever. My condolences to her family and friends. Vale Dr Lowitja O'Donoghue. May you rest in peace.

James Stevens (Sturt, Liberal Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

I understand it is the wish of honourable members to signify at this stage their respect and sympathy by rising in their places and I ask all present to do so.

Honourable members having stood in their places—

I thank the Federation Chamber.

Michelle Ananda-Rajah (Higgins, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

by leave—I move:

That further proceedings be conducted in the House.

Question agreed to.

Federation Chamber adjourned at 12:35