2002

15th January 2002
Compassion Knows Some Boundaries
Why can't Australians bring themselves to show the same compassion to refugees as to bushfire victims? Bryan Dunn, Director of Centacare Newcastle ponders the question.

"Possessions of a lifetime turned to ashes" was the poignant newspaper comment on the experience of another victim of the NSW bushfires on January 3 this year.

The mother of three faced the prospect of telling her children and husband absent on holidays interstate that their home and all their possessions had been destroyed.

As a community we struggle to understand the enormity of the loss experienced by this family and many others. We sit in silence before our televisions unable to put words to the loss and the fear experienced by our fellow Australians; people like us.

Their lot could be ours. We feel totally at one with them and stand with them in spirit; we ask what we can do to help.

We are inspired by the courage of the firefighters. We are awestruck in seeing their determination to save life and property.

Hundreds of people have phoned authorities offering material support and words of encouragement to the firefighters and the victims of the unfolding tragedy.

Our response reflects all that is best in the Australian community: a community that responds to a neighbour in need, is selfless in leaving festive celebrations to help others and contain the fire; evacuate the children, the aged and disabled.

We fully expect our political leaders to inspect the devastation, commit us as a community to help those affected.

We demand information from the fire authorities that is accurate, measured, realistic, without the gloss of false hopes or overly pessimistic reporting.

We believe we are in good hands. We expect our media to be accurate, forthright and truthful.

Many regret the sensationalisation of the tragedy and the invasion of privacy into the tears and loss of the individual.

As readers, we are, however, driven to witness the events as they unfold since the victims are like us and we want to understand.

In so responding, we are indeed part of the compassionate community. Our compassion is apparent, a counterpoint to the devastation of our land. We feel good to be at one with our fellow Australians.

What is it that has helped our compassion to surface in such abundance? These people are close to us physically. They are part of our tribal group.

They have lost in many cases everything that is associated with their identity: their homes, furniture, clothes, books, utensils, photos, letters. Memories of the years are gone; their connection with the past. They have experienced fear of annihilation, the panic of being assaulted by nature.

We would treat them with tenderness if they were near. We would be generous, sharing with them from our own store of goods. We would ease their burden and pain.

And yet today, both internally and internationally, we are being seen as a nation lacking in compassion towards people who have lost all.

These are refugees who have left their homes in fear of annihilation, launching out into a strange and dangerous world.

Sometimes they have sent their children on ahead in the hope that at least they might survive.

We do not meet these people as individuals. Their stories are on the whole not known to us.

They are spoken about stereotypically. Our fears are evoked, not allayed.

They are different. We find it hard to identify with them. They are not of our tribe.

Our authorities imprison them in isolation, often in hot and desolate circumstances. Women and children. Children alone. This is Australia today.

Our politicians provide carefully crafted information about the centre riots without reference to underlying causes. An approach reflected in the media.

Where is full disclosure of the facts, the personal stories which could evoke our deeper understanding?

The political face is obdurate, and our leaders play upon our fears.

A sense of hopelessness can pervade those who are concerned in the community because of the hardness of heart displayed.

The truth is that refugees are people like us. They have personal histories, joys, tragedies, skills and insights just like us. And they are here.

Why do we not respond with concern and pity for them, and particularly for their children?

At this time, we so rightly feel compassion for the victims of bushfire, admire the bravery of our defenders, support our politicians in their resolve to make it better.

My hope is that our solicitude will extend to these other people seeking refuge in our land; will demand the full story from our politicians; and that we will stand with people with little hope.

Bryan Dunn
Bryan Dunn is the Director of Centacare Newcastle, the official welfare arm of the Catholic Church in the Diocese of Maitland-Newcastle.

NB. This article was published on the opinion page of The Newcastle Herald, 15th January 2002.

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