A moment that demands courage

Daniel James *

The Saturday Paper - 5 July 2025

For four years, the Yoorrook Justice Commission has done what no institution in Victoria has attempted before: it listened. It listened to Elders and experts, children in care and mothers behind bars. It heard stories of resilience and survival but also of brutality sanctioned by law and normalised by silence. What emerged was not just a record of injustice but a set of clear, achievable recommendations for redress and reform.

The recommendations were arrived at not through polite consultation or shallow engagement but through the deliberate, often painful, act of truth-telling.

The commission gathered more than 1300 submissions, hosted 65 public hearing days, reviewed more than 10,000 documents and sat with Elders, children, politicians, prisoners, parents and professionals alike. Its process spanned community round tables, private sessions, youth dialogues and on-Country hearings. Every format was designed to make visible what has long been obscured: the full scale and continuity of systemic injustice against First Peoples in Victoria since colonisation began in 1835.

The condensed version of the commission’s final report, “Yoorrook: Truth Be Told”, which I was honoured to play a role in compiling, is not merely a history lesson. It is an act of record keeping and a call to action. Stretching across centuries and systems, from massacres to missions, land theft to child removals, health neglect to overpolicing. It lays bare the reality that injustice in Victoria is not a relic. It is structural, cumulative and ongoing.

The commission does not shy away from the weight of language. In its final report, it states plainly what has long been whispered, resisted and denied: that the treatment of First Peoples in Victoria meets the legal and historical definition of genocide. “Yoorrook found that the decimation of the First Peoples population in Victoria … was the result of ‘a coordinated plan of different actions aimed at the destruction of the essential foundations of the life of national groups,’ ” it says. “This was genocide.”

Drawing on the United Nations Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, the commission outlines how colonisation in Victoria involved the intentional destruction of Aboriginal people as a distinct group: physically, culturally, spiritually and politically.

This was not a byproduct of settlement; it was its design. Massacres were committed with impunity. Children were forcibly removed from their families and communities. Cultural and spiritual practices were outlawed. Languages were extinguished, or nearly so. Birthrates were suppressed through policy. Country was stolen and desecrated.

These are not allegations. They are findings; and while they echo the experiences of indigenous peoples globally, the report makes clear that what occurred in Victoria is not a vague tragedy of the past. It is an ongoing structure, alive in laws, systems and institutions that continue to inflict harm.

By naming genocide, Yoorrook does more than correct the record. It compels the state to reckon with a truth it has long resisted: injustice in Victoria has not been incidental. It has been systematic, sustained and targeted. And redress cannot begin without recognising the full scope of the harm.

At its core, the report argues that Victoria’s institutions were not designed to include Aboriginal people – they were designed to exclude them. The result is a state where First Peoples are still more likely to die by suicide, be removed from their families, be denied culturally safe healthcare and be incarcerated at rates unmatched by any other demographic. None of this is accidental. All of it is policy-driven.

The Victorian government, for its part, has expressed respect for the work but remains non-committal on the harder asks, particularly those involving redress.

Its 100 final recommendations are sweeping but targeted, offering a framework for transformation across the state. The report calls for redress through land return, financial compensation, tax relief and other tangible forms of restitution – not as symbolic gestures but as material recognition of harm and a foundation for justice.

It emphasises the need to strengthen the role of Aboriginal community-controlled organisations and embed Aboriginal decision-making across core systems including health, education, housing and justice.

The commission also proposes deep systemic reform, restructuring child protection, criminal justice, policing and governance to reflect principles of truth, accountability and equity. Central to its approach is the concept of shared responsibility. Rather than placing the burden of progress on Aboriginal communities to “close the gap”, the report insists it is government and institutions that must dismantle the structures that created and continue to sustain those disparities.

Perhaps most radically, the commission recommends a Self-Determination Fund – a sovereign wealth vehicle underpinned by revenue from land, water and natural resources. This is not a handout but rather a redistribution: a rebalancing of wealth accumulated through dispossession, now returned to enable Aboriginal governance, prosperity and autonomy.

Why does this matter now? Because Victoria stands at a critical juncture. With a treaty process already under way and a government that has pledged commitment to truth and justice, the Yoorrook report arrives not as an abstract proposition but as a blueprint. It makes it impossible for the state to claim ignorance, and harder still to claim virtue without action.

The media response to the Yoorrook report has been as divided as the nation’s conscience. Outlets such as The Guardian and The Age have foregrounded its historic finding, that the treatment of First Peoples in Victoria constitutes genocide under international law, and lauded its detailed road map for justice. They have highlighted the courage of witnesses and the clarity of the commission’s 100 recommendations, including calls for land return, financial compensation and a sovereign wealth fund for Aboriginal self-determination.

Elsewhere, particularly in the Murdochracy, the report has been met with scepticism and resistance. Some commentators argue that Yoorrook prioritises ideology over shared national identity, accusing the commission of inflaming division by naming historical truths too plainly.

The Victorian government, for its part, has expressed respect for the work but remains noncommittal on the harder asks, particularly those involving redress. Among many Aboriginal leaders, the response is one of solemn affirmation. As Marcus Stewart, former co-chair of the First Peoples’ Assembly, noted: for communities who have lived these truths, the findings offer not shock but relief. The violence is no longer just remembered; it has been recorded.

The Victorian opposition’s response to the Yoorrook report has been marked by a studied refusal to reckon with its contents. Instead of engaging with the substance of the commission’s findings, Opposition Leader Brad Battin reached for the most well-worn tool in the political playbook: fear of division.

As soon as the notion of a permanent Aboriginal representative body was raised, Battin leapt to frame it as a rerun of the Voice referendum, ignoring that Yoorrook’s recommendations were crafted in Victoria, for Victoria, through thousands of hours of testimony and consultation. He accused Premier Jacinta Allan of pursuing an “ideological agenda” and ignoring more “pressing concerns” such as cost of living and crime. In doing so, he not only insulted the work of the commission but belittled the pain and perseverance of the many thousands of First Peoples who engaged with the commission during its existence.

This is not principled opposition. It is political theatre dressed in the language of populism. It reeks of a deeper indifference – an unwillingness to listen, to learn or to lead. The Yoorrook Commission offers a path to healing and reform. Battin and his cohort would rather rehearse old lines and retreat into cultural dog whistles. At a moment that demands courage, they have chosen cowardice.

The opportunity is rare. The choice is stark. Will Victoria continue the pattern of acknowledging injustice without repair? Or will it take the courageous, uncomfortable steps towards restitution, structural change and genuine partnership?

The weight of the report is immense. So is its clarity. Many of the Elders who gave testimony to Yoorrook spoke not just of pain but also of hope. Hope that their stories of children taken, of mission stations endured, of lives shaped by the sharp edge of state policy might lead to something better. That the next generation would not have to tell the same truths again, still unmet.

For many who gave evidence, the hope was never that a single report would repair generations of harm. It was that their truths, once committed to the public record, might shift what was politically possible. As one Elder put it, “Maybe my grandchildren won’t have to keep telling this story.” That hope runs quietly beneath the report’s pages – not a promise, but a plea. That this time, listening might lead to change. That this time, the truth might matter enough to act on.

The state of Victoria has heard the truth. It has received the findings. It has the tools to act. What it does now will define not just the legacy of this commission but also the moral character of the state itself. History cannot be changed, but futures can.

This article was first published in the print edition of The Saturday Paper on July 5, 2025 as "A moment that demands courage".

* Daniel James is a Yorta Yorta man and an award-winning writer and broadcaster.