Beyond the Election: Indigenous Voices Still Matter

In the wake of the recent election, it’s hard not to notice the silence around Indigenous issues in our national conversation. While politicians debated the usual topics, the voices and concerns of First Nations people were largely absent. Yet, as I was reminded by Ray Barraclough’s recent message to A Progressive Christian Voice (Australia), the questions raised by the Uluru Statement from the Heart are far from resolved.

Ray pointed to the May issue of the So That We Remember newsletter, which highlights how the core themes of the Uluru Statement—Voice, Makarrata (Treaty), and Truth-Telling—still challenge us as a nation. The referendum on an Indigenous Voice to Parliament may have ended with a “No,” but the deeper work of justice and reconciliation remains unfinished.

One excerpt Ray shared, from Kate Grenville’s new book Unsettled, struck a chord with me. Grenville reflects on how, unlike in other British colonies, there was no treaty or negotiation with Australia’s First Peoples. The British simply moved in, ignoring the rights and authority of those already here. This “long knowing-and-not knowing,” as she calls it, has left us stuck—reluctant to look back, and unable to move forward.

It’s easy to see how the legacy of colonisation still shapes our attitudes. When the idea of a treaty is raised, the conversation quickly turns to money and fear of “reparation.” But as Grenville points out, even imperfect treaties in other countries have provided a starting point for negotiation and change. Without any agreement at all, it’s hard to see how we can begin to repair the harm.

The newsletter also includes voices from history—settlers, missionaries, and others—who recognised the injustice of dispossession. One letter from 1826, written to the Methodist Missionary Society, insists that justice and Christianity require us not to take what belongs to others, no matter how easy or profitable it might be. The writer acknowledges a debt to Indigenous people that goes far beyond what money or restitution could ever repay.

As progressive Christians, we are called to listen to these voices, both past and present. The work of truth-telling, treaty, and reconciliation is not just a political issue—it’s a spiritual one. It asks us to risk our comfort for the sake of a larger vision of justice and community.

Ray’s reflections, and the stories shared in So That We Remember, are a timely reminder that the journey is not over. If anything, it’s more important than ever that we keep these conversations alive, and keep pushing for a future where the original peoples of this land are truly heard, respected, and included.

Let’s not allow silence or fear to have the last word. Instead, let’s keep listening, keep learning, and keep working for the kind of justice that our faith calls us to pursue.