articles/lectures, film, Forgotten Australians, memories, Stolen Generations

Video: Wake-up call from the stolen and forgotten

by Rhonda Trivett (guest author) on 28 May, 2010

Rhonda Trivett, at the age of 13, from 1974 – 1981, was locked in the maximum security adult ward (Osler House), in Wolston Park Hospital, Brisbane. In her video, Rhonda talks about her experiences and the need for redress.

Wakeup call from the stolen and forgotten
articles/lectures, Forgotten Australians, Stolen Generations

It’s about time we make things right

by Rhonda Trivett (guest author) on 26 May, 2010


It’s about time we make things right

I believe it’s time to be responsible and say, “OK what has happened in the past was wrong. It should never have happened and it’s time to make it as right as we possibly can”.
Until now the government always has turned a blind eye to the real bad inhumane things that have happened.
We all live in this world and to make it a better kinder and peaceful place is what I hear people keep saying but really not all that much gets done.
If one person helps another or even has the guts to stand up for trying to make a good right caring change and really believe in what they are doing in a nice decent way, well that’s how good things happen.
I believe one person can make a difference as long as they don’t give up. Everybody’s got feeling and good in them sometimes you just need to look deep down into the real person.
There’s too much giving up, fighting, hate and war when there shouldn’t be. In the 1970s children were apart of an Australian inhumane war in a hospital Wolston Park. They were killed, bashed and raped, stripped of everything by the so called nurses that were supposed to be looking after us. It went on. My god, how did this happen? We need to try to help the ones that survived. There’s not many left. Please help me do this. Some of us still have shell shock and some just trying to get it all right. We are all wrongly labelled because of the past. It must stop, OK? How can we even try to make a life for ourselves? Let our suffering stop. Think. That could have been your child.
Help me and others make things right. We can’t wait for another 3 to 30 years. Some of us could be dead.
I need to do this now because people are starting to listen at last. We can learn from each other. Let’s clean up our Australian health and government acts.

art, Forgotten Australians, memories, poetry, Stolen Generations

Then came my son

by Rhonda Trivett (guest author) on 26 May, 2010

Rhonda Trivett’s poem describes the importance of her son in her life.

THEN CAME MY SON

So God in six days did set the world in place
when He made the stars, land, ocean and the seas
the plan was, that He saw things to be as they should
He created me and I really used to wonder and don’t know why
to be hurt, sad and raped see my friends killed as a child
to lose it all was that his love for me
why couldn’t I just smile and have fun as a child
to make a jail as a home is a bad sick joke
to teach and guide me with cons and lies
with no-one on my side to understand
through all my pain, strife, my life no helping hand
I had to be the strength to stand
No-one listening no-one cared
no encouragement just told I wont succeed
lean on what, with no boundaries
I had no love no life no beginning and it looks like no end.

But then came my son who I’m proud of A part of him I’ll always see and be
I learnt to understand his tears,
And also calm all of his fears.
I see my sons laugh, his smile, his touch
He always brightened up my days
for each truth his has helped me see
the heartaches and the joys that we shared
And when I go Please do not forget me son,
for you are always in my heart, thoughts and my mind
The values you’ve taught me you made me a mum
and the wonderful love that you made me see in me
will always be there no matter what
the sparkling joy in your baby happy loving eyes
We never needed or wanted just gave and had we all ways had enough
our Special Love we shared
we share the joy our dreams were real
our confidence from day to day so easy
You set me free from all my fears
And when you were at school In spirit I was never alone
you were the best challenge of life 24 hours a day
It’s great and fun loving my son. Lets keep it up
I have a life, a beginning and a great loving end
I’m proud to be a mother and I’m proud to be able to love.

13 August 2003

art, Forgotten Australians, memories, poetry, Stolen Generations

Raped and bashed

by Rhonda Trivett (guest author) on 25 May, 2010

Rhonda shares one of poems about life as a teenager, in the adult maximum security ward (Osler House) in Wolston Park Hospital, Queensland.

Raped and Bashed, Now D Day, It’s Time to Fight Back, you Hurt Me and Made Me this Way

I live in fear of what you did to me
You made me cry you hurt and bashed me
I thought I was going to die many times
In the dark I’m scarred for life
And I kicked and I stirred
But no-one heard me and no-one cared
And it’s hard but I tried to be strong
you done this deed why me I was just a child
I did nothing for this hell treatment
I was a lost child wanting her mother
and I stole a push bike and That was my only crime
what a price I paid what really did I do
I don’t understand and I never will
With a label I try to survive, which I can’t
stop the label then I will be able, OK

I’ve been silent too long, no more playing the nice life games
You hurt me too many times, made me like a wounded animal
Just waiting for my next feed to come along
Stripped of everything and without a choice
I used to be clean now just dirty and unclean
bad and just a piece of rubbish
the guilt is just killing me in so many ways
no-one ever listened it was very wrong
Just looked me up with a needle, stripped me of my clothes
I’m still to this day confused getting silly as ever
With a hurtful rage of hate just waiting to explode
Wanting to hurt back with all I’ve got waiting for the kill
I didn’t start this, but I can assure you all that I will finish it
I’ve, now, got nothing to lose so it’s time to gain
I’ve been waiting for this moment every day of my life
I’m on my own, it’s time to pay,
it’s time for sorry Rhonda all the way.

Blood on the bathroom wall at Osler House

The next stanza in Rhonda’s poem explicitly describes an act of serious assault.

Forgotten Australians, memories, photography

Hay Institution for Girls

by Wilma Robb (guest author) on 20 May, 2010

 

Senator Andrew Murray

Former resident of Hay, Wilma Robb, shares her photographs taken at the Hay Girls reunion in 2007.

The Hay Institution for Girls was opened in 1961 as a maximum security institution for girls, aged 13 to 18, from the Parramatta Girls Home. Girls were sent to Hay despite their having committed no crime and without a legal trial. Girls were not permitted to speak, without permission, or to establish eye contact with anyone. This rule was enforced despite the fact that the “silent system” was outlawed in NSW in the late 1800s. Girls endured a regime of hard labour without school education.

Further information and historical photographs about life at Hay can be read at the website concerning Sharyn Killens’ book An Inconvenient Child.

Commerative Plaque which was unveiled at the Hay Girls Reunion 2007

Wilma’s painting Black, Blue and Raw was hung in an exhibition “Forgotten Australians” at NSW Parliament house from 11 April-28 April 2005. Supported and Arranged by Forgotten Australians Jools Graeme, Melody Mandena, John Murray.

Black, Blue and Raw depicts my time in Parramatta and Hay.

At Hay, I experienced a sadistic, martial discipline the (Silent Treatment outlawed in the late 1800s) designed to break the human spirit. These days we would describe it as a form of ‘programming’. At Parramatta, I experienced psychological abuse, rape, neglect and other forms of violent torture at the hands of state employees.

My torso
No-one sees what is hidden inside me. Here are the memories I have tried to suppress. Here is the sub-conscious record of life-destroying events, festering.
The little girl at the centre is me. The eyes overseeing the evil are those of one of my abusers, captured by camera from a television screen.

My baby
When I was 18, my baby was taken from me by Welfare, within minutes of his birth.

The colours
To me, yellow and purple signalled hope. At Hay, we experienced regular solitary confinement, enforced silence and regimentation. Also, they took our eyes.

The mask
At Hay, they tried to turn us into unthinking robots by brainwashing and deprivation. The Hay mask has a robotic expression and a head that has been messed with severely. My memory of Parramatta is dominated by the violence of the staff – I lost my teeth and had my face smashed. The mask has had its features flattened and is flesh softened by fists.
Wilma Robb (Cassidy) 2005

Black, Blue and Raw

Forgotten Australians, memories, poetry

When a child’s home is an asylum

by Rhonda Trivett (guest author) on 10 May, 2010

In 1967, at the age of eight, Rhonda was placed in Sandgate Home, Brisbane, while her mother tried to cope with the death of Rhonda’s father. Because Rhonda was dyslexic and became frustrated with her inability to read, she ran away from school. As a result, she was admitted to a locked ward in the Winston Noble Unit, a mental health facility attached to the Prince Charles Hospital at Chermside, Brisbane. She was later admitted to Lowson House, a mental health ward at the Royal Brisbane Hospital and then transferred to Wilston Youth Hostel. At the age of 13 she was admitted to a maximum security ward for adult female psychiatric patients (Osler House) at Wolston Park Hospital where she remained until she was 21 years of age.

Here is her poem, describing how her mother’s love helped her.

 
Rhonda’s bed in Wolston Park
art, film, Forgotten Australians, memories, music, painting, photography

Asylum

by Bonney Djuric (guest author) on 4 May, 2010

 

Parramatta Female Factory Precinct: Girls Industrial School Gate 3

Bonney discusses the historical background to her film and the notion of “asylum”:

The Female Factory was built in 1818 adjacent to the Colonial Government domain on land bounded to the south by a curve in the Parramatta River. It was a large site over a number of hectares and had been previously owned by Bligh and Marsden. The Factory was the brainchild of Governor Macquarie who in his concerns for the safety of the women and children of the colony recommended that a place be built to provide safe refuge for them. It was not long until the idealised safe refuge of Macquarie’s vision changed into a place of detention, incarceration and punishment.

Macquarie’s Female Factory building was partly demolished in 1885, some of its structure was incorporated into the now Institute of Psychiatry building at Cumberland Hospital. The main area where it once stood is now called the Deadyard an area of land bounded by the high stone walls of the Factory. By 1848 the Factory had been declared a place for paupers and lunatics.

In 1841 an orphanage was built on the drying grounds adjacent to the Factory, in an attempt to provide safe accommodation for the factory women’s children. It became known as the Roman Catholic Orphan School (RCOS).The premises of the Roman Catholic Orphan School were resumed by the NSW Government in 1886 and it ceased to function as an orphanage. Theories emerging from the Industrial Revolution shaped attitudes of the day which lead to the establishment of a Training and Industrial School on the site.

Between 1886 and 1983 it would go through many name changes each reflecting the social policy and attitudes of the day. What did not change over this ninety seven year period was the day to day life experienced by the inmates of the institution. In 1980 management of a section of the site was transferred to the Department of Corrective Services and it continues to operate as the Norma Parker Correctional Centre for Women.

Born as a disciplinary society, Australia was colonized during the period of the Industrial Revolution. It was a place of banishment for the displaced population of an English revolution that was fought not by using the gun or guillotine, but the more insidious instrument of control, reason and its progeny, science, in the interests of economy, made animate through morality and exercised by the judiciary.

It was within this climate that Governor Macquarie commissioned Francis Greenway to build Australia’s first institution of confinement the Female Factory at Parramatta in1821. In Macquarie’s correspondence1 we can read of his genuine concern for the welfare of the women and children of the settlement and of his ambition to create a place of safety where women would not have to prostitute themselves in order to get food and a roof over their head.

The Female Factory was Australia’s first social experiment to create a self contained, self supporting institution where the values of hard work would be rewarded with liberation from penal servitude to that of social respectability. As the stone walls surrounding the site grew in height so did the attitudes to its occupants, now inmates, change. They became woman who no longer needed protection but the depraved that the emerging free settler society had to protect themselves from.  It became a place where idleness would not be tolerated. Its purpose had been endowed by the history of the institution of confinement to house the poor, unemployed, idle, criminal and mad women of the colony – a place that would shape Australian attitudes towards women as either damned whores or God’s police.

It was upon this site that the system of rewards and punishment of the institutions of confinement of the early 19th century would remain un-challenged until the early 1980’s and from where, in the Australian thought-system, cultural images and conceptions of ‘rottenness and taint’ would be associated with particular groups.

Although few remnants of the original Factory building exist, its legacy lives on in the lives of people who have experienced the so called ‘care’ of the institution. The experiences of these people, the Forgotten Australians, can be traced back to 17th century Europe, to the establishment of the Hopital General in Paris and to the workhouses of Great Britain.

From 1821 to the present day every type of institution of confinement has been located on the Factory site; an orphanage, a training school, a psychiatric hospital and a prison.

Perhaps in our current political climate, where the meaning of asylum has shifted emphasis to that of the refugee, the asylum seeker, we will come to realize that their experience of the institution of confinement- the detention centres – are no different to that of those in other institutions established to provide a place of so called sanctuary in both contemporary and historical terms.  Attention to their plight may present an opportunity to question where our attitudes and beliefs about those who we place in such institutions actually originated from and more importantly bring about a change in our thinking.

“Life is more important than art. That’s what makes art so important”.    – John Malpede.


1 Macquarie colonial papers State Library of NSW.

Further information about the site featured in the film can be found here.

Forgotten Australians, memories

Our driveway remembered

by Pamella Vernon (guest author) on 29 April, 2010

Our Driveway Remembered
Yvonne Vernon
(Dalmar 1950 – 1958)

Coming into Dalmar now is a strange experience. The imposing pillared entrance of the driveway being closed off at Marsden Road, deprives one of the most memorable experience of youth, though not the memories. The wire fencing across the entrance gives a desolate feel, yet today, driving slowly past and pointing it out to friends, forgotten feelings that I experienced every time I came back to the only place I had to call “home” emerged. For the Dally kids, the driveway was the gateway to another life, a new home, different to what we had known or expected, yes, but nonetheless “home”, and in many cases the only one that flung doors wide open to accept us.

We brought with us pain, sorrow, confusion and grief, but “old” helped “new” kids to adjust, and eased the burden. The Dalmar driveway, as were the tennis court and swimming pool, donated and built by Sir Edward Hallstrom, of the Hallstrom Electrical Goods Company, (remember the Hallstrom refrigerator ?) a great friend of Dalmar and a generous benefactor. All the “kids” were recipients of his generosity at some time over many years . My xmas stocking was heavier on many occasions because of his consideration, a watch, tennis racquet, school case for high school, apart from elocution lessons for many years with Mrs Akehurst in Epping twice a week after school, like many kind folk who gave to us, he was an unsung, unseen hero, no public demonstration of gratitude was expected, indeed it would have been rejected, being the quiet, unassuming person that he was. A simple thank you letter was always answered personally, with kind words and encouragement.

For me the driveway will always have special memories, that wide sweep of avenue, flanked by coral trees ablaze with red, interspersing the highly scented Camphorlaurel trees. The “home” vegetable gardens could be glimpsed on the right coming down, and the dense trees on the left hid the little dirt road leading to the cemetery. The end wound itself around the wide circle of manicured lawn, bounded by Matron’s roses and the flagpole dead centre, a fitting introduction to the graceful architecture of the “main building”.

Walking down it alone, you could pretend you were the only person in the world. It was so quiet, the buzzing and humming of insects, the smell of flowers, trees, and rich soil wafting on the clean air was sheer heaven. It made me want to sing, and indeed I did. I used to go there to collect twigs and wood for the Newman furnace every afternoon. I would climb into the branches of a coral halfway down the drive and sing “I talk to the trees” at the top of my voice, pretending I was Doris Day (Doris Day I was definitely not). One day much to my embarrassment, halfway through I was accompanied by some of the senior boys working in the garden, with much laughter and teasing.

The same tree was a solitude place for me. I was steadily working my way through every book in the place and I would hide there to read every opportunity I could steal from chores ( and sometimes in place of) particularly on Saturdays and Sundays and visiting days. It was a meeting spot, away from people and kids, giving a sense of “secret place”, with some having their own special area. Ted Coulter (Laney) was the apple of my eye and my friend. We would meet there regularly, particularly when I had been in trouble again . He would commiserate, advise and let me get it out of the system. When he had been away for holidays with his family it was unspoken that we would meet there. He would tell me everything he had done and seen, and bring me gifts, a hanky, a bottle of perfume shaped like a crown, a little brooch, a book, all treasured for years after.

Although Ted and I shared our first childhood kiss on the steps of the kindergarten, the driveway provided the setting for my first grown up kiss, albeit innocent and clumsy. David Lambert and I got our noses in the way and ended up in stitches, but it was the basis for a long friendship, and he shared with me the long lively walk down the driveway, seeing me home each Wednesday night after youth club.

The driveway witnessed the funeral of 12 year old Julie Lloyd, a courageous , fragile, doll like child who spent her short life in bed, unable to even turn the pages of a book; loved and cherished by staff and children alike. It also saw the dying of an era. What great sorrow Dame Dorothea Barnett our beloved matron, must have felt wending her way up the leafy avenue for the last time ? She devoted her life to Dalmar and the children who were fortunate enough to pass through her care. Her life was an inspiration to all it touched, and for those left watching her disappearing among the leafy guard of honour, the atmosphere of inexpressible sadness must have been profound.

The driveway also brought merriment and fun to our door. Remember the exhilaration and sense of anticipation and excitement when the buses came down with the Jolly Revellers ? The boys would wait in relay from the top to let us know when they arrived at the entrance, Oh the joy of it, particularly the pressies and ice creams, not to mention the abandoned laughter and mirth at the concert and Nanna the clown and his mate Simple Simon.

Remember the xmas season? The buses arriving each Saturday for weeks to take us to various concerts and xmas parties at churches all over the metropolitan area. The thrill of waiting for the buses to take us to the ferry at Meadowbank for the Sunday school picnic at Parsley Bay. The contentment coming home through the gateway after a day of fun, sand, water, food and Deadmans cave, to drop weary, happy bodies into bed.

Remember the army trucks coming down one morning in convoy? They delivered tons of tinned bananas and mushroom soup that seemed to last an eternity, even with the loss of those that exploded endlessly in the servery store, with age and heat.

I recall with pleasure the cars of parishioners driving down after church at harvest festival time. They were packed with every kind of fruit, vegetable and other sundry goodies from the festival offering. I would sit in church, craning to see and count how many watermelons were there, or if the boxes had pears and peaches. How we feasted like royalty at harvest festival time!, and who could blame us if the message of thanks for all good things was lost on some of us at the time?

Do you remember “Toc H” ? sitting in rows of chairs in the dining room waiting for them to arrive with their monthly “real pictures”, the impatient fidgeting while they set up, and the disappointed collective groan when the film broke, or the agonised wait of the boy or girl chosen to say thank you, remember? “On behalf of the girls (or boys) of Dalmar I wish to thank you for coming tonight, and we look forward to you coming back again soon”! we all had it down pat for every occasion.

The driveway hosted all who came down its welcoming embrace, whether to stay, visit, give time, energy and love. Children leaving, going up for the last time to family, strangers, or out on their own with all the accompanying elation, apprehension and fears. Staff members coming to give of themselves, or leaving with regrets, some moving within the network to care for other children, some marrying to have families of their own, but all missed . Committee members to make decisions that would affect all. The sewing ladies who weekly mended and darned for hours. The weekly pick up and drop off of the shoe repairer Mr Spurway. The weekly visit of Mr Driscoll the choir master who made a pretty good show of turning us into a credible choir (except me, to be part yes but not to sing, because I put everybody off). People dropping off donations of clothes, books, toys, and money anything useful and not to forget the blue ribbon cakes donated weekly by the Blue Ribbon Cake Shop in Eastwood.

Lastly but not least, the “Old Girls and Boys yearly pilgrimage, and in particular Bob and Ruth Swanborough, for whom all the children waited to see for weeks beforehand, and crowded them when they arrived. Pied pipers, they brought down the driveway their own singular kindnesses, recognition of each, new kids sought out with a special greeting, kind words and hugs, acknowledged gratitude for serving them afternoon tea, or singing or reciting for them. Little did they know that we were honoured, and the privilege ours. So it is goodbye to the old Dalmar. Buildings that we grew up in have gone.

The loved landscape, so many years a private playground of cherished memory for so many, is in the process of mutation into urban sprawl, no doubt necessary. However, the driveway will have a new life. To those who will know it in the future it will be just a road. How could they know it as we do? They will always be unaware of the poignant role it played in the lives of thousands of children, that is historical progress, but we will know………….And we will remember………

Forgotten Australians, memories, poetry

Reflections – what I know

by Pamella Vernon (guest author) on 29 April, 2010

I know of childhood !
I know about children
lost and vulnerable,
of anger and confusion,
torn from all, good and bad,
that represented for them
home, love and security.
I know about loneliness.
Children thrust
into an alien environment,
seeking solace for grief,
hungry for kind words,
understanding,
an embrace for sobs of need.
Children desperate for some
semblance of normality in the
‘human condition’.

I know of childhood
need for memories,
a link to a past,
with which to relate,
in an overwhelming sea of
indifference
or ignorant complacency.

I know of childhood emptiness.
A parent’s death,
the pain of unresolved grief,
separation and loss,
kept secret, unshared,
of abandonment.
Young minds and hearts in trauma,
seeking sense in their
displacement.

I know of childhood perceptions.
Emotionally sterile environment as
punishment, for perceived self-
inadequacy,
loss of love as unworthiness.

What did I do wrong?
I’m sorry….
Come and take me home,
I’ll be good,  I promise,
Please!  Please!

I know of childhood acceptance.
Submersion of needs for love,
affection, human warmth,
along with cherished memories
buried deep in the psyche,
in order to survive
in an emotional void.
I know about subterfuge!
Powerless, defenseless confusion.
A child branded and maligned,
Liar!  Bad Seed!  Scum!
because of  truth
argued on deaf ears.
Physical & emotional separation
from siblings. Punishment!
because Secrets had to be kept.
I know about insincerity,
enforced gratitude,
for the ‘right to be’
for the necessities to sustain life,
a compulsory component of
being needy’.

I know about Doctrine!
The ethos of
“The sins of the father
visited upon the child”.
The ripping apart of belief
in treasured memories,
in the name of
“Saving” the child.
A ‘decent God fearing upbringing’
at any cost!
I know about Religion!
of God presented as a
“God of anger” vengeful,  jealous,
the punisher of sin.
The ‘Love’ of God….
an afterthought.

I know about “Good People”!
Who could never stay……
I know about lies,
even where truth was irrefutable,
about smothered individualism,
initiative and spirit,
under the guise of ‘benevolence’.
I know about the few good people
who could never stay,
they managed the fine balance of
‘job’ with personal humility,
They made a difference in our
bereft childhoods,
however slight they may think,
in a system that enshrined a
religious and caring ethos,
but functioned
in a separatist ideology.
The “needy” poor,
seen as the agents
of their own destiny,
socially and morally bankrupt.

I know about adulthood!
I understand emotional survival
techniques,
adopted by children under threat,
to survive pain, trauma,
abandonment and displacement.
I know about ‘Growing up’!
The pain of being invisible,
unwanted & used
the constraints of life fulfillment,
of self-responsibility for life choices,
the futility of emotional baggage,
as an excuse or crutch.
I am the product of Nature
I am the product of lack of Nurture.
I take responsibility for me,
my actions, my thoughts,
my space.
I know pain of failure,
elation in triumph,
regret for lost opportunities.
I accept the myriad facets
of my character.

I know about Reflections!
Contemplation of childhood
can be a painful, funny journey
and illuminates
the dichotomy for all
Forgotten Australian’s childhoods.
Our sharing of stories
and memories,
the sadness, the pain,
the suffering,
the isolation, the abuse
I know about the fun, gaiety,
merriment and pleasures,
we the Forgotten Children,
We the Forgotten Australians
derived from each other
and shared in the reconstructed
families We created
amongst ourselves.
That ensures the balance
is not lost in the dross.

I know about indebtedness! we all
bring to each other today,
not only our personal experiences
of childhood,
but also our adult acceptance,
maturity and diversity.
We share the need for roots
firmly anchored in a sense
of family ties and traditions,
that we the unwanted,
the unloved
and the forgotten
can only truly understand.

Thank you my fellow
Forgotten Australians
for being the catalyst for
“The spirit of the extended
family”

we never had”

© 2000 Yvonne Vernon – all rights reserved

Yvonne Vernon was a resident of Dalmar Children’s Home, New South Wales, from 1950 to 1958. This poem, posted by her sister, was read by Jim Luthy and Pamella Vernon at the New South Wales Government’s Healing Service and Memorial Unveiling, for those who grew up in institutions, orphanages, children’s homes and foster homes, in the Royal Botanic Gardens, Sydney, on 19 September 2009.

art, documents, drawing, Forgotten Australians, memories

A tormented life

by Warren Porter (guest author) on 28 April, 2010

Warren and his younger brother Graham were placed in their first institution when they were 4 and 2 years old. They endured the next decade and a half in various institutions, training farms and – despite being under age – jail.

In telling their story, Warren includes evidence such as photographs and documents, as well as vivid descriptions and drawings such as the following:

It was around June 1959 when my mate Charlie and I were making plans to p*** off from the Brook but made the mistake of telling this new boy who wanted to come with us about what we were going to do.

To read more of Warren’s story, download the extract from his illustrated book (PDF 1.8mb). The book is now in the National Library of Australia.

Forgotten Australians, memories, poetry

When a boy cried

by Wayne Miller (guest author) on 23 April, 2010

WHEN A BOY CRIED

When a boy cried, no one listened,
When a boy cried, no one gave him succor,
When a boy cried, no one gave him peace,
When a boy cried, no one saw the pain,
When a boy cried, there was no saviour
When a boy cried, there was no God.

In bliss he was borne, in hell he was delivered,
In innocence he came, in damnation he left,
His protectors were revered, his tormentors were spared,
His world was his hatred, his reality his fantasy,
His torture his brother, his rape his sister,
In dreams he sought comfort, but only found horror,

He read with fear, of catholic inquisition,
He lived with dread, its inception,
This boy, this survivor, of Christian Brother fervor.
When this man cried, in agony of his memories,
Still nobody listened to his tale of horror,
Who could hear his muted brain, screaming,
Save me from this living hell, you evil men in black!

When the boy in the man cried, they looked the other way!?

 

THE CORRIDORS

The sands my feet touch, as I stroll
Along the lonely beach of life
Have been finely ground, over countless centuries
Yet
The echoing corridors of my mind, were created over
Decades.
It is an endless walk, this stroll through time
And as you hear the echoes, and feel the fear
Even as you suffer the loneliness, the pain, the sadness
You keep searching,
Endlessly,
for you.

Is there a chance there is a you in everyone
Can you touch your very soul as you shake hands
With life
Or
Does your soul cringe, at the very thought of strolling through
Life’s corridors,
As you turn each corner, enter each room of your experiences
are you scared of your own
Confrontations, the reality, that yes,
That is really you.

If so, be not afraid,
for it is you who makes the difference
between the knowledge that you are an individual
and
the knowledge that who you are will never change
and it is this very essence that makes life so interesting
so abundantly clear to all who perceive you.
So as you stroll through those corridors, let the pain be eased
By the memories of the good times,
Those precious moments in time when you could laugh and cry
With happiness.
For it is in these memories that you will find you.

Wayne Miller
2003

Forgotten Australians, memories

More about Nudgee Orphanage

by Nikki Daniels (guest author) on 22 April, 2010

I really don’t like the label forgotten. forgotten would be to me – that when i was a child calling asking for help – there was none. I was drugged on nuelactyl (heavy tranquiliser)at 5 years of age for 6 solid weeks locked in a child’s hospital/ orphanage . They shipped me around from one paedophile family to the next. The doctor report says.. she denies her anus is sore… i think i would like to know.. 2 things actually. why was my anus sore.. and why was the doctor looking at my anus ? i have been a mother for over 22 years and never has a doctor ever looked at my child’s anus.. It was so easy for paedophiles to get acess into orphanages and group homes because it wasn’t actually his job. his wife was employed and he was just her husband. the new house father. they changed every couple of years. Because the husband was not actually employed by the state or the church – it makes an open case for anyone wanting to press charges upon that particular perpetrator. Paedophiles seem to do life long damage to children into adulthood and even elderly have hidden it all their life. most children asked for help and were denied the basic right of a human being. We had noone to turn to, the children that is. Most of the boys at a certain age were shipped out to prison youth farms westbrook and boystown.. what kind of a start to life is that. one would have thought that the government should have been educating these children properly as her own children. Would have made the country half a million people smarter and the rest of the generations there after. The government again i feel apologised only to protect their own ass. not that true care and concern was shown – after it was too late. the damage done. i have had the prime minister apologise to me and half a million other people. but the prime minister does not know who i am.. so facts are what i am saying is correct. i am still that little girl.. money does not and will not fix peoples problems. it gives them a moment .. of freedom. i have a lot of things i can say about this topic being a forgotten australian … The way that i was treated has had much impact on the way i approach society and how i involve myself in society. I don’t and i wonder sometimes would i be a different person if the abuse had never happened and i had a normal family. Finding my mother 41 years later – did not fix the problem. more it was a disappointment that i waited my whole life for what.. i cannot enjoy to be a child in her mothers arms. i cannot enjoy my mother showing me how to cook and wash my hands sing me songs or kiss me goodnight. . i cannot show my mother my first day at school . i was robbed of all these normal… things that any child should have. things that even a child in a third world nation does have. meeting my mother was like another slap in the face.. to meet a woman whom i should be attached but we are complete strangers.. an emptiness .. that cup will never be full. there lingers the scent only a hint.. of what should have been or could of been if it would have been.

who decides what goes into this book..?? more government officials ? more people paid a government grant for fundings? or do the actual people who are the forgotten australians get a choice..??? or is that right going to be taken as well.???. just like the unsigned federal apology…

articles/lectures, Forgotten Australians

Children’s homes in the papers, 1920–50

by Cath on 21 April, 2010

Now that the National Library is serving out all the Australian newspapers from 1803, it’s easy to find historical reports on any topic, including children’s homes. You can help piece together the history of children’s homes by finding – and fixing – relevant stories.

What was reported in the papers?

As you might guess, mostly the news coverage of children’s homes  promoted their ‘good work’. For example, they might announce the opening of a new home; report on a visit by an important person; or try to drum up interest in a fundraising activity. In the story below, Lady Stradbroke visits the Children’s Welfare Depot at Royal Park.

Lady Stradbroke visits a children's home
Lady Stradbroke visits a children’s home

The edition of the Argus paper in which the photograph and caption about Lady Stradbroke’s visit appeared (3 June 1925, p. 17), included an article about her visit as well (p. 8).

There – and in many of the articles – you can find some deeper threads of stories about life in children’s homes.

For example, despite being a ‘good news’ story, the tone is darkened by the before/after comparisons the writer makes. So the news that the death rate has decreased includes the rather alarming previous rates:

in the last two years there were only eight deaths, while in 1920 the deaths were 58. Early records of the institution show that the rate was as high at one stage as 108, with five deaths in one day.

And the happy news that difficulties with the girls reformatory have been largely resolved is tempered by the method used. There is no mention of improving the lives of the girls. Rather, ‘when necessary, troublesome girls are sent either to the home at Riddell or to the Oakleigh Convent’.

In another story, there is this 1920 report of a breach by the manager of the Talbot Institute for the Protection of Women and Children. Martha Barnes had failed to notify the government that she had taken another child into her care. The story is mostly just about that – a basic breach of departmental requirements. But as you can see from the title – ‘Home for Children: Procedures Questioned’, the writer takes a broader view. And if you read the whole story, you get a strong sense of tension and dysfunction in the relationship between Martha Barnes and the Department for Neglected Children. The departmental officer was clearly concerned at the state of the premises:

Madeline Murray said that on November 27 she called at the institute, where she found five babies looking sickly and ill-nourished. The house was unsuitable for the number of children there, and the locality was not a healthy one. There was more work than one woman could possibly do, and there was also a lack of proper supervision.

In her defence, Martha Barnes stated that the rooms were airy and clean, that she was trained as a nurse, she was putting her own money into the care, and in 26 years she ‘had had only one death occur’.

The children themselves have no voice here – but as readers we can get a sense of the quality of the care they received.

You can help correct the news story text

Note that the news stories have been scanned and converted to text by machines – and machines are nowhere near as good as people at reading old, blotchy newsprint. You can help correct and enhance the text. For each article, there is a link to ‘Fix this text’. You can be anonymous or – if you register – you can gain recognition for your text correction work.

In case you have difficulty finding relevant articles yourself – and note that the search facility is not the easiest one to use – you could start by browsing these articles about children in homes:

art, Forgotten Australians, painting

Depression

by Mim Willson-Dekker (guest author) on 31 March, 2010

The painting ‘Depression: Abuse in Children’s Home and at Work as an Adult’ by artist Mim Willson-Dekker, depicts the events that triggered her suicide attempt in 1971.

Mim Willson-Dekker was born in 1929 in Toowoomba, Queensland. At the age of nine, her mother was widowed and went to work. As a result, Mim was placed in Dr Dill Mackay Home in Auburn, New South Wales. The abusive episodes in her painting took place at Dr Dill Mackay Home, her foster home and thoughout her work as a lab attendant in the Chemistry Department at the University of Queensland.

Depression: Abuse in Children’s Home and at Work as an Adult
Copyright Mim Willson-Dekker 2002
Forgotten Australians, memories

One-way ticket

by Graham Evans (guest author) on 26 March, 2010

The Journey

Here it is – 1958 – my first experience away from home, the big adventure into the wide-open spaces of life itself.

I was seven years old then; it was a glorious day, early morning sun shining brightly through the side window of my Dad’s old Plymouth, the sounds of birds whistling in the trees, and the sweet scent of wild country flowers.

I sat there pondering; it seemed like ages, wondering where this journey was taking me. We drove on when suddenly I realised something was wrong, then Mum said, “We won’t be long, we will pull over and have a picnic lunch”.

We had our lunch, it was by a stream, such beauty I’ve never seen. I suddenly thought, “Where was Dad?” Mum said, “Don’t worry son, you’re just a lad, and one day when you’re big and strong, I’ll tell you of things that went wrong”.

We sat there having this picnic lunch under a tall chestnut tree, I suddenly looked up and there was Mum, staring at me with tears I’d never seen, such beauty and radiance, just like a queen.

I ran to her side and embraced her tight, when she whispered “Son, it will be all right”. I looked again, and said, “I love you Mum”. She replied, “I hope so, you’re my youngest son”.

I couldn’t stop wondering, “Where was Dad?” It seemed a lifetime and I began to grow sad. So weary my eyes became, I fell asleep.

When I awoke, much to my dismay, we had entered this large school where children played. There were hundreds of them, women in black. My heart told me, I want to go back; to that country town by the dust track, to the place that I loved, to the fields and the trees and most of all to the birds that talked to me.

I stood there so scared and embraced my Mum, when suddenly this woman said, “Come here son, your Mother has to leave on her journey again”. My eyes filled with tears and I started to cry. As she drove off, I heard her say, “I love you son, I’ll be back one day, to take you out in the glorious sun, we’ll have a picnic and have lots of fun”.

As time went by my eyes still filled with tears, here it is now three long years. “I’m never going to see her again”, I said, when Sister Anne called, “It’s time for bed!”

Here is another day, a little schools and lots of play. With the friends that I made, time soon flew by, those tears I cried were deep inside, my heart grew strong, for that place that I loved, the trees, the birds and the stars above, to that country place I once called home, with my Mum and Dad, I was never alone.

As these lonely years rolled over again, I suddenly thought I’m nearly ten, those junior days will soon be gone, to another school, where I had to belong. Four years had gone by, and not once did I see the parents I loved, what was to be.

Sister Anne cried out, “Come have a feed”, then it’s off to the new school they called ‘Westmead”. This school was so different, there was no love, do this, come here, and given a shove, bend over and touch your toes, a whack with a stick or a hit on the nose.

Those Brothers I really started to hate, and they had the audacity to call me ‘mate’.

I never learnt much in all those years, but to stand up for your rights and show no tears.

It was not like the Nuns, I was the teacher’s pet and the love they showed, I soon had to forget. In this school, it was do or die, there was moments I remember I had to cry, to myself you see, that’s the way it had to be.

As time went on I joined the band, to do something to forget, if you could understand. The drums I played to my heart was content, I feel this time was worthwhile spent.

At times I wondered why these Brothers were so cruel, there was something not seen, hidden within this school. A brother of mine was expelled, he stood up for his rights, but didn’t tell, we all punished it was like a living hell.

It went on for years, no one could see, for this brother of mine, they punished me. He did not know, for he’d already gone, away from this place, where no one belonged.

It was 1966, and I loved to run, when all of a sudden this man said, “Son, we’re looking for a child around your size, we’ve been looking for ages, if you can’t realise. His name is Graham, and this is his Mum, if you know him, can you tell son?”

Briefly my heart stopped, much to my dismay. This couldn’t be the woman who put me away. When I turned around she was gone. But I heard her say, she won’t be long. I’ll be away next week, you won’t be alone. I will be back soon, I’m taking you home. Away from this school and their punishing eyes. I’m sorry son I never realised.

I was fourteen when I left and couldn’t look back. The man who spoke to me, his name was Jack. He was to replace the father I never had. I soon became to call him Dad.

As I grew older, we grew apart, but I loved that man with all my heart. He was always there to teach me right, and give me a hug and say goodnight. You know I loved this man called ‘Jack’.

I soon forgot that dusty track, the fields and the tress, and most of all, the birds that talked to me, and the scented breeze.

I went to a new school at Lithgow High, got into some fights, but didn’t cry. They said I was new in town, for this they tried to put me down.

They called me names, but they did not know the troubles I’ve seen down below. I got back up and stood my ground, they tried no more to push me around.

I’m almost twenty-one now and out of play. I got a new job to pay my way. I stayed at Woolies for a couple of years, ‘til I met a girl, who brought me tears.

We all make mistakes, it happened to me. We had a baby and named her Sherie. This woman I love, but it wasn’t to be, a crucial mistake, what is happening to me.

I stayed in touch because I loved the girl, she didn’t want to go out into the great big world. She stayed with her Mum, something I never had, if I took her away, she would only be sad.

So off I went again, to sort out my feelings and get in touch with my brain. I knew I had done wrong, but what could it be, and couldn’t stop thinking of our daughter ‘Sherie’.

Almost twenty-two and I’ve travelled around trying to make ends and settle down. I bought a guitar and I sang around, here and there in these country towns. I was offered a job to pay my way, and this place I thought I’d stay. At least for a while ‘til I got my grips, I played for the love of it and got some tips.

I wrote songs from the heart, you know, and lots of feelings from down below.

I sit here in the loneliness of this room, a vision unveils itself from the gloom. Long red hair, a pretty face, skin as soft as lace. I recognised her instantly. She was a girl so dear to me but she would go and I would know. Yes! She’s gone and left me to the loneliness of this room.

Life goes on, and so must I, it sees the birth of a thousand unwanted lies, but she would stay embedded in my mind, so I could never forget her, and the loneliness of this room. Words like this stuck in my mind, I’d knew I’d forget, but it would take time.

Here it is now nearly December, you know these words I still remember. Now I’m twenty-two and life’s still cruel, I thought: ‘Why did Mum ever choose this school’. I had no friends, they were too far away, no one to talk to and too old to play. What did I do that was so bad, why do I feel empty and sad.

The big twenty-two, it’s a bright new day, I packed my things and on my way. I went back home to Mum and Jack, they were so pleased to see me back.

It was that very night that I had a drink, and I had some more, ‘til I couldn’t think. I started home ‘cause it was so far, in those days I never owned a car, and as I wandered down the lonely road, someone came by in a very slow mode. A cry called out, “Would you like a ride?” I said yes thanks and swallowed my pride. For there was not many people I really knew, you could count them on one hand, there was just a few.

There wasn’t a day that never went by that I didn’t stop and have a cry, or at least a tear, but what could you expect after seven long years. People would say ‘stop’ and ‘don’t be a fool’. I’d like to see them, just one day in that school.

I tried to look back on some good days we had, there wasn’t too many, which was rather sad. We were fostered out on weekends a lot, to different families, whether you liked it or not. I’ll go back to Westmead School and find out why they were so cruel, and why they treated us they like they did, because after all we were only kids. I’d like to see them do it in this day and age, I know you parents would put up a rage.

I’ve seen psychiatrists ‘cause I felt the need, something that was caused by that school ‘Westmead’. I’ve often thought; ‘what was in their mind? To treat us like they did most of the time. What benefit did they really get, to leave us with memories we can’t forget? I am not the only one who is in need, there were lots of us from that school ‘Westmead’.

articles/lectures, Child Migrants, Forgotten Australians, Stolen Generations

Child sex abuse and the church – how they got away with it

by Freda Briggs (guest author) on 26 March, 2010

Ninety-three percent of 4007 self-confessed child molesters claimed to be religious (Abel & Harlow, 2001, p39).

Predators in the Roman Catholic Church

It is now recognised that the sexual abuse of children by Roman Catholic clergy and monks is neither a new problem nor is it caused by ‘celibacy’; it has an extraordinary long history that goes back 2000 years as shown by Dominican priest Father Thomas Doyle, and two former Benedictines, celibacy historian A.W.R Sipe and theologian and canon law expert Patrick Wall in their meticulously researched book, Sex Priests and Secret Codes (2006) . They show that the Venerable Bede, (AD 672/3-735) decreed that clergy who committed sodomy with children should be given increasingly severe penances commensurate with their rank. Laymen would be ex-communicated and made to fast for three years while deacons, priests and bishops had to fast for seven, ten and twelve years respectively (p19). In the 12th and 13th centuries, the crime was labeled as sacrilege, then heresy. Penalties became harsher, including fines, castration, exile and even death. Accused clergy were dealt with by church courts then handed to secular jurisdictions for further punishment. That did not stop the crimes.

Celibacy was discussed from the C4th but only in the Western church. It wasn’t imposed until the second Lateran Council in 1139. One of the explanations presented for the introduction of celibacy was to prevent widows from inheriting church resources.

The introduction of celibacy removed legitimate outlets for sexual release and child abuse continued despite the threat of severe consequences. Reformers such as Martin Luther (1483–1546) and John Calvin (1509 –1564) rejected celibacy given that they could see no biblical or theological justification for it and there was widespread evidence that clergy were hypocritical sinners who violated their vows with men and young boys.

When face-to-face private confessionals were introduced, priests were allowed to hold them in their own homes. They were also given the authority to determine what constituted a sin. This increased the power that sex offenders needed to use young people for sex. Victims were threatened that they would not receive absolution if they were not compliant. It seems that they were afraid of the threat even more than they were afraid of being raped given the church’s teaching that without absolution they would go to everlasting purgatory. An additional hazard was that if victims reported the priest for abuse, they risked being accused of ‘false denunciation’ resulting in ex-communication and that, in turn, would send them to hell. The threat of ex-communication is still used by the Roman Catholic church to control the masses.

On May 30th 2008 it was reported that the Vatican newspaper L’Osservatore Romano proclaimed that the Pope would automatically ex-communicate bishops and anyone who attended or was involved in the Ordination of women. This was meant to control and silence, through fear, the growing number of Catholics who favour women being admitted to the priesthood.

The culture of ‘blame the victim’ evolved as priests became more powerful. The Code of Canon Law 982 contained a canon stipulating that if victims confessed to being sexually abused by priests, the penitents were not to be absolved of sin until a retraction had been made and ‘damages repaired’. This code did not suggest that the priests who coerced and blackmailed parishioners to provide sex should be punished.

Doyle and colleagues claim that, in 2000 years all that changed about child sexual abuse by clergy and monks was the emphasis on secrecy to protect the church hierarchy. They show that this began in earnest in the Vatican in 1922. In 1962, church legislation gave bishops the right to process cases of sex crimes committed by clergy. All those involved, including victims and witnesses, were committed to total and perpetual silence with automatic excommunication if they revealed the abuse to other authorities.

On April 24th 2005, The British newspaper The Observer reported that the Pope was facing allegations that, as Cardinal Ratzinger, he ‘obstructed justice’ by issuing an order to ensure that the church’s investigations into child sex abuse claims be carried out in secret. The order was said to have been sent in a confidential letter to every Catholic bishop by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. The letter extended the church’s jurisdiction and control over sex crimes. It was said to have been co-signed by Archbishop Bertone who, in 2003, said that the expectation that a bishop should contact police to report a priest who confessed to paedophilia was unfounded.

The letter allegedly stated that the church can claim jurisdiction in cases where abuse has been ‘perpetrated with a minor by a cleric’ and the church’s jurisdiction ‘begins to run from the day when the minor has completed the 18th year of age’ and lasts for 10 years. Ratzinger ordered that ‘preliminary investigations’ into any claims of abuse should be sent to his office, which has the option of referring them back to private tribunals in which the ‘functions of judge, promoter of justice, notary and legal representative can validly be performed for these cases only by priests’. ‘Cases of this kind are subject to the pontifical secret’ Breaching the pontifical secret at any time while the 10-year jurisdiction order is operating carries penalties that include excommunication. A lawyer acting for American victims criticised the letter. He said, ‘They are imposing procedures and secrecy on these cases. If law enforcement agencies find out about the case, they can deal with it. But you can’t investigate a case if you never find out about it. If you can manage to keep it secret for 18 years plus 10 the priest will get away with it’.

It is ironic that six months previously, Pope John Paul stated publicly that the church was seeking open and just procedures to respond to complaints of sexual abuse and was committed to compassionate and effective care for victims, their families and communities. This was obviously not taken seriously given that a year later, the Dean of Canon law stated that church leaders should resolve abuse cases themselves without involving police.

Roman Catholic predators in Canada

In the meantime vast numbers of allegations were made public in Canada. On January 12th, 1988, Father James Hickey pleaded guilty to twenty counts of sexual abuse against boys in the various towns where he served as a parish priest over an 18-year period. In the following year, several other clergy were charged. For generations there was an unwritten rule that crimes involving Catholic clergy were dealt with by bishops but when Hickey’s crimes appeared in the news day after day, more victims found the courage to speak out. The church’s response was described as one of ‘self-interested chicanery’ with no concern at all for the victims. As time went on it became increasingly obvious that bishops knew what was happening and had ignored many sexual crimes committed by clergy. This fuelled the anger of the community .

In 1989, the Christian Brothers Mount Cashel Orphanage in St John’s, Newfoundland, was the subject of a state investigation (the Hughes Inquiry) over claims of severe physical and sexual abuse stretching back over decades. In 1975, detectives ‘bucked the system’ to uncover the abuse of the ninety-one young residents but higher authorities terminated their investigations and tried to have the words ‘sexual abuse’ removed from reports. Concerned adults who reported to police were allegedly shown the door with ‘How dare you make up such allegations about the good Brothers’. Fourteen years later, a clergy abuse survivor named Shane Earle called the newspaper office and met journalist Michael Harris. Shane was the first of many victims of the Christian Brothers’ Orphanage to go public. There was such an outcry that the state had little choice but to establish a Royal Commission.

The Hughes Commission proceedings became prime-time viewing throughout Canada. They laid bare a shining example of collective indifference, hypocrisy and failure of the police, judiciary, church and social services to protect the interests of hopelessly vulnerable children. It was revealed that over a 14-year period, 87 persons in positions of power had learned of the happenings at Mount Cashel and did nothing to stop the abuse of boys. Was this because these children, being without parents, were viewed as less than human or was it because, if their claims were taken seriously the state would have had to find alternative, more expensive accommodation; or was it because no one wanted to upset the monks who were held in high regard because they took in disadvantaged children?

In 1990, Harris published Unholy Orders, a best-selling detailed account of the widespread abuse and scandalous cover-ups of criminal behaviour by the Catholic Church and state government. Civil and criminal proceedings followed and 26 priests and Brothers were convicted of sex offences against children in Newfoundland alone, nine of them associated with Mount Cashel Orphanage. The Archbishop resigned and, over time, the provincial government arranged an out-of-court, $18C million settlement for victims and tried to recoup the money from the Brothers.

Roman Catholic predators in the USA

In the US, Catholic dioceses have paid millions of dollars in compensation settlements and some went bankrupt as a result of child sex abuse being covered up by bishops who simply moved accused priests to other parishes where they abused more children. It was reported that some dioceses had to sell schools in poor areas to pay compensation bills and even the poorest of parishioners were asked to contribute to the costs of the defence of clergy and contribute to the compensation bill.

It was reported that 600 children were known to have been abused during the period when Boston’s now notorious Cardinal Bernard Law was in office. He resolved the problem by moving paedophiles to other parishes. He allegedly assured concerned parents that these same priests had unblemished records. Although the Archdiocese closed 65 parishes before Cardinal Law stepped down, his name became synonymous with the nationwide church scandal. Law resigned on December 13th 2002. He moved out of the $20 million three-storey house and initially took a lowly position with Sisters of Mercy. In 2004 victims were further angered when Pope John Paul rewarded Law with a prestigious appointment in Rome which provided its previous incumbent with a salary of  US$12,000 a month. In addition to a long interview on ABC news and lots of photo opportunities, Law was invited to a US Embassy reception for President and Mrs Bush. He was even selected for a role at Pope John Paul II’s funeral. According to a report in the New York Times, when asked whether his concealment of child sex offences entered into the decision to give him new visibility, the Vatican spokesperson said: “I don’t think so.” Cardinal Law is now said to live in opulent surroundings far from unpleasant reminders of his past transgressions. Given the cost of compensation to victims, his successor in Boston had to be satisfied with more modest quarters. Those representing the victims of abuse tolerated by the Cardinal concluded that the Vatican either doesn’t understand the problem of clergy sex abuse or the damage inflicted on victims’ lives, or it simply doesn’t care.

Religious predators in Australia

In 1993–94, Briggs, Hawkins and Williams researched with 198 self-selected male victims of child sex abuse including 84 convicted sex offenders in seven Correctional Centres in Western Australia, New South Wales and South Australia. We asked them how old they were when they had their first sexual experience and overall 15% revealed that they were abused by Catholic priests. In the case of prisoners abused by religious figures when they were aged 11–15 years, one third said they were abused by house-masters in Christian Brothers’ schools and 17% by Catholic priests. In the group of men who had no convictions for sex offending, 29% of those abused between the ages of 11 and 15 years claimed to have been used for sex by Catholic priests, 10% by Christian Brothers, 10% by church youth leaders and 10% by clergy in other denominations. In other words, 59% of the 11–15 year old boys who were abused were the victims of religious figures. Prisoners were 23% more likely than non-offenders to have been abused by monks in school settings.

All those abused in institutions regarded the sex as one comparatively minor aspect of a totally violent and damaging environment that exposed boys to emotional and spiritual abuse, sadism, bestiality, violent and senseless punishments and a continuous process of dehumanisation. When this finding was published with sensationalist headlines a year later in The Australian, the Archbishop of Sydney’s media secretary Fr Brian Lewis told the media that he had conducted his own investigation and found that the researchers’ methodology was unscientific and only Roman Catholic subjects had been interviewed. This was a classic case of ‘dismiss the message and shoot the messengers’. First, it was physically impossible for Father Lewis to have checked out the subjects in three states between the arrival of his newspaper and going to air a few hours later given that interviews were one-hundred-percent anonymous and prisoners were interviewed when they were about to be released. Second, Father Lewis had clearly not read the report published a year earlier by the Australian Institute of Criminology (Criminology Research Council (CRC)) in July 2004 or he would have known that only 21% of subjects interviewed claimed to be Roman Catholics. Third, to receive CRC funding, the methodology obviously had to be approved not only by the university’s ethics committee but by Correctional Services in three states.

Fr Doyle et al (2006) noted that lying by Catholic clergy is supported if it is to protect the institution of the church.

Boarders in West Australian Christian Brothers schools said they were sexually abused from their day of arrival by both housemasters and older boys who, as a rite of passage, were required to become abusers at the age of twelve for the sexual and sadistic pleasure of the monks . Having served their apprenticeship as victims from age 5–12 years, they were required to sexually abuse younger children. In some boarding schools where there were farm animals, monks engaged in bestiality. Not surprisingly, we learned that brothers and priests recruited victims for the brotherhood and priesthood, thus ensuring that child abuse became inter-generational. At the age of eighteen, residents had no experience of relating to the opposite sex or the outside world and remaining in the organisation became an easy option. Some victims said that, after they left boarding school, they were shocked and disgusted to learn about heterosexual sex.

Western Australia’s Christian Brothers’ victims said that abuse was confined to residents who had no visitors. Day boys seemed to have been unharmed and, of course, they supported the Brothers when their crimes were eventually revealed.

The greatest confusion was experienced by boys who were subjected to appalling acts of sexual and physical violence and degradation in the name of God. Victims also carried a great deal of guilt because they experienced jealousy when they saw monks picking up other children from their beds to take to their offices for sex. Although they hated what happened, they said this was the only time they could please the monks and the boys were desperate for approval given that at other times they were beaten with belts with crucifixes until they bled. Some had elastic bands tied tightly around their penises overnight as a punishment for bed-wetting. This practice caused great pain and embarrassment. As adults they continued to suffer from flashbacks, low self-esteem, night-fears, nightmares, mental and physical ill health, depression, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, feelings of inadequacy and self-destruction. Some could not cope with tenderness or being touched and some became (convicted) child sex offenders.

Only 26 of the 198 Australian male victims interviewed by Briggs et al tried to report one of 1700 offenders. Only one succeeded. The parents reported a priest to a senior clergyman and, typically, the priest was sent to a retreat for a few months then moved to another parish. The remaining mothers disbelieved their sons and punished them for dirty talk. A trusted grandma told her grandson that God would rip off the victim’s arms and legs if he told anyone about what the priest had done. When a West Australian social worker reported the Christian Brothers to senior police, she received the same treatment as her Canadian counterparts. State wards in boarding schools were trapped and had no one to tell. A boy in a Catholic College confided in a friend and learned that he, too, was a victim. They reported this together but no action was taken.

On rare occasions, Brothers were moved to other schools in Western Australia then South Australia where they allegedly continued to abuse boys. If bishops knew that child sex offending is lifelong habitual behaviour, they ignored it. More recently, instead of sending them interstate, some have been sent to work with disadvantaged children in Papua New Guinea, Cambodia and developing countries where justice systems can sometimes be manipulated.

Christian Brothers were not the only Australian monks involved in hiding sex crimes. Court reports show that Marists allowed one of their Canberra teachers to continue teaching long after they knew that he was a sex offender. Documents tendered in court revealed that a teacher and one headmaster were told by victims that Brother Kostka had molested them, but the school allowed him to teach for many more years. One alleged victim told police that he reported Kostka because he was concerned that the monk was spending a lot of time with another young boy. He said he was told the next day that “nothing was going to be done regarding his allegation and concerns”. The victim said he returned to the school several years later and told the then-headmaster of the assault. Court reports show that the headmaster challenged the offender who denied the crime and the matter was passed on to Kostka’s “superiors”, not police. The alleged victim was so intent on preventing Kostka from re-offending that he met a senior Marist, Brother Alexis Turton, who became professional standards officer for the organisation. The witness said he was asked “what he wanted” from the Brothers, and was offered counselling. Brother Turton later informed him that Kostka had retired to the Marist’s Mittagong farmhouse. The alleged victim’s brother visited the farmhouse and found Kostka running a drop-in centre for boys. Victims told police he won their trust and confidence before developing a pattern of systemic abuse, some boys being molested on a daily basis. He would often put his hands down boys’ pants while other students were in the room. At other times, he exposed himself and forced boys to touch his genitals. One victim, who was molested in the school cinema, told his parents who, instead of reporting to police, told the headmaster. He is said to have offered to handle the matter “in-house” and Kostka taught for another seven years. Another victim, to whom six of the admitted eleven offences relate, said Kostka abused him for three years “almost daily” and sometimes in the classroom while other students were present. In turn, Kostka “showered him with kindness”. On one occasion, the teacher threatened another victim with expulsion if he told anyone. Kostka’s offences are also the subject of a civil claim for compensation. He pleaded guilty to offences committed in both his office and residence.

Patterns in offending

The sexual abuse of children by Catholic clergy and monks follows set patterns:

  • The priest is perceived as God’s representative on earth which places him in a uniquely powerful position, causing immense fear and confusion for the victim.
  • The child is powerless and under tremendous pressure to keep the abuse secret.
  • The child gains the impression that the abuse is his or her own fault and s/he is bad.
  • Abusers choose compliant children whose parents are devoted to their church and are unlikely to believe complaints or report to police.
  • When abuse has been revealed to church administrators, their response has seldom been responsible and sensitive to victims.
  • The parents’ trust in the bishop makes way for manipulation, intimidation and even deceit leading to further damage to children.
  • A community that is uninformed about child sex abuse supports offending clergy and church leaders and denigrates victims.

Naïve, trusting parents have allowed priests to occupy the same room and even the same bed as their sons when they’ve had too much whisky. Parents were flattered when priests chose their children to be altar boys. They were prouder still when their sons were chosen to accompany priests on outings to other parishes or have sleep-overs in seminaries . Parents did not listen when the boys said they didn’t want to go. Some hoped that the priests’ attention might lead to their children choosing a religious vocation. Others hoped it would provide them with a place in heaven.

Such is the power of the church that when parents in Adelaide and rural Victoria reported priests and monks for sex offences against their sons, the families were ostracised by their Catholic communities and they, not the offenders, were deemed to have brought the church into disrepute. Despite the publicity given to reports of child sex abuse, the idea that clergy can harm children is completely alien to those responsible for their safety, The author was present when a priest walked into a Catholic school at lunchtime, saw a group of eight year old boys in the corridor and asked them if they would like to go to McDonalds. He opened the staff-room door, called out that he was taking kids for Big Macs and away they went. Staff said, ‘Isn’t he cute’. When the author asked whether he had parents’ permission to remove children unsupervised and whether he was insured in case of an accident, the principal said she should conduct her research elsewhere.

Protestant predators

The author was co-author of the Inquiry into the Handling of Child Sex Abuse Cases by the Diocese of Brisbane and the then Governor-General Peter Hollingworth in his capacity as Archbishop. In addition, she acted as consultant to lawyers and professional witness for very large numbers of boys who were abused by clergy and teachers while attending elite church schools in Adelaide and Queensland. All except two cases involved the abuse of boys. We know from Abel and Harlow’s (2001) research with 4007 child sex offenders that men who abuse boys start at a younger age and abuse many more victims than those who abuse girls. The abusers were mostly single; colleagues thought they were gay. While Roman Catholic, Anglican priests and Christian Brothers used their authority to abuse children in state care and were often sadistic and violent, the Protestants tended to have less power than Roman Catholics and were more likely to have to resort to the grooming methods commonly associated with paedophilia.

Paedophile priests and church leaders typically befriended the parents of selected victims, choosing those most dedicated to their church. This improved their access to boys and greatly reduced the risk that parents would report them to police if their behaviour was discovered. They visited the families, stayed for dinner and found ways to involve prospective victims in activities outside their homes. Adelaide Anglicare worker Robert Brandenberg attended the author’s local church and ran the Church of England Boys’ Society (CEBS) for 37 years. The Society accommodated a tri-state paedophile network. The published history of CEBS in Tasmania includes the names of at least four men who were subsequently charged with child sexual abuse. Tasmania’s former Archdeacon Louis Daniels pleaded guilty to thirteen counts of sex offences against young boys between 1973 and 1993. Abuse survivor Steve Fisher said that priests would go to each other’s houses taking boys with them to be sexually assaulted. Victimised by the Rev. Garth Hawkins, Fisher alleged there was an organised paedophile ring in Tasmania involving doctors and MPs as well as clergy.

In 2003, the author was invited to provide seminars for clergy and parishioners in the Hobart Diocese. The request was made because, uninformed about the nature of sex offences and the grooming methods used, clergy and the church community found it difficult to believe that their beloved and highly respected Archdeacon led a double life.

Robert Brandenberg also gained everyone’s trust. He asked parents’ permission to take groups to football matches. Some parents were suspicious about a single man spending all his time with boys instead of adults and when their sons returned home, uneasy parents asked, ‘Is everything alright (or OK)?” They later learned that young people don’t associate ‘alright’ and ‘OK’ with sex. Assured that everything was alright, they gradually relaxed and when Brandenberg sought permission to take boys to a camp in the country, parents agreed, assuming (wrongly) that there was ‘safety in numbers’. Sadly it is as easy to abuse a group of boys as it is to abuse an individual .

Brandenberg made his home attractive to young people with poker and pinball machines, alcohol, pornography and popular music by the Clash, the Buzzcocks and Sex Pistols. He took kids to Chinese restaurants and let them drive his Datsun (illegally). He also had a spa pool that he used to persuade new victims to undress. A victim described him as being ‘really good if you did what he wanted but he would dump you if you didn’t’. Brandenberg routinely gave boys marijuana and alcohol before abusing them at home, in his Anglicare office and at three camps in South Australia and interstate. He displayed photographs of an estimated 200 victims on a 3m by 1m notice board in his home.

“It was a trophy room, there were about 200 photographs of boys,” a victim said. “He used to brag about how many boys he had done it to and then dumped.”

Brandenberg suicided (1999) after being charged with offences against 26 boys,) It was later estimated that he had abused and raped more than 200 boys aged from 7–15 years.

In 2003 the rector of the parish, the Reverend Donald Owers and the brother of a victim, the Reverend Andrew King were concerned that the authorities had known about Brandenberg’s crimes for several years and chose to ignore them and his victims. They called for an independent inquiry to investigate the response of the Church, saying they had raised concerns for the past four years, only to be ignored. Finally, the synod decided to establish a two-person board of inquiry to deal with the claims . One outcome of the public call for an inquiry was that the South Australian Police set up a task force to investigate 65 complaints involving 17 different child sex offenders connected with the Anglican church.

In the meantime, it was alleged that, despite mandatory reporting legislation, an accused chaplain at Adelaide’s prestigious St. Peter’s College, the Rev. Mountford, had been given the opportunity to leave the country before police were informed of reports of sexual crimes involving students.

In 2003, Governor-General Peter Hollingworth submitted to pressures to resign one month after the publication of the report by O’Callaghan and Briggs on the handling of child sex abuse by his diocese when he was Archbishop of Brisbane. It was widely thought that Hollingworth ‘shot himself in the foot’ in media interviews where he was perceived as blaming victims. A year later, Adelaide’s Archbishop George also took early retirement following pressure to resign.

So why did sex offenders get away with their crimes?

First, according to Doyle et al (2006) Catholic church was only interested in the preservation of the institution and its assets. They saw the wave of bankruptcy as a means of concealing assets and the colossal sums spent on defending criminal clergy. Legislation dating back to 1517, provides an interesting definition of the roles of priests presented in the following order:

  • preserving the image of the church
  • protecting the finances of the church
  • protecting the property of the church
  • to hear confessions, distribute communion, administer last rites and instruct the flock
  • to ‘function as an agent of the bishop, transmitting and receiving information concerning the desired diocesan order”

The diocese ‘had no need for laity interference’ (Doyle et al p280)

Second, too many bishops and clergy were seen to have violated the celibacy rule and through their violations, they relinquished moral credibility in every aspect of sexuality. Evidence also shows that clerical candidates were often subjected to homosexual sex in seminaries – both Catholic and Anglican. Corruption does not stem from the bottom up; it rains down from the top (Doyle et al, p278). However it is not celibacy that causes paedophilia; rather it is that paedophiles are unaffected by the ban on marriage and are attracted to positions that give them power over people and children in particular. Third, the grooming process targets devout families. Parents who felt honoured that their children had been chosen for special attention unwittingly facilitated the abuse by permitting overnight stays and encouraging their children to take on a role beyond that of the alter boy.

Fourth, when the cleric introduces sex, victims typically freeze and are paralysed or stunned into cooperation and disbelief. Moral and spiritual confusion are inevitable when a child has been reared in an environment that teaches that any form of sexual expression outside marriage, (especially homosexuality), is a sin. And yet here we have the priest – God’s representative and the personification of strict sexual morality – demanding sinful sexual acts. Confusion, guilt and shame are especially toxic if victims’ bodies respond to sexual touch… as most do. An additional dilemma is that the sinner is expected to confess to the priest who, being supposedly the very source of relief from sin is also the cause of it.

Fifth: Many victims felt powerless as they became trapped in ongoing abuse that often lasted for years. They could not report it because they thought (often rightly) that they wouldn’t be believed or, when in orphanages, there was no one to report it to. Those who tried to make reports were disbelieved, returned to the monks and beaten. They had to accept abuse as normal because they had to live with it. Unfortunately acceptance is linked to victims becoming victimizers.

Sixth: Apart from fear and shame, victims had to deal with the church hierarchy. Those who made reports to bishops were often treated as the victimizers and sinners. In other religious organizations (eg Jehovah’s Witness), some victims were made to forgive their abusers in public but the latter did not have to apologise to them.

Seventh: Some abuse, such as that experienced in some Christian Brother Orphanages, met the definitions of terrorism and torture. Victims were terrified into submission.

Eighth: There were often strong traumatic emotional ties based on an imbalance of power. The victim suffered intimidation, threats and violence combined with awe and fear.

Finally, when abusers were church organists, choirmasters and teachers, they provided something that victims needed such as a mastery of music, a place in a coveted team or they professed to love their victims.

In Anglican church schools there appears to have been a great deal of ignorance relating to the habitual nature of abuse and its damaging effects. Church responses were typically directed by insurers’ lawyers who instructed bishops and archbishops not to apologise to victims. Happily, the current Anglican Primate chose to ignore this tradition that caused so much distress and anger.

When child sex abuse occurred in religious schools, it was invariably facilitated by unsafe practices. The schools lacked child protection policies and child protection/personal safety curriculum that has been available in some state schools since 1985. Uninformed staff and principals seem to have been ignorant of grooming methods and the harmful effects of abuse on victims’ lives. Perpetrators gained their trust so that they missed or ignored the cues. The counsellor who abused hundreds of boys over many years was not monitored. With 50 minute lessons, he was able to remove students for hours at a time because teachers did not talk to each other and check absences. He was able to lock his room. When victims exhibited angry behaviours and were suspended he was able to provide counselling in his home where he lived alone and, of course the abuse continued. Being a counsellor he saw the most vulnerable children. He indicated to staff and victims that he was a friend of the headmaster and that gave him power. Teachers didn’t report their suspicions. When he suicided after being charged, the school held a memorial service that angered victims because it lauded him and ignored the circumstances of his death.

Ignorant head teachers often give evidence in court that the accused was the most enthusiastic and popular teacher the school ever had. They then describe the typical paedophile/pederast. He provided a range of out of school activities that gave him unsupervised contact with students at camps, drama and choir rehearsals and weekend sport. He related to the children at their own level. Kids vied to go on his camps; of course they did, he provided alcohol, dirty-talk, cigarettes and porn. When offenders present the image of being dedicated to the community, colleagues and parents support them even when they have been apprehended.

At a world conference in 2007 the author chaired the presentation of American research findings showing that child sexual abuse by clergy causes more long-term psychological harm than intrafamilial or stranger abuse because of the spiritual dimension and the fact that when they disclosed abuse to trusted people, they were not believed or supported. In a survey of 342 male victims 34% said that the person to whom they turned for help ignored them and only 7% experienced any action to protect them from religious offenders.

Are we there yet?

Have the churches learned their lesson from the massive compensation payments they have had to pay – the buildings they had to sell and the schools they had to close? Abuse survivors are under the impression that church authorities ‘still don’t get it’. There is evidence to suggest that complacency quickly returned. Last year when the author was invited to present child protection seminars for schools that paid out vast sums in compensation, staff didn’t think they needed to attend because ‘it happened a long time ago and he’s dead (or moved on)’. Some of the offender’s peers didn’t believe he was guilty anyway so child protection wasn’t perceived as relevant. Although child protection protocols had been introduced, child protection curriculum for children had not.

Since 2004, dioceses have been adopting policies for the reintegration of convicted sex offenders. The rationale is that they cannot prevent people from attending church other than by obtaining restraining orders via the courts and someone banned from one church could join another. A convicted priest who sought the retention of Holy Orders, had received no treatment in prison and continued to blame the victim but was welcomed into a church choir that included children and, from the responses on the Internet, he quickly groomed the congregation. Other parolees suggested that he had not been rehabilitated because treatment helps offenders to avoid places of temptation, not return to them.

Churches are wonderful places for paedophiles because they attract good-hearted people who believe in forgiveness and give others the benefit of the doubt. Offenders can say sorry on Sunday and re-offend on Monday confident that God will forgive them again next week. We know that offenders are highly skilled manipulators who will groom whole congregations. Some church leaders don’t seem to realise that paedophilia is not akin to a traffic offence or even robbing a bank; convicted paedophiles and pederasts may have paid their debt to society according to law but that doesn’t mean that they won’t re-offend. There is no evidence to show that religion cures paedophilia – to the contrary – and the church’s eagerness to follow the teaching of Jesus and forgive offenders could prove to be yet another costly exercise, placing it and children at further risk.

It seems that we have a long way to go before those responsible for church communities have a sound understanding of child sex offending. Quite clearly, there needs to be an educational programme of substance for church leaders of all denominations as well as for new recruits in theological colleges. All schools need child protection curriculum for children from pre-school through to secondary as has been available in New Zealand and, to a lesser extent, in state schools in New South Wales since 1985 and now in South Australia. All teachers need to be trained to recognise abuse and the grooming methods used by abusers. Community education would also be helpful.

On June 17th, 2008 the Premier of South Australia and heads of all the churches apologised to victims of abuse that happened while in their care. The Premier said that ‘sorry’ is not enough. There has to be action too. The families of victims made it clear that they are a forgotten constituency and there needs to be church-sponsored research into their needs. In terms of possible re-connection with their faith and the possibility of finding healing in that re-connection, there needs to be research into what abuse victims, family members and other ‘church damaged’ people would find helpful.

Four years ago, church leaders saw the need for research into the methods used by convicted clergy and church personnel in both Anglican and Roman Catholic churches to seduce children and their families. They needed to know what power structures helped to perpetuate abuse and how the church could re-organise itself in order to prevent a re-occurrence in the future. Has that research been done? If not, why not?

No doubt some think that churches have moved on… that there is an awareness of the prevalence and destructiveness of abuse and that protocols are in place to make children safer. The churches can’t take credit for that. In Queensland it was the persistence and courage of journalist Amanda Gearing, Bravehearts’ Hetty Johnston and survivors such as Beth Heinrich, who, often at great personal cost, led to the Inquiry into the church’s handling of abuse. In SA it was the Rev. Don Owers and (now deceased) the Rev. Andrew King, survivors and the media who forced the church to live up to its values.

Recent changes and new measures must not be seen as an end in themselves but as an intermediate stage in an organisational process. The next stage must be to ensure that espoused aims in responding to victims are adopted in church culture. Owers points out that there is little evidence of the Anglican church being willing to engage realistically with survivors, their families or advocates. Despite the apology, the Healing Steps protocol was launched in Adelaide without any consultation with survivors . Despite protests there was no attempt to create structures that would allow stakeholders to have any input into relevant church policy. Owers found that, at best survivors were only asked to comment on documents already written. And were survivors involved in the production of the draft on the reintegration of convicted sex offenders into their parishes.

Sadly, from the victim’s perspective the church response is characterised by controlling, paternalistic attitudes that assume the right to impose solutions, thus continuing the pattern of disempowerment that contributed to their victimisation in the first place. This creates barriers to healing and deprives the church of unique opportunities for learning. Genuine and committed dialogue between survivors and church leaders would offer the promise of new knowledge, better prevention and capacities for healing. Church leaders could then hold up their heads and truthfully say that they have taken the complaints seriously.

About the author

Emeritus Professor Freda Briggs AO is a researcher and lecturer in child development at the University of South Australia, Magill Campus. In 2003 she was co-inquirer into the handing of sex abuse cases by the Diocese of Brisbane. She is the author of 17 books relating to child protection and has researched in Australia with child sex offenders, victims, their families and professionals reporting abuse. Her awards include:

  • Order of Australia, 2005
  • Rotary International Service Award, 2005
  • Queen’s Centenary Medal, 2003
  • Senior Australian of the Year, 2000–01
  • inaugural Australian Humanitarian Award, 1998
  • ANZAC Scholarship for research of value to Australia and New Zealand, 1997
art, Forgotten Australians, memories, poetry

Finding the answer

by Leigh Westin (guest author) on 25 March, 2010

Mummy passed away when I was four
Sent to Scarba where they closed the door.
My family was taken
My heart is breaking
Too young to know WHY!!!
Mummy is in heaven, so high in the sky.
Not given a chance to say good-bye.
Through a thick glass wall,
I could see my sisters.
I try to reach them, my hands have blisters.
Daddy brought my brothers to see us,
Then they were gone
Blown away like dust.
No-one to talk to about my pain,
wanting my family back to-gether again.
Little birds flying high in the sky,
‘Send Mummy back, I don’t want her to die’
The birds flew up and flew so high,
Mummy didn’t come back
I don’t know why!!

I’m older now and understand,
why god took my mum to live in the sky.
She’s an angel and watching over me
easing the pain so I can get by.