Keynote speech – Outer Eastern Advocacy Service 1 Michael Uniacke
Launch of Outer Eastern Disability Advocacy Service
19 September 2005
Keynote speech
Introduction
Before I begin, I would like to acknowledge the traditional owners of the land upon
which we meet; I pay my respects to their elders, past and present.
I am very pleased to be here, and I must congratulate the Disability Resources Centre
on its efforts to bring its advocacy services to the outer eastern region. Not only is it a
means by which people with disabilities in this region can support themselves and be
informed of their rights. This new advocacy centre also sends a timely message to the
community at large that people with disabilities are taking steps to ensure that they
can be seen as being part of the community. This is one of the reasons that we
support advocacy. As I will explain soon, advocacy used to be seen in a rather sinister
light, and to some extent it used to be associated with fire-breathing radicals of the far
Left. However the emphasis on advocacy services today reveals a wider and a more
mature understanding of what it means. I think that when all is said and done,
advocacy is simply about standing up for yourself.
Of course it was not always like this. This is my first direct association with the
Disability Resources Centre since the 1980s, when the DRC was founded. I will talk
about the 1980s, the era in which the DRC was founded, because I do want to talk
about the lessons from history. When I say history, I do not mean the ability to recite
from memory a list of all the kings and queens of Great Britain. Recent changes in the
study of history reveal a great deal more than that, and as I will explain, the disability
rights movement is now acquiring its own sense of history. And perhaps it was not a
coincidence that the emergence of the disability rights movement took place at the
same time, in the same era, when changes to the Equal Opportunity Act, for the first
time, made it illegal to discriminate against anyone on the grounds of disability. So I
will also be telling you about the work of the Equal Opportunity Commission, and how
this work can do a great deal to preserve the rights of people with disabilities.
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Keynote speech – Outer Eastern Advocacy Service 2 Michael Uniacke
The 1980s
The DRC was founded at the start of the 1980s. This was that very long-ago era when
no-one had a mobile phone, but every tram had a conductor. It was that long-ago era
when Granny Smith apples were known as Mummy Smiths, and web designers were
far more commonly known as spiders. This was also at the tail end of the time when
the best way to assist all the sad and helpless disabled people was to give money to
an institution, because singers, dancers and television celebrities told you to.
In this unlikely setting the DRC was a good place to be. I remember quite well the first
ever public meeting which established the DRC. There were a lot of people; I recall 60
or 70 people who packed out a large hall in ….. I thought it was a good cross-section
of humanity – there were young people, old people, quite a few wheelchairs, a few
walking aids, and of course, a few people who appeared to be perfectly normal. There
was even a person representing a group for stutterers called the Speakeasy
Association. It was convened by John Pullicino.
I remembered thinking that this represented the crest of a wave of some kind. I use the
metaphor a “wave”, because just a couple of months earlier I took part in a march on
the city streets to commemorate 1981 as the International Year of Disabled People, or
IYDP as we all called it. I didn‟t know what to expect because then I was just dipping
my toe into disability rights. It was at a time of growing activism in Deaf politics, and I
wasn‟t sure of the relevance of disability to Deaf rights, but I had some instinct that
there would be benefits. The spectacle, this wave if you like, was of a couple of
thousand people with disabilities, and their supporters, taking over Swanston street on
a very bright Saturday morning. Judging by the banners and placards, it was obvious
many people had gone to a lot of trouble for the event. My favourite placard was by a
man who didn‟t look especially different or even disabled. His placard read. “I‟m Mad”.
As events turned out, I did associate with what we now understand was the early
beginnings of the disability rights movement in Australia. My reasoning was that Deaf
people could gain from the emerging political muscle that was being developed by a
combination of IYDP, the formation of the Disability Resources Centre, and the
formation of Disabled Persons‟ International. By the mid 1980s, the Victorian Council
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Keynote speech – Outer Eastern Advocacy Service 3 Michael Uniacke
of Deaf People (VCOD) was creating links and responding to concerns from the Deaf
community about the way in which Deaf people were being portrayed in the Deafness
Appeal Telethon. In this effort, VCOD received much support and encouragement from
the DRC. It was good to know that others felt the same way about this obscene form of
fundraising, and that we were not alone.
I guess that in the buzz from the 1980s, there were times when it felt like we really
were dangerous radicals out to save the world and to convert it to our way of thinking.
And sometimes it felt like we might have been the first ever in recorded history to be
doing this, to be thinking this way. But it was not the first time in recorded history that
people with disabilities were standing up or sitting down for themselves. Just as
equally it was not the first time that Deaf people stood up to protest about the way
hearing people were doing things on their behalf. That was where the lesson of history
came – we were not the first, not by a long shot.
History in a state of change
So, how was history taught to you at school? I do have some recollections of being
taught history at school during the 1960s, and they were not pleasant. I recall dreary
and tedious accounts of England and Europe in the Middle Ages, when different
peoples seemed to have nothing better to do than to fight each other. So history was
wearying accounts of a battle between King This and Queen That, who came first in
this battle and who came second. Australian history was all about the brave explorers
who defied hunger, thirst and attacks from primitive savages to bring civilisation to the
wilderness. I drew maps of the world which traced the journeys taken by the seafaring
explorers. Presented this way, history was something that never happened to ordinary
people, and certainly not to anyone I knew. History belonged to the winners, who were
almost always white, who were men, who had possessions, who had power, and who
had privilege and the means to ensure that history was recorded the way they would
liked it to have happened, usually with themselves playing a starring role.
There is now a new approach to history; it is called different names. I think of it as the
new social history. It recognises that accounts of the past must draw upon sources far
wider, and it must include accounts of how ordinary people lived, what they did and
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what they thought. And when it comes to disability, this is the major point of departure
– the new social history captures the roles and perspectives people with disabilities
themselves.
The new social history and disability
I want to give you two examples of how the new social history can change traditional
views of disability in this country. In the first, I‟ve been very fortunate in being able to
read through a doctoral dissertation written by Dr Breda Carty, a friend of mine, with
whom I worked on deafness rights during the 1980s. We have shared an interest in
history. Dr Carty was able to use her thesis to examine the history of the Deaf
community in Australia. It is of course no surprise to any of you that the history of
Australia‟s Deaf community is largely unknown.
Deaf people in Australia are generally ignorant of their history, because no-one
thought of it as a subject worth knowing about, much less worth being taught. Much of
the information we have known of Deaf history in Victoria in the first half of the last
century is about a missioner, a hearing man, from England who worked in Melbourne
for more than 40 years. Official records, which he had a hand in writing, paint a picture
of a brilliant administrator and publicist who worked very hard and always had at heart
the interests of the deaf. This is the impression you would get if you relied only on
these official accounts – the traditional history.
Dr Carty teased out a much wider range of sources than official records. She looked at
some writings, interviews, letters and recollections from older deaf people themselves.
What emerged was a very different picture. This revealed the missioner as a complex
man, capable of great good, yet scheming and devious, capable of superb
communication, yet also manipulative and ruthless. This was a man with enormous
control over a powerless community, a man who did not always exercise this power
wisely or with prudence. One of the heart-rending revelations of Dr Carty‟s thesis is to
ponder the stories that could have been told by Deaf women who suffered at the
hands of this married man of the church.
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Keynote speech – Outer Eastern Advocacy Service 5 Michael Uniacke
The second example I wanted to discuss concerned some aspects of disability history,
which has had very little coverage. Look at the history of institutions. There are of
course the official records, and perhaps stories from those who managed these
institutions – their superintendents and the administrators. But how many times have
we heard stories about these institutions from the people who actually lived in them,
day after day, month after month, year after year? We had a glimpse from Annie
McDonald, co-author of Annie’s Coming Out. Annie now says, quite freely, she would
have died a long time ago if Rosemary Crossley had not brought her out in 1980. At
the time she was 18 years old and she weighed just 15 kilos1. It‟s hard to imagine any
traditional history telling stories of such gross neglect.
Annie’s Coming Out of course was another reason the 1980s were something of a
pivotal decade. But if we were to look at more examples of disability history, we need
to go back further in time. In New York in May 1935, a group of people with physical
disabilities called the League for the Physically Handicapped, was formed to protest
discrimination by the Works Progress Administration (WPA) of New York city. The
league's 300 people -- mostly people with polio and cerebral palsy -- all had been
turned down for WPA jobs. The Home Relief Bureau of New York City was supposed
to forward their job requests to the WPA, but was stamping all their applications 'PH'
for physically handicapped, as a signal to the WPA not to give these people jobs.
Members of the league sat in at the Home Relief Bureau for nine days; and went to the
WPA headquarters and held a weekend sit-in there. (Here you have to ask whether
their use of the expression “sit in” was an unintended pun.) They eventually generated
a couple thousand jobs nationwide. What particularly interested me was how for their
troubles, all these protestors branded as communists2.
To look further into the history, we need to visit the civil rights movement in the United
States, and the period from the mid to late 1970s when Vietnam veterans disabled
with war injuries returned and were appalled at how differently they were treated.
There are of course numerous other factors, people and events, among which we can
trace the emergence of the movement here in Australia.
1
‘Two of us: Anne McDonald & Rosemary Crossley’ Good Weekend, 20 August 2005, pg 20
2
http://www.ragged-edge-mag.com/0501/0501bkrev1.htm accessed 29 Aug 2005
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Advocacy and the DRC
Thus we come to the beginnings of the DRC. To get a further idea of what it was like
during that time, Rhonda Galbally gives a very insightful account of the struggle to
obtain the first seeding funding for the DRC. She points out that they had to tip-toe
around the word “advocacy”, and instead, for the benefits of the funding trustees, use
the word “mediation”3. You can contrast that experience with now, where organisations
proudly carry the word “advocacy” in their titles.
Equally I remember well one of the reactions to the news that the DRC was being
formed. I was not officially linked with the DRC until the mid 1980s. I was with another
organisation, not controlled by people with disabilities, and long since departed. This
organisation at least supported the establishment of a community newspaper on
disability. So it was part of my job to know what was going on. And doing that is one of
the good things about journalism: it allows you to go around and pester people with
endless questions and requests for information. And believe me, the feeling from some
people and organisations at the time, was as if D R C stood for Dreadfully Radical
Communists.
It‟s not hard to imagine how this piece of name-calling was popular. I was particularly
drawn to a comment made during the 1980s by an archbishop in Brazil who worked
with the poor and other people impoverished and suffering under authoritarian regimes
in Latin America. Dom Helder Camara (1909–1999) is recorded as saying: “When I
gave food to the poor, they called me a saint. When I asked, „why are the poor
hungry‟, they called me a communist”.
This I think captures one distinction between charity and advocacy. There are times
when charity is necessary, but it is advocacy which brings about the lasting changes
for the better. And does this makes us all communists? I think I can safely say this
room is indeed filled with communists.
One of the impressions I recall from the DRC‟s earliest days was a belief that things
were really going to get done. Here was a group of people of all ages, with different
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Keynote speech – Outer Eastern Advocacy Service 7 Michael Uniacke
skills, who were united in a desire to make the world a better place if you happened to
have a disability. I remembered in particular a feeling that it was possible to make
some changes, and that you were close to the processes that brought about those
changes.
Equally, the DRC became associated with numerous other disability groups in the
process that we now call networking. Disability became to be broken down into several
separate issues, like deinstitutionalisation, accommodation, attendant care,
employment and so on. And so, the DRC became a hot bed of different projects and
links, all humming along. Some grew and grew, like the disability employment action
centre. Other projects went nowhere. There were links with other organisations which
were emerging through the support from the Cain government, and the new spirit of
philanthropy, promoted by Rhonda Galbally and supported by trusts like the Reichstein
Foundation and the Stegley Foundation. In particular, the DRC has enormous support
from the Victorian Council of Social Service, an organisation that was then, and is
now, proudly chock-a-block with communists.
How effective has all this been?
The DRC and many other organisations have been working on disability rights for
more than two decades. We need to ask, have they been effective? It‟s a hard
question to answer. I can suggest there has been some good news and some not-so-
good news.
One view might point out some positive gains. In the past two decades, for example,
we have seen some strong networks of people with disabilities emerge. Disability
activists can and do call upon quite a range of people and so tap into many sources of
information. It helps them continue to fight the good fight. There are also signs that a
form of disability culture is emerging. This is difficult to define, but one interpretation I
like, is that disability gives a new way of how we interpret the world, and is another
example of an enriching diversity in the society in which we live. There is also
emerging a new corpus of academic work in disability. For better or worse, disability is
a study that is attracting attention. New government policies support inclusionism, a
3
Rhonda Galbally, Just Passions: the Personal is Political Pluto Press, Melbourne, 2004, p 44.
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model which takes people with disabilities further again from the medical and welfare
models.
But disability activists could contradict each of these bits of good news. So for
example, we might think that disability is gaining more currency in academia. But
Christopher Newell points out “ . . . there are no scholars who identify as having
disability in leadership positions, especially at professorial rank4”. Or we might hail the
advent of inclusionist practices, but Christopher Newell suggests that in education it is
an excuse for poorly resourced mainstream programs.5 And the late Elizabeth
Hastings, the former Disability Discrimination Commissioner, left us in no doubt about
what she thought of inclusionism:
The very word „inclusion‟ places the onus to decide whether or not to include on those
who do not have the disability. That is, those of us who do have a disability will be
included by the grace of those who are making the decision, not by our right as human
beings . . . we are still a supplicant group, depending on the good will of others . . .6
I could give many more examples of analysis, from the moderate “Living History”
report released by Scope Victoria late last year, which reported:
While there have been some massive changes at the level of policy-making and
legislation, many have been fragmented or frustrated at the level of practice. These
findings point to significant problems and barriers to achieving fundamental and
integrated changes across the disability sector. For most participants, change is not
something that happens – it is an ongoing struggle7.
to the hard-hitting revelations by Gerard Goggin and Christopher Newell, which says
“disability discrimination and exclusion in Australia is akin to a system of otherness –
an apartheid . . . ”8
To this we could add data which suggests the employment of people with disabilities
has gone backwards. Fiona Smith, the chairperson of the Equal Opportunity
Commission of Victoria, reports that the Productivity Commission‟s investigation of the
Commonwealth Disability Discrimination Act concludes that there had been no real
4
Newell, C, „Encountering Oppression: the emergence of the Australian Disability Rights movement”
Social Alternatives Vol 18 No 1, January 1999, p 49
5
ibid pg 50
6
Elizabeth Hastings, Disability Discrimination Commissioner, address to Social Options conference,
Adelaide, 21 November 1997
7
Quibell, R, The Living History Project: the lived experience of people with disability and parents of
people with disability in the period 1981 – 2002 Scope (Vic) Ltd, Box Hill, 2004, p vi.
8
Goggin, G and Newell C Disability in Australia: exposing a social apartheid. University of New South
Wales Press, Sydney, pp 195-6.
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Keynote speech – Outer Eastern Advocacy Service 9 Michael Uniacke
improvement in employment opportunities for people with disabilities, and in the
Australian Public Service, employment rates had declined9
How EOCV safeguards human rights
I did mention earlier that one of the events of the 1980s took place in 1982, when an
amendment to the Equal Opportunity Act made it illegal to discriminate on the grounds
of disability. So the use of equal opportunity legislation is something that advocates
should not overlook. But I am aware that for many people with disabilities, the work of
the Commission is shrouded in mystery. So, how does it work?
The Equal Opportunity Commission administers the Equal Opportunity Act 1995; this
is a law which makes it illegal to discriminate against people because of several
personal characteristics. (There are 17 of them, of which disability is one.) In practice,
this means the Commissions accepts complaints of discrimination lodged with it,
investigates those complaints, and where appropriate, attempt to resolve them, often
by conciliation between the parties concerned. The Commission adopts an impartial
stance in disputes, and details remain confidential. This helps to ensure that all parties
to a dispute have some confidence they will be treated fairly.
In practice, the Commission does quite a lot more than that. Its education branch, of
which I am part, works to inform individuals and groups about their rights under the
EOA and about their responsibilities. And so the education branch talks to a large
array of groups including employers and special interest groups. The aim of this
education, really, is to promote the idea of a fair go for everyone, and that we respect
people, and that we treat people on merit, not on stereotypical ideas about what
people think people with disabilities might, or might not be able to do. Staff work with
groups on their policies and work practices to minimise the chances those groups will
face claims alleging discrimination.
The Commission recognises that some groups in the community may be more
vulnerable to discrimination than others; that is partly the reason for my position, in
which I liaise with people with disabilities from around the state. I have two colleagues
in positions similar to mine; one works with indigenous communities, and one works
9
Fiona Smith, address at launch of „Living History Project‟, Melbourne, 3 December 2004.
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Keynote speech – Outer Eastern Advocacy Service 10 Michael Uniacke
with ethnic communities. The three of us, and a manager, form the community
programs unit within the education branch.
If there is a message that I could promote regarding the work of the Equal Opportunity
Commission, it would be to say that a complaint can be a very effective way of
bringing about change for the better. It is not the only way, but in some cases it can
have a very positive impact. Some discrimination against people with disabilities is
called indirect discrimination; this is when a person or an organisation imposes a
condition which appears to be reasonable, but which has an unfair effect on people
with disabilities. So for example, a course at a TAFE college requires students to study
some videos, unaware they are useless for deaf students if they do not come with
subtitles. In these cases discrimination is unintentional, but it is still unlawful. Much of
the resolution of these complaints involves better information and advice, so that such
incidences do not happen again.
It does concern me that there is a perception that lodging a complaint is an onerous
process, it is expensive, time-consuming, and frequently doesn‟t work. I am particularly
concerned at this implication for those in the country; there are small communities
where it is easy to become branded as a “troublemaker” (or if you like, a communist), if
you stand up and lodge a complaint.
To look at each of these perceptions in turn: are complaints onerous? While this can
depend on the nature of the complaint, the Commission will help you. It cannot take
sides, but staff will make sure you understand what is taking place. This is so you are
free to make your own decisions as your complaint progresses.
Are complaints expensive? No – they cost nothing beyond incidentals like time and
travel. If you need a spoken or sign language interpreter for a conciliation session, the
Commission will provide one for you. There will be costs involved if you use a lawyer,
but the procedures do not necessarily require one.
What if complaints are thrown out? The Commission must work with the Equal
Opportunity Act as it stands. This is an Act of State Parliament which applies
numerous rules and definitions. If a complaint does not meet these rules, it cannot be
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considered. For some examples, a complaint might refer to an incident that happened
more than a year ago; there might be an exception or an exemption to the Act which
allows acts which might otherwise be unlawful; or an incident of alleged discrimination
may have taken place in someone‟s private house. In all these cases, a complaint
cannot proceed, and this is because it does not meet definitions spelt out under law.
This can be confusing. For example, if someone is rude or obnoxious to you, and you
think it is because of disability, they are probably not breaking the law even though the
behaviour is distressing to you.
I do recognise that to make a complaint requires some personal resources. For many
people it is not an easy thing to stand up, figuratively of course, and say to another
person or to a powerful organisation, this is wrong, I protest. This is where advocacy
centre like this one will have a most valuable role to play. In some cases it is not easy
to take a stand. But believe me, thanks to centres like this, you need not feel you are
alone.
Conclusion
Anyway, it is time for me to finish. Advocacy means many things, but I think of it as
standing up for yourself. People with disabilities have been doing this for a long time,
and certainly, we need to keep doing it. Advocacy supports you when you do this. I
suppose, if we really wanted to, we could wave red flags and sing a few verses of
„Solidarity Forever‟, but we are better off using advocacy for preserving rights. And
there will be no better place to do that than in your new centre in Dandenong. So it
gives me a very great pleasure, and a deep satisfaction, to declare that as of here and
now, the Outer Southeastern Advocacy Service of the Disability Resources Centre be
opened.
I do look forward to keeping in touch with this centre and to an opportunity later of
talking to groups of people in more detail about the Equal Opportunity Commission
and how the Act works. In the meantime, thank you again for the chance to be here,
and I wish you well for all that will take place in your new offices in Dandenong.
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