The War on Indigenous Youth: A Stain on Modern Conscience

The War on Indigenous Youth, an unspoken yet palpable assault on the very essence of ancient civilizations and young souls. This war isn’t fought with arms and ammunitions, but with policies, systemic discrimination, and a glaring void of justice.

And like any war, the fallout is devastating, tearing through the social fabric that binds us, leaving behind a generation lost in the turmoil of identity and acceptance.

The narratives unfolding in Australia’s sunburnt expanses are not mere isolated instances but a reflection of a global malady.

And Indigenous youth, carrying the legacy of their ancestors, find themselves embroiled in a relentless tussle with modern Anti-Indigenous institutions that seem to have turned a blind eye to the United Nations declarations on the rights of Indigenous Peoples and Children, which are not merely words on paper, but a covenant of moral and legal obligation to protect and uphold the dignity, rights, and aspirations of all youth.

“My Grandson picked up his new push bike from turners bike shop on Thursday. He paid it off over 2 months with his pay from his permanent job. Well he was down town and the coppers pulled him up about no helmet which is fair enough but they started saying did he pinch it. He was upset about how he was treated so he rang me I told him just give them your DOB name and address. I could hear how they were treating him so I had a few words to say then the male cop snatched the phone out of his hand. Said can I sit down on the bench to eat his maccas and the female cop said sit in the gutter. He feels like they only pulled him up was because he is Aboriginal. Can’t a 16 year old have a real nice bike. That he paid for out of his pay”

Terry Moore about the treatment by Gunnedah Police, under the leadership of Superintendent Bruce Grassick at Oxley Police.

At the core of this discourse is a stark reality – the alienation of Indigenous youth from their roots, perpetrated by systems that are supposed to protect them. And the cruel irony is that while the world races towards an enlightened era of human rights and social justice, while all youth find themselves ensnared in a quagmire of prejudice and denial of basic rights.

The war against Indigenous youth is fought in courtrooms, built on stolen land and the genocide of Indigenous people, and within the sterile halls of institutions that often fail to acknowledge another cultural genocide that unfolds with every gavel of justice that strikes against them.

But the United Nations declarations emphasise the rights to Indigenous self-determination, to maintain their institutions, cultures, and traditions, and to pursue their development in keeping with their own needs and aspirations. However, the gulf between these noble intentions and ground realities is vast and marred with prejudice.

And the narrative of fear and discrimination against youth, portrayed often as miscreants rather than victims of systemic failure, needs to be replaced with one of understanding, acceptance, and empowerment.

Ending this war is not an act of charity but a duty, a step towards healing centuries-old wounds, and a march towards a future where the cultural kaleidoscope of Indigenous heritage is celebrated, not obliterated.

The war on Indigenous youth must end.

It must end because the rights enshrined in the United Nations declarations are not mere words, but a promise of a world where justice, dignity, and respect form the bedrock of our shared human experience.