When will the pain stop?

Having coffee with a friend who had recently returned from holidaying in Northern Ireland, a visit ‘home’ catching up with childhood friends and reviving old relationships, my friend commented about the on-going political divide in that troubled country.

The ongoing divide between Protestant and Catholic, the ongoing occupation by the British, where the rest of Ireland had freed itself from the colonial shackles a century ago, although his definition included the term ‘terrorist’ when mentioning the IRA. My friend is from the Protestant side of that divide.

The terminology used and the recollections he brought up reminded me of the intergenerational traumas which are carried, seeming endlessly by numerous populations, using past horrors, past pains to define, to be a mark of difference, a definition which begs for sympathy or recognition of the burdens of their past generations.

It’s been an interesting week, preparing for a long drive through this great land, plans to explore so many unseen places, to connect with the vastness of our outback, to visit friends in far off places, and hopefully see the stairway to heaven while sitting on Cable Beach with the reflection of a setting moon on an incoming tide.

Preparing my car for the journey has been a fun experience, and expensive, but the quest to find a full sized wheel to use as a spare, the current one is a skinny wheel, and I really don’t feel safe having to rely on that so far from home, has led me meet with some interesting people.

A young man, James, not his birth name, that one he told me but it was unintelligible to my English hearing brain, a refugee from Afghanistan, a Muslim. We talked about the spare wheel, no sorry don’t have one, but while I waited for that answer we talked about his life for the past six years in Australia. James arrived here as a teenager, six years ago, sixteen years old, learned English, drifted through the Muslim communities in Sydney and found his way to Perth where he now at age twenty two runs a vehicle wrecking business.

He understands that people are wary of ‘difference’, and is almost forgiving in discussing the discriminations he faces. My question was about racism. When he answers the phone using his birth name, the response he gets is far different that when he uses ‘James’. As James, he is treated respectfully. That other name, not so much. Often the call is just cut off, ended, other times some invective, abuse is passed through the phone. James is good though, his polite manner answers the queries and often manages to get a sale.

The local mosque is a safe haven for James. He connects with other Afghan refugees, touches base with his cultural heritage, speaks his native language, feels at home.

He is looking for a break from the pressures of business life, a holiday, and is heading to Afghanistan for a month or so, to relax, to chill for a while, to revitalise his energies. The Afghanistan he will return to is no longer the war zone it was when he left, but has one of the most repressive governments which after living here for those six formative years could be a bit confronting for him.

The reason for his coming to Australia was to get away from the trauma of war. It will be interesting to catch up with him when he gets back.

The interest in post generational trauma was sparked recently when a local poet published her latest book, ‘The Hum Hearers’ by Shey Marque. In the introduction, Shey references a study on the memory of trauma and fear, and how such traumas and fears can be inherited:

”… mice conditioned to fear the scent of cherry blossom gave rise to descendants which exhibited the same fear without being conditioned. Similarly, humans who are descendants of holocaust survivors exhibit elevated stress responses compared to control populations. This carry over to future generations could explain the increasing incidence of mental illness and stress disorder among us, as well as the increasing volatility the world.” (Page ix)

Both conversations relate to traumatic events which the men have been able to remove themselves from, yet both carry the reminders of their traumas with them, and will pass those traumas, in one way or another, to following generations. Both men have established themselves in their new environment and have found a measure of peace, yet carry the fears of their past lives with them.

Shey Marque points to the consequences of the carry over of intergenerational trauma and offers some hope that the inheritance of such trauma and fears are not necessarily permanent and can be reversed.

Her poems connect past and present in the most engaging and at times challenging ways. There is hope, but there is also despair.

That hope and despair plays out in our day to day lives, in the news cycle and in our interactions with the people around us.

Today’s news included burning the entry a synagogue in Melbourne followed by an ugly incident at a Jewish restaurant (paywalled). Anti-semitism is a continuation of the trauma experienced by Jews in the years of repeated pogroms in Europe culminating in the Nazi holocaust. A continuation of the nascent fear of difference, fear of ‘the Jew’, hatred which denies their humanity.

Also today, the ongoing war in Gaza and the ethnic cleansing of The West Bank, in a sense justified through the intergenerational trauma of the Jews as they consolidate their control over the land of Israel, but creating another trauma, another fear based on ethnicity, to carried into future generations of Palestinians.

The war in Ukraine continues with news of more bombings and deaths in Kyiv as Russia seeks to rebuild its lost empire.

It begs the question of whether there will ever be peace as people are displaced, removed from traditional homelands to be replaced by others who take the land to either satisfy some desire for a safe place, a haven from the oppressions suffered through previous generations, or to be pushed from their lands and have their cultures erased in the quest for the mineral wealth or agricultural produce that can be gained from the ‘empty’ land of the indigenous peoples have lived off for countless generations.

The ABC Four Corners programme last week looked to the threats of an American take over of Greenland, the same fears were expressed as those of displaced indigenous peoples in the post colonial world.

As individuals we cannot solve the problems of the world, we cannot bring peace to the Middle East, we cannot stop the ongoing genocide of Gaza and The West Bank, we cannot stop the attempted invasion of Ukraine by Russia.  

But we are not powerless, we can make a difference.

The big question is whether we care enough to try.

In Victoria this week, the findings of a Truth Telling programme were released, a look at the trauma that colonisation imposed on the indigenous populations who were displaced from 1836 on as white settlers took the land and according to the report committed  genocide, attempted to eradicate the First Nations people from their lands.

The truth telling programme is really a continuation of actions taken over time in attempts to redress the ills of colonialism, to recognise the needs and heritage of those who were dispossessed and marginalised.

The referendum of 1967 which ensured that ‘Aboriginals are to be counted in reckoning the Population’.

The apology Kevin Rudd gave in February of 2008, directed to the Stolen Generations, where children had been taken from their parents, and injustices faced due to past government policies.

The Acknowledgement of Country, where when we gather for what ever purpose, we recognise that we are gathering on lands which are the lands of the indigenous nations who have habituated there from time immemorial.

While the referendum of 1967 was supported by over 90% of those who voted, the apology was not supported by many, deemed unnecessary, scoffed at, scorned, including by a member of the then opposition, Peter Dutton, who walked out of the parliament in protest against the the Prime Minister.

Some today are questioning the acknowledgement to country, deeming it to be irrelevant, again, heaping scorn on needing to do something like that.

But the seemingly simple acts of acknowledging that the country we inhabit was and is important for our first nations people, in respecting their culture, their heritage, is not a hard thing to do. And just may lead to an understanding of the underlying issues which see the marginalisation and criminalisation of aboriginal people as issues that can find resolution. Building more prisons has proven to not solve anything.

Sadly, the new government in Queensland stopped their Truth Telling project and have reverted to a ‘tough on crime’ policy to deal with problems which are in large measure the result of colonisation and the unwillingness to take a long hard look at it from that perspective.

Much the same when we consider that we are a nation of immigrants, and that as immigrants we have brought with us, and continue to bring elements of culture which are different, important to those incoming communities, but can also be flashpoint ignited by the fear of difference.

A mosque or a synagogue, a church steeple or coptic dome are not things to be feared. They are the expression of cultures being brought here, and have been brought here for over 240 years.

We had Afghan camel trains used in the early the transport industry. They brought their camels and their religion. The first mosques built in Australia happened in 1861 at Marree in South Australia, the oldest Synagogue building is the Hobart Synagogue built in 1845. The first Greek Orthodox Church was at Surry Hills, NSW, built in 1898.

Each of these cultural icons were built because people came here to find a refuge, a safe place to settle, to escape from persecutions, to establish new homes, new lives but rooted in their traditional cultures.  Each, while seeking to escape have in some way or other brought with them the pains, the traumas, the fears they sought to escape from to flee from, yet each have found a measure peace here, occasionally disrupted at times of global tension.

To find harmony, to find peace, to celebrate the diversity of life we have starts with each of us, individually. We choose to embrace or to reject.

One of the cultural diversities I find most pleasurable is through a group called the World Music Cafe. Each month we are entertained by several music groups from different cultures and share a meal which celebrates the culinary delights those cultures have contributed to our cities and towns. Music from the Andes, from Africa, from the Middle East, from the Caribbean, each a different expression of community, of joy, of life.

Each an expression of the humanity we share.

Through those performances we meet with, interact with people so different, yet so much the same as we are. We delight in the contributions they make to our diversity, our broad cultural heritage.

I asked James about Afghan music and he surprised me in saying that yes, there are active music groups here. Perhaps we will hear them through the World Music Cafe.

My Irish friend too has brought music with him and is involved in community groups, entertaining each other and many more at occasional public performances, again expressing the joy we find in togetherness, sharing our cultures through music and performance, building friendships across the divides.

And healing the pains inflicted through generational trauma.

Dear reader, we need your support

Independent sites such as The AIMN provide a platform for public interest journalists. From its humble beginning in January 2013, The AIMN has grown into one of the most trusted and popular independent media organisations.

One of the reasons we have succeeded has been due to the support we receive from our readers through their financial contributions.

With increasing costs to maintain The AIMN, we need this continued support.

Your donation – large or small – to help with the running costs of this site will be greatly appreciated.

You can donate through PayPal or credit card via the button below, or donate via bank transfer: BSB: 062500; A/c no: 10495969