Sunday, 22 December 2024

Finding grace in an America riven by retribution.

Extract from ABC News

By Julia Baird for ABC’s Long Read

As I walked to the back of the room, flushed with adrenaline after speaking to a crowd, a woman grabbed my arm. She whispered loudly and urgently: “You’re really brave to be talking about this here.”

The “here” was midtown Manhattan. The “this” was moral beauty — courage, empathy, decency and forgiveness. I always knew it would feel odd, flying to America to talk about grace after the presidential election. Earnestness is about as welcome as wrinkles in New York City — it’s not that it’s terrible, you’re just surprised to see it there.

All year, I had been both looking forward to and slightly nervous about launching my book Bright Shining: How Grace Changes Everything in a city that never forgets, never forgives, let alone never sleeps. Especially after an election riven with violent threats, ugly insults and polarisation that often resembles cyber trench-warfare.

I kept wondering if I would feel like a vegan turning up to a Texan barbecue. No matter how lovely your lentil sausages, they might not really be the right vibe.

When I arrived, from hotel to horizon, it was obvious grace was in short supply. Ugly, triumphant crowing followed the presidential election. Threats of violence, racism and sexism curled in the air like charmed snakes. Black people across the country — college students, professionals and children — received hateful mass-generated texts informing them they had been “selected to pick cotton at the nearest plantation”.

Trump supporters goaded people with statements like: “Your body, my choice”, “Build the gallows!” and “Gays, back in the closet”. The Taliban even congratulated Americans on not electing a woman. The Taliban.

All of this was starkly at odds with the triumphant Donald Trump’s promise to “heal our country” in his victory speech, even though throughout his presidential campaign people (political opponents, immigrants, Puerto Ricans, women) were referred to as garbage, vermin and bitches. The country has been marinating in a culture of contempt and cancellation, increasingly keening to violence.

Research by Lilliana Mason, associate professor of political science at Johns Hopkins University, found nearly 50 per cent of people who identify with one side of politics see the other side as “evil”. Vice President Kamala Harris was repeatedly called the “Anti-Christ”.

An illustration of a red rose done in stencil

On the night of the “really brave” comment, I had been interviewed by the singular New York Times columnist, Maureen Dowd. She opened by saying while we were good friends, the idea of grace was somewhat foreign because she had always loved vengeance. She had long kept a written “Dead To Me” list which she once accidentally left on the shuttle on the way from Washington DC to New York. The crowd roared with laughter.

I tried to counter by arguing that acting with grace — giving people the benefit of the doubt, showing mercy, fortifying bridges, recognising common humanity, not stereotyping or defining people by the worst they have done — was not weak but required strength. That it may seem countercultural but is the best of who we are, and what we hold onto when all seems bleak. 

That although grace seems absent from the political stage, we see it all around us, in hospitals, schools, aged care homes, blood donation centres — people giving of themselves because there is a need, not because the recipient deserves it, not because of something they have done or because of the way they think, vote or look. And that it is contagious — the more we see it, the more likely we are to act that way ourselves.

But it is a time of retribution in the US right now.

It is also a time of resignation. New York is of course a Democrat stronghold, and I had clear memories of the raw rage of 2016 when Trump defeated Hillary Clinton, the plethora of post-it notes of grief dotting the subway, the protests and marches and pussy hats. There was a feverish, palpable energy then.

This time, whilst Trump voters were more visible, and defiantly cheerful, Democrats seemed quietly stunned and almost fatalistic. The vote was so decisive.

Some people were wearing black, in mourning. I got invited to a “Dance Away the Gloom” party at Princeton. Professors at Barnard and Columbia shortened classes or gave their students the day off for the purposes of self-care, giving them space “to breathe and go a bit slower”, or “connect with friends, loved ones, sleep for an hour to catch up [or] take a walk”.

Tabloids contained stories like that of the principal in Ohio who was suspended for writing a note to staffers acknowledging some were struggling with the election results and “pain, uncertainty and division”. She encouraged them to “move towards the light”, and was quickly chastised and punished.

Commentators were mocking Democrats as woke idiots shedding “liberal tears”. Bill Maher spoke of “Queers for Palestine” T-shirts and people “still wearing masks, two years after the pandemic ended” and said no one had a monopoly on stupid.

But on Wall Street, JPMorgan Chase chief executive Jamie Dimon said that bankers, irrespective of who they voted for, were “dancing in the street” after Trump’s win, anticipating the slashing of regulations. You could almost hear the grind of the sluice gates opening, preparing for the wealth to slosh in.

An illustration of a yellow taxi

I have long known that grudges are both currency and weaponry in New York. Take author, orator and longtime New Yorker Fran Lebowitz who is, in her words, “an incredible grudge holder”. She told 7.30′s Sarah Ferguson: “People are always saying, the desire for human vengeance is not a high human desire. But it’s very satisfying … Holding grudges is just another word for having standards.”

I understand the importance of removing malignant people from your life — but do we need to hold those feelings forever?

In the New York Times, author Alex McElroy put the case for grudges, while arguing they should be reserved for small “harms and annoyances”: “The best grudges are small, persistent and powerful, like an ant hauling a twig.”

We know, though, that holding grudges can diminish our physical and mental health, while forgiveness can make us better. Researchers define a grudge as “sustained feelings of hurt and anger that dissipate over time but are easily reignited”. A 2021 American study found that “holding a grudge is a cyclical process characterised by persistent negative affect and intrusive thoughts that interfere with one’s quality of life. Over time the intensity of these thoughts and emotions abates, leaving individuals in a state of passive acceptance, in which the negativity is lurking in the back of their minds waiting to be summoned when needed.”

It’s the lurking negativity that worries me, the prospect of reawakening feelings that might otherwise dissipate.

Other studies have shown grudges can make you pessimistic, and perform more poorly in a fitness test; isolate you socially, heighten the risk of cognitive impairment, depression, anxiety and stress. Letting go of grudges, or accepting the humanity of someone who has harmed you can have the opposite effect.

One night in New York, I had dinner with a Hollywood luminary who told me his therapist had told him to try to understand the wounds in people who had harmed him. This, he said, was possible. Second, the therapist said he needed to forgive them. My friend responded firmly: “No. I will not do that. I will not forgive.” Seeking revenge is like Ritalin, he said, it gives focus, energy and purpose.

Another friend at the table nodded: “It gives you strength.”

So I sat in an underground Japanese restaurant on the Upper East Side, drinking whisky and wondering, not for the first time in my life, if I was somewhat of a fool. Grace and forgiveness, were they just tepid distraction in a vast, teeming, cut-throat city like New York? Like offering a tissue to a rabid dog?

An illustration of a red rose done in stencil

That night, in my hotel, I lay in my bed thinking: Do I need a “Dead to Me” list? Who would be on it? Is it in fact a mode of self-preservation, or a secret to success? Can’t I just walk away from people who harm me, stop thinking about them, move along to a sunnier clime? Why waste thought or energy on those people?

I am still thinking about this. But what happens when grudges against individuals become grudges against entire swathes of the population? Or simply when crankiness towards friends, acquaintances, family and community members who vote differently calcifies and grows ugly?

The challenge, now, for Americans to get along with each other is significant. Over the past few years, more Americans have been moving to parts of the country where people are more likely to agree with their political views. Red postcodes are getting redder, in other words, and blue bluer.

Analysis by political scientist Larry Sobato in 2022 found that the number of counties where at least 80 per cent of registered voters choose the same candidate (from the major two parties) — called “super landslide counties” — grew from six per cent in 2020 to 22 per cent in 2024.

This trend — of people shifting to regions of like-minded people, creating a kind of geographic homogeneity — was identified in 2008 by journalist Bill Bishop, in an analysis not of states but smaller groups, of cities and neighbourhoods. In a book titled The Big Sort, he argued that Americans were clustering more and more with people they agree with, whether it be on politics, religion or “lifestyle”. He found college graduates beginning to congregate not just in cities, but particular cities; small clubs and community groups becoming more blue or red, mega churches designed for “cookie cutter parishioners” and businesses targeting similar-thinking “image tribes”. Americans were being both drawn into similar groups and herded in.

The Big Sort was released in the year Barack Obama was promising a united, better America, and won. In 2004 Obama had garnered national attention when he stood on stage at the Democratic National Convention and declared that there were no red or blue states, just the United States. Bill Clinton referred to Bishop’s book frequently during Obama’s presidential campaign, saying: “Some of us are going to have to cross the street, folks.”

But since then, the trend has become more acute. Bishop looked at presidential elections, and measured counties by a smaller metric — of 60 per cent of the major party vote. Now it’s 80 per cent.

Do clusters breed contempt? Are we more likely to have disdain for people who think or vote a different way if we never meet them? If they never tend to our sick parents, teach our children, run our councils, cut our hair, head our organisations, staff our libraries? Surely the answer is yes.

The subtitle of The Big Sort was “Why the Clustering of Like-Minded America is Tearing Us Apart”. Bishop wrote: “Americans are increasingly unlikely to find themselves in mixed political company … pockets of like-minded citizens that have become so ideologically inbred that we don’t know, can’t understand, and can barely conceive of ‘those people’.”

It then becomes less about voting for people, but against them, about picking sides. It becomes about identity, being against instead of for something. Bishop told a journalist in 2022 that Trump instinctively understood this: “It’s gone from splitting up the goods of society to: Is politics giving me an opportunity to express my identity?”

An illustration of a yellow taxi

There’s a reason that Trump leapt upon Joe Biden’s statement this year that Trump supporters were garbage (he had meant to say that the Trump supporting comedians who called Puerto Rico garbage were garbage, but it was a damaging gaffe).

Many people are sick of being dismissed, laughed at and not taken seriously, being called idiots or denigrated for saying the wrong thing. In a matter of hours Trump was driving a big garbage truck in a high-vis vest, showing again his canny political instincts. 

Hillary Clinton’s “basket of deplorables” comment was the lowest moment in her 2016 campaign; she baldly claimed that a full half of Trump’s supporters were “racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, Islamophobic — you name it”. Trump would later thank “deplorables” for his victory, having assured them: “While my opponent slanders you as deplorable and irredeemable, I call you hardworking American patriots who love your country.”

Is it getting harder to recognise that people on different political “sides” love the country too? When Obama was inaugurated, in 2008, Bishop wrote in a new edition of The Big Sort: “The message people living in a democracy must understand more than any other message is that there are Americans who aren’t just like you, they don’t live like you, they don’t have families like yours, and they don’t think like you, they may not live in your neighbourhood, but this is their country, too.”

These are not abstract disagreements and theoretical insults. They have entered American — and indeed many Australian — homes and bedrooms. 

A survey of 2,201 adults in October found that, because of disagreement over “controversial topics”, one in five Americans had become estranged from a family member (21 per cent), blocked a family member on social media (22 per cent), or missed a family event (19 per cent). Roughly double that said they had argued with a relative about these subjects, with almost half of 18-34 year-olds saying so. Six per cent of all respondents said they expected family relations to worsen after the election.

Large numbers of Americans report that politics is making them sick, according to research undertaken during the last Trump administration. Those with the most extreme views report especially poor health, with one study linking those views to the onset of mental health and sleep disorders.

Recognising this, the American Psychiatric Association earlier this year compiled a list of tips on how to discuss politics without compromising your mental health. They advised caution and suggested: “Difficult conversations can be better in person than in writing because there can be more of a give-and-take and shared time.” They also suggested: “If someone is unlikely to change their mind or unlikely to engage with respect, it may be better to let the moment pass. Similarly, consider your own position — are you willing to be open to listening to the other person’s views and opinions?”

These kinds of rifts were acknowledged frequently during the Democratic National Convention held in August. Whilst skating close to sounding superior, Barack Obama advocated tolerance: “After all, if a parent or grandparent occasionally says something that makes us cringe, we don’t automatically assume they’re bad people. We recognise that the world is moving fast, that they need time and maybe a little encouragement to catch up… Our fellow citizens deserve the same grace we hope they’ll extend to us.”

Tim Walz, the vice-presidential nominee, spoke of the importance of community: “That family down the road – they may not think like you do, they may not pray like you do, they may not love like you do, but they are your neighbours. You look out for them, and they look out for you.”

Oprah Winfrey spoke in a similar vein: “When a house is on fire, we do not ask about the home owner’s race or religion, we do not wonder who their partner is or how they voted.” 

Fundamental to grace, or decency, is looking out for people you disagree with or even dislike. And recognising that people we disagree with politically still have values. A September 2024 Gallup poll found the number of Americans who think the country is divided on the most important values is at a record high of 80 per cent. But a similar finding in an Ipsos poll in January was balanced with the recognition that seven out of 10 Americans also think most Americans want the same things out of life. They also found growth in support for bipartisanship and community.

An illustration of a red rose done in stencil

Where I saw the signs of grace in America, as usual, was in the people around me, in the smallest encounters. Over breakfast, I smoothed over cracks with an old friend I had lost contact with after a turbulent divorce. I held the hand of an elderly, ailing, brilliant scholar in Princeton who beamed at me from his sick bed as we laughed about the improbable fact that he could read and write in 26 languages (one time he was in hospital, he decided to learn Welsh, for fun, and had mastered it by the end of his stay. Oh, for a brain like that!).

My best friend from primary school flew over from Oregon to come to my book launch; I had not seen her for decades, but knew her teenage daughter had died in a car accident last year. I worried words would be useless given the immensity of her grief, but we drank wine and talked for hours. I looped my arm through hers as we walked along the street, and she rested her head on my shoulder.

I apologised to a close friend for repeatedly disappearing from view and shutting down when I get sick and thanked her for being the kind of person who would fly across the world in a blink despite that.

I drank margaritas with my oldest friends, women who flew from Los Angeles and San Francisco. We met when we were all three years old in Germany, when they were mischievous toddlers. Now they are magnificent women making documentaries, providing therapy and financial advice. Having danced and muddled our way through decades together, not always in sync but always with a fierce love, we decided to ink our friendship on our arms.

I also met with a former, much-loved boyfriend who I had stupidly, inadvertently hurt and we hugged.

You’ll most often hear pollsters asking people how divided, hostile and violent we feel about each other, about the frustrations of politics and the deafness of wealthy powerbrokers. We hear less about how many of us yearn for community, for answers, for decency, for connection. All around me, I saw people tending to other people. Elderly parents, needy children, fractured families, wobbling relationships, traumatised patients, confused clients, curious audiences.

Bill Bishop is acutely aware his “The Big Sort” of 2008 is now “The Bigger Sort”. He gets around it personally, he says, by living in a small town, where people help one another. 

He tells the story of a hurricane hitting his county, where 80 per cent voted for Trump: “Most people who got flooded out were Hispanic, and the Catholic priest got up and said, ‘We need to help these people. But if you ask them for their names, addresses, Social Security numbers, all that stuff, they won’t come because a lot of them are illegal. So don’t ask.’ And there was no discussion. People just agreed: We’re helping — we’re not asking. And so people just came in. They got helped.”

When you’re working on a problem that’s right in front of you, he says, “and it’s not abstracted and it’s not about identity, it’s about somebody’s hungry and doesn’t have any clothes, then all those other issues begin to go away. They go away and you deal with people as they are and not as an ideologue. And it’s a great feeling. It is the greatest there is. You solve this problem not by talking about it, but by doing stuff. So don’t talk about it — do something. We’re not going to become good people and get over this modern problem because of a great leader. We’re going to get over it because we work with others who aren’t like ourselves.”

Helping strangers, looking out for the vulnerable, walking alongside each other, even going back to people you loved to tell them you are sorry, understanding that we all make mistakes because we are human, and yet that it is still, somehow, always possible to see the beauty in each other. Insisting that this is the stuff that matters.

That’s where I saw grace in America this year: in friendship, in loyalty, in love. Like water particles in air, imperceptible, but also unmistakeable, always there.

Credits

Words: Julia Baird

Illustrations: Lindsay Dunbar

Saturday, 21 December 2024

Wilsons Promontory a unique national park helping endangered species survive.

 Extract from ABC News

Mark is wearing a brown shirt and is clasping his hands, looking out over wilsons promontory and bass strait

Mark Norman takes in the view from the summit of Mount Oberon.   (ABC Gippsland: William Howard)

In short:

Wilsons Promontory National Park juts out into the cool waters of the Bass Strait, meaning it is always cooler than mainland Australia.

Scientists believe this could save countless species of threatened plants and animals from climate-induced extinction.

What's next?

It comes as authorities build a fence along the national park's entrance to keep unwanted predators out. 

On the southern-most tip of mainland Australia lies a nature reserve that could save countless threatened plants and animals from extinction.

It's called Wilsons Promontory National Park, or "Yiruk" and "Wamoon" by traditional owners.

Mountains surround an ocean bay in Wilsons Promontory National Park. Two hikers stand on a cliff.

Wilsons Promontory National Park is on the southern-most tip of Australia's mainland. (Supplied: Parks Victoria)

From the granite boulders of Mount Oberon to the pristine waters of Squeaky Beach, the beauty of Wilsons Promontory has long been enjoyed by residents, tourists and the 3,000 native plants and animals that call it home.

"The prom is a really special place for nature, as it has been for thousands of years," said Parks Victoria chief scientist Mark Norman.

Scientists have become increasingly fascinated by the park's ability to keep animals and plants safe from the effects of climate change — which they attribute to its size and location.

wilsons prom map

Wilsons Promontory is about 195 kilometres south-east of Melbourne.  (ABC News)

Wilsons Promontory juts out into the cool waters of Bass Strait, meaning it is always up to 10 degrees cooler than the nearest town.

Meanwhile, at 50,000 hectares, there is no shortage of room for plants and animals.

Scientists are monitoring 153 threatened species across the national park.

Dr Norman said that number was predicted to rise.

Dr Mark Norman is standing facing the camera on the top of Mount Oberon.

Mark Norman says Wilsons Promontory is always cooler than the mainland.  (ABC Gippsland: William Howard)

"We're ramping up our efforts here and building a thing called the prom sanctuary," he said.

 "We're controlling pests and weeds, restoring habitats and bringing back animals from the brink of extinction."

Small as a mouse

One of the animals at the forefront of the chief scientist's mind is a small, broad-footed marsupial known as the antechinus.

An antechinus sits in the hands of a park ranger

Antechinus are a small, native, carnivorous marsupial.  (Supplied: Parks Victoria)

With a carnivorous diet and four pairs of razor-sharp teeth, most people would probably be comforted by the fact that these little creatures pose no threat to humans.

Male antechinus die before their first birthday, devoting their final days to marathon mating sessions that can last up to 14 hours.

The males' sky-high testosterone eventually triggers a stress-induced immune system collapse, leaving entire populations without adult males for months.

"Their closest relatives are the Tasmanian tiger, Tasmanian devils and quoll cats," Dr Norman said.

Antechinus have been pushed to the brink of extinction in Victoria due to habitat destruction and introduced animals.

Their lifeline has been Wilsons Promontory.

An antechinus nibbles at a human finger

Antechinus have four sets of razor sharp teeth but they are too small to harm humans.  (Supplied: Parks Victoria)

"This little sharp tooth guy, who looks a bit like a mouse, is really endangered in Victoria and the prom is one of the few places it still exists," Dr Norman said.

Parks Victoria staff ventured across the rough seas of Bass Strait a few months ago to examine colonies living virtually untouched on two of the prom's remote islands.

"These offshore islands have been a place where the cats and foxes haven't reached and they're doing really well," Dr Norman said. 

Across the sea

Parks Victoria planning officer for invasive species Emily Green was one of the seven crew members deployed to the east coast.

Emily Green stands in front of her Parks Victoria vehicle, Wilsons Promontory is in the background

Emily Green says the trip out to the islands was a career highlight. (ABC Gippsland: William Howard)

"I've been working here nearly 20 years, and it was an absolute career highlight for me," Ms Green said.

"To be in a unique environment that not many people get to go to and just be surrounded by nature was amazing."

Infrared cameras and delicately positioned traps were used to identify 36 antechinus over four days.

A tent sits on a rocky surface right near the water's edge, looking back to the prom.

Scientists from Parks Victoria spent four nights on islands off mainland Australia. (Supplied: Parks Victoria)

Small tissue samples were also taken from some marsupials to help scientists analyse the genetic health of the island populations.

Ms Green said the successful mission was almost jeopardised by a ferocious weather system.

"Probably the scariest bit was the 110kph winds," Ms Green said.

"We had tents pressing up against people's faces while they're trying to sleep, people trying to pin their tents down with their bodies and equipment, just trying to survive the night."

The west coast team narrowly made it off the island during a break in the weather, while the east coast team was forced to transfer onto smaller vessels.

Parks rangers in hi-vis holding onto the boat in stormy conditions.

Parks Victoria scientists make their way back to the mainland.  (Supplied: Parks Victoria)

"That's all part of working at the prom — you get the good and then you also get the not so good," Ms Green said.

Pest-proof fence

Dr Norman said the story of the antechinus was a perfect example of why the prom sanctuary project was so important.

The centrepiece of the plan is the construction of a 10-kilometre-wide electrified fence that has been designed to keep unwanted pests out and endangered species safe.

The $6 million project is possible due to the narrow passageway connecting the park to the mainland.

"It's to stop foxes, feral cats and deer moving down from Gippsland into the prom," Dr Norman said.

Introduced species have plagued Australia's native flora and fauna, including the antechinus.

Pest animals typically have few natural predators or fatal diseases. 

An adult emu accompanies two babies through scrub

An adult emu accompanies two babies through scrub on Wilsons Promontory. (ABC Gippsland: William Howard)

This, coupled with high reproductive rates, means their population numbers have skyrocketed.

Parks Victoria said the removal of hog deer and rabbits would help reduce grazing pressure on the variety of native plants and plant communities at the prom.

It said getting rid of foxes and feral cats would reduce the threat of predators for native species which called the area home.

"We're really helping nature in these challenging times," Dr Norman said.

"We're saving plants and animals from extinction but also bringing back animals that have been lost to the area."

Russian missile hits multiple foreign embassies in Kyiv as Putin forces advance.

 Extract from ABC News

A man, holding a baby, and a woman, walking away from a damaged street with a fire burning in the background.

Russia is continuing to strike Ukrainian cities with missiles. (Reuters: Yan Dobronosov)

In short:

Russia's military has launched another wave of missile and drone strikes on Ukraine, including one which damaged a building housing diplomatic offices of multiple countries.

Separately, a Ukrainian missile launch killed six people in Russia's Kursk region, local authorities said.

It came as Ukrainian forces retreated from two towns in the country's eastern Donetsk region, in a further sign Russia's military advance is continuing.

Russia launched a further round of missile and drone strikes on Ukraine on Thursday evening and Friday morning, including one that damaged the embassies of multiple nations in Kyiv.

It comes only two days after the Australian government announced it was reopening its embassy in Kyiv.

Ukrainian officials said a single missile strike damaged a historical cathedral, six embassies and other buildings in Kyiv on Friday morning.

Portuguese foreign minister Paulo Rangel has condemned the strikes, which caused "relatively light material damage" to its embassy.

"It is absolutely unacceptable for attacks to damage or target diplomatic facilities", he said.

The damaged roof of a multi-storey building in Kyiv, partially collapsed after a missile strike.

There is damage to buildings in Kyiv following overnight missile strikes. (Reuters: State Emergency Service of Ukraine in Kyiv)

Ukraine's foreign ministry said that the embassies of Albania, Argentina, Palestine, North Macedonia, Montenegro and Portugal, housed in the same building, were damaged as a result of the strike. There were no casualties among diplomatic staff, it said.

In the absence of the Russian ambassador in the Portuguese capital, Lisbon, the charge d'affaires of the Russian Federation has been summoned to be presented with a formal protest, the Portuguese government said.

In a statement on X, European Commission chief Ursula von der Leyen condemned the strike as "another heinous Russian attack against Kyiv".

"Putin's disregard for international law reaches new heights," she said.

A missile strike killed at least one person and damaged buildings across the Ukrainian capital during the morning peak hour on Friday, Kyiv mayor Vitali Klitschko said.

A further 11 people were injured in the strike. 

Ukraine's air force said it had shot down all five Iskander-M/KN-23 ballistic missiles used to attack the capital.

It said Russia launched 65 drones overnight, 40 of which were downed by defences and another 20 which failed to reach their targets.

The Russian Defence Ministry said it had struck a command centre used by Ukraine's SBU intelligence agency, a site which it said was involved in the designing and construction of missiles and a US-made Patriot anti-aircraft missile system.

"The goals of the strike have been achieved. All targets have been hit," the ministry said.

The Reuters news agency said it was unable to verify the reports by either side.

A man stands in his kitchen, which has windows blown out and debris all over the room.

Residents of Kyiv are beginning to repair damage following the strikes. (Reuters: Yurii Kovalenko)

Six killed in Russian region after Ukrainian strike

The governor of the Russian region of Kursk, Alexander Khinshtein, has accused Ukraine of firing US-supplied HIMARS rockets at civilian targets. 

The region has been at the centre of fighting after Ukrainian forces launched a counteroffensive earlier this year, claiming a small slice of Russian territory.

On Friday, Mr Khinshtein said the Ukrainian rocket strike damaged buildings including a school and a pilot training college.

He said the strike killed six people, including a child, and injured a further 10.

Russian foreign ministry spokeswoman Maria Zakharova told TASS state news agency Moscow would raise the attack at a UN Security Council meeting Friday.

Ukrainian forces retreat in east

Russian troops have been making steady gains in Ukraine's eastern front in recent months.

In the latest sign Ukraine's military is stretched thin, on Friday it said its forces had pulled back from two villages in Donetsk to avoid being surrounded by Russian forces.

"The commander-in-chief of the Armed Forces of Ukraine has decided to withdraw the units of the Ukrainian Defense Forces from the area in question to avoid encirclement," Ukraine's Khortytsia group of forces said on Telegram.

The Russian Defence Ministry said on Friday its forces had taken control of two more settlements in Donetsk region, Uspenivka and Novopustynka. 

It claimed control of Trudove on Wednesday.

Friday, 20 December 2024

Radar search fails to find South Sea Islander remains at Mackay hospital.

South Sea Islanders work on the sugarcane plantations

South Sea Islanders worked on Australian sugarcane plantations in the 1800s. (Supplied: Queensland State Archives)

In short:

A ground-penetrating search at the Mackay Base Hospital site has failed to locate ancestral remains of South Sea Islanders. 

Hospital upgrades were put on hold in July, while a search began under the hospital grounds.

What's next?

Advocates say the community will not give up on locating the remains of those who are unaccounted-for.

The resting place of hundreds of South Sea Islanders who died in a north Queensland hospital in the late 1800s remains a mystery after a search using a ground-penetrating radar failed to find any burials.

Construction work to expand Mackay Base Hospital was paused in July to search an area that historians believed once housed a hospital for Pacific Islanders.

Health authorities at the time referred to it as the Kanaka hospital.

The hospital was one of four established across Queensland in the late 19th century to curb scurvy outbreaks that killed hundreds of indentured Pacific Islanders, many of whom were brought to Australia to work on sugarcane plantations during the 'blackbirding era'.

In a statement, Queensland Health said a ground-penetrating radar survey in September "did not identify the location of any burials" and that construction would proceed.

An old photo of South Sea Islanders on a sugarcane plantation.

Blackbirding of South Sea Islanders remains a dark chapter in Australia's agricultural history. (Supplied: State Library of Queensland)

In the 1880s, Mackay Base Hospital doctor Charles Clarkson sent letters to the Queensland Museum that discussed burying bodies in the hospital grounds to decompose and sending skeletons and skulls to the museum.

The exact site of the Kanaka hospital is unknown.

Clacy Fatnowna, head of the Queensland United Australian South Sea Islander Council (QUASSIC), said the council was still waiting for a copy of the full survey report.

He expressed relief that the site was explored but said more work needed to be done.

"There were over 1,000 deaths in a five-year period when the hospital was there," Mr Fatnowna said.

"So if there's nothing there, where are they?

"There's still a lot more to be done from where we sit with regards to talking to museums and other academics and finding out where a thousand or so of my people's remains ended up."

Mr Fatnowna said the search was an emotional experience for the community, as some of the children and grandchildren of the people potentially buried on the grounds were still alive today.

Queensland Health said it had "shared and discussed the findings with Mackay Hospital and Health Service, and ASSI [Australian South Sea Islander] and First Nations representatives."

It said it would continue to "work closely with ASSI and First Nations representatives on construction activities."

A man sits for an interview with a journalist.

Clancy Fatnowna says the community will continue searching for the remains of their ancestors. (ABC News: Amy Sheehan)

Museum still holding remains

The Queensland Museum has confirmed it holds the remains of 65 Pacific Islanders in its collection.

The museum said it was "working with QUASSIC to develop culturally appropriate protocols relating to how the museum works with communities in the South Pacific Region."

Mr Fatnowna said he was seeking ongoing discussions with the Queensland Museum, the Minister for Health and the Minister for Multicultural Affairs.

"[We want to know] the amount of remains that they've got there [in the museum] and the process we've got to go through to repatriate, to return what's ours."

Marion Healy sits at picnic table in Mackay, November 2021.

Marion Healy says she will continue to lobby for the remains to be found. (ABC News: Nathan Morris)

'Sensitive subject'

Australian South Sea Islander elder Marion Healy said the search brought up a lot of "sorry business" for her community.

"It's still going at the present," she said.

"It is a sensitive subject still."

Ms Healy said she would continue to lobby Queensland Health for a broader search to find the remains.

"We might not have an answer today, but I know we'll get an answer in time," she said.

In 2023, Emeritus Professor Clive Moore, who specialises in Pacific studies, called for a full assessment of the 48 acres of the Mackay Base Hospital.

Mr Fatnowna said QUASSIC supported that request.

He said Professor Moore's research suggested the sites of three former Pacific Islander hospitals across north Queensland could hold the clues to the whereabouts of remains.

"We've still got to explore Maryborough, Ingham and Innisfail," Mr Fatnowna said.

"Those communities are watching us, and I think Mackay is the litmus test with how Queensland Health deals with us.

"We just want to get it right."

He said regardless of the outcome, the community would not give up on discovering the location of those who remain unaccounted-for.

South Sea Island men gathered on a boat bound for Australia

Around 50,000 South Sea Islanders were brought to Australia for work in the 1800s. (ABC Archives)

Changing the future

The hospital added a fifth flagpole to the front of the building this week, now flying the ASSI flag alongside the Australian, Queensland, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander flags.

Mackay hospital and health board chair Helen Darch said while the health service could not change the past it was determined to create a better future.

"Raising the Australian South Sea Islander flag here today is also a further acknowledgement of the sad historic treatment and care provided at a Pacific Islander Hospital on these grounds more than 130 years ago," Ms Darch said.

"Raising this flag is a visual reminder of our commitment to care and inclusion."

Five flags on poles, including the South Sea Islander flag, outside a hospital building.

The South Sea Islander flag was raised at the Mackay hospital. (Supplied: Mackay Base Hospital)

Healthcare worker Elizabeth Warren said the flag served as a reminder of people's hardworking and strong forefathers.

"They came here, most of them against their will, to work in the sugar industry," she said.

"They had no rights, they were treated harshly but they made their way through it and we are we are their descendants … and we are living what they taught us to work hard, fit in."