For generations, First Nations athletes have been as staunch as they have been generous. From Sir Doug Nicholls to Nicky Winmar to Jamarra Ugle-Hagan, they have stood tall and stared down the endless stream of racism directed at them. Collectively, they have afforded their institutions, who hold a legal responsibility for their duty of care, with an eternity of time to act.
But those institutions and their administrators have maintained an archaic commitment to the status quo, using every inflection point to tie themselves in more knots. It has been a dark one way street. And with great consequences, First Nations players and their families have continued to love a game despite its refusal to love them back.
The omnipresence of racism, which has continued from one generation to the next, has culminated with the untenable expectation that First Nations players must tolerate racism in their workplace and in their homes. It’s become apart of the job.
The announcements of a new chief executive and a new team should have provided a distraction for the AFL. But in reality they went full circle and allowed the spotlight to shine back on the dumpster fire.
Partly thanks to taxpayers, lutruwita/Tasmania is getting a team and a stadium, meanwhile the state’s homeless stay unhoused. Making way for the stadium at Macquarie Point is the proposed Indigenous Truth and Reconciliation Park, which would have been the first major memorial to the frontier wars in Australia and, as Richard Flanagan wrote, was axed without notice.
The second announcement was the succession of Gillon McLachlan. Andrew Dillon, a Xavier college and University of Melbourne alumnus who for many is the epitome of the boys’ club , has been wandering the halls of AFL House for two decades. Whether it’s Gillon or Dillon, at best is going to be a different version of the same thing.
During the press conference unveiling his new CEO, the AFL chair, Richard Goyder, revealingly attributed the drawn out recruitment process to “the Hawthorn thing that was lobbed on us”.
That “Hawthorn thing” is numerous allegations of former First Nations players being separated from their families, including allegations of a former player’s partner being coerced into having an abortion.
Goyder’s comments brought back into focus the AFL’s not-so independent review, where they have appointed themselves as judge, jury and executioner. The review remains at a standstill and the coaches at the centre of the investigation maintain their posts at new clubs under the presumption of innocence banner.
If a school teacher had been linked to similar allegations would they bounce into a new classroom to guide a new set of kids? What about a doctor or a nurse? There’s no way they would continue practising as the investigation unfolded. Even the NRL knows this, through their no-fault stand down clause for serious breaches and allegations. But the AFL writes its own rules and nobody blinks.
However, we aren’t meant to be focusing on that. If you listen to the AFL, our gazes should be firmly fixed on solving how we stamp out the few “bad apples” that racially vilified Ugle-Hagan, Charlie Cameron, Nathan Wilson, Michael Walters and Izaak Rankine earlier in the season.
It would be to the AFL’s benefit if we went back to squabbling among ourselves about whether fans that racially abuse players should be banned for life. And with the NRL opting for an indefinite ban on the teenage fan who racially abused Latrell Mitchell, that’s what will likely happen.
Shifting focus to this is a textbook move that creates distance between the AFL as an institution and their litany of controversies.
Fortunately though, it doesn’t have to be like this. The “no room for racism” merry-go-round can be brought to an end, but only when First Nations players sit down and strike instead of continuing to stand up and fight.
Whether it be nurses, teachers, construction workers or firefighters, striking is a universal circuit-breaker and effective theory of change. And it’s not a foreign concept for athletes, who are often ready to strike when collective bargaining agreements are being reviewed.
The current Hollywood writers strike is an informative case study to borrow from. Although writers only account for a small percentage of the overall production unit, the show can’t go on without them and their colleagues recognise that.
The same principle applies for First Nations players and the AFL. The game instantly stops when they sit. The heart, sparkle and honour that Indigenous players imbue into the game is gone in an instant. Unfortunately, the code’s record of inaction and indifference has left Indigenous players and their families no other choice.
Ben Abbatangelo is a Gunaikurnai and Wotjobaluk writer and storyteller
