Truth, interrupted: why Queensland needs its own reckoning
A call for the LNP Queensland government to lead the way
This week, the Yoorrook Justice Commission released its latest findings, and the message was clear: Victoria has a long way to go, but it has started.
The interim report, part of Australia’s first formal truth-telling process, documents harrowing stories from First Peoples about stolen land, stolen children, cultural erasure, racism in health care, and systemic injustice in policing. It includes more than 50 recommendations, many of which target reforms in child protection, education, and criminal justice. Some are bold: changes to bail laws that disproportionately jail Aboriginal people; raising the age of criminal responsibility; more power and autonomy for First Peoples-led services.
Stunningly, they are one of the first official government documents to call out the historic violence wrought upon First Nations people for what it was: an attempted genocide.
It makes for painful reading. But also a necessary reading. Victoria is doing what the rest of us aren't: listening, documenting, and beginning to account.
Which brings me to Canberra.
Following last year’s referendum on the Voice to Parliament, which failed, Anthony Albanese promised that the government would continue to act on the principles outlined in the Uluru Statement: Voice, Treaty, and Truth. However, so far, there has been little sign of structural reform. The federal Makarrata Commission - which was meant to oversee a national truth-telling process - has vanished from headlines. There’s been no clear timeline, no national mechanism, no plan.
Instead, the message seems to be: truth-telling is now a matter for the states.
And while that might sound like decentralised leadership, it reads more like a quiet retreat. In a post-Voice political climate, where the Prime Minister seems spooked by the referendum's failure, truth-telling has been left adrift.
This is what makes Victoria so remarkable: it has chosen not to wait. And in doing so, it has offered the rest of us a model.
Why Truth-Telling Matters
Truth-telling commissions aren’t just policy devices. They’re rituals of national honesty. They're about naming wounds so they can begin to heal. For too long, Australia has refused to look thoroughly in the mirror. We’ve preferred myths over memory: that colonisation brought civilisation, that the frontier was tame, that First Nations people vanished or assimilated. Every nation carries ghosts. Ours happen to be written into our foundation.
Truth-telling is a way of saying: ‘we know the story didn't start with us. ’ And we care enough to learn it. For many First Peoples, it’s a pathway to justice. For the rest of us, it’s a test of character.
As a white man writing this, I feel the discomfort of that test. It's not my trauma to own. But it is my silence to break.
Queensland: A Truth Left Untold
After Victoria, Queensland was the second state to commit to a Treaty process. It was bold and overdue. In 2023, the Path to Treaty Bill passed Queensland Parliament, paving the way for both a Truth-Telling Inquiry and a Treaty Institute. It felt like real momentum.
Then came the referendum. And the government blinked.
Following the Voice’s defeat, Queensland's Premier Steven Miles announced that the state would pause its Treaty implementation. Truth-telling? Deferred. Political will? Dissipated. The language of consultation replaced the language of commitment.
This wasn’t surprising. It was disappointing.
Queensland has one of the largest populations of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people in the country. It also has some of the worst outcomes. Incarceration rates. Child removals. Life expectancy. Health access. All of it paints a bleak picture.
And yet, instead of deepening our response, we stalled. We hesitated. We watched Victoria and stayed silent.
What Truth-Telling Could Offer Queensland
A Queensland Truth-Telling Commission wouldn’t solve everything. But it could begin something powerful.
First, it could listen. Not through media cycles or political spin, but through long, careful, open hearings. Letting communities speak without interruption. Every great spiritual or psychological tradition on Earth suggests the power of listening, on a macro scale, is vital for healing.
Second, it could document. In our state alone, the impact of colonisation remains underexamined. From the frontier massacres to forced removals to the racist policies of the 20th century, these stories aren’t widely taught or acknowledged. Many Queenslanders remain unaware of their history. I’ve had the task of teaching Australian history to university students in recent years, and their ignorance of First Nations stories is ubiquitous.
Third, it could recommend. Like Yoorrook, a Queensland commission could identify specific reforms in law, health, education, and justice. It could lay the groundwork for real Treaty. Real change.
Finally, it could symbolise something bigger: a willingness to face ourselves.
The Gaps That Remain
Without a truth-telling process, Queensland’s First Nations policy remains reactive, fragmented, and incomplete. We've got programs, funding, and statements of intent. But no central architecture. No coordinated way to hear what needs to be heard.
Here are some of the biggest gaps:
Justice Reform: Indigenous people are still wildly overrepresented in Queensland prisons. Truth-telling could amplify calls to raise the age of criminal responsibility and reform bail laws.
Child Protection: Far too many Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children are in out-of-home care. Without truth-telling, these statistics remain detached from the long history of state interference in First Nations families.
Education: Our curriculum still lacks deep engagement with First Nations history and voices. A commission could help shape more truthful schooling.
Health: Life expectancy gaps persist. Cultural safety in healthcare is patchy. A commission could document where we're falling short.
Most of all, though, the absence of truth-telling leaves a spiritual vacuum. It says: these stories don’t matter enough. That history doesn’t count. That the status quo is fine.
It isn’t.
What Happens Now?
Queensland has already legislated the structures for truth-telling. The Treaty Institute exists. The legislative framework is in place. What’s missing is courage. Our current Premier promised all of us that he was a tough man who wasn’t afraid to tackle hard issues. So I’d invite him to step up.
We can ask our MPs: where is the truth-telling process we were promised? We can listen to First Nations voices who continue to call for it. We can write, speak, protest, teach. We can continue to tell the truth about the need for truth.
Victoria is far from perfect. But it's trying. And Queensland, despite its retreat, still has the bones of something brave.
History is always written after the fact. But it’s made in the moment.
This is ours.