Friends, colleagues, fellow Australians and especially those in the Indigenous community who have felt the sting of injustice firsthand — I write to you from more than two decades of lived experience, observation and relentless advocacy. For more than 20 years I have raised alarms about systemic racism within the Australian Capital Territory’s public institutions. For most of that time I was dismissed. It’s easy for others to dismiss the Indigenous, to dismiss us — as troublemakers, as liars, or worse; to be dismissed by politicians and public servants whose duty it is to protect the vulnerable and uphold the rule of law. Today, those who once dismissed my voice are confronted with testimony that echoes my claims exactly. Brendan Moyle, head of the Office of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Affairs, has publicly described the same patterns of cultural unsafety and institutional failure that I have been speaking about since the early 2000s. His words ought to be a turning point. If they are not, we will have to ask what will ever move this jurisdiction from performative statements to genuine, enforceable reform.
I am writing this as my account, my perspective, my testimony. These are not abstract accusations; they are the recollections, court outcomes, community testimony, and documented reports that have shaped my belief that systemic racism is entrenched in ACT Government systems. When I speak of people by name, I do so as part of my lived history and experience — the people I have encountered, the decision-makers I addressed, and the institutions that were meant to provide redress. I am not a stranger to consequence. I have lost career opportunities, endured health impacts, and been forced into protracted legal proceedings, ran the risk of lengthy terms of imprisonment, because I refused to remain silent. This is my account and my call to action. I ask that you read with care and then stand with us in demanding reform.
Why Brendan Moyle’s Testimony Matters
On Thursday, 9 October 2025, during a public hearing on a Private Member’s Bill, Brendan Moyle was asked by independent MLA Fiona Carrick whether he felt culturally safe in his workplace. He answered plainly: “No.” He went on to say that, in a long career working in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander affairs, he had never experienced the level of cultural unsafety he had encountered in the ACT Public Service. He described current supports as inadequate “bandaids” applied to a wound that meets the definition of systemic discrimination under the National Agreement on Closing the Gap. His warning was unvarnished: if the system does not change, the wound will not be repaired.
This frankness from a senior Indigenous public servant is seismic, because it corroborates what many grassroots Indigenous leaders and advocates have been saying for years. It is one thing for community members to speak about malaise; it is another when someone inside the machinery of government confirms that the culture is broken. Moyle’s testimony came during debate on Thomas Emerson’s Closing the Gap Bill — legislation designed to impose legal obligations on senior officials to promote cultural safety, build cultural capability, eliminate institutional racism, and implement the National Agreement. The Bill is no symbolic gesture; it seeks to create enforceable duties so that cultural safety and anti-racism are not optional programs that disappear when political will wanes.
Support for the Bill has been broad and resolute. An open letter supporting the Bill was signed by 38 prominent leaders – Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Elected Body members, community organisations, former ACT Chief Ministers, and Independent Senator David Pocock. Sixteen local First Nations leaders submitted a joint statement condemning the government’s “lack of accountability” and its pattern of “delay and excuse.” Witnesses like Wiradjuri woman Katrina Fanning, a former ACT Person of the Year, described the personal cost: “I’m heartbroken,” she said. “Heartbroken that the city I’ve defended and believed in, the city that stood for equality when others wouldn’t, still can’t deliver equality for its First People.”
And yet, despite this broad base of support and the Bill’s grounding in recommendations from the Productivity Commission’s 2024 review, the ACT Government sought to defer debate to prepare amendments. That deferral is, in my view, another example of the inertia that has allowed systemic discrimination to persist. For five years the National Agreement has been in place, and what have we seen? More talk, more committees, more “further consideration.” The time for further consideration is over. The time for enforceable obligations is now.
A Personal History of Fighting a System That Protects Itself
My engagement with these issues began in the early 2000s. At that time the Indigenous Commissioner for ACT Revenue raised alarms about human rights violations and discriminatory practices. Instead of credible investigation and protection for whistleblowers, what followed was retaliation. The Commissioner was dismissed by the very official he had commenced legal action against. When I sought oversight through the Ombudsman’s office, I was told there was virtually no chance of action because the complainees were essentially the investigators. That is not oversight; it is a farce. It is the protection of power by power.
Over the years I took matters through legal channels, culminating in a court case that confronted the Australian Federal Police and aspects of the ACT public service. The court case — which I won decisively — exposed material that was admitted by the ACT government. The fact that material was judicially admitted means the jurisdiction cannot credibly claim ignorance of the issues I raised. Nevertheless, the people I complained about remained in or ascended to positions of seniority. This included figures who moved through roles such as Government Solicitor to Solicitor-General and other senior legal and oversight appointments. To me, that entrenchment symbolises institutional failure: those who were meant to protect the system’s integrity instead presided over its harms.
When names and roles are mentioned in this account — and I acknowledge I name people I hold responsible — they are named in the context of my experience. I am not seeking to vilify without basis; I am insisting that the record be examined, accountability be sought through appropriate processes, and that long-standing patterns of behaviour be subject to scrutiny. The problem is not merely individuals; the problem is the system that shelters them.
Patterns of Structural Racism Across Sectors
This is not a story of isolated incidents. Systemic racism shows up in policies and practices that appear neutral, but have outcomes that disproportionately harm Indigenous people. In the ACT, this is visible in multiple sectors:
• Justice: Indigenous adults in the ACT are incarcerated at 14.3 times the rate of non-Indigenous adults. That staggering disparity is an outcome of profiling, policing practices, charging decisions, and court processes that fail to account for cultural differences, historical trauma, and systemic disadvantage.
• Child welfare: Indigenous children are placed in out-of-home care at 12.5 times the rate of non-Indigenous children. These removals are too often the result of cultural misunderstandings and assessments that ignore Indigenous kinship systems and community-based supports.
• Health: Cultural bias in health services can lead to misdiagnoses, inadequate communication, and a deep mistrust of the system. A lack of culturally trained staff and culturally safe care pathways drives people away from preventive and early treatment, entrenching poorer health outcomes.
• Education: Indigenous students face lower expectations, curricula that erase Indigenous histories and perspectives, and teaching methods that do not reflect community strengths. These systemic failings contribute to lower school completion rates and ongoing cycles of disadvantage.
• Employment and public service culture: Indigenous staff in the ACT public service regularly report being overlooked for promotion, excluded from informal networks that facilitate career advancement, pressured to assimilate into non-Indigenous workplace cultures, and subjected to microaggressions that undermine wellbeing and retention.
None of these facts are theoretical. They are confirmed by community testimony, by independent reviews, and by data. A July 2025 review by the Jumbunna Institute into the over-representation of First Nations people in the ACT criminal justice system revealed widespread racism across government systems and recommended structural reforms, including confronting institutional racism and improving processes for First Nations people. The report’s findings resonate with my lived experience: this is a system failing the people it is meant to serve.
Why Single-Party Dominance Matters
The ACT has experienced almost a quarter-century of single-party rule under Labor. Prolonged one-party dominance can create an environment in which power protects itself. Without a robust opposition to exercise checks and balances, accountability mechanisms atrophy. Cronyism can take root. Careers are advanced more on the basis of political loyalty than on merit. Dissent is tolerated less. These systemic dynamics are dangerous in any democracy, and they are particularly damaging where they intersect with the historical and ongoing marginalisation of Indigenous peoples.
When government becomes insular, oversight bodies can be compromised — the accused can become the investigators, as I experienced. Transparency is undermined and genuine scrutiny becomes the exception rather than the norm. This is not a partisan rant; it is a structural observation that explains why patterns of inaction and delay persist across administrations and irrespective of rhetorical commitments to human rights.
The Broader National and International Context
The ACT does not exist in a vacuum. Nationally and internationally, Indigenous peoples face similar patterns of systemic discrimination. In Canada, First Nations communities are overrepresented in the criminal justice and child-welfare systems. In New Zealand, M?ori continue to experience employment and justice disparities despite formal recognition of Treaty-based rights. In jurisdictions across Australia, Closing the Gap targets remain unmet in too many places, and life-expectancy, education and employment gaps persist.
Within Australia, former New South Wales police officers have come forward about racial profiling and discriminatory policing practices that fuel Indigenous incarceration. Debates about Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (DEI) programs in Victoria and elsewhere show how public sector efforts can sometimes be both necessary and controversial, highlighting the line between meaningful reform and token gestures. The international comparators offer both warning and guidance: countries that have taken a whole-of-system approach, backed by independent oversight and accountability, tend to show better progress.
The Limits of Rhetoric and the Need for Enforceable Duties
Can campaigns and slogans create change? No. Words like #RacismNOTWelcome and other public messaging matter for signalling values, but they are insufficient if not backed by enforceable commitments. That is where Emerson’s Closing the Gap Bill matters. It would move cultural safety and anti-racism from best-practice aspirations into legally enforceable duties for senior officials. It would create obligations that public leaders cannot simply opt out of when there is political inconvenience.
Delaying the Bill under the pretext of needing time to prepare amendments is, in my estimation, a stalling tactic. The Productivity Commission’s 2024 review gave clear guidance. The community has spoken. The Bill consolidates these recommendations into statutory obligations. If governments truly respect the National Agreement on Closing the Gap, they will prioritise legislation that makes cultural safety a legal duty, not a discretionary program contingent on budgets or political will.
Concrete Reforms That Must Follow
Law and policy matter, but they are only the beginning. To create meaningful, sustained change, the ACT must pursue a suite of reforms that go beyond declarations:
• Independent oversight with teeth: Investigators, ombudsmen and audit offices must be sufficiently resourced and truly independent, able to investigate complaints involving senior officials and agencies without conflicts of interest.
• Enforceable duties and consequences: Legislation must impose clear obligations on senior officials to eliminate institutional racism and promote cultural safety, with real consequences for non-compliance. This is what Emerson’s Bill seeks to achieve.
• Effective cultural capability training: Training should not be box-ticking. It must be co-designed with Indigenous leaders, practical, longitudinal, and tied to measurable outcomes for workplace culture and service delivery.
• Transparent recruitment and promotion processes: Hiring and advancement must be demonstrably merit-based while being mindful of the need to redress historical disadvantage. That means clear criteria, independent panels, and pathways that support Indigenous career progression.
• Community-led solutions: Indigenous communities must have a decisive voice in designing and delivering services that affect them. Community roundtables, properly resourced Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander bodies, and participatory budgeting for services are examples.
• Data and accountability: Disaggregated data, published regularly and transparently, should track outcomes across justice, health, education, and child welfare so that disparities are visible and subject to public scrutiny.
The Human Cost: Stories Behind the Numbers
Numbers matter because they reflect human lives. To say Indigenous children are 12.5 times more likely to be in out-of-home care is to acknowledge family separations that have lifelong consequences. To say Indigenous adults are imprisoned at 14.3 times the rate of non-Indigenous adults is to recognise that some communities are over-policed, over-charged and under-supported.
Katrina Fanning’s testimony — that she is heartbroken — is not rhetorical flourish. For many of us, this is grief; grief for the opportunities we were denied, for the family connections severed by child removals, for careers curtailed by institutional bias, for the mental and physical toll of prolonged advocacy. My own path has been costly: I lost a career, my health suffered, and my life was consumed by the legal and administrative struggles that should never have been necessary. I accept that cost because the alternatives — silence and acquiescence — would have been a betrayal of everything I believe in.
Addressing Counterarguments
Critics will respond in several ways: that DEI initiatives create reverse discrimination; that meritocracy is under threat; or that allies should beware policies that foreground identity over competency. These are legitimate democratic debates, but they often misrepresent what is being proposed. The aim is not to privilege identity over competence but to correct systemic barriers that have prevented equal opportunity. Measures that address historical disadvantage are not anti-merit; they are pro-fairness. Clear, transparent hiring practices and accountability mechanisms ensure that merit and equity are complementary, not contradictory.
Another critique is that the National Anti-Racism Framework’s language — for example, discussions around whether white people can experience racism — can be polarising. Nuanced conversation is required. We must acknowledge that any person can experience hostility or prejudice; but systemic racism refers to historical and structural power imbalances that consistently disadvantage particular groups. Policy responses must be attuned to that complexity.
A Call to Action
If you have read this far, I am asking you to act. Words without action are insufficient. Here are practical steps anyone can take:
• Support Emerson’s Closing the Gap Bill: Contact your MLA and urge them to support the Bill without delay. This legislation is designed to create enforceable duties and accountability.
• Sign petitions and amplify community voices: Petitions and public statements from Indigenous leaders and organisations demonstrate the breadth of support for legislative reform.
• Share your story and listen to others: Make space for Indigenous voices on social media and in community forums. Visibility matters when confronting institutional denial.
• Demand independent investigations: Push for independent oversight with the capacity to investigate senior officials and agencies without conflicts of interest.
• Hold officials to account: Write to the Chief Minister, the Attorney-General, and Ombudsman offices to insist on transparent responses to complaints and independent review of past decisions.
• Support Indigenous-led organisations: Fund and advocate for community-controlled services that deliver culturally appropriate care and legal support.
A Plea and a Hope
This fight is not simply personal. It is generational. It is about whether the ACT — a jurisdiction that prides itself on progressive values — will live up to those values in practice. It is about whether we will allow institutions to protect themselves at the expense of the people they serve. It is about whether Indigenous Australians in the ACT will be afforded the dignity, safety, and equality that are the hallmarks of a just society. I am heartbroken like Katrina Fanning. I am exhausted. I am angry at the inertia. But I am also hopeful. And I refuse to give up.
Hope rests on three things: truth-telling, enforceable reform, and collective action. Brendan Moyle’s testimony pierces the denial that has protected the ACT’s status quo for too long. The Closing the Gap Bill offers a pathway to convert words into obligations. And the community — Indigenous leaders, former public servants, concerned citizens, and principled politicians — can make change inevitable if we refuse to be placated by promises and demands accountability.
Conclusion
For more than two decades I have been told I was wrong, that I was making trouble, that I should be quiet. The system did not protect me; it protected itself. The same system has inflicted harm on countless Indigenous people in this jurisdiction. Brendan Moyle’s public account is not an isolated voice — it is confirmation from inside the system that cultural unsafety is real and pervasive. The Jumbunna review, the Productivity Commission recommendations, community testimony, and the persistent statistics all point in the same direction: systemic racism is present in the ACT’s institutions and it requires urgent, enforceable reform.
We cannot wait for another review, another committee, or another symbolic campaign. We must insist on legislation that creates duties and consequences, on truly independent oversight, and on community-led remedies. The Closing the Gap Bill is not a panacea, but it is a crucial step. It must be passed without delay, and it must be implemented in a way that produces measurable outcomes.
To everyone reading: amplify these voices, demand accountability, and refuse complacency. Indigenous Australians deserve more than bandaids on gaping wounds. They deserve a system that protects their rights, honours their culture, and allows them to thrive. This is not merely a political dispute — it is a moral one. Stand with us. Act now. Hold leaders accountable. The time for real accountability in the ACT is long overdue. Let this be the moment we choose justice over convenience, truth over denial, and action over more empty words.
