Facts, not fear: A Personal Journey to the Kaldor Centre for International Refugee Law

We are living in extraordinary times, and we cannot rely on myths and half-truths, Renata Kaldor AO told the first National Multicultural Women's Conference on November 3, 2016. Read the text of her keynote remarks.

Good morning, and thank you. I also acknowledge the traditional owners on whose land we meet, and pay my respect to their elders past and present.   

We’re meeting here today to commit our combined energy to the task of ensuring that modern Australia is a place of hope, opportunity and dignity for all – and our First Nations people know better than most how often we fall short in this endeavour.

I am really delighted and honoured to be attending this First National Multicultural Women’s Conference.  

It comes at a time of such great significance – for the nation, for multiculturalism, and for women, right here and all around the world. 

We are living in extraordinary times. 

In so many ways, we seem to be at a once-in-a-generation tipping point. 

Around the world, people are on the move. Economies are on the brink. Inequality is on the rise. Fear is infecting everything. 

In these times, we cannot rely on myths and half-truths. 

We will need stronger leadership, at every level – from mothers and grandmothers, to women and men in the highest offices of business and government. 

But I believe it can end well – if we deal honestly with the facts. 

The organisers have asked me to speak about my personal story, my career, and more importantly about the Kaldor Centre for International Refugee Law, which my husband and I started in 2013.

It seems my story, like so many others, is woven together in the title of the conference: A woman from another culture, who enthusiastically became part of this strong, diverse nation of Australia; a global, national and personal story. 

My story starts in Europe, in Prague to be exact, in the aftermath of World War II. 

I belong to the group of people, mostly families, who left war-ravaged Europe to avoid the Communist takeover of our homelands. 

We came as part of the largest intake of refugees ever to come to this country. It would be fair to say, in today’s terms, that we were the Syrians of the time.

In 1949, 48% of all migrants to Australia were refugees. 

When you compare this to the 1970s, when the percentage of our immigrants that were refugees dropped to 25%, and today, 2016, when less than 11% of our migrants are refugees, you can understand what an enormous challenge this presented to both this country and the new arrivals.

Of course migrant stories differ greatly, depending on their circumstances and motivations. 

Many migrants to Australia come from English-speaking countries like the UK, USA, South Africa or New Zealand. Others come from countries like Greece, Italy, Turkey, and Malta. 

Migrants like these come willingly, seeking economic and lifestyle changes. Many return to their country of birth, regularly, to visit relatives – and some even return to retire.

I am not diminishing the challenges faced by this group of migrants but their experience tends to be different from those who come seeking asylum,- who, once it is agreed they need protection, become recognised as refugees. 

These people, unless circumstances change dramatically in the countries they fled, cannot go back. 

The need for them to assimilate is critical. 

The evidence shows that refugees are some of Australia’s most productive and successful people. 

Our Immigration Department in 2011 published a report from Professor Graeme Hugo at the University of Adelaide. His study considered the economic, social and civic contributions made by refugees and their children since 1975. It revealed that while refugees may initially experience higher rates of unemployment and lower incomes than other migrant groups, this situation changes with the passage of time and they prove to be a net economic benefit.

Certainly immigration has enriched us in ways well beyond the bottom line, and I am sure we’ll explore many of those contributions throughout the conference. But in times of fiscal restraint, I know money matters.

Professor Hugo’s report showed that on average, refugees also have greater entrepreneurial qualities than other groups – in fact, he pointed out that five of Australia's eight billionaires in the year 2000 were of a refugee background.

The self-described ‘boat person’ and entrepreneur Frank Lowy, who founded Westfield, explained it this way:

“To imagine a better life for you and your family, and to make the leap of faith required to leave behind all that is familiar, calls for a special kind of courage." 

“If we look at new arrivals to Australia from this perspective, our capacity will be greater to welcome them warmly, and to help them make a new home here as one of us.” 

Of course among refugees, there are a number of experiences. 

There are people fleeing for their lives, like my husband’s family from Hungary. His was a classic, almost cinematic story, which involved: people smugglers, who took their money and then abandoned the family in the woods at the Austrian border;  his mother nervously drugging baby Andrew to keep him quiet;  and his father, facing the end of a soldier’s loaded gun, saying ‘Shoot me if you must but I cannot go back, where I will surely be killed.’ 

Miraculously, they made it all the way to Australia. 

There are other families, like mine, who felt that after surviving the Nazi occupation, they could not live under another totalitarian regime – this time under the guise of Communism.

My father, who was Jewish, returned to Prague after he and his only surviving relative, his sister, were freed from the Concentration Camp in 1945. When he returned, he married my mother. My sister was born in 1946, and I came along in 1947. 

In 1948, there was a Communist coup in Czechoslovakia. 

So we left the following year and arrived in Sydney in October 1949.

Fortunately, my parents spoke English and had a good education.  Both of them started working immediately – my mother selling in a shop and my father importing goods from England. 

With no relatives or friends to help, my sister and I were looked after by a procession of women, who were recommended by the small Czech diaspora already settled here. 

My very first memories are of attending a child-minding centre run by a woman known to us as Aunty Gerda. 

Aunty Gerda had a room at the back of her house which she used as a kindergarten. Gerda was also newly arrived from Europe and she catered for children of refugees, all from families like ours. There was not an Australian-born child there.

Child-minding facilities were unknown in 1950s Australia, and I am sure Gerda’s set-up would be illegal today. It was a loud and crowded place – but I still remember Gerda as a kind and loving figure. This is where we all learned English, and many of us went on to the same primary school from there.  It was a comfort to be surrounded by children who ate “strange food” and spoke in different languages, just like us. 

Our father always spoke English to my sister and me. He was very aware that we needed to assimilate, and that “refos” were looked down upon if they didn’t speak “the King’s English”. 

My mother spoke Czech to us in private and English when we were out in public. I still remember the embarrassment I felt when my mother would forget to speak English. She would often be admonished by strangers who would say, “Speak English… you are in Australia now.” 

She would always apologise profusely. This must have happened a number of times because I still remember how ashamed it made me feel that we were foreign.

Overall I have very happy memories of my early life in Sydney.  I was only conscious of being “different” or “foreign” because of my name, my lunch and my grandmother.

I wished I could have been Susan or Mary – not Renata, which no one could remember or spell. Some of my teachers thought it was my surname, not my Christian name. At the beginning of each year, we had to stand in class and say our names; I really hated that ritual.

Then there was my lunch box – filled with black bread and salami, instead of white bread with Vegemite or peanut butter. There was no way my friends would swap sandwiches with me. 

My grandmother was finally allowed to come to Australia in 1952. 

She lived with us and used to pick me up from school. She didn’t speak English and she looked foreign. She dressed differently than the other mothers. 

Like all young children, I wanted to fit in – to be picked up by my mother, not a grandma, who always wore a hat – yes, she always dressed up to pick us up from school, in hat and gloves!

I think it’s important to say here that I believe we do need to deal with women’s issues specifically in all of this – as this conference asks us to do. 

Migration for women is often more complex than for men. More often than not, women migrate because of the wishes of their husbands, not necessarily because they want to leave their country of birth. 

This makes their journey and settlement so much more difficult.

I think about my mother's experience of those first few years in Australia. I do think it was much harder for her to adjust. She had two small children to look after, a new country, no relatives. She was working full time, cooking, shopping, cleaning and learning the customs of a foreign land. When we were sick, she had to navigate the health system. She found our schools, and babysitters when she needed to go for appointments. 

My father was an extremely good person, but he travelled with his job and was not accustomed to what we call "house work". 

My mother understood that we had to leave Czechoslovakia, but I am not sure that she realised the responsibilities she would have to undertake. I think many women who leave their homes are in much the same situation. 

As for me, with my parents’ love and support, I finished high school and, against the nuns’ advice, attended UNSW, where I met my husband, Andrew. 

We had a lot in common. Both our families had arrived in Australia in 1949. He spoke two languages, as I did, and he likewise had grandparents living in the same household. He also ate continental food!

I graduated, became a high school English teacher in Cronulla, and a year later I married Andrew. Straight after our wedding we moved, so that my husband could finish his studies in the US.

We lived and worked abroad for a number of years. In Philadelphia, I taught primary school, and when we moved to UK I worked in Educational Welfare. Our daughter Nicola was born in London, and when we returned to Sydney in 1974 I was expecting our son, Evan – the first of our family to be born in Australia. 

Here I started my own importing business, because I wanted flexibility; I could work from home. Then in 1980 Andrew bought a manufacturing company and I joined him in that business. I worked with him until I left to work on the election campaign of Nick Greiner, who was running for Premier of NSW.

Nick and Andrew were friends from school. Their families had known each other in Hungary. Nick’s family escaped at the same time and also settled in Sydney.

During the Greiner election campaign, I meet Virginia Chadwick, who would become first the Minister for Community Services and later Minister for Education. We got know each other well. We had similar values. And when she offered me the chance to Chair the NSW Women’s Advisory Council, I just couldn’t resist. 

Through my work on the Council, I had the opportunity to meet many of the ministers in the Greiner cabinet; thus, my appointment to the Senate of University of Sydney, and my board appointment to the State Rail Authority.  I became involved in Government work and have remained there for the past couple of decades. 

My concern about refugees was dormant during this time. I applauded the Fraser decision to bring the Vietnamese to Australia, and likewise the Hawke decision welcoming Chinese students after the Tiananmen Square massacre.  

It was what Australia did – helped, when people were in trouble.  We were multicultural, and we would accept people from other countries without hesitation. 

Then in 1988, John Howard made a speech about Asian immigration and our ability, as a nation, to absorb Asian people. 

I was shocked – and I left the Liberal Party, which I had joined in 1974. 

But it was Tampa that really activated Andrew and me. 

You will recall that in 2001 a Norwegian freighter rescued 438 refugees – mostly Hazara people fleeing Afghanistan.  The captain sought permission to enter Australian waters, but the Howard Government refused.  When the Tampa came anyway, Howard ordered the Special Forces onto the boat.

Now, I remember my father talking about his time in Auschwitz; he said people knew what was going on in these camps but no one was brave enough to speak out.

I felt that I had a moral duty to speak out about the Tampa. 

There were members of the Liberal Party who were as appalled as we were.  We held numerous meetings at our home with these politicians and opinion leaders, to try and pressure the Howard Government. 

I rang religious leaders. I asked Nick Greiner to go on radio and speak out against what was happening. I spoke at a conference at UNSW about the situation. I wrote opinion pieces in the newspapers.  

We found many allies in the Labor Party and tried to work with them. But as time went by, we realised the politicians were not going to act – and things were only getting worse. 

For 13 years we had tried to change the policy from within. It was not working. We needed to change direction.

In 2013 I was approached by a colleague who knew of my interest in refugee issues. He was on the board of UNSW Law Foundation. He told me about an extraordinary professor who was an expert in international refugee law, named Jane McAdam. 

She was internationally recognised as a leading thinker in the field, a non-resident fellow of the Brookings Institution, affiliated with the Oxford Refugee Studies Centre, a young global leader at the World Economic Forum. 

She wanted to set up a centre to concentrate on refugees – to contribute to a more constructive public dialogue, with information that was rational, unemotional, principled, evidence-based. 

Andrew and I met with her and realised this was a chance to do something more meaningful than what we had been doing on our own.

So the Andrew & Renata Kaldor Centre for International Refugee Law was born.

It is the world’s first and only research centre dedicated to the study of international refugee law. 

We are a small team, but a powerhouse. In a short time, we’ve developed an outstanding reputation as a source of independent, nonpartisan, rigorous and credible analysis on refugee issues. 

We are trusted – sought out as a voice of reason in an otherwise politicised and toxic debate.

Andrew and I believe this is critically important. Facts. Ideas that are above partisan politics. Policy alternatives that are not half-baked and are based on common principles. 

Facts such as these:

One: Australia was the first country in the world to put mandatory detention of asylum seekers into law – and one of the few countries to pursue it. It was introduced by the Keating government in 1992.

Two: Detaining, turning back and processing asylum-seekers has become Australia's fastest-growing government program; according to the latest budget analysis, between 2013 and 2016 taxpayers will foot a bill of nearly $10 billion – though the true cost is likely to be much higher, as this figure does not account for the costs of maintaining, interrogating or defending our current ‘deterrence’ approach.

Three: In one year – 2014 – Australia spent more than $3 billion on offshore processing; that means we spent the same amount to deal with a few thousand people as the UN spent looking after the 50 million people displaced worldwide at the time.

Four: At $400,000 per person per year, offshore processing costs Australian taxpayers 10-times more than allowing asylum seekers to live in the community – and that’s including the costs of their living expenses and essential health care.

It’s all so irrational.

In this national conversation of spin and panic, we need serious people looking at the facts and looking for solutions. The Kaldor Centre aims to do this through its rigourous research, and by feeding that into public policy debates – always bringing a principled approach to the issue.

The Centre’s work engages with the most pressing displacement issues in Australia, the Asia-Pacific region and the world. These include offshore processing; regional cooperation in Asia; alternative, safe and legal pathways to protection; and displacement in the context of climate change and disasters.

The Kaldor Centre team has research relationships with world-class institutions such as Oxford and Harvard, and they are actively developing broader networks across Europe and Asia. 

The Centre's scholars have published an enormous amount, including two popular books: A myth-buster from Jane McAdam and Fiona Chong called Refugees: Why Seeking Asylum is Legal and Australia’s Policies Are Not — a book which was shortlisted for the Premier’s Literary Awards last year. And more recently, Madeline Gleeson’s harrowing book Offshore: Behind the Wire on Manus and Nauru, which is up for a Walkley Award this year.

One of the country’s leading commentators on the issue, David Marr, had this to say of Madeline’s book:  “I thought I knew this saga but I learned so much.… After this, no one can claim Australia didn’t know what Australia was doing.”

And that is the point of the Kaldor Centre’s work – to ensure Australians are engaging with the facts, not just the fear. 

While everything we do is based on high-quality research, the Kaldor Centre's scholars are unusual in that they do not want to remain in an ivory tower. 

It’s important that the evidence and ideas we generate through the Centre’s research helps to influence public debate and policy thinking – and that it is communicated in ways that are relevant and accessible to the general public, civil society, policy makers and others.

That’s why the Kaldor Centre has run dozens of community and student-engagement programs; contributed to scores of journals and conferences; and done more than 100 media interviews — including this week, when Madeline Gleeson was busy responding to the Government’s latest proposal to ban refugees who arrive by boat from ever entering Australia, even as a tourist. 

Our website has really accessible information – including “fact sheets” that have become the go-to reference for anyone interested in clear information, and a Weekly E-news Roundup that has a global subscriber base running to the thousands, including people at the highest levels of decision-making.  I recommend you all sign up too!

The Centre’s work is impressive not only for its volume but also for its influence. Jane and her colleagues have made parliamentary submissions on almost every piece of refugee-related legislation introduced since the Centre’s establishment. And I expect they will be doing so again, should parliament invite comment on Minister Dutton’s proposed ban. 

They’ve appeared before committees in Canberra and are sought after for advice, not only here in Australia but also by international organisations such as UNHCR and the World Bank, participating in high-level roundtables and direct briefings with policymakers. 

From its unique position — a place of research, rather than advocacy — the Kaldor Centre can serve as a hub where academics, policymakers, NGOs and the broader public can meet and honestly discuss the implications of our laws. 

The power of bringing people together in this way is illustrated by the Centre’s flagship event, our annual Conference.  The next conference will take place on November 18th, and it will gather top experts from overseas and from across Australia to discuss some of the 21st century challenges in refugee protection. 

The UN Special Rapporteur on the Human Rights of Migrants, Professor Francois Crépeau, will deliver the closing keynote.

The conference will also reveal world-first brain-mapping research into the impact of torture and trauma on refugees.

Scholars will showcase data on how Australia's new fast-tracking system for determining who is a refugee impacts the outcomes, and how policies of deterrence are playing out for refugees around the world.

That's what an academic centre can do — look at society’s important questions in a deep and innovative way. 

This year’s conference will look at refugee protection issues through the lens of time. This might strike you as abstract, but did you know that the average length of time a person is displaced is 20 years? In this context, time is a very important part of the refugee experience. What are the implications of this long limbo for refugees’ wellbeing? 

How does it change our understanding of refugee situations as emergencies… or crises? And how should it inform the way our governments respond?

When we look at displacement through a longer-term lens, we must seriously ask how we can transform our refugee policies – not just respond to a short-term emergency or political problem. 

These are the kinds of discussions we hope can foster a more informed policy response to refugees.

Some people might say that discussions like these won’t change public opinion in Australia. But I hope public opinion might be nearing its own tipping point. 

As we learn more about the impacts of our harsh deterrence policies, more people are starting to feel uneasy about them.  And once we understand that alternatives are possible – taking lessons from history, and from other countries, about how we can do better – then I think the Australian public will demand that we do just that.

We know the world is watching – that Australia can be a power for good, or for otherwise. 

Author Donald Horne called Australia ‘the lucky country’ – and though he didn’t intend it to be a positive description, Australians have embraced it. 

We know we’re lucky to be part of one of the world’s most prosperous, democratic, healthy and happy countries.

Ironically, it is thanks to our political stability and our affluence that few of us have any idea what it is like to fear persecution. The issue of asylum has almost no impact on our everyday lives. We’ve ‘disappeared’ asylum seekers from our communities, out of reach of our neighbourhoods, workplaces, and our friendship groups. No wonder we have little empathy; we have so little lived experience to relate to. 

The policies of successive governments over the past two decades have begun to erode our social fabric and the values we like to think we hold dear.

That’s why I’m here, telling my story. 

My experience is of a fair and equitable Australia. I think that is the most fundamental of Australian ideas – it encompasses equal opportunity, mutual respect, tolerance and human dignity. And these same ideas form the heart of international human rights and refugee law.

As refugees, Andrew and I experienced Australians as welcoming. Australians deserve their reputation around the world as energetic, optimistic and open people. One-to-one, Australians get on with helping others – even when it’s a matter of reminding a mother, kindly but firmly, to ‘Speak English, we’re in Australia now.’

Now, as an Australian and a new custodian of this country for the next generation, I think we need to get on with it: ensuring that modern Australia really is a place of hope, opportunity and dignity for all. 

Thank you.