There is a rather pleasing irony in last Wednesday's High Court ruling that the Hindmarsh Island Bridge Act is valid. Those who had been trying to have the Act overturned had argued that the Constitution prevents the Commonwealth from passing laws detrimental to Aborigines. Although the High Court has side-stepped this thorny question, in the long run the court's decision about the Act itself will undoubtedly benefit Aborigines. The 5-1 ruling -- with only Justice Michael Kirby dissenting -- will also help to maintain public respect for the High Court.
Had the court struck down the Act, it would have conveyed a dreadful message, both to Aborigines and to other Australians. Whatever the legal arguments, the court would have been seen as stating that Aborigines can make fraudulent claims in order to block any development they don't like, and that neither governments nor the law can stop them.
This message would have harmed race relations and demoralised the many Aborigines who are angry at the ways their culture and history are being manipulated and distorted for short-term political and economic ends. It also would have encouraged public scepticism about any future Aboriginal heritage claims in other parts of Australia.
The Hindmarsh Island mess started in 1993, after a coalition of conservationists, ferry drivers and wealthy home owners who were trying to prevent the construction of a bridge linking the island to the South Australian mainland came to realise they were unlikely to be successful. They shrewdly decided that Aboriginal support would greatly strengthen their case. Until that time, the local Ngarrindjeri people had not opposed the bridge, even though they had been aware of it since 1989, when the bridge developers had consulted with Ngarrindjeri leaders.
In December 1993, the South Australian Aboriginal Legal Rights Movement asked both the state and federal ministers for Aboriginal affairs to prohibit the bridge, claiming it would damage archaeological sites. When it became clear such sites would not provide sufficient grounds, the Ngarrindjeri who had joined the anti-bridge fight searched around for something more potent.
"Secret women's business" emerged soon after a female anthropologist who had been studying Aboriginal women elsewhere in South Australia suggested the possibility, perhaps only innocently, to a couple of prominent anti-bridge Ngarrindjeri. The heady combination of spirituality and women proved irresistible to the then Federal Minister for Aboriginal Affairs, Robert Tickner, and to Professor Cheryl Saunders, the legal academic engaged to investigate these new claims.
Professor Saunders reported that Ngarrindjeri women believed the bridge would make "the cosmos, and human beings within it, sterile and unable to reproduce". This was more than enough for Tickner, who immediately declared that the bridge could not go ahead for twenty-five years.
And so things would have stood had it not been for a group of fourteen courageous Ngarrindjeri women. They knew the claims about "women's business" had been conjured out of nowhere, and they were prepared to speak out, despite the physical threats, ridicule and ostracism that was directed against them. Although they did not care whether or not the bridge was built, they took their own history and traditions seriously, and were outraged by what they saw as the dishonest way in which these were being presented.
The fourteen came to be known as the "dissident women", a term which they initially disliked, because it suggested they were the ones who were going against established Ngarrindjeri traditions. The "dissidents" were led by three remarkable women, Dulcie Wilson, Bertha Gollan, and Dorothy Wilson, and they asserted that had "secret women's business" really existed it was impossible that they would not have known about it.
This is a compelling argument. Even though particular stories might have been confined to a select group, all Ngarrindjeri would have known the area around Hindmarsh Island was sacred in order to avoid any actions that might desecrate it, particularly if such actions could make the world sterile.
The women's statements led to a South Australian Royal Commission. The "dissident women" were backed up by two anthropologists from the state Museum, one of whom, Dr Philip Clarke, was married to the daughter of a Ngarrindjeri leader who had become a prominent opponent of the bridge. Clarke told the commission that one hundred and fifty years of anthropological and other observations had failed to find even the slightest hint of any Ngarrindjeri "secret women's business".
In December 1995, the Royal Commission found that Ngarrindjeri "women's business" was a total fabrication, created for the sole purpose of stopping the bridge. The "dissident women" expected this would be end of the matter, and looked forward to rebuilding ties with family members and former close friends which had been damaged by the dispute.
Unfortunately, this was not to be. Too many people -- academics, clerics, lawyers and politicians, as well as Aboriginal activists -- had invested their credibility and emotional energy in the "women's business" falsehood, and they were not willing to let the matter rest. The High Court action was the culmination of a series of attempts to neutralise the Royal Commission's findings.
I rang two of the "dissident women" immediately after the High Court's decision was announced. They were absolutely delighted that the truth had finally won out, and thought the many other Ngarrindjeri who know that the "women's business" claims are nonsense would be pleased as well.
In years to come, Hindmarsh Island may well be seen as a turning point in Aboriginal affairs. It was perhaps the first time that a group of Aborigines, with no material interest in the outcome of a particular heritage dispute, had stood up to defend the integrity of their past against fraudulent, politically-motivated claims.
Their stand was not easy for them, but they persevered. In all the fuss since last Wednesday's ruling they have been virtually ignored. Apart from the bridge itself, there is one important piece of unfinished business relating to Hindmarsh Island -- honouring the "dissident women", whose honesty and courage should set an inspiring example to all Australians. In the words of Dorothy Wilson's sister, Beryl Kropinyeri, "reconciliation starts with the truth".
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