Political Forgiveness

Apology, forgiveness, and reconciliation will be discussed in this essay
Picture from http://goo.gl/k1dbm

I found this to be a very interesting essay to write. I have considered what forgiveness could mean in a secular democratic environment. However, I'm not sure whether a secular democratic environment is actually the best for society, so I'm not completely sure whether I agree with my conclusion. I think forgiveness could be less limited than I have defined it throughout this essay, however, this is as far as I can justify it through words. This paper was submitted for the subject 'Politics, Violence and Memory'.

Is there such thing as political forgiveness?

Political forgiveness is limited and problematic, but with appropriate reflection, it can become a valuable mechanism for reconciliation and transition. I will argue that there is such thing as political forgiveness, and I will define the term in its many elements throughout the discussion. In this paper, I seek to validate the following seven claims: (i) that a commitment to the elimination of resentment is a necessary, although not sufficient, condition of forgiveness, (ii) the elimination of resentment therefore does not constitute as forgiveness, (iii) forgiveness may also require truth, respect, and an openness to reconciliation, (iv) forgiveness in isolation is not a virtuous characteristic of the citizen or state, (v) genuine forgiveness is not condonation, nor need it be pardon, (vi) it is not a victim’s duty to forgive, although it could be regarded as morally commendable, and (vii) that those who have inherited fortunes from the immoral actions committed by previous generations could be eligible for forgiveness due to the injury of illegitimate inheritance.

The concept of resentment appears regularly in the literature surrounding political forgiveness. The Oxford English Dictionary describes resentment as a ‘sense of grievance, an indignant sense of injury or insult received or perceived; (a feeling of) ill will, bitterness, or anger against a person or thing.’[1] For forgiveness to be relevant to a situation, one party must have injured another party. Often in such situations, the injured party will carry some kind of resentment or ‘ill will’ against the other party. Digeser has suggested that ‘forgiveness requires either the actual elimination of resentment or a commitment to the process of eliminating it.’[2] A great deal of my analysis will centre around this assertion.

In relation to political communities it is crucial to understand whether the only way to move beyond resentment is through an act of forgiveness, or whether there are means other than forgiveness that one could use to move beyond resentment. The second question is whether the elimination of resentment constitutes as forgiveness. I will contend in regard to the former point that forgiveness generally is a necessary, although not an entirely sufficient, condition of moving beyond resentment. In regards to the second question, I will contend that the elimination of resentment does not constitute as forgiveness.

Some authors such as Nir Eisikovits have argued that victims can ‘simply move on’ without being forgiving or resentful.[3] It is possible that the victim has had some form of memory loss, or fails to recognise the harm for what it is. However, it seems that in ordinary circumstances forgiveness from the victim is required for the victim to move beyond her resentment towards the perpetrator. The very act of abstaining from forgiveness feeds resentment.[4] One may ask an injured party, ‘so you still haven’t forgiven him for what he did to you?’, the injured party may respond by saying ‘no, I chose not to’, which implies that there is still resentment attached to the injury. If the injured party responds by saying ‘I saw no need to forgive him,’ the injured party must not consider the injury to be grave enough to warrant forgiveness. Only in the circumstance where the injured party does not fully recognise the extent of his injury (or in fact the injury was minimal in the first instance) could the injured party adequately move on without harbouring feelings of resentment in circumstances where the injured party chooses not to or is unable to offer forgiveness to her perpetrator.

In regard to the second point, it is possible for the elimination of resentment to be a necessary condition of forgiveness without the elimination of resentment being forgiveness in itself. For a victim to forgive his perpetrator, the victim must experience more than a lack of resentment. While committing to the elimination of resentment may be the first and most challenging condition of forgiveness, it does not appear to be adequately sufficient. Forgiveness may also require truth, respect, and an openness to reconciliation in addition to a commitment to the elimination of resentment.

Forgiveness has been described as a virtue of the saintly. While this may be the case in the private realm, the virtuous nature of forgiveness in the public-political realm is ambiguous. Downie suggests that ‘readiness to forgive is a virtue and inability to forgive, or at least unwillingness to try, a vice.’[5] However, it is also clear that being too quick to offer forgiveness ‘may result in the weakening of moral restraints on other people’s immoral conduct.’[6] Therefore, it is difficult to find the balance between embodying some kind of ‘forgiving spirit’ while not supporting an immoral act. This point, is particularly relevant to political forgiveness as the perception from the public that a state is condoning an act behind the masquerade of ‘political forgiveness’ is more than plausible, and may have a negative rather than positive effect on the overall situation. More often though, the state is the party who has either been active or complicit in a mass atrocity; the state is the party that is asking for forgiveness. This raises issues with accountability, especially in a political environment that is democratic. Hastily forgiving the wrongs committed by an elected political representative, if widely embraced, could potentially radically undermine the principles of democracy and citizenship as we know them. I will elaborate on this in the last part of the discussion. It will suffice for now to suggest that of the political virtues that have been expounded upon by thinkers such as John Rawls, John Locke, and Immanuel Kant, it would seem that forgiveness is not one of them, or perhaps more precisely, it is not on its own sufficient. Virtues such as respect, equality, dignity, and accountability have historically had a much stronger connection to political life.

It would be reasonable to suggest that if by the very nature of granting forgiveness one must also simultaneously grant pardon and condone the act of injury, forgiveness would have little, if no political appeal. Downie suggests that there are two main reasons why forgiveness and condonation have become confused. The first is in relation to the trivial definition of forgiveness, as in, ‘forgive me for interrupting your meal’, which is more similar to a soft apology which would not in normal circumstances require acceptance from the other party as there was no injury caused. This kind of forgiveness has more to do with courtesy and common language usage, which has little relevance with political forgiveness that may be requested or offered in the aftermath of a  mass atrocity. The second confusion relates specifically to condonation, ‘that condonation is frequently used as a morally inferior substitute for forgiving.’[7] The point which Downie is trying to draw out here is that there are often times when people ‘forgive’ an immoral practice because it is in their self-interest. It is, in the cruel sense of the term, in my self-interest to ‘forgive’ companies that use slave-made cocoa, blood diamonds, or natural rainforest materials. I am tempted to ‘forgive’ my government for her involvement in wars, the ill-treatment of asylum seekers, or the pollution of the environment because it is in my self-interest to make myself believe that I am kind-heartedly ‘forgiving’ these practices when I am in fact condoning them. In summary, the kind of forgiveness that is synonymous with condonation of an immoral act is not the kind of forgiveness which is being explored in this paper. Forgiveness is the condonation of the person behind the act while simultaneously being the condemnation of the act itself.[8] Unless the act and the person can be separated, it is unlikely that the victim will be able to forgive her offender.

Forgiveness in some cases may mean that pardon is granted, however, this is by no means a rule. If a person genuinely desires forgiveness she should still accept her dues. The victim or a judge who has authority over the matter may decide to lessen the punishment because of the perpetrator’s repentance. However, it is out of generosity that a level of pardon may be granted to the perpetrator. The perpetrator still ought to receive her just deserts, provided that they are not motivated by the victim’s sense of resentment. Downie suggests that ‘to pardon is in fact to condone’, or in other words, if to forgive is not to condone, and to pardon is to condone, then to forgive is not to pardon.[9] In some circumstances, especially in regard to personal acts of forgiveness, the victim has the liberty to pardon the offender. In regard to political forgiveness to pardon entirely is effectively to condone. However, the choices need not be between pardon and retribution. Reparations, compensation, and restitution are just a few examples of alternatives to retribution which would, all things being equal, not condone or pardon an immoral action. The distinct yet related concepts of forgiveness, pardon, and condonation should not be confused with one another.

Genuine forgiveness must flow from generosity rather than obligation. It may be morally commendable for a person to forgive her offender, but it could never be a moral obligation. The terms ‘charity’ and ‘duty’ have often been viewed as synonymous, however, this is an error in need of clarification. Duty relates to the debt that is owed, for example, the debt that the offender owes to the victim. As Marina suggests in her exposition on Kant, ‘if we have a moral claim on someone’s doing something, then for the person to grant what is due to us, it is to act justly, not graciously.’[10] If an offender compensates their victim, they do not do so out of ‘charity’ or from a kind heart (although the offender may happen to be a ‘charitable’ or ‘kind-hearted’ person), this is an act of justice. Forgiveness is not a duty or an act of equalising justice, but rather, it is an act similar to charity which could be viewed as morally commendable.

Lastly, I want to touch on the issue of identity. Forgiveness, apology, and reconciliation becomes more complex in the political realm, as the political realm has to deal with individuals, groups, and generations which have dynamic identities. This complexity was most recently brought under the spotlight in regard the apology by the Australian Government for the ill-treatment of Indigenous Australians. Former Prime Minister of Australia, John Howard, did not believe that ‘one generation can accept responsibility for the acts of earlier generation [sic]’, and he did so ‘as a matter of principle.’[11] This is a widely held criticism of the apology, that by apologising, we are effectively condemning the sons for the sins of their fathers. However, all societies inherit wealth, resources, and technology amongst other things from previous generations. It seems reasonable that if I gladly inherit goods which are derived from immoral actions, such as the mass slaughter and unjust treatment of indigenous Australians, then it follows that I also inherit the ‘costs’ as well. Therefore I may still owe a debt of restitution even though I am not explicitly blameworthy for the immoral actions of previous generations. It also follows that there are harms that Indigenous Australians could forgive ‘White Australia’ for, and equally, there are benefits received which ‘White Australia’ could ask to be forgiven for illegitimately inheriting.

My conclusion follows the seven claims that were initially mentioned in the introduction: forgiveness can be a valuable virtue of the citizen and the state if it is balanced appropriately with other political virtues, and other general virtues such as truth, respect, and an openness to reconciliation. Political forgiveness may contain elements of pardon, but for it to be virtuous, political forgiveness must not be synonymous with pardon or condonation. If it were synonymous with pardon or condonation, political forgiveness could radically undermine the core values that we associate with democracy and citizenship. Political forgiveness can only occur out of a sense of generosity rather than duty. There are times when it is morally commendable for citizens, states, or political communities to offer forgiveness. Finally, identity will inevitably be an issue for political forgiveness, however, there are times when identity is invoked as a reason to not offer or accept forgiveness when it is simply the atomisation and denial of responsibility.

Bibliography

Balázs, Zoltán. “Forgiveness and Repentance.” Public Affairs Quarterly 14, no. 2 (April 1, 2000): 105–127.

Davies, Anne. “Apology Was a Mistake, Says Feisty Howard.” The Age. Melbourne, March 12, 2008. http://www.theage.com.au/articles/2008/03/11/1205125911264.html.

Digeser, Peter. “Forgiveness and Politics: Dirty Hands and Imperfect Procedures.” Political Theory 26, no. 5 (October 1, 1998): 700–724.

Downie, R. S. “Forgiveness.” The Philosophical Quarterly 15, no. 59 (April 1, 1965): 128–134.

Eisikovits, Nir. “Forget Forgiveness.” Theoria Theoria 51, no. 105 (2004): 31–63.

Mariña, Jacqueline. “Kant on Grace: A Reply to His Critics.” Religious Studies 33, no. 4 (December 1, 1997): 379–400.

Oxford English Dictionary. “‘Resentment, N.’.”, n.d. http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/163487?redirectedFrom=resentment.

Smith, Roger W. “Redemption and Politics.” Political Science Quarterly 86, no. 2 (June 1, 1971): 205–231.

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[1] Oxford English Dictionary, “‘Resentment, N.’.”, n.d., http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/163487?redirectedFrom=resentment.

[2] Peter Digeser, “Forgiveness and Politics: Dirty Hands and Imperfect Procedures,” Political Theory 26, no. 5 (October 1, 1998): 700–724.

[3] Nir Eisikovits, “Forget Forgiveness,” Theoria Theoria 51, no. 105 (2004): 35.

[4] Generally speaking, abstaining from forgiveness is no less an active process as the act of forgiving. Neither can be appropriately viewed as omissions.

[5] R. S. Downie, “Forgiveness,” The Philosophical Quarterly 15, no. 59 (April 1, 1965): 128.

[6] Zoltán Balázs, “Forgiveness and Repentance,” Public Affairs Quarterly 14, no. 2 (April 1, 2000): 111.

[7] Downie, “Forgiveness,” 131.

[8] Roger W. Smith, “Redemption and Politics,” Political Science Quarterly 86, no. 2 (June 1, 1971): 218.

[9] Downie, “Forgiveness,” 131–132.

[10] Jacqueline Mariña, “Kant on Grace: A Reply to His Critics,” Religious Studies 33, no. 4 (December 1, 1997): 379.

[11] Anne Davies, “Apology Was a Mistake, Says Feisty Howard,” The Age (Melbourne, March 12, 2008), http://www.theage.com.au/articles/2008/03/11/1205125911264.html.

Asylum seekers in Australian political discourse

The media and politicians increasingly focus on the issue of ‘boat people’ and ways of ‘stemming the tide’ of arrivals.  While such arguments are often framed as campaigns as part of the battle against ‘people smugglers’, what do they reveal about the general trend of ‘criminalizing migration’ in our ‘securitized’ world?

Immigration and asylum has been politicised to the point where the politics of fear trumps our moral values in human rights. Security issues surrounding those seeking asylum, while important, tend to be derived from reactionary politics. Unfounded fears of a large number of asylum seekers claiming excessive Centrelink benefits and ‘ripping-off’ tax payers have been spread by Channel Nine News, Howard Sattler, and Alan Jones[1]. These fears have caused Australians to be less concerned with the plight of asylum seekers and how our government treats them. To add fuel to the flame of apathy, the Australian government has ensured that ‘no humanising images of asylum-seekers’ are to be shown to the Australian public[2]. This essay reviews the human cost of mandatory detention in conjunction with a hostile attitude towards those attempting to seek asylum on our shores. The ‘Children Overboard’ affair is just one event in a series of challenges in regards to immigration that Australia has faced. The Australian government’s reaction to the situation has displayed firsthand fear that is entrenched in public sentiment towards people arriving unannounced on our shores. This essay will contrast the political response to asylum seekers with the human face of the issue.

‘It was during the night. We didn’t know which way the shooting was going but the shooting was too much. [I was] vomiting, very scary, very sick and my daughter … too; my daughter very vomiting’.

These were the words of Ali Alsaai who was on board the Suspected Illegal Entry Vessel 4 (SIEV 4) [3]. This vessel carried 223 people, 76 of whom were children. On October 7, 2001, in the early hours of the morning, shots were fired in the water to deter SIEV 4 from proceeding towards Christmas Island[4]. The SIEV 4 had ignored several warnings from HMAS Adelaide asking the SIEV to turn back towards Indonesia. These requests were delivered in written and spoken form, and in ‘English, Bahasa and Arabic’ according to the Senate enquiry into the Children Overboard affair[5]. However, repeated requests for the SIEV to turn back towards Indonesia were ignored. Unaware of the heated political situation they were entering into, the passengers of  SIEV 4 were in the unfavourable circumstances of being intercepted by HMAS Adelaide less than 24 hours after then Prime Minister, John Howard, had called an election.

‘We will decide who comes to this country and the circumstances in which they come. And can I say on this point what a fantastic job Philip Ruddock has done for Australia’[6].

Only three weeks after SIEV 4 was shot at, Prime Minister, John Howard, fiercely asserted these words, soon to shape the slogan, ‘stop the boats’. When boat arrivals peaked in 1999, immigration minister Mr Ruddock described situation as ‘an assault on our borders’ to the scale of ‘a national emergency’[7]. The ‘fantastic job’ that Philip Ruddock had done was to create a sense of fear, appealing to public interest, in a bid to secure votes. This fear eventually led to John Howard being re-elected into the Australian parliament. Whether Mr Ruddock had done a ‘fantastic job’ for Australia, or whether he had done a ‘fantastic job’ for Mr Howard in preparing him for victory seems ambiguous. What is clear however, is that the Liberal government had not won a victory for human rights. This environment of cheap political victories ignored the human face of the asylum seeker crisis.

‘We could see their faces and the screaming was just horrific. They were yelling, ‘Help us!’ and, at one point, it was more deafening than the 50-calibre machine gun’[8].

These were the cold words of Able Seaman Laura Whittle who was on board the HMAS Adelaide as she fired shots towards SIEV 4. The task of her ship was to keep SIEVs out of Australian waters. Whittle admits that she was, at this stage, ‘not thinking about them as people’ and ‘largely indifferent to the asylum seekers’ fates’[9]. However, Whittle’s views were abruptly challenged when she saw a man holding his young daughter in his arms[10]. ‘It just made my heart melt’, Whittle recalled, ‘it was like the father was saying to our guys in the inflatable rafts, ‘take her, take her’ … it was then that I moved out of work mode and the humanity began to kick in’[11]. Whittle then thought, ‘how could somebody be so desperate to do something like this, to head towards the unknown with their children on a rickety boat and to put everything at risk? They must have been coming from something terrible and it made me think, this isn’t right, this isn’t how things should be’[12]. Prime Minister, John Howard, was adamant that children were thrown overboard and that he ‘certainly doesn’t want people of that type in Australia’[13]. However, Whittle saw no children being thrown overboard, and nor did anyone else for that matter[14].  Whittle’s account of the events of October 7, 2001, provide a valuable insight into the void between reality and populous politics.

‘During my visit to immigration detention centres in Darwin, I saw the grim despondency of asylum seekers waiting months and in some cases well over a year to be released. These people who arrive with such relief and hope after experiencing trauma in their home countries, should not be treated this way’[15]

Navi Pillay, the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights during her recent visit to Australia in May 2011, argued that we should not be treating asylum seekers in the way that we currently do. In an interview on ABC’s PM she called on the ‘leaders of all Australia’s political parties’, asking them to ‘take a principled and courageous stand to break the ingrained political habit of demonising asylum seekers’[16]. Unfortunately, this was a very idealistic ask of Australian political culture, as Kevin Rudd’s attempt at ‘humanely’ treating asylum seekers was a factor in his downfall. In Rudd’s bid to gain power leading up to the 2007 election, he wrote an essay ‘Faith in Politics’, outlining his perspective on how these subjects are interrelated. He wrote ‘the biblical injunction to care for the stranger in our midst is clear. The parable of the Good Samaritan is but one of many which deal with the matter of how we should respond to a vulnerable stranger in our midst’[17]. Journalist Robert Manne commented in 2008 that Rudd’s asylum seeker policy was ‘morally admirable but politically perilous’[18]. Rudd would in turn pay a heavy price for his ‘humanitarian stance’ on asylum seekers as it was viewed as a loss of control of our borders. Julian Burnside QC, in 2002, argued that mandatory detention was a ‘breach of our obligations under international conventions’. However, in the nine years since this statement was reported, attempts by former Prime Minister Rudd and others seem to have done little to aid the situation[19].

‘She’d tied a sheet to the ceiling, swallowed a bottle of shampoo, then put her head in the makeshift noose. When the guards managed to break the door down, her parents and seven-year-old brother found her lying in a sea of vomit, her face translucent with death.’[20]

The story of Amy, at only nine years of age, is the horrifying result of mandatory and indefinite detention in Australia. Repeated recommendations were issued for Amy’s immediate release, including one from an ‘expert psychiatrist’. However, these recommendations were ignored. Mr Ruddock also ignored an urgent child protection notification asking the government to grant Amy and her family temporary protection visas. Amy’s family were part of a persecuted Christian minority fleeing from their country. Her father was escaping execution on fabricated charges, managing to ‘bribe his way out of prison, sell the family’s entire belongings and pay people smugglers to get them to Indonesia’[21]. It has been suggested that Australia’s detention system has been ‘designed to induce mental trauma’[22]. For Amy, and many other detainees, this seemed to be the case. Amy’s story was reported less than a year after former Prime Minister John Howard congratulated Philip Ruddock on the ‘fantastic job’ he was doing for Australia. In another case, a World Vision employee, Amin Jan Amin, was locked up in detention on Nauru. According to refugee Sajjad Sarwari, Nauru is not even worthy of being called a detention centre. He described Nauru as a ‘hellhole’ and expressed his concern for those who are still there to a reporter from The Age[23]. Tim Costello, on the day he became chief executive officer of World Vision Australia, wrote to the immigration minister confirming Amin’s identity and his good character as described by his AusAid program manager. It was not until several months later Amin Jan Amin was released from Nauru and issued a temporary protection visa[24]. The inhumane treatment of Amin Jan Amin, as well as Amy and her family are the sickening consequences of populous politics. It is important to note that both Amin Jan Amin and Amy considered themselves to be Christian, in some ways ‘like us’ (or more ‘like us’ than other immigrants), and yet, they were still treated inhumanely. Amy was a child, at just nine years old, while Amin Jan Amin was a fondly remembered World Vision employee, yet still these attributes were not enough. It leaves one wondering how bleak seeking refuge in Australia must look for those who are of other faiths, those who are of age, and those who don’t work for internationally respected non-government organisations (NGOs). In attempt to ‘criminalise’ migration we have put hand-cuffs on the vulnerable and marginalised.

‘There is an undeniable linkage between illegals and terrorists’[25]

Peter Slipper, a Liberal Party MP, asserted this statement only weeks before an anti-terrorist squad was sent onto SIEV 4 (‘Children Overboard’). However, Adrian D’Hage, a former defence official saw the situation differently: ‘It is not a matter of national security when asylum seekers are picked up.  These are unarmed civilians’, he told ABC’s Lateline[26]. William Maley, the director of the Asia-Pacific College of Diplomacy, also disagreed with Peter Slipper. Maley suggests that it is ‘relatively’, perhaps even ‘absurdly’ easier to enter Australia on a tourist visa rather than on a boat. Willy Brigitte, a French passport holder with terrorist ties did not travel on a leaky boat to Australia, but rather, he came by plane on a tourist visa[27]. However, the fear of a terrorist slipping through the nets is still rife in Australia. 

‘If I talk to an Australian I will ask this question, ‘You are a citizen of this country, you are its conscience. You teach your children respect of human rights and to support civil rights. Please treat others, as you would like to be treated.’[28]

It is clear that our ‘tough stance’ on those seeking asylum, especially those who come on boats, is derivative of fear which has been invented by particular individuals and groups in order to satisfy their self-interest. Our policies on asylum seekers are sometimes developed in the name of ‘humanitarianism’, aimed at taking a hard line approach to people smugglers by locking up the victims. The so-called ‘security threat’ that asylum seekers present has been shown in this essay to be a political convenience rather than a truthful claim.

Bibliography

Austin, M. A. J. (2003). From nothing to zero : letters from refugees in Australia's detention centres. Melbourne, Vic.; London, Lonely Planet.

Australian Broadcasting Corporation. (2004, August 18, 2004. 6:53pm (AEST)). "Navy gunner breaks silence on SIEV IV."   Retrieved May 28, 2011, from http://www.abc.net.au/news/newsitems/200408/s1179280.htm.

Australian Broadcasting Corporation. (2011). "UN commissioner still critical of Malaysia deal."   Retrieved May 26, 2011, from http://www.abc.net.au/pm/content/2011/s3226895.htm.

AustralianPolitics. (2001). "John Howard's Policy Speech."   Retrieved May 17, 2011, from http://www.australianpolitics.com/news/2001/01-10-28.shtml.

Brennan, B. (2008). Just words? : Australian authors writing for justice. St Lucia, Qld., University of Queensland Press.

Briskman, L., C. Goddard, et al. (2008). Human rights overboard : seeking asylum in Australia. Carlton North, Vic., Scribe.

Commonwealth of Australia. (2005). "Chapter 3 - The ‘Children Overboard’ Incident: Events and Initial Report."   Retrieved May 12, 2011, from http://www.aph.gov.au/Senate/committee/maritime_incident_ctte/report/c03.htm.

Frow, J. (2007). "Unaustralia : strangeness and value [Paper in: Slight Anthropologies. Frow, John and Schlunke, Katrina (eds).]." Cultural Studies Review 13(2): 38-52. 2, 13. Retrieved Sept 2007 from http://search.informit.com.au/fullText;res=APAFT;dn=200807457.

Gordon, M. (2005). Freeing Ali : the human face of the Pacific solution. Sydney, University of New South Wales Press.

Jones, T. (2002). "Children overboard affair hits military moral." Lateline  Retrieved May 30, 2011, from http://www.abc.net.au/lateline/stories/s482123.htm.

Kelly, F. (2001, 20/09/2001). "Howard's electoral fortunes turn around." The 7:30 Report  Retrieved May 29, 2011, from http://www.abc.net.au/7.30/content/2001/s371736.htm.

Kelly, F. (2002). "Govt wrong on asylum seeker allegations."   Retrieved May 30, 2011, from http://www.abc.net.au/7.30/content/2002/s481361.htm.

Leser, D. (2002). "Behind the wire." Women's Weekly  Retrieved May 25, 2011, from http://davidleser.com/slippages/uploads/download/file/df-9-181-71.pdf.

Leser, D. (2007, September 28, 2007). "Children Overboard: Two Women, Two Stories." Australian Women's Weekly  Retrieved May 25, 2011, from http://davidleser.com/slippages/uploads/download/file/df-9-128-18.pdf.

Maley, W. (2010). "Fear, Asylum, and Hansonism in Australian Politics." Dialogue 29(2): 10-19. 2, 29. Retrieved.

Manne, R. (2010). "Comment: Asylum Seekers." Monthly, The: 8-14. Retrieved Sept 2010 from http://search.informit.com.au/documentSummary;dn=357400003317555;res=IELHSS.

Mares, P. (2001). Borderline : Australia's treatment of refugees and asylum seekers. Sydney, Australia, UNSW Press.

Media Watch. (2009). "Welfare and Refugees."  38. Retrieved May 30, 2011, from http://www.abc.net.au/mediawatch/transcripts/s2724620.htm.

Rudd, K. (2006). "Faith in politics [Christian ethics and the State.]." Monthly (Melbourne, Vic.): 22-30. Retrieved Oct 2006 from http://www.themonthly.com.au/tm/?q=node/300

http://search.informit.com.au/fullText;res=APAFT;dn=200611367.

The Age. (2004). "Baghdad, Nauru, Wellington: taking the long way home."   Retrieved May 31, 2011, from http://www.theage.com.au/articles/2004/03/26/1079939851249.html.

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[1] Media Watch, Welfare and Refugees, 2009.

[2] Brennan, Just words? : Australian authors writing for justice, St Lucia, Qld., 2008, p. xiii.

[3] Briskman, Goddard and Latham, Human rights overboard : seeking asylum in Australia, Carlton North, Vic., 2008, p. 33.

[4] Commonwealth of Australia, Chapter 3 - The ‘Children Overboard’ Incident: Events and Initial Report, Canberra, 2005, section 3.13.

[5] Ibid., section 3.9-3.11.

[6] AustralianPolitics, John Howard's Policy Speech, 2001.

[7] Mares, Borderline : Australia's treatment of refugees and asylum seekers, Sydney, Australia, 2001, p. 28.

[8] Leser, Children Overboard: Two Women, Two Stories, 2007, p. 79.

[9] Ibid., p. 79.

[10] Ibid., p. 79.

[11] Ibid., p. 79.

[12] Ibid., p. 79.

[13] Kelly, Govt wrong on asylum seeker allegations, 2002.

[14] Australian Broadcasting Corporation, Navy gunner breaks silence on SIEV IV, 2004.

[15] Australian Broadcasting Corporation, UN commissioner still critical of Malaysia deal, Sydney, 2011.

[16] Ibid.

[17]Rudd, Faith in politics [Christian ethics and the State.], 2006, p. 29.

[18] Manne, Comment: Asylum Seekers, 2010, p. 11.

[19] Leser, Behind the wire, 2002, p. 45.

[20] Ibid., p. 44.

[21] Ibid., p. 44.

[22] Frow, Unaustralia : strangeness and value [Paper in: Slight Anthropologies. Frow, John and Schlunke, Katrina (eds).], 2007, p. 41.

[23] The Age, Baghdad, Nauru, Wellington: taking the long way home, Melbourne, 2004.

[24] Gordon, Freeing Ali : the human face of the Pacific solution, Sydney, 2005, pp. 45-49.

[25] Kelly, Howard's electoral fortunes turn around, 2001.

[26] Jones, Children overboard affair hits military moral, 2002.

[27] Maley, Fear, Asylum, and Hansonism in Australian Politics, 2010, pp. 11-13.

[28] Austin, From nothing to zero : letters from refugees in Australia's detention centres, Melbourne, Vic.; London, 2003, p. 137.