In July, in the midst of the crisp Canberra winter, the Embassy stands firm. Now it has gained a new emblem. While the black and brown flag with its traditional insignia still flies, politicians who cast their gaze over the lawns from their office windows cannot fail to be struck by the new addition. A new flag, arresting in its design and colours of black, red and yellow, boldly underscores the Embassy’s assertion of Aboriginal nationhood. [54]
From the beginning, the McMahon Liberal government has been affronted by the existence of the tents. Former Prime Minister John Gorton had raised the possibility of their removal at the very first sitting of parliament that year. But now, Ralph Hunt, Minister for the Interior, is finally able to approve the new ordinance to make it illegal to camp on Parliament’s doorstep. [55] Now it is possible to act. Six days after Aborigines around the country march in a national demonstration for land rights, the police move. It is only the first of two bloody and brutal encounters with the protestors. On both occasions, they march in military style from Parliament; their dark uniforms a stark contrast with the Whiteness of the building. On both occasions, the violence is frightening. Despite the insistence of the protestors that ‘We Shall Not Be Moved!’, several activists find themselves ferrying the injured to hospital. When it is all over, the remaining Aborigines cluster in little groups, looking dazed. [56]
Few want to abandon their Embassy. A meeting after the second violent removal of the tents reveals not only the protestor’s resolve, but also the depths of their anger. Chicka Dixon reminds everybody of the need for ‘sustained action’. Foley wants to show the government that they mean business — with a few Molotov cocktails. Walker suggests that, if the tents are removed for a third time, some sort of ‘destruction’ be inflicted on White society. [57] But many protestors also fear that a further confrontation with police will result in deaths. [58] In the afternoon of 30 July, after re-establishing the Embassy and spending the day on the lawns with hundreds of White supporters, the Embassy staff allow police a passage through the crowd, and the tents are peacefully removed. [59]
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Although the defiant image of the Aboriginal Embassy continues to stand as one of the most significant moments in twentieth century Aboriginal political history, the connection with Black Power activism has often been overlooked. Certainly, not all Embassy supporters aligned themselves with Black Power. The Embassy, in its encapsulation of the claim to land rights, had the wide support and participation of Aborigines from the entire political spectrum. Yet in July 1972, when the McMahon Liberal government attempted the Embassy’s removal, there they were, dozens of activists with clenched black fists thrust in the air. Amid the chants of ‘LAND RIGHTS — NOW!’, Walker strode the lawns in his Black Panther jacket, waving the Aboriginal flag. John Newfong, Paul Coe, Michael Anderson, Cheryl Buchanan, Gary Foley, Billy Craigie, Ambrose Golden-Brown, Tony Coorey and Roberta Sykes, many of them Redfern activists from the Medical and Legal services, all defended the tents. Bob Maza, along with Anderson, brought the National Black Theatre to the lawns, where it performed ‘the whole history of Aboriginal/European conflict’ in its ‘Embassy dance’.[60] Despite their defeat by police, the feeling that they had won a moral victory was running high. Surely their claims could no longer be ignored?[61]
In the 35 years since the first erection of the Embassy, its significance as a marker of the demand for Aboriginal land rights has taken on legendary qualities, and those demands have remained as urgent as ever before. Erected again and again since 1972, the Embassy now maintains a constant — if uneasy — presence among the tourist surrounds of Old Parliament House. In this time the encampment has been variously described as an ‘eyesore’ and a place of pilgrimage. It has inspired artwork and has been the target of several firebomb attacks.[62]
Although the Embassy’s symbolic importance to Indigenous people was recognised in 1995 when it was listed on the Register of the National Estate,[63] White Australia has either continued to avert its gaze from this organic and ramshackle reminder of the Indigenous presence in Australia, or has continued to seek its physical removal. In the most recent governmental attempt to erase the Embassy, Minister for Territories, Jim Lloyd, has argued that the site would be better served by an authorised and structured exhibition. Here, camping would be disallowed and carefully controlled displays would provide an educative function for tourists.[64] Perhaps more symbolically, in the Bicentenary year of White occupation of Australia, the seat of Australian government simply moved away. It now lies further up the hill, where the main view from the front steps is not a shabby Aboriginal encampment but a sweeping expanse of manicured lawn down to the old White building and onwards to the war memorial.