Katie Robertson
Mia is a broken child. Traumatised from events she witnessed throughout her childhood, since arriving in Australia and spending over a year detained on Christmas Island she has finally lost hope. When I meet with her mother in a hot, airless demountable, she informs me that Mia has not eaten or left her bed for five days, in the hope that she would quietly die. Hand shaking, she gives me a note that Mia has written. "This is my life now", it states, above a drawing of herself, crying behind a fence. "Know I'm in here – in the fence alone. No friends, nothing to do. I hate my life, I want to die soon." On the next page, in a child's scrawl, simply the question "why?"
Last week, Minister for Immigration Scott Morrison announced that children held in mainland detention will be released into the community by the end of the year. This is good news, albeit well overdue. It does nothing, however, to assist Mia, nor the 147 other children detained on Christmas Island. Nor does it mean that the 94 Australian-born babies we currently represent, including baby Ferouz, will be released. Children continue to be punished, simply because of the date they arrived in Australia.
Mia's mother Anne is one of the many women detained on Christmas Island who recently attempted to take her own life. Desperate and with no hope, she has pleaded with the government to send her home, if only her children can remain where they are safe. I ask her what will happen if she returns home. "I will be killed, that is certain," she states. "But at least my children will not be there to witness it." The government have refused her requests.
Anne's plea to be sent back to her country, despite her genuine fear she will be killed on return, is not uncommon. Another couple I meet have asked the government on two occasions to send them back to the country from which they fled. The government has refused, on the basis that it is too dangerous for them to return.
These people are the product of the government's immigration policy on boat arrivals – make conditions so difficult, that they will "elect" to return home and face the consequences, rather than seek asylum. And yet even the government recognises they cannot return. The couple I talk to are trapped in limbo, approaching 365 days in indefinite detention with no hope of getting out soon. A few months ago, they welcomed the arrival of their first child – guards by the hospital bed; discharged to detention. This child will not be one of Morrison's lucky few. A few weeks ago, the new mother attempted to take her own life.
The Migration Act provides that a minor shall only be detained as a measure of "last resort". At the Australian Human Rights Commission Inquiry into Children in Detention last Friday, Morrison effectively acknowledged that detention is damaging for children, stating that this was why he'd decided to release children on the mainland. The Inquiry revealed that the Minister's own Council on Asylum Seekers and Detention advised him earlier this year that children would be better managed on the mainland, concluding that "what we are doing on Christmas Island is not acceptable for a nation such as ours".There remains simply no excuse, nor reason at law, for children to be detained on Christmas Island. The only apparent reason for this policy is to use these children's deterioration as a deterrent for others who might be considering a similar bid for a life free from persecution. To the Australian government, Mia is a political pawn, not a human being.
At the inquiry last month, Dr Peter Young, former Medical Director of Mental Health at the International Medical and Health Service (the company contracted to provide medical services to people detained on Christmas Island) conceded that there are "gaps" in the medical services available on the island, especially for children. He noted that recommendations by medical staff for transfers to mainland hospitals were often overruled by department staff. A two-year-old with a malfunctioning pacemaker waited two months for a transfer to a mainland hospital, during which time she became dangerously ill. When the transfer finally did occur, she was separated from her family. It is not surprising, therefore, that doctors at the Inquiry described the standard of paediatric care available on the Island as "abysmal".
Children detained more than 2500 kilometres from the coast of Australia may be hidden from the prying eyes of the Australian public and media; they are not, however, beyond the reach of the law. The Commonwealth owes people held in detention a duty to provide them with a reasonable level of health care to meet their needs, regardless of the remoteness of the location. This duty cannot be outsourced to a private company such as Serco; the buck stops with the government. Morality and politics aside – the Australian government is failing to meet its duty at law to these children – to anyone detained on the Island for that matter.
The Christmas Island detention centres should be closed and people moved to the mainland where they can access appropriate medical care. Further, the Minister should exercise his power to remove children from detention on Christmas Island immediately. His change of heart last week, while a step in the right direction, does nothing to address Mia's question.
Katie Robertson is a lawyer with Maurice Blackburn, which this week started a class action on behalf of people detained on Christmas Island, many of whom are children. Names have been changed to protect the identities of people mentioned.