Mr MORRISON (Cook—Prime Minister) (12:02): We gather to mark the 14th anniversary of the apology to Australia's Indigenous peoples. We do that, as we always do, here on Ngunnawal land. We pay respect to the Ngunnawal people and to all Indigenous peoples of this continent. We honour the Aboriginal and Torres Strait people and their elders past, present and emerging. Today, around Australia, and indeed at sea and elsewhere, Indigenous Australians are serving in the Australian defence forces, keeping us safe. I thank them, along with all who serve and all those who are veterans for their service. I give my respects to the Minister for Indigenous Australians and the shadow minister for Indigenous Australians. Future generations of Australians will visit this building and see their portraits. But we have a different privilege—one that allows us to say that we serve with them. We also recognise Senator Dodson, Senator McCarthy, Senator Thorpe and Senator Lambie. We are on a journey to make peace with our past. It's a difficult journey and it's an important one—to draw together the past, the present and the future so we can truly be one and free. We belong to a story from time immemorial—a continent that contends with us all and the work of building a strong, sovereign and vibrant democracy that gives us all a voice. But we don't seek to sugar-coat this story. We don't turn aside from the injustices, contentions and abrasions. That's what successful liberal democracies do. We must remember if we are to shape the future, and to do so wisely. So, as we do this at this time every year, we remember the stolen generations: children taken from their parents. I say it again: children taken from their parents. No parent, no child, could fail to understand the devastation of that, regardless of whatever their background is: children taken from their parents; families and communities torn apart again and again and again. With that trauma, disconnection and unquenching pain came a national shame and a deep wound: separated from country, from kinship, from family, from language, from identity, and becoming even strangers to themselves. Fourteen years have passed since we said sorry here in this place: sorry for the cold laws that broke apart families; sorry for the brutalities that were masked under the guise of protection and even compassion; sorry for believing that Indigenous people were not capable of stewarding their own lives; sorry for the failure to respect, to understand, to appreciate; sorry for the lives damaged and destroyed. So, on this day and every year since, we are right to remind ourselves of times past, not to reignite the coals of pain or to bring division where there are the beginnings of healing, but to be mindful of the lessons learnt, to turn again from the great Australian silence and towards each other, and to again say, 'We are sorry.' As I said when I spoke in support of the original motion here in this place, on the other side of the chamber, 14 years ago, sorry can never be given without any expectation of forgiveness, but there can be hope. I said: An apology … involves … standing in the middle ground exposed, vulnerable and seeking forgiveness. Forgiveness is never earned or deserved. It can never be justified on the simple weighing of hurts and grievance. Such measures will never rationally tip the balance in favour of forgiveness. Forgiveness transcends all of that. It's an act of grace, it's an act of courage, and it is a gift that only those who have been wounded, damaged and destroyed can offer. I also said 14 years ago: 'Sorry is not the hardest word to say. The hardest is, "I forgive you."' But I do know that such a path of forgiveness does lead to healing. It does open up a new opportunity. It does offer up relief from the bondage of pain and suffering that no simple apology on its own can achieve. And nor do I believe that such forgiveness is a corporate matter. It can only begin with the individual. And forgiveness does not mean forgetting, nor does it mean that there are not consequences for actions and the need for redress and restitution. This is a hard conversation. I know that Danny Abdallah, together with his wife, Layla, knows a lot about loss and grief, and they have begun this conversation with Indigenous community leaders through the i4give Foundation that they have established in memory of their children, Antony, Angelina and Sienna, and their niece, Veronique. Out of great tragedy and loss, there can rise hope, and I wish them all the very best for these conversations. Our journey, though, continues. If the apology itself was a milestone in that journey, each anniversary has been a yardstick of how far we have travelled since. Up until last year, the process of Closing the Gap, with its targets and measures, was how we judged that distance. It was a process born of sincere resolve and intentions, with no lack of money or will or work. But, because of a misguided faith in telling over listening, our targets were unmet, our ambitions unfulfilled and partnership not achieved. So last year we shifted course, and together with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples—in particular the Coalition of Peaks led by Pat Turner—we made a new national agreement, a new partnership, a genuine partnership to drive change. And so we now have a shared plan in place, one that addresses not just the very real actions and responsibilities of the Commonwealth government but also those of state and territory governments as well. If we are to ever close the gap between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians, we must work together as equal partners. That's the journey we're on now, and progress is being made. Ninety-three per cent of Indigenous children are now enrolled in early childhood education. That is an increase from 77 per cent in 2016. In just the last three years, 23,000 Commonwealth contracts have been awarded to Indigenous businesses, businesses like the ones we celebrated with members of this chamber only last Friday night at the annual Ethnic Business Awards. An example is Ben Schaber from Alice Springs, who turned his life around by getting out of prison, getting into a job, getting into a trade and now running his own specialised welding and engineering business in the Territory and providing the very same opportunities to other Indigenous Australians. Ben is an inspiration. He was joined by Ray Pratt of DICE, who won this year's award. He leads a successful energy and electrical engineering business, powering up remote communities in the Territory. And there's Leah Cameron from Marrawah Law in Far North Queensland, where she's generating social impact for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people. There's James Curran from Moec water and energy, constructing pipelines across Queensland, Western Australia and the Northern Territory. Indigenous owned and run businesses are getting the job done on Closing the Gap. Part of that journey, though, also includes redress for the wrongs of the past. Early last year, I met with the Healing Foundation and survivors of the stolen generations, and I promised them that I would look at the very important issues of redress. In August last year, I was very pleased to keep this promise and announce a $378.6 million package for a financial and wellbeing redress scheme for living stolen generations members who were removed as children from their families in the Northern Territory and the Australian Capital Territory, prior to their respective self-government, and the Jervis Bay territory. In normal times, we look up to the glass galleries above us and see schoolchildren from across Australia. They come to Canberra to learn about the country and their place in it, to learn our story. They visit the parliament and learn about our freedoms, the War Memorial to learn about the price of those freedoms, the High Court to understand we're a country of the rule of law and Questacon and the various galleries to speak to their imagination. But nowhere have we told the story of the heritage and history of this continent's Indigenous people in a way that it should be done. So, in January, the government committed to establishing a new cultural precinct in the heart of the parliamentary triangle to be called Ngurra. 'Ngurra' is a word in many languages that means country, it means home and it means belonging. Ngurra, among the instruments and institutions of modern Australia, will be a home for Indigenous belonging, experience, knowledge and value in the heart of our nation. As well, it will be a promised resting place in the very heart of our nation's capital for our oldest stories. The proposal as put forward by AIATSIS—they have consulted on it and will continue to consult on it—has been adopted in its entirety by the government, including the budget that they have sought for it. This is another important step in our journey. It will tell stories long after all of us who are here have departed. It will speak to generations and generations as the War Memorial has to so many younger generations now. It will tell those stories in truth and honesty, in compassion, in love, in patriotism and in pride for our country. There are many more steps still. To this end, we continue the work of the Indigenous Voice Co-design to ensure it is truly a voice owned by Indigenous Australians from the ground up—relevant to local communities and connected to local communities—not from the top down. This anniversary will always be a day of poignant reflection, and I look forward to the contributions of the Leader of the Opposition and the Minister for Indigenous Australians and the shadow minister for Indigenous Australians. It's a poignant reflection that can again give birth to hope as well—hope for a reconciled nation, its people at one with their past and with each other and open to shaping their future together. That is what we continue to work for, and that is what we pledge ourselves to do so once again.