History Cannot Be Resolved, But It Can Inform Our Future

History Cannot Be Resolved, But It Can Inform Our Future

Australia, like many nations born of colonisation, carries a complex and painful history. And while we cannot rewrite the past, we are left with an uncomfortable question: What do we do with it?

We often hear the phrase “lest we forget” in the context of war, but it's equally powerful when applied to the broader scope of our nation’s past. Atrocities were committed—against Indigenous Australians, against convicts, against those who simply held the wrong political views or stole to survive. The challenge now is not to resolve history—because that is impossible—but to ensure it is not repeated.

In 2008, Australia said “Sorry” to the Stolen Generations. It was a landmark moment. But many Indigenous voices still express that the apology rang hollow without systemic change. As a result, many non-Indigenous Australians now find themselves walking on eggshells—unsure how to engage, fearful of saying the wrong thing, and hesitant to participate in national conversations that require everyone at the table.

It's worth remembering that trauma in this country isn’t limited to one group. The legacy of British colonisation left its mark not only on Indigenous Australians but also on the early European settlers—especially the Irish convicts.

Take the Battle of Vinegar Hill in 1804. These were not hardened criminals; many had been transported for petty crimes or for daring to speak out against British rule. After serving their sentences, they hoped to return home. Instead, they were denied passage and pushed further into despair and rebellion. The uprising at Rouse Hill was brutally quashed by the Crown, and the massacre left a scar that still echoes through time—a colonial wound inflicted on the Irish just as much as on others.

The site of the battle remains visible today, yet it’s rarely mentioned in our national dialogue. It’s a striking example of generational trauma—how power and punishment can reverberate long after the event itself.

So where does that leave us?

Do we continue to dwell in the shadows of history, paralysed by guilt or anger? Or do we move forward—acknowledging pain, learning from the past, and building a nation where shared history becomes a point of unity rather than division?

Moving on does not mean forgetting. It means refusing to be defined by past wrongs while actively working to address their legacy. It means having honest conversations without blame, discomfort, or defensiveness.

History can't be resolved—but it can be faced. And when we face it together, we honour the truth without being imprisoned by it.

"We are not held back by the past—we are held back when we refuse to learn from it."
— Unknown