2 hours ago
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As I travel the world, I am reminded again and again that the health of a society is revealed not only in its laws or its institutions but in the way its people speak to, and about, one another. My father taught that nonviolence begins with language and the discipline to choose words that uplift rather than degrade, that clarify rather than distort and that build community rather than fracture it.
Last month in the United States, we marked the holiday that bears his name at a time when our own social cohesion is under immense strain. The rhetoric of public life has grown sharper, more cynical and more divisive. Too often, we speak as if our neighbours are adversaries rather than fellow citizens. But this erosion of respect is not unique to America. It is a global challenge and Australia is not exempt.
During my Australian visit, I have sensed both the extraordinary achievements and future potential of this nation along with the fragility of its social fabric. As I see in so many communities across the world, there are deep wounds and deeper misunderstandings. But what I also observe is the power of narrative. The stories we tell about one another, and the stories we showcase, shape the possibilities of our shared future.
When we speak about groups of people as problems rather than partners, we diminish our collective humanity. Reducing individuals to stereotypes or statistics closes the door to empathy and allowing fear-based narratives to prevail weakens the bonds that hold us together.
Australia is at a moment when it is wrestling with the impact of language and division and the realisation that the choice of language matters profoundly.
While these concerns apply across all of society, it is in the nation’s relationship with its First Peoples that has been the focus of my trip to Sydney this week, and further illustrated for me the importance of language, respect and narrative.
In every conversation about emerging First Nations talent, about pathways to full economic participation, and about the link between economic and social justice, I have been reminded that language is not an accessory to progress, it is its foundation. The stories a nation chooses to tell about Indigenous Australians do more than shape public opinion; they shape opportunity, belonging and the character of the country itself.
So often, Indigenous Australians have been spoken about primarily through the lens of deficit: disadvantage, disparity, dysfunction. These realities must be confronted honestly but they are not the whole story.
The equally important story is one of resilience, brilliance, creativity and leadership. It is the story of young people applying their talent and tenacity to succeed. A story of communities that carry deep wisdom about land, kinship and stewardship and have so much to teach the world.
During my time in Sydney, I have had the privilege of meeting First Nations university students through the CareerTrackers Indigenous internship program. These young people are not defined by deficit but by excellence and aspiration. They are engineers, scientists, lawyers, designers and entrepreneurs in the making and they are rewriting the narrative.
History shows that when a society changes its story about who belongs and who can lead, collective ambition expands. In the US, when public celebration of Black Excellence challenged entrenched limits, we widened the nation’s sense of what is possible.
Much of my family’s work is centred on the belief that respect is not passive. It is a practice and not merely the absence of insult. We must find the courage to confront injustice without dehumanising those who disagree and the discipline to choose words that reflect our highest values rather than our lowest impulses.
In America we are learning, sometimes painfully, what happens when respect erodes. Polarisation deepens, collapsing trust and weakening our democracy. Australia must not wait for such fractures to widen before taking action.
The work of strengthening social cohesion begins with a commitment to responsible language and civility that goes beyond legislation. It must be modelled by leaders, reinforced by institutions and practised by all.
That future will require speaking about Indigenous Australians, indeed all community groups, with the respect their cultures and contributions deserve. Elevating stories of achievement, like those I’ve witnessed this week and rejecting narratives that rely on fear or dehumanisation.
My father believed in the Beloved Community, a society where differences are not erased but embraced, where justice is pursued without violence, and where dignity is afforded to every person. That vision is not an American dream; it is a human one.
Australia has the opportunity to bring that vision closer to reality. But it begins with language and respect. It begins with the stories you choose to tell about one another.
