Skip to main content Skip to main navigation

Stop insisting I mourn for a Queen who led an institution that did immeasurable damage to Indigenous peoples

The insistence that we must mourn the Queen is cringeworthy. Such a mindset is befitting of a colony, not a culturally diverse, modern nation. But more to the point, such a mindset is disrespectful to First Nations people, writes Professor Braden Hill.

Union Jack flying at half mast. Union Jack flying at half mast at Buckingham Palace.
Professor Braden Hill.
Professor Braden Hill.

As a Noongar, I need to confess something: I’m a big fan of the TV series, The Crown.

While mostly fictional, it is a compelling glimpse into the lives of the British royal family — even my French husband enjoyed it, and that’s saying something.

Beyond my streaming habits, I have a fleeting sense of connectedness to the late Queen.

My great grandmother Ellen Hill, who died in 2020 at the age of 97, met Queen Elizabeth II on her visit to Wardandi country in 2001.

An exceptionally low quality, ink-jet printed photo sits atop my grandparents’ cabinet capturing the occasion.

Throughout Australia and the world, millions mourn the death of Queen Elizabeth.

For many, she represented stability and commitment to duty and was a reassuring figure of continuity; others may have seen her as a peripheral figure, symbolic of an outdated institution.

But for some, she represented the British empire’s legacy of (now, stay with me here, don’t succumb to fragility) colonialism, dispossession, exploitation, slavery and racism.

Perhaps what has been most fascinating about the loss of the Queen has not just been the realisation we are stuck with Charles as King, or that Prince Andrew is getting the corgis — it’s been the cracks appearing in deferential silences about the darker aspects of the monarchy’s rule.

Once we forgave her coldness towards Princess Diana, the Queen’s popularity obscured the ability of many to see — let alone critically think about — the Queen as the institution.

An institution that enslaved more than 2 million people in service of its Caribbean colonies, starved more than 3 million in India and left stolen lands decimated in service to the British monarchy.

Much of this was barely acknowledged or recognised by the Queen, but these histories are current realities for millions of people throughout the world.

Similarly, for Aboriginal people the impacts of colonialism are well understood and embodied.

Now certainly, plenty of blakfullas out there would have a fondness for the Queen, but what is pause for consideration is the recent policing of alternative narratives about her and the British monarchy.

The same people who deride ‘cancel culture’ are the very same people shouting down voices critical of the Queen, with calls for such troublemakers to “show some respect”.

The notion Indigenous peoples, colonised peoples, should demonstrate respect for a regime that showed little respect to the peoples it ruled over, is as rich as the coffers of the Commonwealth (Stolenwealth, if I may).

For instance, Indigenous NRL player Caitlin Moran said something mean about the Queen and had a quarter of her salary docked.

One commentator called it “the most reprehensible thing… ever seen connected to rugby league”.

The NRL, that steadfast bastion of social justice.

Meanwhile, when Indigenous scholar Professor Sandy O’Sullivan suggested the Queen was much more than a passive bystander of colonialism, they received abuse and death threats to the point that a leading Indigenous social media outlet,  IndigenousX, made the decision to suspend its account for the safety and wellbeing of its Indigenous presenters.

The thing about colonisation is it’s not a one-off historical event, it’s an ongoing structure.

It relies on unknowing, erasure and ignorance — both wilful and otherwise.

Ultimately, its power is observable in the stories we choose to tell, the voices we elevate, what histories we choose to know and teach, the languages we value and the beliefs we uphold.

It is also seen in the laws we make, the people we lock up, whose children we remove, the names we give important places and spaces, the days of mourning we acknowledge, and the reactions we have to the skin colour of Little Mermaids.

Of course, there are differing views on the Queen, the monarchy and its colonising legacy.

However, the inability of some to look beyond their own dominant worldview is not shocking, it is a consequence of colonisation we all bear, albeit unequally.

The privilege is in the reality that some of us do not have to know, feel or live with the innumerable destructive consequences of colonialism.

There is such privilege in the ability to get upset that many people throughout the world shed very few tears upon hearing the news of the Queen’s death.

Queen Elizabeth, and now the new King, are heads of an institution that has done immeasurable damage to peoples they presided over.

Therefore, the insistence we all must mourn the Queen is just a bit cringeworthy.

Such a mindset is befitting of a colony, not a culturally diverse, modern nation.

But, more to the point, such a mindset is disrespectful to the First Nations people on this continent that never ceded their sovereignty to a monarch from strange lands.

So, I look forward to the next season of The Crown.

You know, the one where the King establishes a Royal Reparations Commission to support repatriation programs, education foundations, cultural institutions and health programs for global communities continuing to be impacted by the legacy of British colonialism.

Professor Braden Hill is Deputy Vice-Chancellor (Students, Equity and Indigenous) at Edith Cowan University.


Media contacts

For all queries from journalists, official statements from the University or to speak to one of our subject matter experts, please contact our Corporate Relations team.

Telephone: +61 8 6304 2222
Email: pr@ecu.edu.au
Social: follow us on X