In a move that was supposed to foster unity, a regional council in New South Wales made a decision that ended up doing the exact opposite. By voting to remove the Aboriginal flag from public display, they inadvertently erased a vital part of the community’s identity. This story isn’t just about flags—it’s about history, representation, and the ongoing struggle for recognition.
Kevin Atkinson, a Bangerang elder deeply connected to the land along the Murray River, sees this decision as a step backward. ‘If they want us to respect their history, they need to respect ours,’ he says. ‘That’s how we move forward together, not as separate groups pulling in different directions.’ His words highlight a fundamental truth: unity isn’t about erasing differences but about honoring them.
The Bangerang people’s homeland spans the Murray River, encompassing parts of northeast Victoria and southern New South Wales. Corowa, one of the largest towns in the NSW region, is famously known as the birthplace of Australian federation. Yet, ironically, the same council that proudly bears the name ‘Federation Council’ voted in November to remove the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander flags from its chambers, opting to fly only the Australian flag. The council did agree to display the Indigenous flags during Naidoc and Reconciliation weeks, but this compromise feels hollow to many.
But here’s where it gets controversial: The council’s decision wasn’t just about flags. A draft document titled Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Protocols also proposed restricting Welcome to Country ceremonies to those ‘approved by an adopted council resolution,’ replacing them with Acknowledgment of Country statements—which don’t require a traditional owner’s presence. This change, the council claims, is about ‘transparency and fiscal responsibility.’ But to many Indigenous Australians, it feels like a dismissal of their cultural and spiritual practices.
Corowa’s mayor, Cheryl Cook, defends the decision, stating that the Australian flag is ‘the primary symbol of unity for all residents.’ She argues that focusing on the national flag represents the shire as ‘a single, cohesive community under one sovereign emblem.’ Yet, this perspective raises a critical question: Can unity truly be achieved by sidelining the symbols and traditions of First Nations peoples?
And this is the part most people miss: The Murray River region is steeped in Indigenous history. It’s the birthplace of significant figures like Sir Doug Nicholls, a Yorta Yorta man born at the Cummeragunja Aboriginal mission. Lake Moodemere, just across the river from Corowa, was once a refuge for Bangerang people fleeing colonial disruption. When they were forcibly moved nearly a century ago, Corowa lost its visible Indigenous population—but the history remains.
The decision to remove the flags comes on the heels of other troubling events. In 2023, the electorate of Farrer, which includes Corowa, voted 75% against the Indigenous Voice to Parliament referendum. A year later, a group of masked neo-Nazis marched through the town center. Joanne Atkinson, a Bangerang and Wiradjuri woman, sees a connection: ‘This is a ripple effect of the failed referendum,’ she says. ‘Recognizing others shouldn’t come at the cost of disrespecting our people.’
Councillor David Harrison, one of four who voted against the proposal, worries about the town’s reputation. ‘We’re known for neo-Nazis marching down our main street, and now we’re removing flags,’ he says. ‘We need to draw a line and say this isn’t who we are.’
For many in Corowa, the flag debate feels secondary to more pressing issues like aging infrastructure. Of the locals Guardian Australia spoke to, only one supported the council’s decision. ‘Everybody has a right to be represented,’ said Danielle, a local resident. ‘The Aboriginal flag deserves a place alongside the Australian flag.’
Ethan Williams, a Wiradjuri man and chairperson of the Southern West Yiradyuri Clans Land, Water and Sky Country Aboriginal Corporation, expressed ‘deep concern’ in a letter to Mayor Cook. ‘Traditional owners have inherent rights to care for our country and ensure our culture thrives for future generations,’ he wrote. ‘This includes speaking up when decisions affect how First Nations peoples are seen and included.’
The draft protocols were open for public submission until December 2025, and the council will vote again in March. But the question remains: Can a community truly unite by silencing part of its own history?
What do you think? Is the council’s decision a step toward unity or a misstep that deepens division? Share your thoughts in the comments—let’s keep this important conversation going.
