Let's not forget we're all boatpeople

THIS week, a lesson in the language of international diplomacy.

THIS week, a lesson in the language of international diplomacy. For weeks now, Kevin Rudd has been telling Australians that Indonesia's patience on the matter of a foreign vessel in its port, loaded to the gunwales with human cargo that seeks safe haven in Australia, is infinite.

Indonesia's definition of infinite? Three days from last Tuesday. That was bad news for the folk on board that vessel because there is not a doubt in the world that public opinion is running against them.

It hasn't helped that the group's spokesman, Alex, has been revealed as a person who once threatened to kill a man. He previously has been deported from Canada. The people he's trying to land here -- does anybody still believe he's not the smuggler? -- must be thrilled, but really, it makes no difference.

Australia can still land, process and deport him. Never mind whether that's "tough but fair" or "hardline and humane" or "fresh and delicious" or whatever the key selling point of the moment is, it would be the mature thing to do.

Process the others on the boat, too, and if they are refugees, settle them. I understand there are those who say we can't do that because it wouldn't be fair to refugees waiting in camps in an orderly way to come to Australia.

But we're in a bleak spot, aren't we? Because coupled with our concern for refugees in camps is genuine sympathy for those on the boats. In our hearts, we know every one of us here ultimately came from somewhere else.

In my own family, some of the arrivals are recent: my husband came out as a British backpacker on a 12-month tourist visa. On landing, he took a job in the circus (good practice, for he later married me). After a period of courtship, we decided to find out whether he'd be allowed to stay. It was no problem: there were forms to fill out and an interview to attend. Twenty years on, he's part of a classic, migration chain: his sister is now here, working as a nurse in an aged-care facility. His parents, in their 70s, are here too.

On my side, my mother came out as a child on a ship from Germany after the war. For 30 years, she was a primary school teacher. We've all got stories like it, which is why we're yearning for a solution that is more compassionate than the one unfolding before us. Perhaps we should get T-shirts printed: "My ancestors came on boats.How about yours?"

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