Bilingual road signs point the way forward

A humble road sign outside Alice Springs has become the focal point of fierce debate about colonialism and ownership in this complex land, about place names and who has the right to decide them. And rightly so.

Larapinta Drive is frequented by hordes of tourists as they head into the West MacDonnell Ranges. It’s one of the most stunningly beautiful drives in Australia, and the road’s name itself conveys the beauty of a local indigenous language; La-ra-pint-a trips off the tongue in a lovely, musical downward cadence (it’s the Arrernte name for the nearby Finke River). The drive heads to the sternly Germanic-sounding Hermannsburg, with its fraught history as a Lutheran mission established in the 1880s and handed back to traditional owners in 1982. The mission’s name remains.

And now a sign along the way that points to Alice in one direction and Hermannsburg in the other has had its settler-imposed European names crossed out in white spray paint and the indigenous names written above them. Mparntwe for Alice Springs, Ntaria for Hermannsburg – the names these region’s respective local communities, the Arrernte and Western Arrernte, have always used. It feels like a nudge in the right direction, to get the government moving on the issue. Why haven’t the people in power installed bilingual road signs by now, in this region of all regions? In fact, why isn’t it done in a lot more places around Australia?

This feels like a failure to listen. Because by boldly acknowledging indigenous place names we’re acknowledging the reality of two histories; recognising indigenous place names thousands of years old. What a graceful, benevolent act it would be. The gift of attention. A small gesture to all the tourists who traverse this magnificent region, as well as the traditional owners still very much present. A signal that the corridors of power get it, and want to acknowledge the two Australias here. A sign of maturity.

I get a little swell in my chest whenever I see a sign that reads “Welcome to” whatever indigenous nation it is I’m traversing on a road trip. It feels polite and respectful; indeed stirring. And about bloody time. A step towards correcting a vast wound at the heart of the Australian psyche.

The “Common Ground Australia” Facebook page captioned a photo of the contentious Larapinta sign with this explanation: “Across Australia there’s a growing movement of reclaiming traditional place names in First Nations languages … Using traditional place names in conversation, on signs and any other references is an amazing step towards recognising the sovereignty First Nations people still hold across Australia … When we recognise and embed language, we centre First Nations people, culture and Country.”

Bilingual road signs are a signal to Australians and the wider world that we’re attempting to make amends here; we’re trying to find some semblance of peace. They act as little tweaks of consciousness, getting us to think about different perspectives. They affirm the power in listening, and there’s such a beauty and grace and generosity to actively listening.

I wonder if the wilful denial of the tragedy of so much of our settler past is because of a deep-seated fear that a Pandora’s box of truth and reckoning will be opened if we address it. Yet the truth cleanses. Absolves. Balms. We as a nation should have bottomless empathy for what’s happened to the indigenous people of this land and it bewilders me that so many of us don’t. A bilingual road sign feels like such a small yet generous step. A powerful gesture, and a moving one.