Should ‘Welcome to Country’ ceremonies be part of veteran tributes?

The booing of a Welcome to Country ceremony at the Anzac Day Dawn Service in Melbourne last Friday, has sparked a heated debate about whether such ceremonies belong at events honouring veterans, like Anzac Day, and their broader relevance in modern Australia.

While the incident was tainted by the involvement of a known neo-Nazi, Jacob Hersant, it also revealed widespread public discontent, with polls showing 68% of nearly 50,000 Australians want Welcome to Country ceremonies stopped entirely.

Anzac Day: A sacred space disrupted

Anzac Day is Australia’s most solemn national event, a day to honour the sacrifices of servicemen and women who fought and died for the nation. For many, it is a unifying moment free from cultural or political agendas.

The booing of Bunurong elder Uncle Mark Brown’s Welcome to Country at the Shrine of Remembrance, though highly inappropriate and led by extremist Jacob Hersant, reflected a broader sentiment. Attendees shouted “this is our country” and “we don’t have to be welcomed,” expressing frustration that the ceremony implied they were guests on the land they or their forebears fought for.

A veteran’s viral Facebook post captured this anger, calling the Welcome “tone-deaf” and a “spit in the face” of soldiers, arguing it steals focus from the fallen for “political theatre.”

These reactions suggest the ceremony clashes with Anzac Day’s purpose. Veterans and their families feel that acknowledging Indigenous custodianship before commemorating those who defended the nation undermines the universal sacrifice being honoured.

The implication that Australians are visitors on Aboriginal land, particularly on a day celebrating those who died for it, strikes many as divisive and inappropriate. A news.com.au poll reinforced this, with 90% of respondents wanting fewer or no Welcome to Country ceremonies, indicating mainstream discontent beyond fringe extremism.

Proponents argue the ceremony respects Indigenous Australians, whose connection to the land predates modern Australia, and honours Aboriginal servicemen and women who fought alongside others.

Reconciliation Australia frames Welcome to Country as a cultural protocol acknowledging Traditional Owners, fostering inclusivity. Yet, even this argument falters when the ceremony’s framing – welcoming attendees to “Aboriginal land” – feels exclusionary to those who see Australia as a shared nation forged through collective sacrifice.

The roots of Welcome to Country: Tradition or modern construct?

Understanding the ceremony’s origins is key to evaluating its fit. Welcome to Country stems from pre-colonial Aboriginal protocols where visitors sought permission to enter another group’s land. Its modern form emerged in the 1970s, with early instances at the 1973 Aquarius Festival and a 1976 Perth arts event welcoming Māori performers.

Coined in the 1980s by Rhoda Roberts, the practice gained traction during the 1990s reconciliation movement, post-Mabo, as a gesture of goodwill. Unlike Acknowledgements of Country, which anyone can deliver, Welcome to Country requires a Traditional Owner or delegate, often involving speeches or rituals.

While rooted in Indigenous tradition, the ceremony’s widespread adoption is a recent phenomenon, driven by institutional efforts to address historical exclusion. However, its rapid integration into public life – government events, sports, work meetings and now veteran commemorations – has sparked accusations of overreach.

UNSW’s Indigenous Strategy notes even some Indigenous voices criticise Acknowledgements of Country as “perfunctory” and distracting from substantive issues like treaties or the Uluru Statement. This suggests the ceremony’s modern ubiquity may not fully align with its cultural origins, raising questions about its authenticity and necessity in every context.

A divisive trend in modern Australia

The Welcome to Country’s prominence coincides with a broader push for diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI), amplified by global movements and local reconciliation efforts.

Corporate adoption, incentivised by ESG scores linking DEI metrics to social responsibility, has normalised practices like Acknowledgements of Country.

Yet, this institutional embrace has bred resentment, with many Australians viewing such ceremonies as performative “box-ticking” rather than meaningful engagement. The 2023 Voice to Parliament referendum, rejected despite a $450 million campaign, underscored this frustration.

Critics saw the Voice as entrenching racial divisions, a sentiment echoed in objections to Welcome to Country ceremonies that appear to prioritise one group’s identity over shared national unity.

Public backlash is not limited to extremists, as media often claim. The Anzac Day booing, while disrespectful, reflected a majority view, per polls, that these ceremonies feel out of place.

Many veterans and ordinary Australians argue that Anzac Day should focus on universal sacrifice, not cultural distinctions. The ceremony’s language, framing attendees as guests on “Aboriginal land,” reinforces perceptions of exclusion, particularly when delivered before honouring those who fought for the nation as a whole.

Indigenous Senator Jacinta Nampijinpa Price has called this “divisive,” arguing it tells non-Indigenous Australians “this isn’t your country,” a message that grates on a day celebrating shared identity.

Media and political responses often exacerbate tensions by labelling dissent as bigotry. Victorian Premier Jacinta Allan’s claim that the booing targeted “Aboriginal servicemen and women” intentionally misrepresented the issue, to deflect the growing broader objection to the ceremony itself.

Meanwhile, protestors who heckled ANZAC services on Friday with “Free Palestine” chants received no media coverage or comparable outrage, highlighting selective indignation that fuels perceptions of virtue-signalling. This double standard alienates those who question Welcome to Country not out of racism but from a desire for unity on solemn occasions.

Flaws and counterarguments

The Welcome to Country’s flaws are evident, but dismissing it entirely risks ignoring its potential value.

Critics rightly highlight its exclusionary tone, which could be addressed by reframing the ceremony to emphasise shared history. For example, a Welcome at Anzac Day could focus on Indigenous and non-Indigenous soldiers’ joint sacrifices, avoiding language that implies non-Indigenous attendees are outsiders.

However, even this adjustment may not resolve the core issue: Anzac Day’s focus on universal loss leaves little room for cultural ceremonies that, by design, foreground one group’s identity.

Overuse is another problem. UNSW warns against repetitive acknowledgments, which dilute meaning and feel like bureaucratic mandates. Limiting Welcome to Country to major cultural or civic events, rather than every public gathering, could restore its significance.

At veteran commemorations, where solemnity is paramount, a brief Acknowledgement of Country by the MC, as Peter Dutton suggested in last night’s debate, might suffice without overshadowing the main purpose.

Proponents argue the ceremony educates and reconciles, but this assumes attendees need educating on a day meant for remembrance.

Indigenous servicemen can be honoured through specific tributes, as already occurs, without a ceremony that feels imposed.The charge of performativity is harder to refute. The ceremony’s commercialisation, with some individuals reportedly paid large amounts to deliver it, undermines claims of cultural purity.

SBS’s recent framing of Welcome to Country as an “ancestral cleansing” to ensure visitors “intend no harm” stretches its traditional meaning, as UNSW and Reconciliation Australia define it as an acknowledgment of custodianship.

Such reinterpretations fuel scepticism that the meaning of the ceremony is being adapted to deflect criticism rather than reflect authentic tradition.

Should ‘Welcome to Country’ be at veteran commemorations?

The Welcome to Country is ill-suited to Anzac Day and similar veteran commemorations. Its implication that attendees are guests on Aboriginal land conflicts with the day’s focus on shared sacrifice for a unified nation.

While Indigenous servicemen and women deserve recognition, this can be achieved through targeted tributes, not a ceremony that feels like a cultural add-on. The public’s overwhelming rejection, per polls, and veterans’ visceral reactions suggest it disrupts rather than enhances these events.

Alternative gestures, like a moment of silence for all who served, including Indigenous soldiers, would better align with Anzac Day’s ethos.

In broader contexts, the ceremony’s relevance is waning. Its overuse and association with divisive agendas have eroded public goodwill. To remain meaningful, it must be reserved for significant occasions, delivered authentically, and framed inclusively.

Without these changes, it risks further alienating Australians who long for unity over identity-based distinctions.