Uncle Eric Law: Walking Through Memory Toward Reconciliation

The Paradox of Memory

Born in 1950 in Cherbourg, he is the son of Vincent Frederick Law, a proud Wakka Wakka man and World War I veteran, and Marjorie Clevens, a Bigambul woman brought to Cherbourg as a child from Collarenebri, NSW. Their union formed the roots of a family legacy grounded in service, resilience, and cultural strength. His father was later awarded a British Empire Medal (BEM) in 1976 for his contributions to the Aboriginal community.

Mr Law speaks with warmth about a youth surrounded by surrogate grandparents, community care, and resilience. “We had all these wonderful old people who came down from their traditional lands, which would have been really difficult for them,” he said. “As I look back on it, I think, well, these were my extra grandparents, my extra aunts and uncles.”

Historical Context: The Protection Act

From 1897 to 1939, Queensland’s Aboriginal Protection Act gave government-appointed superintendents near-total control over Aboriginal lives. They could remove children, relocate families, control wages, forbid marriages, and restrict movement. Cherbourg, established in 1904, became one of Queensland’s largest government settlements, housing Aboriginal people forcibly removed from across the state.

He reflects on this paradox with clarity: “Of course, the Act came with so much vengeance, with so much hardship, it came with so much pain; yet for me, growing up in Cherbourg at that time, I couldn’t wish for a better place.”

His father, Vincent, embodied this balance. A World War I veteran with the Australian Light Horse, he returned to Cherbourg and became a general overseer, working to shield the community from harsh superintendent control. “Dad knew if the superintendent got involved, then that person would be punished — simple as that,” Eric recalled.

Service as Resistance

In 1969, his birthday was drawn in the national service lottery. Although Aboriginal men weren’t required to serve—citizenship rights had only recently been extended in 1967—he volunteered for Vietnam. For many, military service offered a paradoxical path: a way to earn respect from a nation that had long denied them basic rights.

Aboriginal Military Service: A Complex Legacy

Aboriginal Australians have served in every major conflict since the Boer War, often before securing full citizenship. Many saw military service as a path to recognition and equality, though they frequently faced discrimination both in service and upon return.

His intelligence work in Vietnam, briefing military leaders on security risks, proved formative. Those experiences sharpened the strategic skills that would later support his leadership in education and governance back in Cherbourg.

On return, he became part of a trial program at Cherbourg School in 1972, serving as a “community teacher”—more than a teacher’s aide but not yet a qualified teacher. “We were the first lot to do it and it worked brilliantly,” he once recalled. Motivated by the program’s success, he pursued a teaching degree and joined the first cohort of Aboriginal university students to study as a group in Townsville. He graduated in 1980 and began teaching in North Queensland, eventually becoming principal at a school in the Torres Strait.

Leadership in Transition

His path into leadership aligned with pivotal policy reforms. In 1983, Minister Bob Katter appointed him superintendent of Cherbourg during the rollout of the Deed of Grant in Trust (DOGIT) system. This marked a historic moment: an Aboriginal man assuming authority in a position previously held by non-Indigenous bureaucrats.

The DOGIT System: Progress or Compromise?

Introduced in 1982, DOGIT transferred reserve lands to community control. Though offering more autonomy, critics noted it fell short of full land rights, creating communal ownership structures that sometimes hindered individual development and economic opportunity.

As community leader and later mayor, he helped navigate the shift from external governance to local self-determination. He worked to build local structures that respected tradition while adapting to new responsibilities.

Truth-Telling Through Dialogue

At the Laurel Blow Speaker Series on June 18, he captured the heart of reconciliation in one sentence: “It can’t be just for one. It has to be both of us walking together.”

“For First Nations people, truth telling is part of everyday life,” he said. “It’s not just a political process—it’s a personal, ongoing one.”

That shared walk begins with truth. His work at the Ration Shed Museum offers no easy narratives. Visitors expecting a tidy history encounter instead the full weight of control, separation, and cultural disruption.

Some leave challenged, others defensive—but transformation, he believes, begins in discomfort. As Brisbane Archbishop Mark Coleridge noted at the same event, “Australia will never be the country it can be until there is some kind of genuine reconciliation.”

“No one can change the past, but we can certainly change the future.”

“Uncle Eric’s approach to reconciliation and sharing of his story was generous, humble, humorous, practical, hope filled but also grounded in the tough reality of modern-day Australia.”

Mentoring the Next Generation

Among his proudest contributions is mentoring young people in Cherbourg. Through the Junior Police Rangers, he helped develop the only Aboriginal-led Anzac Day ceremony in the nation—an initiative that bridges respect for service with self-determination.

These youth now lead the community’s most significant public ceremony, reflecting a vision of reconciliation built on active, informed participation.

Recognition and Ongoing Responsibility

His efforts have not gone unnoticed: Member of the Order of Australia (AM) in 2018, the Aunty Joan Hendriks Spirit of Catholic Education Award in 2013, and South Burnett’s “Face of Relay” in 2015. He also chairs the Queensland Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Catholic Education committee.

Yet for the veteran leader, recognition is only meaningful when matched with responsibility. Whether guiding visitors, mentoring youth, or speaking at events, his commitment remains unwavering: healing is a continuous process, not a ceremonial moment.

Personal Legacy and Family

Eric Law’s story is deeply personal as well as political. He and his wife Shirley have been married for more than 40 years and have raised five children. Throughout his career, Shirley has remained a steadfast partner in community life. In addition to his leadership and teaching roles, he served as Campus Director at Nurunderi TAFE and worked in the Catholic education system at St Joseph’s in Murgon and St Mary’s in Kingaroy—continuing to build opportunities for Aboriginal students long after his formal retirement from full-time teaching in 2007.

The Path Forward

His life invites us to let go of simplistic narratives. It reminds us that truth and love can coexist—that honoring resilience doesn’t require erasing injustice.

Through personal memory, community leadership, and tireless truth-telling, he has shown that reconciliation is a shared responsibility. It takes courage, dialogue, and compassion—but most of all, sustained effort.

The path he walks is open to us all. As he shows, walking together isn’t easy—but it is essential.

How to Engage Locally

Start in your own community: Contact your local council about acknowledgment of Traditional Owners, support Indigenous-led events, and seek opportunities to learn about your region’s Aboriginal history.

Continue the Journey

• Visit the Ration Shed Museum
• Reconciliation Australia
• Common Ground Resources
• Creative Spirits
• Narragunnawali Platform
• Oxfam Indigenous Rights
• ANTaR

Take Local Action: Join a local Reconciliation Action Plan committee, support Indigenous businesses, or participate in National Reconciliation Week. Change happens through sustained, respectful relationships.