 All right, so good afternoon and welcome. I'd like to start by acknowledging that we are in McMockey, the ancestral and unceded territory of the Miqmat, and that we live and create on these lands in the spirit of taking care of them for all. My name is Joanna Erdman, and I'm the Associate Director of the Health Law Institute here at Dalhousie, and it is my pleasure to welcome you to our seminar series. And a special pleasure to introduce our speaker for today, Professor Linda Steele from the Faculty of Law at the University of Technology in Sydney, Australia. So thank you as well for the snow yesterday because that was the second time, yes, in your life to see snow. So I apologize for everybody else for whom it took five, six hours to get home, but we had a special visitor and wanted to bring snow. So Professor Steele's research focuses on the law's relationship to violence, segregation, discrimination, and equality with a particular focus on disability institutionalization. And she has a forthcoming monograph which I wanted to mention called Disability Criminal Justice and Law, Reconsidering Court Diversion, that will be published with Rutledge in 2020 next year, 2020 next year. So please take a look for that book. But today, Professor Steele will speak on institutional violence and disability memorials. So please join me in welcoming her. Thanks for coming. Thanks, Joanna. And I'd also like to begin by acknowledging the Dow Housing University's located on in McMaggy, the ancestral and unceded territory of the McMaggy people, and also acknowledge that back in Australia, I wrote this paper on the lands of the Wadiwadi people of the Darawal Nation and the Gadigal people of the Eora Nations. So firstly, just very briefly, thank you to Sheila and to Joanna for inviting me to give this paper, to Sheila for providing me with some Canadian insights on my topic, and to Ashley Johnson for organizing my travel and the event today. And I'd also like to acknowledge that some of the paper, the later part related to the female factory, draws on research I've done with colleagues. Okay, so earlier this year, my 12 year old daughter went on a school camp to a sport and recreation center. In the Australian East Coast state of New South Wales, where I'm from, sport and rec camps, as they're known, are a bit of a rite of passage for many school children of her age. So kids go away for a week in the bush, participate in lots of fun activities, stay in little cabins and do lots of fun team building activities at night as well. My daughter went to the Milson Island Sport and Recreation Center. And you'll see from the pictures on the slides, the idyllic surrounds of the camp location. So students arrive by ferry to this small island on the Hawkesbury River. You can't get there any other way. And the island itself boasts slush bushland, historic buildings and new award-winning architecture. So at the bottom center, you can see a new building which is an overturned canoe which speaks to its current use as a sport camp. And the physical setting of the place gives the sense of an adventure island. And indeed the island was even used as the set for what is claimed to be the first children's reality TV show called Camp Orange. So when I saw these photos or photos from my daughter's school camp, I thought, wow, this has been such an amazingly fun and special time for her and that she's very fortunate to have gone there. However, this island once had a very different use. Milson Island, or as it was previously called Mud Island, is the traditional lands of the dark and young people. But for the greater part of the 20th century, Milson Island functioned as one half of a mental hospital that operated across two islands in close proximity. Rabbit Island, which was later named Peat Island, and Milson Island. So this place was called Milson Island, Milson and Peat Island mental hospital. And I'll just give a brief overview which is drawn from the state records authority. So understanding the institutional use of Milson Island begins with the institutional origins of its partner island, Rabbit Island. And so the institutional use of Rabbit Island began in 1904 when an inebriates, so alcoholism institution, was built there for women. And this institution then became a hospital for the insane in 1910, specifically for male patients of what was referred to as the chronic class. So what would today be referred to as people with intellectual disability as well as a number of other non episodic disabilities. And I'm using the language of the time, not intending offense, but more to, it's important to understand the historical changes over time. So the earliest patients admitted to Rabbit Island Hospital were generally transferred from overcrowded wards of other hospitals, including Paramatta, which I'll look at later in my talk. By the 1920s, Rabbit Island mental hospital was overcrowded and more land was required. So Rabbit Island's the black thumbnail and then they decided they would build a second branch of the hospital on Milsen Island, which is the red thumbnail island on this slide. So Milsen Island had earlier been purchased by the government in 1901 for the purposes of establishing an inebriates institution for men, but was never utilized for that purpose. By 1908, it was an experimental farm for investigating how to exterminate rabbits. And then 1908 to 1920, it was used as a temporary quarantine station and then as a hospital to treat soldiers from World War I for venereal disease. Patients were transferred from the original Rabbit Island location to Milsen Island in 1921. And the hospital which now operated across the two sites became known as Rabbit and Milsen Island Hospital. By early 1930s, there were around 250 patients on Milsen Island and about the same on Rabbit Island. And around this time, Rabbit Island was renamed after a local pioneer as Pete Island. And it suggested that that was to try and escape some of the bad reputation that had come to be associated with Rabbit Island because of the mismanagement and poor conditions of the institution there. By the mid 1950s, Pete and Milsen Island's mental hospital was primarily an admitting hospital for male adult and juvenile patients who were considered, quote, congenital mental defectives, the language of the time. And according to one recent radio documentary on the hospital, those in the island, quote, remained isolated from the broader community, lived in harsh conditions and rarely had visitors. One journalist who visited the island in 1956 described it as a hospital of forgotten children. By 1973, the Milsen Island site of the hospital was closed because it was considered to be highly unsatisfactory with overcrowded and dilapidated buildings, which were considered to pose a security and fire risk. The buildings were closed, but the people who lived in those buildings were simply then transferred to a variety of other mental hospitals, including a parameter which I'll discuss later. At this time, Milsen Island was closed as a disability institution, but reemerged as a low security prison, and then after that became the sport and recreation camp where my daughter attended. Pete Island didn't close until about 2010 and I'll return to its fate at the end of my paper. So it's important to note that while institutions like Pete and Milsen Island mental hospital have closed in the New South Wales context where I'm from and other jurisdictions, including Canada, we still have many disability institutions. For example, and thank you to Sheila for this map. For example, in Nova Scotia, the Community Homes Action Group has identified a number of disability institutions that are spotted across the province and they've been campaigning along with others for de-institutionalization and community housing. So noting that de-institutionalization is an ongoing project, if and when disability institutions do close, what happens to them? What happens to those former institutions? It probably comes as no surprise to everyone here that it's quite common for former disability institutions to be repurposed, like the Milsen Island example, in ways quite removed from their former institutional use and in ways that give little recognition to the memories and injustices of those earlier uses. For example, Canadian scholars Abbas and Veronka in their 2014 chapter in Disability Incarcerated document the residential redevelopment of two former disability institutions in Ontario, the Ridu Regional Centre and the Queen Street Mental Health Centre. In their 2015 book, The Afterlives of Psychiatric Asylums, Moon, Kearns and Joseph look at, will explore a number of different uses of former mental health hospitals across the UK, New Zealand, Canada and Australia and they develop a kind of fourfold framework of what happens to former sites. So they say that some are retained, so for example, but generally for a more progressive use related to mental health. So it might go from being an inpatient facility to an outpatient facility. Some are trans-institutionalised, so the architectural shell and site is converted into another institutional use such as a prison or a university. Residential use, so there's housing developments on these former institution sites, including gated communities or exclusive housing developments. And here the links between seclusion and therapeutic landscapes take on a new and desirable meaning. And the fourth they mention is dereliction. So this is where the building simply becomes abandoned after closure and gradually erodes over time. So even though our landscapes and communities still bear to varying extents, the material traces of former disability institutions and we're all likely to be frequenting places that were once used for these purposes, whether we're actually aware of their former uses and the significance then that this might hold for us is a different matter. So when my daughter returned from camp, as well as asking her about all of the activities she participated in and what she enjoyed, as an academic mum I also asked her questions about the extent to which they were told about the former mental hospital on site. And the short answer is that no, not really, they hadn't been at all. And I began thinking, how are we to reconcile the island's institutional history with its contemporary use as a kid's holiday camp and also reconcile the kind of effective attachments or positive connotations that place now holds? Is it good that the place has moved on to what some might describe as better times and perhaps escaped its past? Oh, sorry. More specifically though, as a disability lawyer and disability law academic, I found myself asking, how do we locate places such as this in a justice framework? What should be the role of former disability institutions like Milsen Island in how we understand or conceptualize and do contemporary disability justice? What impacts do subsequent uses of such sites for other purposes have on our awareness of and collective ethical responsibility for the injustices of that place and our quest for legal redress? And beyond what happened at the sites themselves, how can these closed institutions inform our broader understandings of the injustices of ongoing and current disability institutionalization elsewhere? And does the repurposing of these sites in ways that says nothing of their former use itself form part of the ongoing injustice of institutionalization? And I should pause to say that in sitting within these questions is also another question about how we ask these questions in a way that acknowledges the way in which settler colonialism threads through across all the uses of those places and understanding how we can make sense of histories of institutionalization in the context of broader and ongoing histories of indigenous dispossession from land. So these are important questions I think they are to ask right now for a number of reasons. Firstly, it's important that we ask about the relevance of closed disability institutions to contemporary justice because institutionalization and institutional justice where and still remain significant aspects of disability injustice. Secondly, while disability institutions have always been the subject of government inquiries at least in Australia, there's increased interest these days in the need to recognize and redress harm. So it's not just about inquiring into these problems to kind of find better ways to manage institutions but also there's more of a dimension of redress and acknowledging the individuals who lived there. So for example, in Australia, over the past five to 10 years, we've had a number of different reviews. We've had Senate inquiries. We've currently got a Royal Commission into violence against people with disability. In Canada, I know there's been a number of different inquiries, particularly related to abuse of children in institutional care and residential schools. And Sheila has informed me that there's a number of events occurring now with Emerald Hall litigation and also class action against deaf children in an obfuscation school as well. At an international, sorry, and also a journey to light the recent report into the restorative inquiry in obfuscation home for colored people. At an international level as well, we've got the UN Disability Convention, which provides for rights to independent living, basically provides places on governments and expectation that they will deinstitutionalise and also requires redress for violence as well. So I guess if everything went to plan in an ideal world, if the CRPD was fully recognised and followed through, then if all the institutions closed, there would be a question then about, well, what's going to happen to all of those places? Also, institutions are simply not a thing of the past. They're part of our present and looks to be part of our future. And deinstitutionalisation is an ongoing process. So it's important to be asking these questions, not only looking back, but also thinking forwards in terms of how we can think strategically about how we shape the future after lives of asylums. And also I think these questions are a bit more urgent these days because at least in Australia I think it's very unlikely these days that a closed site would simply be left to ruin. These days there's such value placed on real property, governments are privatising, selling off land and property that I think these days the speed of redevelopment would be much quicker than in the past. But before I go on to look at these questions that I set out, I just wanted to explain in a bit more detail this idea of injustice because it's important to understand the complexity of injustice in order to then appreciate the role of place in redress. So in terms of injustices of institutionalisation, we might be most familiar with harms to individuals within the walls of a particular institution. But injustices can be thought of beyond that as well. So at a structural level the very existence of disability institutions per se constitutes an injustice of discrimination. So the fact that disabled people are segregated, congregated and isolated from their families, communities and society at large is itself part of the injustice. Also epistemic and ontological violence and injustice. So the fact that people being in these places was not a choice, that other people made those decisions for them reflects the denial of people's autonomy and ability to decide what happens in their lives. And ultimately the negation of their value and existence as well. And Chris Chapman reminds us that in a settler colonial context, disability institutionalisation has been part of genocide as well. So if we shift our scale from the specific institution, we can see further injustices in the bigger picture story of how different institutions in different ways of controlling disabled people interlock and endure over time. So if we imagine our unit of reference as not the single institution, such as Milsen Island, but think about looking at a map with all of the different, like the Canadian example I gave before, of all the different institutions are located everywhere or a timeline in the way in which institutions have kind of evolved over time, then we then understand the injustices of the way in which not institutionalisation itself, but also the fact that it is so resilient or can just keep on enduring through progressive reforms and endure through the closure of specific sites. So this idea draws on the work of Carrie Chapman and Ben Mosh and others who have developed this idea of the institutional archipelago. And so they, Carrie and others draw on for Coe's work on carceral control, so the idea that the prison isn't the only way in which people are controlled in society or it's not the pinnacle of how that control occurs. Instead control is kind of dispersed through different sites and different modes throughout society. They bring this to a disability context to argue that there is a constantly responsive and recalibrating network of interrelated sites and systems of control, not only in criminal justice, but across criminal justice, care, education, immigration and other sectors. And I've included some quotes there that explain this in more detail. So importantly, this includes bricks and mortar, large-scale institutions, but also kind of what might be seen as progressive alternatives to those places as well. And so the institutional archipelago is a lens to draw connections between different modes and places of control, but also to begin to track or to bring a temporal dimension into how we understand institutions and control. So to understand both at an individual level, how people come to be institutionalized at different places across their life. So we see in the Milson Island example, for example, the way in which people were, when that institution closed, they were moved on to other places, or we might think of it in terms of people with disability who are in prisons, who might be released from prison but then end up in other places as well. But also thinking of the temporality in terms of over time, the way in which we might give different labels or material forms to control, but that control and its logic still endure. And also the way in which the same populations might be institutionalized, but the labels and rationales change over time as well. So this idea of the institutional archipelago helps us to see that at any one point in time, there are various connected islands of control and individuals over their lives move between the islands, but also over time the islands themselves morph. Also, Mia Mingus, who is a disability justice activist in America, has developed the idea of the medical industrial complex, which offers a similar concept and there's a great image that they've developed of showing the networked relationship between a number of different sites and practices. But in this understanding, there's also drawing out the significance of capitalism and profit to the sustenance and growth of this complex as well. So if we return to my opening example of Milsen Island then, the lens of the institutional archipelago makes the significance of this site in terms of injustice more complex. So at one level it's about the awful treatment of people within that place and I won't go into that in detail now, but it was very degrading in terms of how people were treated. But also we can begin to think across its different uses over time. So not just what happened when it was an institution to those inside, but also start to think critically about the way in which it had a number of different institutional uses that confined a variety of populations. So a variety of different populations that were marked or labelled as unfavorable in society at that time. Disabled people confined on Milsen Island then moved between mental hospitals due to space issues so we can think again about the way in which this archipelago is about tracking people's movement across different modes and sites of control as well. And also we can think about the way in which even though the hospital finally closed down in 2010, the mental health legislation that allowed that place to exist and be a lawful place of confinement and intervention, that legislation just keeps on running and keeps on operating in different places as well. So my point is that these places can tell us about the harms within them, but also the harms of a larger set of practices, sites and logics through which institutionalization and institutional violence endures over time and across reform. That said, there's profound challenges to political and legal recognition of this whole set of injustices. So we're not really at a point where we have widespread agreement that what is taking place actually constitutes something that's wrong, particularly constitutes a legal wrong capable of address. So for example, in the Australian context we have this disability royal commission that started and another one into aged care that's looking at nursing homes, but neither of these explicitly mentioned redress in their terms of reference, which is pretty concerning. We have numerous legal doctrines and legislation that actually make violence lawful, the kinds of interventions that occur in these spaces and outside the laws of assault and false imprisonment as well. Law also prevents us from understanding this more complex idea of the archipelago because it fragments and organizes sites and systems into different phenomena or different legal phenomena. So we have something that's happening in the mental health legal sector. Then we have prisons and we have disability institutions in another kind of legal framework. So it becomes difficult to, in law, to see the connections between those spaces and in turn it becomes difficult to articulate demands for justice that are related to the interrelations or interrelationship between them. And indeed in many ways, law can even support or exacerbate those injustices. So for example, in terms of a recent Royal Commission into Child Sexual Abuse in Australia, the redress scheme that was introduced actually says that if you've been in prison, then it's harder for you to get to access that. If you've experienced abuse and you're seeking redress and you've subsequently been in prison, it's gonna be harder for you to seek that redress. So we can see the way in which law kind of doesn't acknowledge the compounding or interrelated ways in which institutions operate. So with this in mind, let's turn to begin to consider the role of former institutions in disability justice area. So I guess the conventional way in which we might think of former disability institutions in justice is the idea that the closure of the institution is the end of the injustice of that place and also the end point of justice. So the idea that closing the doors is kind of what makes everything right and we can then move on. So closure equates with justice and once people are out and the doors close, the place has no further utility or significance in terms of its institutional use. And actually it's important to redevelop or demolish the site to somehow kind of cleanse the site of that history and move on to more positive and respectable uses. However, an alternative understanding which we can take from the ideas I just mentioned around the institutional archipelago is that in the right hand column is the idea that rather than seeing closure as the end point of justice, we can see closure as one point on a trajectory of continuing injustice. So the idea that we can't lose sight of that place simply because it's closed, but we have to hold it in some ways, hold it in our processes of doing justice for what happened there and continual accountability as well. So if specific sites are but one part of a larger constantly recalibrating network of control, then closure can actually function to mask the realities of continued institutionalization. And if we focus on bricks and mortar entities, then we can lose sight of the kind of logics that continue across different places as well. So the important thing to take from that then is that far from being the marker of justice, demolition and redevelopment of former institutions can actually amount to erasure of history, memory, injustice and people and a vehicle for legal and political irresponsibility. And there's a number of different scholars who have outside of law who have suggested these ideas. So Moon, Kerns and Joseph in their afterlives of the asylum book, suggest there's two ways in which redevelopment or approaches to redeveloping sites kind of erases their histories. So they talk about strategic forgetting, which is co-opting institutional features such as isolation and seclusion and kind of subverting them into being positive features. So think of like residential developments in the way in which the kind of seclusion of a space then becomes its value and its exclusivity. And also the idea of selective remembrance which is where there's heritage preservation of particular architectural features of old buildings without actually telling the story of what occurred there. So the challenge is to find ways of doing justice that redresses individual harm but also can bring about collective accountability to ensure we're disrupting these cycles and logics. And I'd like to suggest that that former disability institutions do have an important role in justice and that we can appreciate through this through the lens of sites of conscience. So place-based memorials such as museums, tours, education programs, survivor-authored social histories and artistic works which are located or generated on sites of former injustices are referred to as sites of conscience. Sites of conscience provide the opportunity as Brett and others state to remember the past to build a better present and future. Establishing a historic place as a site of conscience involves creation of memorials that are not static in nature but instead make a specific commitment to democratic engagement through programs that stimulate dialogue on pressing social issues and that provide opportunities for public involvement. So this isn't about celebrating the glory of a particular place but dealing with difficult and dark histories in all their messy contradictions and rejecting the idea of an official singular narrative of that place and being open to multiple meanings and memories and experiences. So the International Coalition of Sites of Conscience is a peak body supporting sites of conscience globally. It's based in America but its members are all across the globe. Its members include diverse organizations. I've included a few examples up on the slide. A cover of various topics such as labor exploitation, armed conflict, racial apartheid, environmental harms, women's oppression, slavery and the Holocaust to name some. There's a few official sites of conscience that are related specifically to institutions of care. So for example, the Pennhurst Memorial and Preservation Alliance in Pennsylvania, the Carlisle Indian Residential School also in the US, a workhouse in England, a Dublin Laundry which is quite new and also the Paramata Female Factory Precinct which I'll be looking at. Additional to these kind of formal, formally recognized sites of conscience, scholars in other disciplines have also documented how former residents, psychiatric consumer survivors and allies have turned to memorialization practices to offer counter narratives and active resistance to forgetting. So for example, the Canadian exemplar might be the work of Geoffrey Ruham and others on the wall at the Toronto Queen Street site as discussed by Veronica and Debass. And the artist and performance interventions by survivors at the Huronia site which were documented in Rosetta and Rinaldi's recent book, I think of last year and also Tess mentioned that there's a sculpture memorial on the Huronia site as well. But I'm going to introduce one of these sites in the remaining time which I've been doing some research and work with the Paramata Female Factory Precinct in order to show or to I guess present some ideas about how this might have some possibilities in the context of disability institutions. And this draws on work that I've done with colleagues. So Paramata Female Factory Precinct is Australia's longest continuously running institutional site. It is situated on the barematical lands of the Darragh people and has significance as a meeting and trading place for them as well as being a sacred location to women and children which is pretty significant given the subsequent use of the site. The precinct was originally established in 1821 as a holding depot and prison for unassigned convict women who were awaiting being assigned to domestic work. But since that time it's had a number of different uses. So there's kind of two areas to it. There's the original, on your right, the original female factory and their subsequent orphanage site. So the female factory site after about 20 years as the factory it became a lunatic asylum and that continues to this day now as a mental health facility or mental health hospital. Adjacent here, adjacent to the female factory site there was a Roman Catholic orphanage which then became a girls industrial school basically a child welfare home for girls and that operated for around 90 years. When that closed in quite considerable controversy over the treatment of the girls there it then became two smaller child welfare centres for girls and boys and then became a periodic detention centre for women. In recent Australian history the public have become aware of the precinct because of the paramedic girls home which was known for its cruel and abusive conditions. And it was considered in a lot of detail in the Australian Royal Commission into institutional responses to child sexual abuse. But this site and it's being recognised with National Heritage Listing and this is an excerpt from the listing itself but this site is significant because it represents different kinds of institutionalisation but also the way in which the rationales or forms of institutionalisation have kind of evolved over time. So there's a group of women who were formally detained at the Paramedic Girls' Home who are referred to as Paragirls who started up a site of conscience there the memory project in 2012. And this is a social history and contemporary art project that promotes awareness about the history, heritage and legacy of institutionalisation of women and children in Australia. And this is Australia's first site of conscience. And through the memory project they invigorate questions around contemporary government and community accountability and responsibility and illuminate the risks of future injustices which are made possible by kind of ongoing laws that we end bureaucratic practices which we're failing to change. And so one thing they had to do a lot of different art projects and a couple of years ago they produced a virtual reality movie called Paragirls Past Present. So this is an immersive 360 degree three-dimensional video installation so if you're watching it in the proper way you'd wear a headset and you'd be in a 360 degree cinema and you can move around and you're kind of surrounded by the place. I have a tiny little preview bit to show you so you get a sense. It looks a bit odd on screen because it's supposed to be curved around you but it discusses similar to my talk issues around child institutionalisation I should warn you. Yeah, so that film was made kind of towards the end of the Royal Commission into institutional responses to child sexual abuse and part of the idea of making that film was in response to some of the limitations that the Paragirls found with the Royal Commission process insofar that even though it was a process that was supposed to be about a systemic response to injustice in identifying injustices, finding ways in which to respond to those and how to change future practices there was limited ways in which the women themselves could present their stories and their memories rather than through official legal and kind of psychomedical discourses or frameworks. So they just explained there the importance of this kind of work in being quite a new way to speak about the experience of abuse and make space for an alternative forum distinct from legal testimony. So I think this work illuminates the... Well, it illuminates the kind of enduring harms of this kind of institutionalisation that things don't just stop when you close a door and shut down a place but also raises questions about the extent to which conventional legal processes of inquiry can fully do justice or provide a forum for identifying just responses and provide a forum to bring everyone into being accountable for things that have happened. I don't have time to elaborate now but I take my law and mental health students on an excursion to that site and I think that's been really effective in encouraging law students not only learn about the complicity of law in these places because obviously what happened there is for the most part done by law but it also allows them to start thinking more actively about legal ethics and their legal professional responsibility as well in a more direct way that the legal decisions and legal work they're involved in does have material implications and outcomes and that's some of their feedback there. So I guess just to go back to where I started in relation to disability institutions, I propose that engaging with former disability institutions as sites of conscience might be an important aspect of addressing injustices and I'm not saying that compensation and individual justice is not necessary or important but if we're only looking or only focusing on these and we risk detaching the injustice from place and overlooking the continuities across place and time in terms of how institutionalisation and its logics continue on and so these kind of practices can provide a grounded material and embodied context in which to not only understand injustices of a very specific institutional site but also to begin to trace relationships of control and violence across geographic space, legal domains and chronological time. And moreover as myself and co-authors have recently noted in relation to the Parramatta site, it can also enhance attentiveness to settler colonial dynamics including to Indigenous histories and the significance of places where institutions of confinement are now situated as well as the particular impacts of institutionalisation on Indigenous and First Nations people. So the Parramatta, the Paragirls have been doing a lot of work with the local Derek people in terms of drawing out their connections to that place but also in terms of Aboriginal people more broadly understanding the role of this place in stolen generations as well. So I guess moving forward then in thinking how we might conceptualise this as being important in terms of justice more broadly we can draw on the work of disability justice activists who have been a lot based in the US or Canada who have been emphasising the importance of dismantling multiple forms of coercive intervention and systems of oppression. We can also think about the ideas raised recently by Yongjong Kim about an idea of active justice. So she says that justice in demands for reparations and apologies is often cast as a universal and final outcome that cannot be revisited and we could also think of closing the institution in this way. Justice is seen as not yet done or done as if it's something to be completed by a set of actions. However, instead she argues that justice should be an ongoing and active process in which everyone is invested in. Also I think we can draw on ideas of inheritance when we think about how sites of conscience or former disability institutions might have a role in disability justice. So Amber Dean in her 2015 book on remembering disappeared women in Vancouver talks about this idea of inheritance. So we might talk more about the legacy of the past when it's kind of something that's left over from things that have happened in the past. She instead proposes the idea of inheritance. So the idea that we actually come to possess the past and all become invested in, trying to think, we've become custodians of that past and are accountable for what happens to that and how it lives on in our present as well. And lastly, the idea of structural justice which Ballant and others in Australia have proposed as a way to engage with law in ways that addresses intergenerational, historical and structural injustices as well. So just to finish, I mentioned that Milson Island was part of the Two Island Hospital and included Pete Island. So Pete Island closed in 2010 and it's currently in the process of redevelopment and it's going to become like a recreational island with some preservation of some historically significant in a heritage sense, some of those buildings. So I guess it's important to think about how that redevelopment process might be done in a way that can do justice to the history. They've had a look through the heritage report and I cannot see any engagement with its mental hospital past and hopefully be working with a New South Wales Council for Intellectual Disability to provide some contributions to the development process to hopefully have some of those memories included in how it's redeveloped and used. So to conclude, when the doors of institutions close, the harms of that place and its practices, laws and logics live on and these pasts, their buildings and most importantly, the lives of those who lived and still live in institutions matter and we need to return to former institutions not to resume their injustices, nor to erase them but to begin to actively engage with the difficult histories of these places in the pursuit of justice in order to redress harms and prevent them from reoccurring. Sites of conscience are possibly one way that we can ensure former institutions have an ongoing relevance and function in how we understand and do justice. Thank you.