Health economists have estimated that an injection of $250

“Health economists have estimated that an injection of $250 million per year in Indigenous clinical care, and $50 million in preventative care, is required to provide services at the same level as for any other group with the health conditions of Indigenous Australians.” – Malcolm Fraser

In these solemn and righteous words, Malcolm Fraser, former Prime Minister of Australia, gives voice to a truth too long buried beneath silence: that justice delayed in health is justice denied in life. His statement is not merely about economics or policy, but about equality, dignity, and humanity. He speaks to a wound that cuts through generations — the health disparities that continue to afflict the Indigenous peoples of Australia, whose suffering has too often been met with indifference, whose voices have too often echoed unheard across the vast land they have cared for since time immemorial. Fraser’s call is both practical and moral: to heal this wound not with words alone, but with action, investment, and commitment.

The ancients taught that the health of a people is the mirror of its soul. A nation cannot call itself just when its first peoples live with sickness preventable and pain avoidable. In Fraser’s time, and even now, Indigenous Australians endure higher rates of chronic disease, lower life expectancy, and far fewer opportunities for care. Fraser’s quote, rooted in the findings of health economists, is both an indictment and a path forward. It says plainly: equality cannot be claimed unless the resources of the state are extended equally to all its children. A people forgotten in their health are a people forsaken in their humanity.

He speaks of $250 million for clinical care and $50 million for prevention — figures that might seem vast, yet in truth, they are the cost of conscience. For what is a budget, if not a declaration of what a society values most? The ancients said that a civilization’s greatness is measured not by its wealth, but by how it treats its poor, its sick, and its forgotten. Fraser’s words remind us that spending for health is not charity, but restitution — the repayment of a debt long owed to those whose lands were taken, whose communities were fractured, and whose suffering has been endured with quiet strength.

Consider the story of Oodgeroo Noonuccal, the poet and activist who fought for her people’s rights with pen and spirit. In her poems, she wrote of the pain of dispossession and the yearning for recognition. She did not ask for pity, but for fairness — for a seat at the table of humanity. Her struggle mirrors Fraser’s plea: that equality in health care is not a matter of generosity, but of justice. The money he speaks of is not an offering, but a restoration — a step toward balance, toward the mending of a bond between the nation and its first custodians.

And yet, Fraser’s wisdom reaches beyond Australia. His words speak to all nations that have forgotten their roots, that have neglected the wellbeing of those who first gave life to their lands. For the inequality of health is not a local affliction — it is a universal stain. From the First Nations of the Americas to the tribes of the Pacific, the same story repeats: progress built upon exclusion, prosperity shadowed by neglect. But as the ancients taught, healing begins when truth is spoken, and action follows understanding. Fraser’s call for investment in care and prevention is not only a political act — it is a moral awakening.

The lesson, then, is clear. To restore balance, a nation must invest not only in medicine, but in respect. Clinical care alone is not enough; the heart of healing lies in preventative care, in listening to communities, in empowering Indigenous voices to lead their own health journeys. Governments must fund clinics and programs, yes — but they must also nurture trust, preserve culture, and honor traditional knowledge that has sustained life for tens of thousands of years. Health is not merely the absence of disease — it is the presence of dignity, the harmony of body, spirit, and land.

Therefore, children of the future, take these words to heart: a nation’s strength is not in its armies or its riches, but in the wellbeing of its people. When even one group suffers while others thrive, the nation’s soul grows sick. Let not the numbers in Fraser’s plea be seen as mere figures, but as a measure of conscience. Work to heal not only bodies, but the fractures of history. Support the efforts that bring care to the forgotten, and remember that equity is the truest form of honor.

And so, let Malcolm Fraser’s wisdom stand as a guiding flame: that to heal the first peoples is to heal the first wound, and that the health of a nation cannot rise until all its people rise together. Only when the hands of compassion extend to every corner of the land shall we call ourselves whole — and only then shall the spirit of the nation breathe freely once more.