Andrew Miller: Immature men and stingy governments must carry stigma surrounding domestic violence

What did she do to upset him? The question is predicated on the lie that his violence could somehow be her fault. The way we deal with our anger is never anyone else’s responsibility. We are not wild bears, excused by nature. We teach our kids that there are good reasons to control bad impulses. “Don’t hit your sister,” was a familiar phrase during my pre-primary years. Like all siblings we had our moments, and I had to learn about boundaries. Lack of self-control is a hallmark of immaturity. Sobering-up-man remains responsible for whatever drunk-man did, because he bent his own elbow toward turning off his frontal lobes. A man who feels an urge to do something bad, but prevents himself, looks just like any other free man. But someone who makes terrible choices will be defined by them — as a wife-beater, rapist or murderer. In a different time and place, maybe he was a hero, but that doesn’t matter. Bad deeds cannot be undone. Being a decent bloke is not worthy of any awards — it is a reasonable expectation, and buys no indulgence. Amid the incessantly growing clinical and bureaucratic load of general practice, there sometimes comes an ominous thunderclap, and lightning. Bad things. As a young doctor, fresh-smart from books and dumb for lack of experience, I sat in a suburban sand-locked medical centre trying to cobble things together for people who needed more than anyone had to offer. I felt sonder every day — a realisation that the complex lives of strangers are beyond cataloguing. She was brought in by a good samaritan woman, just after we opened one morning. Well dressed, made up for work, shaking, mascara smeared, dress torn, bleeding brightly from her grazed knee and elbow. He had pushed her out of the car and on to the road at the red light, among the loose stones and cigarette butts. He had pushed her out of her passenger seat, on to a black and dirty four-lane road — in peak hour traffic. That egregious moment erased whatever he had been before. Maybe he had been a “good bloke” — someone you could have a beer with, before something undoable was done. It doesn’t matter. Was it the first time he had acted like this? There were kids, a mortgage, a life and no easy options. He was capable of being caring, until he wasn’t. With her dignity torn and bleeding, she was helped by someone she’d never met. A determined woman, who did not seem even a little bit surprised as we three sat and made practical phone calls. At the stage before domestic murder, when the cracks are appearing, is when interventions count. They mostly rely on government funding. Politicians wring their hands after murders, but do not fund police, healthcare, education or public housing properly. They look concerned in public, and cut budgets in committee. She had to stay with friends while waiting for an underfunded shelter, relying on the charity of individuals in this cold, rich country. The WA Government has argued for years now that the all-female doctors who work with victims at the Sexual Assault Resource Centre should take a pay cut. They even flexed their power in court, trying to save amounts that would be a rounding error on parliamentary dining expenses. The tribunal said existing contracts should stand, but the State employer will make sure to pay new doctors less than other specialists for this 24/7 forensic grind. Who would sign up? No respect or gratitude. Just penny-pinching spreadsheets and fake concern at the next sad press conference. Shame on men who do not control themselves, and shame on governments for not funding long-term, structural supports — for everyone — adequately. When he pushes her from the car, that is his terrible responsibility alone. What happens next is up to all of us.