Scott Morrison’s award is not just a political misjudgment – it is an affront to decency.

I wasn’t personally targeted by the Robodebt scheme. But as a volunteer and supporter of the Australian Unemployed Workers’ Union, I frequently encountered people whose lives were turned upside down by it. False debts, threats of prosecution, inexplicable Centrelink letters, and the quiet trauma of being treated like a criminal by your own government – all of it real, all of it devastating. And for this, the man responsible receives the country’s highest honour.

Where is our honour?

It’s one thing to make mistakes in government. It’s another to be told your actions are unlawful and carry on regardless. Robodebt was not an accident – it was sustained by choice. Legal advice was ignored. Warnings were dismissed. People died. And still, no apology. Now – a reward.

There’s a kind of silence that pretends to be peace. A tone-policing instinct that says: don’t get angry, don’t make a fuss, let it go. But anger, in the face of injustice, is not a failure. Sometimes it’s the most human thing we have left. The Robodebt scheme was not an abstract policy error. It was cruelty enacted at scale, and it left wreckage behind.

Some say these awards are symbolic. That we shouldn’t overreact. But symbols matter. Awards shape memory. They tell us who we value – and what we’re willing to overlook. When they go to people who broke the law and harmed the vulnerable, they don’t just ring hollow – they become a celebration of impunity.

There’s a way to reckon with injustice without becoming vengeful. But it begins with honesty. The truth is that Morrison’s Government treated the unemployed as suspects and the poor as liars. Entire lives were consumed by letters, debts, and threats they had no means to challenge. I spoke to people who stopped opening their mail. People who went without food. People who gave up.

And we’re expected to pretend this is fine?

There has been no real accountability. No disqualification from office. No serious investigation into who signed off on what, and why. Just a royal commission report, filed and shelved. Just Morrison – awarded for service to the nation.

This isn’t about bitterness. It’s about moral memory. If someone you knew hurt hundreds of thousands of people and walked away with a medal, would you stay silent? Would you praise restraint? Or would you name what happened, and demand we do better?

Conflict is not the problem. The real danger is when we’re told that justice is impolite. That holding power to account is divisive. That honour is just ceremony, and ceremony just politics. That is how a country forgets itself.

Morrison doesn’t need punishment. But this country needs clarity. Because if Robodebt can be rewarded, then nothing is off limits. If we don’t speak up, we are agreeing — in silence — to live in a nation where cruelty is policy and honour means survival at the top.

Peace doesn’t mean quiet. It means truth. And that truth has just been insulted — in full public view — with a medal.

Let’s not pretend otherwise.

The views expressed in this article may or may not reflect those of Pearls and Irritations.