Say yes to your census data being shared in 99 years – for Australian history, and for your children

I was born in the United States, and the first census I was recorded on was in 1950. Because individual US census records are released after 72 years, I was able to see that original form in 2022, and discover my mother was then living with her second husband, Jesse Hammers. Her name was listed as Anemone Hammers. My name was listed under my birth father’s name, Hull. Later that year, she divorced Hammers and returned to her first husband and the name Anemone Hull. My parents never mentioned this to my three brothers or me and, like all good family secrets, this story was never revealed while my birth parents were alive. Through the release of the census, and searches through marriage and divorce records, we were able to piece together the story of our parents and their first five years together and apart and together again. From the earliest family surveys in the United Kingdom, census records have been preserved, just as other government records like birth and death certificates are maintained. But for most of the history of Australian censuses, the individual forms have been destroyed, initially by accident, and later by policy. Since 2001, we have been able to opt in to our records being saved and released after 99 years. Here’s why you should consent – and why we should have access long before a century has passed. The insight we have lost New South Wales held its first comprehensive census in 1828. This was little more than a directory of names, but historians and genealogists regard it as invaluable. The documents from this 1828 census record one of my ancestors. There are two people with the same name – one a convict, and one a law clerk; which I claim as my relative depends on who I am talking to. Through the 19th century, these records were saved in colonial archives before most were destroyed in the 1882 Sydney Garden Palace fire. By the time of federation, many politicians decided censuses were too sensitive to be kept – some because they were ashamed of a convict ancestry; others who didn’t want people digging into a past that had been confabulated. Details from the 1828 NSW Census are available in the State Library of New South Wales. Museums of History NSW This meant the Commonwealth Bureau of Census and Statistics (the precursor to the Australian Bureau of Statistics) developed the practice of destroying original census forms after they had been tabulated. We can find many gems in saved archives. One of my favourites is of the 1910 US census record of the Australian author Stella Miles Franklin and the architect of Canberra, Walter Burley Griffin, living in adjoining hotels in Chicago, surrounded by people from across the world. The forms tell us much about the social milieu they plunged into on a daily basis, which shaped the rest of their lives. Saving, destroying, and saving files At times, Australia’s census records were saved – if briefly. In the 1960s, the bureau changed procedures to keep the files, to allow them to produce innovative data sets after the routine tables had been generated. The demographics of Australia were shifting, and they saw it was important to preserve data to answer emerging questions. In parliament 1971, Billy Snedden – then treasurer and minister responsible for the Bureau of Census and Statistics — was asked by the opposition about census documents. He informed the house all documents had been destroyed. The head of the ABS let the minister know they had kept the records of recent censuses and Snedden, afraid of the charge of misleading parliament, replied: destroy them. They were. Since this destruction of files, the ABS has frequently argued citizens are afraid of records being preserved. When, in 2001 the ABS created a checkbox to allow respondents to opt in to preservation of their document, ABS set a 99 year limit for the release of information. What census information will mean for the future In the 20th century, historians in the UK and US opened wholly new perspectives on society by looking to censuses for insights into common families who were not recorded in the newspapers or diaries of the time, and the community structures in which they lived. Such innovations are denied to Australians. Census records also hold great value to family historians. If you agree to the storage of your form at this census, it will only be released after 99 years. Nearly everyone recorded in 2026 will be dead long before the records are open in 2126, but if your great-great-great grandchildren are to have access to information about you, say yes to preservation. I would argue a 40 or 50 year preservation of anonymity is more reasonable: that means many people who are alive today can get their own records, and find out more about their childhood. We should also consider making the preservation compulsory. We allow people access to birth and death records. There is no argument that those are private documents either immediately or in perpetuity. It is only in the nature of the household structures and neighbourhood relationships where we preserve anonymity. If you asked my mother in 1950 if she approved of the data being available in 72 years, she would have said yes – but she wasn’t asked. Do I feel any less about my mother from what I learnt? Not at all. Would she be ashamed of what we learnt? No. If you are concerned about how your children or grandchildren will interpret your census records, think about the nature of Australian society today and what it will be like in 99 years. Will you be remembered?