tag:theconversation.com,2011:/us/topics/aboriginal-culture-33044/articles
Aboriginal culture – The Conversation
2024-03-18T23:20:44Z
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/225780
2024-03-18T23:20:44Z
2024-03-18T23:20:44Z
‘Care is in everything we do and everything we are’: the work of Indigenous women needs to be valued
<p>It’s commonly accepted that women do the vast majority of caregiving in Australian society. But less appreciated is that Indigenous women do larger amounts of unpaid care than any other group.</p>
<p>Working with the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Social Justice Commissioner’s office, we worked with <a href="https://caepr.cass.anu.edu.au/research/publications/caring-about-care">more than 100 Indigenous women across</a> Australia to talk about their interpretations and experiences of care. </p>
<p>“Mainstream” definitions and measures of care do not include the vast and complex ways care is defined by First Nations women. This includes care not only for people, but for communities, Country and culture. </p>
<p>It means important work goes unrecognised, uncompensated or misunderstood, leading to the marginalisation of this crucial work and the women who do it.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/definitions-are-often-very-western-this-excludes-us-our-research-shows-how-to-boost-indigenous-participation-in-stem-223465">'Definitions are often very western. This excludes us.' Our research shows how to boost Indigenous participation in STEM</a>
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<h2>Redefining the concept</h2>
<p>The Australian Human Rights Commission’s <a href="https://humanrights.gov.au/our-work/aboriginal-and-torres-strait-islander-social-justice/publications/wiyi-yani-u-thangani">Wiyi Yani U Thangani</a> report illuminates the crucial importance of the care provided by First Nations women. Our work follows and builds on this report.</p>
<p>An Indigenous woman from the East Kimberley told us:</p>
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<p>Well, care for me, as an Indigenous person, is not just caring for your family, it’s caring for your Country.</p>
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<p>Another woman from the ACT told us care is a disposition, and a means of respecting culture and heritage: </p>
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<p>[Care is] enveloped in everything we do and everything we are and everything about where we are going and paying homage again to our ancestors and who’s come before us. That’s what care is.</p>
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<p>This notion of care as a strength is an important insight from the women in this study. However, unpaid care is often unrecognised and undervalued in Australian policy, which while prioritising getting women into employment, has neglected funding and supporting the existing unpaid care work that women do. </p>
<p>What is evident from our study is that Indigenous women want more support for the care work they do, as well as better care services largely within Aboriginal community-controlled organisations to assist them in doing it.</p>
<h2>Care has consequences</h2>
<p>Women frequently linked their demanding care loads to ongoing colonisation, which continues to create damage to the lives of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people. A woman from greater Sydney said:</p>
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<p>It’s colonial […] It’s just not being able to do things in the way we should be doing them […] because of the colonial structure and things like that. </p>
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<p>This includes the impacts of colonisation on gender roles, child removals, incarceration rates, poor health, poverty, racism and more. </p>
<p>It also includes the impacts of state institutions set up to “care”, but which are <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2017/sep/01/coalition-hails-success-of-cashless-welfare-card-and-says-kalgoorlie-will-be-next-site">often uncaring</a> and <a href="https://theconversation.com/first-nations-children-are-still-being-removed-at-disproportionate-rates-cultural-assumptions-about-parenting-need-to-change-169090">may be violent and harmful</a>.</p>
<p>Ultimately, this requires Indigenous people’s care to heal, adding extra demands on existing care loads. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/first-nations-women-dont-always-access-health-care-after-head-injuries-from-family-violence-heres-why-206084">First Nations women don't always access health care after head injuries from family violence. Here's why</a>
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<p>Many of the women interviewed in this study were also tired, and often carers needed care too. Some were in, or had been through, periods of utter exhaustion and illness due to trying to carry their stressful care load. A Central Australian woman told us:</p>
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<p>It’s hard. It’s draining. Every day just exhausted. Sometimes there’s days when I just can’t keep up with it. And I don’t want to listen, just go away. But those are days when they really need help. So yeah, it’s very exhausting.</p>
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<h2>Time is money, but no one gets paid</h2>
<p>Our research also included a time-use survey, which showed that all unpaid care activities accounted for, on average, 62% of our participant women’s time on a usual weekday (about 14.8 hours per day on average), with 48% of their time (around 11.5 hours) spent caring for others and/or caring for Country and culture specifically. </p>
<p>Because (lost) remuneration for this work was raised as a crucial point by Indigenous women during our interviews, we also calculated the approximate market value of this unpaid care work through using hourly award rates for corresponding care activities (sometimes called the replacement method, which understands the cost of this work in the paid market). </p>
<p>The estimated economic value of this work ranged between $223.01 and $457.39 per day (representing an estimated annual salary of between $81,175.64 and $118,921.40). This estimation is conservative as it does not include the multitasking of more than one care activity at the one time.</p>
<p>The estimation raises important questions as to what is owed to Indigenous women, not just because the economy free-rides on unpaid care, but also because much of this care work mops up the mess of colonisation. </p>
<p>Many of the women we spoke to also talked about how unpaid care and paid employment interact. </p>
<p>In addition to their unpaid care roles, most women in paid employment in this study had roles in the community sector which put them at the frontline of caring for community. They saw this work as part of their broader commitment to supporting their families, communities and advancing Indigenous peoples. It is therefore hard to draw a line for these women between paid and unpaid work, meaning it is rare to be able to “switch off”. </p>
<p>Often, employers didn’t realise the amount of unpaid care of this type women do in <a href="https://theconversation.com/during-naidoc-week-many-indigenous-women-are-assigned-unpaid-work-new-research-shows-how-prevalent-this-is-in-the-workplace-208454">their paid work roles</a>, even though this actually makes their paid employment successful. Women are also not paid adequately for these valuable skills.</p>
<h2>A new approach is needed</h2>
<p>Our research follows generations of Indigenous women who have long shown the strength of care, but also looks at how settler society makes this work harder. </p>
<p>This research underlines the importance of a new approach to supporting Indigenous women, in which their voices, ideas and needs are central, and where care is placed at the heart. This is different to just “fitting” Indigenous care into various settler models, policies and measures already in circulation.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/225780/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Elise Klein receives funding from the Gender Institute at the Australian National University. She is a member of the Anti-Poverty Centre, the Accountable Income Management Network and a Co-Director of the Australian Basic Income Lab.</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Chay Brown receives funding from the Office of Gender Equity and Diversity at the Northern Territory Government. She is affiliated with ANU, Tangentyere Council, and Her Story Mparntwe. </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Kayla Glynn-Braun is a First Nation Wiradjuri Women whom is a project coordinator at The Equality Institute and Co-Foundered Her Story Consulting and lead on U Right Sis? project, Indigenous Knowledge</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Janet Hunt and Zoe Staines do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
To First Nations women, ‘care’ is more broad and all-encompassing than traditional definitions. We need a new approach to capturing, and appreciating, their work, paid and unpaid.
Elise Klein, Associate professor, Australian National University
Chay Brown, Managing Director, Her Story Consulting & Postdoctoral fellow, Australian National University
Janet Hunt, Honorary Associate Professor, CAEPR, Australian National University
Kayla Glynn-Braun, Director of Her Story, project coordinator at The Equality Institute, lead on U Right Sis? project, Indigenous Knowledge
Zoe Staines, Senior Lecturer, The University of Queensland
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/214854
2023-12-28T20:37:19Z
2023-12-28T20:37:19Z
‘Ecology on steroids’: how Australia’s First Nations managed Australia’s ecosystems
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/566174/original/file-20231218-29-q9azfr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=895%2C0%2C2523%2C1842&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Shutterstock</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>First Nations people please be advised this article speaks of racially discriminating moments in history, including the distress and death of First Nations people.</em></p>
<p>On October 9 1873, George Augustus Frederick Dalrymple reclined in a boat on the glorious North Johnstone River in the coastal Wet Tropics. Dalrymple was in raptures. A riot of palms, bananas, ferns and lilies descended to the waters edge, and large-leafed taro grew in strips along the riverbank over tens of hectares. He <a href="https://catalogue.nla.gov.au/catalog/2233550">came across a large village</a> with rows of neatly made bark and palm leaf huts. Dappled paths led to managed patches of open forest, groves of fruit trees, bananas and yams. Nearby, a small fleet of moored catamarans sat bobbing.</p>
<p>In the colonial literature, there are many such descriptions of beautiful and bountiful pre-European tropical landscapes. It was clear that people had helped create such a rich paradise <a href="https://www.allenandunwin.com/browse/book/Bill-Gammage-Biggest-Estate-on-Earth-9781743311325">through their land management</a></p>
<p>By 1886, many rainforest people of tropical north Queensland had been “dispersed” – killed – and swathes of this biodiversity hotspot began being <a href="https://www.allenandunwin.com/browse/book/Penny-van-Oosterzee-Cloud-Land-9781761068409/">cleared for sugarcane</a>. </p>
<p>First Nations groups such as Australia’s rainforest people had <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/257836980_Aborigines_and_Fire_in_the_Wet_Tropics_of_Queensland_Australia_Ecosystem_Management_Across_Cultures">skilfully managed</a> entire ecosystems over the long term, in what has been termed “<a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/abs/handbook-of-contemporary-animism/death-and-grief-in-a-world-of-kin/F67F7B7A2B9C225A3D5A24446BD3CE4E">ecology on steroids</a>”. These <a href="https://www.allenandunwin.com/browse/book/Penny-van-Oosterzee-Cloud-Land-9781761068409">future-making</a> methods protected landscapes from climate change and buffered them against extinction. </p>
<p>Australia’s First Nations did this through the cold and dryness of the last ice age, and as the seas rose through the droughts and floods of the <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s41598-019-38626-3">El Niño Southern Oscillation</a> climate cycle. </p>
<p>As we face an uncertain climate future, it’s valuable to look at how people weathered such change. </p>
<h2>Decoupling landscape from climate change</h2>
<p>When people first came to Australia, the <a href="https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/486/">Wet Tropics</a> were not wet. The Pleistocene climate was cool and windy, with mega monsoons and long periods of diabolical drought. If you had looked east from what is now Cairns, you would have seen not oceans and coral atolls, but plains and valleys filled with grasslands and forest. The sea lay tens of kilometres off the continental shelf. </p>
<p>The oldest record of human occupation in Australia is found in the Top End. Here, in a magnificent cave system in Arnhem Land, people prepared a meal of <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/339303242_The_first_Australian_plant_foods_at_Madjedbebe_65000-53000_years_ago">native fruits and processed pandanus</a> using an adaptable toolkit. This meal took place <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/nature22968">65,000 years ago</a>, when savannah stretched all the way to the island of New Guinea. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/559828/original/file-20231116-29-ykschg.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="map showing how Papua New Guinea and Australia were connected during the last ice age" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/559828/original/file-20231116-29-ykschg.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/559828/original/file-20231116-29-ykschg.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=341&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/559828/original/file-20231116-29-ykschg.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=341&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/559828/original/file-20231116-29-ykschg.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=341&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/559828/original/file-20231116-29-ykschg.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=428&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/559828/original/file-20231116-29-ykschg.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=428&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/559828/original/file-20231116-29-ykschg.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=428&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">When the sea levels were lower, people could walk from Australia to Papua New Guinea. Girraween lagoon is marked on the map.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Michael Bird/Damien O'Grady</span>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/4.0/">CC BY-ND</a></span>
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<p>Over thousands of years, Australia’s people developed a vibrant cosmology. For First Nations people Country was sentient. The land was not a mindless resource but part of your family – and came with family obligations. Everyone, whether you were human, an animal, a plant, a river, fire, the sky or wind, was closely watched. People were <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/258039276_Niche_construction_and_Dreaming_logic_Aboriginal_patch_mosaic_burning_and_varanid_lizards_Varanus_gouldii_in_Australia">embedded within ecosystems</a>. </p>
<p>Recently scientists <a href="https://ris.cdu.edu.au/ws/portalfiles/portal/24523204/Rowe_et_al_2019_Holocene_savanna_dynamics_in_the_seasonal_tropics_of_northern_Australia.pdf">sampled the deep mud</a> of Girraween lagoon in the Top End searching for pollen and charcoal that would provide a window into this deep time. </p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/559823/original/file-20231116-25-qdvyok.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Two men drilling for scientific samples" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/559823/original/file-20231116-25-qdvyok.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/559823/original/file-20231116-25-qdvyok.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=341&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/559823/original/file-20231116-25-qdvyok.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=341&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/559823/original/file-20231116-25-qdvyok.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=341&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/559823/original/file-20231116-25-qdvyok.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=429&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/559823/original/file-20231116-25-qdvyok.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=429&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/559823/original/file-20231116-25-qdvyok.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=429&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">The deep mud of Girraween lagoon near Darwin is a window into the past.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Michael Bird/Damien O'Grady</span>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/4.0/">CC BY-ND</a></span>
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<p>Some 13,000 years ago, the landscape was parched. But as the northern hemisphere ice sheets melted, the seas rose and the monsoons began to return. By the mid-Holocene, between 9,000 and 4,000 years ago, the monsoons were arriving regularly. The lagoon filled up, nestled in a landscape of moisture-loving shrubs and brushed by relatively cool fires. </p>
<p>But then, the climate lurched to one of the long periods of horrendous drought instigated by an El Nino weather system. </p>
<p>Curiously, destructive fires did not follow. The deep mud core showed fire became less, not more, intense, as the forest shaded out the volatile grasses that cause intense fires in savanna. Even as drought increased, the Top End landscape filled with layers of diverse herbs and shrubs, with a variety of trees and groves of monsoon forest closer to the lagoon. </p>
<p>This patterning was likely the handiwork of people taming fire and putting it to work. Through patch burning, they created a rich landscape of diverse habitat that sustained people and <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/258039276_Niche_construction_and_Dreaming_logic_Aboriginal_patch_mosaic_burning_and_varanid_lizards_Varanus_gouldii_in_Australia">created niches</a> for a wide range of species. </p>
<p>Today, a quarter of Australia’s fire-prone savannahs, mostly managed by First Nations peoples, are returning to patchy fire regimes. These reduce the big wildfires associated with <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0301479721006307">European pastoralism</a> and reduce emissions. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/to-address-the-ecological-crisis-aboriginal-peoples-must-be-restored-as-custodians-of-country-108594">To address the ecological crisis, Aboriginal peoples must be restored as custodians of Country</a>
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<h2>Extinction busters</h2>
<p>Perhaps few places encapsulate the harshness of Australia’s environment more than the Great Sandy Desert. From before the last ice age, the ancestors of today’s Martu people would have witnessed great floods rushing down the Sturt Creek into an extensive lake system, Paruku (Lake Gregory). These lakes were <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/272158856_EXCAVATIONS_AT_PARNKUPIRTI_LAKE_GREGORY_GREAT_SANDY_DESERT">ten times larger than today’s system</a>, ringed by dunes covered in scrubby vegetation and flammable spinifex. </p>
<p>Over <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/314306369_Aboriginal_mitogenomes_reveal_50000_years_of_regionalism_in_Australia">perhaps 50 millennia</a>, the Martu used fire to create mosaic landscapes. </p>
<p>In the 1960s, the Martu were forced to leave to make way for <a href="https://www.arpansa.gov.au/understanding-radiation/sources-radiation/more-radiation-sources/british-nuclear-weapons-testing">nuclear missile tests</a>. Without cultural burning, it took <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/330976086_Subsistence_Transitions_and_the_Simplification_of_Ecological_Networks_in_the_Western_Desert_of_Australia">mere years</a> for fuel to build up and large wildfires to incinerate the landscape. </p>
<p>You can see the change clearly. <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/258039276_Niche_construction_and_Dreaming_logic_Aboriginal_patch_mosaic_burning_and_varanid_lizards_Varanus_gouldii_in_Australia">Satellite images and aerial photograhy</a> showed the size of the average fire went from 64 hectares under Martu management to over 50,000 ha by the 1980s. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/559826/original/file-20231116-22-x071ma.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Fire patterns in central Australia" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/559826/original/file-20231116-22-x071ma.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/559826/original/file-20231116-22-x071ma.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/559826/original/file-20231116-22-x071ma.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/559826/original/file-20231116-22-x071ma.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/559826/original/file-20231116-22-x071ma.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/559826/original/file-20231116-22-x071ma.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/559826/original/file-20231116-22-x071ma.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Mosaic burning reduces fire intensity and promotes fresh growth.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Stefani Crabtree</span>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/4.0/">CC BY-ND</a></span>
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<p>In turn, this drove <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/330976086_Subsistence_Transitions_and_the_Simplification_of_Ecological_Networks_in_the_Western_Desert_of_Australia">dramatic shifts</a> to the food web. Over the two decades of Martu absence, ten species of small mammal became locally extinct, including the rufous hare-wallaby, burrowing bettong, bilby, mulgara and brushtail possum. What’s more, 14 mammals, three birds and two reptiles became threatened. Cats, foxes, camels and buffel grass became widespread. </p>
<p>In the 1980s, the Martu were able to return. Back on Country, they <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/330976086_Subsistence_Transitions_and_the_Simplification_of_Ecological_Networks_in_the_Western_Desert_of_Australia">worked with scientists</a> to reconstruct pre-1960s food webs from their memories, recalling not only species hunted, but rich detail of the behaviour, interactions and life histories. </p>
<p>Today, <a href="https://ministers.pmc.gov.au/burney/2023/celebrating-dedication-martu-indigenous-protected-area">Indigenous Protected Areas</a> covering millions of hectares have been added to the national estate. The Western Desert Martu Ranger program manage <a href="https://www.niaa.gov.au/indigenous-affairs/environment/western-desert-martu-ranger-programme">6.5 million hectares</a>. </p>
<p>This return to First Nations management is long overdue, as human-made climate change intensifies. We will need to relearn these ancient techniques of managing country on a broader scale to cope with the changes to come. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/indigenous-knowledge-and-the-persistence-of-the-wilderness-myth-165164">Indigenous knowledge and the persistence of the 'wilderness' myth</a>
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<img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/214854/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Penny van Oosterzee is a Director of Biome5 Pty Ltd which was a linkage partner in an ARC research project on cost-effective restoration for carbon and biodiversity based on her property Thiaki. Penny has recently published a book, Cloud Land, with Allen & Unwin based on the Thiaki restoration project. The book focuses on Australia's Wet Tropics Rainforest and Rainforest peoples.</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Barry Hunter is a Djabugay man and chair of Terrain NRM, a natural resources management group.</span></em></p>
When people first came to Australia 65,000 years ago, the Earth was in an ice age. Then the seas rose, drought and floods came – and still people endured.
Penny van Oosterzee, Adjunct Associate Professor James Cook University and University Fellow Charles Darwin University, James Cook University
Barry Hunter, Acting CEO, North Australian Indigenous Land and Sea Management Alliance, Indigenous Knowledge
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/215457
2023-10-18T19:06:19Z
2023-10-18T19:06:19Z
Barkindji custodians near Broken Hill continue to care for ancestral dingo remains with help from archaeologists
<p>Just as people bury their pets today, First Nations groups across south-eastern Australia often buried their companion dingos. These companion animals were given ancestral burials – similar to family members. </p>
<p>Last week, at the request of the Menindee Aboriginal Elders Council, a group of researchers from the Australian Museum, University of Sydney and the Australian National University excavated a dingo burial. </p>
<p>It was found eroding out of a cutting on the junction of the Darling Barka and Ancestral Talyawalka rivers in the Menindee Lakes area, east of Broken Hill in New South Wales.</p>
<p>This dingo (kali in Barkindji language) had been buried in a midden, just as many ancestors were. It may be that burying family and dingos in middens is a way to connect them with the ancestors, as middens form a tangible link to the Old People.</p>
<h2>A smoking ceremony for the burial</h2>
<p>Barb Quayle, vice-chair of the Menindee Aboriginal Elders Council, conducted a smoking ceremony for the burial before the bones were lifted out of the midden. </p>
<p>A smoking ceremony is a long-standing custom of First Nations people. It involves passing smoke over a place, person or animal to cleanse it or ward off bad spirits for healing, spiritual renewal and strength.</p>
<p>Smoking ceremonies are very significant and are only performed where First Nations people determine they are necessary. </p>
<p>This burial was found right at the western edge of the areas where burying dingos in middens was practised. Dingo burials have been found in many archaeological sites in south-eastern Australia, particularly along the Murray-Darling river system and along the coast. Dingos are usually found buried in middens and often in the same place as ancestors.</p>
<p>Middens, contrary to popular belief, are not rubbish heaps. Rather they are sites built by the Old People. The act of burying family or companion dingos in middens imbues them with a spiritual character and connects them with the ancestors.</p>
<p>The dingo was first identified a few years ago as it eroded out of a road cutting. The Menindee Aboriginal Elders Council took Amy Way (co-author of this article), who has been working with the council since 2021, to see whether more could be found out about the dingo before it deteriorated further.</p>
<h2>This dingo was old, short and male</h2>
<p>Dingo expert Loukas Koungoulos, zooarchaeologist Rebecca Jones and archaeological geologist Sam Player were brought in especially to assist with the dingo excavation.</p>
<p>We can tell this was an old dingo from the wear on the teeth. Koungoulos, who examined the remains, believes the animal was several years into adulthood.</p>
<p>During the excavation, Koungoulos and Jones found a pathology (bone decay from a long-term ailment) at the ends of the long bones. This tells us the dingo may have had a long-term illness, such as arthritis, but we’ll need more detail to determine the exact nature of the ailment. One rib also had a possible healed fracture, which means the dingo may have been cared for to live through injury and illness. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/553961/original/file-20231016-27-elz53l.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A russet dog with pointy ears standing on red soil and looking at the camera" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/553961/original/file-20231016-27-elz53l.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/553961/original/file-20231016-27-elz53l.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=405&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/553961/original/file-20231016-27-elz53l.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=405&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/553961/original/file-20231016-27-elz53l.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=405&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/553961/original/file-20231016-27-elz53l.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=509&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/553961/original/file-20231016-27-elz53l.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=509&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/553961/original/file-20231016-27-elz53l.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=509&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Dingos have lived with First Nations people in Australia for thousands of years.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/wild-dingo-outback-desert-country-queensland-1444663625">Shutterstock</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The length of the femur or thigh bone also tells us the dingo had a short stature. It’s possible ancestral companion dingos were smaller than both ancestral and modern wild dingos, as wild animals tend to be bigger than companion animals. </p>
<p>We see this today with feral cats being larger than domestic cats. Domestic animals are usually smaller than their wild ancestors. This may be from changes in their diet and becomes genetically encoded over time.</p>
<p>A good portion of the skeleton was still connected, and it was lying on its left side. We also know it was a male dog because the baculum or penis bone was present.</p>
<p>Loukas Koungoulos will now look at the skeleton in detail to determine its size and when it was buried. Through DNA analysis we may learn how it is related to other dingos. It will then be reburied on Country.</p>
<h2>Dingos have been in Australia for thousands of years</h2>
<p>Direct radiocarbon dating of other dingo burials suggests they first arrived <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s41598-018-28324-x">around 3,500 years ago</a>. However, these burials are from the South Australian coastline – as they came in from the north, they probably arrived earlier than this. DNA dating also suggests they may have arrived earlier.</p>
<p>The dingo is most closely related the <a href="https://www.australiangeographic.com.au/blogs/creatura-blog/2014/08/png-singing-dog-worlds-most-elusive-canine/">New Guinea singing dog</a> (<em>Canis dingo hallstromi</em>). Since Papua New Guinea and Australia were separated by rising sea levels 6,000–8,000 years ago, these animals must have been brought by people in boats. This tells us they were probably companion animals when they were brought to Australia. </p>
<p>This excavation was part of a multi-year collaboration between Barkindji cultural knowledge holders and research scientists, which is looking at Barkindji occupation in the Menindee Lakes region from first arrival more than 40,000 years ago until today. </p>
<hr>
<p><em>Acknowledgement: The authors would like to thank the Menindee Aboriginal Elders Council and NSW National Parks and Wildlife (West Branch) for their support, Australian Museum donors and the Australian Museum Foundation for generous funding, and project team members (in addition to the authors) Cheryl Blore, Joseph Lehner, Paul Hesse, Tim Cohen, Alison Crowther and Anna Florin.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/215457/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Amy Mosig Way receives funding from Australian Museum donors and the Australian Museum Foundation. </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Barbara Quayle and Dave Doyle do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
The bones of the animal were found eroding from the ground. After careful analysis, it will be reburied on Country.
Amy Mosig Way, Lecturer in Archaeology, University of Sydney, and Archaeologist, Australian Museum
Barbara Quayle, Vice-president of the Menindee Aboriginal Elders Council, Indigenous Knowledge
Dave Doyle, Barkindji/Malyangapa Indigenous Knowledge holder, Indigenous Knowledge
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/208023
2023-08-06T20:00:05Z
2023-08-06T20:00:05Z
In 1951, corroboree dancers in Darwin went on strike: their actions would reverberate as far as Melbourne
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/535726/original/file-20230705-23-7xl4ca.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=19%2C16%2C1559%2C1252&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Performers in Aboriginal Moomba: Out of the Dark, in 1951. Produced by Bill Onus and Doug Nicholls of the Australian Aborigines' League.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://viewer.slv.vic.gov.au/?entity=IE7215243">State Library of Victoria</a></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised this article contains names and images of deceased people.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>“No Fred – No Lawrence – No Corroboree” ran the February 16 1951 headline in the Darwin newspaper <a href="https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/49482592">The Northern Standard</a>. </p>
<p>Performers from Northern Territory’s Daly region and Tiwi Islands unanimously agreed to withhold their planned public dance show in solidarity with Aboriginal workers’ rolling strikes in Darwin for equal pay and civil rights. </p>
<p>In the weeks before, the strike leaders, Wadjiginy man Lawrence Wurrpen (Urban) and Larrakia man Fred Nadpur Waters, had been detained under the <a href="https://www.naa.gov.au/students-and-teachers/learning-resources/learning-resource-themes/first-australians/history/aboriginals-ordinance-act-1911">Aboriginals Ordinance Act of 1918</a> – laws that did not apply to non-Aboriginal people. </p>
<p>From thousands of kilometres away there was further support for the Darwin strike leaders. In Sydney, New Theatre members supported the Darwin strikers by leafleting performances of the ballet Corroboree. In Victoria, members of the Australian Aborigines’ League condemned the “intimidation of the Northern Territory Aborigines” in a protest letter sent to Prime Minister Robert Menzies.</p>
<p>Our new article in <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/ajph.12823">The Australian Journal of Politics and History</a> shows how Aboriginal people in 1951 framed cultural practice as labour and as a tool for advocacy for Aboriginal rights stretching across the continent.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/fusing-traditional-culture-and-the-violin-how-aboriginal-musicians-enhanced-and-maintained-community-in-20th-century-australia-208368">Fusing traditional culture and the violin: how Aboriginal musicians enhanced and maintained community in 20th century Australia</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Aboriginal workers in 1951</h2>
<p>The corroboree strike of 1951 followed months of action led initially by Lawrence Wurrpen (Urban), a Wadjiginy man from Delissaville Native Settlement (now known as Belyuen). </p>
<p>Wurrpen led three strikes of Aboriginal workers in Darwin over 1950–51. The strikers demanded fair pay and access to civil rights, particularly the freedom to move about Darwin and the Northern Territory. </p>
<p>At the third strike, on January 24 1951, Wurrpen was arrested and sentenced to four months in jail. On his release under appeal, he was directed to stay within Bagot Compound Reserve in Darwin. </p>
<p>He defied these orders and was arrested for leaving the compound, for disorderly behaviour, and for drinking alcohol. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/539896/original/file-20230728-23-a9qx57.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Sign reads: Any unauthorised person who enters or remains on this reserve will be prosecuted." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/539896/original/file-20230728-23-a9qx57.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/539896/original/file-20230728-23-a9qx57.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=366&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539896/original/file-20230728-23-a9qx57.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=366&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539896/original/file-20230728-23-a9qx57.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=366&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539896/original/file-20230728-23-a9qx57.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=460&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539896/original/file-20230728-23-a9qx57.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=460&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539896/original/file-20230728-23-a9qx57.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=460&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Notice outside Bagot Aboriginal Reserve.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://territorystories.nt.gov.au/10070/836091">Libraries & Archives NT</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p><a href="http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article209321607">As the press reports highlighted</a> at the time, no non-Aboriginal person could have been charged with defying orders restricting their movement, nor for drinking alcohol.</p>
<p>Senior Larrakia man Fred Nadpur Waters led a fourth strike in February. A leader of the Larrakia community on whose Country the settlement of Darwin had been built, Waters was keenly aware of the potential of the union movement to support Aboriginal workers’ demands for better pay and working conditions.</p>
<p>But after the strike, the Director of Native Affairs ordered Waters be removed from Darwin. He was sent to the remote Central Australian community of Haasts Bluff (Ikuntji), 1,700 km away. </p>
<p>The corroboree strike emerged in response to the banishment of Waters, drawing further attention to discriminatory treatment of the Aboriginal strike leaders. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/539898/original/file-20230728-22-ud8ybo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Aboriginal dancers on a float depicting a bark and grass dwelling" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/539898/original/file-20230728-22-ud8ybo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/539898/original/file-20230728-22-ud8ybo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=370&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539898/original/file-20230728-22-ud8ybo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=370&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539898/original/file-20230728-22-ud8ybo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=370&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539898/original/file-20230728-22-ud8ybo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=464&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539898/original/file-20230728-22-ud8ybo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=464&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539898/original/file-20230728-22-ud8ybo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=464&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Aboriginal dancers on the road to the Botanical Gardens for a corroboree for a tourist ship.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://territorystories.nt.gov.au/10070/746654">Libraries & Archives NT</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/enforcing-assimilation-dismantling-aboriginal-families-a-history-of-police-violence-in-australia-140637">Enforcing assimilation, dismantling Aboriginal families: a history of police violence in Australia</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Ripples in the southeast</h2>
<p>In the southeast, leaders of the Australian Aborigines’ League collaborated on performances and protest actions. In solidarity in Sydney, New Theatre members distributed leaflets to audiences of the non-Indigenous ballet Corroboree, being performed at the Tivoli theatre. </p>
<p>The leaflets highlighted the Darwin performers’ refusal to “put on a corroboree,” <a href="https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/49476486">stating</a>: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>the idea of human rights […] demands that we do something more than admire aborigines from the safe distance of the Tivoli auditorium. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>This local action linked condemnation of the treatment of Darwin strikers with local struggles for justice. </p>
<p>Other protests linking Aboriginal rights and the arts were also taking place across 1951.</p>
<p>In January, the league protested the exclusion of Melbourne Aboriginal people from programming of the Jubilee Festival and Centenary of Melbourne. Led by Doug Nicholls, the league <a href="http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article23048214">threatened</a> to parade a float through the streets with: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>a chained aborigine guarded by a white man with a whip [to] represent the introduction of Western ‘civilisation’. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>Within days, Nicholls was invited to join the Melbourne Centenary Celebrations Committee. He went on to produce the Aboriginal Moomba with Bill and Eric Onus, featuring singing stars Harold Blair and Georgia Lee (Dulcie Pitt), alongside a cast of performers from up and down the east coast.</p>
<p>In March, <a href="https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/49476505">an article</a> reported on a meeting aiming to create a Council For The Advancement of Aborigines. This Australia-wide organisation would support civil rights for Aboriginal people, advocate for “Jubilee justice” and object to the intimidation of Northern Territory Aboriginal protesters. </p>
<p>Strike action continued in June 1951 when Wiradjuri man Ray Peckham attempted to travel with Melbourne’s Unity Dance Group to East Berlin and was denied a passport. </p>
<p>The Australian Aborigines’ League’s Bill and Eric Onus mobilised Melbourne dockside workers, threatening to “tie up every ship that’s in port and round the shores of Australia”. Peckham’s passport was quickly delivered to the ship. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/539899/original/file-20230728-27-434fnd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Young people on a ship." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/539899/original/file-20230728-27-434fnd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/539899/original/file-20230728-27-434fnd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=438&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539899/original/file-20230728-27-434fnd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=438&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539899/original/file-20230728-27-434fnd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=438&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539899/original/file-20230728-27-434fnd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=551&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539899/original/file-20230728-27-434fnd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=551&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539899/original/file-20230728-27-434fnd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=551&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Ray Peckham (fifth from left) returning from the World Youth Festival in East Berlin, 1952.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">National Archives of Australia</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/ablaze-review-a-powerful-personal-portrait-of-aboriginal-activist-and-filmmaker-bill-onus-165870">Ablaze review: a powerful, personal portrait of Aboriginal activist and filmmaker Bill Onus</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Performing culture for equal rights</h2>
<p>Aboriginal performances in the far north and southeast were acts of interconnected resistance to state-based discriminatory policies. We have now mapped these connections in a <a href="https://www.reclaimingperformance.info/heat-map/">new website</a> showing how bonds of history and kinship enabled public displays of culture, music and dance.</p>
<p>Through performance and protest, Aboriginal people publicly asserted their continued presence and maintenance of culture even as they fought for equal pay, freedom of movement and citizenship.</p>
<p>The 1951 incidents in the Northern Territory, NSW and Victoria contained the seeds of united national campaigns for citizenship rights that would change the Australian political landscape in years to come. </p>
<p>Performance – when it was staged, and when it was withheld – played a key role in asserting these rights.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/208023/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Amanda Harris receives funding from the Australian Research Council</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Linda Barwick receives funding from the Australian Research Council.</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Tiriki Onus receives funding from the Australian Research Council and is the grandson of Bill Onus.</span></em></p>
Aboriginal people in 1951 framed cultural practice as labour and as a tool for advocacy for Aboriginal rights stretching across the continent.
Amanda Harris, ARC Future Fellow, Sydney Conservatorium of Music, University of Sydney
Linda Barwick, Emeritus professor, University of Sydney
Tiriki Onus, Senior Lecturer in Indigenous Art and Culture, Head of the Wilin Centre for Indigenous Arts and Cultural Development, University of Melbourne, The University of Melbourne
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/187004
2022-09-12T20:27:32Z
2022-09-12T20:27:32Z
The book that changed me: Hugh Brody’s The Other Side of Eden showed what hunter-gatherer societies can teach us today
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/480999/original/file-20220825-24-lkjkvb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=17%2C138%2C2355%2C1458&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Inuit hunters:</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Kevin Frayer/AP</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Many years before I encountered Hugh Brody’s writing, I read Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book (1894). This was the first book I remember that significantly influenced my life. I read it many times, and still regularly re-read Kipling. The Jungle Book is a colonial version of the “wild child” story: it explores the withdrawal of human care, and acceptance into a different world of nurture and home set amongst danger, enmity and death.</p>
<p>The child raised by wolves finds himself appalled and confused by the insistent hierarchies of colonial Indian human society, instead negotiating his unique place with the non-human inhabitants of the jungle.</p>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/483113/original/file-20220907-14-9imv53.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/483113/original/file-20220907-14-9imv53.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/483113/original/file-20220907-14-9imv53.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/483113/original/file-20220907-14-9imv53.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/483113/original/file-20220907-14-9imv53.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/483113/original/file-20220907-14-9imv53.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/483113/original/file-20220907-14-9imv53.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/483113/original/file-20220907-14-9imv53.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Michael Adams.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Photo by Isabella Wild.</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>I was born in India, and the Jungle Book rubbed shoulders on the bookshelf with worn copies of Salim Ali’s The Book of Indian Birds (1941), E.P. Gee’s Wildlife of India (1964), and Jim Corbett’s Man-Eaters of Kumaon (1944) and the poetically beautiful My India (1952). </p>
<p>The wildlife guides were the factual complements to the poetry and drama of Kipling’s and Corbett’s stories. Wild societies where humans and animals share space. Journeys in the remote landscapes of colonial India. The deep knowledge and wisdom of local hunters. </p>
<p>These stories were signposts on a circuitous pathway eventually leading to a PhD in geography, investigating the relationships between Aboriginal people and conservation agencies in Australia.</p>
<p>The year I submitted that thesis, anthropologist and documentary filmmaker Hugh Brody published <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/129787.The_Other_Side_of_Eden?from_search=true&from_srp=true&qid=ms7iKtBddD&rank=1">The Other Side of Eden, subtitled Hunters, farmers and the shaping of the world</a> (2001).</p>
<p>I was back from months of fieldwork in Cape York, living with people who, when they could, lived from the land. Brody worked for decades in Canada’s far north, documenting Inuit and Indian perceptions of their lands and the impacts of colonial relations.</p>
<figure class="align-left zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/480993/original/file-20220825-22-46v46k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/480993/original/file-20220825-22-46v46k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/480993/original/file-20220825-22-46v46k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=908&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/480993/original/file-20220825-22-46v46k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=908&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/480993/original/file-20220825-22-46v46k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=908&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/480993/original/file-20220825-22-46v46k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1141&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/480993/original/file-20220825-22-46v46k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1141&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/480993/original/file-20220825-22-46v46k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1141&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption"></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Reading The Other Side of Eden did three things – it gave me a radical new way to understand the position and history of Indigenous peoples, and specifically hunter-gatherers, in the world today. It reminded me of the debt I have for the generosity, friendship and gifts of wisdom from my Aboriginal co-workers. And it reinforced the power of story.</p>
<p>The Other Side of Eden takes readers deep into the world of Arctic peoples. Brody uses immensely detailed ethnographic observation of hunting practice, arctic travel, language, child-rearing and many other elements of culture to demonstrate the wrongness of conventional views about such peoples. </p>
<p>Despite the massive expansion of agricultural peoples all over the world, hunter-gatherer societies have persisted, in areas considered marginal to the dominant societies. It is these hunters who are intimately tied to place, unlike the restless farmers always seeking growth as their populations increase.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/the-book-that-changed-me-how-h-h-finlaysons-the-red-centre-helped-me-see-country-and-what-we-have-done-to-it-177151">The book that changed me: how H.H. Finlayson’s The Red Centre helped me see country – and what we have done to it</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Care and respect</h2>
<p>“All humans have been evolving for the same length of time”, writes Brody, so it is not a question of hunters being further back on some linear trajectory of development: it is a choice. Brody writes,</p>
<blockquote>
<p>the hunter-gatherer mind is humanity’s most sophisticated combination of detailed knowledge and intuition.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Hunter-gatherers “oppose hierarchy and challenge the need to control both other people and the land itself”. He continues, </p>
<blockquote>
<p>the egalitarian individualism of hunter-gatherer societies, arguably their greatest achievement and their most compelling lesson for other peoples, relies on many kinds of respect.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Brody makes a strong case for the difference between respect and control: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>Rather than seeking to change the world, hunter-gatherers know it. They also care for it, showing respect and caring for its wellbeing.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>All these communities have rules about the treatment of animals, plants and the land itself – specific, overt rules about which animals or plants can be taken at which time and in which place and in which way. </p>
<p>These processes of respect can be interpreted functionally (for example by not disturbing an animal during the breeding period), but Brody emphasises that they are also about relationships: if people do the right things “the creatures and plants they eat will feel welcome and know they are respected”.</p>
<p>Describing a hunting companion, Brody says: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>He often travelled alone, over great distances, hunting day after day. Everything he killed he treated with care and respect. No kill was careless, nothing was wasted; everything was known, understood.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Like Brody, I was a white man from the south (<em>qallunaat</em> in his case, <em>migaloo</em> in mine), and also like Brody, I worked on land claims. While Aboriginal people shared much specific knowledge about their Country necessary for that work, they also, through metaphor, emotion and example, worked to help me understand the limitations of my worldview and the beauty and intricacy of theirs. </p>
<h2>‘Heart teachings’</h2>
<p>In my writing I did not engage with this – what I think of as “heart teachings” – for many years, instead dutifully conforming to the “objectivity” and “evidence” demanded of academics.</p>
<p>But I did engage with it in my teaching. I combined Brody’s title with the title of my thesis, and wrote a subject called Redefining Eden: Indigenous Peoples and the Environment. </p>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/482940/original/file-20220906-14-cd3fh8.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/482940/original/file-20220906-14-cd3fh8.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/482940/original/file-20220906-14-cd3fh8.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=899&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/482940/original/file-20220906-14-cd3fh8.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=899&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/482940/original/file-20220906-14-cd3fh8.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=899&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/482940/original/file-20220906-14-cd3fh8.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1130&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/482940/original/file-20220906-14-cd3fh8.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1130&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/482940/original/file-20220906-14-cd3fh8.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1130&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Academic Vanessa Cavanagh, an Aboriginal woman with Bundjalung and Wonnarua ancestry, addresses students.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In this subject, Aboriginal guest lecturers described continuities of customary harvest practice and caring for Country from the deep past, as well as their experience of contemporary conservation and environmental management. More than 1,000 undergraduates completed that subject, I received numerous comments about how the subject influenced them, and my Indigenous teaching partners and I received several teaching awards.</p>
<p>Brody is a wonderful writer, and one of the great strengths of The Other Side of Eden is the skilled and poetic weaving together of field notes and personal anecdotes – lived ethnographic experience – with scholarship, and that’s what we did in our teaching.</p>
<p>Many Aboriginal co-teachers shared stories of their lives, giving a window into a world few are privileged enough to experience. Those stories grounded and made real the theoretical material we investigated.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/friday-essay-this-grandmother-tree-connects-me-to-country-i-cried-when-i-saw-her-burned-129782">Friday essay: this grandmother tree connects me to Country. I cried when I saw her burned</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Most hunter-gatherer societies have experienced catastrophic, world-ending impacts from colonial oppressors, and have persisted through those changes. As broader society recognises and begins to face new forms of <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2022/apr/04/ipcc-report-now-or-never-if-world-stave-off-climate-disaster">world-ending</a>, what are the lessons from Indigenous and hunting societies?</p>
<p>There are clues in Brody’s work: “The hunter-gatherer seeks a relationship with all parts of the world that will be in both personal and material balance”, and </p>
<blockquote>
<p>the balance of need with resources; the reliance on a blend of the dreamer’s intuition with the naturalist’s love of detailed knowledge; and the commitment to respectful relationships between people [and others].</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Brody also acknowledges that “we” can’t just take these lessons (like we took everything else) – it is about making space for Indigenous lives and territories, making restitution for ongoing colonial impacts.</p>
<p>Like Edward Said’s <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/search?q=Orientalism&qid=">Orientalism</a> (1978) and Linda Tuhiwai-Smith’s <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/225063.Decolonizing_Methodologies?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=adEl5CJEIt&rank=1">Decolonising Methodologies</a> (1999), The Other Side of Eden is paradigm-shifting.</p>
<p>Brody argues for a more balanced view of humanity. Hunting peoples do not seek to change their worlds to the extent that farmers do; they seek ways to make Country productive for all its inhabitants, human and otherwise. </p>
<p>All over the world, the territories of Indigenous peoples continue to map onto the regions of richest and most persistent biodiversity and intact ecosystems. That is not a coincidence, and Brody gives readers the tools to understand why.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/187004/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Michael Adams is Honorary Principal Fellow in Human Geography at the University of Wollongong. He has received funding from several sources for research on Indigenous environmental relationships.</span></em></p>
All over the world, the territories of Indigenous peoples map onto regions of the richest and most persistent biodiversity. A book about hunter-gatherer Arctic peoples shows why.
Michael Adams, Honorary Principal Fellow, Human Geography, University of Wollongong
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/181240
2022-05-04T20:07:12Z
2022-05-04T20:07:12Z
65,000 years of food scraps found at Kakadu tell a story of resilience amid changing climate, sea levels and vegetation
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/460525/original/file-20220429-26-gdije7.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C6%2C4608%2C3035&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">May Nango sharing stories about Mamukala wetlands with her grandson, in 2015.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Anna Florin (courtesy of GAC)</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>For 65,000 years, Bininj – the local Kundjeihmi word for Aboriginal people – have returned to Madjedbebe rock shelter on Mirarr Country in the Kakadu region (in the Northern Territory). </p>
<p>Over this immense span of time, the environment around the rock shelter has changed dramatically. </p>
<p>Our paper, <a href="https://authors.elsevier.com/a/1ezuT-4PS2FMJ">published last week</a> in Quaternary Science Reviews, uses ancient scraps of plant foods, once charred in the site’s fireplaces, to explore how Aboriginal communities camping at the site responded to these changes. </p>
<p>This cooking debris tells a story of resilience in the face of changing climate, sea levels and vegetation.</p>
<h2>A changing environment</h2>
<p>The 50-metre-long Madjedbebe rock shelter lies at the base of a huge sandstone outlier. The site has a dark, ashy floor from hundreds of past campfires and is littered with stone tools and grindstones. </p>
<p>The back wall is decorated with vibrant and colourful rock art. Some images – such as horsemen in broad-brimmed hats, ships, guns and decorated hands – are quite recent. Others are likely many thousands of years old. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/460929/original/file-20220503-19-bm7449.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/460929/original/file-20220503-19-bm7449.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460929/original/file-20220503-19-bm7449.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460929/original/file-20220503-19-bm7449.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460929/original/file-20220503-19-bm7449.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460929/original/file-20220503-19-bm7449.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460929/original/file-20220503-19-bm7449.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">May Nango sharing cultural knowledge about bim (rock art) with Djurrubu rangers Axel Nadjamerrek, Amroh Djandjomerr and Cuisak Nango at Madjedbebe.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Lynley Wallis (courtesy of GAC)</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Today, the site is situated on the edge of the Jabiluka wetlands. But 65,000 years ago, when sea levels were much lower, it sat on the edge of a vast savanna plain joining Australia and New Guinea in the supercontintent of Sahul. </p>
<p>At this time, the world was experiencing a glacial period (referred to as the Marine Isotope Stage 4, or <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0277379118305067">MIS 4</a>) . And while Kakadu would have been relatively well-watered <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s41559-020-01379-8">compared with other parts of Australia</a>, the monsoon vine forest vegetation, common at other points in time, would have retreated.</p>
<p>This glacial period would eventually ease, followed by an interglacial period, and then another glacial period, the Last Glacial Maximum (MIS 2).</p>
<p>Cut to the Holocene (10,000 years ago) and the weather became much warmer and wetter. Monsoon vine forest, open forest and woodland vegetation proliferated, and sea levels rose rapidly. </p>
<p>By 7,000 years ago, Australia and New Guinea were entirely severed from each other and the sea approached Madjedbebe to a high stand of just 5km away. </p>
<p>What followed was the rapid transformation of the Kakadu region. First the sea receded slightly, the river systems near the site became estuaries, and mangroves etched the lowlands. </p>
<p>By 4,000 years ago, these were partially replaced by patches of freshwater wetland. And by 2,000 years ago, the iconic Kakadu wetlands of today were formed.</p>
<h2>Unlikely treasure</h2>
<p>Our research team, composed of archaeologists and Mirarr Traditional Owners, wanted to learn how people lived within this changing environment. </p>
<p>To do this, we sought an unlikely archaeological treasure: charcoal. It’s not something that comes to mind for the average camper, but when a fireplace is lit many of its components – such as twigs and leaves, or food thrown in – can later transform into charcoal.</p>
<p>Under the right conditions, these charred remains will survive long after campers have moved on. This happened many times in the past. Bininj living at Madjedbebe left a range of food scraps behind, including charred and fragmented fruit, nuts, palm stem, seeds, roots and tubers.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/461213/original/file-20220504-14-kb15tm.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/461213/original/file-20220504-14-kb15tm.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/461213/original/file-20220504-14-kb15tm.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=488&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/461213/original/file-20220504-14-kb15tm.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=488&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/461213/original/file-20220504-14-kb15tm.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=488&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/461213/original/file-20220504-14-kb15tm.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=613&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/461213/original/file-20220504-14-kb15tm.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=613&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/461213/original/file-20220504-14-kb15tm.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=613&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A scanning electron microscope image of charred waterlily (Nymphaea sp.) stem found at Madjedbebe.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Anna Florin (courtesy of GAC)</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Using high-powered microscopes, we compared the anatomy of these charcoal pieces to plant foods still harvested from Mirarr Country today. By doing so, we learned about the foods past people ate, the places they gathered them from, and even the seasons in which they visited the site. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/burnt-ancient-nutshells-reveal-the-story-of-climate-change-at-kakadu-now-drier-than-ever-before-152760">Burnt ancient nutshells reveal the story of climate change at Kakadu — now drier than ever before</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/460367/original/file-20220428-14-605qf8.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/460367/original/file-20220428-14-605qf8.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460367/original/file-20220428-14-605qf8.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460367/original/file-20220428-14-605qf8.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460367/original/file-20220428-14-605qf8.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460367/original/file-20220428-14-605qf8.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460367/original/file-20220428-14-605qf8.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Researchers worked hard to collect comparative reference material, including the fruit of andjalbbirdo (white bush plum, <em>Syzygium eucalyptoides</em> subsp. <em>bleeseri</em>) near Mudjinberri, on Mirarr Country, 2018.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Elspeth Hayes (courtesy of GAC)</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>Ancient anme</h2>
<p>From the earliest days of camping at Madjedbebe, people gathered and ate a broad range of anme (the Kundjeihmi word for “plant foods”). This included plants such as pandanus nuts and palm heart, which require tools, labour and detailed traditional knowledge to collect and make edible. </p>
<p>The tools used included edge-ground axes and grinding stones. These were all found in the oldest layers at the site – making them the oldest axes and some of the earliest grinding stones in the world.</p>
<p>Our evidence shows that during the two drier glacial phases (MIS 4 and 2), communities at Madjedbebe relied more on these harder-to-process foods. As the climate was drier, and food was probably more dispersed and less abundant, people would have had to make do with foods that took longer to process.</p>
<p>Highly prized anme such as karrbarda (long yam, <em>Dioscorea transvera</em>) and annganj/ankanj (waterlily seeds, <em>Nymphea</em> spp.) were significant elements of the diet at times when the monsoon vine forest and freshwater vegetation got closer to Madjedbebe – such as during wetland formation in the last 4,000 years and earlier wet phases. But they were also sought from more distant places during drier times.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/460371/original/file-20220428-26-1mv68h.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/460371/original/file-20220428-26-1mv68h.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460371/original/file-20220428-26-1mv68h.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460371/original/file-20220428-26-1mv68h.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460371/original/file-20220428-26-1mv68h.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460371/original/file-20220428-26-1mv68h.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460371/original/file-20220428-26-1mv68h.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">May Nango following the vine of a karrbarda (long yam, <em>Dioscorea transversa</em>) to dig for its yam near Djurrubu, on Mirarr Country, 2018.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Anna Florin (courtesy of GAC)</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>A change of seasons</h2>
<p>The biggest shift in the plant diet eaten at Madjedbebe occurred with the formation of freshwater wetlands. About 4,000 years ago, Bininj didn’t just start to include more freshwater plants in their diet, they also began to return to Madjedbebe during a different season.</p>
<p>Rather than coming to the rock shelter when local fruit trees such as andudjmi (green plum, <em>Buchanania obovata</em>) were fruiting, from Kurrung to Kunumeleng (September to December), they began visiting from Bangkerrang to Wurrkeng (March to August). </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/explainer-the-seasonal-calendars-of-indigenous-australia-88471">Explainer: the seasonal 'calendars' of Indigenous Australia</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>This is a time of year when resources found at the edge of the wetlands, now close to Madjedbebe, become available as floodwaters recede. With the emergence of patchy freshwater wetlands 4,000 years ago, communities changed their diet to make the best use of their environments. </p>
<p>Today, the wetlands are culturally and economically significant to the Mirarr and other Bininj. A range of seasonal animal and plant foods feature at dinner time, including magpie geese, turtles and waterlilies.</p>
<h2>The burning question</h2>
<p>It’s likely the First Australians not only responded to their environment but also shaped it. In the Kakadu region today, one of the main ways Bininj modify their landscape is through cultural burning. </p>
<p>Fire is a cultural tool with a multitude of functions – such as, hunting, generating vegetation growth, and cleaning up pathways and campsites. </p>
<p>One of its most important functions is the steady reduction of wet season biomass which, if left unchecked, becomes fuel for dangerous bushfires in Kurrung (September to October), at the end of the dry season.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/460770/original/file-20220502-19-zkvimp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/460770/original/file-20220502-19-zkvimp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460770/original/file-20220502-19-zkvimp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460770/original/file-20220502-19-zkvimp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460770/original/file-20220502-19-zkvimp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460770/original/file-20220502-19-zkvimp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/460770/original/file-20220502-19-zkvimp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Djurrubu rangers Amroh Djandomerr and Deonus Djandomerr burning Mirarr Country, not far from the Madjedbebe site, in 2019.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Lynley Wallis (courtesy of GAC)</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Our data demonstrates the use of a range of plant foods at Madjedbebe during Kurrung, throughout most of the site’s occupation, from 65,000 to 4,000 years ago. </p>
<p>This points to an ongoing practice of cultural burning, as it suggests communities managed fire-sensitive plant varieties, and reduced the chance of high-intensity bushfires by practicing low-intensity cultural burns before the hottest time of the year. </p>
<p>Today, the Mirarr still return to Madjedbebe. Their knowledge of local anme is passed down to new generations, who continue to shape this incredible cultural legacy. </p>
<hr>
<p><em>Acknowledgment: we would like to thank the Gundjeihmi Aboriginal Corporation, the Mirrar, and especially our co-authors May Nango and Djaykuk Djandjomerr.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/181240/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Anna Florin received funding from the Australian Research Council, the Wenner-Gren Foundation, the Australian Institute of Nuclear Science and Engineering, and the Dan David Foundation for this research. </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Andrew Fairbairn receives funding from Wenner-Gren and AINSE for this research</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Chris Clarkson has received funding from the Australian Research Council (ARC) and the Australian Nuclear Science and Technology Organisation (ANSTO). </span></em></p>
The Kakadu region has gone through immense transformation throughout history. How can archaeological food scraps tell us about how the First Australians adapted?
Anna Florin, Research fellow, University of Cambridge
Andrew Fairbairn, Professor of Archaeology, The University of Queensland
Chris Clarkson, Professor in Archaeology, The University of Queensland
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/154181
2021-02-21T19:05:59Z
2021-02-21T19:05:59Z
This 17,500-year-old kangaroo in the Kimberley is Australia’s oldest Aboriginal rock painting
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/384954/original/file-20210218-21-jge2dg.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C72%2C6016%2C3935&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Damien Finch</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>In Western Australia’s northeast Kimberley region, on Balanggarra Country, a two-metre-long painting of a kangaroo spans the sloping ceiling of a rock shelter above the Drysdale River.</p>
<p>In a paper published <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s41562-020-01041-0">today</a> in Nature Human Behaviour, we date the artwork as being between 17,500 and 17,100 years old — making it Australia’s oldest known in-situ rock painting.</p>
<p>We used a pioneering radiocarbon dating <a href="https://doi.org/10.1016/j.quageo.2019.02.007">technique</a> on 27 mud wasp nests underlying and overlying 16 different paintings from 8 rock shelters. We found paintings of this style were produced between 17,000 and 13,000 years ago.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/at-last-the-arts-revolution-archibald-winners-flag-the-end-of-white-male-dominance-146832">At last, the arts Revolution — Archibald winners flag the end of white male dominance</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Our work is part of Australia’s largest rock art dating <a href="https://rockartaustralia.org.au/what-we-do/our-approach/rock-art-dating/">initiative</a>. The project is based in the Kimberley, one of the world’s premier rock art regions. Here, rock shelters have preserved galleries of paintings, often with generations of younger artwork painted over older work.</p>
<p>By studying the stylistic features of the paintings and the order in which they were painted when they overlap, a <a href="https://rockartaustralia.org.au/rock-art/rock-art-sequence/">stylistic sequence</a> has been developed by earlier researchers based on observations at thousands of Kimberley rock art sites. </p>
<p>They identified five main stylistic periods, of which the most recent is the familiar <a href="https://www.creativespirits.info/aboriginalculture/arts/what-are-wandjinas">Wanjina</a> period.</p>
<h2>Styles in rock art</h2>
<p>The <a href="https://rockartaustralia.org.au/rock-art/rock-art-sequence/naturalistic/">oldest style</a>, which includes the kangaroo painting we recently dated, often features life-sized animals in outline form, infilled with irregular dashes. Paintings in this style are said to belong to the “Naturalistic” stylistic period.</p>
<p>The ochre used is an iron oxide in a red-mulberry colour. Unfortunately, no current <a href="https://doi.org/10.1006/jasc.2001.0711">scientific dating method</a> can determine when this paint was applied to the rock surface. </p>
<p>A different approach is to date fossilised insect nests or mineral accretions on the rock surfaces that happen to be overlying or underlying rock art pigment. These dates provide a maximum (underlying) or minimum (overlying) age range for the painting. </p>
<p>Our dating suggests the main period for Naturalistic paintings in the Kimberley spanned from at least 17,000 to 13,000 years ago.</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/OpizrMPHfhM?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<h2>The oldest known Australian rock painting</h2>
<p>Very rarely, we’ll find mud wasp nests both overlying and underlying a single painting. This was the case with the painting of the kangaroo, made on the low ceiling of a well-protected Drysdale River rock shelter.</p>
<p>We were able to date three wasp nests underlying the painting and three nests built on top of it. With these ages, we determined confidently the painting is between 17,500 and 17,100 years old; most likely close to 17,300 years old.</p>
<p>Our quantitative ages support the proposed stylistic sequence that suggests the oldest Naturalistic style was followed by the Gwion style. This style featured paintings of decorated human figures, often with headdresses and holding boomerangs.</p>
<h2>From animals and plants to people</h2>
<p>Research we <a href="https://advances.sciencemag.org/content/6/6/eaay3922">published last year</a> shows Gwion paintings flourished about 12,000 years ago — some 1,000-5,000 years after the Naturalistic period.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/382864/original/file-20210207-24-106nv5j.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/382864/original/file-20210207-24-106nv5j.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=467&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/382864/original/file-20210207-24-106nv5j.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=467&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/382864/original/file-20210207-24-106nv5j.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=467&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/382864/original/file-20210207-24-106nv5j.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=587&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/382864/original/file-20210207-24-106nv5j.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=587&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/382864/original/file-20210207-24-106nv5j.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=587&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">This map of the Kimberley region in Western Australia shows the coastline at three distinct points in time: today, 12,000 years ago (the Gwion period) and 17,300 years ago (the earlier end of the known Naturalistic period).</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Illustration by Pauline Heaney, Damien Finch</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>With these dates, we can also partially reconstruct the environment in which the artists lived 600 generations ago. For example, much of the Naturalistic period coincided with the end of the last ice age when the environment was cooler and drier than now. </p>
<p>During the Naturalistic period, 17,000 years ago, sea levels were a staggering 106 metres below today’s and the <a href="https://doi.org/10.1016/j.quascirev.2017.11.030">Kimberley coastline</a> was about 300 kilometres further away, more than half the distance to Timor. </p>
<p>Aboriginal artists at this time often chose to depict kangaroos, fish, birds, reptiles, echidnas and plants (particularly yams). As the climate warmed, ice caps melted, the monsoon was re-established, rainfall increased and sea levels rose, sometimes rapidly. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/382862/original/file-20210207-23-k84e6w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/382862/original/file-20210207-23-k84e6w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=401&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/382862/original/file-20210207-23-k84e6w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=401&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/382862/original/file-20210207-23-k84e6w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=401&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/382862/original/file-20210207-23-k84e6w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=504&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/382862/original/file-20210207-23-k84e6w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=504&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/382862/original/file-20210207-23-k84e6w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=504&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Traditional Owner Ian Waina inspecting a painting of a kangaroo that we now know is more than 12,700 years old, based on the age of overlying mud wasp nests. INSET: an artist’s recreation of the in-situ rock painting.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Photo by Peter Veth / Balanggarra Aboriginal Corporation. Illustration by Pauline Heaney.</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>By the Gwion period around 12,000 years ago, sea levels had risen to 55m below today’s. This would undoubtedly have prompted long-term adjustment to territories and social relations. </p>
<p>This is when Aboriginal painters depicted highly decorated human figures, bearing a striking resemblance to early 20th-century photographs of <a href="http://davidmwelch.com.au/pdf%20Files/Welch_Bradshaw_Kimberley.PDF">Aboriginal ceremonial dress</a>. While plants and animals were still painted, human figures were clearly the most popular subject.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/all-things-will-outlast-us-how-the-indigenous-concept-of-deep-time-helps-us-understand-environmental-destruction-132201">'All things will outlast us': how the Indigenous concept of deep time helps us understand environmental destruction</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Reaching into the past</h2>
<p>While we now have age estimates for more paintings than ever before, more work is continuing to find out, more accurately, when each art period began and ended.</p>
<p>For example, one minimum age on a Gwion painting suggests it may be more than 16,000 years old. If so, Gwion art would have overlapped with the Naturalistic period but further dates are required to be more certain.</p>
<p>Moreover, it’s highly unlikely the oldest known Naturalistic painting we dated is the oldest surviving one. Future research will almost certainly locate even older works. </p>
<p>For now, however, the 17,300-year-old kangaroo is a sight to marvel at.</p>
<hr>
<p><em>Acknowledgements: we would like to thank the Balanggarra Aboriginal Corporation, the Australian National Science and Technology Organisation, Rock Art Australia and Dunkeld Pastoral Co for their collaboration on this work.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/154181/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Damien Finch receives funding from the Australian Research Council, Rock Art Australia, an Australian Postgraduate Award and the Australian Institute of Nuclear Science and Engineering . </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Andrew Gleadow receives funding from the Australian Research Council, Rock Art Australia, and AuScope Ltd under the National Collaborative Research Infrastructure Strategy. He is a Director of Rock Art Australia.</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Janet Hergt receives funding from The Australian Research Council. </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Sven Ouzman receives funding from the Australian Research Council and Australian Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade.</span></em></p>
Some 17,000 years ago, Aboriginal artists often depicted kangaroos, fish, birds, reptiles, echidnas and plants — especially yams.
Damien Finch, Postdoctoral Researcher, The University of Melbourne
Andrew Gleadow, Emeritus Professor, The University of Melbourne
Janet Hergt, Redmond Barry Distinguished Professor, The University of Melbourne
Sven Ouzman, Senior Lecturer in Archaeology and Centre for Rock Art Research + Management, The University of Western Australia
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/151568
2020-12-21T22:23:29Z
2020-12-21T22:23:29Z
The world’s oldest story? Astronomers say global myths about ‘seven sisters’ stars may reach back 100,000 years
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/373445/original/file-20201207-21-1fl07ce.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C0%2C1278%2C921&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://hubblesite.org/contents/news-releases/2004/news-2004-20.html">NASA / ESA / AURA / Caltech</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>In the northern sky in December is a beautiful cluster of stars known as the Pleiades, or the “seven sisters”. Look carefully and you will probably count six stars. So why do we say there are seven of them? </p>
<p>Many cultures around the world refer to the Pleiades as “seven sisters”, and also tell quite similar stories about them. After studying the motion of the stars very closely, we believe these stories may date back 100,000 years to a time when the constellation looked quite different.</p>
<h2>The sisters and the hunter</h2>
<p>In Greek mythology, the Pleiades were the seven daughters of the Titan <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atlas_(mythology)">Atlas</a>. He was forced to hold up the sky for eternity, and was therefore unable to protect his daughters. To save the sisters from being raped by the hunter <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orion_(mythology)">Orion</a>, Zeus transformed them into stars. But the story says one sister fell in love with a mortal and went into hiding, which is why we only see six stars. </p>
<p>A similar story is found among Aboriginal groups across Australia. In many Australian Aboriginal cultures, the Pleiades are a group of young girls, and are often associated with sacred women’s ceremonies and stories. The Pleiades are also important as an element of Aboriginal calendars and <a href="https://theconversation.com/aboriginal-people-how-to-misunderstand-their-science-23835">astronomy</a>, and for several groups their first rising at dawn marks the start of winter. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/aboriginal-people-how-to-misunderstand-their-science-23835">Aboriginal people – how to misunderstand their science</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/373447/original/file-20201207-15-m4cz7v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/373447/original/file-20201207-15-m4cz7v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/373447/original/file-20201207-15-m4cz7v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=851&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373447/original/file-20201207-15-m4cz7v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=851&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373447/original/file-20201207-15-m4cz7v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=851&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373447/original/file-20201207-15-m4cz7v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1070&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373447/original/file-20201207-15-m4cz7v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1070&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373447/original/file-20201207-15-m4cz7v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1070&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">An Australian Aboriginal interpretation of the constellation of Orion from the Yolngu people of Northern Australia. The three stars of Orion’s belt are three young men who went fishing in a canoe, and caught a forbidden king-fish, represented by the Orion Nebula.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Drawing by Ray Norris based on Yolngu oral and written accounts.</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Close to the Seven Sisters in the sky is the constellation of Orion, which is often called “the saucepan” in Australia. In Greek mythology Orion is a hunter. This constellation is also often a hunter in Aboriginal cultures, or a group of lusty young men. The writer and anthropologist <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daisy_Bates_(author)">Daisy Bates</a> reported people in central Australia regarded Orion as a “hunter of women”, and specifically of the women in the Pleiades. Many Aboriginal stories say the boys, or man, in Orion are chasing the seven sisters – and one of the sisters has died, or is hiding, or is too young, or has been abducted, so again only six are visible.</p>
<h2>The lost sister</h2>
<p>Similar “lost Pleiad” stories are <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pleiades_in_folklore_and_literature">found</a> in European, African, Asian, Indonesian, Native American and Aboriginal Australian cultures. Many cultures regard the cluster as having seven stars, but acknowledge only six are normally visible, and then have a story to explain why the seventh is invisible.</p>
<p>How come the Australian Aboriginal stories are so similar to the Greek ones? Anthropologists used to think Europeans might have brought the Greek story to Australia, where it was adapted by Aboriginal people for their own purposes. But the Aboriginal stories seem to be much, much older than European contact. And there was little contact between most Australian Aboriginal cultures and the rest of the world for at least 50,000 years. So why do they share the same stories?</p>
<p>Barnaby Norris and I suggest an answer in a paper to be published by Springer early next year in a book titled <a href="https://www.springer.com/gp/book/9783030646059">Advancing Cultural Astronomy</a>, a preprint for which is available <a href="https://www.dropbox.com/s/np0n4v72bdl37gr/sevensisters.pdf?dl=0">here</a>. </p>
<p>All modern humans are descended from people who lived in Africa before they began their long migrations to the far corners of the globe about 100,000 years ago. Could these stories of the seven sisters be so old? Did all humans carry these stories with them as they travelled to Australia, Europe, and Asia?</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/a-galah-to-help-capture-millions-of-rainbows-to-map-the-history-of-the-milky-way-64887">A Galah to help capture millions of rainbows to map the history of the Milky Way</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Moving stars</h2>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/373444/original/file-20201207-13-1q4idtv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/373444/original/file-20201207-13-1q4idtv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/373444/original/file-20201207-13-1q4idtv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=1001&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373444/original/file-20201207-13-1q4idtv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=1001&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373444/original/file-20201207-13-1q4idtv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=1001&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373444/original/file-20201207-13-1q4idtv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1257&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373444/original/file-20201207-13-1q4idtv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1257&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373444/original/file-20201207-13-1q4idtv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1257&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The positions of the stars in the Pleiades today and 100,000 years ago. The star Pleione, on the left, was a bit further away from Atlas in 100,000 BC, making it much easier to see.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Ray Norris</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Careful measurements with the <a href="https://theconversation.com/a-galah-to-help-capture-millions-of-rainbows-to-map-the-history-of-the-milky-way-64887">Gaia</a> space telescope and others show the stars of the Pleiades are slowly moving in the sky. One star, Pleione, is now so close to the star Atlas they look like a single star to the naked eye. </p>
<p>But if we take what we know about the movement of the stars and rewind 100,000 years, Pleione was further from Atlas and would have been easily visible to the naked eye. So 100,000 years ago, most people really would have seen seven stars in the cluster.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/373446/original/file-20201207-17-xz5zp0.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/373446/original/file-20201207-17-xz5zp0.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/373446/original/file-20201207-17-xz5zp0.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=363&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373446/original/file-20201207-17-xz5zp0.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=363&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373446/original/file-20201207-17-xz5zp0.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=363&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373446/original/file-20201207-17-xz5zp0.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=457&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373446/original/file-20201207-17-xz5zp0.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=457&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/373446/original/file-20201207-17-xz5zp0.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=457&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A simulation showing hows the stars Atlas and Pleione would have appeared to a normal human eye today and in 100,000 BC.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Ray Norris</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>We believe this movement of the stars can help to explain two puzzles: the similarity of Greek and Aboriginal stories about these stars, and the fact so many cultures call the cluster “seven sisters” even though we only see six stars today. </p>
<p>Is it possible the stories of the Seven Sisters and Orion are so old our ancestors were telling these stories to each other around campfires in Africa, 100,000 years ago? Could this be the oldest story in the world?</p>
<h2><em>Acknowledgement</em></h2>
<p><em>We acknowledge and pay our respects to the traditional owners and elders, both past and present, of all the Indigenous groups mentioned in this paper. All Indigenous material has been found in the public domain.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/151568/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Ray Norris does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
Cultures around the world call the Pleiades constellation ‘seven sisters’, even though we can only see six stars today. But things looked quite different 100,000 years ago
Ray Norris, Professor, School of Science, Western Sydney University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/140637
2020-06-19T01:59:21Z
2020-06-19T01:59:21Z
Enforcing assimilation, dismantling Aboriginal families: a history of police violence in Australia
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/342380/original/file-20200617-94066-103gnfq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C2%2C998%2C790&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">This sketch depicts the Waterloo Creek massacre (also known as the Slaughterhouse Creek massacre), part of the conflict between mounted police and Indigenous Australians in 1838.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://catalogue.nla.gov.au/Record/6149301/Copyright?">Godfrey Charles Mundy/National Library of Australia</a></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>Readers are advised the following article contains descriptions of violence that may be traumatic.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>In July 2018, Western Australia’s Police Commissioner Chris Dawson formally <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-07-12/wa-police-commissioner-apologises-to-aboriginal-people/9984154">apologised</a> for the mistreatment of Aboriginal people at the hands of police, acknowledging the “significant role” the police played in the dispossession of Australia’s First Nations people. Dawson made particular reference to the way:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>forceful removal of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children from their families and communities, the displacement of mothers and their children, sisters, fathers and brothers, the loss of family and resulting destruction of culture has had grave impacts </p>
</blockquote>
<p>“Forced removal” references the unique role played by police in many settler colonies such as Australia, Aotearoa/New Zealand, the United States and Canada in relation to First Nations peoples: executing assimilationist policies designed to dismantle First Nations families. </p>
<p>A closer look at the history of policing in Australia helps explain some of the dynamics at play in the Black Lives Matter and First Nations Deaths in Custody movement in Australia and a growing push for alternative models of policing. </p>
<p><a href="https://theconversation.com/newsletter"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/320030/original/file-20200312-116261-a6ugi0.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=90&fit=crop&dpr=2" alt="Sign up to The Conversation" width="100%"></a></p>
<h2>The ‘Irish Model’ of policing</h2>
<p>Mainstream histories of policing have looked to 19th century British Prime Minister Robert Peel’s London Metropolitan Police “British Model” of <a href="https://lawenforcementactionpartnership.org/peel-policing-principles/">policing</a>, with its focus on policing through consensus and “walking the beat”. </p>
<p>There is another model of policing, however, which better reflects the Australian history.</p>
<p>Known as the “<a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/20720272?seq=1">Irish Model</a>” from its origins in suppressing dissent in the Irish colony in the 19th century, it set the police against the community, placed them in military style barracks, under a highly centralised and hierarchical chain of command. In general, they were not there to win hearts and minds. </p>
<p>Look to Chris Owen’s magnificent study of policing in the Kimberley region of Western Australia between 1882 and 1905 - titled <a href="https://uwap.uwa.edu.au/products/every-mothers-son-is-guilty-policing-the-kimberley-frontier-of-western-australia-1882-1905">Every Mother’s Son is Guilty</a>. Policing was based around a highly mobile horse mounted model to cope with the extraordinary distances. As Owen shows, attitudes of the police towards First Nations people were deeply influenced by contemporary beliefs that they were inferior to whites, and <em>a priori</em> criminal. </p>
<p>Many police officers in the frontier colonial era were conscious of being part of a “civilizing mission” and held highly paternalistic attitudes. </p>
<p>One officer who policed the remote regions of Western Australian in the 1920s <a href="https://books.google.com.au/books?id=qQBpAAAAIAAJ&focus=searchwithinvolume&q=CONSCIENTIOUS">recalls</a> being </p>
<blockquote>
<p>conscientious in my desire for their welfare, for I looked upon them then, as I do now, as children.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>Punitive attitudes</h2>
<p>Elsewhere, officers exercised often unfettered brutality in punitive frontier <a href="https://books.google.com.au/books/about/Frontier_Justice.html?id=lgKSBgAAQBAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=kp_read_button&redir_esc=y#v=onepage&q&f=false">expeditions</a>. This was in pursuit of pastoral <a href="https://www.themonthly.com.au/issue/2009/november/1330478364/tony-roberts/brutal-truth">land grabs</a>, <a href="https://books.google.com.au/books?id=tIYR-qSLzW0C&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_ge_summary_r&cad=0#v=snippet&q=land&f=false">settler occupation</a> and the <a href="https://eprints.qut.edu.au/61774/2/Robin_Holland_Thesis.pdf">disintegration</a> of Aboriginal families. </p>
<p>This was a feature of the <a href="https://epress.lib.uts.edu.au/journals/index.php/mcs/article/view/4190/4492">Native Police Forces</a> that operated in various parts of Australia from the 1830s until the early 20th century. </p>
<p>These forces, responsible for many atrocities against Aboriginal people, consisted of Aboriginal troopers under the <a href="http://laal-espace.cdu.edu.au/eserv/cdu:6349/Thesis_CDU_6349_Wilson_W.pdf">command</a> of white officers such as <a href="https://books.google.com.au/books?id=hT15UJSOEH4C&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_ge_summary_r&cad=0#v=onepage&q&f=false">Constable William Willshire</a> whose killings resulted in an unsuccessful murder <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/journals/UNSWLJ/2018/24.html#fnB119">trial</a> in <a href="https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/198414047">1891</a> and Lieutenant Frederick Wheeler, whose massacres were <a href="https://aiatsis.gov.au/sites/default/files/catalogue_resources/92123.pdf">reviewed</a> by a Queensland parliamentary inquiry in 1861 (which decided to reprimand but not dismiss him).</p>
<p>The inquiry heard <a href="https://openresearch-repository.anu.edu.au/bitstream/1885/114963/2/b12160490.pdf">evidence</a> of the Native Police Force’s murderous contact with Aboriginal people. </p>
<p>Historical accounts of the Northern Territory’s Native Police, modelled on the Queensland’s Force, documents its <a href="http://laal-espace.cdu.edu.au/eserv/cdu:6349/Thesis_CDU_6349_Wilson_W.pdf">fatal force</a> against Aboriginal lives to allegedly defend colonists’ lives and property. </p>
<p>In Western Australia, the 1927 Royal Commission into the killing and burning of Aboriginal bodies in the Forrest River <a href="https://aiatsis.gov.au/sites/default/files/docs/digitised_collections/remove/93281.pdf">massacre</a> found police were brutal in effecting arrests.</p>
<p>The use of police brutality extended beyond Native Police expeditions, and was characteristic of police powers more widely. The <a href="https://c21ch.newcastle.edu.au/colonialmassacres/map.php">Colonial Frontier Massacres Map</a> documenting <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-08-24/nt-police-apologise-for-state-sanctioned-coniston-massacre/10162850">massacres</a> of First Nations families across Australia include extensive records of police killings, such as 60 Warlpiri, Anmatyere and Kaytetye women, men and children in the <a href="https://c21ch.newcastle.edu.au/colonialmassacres/detail.php?r=709">Coniston Massacre</a> in 1928. </p>
<p>Police practices of <a href="https://catalogue.nla.gov.au/Record/6249008">neck chaining Aboriginal prisoners</a> continued officially into the mid-20th century in <a href="https://www.adelaide.edu.au/news/news75642.html">parts of Australia</a>. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/defunding-the-police-could-bring-positive-change-in-australia-these-communities-are-showing-the-way-140333">Defunding the police could bring positive change in Australia. These communities are showing the way</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/342635/original/file-20200618-41234-gihvpj.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/342635/original/file-20200618-41234-gihvpj.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/342635/original/file-20200618-41234-gihvpj.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=615&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/342635/original/file-20200618-41234-gihvpj.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=615&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/342635/original/file-20200618-41234-gihvpj.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=615&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/342635/original/file-20200618-41234-gihvpj.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=773&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/342635/original/file-20200618-41234-gihvpj.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=773&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/342635/original/file-20200618-41234-gihvpj.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=773&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">‘Aboriginal Protection Acts’ were used to control Aboriginal people.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://aiatsis.gov.au/sites/default/files/docs/digitised_collections/remove/52769.pdf">AIATSIS</a>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>‘Protection’</h2>
<p>Ideas of <a href="https://catalogue.nla.gov.au/Record/3084196?lookfor=aboriginal%20chains&offset=1&max=54">law and order</a> formed only a fragment of the colonial police role where Aboriginal people were concerned. Much of it was taken up with implementing the “Aboriginal Protection Acts” or simply “Aboriginal Acts”, which continued well into the 20th century. Examples abound: the <a href="https://aiatsis.gov.au/sites/default/files/catalogue_resources/52769.pdf">Aborigines Protection Act 1886 (Western Australia)</a>, the <a href="https://aiatsis.gov.au/sites/default/files/docs/digitised_collections/remove/54692.pdf">Aboriginal Protection Act and Restriction of the Sale of Opium Act 1897 (Queensland)</a>, the <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/legis/nsw/num_act/apa1909n25262.pdf">Aborigines Protection Act 1909 (New South Wales)</a>, the <a href="https://aiatsis.gov.au/sites/default/files/docs/digitised_collections/remove/54205.pdf">Aborigines Act 1911 (South Australia)</a>; <a href="https://aiatsis.gov.au/sites/default/files/docs/digitised_collections/remove/52396.pdf">Aboriginals Ordinance 1911 (Northern Territory)</a> and <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/legis/vic/hist_act/tapa1886265.pdf">The Aborigines Protection Act 1886 (Victoria)</a>.</p>
<p>Aboriginal Acts were used in practice to forcibly relocate Aboriginal people to a place of prescribed confinement, which in practice could include on <a href="https://openresearch-repository.anu.edu.au/bitstream/1885/115146/2/b11187748.pdf">government settlements</a>, <a href="https://aiatsis.gov.au/sites/default/files/docs/digitised_collections/remove/54205.pdf">reserves</a>, church <a href="https://aiatsis.gov.au/exhibitions/remembering-mission-days">missions</a>, <a href="https://aiatsis.gov.au/sites/default/files/docs/digitised_collections/remove/54205.pdf">hospital lock ups</a>, <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/235306214_Isle_of_Exception_Sovereign_Power_and_Palm_Island">penal islands</a>, <a href="http://press-files.anu.edu.au/downloads/press/p72891/pdf/article0518.pdf">cattle stations</a> and other institutions. </p>
<p>Often police officers assumed the role of Aboriginal Protector under these Acts and exercised <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Barbara_Glowczewski/publication/278754608_Warriors_for_peace_The_political_situation_of_the_Aboriginal_people_as_viewed_from_Palm_Island/links/56012e0608ae07629e52bba9/Warriors-for-peace-The-political-situation-of-the-Aboriginal-people-as-viewed-from-Palm-Island.pdf">broad powers</a> over Aboriginal lives. </p>
<p>Police also gained specific powers under legislation that allowed them to <a href="https://catalogue.nla.gov.au/Record/4833274?lookfor=aboriginal%20mission%20%23%5Bformat:Picture%5D&offset=16&max=1003">remove</a> Aboriginal children from their families under “child welfare” legislation. <a href="https://humanrights.gov.au/our-work/bringing-them-home-chapter-4">Testimony</a> from Victoria in the <a href="https://humanrights.gov.au/our-work/bringing-them-home-chapter-4">Bringing them Home</a> inquiry into the separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children from their families reported that:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>From 1956 and 1957 more than one hundred and fifty children (more than 10% of the children in the Aboriginal population of Victoria at that time) were living in State children’s institutions. The great majority had been seized by police and charged in the Children’s Court with “being in need of care and protection”. Many policemen act from genuine concern for the “best interests” of Aboriginal children, but some are over-eager to enter Aboriginal homes and bully parents with threats to remove their children. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>The experience of one Aboriginal child in Western Australia in 1935 was <a href="https://humanrights.gov.au/sites/default/files/content/pdf/social_justice/bringing_them_home_report.pdf">told</a> to the inquiry:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I was at the post office with my Mum and Auntie [and cousin]. They put us in the police ute and said they were taking us to Broome. They put the mums in there as well. But when we’d gone [about ten miles] they stopped, and threw the mothers out of the car. We jumped on our mothers’ backs, crying, trying not to be left behind. But the policemen pulled us off and threw us back in the car. They pushed the mothers away and drove off, while our mothers were chasing the car, running and crying after us. We were screaming in the back of that car. When we got to Broome they put me and my cousin in the Broome lock-up. We were only ten years old.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Police still play a role in removing First Nations children from their families today. The <a href="https://www.familyisculture.nsw.gov.au/?a=726329">Family is Culture Report</a> in 2019 noted significant concerns about the use of police during removals, saying:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>when police are used for removal, especially riot police, this has historical continuity. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>Police powers in the first half of the 20th century extended to the forced isolation and confinement of Aboriginal people on public health grounds, such as in various <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-12-19/indigenous-lock-hospitals-onbernier-and-dorre-islands/10634122">lock-up hospitals</a>, on the basis of a diagnosis made by a police officer of syphilis or leprosy - or a decision that the person was at risk. </p>
<p>The police acted as the gatekeepers for enclosure in a ubiquity of institutions. At the same time as imposing the law, the police also acted as <a href="https://www.aph.gov.au/parliamentary_business/committees/senate/legal_and_constitutional_affairs/completed_inquiries/2004-07/stolen_wages/report/c02">Protectors</a> of Aboriginal people, distributed <a href="https://books.google.com.au/books?id=r9ETLG_aKbkC&q=blanket#v=snippet&q=rations&f=false">rations and blankets</a>, provided pastoralists with <a href="https://books.google.com.au/books?id=upmGAwAAQBAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_ge_summary_r&cad=0#v=onepage&q=police&f=false">Aboriginal workers</a> in remote areas and <a href="https://www.magabala.com/products/raparapa-stories-of-the-fitzroy-drovers-new-edition">ensured</a> that they remained on pastoral stations. </p>
<p>Aboriginal worker Hobbles Danyarri <a href="https://books.google.com.au/books?id=upmGAwAAQBAJ&pg=PA72&lpg=PA72&dq=%E2%80%9CIf+you+put+your+own+colour,+police+tracker,+that+means+he+can+bring+them+in.+He+can+bring+them+in+to+work+and+don%E2%80%99t+let+him+steal+it+%5Bbeef%5D.+Let+them+work.+Let+them+work.%E2%80%9D+Aboriginal+stockman+Barney+Barnes+remembers+the+removal+of+Aboriginal+communities+accused+of+cattle+killing+onto+Cherrabun,+Go+Go+and+Christmas+Creek+stations+in+the+Kimberley:&source=bl&ots=tgPg9szgdU&sig=ACfU3U2JqxS8_QhhF5ydoxX58n5zTF2sFg&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiki5j69ozqAhWBxjgGHbgxA30Q6AEwAHoECAEQAQ#v=onepage&q=%E2%80%9CIf%20you%20put%20your%20own%20colour%2C%20police%20tracker%2C%20that%20means%20he%20can%20bring%20them%20in.%20He%20can%20bring%20them%20in%20to%20work%20and%20don%E2%80%99t%20let%20him%20steal%20it%20%5Bbeef%5D.%20Let%20them%20work.%20Let%20them%20work.%E2%80%9D%20Aboriginal%20stockman%20Barney%20Barnes%20remembers%20the%20removal%20of%20Aboriginal%20communities%20accused%20of%20cattle%20killing%20onto%20Cherrabun%2C%20Go%20Go%20and%20Christmas%20Creek%20stations%20in%20the%20Kimberley%3A&f=false">said</a>:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>If you put your own colour, police tracker, that means he can bring them in. He can bring them in to work and don’t let him steal it [beef]. Let them work. Let them work.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And Aboriginal stockman Barney Barnes <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/journals/NgiyaTLaw/2007/3.pdf">remembers</a> the removal of Aboriginal communities accused of cattle killing onto Cherrabun, Go Go and Christmas Creek stations in the Kimberley: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>That manager made the police go out and bring all the people in from the desert. He reckoned that they were killing too many bullocks. So the police came out and rounded up all the Walmajarri people […] They kept going at it until nobody was left out there. They didn’t allow the Aboriginal people to live in the desert after that.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Aboriginal people who <a href="https://www.qhrc.qld.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0013/10606/Aboriginal-timeline-FINAL-updated-25-July-2018.pdf">defied</a> Aboriginal Protection Acts and the rules of reserves and settlements - such as speaking in language, practising culture, marrying without the protector’s permission, or otherwise disobeying orders of the protector - would be sent for punishment to places such as <a href="https://www.qld.gov.au/atsi/cultural-awareness-heritage-arts/community-histories/community-histories-n-p/community-histories-palm-island">Palm Island</a>. These Acts were often <a href="https://www.aph.gov.au/parliamentary_business/committees/senate/legal_and_constitutional_affairs/completed_inquiries/2004-07/stolen_wages/report/c02">enforced</a> by police officers.</p>
<h2>Hope for the future</h2>
<p>Moving away from a colonial and assimilationist model of policing in Australia involves restructuring police and honouring First Nations self determination. </p>
<p><a href="http://classic.austlii.edu.au/au/journals/UTSLRS/2014/22.html">Community Patrol</a> models, which are embedded in First Nations communities and work towards the safety and wellbeing of women, children and families, provide a First Nations alternative. </p>
<p>It’s time to consider setting police models on a new course that abolishes force and re-imagines community relationships. </p>
<hr>
<p><em>UPDATE: This story has been updated to add more detail and quotes.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/140637/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Thalia Anthony receives funding from the Australian Research Council.</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Harry Blagg received funding from the ARC. </span></em></p>
Police played a unique role in many settler colonies executing assimilationist policies designed to dismantle First Nations families.
Thalia Anthony, Professor of Law, University of Technology Sydney
Harry Blagg, Professor of Criminology, The University of Western Australia
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/139663
2020-06-10T19:53:32Z
2020-06-10T19:53:32Z
How a stone wedged in a gum tree shows the resilience of Aboriginal culture in Australia
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/340309/original/file-20200608-176585-1uqmg8l.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=1245%2C1638%2C3792%2C1597&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Caroline Spry</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Trees marked by Aboriginal cultural practices are a distinctive part of the Australian landscape. A recent discovery on Wiradjuri country in New South Wales shows some of these “culturally modified trees” may be much younger than anybody thought.</p>
<h2>What are culturally modified trees?</h2>
<p>Aboriginal people have long used bark, wood and trees for practical and symbolic purposes. These include making <a href="https://collections.slsa.sa.gov.au/find/aboriginal+canoe+tree">canoes</a>, containers, shields and wooden <a href="https://cv.vic.gov.au/stories/aboriginal-culture/the-aboriginal-object-collection-at-dunkeld-museum/sharing-a-collection/">implements</a>, accessing <a href="https://nla.gov.au/nla.obj-138498775/view">food resources</a>, and marking <a href="https://www2.sl.nsw.gov.au/archive/events/exhibitions/2011/carved_trees/">ceremonial and burial locations</a>. </p>
<p>Many of these trees contain scars and carvings from these activities, although over time the marks are often enveloped by new <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2014-07-23/boggabri-scar-tree.jpg/5618480?nw=0">growth</a>. Aboriginal culturally modified trees can be found across Australia – you may have walked past one on your way to the <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2014-12-13/scar-tree-in-yarra-park-next-to-mcg/5965456?nw=0">footy</a> in Melbourne, on a <a href="https://www.sydneycoastwalks.com.au/aboriginal-canoe-tree/">stroll</a> near Sydney, or somewhere else, without even realising it. </p>
<p>However, their numbers are dwindling as a result of development pressures, <a href="https://theconversation.com/strength-from-perpetual-grief-how-aboriginal-people-experience-the-bushfire-crisis-129448">bushfires</a> and natural decay.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/338855/original/file-20200601-95013-1vxz8ge.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/338855/original/file-20200601-95013-1vxz8ge.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/338855/original/file-20200601-95013-1vxz8ge.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=658&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/338855/original/file-20200601-95013-1vxz8ge.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=658&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/338855/original/file-20200601-95013-1vxz8ge.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=658&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/338855/original/file-20200601-95013-1vxz8ge.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=827&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/338855/original/file-20200601-95013-1vxz8ge.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=827&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/338855/original/file-20200601-95013-1vxz8ge.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=827&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Outline of an Aboriginal canoe on a tree (Figure 236 from Robert Brough Smyth 1878 ‘The Aborigines of Victoria’, Volume 1)</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Wikisource</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>An unprecedented discovery</h2>
<p>One such tree with unique characteristics was recently found on Wiradjuri Country in NSW. The tree has a large scar, and an Aboriginal stone tool is still lodged in the scar regrowth.</p>
<p>Working with the <a href="https://www.olalc.com.au/">Orange Local Aboriginal Land Council</a>, we carried out an archaeological study of the tree, published in <a href="https://doi.org/10.1080/03122417.2020.1769912">Australian Archaeology</a>. It represents an unprecedented find in Australia – and even worldwide.</p>
<p>We know that Aboriginal people used a range of <a href="https://media.australianmuseum.net.au/media/Uploads/Journals/17336/515_complete.pdf">stone tools</a> to remove bark and wood from trees. However, no examples of these tools have ever been found lodged in a tree.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/338857/original/file-20200601-95049-xr49v2.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/338857/original/file-20200601-95049-xr49v2.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=288&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/338857/original/file-20200601-95049-xr49v2.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=288&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/338857/original/file-20200601-95049-xr49v2.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=288&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/338857/original/file-20200601-95049-xr49v2.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=362&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/338857/original/file-20200601-95049-xr49v2.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=362&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/338857/original/file-20200601-95049-xr49v2.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=362&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The tree (left), scar (centre), and embedded stone tool from the side (top right) and above (below right)</span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>We used a range of scientific techniques, including 3D modelling, microscopic analysis and radiocarbon dating, to learn more about the origins of the scar and stone tool. We were particularly interested in how the scar was created, what the stone tool was used for, and when it became lodged in the tree. </p>
<p><a href="https://theconversation.com/ancient-aboriginal-stories-preserve-history-of-a-rise-in-sea-level-36010">Oral history</a> is another key source of information about Australia’s Aboriginal past. However, in this instance, the Orange Aboriginal community does not have any recollections about the tree.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/ancient-aboriginal-stories-preserve-history-of-a-rise-in-sea-level-36010">Ancient Aboriginal stories preserve history of a rise in sea level</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Studying the scar</h2>
<p>We created three separate 3D models of the <a href="https://sketchfab.com/3d-models/figure-5-cb7b761ca71449ce8fb789690ee5ef18">tree</a>, the <a href="https://sketchfab.com/3d-models/figure-6-2e4df9ebe46246bcbcc3d41eeb3951f1">scar</a> and the <a href="https://sketchfab.com/3d-models/figure-7-1f5d95ac8b9b4672a98172e675ebfca1">stone tool</a>, which show the features of this site. </p>
<p>The scar bears some resemblance to natural scars that can result from <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/topics/agricultural-and-biological-sciences/fire-scars">fire damage</a> and tree stress. However, the size and location of the scar is also consistent with the way Aboriginal people removed bark slabs to <a href="http://tlf.dlr.det.nsw.edu.au/learningobjects/Content/R7546/object/">construct shelters</a>.</p>
<iframe title="A 3D model of the scar" width="100%" height="480" src="https://sketchfab.com/models/2e4df9ebe46246bcbcc3d41eeb3951f1/embed?autostart=1&preload=1&ui_controls=0&ui_infos=0&ui_inspector=0&ui_stop=0&ui_watermark=1&ui_watermark_link=1)" frameborder="0" allow="autoplay; fullscreen; vr" mozallowfullscreen="true" webkitallowfullscreen="true" caption="A 3D model showing the scar in the modified tree." source="Caroline Spry et al.">
</iframe>
<p>The stone tool itself provides more clues. The residues and wear patterns we identified on the edges of the stone tool indicate it was made using <a href="https://www.aboriginalvictoria.vic.gov.au/fact-sheet-aboriginal-flaked-stone-tools">Aboriginal stone-knapping techniques</a>, and then used in a scraping motion or hammered into the tree, perhaps with a <a href="http://pd0xcomlb01-pubflt-a033.ccssc.gov.au/object/15922?object=59054&solrsort=random%20asc&f%5B0%5D=obj_material%3AWood&f%5B1%5D=obj_place_name%3AYirrkala%2C%20East%20Arnhem%20Land%2C%20Northern%20Territory%2C%20Australia&page=3">wooden mallet</a>. </p>
<p>Some of the damage we observed on the stone tool may also be from attempts to wedge out bark, or to remove the tool itself from the tree. It is also possible someone used the stone tool to make a visible mark or sign on the tree.</p>
<h2>Younger than expected</h2>
<p>We used radiocarbon dating to determine the age of the tree, and discovered it was relatively young. It began growing around the start of the 20th century and died about 100 years later, during the millennium drought. </p>
<p>The stone tool was embedded some time between 1950 and 1973 – an unexpected result for the Aboriginal community.</p>
<p>Some members of the Orange Aboriginal community consider the tree, and the placement of the stone tool, to be much older than the dating results indicate. For other members of the Aboriginal community, the dating results are particularly significant as they indicate Wiradjuri culture continued even during active discouragement and <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/radionational/programs/rearvision/part-2-assimilation-to-self-determination/9868862">assimilation policies</a>. </p>
<p>Historical and oral evidence suggests that Wiradjuri people were, at best, wary about open displays of culture at this time. This impacted the passing of information onto younger generations. The results of our study therefore provide a rare glimpse of cultural continuity at the time.</p>
<p>Although the tree is very large, and therefore appears to be very old, our results also show how rapidly eucalypts can grow. This suggests that many large eucalypts, previously estimated to be hundreds of years old, may in fact be much younger. </p>
<h2>The mystery remains</h2>
<p>A final mystery is why the stone tool was left in the tree. If it was used to remove bark from the tree, or to create a mark, why was it not removed? </p>
<p>It is unlikely such a stone tool would be left behind, as it appears relatively unused and stone sources are rare in the area. It may have been left accidentally, or because removal was not possible. Another possibility is the stone tool was deliberately embedded in the tree as a symbolic marker in the landscape.</p>
<p>While this aspect of the tree and stone tool may never be understood fully, the results of our study are a clear-cut reminder of the continuity and resilience of Aboriginal knowledge and culture through the 20th century and into the present.</p>
<hr>
<p><em>This article was written with the help of the Orange Local Aboriginal Land Council.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/139663/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Caroline Spry receives funding from the Australian Government, Foundation for National Parks and Wildlife, and Central Tablelands Local Lands Services. </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span><a href="mailto:john.webb@latrobe.edu.au">john.webb@latrobe.edu.au</a> receives funding from Australian Research Council </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Kathryn Allen is affiliated with the Centre for Australian for Biodiversity and Heritage, UNSW node. </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Brian J Armstrong, Elspeth Hayes, Lisa Paton, Quan Hua, and Richard Law Kelsham Fullagar do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
An Aboriginal tree on Wiradjuri Country is much younger than anybody thought.
Caroline Spry, Honorary Associate, PhD, La Trobe University
Brian J Armstrong, Postdoctoral fellow, University of Johannesburg
Elspeth Hayes, Postdoctoral research fellow, University of Wollongong
John Allan Webb, Associate professor, La Trobe University
Kathryn Allen, Academic, Ecosystem and Forest Sciences, The University of Melbourne
Lisa Paton, Researcher, University of New England
Quan Hua, Principal Research Scientist, Australian Nuclear Science and Technology Organisation
Richard Law Kelsham Fullagar, Hon Professorial Fellow, University of Wollongong
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/139650
2020-06-02T04:10:19Z
2020-06-02T04:10:19Z
Destruction of Juukan Gorge: we need to know the history of artefacts, but it is more important to keep them in place
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/338732/original/file-20200601-78845-2tam7x.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C0%2C5463%2C3645&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Juukan Gorge photographed May 15.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://pkkp.org.au">Puutu Kunti Kurrama And Pinikura Aboriginal Corporation</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>A day before Reconciliation Week and the day Australia was meant to be acknowledging and remembering the Stolen Generations, news came of something that seemed to put Australia back a few decades in their journey towards “Reconciliation”. Rio Tinto had <a href="https://theconversation.com/rio-tinto-just-blasted-away-an-ancient-aboriginal-site-heres-why-that-was-allowed-139466">detonated</a> a 46,000 year old site known as Juukan Gorge. </p>
<p>This news was simply gut-wrenching.</p>
<p>Artefacts found at the site were among some of the <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2020-05-26/rio-tinto-blast-destroys-area-with-ancient-aboriginal-heritage/12286652">oldest in Western Australia</a>, making it incredibly significant not only for the Traditional Owners, the Puutu Kunti Kurrama and Pinikura people, but also for the history of this continent.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/rio-tinto-just-blasted-away-an-ancient-aboriginal-site-heres-why-that-was-allowed-139466">Rio Tinto just blasted away an ancient Aboriginal site. Here’s why that was allowed</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Also startling for many was this detonation had been in process for several years. The dating of the site to 46,000 years old had been uncovered through salvage excavation in preparation for this destruction.</p>
<p>I cannot speak for the Traditional Owners, nor can I speak on the complexities surrounding the approval of the blast, but the removal of artefacts from their place has impacted every single Aboriginal person on this continent. That is what I can speak on.</p>
<h2>Salvage excavations</h2>
<p>Salvage excavation is archaeological work conducted to record and collect all evidence of human occupation at a site that has been or will be impacted by development. </p>
<p>Excavation itself is destructive. The moment a trowel is inserted into the ground, the site has been destroyed. Salvage excavations, like all excavations, require this destruction to be worth it. Comprehensive recording of every aspect of an excavation is necessary, from changes in soil to recording each artefact found.</p>
<p>Archaeology also considers how artefacts will be cared for in the long term: where they will be kept and who will be caring for them. It is <a href="https://historicengland.org.uk/advice/technical-advice/archaeological-science/preservation-in-situ/">preferable</a> for artefacts to remain at their location. In cases where this proves impossible, salvaging is required.</p>
<p>At a surface level, it seems unproblematic if everything was collected from the ground, analysed and placed in a box: those artefacts would be preserved for all of eternity. Now, they are no longer subject to erosion, animal activity or (the more perplexing argument) the threat of humans. But cultural institutions are not immune to disaster.</p>
<p>In 2019, Brazil’s national museum was <a href="https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/around-2000-artifacts-have-been-saved-ruins-brazils-national-museum-fire-180971510/">devastated by a fire</a>. This summer, Australian galleries <a href="https://www.smh.com.au/culture/art-and-design/galleries-grapple-with-climate-change-and-unprecedented-closures-20200106-p53p7r.html">closed</a> due to the potential impact of smoke on collections. The South Australian Museum has repeatedly discussed the <a href="https://indaily.com.au/arts-and-culture/2019/08/19/the-suburban-adelaide-address-that-could-be-the-nations-most-important-cultural-site/">threat of water leaks</a> to their collections.</p>
<p>These institutions are built to preserve heritage but they should not be viewed as the only preservation option, especially for heritage heavily intertwined with place.</p>
<h2>Why is place important?</h2>
<p>There is a common narrative Aboriginal people wandered this continent <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-30500591">aimlessly</a>. Rarely is there discussion our ancestors moved with intention, demonstrated clearly in the ways they passed down <a href="https://theconversation.com/its-taken-thousands-of-years-but-western-science-is-finally-catching-up-to-traditional-knowledge-90291">generational knowledge</a> to us. Why else would they have mapped this land?</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/its-taken-thousands-of-years-but-western-science-is-finally-catching-up-to-traditional-knowledge-90291">It's taken thousands of years, but Western science is finally catching up to Traditional Knowledge</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Where they chose to leave their presence should be viewed as intentional and as representation of that significance.</p>
<p>This significance has flowed through time, strengthening the connection of this place to us. In cases where there is a physical presence of our ancestors, it is integral we maintain the connection of this physical history to place.</p>
<p>For many, Juukan Gorge was mainly significant because of its early date. But not all Aboriginal heritage is afforded this same interest. Not all of our heritage can be dated that early, and a lot of our heritage simply is not tangible. A vast majority of our heritage is found in our knowledge of the land that traverses this continent. Mostly, this heritage goes unseen by our colonisers, making it easily overlooked in favour of development.</p>
<p>Sometimes, the tangible heritage found in these places is the only thing standing in the way of destroying a place. It is the only thing demonstrating we are a people who have deep connections to this land. Not only from a spiritual side, but also from a linear western view of time. </p>
<p>Aboriginal knowledges of these places, and how this knowledge links to the archaeological record, is what can fully contextualise the meaning of these places for our ancestors – and for us today.</p>
<h2>The importance of empathy</h2>
<p>Maintaining the connection of place with our ancestors’ possessions found at these places may be solidified through the implementation of stricter laws. But if a company wants something and our heritage is standing in the way, those laws can always be bent. The value of destroying these places is much higher than the value of keeping them – at least in the eyes of our colonisers. A loophole will be found, and our communities will suffer and grieve another loss. </p>
<p>If we want something long lasting, something transcending laws, empathy needs to be much stronger, something embedded into the mind and heart. Not the type of empathy that emerges when one has to say “sorry”, but the type existing before “sorry” is even considered. </p>
<p>With empathy, how could you justify the hurt Aboriginal people on this continent experience when we find out another culturally significant place has been destroyed?</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/139650/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Jacinta Koolmatrie is affiliated with the Australian Archaeological Association.</span></em></p>
The destruction of the 46,000 year old site Juukan Gorge forces us to confront archaeology and history in Australia.
Jacinta Koolmatrie, Lecturer in Archaeology, Flinders University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/135196
2020-05-27T20:09:13Z
2020-05-27T20:09:13Z
Australia, you have unfinished business. It’s time to let our ‘fire people’ care for this land
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/337831/original/file-20200527-141320-mg5qfb.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C87%2C3072%2C1545&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Rangers from Kanyirninpa Jukurrpa, conducting cool season burning on Martu Country.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Tony Jupp,The Nature Conservancy</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Since last summer’s bushfire crisis, there’s been a quantum shift in public awareness of Aboriginal fire management. It’s now more widely understood that Aboriginal people <a href="https://www.pnas.org/content/109/26/10287">used landscape burning</a> to <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1002/ece3.1494">sustain biodiversity</a> and suppress large bushfires.</p>
<p>The Morrison government’s <a href="https://naturaldisaster.royalcommission.gov.au">bushfire royal commission</a>, which began hearings this week, recognises the potential of incorporating Aboriginal knowledge into mainstream fire management.</p>
<p>Its <a href="https://naturaldisaster.royalcommission.gov.au/publications/commonwealth-letters-patent-20-february-2020">terms of reference</a> seek to understand ways “the traditional land and fire management practices of Indigenous Australians could improve Australia’s resilience to natural disasters”. </p>
<p>Incorporating Aboriginal knowledge is essential to tackling future bushfire crises. But it risks perpetuating historical injustices, by appropriating Aboriginal knowledge without recognition or compensation. So while the bushfire threat demands urgent action, we must also take care.</p>
<p>Accommodating traditional fire knowledge is a long-overdue accompaniment to recent advances in land rights and native title. It is an essential part of the unfinished business of post-colonial Australia. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/337827/original/file-20200527-141316-icoing.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/337827/original/file-20200527-141316-icoing.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=360&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/337827/original/file-20200527-141316-icoing.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=360&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/337827/original/file-20200527-141316-icoing.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=360&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/337827/original/file-20200527-141316-icoing.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=452&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/337827/original/file-20200527-141316-icoing.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=452&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/337827/original/file-20200527-141316-icoing.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=452&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Grant Stewart, a ranger from Kanyirninpa Jukurrpa. The benefits of Indigenous fire practices are becoming well-known.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Louie Davis</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>A living record</h2>
<p>Before 1788, Aboriginal cultures across Australia used fire to deliberately and skilfully manage the bush.</p>
<p>Broadly, it involved numerous, frequent fires that created fine-scale mosaics of burnt and unburnt patches. Developed over thousands of years, such burning made intense bushfires uncommon and made plant and animal foods more abundant. This benefited wildlife and <a href="https://royalsocietypublishing.org/doi/full/10.1098/rstb.2015.0169">sustained a biodiversity</a> of animals and plants. </p>
<p>Following European settlement, Aboriginal people were dispossessed of their land and the opportunity to manage it with fire. Since then, the Australian bush has seen dramatic <a href="https://www.pnas.org/content/112/15/4531">biodiversity declines</a>, <a href="https://www.publish.csiro.au/bt/bt05070">tree invasion</a> of grasslands and more frequent and destructive <a href="https://theconversation.com/some-say-weve-seen-bushfires-worse-than-this-before-but-theyre-ignoring-a-few-key-facts-129391">bushfires</a>. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/a-surprising-answer-to-a-hot-question-controlled-burns-often-fail-to-slow-a-bushfire-127022">A surprising answer to a hot question: controlled burns often fail to slow a bushfire</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>In many parts of Australia, particularly densely settled areas, cultural burning practices have been severely disrupted. But in some regions, such as clan estates in Arnhem Land, unbroken traditions of fire management date back to the mid to late Pleistocene some <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1046/j.1365-2699.2001.00555.x">50,000 years ago</a>.</p>
<p>Not all nations can draw on these living records of traditional fire management. </p>
<p>Indigenous people around the world, including in <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0277379118304190">western Europe</a>, used fire to manage flammable landscapes. But industrialisation, intensive agriculture and colonisation led to these practices being lost. </p>
<p>In most cases, historical records are the only way to learn about them.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/337835/original/file-20200527-141307-1hmff6e.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/337835/original/file-20200527-141307-1hmff6e.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=375&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/337835/original/file-20200527-141307-1hmff6e.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=375&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/337835/original/file-20200527-141307-1hmff6e.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=375&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/337835/original/file-20200527-141307-1hmff6e.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=471&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/337835/original/file-20200527-141307-1hmff6e.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=471&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/337835/original/file-20200527-141307-1hmff6e.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=471&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Aborigines Using Fire to Hunt Kangaroos, by Joseph Lycett. Indigenous people have used cultural fire practices for thousands of years.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">National Library of Australia</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>Rising from the ashes</h2>
<p>In Australia, many Aboriginal people are <a href="https://www.firesticks.org.au">rekindling cultural practices</a>, sometimes in collaboration with <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-07-08/victorias-only-all-aboriginal-fire-brigade-at-lake-tyers-trust/9934884">non-indigenous land managers</a>. They are drawing on retained community knowledge of past fire practices – and in some cases, embracing practices from other regions. </p>
<p>Burning programs can be adapted to the challenges of a rapidly changing world. These include the need to protect assets, and new threats such as weeds, climate change, forest disturbances from logging and fire, and feral animals. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/theres-no-evidence-greenies-block-bushfire-hazard-reduction-but-heres-a-controlled-burn-idea-worth-trying-129350">There's no evidence 'greenies' block bushfire hazard reduction but here's a controlled burn idea worth trying</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>This process is outlined well in Victor Steffensen’s recent book <a href="https://www.australianbookreview.com.au/abr-online/archive/2020/march-2020-no-419/742-environmental-studies/6274-tim-low-reviews-fire-country-how-indigenous-fire-management-could-help-save-australia-by-victor-steffensen">Fire Country: How Indigenous Fire Management Could Help Save Australia</a>. Steffensen describes how, as an Aboriginal man born into two cultures, he made a journey of self-discovery – learning about fire management while being guided and mentored by two Aboriginal elders.</p>
<p>Together, they reintroduced fire into traditional lands on Cape York. These practices had been prohibited after European-based systems of land tenure and management were imposed.</p>
<p>Steffensen extended his experience to cultural renewal and ecological restoration across Australia, arguing this was critical to addressing the bushfire crisis: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>The bottom line for me is that we need to work towards a whole other division of fire managers on the land […] A skilled team of indigenous and non-indigenous people that works in with the entire community, agencies and emergency services to deliver an effective and educational strategy into the future. One that is culturally based and connects to all the benefits for the community.</p>
</blockquote>
<figure>
<iframe src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/299353829" width="500" height="281" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen="" mozallowfullscreen="" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<h2>Making it happen</h2>
<p>So how do we realise this ideal? Explicit <a href="https://www.apsc.gov.au/affirmative-measure-recruiting-aboriginal-and-torres-strait-islander-australians-guide-agencies">affirmative action</a> policies, funded by state and federal governments, are a practical way to protect and extend Aboriginal burning cultures.</p>
<p>Specifically, such programs should provide ways for Aboriginal people and communities to:</p>
<ul>
<li>develop their fire management knowledge and capacity</li>
<li>maintain and renew traditional cultural practices</li>
<li>enter mainstream fire management, including in leadership roles</li>
<li>enter a broad cross section of agencies, and community groups involved in fire management. </li>
</ul>
<p>This will require rapidly building capacity to train and employ Aboriginal fire practitioners.</p>
<p>In some instances, where the impact of colonisation has been most intense, action is needed to support Aboriginal communities to re-establish relationships with forested areas, following generations of forced removal from their Country.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/our-land-is-burning-and-western-science-does-not-have-all-the-answers-100331">Our land is burning, and Western science does not have all the answers</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Importantly, this empowerment will enable Aboriginal communities to re-establish their own cultural priorities and practices in caring for Country. Where these differ from the Eurocentric values of mainstream Australia, we must understand and respect the wisdom of those who have been custodians of this flammable landscape for millennia. </p>
<p>Non-indigenous Australians should also pay for these ancient skills. Funding schemes could include training, and ensuring affirmative action programs are implemented and achieve their goals. </p>
<p>Involving Aboriginal people and communities in the development of fire management will ensure cultural knowledge is shared on culturally agreed terms.</p>
<h2>Fire people, fire country</h2>
<p>In many ways, last summer’s fire season is a reminder of the brutal acquisition of land in Australia and its ongoing consequences for all Australians.</p>
<p>The challenges involved in helping to right this wrong, by enabling Aboriginal people to use their fire management practices, are complex. They span social justice, funding, legal liability, cultural rights, fire management and science. </p>
<p>Fundamentally, we must recognise that Aborigines are “fire people” who live on “fire country”. It’s time to embrace this ancient fact.</p>
<p><em><a href="http://www.palrc.com/about/andry-sculthorpe/">Andry Sculthorpe</a> of the <a href="https://tacinc.com.au">Tasmanian Aboriginal Centre</a> contributed to this article.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/135196/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>David Bowman receives funding to study fire ecology and management from the Australian Research Council (ARC) , the NSW Bushfire Risk Management Research Hub, Bushfire and Natural Hazard CRC, and the Tasmanian Government Department of Primary Industries, Parks, Water and the Environment.</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Greg Lehman receives funding from the Australian Research Council, Australian Institute for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies, University of Tasmania, and University of Melbourne.</span></em></p>
The bushfire royal commission will look at incorporating Aboriginal knowledge into mainstream fire management. But in practice, what does that mean?
David Bowman, Professor of Pyrogeography and Fire Science, University of Tasmania
Greg Lehman, Pro Vice Chancellor, Aboriginal Leadership, University of Tasmania
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/130389
2020-04-28T19:56:10Z
2020-04-28T19:56:10Z
An honest reckoning with Captain Cook’s legacy won’t heal things overnight. But it’s a start
<p><em>Captain James Cook arrived in the Pacific 250 years ago, triggering British colonisation of the region. We’re asking researchers to reflect on what happened and how it shapes us today. You can see other stories in the series <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/cook250-78244">here</a> and an interactive <a href="https://cook250.netlify.app/">here</a>.</em></p>
<hr>
<p><em>Editor’s note: This is an edited transcript of an interview with John Maynard for our podcast <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/trust-me-im-an-expert-43810">Trust Me, I’m An Expert</a>. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised this article contains names of deceased people.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>There are a multitude of Aboriginal oral memories about Captain James Cook, right across the continent.</p>
<p>As the <a href="https://www.nla.gov.au/events/cooks-treasures/papers/Deborah-Rose-Captain-Cook.pdf">research</a> from Deborah Bird Rose shows, many Aboriginal people in remote locations are certainly under the impression that Cook came there as well, shooting people in a kind of Cook-led invasion of Australia. Many of these communities, of course, never met James Cook; the man never even went there. </p>
<p>But the deep impact of James Cook that spread across the country and he came to represent the bogeyman for Aboriginal Australia. </p>
<p>Even back in the Protection and Welfare Board days, a government car would turn up and Aboriginal people would be running around <a href="https://www.nla.gov.au/stories/audio/professor-john-maynard">screaming</a>, “Lookie, lookie, here comes Cookie!” </p>
<p>I <a href="https://www.nla.gov.au/digital-classroom/senior/Cook/Indigenous-Response/Maynard">wrote</a> about Uncle Ray Rose, sadly recently departed, who’d had a stroke. Someone said, “How do you feel?” And he said, “No good. I’m Captain Cooked.” </p>
<p>Cook, wherever he went up the coast, was giving names where names already existed. <a href="https://www.redbilby.com.au/wp-content/uploads/2014/12/East_Coast_Encounter_Sample.pdf">Yuin oral memory</a> in the south coast of NSW gives the example of what they called <a href="https://www.visitnsw.com/destinations/south-coast/batemans-bay-and-eurobodalla/tilba/attractions/mount-gulaga-mount-dromedary-walk">Gulaga</a> and Cook called “Mount Dromedary”:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>[…] that name can be seen as the first of the changes that come for our people […] Cook’s maps were very good, but they did not show our names for places. He didn’t ask us. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>Cook has been <a href="https://www.nla.gov.au/digital-classroom/senior/Cook/Indigenous-Response/Maynard">incorporated</a> into songs, jokes, stories and Aboriginal oral histories right across the country. </p>
<p>Why? I think it’s an Aboriginal response to the way we’ve been taught about our history. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/captain-cook-wanted-to-introduce-british-justice-to-indigenous-people-instead-he-became-increasingly-cruel-and-violent-127025">Captain Cook wanted to introduce British justice to Indigenous people. Instead, he became increasingly cruel and violent</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Myth-making persists but a shift is underway</h2>
<p>I came through a school system of the 50s and 60s, and we weren’t weren’t even mentioned in the history books except as a people belonging to the Stone Age or as a dying race. </p>
<p>It was all about discoverers, explorers, settlers and Phar Lap or Don Bradman. But us Aboriginal people? Not there. </p>
<p>We had this high exposure of the public celebration of Cook, the statues of Cook, the reenactments of Cook – it was really in your face. For Aboriginal people, how do we make sense of all of this, faced with the reality of our experience and the catastrophic impact?</p>
<p>We’ve got to make sense of it the best way we can, and I think that’s why Cook turns up in so many oral histories. </p>
<p>I think wider Australia is moving towards a more balanced understanding of our history. Lots of people now recognise the richest cultural treasure the country possesses is 65,000 years of Aboriginal cultural connection to this continent. </p>
<p>That’s unlike anywhere else in the world. I mean no disrespect, but 250 years is a drop in a lake compared to 65,000 years. From our perspective, in fact, we’ve always been here. Our people came out of the Dreamtime of the creative ancestors and lived and kept the Earth as it was in the very first day. </p>
<p>With global warming, rising sea levels, rising temperatures and catastrophic storms, Aboriginal people did keep the Earth as it was in the very first day to ensure that it was passed to each surviving generation. </p>
<p>There was going to be a (now-<a href="https://www.sbs.com.au/news/captain-cook-250th-anniversary-voyage-suspended-due-to-coronavirus">cancelled</a>) <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-01-22/endeavour-replica-to-sail-around-australia/10734998">circumnavigation</a> of Australia in the official proceedings this year, which the prime minister supported. But James Cook didn’t circumnavigate Australia. He only sailed up the east coast. So that’s creating more myths again, which is a senseless way to go.</p>
<h2>‘With the consent of the Natives to take possession’</h2>
<p>Personally, I have high regard for James Cook as a navigator, as a cartographer, and certainly as an inspiring captain of his crew. He encouraged incredible loyalty among those that sailed with him on those three voyages. And that has to be recognised. </p>
<p>But against that, of course, is the reality that he was given <a href="https://www.nla.gov.au/content/secret">secret instructions</a> by the Navy to:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>With the consent of the Natives to take possession of the convenient situations in the country in the name of the king of Great Britain.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Well, consent was never given. When they went ashore at Botany Bay, two Aboriginal men <a href="https://www.bl.uk/the-voyages-of-captain-james-cook/articles/an-indigenous-australian-perspective-on-cooks-arrival">brandished spears</a> and made it quite clear they didn’t want him there. Those men were wounded and Cook was one of those firing a musket.</p>
<p>There was no gaining any consent when he sailed on to Possession Island and planted that flag down. Totally the opposite, in fact.</p>
<p>And the most insightful viewpoint is from Cook himself, who <a href="http://southseas.nla.gov.au/journals/cook/17700430.html">wrote</a> that: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>all they seem’d to want was for us to be gone.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>Cook’s background gave him insight</h2>
<p>James Cook wasn’t your normal British naval officer of that time period. To get into such a position, you normally had to be born into the right family, to come from money and privilege. </p>
<p>James Cook was none of those things. He came from a poor family. His father was a labourer. Cook got to where he was by skill, endeavour, and, unquestionably, because he was a very smart man and brilliant at sea. But it’s also from that background that he’s able to offer insight. </p>
<p>There’s an incredible quotation of Cook’s where he <a href="http://southseas.nla.gov.au/journals/cook_remarks/092.html">says</a> of Aboriginal people:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>They live in a Tranquillity which is not disturb’d by the Inequality of Condition… they live in a warm and fine Climate and enjoy a very wholsome Air.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Now, Cook is comparing what he is seeing in Australia with life back Britain, where there is an incredible amount of inequality. London, at the time, was filthy. Sewerage pouring through the streets. Disease was rife. Underprivilege is everywhere. </p>
<p>In Australia, though, Cook sees what to him looks like this incredible egalitarian society and it makes an impact on him because of where he comes from. </p>
<p>But deeper misunderstandings persisted. In what’s now called Cooktown there are, at first, amicable relationships with the Guugu Yimithirr people, but when they <a href="http://setis.library.usyd.edu.au/ozlit/banks/banksvo2.pdf">come aboard the Endeavour</a> they see this incredible profusion of turtles that the crew has captured. </p>
<p>They’re probably thinking, “these are our turtles.” They would quite happily share some of those turtles but the Bristish response is: you get <em>none</em>. </p>
<p>So the Guugu Yimithirr people go off the ship and set the grass on fire. Eventually, there’s a kind of peace settlement but the incident reveals a complete blindness on the part of the British to the idea of reciprocity in Aboriginal society.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/they-are-all-dead-for-indigenous-people-cooks-voyage-of-discovery-was-a-ghostly-visitation-126430">'They are all dead': for Indigenous people, Cook's voyage of 'discovery' was a ghostly visitation</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>A collision of catastrophic proportions</h2>
<p>The impact of 1770 has never eased for Aboriginal people. It was a collision of catastrophic proportions. The whole impact of 1788 – of invasion, dispossession, cultural destruction, occupation onto assimilation, segregation – all of these things that came after 1770.</p>
<p>Anything you want to measure – Aboriginal health, education, employment, housing, youth suicide, incarceration – we have the worst stats. That has been a continuation, a reality of the failure of government to recognise what has happened in the past and actually do something about it in the present to fix it for the future. </p>
<p>We’ve had decades and decades of governments saying to us, “We know what’s best for you.” But the fact is that when it comes to Aboriginal well being, the only people to listen to are Aboriginal people and we’ve never been put in the position.</p>
<p>We’ve been raising our voices for a long time now, but some people see that as a threat and are not prepared to listen.</p>
<p>An honest reckoning of the reality of Cook and what came after won’t heal things overnight. But it’s a starting point, from which we can join hands and walk together toward a shared future. </p>
<p>A balanced understanding of the past will help us build a future – it is of critical importance.</p>
<h2>New to podcasts?</h2>
<p>Everything you need to know about how to listen to a podcast is <a href="https://theconversation.com/how-to-listen-to-podcasts-130882">here</a>.</p>
<p><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/au/podcast/trust-me-im-an-expert/id1290047736?mt=2&ign-mpt=uo%3D8"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/233721/original/file-20180827-75984-1gfuvlr.png" alt="Listen on Apple Podcasts" width="268" height="68"></a> <a href="https://www.google.com/podcasts?feed=aHR0cHM6Ly90aGVjb252ZXJzYXRpb24uY29tL2F1L3BvZGNhc3RzL3RydXN0LW1lLXBvZGNhc3QucnNz"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/233720/original/file-20180827-75978-3mdxcf.png" alt="" width="268" height="68"></a></p>
<p><a href="https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/the-conversation/trust-me-im-an-expert"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/233716/original/file-20180827-75981-pdp50i.png" alt="Stitcher" width="300" height="88"></a> <a href="https://tunein.com/podcasts/News--Politics-Podcasts/Trust-Me-Im-An-Expert-p1035757/"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/233723/original/file-20180827-75984-f0y2gb.png" alt="Listen on TuneIn" width="318" height="125"></a></p>
<p><a href="https://radiopublic.com/trust-me-im-an-expert-Wa3E5A"><img class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-152" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/233717/original/file-20180827-75990-86y5tg.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=268&fit=clip" alt="Listen on RadioPublic" width="268" height="87"></a> <a href="https://open.spotify.com/show/7myc7drbLJVaRitAMXLB7V"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/237984/original/file-20180925-149976-1ks72uy.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=268&fit=clip" width="268" height="82"></a> </p>
<p><strong>Additional audio credits</strong></p>
<p><em>Kindergarten by Unkle Ho, from <a href="https://www.elefanttraks.com/">Elefant Traks.</a></em></p>
<p><em><a href="https://freemusicarchive.org/music/Daniel_Birch/Music_For_Audio_Drama_Podcasts_Vol1/Marimba_On_The_Loose">Marimba On the Loose</a> by Daniel Birch, from Free Music Archive.</em></p>
<p><em>Podcast episode recorded and edited by Sunanda Creagh.</em></p>
<h2>Lead image</h2>
<p><em>Uncle Fred Deeral as little old man in the film The Message, a film by Zakpage, to be shown at the National Museum of Australia in April. Nik Lachajczak of Zakpage.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/130389/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
The impact of 1770 has never eased for Aboriginal people. It was a collision of catastrophic proportions.
Sunanda Creagh, Senior Editor
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/126430
2020-04-28T19:55:55Z
2020-04-28T19:55:55Z
‘They are all dead’: for Indigenous people, Cook’s voyage of ‘discovery’ was a ghostly visitation
<p><em>Captain James Cook arrived in the Pacific 250 years ago, triggering British colonisation of the region. We’re asking researchers to reflect on what happened and how it shapes us today. You can see other stories in the series <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/cook250-78244">here</a> and an interactive <a href="https://cook250.netlify.app/">here</a>.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>On a recent trip to Cape York, I was privileged to sit with Kaurareg/Gudang Yadhaykenu man Uncle Tommy Savage, on a beach in the town of Umagico.</p>
<p>We listened as he sang a song called Markai an Ghule (meaning “ghost ship”), composed by his ancestors when James Cook arrived at Possession Island in August 1770. </p>
<p><a href="https://theconversation.com/topics/cook250-78244"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/328303/original/file-20200416-192709-qmy2nf.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=113&fit=crop&dpr=2" alt="A new series from The Conversation." width="100%"></a></p>
<p>A sad lilt permeated the song, an expression of the grief the Kaurareg people felt at having to hide their cultural system, while they determined what the arrival of this preternatural being and his big ship was all about. </p>
<p>We recorded Uncle Tommy’s song for inclusion in The Message, a film commissioned by the National Museum of Australia and opening in April to coincide with 250 years since Cook arrived.</p>
<p>While researching the film, I spent much of last year travelling Australia’s east coast interviewing historians, curators and traditional owners, piecing together stories from the ship and the shore. Here are the stories that have stuck with me.</p>
<h2>A voyage of the dead</h2>
<p>What is so often described as Cook’s “voyage of discovery” has been viewed consistently by Indigenous people as a voyage of the dead; a giant canoe carrying the reincarnation of ancestral beings.</p>
<p>At the first encounter in Botany Bay, two Gweagal warriors throw stones and spears to Cook, saying “warrawarrawa,” <a href="https://www.sl.nsw.gov.au/sites/default/files/livinglanguage_mr_120719.pdf">meaning</a> “they are all dead” (not “go away”, as it is often translated).</p>
<p>Perhaps this explains why Banks and Cook write of Aboriginal people persistently declining any of the gifts they were offered. You would have to be crazy to take gifts from the dead! </p>
<p>The warnings about these ghostly visitors were quickly and accurately sent by fire, smoke and message stick up the coast, adding a deeper meaning to the many <a href="https://www.nla.gov.au/digital-classroom/senior/Cook/Indigenous-Response/Endeavour-Journal">fires</a> Banks and Cook noted as they travelled north (“Saw several smooks along shore before dark and two or three times afire in the night,” Cook <a href="https://www.nla.gov.au/digital-classroom/senior/Cook/Indigenous-Response/Endeavour-Journal">writes</a>).</p>
<h2>A collision of beliefs</h2>
<p>When the Endeavour smashes into the reef in Cooktown and is forced to stay for 48 days on the river for repairs, Cook and his crew captured “<a href="http://setis.library.usyd.edu.au/ozlit/pdf/p00021.pdf">eight or nine</a>” turtles (tellingly, Banks refers repeatedly to “our turtles”). </p>
<p>A contingent of local Guugu Yimithirr men board HMS Endeavour and try to take at least one turtle back, but Cook’s men soon wrest it away – refusing to share or acknowledge the possibility they’d taken too many.</p>
<p>Lamenting this environmental loss, a group of warriors light the grass fires in protest (“I had little Idea of the fury with which the grass burnt in this hot climate, nor of the dificulty of extinguishing it when once lighted”, Banks <a href="http://setis.library.usyd.edu.au/ozlit/pdf/p00021.pdf">writes</a>) and Cook shoots one of the Guugu Yimithirr men.</p>
<p>The rising tension is then released by an older man who stands forward in an extraordinary act of governance and breaks the tip off a spear to signify “weapons down”. </p>
<h2>‘… in reality they are far more happier than we Europeans’</h2>
<p>The incident brought together threads still relevant in Indigenous-settler relations today: environmental care, reconciliation and cultural governance. And this collision of beliefs, it seems, was not lost on Cook. </p>
<p>As he sailed off from the tip of Cape York, Cook wrote an unusual diary <a href="http://southseas.nla.gov.au/journals/cook_remarks/092.html">entry</a>:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>From what I have said of the Natives of New-Holland, they may appear to some to be the most wretched people upon Earth, but in reality they are far more happier than we Europeans; being wholy unacquainted not only with the superfluous but the necessary conveniencies so much sought after in Europe, they are happy in not knowing the use of them. </p>
<p>They live in a Tranquillity which is not disturb’d by the Inequality of Condition: The Earth and sea of their own accord furnishes them with all things necessary for life; they covet not Magnificent Houses, Houshold-stuff […]</p>
<p>[…] they live in a warm and fine Climate and enjoy a very wholsome Air, so that they have very little need of Clothing and this they seem to be fully sencible of, for many to whome we gave Cloth to, left it carlessly upon the Sea beach and in the woods as a thing they had no manner of use for. </p>
<p>In short they seem’d to set no Value upon any thing we gave them, nor would they ever part with any thing of their own for any one article we could offer them; this, in my opinion argues that they think themselves provided with all the necessarys of Life and that they have no Superfluities —</p>
</blockquote>
<p>For a working class man from Georgian England to see and appreciate the cultural values of Indigenous people is remarkable, considering that clarity of understanding is only just dawning on the average Australian. </p>
<h2>The role of Joseph Banks</h2>
<p>After all the conversations I’ve had over the last year with historians, traditional owners and curators, I’ve come to believe that history has been unkind to Cook. He is blamed for the many wrongs inflicted on my people. </p>
<p>Joseph Banks, however, emerges as a much colder, unkinder figure. It was Banks who <a href="http://www.migrationheritage.nsw.gov.au/exhibition/objectsthroughtime/barrallier-letter/index.html">convinced the British government</a> that Australia would be perfect for a penal colony, given it could no longer send convicts to America. </p>
<p>Banks’s view that Australia was “<a href="http://setis.library.usyd.edu.au/ozlit/pdf/p00021.pdf">thinly inhabited</a>” (and he speaks frequently of savagery and simplicity of its people) fed directly into the declaration of <em><a href="https://theconversation.com/henry-reynolds-australia-was-founded-on-a-hypocrisy-that-haunts-us-to-this-day-101679">terra nullius.</a></em> Banks never went inland, but declared with great hubris that it was almost certainly “<a href="https://books.google.com.au/books?id=XiuKJC5Izb0C&pg=PA16&lpg=PA16&dq=joseph+banks+%22totally+uninhabited%22&source=bl&ots=lQfFdObesz&sig=ACfU3U0LLSIqhWC8D37BSZGhFuC-fseyOA&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiDjYvG1YbnAhXLZSsKHQXJDrEQ6AEwBHoECAkQAQ#v=onepage&q=joseph%20banks%20%22totally%20uninhabited%22&f=false">totally uninhabited</a>”.</p>
<p>In the end, the decisions made in the 18 years between Cook leaving and the First Fleet arriving have shaped modern Australia far more than those early fleeting ethereal encounters.</p>
<p>There are so many lost chapters in the story of Australia.</p>
<p>But as a nation, we can invite Uncle Tommy and his people – and all those other excluded songs and stories – to come out of hiding. </p>
<p>Revealing our shared history is the only way to make peace with those ghostly visitors of the past. But we will only find that peace in the truth and it’s the truth of our history, which will be our new voyage of discovery. </p>
<hr>
<p><em>Alison Page was commissioned by the National Museum of Australia to create the film The Message for the museum’s Endeavour 250 exhibition, opening on April 8.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/126430/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Alison Page of Zakpage is a descendant of the Walbanga and Wadi Wadi people of the Yuin nation. She was commissioned by the National Museum of Australia to create the film The Message. She is a councillor on the Australian National Maritime Museum, won a sculpture commission for Kamay Commemorative Installation and is on the Indigenous Reference Group of the National Museum of Australia.</span></em></p>
Incidents from Cook’s first voyage highlight themes relevant in Indigenous-settler relations today: environmental care, reconciliation and governance. This collision of beliefs, it seems, wasn’t lost on Cook.
Alison Page, Adjunct Associate Professor, University of Technology Sydney
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/129793
2020-01-20T04:09:30Z
2020-01-20T04:09:30Z
Bran Nue Dae review: exceptional singing and music obscure the political heart of this classic Australian musical
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/310770/original/file-20200120-118311-vbhldp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=1279%2C1070%2C2177%2C2076&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Thirty years on, Bran Nue Dae still feels relevant. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Prudence Upton</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>Review: Bran Nue Dae, by Jimmy Chi and Kuckles and directed by Andrew Ross for Sydney Festival</em></p>
<p><em>Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised this article contains names of deceased people.</em></p>
<p>It is exciting to see such a range of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander productions offered at <a href="https://theconversation.com/australias-major-summer-arts-festivals-reckoning-with-the-past-or-retreating-into-it-126829">this year’s Sydney Festival</a>, including the first major revival of the 1990 award-winning musical Bran Nue Dae. </p>
<p>As my son and I arrived, we were greeted by a crowd of people dressed in their finest. There were many Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander theatregoers who, like us, were excited to see a production written and performed by Aboriginal people. There was one particular young Aboriginal girl singing “nothing I’d rather be, than be an Aborigine!” </p>
<p>Despite her mother’s attempts to silence her, she was clearly happy to be at the event.</p>
<p>In Bran Nue Dae, Willie (Marcus Corowa) is expelled from the boarding school he is attending in Perth for “stealing” chocolates. </p>
<p>On the streets of Perth with no way to get home to Broome, he meets up with his Uncle Tadpole (veteran actor Ernie Dingo, in the role he played in both the original production and the <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1148165/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">2009 film adaptation</a>). Together they begin their journey to their homelands. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/310771/original/file-20200120-118323-1icrvdb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/310771/original/file-20200120-118323-1icrvdb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/310771/original/file-20200120-118323-1icrvdb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/310771/original/file-20200120-118323-1icrvdb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/310771/original/file-20200120-118323-1icrvdb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/310771/original/file-20200120-118323-1icrvdb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/310771/original/file-20200120-118323-1icrvdb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Ernie Dingo revisits the role he first played in 1990.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Prudence Upton</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Uncle Tadpole throws himself in front of a combi van driven by German tourist Slippery (Callan Purcell) and free-loving hippie Marijuana Annie (Danielle Sibosado), and the travellers feel obliged to give the pair a lift. </p>
<p>Together, they take a road trip 2,200km north, encountering Willie’s love interest Rosie (Teresa Moore); finding themselves in the <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2017-08-29/roebourne-the-heart-in-the-darkness/8842220">Roebourne Lockup</a>; swimming in a watering hole on the <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-07-07/roebuck-plains-station-indigenous-run-leased-kimberley-broome-wa/11285072">Roebuck Plains</a>; before making it home to Broome and the mangroves.</p>
<p>A semi-autobiographical play by the late Jimmy Chi and his band, Kuckles, Bran Nue Dae is set in Western Australia in the 1960s: oppressive times for Aboriginal people. </p>
<p>Opening with a song set in the future by an elderly Willie, “Acceptable Coon” is a powerful introduction to the political messages of the work: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>They taught me the white ways, and bugger the rest, </p>
<p>Cause everything white is right and the best. </p>
<p>So learn all the white things they teach you in school, </p>
<p>And you’ll all become acceptable coons.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Chi’s lyrics draw attention to Aboriginal deaths in custody, dispossession and assimilation, and the forced removal of Aboriginal children from their families. </p>
<p>One of the more sombre songs, “Listen to the News”, asks: “is this the end of our people?” </p>
<p>Thirty years on, their content is still relevant.</p>
<h2>Aboriginal resilience</h2>
<p>My son had not seen the 2009 film, and I was keen to see what he thought of the performance. Like me, he very much enjoyed the music. The singing is exceptional, highlighting the immense talent of the cast. </p>
<p>But there was a sense for both of us that the music itself was the highlight and the storyline was somehow obscured. </p>
<p>For my son, this was particularly notable: he came to the event fresh and expressed his difficulty in being able to follow the plot, despite being an avid theatregoer. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/310772/original/file-20200120-118352-nckiyo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/310772/original/file-20200120-118352-nckiyo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/310772/original/file-20200120-118352-nckiyo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/310772/original/file-20200120-118352-nckiyo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/310772/original/file-20200120-118352-nckiyo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/310772/original/file-20200120-118352-nckiyo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/310772/original/file-20200120-118352-nckiyo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The core of this production are the songs – and so sometimes the plot gets lost.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Prudence Upton</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The original stage show had much more dialogue and the film with screen director Rachel Perkins was able to expand the narrative and provide far more context. This production cuts out a lot of the dialogue from the original script.</p>
<p>We both came away feeling that more dialogue would have ensured the audience understood the politics of this wonderful play which, for me, in its original form brilliantly documents many aspects of Aboriginal history in this country. </p>
<p>Both my son and I enjoyed the play immensely, although as a scholar who has a great deal of interest in the politics of identity I was left with a few questions. </p>
<p>I understand the reconciliatory theme of the show and the message that we are all “one race”. However, given the focus on identity we see <a href="https://www.sbs.com.au/nitv/article/2016/03/15/bronwyn-carlson-who-counts-aboriginal-today">regularly in the media</a>, some of the “discoveries” of Aboriginal identity hung in the air uncomfortably. </p>
<p>In one scene, Marijuana Annie has an epiphany and announces “I too am an Aborigine!”, remembering Black faces around her as she was removed as a child. </p>
<p>Here, Marijuana Annie is played by an Indigenous actor, unlike previous renditions (Missy Higgins played the role in the screen version), and so her revelations are not as problematic as it has been. But still, the cast break into song, making light of the situation and offering a more palatable version of such histories. </p>
<p>There is more room for the production to explore the violence of colonialism, while retaining Chi’s lightness and humour.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/310774/original/file-20200120-118315-8jbgai.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/310774/original/file-20200120-118315-8jbgai.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/310774/original/file-20200120-118315-8jbgai.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/310774/original/file-20200120-118315-8jbgai.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/310774/original/file-20200120-118315-8jbgai.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/310774/original/file-20200120-118315-8jbgai.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/310774/original/file-20200120-118315-8jbgai.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Bran Nue Dae is an Australian classic.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Prudence Upton</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Bran Nue Dae is an Australian classic. It tells of the enduringness of colonialism and does so in a way that invites audiences into the humour of tragedy and the ways in which Aboriginal people express resilience to colonial rule. </p>
<p>And, like the young girl outside the theatre, by the end of the play the audience – including my son and I – were singing along.</p>
<p><em>Bran Nue Dae is at Riverside Theatres Parramatta for Sydney Festival until February 1, then tours Perth, Geelong, Melbourne, Brisbane, Canberra and Adelaide.</em></p>
<hr>
<p><em>Update: The original version of this review misstated one of the cast members. On opening night the role of Marijuana Annie was played by Danielle Sibosado, not Tuuli Narkle</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/129793/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Bronwyn Carlson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
Jimmy Chi’s 1990 musical is given its first major stage revival – and leaves the audience singing along.
Bronwyn Carlson, Professor, Indigenous Studies, Macquarie University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/129448
2020-01-10T01:42:46Z
2020-01-10T01:42:46Z
Strength from perpetual grief: how Aboriginal people experience the bushfire crisis
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/309370/original/file-20200109-80116-bg82xl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C24%2C2048%2C1508&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Regrowth one month after fires at Colo Heights, NSW. A legacy of displacement and racism inflames bushfire trauma for Aboriginal Australians</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Vanessa Cavanagh</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>How do you support people forever attached to a landscape after an inferno tears through their homelands: decimating native food sources, burning through ancient <a href="https://scartrees.com.au/about/">scarred trees</a> and destroying ancestral and totemic plants and animals? </p>
<p>The fact is, the experience of Aboriginal peoples in the fire crisis engulfing much of Australia is vastly different to non-Indigenous peoples.</p>
<p>Colonial legacies of eradication, dispossession, assimilation and racism continue to impact the lived realities of Aboriginal peoples. Added to this is the widespread exclusion of our peoples from accessing and managing traditional homelands. These factors compound the trauma of these unprecedented fires.</p>
<p>As Australia picks up the pieces from these fires, it’s more important than ever to understand the <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S175545861100065X">unique grief</a> Aboriginal peoples experience. Only through this understanding can effective strategies be put in place to support our communities to recover.</p>
<h2>Perpetual grief</h2>
<p>Aboriginal peoples live with a sense of perpetual grief. It stems from the as-yet-unresolved matter of the invasion and subsequent colonisation of our homelands. </p>
<p>While there are many instances of <a href="http://www.corntassel.net/being_indigenous.pdf">colonial trauma</a> inflicted upon Aboriginal peoples – including the removal of children and the suppression of culture, ceremony and language – dispossession of Country remains paramount. Dispossessing people of their lands is a <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/277992187_Decolonization_Is_Not_a_Metaphor">hallmark of colonisation</a>. </p>
<p><div data-react-class="Tweet" data-react-props="{"tweetId":"1213710096246525953"}"></div></p>
<p>Australian laws have changed to partially return Aboriginal peoples’ lands and waters, and Aboriginal people have made their best efforts to advocate for more effective management of Country. But despite this, the majority of our peoples have been consigned to the margins in managing our homelands. </p>
<p>Aboriginal people have watched on and been ignored as homelands have been <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-11-14/traditional-owners-predicted-bushfire-disaster/11700320?pfmredir=sm">mismanaged and neglected</a>. </p>
<p>Oliver Costello is chief executive of <a href="https://www.firesticks.org.au">Firesticks Alliance</a>, an Indigenous-led network that aims to re-invigorate cultural burning. As he puts it:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Since colonisation, many Indigenous people have been removed from their land, and their cultural fire management practices have been constrained by authorities, informed by Western views of fire and land management.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>In this way, settler-colonialism is not historical, but a lived experience. And the growing reality of <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0959378009000223">climate change</a> adds to these anxieties. </p>
<p>It’s also important to recognise that our people grieve not only for our communities, but for our non-human relations. Aboriginal peoples’ cultural identity comes from the <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/14486563.2013.819303">land</a>. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/our-land-is-burning-and-western-science-does-not-have-all-the-answers-100331">Our land is burning, and Western science does not have all the answers</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>As such, Aboriginal cultural lives and livelihoods continue to be tied to the land, including landscape features such as waterholes, valleys and mountains, as well as native animals and plants. </p>
<p>The decimation caused by the fires deeply impacts the existence of Aboriginal peoples and in the most severely hit areas, threatens Aboriginal groups as distinct cultural beings attached to the land. As The Guardian’s Indigenous affairs editor Lorena Allam <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/jan/06/for-first-nations-people-the-bushfires-bring-a-particular-grief-burning-what-makes-us-who-we-are">recently wrote</a>: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>Like you, I’ve watched in anguish and horror as fire lays waste to precious Yuin land, taking everything with it – lives, homes, animals, trees – but for First Nations people it is also burning up our memories, our sacred places, all the things which make us who we are.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>For Aboriginal people then, who live with the trauma of dispossession and neglect and now, the trauma of catastrophic fire, our grief is immeasurably different to that of non-Indigenous people.</p>
<h2>Bushfire recovery must consider culture</h2>
<p>As we come to terms with the fires’ devastation, Australia must turn its gaze to recovery. The field of community recovery offers valuable insights into how groups of people can come together and move forward after disasters. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/new-research-turns-tasmanian-aboriginal-history-on-its-head-the-results-will-help-care-for-the-land-124285">New research turns Tasmanian Aboriginal history on its head. The results will help care for the land</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>But an examination of <a href="https://openresearch-repository.anu.edu.au/bitstream/1885/110384/1/Moreton%20Thesis%202016.pdf">research</a> and <a href="https://theconversation.com/disaster-recovery-from-australias-fires-will-be-a-marathon-not-a-sprint-129325">commentary</a> in this area reveals how poorly non-Indigenous Australia (and indeed, the international field of community recovery) understands the needs of Aboriginal people. </p>
<p>The definition of “community” is not explicitly addressed, and thus is taken as a single socio-cultural group of people. </p>
<p>But research in Australia and overseas has demonstrated that for Aboriginal people, healing from trauma – whether historical or contemporary – is a <a href="http://journals.sfu.ca/fpcfr/index.php/FPCFR/article/view/379/311">cultural and spiritual process</a> and inherently tied to land.</p>
<p>The <a href="https://conbio.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1111/cobi.12580">culture-neutral standpoint</a> in community recovery research as yet does not acknowledge these differences. Without considering the historical, political and cultural contexts that continue to define the lives of Aboriginal peoples, responses to the crisis may be inadequate and inappropriate.</p>
<h2>Resilience in the face of ongoing trauma</h2>
<p>The long-term effects of colonisation has meant Aboriginal communities are (for better or worse) accustomed to living with catastrophic changes to their <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/2514848618777621">societies and lands</a>, adjusting and adapting to keep functioning. </p>
<p>Experts consider these resilience traits as integral for communities to survive and recover from natural disasters. </p>
<p>In this way, the resilience of Aboriginal communities fashioned through centuries of colonisation, coupled with adequate support, means Aboriginal communities in fire-affected areas are well placed to not only recover, but to do so quickly. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/australia-can-expect-far-more-fire-catastrophes-a-proper-disaster-plan-is-worth-paying-for-129326">Australia can expect far more fire catastrophes. A proper disaster plan is worth paying for</a>
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</em>
</p>
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<p>This is a salient lesson for agencies and other non-government organisations entrusted to lead the disaster recovery process. </p>
<p>The community characteristics that enable effective and timely community recovery, such as close social links and shared histories, already exist in the Aboriginal communities affected.</p>
<h2>Moving forward</h2>
<p>The <a href="https://www.pm.gov.au/media/national-bushfire-recovery-agency">agency</a> in charge of leading the recovery in bushfire-affected areas must begin respectfully and appropriately. And they must be equipped with the basic knowledge of our peoples’ different circumstances. </p>
<p>It’s important to note this isn’t “special treatment”. Instead, it recognises that policy and practice must be fit-for-purpose and, at the very least, not do further <a href="https://search.informit.com.au/documentSummary;dn=767232205676002;res=IELAPA;type=pdf">harm</a>. </p>
<p><div data-react-class="Tweet" data-react-props="{"tweetId":"1214351138520043522"}"></div></p>
<p>If agencies and non-government organisations responsible for leading the recovery from these fires aren’t well-prepared, they risk inflicting new trauma on Aboriginal communities.</p>
<p>The National Disability Insurance Agency offers an example of how to engage with Aboriginal people in <a href="https://www.ndis.gov.au/about-us/strategies/aboriginal-and-torres-strait-islander-strategy">culturally sensitive ways</a>. This includes thinking about Country, culture and community, and working with each community’s values and customs to establish respectful, trusting relationships.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/how-should-leaders-respond-to-disasters-be-visible-offer-real-comfort-and-dont-force-handshakes-129444">How should leaders respond to disasters? Be visible, offer real comfort – and don't force handshakes</a>
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</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>The <a href="https://www.pm.gov.au/media/national-bushfire-recovery-agency">new bushfire recovery agency</a> must use a similar strategy. This would acknowledge both the historical experiences of Aboriginal peoples and our inherent strengths as communities that have not only survived, but remain connected to our homelands. </p>
<p>In this way, perhaps the bushfire crisis might have some positive longer-term outcomes, opening <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/1474474018821419">new doors</a> to collaboration with Aboriginal people, drawing on our strengths and values and prioritising our unique interests.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/129448/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Bhiamie Williamson is affiliated with the ACT Bushfire Council. </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Jessica Weir receives funding from the Bushfire and Natural Hazards Cooperative Research Council. </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Vanessa Cavanagh receives funding from The NSW Bushfire Risk Management Research Hub. She is affiliated with Firesticks Alliance Indigenous Corporation. </span></em></p>
As Australia picks up the pieces after the fires, we must understand the unique grief Aboriginal people experience from a loss of country.
Bhiamie Williamson, Research Associate & PhD Candidate, Australian National University
Jessica K Weir, Senior Research Fellow, Western Sydney University
Vanessa Cavanagh, Associate Lecturer, School of Geography and Sustainable Communities, University of Wollongong
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/122550
2019-12-05T18:34:21Z
2019-12-05T18:34:21Z
Making space: how designing hospitals for Indigenous people might benefit everyone
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/304180/original/file-20191128-176624-12jyavp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=6%2C6%2C1435%2C955&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Sunshine Coast University Hospital uses evidence-based design to provide outside spaces with views that Indigenous people tell us they value.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Architectus</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>Welcome to the next article in our <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/designing-hospitals-78983">Designing Hospitals</a> series, where we explore how architecture and design shape our hospitals and medical centres. Today, we look at what Indigenous people tell us they need in hospital design.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>Last year, New South Wales health minister Brad Hazzard <a href="https://www.sbs.com.au/nitv/nitv-news/article/2018/04/04/cultural-spaces-proposed-nsw-hospitals-welcomed">proposed</a> segregated Indigenous waiting areas in the emergency departments of the state’s public hospitals. </p>
<p>The novel policy suggested a link between Indigenous participation in health care and the design of health-care spaces. </p>
<p><a href="https://www.2gb.com/this-is-apartheid-alan-unleashes-on-absurd-aboriginal-hospital-policy/">One response</a> called the proposal “absurd” and “apartheid”. It questioned whether racially segregated rooms were the answer to Indigenous patients leaving the emergency department without receiving care.</p>
<p>What was the evidence that redesigning waiting rooms would benefit Indigenous patients and their carers? </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/aquariums-meerkats-and-gaming-screens-how-hospital-design-supports-children-young-people-and-their-families-122198">Aquariums, meerkats and gaming screens: how hospital design supports children, young people and their families</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>How we use evidence to design better hospitals</h2>
<p><a href="https://www.healthdesign.org/sites/default/files/LitReviewWP_FINAL.pdf">Evidence-based design</a> aims to use research and evidence to improve hospital architecture for patients, carers and staff. </p>
<p><a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/B9780128114810000123?via%3Dihub">Studying physical environments</a> that reduce patient stress, for example, is one area that has led to design changes in waiting areas, in-patient rooms, and <a href="https://segd.org/what-wayfinding">wayfinding</a> (how people navigate through a building).</p>
<p>It has also led to increasing integration of landscaping in health-care facilities and an interest in the benefits of <a href="https://scholar.google.com/scholar_lookup?title=Therapeutic%20Landscapes%3A%20an%20Evidence-based%20Approach%20to%20Designing%20Healing%20Gardens%20and%20Restorative%20Outdoor%20Spaces&author=C.%20Cooper%20Marcus&publication_year=2013">therapeutic gardens</a>.</p>
<p>But this research has largely ignored Indigenous people, despite the <a href="https://theconversation.com/four-lessons-from-11-years-of-closing-the-gap-reports-111816">persistent health gap</a> and the fact that cross-cultural design principles are being used for other buildings such as <a href="https://architectureau.com/articles/essay-7/">housing</a> and <a href="https://architectureau.com/articles/west-kimberley-regional-prison/#img-0">prisons</a>.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/re-imagining-a-museum-of-our-first-nations-123365">Re-imagining a museum of our First Nations</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
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<h2>Here’s what we did</h2>
<p>Our research attempted to determine how design can improve the way Indigenous people experience hospitals. The team included architects, anthropologists and statisticians.</p>
<p>We <a href="http://www.publish.csiro.au/ah/AH18196">used a survey</a> to examine the preferences and experiences of 600 Indigenous people at two locations: a metropolitan city (Townsville) and an inland regional city (Mount Isa).</p>
<p>We then interviewed a further 55 Indigenous people, and held meetings with the Indigenous liaison team at the Townsville Hospital.</p>
<h2>Here’s what we found</h2>
<p>The results reinforced anecdotal evidence that many Indigenous people find hospitals uncomfortable, alienating, and stressful.</p>
<p>One interviewee <a href="http://www.publish.csiro.au/ah/AH18196">told us</a>: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>When you’ve got people looking you up and down, it makes you feel bad. All eyes on you, makes you shame always, like you shouldn’t be there.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Many of us find hospitals stressful. But <a href="https://www.aihw.gov.au/reports/indigenous-health-welfare/health-performance-framework/contents/overview">a higher proportion</a> of Indigenous people avoid hospital appointments or leave hospital against medical advice than non-Indigenous people.</p>
<p>Yes, culturally appropriate, high-quality care is of primary importance in the delivery of health services.</p>
<p>However, the survey results and stories confirmed hospital design matters to Indigenous patients and their families.</p>
<p>These preferences relate to Indigenous people’s cultural and social background, which is influenced by location and histories of colonisation.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/what-do-aboriginal-australians-want-from-their-aged-care-system-community-connection-is-number-one-118913">What do Aboriginal Australians want from their aged care system? Community connection is number one</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>How can we improve hospital design?</h2>
<p>Our study confirmed that Indigenous social networks, related to both kinship and community, affect hospital use.</p>
<p>Indigenous patients attract <a href="http://www.publish.csiro.au/PY/PY06009">larger numbers</a> of carers and visitors, whether in maternity wards, outpatient clinics, intensive care, or in palliative care. Interviews with hospital staff supported these observations. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/304181/original/file-20191128-176593-golc36.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/304181/original/file-20191128-176593-golc36.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/304181/original/file-20191128-176593-golc36.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=401&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/304181/original/file-20191128-176593-golc36.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=401&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/304181/original/file-20191128-176593-golc36.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=401&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/304181/original/file-20191128-176593-golc36.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/304181/original/file-20191128-176593-golc36.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/304181/original/file-20191128-176593-golc36.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The views from this patient room in the Sunshine Coast University Hospital create a connection to the outdoors that Indigenous patients highly value.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Architectus</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>For in-patients, the larger visitor groups often stay longer, which can also place burden on staff and resources.</p>
<p><a href="https://www.healthfacilityguidelines.com.au/">Existing guidelines on hospital design</a>, however, tell us hospital wards are usually designed to accommodate only a few visitors at one time.</p>
<p>The results of our study indicated that larger in-patient rooms, semi-private waiting rooms located in wards, and connection to outdoors would begin to offer comfort to Indigenous visitors and families who may feel unwelcome in larger numbers.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/ms-dhu-coronial-findings-show-importance-of-teaching-doctors-and-nurses-about-unconscious-bias-60319">Ms Dhu coronial findings show importance of teaching doctors and nurses about unconscious bias</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Our research found clinics or hospital waiting rooms are rarely private enough for Indigenous people. We also found Indigenous patients and visitors feel more comfortable if they can see who is coming and going. </p>
<p>This visual monitoring can help maintain social relationships, either avoiding individuals — a cultural requirement in close-knit communities — or embracing supportive kin. </p>
<p>The spatial solution might be a challenge — providing flexible seating arrangements that offer semi-private spaces with clear views of entries. Larger waiting rooms adjoining outdoor areas would be a good start.</p>
<h2>Can landscapes and gardens help?</h2>
<p>The results of our study confirmed that Indigenous patients and visitors strongly preferred outdoor spaces, not just for the <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/1937586719848861">benefits of more natural settings</a>, or to escape the air-conditioning, but also for social contact.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/304179/original/file-20191128-176588-sjm7gf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=1%2C5%2C848%2C561&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/304179/original/file-20191128-176588-sjm7gf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/304179/original/file-20191128-176588-sjm7gf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/304179/original/file-20191128-176588-sjm7gf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/304179/original/file-20191128-176588-sjm7gf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/304179/original/file-20191128-176588-sjm7gf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/304179/original/file-20191128-176588-sjm7gf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">This roof garden at the Queensland Children’s Hospital offers semi-private spaces for social interaction and is preferred by Indigenous patients and visitors.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Conrad Gargett Lyons</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>This can be to gather in private or to seek out familiar faces entering or leaving the hospital. </p>
<p>Although not often designed for such, outdoor areas are commonly used for grieving and cultural rituals around death. With this diversity of use, outdoor spaces deserve as much design attention as the interiors. </p>
<h2>Evaluating how design works</h2>
<p>Newer clinics and hospitals include design features, such as Indigenous art, which recognise Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander culture. But we need to make cross-cultural design more widespread and effective if we want Indigenous people to feel more comfortable in hospital. </p>
<p>Revised hospital design guidelines can raise awareness, but they may not capture the diversity of Indigenous people using different types of health facilities across a big continent. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/meet-the-remote-indigenous-community-where-a-few-thousand-people-use-15-different-languages-107716">Meet the remote Indigenous community where a few thousand people use 15 different languages</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>This makes consultation with local Indigenous people essential if their needs and preferences are to be accommodated in new health-care buildings. </p>
<p>Evaluating the design of newly built hospitals also contributes to evidence about architecture, and what might work better for both patients and staff, including Indigenous people.</p>
<p>Governments are hyper-sensitive about <a href="https://indaily.com.au/news/politics/2018/03/15/liberals-demand-new-rah-safety-report/">criticism of new hospitals</a>. However, evaluating their design identifies worthy and repeatable design, as well as failures. </p>
<p>The modest design changes needed to improve the experience of Indigenous patients are likely to benefit all people who use our public hospitals.</p>
<hr>
<p><em>Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander organisations in Townsville and Mount Isa were essential in reaching the survey participants. Professor Paul Memmott, Professor Michele Haynes, Dr Bernie Baffour, Sue York, Carys Chainey, Georgia Betros, Kali Marnane and Alex Bond contributed to the research mentioned in this article.</em></p>
<hr>
<p><em>Read other articles in our Designing Hospitals series:</em></p>
<p><a href="https://theconversation.com/from-army-barracks-to-shopping-malls-how-hospital-design-has-been-a-matter-of-life-and-death-123377">From army barracks to shopping malls: how hospital design has been a matter of life and death</a></p>
<p><a href="https://theconversation.com/aquariums-meerkats-and-gaming-screens-how-hospital-design-supports-children-young-people-and-their-families-122198">Aquariums, meerkats and gaming screens: how hospital design supports children, young people and their families</a></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/122550/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Timothy O'Rourke receives funding from the Australian Research Council. </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Daphne Nash receives funding from the Australian Research Council.</span></em></p>
Many Indigenous people tell us they find hospitals stressful, uncomfortable and alienating. Here’s how good design can help.
Timothy O'Rourke, Senior Lecturer, School of Architecture, The University of Queensland
Daphne Nash, Research Fellow, Aboriginal Environments Research Centre, The University of Queensland
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/124001
2019-10-10T19:01:17Z
2019-10-10T19:01:17Z
Friday essay: histories written in the land - a journey through Adnyamathanha Yarta
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/293532/original/file-20190923-23817-nsroet.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C0%2C5119%2C3410&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">It is impossible to fully capture the landscape of the Flinders Ranges in one image. Spanning 400km, it is constantly changing. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Shutterstock</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>The Flinders Ranges covers a vast area spanning over 400 kilometres. The nearest capital city is Adelaide which, like all of Australia, exists on Aboriginal land. Adelaide is in Kaurna Country, about 200 kilometres from the southern end of the Flinders Ranges, one of the world’s most interesting and beautiful locations. This is a short drive, relative to most travel in Australia.</p>
<p>It is impossible to describe the Flinders Ranges as just one environment. The landscape changes as you travel from south to north and there is no way you could see its entirety in the span of a lifetime. But to give you an idea of how this land varies, lets start at its most southern end with its flowing green hills, near the small city of Port Pirie. This part of the Flinders Ranges is Nukunu Country. The land here is beautiful and your experience of it is very different, depending on whether you choose to drive on the eastern or the western side of the Ranges.</p>
<p>If you continue driving on the western side you will witness the place where the Ranges meet the ocean. You don’t need to pass through many towns, but you definitely should do so as they all sit on the beautiful coast of the Spencer Gulf. Port Germein, one of the stops, is a lovely seaside town and home to what was once the longest jetty in the Southern Hemisphere. One and a half kilometres long, it lets you experience what it would be like to stand in the middle of the sea looking across to the Ranges. An amazing view indeed.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/295727/original/file-20191007-121083-5a7lqe.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/295727/original/file-20191007-121083-5a7lqe.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=401&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295727/original/file-20191007-121083-5a7lqe.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=401&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295727/original/file-20191007-121083-5a7lqe.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=401&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295727/original/file-20191007-121083-5a7lqe.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295727/original/file-20191007-121083-5a7lqe.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295727/original/file-20191007-121083-5a7lqe.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">From Port Germein, you can feel like you are standing in the middle of the sea.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Shutterstock</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The eastern side will take you through farmland and small towns. Gum trees, creeks, gorges and green grass surround you and it is one of the first times you will find yourself up close to the Flinders Ranges. Here, you will be travelling through Nukunu Country, or if you veer further east, possibly Ngadjuri or Adnyamathanha Country. There is a stronger colonial history in the towns here, which you can see in the monuments and buildings that now seem tattered and old. But before we get ahead of ourselves, there is one more stop I want to show you on the western side.</p>
<p>As you continue to travel you see the hills gradually turn into shades of dark green and brown. Their shape begins to change too, their soft edges turn to sharper points. The green grass transforms into red sand and you notice that the dark green and brown on the hills are the colours of the shrubs embedded into this sand. You eventually reach the small city of Port Augusta which sits at the top of the Spencer Gulf. This area is a meeting place for a number of Aboriginal groups that are separated on each side of the gulf, however, it is specifically connected to Barngarla and Nukunu. It is no surprise that this place is of great interest to so many Aboriginal Nations. It is the one place where the desert truly meets the sea. It is also the town where I grew up.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/295728/original/file-20191007-121065-1wpey1t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/295728/original/file-20191007-121065-1wpey1t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295728/original/file-20191007-121065-1wpey1t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295728/original/file-20191007-121065-1wpey1t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295728/original/file-20191007-121065-1wpey1t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295728/original/file-20191007-121065-1wpey1t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295728/original/file-20191007-121065-1wpey1t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">At Port Augusta, the desert meets the sea.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Shutterstock</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>The beauty of home</h2>
<p>Growing up in Port Augusta, I never realised just how beautiful this place was or how fortunate I was to experience such stunning views. It is not until you have lived in a city and travelled the world that you start to see the beauty in the place you call home. I spent many days during summer down at the beach during high-tide. But I was more concerned with opening my eyes under water than opening my eyes to the beauty of the Ranges.</p>
<p>My house was not far from an amazing view. If I took a short stroll to the end of my street I could look over a large white salt-lake to the Flinders Ranges. In this area the Ranges become more textured, their edges rougher, the creases highlighted by the shadows cast during sunset. The vegetation here is overflowing.</p>
<p>But even this is not the best part of the Flinders Ranges. To reach the highlight, you must travel from Port Augusta along a small gorge until you reach the point of intersection with the eastern side of the Ranges at the tiny town of Quorn. Continue through this town and the land begins to flatten out. There are fewer hills and you see horizontal red ground for miles around. You are now in a much drier area of the country. Dust. Fewer trees. But shrubbery everywhere. In the distance small hills are rising. As you reach these hills you are exiting Nukunu country and merging into Barngarla and Adnyamathanha country.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/revisiting-colonial-ruin-in-the-flinders-ranges-75208">Revisiting colonial ruin in the Flinders Ranges</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>When you arrive at the small town of Hawker, you are presented with the option of two roads, and two different adventures. You must ask yourself which side of Ikara (Wilpena Pound) you want to see – the east or the west? If you choose the eastern side, you get to travel at a higher elevation. This section of road brings stunning views that you cannot see anywhere else unless you climb a hill. You feel engulfed by the Ranges, seeing their true magnitude. As you travel north you begin to really enter Adnyamathanha Yarta (Country). You are fortunate to see open plains alongside the beautiful ridges of the Flinders Ranges. Despite the perception that this region is dry, there are flecks of green everywhere. The ground is not just red: it varies between orange, yellow, white and black. These are the same colours that are present in the malka, markings and rock art that exists throughout our Yarta.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/294009/original/file-20190925-51429-2cdp1d.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/294009/original/file-20190925-51429-2cdp1d.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/294009/original/file-20190925-51429-2cdp1d.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/294009/original/file-20190925-51429-2cdp1d.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/294009/original/file-20190925-51429-2cdp1d.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/294009/original/file-20190925-51429-2cdp1d.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/294009/original/file-20190925-51429-2cdp1d.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">On the edge of Ikara you see open plains alongside the ridges of the Ranges.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Jacinta Koolmatrie</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>If you travel further north-east you will continue to see small hills in the distance that transform into mountains. You might even be able to glimpse a line of white on the horizon – the salt lake, Lake Frome. The further north you drive, the closer you get to Vulkathunha-Gammon Ranges National Park. Here you can see creeks and high gorges and you begin to realise this area is not so dry.</p>
<p>Travel further west and you eventually arrive in Nepabunna, a central hub for Adnyamathanha people. During the 1930s, our people decided they needed assistance from missionaries because our land had essentially been destroyed by the influence of pastoralism. When farm animals were introduced to our country, the land began to change, our waters changed, and parts of our country were no longer open to us. It was decided that we needed to turn the place known as Nipapanha into a mission. Today, Nipapanha is known as Nepabunna and is home to a small number of Adnyamathanha people. Despite most of us living outside of this area, we still feel connected and call this area our home.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/the-evidence-of-early-human-life-in-australias-arid-interior-67933">The evidence of early human life in Australia's arid interior</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>If you continue driving west, you will end up in the small mining town of Copley or <a href="https://theconversation.com/coal-closures-give-south-australia-the-chance-to-go-100-renewable-43182">Leigh Creek</a>. This place is home to even more of us. The mine is located not too far outside of the town and operated for over 70 years. Coal was being mined here for use at the power stations in Port Augusta. When the power stations shut down, so too did the mine.</p>
<p>Travelling south out of Leigh Creek and Copley, you see even more amazing views. The hills around this area seem unreal. They create a strange illusion because they are close enough for you to see what is on them, but far enough away to look artificial. These hills are curvy and shapely; they look smooth. They look like what sand looks like when a snake slithers across it.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/295730/original/file-20191007-121097-xxqzuy.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/295730/original/file-20191007-121097-xxqzuy.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295730/original/file-20191007-121097-xxqzuy.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295730/original/file-20191007-121097-xxqzuy.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295730/original/file-20191007-121097-xxqzuy.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=501&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295730/original/file-20191007-121097-xxqzuy.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=501&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295730/original/file-20191007-121097-xxqzuy.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=501&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The Flinders Ranges look like what sand looks like when a snake slithers across it.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Shutterstock</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The views from this entire road are gorgeous. On one side you have a flat plain with no hills, because past this is the salt lake, Lake Torrens. On the other side the hills transform from smooth and curvy to the textured, ridged, multi-coloured ranges that circle Ikara. About half-way along this road, you will see the sign for Nilpena, the location of the <a href="https://theconversation.com/friday-essay-trace-fossils-the-silence-of-ediacara-the-shadow-of-uranium-72058">Ediacaran fossils</a>.</p>
<h2>Measuring time</h2>
<p>Ediacara is just one small location in the vast area known as the Flinders Ranges. Geologically, the fossils that are found here have transformed discussions about time periods and how the earth, and everything on it, came to be. Even the Ranges themselves are examples of this geological conundrum. They are not only scientifically amazing, they are incredibly breathtaking to witness. This region is truly an amazing place.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/295731/original/file-20191007-121088-1honzm3.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/295731/original/file-20191007-121088-1honzm3.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295731/original/file-20191007-121088-1honzm3.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295731/original/file-20191007-121088-1honzm3.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295731/original/file-20191007-121088-1honzm3.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295731/original/file-20191007-121088-1honzm3.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/295731/original/file-20191007-121088-1honzm3.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The fossils found in Ediacara are ‘breathtaking.’</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Fieldwork, Ediacara Hills, Flinders Ranges, South Australia. Photo © Mariana Castillo Deball, 2018</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Despite the Flinders Ranges being so large, my ancestors and the ancestors of our neighbouring groups have explored it all. They mapped the entire country thousands of years before our colonisers had even thought of maps. Our people set borders between each other and formed customs that controlled how we entered each other’s country. They named every hill; every rock formation, big and small; every creek and every stream running off that creek. If you see something here, you can bet that we have given it a name.</p>
<p>The name of the Ediacaran fossils comes from their location in the Ediacara hills. But talking about the Aboriginal origins of this name is not as simple as you might think and it stems back to the colonial naming of all Australian places. Back in the time when the settlers were naming and claiming as many places as possible, some given names were original, some paid tribute to colonial figures and some were named after towns in other parts of the world. What is interesting is that many places were also named using Aboriginal words.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/friday-essay-the-silence-of-ediacara-the-shadow-of-uranium-72058">Friday essay: the silence of Ediacara, the shadow of uranium</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Some Aboriginal words that are used for places are not actually place names. In fact, there are many records of humorous words being given to settlers instead of the real name of a place. Due to the complexity of our naming, settlers often mistook words that referred to a specific spot rather than to the broader landscape that they were enquiring about. It was like using the name for a street as the name of a town. This adoption of names also led to the mispronunciation of words. Settlers were in no way linguists, and many Aboriginal words used as placenames have been altered and pronounced very differently to the way they were initially used.</p>
<p>Documentation of the word Ediacara does not clearly indicate which Aboriginal language it comes from, but there is some information about its meaning. One understanding is that this word is linked to a place where water is present. It is also believed that it could be a mispronunciation of the words “Yata Takarra” meaning hard or stony ground. Speaking to Adnyamathanha people about the meaning of the word Ediacara presents difficulties because of the linguistic history of Aboriginal place names. It is most likely that Ediacara was once pronounced very differently and it is possible that it may not be the name of the place where the Ediacaran fossils are located. Either way, the name that exists today in no way diminishes the Adnyamathanha history of the region.</p>
<h2>Indigenous knowledge systems</h2>
<p>From an archaeological perspective my ancestors have been in this area for over 45,000 years. Our histories are written in the land and passed down from generation to generation through talking and by marking rock walls. If you had traversed the land via the roads I took you on earlier, you would have passed many stories. But in order to tell you one of the main stories about the formation of our country today, I must return to the coalfields of Leigh Creek.</p>
<p>Although the closing of Leigh Creek mine <a href="https://indaily.com.au/news/2015/06/11/mining-town-devastated-as-old-energy-era-ends/">caused distress</a> amongst miners and power station workers, for me it felt like the land had finally won. It was no longer being attacked. Leigh Creek is not the only mine that exists on our country: we have had a long history of mining extending back to early colonisation. Up north uranium is extracted and down south, where the Ediacaran fossils are, copper and silver were once mined. I remember standing next to the Leigh Creek mine and looking inside the incredibly deep hole in the ground. You don’t feel well when you witness scenes like this because they are not pretty and you know that they are the direct result of human conflict. When I looked into that hole I saw a battle lost by my ancestors against developers. I saw my people’s fight and I saw their hurt. Mining coal may have been used to power parts of the state, but in terms of my Adnyamathanha community, it was a form of disempowerment.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/294015/original/file-20190925-51463-qs1nwl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/294015/original/file-20190925-51463-qs1nwl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=886&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/294015/original/file-20190925-51463-qs1nwl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=886&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/294015/original/file-20190925-51463-qs1nwl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=886&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/294015/original/file-20190925-51463-qs1nwl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1114&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/294015/original/file-20190925-51463-qs1nwl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1114&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/294015/original/file-20190925-51463-qs1nwl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1114&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The closing of the Leigh Creek mine ‘felt like the land had finally won.’</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Mariana Castillo Deball, digital collage, production process Replaying Life’s Tape 2019. Courtesy Mariana Castillo Deball, 2019. Images © Studio Castillo Deball</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The coal in Leigh Creek mine is connected to the story of <a href="https://www.wilpenapound.com.au/about/logo/">Yurlu’s coal</a>. Yurlu is a Kingfisher, but more importantly, he is the Master of Ceremonies. He came down from Kakarlpunha to Leigh Creek where he made a big fire out of mallee sticks. The fire was created to alert everyone to go south with him to Ikara where there would be a ceremony. Along the route of his travels he made several fires and these became the coal deposits you can find on the way down to Ikara. While doing this he was being followed by the two big snakes known as Akurras. These snakes pursued him all the way down to Ikara and you can see their travels represented in the shape of the hills and the ranges as they slithered south. They slid into the pound where they watched the ceremony, their bodies forming each side of the shape of the pound. There is more to this story, but this is enough to illustrate the breadth of our wisdom about our country. We never had any large animals to use as transport, we developed strong knowledge of place by traversing this land on foot.</p>
<p>Aboriginal stories are often viewed as mythology or folk tales, but they are much more than that. This is true of stories about Aboriginal places across the entire continent. Our stories come in many forms and provide various types of knowledge. In some instances they are used as maps. The places travelled to by the beings (they can be human, animal, plant or object) in these stories can be remembered over many generations. Even when these lands were no longer accessible during periods of environmental change, our people could recall them thousands of years later.</p>
<p>Our stories can be used as lessons, indicators of places or things that are dangerous. And I mean real danger, not “taboo”. Places where you can easily become disorientated and lost are in these stories as well as plants or other substances that are chemically dangerous to touch or consume. Our lesson stories can also lead us to places that can help us. They may describe natural springs in land where fresh water is uncommon, or they may map out the locations of rare food sources. They might relate to aspects of our culture such as the origin of certain ceremonies or the ways we identify ourselves in relation to each other.</p>
<p>Our stories are extensive and full of purpose, but because they are boxed into the category of mythology, the knowledge they contain is not seen as scientifically reliable. Western science has always prided itself on being objective and quantifiable and there is no doubt that it has presented some of the most important discoveries across the world. However, it has also been responsible for the oppression of my people. Western scientists developed ideas that enabled them to see Aboriginal people as lesser beings, that suggested “Western civilisation” was more intelligent than us. Western science is behind the forced removal of Aboriginal children, known more commonly in Australia as “The Stolen Generation”. Western science is the reason my people are seen as nomadic: it claimed we had no understanding of the land we existed on and that we were aimlessly wandering the country. Ultimately, Western science is the reason our land was originally taken away from us.</p>
<h2>45,000 years of connecting to heritage</h2>
<p>Western science and Indigenous knowledge clash because of their histories. In western society, science will always be placed on a higher pedestal, it will always be seen as more trustworthy. But Indigenous knowledge is the result of many thousands of years of observation. You cannot compare that to the past thousand or so years that western science has existed.</p>
<p>Scientific understanding of the Ediacaran period seems to be completely beyond the scope of Indigenous knowledge systems. It is unknown whether my ancestors had seen or even understood what the fossils were. However, the extent of our knowledge of the land and its creatures cannot be denied.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/294016/original/file-20190925-51438-1ytsjl1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/294016/original/file-20190925-51438-1ytsjl1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/294016/original/file-20190925-51438-1ytsjl1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/294016/original/file-20190925-51438-1ytsjl1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/294016/original/file-20190925-51438-1ytsjl1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/294016/original/file-20190925-51438-1ytsjl1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/294016/original/file-20190925-51438-1ytsjl1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Adnyamathanha Country spans the plains and the ranges.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Jacinta Koolmatrie</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>A similarity can be found between these fossils and our cultural heritage. Both are significant and vulnerable, and both need to be protected. When geologists and paleontologists started going to Ediacara the station owner made an admirable decision to restrict the removal of fossils for research. Therefore, all documentation of the fossils is completed on site. Additionally, their location is kept private due to the fear of vandalism and looting. </p>
<p>Adnyamathanha people have similar fears about our heritage. Our rock art is routinely destroyed and artefacts are removed from their original place. They are taken as souvenirs or vandalised out of disrespect for our culture. Unfortunately, we do not have the comfort of owning private land. Our heritage is used for tourism and whilst it is great that this shines a light on our history and culture, you have to wonder whether it is all worth it when our cultural heritage is in danger of destruction. Adnyamathanha heritage deserves as much consideration as the Ediacaran fossils. </p>
<p>Prior to Reginald Sprigg announcing his discovery of the fossils in 1946 they were of no interest to anyone, but we have continually been connected to our heritage for 45,000 years. </p>
<p>That has to count for something.</p>
<hr>
<p><em>This essay was commissioned for <a href="https://www.monash.edu/muma/exhibitions/exhibition-archive/2019/Mariana-Castillo-Deball">Mariana Castillo Deball: Replaying Life’s Tape</a>, to coincide with the exhibition at Monash University Museum of Art (MUMA), 5 October – 7 December 2019</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/124001/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Jacinta Koolmatrie does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
The Flinders Ranges in South Australia is Adnyamathanha Country. A country of 600 million-year-old fossils and 45,000-year-old living culture.
Jacinta Koolmatrie, Lecturer in Archaeology, Flinders University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/120488
2019-08-06T16:08:47Z
2019-08-06T16:08:47Z
Tsilhqot’in blockade points to failures of justice impeding reconciliation in Canada
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/285908/original/file-20190726-43118-1jwhnis.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">B.C. green-lighted an exploration permit to a mining company, despite the fact that plans for a mine were rejected both federally and by the Tsilhqot’in National Government. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">(Garth Lenz/ Tsilhqot’in National Government)</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>The Tsilhqot’in National Government submitted an urgent request to the United Nations <a href="https://www.ohchr.org/en/issues/ipeoples/srindigenouspeoples/pages/sripeoplesindex.aspx">Special Rapporteur on the rights of Indigenous peoples</a> early in July. Officials asked the UN to visit Teztan Biny (Fish Lake), 125 kilometres southwest of Williams Lake, B.C., in Tsilhqot’in territory. </p>
<p>The Tsilhqot’in told the UN they were alarmed about the <a href="https://bit.ly/2ShDUtt">imminent violation of Tsilhqot’in human rights</a> at Teztan Biny because Taseko Mines Ltd. advised the Tsilhqot’in on June 14 <a href="https://thenarwhal.ca/tsilhqotin-nation-blockade-taseko-mines-retreat/">the company planned to begin exploratory drilling</a> in the area. </p>
<p>Teztan Biny is <a href="https://www.ceaa.gc.ca/050/documents/p63928/92695E.pdf">rich with rainbow trout, supports a sockeye salmon run and is connected to a watershed that’s home to a threatened grizzly bear population</a>. It’s also a site of major cultural, livelihood and spiritual significance to the Tsilhqot’in.</p>
<p>How did it come to this, years after key decisions that would have seemed to end mining activity in the area? </p>
<p>Five years ago, the <a href="https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/tsilhqot-in-first-nation-granted-b-c-title-claim-in-supreme-court-ruling-1.2688332">Supreme Court of Canada recognized Tsilhqot’in title over 1,700 square kilometres of their traditional territory</a> — only a portion of their traditional territory — directly adjacent to the proposed mining area. The Tsilhqot’in Nation does not concede that their territory is limited to that which is recognized by Canadian law.</p>
<p>In 2012 the B.C. Court of Appeal confirmed Tsilhqot'in’s Aboriginal hunting and trapping rights beyond the recognized title area <a href="https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/court-affirms-tsilhqot-in-nation-hunting-rights-not-title-1.1219588">in 4,380 square kilometres of their traditional territory</a>, including the Teztan Biny area. </p>
<p>The federal government <a href="https://www.mining.com/web/canadian-federal-government-rejects-tasekos-proposed-1-5bln-copper-gold-mine-project/">twice refused to grant permission to Taskeo Mines Ltd. for a mine</a> near Teztan Biny <a href="https://www.ceaa-acee.gc.ca/050/evaluations/document/46180?culture=en-CA">in 2010</a> and <a href="https://www.ceaa-acee.gc.ca/050/evaluations/document/98458?culture=en-CA">again in 2014</a>. In 2013, a federal review panel declared that the mine, even with a revised design after its earlier rejected iteration, would have adverse impacts on water quality, fish and fish habitat and wetland ecosystems. The panel also determined the project <a href="https://ceaa.gc.ca/050/evaluations/document/98460?culture=en-CA">would adversely impact Indigenous peoples’ cultural heritage, their ability to use their lands for traditional purposes and archaeological and historical resources</a>.</p>
<h2>Adverse environmental and cultural impacts</h2>
<p>Despite objections from both the Tsilhqot’in National Government and the federal government to building the mine, B.C. approved a permit for Taskeo Mines Ltd. for exploration in 2017.</p>
<p>The Tsilhqot’in National Government sought to halt Taseko Mines Ltd. activity by appealing to Canada’s Supreme Court, but on <a href="https://scc-csc.lexum.com/scc-csc/scc-l-csc-a/en/item/17820/index.do">June 13</a> the court <a href="http://www.canadianminingjournal.com/news/gold-copper-supreme-court-okays-work-at-tasekos-new-prosperity/">refused to hear the appeal</a>. </p>
<p>The mining company’s <a href="https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/supreme-court-rejects-tsilhqot-in-appeal-taseko-mine-case-1.5176402">provincial permit allows for</a> high-impact and extensive activities including road building and expansion plus drilling and excavation near <a href="http://www.tsilhqotin.ca/Portals/0/PDFs/Press%20Releases/2017_01_30_TN_Backgrounder_TeztanBinyFishLake.pdf">Teztan Biny</a> and Nabas, an area that Chief Joe Alphonse refers to as “<a href="http://www.tsilhqotin.ca/">sacred to us as a church</a>.” </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/285909/original/file-20190726-43126-bc99oe.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/285909/original/file-20190726-43126-bc99oe.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/285909/original/file-20190726-43126-bc99oe.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=524&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/285909/original/file-20190726-43126-bc99oe.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=524&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/285909/original/file-20190726-43126-bc99oe.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=524&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/285909/original/file-20190726-43126-bc99oe.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=659&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/285909/original/file-20190726-43126-bc99oe.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=659&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/285909/original/file-20190726-43126-bc99oe.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=659&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Tsilhqot’in community members at Teztan Biny (Fish Lake).</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">(Tsilhqot’in National Government)</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>Free, prior and informed consent</h2>
<p>Just before the Tsilhqot’in National Government requested the UN presence, a private member’s bill sponsored by Cree MP Romeo Saganash to implement the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) <a href="https://aptnnews.ca/2019/06/24/let-us-rise-with-more-energy-saganash-responds-to-senate-death-of-c-262-as-liberals-promise-again-to-legislate-undrip/">was defeated in the Senate by Conservative members</a>. </p>
<p>Bill C-262 would have obligated Canada to bring federal law in line with UNDRIP. While Canada <a href="https://www.aadnc-aandc.gc.ca/eng/1309374407406/1309374458958#a2">endorsed UNDRIP in 2016</a>, it has yet to reform its laws to be consistent with the declaration — including a cornerstone premise of UNDRIP that “<a href="https://www.justice.gc.ca/eng/csj-sjc/principles-principes.html">free, prior and informed consent</a>” is required from Indigenous peoples before developments impacting them can proceed on their lands and waters.</p>
<p>The defeat of Bill C-262 and ongoing resource development <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/0308518X16640530">without Indigenous consent</a> — particularly what UNDRIP enshrines as free, prior and informed consent — is a bad omen for reconciliation. As Saganash told Parliament, Canada’s reconciliation agenda <a href="https://openparliament.ca/debates/2018/5/29/romeo-saganash-2/only/">can never succeed without justice</a>. </p>
<p>The notion of free, prior and informed consent acknowledges that resource extraction and other development can severely impact Indigenous livelihoods and territories, and thus shouldn’t proceed without the consent of affected communities. </p>
<h2>‘It is there for us’</h2>
<p>Teztan Biny in Tsilhqot’in territory is now part of <a href="https://dasiqox.org/">Dasiqox Tribal Park</a>. </p>
<p>The Xeni Gwet’in First Nations Government and Yunesit’in Government, both part of the Tsilhqot’in National Government, declared the tribal park in 2014. The <a href="https://media.socastsrm.com/wordpress/wp-content/blogs.dir/1006/files/2019/01/DTP_VisionSummary-April-2018-web.pdf">declaration was an urgent assertion of the Tsilhqot’in vision of protecting the land and relationships vital to Tsilhqot'in culture</a>.</p>
<p>Dasiqox Tribal Park encompasses 300,000 hectares of important wildlife habitat, and includes pristine ecosystems and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xTTARq0HaY">sites of immense cultural significance to the Tsilhqot’in people</a>. Parts of Dasiqox Tribal Park have also been impacted by decades of forestry, road building and other developments. </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/DoIyIj0UYIs?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Dasiqox Tribal Park video.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In the Tsilhqot'in language, Dasiqox Tribal Park is Nexwagwezʔan, meaning, “it is there for us.” The vision for Nexwagwezʔan is based on three pillars: environmental protection, cultural revitalization and sustainable livelihoods.</p>
<p>The Dasiqox Tribal Park is an example of an Indigenous protected and conserved area (IPCA). This new form of conservation governance has gained broader and <a href="https://www.iucn.org/news/protected-areas/201802/indigenous-protected-and-conserved-areas-ipcas-pathway-achieving-target-11-canada-through-reconciliation">global attention and momentum</a> through the work of an Indigenous-led advisory group <a href="http://publications.gc.ca/collections/collection_2018/pc/R62-548-2018-eng.pdf">working with the federal government to adopt biodiversity goals and targets</a>. Such protected areas are a <a href="https://davidsuzuki.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/08/tribal-parks-indigenous-protected-conserved-areas-lessons-b-c-examples.pdf">means for Indigenous peoples to protect the ecological and cultural integrity of their lands and waters while supporting certain economic activities</a>.</p>
<p>However, <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/41474668">some tribal parks and IPCAs are not yet legally recognized in Canada</a>. They therefore lack the type of protection ensured by conventional protected areas, such as national parks. <a href="https://experts.umn.edu/en/publications/native-enclosures-tribal-national-parks-and-the-progressive-polit">Unlike conventional parks</a>, they are Indigenous-led, managed according to Indigenous law and knowledge systems and allow for certain types of occupation, harvesting and economic activity within their borders. </p>
<h2>Court challenges, blockades</h2>
<p>Taseko Mines Ltd. has been <a href="https://vancouversun.com/news/local-news/taseko-mines-seeks-injunction-against-tsilhqotin-over-blockade-of-project">attempting to develop their proposed gold and copper mine for more than 20 years</a> without Tsilhqot’in consent.</p>
<p>The Tsilhqot’in Nation has resorted to multiple court challenges, and most recently to a <a href="https://www.thestar.com/vancouver/2019/07/15/bc-mining-company-seeks-injunction-that-could-set-stage-for-showdown-with-first-nation.html">blockade</a>, to prevent the mine’s development. In the ongoing conflict, the Tsilhqot'in Nation and Taseko Mines Ltd. are currently pursuing injunctions against one another. </p>
<p>On July 31, a B.C. Supreme Court judge said a <a href="https://www.coastmountainnews.com/news/judge-hearing-injunctions-from-taseko-and-tsilhqotin-nation-reserves-judgment-for-september/">decision about both injunctions won’t come until the first week of September</a>.</p>
<p>The fact that Indigenous peoples are continually pushed to blockades and are tied up in court cases and injunctions to protect their rights and territories speaks volumes about <a href="https://link.springer.com/article/10.1057/palgrave.cpt.9300307">the underwhelming state of reconciliation in Canada today</a>. </p>
<p>If Canada continues to ignore its obligations to Indigenous peoples under <a href="https://www.amnesty.ca/blog/time-fulfill-250-year-old-promise">long-standing agreements</a>, UNDRIP and other international agreements, <a href="http://www.lorimer.ca/adults/Book/3010/The-Reconciliation-Manifesto.html">reconciliation will remain but a superficial buzzword</a>. </p>
<p>Conversely, the Tsilhqot’in Nation’s vision for Dasiqox Tribal Park offers a powerful example of what true reconciliation could look like in Canada if Tsilhqot'in rights and interests were respected and upheld.</p>
<p>[ <em>You’re smart and curious about the world. So are The Conversation’s authors and editors.</em> <a href="https://theconversation.com/ca/newsletters?utm_source=TCCA&utm_medium=inline-link&utm_campaign=newsletter-text&utm_content=youresmart">You can read us daily by subscribing to our newsletter</a>. ]</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/120488/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Justine Townsend receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Faisal Moola receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (SSHRC) of Canada, the Metcalf Foundation and the Grizzly Bear Foundation. He is affiliated with the Raincoast Conservation Foundation and is a board member of COMPASS, a non-profit science communications organization. </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Megan Youdelis receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. </span></em></p>
Dasiqox Tribal Park offers a powerful example of what true reconciliation can mean for Canada when Indigenous peoples and their rights are respected and upheld.
Justine Townsend, PhD Candidate, Department of Geography, Environment and Geomatics, University of Guelph
Faisal Moola, Associate Professor, Department of Geography, Environment and Geomatics, University of Guelph
Megan Youdelis, Postdoctoral Fellow, Department of Geography, Environment and Geoinformatics, University of Guelph
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/116737
2019-06-16T20:01:24Z
2019-06-16T20:01:24Z
Caring for Country: how remote communities are building on payment for ecosystem services
<p>The <a href="https://www.iied.org/markets-payments-for-environmental-services">payment for ecosystem services</a> (PES) model is supporting a new wave of self-determined construction on Aboriginal homelands. </p>
<p>With <a href="http://www5.austlii.edu.au/au/journals/IndigLawB/2009/35.html">no secure strategy</a> for government infrastructure investment in homelands, particularly in <a href="https://dlghcd.nt.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0008/151793/HomeLands_Policy_QA_30_April.pdf">new housing</a> or <a href="http://classic.austlii.edu.au/au/journals/AUIndigLawRw/2015/4.pdf">new homelands</a>, PES provides an alternative approach to support meaningful livelihoods on Country. Importantly, revenue from PES can support self-determined and appropriate building there.</p>
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<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/building-in-ways-that-meet-the-needs-of-australias-remote-regions-106071">Building in ways that meet the needs of Australia’s remote regions</a>
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</em>
</p>
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<p>PES can attract funding from government, such as for ranger programs, and from private sources, in the form of carbon credits and <a href="https://theconversation.com/what-is-corporate-social-responsibility-and-does-it-work-89710">corporate social responsibility</a> funds. <a href="http://www.unrisd.org/unrisd/website/document.nsf/(httpPublications)/27529D10F92E00DFC12579F200553BAF?OpenDocument">Research</a> suggests it’s also “crucial for improving social outcomes for Indigenous communities”.</p>
<p>Other <a href="https://www.academia.edu/38523845/Reconceptualising_Ecosystem_Services_Possibilities_for_cultivating_a%20%20%20%20nd_valuing_the_ethics_and_practices_of_care_Jackson_S._and_Palmer_L._">researchers argue</a> that PES is “most effective” on remote Aboriginal homelands and outstation settlements where it fundamentally values cultural knowledge and where the vastness of the landscape allows for economies of scale. </p>
<p>Indigenous PES enterprises can harness both traditional Indigenous knowledge and contemporary science for land management that improves environmental quality. Examples include activities like carbon abatement, feral animal management and biodiversity conservation and restoration.</p>
<p>On remote Aboriginal land, PES is often one of the few enterprise opportunities. That’s due to such restrictions as distance from economic centres, poor access, skilled labour shortages and <a href="https://www.legislation.gov.au/Details/C2017C00178">limitations</a> on Aboriginal land tenure, in particular the limited capital and security held. <a href="https://www.legislation.gov.au/Details/C2016C00111">Commonwealth</a> <a href="https://www.legislation.gov.au/Details/C2017C00178">laws</a> prevent the buying and selling of this land. </p>
<h2>The example of Kabulwarnamyo outstation</h2>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277775/original/file-20190604-69059-1h5mme1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277775/original/file-20190604-69059-1h5mme1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277775/original/file-20190604-69059-1h5mme1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277775/original/file-20190604-69059-1h5mme1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277775/original/file-20190604-69059-1h5mme1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277775/original/file-20190604-69059-1h5mme1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277775/original/file-20190604-69059-1h5mme1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277775/original/file-20190604-69059-1h5mme1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Kabulwarnamyo outstation is a remote settlement of about 50 people on Nawarddeken Country in West Arnhem Land, Northern Territory.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Hannah Robertson (2015)</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277831/original/file-20190604-69075-1opj14s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277831/original/file-20190604-69075-1opj14s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277831/original/file-20190604-69075-1opj14s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277831/original/file-20190604-69075-1opj14s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277831/original/file-20190604-69075-1opj14s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277831/original/file-20190604-69075-1opj14s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277831/original/file-20190604-69075-1opj14s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277831/original/file-20190604-69075-1opj14s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Kabulwarnamyo is a remote community in West Arnhem Land.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Google Maps</span></span>
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<p>Kabulwarnamyo outstation displays how PES activities simultaneously cause and provide a way of meeting the demand for buildings on remote Aboriginal land. And often this happens in ways that are more responsive to the local context than current government-provided alternatives.</p>
<p>Kabulwarnamyo is a small outstation of about 50 people on Warddeken Country in West Arnhem Land, Northern Territory, about an eight-hour drive from Jabiru. It is extremely remote and cut off for up to five months of the year during the wet season. </p>
<p><a href="https://www.mca.com.au/artists-works/artists/bardayal-lofty-nadjamerrek/">Established in 2002</a>, Kabulwarnamyo is managed by the not-for-profit company <a href="https://www.warddeken.com/">Warddeken Land Management</a>. This followed the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission’s (ATSIC) <a href="http://classic.austlii.edu.au/au/journals/AUIndigLawRw/2015/4.pdf">moratorium on creating new homelands</a> due to the Australian government no longer funding the building of houses on them. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/who-decides-a-question-at-the-heart-of-meaningful-reconciliation-41752">Who decides? A question at the heart of meaningful reconciliation</a>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277785/original/file-20190604-69095-wjlp76.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277785/original/file-20190604-69095-wjlp76.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277785/original/file-20190604-69095-wjlp76.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=314&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277785/original/file-20190604-69095-wjlp76.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=314&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277785/original/file-20190604-69095-wjlp76.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=314&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277785/original/file-20190604-69095-wjlp76.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=394&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277785/original/file-20190604-69095-wjlp76.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=394&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277785/original/file-20190604-69095-wjlp76.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=394&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The self-built office at Kabulwarnamyo includes doors painted with totems in the traditional X-ray style.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Hannah Robertson (2015)</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
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</figure>
<p>PES activities – namely <a href="https://www.warddeken.com/about">carbon abatement and biodiversity conservation</a> – are the core business of Warddeken. However, it also built 14 dwellings on the outstation using an A$80,000 grant from the NT government and PES funds from the sale of carbon credits to multinational energy company ConocoPhillips. </p>
<p>The flexibility of the carbon credit funds meant Warddeken could build in ways that directly responded to the needs of the people, rather than adhering to centrally determined regulations, which typically drive up building costs.</p>
<p>To establish Kabulwarnamyo, the Warddeken rangers, who are traditional owners and residents of the outstation, self-built an office and 14 balabbala (traditional Warddeken shade shelters). A number of versions have been developed over time. Each balabbala consists of a raised timber platform floor on steel rails with local cypress pine posts and two trucking tarpaulins as a roof. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277778/original/file-20190604-69051-kxje0v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277778/original/file-20190604-69051-kxje0v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277778/original/file-20190604-69051-kxje0v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277778/original/file-20190604-69051-kxje0v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277778/original/file-20190604-69051-kxje0v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277778/original/file-20190604-69051-kxje0v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277778/original/file-20190604-69051-kxje0v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277778/original/file-20190604-69051-kxje0v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">An early version of the balabbala at Kabulwarnamyo. The double-layered tarpaulin shades provide cross-flow ventilation and reduce passive heat gain.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Hannah Robertson (2015)</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Dome or safari tents are pitched on the platforms to provide sleeping spaces and privacy for occupants. The structures have solar-powered electricity and hotplates for cooking using bottled gas. A creek-fed pump provides water. A separate structure houses a shower and long-drop toilet. </p>
<p>Excluding wages for construction staff, each balabbala costs A$15,000. These simple structures do not adhere to public housing standards, but do meet crucial local needs. The balabbala project has allowed Warddeken rangers to conduct PES activities and maintain cultural connections to Wardekken Country in the absence of government funding for services support.</p>
<h2>Evolving to meet local community needs</h2>
<p>As Warddeken’s business has developed, so too have the building typologies. In 2015, Warddeken <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2015-07-22/remote-nt-indigenous-community-opens-own-school/6639220">self-built a school</a> to enable children to also return to living on Country. The school is a modified and extended balabbala, built using Warddeken Land Management core funds. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277783/original/file-20190604-69087-1j0wmus.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277783/original/file-20190604-69087-1j0wmus.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277783/original/file-20190604-69087-1j0wmus.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277783/original/file-20190604-69087-1j0wmus.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277783/original/file-20190604-69087-1j0wmus.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277783/original/file-20190604-69087-1j0wmus.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277783/original/file-20190604-69087-1j0wmus.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277783/original/file-20190604-69087-1j0wmus.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The Kabulwarnamyo school is a modified balabbala with a central truss that eliminates the need for a central pole.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Hannah Robertson (2015)</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>A crowdfunding campaign raised ongoing teaching funds. Financing the running costs of the school remains a challenge. Unlike remote non-Indigenous townships, there is little NT government support for homeland education. </p>
<p>The school, like the balabbalas, represents this community’s reinvestment of PES-derived funds to meet their crucial needs in innovative ways. The <a href="https://www.nawarddekenacademy.com/projects">Nawarddeken Academy</a> was formally registered as an independent school in December 2018. It is clear these unconventional buildings are fit for purpose and satisfy the registration requirements of the NT Department of Education.</p>
<p>PES-enabled balabbala are not the ideal solution for building development on homelands. But here they are appropriate because they are simple and largely suited to the environment and the cost of building them matches available funds. Warddeken CEO Shaun Ansell has said:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>What we do at Kabulwarnamyo is appropriate for our resourcing, environment and capacity, but it’s not proper housing. If we had the capacity to build beautiful mud brick houses for everyone we would.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>There are long-term plans to improve the balabbala using locally sourced stone for half-walling. This will retain the structures’ passive ventilation properties while improving protection during the wet season and cold weather. The structures can therefore be seen as staged projects, improved as resources become available.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277780/original/file-20190604-69063-1k1jjfv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277780/original/file-20190604-69063-1k1jjfv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/277780/original/file-20190604-69063-1k1jjfv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277780/original/file-20190604-69063-1k1jjfv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277780/original/file-20190604-69063-1k1jjfv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277780/original/file-20190604-69063-1k1jjfv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277780/original/file-20190604-69063-1k1jjfv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/277780/original/file-20190604-69063-1k1jjfv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A newer version balabbala under construction. The rails are now steel so the structure lasts longer and the white tarp has higher reflectivity than the darker versions.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Hannah Robertson (2015)</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Most importantly, the balabbala provide significant social returns to local Nawarddeken. A <a href="https://www.pmc.gov.au/sites/default/files/publications/Warddeken%20SROI.docx">2014 report by Social Ventures Australia</a>, commissioned by the Department of Prime Minister and Cabinet, documented significant social, environmental, economic and cultural benefits as a result of PES investments at Kabulwarnamyo. It estimated the value of these outcomes at A$55.4 million for the financial years 2009-15 – a return on investment of $3.40 for every dollar invested.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/want-to-boost-aboriginal-financial-capability-spend-time-in-communities-99210">Want to boost Aboriginal financial capability? Spend time in communities</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Lessons from the Warddeken experience</h2>
<p>The Warddeken experience shows us the policy conditions that could support building and PES enterprises on other remote Aboriginal lands. These are:</p>
<ol>
<li><p>implementing government policies that recognise, or at least do not inhibit, self-driven building initiatives</p></li>
<li><p>loosening restrictions on using PES carbon credits and Working on Country funds to support building that directly responds to needs arising from living on Country</p></li>
<li><p>providing incentives for urban-based corporates to support remote PES partners and a widespread environmental strategy</p></li>
<li><p>recognising the value PES creates beyond an environmental return</p></li>
<li><p>continuing government support for PES economies in remote Australia.</p></li>
</ol>
<p>As Warddeken has shown, buildings play a critical role in enabling PES. The flip side of this is that PES supports building in response to locally identified needs. </p>
<p>PES provides extensive environmental benefits, but it is the broader social and cultural returns, such as maintaining connections to Country and creating sustainable livelihoods, that are most meaningful on remote Aboriginal land.</p>
<hr>
<p><em>The Conversation is co-publishing articles with <a href="http://www.alva.uwa.edu.au/community/futurewest">Future West (Australian Urbanism)</a>, produced by the University of Western Australia’s Faculty of Architecture, Landscape and Visual Arts. These <a href="https://www.lulu.com/shop/search.ep?keyWords=%22Future+West%22&type=">biannual collections of articles</a> look towards the future of urbanism, taking Perth and Western Australia as its reference point. The latest series looks at the notion that urbanism is shaped by design enterprise. You can read other articles <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/future-west-30248">here</a>.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/116737/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Hannah Robertson works for Monash University.</span></em></p>
We now have a proven model for supporting self-determined building on Aboriginal homelands. The next question is how can its reach be extended?
Hannah Robertson, Innovation Fellow and Lecturer, Faculty of Art, Design & Architecture, Monash University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/112705
2019-03-06T07:47:49Z
2019-03-06T07:47:49Z
Where did you grow up? How strontium in your teeth can help answer that question
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/262330/original/file-20190306-48423-zt3rdo.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Normanton Aboriginal rangers and archaeologists reburying the skeletal remains of Gkuthaarn and Kukatj children back on country.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Michael Westaway</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>To mark the <a href="https://www.iypt2019.org/">International Year of the Periodic Table of Chemical Elements</a> we’re taking a look at how researchers use some of the elements in their work.</em></p>
<p><em>Today’s it’s <a href="http://www.rsc.org/periodic-table/element/38/strontium">strontium</a>, a chemical that can help fireworks burn red. It’s also an element that is naturally found in teeth and can be used as way to identify where somebody grew up.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>Thousands of skeletal remains of Aboriginal people are kept in museums across Australia, North America and Europe.</p>
<p>Many Aboriginal people refer to these collections as ancestral remains. Although some have now been returned to their descendant communities, many more await return.</p>
<p>The challenge is knowing where to return them.</p>
<p>One estimate is that up to <a href="http://www.oxfordhandbooks.com/view/10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199569069.001.0001/oxfordhb-9780199569069-e-41">25%</a> of Aboriginal remains held in Australian institutions have no details of where they were taken from.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/what-teeth-can-tell-about-the-lives-and-environments-of-ancient-humans-and-neanderthals-104923">What teeth can tell about the lives and environments of ancient humans and Neanderthals</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Our study, published today in the journal <a href="https://doi.org/10.1002/gea.21728" title="A strontium isoscape of north‐east Australia for human provenance and repatriation">GeoArchaeology</a>, aims to tackle the issue of repatriating such remains. </p>
<p>Our work uses the element strontium to determine specifically where somebody grew up. Strontium is an element in all rock and is transferred into body tissues.</p>
<h2>Chemical help with the past</h2>
<p><a href="http://www.rsc.org/periodic-table/element/38/strontium">Strontium</a>, named after Strontian, a small town in western Scotland, is described as a soft, silvery metal that burns in air and reacts with water.</p>
<p>For decades the ratio of two forms of strontium (the isotopes ⁸⁷Sr/⁸⁶Sr) have been measured in archaeological and palaeontological material. These have helped in answering questions that relate to the behaviour of <a href="https://doi.org/10.1016/0883-2927(94)90063-9">past populations</a>. </p>
<p>Perhaps the most famous study involved the 5,000-year-old <a href="http://www.iceman.it/en/the-iceman/">ice man Otzi</a> who was found in the European Alps. <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0168583X03004919">Strontium isotopes in Otzi’s teeth</a> helped scientists determine where he was born in northern Italy, which added to our understanding of the mobility of ancient European populations during the <a href="https://study.com/academy/lesson/copper-age-history.html">Chalcolithic period – the Copper Age from about 3500BCE to 2300BCE</a>. </p>
<p>Here in Australia, the strontium technique has had <a href="https://www.nma.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0006/4695/FriendsMar04-unraveling.pdf">some use in a few cases</a>, but in general is underutilised. </p>
<h2>More than DNA</h2>
<p>In a complementary project focusing on DNA, <a href="http://advances.sciencemag.org/content/4/12/eaau5064">research has shown</a> that genetic material can be used to help locate Aboriginal populations.</p>
<p>But the recovery of ancient DNA from many ancestral remains in Australia continues to prove challenging. Australia’s harsh environmental conditions lead to a poor state of preservation in many remains. This makes the recovery of biological material for DNA analyses difficult and in some cases not at all possible. </p>
<p>Using the isotope chemistry of tooth enamel and bone we can bypass these issues of preservation. The strontium-based process involves measuring a robust geochemical signature, not a biological one subject to decomposition. </p>
<p>Tooth enamel is the hardest substance in the human body and can hold evidence of the region where a person lived as a child. This makes it a suitable material to establish where a person was originally from. Bones are also useful as they help provide information about the burial site.</p>
<p>We use strontium isotopes to help with resolving the issue of provenance: the place where people belong. </p>
<h2>The abundance of isotopes</h2>
<p>The element strontium (chemical symbol, Sr) has an atomic number of 38 and four forms known as isotopes, ⁸⁴Sr, ⁸⁶Sr, ⁸⁷Sr and ⁸⁸Sr. Although these isotopes are stable, their natural abundance changes.</p>
<p>In particular, the amount of ⁸⁶Sr and ⁸⁷Sr in rock varies depending on the age of the rock and when it formed.</p>
<p>But strontium doesn’t just stay in rocks. When rocks break down, these isotopes end up in soil and water, where they are taken up by plants, animals and humans. </p>
<p>So for people it’s not simply a case of “you are <em>what</em> you eat”, but also “you are <em>where</em> you ate”. Our bodies become an isotope record of where we have been and what we have eaten. </p>
<p>One Elder from the advisory committee set up for this project, Gudjugudju, put it succinctly when he said that our ancestors carry the signature of their country in their bones and their teeth.</p>
<h2>A new look at Far North Queensland</h2>
<p>Before strontium isotopes in human teeth can be used to determine their place of origin we must first know how the element in the landscape changes. </p>
<p>We sampled strontium isotopes throughout Cape York to build a series of maps that can show where people may have grown up. These maps were developed and created in close consultation with an <a href="https://theconversation.com/poor-health-in-aboriginal-children-after-european-colonisation-revealed-in-their-skeletal-remains-106616">Aboriginal advisory committee representing several Cape York Aboriginal communities</a>.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/261806/original/file-20190304-110123-1s8tkkt.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/261806/original/file-20190304-110123-1s8tkkt.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/261806/original/file-20190304-110123-1s8tkkt.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=730&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/261806/original/file-20190304-110123-1s8tkkt.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=730&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/261806/original/file-20190304-110123-1s8tkkt.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=730&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/261806/original/file-20190304-110123-1s8tkkt.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=917&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/261806/original/file-20190304-110123-1s8tkkt.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=917&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/261806/original/file-20190304-110123-1s8tkkt.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=917&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">One of many new maps: Cape York strontium isotope results can be used to match human values to environmental signals in soil, plants and water.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://doi.org/10.1002/gea.21728">Shaun Adams et al. 2019</a>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Our results demonstrate that Australia’s ancient and diverse geology culminates in a wider range in strontium isotopes than found <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0883292717304134">in overseas studies</a>.</p>
<p>We also found that strontium isotope signatures were transferred relatively unaltered from the geology through the hydrology and finally biology, ie. from the land to water, animals and humans. </p>
<p>For Cape York, we now have a partially complete <a href="https://theconversation.com/dna-from-ancient-aboriginal-australian-remains-enables-their-return-to-country-108168">genomic map</a> and a comprehensive isotopic map that Aboriginal groups can use as a tool to help determine the provenance of their ancestors. </p>
<h2>… but there’s a catch</h2>
<p>The Queensland Museum holds a large number of ancestral remains whose place of origin is still unknown. But current museum policy does not allow for invasive testing on ancestral remains without community consent. </p>
<p>This presents something of a “Catch 22”.</p>
<p>Aboriginal committees in other parts of the country have been thinking about how to return remains where there is no information on where they came from.</p>
<p>The <a href="https://www.aboriginalheritagecouncil.vic.gov.au/">Victorian Aboriginal Heritage Council</a>, which is the peak Aboriginal advisory committee for Victoria, has developed a policy, <a href="https://www.aboriginalheritagecouncil.vic.gov.au/report-ancestral-remains">Bringing the Ancestors Home</a>, that identifies the need to develop an approach to more seamlessly see the repatriation of ancestral remains to descendant communities.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/poor-health-in-aboriginal-children-after-european-colonisation-revealed-in-their-skeletal-remains-106616">Poor health in Aboriginal children after European colonisation revealed in their skeletal remains</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>The Commonwealth National Advisory Committee for Indigenous Repatriation has developed a concept for a <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/postcolonial-blog/2018/mar/04/pressure-builds-for-a-national-keeping-place-for-indigenous-remains">National Resting Place</a> in Canberra for ancestral remains whose descendant communities can’t be identified.</p>
<p>Our research in Far North Queensland, combining isotopes and ancient DNA, provides a new way to help these communities repatriate their ancestors.</p>
<p>A collaboration between science and Aboriginal communities may represent the best way forward for resolving this complex social issue.</p>
<hr>
<p><em>If you’re an academic researcher working with a particular element from the periodic table and have an interesting story to tell then why not <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/pitches">get in touch</a>.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/112705/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Shaun Adams receives funding from the Australian Research Council. </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Michael Westaway is an ARC Future Fellow and receives funding from the Australian Research Council. </span></em></p>
How do you return Aboriginal remains to their place of origin when you have no record of where they came from? Look to a chemical element that’s laid down in teeth as people grow up.
Shaun Adams, Isotope Bioarchaeologist Research Fellow, Griffith University
Michael Westaway, Future Fellow, Australian Research Centre for Human Evolution, Griffith University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/104931
2019-02-19T04:25:22Z
2019-02-19T04:25:22Z
Rock art shows early contact with US whalers on Australia’s remote northwest coast
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/256280/original/file-20190130-39344-k0qvoi.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Detail of the Connecticut Inscription, with image enhancement.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Centre for Rock Art Research and Management database</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Rock inscriptions made by crews from two North American whaleships in the early 19th century were found superimposed over earlier Aboriginal engravings in the Dampier Archipelago.</p>
<p>Details of the find in northern Western Australia are in a paper <a href="https://doi.org/10.15184/aqy.2018.186">published today in Antiquity</a>.</p>
<p>They provide the earliest evidence for North American whalers’ memorialising practices in Australia, and have substantial implications for maritime history.</p>
<iframe src="https://www.google.com/maps/embed?pb=!1m18!1m12!1m3!1d2691194.896564308!2d115.26099872878433!3d-21.923671441706656!2m3!1f0!2f0!3f0!3m2!1i1024!2i768!4f13.1!3m3!1m2!1s0x2bf622fb09950c71%3A0x400f6382479c990!2sDampier+Archipelago+WA+6713!5e1!3m2!1sen!2sau!4v1548827648251" width="100%" height="500" frameborder="0" style="border:0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<p>At the time, the Dampier Archipelago (Murujuga) was home to the Yaburara people. The rock art across the archipelago is testament to their artists asserting their connections to this place for millennia.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/where-art-meets-industry-protecting-the-spectacular-rock-art-of-the-burrup-peninsula-72964">Where art meets industry: protecting the spectacular rock art of the Burrup Peninsula</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>So did the whalers encounter the Yaburara? Did they engrave over earlier Aboriginal markings as an act of assertion, a realignment of a shifting political landscape? Or were they simply marking a milestone in their multi-year voyages, celebrating landfall after many months at sea?</p>
<p>The answer to all these questions is, we don’t know.</p>
<p>But these inscriptions provide a rare insight into the lives of whalers, filling a gap in our knowledge about this earliest industry on our northwestern coast.</p>
<p>Such historical inscriptions might be dismissed as graffiti. However, like other rock art, they tell important stories about our human past that cannot be gleaned from other sources.</p>
<h2>Whaling in Australia</h2>
<p>Ship-based whaling was a global phenomenon that lasted centuries. At its peak in the mid-19th century, around 900 wooden sailing ships were at sea on multi-year voyages, crewed by around 22,000 whalemen.</p>
<p>Most whaling in Australian waters was conducted by foreign vessels, and in the 19th century North American whalers dominated the globe. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/241004/original/file-20181017-41150-35kp8g.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/241004/original/file-20181017-41150-35kp8g.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/241004/original/file-20181017-41150-35kp8g.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=318&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/241004/original/file-20181017-41150-35kp8g.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=318&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/241004/original/file-20181017-41150-35kp8g.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=318&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/241004/original/file-20181017-41150-35kp8g.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/241004/original/file-20181017-41150-35kp8g.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/241004/original/file-20181017-41150-35kp8g.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Illustration of an American whaling ship in the 19th century.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Dr Kenneth McPherson, Indian Ocean Collection, WA Museum (with permission)</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Whaling led to some of the earliest contacts between American, European and a range of indigenous societies in Africa, Australasia and the Pacific. </p>
<p>But early visits by foreign whalers to Australia’s northwest are poorly documented given the absence of a British colonial land-based presence in the area until the 1860s.</p>
<p>While <a href="https://www.britannica.com/biography/William-Dampier">explorer William Dampier</a> named the Dampier Archipelago and Rosemary Island in 1699, British naval <a href="http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/king-phillip-parker-2310">Captain Phillip Parker King</a> was the first to document encounters with the Yaburara people in 1818. His visit to the archipelago in the rainy season (February) coincided with large groups of people using the seasonally abundant resources at this time.</p>
<p>The Swan River Colony (Perth) was established in 1829, but permanent European colonisation of the northwest only began in the early 1860s with an influx of pastoralists and pearlers. </p>
<p>For the Yaburara, this colonisation was catastrophic. It culminated in the <a href="https://ictv.com.au/video/item/5475" title="VIDEO: Yaburara Flying Foam Massacre 150 Years On, 2018">Flying Foam Massacre</a> <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-04-16/calls-for-memorial-at-site-of-flying-foam-massacre-north-west-wa/9661006">in 1868</a> in which many Yaburara people were killed.</p>
<h2>Early whaling contact</h2>
<p>A few surviving ship logbooks record English and North American whalers on the Dampier Archipelago from 1801, but the heyday of whaling near “The Rosemary Islands” was between the 1840s and 1860s. </p>
<p>The logbooks describe American whaling ships worked together to hunt herds of humpback whales, which migrate along Australia’s northwest coastline during the winter months.</p>
<p>The ships’ crews made landfall to collect firewood and drinking water, and to post lookouts on vantage points to assist in sighting whales for the open boats to pursue.</p>
<p><a href="https://researchimpact.uwa.edu.au/research-impact-stories/murujuga-dynamics-of-the-dreaming/">Research</a> by archaeologists from the University of Western Australia working with the <a href="http://www.murujuga.org.au/">Murujuga Aboriginal Corporation</a> and industry partner <a href="https://youtu.be/cQ1efyPAlW8">Rio Tinto</a> has found some evidence of two such landfalls in inscriptions from the crew of two North American whalers – the Connecticut and the Delta. </p>
<p>The earliest of these inscriptions records that the Connecticut visited Rosemary Island on August 18 1842. At least part of this inscription was made by Jacob Anderson, identified from the Connecticut’s crew list as a 19-year-old African-American sailor. </p>
<p>Research shows this set of ships’ and people’s names was placed over an earlier set of Aboriginal <a href="https://youtu.be/ANtpNDfmeXo">grid motifs</a>. This was along a ridgeline that has millennia of evidence for the Yaburara producing rock art and raising standing stones and quarrying tool-stone elevated above this seascape.</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ANtpNDfmeXo?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Visualising the Connecticut inscription.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The dates and names found in the inscription correlate with port records that show the Connecticut left the town of New London in Connecticut, US, for the New Holland ground (as the waters off Australia’s northwest were known) in 1841, with Captain Daniel Crocker and a crew of 26.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/255080/original/file-20190123-100273-t9jips.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/255080/original/file-20190123-100273-t9jips.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/255080/original/file-20190123-100273-t9jips.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=440&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/255080/original/file-20190123-100273-t9jips.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=440&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/255080/original/file-20190123-100273-t9jips.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=440&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/255080/original/file-20190123-100273-t9jips.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=553&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/255080/original/file-20190123-100273-t9jips.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=553&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/255080/original/file-20190123-100273-t9jips.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=553&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Connecticut inscription, tracing by Ken Mulvaney.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Antiquity, Paterson et al 2019 (with permission)</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The Connecticut returned to New London on June 16 1843, with 1,800 barrels of oil, travelling via Fremantle, New Zealand and Cape Horn. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/240556/original/file-20181015-165900-1x9semk.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/240556/original/file-20181015-165900-1x9semk.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/240556/original/file-20181015-165900-1x9semk.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=511&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/240556/original/file-20181015-165900-1x9semk.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=511&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/240556/original/file-20181015-165900-1x9semk.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=511&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/240556/original/file-20181015-165900-1x9semk.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=642&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/240556/original/file-20181015-165900-1x9semk.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=642&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/240556/original/file-20181015-165900-1x9semk.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=642&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The largest of the Connecticut inscriptions showing micro-analysis of the inscription over the Aboriginal engravings.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Antiquity, Paterson et al 2019 (with permission)</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The Connecticut’s logbook for the voyage is missing, so without these inscriptions we would know nothing of this ship’s visit to the Dampier Archipelago.</p>
<p>On another island, another set of inscriptions record a visit to a similar vantage point by crew of the Delta on July 12 1849. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/240741/original/file-20181016-165897-1xr6xt5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/240741/original/file-20181016-165897-1xr6xt5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/240741/original/file-20181016-165897-1xr6xt5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/240741/original/file-20181016-165897-1xr6xt5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/240741/original/file-20181016-165897-1xr6xt5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/240741/original/file-20181016-165897-1xr6xt5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=532&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/240741/original/file-20181016-165897-1xr6xt5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=532&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/240741/original/file-20181016-165897-1xr6xt5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=532&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Details of the Delta inscriptions.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Centre for Rock Art Research + Management</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Registered in Greenport, New York, the Delta made 18 global whaling voyages between 1832 and 1856. Its logbook confirms it was whaling in the Dampier Archipelago between June 2 and September 8 1849. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/255079/original/file-20190123-100261-7m4s5.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/255079/original/file-20190123-100261-7m4s5.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/255079/original/file-20190123-100261-7m4s5.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/255079/original/file-20190123-100261-7m4s5.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/255079/original/file-20190123-100261-7m4s5.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/255079/original/file-20190123-100261-7m4s5.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=533&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/255079/original/file-20190123-100261-7m4s5.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=533&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/255079/original/file-20190123-100261-7m4s5.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=533&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The voyage of the Delta as researched from Log Book entries.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Antiquity, Paterson et al 2019 (with permission)</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>While the log records crew members going ashore to shoot kangaroos and collect water, no mention is made of them making inscriptions or having any contact with Yaburara people.</p>
<p>Given it was the dry season, and the lack of permanent water on the islands, this lack of contact is not surprising. </p>
<p>But again, these whalers chose to make their marks on surfaces that were already marked by the Yaburara. By recording their presence at these specific historical moments, the whalers continued the long tradition of the Yaburara in interacting with and marking their maritime environment.</p>
<h2>Protecting the heritage</h2>
<p>Between 1822 and 1963, whalers killed more than 26,000 southern right whales (<em>Eubalaena australis</em>) and 40,000 humpback whales (<em>Megaptera novaengliae</em>) in Australia and New Zealand, driving populations to near-extinction.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.environment.gov.au/marine/marine-species/cetaceans/whaling">Commercial whaling in Australian waters</a> ended 40 years ago on November 21 1978, with the closure of the <a href="https://www.watoday.com.au/national/western-australia/the-day-australia-s-whaling-harpoons-stopped-for-good-20181120-p50h8o.html">Cheynes Beach Whaling Station</a> in Albany, Western Australia.</p>
<p>Today there are signs of renewal, with whale populations increasing, and Aboriginal people are reclaiming responsibility <a href="https://book.bookeasy.com/murujuga-rock-art-cultural-experience/tours/96646">for management</a> of the archipelago. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/explainer-why-the-rock-art-of-murujuga-deserves-world-heritage-status-102100">Explainer: why the rock art of Murujuga deserves World Heritage status</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>There is a strong push for World Heritage Listing of Murujuga — one of the most significant concentrations for human artistic creativity on the planet, recording <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-08-06/tim-winton-joins-push-for-world-heritage-listing-of-rock-art/10071998">millennia of human responses</a> to the sustainable use of this productive landscape.</p>
<p>These two whaling inscriptions provide the only known archaeological insight into this earliest global resource extraction in Australia’s northwest - the whale oil industry - which began over two centuries ago. </p>
<p>They demonstrate yet again the unique capacity of Murujuga’s rock art to shed light on previously unknown details of our shared human history.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/104931/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Jo McDonald receives funding from the Australian Research Council. She is Lead CI on the Murujuga: Dynamics of the Dreaming ARC Linkage Project; which is administered by UWA, has Rio Tinto as an Industry Partner and Murujuga Aboriginal Corporation as a Collaborating Partner. Jo McDonald held the Rio Tinto Chair of Rock Art Studies between 2012-2017.</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Alistair Paterson receives funding from the Australian Research Council as an ARC Future Fellow for the fellowship 'Coastal Connections: dynamic societies of Australia's Northwest frontier' (FT150100168). He is the lead investigator on 'Collecting the West: How collections created Western Australia' (ARC Linkage Project LP160100078) and 'Shipwrecks of the Roaring Forties: A Maritime Archaeological Reassessment of some of Australia's Earliest Shipwrecks' (ARC Linkage Project LP130100137). He is a Chief Investigator on 'Murujuga: Dynamics of the Dreaming' ARC Linkage Project. Research partners include the WA Museum, British Museum, State Library of WA, Art Gallery of WA, industry (BHP, Rio Tinto), and Aboriginal communities. </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Ross Anderson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
Etchings over much earlier Aboriginal engravings show foreign whalers made contact with Australia’s remote northwest long before colonial settlement of the area.
Jo McDonald, Director, Centre for Rock Art Research + Management, The University of Western Australia
Alistair Paterson, ARC Future Fellow, The University of Western Australia
Ross Anderson, Curator of Maritime Archaeology, Western Australian Museum
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/108070
2018-12-10T18:55:45Z
2018-12-10T18:55:45Z
Recovered Aboriginal songs offer clues to 19th century mystery of the shipwrecked ‘white woman’
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/249142/original/file-20181206-186076-1eym76.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">An image of the landscape around Bairnsdale in the late-18th century. D. R Long (Daniel Rutter), between 1856 and 1883. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">State Library of Victoria</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>In 1846 Melbourne was gripped by a panic: a story had spread that a white woman had been shipwrecked off the coast of Gippsland and was living with Aboriginal people. “Expeditions” were sent to “rescue” her. Messages were left for her printed on handkerchiefs, and because some believed she was Scottish, some of these were written in <a href="http://handle.slv.vic.gov.au/10381/170023">Gaelic</a>.</p>
<p>The expeditions sent to Gippsland resulted in the massacre of large numbers of Indigenous people from the Gunai/Kurnai community.</p>
<p>For generations, people have argued over whether the “white woman” really existed and if so, what happened to her. In her 2001 book <a href="https://www.mup.com.au/books/the-captive-white-woman-of-gipps-land-paperback-softback">The Captive White Woman of Gipps Land</a> author Julie Carr recounted a story written in 1897 by Mary Howitt, the daughter of <a href="http://theconversation.com/rediscovered-the-aboriginal-names-for-ten-melbourne-suburbs-99139">A.W. Howitt</a>, an anthropologist and Gippsland magistrate, which told how the white woman later had children with an Aboriginal husband and drowned in <a href="http://www.rivieranautic.com.au/gippsland-lakes-guide-mclennans-strait.html">McLennan’s strait</a>. Carr came to the conclusion that evidence for the existence of the woman was inconclusive; government searches in 1846 and 1847 having failed to find her.</p>
<p>But we have recently identified two short songs in the Aboriginal language of Gippsland (Gunai/Kurnai) about the white woman’s story that provide some clues. These were in the papers of <a href="http://theconversation.com/rediscovered-the-aboriginal-names-for-ten-melbourne-suburbs-99139">Howitt</a> at the State Library of Victoria.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/249140/original/file-20181206-186082-cqu97b.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/249140/original/file-20181206-186082-cqu97b.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/249140/original/file-20181206-186082-cqu97b.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=439&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249140/original/file-20181206-186082-cqu97b.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=439&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249140/original/file-20181206-186082-cqu97b.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=439&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249140/original/file-20181206-186082-cqu97b.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=551&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249140/original/file-20181206-186082-cqu97b.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=551&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249140/original/file-20181206-186082-cqu97b.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=551&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A handkerchief for the white woman shipwrecked in Gippsland.</span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>A gift of possum skin</h2>
<p>At the top of one page of Howitt’s notes headed August 23 1868, per J.C. Macleod (the son of an early pastoralist), Howitt wrote the following note:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Blacks told him [Macleod] in the early days the white woman was wrecked in the coast with some men who were killed - the woman being saved. She was a tall woman, young with very long black hair in ringlets (some said the hair was fair). … She was the Miss Howard who was about 16 years of age when the vessel in which she was going to Melbourne was lost. Daughter of Commissary Howard. Part of the vessel was after picked up in the ninety mile beach</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Two Gunai/Kurnai songs are written on the same page. Howitt notes that these songs were composed by a “Dinni Birraark”, a senior songster and ritual specialist, where <em>dinni</em> is the word for “old” and the <em>birraark</em> is the name of an expert who was skilled in songs and magic. These men were said to fly and see beyond the physical world. </p>
<p>In the 1840s there were seven surviving men who held the title of Dinni Birraark. The composer of this song was likely to have been a man also known as Bunjil Bamarang from near Bairnsdale. Bunjil Bamarang was not his personal name, but indicated that he was an expert (Bunjil) in something. We do not know what Bamarang refers to, but it may indicate expertise in the use of the “spear shield”, which was called <em>bammarook</em> in Gunai/Kurnai.</p>
<p>One of these songs, written down by Howitt, directly mentions the “white woman”:</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/249137/original/file-20181206-186058-3ff8bx.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/249137/original/file-20181206-186058-3ff8bx.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/249137/original/file-20181206-186058-3ff8bx.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=227&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249137/original/file-20181206-186058-3ff8bx.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=227&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249137/original/file-20181206-186058-3ff8bx.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=227&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249137/original/file-20181206-186058-3ff8bx.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=285&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249137/original/file-20181206-186058-3ff8bx.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=285&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249137/original/file-20181206-186058-3ff8bx.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=285&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption"></span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">State Library of Victoria</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>We have transcribed this as:</p>
<blockquote>
<p><em>U-auda kai-ū Lohan-tŭkan móka kat-teir nŭ́rrau-un-gŭl mūndū wánganna</em></p>
</blockquote>
<p>Underneath the song, Howitt gives translations for many of the words. For instance, he translates <em>Lohan-tŭkan</em> as “white woman”. The overall meaning of the song seems to be, “Give the white woman from over the sea the possum skin skirt, and that blanket there.”</p>
<p>This genre of song, <em>gunyeru</em>, was traditionally sung with dancing at public gatherings, what might be otherwise commonly referred to as a “corroboree” (although the word “corroboree” originates from the Dharuk language spoken in the Sydney area). The Dinni Birraark was certainly an acknowledged expert in composing this style of song.</p>
<h2>Burning ladders</h2>
<p>On the same page, is a second song that seems to give more information about the Lohan-Tuka, or white woman’s, story:</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/249138/original/file-20181206-186061-9vt36a.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/249138/original/file-20181206-186061-9vt36a.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/249138/original/file-20181206-186061-9vt36a.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=263&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249138/original/file-20181206-186061-9vt36a.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=263&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249138/original/file-20181206-186061-9vt36a.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=263&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249138/original/file-20181206-186061-9vt36a.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=330&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249138/original/file-20181206-186061-9vt36a.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=330&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249138/original/file-20181206-186061-9vt36a.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=330&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption"></span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">State Library of Victoria</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>This we have transcribed as:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Blaung-a-requa drūraua kŭllŭngŭka
<br>
Wŭrūng-tūnkū bŭdda-tūnkū pŭtta-ngaiu
<br>
tūka-pŭnta kŭrnŭng-ŭka ma-kŭrnung-ita
<br></p>
</blockquote>
<p>In the first line of the song there are three words that Howitt translates as “burn”, “ladder” and “whitefellow”. This would appear to be a sentence meaning, “The whitefellow’s ladder is burning”. </p>
<p>When we remember that ships in the 1840s were sailing ships, we can imagine that the Dinni Birraark used a word that he knew – “ladder” – to represent the rigging on a sailing ship. As Gunai/Kurnai elder, Russell Mullett, pointed out to us, “As a senior man, the Dinni Birraark would have used a ladder in his ritual life.” </p>
<p>The remaining portions of this second song are harder to interpret. It seems that the Dinni Birraark was watching the burning of this ship from the narrow strip of land along the Ninety Mile Beach between the sea and the freshwater of the Gippsland Lakes. </p>
<p>In this place, perhaps a musk duck (<em>Tuka</em>) had a nest, there was a hollow place near to water. Intriguingly the word for white woman, Lohan Tuka, is a compound including the word for musk duck. Perhaps, as Mullett has suggested, the place where the Dinni Birraark watched this had an association with an ancestral musk duck.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/249141/original/file-20181206-186058-pkr47.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/249141/original/file-20181206-186058-pkr47.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/249141/original/file-20181206-186058-pkr47.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=440&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249141/original/file-20181206-186058-pkr47.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=440&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249141/original/file-20181206-186058-pkr47.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=440&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249141/original/file-20181206-186058-pkr47.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=553&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249141/original/file-20181206-186058-pkr47.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=553&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/249141/original/file-20181206-186058-pkr47.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=553&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The message printed on handkerchiefs in a bid to find the shipwrecked white woman.</span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>These songs are composed as if witnessing real events: the wreck of a ship and the rescue of a young woman. Nothing is more naturally human than offering a young shipwreck victim a “skirt and a blanket”, and the description of the shipwreck as a “burning ladder” is fully plausible.</p>
<p>These two songs seem to suggest that there was a White Woman, the Lohan Tuka. There is much tragedy in this story – shipwreck, massacre, possible drowning. This history needs to be told and re-told. </p>
<p>What these songs reveal is an Indigenous perspective on it and a glimpse into the rich artistic culture of the Gunai/Kurnai. In the words of Mullett, “taken together these two songs are like an opera composed by the Dinni Birraark”.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/108070/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Stephen Morey receives funding from the Australian Research Council for the Linkage Project (LP160100192), entitled 'Howitt & Fison’s anthropology: using new methods to reveal hidden riches'. This project is led by Associate Professor Helen Gardner (Deakin University), with other Chief Investigators, Dr Stephen Morey (La Trobe), Dr. Rachel Hendery (University of Western Sydney, and Dr. Patrick McConvell (Australian National University), </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Jason M. Gibson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
Aboriginal songs found in the notebooks of a Victorian anthropologist shed light on the mystery of a ‘captive white woman’ that has been debated for generations.
Stephen Morey, Senior Lecturer, Department of Languages and Linguistics, La Trobe University
Jason M. Gibson, Research fellow, Deakin University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/106176
2018-11-05T18:49:47Z
2018-11-05T18:49:47Z
Found: the earliest European image of Aboriginal Australians
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/243432/original/file-20181101-83632-1b6mo4n.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">"New Hollanders" depicted in a 1698 edition of the explorer William Dampier's journal. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Courtesy of the Pacific Collection, Hamilton Library, University of Hawai'i-Mānoa</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>The earliest found European image of Aboriginal Australians, engraved in 1698, depicts them resisting their enslavement. Recently discovered in the Hamilton library of University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa it is an apocryphal image for its times, intending to portray the Indigenous people described, “New Hollanders”, as “unfit for labour”. </p>
<p>Seen today it unwittingly shows their resistance to the very first incursion by the English on Aboriginal land.</p>
<p>I found the image recently while I was researching in the rare books Pacific collection of the Hamilton library at University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa. Until now the earliest printed image has been considered to be that by Sydney Parkinson, published by his brother (after a dispute with Banks) in 1773. Parkinson’s image, importantly, is still the first image from direct observation. It shows <a href="http://southseas.nla.gov.au/journals/parkinson/180.html">two Gweagal warriors</a> <a href="https://www.bl.uk/the-voyages-of-captain-james-cook/articles/an-indigenous-australian-perspective-on-cooks-arrival">challenging</a> Cook’s landing at Botany Bay. </p>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/243617/original/file-20181102-83644-1c1g1cz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/243617/original/file-20181102-83644-1c1g1cz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/243617/original/file-20181102-83644-1c1g1cz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=690&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/243617/original/file-20181102-83644-1c1g1cz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=690&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/243617/original/file-20181102-83644-1c1g1cz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=690&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/243617/original/file-20181102-83644-1c1g1cz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=867&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/243617/original/file-20181102-83644-1c1g1cz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=867&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/243617/original/file-20181102-83644-1c1g1cz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=867&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Sydney Jackson’s 1773 image of two Indigenous men.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="http://www.sl.nsw.gov.au/stories/captain-cooks-voyages-discovery-4">State Library of NSW</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The new image, from 75 years earlier, was drawn from textual description, and comes from a little known edition of the explorer William Dampier’s journal, published in the Netherlands. </p>
<h2>Dampier’s journal</h2>
<p>William Dampier’s <a href="http://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks05/0500461h.html">journal</a> of his first circumnavigation of the globe was published in London in 1697 as A New Voyage Round the World and became a sensation, running to five English editions by 1706 and numerous translations. His exploits – roving, mutinying, sacking, scuttling and pillaging for 12 years throughout the Caribbean and beyond – captivated an increasingly literate public at the dawn of the Enlightenment, ravenous for descriptions of exotic species and “savage” peoples.</p>
<p>The image comes from an illustrated <a href="http://explore.bl.uk/primo_library/libweb/action/display.do?frbrVersion=26&tabs=moreTab&ct=display&fn=search&doc=BLL01017900259&indx=6&recIds=BLL01017900259&recIdxs=5&elementId=5&renderMode=poppedOut&displayMode=full&frbrVersion=26&frbg=&rfnGrpCounter=1&vl(488279563UI0)=any&dscnt=0&scp.scps=scope%3A%28BLCONTENT%29&tb=t&fctV=online&mode=Basic&vid=BLVU1&rfnGrp=1&srt=rank&tab=local_tab&fctN=facet_local20&dum=true&vl(freeText0)=William%20Dampier&dstmp=1539817489263">edition</a> published in 1698 in the Netherlands. It took passages from Dampier’s unvarnished description and engraved them into copperplates. </p>
<p>These included a ship being <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Schrijver_William_Dampier_in_een_kleine_open_prauw_op_reis_naar_Aceh_(Indonesi%91),_Caspar_Luyken,_Abraham_de_Hondt,_1698_-_Rijksmuseum.jpg">tossed</a> in high seas, a marooned “Moskito” Indian being rescued some years later, a live burial, a beheading, and “New Hollanders” refusing to carry barrels (p. 340) aboard the ship Dampier crewed, the Cygnet.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/243432/original/file-20181101-83632-1b6mo4n.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/243432/original/file-20181101-83632-1b6mo4n.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/243432/original/file-20181101-83632-1b6mo4n.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=743&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/243432/original/file-20181101-83632-1b6mo4n.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=743&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/243432/original/file-20181101-83632-1b6mo4n.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=743&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/243432/original/file-20181101-83632-1b6mo4n.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=933&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/243432/original/file-20181101-83632-1b6mo4n.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=933&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/243432/original/file-20181101-83632-1b6mo4n.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=933&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The image from William Dampier’s journals.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Courtesy of the Pacific Collection, Hamilton Library, University of Hawai'i-Mānoa</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>This remarkable visual vignette – now the earliest known printed European image of Indigenous Australians – was incised by an Amsterdam engraver and draughtsman Caspar Luyken for the printer Abraham De Hondt. The <a href="https://pages.uoregon.edu/koopman/courses_readings/phil123-net/publicness/habermas_structural_trans_pub_sphere.pdf">public</a> was agog for accounts of the New World and particularly any reports of <em>Terra Australis Incognita</em>, the Great Southern Land first hypothesised by the Roman scholar Ptolemy in the second century.</p>
<p>Dampier had been searching for any sign of the Tryall, an English vessel which had been shipwrecked in 1622. He was one of 42 European landings and sightings along the Australian coast prior to James Cook (not to mention the <a href="https://press-files.anu.edu.au/downloads/press/p241301/html/ch01.xhtml?referer=294&page=3">Macassans</a>, Sulawesi trepangers who traded with Aborigines along the northern coast as early as 1700).</p>
<p>Dampier had returned to London bereft of the spices and treasures by which other privateers enriched themselves. But he had with him a slave named Jeoly from the island of Miangas (an outlying island of now Indonesia) dubbed the <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/40339561?seq=1#page_scan_tab_contents">Painted Prince</a> Giolo, whom he <a href="https://resobscura.blogspot.com/2010/06/giolo-painted-prince.html">displayed</a> at the Blue Boar’s Head in Fleet Street, London. Jeoly and his mother had been bought by Dampier in Bencoolen, or British Bengkulu, in Sumatra. They had been brought in by one Mr Moody, a trader in “clove-bark”.</p>
<p>Dampier was clearly sanguine about slavery. He had previously worked on a plantation in Jamaica with more than <a href="https://www.historytoday.com/jh-bennett/william-dampier-buccaneer-and-planter">100 slaves</a> and later lamented a lost opportunity of acquiring “some <a href="https://books.google.com.au/books?id=sAtRAQAAIAAJ&printsec=frontcover&dq=William+Dampier&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjMjey7nZHeAhUNXSsKHQmXDSg4ChDoAQhBMAU#v=onepage&q&f=false">1,000 Negroes</a>” – “all lusty young men and women” – to enslave in a mine at Santa Maria. </p>
<h2>‘New servants’</h2>
<p>When Dampier imposed himself on the land of the Bardi-Jawi in King Sound WA in January 1688 he experimented with the Indigenous people’s capacity to labour. This first known image of Australian Aboriginals is accompanied by a highly derogatory description. </p>
<p>It tells how the men were clothed (“to one an old pair of breeches, to another a ragged shirt, to the third a jacket that was scarce worth owning”) and made to carry barrels of water – “about six gallons in each”. The “new servants” were brought to the wells, and a barrel was put on each of their shoulders for them to carry to a canoe: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>But all the signs we could make were to no purpose for they stood like statues without motion but grinned like so many monkeys staring one upon another: for these poor creatures seem not accustomed to carry burdens; and I believe that one of our ship-boys of 10 years old would carry as much as one of them. So we were forced to carry our water ourselves.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The men then took off the clothes and laid them down, “as if clothes were only to work in. I did not perceive that they had any great liking to them at first, neither did they seem to admire anything that we had”.</p>
<p>Poor creatures indeed – a life unencumbered by burdens. We can surmise they were more likely unaccustomed to assigning labour to others that they were perfectly capable of carrying out themselves, and in exchange for items of no value to them. </p>
<p>Aboriginal people did not enslave nor exploit. Dampier did capture “several” of the people here, giving them “victuals” before letting them go. And he wondered they would not “stir for us”.</p>
<p>With this description Dampier created a stereotype of Aboriginality that persists to this day, that of <a href="https://research-repository.uwa.edu.au/en/publications/idle-men-the-eighteenth-century-roots-of-the-indigenous-indolence">indolence</a>. I’ve traced the entrenching of <a href="https://uwap.uwa.edu.au/products/skin-deep-settler-impressions-of-aboriginal-women">this trope</a> through reprints of Dampier’s description into the 1950s, but I never imagined I would find it as the first printed European image of “New Hollanders”.</p>
<p>The image and Dampier’s journal attempts to enshrine Aboriginal people as “unfit for labour”, as this passage is bannered in later editions of Dampier’s journal. Instead the very first image of Aboriginal Australians is testament to their resistance by refusal, from very first contact with English to take up their burdens.</p>
<p>NB: This research will be presented at the <a href="https://www.latrobe.edu.au/archaeology-and-history/research/graphic-encounters/conference">Graphic Encounters Conference</a> Wednesday to Friday this week, all welcome.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/106176/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Liz Conor receives funding from the Australian Research Council for the Future Fellowship, Graphic Encounters: Colonial Prints and the Inscription of Aboriginality. </span></em></p>
The image, depicting a group of Indigenous people resisting their enslavement, predates the next oldest image by 75 years.
Liz Conor, ARC Future Fellow, La Trobe University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/102111
2018-09-20T06:29:49Z
2018-09-20T06:29:49Z
Aboriginal people lived in Australia’s desert interior 50,000 years ago, earlier than first thought
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/233561/original/file-20180825-149493-1wh5y68.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=294%2C0%2C5168%2C2629&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Karnatukul during excavation in 2014, note the square holes dug below the rock walls..</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Peter Veth</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>New evidence shows that people have lived inland in Western Australia for more than 50,000 years. That’s 10,000 years earlier than previously known for Australian deserts. </p>
<p>The finding comes from archaeological work performed at the request of the traditional custodians of the land, and published today in <a href="https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0202511">PLOS One</a>.</p>
<p>The research took place at the desert rock shelter site of Karnatukul (previously known as Serpent’s Glen), around 800 kilometres southeast of Exmouth - more than 1,000km from where the coastline would have been at this earlier time.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/when-did-aboriginal-people-first-arrive-in-australia-100830">When did Aboriginal people first arrive in Australia?</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>It shows that people occupied the sandy deserts of interior Australia very soon after settling the <a href="https://theconversation.com/buried-tools-and-pigments-tell-a-new-history-of-humans-in-australia-for-65-000-years-81021">north of the continent</a> more than 50,000 years ago.</p>
<p>The paper reports some of the earliest evidence of people living in deserts, not just in Australia, but anywhere in the world.</p>
<h2>Excavations old and new</h2>
<p>Karnatukul was first <a href="https://www.australianarchaeologicalassociation.com.au/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/OConnor-et-al-1998.pdf">investigated</a> by archaeologists in the 1990s. At that time it became known as the oldest Western Desert site, occupied at least 25,000 years ago.</p>
<p>Our current excavation was undertaken to better understand more recent occupation evidence. We were trying to understand pigment art that was produced at the site during the past <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0305440314000910?via%3Dihub">1,000 years</a>. </p>
<p>As well as finding rich evidence for a range of activities in recent times, our investigation doubled the earliest known occupation dates for this site.</p>
<p>Charcoal associated with artefacts was recovered in two squares dug beneath the site’s main rock art panel. Both squares returned similar archaeological sequences - both with their earliest radiocarbon determinations hovering close to the radiocarbon technical dating barrier which is 50,000 years.</p>
<h2>Early tool shows technological innovation</h2>
<p>More than 25,000 stone artefacts were recovered from the current excavations of Karnatukul, along with pigments, charcoal from many hearths, and a small amount of animal remains - a glimpse into the diet of the site’s occupants. Most of these remains date to the last millennium. </p>
<p>But one of our significant finds shows these early desert peoples were technological innovators. An early backed microlith – a pointed tool with one sharp edge blunted with small flakes, called backing - was found in deposits dated to around 43,000 years ago. Such tools are used as either <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/antiquity/article/the-first-archaeological-evidence-for-death-by-spearing-in-australia/E7C597E0CF13DBA8EF76738797BE3101">a spear barb</a> or for processing wood and other organic materials. </p>
<p>This tool is at least 15,000 years older than other known Australian examples. Other specimens have been <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-evidence-of-early-human-life-in-australias-arid-interior-67933">recovered</a> from the arid zone in South Australia, dated to around 24,000 years ago.</p>
<p>Microscopic analysis of residues and working edges on this tool reveal it was fastened by resin to a composite implement (such as to a wooden handle) and it broke <a href="https://australianmuseum.net.au/image/stone-tools-hafting">in that haft</a>, presumably while being used. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/234419/original/file-20180831-195328-1hhq2mt.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/234419/original/file-20180831-195328-1hhq2mt.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/234419/original/file-20180831-195328-1hhq2mt.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=200&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234419/original/file-20180831-195328-1hhq2mt.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=200&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234419/original/file-20180831-195328-1hhq2mt.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=200&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234419/original/file-20180831-195328-1hhq2mt.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=251&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234419/original/file-20180831-195328-1hhq2mt.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=251&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234419/original/file-20180831-195328-1hhq2mt.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=251&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Backed artefact dated to 43,000 years ago showing evidence of use on its working edge.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Jo McDonald</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>These technological adaptations - backing and hafting - are much earlier than had been previously demonstrated in Australia. </p>
<p>These types of tools were produced in enormous quantities across most of southern and eastern Australia, in the recent past. Indeed, Karnatukul has a large collection (more than 50) of this tool type dating to the last millennium, when the site was used as a home base. </p>
<h2>Adapting to a changed environment</h2>
<p>It has been argued <a href="https://anthrosource.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/pdf/10.1525/ap3a.2002.12.1.163">previously</a> that these specialised tools became more common as a people responded to increased climatic volatility and less secure food resources, with an intensified El Niño–Southern Oscillation (ENSO) regime after 4,000 years ago.</p>
<p>These current findings support the notion that the First Australians adapted with ingenuity and flexibility as they quickly dispersed into every bioregion across the country.</p>
<p>For instance, evidence for <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/pdf/10.1080/03122417.2016.1164379">the earliest ground-edged axe</a> use in the world comes from the Kimberley. </p>
<p>The very early presence of people in the interior deserts of Australia, as well as their very early use of a backed microlith, changes how we understand the adaptive and technological sophistication of early Aboriginal peoples.</p>
<p>The arid zone has often been characterised as an extreme environment occupied only by transient dwellers. Several European explorers perished in their early attempts to explore and traverse Australia’s arid core.</p>
<h2>Cultural connections to the land</h2>
<p>The site is in the remote Carnarvon Ranges of the Western Desert. Known as Katjarra, these ranges are at the heart of <a href="https://www.nativetitle.org.au/find/pbc/7321">Mungarlu Ngurrarankatja Rirraunkaja</a> ngurra (country), in the <a href="https://www.centraldesert.org.au/program-region-item/birriliburu">Birriliburu</a> Indigenous Protected Area (<a href="https://www.pmc.gov.au/indigenous-affairs/environment/indigenous-protected-areas-ipas">IPA</a>). Located in the Little Sandy Desert, this remote IPA covers an area the size of Tasmania.</p>
<p>Katjarra is of very high cultural significance to its traditional custodians. </p>
<p>This archaeological evidence for the earliest desert peoples in Australia was found within 100m of the place where the Federal Court convened in 2008 for the Birriliburu Native Title Determination.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/234424/original/file-20180831-195319-1668rd6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/234424/original/file-20180831-195319-1668rd6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/234424/original/file-20180831-195319-1668rd6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=357&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234424/original/file-20180831-195319-1668rd6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=357&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234424/original/file-20180831-195319-1668rd6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=357&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234424/original/file-20180831-195319-1668rd6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=448&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234424/original/file-20180831-195319-1668rd6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=448&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234424/original/file-20180831-195319-1668rd6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=448&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">(Then) Justice Robert French at the Birriliburu Native Title determination in 2008 presenting senior custodians with a statement of the determination.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Jo McDonald</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>But the site is also only about 40km from the historic Canning Stock Route (CSR), a 1,800km track forged through the sandy deserts by Alfred Canning in 1906-07, reliant on numerous Aboriginal water sources, identified and named for for him by local Aboriginal people. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/234819/original/file-20180904-45166-57lb7a.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/234819/original/file-20180904-45166-57lb7a.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/234819/original/file-20180904-45166-57lb7a.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=535&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234819/original/file-20180904-45166-57lb7a.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=535&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234819/original/file-20180904-45166-57lb7a.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=535&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234819/original/file-20180904-45166-57lb7a.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=672&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234819/original/file-20180904-45166-57lb7a.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=672&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234819/original/file-20180904-45166-57lb7a.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=672&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Location of Karnatukul, in the Carnarvon Ranges (Katjarra), near the Canning Stock Route.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Jo McDonald</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Because of the CSR, the Carnarvon Ranges have been at risk of unwitting damage from tourists – as modern desert crusaders travel this <a href="https://permits.canningstockroute.net.au/">challenging and remote 4WD track</a>. For example, many of the site’s surface grindstones - used for millennia to process seeds - have been collected and used by tourists to make camp fires, and there is graffiti where some travellers felt it necessary to add their names to rock features. </p>
<p>The Carnarvon Ranges are currently closed to unaccompanied tourists. The custodians have a responsibility for the safety of visitors on their country, intrinsically tied to the duty of ensuring that people do not unknowingly visit restricted and culturally powerful sites.</p>
<p>So the challenge now is how to protect this site of ancient occupation.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/time-to-honour-a-historical-legend-50-years-since-the-discovery-of-mungo-lady-97785">Time to honour a historical legend: 50 years since the discovery of Mungo Lady</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
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<p>The Birriliburu IPA has a management plan for this vast cultural and natural desert estate. Traditional Owners and younger rangers work in this IPA to care for country and to continue their long-held connections to this place.</p>
<p>Guided tours of this highly significant area with traditional custodians would ensure the protection of heritage places and visitors, as well as providing for sustainable tourism opportunities. </p>
<p>That way, people would still be able to experience a place that revolutionises our understanding of the first Australians who made one of the world’s driest continents their home. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/234425/original/file-20180831-195325-8rsxcl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/234425/original/file-20180831-195325-8rsxcl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/234425/original/file-20180831-195325-8rsxcl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234425/original/file-20180831-195325-8rsxcl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234425/original/file-20180831-195325-8rsxcl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234425/original/file-20180831-195325-8rsxcl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234425/original/file-20180831-195325-8rsxcl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/234425/original/file-20180831-195325-8rsxcl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Traditional custodians celebrate the Birriliburu determination in 2008.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Jo McDonald</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/102111/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Jo McDonald receives funding from the Australian Research Council. She held the Rio Tinto Chair of Rock Art Studies from 2012-2017.</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Peter Veth receives funding from the Australian Research Council and the Kimberley Foundation Australia.</span></em></p>
They were looking to study rock art at a remote desert site but what they found showed people had been using the place almost since the first people arrived in Australia.
Jo McDonald, Director, Centre for Rock Art Research + Management, The University of Western Australia
Peter Veth, Kimberley Chair in Rock Art and Professor of Australian Archaeology, Centre for Rock Art Research and Management, The University of Western Australia
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.