sign in sign up
<<
Home , Geoffrey Blainey, History of Australia, Redfern Park Speech

University of Calgary PRISM: University of Calgary's Digital Repository

Graduate Studies Master of Public Policy Capstone Projects

2019-08-16 The Date that Divides a Nation: Day and the Clash of Narratives

Slyman, Hadi

Slyman, H. (2019). The Date that Divides a Nation: and the Clash of Narratives (Unpublished master's project). University of Calgary, Calgary, AB. http://hdl.handle.net/1880/111843 report

Downloaded from PRISM: https://prism.ucalgary.ca

MASTER OF PUBLIC POLICY CAPSTONE PROJECT

The Date that Divides a Nation: Australia Day and the Clash of Narratives

Submitted by: Hadi Slyman

Approved by Supervisor: Dr. Tom Flanagan, August 16, 2019

Submitted in fulfillment of the requirements of PPOL 623 and completion of the requirements for the Master of Public Policy degree

i

Signature

ii

Acknowledgements

Many thanks to my supervisor Dr. Tom Flanagan for his valuable insight and advice.

iii

Table of Contents

Table of Contents Introduction……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..1 of Australia Day…………………………………………………………………………………………………………...2 The Development of National Identity…………………………………………………………………………………….6 Narrative and Policy ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………11 The Nineteenth Century………………………………………………………………………………………………………...11 The Great Australian Silence (1901-1966)……………………………………………………………………………...15 Policy during the Great Australian Silence………………………………………………………………………….19 1967 to Present……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..20 The Seventies……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………22 The Eighties………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………26 Keating and the Nineties……………………………………………………………………………………………………30 The Early Howard Years……………………………………………………………………………………………………34 Howard and the New Millennium………….…………………………………………………………………………...38 After Howard…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….46 Implementing Change……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..48 Conclusion………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………49

iv

Capstone Executive Summary

Australia Day, celebrated on January 26th in every Australian state and territory, commemorates the day British sovereignty was first proclaimed over Australia. In cities and towns across the country, the raising of the flag and playing of the anthem mark the start of official programs. Local officials deliver sunny speeches before presenting civilian awards to citizens. These formal ceremonies are followed by outdoor concerts, barbeques and fireworks, all of which attract throngs of revelers. On the same day and in the same country, followers of another narrative mark the occasion differently. Tens of thousands gather and march in cities throughout the country, protesting what they call “Invasion Day”. These protesters see the day as a government whitewash, concealing the pain suffered by the original inhabitants and their descendants. The protests and boycotts of this loud minority of will continue until an alternative is found, a move most Australians oppose. This policy problem can be seen as a clash of historical narratives, with policy and narrative both shaped by ideology. Conservatives and progressives often see the past through a different lens, with each distorted view justifying certain policies. By tracking the clash of narratives through the legislature and judiciary, the link between narrative and public policy becomes clear. The era in which history departments blatantly diminished or ignored ended half a century ago. This change was reflected in policy. As a new generation of academics conducted and published research supporting the Aboriginal narrative, Parliament and the judiciary responded. New legislation provided Indigenous peoples the opportunity to own ancestral lands; landmark court cases overturned terra nullius to acknowledge original sovereignty. The problem of how to tell the national story is common to a number of western democracies. Efforts to change Australia Day, rename a bridge in Canada or remove a statue in Texas are just a few examples. Examining the interweaving of policy, narrative and ideology can not only shed light on how Australia arrived at the current predicament; it can be helpful for any nation dealing with a colonial past.

v

Introduction

Australia Day is celebrated on January 26th in every state and territory. An official public holiday, millions of citizens spend the time with family and friends, taking pride in the country and its achievements. To mark the day, citizenship ceremonies are held to welcome thousands of new Australians, prestigious civilian awards are presented, and outdoor concerts conclude with extravagant fireworks. However, many

Australians refer to January 26th as “Invasion Day”. The day commemorates the date on which, in 1788, the of convict ships landed at Cove (Kwan, 2019). The raising of the Union Jack on

Australian soil marked the beginning of the British occupation of Australia. For Indigenous Australians and their sympathizers, Australia Day celebrates dispossession, and arguably, genocide. To mark the Day, tens of thousands protest on city streets nationwide, demanding state governments change the date. Others boycott festivities and host private events to mark what they see as a shameful past. Some city councils have resolved to no longer celebrate the date or conduct citizenship ceremonies within city limits.

Federal and state governments face a considerable policy problem. Citizens who support the current date will oppose any measures to change it. In the meantime, advocates for change will continue to protest and boycott until an alternative is found. A national day that sows division defeats the very purpose. The

Federal government has never signed a treaty with Indigenous Australians. Issues such as Indigenous health, employment and housing remain difficult. In comparison, the problem of Australia Day is symbolic.

However, its importance should not be underestimated. Reconciliation has been an aim of every

Australian government since the passing of the Council for Aboriginal Reconciliation Act in 1991. In meeting this challenging task, symbolism may be essential.

1

History of Australia Day

Within the founding colony of (NSW), January 26th was considered a special day from the early 1800s. Colonial calendars, almanacs and newspapers referred to the day as Foundation Day,

Anniversary Day or First Landing Day. It was marked by celebratory bonfires, drinking and feasting, particularly among those freed from convict servitude (McAllister, 2012, p. 90). In 1818, Governor

Macquarie hosted the celebrations at Government House for the first time, making the day an official public holiday in the colony. In the years that followed, horse races and other sporting events became a regular part of the festivities. An annual regatta was established in 1837, typically drawing thousands of spectators to scenic Sydney Harbour (a tradition which continues to this day). However, the colonies of

South Australia, , and Van Diemen’s Land () continued to celebrate their own Foundations days (Kwan, 2019).

With the 1870s came a push for federation. Friendly but strong rivalries had already developed between the colonies due to competition for settlers, capital and cultural ascendency (White, 1981, p. 63). Nascent colonial pride and identity were also factors complicating the prospect of union. For example, South

Australia did not share the penal heritage of the east coast and considered NSW to be tainted by its penal past. Nevertheless, groups like Natives’ Association (ANA) advocated for the creation of one nation, loyal to the Queen. In addition, the ANA pushed for January 26th to become a holiday throughout the continent (Kwan, 2019).

For the Centenary of 1888, organizers in NSW made a deliberate effort to promote January 26th as a day for all Australians. Representatives from each colony were invited to bustling Sydney Harbour that year.

The program included an extravagant street parade through the heart of Sydney. While colonial representation was diverse, Aboriginal participation was minimal. Some nonlocal Aborigines were found

2 to play the role of “fleeing savages” for the historical re-enactment. However, the vast majority of

Aboriginal people, including those local to the area, refused to participate (McAllister, 2012, p. 91).

On January 1st, 1901, the colonies united to form the Commonwealth of Australia. was declared the interim capital until 1913, when it was replaced by the purpose-built city of . In

1930, the ANA lobbied the various state governments to hold official Australia day celebrations on a

Monday. By this time, all states had separately adopted January 26th as Australia Day. By 1935, all states and territories had passed legislation making Australia Day a long weekend (Kwan, 2019).

The sesquicentennial in 1938 introduced a new narrative to Australia Day, one that continues to compete for acceptance today. That year, Aboriginal people protested, demanding citizenship rights and improvements in living conditions. The Aborigines Progressive Association held a “day of mourning” to mark the catastrophe of colonization. They also released a manifesto calling for civil rights. Their demands received little media attention, and white Australia celebrated the day in typical fashion. This included a historical re-enactment of the landing at , with the already clichéd tall ships, redcoats and

Union Jack. Once again, local Aboriginal people refused to play the role of terrified native, so Aborigines from rural areas were brought in to meet the demand (McAllister, 2012, 91).

The next forty years saw a decline in the relevance of Australia Day across the country. Observing Australia

Day, with the usual sporting events and historical re-enactments, was not considered important, particularly outside of Sydney. Official ceremonies in state capitals were often poorly attended. In the fight against apathy, efforts by the ANA proved unsuccessful. Most local governments chose not to mark the day at all. In 1979, the Federal government decided to step in and address the dismal situation. It formed the National Australia Day Committee (NADC) headquartered in the nation’s capital, with the task of making Australia Day “truly national and Australia-wide” (Kwan, 2019). The Committee promptly created the Australia Bicentenary Authority. The role of the Authority was to work with hundreds of local

3 governments in preparation for the 1988 Bicentenary. To attract corporate sponsorship, the NADC relocated to Sydney in 1984, becoming the National Australia Day Council. When the big day finally arrived in 1988, the country celebrated on a scale yet unseen. Extravagant public events were well-attended right across the country. Two million revelers, both young and old, packed Sydney Harbour to welcome the iconic tall ships (McAllister, 2012, p. 93). It was clear the NADC had succeeded in breathing new life into a formerly modest day.

However, the flowering national pride seen in 1988 was accompanied by new and conspicuous support for the counter-narrative. More Australians than ever were aware of and sympathetic to the plight of the nation’s original inhabitants. Street protests were organized and staged across the country. The Freedom,

Justice and Hope march alone attracted a crowd of 40,000 people, along with national and international media coverage (Carter, 2005, p. 102). In addition to the celebrants, the tall ships arriving in Sydney

Harbour were met by angry protesters. Concerts showcasing the music, art and dance of Aboriginal

Australia were inaugurated to rival the polished events sponsored by the NADC. These concerts eventually led to the first “Survival Day” concert in 1992. Before 1988 was over, the term “Invasion Day” had found prominence within burgeoning counter-narrative circles (Kwan, 2019).

In 1990, the NADC was incorporated as a non-profit company owned by the Federal government. Support is now provided through the Department of the Prime Minister and Cabinet, with the Prime Minister responsible for appointing a Board of Directors to oversee operations (NADC, 2019). Each year, the NADC works with a group of state and territory organizations with similar mandates, known as the Australia Day

National Network. Each of the hundreds of council and committees within the Network receive the same

“overarching vision” from the NADC. Australia Day events are then planned and implemented by members of the Network, whilst catering to local tastes and customs. Since 1990, the manner in which the day is celebrated has become fairly consistent. Generally, the day begins across most towns and cities with the playing of the National Anthem and raising of the Australian flag. This is followed by a number of speeches

4 from local officials, ranging from mayors in country towns to Governors in State capitals. The officials then preside over the citizenship ceremonies that are typically held.

The NADC also bestows a number of civilian awards that day, the most prestigious being the . These awards form the first of three strategic focuses of the NADC— recognition (NADC,

2019). Citizens who help others with outstanding public service are officially honored. The second strategic focus of the NADC is participation. Since the Bicentenary, their focus in this area has been rewarded with massive and continuous public support. The rather staid formal components of the day described above are typically followed by a variety of well-funded events and activities. Residents of larger cities choose from a number of free lunches, concerts and firework displays. Sporting events and competitions are held to entertain sporting enthusiasts, while dance and theater shows cater to the arts community. Museums and galleries typically waive entry fees. Coastal towns host surfing and swimming contests. Increasing participation, at least by non-Indigenous Australians, is now a challenge largely overcome. However, the third focus of the NADC remains a challenge— meaning. The NADC hopes to

“promote the meaning of Australia Day by encouraging Australians to reflect, discuss and debate what it means to be Australian” (NADC, 2019). It seems the Aboriginal counter-narrative is not something the

NADC intends to openly refute or discourage. Perhaps to demonstrate this, since 2003 the official program in Sydney commences with Woggan-ma-gule, an Aboriginal ceremony that is both a “commemoration of the past and the celebration of the future” (Nearmy, 2011). It involves traditional dance and song that reference stories of creation, as well as experiences from the troubled colonial past. The Governor of NSW is a regular attendee, along with members of the public and media. Once the ceremony concludes, spectators are invited to ask questions about the meaning of specific dances and songs, and about the ceremony in general (McAllister, 2005, p. 132). It is clear that the aim of the NADC, or rather the NSW branch of the NADC, is to integrate the Aboriginal perspective into the meaning of Australia Day and

5 change the narrative. It is no coincidence that the ceremony occurs at an ancient site of initiation, and along the shoreline that received the First Fleet.

The Development of National Identity

The 1820s saw the first stirrings of national identity and pride. The “local currency”, or white children born in Australia, was the source. Surprised officials found that these children were not committing the crimes that had blighted many of their parents’ lives. Considering the kids to be industrious and sober, officials believed the environment, rather than inheritance, could be the strongest determinant of behavior. Both within Australia and England, convicts of the mid-nineteenth century were considered depraved and ignoble; but within the colonies, the native-born were beginning to express a pride in their own morality and virility (White, 1981, p. 25).

The end of transportation to Sydney in 1840 and Van Diemen’s Land in 1853 produced a change in the popular image of Australia. The convict stain had faded, and was patched over by a picture of Australia as a land of opportunity. The wide open spaces and clean air offered the opportunity for men to work hard and quickly rise up the social ladder, whether on the pasture or goldfield. Wanting to attract labor and

“gentlemen farmers”, Australian authorities promoted this contrived image in Britain (White, 1981, p. 41).

For working men crammed into the factories of Victorian England, the image was appealing. “Small farms and pioneering families” was the picture formulated and sold, in stark contrast to the industrial capitalism transforming England. The successful white man taming the land or comfortably plying his trade became a popular Australian image. The promoters did not consider it exclusively Australian, but common to all

“new, transplanted…Anglo-Saxon emigrant societies” (White, 1981). Women, non-whites and the jobless were not part of the picture.

Culturally, the latter half of the nineteenth century saw a dramatic rise in the number of Australian public libraries, art galleries and universities. The goal of these grandiose buildings was not necessarily to create

6 a distinctly Australian culture. Rather, the idea was to foster pride in the colony; to no longer consider oneself inferior to the neighboring colony, the United States or even England. Visible displays of culture, not necessarily one’s own, were needed to gain respectability on the world stage and address contempt for “colonials” (White, 1981, p. 62).

It was also a time of classification, when gentlemen scholars endeavored to collect and catalogue the natural world. In this atmosphere arose the flawed idea of national “type”, which was believed to be a form typical of a nationality. This not only required a physical description, but also a psychological one.

Not surprisingly, race was considered a decisive feature of the national type. Much discussion occurred within the Australian public regarding how best to classify their type. A detail that was not debated however, was that the British racial type was superior or at least equal to any other. Their confidence was partly based on the vast that had conquered many of the world’s other “types”. Not surprisingly, the descriptions of the Australian type offered in Australian magazines and journals emphasized the type’s “Britishness”; it was white, vigorous and determined. A prominent journalist suggested the type could also be distinguished by its love of truth and “personal cleanliness” (White, 1981, p. 117). It was during the Boer War at the turn of the century that the type was first tested on the battlefield. Triumphant Australian soldiers were described as masculine, sturdy and strong. The type progressed to include independence, practicality and a love for uncluttered, pastoral settings. The type was remarkably similar to almost every other self-classified type produced in the British colonies. It is obvious to the modern reader that the type reflected a preoccupation with racial superiority and purity, rather than scientific understanding.

The 1890s saw the emergence of what was considered to be a distinctly Australian identity. A new class of professional authors and artists, part of the first native-born generation, were the source of this new identity (White, 1981, p. 85). Members of this class, such as the “bush poet” , typically led downtrodden, bohemian lives in the cities. Their work was published in The Bulletin, a radical nationalist

7 magazine. Their work glorified the white bushman and unspoiled expanse in which he toiled. The bushman was rugged, resourceful and restless. He was honest, suspicious of authority and wholly egalitarian.

Around the same time, painters like Fredrick McCubbin depicted what they considered to be uniquely

Australian landscapes, bathed in warm sunlight and peppered with gum trees, bushmen and livestock.

The fact that few of these young intellectuals had ever lived in was irrelevant. They wanted a radical image of Australia that contrasted with the rigid class structure of Britain (White, 1981, p. 102).

The image was to be authored by Australians with unabashedly native tongues. Today, the artistic work produced by the proud young men of fin de siècle Australia is considered national treasure.

In the first year of nationhood, the Australian Parliament passed the Immigration Restriction Act of 1901.

Among other things, it stopped non-European migration to Australia. The Act stated that any immigrant who could not “write out at dictation and sign in the presence of the officer a passage of fifty words in length in an European language” was officially prohibited (Commonwealth of Australia, 1901). This Act, part of the notorious , has frequently been cited by historians and the general public alike as damning evidence of Australia’s racist beginnings. However, there is credible evidence to suggest that two-thirds of parliamentarians who voted for the Act did so without racial prejudice. Rather, they hoped to stop cheap foreign labor flooding the market and depressing wages for the working class

(Windschuttle, 2011). Accepting this as true, it still means that one-third of Members openly expressed concerns about racial purity during parliamentary debate.

The First provided another opportunity to test the Australian type. The sheer scale of the conflict ensured that its influence on the national identity would be profound. War was considered the true test of manhood, and the prospect of fighting on European battlefields pleased the leaders of the new nation. The wartime leader Hughes declared “…war has purged us, war has saved us from physical and moral degeneracy and decay” (White, 1981, p. 127). The ill-fated assured the place of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZACs) in national identity. Along with French and British

8 forces, thousands of ANZACs landed on the Turkish coast in April, 1915. They proceeded to fight their way up the gullies that rose from their beachhead. Stalemate quickly ensued, and by the time the Allies retreated eight months later, more than eight thousand Australians lay dead (,

2017). In the campaign’s aftermath, the construction and promotion of the ANZAC legacy was a job wholeheartedly accepted by C.E.W. Bean. He was a journalist and Official War Historian who, along with other war correspondents, soon provided moving accounts of the heroism, camaraderie and sacrifice of the ANZACs (Macintyre and Clarke, 2004, p. 202). Away from the front, the ANZACs were described as

“larrikins”— an antipodean term for playful young men similarly applied to bushmen of the 1890s. Bean even claimed that the inspiring performance of the soldiers could only be attributed to the bush; squalid cities could produce nothing so noble (White, 1981, p. 132).

Militarily, the Gallipoli campaign was a costly failure. But for those at home, the ANZACs provided the exemplar of Australian manhood and the basis of what became known as the ANZAC myth. Once again, the of the Australian male was vaunted; men fighting side by side as comrades, or to use a word that would become ubiquitous in populist rhetoric, mates. The battle became a creation story for the country, in which Australia was reborn to take its rightful place among nations. In the years that followed, the powerful ANZAC myth was exploited by groups on the left and right, both hoping to associate it with their political stance. Foreigners, trade unions and communists, both real and perceived, were the most frequent targets (White, 1981, p. 138).

In the decades that followed, a new conception of Australian identity would challenge the monopoly held by bushmen and ANZACs. The beach culture of the Sydney suburbs provided a setting now considered just as Australian as the bush. Bushmen and ANZACs had to share their platform with tall, bronzed lifesavers. All three groups shared similar characteristics, however; they were masculine, egalitarian and white.

9

During and immediately after the Second World War, the fraction of Australians working in rural industries was surpassed by those employed in the manufacturing sector. The image of an industrialized, sophisticated nation was promoted by local manufacturers. Hoping to convince Australians to buy local and often, their motivations were self-serving and financial (White, 1981, p. 163). These protectionist manufacturers were opposed by rural industries and conservative politicians who stressed the importance of Britain, both for trade and security. These challenges to traditional Australian identity were generally welcomed by the consumerist middle class. The racial discrimination that characterized the Second World

War dampened the old enthusiasm for racial types. In the 1950s, the fixation on race was replaced with the need to protect the “Australian way of life” (White, 1981, p. 160). Like most popular slogans, it was ambiguous. Generally, it entailed a suburban life of manageable mortgages, Victa lawn mowers and

Holden cars. Women finally played a role, albeit a restricted one.

The year 1953 saw the publication of Russel Ward’s The Australian Legend. This bestselling study cemented the myth started by urban bohemians. Ward proposed that qualities attributed to nineteenth century bush workers, like egalitarianism and practicality, molded the Australian mindset and forged the national ethos. Support for the underdog, distrust of authority and a laconic nature were other important components. Ward himself had been raised as part of ’s affluent bourgeoisie, before joining the

Communist Party in the early forties (Hirst, 2010, p. 90). Clearly, what the bush tradition demanded was open to interpretation.

The 1970s brought major shifts in national identity. The emergence of New Left intellectuals challenged the mainstream perception of national identity. The focus on race continued to weaken during the 1970s.

The Labor government of finally removed the barriers to non-white immigration put up by the Fathers of Federation. The government policy of had arrived, and with it, a new sense of what “Australian” meant (Whitlam Institute, 2018). Subsequently, national identity became cosmopolitan, and was often expressed in terms of pluralism and tolerance. The principle of

10 egalitarianism, and the belief in a “fair go” for all, remained. Australian achievement, in all fields but particularly the arts, was heralded throughout the 1980s. The early nineties brought a new Prime Minister who openly expressed a desire for an Australian republic with strong economic and diplomatic ties to Asia.

The mid-nineties spawned a new, government-funded focus on military commemoration (Reynolds, 2013, p. 232). By that stage, public battles were already raging with New Left academics regarding historical narrative, and were set to get worse. Patriotic fervor increased following the successful staging of the

2000 Sydney Olympics. Soon after, however, national identity became increasingly fractured and contentious. An exclusive and fierce nationalism became resurgent during the so-called War on Terror, particularly after the . It typically involved a perceived defense of the “Australian way of life” and a rejection of cultural relativism. It was often signaled by personal and prominent displays of the national flag, a sight previously uncommon to Australia (Fozdar, Spittles & Hartley, 2014). For some, the seamless multiculturalism envisioned by policy-makers had always been a façade, and not a pillar on which their nation was built.

Narrative and Policy

The history and development of the Aboriginal narrative can be imperfectly divided into three periods; the nineteenth century, the Great Australian Silence (1901 to 1966), and 1967 to the present (McGrath &

Markus, 1987. p. 117).

The Nineteenth Century

The British policy that would define the relationship between Aborigines and settlers for more than two centuries was terra nullius. Meaning “land belonging to no-one”, the legal doctrine meant that Indigenous people did not have any rightful claim to the land or exercise sovereignty over it. The negotiated treaties and purchasing agreements that had characterized British North America were therefore not required

(Reynolds, 2013, p. 50). This doctrine was based upon British perceptions of legitimate land usage.

11

Aborigines were nomads and semi-nomads, sparsely populating vast stretches of land. Being hunter- gatherers, they had no need or desire for permanent housing or fencing. Their camps were temporary, lasting anywhere from a few hours to a few months. Their movement was based on an intimate understanding of animal migration, plant-food maturation and weather (Blainey, 2015, p. 5). Private property did not exist. Aborigines of the mainland did not cultivate gardens, tend to herds or grow crops.

In addition to how the land was used, the structure of Aboriginal society reaffirmed in the British mind the folly of treaties. There was no supreme ruler or chief in Aboriginal society. Negotiating with moving, autonomous bands of no more than a few dozen people was not considered practical or possible. These bands formed clans that occasionally went to war with one another, which added a barrier to treaty negotiations. The perceived lack of land management, and real lack of private property and centralized authority, led the British to consider the land legally empty. The Colonial Office stated in 1819 that, prior to British settlement, the country was “a desert and uninhabited” (Reynolds, 2013, p. 163). This was an attitude reinforced by subsequent colonial courts. In 1849, the chief justice of NSW upheld the doctrine of a land with no previous owners. In 1885, a Victorian colonial court reaffirmed as the original sovereign of Australia (Reynold, 2013, p. 163). Legally, the people that had known the land for tens of thousands of years were like squatters on the commons.

The result of the Colonial Office policy and narrative of terra nullius was predictable and bloody. With no treaty or agreement of any kind, hopeful young settlers and squatters gradually moved out from the towns and cities. This occurred in stages across the continent. The first encroachment onto traditional hunting grounds occurred around Sydney in the final years of the eighteenth century. Van Diemen’s Land was next, in the first few decades of the nineteenth century. Large tracts of the south-east mainland then saw widespread expansion and proliferation of sheep and cattle farms in the 1840s (Reynolds, 2013, p. 51).

Late-comers set their sights north. Between 1840 and 1880, the state of experienced rapid and massive growth of sheep and cattle farms, again, without treaty. These pastoralists were soon joined

12 by thousands of gold miners. Although the squatters and many of the miners were acting without government approval or sanction, their efforts to occupy new land on the fringes of settlement were not seriously obstructed by authorities.

Near the established towns and cities, violence against settlers was dealt with using the conventional military, who did not need to travel far to find alleged perpetrators. The , however, was in large part beyond the reach of colonial government. Here, Aboriginal resistance took the form of guerilla warfare (Reynolds, 2013, p. 51). Because of the autonomous, decentralized nature of hunter-gatherer society, large-scale battles did not occur. Instead, Aboriginal resistance was small-scale and persistent.

Stealthy bands of Aboriginal men would typically monitor frontier settlers to determine the best time to attack. During their raids, livestock was often deliberately scattered, and desired commodities such as flour, sugar and iron taken. Livestock was also a welcome source of nutrition. The sheep and cattle would partially compensate for the diminished access to game caused by settlement, as well as inflict financial pain on the settler. Whether traveling to and from town or working in the field, settlers learned to be constantly armed. Violence that accompanied life on the frontier was characterized, by settlers and government alike, as warfare (Reynolds, 2001, p. 96). Aboriginal attacks were not considered petty and criminal, nor as isolated cases of revenge. Despite the official London narrative of terra nullius, settlers and local authorities considered frontier violence as a war of conquest. The many settlers who wrote to newspapers expressed anger and dread over the ongoing “war”, and proposed typically ruthless ways of ending it. Frustrated local officials described the violence in their official and personal correspondence as a form of warfare; Governor Arthur stated “the species of warfare which we are carrying on with them is of the most distressing nature” (Reynolds, 2013, p. 69). According to this narrative, the Aboriginal dead were enemy combatants in open rebellion. The killing of frontier whites was considered by the authorities and settlers as part of the Aboriginal war of resistance, while the “…attacks of the blacks became the subject of obsessive storytelling. They added to the widespread conviction that conflict was inevitable,

13 that the Aborigines would resist the invaders as long as they could…” (Reynolds, 2013, p. 80). According to this narrative, Aboriginal fighters were an alien enemy fighting expansionist colonies. The frontier squatters were portrayed as beleaguered invaders and reluctant combatants.

The narrative that portrayed the British as invaders allowed settlers the opportunity to sympathize with the Aboriginal cause. However, this sympathy was often expressed through pity and sentiment, rather than contrition. This is because what came to dominate the colonial narrative in the nineteenth century, particularly after Darwin, was race. On the Origin of Species convincingly presented a theory that had been discussed informally for half a century. Darwin himself visited Australia as a young man. During his stay he noted that the dramatic decline of the Indigenes indicated “some mysterious agency at work”

(Reynolds, 2001, p. 143). British colonial policy was not considered the agent. Years later, Darwin proposed that species which did not adapt to change died out, to be replaced by a species better fit for survival. It is not difficult to see how this theory of change over time was welcomed by imperialists. Darwin provided what was perceived as a natural law that justified the observed destruction of Aboriginal societies. Prior to Darwinism, the rapid decline in the numbers of Aboriginal people was often viewed as

Providence, an act of God. With the theory of evolution, the decline was viewed as the unavoidable consequence of progress (White, 1984, p. 70). In this Darwinian era, the extinction of “lesser” races, while sometimes regrettable, was considered natural. Aboriginal people came to be seen as one such “dying race”, bound for extinction. In 1888, a columnist writing for the Melbourne Age lamented “…where two races whose stages of progression differ greatly are brought into contact, the inferior race is doomed to wither and disappear” (McGrath and Markus, 1987, p. 117). The much-publicized death of the purported last full-blooded Tasmanian in 1876 was perceived as a confirmation of Darwin’s theory. During the nineteenth century, references to the impending extinction of Aborigines were made “again and again in speeches, sermons, letters, books and editorials in all the colonies” (Reynolds, 2001, p. 142).

14

The common views held by settlers and officials in the nineteenth century can be generalized using newspapers, private letters and government documents. However, in their essay on European views of

Aborigines, McGrath and Markus (1987) note the difficulty in generalizing the treatment of Aborigines by colonial historians. Some historical accounts were heavily influenced by Darwinism and the doomed race idea, emphasizing savagery, primitivism and the lack of will to survive. An ugly example can be found in A

History of the Colony of Victoria by H.G. Turner, published in 1904. Turner stated that Aborigines were

“doomed to extinction by the progress of that type of humanity with which it was impossible to assimilate him”. Other historical accounts acknowledged the injustice of dispossession and the violence that characterized it. This focus, however, did not produce impartiality. The violence was nearly always portrayed as “incidental to the process of settlement”; violence was caused by unscrupulous, lawless squatters and not by colonization per se. McGrath and Markus (1987) found that even these qualified references to violence became less frequent toward the end of the nineteenth century. It is clear that narratives during frontier expansion accommodated somewhat conflicting sentiments. Hatred and fear of

Aborigines was regularly and openly expressed by settlers in all colonies, with Aboriginal “savagery” and guerilla tactics contrasted with European rules of war. Yet there was also room for settler and government sympathy for what was considered a doomed, but understandable, resistance.

It is fair to say that Aborigines were prominent features of the historical and descriptive accounts of

Australia in the nineteenth century. The major general histories each dedicated considerable time to their discussions of Aboriginal Australia, with varying degrees of prejudice and sympathy (Reynolds, 2000, p.

92). As Federation and the new century dawned, this was set to change.

The Great Australian Silence (1901-1966)

The anthropologist Bill Stanner dubbed this period “The Great Australian Silence”, during a 1968 lecture televised on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC). Stanner was not suggesting that historians

15 and anthropologists had shown no interest in Aborigines after Federation (Manne, 2003, p. 1). McGrath and Markus (1987) note that “a few” specialist works were published during this period, such as Black

Australians by (1942) and by Clive Turnbull (1948). Rather, Stanner believed that interest in the Aboriginal perspective, and the effort needed to truly understand it, had been largely absent. He considered this lacuna in scholarship to be a deliberate act: “Inattention on such a scale cannot possibly be explained by absent-mindedness. It is a structural matter, a view from a window which has been carefully placed to exclude a whole quadrant of the landscape” (Manne, 2003, p. 1). It was an exclusion that coincided with Federation and the that followed.

In the 1906 history The Coming of the British to Australia, the author Ida Lee admits her difficulty in even believing Aboriginal people had existed, considering white progress. She eloquently describes—“…the axes ringing through the backwood, the network of masts fringing the busy port…the wealth of mine drawn from the barren waste…” (Reynolds, 2000, p. 93). Perhaps from an Aboriginal perspective that land would not appear so barren. The official jubilee , published three years later, was a thick tome that failed to even mention the state’s native people.

In 1916, A Short was written by Professor Ernest Scott from the University of

Melbourne. His work did acknowledge the cruel treatment of Aborigines during the pastoral expansion of the nineteenth century. He went on to express sympathy with the people he viewed as destined for extinction, claiming “they were not a people who could be absorbed or adapted to civilized life. But the tragedy of the process was very grim and hateful” (McGrath & Markus, 1987, p. 119). It is the same

“doomed race” rhetoric of the nineteenth century. The following year, the renowned essayist, writer and educator Walter Murdoch published The Making of Australia. A university in Western Australia still bears the name of this public advocate for equality, free education and active citizenship. His view on when

Australian history begins is typical of the Great Silence— “…we should not stretch the term to make it include the story of the dark skinned wandering tribes who hurled and ate snakes…”

16

(Reynolds, 2000, p. 93). He encouraged historians to omit the Aboriginal story from new history books and focus on the arrival of the white man (interestingly, Walter Murdoch’s great grandnephew Rupert would later prosper in the business of narrative).

In 1930, the influential historical work Australia was published. Written by the distinguished historian

Keith Hancock, it too showed scant regard to the original inhabitants, let alone their perspectives. The dispossession is discussed briefly in the first chapter— “In truth, a hunting and a pastoral economy cannot co-exist within the same bounds. Yet sometimes the invading British did their wrecker’s work with the unnecessary brutality of stupid children…” (McGrath & Markus, 1987, p. 119). His work is mainly free from the overt racism that colored the work of his contemporaries. The prejudice is more implicit, with his explanation for the decline of Aboriginal society presented in simple economic rather than Darwinian terms. He described a hunter-gatherer economy as backward and “pathetically helpless” when confronted with British technical might. His reference to the brutality and stupidity of the “invading”

British was unusual for the time, however. Hancock went on to describe Australians as “transplanted

British”, invigorated and content with a “self-assertive national sentiment”.

A number of Australian academics contributed to the Australian volume of the Cambridge History of the

British Empire in 1933. The British editors noted in the preface that Australian history “takes a special character from this comparatively free development of English life transplanted to coasts and islands on the other side of the world” (Macintyre & Clarke, 2004, p. 35). The Australian contributors willingly towed the line. They wrote pieces describing their industry as a “perfect example” of Empire development, and praised the British institutions that made Australia free and self-governing.

In 1955, the influential work Australia: a Social and Political History was published. It was edited by

Professor Gordon Greenwood and contained contributions from five esteemed scholars. The book dedicated just five sentences to Aborigines. They did not even appear in the index (Reynolds, 2000, p. 20).

17

The Education Department in Queensland assigned it as a textbook, ensuring the narrative received widespread exposure. Between its initial publication and 1974, the book was reissued or reprinted thirteen times (Reynolds, 2013, p. 82). Commissioned to mark the semicentennial of Federation, its semi- official status during the 1950s and 1960s likely made it the most popular history text in the country. To the modern reader, the historical omissions are astonishing. Yet at the time, many of Greenwood’s peers offered glowing reviews of his work, either oblivious to or complicit in the silence. Greenwood’s work is considered “one of the last, and one of the most significant” examples of the bias that characterized the

Great Silence (Reynolds, 2000, p. 95). Five other major histories written by scholars between 1954 and

1967 all treated the of Australia as just that; an episode that ended with Federation.

Four of the five confined the discussion of Aborigines to the early colonial period, which ended in the

1830s. Modern Australia had seemingly moved on, but selectively. At the , completion of British history was a prerequisite for the Australian history course right up until the 1960s

(Macintyre & Clarke, 2004, p. 33).

One prominent historian of the period did draw attention to the resilient silence, however. In 1959,

Professor John La Nauze confided to a room of peers that the past thirty years had seen the Aborigines reduced to “a melancholy anthropological footnote” (McGrath & Markus, 1987, p. 119). He attributed the lack of interest in Aboriginal history to what he perceived as a weak, inglorious resistance to occupation.

Perhaps he believed schoolboys simply wouldn’t be interested to learn about a people giving in without a fight. Interestingly, the dominant narrative along the frontier has since been unearthed. There is compelling evidence to suggest Aboriginal resistance was considered deadly, disruptive and utterly terrifying.

The final history of note published during this period was History of Australia by Manning Clarke. The first volume was released in 1962, the second appearing six years later. Clarke was a professor of History at the Australian National University. He had previously studied and taught at the University of Melbourne,

18 where he had proven to be a “gifted teacher and a difficult colleague” (Macintyre and Clarke, 2004, p. 52).

Known as a maverick, he did not fear upsetting the political and academic leaders in Canberra. He was deeply dissatisfied with orthodox Australian history and its stories of radical, egalitarian bushmen. Upon publication, peers and the public found Clarke’s gloomy, cynical narrative shocking. It was the first time the nation’s history had been treated so critically. Although Clarke ignored the Aboriginal perspective, he was criticized for slandering the pioneers and failing to recognize “physical, commercial and managerial achievements” (Macintyre & Clarke, 2004, p. 57). Thereafter, Clarke was dismissed by the right as an unpatriotic communist.

Policy during the Great Australian Silence

Unsurprisingly, the government policies that dominated this period were openly assimilationist. The

“doomed race” narrative of the nineteenth century had proven to be false. The numbers of Aborigines of mixed-ancestry unexpectedly and dramatically increased, creating what was called “the half-caste problem” (Nobles, 2008, p. 65). As a result, state governments instituted protectionist policies designed to ensure no Aboriginal self-government. Each state legislated and financed its own regulatory board to control almost every facet of Aboriginal life. These “protection boards” had the final word in most matters, including inter-camp and interstate movement, choice of employer and even marriage partner (Nobles,

2008, p. 55). Most states also passed legislation that allowed officials to take custody of Aboriginal children

“without having to establish to a court’s satisfaction” that the children were indeed neglected or abused

(Nobles, 2008, p. 95). Queensland was the last state to repeal these powers in 1965. Regardless of motives or scale, there is no doubt that assimilation was indeed the policy goal. In 1951, the Minister of Territories

Paul Hasluck (aforementioned author of Black Australians) reported to Parliament that “…in the course of time, it is expected that all persons of Aboriginal blood or mixed blood in Australia will live like white

Australians do” (Reynolds, 2001, p. 166). As the leading architect of assimilationist policy throughout the fifties, Hasluck increased expenditure and improved service delivery to his Territories’ Aboriginal

19 population. He often expressed compassion and concern for Aboriginal children struggling with poverty and racial discrimination. In 1955 he stated his hopes that equality would not only improve Aboriginal lives, it would also discourage the growing and “undesirable tendency” of race consciousness (Reynolds,

2001, p. 170). He wanted Aboriginal disadvantage to be discussed without referencing Aboriginality. As far as he was concerned, Aborigines should always and only be treated as equal members of the general community, living in one Australian society.

Legally, Aborigines became citizens of Australia with the passing of the 1948 Nationality and Citizenship

Act. Prior to this, the citizenship and legal status of any person had been a state matter (Nobles, 2008, p.

48). The Constitution of Australia only conferred subjection to the Queen upon all Australians. As a result, states had passed laws denying Aborigines voting rights and other benefits of citizenship. The

Commonwealth Franchise Act of 1902 had guaranteed Aborigines the right to vote in Federal elections provided they had state voting rights. However, exclusionary state laws typically distributed rights according to ethnic categories. The Franchise Act therefore did not have an immediate effect on the

Federal or state voting rights of Aborigines. It took decades for the discriminatory laws and policies in each state to be separately repealed and dismantled. In 1962, the Federal government amended the

Commonwealth Electoral Act of 1918 to extend Federal voting rights to all Aborigines, regardless of state laws (Australian Electoral Commission, 2016). Queensland was the last state to grant Aborigines state voting rights in 1965.

1967 to Present

Australian race relations were influenced by a number of international developments occurring at this time. In 1966, the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights was adopted by the UN General

Assembly (Reynolds, 2001, p. 176). Economic, social and cultural rights were listed as inalienable, in addition to civil and political rights (OHCHR, 2019). Although not in force until 1976, the Covenant

20 reflected the impassioned civil rights movements that had captured the attention of young people and policy-makers around the world. This new public demand for non-discrimination led to the 1967

Referendum. The question was whether two Constitutional clauses referring to Aborigines should be reformed. The changes would mean that Aborigines would be counted in the national census, and that the Federal government could “enter the jurisdiction of states to make laws relating to the Aboriginal population”. Turnout was 94% and resulted in a 91% yes vote (Thomas, 2017). The result was an overwhelming rejection of the assimilationist policies implemented by state governments. For that time on, Federal governments would seek policies “based around self-determination, reconciliation and, more recently, ‘’” (Thomas, 2017).

Events in the academic world would also shape policy in the time to come. Post-structuralism, sometimes labeled “postmodernism”, emerged to challenge the traditional claim of an objective and knowable past.

A new focus on discourse meant that language was no longer viewed as a neutral transmitter of truth.

Foucault defined discourse as “a linguistic system that orders statements and concepts” (Baylis, Smith &

Owens, 2017, p. 162); a shared social code that is unstable and always political. Controversy over the words invasion versus settlement is one example of this. A second element of post-structuralism was the theory of deconstruction. Essentially, it posited that dichotomies were used, again, not as neutral conveyors of truth, but as value-laden tools to assign superiority. Hence, civilized could be favorably compared to hunter-gatherer to imply an imperialist message. A third element was genealogy, which aimed to uncover the “history of the present” (Baylis et al., 2017, p. 163). This was done by identifying the dominant discourse and speculating on which discourse had been marginalized or forgotten. The final element was intertextuality, which came from the field of semiotics. It viewed the social world as a series of texts. These texts, which include writing, speech, pictures and flags, were connected to texts that came before. So a subtextual meaning could be implied if a text formed a certain connection in people’s minds.

In the current political climate, this has come to be known as “dog whistle” politics. Post-structuralists

21 believed discourse to be tremendously powerful. Those who controlled discourse could make their views seem natural and sensible. They could dictate the dominant narrative and suppress others.

Other critical approaches to the social world that developed during this time were post-colonialism and feminism. By the mid-sixties, more than sixty members of the UN were former colonies. Works by Frantz

Fanon, particularly The Wretched of the Earth (1963), argued that colonial discourse had colonized the minds of black and white alike. As a result, the colonized had come to internalize their imposed inferiority and perpetuate it even after physical liberation. This idea led to the first post-colonial studies in history, called the subaltern studies. Unusually, the researchers chose the bottom of the Indian social hierarchy as the unit of analysis. The question they were hoping to answer was chiefly “what does history and contemporary life look like when it starts…from the bottom up instead of from the top down?” (Baylis et al., 2017, p. 178). Feminist theorists adopted a similar research method, in which the historically marginalized were granted an audience.

These radical approaches to research changed the way historical knowledge was sought, considered and communicated. Official records, journals and memoirs were no longer the most reliable road to the past.

Oral tradition, anthropology and archaeology were forcing their way into footnotes. The bright, young historians graduating from Australian universities in the years that followed were keen to put their skills to the test.

1967 to Present

- The Seventies

In 1970, the political scientist Charles Rowley published the first book in his trilogy, The Destruction of

Aboriginal Society. Considered the first detailed study of Aboriginal society at the time of European contact, Rowley conducted his own archival research to fill in gaps left by the Great Silence. The work was effective in disabusing some Australians of the myth of peaceful settlement and benevolent paternalism.

22

Rowley’s scholarship “served to heighten awareness of a neglected aspect of Australian history” (McGrath

& Markus, 1987, p. 120). It documented the discriminatory government policies that institutionalized racism. Rowley’s scholarship was traditional in the sense that it relied mainly on overlooked or forgotten government records. In the years that followed, this pioneering volume spawned a number of specialist regional studies from various authors. They all incorporated new research to gradually challenge the settler narrative. The Black Resistance by Robinson and York (1977) presented an uncompromising narrative of resistors and invaders, with nothing in between (McGrath & Markus, 1987, p. 120). In all these works, including that of Rowley, Aborigines remained one-dimensional. They were no longer forgotten or demonized, yet they were now portrayed as simply victims or resistance fighters.

A more nuanced and multilayered portrayal of Aborigines had appeared in 1976. That year, Triumph of the Nomads by Professor hit Australian bookshelves. By that stage, Blainey was already known for the quality and vitality of his prose. Unlike his contemporaries, his writing style did not employ excessive quotation or dull, self-indulgent musings. A former student of Manning Clarke, Blainey was disciplined and adventurous, always searching for new ways to approach an old subject (Macintyre &

Clarke, 2004, p. 76). Considered an economic historian, his work on Aboriginal culture demonstrated a roaming curiosity. He claimed he was constantly searching for the obvious, regularly scouring worn documents to find an original idea. He showed a disregard for the theories and egos of his peers, and shunned the orthodoxies of his profession. This becomes clear in the preface to Triumph of the Nomads, in which he argued that the material standard of living in pre-contact Australia could be favorably compared to Europe. According to Blainey, if a pre-contact Aborigine had seen Europe “he might have said to himself that he had now seen the third world and all its poverty and hardship” (Blainey, 1976, p. vi). Blainey’s narrative of pre-contact Australia contained an implicit denial of terra nullius; he described the effective way Aborigines had managed the land— “they were cultivators, using fire in the hope of producing lush grass for the game when the next showers fell” (Blainey, 1976, p. 77). He described the

23 goose-hunt in the Arafura Swamp as an activity resembling agriculture and herding. His chapter on food is entitled “Harvest of the Unploughed Plains”. He cited the latest archaeological evidence to suggest

Aborigines had been in Australia “far longer than man lived in South America, longer in fact, than man had lived in any part of the Americas” (Blainey, 1976, p. 6). Physical strength and resilience, mastery of a harsh environment, use of medicines and drugs, liquids and cosmetics, were described in detail. He regularly described the arrival of the British as “invasion” (Blainey, 1976, p. 174). However, Blainey’s narrative is not simply detached admiration for an ancient culture. It does contain uncomplimentary and unsavory accounts of pre-contact Australia. Blainey blamed internecine warfare for causing death rates that would exceed, proportional to population, those seen by European powers in either of the World Wars— “if it were possible to measure the military casualties in [Northern Australia] with those of advanced nations over many decades we would probably find that spears of Arnhem Land were more deadly than the heavy artillery and machine guns of Europe” (Blainey, 1976, p. 110). Cannibalism, abortion and infanticide are all topics that Blainey tackled head on, gradually painting a grim picture of nomadic life. In regards to the invasion, Blainey’s narrative suggested an inevitability that precluded moral condemnation. He described the expansion of British settlement as “a gale” crossing the continent, suggestive of an unstoppable, natural force. He argued that the technology of England could not coexist with nomads— “People who could not boil water were confronted by the nation which had recently contrived the steam engine”. It seemed the economic historian tallied the figures, checked the numbers and found the result regrettable, but correct (Blainey, 1976, p. 254).

It can be argued that the alternative narratives offered by the above authors and activists influenced the strategies, if not the outcomes, of land disputes. In 1971, Milirrpum v. Nabalco Pty Ltd reached the

Supreme Court of the . Now known as the Gove Land Rights Case, it was the first native title court case in Australia. The defendant was a bauxite mining company authorized to begin mining by the Commonwealth government, which was a co-defendant. The plaintiffs believed that being traditional

24 owners, they were “entitled to the occupation and enjoyment of the subject land free from interference”.

The verdict, delivered by Blackburn J., found the claimants had no recognizable legal right to the land. He ruled “the type of title asserted by the plaintiffs was not recognized in Australia and had never been recognized”, thereby denying the legitimacy and legality of native title (Hookey, 1972, p. 85).

The setbacks for advocates of native title continued the next year. On Australia Day, 1972, the Federal

Coalition government announced its Aboriginal policy. As an alternative to sovereignty, the policy offered

“restricted special purpose leases” (McAllister, 2012, p. 118). This apparent compromise was sternly rejected by Indigenous advocates. To demonstrate their displeasure and frustration, they erected a beach umbrella and tent outside Old Parliament House in Canberra. It quickly became known as the Aboriginal

Tent Embassy, and its symbolism was clear: Aboriginal people were members of a nation, foreign to the

Commonwealth. The conspicuously ramshackle structure alluded to Aboriginal poverty, and was a constant source of embarrassment for the government. An Aboriginal flag fluttered outside the tent, bolstering the image of separateness. The embassy grew to become a meeting place for activists across the country. Despite efforts to remove them, the tents and shacks remain to this day a symbol of

Aboriginal disillusionment.

That same year, Gough Whitlam and his Labor Party came to power in Federal parliament. Whitlam soon announced the Woodward Commission Inquiry, tasked with determining the best ways to recognize

Indigenous land rights in the Northern Territory. The Commission produced the Aboriginal Land Right

Commissions Report in 1974, which aimed to establish a “national model for land rights to provide uniformity and equity” (Cromb, 2017). It recommended new legislation, in addition to other measures.

Labor drafted a bill, but a sudden and dramatic change in government delayed further progress.

Eventually, the Aboriginal Land Rights Bill was introduced by the Liberal in 1976.

Fraser’s Bill was substantially different to the one drafted by Labor, due to pressure from mining and pastoral lobbyists. Nonetheless, key recommendations from the Report remained, and the historic Bill

25 was given Royal Assent in January, 1977. Subsequently, ownership of Crown land in the Northern Territory was transferred to Aboriginal claimants with a proven ancestral association (National Museum of

Australia, 2019).

1967 to Present

- The Eighties

After failing to secure a position at the , a young historian moved his fledgling family to north Queensland. It was 1965, and the Tasmanian planned to teach at Townsville University

College. His name was Henry Reynolds, and his time in the tropical north would have a profound influence on Aboriginal narrative and policy. In Townsville, Reynolds soon became interested in his new community and surroundings. He found the humid climate much different to the cool breeze of his native island. The light and sounds, birds and trees, were all new and strange to him (Reynolds, 2000, p. 28). But those differences were not what most intrigued him. He noticed an unsettling difference in the people. He found their culture exceedingly masculine, and often violent. Bar fights routinely spilled out onto the streets, and locals would either cheer or casually make way. The drunken fisticuffs were typically between black and white patrons. In all of this, Reynolds detected an undercurrent of racial hatred. Aboriginal people made up between 5 and 10 percent of Townsville’s population, unusually high compared to eastern towns

(Reynolds, 2000, p. 30). They typically lived in overcrowded, rundown houses. With a severe shortage of affordable housing and unprejudiced landlords, they didn’t have much choice. In addition to the urban dwellings, large numbers of Aborigines could be found in the ephemeral camps on the outskirts of town.

Reynolds noticed how the white community looked upon the Aborigines with barely restrained hostility, and the feeling was mutual (Reynolds, 2000, p. 55).

Like Clarke, Reynolds held a healthy skepticism for the popular national narrative. He was not convinced by the image of the honest bushman, peacefully turning scrub to . His professional curiosity

26 was piqued, and so he went about researching the history of race relations in north Queensland.

Government records, colonial newspapers, private journals and oral traditions were sought, examined and noted by Reynolds. After years of research, his findings were published in the 1981 book The Other

Side of the Frontier. It was perhaps the first book that seriously attempted to represent the Aboriginal perspective during settlement expansion. His study tried to illustrate “how Indigenous peoples would have perceived the arrival of these strange newcomers and how they would have responded” (Macintyre

& Clarke, 2004, p. 44). The answer was not a one dimensional picture of victim or resistance warrior. The response strategies identified by Reynolds ranged from assistance and cooperation, to massacre of frontier families. He estimated that, nationwide, between 2000 and 2500 Europeans were killed by

Aborigines during the frontier wars (Macintyre and Clarke, 2004, p. 44). That figure undermined the long held and popular belief that Aboriginal resistance, unlike that of the Maori, was weak and brief. Reynolds acknowledged the paucity of records documenting Aboriginal deaths. So to estimate the figure, he resorted to guesswork, or rather, estimates based on regional studies and safe assumptions (Reynolds,

2000, p. 113). His final figure of at least 20,000 came as no surprise to local Aborigines, who traditionally referred to the frontier war as “the killing times”. Reynolds shed light on the indiscriminate reprisal attacks that routinely followed Aboriginal raids. He noted how neighbors would band together to find camps of local Aborigines, typically waiting till dark before blasting their shotguns into them (Reynolds, 2013, p.

115). These reprisals were illegal. According to British law, Aboriginal people were technically British subjects entitled to due process. For supporters of the peaceful settler narrative, their beloved bushman was now shooting down women to avenge sheep. For them, Reynolds work was politically motivated guesswork. Reynolds continued researching and writing books throughout the decade, each adding credibility and substance to the Aboriginal narrative. It was Reynolds who uncovered the forgotten reality of war on the frontier, challenging the twentieth century narrative of peaceful settlement.

27

Perhaps no event in the eighties displayed the contentiousness of national history better than the

Bicentenary. In 1979, Prime Minister Fraser established the Australian Bicentennial Authority (Macintyre

& Clarke, 2004, p. 94). It was mandated to design and organize the form of the Bicentennial celebrations, including the program activities and overall theme. Each state and territory was represented in its board, in addition to Federal government appointees. The activities and events were to span the country and last throughout 1988, financed with a starting budget of AUD$200 million. It was an enormous undertaking, with the ambitious goal of not only fostering patriotism and pride, but also boosting tourism and commerce. The CEO of the Board was David Armstrong. With the board, Armstrong announced the theme of the Bicentennial— Living Together. Multiculturalism had transformed the way Australians looked and lived, and the proposed theme was meant to highlight the inclusivity of Australian society. Armstrong, however, was not intending to sugar coat anything— “we know Aborigines were murdered, driven off their lands and decimated by introduced disease” (Macintyre & Clarke, 2004, p. 98). He stated publicly that the Bicentenary will therefore be a celebration in the “theological sense”. Yes, there will be fireworks and barbeques; but he hoped the year would be a time for Australians to reflect on the past and rededicate themselves to addressing the chronic problems in their society, such as racism and ignorance of a collective past. With Armstrong’s comments the alarm bells starting ringing for the PM. Although

Fraser was a staunch supporter of multiculturalism, he found the theme “inadequate” and recommended it be changed to “The Australian Achievement”. He wanted the country’s educational, technical and intellectual achievements to be celebrated, as well as multiculturalism, democracy and contributions from

Aboriginal people. Armstrong soon lost office, but not before telling journalists he did not want to be involved in what was becoming “a white wank” (Macintyre & Clarke, 2004, p. 99). The new Labor government in 1983 supported the Living Together theme, and soon came under attack. Right leaning commentators in news outlets were happy to see Armstrong go, but decried the continuing “neglect of the Christian and British foundations of Australia”. A new CEO soon appeared, and he had no intention of

28 stoking further controversy for Prime Minister Hawke. His name was Jim Kirk, a no fuss Sydney businessman. He quickly launched a massive publicity campaign to announce the new theme, Celebration of a Nation. Despite the happy theme, criticism from the right continued. In 1985, the leader of the

Opposition weighed in; in an early example of his concern for history, stated the Bicentenary should not “apologize in any way for Australia’s European Christian origin” (Macintyre & Clarke, 2004, p.

109). In response to the criticisms, the Authority announced a number of measures, including a series of books on the ANZAC tradition. Also, a group that included Geoffrey Blainey was successful in its campaign to have celebratory beacons lit around the coast. Generally, Kirk avoided accusations of bias by accommodating all but the most extreme interest groups.

One man who did not avoid controversy was a private citizen named Jonathon King. After proudly tracing his ancestry back to the First Fleet, he was inspired to acquire tall sailing ships and retrace the historic voyage for the Bicentenary. According to his memoir, he received early support from both Manning Clarke and Geoffrey Blainey (Macintyre & Clarke, 2004, p. 103). Clarke reportedly said “it will teach Australians a great deal about themselves” (maybe King missed the cynicism), while Blainey said it would remind

Australians of their British heritage. King and his companions were already known for their Australia Day provocations. They would dress up in period garb and “land” at Sydney cove, loudly proclaiming ownership. Not surprisingly, his shenanigans attracted protest. He was not discouraged. When he pitched his new idea to the Authority, they stated they would “neither support nor endorse” the re-enactment.

The Authority’s position was based on a number of factors. Cost was one, safety another. A third factor was the symbolism, fearing his ships would “highlight the usurpation of its original inhabitants…estrange those who had settled here more recently…” In keeping to form, King was not discouraged. He sought and found media attention and financial backing from a number of prominent personalities and businesspeople. The right-wing magazine Quadrant lamented the “shabby treatment” of King by the

Authority and praised his “brilliant and challenging idea”, while Blainey continued his vocal moral support

29

(Macintyre & Clarke, 2004, p. 105). The debate reached Canberra, with parliamentarians expressing their views. Labor Ministers objected to the re-enactment, calling it insensitive and tasteless. Liberal politicians typically supported it—“If we are going to put blank pages into history books for the benefit of some people’s feelings we will lead ourselves into terrible error.” Eventually, King’s “First Fleet Re-Enactment” project got official backing when the Labor Premier of NSW including it in the official program. With that,

Kirk reversed his decision and endorsed the King project, providing “Re-enactment” was replaced with

“Commemorative”, and no physical landing took place (Macintyre & Clarke, 2004, p. 105). King agreed.

On January 26th, 1988, King ended his epic journey by sailing the magnificent tall ships into a teeming

Sydney Harbour. The Coca-Cola sponsorship flag hanging from his mast looked out of place, however.

There was no major difference in Aboriginal policy between the Labor and Liberal Parties until the 1980s.

There had been bipartisan support for assimilation, the referendum, and consequent shift toward self- determination (Nobles, 2008, p. 20). However, with taking office in 1983, Labor made clear its desire to support and extend Aboriginal self-determination. The reasons were bound up with ideology.

Labor’s collectivist tendencies made it more receptive to group claims, compared to the more individualistic Liberals. From that point on, Aborigines, as well as other identity groups seeking specific rights, looked to Labor. Mining companies and pastoralists would find their strongest supporters in the

Liberal and National Parties, who formed a stable conservative . In the nineties, this gap between the parties’ Aboriginal policy became a chasm.

1967 to Present

- Keating and the Nineties

Henry Reynolds and Eddie Mabo had been friends for years. In the seventies, both had worked at

Townsville University, one a history professor, the other, groundskeeper. Mabo was an Indigenous man from Murray Island, north of mainland Queensland. The two men would often drink tea and chat. Mabo’s

30 stories, or oral tradition, would often return to his cherished home island, with its giving waters, unique culture and treasured family plot. It was during this time that a worried Reynolds asked Mabo a question that, nearly two decades later, would make legal history— “Don’t you realize that nobody actually owns land on Murray Island?” (Reynolds, 2000, p. 188). Mabo was incredulous. He couldn’t believe that his ancestral plot was considered crown land, and that customary law was meaningless. Reynolds encouraged

Mabo to consider legal action. The doctrine of terra nullius, Reynolds believed, was not going to change.

However, Murray Island had a distinct culture of gardens and private land ownership. Murray Islanders, indeed many islanders in the , did not share the nomadic culture of the mainland. Reynolds hoped that these differences in land management would render terra nullius inapplicable on Murray

Island. Reynolds, however, was not a lawyer. It would not be until 1981 that Mabo could access the expert legal services needed for a court challenge (Reynolds, 2000, p. 190). That year a conference was held at

Townsville University on the topic of land rights. Attending lawyers were impressed with the strength of

Mabo’s argument, and took up his case. What followed were years of formal, convoluted legal proceedings. By May, 1991, final submissions in [No 2] were being heard in the High

Court of Australia. When the final decision came in June the following year, Mabo was not present. He did not live long enough to hear the Court rule in his favor and overturn the doctrine of terra nullius— not just on his Island, but anywhere it had applied. With this ruling, the legal narrative that defined native land ownership changed overnight. The squatters and pastoralists, the bushmen and drovers, may not have been settling crown land. They possibly did not have the same right to be there as local Aborigines, or a legal right to defend their turf. The Mabo decision meant that, with competent legal representation, the settling of parts of Australia could be legally considered trespassing. The deadly Aboriginal raids that had inflicted so much pain on settlers could be legally justified. With that, native title became part of

Australian law— “In recognizing that Indigenous people in Australia had a prior title to land taken by the

Crown since Cook's declaration of possession in 1770, the Court held that this title exists today in any

31 portion of land where it has not legally been extinguished” (National Museum of Australia, 2019). The

Court ruling was promptly followed by the passing of the Native Title Act in 1993. The Preamble made clear which narrative now reigned supreme in Parliament— “…Aboriginal peoples and Torres Strait

Islanders…have been progressively dispossessed of their lands. This dispossession occurred largely without compensation, and successive governments have failed to reach a lasting and equitable agreement…As a consequence, Aboriginal peoples and have become, as a group, the most disadvantaged in Australian society” (Commonwealth of Australia, 1993).

Blainey condemned native title, arguing the High Court applied the “supposedly dominant moral values” of modern times onto 1788 (Reynolds, 2000, p. 201). He declared that the Mabo case was “twenty times more significant for Australian sovereignty than the republican issue (Macintyre and Clark, 2004, p. 126).

In 1993, Blainey delivered the John Latham Memorial Lecture. In his address, he admitted that his generation had been raised with an ahistorical “Three Cheers for History” narrative. Its objective was to glorify and celebrate the history of British achievement in Australia. This narrative was recently challenged, he felt, by an equally unsubstantiated narrative he called the “Black Armband view”. He attributed the new gloom and guilt to his recently departed friend, Manning Clarke. Ever the economic historian, Blainey then drew up a balance sheet to calculate a fair judgement on Australian history

(Macintyre & Clarke, 2004, p. 128). He made four entries. The first was positive— economic performance.

This included high food production and quality of life. The second positive was democracy (although he found the Mabo ruling and affirmative action to be unfortunate). The third entry was negative— ecology, due to environmental damage caused by economic growth. The fourth entry and largest negative was

Aboriginal relations. He found the destruction of their way of life and appalling death rate to be

“lamentable” (Macintyre & Clarke, 2004, p. 129). But he went on to stress the inevitability of it all.

According to Blainey, Aboriginal society was violent, fragmented, and wasteful. Blainey then figuratively tallied the entries in his balance sheet to arrive at a positive number. Australia’s history, particularly in

32 regards to Aborigines, sometimes caused “wide regret”. But in the end, his pseudo-quantitative reckoning showed Australia had nothing to be ashamed about.

Paul Keating also appreciated history. When, as Treasurer, he challenged a vulnerable Bob Hawke for

Labor leadership in late 1991, he soundly defeated his boss to become Australia’s 24th Prime Minister. The historical narrative that guided the new leader was not kind to monarchy, or Australia’s British past. His republican sympathies were already known. He refused to visit Gallipoli, on principle. He chose to instead visit , where Australian forces had faced Japanese aggression, tropical disease and British abandonment.

One year in office and six months after the momentous Mabo ruling, Keating accepted an invitation to speak at the launch of the International Year of the World’s Indigenous People. It was held at a small park in Redfern, a poor Sydney neighborhood. As he took the stage with his trademark Italian suit and swagger, the mostly Indigenous crowd continued chatting amongst themselves. Perhaps they were expecting more tired, buoyant rhetoric from the nation’s leader. As he began reading his speech, local kids continued to play just feet from the podium. For the distracted parents seated nearby, Keating’s words soon had their attention. He began by acknowledging not the hospitality of his hosts or beauty of their park, but the degradation and poverty he was seeing. This was not a speech written to sidestep reality. Keating then stated that the obvious and intractable problems faced by Aborigines could be solved by a prosperous and multicultural society. But the solution, he stated, must start with recognition from white Australia of past wrongs— “…it was we who did the dispossessing. We took the traditional lands and smashed the traditional way of life. We brought the diseases. The alcohol. We committed the murders. We took the children from their mothers. We practiced discrimination and exclusion” (Commonwealth of Australia,

1992). Although the narrative was not new for Aborigines or any reader of Reynolds, it was unprecedented for a Prime Minister to speak so unkindly of Australia’s past. Also unusual were Keating’s feelings on guilt, which he considered an unconstructive emotion. He instead called for empathy— “imagine if ours was

33 the oldest culture in the world and we were told that it was worthless. Imagine if we had resisted this settlement, suffered and died in the defense of our land, and then were told in history books that we had given up without a fight.” Never before had a Prime Minister taken up the Indigenous narrative with such unflinching candor. He went on— “there is nothing to fear or to lose in the recognition of historical truth”.

Keating’s speechwriter was a man named . It is not surprising that Watson was a historian and close friend of Manning Clarke. Keating’s “ Speech” is today held in such high regard by progressives that there is an ongoing dispute between Keating and Watson concerning authorship (Clarke,

2013).

1967 to Present

- The Early Howard Years

John Howard had made it clear where he stood in the clash of narratives. Years before Blainey’s balance sheet, Howard had reckoned with the nation’s past and got the same result. As leader in 1988, he released a manifesto called Future Directions— “Even people’s confidence in their nation’s past came under attack as the professional purveyors of guilt attacked Australia’s heritage and people were told they should apologise for pride in their culture, traditions, institutions and history” (Reynolds, 2013, p. 35). He found Keating’s assault on the British past troubling. As leader of the Liberal Party, Howard became Prime

Minister in a Coalition government in 1996. He did not conceal his plan to right Keating’s wrong.

Eight months into his term, Howard addressed a conservative lecture hall in Melbourne. He used the occasion to rail against the Keating interpretation of history— “This 'black armband' view of our past reflects a belief that most Australian history since 1788 has been little more than a disgraceful story of imperialism...I take a very different view. I believe that the balance sheet of our history is one of heroic achievement and that we have achieved much more as a nation of which we can be proud than of which we should be ashamed” (Commonwealth of Australia, 1996). Howard’s use of Blainey terminology and

34 logic revealed that the two men viewed the past through the same lens (Macintyre & Clarke, 2004, p.

137). Howard’s speech went on to acknowledge the tremendous harm that European settlement brought to the Aboriginal way of life and environment. But he was not interested in blame or guilt. Instead, he wished for a reconciliation that focused on improving the lives of Aboriginal people. Their health, literacy and housing were issues he wanted fixed. He called his approach “practical reconciliation”. While he encouraged respect for Australia’s cultural diversity, his classical liberalism left no room for ethnic-based group claims. Howard believed every citizen should be considered individually, and equal to all others before the law. His speech went on to highlight the dangers if “highly selective views of Australian history are used as the basis for endless and agonized navel-gazing about who we are or…as part of a 'perpetual seminar' for elite opinion about our national identity.” For a man proud of his nation’s past, he clearly did not want it examined- or rather, he did not consider the past important for future policy. As Prime

Minister, he was concerned with building a better tomorrow. Dwelling on yesterday’s mistakes was counterproductive. Compared to the Redfern Park Speech, Howard’s address heralded a fundamental change in reconciliation rhetoric. However, it would be wrong to characterize Keating’s approach as mere symbolism. Both Prime Ministers stressed the importance of practical reconciliation, but only one felt the past was needed to get there.

In that same year, Howard was confronted with another landmark ruling from the High Court. In the Wik

Peoples v Queensland (1996), Aboriginal people had made a native claim for land held in a longstanding lease. In what became known as the Wik Decision, the Court ruled that the granting of statutory leases did not extinguish vestigial property rights (Reynolds, 2013, p. 192). The most coveted grasslands and profitable mining lands in the country, some leased for generations, were not exempt from native title claims. Rural Australia was in uproar. The Government, pastoralists and miners were shocked and worried, unsure which land was next to go. In Queensland alone, 54% of land was held under lease (Keating, 2011).

Howard’s fierce criticism of the ruling was limited to the threat posed to the economic engine of Australia.

35

The likely loss of jobs for white and black Australians was something he wanted desperately to avoid. But indirectly, the ruling was an attack on the heroic bushmen who brightened his view of the past. He vowed to do what he could to reduce the uncertainty felt by rural Australia, up to and including new legislation

(Reynolds, 2000, p. 219).

May of 1997 was not a good month for Howard. First came the tabling in Parliament of Bringing Them

Home: Report of the National Inquiry into the Separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Children from Their Families (the Report). It was initiated under the previous Labor government, when the Minister for Aboriginal Affairs requested the Human Rights and Equal Opportunities Commission to investigate the scale and impact of forcible child removal (Nobles, 2008, p. 8). Between 1910 and 1970, state governments implemented policies that removed “half-caste” children from Aboriginal parents, placing them in white homes or religious boarding schools. To investigate the matter, oral and written testimony was taken from over 500 Indigenous Australians. The final Report was filled with emotional accounts of the ongoing trauma caused by these child separations. The authors of the Report declared grief and loss to be the predominant themes of their work, and considered its compelling testimonies a tribute to the

“strength and struggles” of those affected. On that day in May, Opposition Leader Kim Beazley cried in

Parliament (Macintyre & Clarke, 2004, p. 154). The Report opened with words from the Governor-General on the need to look back— “It should, I think, be apparent to all well-meaning people that true reconciliation between the Australian nation and its Indigenous peoples is not achievable in the absence of acknowledgment by the nation of the wrongfulness of the past dispossession, oppression and degradation of the Aboriginal peoples” (Commonwealth of Australia, 1997). His sentiment and rationale echoed the thesis of the Redfern Park Speech. Like Keating, he went on to dismiss the need for personal guilt. Instead, he called for national pride to be accompanied, not replaced, with national shame. He described historical redress as a “pre-requisite” for practical reconciliation, and felt there was

“widespread acceptance” of that fact.

36

The conclusions of the Report remain controversial to this day. Most contentious and inflammatory was the Report’s findings on genocide— “the objective was ‘the disintegration of the political and social institutions of culture, language, national feelings, religion, and the economical existence of Indigenous peoples…Removal of children with this objective in mind is genocidal because it aims to destroy the

‘cultural unit’ which the Convention is concerned to preserve” (Commonwealth of Australia, 1997).

Australian history had now been charged with an offence typically associated with the most depraved regimes. The Report recommended, among other things, acknowledgement and apology from state, territory and Federal governments. The states willingly complied. Howard did not. For those who believed the past was not needed for reconciliation, for those skeptical of personal testimonies, and for those who felt apologies should come from the guilty, the Report was deeply flawed. Howard did not agree with the findings and questioned the methodology. His Coalition government considered the forcible removals to be legal by national and international laws at the time, and stressed the purported good intentions of authorities (Nobles, 2008, p. 98). He also raised concerns over potential legal liability should an apology be extended. A poll taken during this time found that 65% of people supported an apology from the

Commonwealth Government (Nobles, 2008, p. 97). It seemed that the “well-meaning people” to which the Governor-General referred did not include the Coalition Government, or a significant minority of

Australians.

Later that week, Howard delivered the opening address of the Australian Reconciliation Convention. It was a formal affair, with the Victorian Governor and Premier in attendance, as well as Indigenous leaders.

Before he even spoke, Howard knew his reception might be chilly. He‘d recently criticized the findings of the Report and refused to apologize. He had also made clear his intentions to undermine the Wik decision using new legislation. His address started off fairly well; thanking his kind hosts, expressing his pleasure in being there. He then reaffirmed his commitment to reconciliation and for the need to work together. He acknowledged the disadvantaged position of Indigenous Australians. He declared his optimism in finding

37 common ground and forging a common destiny, one future shared by all Australians. He stressed the importance of practical reconciliation, the need to improve housing and health services. He then moved onto the elephant in the room, the Report. He expressed “deep sorrow for those of my fellow Australians who suffered injustices under the practices of past generations towards Indigenous people”

(Commonwealth of Australia, 1997). His carefully chosen words gave the impression he too could have been forcibly removed. This non-apology was followed by his familiar plea to judge the past favorably.

Australian history, he argued, should not be told through sad stories of imperialism, racism and exploitation—“…such an approach will be repudiated by the overwhelming majority of Australians who are proud of what this country has achieved although inevitably acknowledging the blemishes in its past history. Australians of this generation should not be required to accept guilt and blame for past actions and policies over which they had no control.” Nothing he said was new. But by then, many in the audience had heard enough. What the Report categorized as genocide, he labelled a “blemish”. The hecklers began, and did not stop. Others stood with their backs turned, in a challenging gesture of defiance. In response,

Howard raised his voice and kept it there. He was incensed by the hostile interjections, the discourtesy.

By the time he angrily concluded his remarks, the scene was shambolic. He stormed out without saying a word to his hosts. That night marked the low point in relations between the Coalition government and

Indigenous leadership. Years later, Howard would admit that raising his voice had been a terrible blunder

(Ferguson, 2014).

1967 to Present

- Howard and the New Millennium

May of 2000 witnessed a series of symbolic gestures that buoyed hopes for reconciliation. The Council for

Aboriginal Reconciliation organized a number of marches in major Australian cities. The biggest was in

Sydney, where an estimated 300,000 people, white and black, marched across the Harbour Bridge in a

38 unified call for reconciliation (McAllister, 2012, p. 104). saw 60,000 people, with the Melbourne turnout approaching the numbers seen in Sydney. Although the marches indicated widespread support for reconciliation, the exact nature of that process was left undefined. Supporters of a treaty, advocates for an apology, and those who felt neither were necessary for reconciliation, all marched. A poll taken in

March of 2000 showed that while 81% of Australians considered reconciliation important, only 40% supported an apology. Compared to the 1997 poll taken during the Report controversy, it seemed the support for an apology had waned significantly. The same poll found that nearly 80% of people agreed that “everyone should stop talking about the way Aboriginal people were treated in the past, and just get on with the future”, reflecting Howard’s views precisely (Nobles, 2008, p. 128). The Federal Ministers for

Reconciliation and Aboriginal Affairs attended the marches, but Howard did not (Gaile, 2010, p. 2). Senior members of his Cabinet attended as private citizens. They joined the widow of Eddie Mabo and a number of state parliamentarians from both major parties.

The clash of narratives was not only occurring in universities and Parliaments. The 2000 opening of the

National Museum in Canberra sparked further controversy and furor. Shortly before the scheduled opening, a member of the Council of the National Museum of Australia raised his concerns over the new exhibits. His name was David Barnett, a biographer and friend of Howard (Macintyre & Clarke, 2004, p.

191). In his letter to the Chairman of the Board, Barnett criticized the inclusion of certain trade unionists,

Labor leaders and anti-nuclear campaigners in the biographical displays. He also did not agree with an exhibit on forced child removal. He considered the exhibits politically biased and revisionist, and warned of a public backlash should the museum proceed as planned. He believed that a museum had no rightful place in the ongoing historical debate. The Chairman responded by asking Blainey if he could recommend an expert to review the exhibits and identify bias. Blainey recommended Graeme Davison, a professor at

Monash University. Davison examined the exhibits, along with their explanatory labels. He found that the labels and exhibits showed a good level of accuracy, impartiality and scholarly rigor. He did not contend

39 that all exhibits and labels were without political leanings, however. The job of the Council, he said, was to simply ensure all opinions were represented. Upon delivering his verdict, Davison warned against the idea that the museum “should follow the historical views of the government of the day” (Macintyre &

Clarke, 2004, p. 194). There had been a worrying trend seen in important cultural agencies of Ministers appointing allies as members of governing bodies. The ABC, National Museum and National Library were attractive targets. The council accepted Davison’s review and opened the museum unaltered in March,

2001.

Reviews of the museum were varied, and some tabloid columnists did not hold back. One declared the museum belittled the ANZAC tradition and offered a message of “sneering ridicule for white Australia”

(Macintyre & Clarke, 2004, p. 195). Most of the negative feedback involved accusations of left-wing bias and political correctness. Perhaps the most notable and strident critique of the museum came from Keith

Windschuttle. He had been a professor at the University of NSW, teaching media studies, history and social policy. A former radical leftist, he had become disgruntled with the “postmodern” teaching of history (Manne, 2003, p. 6). In 1996, following his move to the right, he wrote The Killing of History. The book warned of the growing threat to academic history posed by social theorists. He contended that post- structural feminists and post-colonialists had created the impression that objective truth was unknowable or non-existent; that the journals, letters and archives of scholarly research should be replaced with oral tradition and anthropology; that relativism meant all cultures should be spared criticism (Windschuttle,

1996).

In late 2000, Windschuttle published a number of lengthy articles in Quadrant challenging the veracity of frontier massacres of Aborigines. He argued that Reynolds’ estimate of 20,000 dead was a wild guess that did not meet the standards of academic scholarship (Manne, 2003, p. 6). Unsurprisingly, in September

2001 Windschuttle deplored what he called the “Postmodern Museum”. His objections started even before he entered the building. The unusual architecture of the museum was similar to the Jewish

40

Museum in Berlin. The museum hierarchy claimed there was nothing in this, but Windschuttle believed otherwise. He argued that the shape of the building was “signifying that the Aborigines suffered the equivalent of the Holocaust” (Windschuttle, 2001). Windschuttle reserved his praise for the Indigenous galleries and the ethnographic collection, describing them as “invaluable”. However, the remaining

Aboriginal exhibits he found propagandist, “postmodern” or simply untrue. The museum alluded to a number of frontier massacres that had never been documented or verified. In addition, the frontier violence was labeled by the museum as “wars of conquest”, with opposing “wars of resistance”.

Windschuttle claimed the museum was only concerned with representing gender, race and class diversity.

This was done at the expense of “dead, white males” who once held positions of power. The representation of non-Indigenous culture also provoked his ire. Iconic Australian brands of consumer products were exhibited, such as Victa lawn mowers and clothes lines. He felt this mocked white suburban culture, presenting it as a materialistic, outmoded curiosity. He wanted the respect and reverence shown to Indigenous culture extended to white heritage— “…European culture in Australia is largely portrayed as a series of disasters, especially for the environment” (Windschuttle, 2001). He argued that interest- group politics had made for a boring, incoherent collection. By focusing on the marginalized, the grand, national narrative was lost. The dead, white male soldiers, pioneers and politicians had been ignored, leaving only a frameless collection of anti-liberal sentiment; the museum epitomized the “intellectual poverty of the tertiary-educated middle class of the post-Vietnam War era” (Windschuttle, 2001).

The Australia Day events and the Reconciliation march of 2000 represented the highpoint of reconciliation sentiment. After the attacks on September 11, the national mood changed. Howard provided moral and military support for the subsequent invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq. The 2002 bombings in Bali killed dozens of vacationing Australians. The bloody carnage shocked the nation and reinforced a defensive cultural mindset. The conflated threat from terrorism and asylum seekers, called “boat people” to avoid

41 legal inconveniences, came to dominate the national agenda. Reconciliation was no longer the prime policy issue in the public consciousness or on the political agenda (McAllister, 2012, p. 109).

It was in this environment that Windschuttle self-published his three volume contribution to Australian history, called The Fabrication of Aboriginal History. The first instalment was released in December, 2002.

It argued that revisionist, post-structural academics of Australian universities had fabricated the history of frontier warfare. Windschuttle once again set out to discredit Reynold’s research, claiming the death toll caused by settlement was much lower than Reynold’s estimate of 20,000. The justification for his claim of fabrication rested on his assertion that sound research relied on official records and verified testimony (Reynold’s estimate had also been reached independently by another researcher, Richard

Broom, and was considered reasonable by Blainey). Windschuttle argued that the settlers’ faith in

Christianity and respect for the law made such an enormous death toll unlikely (Krygier & Krieken, 2003, p. 98). He strongly criticized Reynold’s use of educated guesses and safe assumptions. As far as

Windschuttle was concerned, if an Aboriginal death was not reliably recorded, to claim a death occurred was a fabrication. Reynolds was charged with creating the “massacre myth”, in which restrained police operations were mischaracterized as wild killing sprees. The denial of frontier massacre extended to colonial Tasmania, which had seen an almost complete collapse of the Aboriginal population. Conducting his own research, Windschuttle arrived upon the figure of 118 “plausible” Aboriginal deaths in Tasmania

(Boyce, 2003, p. 29). The collapse of their population he instead attributed to societal dysfunction. He argued that their long term survival had been, until that point, more to good fortune than to good management. He claimed that Indigenous Tasmanians were frequently violent toward their women, whom they would sell to settlers in exchange for goods. Aboriginal violence toward settlers was described by Windschuttle as petty criminality, not acts of resistance (Boyce, 2003, p. 59). Windschuttle argued that

Aboriginal society sanctioned the killing of anyone outside the tribe, so the slaughter of settlers was considered by them to be fair and natural. His third volume, The Fabrication of Aboriginal History, Volume

42

Three, The defended the actions of the state and Church in forcibly removing children from their communities (Windschuttle, 2010). Again, Windschuttle characterized Aboriginal society as one hostile to females. Child marriages and rampant sexual abuse were the reasons cited by Windschuttle for the removal of children; it was not to “breed out the colour” of mixed-ancestry children.

Reaction to his trilogy was strong. Many were shocked by the books’ arguments, which they considered to be deeply unsound. Robert Manne edited a collection of sixteen essays from experts, all refuting

Windschuttle’s claims and seriously questioning his methodology. Manne had been the editor of

Quadrant, so was not the post-structural leftist Windschuttle had warned about. Manne had quit his post in 1997, following the release of the Report. He felt that the contempt with which Quadrant treated the

Report was disgraceful, and quit in protest (Macintyre & Clarke, 2003, p. 146). Surprisingly, the first

Volume received a fair amount of good press. Blainey hailed it as “one of the most important and devastating [books] written on Australian history in recent decades”. The Australian, a Murdoch broadsheet with national circulation, published a sympathetic piece on Windschuttle, along with one of his talks. After the paper also defended the author from Manne’s accusations of plagiarism, three historians publicly criticized The Australian for promoting work from the far-right. The historians themselves soon faced criticism from their peers and the public “for their illiberal censoriousness”

(Manne, 2003, p. 10). Manne lamented that Windschuttle’s work may replace the Great Australian Silence with the “great Australian indifference”.

The Coalition’s concern for history was not restricted to what was taught. On Australia Day 2006, Howard expressed his opinion on how it should be imparted. He did not want history taught “without any sense of structured narrative, replaced by a fragmented stew of 'themes' and 'issues'.” He felt that “too often, history…has succumbed to a postmodern culture of relativism where any objective record of achievement is questioned or repudiated” (Commonwealth of Australia, 2006). Windschuttle would have beamed.

43

Howard also wanted history lessons to include Australia’s indebtedness to the English Enlightenment and

“institutions and values of British culture”, with their democratic, egalitarian ideals.

That year, the Minister for Immigration asked to rewrite the history of Australia used for citizenship tests. Although he had publicly supported Howard’s call to reject the black armband view, the respected academic aimed to write a fair and balanced history. He completed his draft and submitted it to the Minister, who passed it on to the Prime Minister’s office (PMO). The changes subsequently requested by the PMO provide a revealing look at what the Howard government did and did not want included in the national story (Hirst, 2010, p. 20). At the end of the project, Hirst gave credit to the Howard government. Most of his draft was left unaltered, even though its thematic approach did not conform to the structured narrative championed by Howard (Hirst was wary of narrative’s tendency to mistake events for causes). Nonetheless, Hirst found that the section receiving most attention from the

PMO concerned Aboriginal history (Hirst, 2010, p. 24). Bizarrely, a mention of the Aboriginal cricket team that toured England in 1868 was removed. A paragraph that had started with “The Success of Australia was built on lands taken from Aboriginal people” was reworked. That provocative first sentence was moved to the middle, following words on Aboriginal culture by an unknown author. A discussion on the brutality of punitive expeditions and police violence against Aborigines was left unchanged. Aboriginal death on the frontier was mentioned, including the fact that more Aborigines than settlers were killed

(Windschuttle had disputed this). However, the estimate of 20,000 dead was removed by the PMO. A section which speculated on the possible objectives of the child removal policies was omitted (Hirst, 2010, p. 25). Hirst’s description of the discriminatory policies of state governments and the loss of Aboriginal civil rights was left unchanged. The Mabo decision was discussed in a matter-of-fact way, stating that as a result of the ruling, vast tracts of land were owned by Aborigines who maintained aspects of traditional life. This was not changed.

44

Hirst concluded the section with a lengthy paragraph that began with “But many of the Aboriginal people in these remote locations do not live well.” He went on to describe the problems facing traditional

Aboriginal society, such as unproductive lands, illiteracy and school truancy, worsening poverty, unemployment and welfare dependency. He finished with “This is the greatest dilemma facing Australian society”. All but the first line disappeared (Hirst, 2010, p. 26).

Howard’s fourth and last term (2004 to December, 2007) charted a new course in policy, one unconducive to self-management and group claims. In 2005, Howard abolished the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander

Commission (ATSIC). This had been an elected Indigenous body he had ideologically opposed since its formation in 1989. It had been authorized to allocate Federal government resources, assist in policy creation, oversee government programs and provide a voice for Indigenous people in government. By

2004, ATSIC leadership was damaged by credible accusations of widespread corruption and mismanagement. After abolishment, Howard’s government mainstreamed the former ATSIC programs

(McAllister, 2012, p. 102).

In 2007, a report on child abuse in the Northern Territory detailed appalling levels of sexual assault against minors in remote communities. In response, Howard implemented the National Emergency Response, which was an interventionist measure aimed at preventing further child abuse. It effectively ended self- management in the worst affected communities. New government controls restricted or banned alcohol, kava and pornography (Sutton, 2009, p. 8). It also increased police presence and instituted mass health checks, among other measures. The intervention was met with a mixed response. Interestingly, many traditional champions of self-management welcomed the draconian measures. As one leading anthropologist stated, the surprisingly positive reaction from the left represented a breakdown in the old liberal consensus. Around this time, both the right and left leaning media ran stories exposing dysfunction in Aboriginal communities and leadership (Sutton, 2008, p. 34).

45

1967 to Present

- After Howard

Howard’s interventionist approach to Aboriginal policy largely continued under Rudd’s Labor government.

However, there was one conspicuous aspect of policy that did change. On February 13th, 2008, Rudd fulfilled a campaign promise and apologized to a packed Parliament. On behalf of the Federal government, he said sorry for the pain, grief and suffering inflicted on Indigenous Australians by government laws and policies. He apologized especially for the removal of children from their families and the breakdown of communities, honoring a key recommendation of the Report. Although Rudd’s words acknowledged an ugly past, his apology was presented as the first essential step in the path forward, the fundamental premise of the Redfern Park Speech. Rudd stated “we the respectfully request that this apology be received in the spirit in which it is offered as part of the healing of the nation. For the future we take heart; resolving that this new page in the history of our great continent can now be written” (Commonwealth of Australia, 2008). Howard may have considered the apology to be an ineffective exercise in black armband history, but for the Indigenous people weeping in the public gallery, the effect was real.

The decade after Rudd’s apology witnessed a revolving door of Liberal and Labor Prime Ministers, with leadership challenges elevating and discarding each in turn. In such an environment, no leader was able to stamp their unique influence on Aboriginal policy. However, the decade did see a concerted effort by the Department of Prime Minister and Cabinet to impact change on practical issues. The policy framework established in 2008 was called Closing the Gap, in reference to the disparity in wellbeing between

Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australia. The impetus for the program came in 2005, with the release of the Social Justice Report. It urged the Federal government to commit to eliminating the health and life

46 expectancy disparity between black and white Australians within 25 years. In 2008, six policy targets had been agreed upon, quickly becoming seven.

In 2018, Prime Minister Turnbull released a ten-year progress report on Closing the Gap. His opening statement was typical management-speak, focusing on accomplishments and presenting the future with unbound optimism— “Although much progress has been made, we know we have a continuing journey ahead of us to truly . Like any great journey, we must ensure we continually review and realign our collective efforts based on what the data, the outcomes, and the people are telling us”

(Commonwealth of Australia, 2018, p. 7). He renewed his commitment to ensuring a better future for the

“”. He also renewed his commitment to recognize Indigenous Australians through constitutional reform. He then defended his recent rejection of the recommendation from the

Referendum Council, the very body he appointed to advise him on constitutional reform. The Council had travelled throughout the country to hear the views of Indigenous leaders before filing its report. It had recommended a constitutional amendment to establish Aboriginal representation in Parliament. Turnbull considered this unworkable, labeling the proposed Aboriginal voice a “third chamber of Parliament”

(Commonwealth of Australia, 2018, p. 29). The government believed the widespread support needed to pass such an amendment would not be found, potentially providing “a huge setback in Australia’s reconciliation journey”. The rejected recommendation indicated that Indigenous leadership was still committed to acquiring a strong and separate voice in national affairs.

The revolving door swung and Prime Minister Morrison issued his Closing the Gap report in 2019

(interestingly, he used the term “First Nations” in his opening statement). Morrison reported that two of the seven targets were on track to be met— high school completion rates and early childhood school enrollment rates. The targets to close the gap on life expectancy, school attendance, child mortality, employment and literacy/numeracy were not on track (Commonwealth of Australia, 2019, p. 10). It’s

47 sobering to consider that the off-track targets do not require eliminating the gap, only reducing it meaningfully.

Implementing Change

The specific problem of Australia Day is inseparable from the broader challenge of reconciliation. Since the ’67 referendum, the Federal government has played the lead role in developing Indigenous policy.

However, Australia Day is appointed a public holiday through state legislation. For example, January 26 is a public holiday in in accordance with the Holidays Act 1910, while in Victoria it is included in the Public Holidays Act 1993. Therefore, a change in date will likely have to occur in a piecemeal fashion, as each state parliament votes for and passes an amendment to their respective Act. Although minor, the inconvenience caused by a staggered change of date may be a disincentive.

Another factor that disincentivizes a change are recent opinion polls. In 2019, the right-leaning Institute of Public Affairs found that 75% of Australians support the current date, with only 10% supporting a change. Just one year before, support for the current date had been 70%. The statement “Australia has a history to be proud of” produced similar sentiment; 76% of Australians agreed, with only 11% disagreeing

(D’Abrera, 2019). A 2019 poll by the conservative lobby group Advance Australia found 71% of Australians did not want a change of date, with older Australians more likely to support the current date. The same poll found that 66% of respondents considered the Day “a celebration of our coming together as a nation”, while 15% considered it “a public holiday”. Only 3% considered it “a day for protests and division”

(Advance Australia, 2019). The Labor opposition took heed, and in keeping with the Government has recently pledged not to push for change. From a purely political perspective, this makes sense. The only

Federal Party advocating for change is the Greens, who currently occupy one seat in the 151 member

House of Representatives. Despite Howard’s fears, it is clear that the black armband view of history is not

48 the popular narrative. In the meantime, an impassioned and vocal minority will continue in their efforts to change the date, if not the narrative.

Conclusion

The histories of popular narrative and public policy are intertwined. This is expected, as both are shaped by the politics of policy-makers. Progressives and conservatives often agree upon historical facts, yet hold conflicting interpretations of the past. It is a testament to the troubling power of ideology. It can obscure and deny the obvious. It can create a myth that becomes truth, or blind citizens to the suffering of neighbors. In the practical matter of reconciliation, the veracity (or lack thereof) of Windschuttle’s research is irrelevant. Governments should be concerned with policy goals, not public debates between academics. However, the denial of white wrongdoing makes the policy goal of reconciliation even more difficult. From Windschuttle’s perspective, the vital common ground between white and black Australia disappears. In the pursuit of reconciliation, and in the interests of racial harmony, it would be prudent for any to distance itself from Windschuttle’s unhelpful position.

The annual Closing the Gap report has adopted important aspects of the Indigenous narrative, a development unimaginable less than a century ago. With frequent references to an ancient and dynamic culture, and to the pain and suffering inflicted on that culture by past policies, the has adjusted its narrative. Judging from opinion polls, the majority of white Australia has made similar progress. Granted, there is continued disagreement on the importance of the past, and the place for national shame. But the wrongs committed by previous generations are no longer denied by the majority of Australians. Whilst maintaining pride in achievement, they have crept toward the common ground.

Indigenous Australians might meet them there when the Gap is closed. Until that closure is achieved, it is only right that Australia Day divide the nation.

49

REFERENCES

Advance Australia. (2019, Jan 14). Advance Australia Australia Day Poll. Retrieved from https://www.advanceaustralia.org.au/australiaday Australian Electoral Commission. (2016). Events in Australian electoral history. Retrieved from https://www.aec.gov.au/Elections/Australian_Electoral_History/reform.htm Australian War Memorial. (2017). Gallipoli. Retrieved from https://www.awm.gov.au/articles/encyclopedia/gallipoli

Baylis, J., Smith, S. & Owens, P. (2017). The globalization of world politics: An introduction to international relations (Seventh Edition). New York: Oxford University Press. Blainey, G. (2015). The story of Australia's people: The rise and fall of ancient Australia. Penguin Group (Australia). Blainey, G. (1976). Triumph of the nomads: A history of aboriginal Australia. Woodstock, N.Y.: Overlook Press. Boyce, J. (2003). Fantasy Island. In R. Manne, Whitewash: On ’s fabrication of Aboriginal history (pp. 17-78). Melbourne, Schwartz Publishing. Carter, A. (2005). Direct Action and Democracy Today. Polity Press. Clarke, T. (2013, Dec 8). Keating’s Redfern speech is still worth fighting over. The Conversation. Retrieved from http://theconversation.com/keatings-redfern-speech-is-still-worth-fighting-over-21118 Commonwealth of Australia. (1996). Address by the Prime Minister the Hon John Howard MP the 1996 Sir lecture the liberal tradition the beliefs the values which guide the federal government. Retrieved from https://pmtranscripts.pmc.gov.au/release/transcript-10171 Commonwealth of Australia. (2006). Address to the National Press Club Great Hall, Parliament House. Retrieved from https://pmtranscripts.pmc.gov.au/release/transcript-22110 Commonwealth of Australia. (2008). Apology to Australia's Indigenous Peoples House of Representatives Parliament House, Canberra. Retrieved from https://pmtranscripts.pmc.gov.au/release/transcript-15758 Commonwealth of Australia. (1992). Australian launch of the International Year for the World's Indigenous People, Redfern. Retrieved from https://pmtranscripts.pmc.gov.au/release/transcript-8765 Commonwealth of Australia. (1997). : Report of the national inquiry into the separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Children from Their Families. Retrieved from https://www.humanrights.gov.au/our-work/bringing-them-home-report-1997 Commonwealth of Australia. (2018). Department of the Prime Minister and Cabinet, closing the gap Prime Minister’s report 2018. Retrieved from https://www.humanrights.gov.au/our-work/aboriginal- and-torres-strait-islander-social-justice/projects/close-gap-indigenous-health Commonwealth of Australia. (2019). Department of the Prime Minister and Cabinet, closing the gap Prime Minister’s report 2019. Retrieved from https://www.humanrights.gov.au/our-work/aboriginal- and-torres-strait-islander-social-justice/projects/close-gap-indigenous-health

50

Commonwealth of Australia. (1901). Immigration Restriction Act 1901. Retrieved from https://www.legislation.gov.au/Details/C1901A00017 Commonwealth of Australia. (1993). . Retrieved from https://www.legislation.gov.au/Details/C2019C00054 Commonwealth of Australia. (1997). Transcript of the Prime Minister the Hon John Howard MP opening address to the Australian Reconciliation Convention- Melbourne. Retrieved from https://pmtranscripts.pmc.gov.au/release/transcript-10359 Cromb, N. (2017, Feb 9). Woodward Commission anniversary; looking back at Land Rights. NITV. Retrieved from https://www.sbs.com.au/nitv/article/2017/02/08/woodward-commission-anniversary- looking-back-land-rights D’Abrera, D. (2019, Jan 16). New Poll: 75% of Australians Support Australia Day on 26 January. Institute of Public Affairs. Retrieved from https://ipa.org.au/ipa-today/new-poll-75-of-australians-support- australia-day-on-26-january Ferguson, J. (2014, Sept 22). John Howard laments handling of 1997 reconciliation but still not sorry. The Australian. Retrieved from https://www.theaustralian.com.au/nation/politics/john-howard- laments-handling-of-1997-reconciliation-but-still-not-sorry/news- story/9ace2b9097e86b8272332caf89d12f3b Fozdar, F., Spittles, B., & Hartley, L. (2015). Australia Day, flags on cars and Australian nationalism. Journal of Sociology, 51(2), 317-336. Gaile, A. (2010). Rewriting history: ’s fictional biography of Australia. (Costerus; new ser., v. 184). Amsterdam; New York: Rodopi. Hirst, J. (2010). Looking for Australia. Melbourne: Schwartz Publishing Pty. Retrieved from https://ebookcentral-proquest-com.ezproxy.lib.ucalgary.ca/lib/ucalgary- ebooks/reader.action?docID=1887605 Hookey, J. (1972). The Gove Land Rights Case: A Judicial Dispensation for the Taking of Aboriginal Lands in Australia? Federal Law Review, 5(1), 85-114. Keating, P. (2011, June 1). The 10-point plan that undid the good done on native title. The Sydney Morning Herald. Retrieved from https://www.smh.com.au/politics/federal/the-10-point-plan-that-undid- the-good-done-on-native-title-20110531-1feec.html Krygier, M. & Krieken, R. (2003). The character of a nation. In R. Manne, Whitewash: On Keith Windschuttle’s fabrication of Aboriginal history (pp. 81-108). Melbourne, Schwartz Publishing. Kwan, E. (2019). History timeline. Retrieved from https://www.australiaday.org.au/about-australia- day/history/ Macintyre, S. & Clarke, A. (2004). The (New Edition). Melbourne University Press. Manne, R. (2003). Introduction. In R. Manne, Whitewash: On Keith Windschuttle’s fabrication of Aboriginal history (pp. 1-13). Melbourne, Schwartz Publishing. McGrath, A. & Markus, A. (1987). European views on Aborigines. In D. Borchardt, & V. Crittenden, Australians, a guide to sources (pp. 117-122). Broadway, Australia: Fairfax, Syme & Weldon.

51

McAllister, P. (2012). National days and the politics of indigenous and local identities in Australia and New Zealand. Durham, N.C.: Carolina Academic Press. National Australia Day Council. (2019). About the National Australia Day Council. Retrieved from https://www.australiaday.org.au/nadc/about-the-nadc/ National Museum of Australia. (2019). Aboriginal Land Rights Act. Retrieved from https://www.nma.gov.au/defining-moments/resources/aboriginal-land-rights-act National Museum of Australia. (2019). Mabo decision. Retrieved from https://www.nma.gov.au/defining- moments/resources/mabo-decision Nearmy, T. (2011, Jan 25). The Woggan-ma-gule Morning Ceremony is performed at the Botanical Gardens in Sydney. ABC News. Retrieved from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2011-01-26/the-woggan- ma-gule-morning-ceremony-is-performed/1920130 Nobles, M. (2008). The politics of official apologies. New York: Cambridge University Press. Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR). (2019). International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. Retrieved from https://www.ohchr.org/en/professionalinterest/pages/ccpr.aspx Reynolds, H. (2001). An indelible stain? : The question of genocide in Australia's history. Ringwood, Vic.: Viking. Reynolds, H. (2013). Forgotten war. Sydney, NSW: NewSouth Publishing. Reynolds, H. (2000). Why weren't we told? : A personal search for the truth about our history. Ringwood, Vic.; New York: Penguin. Sutton, P. (2009). The politics of suffering: Indigenous Australia and the end of liberal consensus. Carlton, Vic.: Melbourne University Press. Thomas, M. (2017). The 1967 Referendum. Parliamentary Library. Retrieved from https://www.aph.gov.au/About_Parliament/Parliamentary_Departments/Parliamentary_Library /FlagPost/2017/May/The_1967_Referendum White, R. (1981). Inventing Australia: Images and identity, 1688-1980 (Australian experience; no. 3). Sydney: Allen & Unwin. Whitlam Institute. (2018). A Multicultural Australia. Retrieved from https://www.whitlam.org/whitlam- legacy-a-multicultural-australia Windschuttle, K. (2010). Holes in the rabbit-proof fence. Quadrant (Sydney). Retrieved from https://quadrant.org.au/opinion/history-wars/2010/05/holes-in-the-rabbit-proof-fence/ Windschuttle, K. (2001). How not to run a museum: People's history at the postmodern museum. Quadrant (Sydney), 45(9), 11-19. Windschuttle, K. (1996). The killing of history: How literary critics and social theorists are murdering our past. New York: Free Press. Windschuttle, K. (2011). The White Australia Policy. Quadrant (Sydney). Retrieved from https://quadrant.org.au/opinion/history-wars/2011/01/the-white-australia-policy/

52