Aboriginal Australian Heritage in the Postcolonial City: Sites of Anti-Colonial Resistance and Continuing Presence

Home , Aboriginal Memorial, Australian Hall, Dual naming, Ken Colbung, Kep Enderby, Kerrie Tucker

Aboriginal Australian heritage in the postcolonial city: sites of anti-colonial resistance and continuing presence

Vidhu Gandhi

Submitted in total fulfilment of the requirements of the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

September 2008

Faculty of the Built Environment University of New South Wales

ORIGINALITY STATEMENT

‘I hereby declare that this submission is my own work and to the best of my knowledge it contains no materials previously published or written by another person, or substantial proportions of material which have been accepted for the award of any other degree or diploma at UNSW or any other educational institution, except where due acknowledgement is made in the thesis. Any contribution made to the research by others, with whom I have worked at UNSW or elsewhere, is explicitly acknowledged in the thesis. I also declare that the intellectual content of this thesis is the product of my own work, except to the extent that assistance from others in the project's design and conception or in style, presentation and linguistic expression is acknowledged.’

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Date: 02 September 2008

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Preface

Studying Aboriginal Australian heritage has not been an easy task. I have been constantly questioned as to what brought about my interest in this area of research, especially as I am neither an Aboriginal nor non-Aboriginal Australian. I have consequently found it a daunting and difficult task to situate myself with regard to such an obviously sensitive and complex issue. I would like to neither defend nor justify my reasons for undertaking this research and instead outline what brought me to this juncture. Being from India I have been keenly aware of the tensions between a postcolonial nation and its deeply troubled colonial past, and have often found myself straddling the rather uncomfortable position between a ‘true’ Indian identity and a ‘westernised’ Indian identity – a situation which I feel cannot and need not be resolved. My position as an architect has been similarly complicated as I have been equally drawn to regional and vernacular Indian architecture as I have been to British colonial architecture in the Indian sub-continent. Along side this I have been acutely conscious of the struggle for an Indian sense of identity within architectural practice and education in India. It has, however, been my personal interest in colonial architecture and its impact on an indigenous fabric that existed before colonisation and which continues to be expressed on the margins of a dominant architectural and heritage practice and discourse which played a primary role in my decision to examine Aboriginal heritage in cities. Urban Aboriginal heritage rests precariously on the edges of a predominantly Eurocentric Australian heritage practice and represents the friction that continues to exist between a largely westernised practice and the concerns of a largely marginalised and neglected community. At the commencement of my research I was advised to read extensively on Aboriginal history and its neglect and misrepresentation as a part of Australian history, as well as familiarise myself with debates on Aboriginal identity, self-determination and reconciliation. I value this part of my research greatly not simply as a pre-requisite for this thesis but because it has helped me synthesise my concerns as an architect with my position as a person from a postcolonial country. It has made me aware that while colonialism is a common factor between India and Australia there are numerous differences and irregularities in the two situations. While India to a certain extent can be regarded as a postcolonial nation, to employ the same ideas and debates, in the Australian context, especially in relation to Aboriginal peoples would not only be inappropriate but also thoughtless as colonialism is over only for ‘white’ Australia. For Aboriginal peoples the struggle against the impacts of colonialism continues as they attempt to move away from largely colonial stereotypes that surround issues of Aboriginality, heritage, land ownership and management. This can be evidenced in terms of the strong anti-colonial sentiments that underline Aboriginal issues in Australia today. It has been this particularly revealing perspective which has greatly determined the course of my research in terms of the theoretical understandings I have tried to incorporate and in terms of the case studies I have chosen to examine. More importantly it has made me conscious of the fact, that while I may not really have a position, except that of an ‘outsider’, with regards to the ‘white’ Australian and Aboriginal Australian binary, I need to be aware and responsible as a participant in the intercultural dialogue that takes place between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people

Abstract

Aboriginal Australian heritage forms a significant and celebrated part of Australian heritage. Set within the institutional frameworks of a predominantly ‘white’ European Australian heritage practice, Aboriginal heritage has been promoted as the heritage of a people who belonged to the distant, pre-colonial past and who were an integral and sustainable part of the natural environment. These controlled and carefully packaged meanings of Aboriginal heritage have underwritten aspects of urban Aboriginal presence and history that prevail in the (previously) colonial city. In the midst of the city which seeks to cling to selected images of its colonial past urban Aboriginal heritage emerges as a significant challenge to a largely ‘white’, (post)colonial Australian heritage practice. The distinctively Aboriginal sense of anti- colonialism that underlines claims to urban sites of Aboriginal significance unsettles the colonial stereotypes that are associated with Aboriginal heritage and disrupts the ‘purity’ of the city by penetrating the stronghold of colonial heritage. However, despite the challenge to the colonising imperatives of heritage practice, the fact that urban Aboriginal heritage continues to be a deeply contested reality indicates that heritage practice has failed to move beyond its predominantly colonial legacy. It knowingly or unwittingly maintains the stronghold of colonial heritage in the city by selectively and often with reluctance, recognising a few sites of contested Aboriginal heritage such as the Old Swan Brewery and Bennett House in Perth. Furthermore, the listing of these sites according to very narrow and largely Eurocentric perceptions of Aboriginal heritage makes it quite difficult for other sites which fall outside these considerations to be included as part of the urban built environment. Importantly this thesis demonstrates that it is most often in the case of Aboriginal sites of political resistance such as The Block in Redfern, the Aboriginal Tent Embassy in Canberra and Australian Hall in Sydney, that heritage practice tends to maintain its hegemony as these sites are a reminder of the continuing disenfranchised condition of Aboriginal peoples, in a nation which considers itself to be postcolonial.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Dr. Robert Freestone for being an articulate, generous and at times very blunt supervisor, who has constantly reminded me of the standard of a PhD. For all the input in terms of cultural geography and Aboriginality debates I thank Dr. Kevin Dunn both as a supervisor and later as a co-supervisor, as well as Dr. Chris Gibson. Dr. Catherine de Lorenzo has been kind and helpful as a postgraduate coordinator and an honest critic of my research which I feel has helped me tremendously. A special thanks to Ms. Giselle Mesnage, Brenda Palmer – members of the former NAHHC who were enthusiastic supports of this research and to Ms. Sue Green of the Nurra Gilli Aboriginal Research Centre at UNSW who took out time from a hectic schedule to talk with me and advise me at a department review. There are numerous people in the Faculty of the Built Environment who have made this process a little less difficult – previous employers Mr. Peter Murray, Mr. John Carrick, Dr. Steven King, Mr. Peter Graham, and Dr. Peter Kohane and not to forget those who are the backbone of FBE – BECU, Eddie Ward, Harry Chambers, Kelvin Hui and Edith Chu. My current employers and colleagues at Otto Cserhalmi and Partners Architects have helped me be in good spirits in the last struggling days. My parents and family in India have been very encouraging of my academic pursuits and I am grateful for their support. My friends and flatmates and fellow research students Anu, Umut and unofficially Sarp, have always been there and we each know that thanks is not needed just a successful completion is important and the biggest joy that we each wish for the other. Mekhla, Asim, Farhan, Nadia and Shalinee for all the understanding and patience, you guys were great.

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List of Figures

Fig. 1: Old Swan Brewery (1890), Perth, Western Australia, Archives p. 116 Program, Australian National University (photo), 2002-2006, in The Picture Library, The National Library of Australia, Image Number: 023-48-40 , .

Fig. 2: Old Swan Brewery, Precinct, Philip Wright (photo), 1995, p. 117 Australian Heritage Photographic Library, in The Picture Library, The National Library of Australia, Image Number: rt40051.

Fig. 3: The T.J. Hickey protest march begins between the block and p. 141 Redfern Station, Louise Whelan (photo), 2004, Digital collections – pictures, The National Library of Australia, Record ID: 3085007, .

Fig. 4: View of The Block, Redfern, Sydney, Australia, Pat Baillie p. 142 (photo), September 2003-April 2004, Sydney Reference Collection, City of Sydney Archives, in The Picture Library, The National Library of Australia, Image Number: block049.jpg.

Fig. 5: Regular police patrol ‘the Block’, Redfern, Sydney, Patricia p. 144 Baillie (photo), 2004, Digital collections – pictures, The National Library of Australia, Record ID: 3301834, .

Fig. 6: The sacred fire at the aboriginal tent embassy, Canberra, 2006, p. 149 Steven Guth, ‘Canberra, it's Geomantic realities’, New Dawn, no. 94, January- February, 2006, viewed 12 November 2007, .

Fig. 7: Billy Craigie, Bert Williams, Michael Anderson and Tony p. 151 Coorey, Parliament House lawn, 27th January 1972, The Koori history website, Gary Foley, .

Fig. 8: Demonstrations - Australian capital territory - Aboriginal Tent p. 156 Embassy, Parliament House, 1972, National Archives of Australia, in The Picture Library, The National Library of Australia, Image Number: A7973: INT1205/2.

Fig. 9: Aboriginal people standing next to the stage and a banner p. 157 reading ’Sovereignty 30 years’ at the celebrations for the 30th Anniversary of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy, Canberra, 26 January 2002, Loui Seselja (photo), Digital collections –

pictures, The National Library of Australia, Record ID: 3507216, .

Fig. 10: The Aboriginal flag and the sacred fire with Old Parliament p. 158 House in the background on the 30th anniversary of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy, Canberra, 26 January 2002, Loui Seselja (photo), Digital collections – pictures, The National Library of Australia, Record ID: 3507248, < http://nla.gov.au/nla.pic-vn3507248>.

Fig. 11: ACT Police move on Embassy demonstrators, 1972, The p. 161 Koori history website, .

Fig. 12: Indigenous Defiance, 1972, The Koori history website, p. 161 .

Fig. 13: Aboriginal Tent Embassy, 'Australian Aboriginal Elders', p. 175 2006, .

Fig. 14: The Australian Hall, Vidhu Gandhi (photo), 2004. p. 178

Fig. 15: Group of Aborigines with protest sign, Aborigines day of p. 179 mourning, 26 January 1938, Picman, State Library of New South Wales, 2003, Call No.: Q 059/9, Digital Order No.: a429002.

Fig. 16: Flyer advertising the Day of Mourning and Protest, Australian p. 180 Aborigines League, 26 January 1938, The National Museum of Australia, 2007, viewed 26 July 2007, .

Fig. 17: Section of Aboriginal meeting in Australian Hall, Sydney, p. 183 Aborigines day of mourning, 26 January 1938, Picman, State Library of New South Wales, 2003, Call No.: Q 059/9, Digital Order No.: a429001.

Fig. 18: President Patten (right) reads resolution, Aborigines day of p. 183 mourning, 26 January 1938, Picman, State Library of New South Wales, 2003, Call No.: Q 059/9, Digital Order No.: a429003.

Fig. 19: The Australian Hall, Graham Brooks and Associates (photo), p. 200 1951, in Graham Brooks and Associates, Conservation Management Plan and Heritage Impact Assessment, 150-152

Elizabeth Street, Sydney, 2001, p. 10.

Fig. 20: The Australian Hall, Graham Brooks and Associates (photo), p. 201 1971, in Graham Brooks and Associates, p. 11.

Fig. 21: The Australian Hall, after restoration, Graham Brooks and p. 202 Associates (photo), 1971, in Graham Brooks and Associates, p. 13.

List of Tables

Table 1. Comparative analysis of World Heritage List and Tentative 57 Lists by category, region Table 2. Register of National Estate as prepared in 1981 97 Table 3. Aboriginal heritage sites on the Register of the National Estate 108 from 1978-2003 Table 4. Buildings and sites listed as Aboriginal heritage in urban areas 111 Table 5. Status of Aboriginal heritage sites in state capital areas 114

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List of abbreviations

AAD – Aboriginal Affairs Department AAL – Australian Aborigines’ League AAPA – Australian Aborigines’ Progressive Association AHC – Australian Heritage Commission (for the purposes of this thesis AHC is only used as an acronym for the Australian Heritage Commission. It should not be confused for the Aboriginal Housing Company as that has been used in its full form throughout the thesis.) AHCo – Aboriginal History Council AIATSIS – Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies ALT – Aboriginal Lands Trust APA – Aborigines’ Progressive Association APB – Aboriginal Protection Board ATSIC – Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanded Council DA – Development Application EPRA – East Perth Redevelopment Authority ICO – Interim Conservation Order MLALC – Metropolitan Local Aboriginal Land Council MPAC – Musgrave Park Aboriginal Corporation NAHHC – National Aboriginal History and Heritage Council NAIDOC – National Aboriginal and Islander Day of Commemoration NCA – National Capital Authority NPWS – National Parks and Wildlife Services PCO – Permanent Conservation Order RNE – Register of the National Estate WHC – World Heritage Council

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Table of contents

Preface i Abstract ii Acknowledgements iii List of Figures iv List of Tables vii List of Abbreviations viii Introduction 1 The context of urban Aboriginal heritage 2 Theories underlying urban Aboriginal heritage: theories of 4 colonialism, Aboriginality, dissonance and contestations Exploring urban Aboriginal heritage: case studies and 7 methodologies Chapter organisation 9 PART 1 COLONIALISM AND INDIGENIETY Chapter 1 Theorising colonial(isms), Aboriginality and 14 intersubjectivity Examining Colonisation: from colonialism to neo-colonialism 14 The spread of colonialism: settlement and exploitation 15 colonies After colonialism: the emergence of postcolonialism 17 Resisting colonialism: anti-colonial struggles 19 Deconstructing colonialism: the processes of decolonisation 22 Questioning the end of colonialism: the growth of neo- 25 colonialism Representations, histories, and places: recognising and moving 28 beyond colonising imperatives Representations: the Oriental and the Occidental 28 History: overwriting native and indigenous histories 30 Places, cities and architecture: changing the spatiality of the 33 colonised Settler societies and indigenous peoples: identifying the postcolonial 35 or the neo-colonial Indigenous peoples in settler societies: postcolonialism or 35 anti-colonial resistance Constructions of Aboriginality: Aboriginal Australians 40 Intersubjectivity theory: constructions are a result of 45 intercultural dialogue Summary 47 PART 2 HERITAGE OF THE SELF AND THE OTHER(S) Chapter 2 An overview: Heritage Practice, Dissonance and Indigenous 49 contestations Heritage: early ideas and changing meanings 49 Problematising heritage 52 Dissonance in heritage 61 Dissonant and contested Indigenous heritages 64

Summary 73 Chapter 3 Contested indigenous heritages: Challenging (neo)colonial 75 constructions Heritage as a colonial institution 75 Contemporary heritage practices: dealing with a colonial legacy 79 Summary 87 Chapter 4 Aboriginal Australian heritage(s) and Australia’s 89 (neo)colonial Heritage Practice Aboriginal heritage and Australian heritage practice: from colonial 89 beginnings to national undertakings (Post)colonial approaches to Aboriginal heritage: continuing 95 colonial associations Shifting trends: moving away from colonial towards neo-colonial 102 Summary 105 PART 3 ABORIGINAL HERITAGE IN NON-ABORIGINAL CITIES Chapter 5 Urban Aboriginal Heritage: contested terrains, spaces of 107 subversion Gaps between legislation and practice: the failure to recognise urban 107 Aboriginal heritage Contested Aboriginal heritage: failing to recognise Aboriginal pre- 115 contact or post-contact heritage The Swan verus the Wagul: contestations in Perth 115 “East Perth Half-Caste Girls Home”: erasing the ‘shameful 118 past’ Sites of anti-colonial resistance noted and overlooked: subverting 122 the (in)visible Aboriginal presence Brisbane’s Musgrave Park 122 Adelaide’s City Squares and Parklands 124 Summary 127 Chapter 6 The (anti)colonial city: Aboriginal resistance movements, the 129 resilience of The Block Aboriginal resistance movements: the stage – the (anti)colonial city 130 Resisting gentrification and redevelopment: The Block’s resilient 138 presence in the colonial city Summary 148 Chapter 7 ‘Eyeballing’ the (post)colonial city: the Aboriginal Tent 149 Embassy in Canberra Anti-colonialism and Aboriginal resistance: Canberra’s Tent 150 Embassy Removing the Embassy: ordinances, police force and aesthetics 159 “We stand by that Tent”: Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal support, 165 heritage listing The Tent Embassy as Aboriginal heritage: A memorial without tents 168 Summary 175 Chapter 8 “But it can’t be an Aboriginal heritage site, it’s a European- 177 built building”: Australian Hall as a site of Aboriginal struggle Overlapping histories: A historic Aboriginal event and European 178 associations Day of Mourning and Protest: rejecting 150 years of 179

European colonisation European associations: from 1911 to 1992 184 Whose heritage? : Aboriginal, German or Greek Cypriot 186 Colonial mindsets: favouring redevelopment over Aboriginal 187 history Preserving Aboriginal history: PCOs, ICOs, Aboriginal 190 History Committee Save Our Site: the campaign to save Australian Hall 193 Restoration of the Hall: neo-colonial undertones 198 Summary 203 Conclusion 205 Critical concerns and the way forward 213 Bibliography 218

Introduction

Aboriginal Australian heritage forms a significant and celebrated part of Australian heritage. Set within the institutional frameworks of a predominantly ‘white’ European Australian heritage practice, Aboriginal heritage has been promoted as being that of a people who belonged to the distant, pre-colonial past and who were an integral and sustainable part of the natural environment. These controlled and carefully packaged meanings of Aboriginal heritage have underwritten aspects of urban Aboriginal presence and history that prevail in the (previously) colonial city. At the outset of this thesis it is important to broadly define the terms heritage practice and urban Aboriginal heritage. For the purposes of this thesis the term urban Aboriginal heritage refers to sites, buildings and components of the built environment of cities that are of significance to Aboriginal peoples. This includes only those parts of the built environment which are related to contemporary Aboriginal history and occupation in the city. While admittedly Aboriginal heritage in the city does include historically, culturally and archeologically significant sites – such as shell middens and rock engravings – which predate colonisation, these do not fall within the scope of this thesis. Heritage practice includes the processes of heritage identification, heritage listing, conservation management, and the act of restoration and preservation as well as the heritage legislation and policies that are related to Aboriginal heritage. The actors involved in these processes are also the focus of this study and these include heritage conservation practitioners – architects, historians, policy makers – and activists and indigenous lobby groups. The Introduction to this thesis is comprised of four sections – the first outlines the emerging concerns that surround the issue of urban Aboriginal heritage and the changing trends that can be observed in Australian heritage practice. It also presents the central arguments of the thesis. The second section briefly brings together the central theoretical ideas and debates that underline the thesis. It presents indigenous heritage in settler societies such as Australia as being intrinsically connected to the idea of colonialism. The next section explores the methods and sources of data employed in the research. Finally, the fourth section presents a preview of the eight chapters that comprise this thesis.

1 Introduction

The context of urban Aboriginal heritage

Early ideas of Aboriginal heritage were established within the dynamics of a newly founded settler colony and its later transition to an independent nation. The initial years of colonisation were marked by a notable lack of attention towards Aboriginal heritage, as the first wave of settlers were preoccupied with creating a tangible European sense of the past in a country they considered to be devoid of signs of history and civilisation (Davison, 1991; Freestone, 1995). As settlement moved further inland there was a growing interest in preserving Aboriginal pre-contact archaeological remains which were regarded as authentic representations of a once vibrant, traditional Aboriginal culture and people now rapidly disappearing (Byrne, 1996). In the 1900s with the achievement of Federation, the ancient and distinctive Aboriginal history and culture was readily incorporated as part of a national heritage, so as to establish and strengthen a unique sense of Australian identity (Bennett, 1988). The emphasis on the natural environment formed a particularly strong characteristic of this national identity, and this saw a convenient linking of largely ‘primitive’ Aboriginal peoples with the ‘untamed’ realms of nature. It is clear that these early ideas set the precedent for the largely ‘colonial’ approach adopted by Australian heritage practice towards Aboriginal heritage. Recent scholarship has revealed that Australian heritage practice has continued to maintain these Eurocentric nature-bound, pre-colonial stereotypes of Aboriginal heritage (Byrne, 1996; Byrne and Nugent, 2004; Hinkson 2001a, 2002, 2003). In comparison, Aboriginal contact or post-contact heritage sites, such as reserves, missions, massacre sites, buildings where historic meetings occurred, or sites or buildings that housed colonial institutions that directly impacted on Aboriginal people, are largely unlisted, let alone publicly recognised (Byrne, 1996; Byrne and Nugent, 2004; Hinkson 2001a, 2002, 2003). The attitude of Australian heritage practice towards post-contact Aboriginal heritage is that it is a weak and ‘inauthentic’ representation of the traditional pre-colonial past. However, over the last decade there have been a number of incremental but noteworthy changes made to this outlook. These have followed in the footsteps of critical political events such as the Mabo v Queensland (No. 2) 1992 decision and the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Deaths in Custody (1987- 1991). The most important and heartening change has been in terms of legislation,

2 Introduction

namely the 1996 Evatt Review of the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Heritage Protection Act 1984 (Cth), which indicated that there should be wider recognition of both natural and built, as well as pre-contact and post-contact Aboriginal heritage. However, while legislation pertaining to Aboriginal heritage has adopted a progressive approach, Australian heritage practice continues to exhibit a level of reluctance towards comprehensively recognising post-contact, specifically urban Aboriginal heritage (Gandhi and Freestone, 2008; Gandhi, 2006). On a more positive note, the Evatt Review has brought about a shift in heritage practice resulting in a slight increase in the listing of Aboriginal post-contact sites such as reserves and missions. However, this shift according to Australian social anthropologist Melinda Hinkson has been an insignificant one. Hinkson (2001, 2003) and cultural and urban geographers Roy Jones and Brian Shaw (1997) stress that there continues to be an unwillingness within heritage practice to accept Aboriginal heritage sites that are located in cities. In her study on Aboriginal post-contact sites in Sydney, Hinkson (2001, 2003) clearly pointed out that there is a marked difference in the visibility and public attention accorded to sites of post-contact heritage versus those that represent the celebrated Aboriginal pre-contact past. This is despite the fact that post- contact sites are often located within cities, whereas pre-contact sites are in the general vicinity of urban areas. Furthermore, Jones (1997) and Australian historian Jenny Gregory (2003) through their respective studies on the Old Swan Brewery in Perth have considered the contested nature of Aboriginal post-contact sites in urban areas. They note that although the Old Swan Brewery is a site of shared European and Aboriginal heritage, its European significance has received far greater attention than its Aboriginal historic value. However, it is not only the preference for European historical associations or the promotion of pre-contact Aboriginal heritage which impedes the recognition of Aboriginal post-contact sites in cities. Cultural geographer Wendy Shaw (2000, 2001, 2005) through her research on The Block in Redfern, Sydney, has demonstrated that forces of redevelopment and gentrification equally threaten the existence of listed Aboriginal sites that exist within the colonial city. This thesis considers that these recent studies present an opportunity to develop the concept that urban Aboriginal heritage poses a significant challenge to a largely ‘white’, (post)colonial Australian heritage practice. However, unlike these studies which problematise the postcolonial or neo-colonial approach adopted by heritage practice

3 Introduction

towards Aboriginal heritage, this thesis seeks to incorporate into current heritage debates a distinctively Aboriginal sense of anti-colonialism that underlines claims to urban sites of Aboriginal significance. These urban sites, as symbols of Aboriginal presence and history in the city, unsettle colonial stereotypes that are associated with Aboriginal heritage, and disrupt the ‘purity’ of the city by penetrating the stronghold of the colonial heritage, thereby challenging the hegemony of heritage practice. This thesis argues that despite the challenge to the colonising imperatives of heritage practice, the fact that urban Aboriginal heritage continues to be a deeply contested reality indicates that heritage practice has failed to move beyond its predominantly colonial legacy. Either knowingly or unwittingly it maintains the stronghold of colonial heritage in the city by selectively recognising a few sites of contested Aboriginal heritage. Furthermore the listing of these sites in accordance with a very narrow and largely Eurocentric perception of Aboriginal heritage makes it difficult for other sites, which fall outside these considerations, to be included as part of the urban built environment. Importantly this thesis demonstrates that it is most often in the case of Aboriginal sites of political resistance that heritage practice tends to maintain its hegemony, as these sites are a reminder of the continuing disenfranchised condition of Aboriginal peoples in Australia.

Theories underlying urban Aboriginal heritage: theories of colonialism, Aboriginality, dissonance and contestation

The issues that surround indigenous heritage in settler societies must be understood against a backdrop of colonisation and the effects this has had on indigenous people, their culture and history. Therefore this thesis draws on a range of theories from colonialism, postcolonialism, neo-colonialism, anti-colonialism, decolonisation and social constructivism to focus on issues of Aboriginal identity and intersubjectivity. It combines these with recent debates on heritage practice that elucidate the socially constructed and contested nature of heritage, as well as the idea of dissonance in heritage. The theoretical framework that underlines this thesis argues that while postcolonial studies is an established discipline in relation to the postcolonial Third World, its relevance to the context of previously colonised indigenous peoples in settler societies, such as Australia, New Zealand and Canada, remains largely unexplored and neglected. It has been noted by a number of scholars that the concept of postcolonialism in settler societies is problematic and contentious, as it generally refers to the fact that

4 Introduction

settler societies are no longer subjects of colonial rule. This fails to include the dispossessed condition of indigenous peoples in these countries – a condition which has changed little from colonial times (Banerjee, 2000; Goss, 1996). Therefore it seems inappropriate to apply the term postcolonial to indigenous peoples in settler societies because they are still actively resisting the legacies of colonialism that permeate (colonial) institutions of history, heritage, politics, education and economy in these societies. Anti-colonial sentiment marking indigenous resistances in settler societies is evident in terms of constructions of indigenous identity, which in the case of Australia relates to the stereotypes that are most commonly associated with Aboriginal peoples – there is the image of the positive pre-contact, bush ‘real’ Aborigine, which is contradicted and at the same time strengthened, by the largely negative picture of the ‘detribalised’, out of control, urban Aboriginal person (Hamilton, 1990). Aboriginal resistance to these persistent colonial stereotypes is evidenced in the self-definition of Aboriginality by Aboriginal peoples, which has resulted in the formation of an identity that seeks to overcome the distinction between the ‘bush’ and the city, while emphasising a spiritual connection to the land (Anderson, 1997; Hamilton, 1990). Furthermore, by deliberately employing colonial ideas of ‘Self’ and ‘Other’ Aboriginal peoples have subverted the hegemony of the coloniser-colonised identity, by redefining Aboriginal peoples as the ‘Self’, and ascribing the position of the ‘Other’ to non- Aboriginal people. However, as noted by Aboriginal Australian social anthropologist Marcia Langton (1993), the idea of Aboriginality is in itself a colonial and racial concept and Aboriginal peoples in moving away from these colonial constructions have sought to redefine their identity so that they are no longer the objects, but are in fact active participants in current constructions of Aboriginality. Aboriginality, according to Langton (1993) is a socially constructed concept formed by the intersubjective dialogue that takes place between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people, and it is within the realms of this exchange that both stereotypical and redefined ideas of Aboriginal identity are tested, negotiated and maintained. In much the same way as Aboriginality, heritage today is also widely regarded as a social construct determined by people’s perceptions of the past. It is, therefore, a subjective experience (Aplin, 2002; Graham et al, 2000). It is within the context of this change that indigenous concerns of heritage have emerged as a legitimate and

5 Introduction

recognisable claim. However, prior to this recent change which has seen the meanings of heritage expand to include tangible and intangible aspects of the past, heritage was a largely colonial institution employed as a tool to empower symbols of a colonial past while marginalising and silencing indigenous notions of heritage (Aplin, 2002; Graham et al, 2000). In addition, the formulation and growth of Eurocentric ideas of natural and built heritage, especially in former settler colonies, not only informed but also stereotyped representations of indigenous heritage as belonging to the natural environment. Unfortunately, recent changes in the meaning of heritage have failed to remove this disinheriting power of heritage. Although the newly developed flexible and fluid nature of heritage allows for a wider expression of ideas of heritages it tends to disinherit or exclude the perceptions of heritage of one person or group of people by those of a usually dominant group of people (Aplin, 2002; Graham 2002; Tunbridge and Ashworth, 1996). This in turn leads to heritage being a deeply contested or dissonant concept. The idea of dissonance, while recognising that there are varying meanings of heritage and there is bound to be a lack of consistency between these meanings, addresses the fact that heritage is largely an exclusionary and contested concept (Tunbridge and Ashworth, 1996). This understanding in turn provides for possible negotiations between the varying meanings of heritage so that there is a reduction in the contestations that surround these differing perceptions. As the thesis draws on a range of disciplines such as postcolonial studies, public history, and cultural geography, it moves away from the approach adopted by heritage practice which tends to be largely dominated by architecture and geography (physical geography). The unwillingness of heritage practitioners to engage with social sciences has been criticised by Denis Byrne, Helen Brayshaw and Tracy Ireland of the Research Unit, Cultural Heritage Division of the NSW National Parks and Wildlife Services. Byrne, Brayshaw and Ireland in their recent publication titled Social Significance: A discussion paper, note that

Cultural heritage practice in NSW has been dominated over the last 30 years or so by people trained in archaeology and architecture. One affect of this has been that much of the new work in fields such as cultural geography, cultural studies, public history, anthropology, and sociology – work that often has produced ideas and insights highly relevant to what we do – has remained unknown to heritage workers and has been of little or no benefit to the field (Byrne et al, 2003, 43, 44).

6 Introduction

They argue that this lack of engagement has “created a largely un-theorised field whose methodology seems largely ad hoc and whose interpretations and determinations often lack transparency” (Byrne et al, 2003, 43, 44). This thesis therefore makes a critical departure from this insulated approach of heritage practice by ensuring that the theoretical underpinnings of this research are informed by the diverse field of social sciences.

Exploring urban Aboriginal heritage: case studies and methodologies

This section discusses the research methodology and data sources that are employed in the thesis. Case studies of Aboriginal sites of heritage which have or continue to be at the centre of contestations have been employed to draw out the central arguments of this thesis. The approach of employing case studies as a means of research is often criticised for not being adequate “to describe or test propositions” (Yin, 2003, 3). Social scientist Robert Yin notes that there is a general misconception amongst social scientists that case studies are “only appropriate for the exploratory phase of investigation” whereas “survey and histories are appropriate for the descriptive phase” and experiments are the best means of testing a hypothesis or inquiry (Yin, 2003, 3). However he argues in favour of the case study as a preferred strategy for research in circumstances “when ‘how’ or ‘why’ questions are being posed, when the investigator has little control over events, and when the focus is on a contemporary phenomenon within some real-life context” (Yin, 2003, 1). As this thesis does ask the question ‘how does heritage practice approach the issue of urban Aboriginal heritage?’ employing case studies is seen as an excellent method of undertaking this research. In addition urban Aboriginal heritage is a contemporary and critical issue facing Australian heritage practice and the fact that it involves a number of players from within Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal communities and heritage practice contextualises it within reality. As noted by Bill Gillham, also a social scientist, a case study “seeks a range of different kinds of evidence…No one kind of source of evidence is likely to be sufficient… use of multiple sources of evidence, each with its strengths and weakness, is a key characteristic of case study research” (2000, 1,2). Similarly this thesis seeks to employ multiple sources of evidence. The methodology of the thesis entails a critical re- reading of secondary sources which is complemented by selective analysis of primary

7 Introduction

sources such as legislations, databases and newspapers. The secondary sources pertain to the main as well as ancillary case studies – sites of contested urban Aboriginal heritage – examined in this thesis and include documents such as Commission of Inquiry reports and conservation management plans as well as previous academic research which have dealt with the history, contestations as well as heritage listing of these sites. Contextual analysis of primary sources pertaining to the three main sites of contestation examined in this thesis provides supporting evidence for the theoretical arguments. This thesis focuses on Australian heritage legislations, heritage registers and listings and cases of contested urban heritage sites to draw out the central arguments of the research. Federal level heritage legislation and reports such as the 1974 report of the Committee (the Hope Committee) of Inquiry into the National Estate, the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Heritage Protection Act 1984 (Cth), and the 1996 review of this Act by the Honourable Elizabeth Evatt AC, are analysed to reveal the shifts that have occurred within heritage practice from the 1970s onwards and more recently in the 1990s. The Australian Heritage Database, more specifically the Register of the National Estate (RNE), which is a list of more than 12000 natural and cultural heritage places throughout Australia, has been referred to in order to clarify the difference in the listings of pre-contact and post-contact Aboriginal heritage sites. It is important to note that the RNE has been decommissioned – in other words the Australian Heritage Council which maintains the RNE, “can no longer add places to or remove places or a part of a place from the Register of the National Estate (Register)”. This change was brought about in 2006 by amendments to the Environment Protection and Biodiversity Conservation Act 1999 (the EPBC Act), and the Australian Heritage Council 2003. Despite the fact that the RNE is now more of a heritage database rather than an indicator of active listing trends, it has been employed in this thesis as it represents the most comprehensive and detailed listing of cultural and natural heritage sites in Australia. This has been largely due to the fact that the RNE was the primary source of listings from 1978 to 2003 for the Australian Heritage Commission (which was subsequently replaced by the Australian Heritage Council in 2004) and, more importantly it was operational at the time when the case studies (which are discussed later in this chapter) in this thesis were listed on it. Likewise, sites of urban Aboriginal heritage listed on the RNE have been

8 Introduction

duly noted, so as to demonstrate that there are very few listed urban Aboriginal heritage sites, and that most of these are reserves or missions. While heritage legislation and heritage registers provide an idea of the broader approach adopted by heritage practice towards urban Aboriginal heritage, consideration of specific sites of heritage significance in metropolitan cities, namely The Old Swan Brewery in Perth, Bennett House also in Perth, Musgrave Park in Brisbane and the Adelaide Parklands, have been included to present the contested nature of the Aboriginal heritage scenario. However, the three sites that form the central core of this thesis are The Block in Redfern, Sydney, the Aboriginal Tent Embassy, in Canberra and Australian Hall, also in Sydney. Each of these is a site of Aboriginal political resistance and the contestations that surround these sites represent the differing Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal perceptions, some in opposition and some in support, of the Aboriginal heritage value of these sites. Contextual analysis of media releases and published and unpublished reports related to the three case studies provide evidence of the intercultural dialogue that has taken place between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples involved either in lobbying for, commenting on or opposing the heritage significance of these sites. Previous research on The Block by Wendy Shaw and Australian cultural geographer Kay Anderson, as well academic Scott Robison’s study on the Tent Embassy form an integral part of this thesis. The report of the Commission of Inquiry into the case of Australian Hall, the conservation management plan (CMP) prepared by Graham Brooks and Associates for the current owners of Australian Hall – the Sydney Metropolitan Local Aboriginal Land Council and, the CMP and submission to the Commission of Inquiry, prepared by Perumal, Murphy and Wu for the former owners of the Hall – the Cyprus Hellene Club, have also been exhaustively examined and analysed.

Chapter organisation

The thesis is divided into three parts. Part One outlines the theoretical underpinnings of the thesis. Part Two presents a detailed literature review of heritage practice at the international level and in the Australian context while laying out the central debates and concerns in terms of indigenous heritage, all the while presenting

9 Introduction

the central arguments of the thesis. Part Three provides the empirical evidence that substantiates the arguments. In Part One, Chapter One discusses the theories of colonialism, postcolonialism, neo-colonialism, decolonisation and anti-colonialism and, includes debates concerning Aboriginality and intersubjectivity. This chapter reveals the far-reaching and on-going impacts of colonisation on indigenous peoples in settler societies, as evidenced in the continuing anti-colonial discourses that surround issues of indigenous (Aboriginal) identity, history and place. Part Two is further divided into three parts, all of which deal exclusively with issues of heritage practice and indigenous heritage. Chapter Two brings together deliberations on the development of a western institution of heritage practice and the largely exclusionary approaches that have emerged within it towards indigenous heritages. Furthermore, it elaborates on current discourses pertaining to the socially constructed and contested nature of heritage and situates within this the emerging concerns and contestations pertaining to indigenous heritage at the international level. Chapter Three which is a synthesis of Chapters One and Two outlines the central arguments of the thesis. This chapter demonstrates that the current system of (western) heritage practice was originally a colonial institution and it has unfortunately carried over some of the negative influences from its colonial legacy, such as its exclusionary, Eurocentric and socially constructed nature which often reiterates dualistic constructions of ‘Self’ and ‘Other’. In addition Chapter Three also correlates discussions on the anti-colonial responses to a largely neo-colonial heritage practice, along with contestations and dissonances that are part of current heritage debates. Chapter Four, in Part Two, focuses on Australian heritage practice and its approach towards Aboriginal Australian heritage. This chapter traces the development of heritage practice in Australia from the early stages of colonisation and settlement to the formation of the Federation and then to recent times. The intention is to show that Aboriginal Australian heritage has been constructed largely by a ‘white’ Australian heritage practice, which has promoted pre-contact, nature bound perceptions of Aboriginal heritage. This chapter also discusses the recent shift in heritage practice with particular attention paid to the changes that have been brought about in heritage legislation calling for a wider acceptance of post-contact and built Aboriginal heritage.

10 Introduction

The final section of this thesis, Part Three, has a total of four chapters. This section presents empirical evidence that not only supports the existence of urban Aboriginal heritage sites, but also proves that these sites successfully challenge the hegemony of current heritage practice. Chapter Five presents the observation that despite changes to legislation, heritage practice has failed to comprehensively adopt a progressive approach towards post-contact urban Aboriginal heritage. While there has been a recent increase in the listing of Aboriginal reserves and missions, Aboriginal heritage sites that are located within metropolitan areas continue to face stiff opposition, as heritage practice seeks to maintain the purity of the colonial city. This chapter concentrates on the cases of the Old Swan Brewery, Bennett House, Musgrave Park and Adelaide Parklands as sites of contested urban Aboriginal heritage that present significant and often confrontational representations of Aboriginal presence and history in the city. Chapters Six, Seven and Eight relate specifically to sites of Aboriginal political resistance that have existed or continue to exist within the colonial city. Chapter Six reveals that sites of Aboriginal political resistance are perhaps the most notable threat to the sanctity of the colonial city, as not only are they reminders of a deeply shameful colonial past, but they are also deeply confrontational representations of the disenfranchised state of Aboriginal peoples in various parts of Australia. The chapter discusses critical events of Aboriginal resistance that have marked the history of Australia, such as the first Aboriginal Day of Mourning and Protest Conference held in 1938, the 1965 Freedom Rides, the 1967 Referendum, the growth of Aboriginal self- determination and the formation of the Australian Black Panther Party during the 1960s, and the establishment of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy in 1972. The objective of this discussion is to demonstrate that these recent events of anti-colonial resistance have occurred within the limits of the colonial city. The chapter focuses on the inner city suburb of Redfern in Sydney, which has often been associated with a number of these ‘radical’ activities. It was the long standing Aboriginal political, communal and social associations with Redfern which saw the formation of The Block in 1973 as a landmark moment in the Aboriginal struggle for land rights. The chapter contends that the heritage recognition accorded to The Block fails to protect it from processes of redevelopment and gentrification, which seek to reclaim this part of the city in the attempt to capitalise on its strategic location and its European heritage value.

11 Introduction

The Aboriginal Tent Embassy in Canberra, which is a well-known symbol of Aboriginal resistance, is the focus of Chapter Seven. Its location has accordingly been recognised as a site of indigenous heritage. The argument of this chapter is that the existence of this heritage listed site of anti-colonial resistance, in the middle of Canberra, the capital city of Australia, with its historic planning and architectural achievements, represents an unsettling of hegemonic heritage practice. However, despite its heritage listing, the Aboriginal Embassy has often been threatened by removal, relocation, memorialisation and continuing references to the largely negative ‘colonial’ stereotypes employed to discredit the legitimacy of its heritage status. The question that emerges is whether the recognition of this obviously significant urban Aboriginal site has been largely tokenistic. Chapter Eight is concerned with Australian Hall – the site of the 1938 Day of Mourning and Protest Conference. This building has been recognised as an Aboriginal heritage site, is currently under Aboriginal ownership and most importantly is the first building of Aboriginal historic value to be protected by a Permanent Conservation Order (PCO). This chapter presents the case of Australian Hall, as a site of urban Aboriginal heritage that has successfully overcome intense contestations between Aboriginal lobby groups (and their non-Aboriginal supporters) and the non-Aboriginal owners of the Hall. However the six year long campaign by Aboriginal lobby groups against the demolition and redevelopment of the Hall indicates that there has been considerable reluctance on the part of heritage practice and some non-Aboriginal groups towards recognising the heritage significance of this crucial site. Furthermore, although the eventual recognition of the Hall indicates a positive move on the part of Australian heritage practice, as it appears to move beyond its colonial legacy, the conservation work carried out on the building has effectively ‘frozen’ the moment of resistance to 1938. This approach continues to be problematic as it not only fails to recognise the more recent protests by Aboriginal lobby groups involved in saving the Hall, but it also suggests that heritage practice has sought to maintain a safe distance from the idea of Aboriginal resistance by limiting it to the past. This thesis makes a contribution to a small but growing body of heritage research which deals with heritage practice and the approaches it has adopted towards indigenous heritage in settler societies. The thesis recognises that to date the idea of dissonant or contested indigenous heritages has been approached from the viewpoint of

12 Introduction

the postcolonial and neo-colonial concerns of heritage practice. By incorporating into current heritage debates the aspect of indigenous anti-colonial sentiments, the thesis departs significantly from previous research, while adding this new dimension to the complexity of heritage debates. The inclusion of anti-colonialism supports the argument that heritage practice has failed to move beyond its colonial legacy and, importantly foregrounds the idea that indigenous peoples are active participants in heritage processes. The most significant contribution of the thesis has been to the issue of urban Aboriginal Australian heritage. While it has been suitably demonstrated by Australian researches and scholars that sites of urban Aboriginal heritage are often at the centre of intense contestations between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples, this thesis expands this understanding by demonstrating that the approach adopted by heritage practice is underlined by the need to maintain the ‘purity’ of the colonial city. Furthermore the focus on Aboriginal anti-colonial responses to the colonising imperatives of heritage practice is clarified through the study of Aboriginal sites of political resistance. These sites which pose a significant challenge to heritage practice and the colonial city, represent the history as well as the ongoing political struggles of Aboriginal peoples and their non-Aboriginal supporters against the residual effects of colonisation which are often most apparent in terms of institutions of culture.

Chapter 1 Theorising colonial(isms), Aboriginality and intersubjectivity

This chapter demonstrates that colonisation has not only disposed, dislocated and violated indigenous (Aboriginal) peoples throughout the world, especially in settler societies, but it has had equally disturbing impacts on aspects of indigenous (Aboriginal) identity, history and place. Postcolonial and anti-colonial discourses reflect the gravity of these influences by bringing forth the disturbances as they may have occurred or as they might still exist, thereby signifying the prevailing effects of (neo)colonialism in settler societies. There are three sections in this chapter. The first section outlines current theories and debates on colonialism, anti-colonialism, postcolonialism, decolonisation and neo- colonialism. The second section deliberates on the impacts of colonialism on constructions of history, place and identity, and outlines postcolonial and anti-colonial responses to these constructions that have developed currency in previously colonised countries. The third and last section deals with colonisation and settler societies, more specifically with the effects of colonisation on indigenous peoples – their history, identity and sense of place. The focus of this section is Aboriginal Australian people and the anti-colonial and postcolonial debates and contestations that have emerged from within Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal communities to past and ongoing colonial constructions of Aboriginal identity, history, and place. Ideas of intersubjectivity and resistance are employed to explore the deeply politicised nature of colonial constructions and the accompanying Aboriginal reactions.

Examining Colonisation: from colonialism to neo-colonialism

This section provides a detailed overview of some of the salient aspects of theories of colonialism, postcolonialism, anti-colonialism, decolonisation and neo- colonialism, with the intention of laying out some of the basic building blocks that inform this research.

14 Chapter 1: Theorising colonial(isms), aboriginality and intersubjectivity

The spread of colonialism: settlement and exploitation colonies

The conquest of the earth, which mostly means taking it away from those who have a different complexion or slightly flatter noses than ourselves, is not a pretty thing when you look into it too much. What redeems it is the idea only. An idea at the back of it; not a sentimental pretence but an idea; and an unselfish belief in the idea – something you can set up, and bow down before, and offer a sacrifice too…(Conrad, Heart of Darkness, 1990, 4).

The push for more land and territory to settle on and control was fuelled by the ‘idea’ of establishing and expanding an empire. Empire, or imperialism which is the act of establishing empire, involves the effective control of the political sovereignty of one political society by another state (Doyle, 1986, 45). This was achieved through the processes of colonialism which entailed implanting colonies or settlements on distant territories and in most cases was accompanied by dispossession, displacement and violence against indigenous populations (Said, 1994, 9). However these unsightly effects of imperialism and colonialism were usually justified on the grounds of racial superiority. Renowned literary and cultural critic Edward Said has argued that all feelings of guilt were swept aside by the idea of empire and justified on the basis of “impressive ideological formations that include notions that certain territories and people require and beseech domination”(1994, 9). Colonies were established for settlement purposes and for economic benefits. Settlement colonies were largely established in British North America, Australia, and New Zealand. The primary objective of establishing settlement colonies was to transfer communities (from within colonising countries) to these new colonies so that they could avail themselves of a better life economically and politically. Therefore it initially appeared that the domination and ruling of indigenous populations and exploiting their wealth was not part of the colonising process (Young 2001, 20). However the settlement of these colonies were promoted on the basis that these lands were largely unpopulated. This was further complicated by the writings of early (colonial) thinkers such as John Locke (1632-1704) whose idea that, “those who did not cultivate the land had no rights to it” greatly influenced subsequent colonial ideologies as did, John A. Roebuck’s definition of a colony as “a land without indigenous people whose inhabitants looked to England as the mother country” (Roebuck, 1849, 4; Young, 2001, 20). Not only did these ideas tend to overlook an indigenous presence but they were implicit in denying

15 Chapter 1: Theorising colonial(isms), aboriginality and intersubjectivity

indigenous people any rights over their lands. This caused conflict and tension between indigenous populations and settlers which often led to extermination of indigenous peoples by settlers or forceful removal from lands they had previously occupied. Domination soon emerged as a central strategy of colonisation. The fate of ‘exploitation’ colonies which were initially established for economic exploitation and involved minimal settlement and direct or indirect administration such as British India, Dutch East Indies, and French India, was much the same. These colonies soon developed into domination colonies or ‘dominions’ as they added to the wealth and success of empires. Imperialist powers maintained complete administrative control over these areas, serving their own interests and not those of the subject people (Fieldhouse, 1981, 7). Therefore colonialism, for settlement or exploitation purposes can be largely perceived as entailing the subjection of usually a non-European society in terms of its political, economic and intellectual capacities. It was primarily through the introduction of colonial institutions namely language, education, history, religion, archaeology, cartography, art and architecture (to name a few), that colonisers sought to dislodge and simultaneously substitute the functioning of indigenous and local economies and cultures. Kenyan author, Ngugi wa Thiong’o (1995, 287) stresses the potency of imperial languages such as English, French and Portuguese by noting that, language was employed as “the means of the spiritual subjugation”, just as effectively as armed force was used to physically suppress the colonised. Braj B. Kachru (1986, 293) has argued that English language as “a tool of power, domination and elitist identity” has forever changed the sociolinguistic settings in most parts of Africa and Asia, where it continues to be widely used. Education, as propagated by imperial powers, namely the British, has been termed as “perhaps the most insidious and in some ways the most cryptic of colonialist survivals” (Ashcroft, Griffiths, Tiffin, 1995, 425). The reason that these colonial cultural institutions had an overwhelming impact on indigenous and local cultures was because they were informed by a larger colonial ideology which sought to clarify, reinforce, criticise and reject notions about culture, while projecting imperial culture as superior to others and as the standard which had to be attained (Said, 1994). It would be appropriate to conclude therefore, that forces of colonialism have changed the face of entire cultures and peoples; but, to assume that the impacts of colonisation have only affected the past, now that direct colonisation has ended, would

16 Chapter 1: Theorising colonial(isms), aboriginality and intersubjectivity

be to ignore the forces of colonialism that continue to operate in more subtle ways than before.

After colonialism: the emergence of postcolonialism As defined in Key concepts in postcolonial studies, “[P]ost-colonialism (or often postcolonialism) deals with the effects of colonization on culture and societies” (Ashcroft et al, 1998, 186). The concept has been popularised and has gained currency over the last four decades with the works of cultural and literary critics such as Edward Said, Homi K. Bhabha and Gayatri Spivak. Said’s groundbreaking work Orientalism, (re)explores the relationship between the coloniser and the previously colonised from the point of view of representations of the ‘Orient’, which have informed and continue to inform European thinking. He suggests that Orientalism is more than the study of or interest in ‘the Orient’, but can be viewed as “a corporate institution for dealing with the Orient – a Western style for dominating, restructuring, and having authority over the Orient” (1978, 3). Another cornerstone concept of postcolonialism – the idea of hybridity has been most recently and comprehensively deployed by Homi Bhabha. According to Bhabha (1994) hybridity is a space of negotiation where the difference between the coloniser and the colonised is overcome, through the idea of a hybrid, postcolonial identity. Hybridity seeks to challenge notions of cultural and racial purity that are the very basis of colonialism and, turn “the discursive conditions of dominance into grounds of intervention” thereby empowering the colonised (Bhabha, 1994, 112). Postcolonial theories have been extremely critical in understanding relations between the coloniser and the colonised and have become very popular within Western academic circles. However despite this success, postcolonialism has come under attack and is heavily contested. Some of the more widely contested aspects of postcolonialism have been fittingly summed up by Australian academic Subhabrata Bobby Banerjee (2000, 4),

The prefix post- indicates the passing of an era, an era of colonial domination that ended with the emergence of newly independent nations in Asia, Africa, and South America. However, several scholars have questioned this assumption and, in problematizing the postcolonial condition, have criticized the universalist definition of culture that informs it (Mani, 1989; Radhakrishnan, 1993), doubted its political agency (Shohat, 1992), critiqued its singularity and ahistoricity

17 Chapter 1: Theorising colonial(isms), aboriginality and intersubjectivity

(McClintock, 1992, Prakash, 1992), and warned of its ability to reproduce politics of domination (Pugliese, 1995).

The problems with the approach taken by postcolonialism is that it tends to restrict the impacts of colonialism to a safe and historical past, thereby as argued by Said (1986) it seeks to free itself from acknowledging the ongoing impacts of colonisation. It also tends to universalise or homogenise all postcolonial conditions by ascribing them to one common past, which is associated only with Europe. Not only does this leave out later versions of colonisation such as American colonisation of Philippines, from any discussions, but it also fails to account for the differences in the geographical locations, cultural specificity or even the number of years that colonisation lasted in various countries. This has been noted by numerous postcolonial critics and authors who stress that postcolonial thought, needs to become culturally and regionally sensitive and it needs to acknowledge that in current postcolonial and independent societies colonialism continues (Ashcroft et al, 1995; Banerjee, 2000, 5). The ongoing legacy of colonialism is observable in terms of former colonies reverting to the same ideas of ‘progress’, ‘development’ and ‘modernity’ which the colonisers had employed to rule and exploit them with; in fact these neo-colonial ideas and institutions are promoted by and encouraged by the new elites in these countries despite the fact that this model of ‘progress and development’ which has taken on the face of the ‘global economy’ tilts the balance in favour of the previously colonising West (Ashcroft et al, 1995; Banerjee, 2000). Postcolonial scholars are, in fact, according to Australian academic Joseph Pugliese, equally implicated in (re)producing the “regulatory and disciplinary order of (neo)colonial regimes” (1995, 347). This is because postcolonialism has been largely established, and continues to operate within western, specifically Anglo-American, academic discourses that have tended to develop an all-encompassing and homogenising view of the postcolonial world from the privileged position of western knowledge (Banerjee, 2000; Pugliese, 1995). Pugliese (1995, 350) argues that any critique of postcolonialism from within this “discursive space” of western knowledge, will only reinscribe the very practices that are being critiqued rather than produce an “emancipatory reinscription” of the practices of colonialism (Banerjee, 2000, 6). On the other hand other postcolonial writers and commentators such as Leela Gandhi, Sanjay Seth and Michael Dutton, editors of the well-known academic journal,

18 Chapter 1: Theorising colonial(isms), aboriginality and intersubjectivity

Postcolonial Studies, differ in this regard. While recognising their complicity within the western academy, they argue that postcolonialism needs to move away from being labelled as a discipline that is “safe and within the academic setting” (Seth et al, 1998, 10). Postcolonialism, according to Seth, Gandhi and Dutton (1998, 10) has sought to include, discuss and theorise all that has been unacknowledged and marginalised by western academic knowledge, and it should continue to do so by engaging and developing “a new working relationship” with “circuits of knowledge that lie outside the well worn paths of the North American academic market”. Canadian academic, Stephen Slemon (1994, 31, 32) similarly stresses that in order to prevent postcolonial theory from turning into more than just an academic exercise, it is important to remember that “resistances to colonialist power always find material presence at the level of the local”, which in turn implies that there is need to pay attention to the local, rather than to a generalised view of colonialist relations. Therefore even in the midst of its “noisy discordance” of differences, postcolonialism can move away from its western, safe and authoritative mantle and become a space to express “critical dissent and dissection” (Seth et al, 1998, 11; Slemon, 1994, 32). In summation, although this thesis considers that postcolonialism is very critical to this research, it employs it with much caution. It recognises that one of the greatest shortcomings of postcolonial theory, as has been powerfully expressed by Said (1986), is that there is very little acknowledgment in the present that power must be shared between the previously colonised and the coloniser. This, however, does not mean that studying postcolonialism is not important, as apart from helping to understand the unequal power relations that have existed and in many cases continue to exist between the colonised and colonisers, it more importantly provides us with a “point of entry into studying the formation and meaning of Western cultural practices themselves” (Said, 1994, 191).

Resisting colonialism: anti-colonial struggles Anti-colonialism is the “political struggle of colonised peoples against the specific ideology and practice of colonialism” or more specifically it is the articulated resistance of colonised peoples to processes of colonialism that are at work in cultural, economic and political institutions (Ashcroft et al, 1998, 14). European colonial powers sought to establish their hegemony – domination of one group by another not through

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force or regulation, but by making people of the less dominant, in this case colonised group feel and accept a subordinate position (Johnston et al, 2000). They did so by promoting ‘superior’ notions and models of progress, stability and advancement through cultural, political, social and economic institutions and practices. Therefore, understandably the central premise of anti-colonialism is the rejection of colonial hegemony and the restoration of “local control” (Johnston et al, 2000). Most anti- colonialist movements sought to do this by ‘appropriation’ – in other words, there was a conscious adoption of various aspects of imperial culture such as language, forms of writing and film, to help reinforce their cultural and social identities; and through this appropriation and familiarisation with colonial culture they were able to subvert and challenge the very hegemonic notions that were being reinforced by colonial institutions, and employ these against the colonisers themselves. This was evidenced in terms of the use of the idea of the modern European nation-states by colonised societies, to develop “a discourse of anti-colonial ‘nationalism’” which was then “employed as a sign of resistance” against colonial occupation (Ashcroft et al, 1998, 14). Anti-colonialist strategies included ideologies of racial liberation, which led to movements such as Négritude and Pan-Africanism; or demands to recognise racial, religious and ethnic differences under the umbrella of a single national independence movement as was employed by the Indian National Congress. These strategies employed the very notions of ‘race’, religion and ethnicity – that had been previously used by imperial powers to establish their hegemony over the colonised – as a tool against the colonisers. Other strategies included the idea of national liberation movements which were promoted by the early liberationist thinkers such as Frantz Fanon, Amilcar Cabral and C.L.R. James. The emphasis was on the liberation of the ‘peasant’ or the local through the efforts of the ‘bourgeois elite’ (Ashcroft et al, 1998, 15). In the case of colonised societies the elite was comprised of individuals from among the colonised who were western educated. The idea of a native educated class as emphasised in the case of India through Thomas Macaulay’s infamous 1835 ‘Minute on Education’, was to “form a class who may be interpreters between us and the millions whom we govern; a class of persons, Indian in blood and colour, but English in taste, in opinions, in morals and in intellect”. In other words these ‘educated elites’ were taught to uphold European political systems and culture, while aiding the colonial powers in governing the colonies. However,

20 Chapter 1: Theorising colonial(isms), aboriginality and intersubjectivity

instead of working in favour of the colonial powers, it was not long before the very same educated class appropriated and employed this western knowledge base to articulate a political resistance against the colonial power. Well-known historians Partha Chatterjee and Ranajit Guha of the Subaltern Studies Group argue that while the educated elite (in India) were instrumental in the processes of anti-colonisation it is equally important to recognise the critical role of the (Indian) masses in these moments of resistance.

Resistance therefore emerges as a central theme of anti-colonialism. Said notes: Yet it was the case nearly everywhere in the non-European world that the coming of the white man brought forth some sort of resistance…Along with armed resistance in places as diverse as nineteenth-century Algeria, Ireland, and Indonesia, there also went considerable efforts in cultural resistance…the assertions of nationalist identities, and, in the political realm, the creation of associations and parties whose common goal was self-determination and national independence. Never was it the case that the imperial encounter pitted an active Western intruder against a supine or inert non-Western native; there was always some form of active resistance, and in the overwhelming majority of cases, the resistance finally won out (1994, xii; emphasis original).

However anti-colonial resistance was consistently and intentionally overlooked by the colonisers. The typical response was to pretend that such resistances had not happened and when it was not possible to ignore significant events such as the Indian ‘Mutiny’ of 1857 or the Mau Mau uprising in the 1950s, the tendency was to label these as acts of outright treachery or inherent barbarism (Childs and Williams, 1997, 26). The colonial powers sought to crush these ‘acts of rebellion’, either through writing them out of history or by projecting them in a negative light, both of which were as powerful as the military or political force used to obliterate them. However, they were unable to do so and it was these acts of resistance that played a crucial role in bringing about independence and the end of direct colonialism. The success of past resistances however does not automatically imply that the project of anti-colonial resistance is over. Commenting on continuing resistance to indirect and discrete forces of colonialism at work, in economic, political and cultural institutions in both the postcolonial and previously colonised parts of the world, Slemon notes that, “the most important forms of resistance to any form of social power will be produced from within the communities that are most immediately and visibly

21 Chapter 1: Theorising colonial(isms), aboriginality and intersubjectivity

subordinated by that power structure” (1990, 32). He is referring to the field of literary resistance within postcolonial studies that is observable in the form of an anti-colonialist critique of canonical European literary texts, a technique that has been widely employed by anti-colonial and postcolonial writers such as Frantz Fanon, Aimè Cèsaire, and more recently by Said, Bhabha, and Spivak (to name a few). At a more observable level anti-colonial sentiments can be detected in the anti- western and anti-globalization sentiments that characterise postcolonial countries. Renowned economist Amartya Sen argues that while anti-colonial resistances did see the effective demise of colonialism as in the case of India, they have unfortunately tended to linger on and taint perceptions of all that which is western, often with damaging effects on the non-western world. Sen argues, that the resistance to western ideas of democracy, science and globalization on the basis that these represent and entail “dreaded Westernisation” is a “misdiagnosis”, which has unfortunately worked against a number of non-western countries (Sen, 2006, 92; 2002, A4). For instance, the “economic intercourse and technological progress” that is offered by globalization can help address the interests of the poor in the world and resisting globalization tends to only worsen the situation further (Sen, 2002, A4). Sen also notes that another particularly negative outcome of the non-western or anti-western views is that they can “take the form of trying to ‘get even’ with the West (as many terrorists see themselves as doing…), and of seeking justice in the contemporary world by invoking the past and present offences of the Western world” (Sen, 2006, 91). Fortunately there is also a positive side to non-western viewpoints as can be seen in the case of countries like Chian , India and Brazil who have strived to “catch up with the West” and “beat it at its own game” and in the process are moving towards high levels of economic growth and prosperity (Sen, 2006, 92). Therefore anti-colonial resistances continue to live on even as colonisation has ceased to exist.

Deconstructing colonialism: the processes of decolonisation Decolonisation is the often slow and tumultuous process by which colonies achieve their political independence. There is a marked difference in the way in which settlement colonies and exploitation colonies achieved their independence. In settlement colonies like Australia and the USA, political independence was gained through negotiations or wars fought between descendents of colonisers and settlers born in

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Australia and America, and the imperial powers. The colonised indigenous peoples in settler societies were secondary participants in these negotiations and conflicts. On the other hand in the case of exploitation colonies like Algeria and India independence was won over from a reluctant colonial power through an organised anti-colonial and nationalist struggle on the part of the colonised (Johnston et al, 2000). Decolonisation involves the deconstruction of colonial processes and practices – “revealing and dismantling colonial power in all its forms …dismantling the hidden aspects of those institutional and cultural forces that have maintained the colonialist power” (Ashcroft et al, 1998, 63). It is therefore a deliberate strategy of exposing the power structures of colonialism, and employing this understanding to develop anti-colonial feelings in the struggle for independence. It may appear that decolonisation is primarily an act of nationalism on the part of the colonised in their attempt to gain independence, but there have been instances as in the case of Canada and New Zealand and later in parts of Africa, where decolonisation was a strategy employed by colonial powers who were concerned primarily with their profit, and therefore were willing to relinquish those colonies which were not substantially beneficial to them. In this case, decolonisation processes were set into action by colonial powers so that there could be an easier transference of power in terms of setting up self-governance systems in these colonies. This would in turn ensure that colonial powers did not carry the cost of the governance of these colonies but would still have a symbolic say in their affairs. The colonial powers sought to mobilise decolonisation processes in the self-governing colonies by creating a class of educated elites, a strategy similar to the one employed in exploitation colonies like India. There were however significant differences between the educated elites of the self-governing colonies and exploitation colonies. The former were Europeans and they had the same set of ideas and perceptions pertaining to religion (Christianity), language and ideas of progress, modernity and enlightenment as the imperial powers. The latter were, on the other hand, instructed in all aspects of European culture and were taught to value it as superior to their own indigenous cultures. There was also a disparity in the roles that educated elite played in self-governing and exploitation colonies – the former were to actively take on the role of governance and the latter were fulfilling the role of native colonial agents aiding in the governance of exploitation colonies. Irrespective of these differences it was this class of educated elites in self-governing colonies who sought to

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negotiate their sovereignty from colonial powers, in ways similar to the educated elites in colonies who were struggling for their independence and who helped formulate the nationalist movements and break free from colonial powers. Decolonisation was therefore a relatively successful strategy that helped the colonised to gain independence. However in retrospect, the central aim of decolonisation – of dismantling and revealing the hidden aspects of colonial power – has yet to be accomplished. This is because even after the departure of colonial powers, colonial institutions and practices have not ceased to exist or operate in these nations. Postcolonial scholars Bill Ashcroft, Gareth Griffiths and Helen Tiffin (1998) argue that as most of the anti-colonial, nationalist movements employed and appropriated colonial knowledge bases to gain independence, it was often the case that the early nationalists, who were mostly the educated elite, sought to do away with colonialist practices, without necessarily rejecting colonialist culture (Ashcroft, et al, 1998). This was compounded by their western educations which encouraged them to value and regard the social and cultural values of a modern, civilised state. As a result even after independence colonialist values of progress and modernity have continued to influence these postcolonial societies, especially in terms of institutions of economy, politics and culture which were set up under colonialism. In terms of cultural institutions and practices, the impact of Eurocentric cultural models which privileged “the imported over the indigenous: colonial languages over local languages; writing over orality and linguistic culture over inscriptive culture of other kinds (dance, graphic arts, which had often been designated ‘folk culture’)” continues to be felt in most post-colonial societies (Ashcroft et al, 1998, 64). This has resulted in a number of commentators on postcolonialism, especially from Africa, suggesting that colonialism lives on in the guise of independence and they advocate the need to introduce decolonisation into the postcolonial situation. Decolonisation efforts are designed to challenge Eurocentric models and revive pre-colonial cultural practices. This is most noticeable in terms of the revival and use of local languages, especially in the light of the growing importance of ex-colonial languages such as English for communication within a global economy. It has been argued that revival of indigenous languages, where they still exist, could work in favour of restructuring “attitudes to local and indigenous cultures” (Ashcroft et al, 1998, 65).

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Decolonisation has been most widely discussed by Kenyan writer and critic Ngugi wa Thiong’o. He has called for a radical change in outlook towards African culture by promoting it through African educational syllabi and has argued that African writers should write in their native languages (Childs and Williams, 1997). Stressing the need to write in one’s own language Ngugi (1981, 39) notes that, “I believe that my writing in the Gikuyu language, a Kenyan language, an African language, is part and parcel of the anti-imperialist struggles of Kenyan and African peoples”. In other words Ngugi advocates that, in order to dismantle imperialist models that exist in postcolonial societies today, it is necessary to return to indigenous cultures. Returning to indigenous cultures is partially (if not completely) based on the assumption that indigenous cultures were in a holistic and pristine condition before colonialism and can therefore be recovered successfully. The problem with this assumption is that it fails to recognise that these cultures, even though not directly impacted on by colonialism, would not have remained untouched and, would at some point engage or have engaged with dominant cultural practices and modes of production. Therefore a total recovery to a pristine condition would not be possible. Kenyan American academic Simon Gikandi (1992) has similarly questioned decolonisation processes in Africa, which according to him have tended to focus on repressions of holistic and pristine African cultures by colonialism, and the subsequent recovery of these in the spirit of decolonisation and nationalism. He argues that basing decolonisation discourses on discourses of nationalism and national liberation, is not adequate for addressing the post-independence condition. The post-independence condition refers to post-independence states or rather nation states which may have achieved independence, but were and are still largely colonial in terms of their institutions, practices and policies. Therefore decolonisation needs to be more than simply a revival or recovery of indigenous cultures and practices; it needs to recognise and address not only the past, but also the continuing impacts of colonisation on indigenous economies, cultural and social practices.

Questioning the end of colonialism: the growth of neo-colonialism As defined by Kwame Nkrumah, the first president of independent Ghana and author of Neo-colonialism: The Last Stage of Imperialism (1968), “neo-colonialism of today represents imperialism in its final and perhaps its most dangerous stage … In

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place of colonialism as the main instrument of imperialism we have today neo- colonialism”(1968, ix). Nkrumah (1968) while acknowledging that colonialism is largely over, argued that it has been replaced by neo-colonialism which functions, not on the basis of annexation of new colonies, but on the basis of maintaining economic and political control. Therefore neo-colonialism or new colonialism is comparable to a new age of colonialism, which involves the effective control of the economic and political affairs of ‘underdeveloped’ nations, by developed economies, namely the USA, Japan, and the members states of the EU (Johnston et al, 2000). The critical aspect of this relation is that the ‘dominated states’ are independent and exhibit every outward sign of being independent and sovereign, but their economic systems and therefore their political policies are dependent on, and controlled by external powers. It is, therefore, possible to argue that the colonised-coloniser binary is maintained in terms of a development-based binary, and imperialism is perpetuated in the form of neo- colonialism. Ashcroft et al argue that gaining independence for countries like Ghana did not necessarily entail independence from colonial institutions, as ex-colonial powers and the newly emerging superpowers like the United States have continued to exert control through “international monetary bodies, through the fixing of prices on world markets, multinational corporations and cartels and a variety of educational and cultural institutions” (1998, 162). As in the case of colonialism, which saw the initial stages of the setting up of a global economy, neo-colonialism also operates largely and perhaps most observably through economic and monetary means and methods. Instances of this include the increasing influence of the International Monetary Fund (IMF) on the economies of ‘underdeveloped societies’ or the signing of trade, aid and investment agreements between the EU and African, Caribbean and Pacific countries (Johnston et al, 2000). Nkrumah (1968) has quite correctly stressed the need to be cautious of such investments on the basis that foreign capital invested in lesser developed countries is used for the exploitation of these areas and not for their development, the result of which is quite evident in the ever increasing gap between the richer and poorer countries of the world. Therefore, there is an observable imperialist agenda on the part of the developed economies as they continue to maintain an effective control on the global economy.

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It would be naïve to assume that neo-colonialism is operational only in terms of a controlled global economy. An even more insidious version of it has operated through military interventions, the most noticeable example being the ‘American empire’ (the USA), and its ‘military prowess’, starting with its controversial takeover of the Philippines and more recently its ‘War on Terrorism’ (Magdoff, 2003). Here again is a reminder of the colonial idea of domination accompanied by and reinforced by constructions of ‘Self’ and ‘Other’ such as free, democratic and just American and western values versus the suppressed and undemocratic values of the rest of the non- western world. Johnston et al, have discussed the use of these constructions in terms of economies – the term ‘emerging markets’ seeks to represent the Other as in a stage of development, whereas the Self is the already established ‘market’ (2000, 546). This not only reinforces the coloniser-colonised binary, through the idea of established (mostly developed countries, with a few exceptions such as Singapore) economies and emerging (largely underdeveloped or developing countries) economies, but also works in favour of encouraging and sustaining foreign direct investments into these weaker economies. The impact of economic neo-colonialism is not just political, but is cultural as well – a sort of cultural neo-colonialism. An instance of this is the ways in which global consumer markets affect traditional, pre-colonial cultures, thereby limiting these cultures to their pre-colonial states – indigenous cultures and global tourism being one such case. Other instances of ‘cultural dominance’ have been highlighted by Ngugi, such as the continuing use of English or French as ‘de facto national’ languages, the continuing existence and working of educational, legal and political institutions that were set up under colonisation. He argues that this cultural neo-colonialism in settler societies is due to the “continuing presence of descendants of settlers” and, in postcolonial societies he emphasises the role played by the ‘neo-colonial elite’. According to Ngugi, the ‘neo-colonial elite’ in postcolonial countries who comprise mainly of the ‘western educated ruling class’, associate itself more with the west, than with its own people, thereby maintaining the hegemony of the west in their countries (cited in Young, 2001, 48). There is not only a cultural neo-colonialism associated with this class, but they also benefit economically as they facilitate and support multinational companies and their exploitative operations in their own countries (Young, 2001, 48). In what is an expected reaction, most commentators on neo-colonialism like Ngugi and Nkrumah have stressed the need to resist this ongoing colonisation. Non-

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alignment has been one such act and practice of resistance, in which countries like Ghana, have insisted that foreign capital invested in their countries from capitalist countries be invested in accordance with the national plans of the non-aligned country. The intention is of co-operation between all countries, whether capitalist or the ‘lesser developed’ countries, so that capital from the developed, richer countries when invested in ‘lesser developed’ countries, does not contribute to impoverishment in these countries. Similarly Ngugi calls for cultural resistance such as his insisting on writing in the Gikuyu language, a Kenyan language to resist the continuing hold of English. Therefore, it would be fair to argue that recognition of neo-colonialism has parallels with the recognition of colonialism, and this realisation demands resistance – an anti- colonial resistance.

Representations, histories, and places: recognising and moving beyond colonising imperatives

The seemingly ‘effortless’ success of colonialism can be attributed to the fact that it employed a number of tools to misrepresent, misguide and misinform the colonised as well as its own people back in the colonising country. It was not only through financial and political institutions that colonisers were able to maintain control over the colonies. It was also through the widespread dissemination of institutions of culture and society that colonial hegemonies were set up and retained. Colonial representations of the colonisers and the colonised, writing of colonial histories and construction of colonial cities and architecture were significant aspects of colonial undertakings.

Representations: the Oriental and the Occidental To understand the idea of representations it is helpful to consider the ‘constructivist’ or ‘social construction’ approach, used extensively by cultural geographers (Jackson and Perouse, 1993; Kobayashi and Peake, 1994; Watts 1991; Winchester, Dunn and Kong, 2003). In a nutshell the primary and extremely pertinent argument of this theory is that conceptions (which are widely known to us) of culture and identity – whether they be race, ethnicity or gender – cannot be regarded as pre- givens; they cannot be assumed to simply pre-exist. They should be understood as constructions that are created by the “thought and actions of both historical and living

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populations” (Kong, 1997, 183; Agnew et al, 1984, 1). Further, if identity is a social construction, then it becomes imperative, that we “deconstruct identities” (Kobayashi and Peake, 1994, 230). These constructions operate on the basis of subordinating some groups while privileging others. In this scenario, there are dominant groups which tend to view themselves as being ‘normal and ordinary’, while considering the subordinate group(s) as not normal, and ‘extraordinary’. They are the ‘Self’ and in relation to them the subordinate group(s) is defined as the ‘Other’. By defining subordinate groups in relation to themselves, dominant groups believe that they are “outside the process of definition” (Jackson and Perouse, 1993, 18). However they fail to realise that the ‘Self’ gains its meaning only in relation to the ‘Other’. This also indicates that the identities of dominant groups are as constructed as the identities of subordinate groups. Therefore a social construction approach in deconstructing identities and exposing dominant ideologies disrupts “assumptions of ‘Self’ and ‘Other’” (Winchester et al, 2003, 31). Ideas of Self and Other have formed an integral part of debates on past and continuing colonialisms as these concepts underlie the deconstruction of representations of coloniser and colonised identities, revealing the dynamics of power that are intrinsic to this relationship. It is now a widely accepted idea that a critical part of the processes of colonisation was to employ constructions of coloniser and colonised identities, with the aim of establishing the cultural superiority of the coloniser over the colonised. In Orientalism, Said argued that cultural representations of the colonised and colonisers were critical tools employed by European colonial powers like Britain and France. This ideological belief of racial superiority functioned on the basis of creating and promoting representations of the colonisers as ‘civilised’ and the colonised as ‘primitive’, which in turn demonstrated that the colonisers as civilised peoples had an obligation to rule the less fortunate primitive and indigenous peoples of settlement and exploitation colonies. According to Said, these representations sought to identify the colonies or the East as the ‘Orient’ and the West or Europe as the ‘Occident’. The ‘Oriental’ or the Other was described as “irrational, depraved (fallen), childlike, ‘different’; thus the European or the Self is rational, virtuous, mature, ‘normal’” (Said, 2001, 40). Playing the Orient against the Occident was a strategy to justify colonisation as well as convince “decent men and women to accept the notion that distant territories and their native people should be subjugated…think of the imperium as a protracted, almost metaphysical obligation to rule subordinate, inferior, or less advanced peoples” (Said, 1994, 10,

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emphasis original). Most importantly these ideas of the Orient were as influential in convincing the very people who were being called the Orientals, of their cultural inferiority to Europeans. Therefore, by subscribing to and promoting these representations of the Orient, European colonial powers were able to settle, rule and exploit these colonies. This understanding of coloniser-colonised identity has been further explored by Bhabha (1994) who, like Said, has noted that colonial authority is established through the “the production of differentiation, individuations, identity effects” and discriminatory practices, which disallow any assumption of collective identity on the part of the colonised, while securing the “‘pure’ and original identity of authority” for the coloniser (111, 112). Bhabha moves beyond the power struggles and distinctions that are created between Self and Other or the mother culture and alien cultures, by speculating on the idea of the Other as a mutated and hybrid version of the Self. The idea of the hybrid Other was widely employed as part of imperial and colonial discourses; it was employed to denigrate the union of ‘disparate races’, on the basis that it was against the notion of racial purity (Young, 1995). However it is this very idea of hybridity that defies colonial authority. This is because even as it is employed by the coloniser to create deliberated discriminations between the “mother culture and its bastards, the self and its doubles”, representations of the hybrid Other are repeated and not repressed as in the case of the ‘primitive’ Other (Bhabha, 1994, 111). Therefore the hybrid takes on a highly visible identity which not only confronts the ideas of racial purity of colonial authority but also disrupts the Self and Other binary by blurring the boundaries between the two. According to Bhabha (1994) hybridity, “displays the necessary deformation and displacement of all sites of discrimination and domination”, thereby unsettling and subverting the narcissistic gaze of colonial power (112).

History: overwriting native and indigenous histories History and the role it has played in colonisation has been appropriately summed up in the following quote by Antiguan writer, Jamaica Kincaid: “You loved knowledge, and wherever you went you made sure to build a school, a library (yes, and in both of these places you distorted or erased my history and glorified your own)” (1995, 94, emphasis added). This overwriting of native and indigenous histories of the colonised was an integral part of the processes of colonisation. Ashcroft notes that “[H]istory, and

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its associated teleology have been the means by which European concepts of time have been naturalized for post-colonial societies” (2001, 83). By this he is referring to the fact that history has been perceived and presented and imposed upon the rest of the non- western world as a simple series of events that have already occurred (Ashcroft, 2001). In addition western history has since the nineteenth century been portrayed as a scientific discipline, which presents events as a seemingly neutral and truthful narrative. The emphasis on a “single narrative truth” has limited interpretations of events of the past and has denied and failed to recognise other non-western histories (Ashcroft, 2001, 83, 84). There has also been a notable marginalisation of non-European histories caused by the privileging of certain events by European history and, if those events are absent in other histories, those histories are not recognised (Ashcroft, 2001, 88). History, as a western construct, also has a legitimising role because, “to have a history is the same as what it means to have a legitimate existence” (Ashcroft et al, 1995, 355). However history as a colonial project has sought to legitimise the colonisers and not the colonised. These arguments have also been presented by Australian historian Paul Carter in “Spatial History”, an excerpt from his book The Road to Botany Bay, in which he discusses the impact of imperialism on place and history. He has provided a postcolonial reading of the writing of Australian colonial history. Carter notes that “According to our historians it was always so. Australia was always simply a stage where history occurred” (1995, 375). He further comments that:

This kind of history, which reduces space to a stage, that pays attention to events unfolding in time alone, might be called imperial history … rather than focus on the intentional world of historical individuals, the world of active, spatial choices … history of this kind has as its focus facts which, in a sense, come after the event. The primary objective is not to understand or to interpret: it is to legitimate (Carter, 1987, xvi).

In stating that imperial history “reduces space to a stage”, Carter is suggesting that history takes on a very theatrical role, in that it is scripted and events are like acts which follow each other “according to a logic of their own” (Carter, 1987, xvii). This is because western history is about that which has already happened and therefore the events are already known and this gives the western or in this case the imperial or colonial historian control over what they report about the event. There is a marked

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absence of the mention of places and peoples who were involved in the events as this would increase the possibilities of questioning or interpreting their choices and actions, thereby possibly reducing their credibility. By these means imperial history sought to legitimise the actions of colonialisms. The postcolonial criticism of imperial histories has been accompanied by the rewriting of the histories in a number of previous colonies such as Australia where the blindfold approach towards a largely colonial Australian history remained unchallenged until the 1950s and 1960s. In the 1950s historian Manning Clark questioned the orthodoxy and belief in radical tradition that underlined the writing of Australian history which he argued was deeply entrenched in imperial ideas of progress and suffered from illusion of “a radical past that could inspire and instruct endeavours” (Macintyre and Clark, 2003, 39). In 1968 the anthropologist W.E.H Stanner lamented about the “great Australian silence” – the silence that enveloped the relationship between Australians and Aboriginal peoples (Stanner, 1968, 25). The following years saw a number of historians notably Charles Rowley, Peter Read and Henry Reynolds explore the Aboriginal European relationship in depth. Rowley brought forth the racialised and repressive governmental polices towards Aboriginal peoples through his publications The Destruction of Aboriginal Society (1972). Read (1989) researched the issue of forceful removal of Aboriginal children from their families and coined the term ‘Stolen Generations’. Reynolds (1989, 1990, 1996) has explored the idea of Aboriginal dispossession and examined the way in which Aboriginal peoples perceived and adapted to colonisation. While these rewritings of Australian history have gained currency in academic and to some extent, wider public settings, there have been counter arguments and debates from conservative historians, politicians and journalist who have attacked these versions of history as representing overly negative – ‘black armband’ – and selective viewpoints. Australian academics Stuart Macintyre and Anna Clark in their book The History Wars have brought together a detailed study of the controversies and allegations of unscholarly research that have surrounded the rewriting of Australian history (2003). One of the most widely publicised condemnations has come from Australian historian Keith Windschuttle who has accused current (Australian) historians for politicising and fabricating Australian history, and has perhaps most fiercely refuted Reynolds argument that at least 20,000 Aboriginal people were killed in encounters

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with settlers during the European settlement and occupation of Australia. In fact as argued by Macintyre, for Windschuttle and other historical revisionists, inquires like the Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission’s inquiry into the Stolen Generation represent an Aboriginal history which should not be encouraged as it is based on “romanticising the ‘noble savage’, blackening the national reputation, encouraging present-day Aboriginals in futile separatism and fostering ‘the break-up of Australia’” (2003, 45). Therefore even though a number of historians are seeking to move beyond the undisputed, singular interpretation of events presented as part of Australia’s colonial history, there are those who like Windschuttle who fight these history wars with the aim of defending the nation’s colonial beginnings on the basis that it was lawfully settled with minimum bloodshed thereby reviving the (colonial) myth that the takeover of Australia was peaceful (Macintyre and Clark, 2003, 9). The rewriting of history in previously colonised nations, namely settler societies is therefore influenced by both postcolonial as well as neo-colonial imperatives.

Places, cities and architecture: changing the spatiality of the colonised The idea of place, more specifically a ‘sense of place’ or the ‘lived’ experience associated with a place, was of crucial importance to the colonial venture. Place was intentionally differentiated from the concept of physical space (Ashcroft, 2001). This was because physical space represented the idea of occupation and control for imperialism, and it involved “thinking about, settling on, controlling land that you do not possess, that is distant, that is lived on and owned by others” (Said, 1994, 7). It was, therefore, possible for the colonisers to control land or physical space that did not belong to them, but the ‘lived’ experience that is associated with the land belonged only to the colonised. Therefore to establish and maintain their hegemony over the colonised it became equally important for the colonisers to disrupt an already existing indigenous sense of place. This marginalisation of indigenous associations and experiences ensured a privileging of a European ‘sense of place’ and was achieved largely through the means of maps, architecture and cities. Maps according to Australian academic Simon Ryan, involved a process of colonial inscriptions that were informed and predefined by not only “centuries-old traditions of European map-making” but also by the expansionist ideology of imperialism (1996, 115). It was through the use of maps that European imperial powers

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identified space in the world which was available for expansion and occupation. This was demonstrated by Ashcroft’s reading of Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, in which Conrad identified parts of the world as “blank spaces”, which Ashcroft argues are blank as they lack a European presence which in turn symbolises absence of modernity and civilization (2001, 131). According to Said these blank spaces were to colonisers the territories which required and beseeched domination, thereby justifying the need to explore, map and name these spaces. This was accompanied by the deliberated acts of colonial cartography which under the guise of ‘accuracy’ sought to marginalise or ignore all non-European cartographies “such as those used by Polynesians and Aborigines” by labelling them as mythical, obsolete or “‘imaginary geography’” (Ryan, 1994, 115). Maps were therefore critical in terms of enforcing a Eurocentric viewpoint of spatiality on the rest of the non-western world. It was also through the building of cities, metropolitan areas and European and colonial architecture that colonial ideas of spatiality were imposed upon the colonised. This has been fittingly discussed by Stephen Royle who argues that:

…[T]here are hundreds of cities across the globe which owe, if not their origins, at least part of their development, to colonialism, the imposition upon a territory of an urban place built or, if pre-existing, expanded, to the dictates of an outside power that had taken over its rule. Such urbanism was heterogenous, relating to the needs of the outsiders, not the indigenous people. At the least it served to manifest a political control of the territory, often it was part of a wider dominance that included economic activity (1996, 35-36, emphasis own).

Urbanism and the setting up of colonial cities were, therefore, regarded as a means of establishing political, administrative and economic control and in the process of doing so ideas of spatiality, including existing built fabric, that may have existed prior to colonisation were ignored or considered to be non-existent. The impact of the colonial city and the European-influenced colonial model of urbanisation has been the subject of discussion among a number of academics and critics, for some time (Horvath, 1969; King, 1976, 1990; Simon, 1992). American academic Jyoti Hosagrahar argues that imperial cities as the loci of imperial activities “became not only symbolic expressions of colonial authority but also the sites for the conquest and control of symbols” (1992, 83). British academic, David Simon has pointed out that, “ [T]o the extent that no conflict arose with this overarching

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objective, urban design was geared to the needs of the settler population, often to the explicit exclusion of indigenous inhabitants” (1992, 22). Along much the same lines, cultural geographer Jane Jacobs in Edge of Empire: Postcolonialism in the City (1996) discusses the way in which the colonial city – its planning and layout were employed as a tool to further colonial practices of segregation between the colonisers and settlers on the one hand and the Aboriginal peoples on the other hand. Architecture was equally employed to assert the colonisers in terms of the visual imagery that helped reinforce of “imperial solidity, stability and even majesty” (Ashcroft, 2001, 124).

Settler societies and indigenous peoples: identifying the postcolonial or the neo- colonial

Judging from the large amount of postcolonial, anti-colonial and neo-colonial literature and criticism that is currently available and being produced around the world, the focus of these studies appears to be on ‘Third World’ countries like India, Indonesia, and parts of Africa which were previously colonised. However, making such an assumption tends to be limiting as it leaves out settler societies and more importantly the indigenous peoples or the First World peoples, who are part of these countries, and who have borne the brunt of colonisation just as Third World peoples have. There is a steadily growing body of knowledge which addresses the impacts of colonisation on indigenous peoples and cultures in settler societies. This section draws on a range of these discourses and debates with a particular emphasis on the anti-colonial resistances and concerns that have emerged and continue to emerge from within indigenous communities in settler societies.

Indigenous peoples in settler societies: postcolonialism or anti-colonial resistance It is now widely acknowledged that one of the most glaring oversights of postcolonialism is its approach towards indigenous peoples in settler societies. Australian academic, Subhabrata Bobby Banerjee argues that although settler societies in themselves may be regarded as postcolonial as they are no longer subject to colonial rule, the treatment of indigenous peoples in these societies is not very different from colonial times and the indigenous struggles against this unequal treatment fail to attract the attention of most contemporary postcolonial theory (Banerjee, 2000). Therefore the

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use of the term postcolonial for settler societies can be seen to be contentious. This has been addressed by Australian academic Jasper Goss, who stresses that:

… to treat Australia as postcolonial, ‘equates the relations of the colonised white-settler to the Europeans at the “centre” with that of the colonised indigenous populations to the Europeans…[W]hite Australians and Aboriginal Australians are placed in the same “periphery” as though they were co- inhabitants vis-a-vis the centre’ (1996, 245).

As postcolonialism elaborates on the coloniser and colonised binary and power relations, it would be reductive to consider both ‘white’ Australians and Aboriginal Australians as postcolonial. This is because in this binary, the settlers or Europeans in Australia, as in other settler colonies, occupied the complicated position of being the colonisers as much as the colonised. Therefore, even though colonialism is past and Australia like other settler societies is an independent nation, postcolonialism is perhaps more applicable to ‘white’ Australia than it is to indigenous peoples whose continuing resistances all over the world including in settler societies (or in former exploitation colonies) are evidence that colonialism has taken on the face of neo-colonialism. Postcolonialism is equally implicated in indirectly and unwittingly contributing to the (re)creation of colonial conditions. For example, traditional postcolonial thought calls for a celebration of the concept of the nation state as it marked the end of colonialism in former colonies, but for most indigenous peoples the nation state is yet again a ‘western’ construction and in many cases resembles colonialism in terms of overlooking an indigenous presence. This is demonstrable in the case of settler societies like Australia, where celebrations of independence mark the end of colonialism but at the same time appear ready and eager to forget the violence and oppression faced by indigenous peoples under colonialism (Banerjee, 2000). Banerjee compares this “historical amnesia” to that of colonial times, during which injustices against indigenous peoples were suppressed such as in the writing of Australian history which sought to celebrate the so called “peaceful takeover” and settling of the land (2000, 6). Therefore postcolonialism seems little different from colonialism as the “position of indigenous peoples in contemporary postcolonial theory continues to be unspeakable and invisible” (Banerjee, 2000, 7). It can be argued that the focus on the dualism of settler and indigenous relations is an important part of postcolonialism – in that it helps develop an understanding of the

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forces of colonialism that have impacted the lives and cultures of indigenous peoples in settler societies, but this approach tends to be limiting as it does not consider the hybridity of coloniser-colonised relations. In Australia the focus on Aboriginal and white Australian binaries, tends to club all Aboriginal people under one homogenous banner, thereby failing to recognise that Aboriginal peoples belong to diverse groups which have cultural loyalties based on “extended family or clan groupings” (Jones and Jones, in press, 3). Furthermore such discourse is unable to grasp the multidimensionality of contemporary Australian society in which the layering of colonialism and multiculturalism has resulted in the formation of three broadly identifiable social categories – settlers, migrants and indigenous peoples (Anderson, 2000, 381). This is because settler and indigenous relations continue to be considered as distinct from Anglo Australian settler and non Anglo Australian migrant relations, and this oversight fails to account for the fact that a number of migrant groups such as Greek migrants in Melbourne and many generations of Italian migrants in Sydney have been “present within a dominant, if always differentiated, stream of colonisers” and are therefore “as vulnerable to anti-Aboriginal sentiments as are white citizens stemming from Anglo cultural tradition” (Anderson, 2000, 386). It is therefore critical that to develop a more holistic understanding of Aboriginal-Australian relations there is a need to move beyond the convenient binary of white Australian and Aboriginal people and incorporate into this debate the dimension of migrant-Aboriginal relations and the diversity of Aboriginal peoples and culture. From the discussion so far it appears that postcolonialism may not be the appropriate platform for indigenous issues. In fact it is through resistances marked by distinctively anti-colonial sentiments that indigenous peoples are voicing their concerns. This is true especially in the case of settler societies, which gained their independence with relative ease from European colonial powers quite early in the 20th century. Anti- colonialism in terms of an active resistance and opposition on the part of the settler colonised did not occur. This was largely due to the settlers being in the position of the coloniser and the colonised, as well as due to the allegiances to the original culture that settler societies had to maintain, which strengthened the hegemony of colonial culture in these colonies. Therefore, the resistance to the colonial establishment that has emerged within settler societies has been more at the level of cultural practices, with little or no articulation of the political implications of colonisation. It goes without saying that anti-

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colonialism as a political strategy in settler societies is not a priority for its settler-based populations (Ashcroft et al, 1998, 17). It has, however, been an ongoing strategy employed by indigenous peoples in these societies. Therefore the discourse of anti- colonialism in settler societies needs to include and (re)address resistance of indigenous peoples. In the case of Australia, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples have resisted and continue to resist the ongoing colonial legacy that is evidenced in terms of cultural, social, and political institutions and practices. Contrary to dominant perceptions that the takeover of Australia was a peaceful process evidence has been brought forth by renowned non-Aboriginal Australian historian, Henry Reynolds (1981), that there was Aboriginal resistance to the colonial occupation and settlement. Instances of resistance in the recent past are the Aboriginal Referendum of 1967, which saw Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples being finally recognised as Australian citizens; the case of Mabo v Queensland (No. 2) 1992 which not only successfully challenged colonial legal systems but also changed Australian history by subverting the colonial idea that Australia at the time of occupation, was terra nullius. Cases such as Mabo have been followed by other successes such as the Wik Peoples v The State of Queensland & Ors (No. 8) 1996 case and by the establishment of the Native Title Act 1993. Despite the significant success of Aboriginal resistance, colonial practices are still at large in Australia in respect to indigenous peoples. This is evidenced in the work of acclaimed Aboriginal Australian academic, Marcia Langton who adopts an anti- colonialist stance in terms of her research and writing on the basis of the argument that it is not possible to decolonise Australian institutions and people’s minds (Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people), but it is possible to find ways to undermine the colonial hegemony (1993, 8). She like other Aboriginal (and non-Aboriginal) Australians such as Charles Perkins, Noel Pearson and Daryl Pearce, to name a few, have emphasised the need to restore local control to Aboriginal communities all over Australia through self- determination and self-governance. Another viewpoint on Aboriginal resistance has been presented by non- Aboriginal Australian academic Gillian Cowlishaw. She argues that on an everyday basis, it is possible to discern that the deliberate swearing, drunkenness and unruliness among Aboriginal Australian people is a form of Aboriginal resistance to the ‘cultural authority’ of white Australia, which largely continues to maintain representations of

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Aboriginal peoples as belonging to a distant past or a degenerated present (cited in Lattas, 1993, 241). However, despite such revealing research as that of Cowlishaw there seems to be a tendency, as observed by Lattas (1993) to problematise Aboriginal resistance, along with their identities. There is strong criticism of research like that of Cowlishaw that emerges mostly from ‘white’ academic quarters. Such criticism seeks to legitimise ‘authentic’ Aboriginal resistance as that which is focused on “wider economic and political inequalities” and is not based on a negative and self-destructive portrayal of Aboriginal peoples (Lattas, 1993, 241). In doing so, these ‘white’ academics are once again colonising Aboriginal interpretations of resistance. The same debates that surround anti-colonial and postcolonial theories in terms of their rather narrow application to the situation of indigenous peoples in settler societies are also found to persist in terms of decolonisation. Decolonisation which was initiated by the colonial powers in settler societies in the effort to grant them self- governance has followed a different trajectory in these societies. It has been rather unsuccessful, as the process of dismantling “colonialist elements in their social institutions and cultural attitudes” has not been very productive (Ashcroft et al, 1998, 67). Decolonisation processes in settler societies have become a ‘white’, postcolonial concern, thereby failing to consider, let alone include indigenous peoples. Maori academic, Linda Tuhiwai Smith argues that decolonisation has to be more than deconstruction because “Taking apart the story, revealing underlying texts, and giving voice to things that are often known intuitively does not help people to improve their current conditions” (1999, 3). She is referring to the fact that many indigenous peoples are faced with abject poverty, poor health conditions and deteriorating social circumstances, and added to this is their constantly having to deal with negative stereotypes of indigeneity. Therefore she claims that faced with such conditions, decolonisation for indigenous peoples can seem like an academic venture which focuses on the past impacts of colonialisms and fails to address the situation today. However, Smith stresses that although this is an expected reaction, decolonisation should not be considered as unnecessary or useless as it provides the framework for addressing current social issues that are of concern to indigenous peoples. She believes that decolonisation, self-determination and social justice are integral elements of any framework that hopes to develop “a dialogue that privileges the indigenous presence”, and their continuing existence (Smith, 1999, 6). Smith has very correctly identified the need for indigenous

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representation in decolonisation processes as she is obviously considering decolonisation as a strategy of empowerment and is calling for it to be more inclusive. It would appear from this discussion that for indigenous peoples in settler societies, colonialism is far from over as is demonstrated by the wide use of anti- colonial resistances and decolonisation strategies. On the other hand, postcolonialism is often considered as being largely redundant and reiterating colonial agendas. However, most discussions pertaining to indigenous issues and concerns indicate a layering of anti-colonial, neo-colonial and postcolonial sentiments as the actors involved are indigenous as well as non-indigenous peoples. This layering is observable in terms of the making and (re)making of an Aboriginal identity by Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples.

Constructions of Aboriginality: Aboriginal Australians Aboriginal identity or Aboriginality is a deeply contested, at times controversial and powerful concept. As noted by eminent Aboriginal land rights and indigenous issues advocate, Michael Dodson “The moment the question is asked, ‘Who or what is Aboriginal?’, an historical landscape is entered, full of absolute and timeless truths, which have been set in place by self-professed experts and authorities all ready to tell us, and the world, the meaning of Aboriginality” (1994, 4, emphasis own). Dodson is referring to the powerful constructions of Aboriginal people promoted and perpetuated by colonialism and colonial institutions, which have become a focal point of debate and contestation for Aboriginal people. For Aboriginal people reconstructing and redefining their identity(s) has become increasingly important. In Aboriginal playwright Kevin Gilbert’s book, Living Black: Blacks Talk to Kevin Gilbert (1977), a conversation with an Aboriginal elder whom Gilbert refers to as Grandfather Koori, reflects the need for Aboriginality to be constructed by Aboriginal people themselves: “I don’t care how hard it is. You build Aboriginality … or you get nothing. There’s no other choice to it … If our people cannot change how it is among themselves, then the Aboriginal people will never climb back out of hell” (304-305). The urgency intrinsic to this quote emerges from the decades of stereotyping Aboriginal people have been subjected to since colonisation. On a similar note Aboriginal author and critic Ian Anderson observes that, “[T]he colonial project as it emerged, in places such as Australia, subjected the colonised to systematic scrutiny and analysis” (1997, 4).

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In determining and classifying Aboriginality, the colonisers were clearly influenced by colonial ideas of the Oriental and the Occidental, in which case Aboriginal peoples were considered to be the Oriental, but unlike colonised peoples in other parts of the world, were regarded as occupying the lowest level in this stratification, being only one step above flora and fauna. Various labels ranging from the ‘noble savage’, ‘prehistoric beast’ to the ‘half-caste’, ‘half-breed’, ‘mixed-blood’ and hybrid were imposed on Aboriginal people. These past representations or constructions have been appropriately described by non-Aboriginal academic Annette Hamilton (1990). She argues that there have been two stereotypes or “‘circuits of meanings’ concerning Aborigines” that have represented Aboriginal people (usually male) as follows:

On the one hand, there was the ‘real’ Aborigine, a good figure whose wisdom could be tapped by whites … do whatever was necessary to help white people adapt to ‘the bush’. This ‘real’ Aborigine was a full-blood … participated in Aboriginal communal rituals and preserved aspects of his culture … was polite to whites, did what he was told within their sphere … was free to pursue his own ‘law’. On the other hand, a second circuit of meaning constructed an utterly negative picture of Aborigines, derived from their ‘detribalisation’, the loss of their essential cultural attributes, and their desire to ‘ape’ whites by attempting to improve themselves … negative image was applied to ‘Mission blacks’ and ‘educated blacks’ who didn’t know their place, as well as to half-castes and fringe dwellers, who seemed to embody the worst fantasies of white Australians – drunkenness, vagrancy, despair and disorganisation (1990, 21).

The first circuit is about the authentic, pre-contact image of Aboriginal people which associates them with the ‘bush’, with nature, mysticism and “‘tribalism’” whereas the second circuit concerns itself with the urban, out of control, detribalised Aboriginal who suffers from a “loss of cultural identity” (Hamilton, 1990, 21). Not only were these labels demeaning, in terms of the negative connotations of cultural, social and technological inferiority that they affixed to Aboriginal people and cultures, but they also sought to deliberately distinguish between the ‘full-blooded’ and the ‘half-blooded’ or ‘mixed-blooded’ Aborigine. The intention was to maintain the colonial idea of racial purity, and dissuade any attempt at mixing or ‘cross-breeding’ between ‘white’ settlers and Aboriginal peoples. ‘Full-blooded’ Aborigines were legitimised as the authentic Aborigine, whereas those who were regarded as ‘hybrid’ were considered as ‘outcasts’, apparently shunned by their own people as well as by

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‘white’ society at large. However there was more than the idea of racial purity informing these stereotypes. The argument that Aboriginal people were a dying race emerged and was heavily supported by the idea of Social Darwinism, which deemed Aboriginal peoples to be a ‘race unfit for survival’. Although this perception was formed by the steadily declining populations of Aboriginal peoples, the colonisers rather than admit that colonisation and settlement was the cause of the decline, sought to justify it on the basis of a fate ascribed by racial superiority. Therefore those who were ‘full-blooded’ Aboriginal people were perceived as the last members of this dying race and were considered as the authentic versions of their predecessors. However, whether Aboriginal people were ‘full-blooded’ or ‘half-blooded’ their fates were governed by the colonisers, who through widely implemented strategies of assimilation, segregation and separation reinforced the difference between the Aboriginal peoples and the settlers. The impacts of these strategies resulted in an entire generation of Aboriginal children being removed from their families, dispossession and displacement of Aboriginal peoples from their lands, and an overwhelming loss of Aboriginal cultures, practices and languages. Therefore Aboriginality has been shaped and moulded by the colonial rule, and today the situation is little altered, in fact it has worsened. The drunk, vagrant and despairing stereotypes that were and continue to be associated with urban Aboriginal peoples have more recently spilled over into perceptions of remote, tribalised and ‘real’ Aboriginal settlements. Current representations of these remote communities centre on issues of overcrowding, violence, poor health and education, inability to generate income, high unemployment, and drug and alcohol abuse. For instance a Queensland parliamentary committee in 2005 which investigated the riots that marked the largely Aboriginal community of Palm Island in 2004, following the death in custody of an Aboriginal man Cameron Doomagee, was characteristically negative in its assessment of the community and the various problems it faced (refer ABC online 2005). Similarly the images that have emerged from recent and admittedly shocking events in the Northern Territory regarding the abuse of Aboriginal children in remote Aboriginal communities while undeniably carrying an element of truth are also indicative of the fact that the once remote, tribalised and real Aboriginal communities are now no longer representative of Hamilton’s circuit of authentic Aboriginality. The concern however is not that

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Hamilton’s circuits are now outdated and false but that it is largely non-Aboriginal interventions and inquiries which determine good and bad representations of Aboriginality – a situation that has not changed much since the early stages of colonisation. This is evidenced in the following statement by noted Aboriginal writer I. Anderson, who argues that “[I]t is a taken-for-granted that non-Aboriginal Australia has the right to dissect and define Aboriginalities – a privilege that is rarely reciprocated” (1997, 4). He further notes that this has seen large volumes of academic literature dedicated to the study of Aboriginalities, written primarily by non-Aboriginal people. Anderson like Grandfather Koori is stressing the need for Aboriginal peoples to define their own identities. According to Hamilton, although these stereotypical images of Aboriginal people “have retained a singular power up to the present day”, challenges to these stereotypes are emerging from within Aboriginal communities (1990, 21). The emergence of “Pan-Aboriginality” has seen the redefinition of Aboriginality by Aboriginal people themselves (Hamilton, 1990, 21). Hamilton addresses this as the “new circuit of meaning”, which “attempts to overcome the distinction between ‘bush’ and ‘city’, and neutralise the image of Aborigines as natural and, therefore, non- cultural” (1990, 21). There is an emphasis on the intimate and spiritual relationship with the land as being central to Aboriginal culture. There is deliberate moving away from location specificity of Aboriginal identities which does away with the rural and urban divide. Most importantly definitions of Aboriginality are renegotiated in terms of the relation being defined between the Aboriginal ‘Self’ and the non-Aboriginal ‘Other’, so that according to Hamilton, “ the latter becomes the unmarked term, the ‘lacking’ element” (1990, 22). This definition of Aboriginality has been readily absorbed in certain spheres of Australian society, namely “academic, high culture, welfare and to some extent legal discourses and practices” (Hamilton, 1990, 22). This new Aboriginality has been readily integrated into an emerging Australian identity. The commodification and marketing of Aboriginal art, dance and performance and to a certain extent Aboriginal literature has seen Aboriginality being pushed to the forefront in terms of representing Australian national identity. However, it is the attraction of the mystic and spiritual aspects of Aboriginality, its timelessness and the intimate relationship with the land which are being sought out by Australian conservationists, environmentalist, novelists, poets and artists (Hamilton, 1990, 22).

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Discussions similar to that of Hamilton on the construction of Aboriginality, have been employed by academics such as Gordon Waitt, who in his paper titled, “Selling Paradise and Adventure: Representations of Landscape in the Tourist Advertising of Australia” has demonstrated the way in which the Australian Tourism Commission (ATC) employs constructions of Aboriginality (indigeneity) in its advertisements to market the tourist experience of the Australian ‘outback’. Waitt argues that the ATC markets landscapes of the outback to attract tourists seeking adventure or paradise and an escape from civilisation (Waitt, 1997, 47, 50). For the adventurous the outback is pictured as rugged, difficult, isolated, empty, waterless, hot terrains full of challenges and representing the unknown frontiers of civilisation (Waitt, 1997, 50). These images have a marked Aboriginal absence and Waitt links these to the stereotypical images of the empty, barren land that were “[M]ythologised within Terra nullis” (Waitt, 1997, 50). Not only do these images reinforce colonial ideologies but they also reinvent the idea of an Australian identity which is “Anglo-Celtic, masculine and rural”, thereby being exclusionary in terms of gender and race (Waitt, 1997, 48). The emptiness of the landscape is celebrated in terms of its austerity as it presents one the opportunity to “enter the fantasy of an uncivilised, empty, simpler, and natural world” (Waitt, 1997, 50). In this imagery, Aboriginal (indigenous) people are represented as custodians of the land, who live in harmony with nature. Waitt argues that these constructions of Aboriginality serve “a particular political context and a deliberate economic strategy, that of selling Australia as an escape from civilisation to a primordial, timeless world, and/or a return to Nature” (1997, 50). Therefore the ATC employs a “pre-European contact, romanticised and primitivised Aboriginality” which is similar to the colonial imagery of Aboriginal people that was “invented” by the early settlers and colonisers (Waitt, 1997, 51). In terms of visual imagery, the ATC draws upon stereotypical colonial constructs of indigenous people – the noble savage – male, dark skinned, loin clothed and carrying spears and boomerangs and performing rituals through songs, dances, body paintings, and Dreaming stories (Waitt, 1977, 51). By continuing to associate Aboriginal people only with nature, the outback and a time gone by, the ATC reinforces the colonial ideologies which sought to identify the colonial ‘Self’ as civilised and the Aboriginal ‘Other’ as ‘primitive’. The ATC marketing of the outback does not imply that it does not market Australian cities. According to Waitt, the city is represented as the location of

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sophistication, civilisation and familiarity and it is from the city that the “fantasy of escape can begin” (Waitt, 1997, 50). Therefore, the city in forming the gateway to the outback represents the departure from civilisation, reiterating a colonial mindset once again. The city is a colonial concept and in maintaining its stronghold as the seat of civilisation, the ATC is subscribing to a colonial ideology. The result of this is that Aboriginal urban presence is not only marginalised but negated completely.

Intersubjectivity theory: constructions are a result of intercultural dialogue This section is about intercultural exchanges that take place between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples and the way these exchanges inform constructions of Aboriginality. The work of Aboriginal academic Marcia Langton namely her critically acclaimed essay for the Australian Film Commission titled, ‘Well I heard it on the Radio and I saw it on the Television…’, (1993) is the primary reference in this section. In this essay she discusses the issue of representation and Aboriginality in the context of film-making. Langton argues that her essay is about the “politics of representation” and it stresses the “need for an anti-colonialist cultural criticism of representation” in a number of visual media-related fields such as filmmaking, videomaking, television, and cultural criticism (1993, 7). She states that her essay “should be read as a critique, particularly of the colonising imperative in Australian art and film” (Langton, 1993, 7). This research similarly hopes to provide instances of the colonising imperative within Australian heritage practice in terms of its approach towards Aboriginal heritage. Langton, like Hamilton stresses that Aboriginality is about social constructions and is not simply a label that defines skin colour or the ideas of what constitutes being Aboriginal such as Aboriginal language or kinship systems (1993, 31). She argues that constructions of Aboriginal people and culture are a result of the intercultural dialogue that takes place between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples. In that she has defined Aboriginality as arising “from the subjective experience of both Aboriginal people and non-Aboriginal people who engage in any intercultural dialogue whether in actual lived experience or through a mediated experience such as a white person watching a program about Aboriginal people on television or reading a book” (1993, 31). However, the creation of Aboriginality, according to Langton is not fixed as it is created from “our histories” – “from the intersubjectivity of black and white in a dialogue” (1993, 31). By this Langton is referring to the project of colonisation and the

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idea of ‘race’ which emerged as a result of colonising ideas of the colonial ‘Self’ and the colonised ‘Other’. Langton argues that Aboriginality as we know it today, as a racial identity, did not exist before the British invasion (1993, 32). The idea of ‘race’ was not known to Aboriginal peoples who before contact identified themselves as different groups (Reynolds). It was only in 1788 that the “term ‘Aboriginal’, and the colonial and post-colonial implications of the concept, began to take shape in Australia” (Langton, 1993, 32). The post-colonial implications of constructions of Aboriginality formed by former colonisers are observable even today. As noted by Langton these constructions of Aboriginality continue to inform current Australian perceptions of Aboriginal people. She argues that:

Textual analysis of racist stereotypes and mythologies which inform Australian understating of Aboriginal people is revealing. The most dense relationship is not between actual people, but between white Australians and the symbols created by their predecessors. Australians do not know and relate to Aboriginal people. They relate to stories told by former colonists (1993, 33).

Langton is referring to images and constructions of Aboriginal people which inform the Australian imaginary and she describes these as “safe, distant distortions of an actual world of people” (1993, 33). The important point to note is that current Australian understandings of Aboriginality are largely, if not completely, based upon images, and not on interactions between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people. This is the point which Langton is hoping to stress through this essay – the point that Aboriginality needs to be “understood in terms of intersubjectivity, when both the Aboriginal and non- Aboriginal are subjects and not objects” (1993, 32). This implies a moving away from stereotypical images and symbols which represent Aboriginal people, towards a much needed recognition of Aboriginal people as active subjects involved in constructions of

Aboriginality. Aboriginality according to Langton, is always changing and is “remade over and over again in a process of dialogue, of imagination, of representation and interpretation” (1993, 31, 33). From this “infinite array of intercultural experiences” Langton puts forth “three broad categories of cultural and textual constructions of ‘Aboriginality’” (1993, 34). These three categories are employed in this research, not as fixed but as fluid parameters with which to explore the relations between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal actors involved directly or indirectly in heritage practice. The first

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‘intersubjectivity’, is the interaction of Aboriginal people with Aboriginal people in social settings largely located within Aboriginal culture, which is “never a totally closed Aboriginal experience”. The fact that this experience is not completely Aboriginal refers to the impacts of colonisation on Aboriginal communities, who according to Langton even in the remotest parts of Australia are aware of “‘whitefella’ technology” and culture. In terms of this research this category helps to elucidate the varying ideas on Aboriginal heritage that emerge from within urban Aboriginal communities. The second category is of “stereotyping, iconising and mythologising of Aboriginal people by white people who have never had any substantial first-hand contact with Aboriginal people” (Langton, 1993, 34). Langton provides examples of these representations which include “‘stone age savage’, the dying race”…Crocodile Dundee I and II” (1993, 34). This category explicates the conventional approaches of identifying and preserving Aboriginal heritage and stereotypical representations of Aboriginal heritage. Langton’s third category involves constructions that are generated when an actual dialogue takes place between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people (1993, 35). She argues that “In these exchanges … the individuals involved will test imagined models of the other, repeatedly adjusting the models as the responses are processed, to find some satisfactory way of comprehending the other” (Langton, 1993, 35). This category is perhaps the most applicable to this research as it very clearly brings forth the idea of the ‘Self’ and the ‘Other’, thereby providing an opportunity to explore the colonising imperative of heritage practice.

Summary

This chapter has brought together theories of colonialism, postcolonialism, neo- colonialism, decolonisation and anti-colonialism to tease out the impacts that colonisation has had on indigenous peoples in former settler colonies. It has outlined that constructions of coloniser and colonised identity which were actively employed by the colonisers to establish their cultural superiority over the ‘primitive’, ‘uncivilised’ indigenous peoples. Colonial institutions of history, cartography, architecture and planning were also employed to establish and maintain the colonial hegemony. There was a deliberate underwriting of histories of the colonised, and the building of colonial cities sought to establish distinctions between the coloniser and the colonised. The

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central aim of colonisation was the acquisition and occupation of land and territories and this was fuelled by colonial cartography that served to justify the colonial agenda by misrepresenting parts of the world on maps as empty spaces waiting to be colonised and settled. While current discourses of postcolonialism, neo-colonialism, anti-colonialism and decolonisation, all argue that colonisation has affected, most often adversely, the lives, cultures and histories of the previously colonised peoples, there is a marked difference between these various discourses in addressing the ongoing impacts of colonisation. The ongoing struggle of Aboriginal peoples in Australia is underlined by anti-colonial sentiments and this indicates that colonisation is anything but over. The redefinition of the Aboriginal identity by Aboriginal peoples reveals that largely colonial stereotypes of Aboriginal people continue to operate within Australian society, even with the end of colonialism. Most importantly this chapter helps to make concrete the argument that in the context of continuing colonialisms it is critical to focus on debates and discussions that represent the anti-colonial sentiment of a previously colonised people, especially in settler societies where concerns of postcolonialism are limited to the non-indigenous settler society, which continues to grapple with its former dual position of coloniser and colonised.

Chapter 2 An overview: Heritage practice, dissonance and Indigenous contestations

This chapter discusses the largely ‘white’ western institution of heritage and the approaches that it adopts towards indigenous heritages. Heritage is explored as a concept and a practice, with a focus on current debates and discourses pertaining to the socially constructed and contested nature of heritage. Western constructions of indigenous heritage(s) are examined with the intention of exploring the way in which the socially constructed and often exclusionary nature of these constructions has resulted in a number of sites of indigenous heritage being heavily contested. The chapter is comprised of four sections. The first section is a broad overview of heritage practice – it covers the development of heritage as a formalised institution, from early ideas of natural and built heritage to the current scenario of rapidly changing meanings of heritage. The second section brings together current debates and arguments concerning the social and cultural constructedness of heritage, especially discussions pertaining to the Eurocentric and exclusionary nature of heritage. It also draws on the various challenges that have non-western and at times western. Contested indigenous heritage is explored in the fourth and last section of this chapter, and the larger issues that emerge from these contestations are discussed in detail to establish the precedents for chapter four which deals with Australian heritage practice and the approaches it has adopted towards Aboriginal Australian heritage.

Heritage: early ideas and changing meanings

Heritage as defined in the Collins Dictionary is, “anything from past, esp. owned or handed down by tradition” (1997, 353). Australian historian and academic Graeme Davison notes that “[I]n its original sense, heritage was the property which parents handed down to their children”(1991, 1). At some stage the idea of heritage moved beyond the familial to a more public sense of association with the past. Some scholars argue that this was somewhere between the late 18th and early 19th century, when heritage began to mean more than a ‘legal bequest’ and became more of a “self- conscious creed” (Graham, Ashworth, and Tunbridge, 2000, 1; Lowenthal, 1996, 1). This self-consciousness towards heritage was brought about by changing political,

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social and economic climates that marked the coming of age of modernism. It therefore comes as no surprise that most commentators on heritage although careful to admit that its origins are much older, often consider heritage to be a modern concept. The modern world’s impact on heritage has been thoroughly examined by historical geographers David Lowenthal, Brian Graham, G.J. Ashworth and J.E. Tunbridge. Events such as the French Revolution (1789 -1799) and the Industrial Revolution, which are perhaps the most widely recognised markers of the modern era, made the past seem distant and irrecoverable and prompted concerns for and interest in preserving antiquities (Lowenthal, 2005). This was furthered by the Romantic movement in the 19th century, when “anti-modern Romantics” like John Ruskin, William Morris, A.W.N. Pugin and Eugène-Emanuel Viollet-le Duc, held industrialisation responsible for the degradation of the built environment. They turned to the architecture of the medieval era and sought to promote and conserve these symbols of a past forgotten by the Renaissance and the Enlightenment (Graham et al, 2000). At the same time the emergence of nation states in Europe promoted ideas of collective national identity, and this saw ancient monuments being celebrated as a symbol of nationhood (Graham et al, 2000; Lowenthal, 2005). There was, therefore, a growing veneration for ancient buildings and monuments. Along with the focus that was being placed on buildings, there was a growing concern to preserve nature. However, the interest in conserving nature did not develop until a half century later and along quite different lines. Lowenthal notes that until the late 18th century:

In the realm of nature, the visible benefits of human intervention, notably in agriculture and engineering, led men to celebrate human impact on the face of the earth and to welcome even more farreaching environmental transformations. The philosophes viewed untended nature as hideous and wasteful; God had deliberately left Creation unfinished so that human skills would perfect it (2005, 83; emphasis original).

The prevailing attitude towards nature had consisted of dominating, intervening and perfecting nature, which saw large scale deforestation and damming in various parts of Europe. There was a slight change in this thinking by the early 19th century, when the protection of nature (like symbols of antiquity), was promoted through the works of Romantic poets and writers like Percy Shelley, William Wordsworth and Johann

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Wolfgang von Goethe. However, it was not until the 1840s, when the works of American scholars such as Henry David Thoreau, George Perkins Marsh and John Muir drew attention to the disastrous impacts of humanity on the environment that conservation of nature was considered a compelling reality (Lowenthal, 2005). The very technology and industrialisation, which had aided human beings in gaining control over nature, were now regarded as a threat to it. Conserving the natural environment was now considered as important as protecting ancient buildings and monuments. These events collectively led to the institutionalisation of heritage. The Ancient Monuments Act of 1882, set up in the United Kingdom, was the first act that was established to protect parts of the built environment, whereas the protection of nature was pushed to the forefront by the USA, with the setting up of the first ever national park at Yosemite Valley by an Act of Congress (American) in 1864. It has been suggested that the emphasis placed on the built environment by European countries was to some extent driven by the lack of pristine environments in Europe. As a result of this they chose to preserve ancient monuments, and a pre-industrial heritage. On the other hand the USA, and other settler societies like Australia, Canada and New Zealand, had large tracts of unspoiled ‘wilderness’ which were being promoted as a means to abate environmental damage, as well as to create parks and forest reserves as recreational spaces and getaways from the humanised world. However, these newer countries celebrated their natural environments as a compensation for their shorter histories, and their lesser numerous and less established historical monuments and buildings in comparison to Europe. Perhaps the most significant outcome of these developments was that the meaning of heritage in moving beyond legal and individualised inheritance, now began to be associated with parts of the built and natural environments and these two types of heritage formed the cornerstone of a ‘modern’ heritage practice. Since these early beginnings there have been numerous variations to these broader conceptualisations of heritage and current research demonstrates that meanings of heritage change across groups, peoples and nations, and over time. Today meanings of heritage include physical aspects – objects, buildings, sites and places which are associated with the past; non-physical aspects – memory, namely collective, national or individual; cultural and artistic productions of the past which are repackaged as activities and preoccupations and “labelled as ‘high culture’”; elements from the natural environment such as “heritage landscapes”; and goods and services that are sold with a

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heritage component which comprise the fast growing commercial activity – the heritage industry (Tunbridge and Ashworth,1996, 1, 2). The expansion in meanings of heritage have been welcomed by most heritage scholars, but with some unease as they feel that there are issues and concerns regarding the creation and management of heritage that can get lost and at times concealed within these varying conceptualisations.

Problematising heritage

To understand why meanings of heritage change over time and across different groups of people it is important to reflect on the nature of heritage. Current research on heritage recognises that it is present-centred as it is produced in accordance with current demands, and is about the perceptions and priorities of people at a certain time in history (Graham et al, 2000; Graham, 2002; Harvey, 2001; Tunbridge and Ashworth, 1996). Heritage is, therefore, a product of the present, and as people’s perceptions and priorities change over time, so do the meanings of heritage. However, there is some apprehension, especially on the part of historians, regarding the focus on the present as it implies that heritage tends to be in danger of limiting the past to contemporary history (Croce, 1941; Carr, 1961). Historical geographer David C. Harvey (2001) argues that the development of heritage is largely examined in terms of the recent trajectory of heritage, which not only limits the history of heritage itself, but also portrays heritage as a single, large, homogenous development. He suggests that there is a need to consider the development of heritage as a concept and a process over time, as this would enable heritage to be viewed as a “process or a human condition rather than a single movement or personal project” (2001, 320). While acknowledging the validity of Harvey’s argument, this thesis does not involve itself with the history of heritage, but is more concerned with the ‘human condition’ of heritage or what is referred to as its socially constructed nature. The social constructedness of heritage has been widely examined in recent scholarship (Graham et al, 2000; Graham, 2002; Aplin, 2002). Commenting on the fluid nature of heritage, academic Graeme Aplin (2002) argues that heritage is not a fixed or objectively defined concept, but is in fact a subjective experience. Perceiving and defining heritage depends on a person’s background, experiences, beliefs, and philosophy of life. Therefore heritage is now a matter of concern for all people,

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irrespective of their educational, social, cultural or economic backgrounds. This is in contrast to heritage being a concern of the educated elite during the 19th century as has been pointed out by Graham, Ashworth and Tunbridge who stress that “the will to conserve was the obsession of a passionate, educated and generally influential minority” (2000, 14). It would, therefore, be reasonable to assume that unlike in the 19th century, heritage is today a more inclusive, equitable and public concern. However this is if anything a rather optimistic viewpoint on heritage, as the socially constructed nature of heritage also implies that there are differing perceptions and meanings of heritage and ascribing a particular meaning to heritage automatically negates or excludes other meanings and associations. The exclusionary nature of heritage is perhaps most evident in the case of national heritage. Throughout ‘modern’ history the idea of national heritage has been employed by newly formed nation-states to instil and reinforce a sense of national identity. However, the concept of nation-state has in itself been problematic, as it has been conceptualised as “the homeland of a single, homogenous people”, and this has actively overlooked the social and spatial particularities of different communities that have been brought together to form the singular entity of the nation. Similarly, national heritage which has been employed to consolidate a sense of national identity, has involved “absorbing or neutralizing potentially competing heritages of social-cultural groups or regions” (Graham et al, 2000, 12). Today, officially defined or largely accepted meanings of heritage are usually perceptions of the dominant group in that country, which inadvertently implies that groups such as indigenous peoples, migrant groups, religious groups and local communities fail to have an equal representation in terms of national heritage (Aplin, 2002, 14). Heritage is used as a powerful tool to establish and maintain the identity of a dominant group and is therefore as much a politically charged concept as it is socially constructed. The politicisation of heritage is not a new phenomenon as the very basis of heritage has been steeped in social and political ideas of modernity. Modernity was based on the idea of being European and it emphasised European cultural and social superiority. Therefore heritage which “emerged in an ethos of a singular and totalized modernity” replicated these ideas and has unfortunately continued to reflect largely Eurocentric concerns (Graham et al, 2000, 17). This is indicated in the case of the rather closed and confined definitions of different types of heritage widely used in practice. Of

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these the two most commonly employed definitions are of ‘natural’ heritage and ‘cultural’ heritage (the latter including built heritage), which have quite clearly been informed by the cornerstones of modern heritage practice – built and natural heritage. The ongoing use of these heritage types which emerged in a 19th century European context evidences the Eurocentricism that permeates heritage practice today. In fact, modern ideas of built and natural heritage, which stressed the difference between the two types of heritages on the basis that one was constructed and the other naturally existing, have until recently been maintained through ideas of natural and cultural heritage. The Convention concerning the Protection of the World Cultural and Natural Heritage (World Heritage Convention) which was formulated in 1972 by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), defines natural heritage as consisting of physical or biological formations or natural sites which have either outstanding scientific or aesthetic value (UNESCO, 1972). Cultural heritage includes monumental works which have exceptional historic, artistic or scientific value, such as architecture, sculpture, painting, archaeological structures, inscriptions, and cave dwellings (UNESCO, 1972). There has therefore been a deliberate demarcation between natural and cultural heritage on the basis that the former involves minimal human intrusion whereas the latter is the direct result of human activities and interactions. However, this distinction has been criticised as “somewhat artificial” on the basis that just as people’s associations with their cultural and built heritage are based on their cultural and social values, so too are people’s ideas of their natural heritage embedded in their community beliefs and perceptions of the natural environment (Hall and McArthur, 1993). Fortunately this has also been an ongoing concern of the heritage community at an international level and recent efforts by UNESCO and the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) have attempted to address this oversight. In 2005 the UNESCO /IUCN Working Guidelines for the Conservation and Management of Sacred Natural Sites, were established which recognised that “[N]atural ecosystems cannot be understood, conserved and managed without recognizing the human cultures that shape them, since biological and cultural diversities are mutually reinforcing and interdependent” (UNESCO, 2005b). As the title suggests the focus of these guidelines are sacred natural sites which have been identified as significant as they epitomise cultural and biological diversity and symbolise the spiritual and religious

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associations that indigenous or traditional people have with the natural environment. In addition, the guidelines also maintain that sacred natural sites should be accorded the recognition they deserve and that traditional and indigenous owners and users of these sites be involved in the management and conservation of these sites. It would therefore seem that these guidelines indicate a conscious move away from strict categorisations of heritage towards a more integrative approach in which people’s cultural values and associations of their natural environment are as critical as the heritage value of the natural environment. Regrettably while it is a well-intentioned move it is also a rather restrictive one. The focus of these guidelines is the conservation of rapidly disappearing natural environments. While its is undoubtedly an extremely critical and legitimate concern for both indigenous and non-indigenous peoples, it unwittingly tends to employ traditional and indigenous values and knowledge of these environments only as means of increasing local interest and leverage in the sustenance of these environments. Therefore it can be argued that the cultural associations that indigenous and traditional peoples have with the natural environments gains legitimacy in the eyes of heritage practice only because it fulfils the purpose of conserving the environment. In addition the emphasis on ‘sacred’ natural sites seems to indicate that it is a prerequisite that people’s association with nature must have a demonstratable spiritual or ceremonial significance. This very narrow and limited perspective on the idea of cultural association with nature demonstrates that heritage practice has taken a very small step in moving away from the Eurocentric distinction between nature and culture. Further instances of Eurocentricism are observable with the World Heritage List which is supposed to showcase the diversity of heritage of different countries in the world. The UNESCO World Heritage Centre notes that a global study conducted by the International Council of Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS) from 1987 to 1993, revealed that the World Heritage List had an overrepresentation of “Europe, historic towns and religious monuments, Christianity, historical periods and ‘elitist’ architecture” as compared to expressions of “living” or traditional cultures (UNESCO, 2005). It was noted that of the 410 properties on the World Heritage List, 304 were cultural sites and only 90 were natural and 16 mixed sites (sites which have both cultural and natural significance), and most of these sites are located in developed regions of the world, notably in Europe. This not only suggests that the emphasis on built heritage has been

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much stronger than natural heritage, but in turn demonstrates that the 19th century European fixation with ancient monuments and pre-industrial heritage has dominated global perceptions of heritage. More importantly the study also revealed that living or traditional cultures, such as indigenous cultures have been underrepresented on the World Heritage List. In recognition of this rather unbalanced representation of world heritage, the World Heritage Centre, which is responsible for listing, management and protection of all world heritage sites, launched the Global Strategy for a Balanced, Representative and Credible World Heritage List in 1994 (UNESCO 2005a). However, in a recent study conducted by the ICOMOS between 2002 and 2004, on the status of the Global Strategy, it was reported that the situation remains much the same. The purpose of the study, which was an initiative of the World Heritage Centre, was to analyse sites of cultural heritage inscribed on the World Heritage List and the Tentative List (which includes heritage sites that are waiting to be included as part of the World Heritage List), so as to assess and identify underrepresented categories. It should be duly noted that the ICOMOS has very clearly indicated in its report that the focus of the study was on cultural heritage, owing to its diverse and fragmented nature and that the analysis of the study would inform further actions to be taken to improve the credibility of both natural and cultural heritage on the World Heritage List. In comparing the World Heritage List and Tentative Lists, it was found that Europe and North America continue to have the largest number of heritage sites on the World Heritage List and have a substantial number of sites on their Tentative Lists. It was also realised that when various regions in the world were compared in terms of different categories of heritage (refer Table 1.) the number of sites in Europe and North America in practically all categories far outweighed those in Africa, Arab States, Asia and the Pacific, Latin America and the Caribbean. This is noticeably evident in the case of built heritage categories – namely architectural monuments, historic towns and religious properties – as Europe and North America collectively comprise of 54% of such sites on the World Heritage List and 55% on the Tentative List. This demonstrates that the observation made by the ICOMOS as part of its previous study from 1987- 1993, remains much the same in the time period of 2002-2004 – the overrepresentation of Europe, historic towns, religious monuments, historic periods, and Christianity.

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Table 1. Comparative analysis of World Heritage List and Tentative Lists by category, region

Africa Arab Asia/ Europe/ L.Amer. / Totals States Pacific N.Amer. Caribb. WHL TL WHL TL WHL TL WHL TL WHL TL WHL TL Archaeological 8 46 29 66 44 84 61 116 29 40 171 352 properties Rock-art sites 2 11 3 0 10 12 9 12 2 9 26 44 Fossil hominid 3 2 0 0 2 0 9 1 0 0 14 3 sites Architectural 8 9 23 6 67 59 197 113 46 36 341 223 monuments Historic 13 10 39 12 36 30 134 96 48 26 270 174 towns/urban ensembles Vernacular 8 6 6 0 5 7 32 18 6 1 57 32 architecture & Settlements Religious 6 12 14 9 61 59 131 76 22 17 234 173 properties Technological 1 4 0 2 3 12 54 49 11 22 69 89 & agricultural Properties Military 4 12 9 12 11 9 56 55 7 6 87 94 properties Cultural 6 12 2 1 23 7 65 59 5 9 101 88 landscapes Cultural route 0 4 0 0 1 5 7 9 0 2 8 20 Burial sites 1 6 5 8 13 25 19 19 2 5 40 63 Symbolic 4 26 0 1 7 10 9 45 1 8 21 90 properties Modern 0 1 0 0 0 0 12 27 3 6 15 34 heritage Totals: 64 161 130 117 283 319 795 695 182 187 (Source: ICOMOS, 2005, The World Heritage List Filling the Gaps – An Action Plan for the Future, Reproduced as table in original document, with spelling errors)

The (Eurocentric) pre-occupation with ancient monuments and buildings has been a trend in heritage practice that was established and encouraged through the principles of the International Charter for the Conservation and Restoration of Monuments and Sites – popularly known as the Venice Charter. These were the first major set of principles regarding the conservation and restoration of ancient buildings ratified in 1964 in Venice by the Second International Congress of Architects and Technicians of Historic Monuments. Since publication the Venice Charter has been considered as a basic document for establishing standards for historic preservation.

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However as noted by Australian academic William Logan, it has also been heavily criticised, for being Eurocentric, outdated and for encouraging an idea of authenticity of heritage which, is better suited to “the conservation of stones, bricks and other durable materials, especially as found in classical archaeological sites and monuments” (Logan, 2004, 3). Furthermore, it fails to “meet the needs of indigenous peoples in other parts of the world for whom the significance of buildings and sites depends on factors other than or additional to the physical fabric” (Logan, 2004, 3). In recognition of these shortcomings, a number of alterative regional and national charters have emerged – especially in the Asia-Pacific region since the 1970s – which have broken away from the largely European focus of the Venice Charter. One of the earliest moves was The Burra Charter: The Australia ICOMOS Charter for the Conservation of Places of Cultural Significance, which was adopted in 1979 by Australian heritage practitioners, professionals and government bodies and has since become a successful model for conservation practice both in Australia and in the wider Asia-Pacific region. Its most apparent shift away from the Venice Charter is its focus on ‘places’ of significance rather than on specific monuments or sites (Taylor, 2004, 46). The term ‘place’ applies to building, sites, parts of or complete landscapes – in other words it may include “memorials, trees, gardens, parks, places of historical events, urban areas, towns, industrial places, archaeological sites and spiritual and religious places” (Australia ICOMOS, 1999). There seems to be a move to incorporate the larger context or setting of a building, and one of the primary reasons for doing so has been to allow for the inclusion of all such heritage which is associated more with intangible aspects and traditional values than with the physical fabric (Logan, 2004, 4). Therefore it can be argued that in attempting to move away from the focus on the physical fabric and the specificity of location (site) or building (monument) the Burra Charter has been unequivocally non-Eurocentric in its approach. However as noted by Australian academic and heritage practitioner Ken Taylor, the 1999 version of the Burra Charter continues to “partially” uphold the focus on original fabric which reflects “its parent in the Venice Charter and the western dogma of authenticity of historic fabric” (2004, 47). Logan similarly argues that when compared with more recent charters such as the Nara Document on Authenticity (1994), the Burra Charter’s latest version seems to maintain the largely European focus on ‘original fabric’ (Logan, 2004, 5).

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The Nara Document on Authenticity (Nara Document) has been one of the strongest challenges to Eurocentricism in heritage practice. Not only is it non-European in terms of its central concerns but it was also spearheaded through the efforts of East Asian countries, particularly Japan. While acknowledging that it is “conceived in the spirit of the Charter of Venice, 1964, and builds on it and extends it”, the Nara Document seeks to move beyond the ideas of authenticity that have been identified in the Venice Charter (Nara Conference, 1994). It stresses that judgements pertaining to cultural values and authenticity of heritage cannot be decided according to fixed criteria but need to be decided according to different cultural contexts, as each culture has its own perceptions of heritage. As opposed to the Venice Charter which focuses on the authenticity of the built fabric the Nara Document states that judgements of authenticity can be based on a number of sources of information including “form and design, materials and substance, use and function, traditions and techniques, location and setting, and spirit and feeling” (Nara Conference, 1994). In other words it moves beyond the Eurocentric built-fabric approach towards including intangible practices and meanings that are synonymous with cultures in which maintaining the use of a building or the values it represents, is often more critical than the fabric itself (Logan, 2004, 5). This often – as in the case of countries like Japan, China and Korea – results in the cyclic restoration or rebuilding of buildings, demonstrating that the minimum intervention principle of the Venice Charter is not appropriately suited to all cultures. Other national charters in the Asia-Pacific region which have significantly departed from the Venice Charter, are the recently developed Principles for the Conservation of Heritage Sites in China (China Principles) and Charter for the Conservation of Unprotected Architectural Heritage and Sites in India. While both these charters have drawn extensively from the Burra Charter and from the experience of Australia and in the case of China from the United States heritage conservation practice, the underlying approach towards heritage is relatively non-European or for that matter non-western. For instance as argued by Logan, even though the China Principles uphold the principle of minimum intervention – as do the Burra Charter and Venice Charter – this tends to be more of an official, government supported approach towards heritage. The perceptions of the larger society, on the other hand is of maintaining “well-kept, clean and tidy places” – in other words the management of heritage in China leans towards ideas of complete restoration and rebuilding (Logan, 2004,6).

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It is however the Charter for the Conservation of Unprotected Architectural Heritage and Sites in India that presents the most significant challenge to Eurocentricism. The Indian Charter very clearly articulates that conservation in India “is heir not only to Western conservation theories and principles introduced through colonialism and, later, by the adoption of guidelines formulated by UNESCO, ICOMOS and international funding agencies, but also to pre-existing, indigenous knowledge systems and skills of building” (INTACH, emphasis added). While recognising that the majority of architectural heritage and sites in India are unprotected, the Indian Charter stresses that a number of these sites are in use thereby representing the ‘living’ heritage of the country. Furthermore it emphasises that intrinsic to the living heritage of the country are the Master Builders / Sthapatis /Sompuras / Raj Mistris who continue to build and care for buildings following traditions of their ancestors and the traditional philosophy of jeernodharanam – “the symbiotic relationship binding the tangible and intangible architectural heritage of India” (INTACH, 2004). The most overt difference that The Indian Charter establishes which sets it apart from a western ideology of conservation is the approach towards the idea of minimal intervention. Stating that while “the Western ideology of conservation advocates minimal intervention, India’s indigenous traditions idealise the opposite”, The Indian Charter identifies that the approach of minimal intervention is appropriate for official and legal conservation practice in India. It is considered as being suitable for conserving protected monuments, but for unprotected monuments the use of indigenous practices is promoted (INTACH, 2004). The bases of these indigenous practices differ substantially from western practices as they support renewal, restoration, repair or rebuilding and argue that the patination of historic fabric should “not compel the preservation of a ruin as it exists, frozen in time and space” but should be considered as “a sacrificial layer” that can be amended and added onto (INTACH, 2004). Another aspect of The India Charter which places it apart from western charters is its approach towards the idea of reversibility of interventions, which it feels should not dictate a conservation strategy. Instead it allows for the suitable adaptation and reuse of unprotected heritage for socio- economic regeneration. In admitting the influence of western ideologies of heritage practice but in moving significantly towards indigenous practices and philosophies The Indian Charter expresses a unique non-western or non-Eurocentric towards heritage.

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From the discussion so far it would be fair to conclude that heritage is a highly complex and often problematic concern both as a concept and in terms of practice. The issues that have emerged from debates and discussions on heritage are mostly linked to its social, political, cultural and economic nature and it is usually in negotiating these concerns, and the varying associations and meanings of heritage that dissonances and contestations emerge.

Dissonance in heritage

The idea of contested and dissonant heritage has been discussed by a number of heritage commentators. Two works – Dissonant Heritage (1996) by G.J. Ashworth and J.E. Tunbridge, and a collection of essays titled, Contested Urban Heritage (1997), edited by Roy Jones and Brian Shaw – have made significant and interesting contributions. In the ‘Introduction’ to Contested Urban Heritage, Jones and Shaw (1997) outline the idea of contestations in heritage by establishing links between the socially constructed and exclusionary nature of heritage. They note that not all social groups are able to contribute or participate equally in the process of heritage creation and that this often results in conflicting perceptions about heritage between these various groups. They identify a “nexus” between the social and cultural constructions that inscribe places and spaces with heritage significance and the ensuing conflicts between social groups that are engaged in creating, maintaining and often challenging these constructions. It is, they assert, this nexus that causes heritage to often be described as contested or dissonant (Jones and Shaw, 1997). The idea of dissonance in heritage was introduced by Tunbridge and Ashworth (1996) who argue that applying the idea of dissonance provides the best possible way to bring together discussions pertaining to the contested, controversial and highly debated nature of heritage without losing focus on the primary concerns surrounding heritage itself. Dissonance can be defined as the lack of agreement or inconsistency between the beliefs one holds or between one’s actions and one’s beliefs (Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary). Tunbridge and Ashworth employ the idea of dissonance to express the “discordance or a lack of agreement and consistency” in terms of meanings of heritage (1996, 20). They explain the idea of dissonance by drawing analogies between music, psychology and heritage. Just as in music certain combinations of sounds create disharmony, and in psychology there is an understanding of the “state of psychic

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tension” caused by inconsistent attitudes and behaviours, similarly the differing meanings of heritage are a source of contestation or conflict. The important thing to note here is that contestations in themselves are not regarded as problematic but are viewed as indicative of a larger problem, which in the case of heritage is its inherently exclusionary nature. Dissonance, therefore, recognises differing and varying meanings of heritage as well as provides an understanding of contestations and the larger issues that surround heritage. More importantly as has been noted in psychology it is in a context of dissonance that, “people will adjust their patterns of behaviour so as to reduce dissonance and move towards consonance” (Tunbridge and Ashworth, 1996, 20). Therefore dissonance forms a framework of reference according to which steps can be taken to address the varying meanings of heritage and move towards reducing contestations. Tunbridge and Ashworth argue that dissonance is intrinsic to the nature of heritage as the process of heritage creation is inevitably selective. Graham (2002, 1005) notes that dissonance is a result of the “zero-sum” characteristics of heritage which means that heritage is subject to the condition that while it may belong to someone, it automatically does not belong to someone else. The possibility that someone might be, intentionally or unintentionally denied their heritage is evident in the original meaning of heritage – which is based on the notion of inheritance and thereby disinheritance. Therefore, heritage creation is a process which is not only exclusionary but also tends to potentially or actively disinherit those who do not subscribe to or are not included within the meanings of a specific heritage (Graham, 2002). This is also true in the case of world or universal heritage which aims to provide an inheritance for all, as there is no easy solution to deciding who inherits and who does not. However, the inevitability of disinheritance requires that the least that needs to be done is to acknowledge and not silence any disinheritance caused through heritage, so as to address and possibly reduce dissonance between different sections of society. Dissonance, and the accompanying disinheritance, is also caused by the commodification of heritage – it is a product that can be sold or consumed for economic purposes. This is perhaps most observable in terms of places being sold for their heritage value, such as places that have relict structures existing on them or places where certain significant events may have occurred in the past, and are therefore sold for their heritage potential to tourists and ‘domestic’ consumers (Graham et al, 2000;

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Tunbridge and Ashworth, 1996). However, in a large number of such cases, the heritage commodification potential of these places overlaps with the sacredness of these sites to other groups of people, and this has been recognised as one of the major reasons for contestations at a global scale (Graham, 2002). The same site being ascribed varying meanings of heritage by different groups of people reiterates heritage as multi- interpreted – by the tourist, the domestic consumer and by those for whom the site holds sacred associations. However, in the case of tourist and domestic consumers, these interpretations are to a great extent controlled and developed by the producers of heritage who are keen to tap into the economic potential of these sites and in most cases tend to focus on the generic or unique qualities of such heritage. In both cases the outcome is similar – the development and promotion of a homogenous heritage product, which in the case of tourism reduces “a rich and complex past to a set of easily recognisable characteristics” and in the case of domestic heritage such as national or local heritage, focuses on “stereotype qualities, representative personalities and supporting mythologies” (Tunbridge and Ashworth, 1996, 22). The homogenising of heritage disinherits and excludes social, regional and ethnic groups who have social or cultural associations with such heritage, thereby leading to contestations and dissonance between the consumer groups and the disinherited groups. Further instances of disinheritance caused by heritage commodification are observable in the case of urban areas. This has been noted by Jones and Shaw who argue that it is in cities that the “dividing and ruling power of heritage” is the strongest as it is in the city that “the economic stakes are often highest, in terms of land and commercial values, that political symbolism is at its most potent…often cherished location of allegedly significant historic events, and also where cultural diversity tends to be greatest, as cities attract an ever widening range of migrant groups” (1997, 2). Therefore, cities represent a scenario of heritage dissonance caused by a multi-layering of the economic, political, social, and cultural uses of heritage, which in turn implies that there are multiple groups engaged in urban heritage creation processes and there is a multitude of meanings and associations ascribed to these heritages. Urban processes of redevelopment, urban renewal and gentrification which are linked to urban heritage further complicate the situation, especially gentrification as it has the same disinheriting effect as heritage creation processes (Shaw, 2001). Gentrification, which is largely concerned with urban reinvestment, works on the basis of commercial redevelopment

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and conversion of older urban areas such as lofts and unused warehouses into offices and residences. The ‘consumers’ of these “previously devalued neighbourhoods” are the “urban ‘gentry’” or the more affluent people, who move into these areas for their historical or heritage value. However, in doing so they often displace the urban poor for whom these areas have represented affordable housing within city limits (Johnston et al, 2000, 294). These gentrified areas are, therefore, a source of dissonance between the disinherited poor and the heritage conscious urban elite. In summation it is important to consider that although dissonance represents a lack of agreement between different sections of society regarding heritage, it brings forth the diverse and heterogenous nature of heritage and the expression of multicultural and pluralist identities. It is also indicative of the exclusionary and contested nature of heritage, which in turn presents the challenges that emerge from within these contestations to dominant perceptions of heritage.

Dissonant and contested Indigenous heritages

One of the most significant challenges to heritage practice has been the concept of indigenous heritage. Indigenous peoples in various parts of the world have been concerned about their heritage, its interpretations and its representations. The Office of the High Commissioner of Human Rights notes:

Today, interest in indigenous peoples’ knowledge and cultures is stronger than ever and the exploitation of those cultures continues. Tourism in areas occupied by indigenous people and the commercialization of indigenous art are growing. Indigenous medicinal knowledge and expertise in agricultural biodiversity and environmental management are used, but the profits are rarely shared with indigenous peoples themselves. Many indigenous peoples are also concerned about skeletal remains of their ancestors and sacred objects being held by museums and are exploring ways for their restitution … For indigenous peoples all over the world the protection of their cultural and intellectual property has taken on growing importance and urgency. They cannot exercise their fundamental human rights as distinct nations, societies and peoples without the ability to control the knowledge they have inherited from their ancestors (1997).

In accordance with this observation the United Nations Commission of Human Rights (UNCHR), Economic and Social Council appointed Special Rapporteur Erica-Irene Daes of the Sub-Commission on Prevention of Discrimination and Protection of

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Minorities to prepare “a study on measures which should be taken by the international community to strengthen respect for the cultural and intellectual property of indigenous peoples” (Office of the High Commissioner of Human Rights, 1997). The result was Principles and guidelines for the protection of the heritage of Indigenous Peoples (1995). According to these guidelines, indigenous heritage includes:

… all objects, sites and knowledge the nature or use of which has been transmitted from generation to generation, and which is regarded as pertaining to a particular people or its territory … also includes objects, knowledge and literary or artistic works which may be created in the future based upon its heritage … includes all moveable cultural property as defined by the relevant conventions of UNESCO; all kinds of literary and artistic works such as music, dance, song, ceremonies, symbols and designs, narratives and poetry; all kinds of scientific, agricultural, technical and ecological knowledge, including cultigens, medicines and the rational use of flora and fauna; human remains; immoveable cultural property such as sacred sites, sites of historical significance, and burials; and documentation of indigenous peoples, heritage on film, photographs, videotape, or audiotape (Sub-Commission on Prevention of Discrimination and Protection of Minorities, 1999).

These guidelines and definitions clearly establish a distinctive quality of indigenous heritage by encompassing aspects of natural and cultural heritage. This poses a significant challenge to the Eurocentric natural-cultural heritage division that persists – despite international conventions such as the UNESCO /IUCN Working Guidelines for the Conservation and Management of Sacred Natural Sites – in heritage practice. As noted by heritage commentators C. Michael Hall and Simon McArthur indigenous notions of heritage emphasise that “humankind is not separate from the landscape but is part of an indivisible whole” (1993). The Maori in New Zealand, for instance have traditionally believed that “the sense of interrelatedness between people and nature creates a sense of belonging to nature, rather than being ascendant to it” (Manatu Maori, 1991, 2). Maori perceptions of history and heritage are based on a “shared whakapapa (genealogy)” in which the welfare of the environment is connected to the welfare of people (Tau, Goodall, Palmer and Rau, 1990, 3, 4). Reverence for nature and connection to the land underlies indigenous perceptions of heritage which sets it further apart from Eurocentric approaches to heritage.

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More importantly, indigenous heritage can be seen as posing a threat and competing with dominant perceptions of heritage practice. Indigenous heritage is part of a living culture, and is therefore dynamic and changing, and this is contrary to the way in which heritage practice has represented indigenous heritage – as part of a culture that has ceased to exist. Evidence of this prevailing Eurocentricism in heritage practice can be seen in terms of indigenous heritage being preserved in museums and theme parks, alongside prehistoric and early historic heritage. This accompanies the linking together of indigenous heritage with nature. This has been observed in the case of museums, like the National Museums of the Smithsonian Institution located in Washington DC, which are comprised of the National Museum of American History and the National Museum of Natural History. Native Americans are exhibited as part of the Natural History museum indicating that they are considered as part of the plants, animals and geological specimens (Blakey, 1990). The association of indigenous heritage with nature rests on the assumption that indigenous heritage is not part of cultural heritage, as cultural heritage is primarily associated with everything European. This exclusionary approach of heritage practice towards indigenous heritage is being increasingly challenged by indigenous peoples globally and has become a primary focus of professional, governmental and academic debates. To reverse the exclusions of heritage practice various suggestions have emerged from within academia and the profession. At an international level the response from within heritage practice has been in terms of conventions and charters such as the UNESCO Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage (2003), the UNESCO /IUCN Working Guidelines for the Conservation and Management of Sacred Natural Sites (2005) and the Akwé: Kon Voluntary Guidelines for the Conduct of Cultural, Environmental and Social Impact Assessments Regarding Developments Proposed to Take Place on, or which are Likely to Impact on, Sacred Sites and on Lands and Waters Traditionally Occupied or Used by Indigenous and Local Communities (2004) prepared by the Secretariat of the Convention on Biological Diversity. Each of these conventions seek to recognise aspects that are associated with the heritage of indigenous peoples such as intangible cultural values, spiritual/ sacred associations with sites and the unique relationship that traditional and indigenous peoples have with the natural environment. While this does demonstrate that heritage practice is putting in a greater effort to understand and address issues of indigenous

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heritage, there continue to be a number of concerns that fall outside these conventions which need to be negotiated. Some of these issues have been tackled by academics such as Graeme Aplin (2002) who argues that indigenous heritage needs to be included within the larger category of cultural heritage. He does so, even at the cost of taking on what would appear to be an “‘assimilationist’ stance” (2002, 114), as he believes that when indigenous heritage(s) are treated as a separate group they tend to relegated to a subservient position and are not accepted within the definitions of a more widely perceived cultural heritage, especially in the case of national heritage. However such a suggestion would only solve the problem of indigenous heritage being stereotyped as natural heritage without necessarily taking into account the holistic approach towards nature, people and land that is stressed by indigenous peoples. Therefore, it can be argued that it would be more appropriate to consider indigenous heritage as a separate type of heritage in itself as its concerns and requirements are quite different from those of non-indigenous European heritage. The difference lies in the ways in which indigenous heritage is interpreted by indigenous peoples and heritage practice. For instance in the case of Maori heritage, the concept of wahi tapu or sacred sites has been employed by the Maori to claim ownership of “burial sites, mountain peaks, and shrines” and this has been widely accepted by heritage practice in New Zealand. However despite this wider acceptance and interest in Maori perceptions of heritage, the Maori are reluctant to partake in Pakeha-Maori mappings of Maori heritage sites as they feel that the all-encompassing approach of wahi tapu as including “all aspects of the environment papatuanuku” is not fully understood by the Pakeha (Keelan, 1993, 98). Intangible values of heritage are another point of difference. Admittedly the UNESCO Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage (2003) and the Yamato Declaration on Integrated Approaches for Safeguarding Tangible and Intangible Cultural Heritage (2004) demonstrate that intangible cultural heritage is of value to both indigenous and non-indigenous peoples, and it includes “the practices, representations, expressions, knowledge, skills – as well as the instruments, objects, artefacts and cultural spaces associated therewith” (UNESCO, 2003, 2004). However it is the application of this understanding to a spatial dimension which places the idea of intangible heritage at odds with the way in which not only indigenous but also non-

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indigenous people perceive the world around them. This is perhaps most noticeable in the process of identifying and listing heritage sites. Archaeologists Denis Byrne, Helen Brayshaw and Tracy Ireland argue that “[A]rchaeologists, architects and other heritage practitioners have tended to focus on sites and buildings rather than on the landscape in which these occur. It has been very much a dots-on-the-map approach” and while this is well suited to identifying and listing heritage sites it “misrepresents the way people, past and present, live in and think about the world” (Byrne, Brayshaw, Ireland, 2003, 3). They specifically mention that this is true in the case Aboriginal people who “have complained that they don’t think of their heritage places as ‘sites’. They think of heritage as country” (Byrne et al, 2003, 3). The idea of country reflects both the encompassing idea of cultural and natural heritage and is also a matter of the intangible values and associations that Aboriginal people have with their heritage. This difference in the approach of identifying heritage often results in dissonance or contestations between the two groups. It is, however, indigenous concerns regarding ownership of their heritage that most often place it at the centre of contestations. For indigenous peoples globally the need for ownership and indigenous participation in the identification, management and maintenance of their heritage has become a critical consideration. This argument is based on an understanding that it would help prevent an appropriation of indigenous heritage(s) by majority groups as well as ensure that correct interpretations of indigenous heritage are provided through interaction and cooperation with indigenous peoples. The issue of indigenous ownership has been emphasised in the Principles and guidelines for the protection of the heritage of Indigenous Peoples which states:

Every element of an indigenous peoples heritage has traditional owners, which may be the whole people, a particular family or clan, an association or society, or individuals who have been specially taught or initiated to be its custodians. The traditional owners of heritage must be determined in accordance with indigenous peoples, own customs, laws and practices (Sub-Commission, 1999).

This statement stresses the importance of the traditional ownership of indigenous heritage, and calls for recognition of indigenous peoples as primary guardians and interpreters of their heritage. An integral aspect of indigenous ownership of heritage is the transmission of this heritage to future generations. This has also been discussed in the Principles and guidelines, according to which there is a need for international

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recognition of indigenous customs, rituals, traditions and practices in the transmission of indigenous heritage(s) to future generations. The use and teaching of an indigenous knowledge base for the transmission and protection of indigenous heritage is regarded as critical and as this knowledge base is linked with “traditional territories and resources” indigenous control over these territories and resources is therefore imperative to the process of heritage protection (Sub-Commission, 1999). The (European) response to the ownership claims made by indigenous groups is often met with resistance. This is due to a number of reasons, economic concerns being the most common such as those of logging, mining and agricultural industries. In Canada which has a significant indigenous population there have a number of contested indigenous heritage cases, some of which have unfortunately resulted in violent confrontations between indigenous and non-indigenous groups, whereas others have seen negotiations between the two groups and recognition of indigenous heritage. The Oka Crisis of 1990, which involved a small Quebec community wanting to build a golf course on land that was sacred to the Mohawks resulted in widespread indigenous resistance across the country, which led to loss of lives and intervention by the Canadian army (Tunbridge and Ashworth, 1996, 186). Another case which was not as eventful but significant nonetheless, was of the Haida people working alongside environmentalists to protest against logging activities on the costal islands of British Colombia, which were also associated with the creation of national parks. In particular it was the Queen Charlotte Islands, the South Moresby National Park Reserve, which the Haida people campaigned for and after negotiations with Parks Canada (the Canadian federal agency responsible for national parks and historic sites), worked out a co-management scheme which allowed them to protect their cultural heritage, including the World Heritage Listed village of Ninstints (Tunbridge and Ashworth, 1996). In perhaps the most exemplary instance, the successful negotiation of the Nunavut, mainly Inuit peoples of the Northwest Territories saw the establishment of the Nunavut Territory in 1999, which has given the Inuit primary control over their resources and heritage. These cases of contested heritage and indigenous claims to native land, have paved the way for the successful and equitable protection of indigenous heritage in Canada. It is, however, not only economic concerns or differing perceptions that underline European resistance to indigenous ownership of heritage. Ownership of

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indigenous heritage by indigenous peoples has implications at the national level as the key debate that emerges is that indigenous heritage is also part of national heritage. Indigenous heritage is looked upon favourably as enriching the heritage of a nation which, it can be argued, is largely driven by political motivations. This is because heritage for a nation is representative of its political standing, on a global scale, regarding the various ethnic, religious and social groups that make up the nation. So if a nation wants to be perceived as democratic it seeks to include the heritage of all its minority groups within official national lists and registers (Aplin, 2002). However these ‘politically correct’ gestures by the majority group of a nation are often viewed with suspicion by indigenous peoples. This is observable in the case of New Zealand, where the increasing interest displayed by the non-indigenous Pakeha towards Maori language, culture, Maori perceptions of New Zealand’s history and Maori concerns with their heritage is being treated with caution especially by Maori youth. This is because they “fear that the increasing status of things Maori in the larger New Zealand society merely portends the further removal of their heritage into those white hands with status and power”, thereby giving the Pakeha greater control over Maori resources, education and decision-making (Stephen O’Regan, 1990, 96). This does not mean that indigenous people do not want their heritage to be included as part of the national heritage, but their precautionary approach is proof of the various instances when indigenous culture and heritage have been appropriated and commodified by majority groups. It is most often in the case of tourism and tourism-related industries that indigenous heritage is commodified and the returns received from these commercial activities fail to find their way back to indigenous communities, thereby leading to discord. In addition indigenous interests and concerns although included in terms of management of such heritage sites, are not fully realised. This has occurred in the case of Australia’s Uluru National Park (Ayers Rock) located in the Northern Territory, which is inscribed on the World Heritage List for its significance to Aboriginal peoples and is considered to be an integral part of Australia’s national heritage. Uluru is currently managed by the Australian Federal Government through a leasing agreement with the original owners of this site – the Uluru-Katajuta Land Trust (Wells, 1993, 140). Ayers Rock at Uluru is one of Australia’s most well known and widely promoted tourism symbols and the Park attracts a staggering 250,000 visitors each year, including overseas and domestic tourists (Hall, 1992). Despite the apparent success, there are

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conflicting interests regarding the management of tourism at Uluru. There is a clash of interests between the economic and marketing aims of the Northern Territory and the management aims of the Federal government, as a result of which Aboriginal concerns go unnoticed. Although Aboriginal peoples are worried about the issue of too many tourists visiting Uluru, as is the Federal government, they are perhaps most disconcerted by the overwhelming level of tourist attention that is paid to Ayers Rock. Their main contention is that although tourism to Uluru is beneficial, the objective and promotion of tourism tends to focus too much on parts of the landscape namely Ayers Rock, Uluru and the Olgas, rather than on learning about Aboriginal culture and Aboriginal people (Wells, 1993). The difference in the natural versus cultural emphases placed on the tourism potential of Uluru reveals the dissonance that exists between indigenous and majority groups in terms of the approaches adopted in regard to indigenous heritage. The dissonance between indigenous and majority groups increases when sites of heritage are shared by both groups. Interestingly a number of such sites are located in urban areas and are part of the built environment. This is contrary to the Eurocentric and outdated perception that indigenous peoples associate largely with the natural environment and that most indigenous heritage sites are located in natural areas and surroundings. In fact the issue of urban indigenous heritage is fast emerging in settler societies like Australia, New Zealand and Canada. These are often sites that have archaeological significance in terms of indigenous occupation prior to colonisation and the building of cities, and are sites which have sacred connotations such as burial grounds, or ritual and ceremonial areas that are situated in or around urban areas. However, it is the emerging indigenous interest in and claims to urban sites of more recent history that is perhaps the most unsettling challenge to heritage practice. This is because not only do these sites confront the nature-culture bias in heritage practice, but they also present evidence that indigenous cultures and histories have existed and survived in cities, alongside European and/or other majority group cultures, and have adapted to colonisation and the accompanying urbanisation. As these sites exist in cities and cities are the showcases of the political and historical symbols of a nation, the general reaction of majority groups is to reinforce their identity through a celebration and exhibition of their own heritage in cities. It therefore comes as no surprise that the majority group’s concern with their own urban heritage supersedes indigenous

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considerations of heritage, which brings to light the disinheriting power of heritage practice. Even in the case of sites which have shared indigenous and majority group history and heritage, and which are recognised and protected, as in the case of the much celebrated Waitangi Treaty Monument and Waitangi House in New Zealand, there is a degree of dissonance that continues to surround such sites. Waitangi House is a historically significant site as it marks the site of the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi between Maori chiefs and British settlers in 1838, which resulted in the creation of New Zealand as a British colony. The Treaty of Waitangi House is registered on the Register of Historic Places, not only for its historic significance but also for its “broader historical and archaeological landscape, which includes Maori settlements, early colonial plantings and wahi tapu sites” (New Zealand Historic Places Trust, 2001). It is also in close proximity to the Waitangi Treaty Monument which is also listed on the Register of Historic Places (New Zealand Historic Places Trust, 2001). However, the celebration of this site as the founding point of New Zealand’s history is deeply contested by Maori activists on the basis that it represents a skewed version of New Zealand’s history (Hinkson, 2001). This is because the Treaty of Waitangi in itself has been widely contested by the Maori and has been largely recognised as being inherently flawed and inconsistent as at the time of signing it had an outward appearance of fairness, but proved to be disempowering to the Maori who rapidly lost control over the sale of their lands to the non-indigenous Pakeha. Therefore the site of the Treaty House is a reminder of the dispossession and disinheritance of Maori peoples. This highlights the critical issue that in the case of this site of shared indigenous and majority group heritage, it has been the history and heritage of the majority group, the Pakeha, which has been recognised and celebrated over that of the Maori. Therefore, despite the attempt by the Pakeha to adopt a democratic and accepting approach towards Maori history and heritage, the attempt to valorise the Treaty as fair and enlightened at the time of its signing throws the balance in favour of Pakeha interpretations of this historical event. This in turn implies a continuing tendency to neglect Maori perceptions of history and heritage. Further instances of urban indigenous heritage sites which are or have been at the centre of contestations include the Old Swan Brewery in Perth, Australia and the Carbide Mill on Victoria Island in Ottawa, Canada. At this point it is sufficient to point

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out that these are perhaps the better known examples of contested indigenous heritage primarily due to the fact that contestations regarding these sites took on highly politicised dimensions and created much public interest and involvement. There were numerous stakeholders involved in both cases, with support for Australian Aboriginal and Canadian Aboriginal claims to these sites often and quite surprisingly emerging from non-Aboriginal Australian and Canadian groups. The critical aspect of contested sites such as the Old Swan Brewery, the Carbide Mill and the main case study of this research – Australian Hall in Sydney, is that the contestations surrounding these sites are reflective of the dissonance that is inherent in heritage and they present the differing perceptions and interpretations regarding heritage that emerge from within indigenous and non-indigenous communities.

Summary

In summation this chapter has demonstrated that heritage has changed considerably as a concept and as a practice over time. The diverse and changing meanings of heritage are indicative of its socially constructed, interpretive and subjective nature. However, the fact that heritage is subjective and open to interpretation also suggests that ascribing a meaning to heritage often results in one person’s interpretation attaining precedence over someone else’s perception of heritage. This exclusionary nature and disinheriting tendency of heritage is, however, not a recent phenomenon. This is evidenced in the development of heritage as an institutionalised practice, which has been and continues to be a largely Eurocentric concern. European definitions of different types of heritage, namely natural and cultural heritage have dominated the world scenario of heritage practice. There is also an increasing awareness of the European emphases within heritage practice with that continent’s buildings, historic towns, historic periods and Christianity, figuring prominently on the World Heritage List. This awareness has emerged from an understanding that heritage is a deeply contested or dissonant concept. Current debates and discussions on heritage acknowledge that the socially constructed nature of heritage implies that there are diverse and multiple meanings of heritage and, because these meanings are a matter of interpretations or perceptions of heritage by peoples or groups of peoples there is bound

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to be some degree of difference and disagreement about the meanings of heritage. However dissonance or contestations need not be problematic but can be viewed as spaces of negotiations or necessary challenges that can help achieve and maintain a balance among the varying meanings of heritage. Indigenous heritage is one such challenge to current heritage practice as it steps beyond the Eurocentric nature-culture binary that has been established in heritage practice. This serves to unsettle European perceptions of indigenous heritage which seek to situate indigenous heritage as belonging to a prehistoric or historic past. The issue of ownership of heritage by indigenous peoples globally has further complicated the scenario, increasing the dissonance between indigenous and majority groups’ perceptions of indigenous heritage. The resistance displayed by majority groups towards indigenous claims on heritage are largely driven by economic and nationalistic concerns. In most cases this results in these sites being steeped in controversy and contestations. However, the most significant contestation to a largely Eurocentric heritage practice has emerged in the form of indigenous claims to heritage sites in cities, as not only do these reveal the exclusionary and Eurocentric intentions of heritage practice but they also challenges and successfully move beyond the stereotypes that have informed heritage practice to date.

Chapter 3 Contested indigenous heritages: Challenging (neo)colonial constructions

This chapter brings together discussions from chapters one and two in order to develop the central argument that underlies this thesis. The chapter demonstrates that heritage practice has developed along the lines of a colonial institution. There are a number of elements of contemporary heritage practice which reflect its colonial beginnings such as its exclusionary and Eurocentric nature and its social constructedness which draws on and reinforces constructions of ‘Self’ and ‘Other’. Furthermore, the chapter discusses the anti-colonial sentiments towards a largely (neo)colonial institution that are evidenced in terms of the contestations and dissonance that mark current heritage practice. Contestations are also indicative of the intersubjectivity that is prevalent in the various processes and negotiations that are part of heritage practice. There are two sections to this chapter, the first of which discusses the colonial institution of heritage and the impact colonial ideologies and thinking have had on current heritage practice, particularly the way in which indigenous heritage has been constructed and continues to perceived. The second section demonstrates that the contemporary scenario of heritage practice, and the changing meanings of heritage and associated contestations reflects the postcolonial, anti-colonial and neo-colonial influences that currently inform heritage practice. References to indigenous heritage and particularly to Aboriginal heritage are made throughout the chapter so as to prepare the groundwork for the upcoming chapters which deal with Australian heritage practice.

Heritage as a colonial institution

The primary institutions introduced by colonists into colonised countries included cultural and economic institutions. Archaeology and history were an integral part of these cultural institutions and although heritage as an institutionalised practice emerged in the later stages of colonisation – during the late 18th and early 19th century, its founding ideologies can be traced to these two institutions. Archaeology aided in the furthering of colonial hegemony as it promoted largely Eurocentric perspectives such as the prominence given to Christianity. This was noticeable in terms of the disparate

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treatment of “Christian and traditional non-Christian burial practices and relics” (Gathercole and Lowenthal, 1990, 7). Furthermore archaeology was informed by European and colonial notions of cultural, racial and ethnic superiority, according to which everything European was superior to all non-European relics which were either categorised as “exotic curiosities” or considered unworthy of preservation. European culture was also considered to be more advanced in comparison to non-European cultures which were considered to have “permanently stalled at lower levels” (Gathercole and Lowenthal, 1990, 8). For example, North American archaeologists like museologists have been implicated in the process of creating distinctions between Native American and North American cultures such that, “Native American society is often approached from the perspective of natural and cultural ecology … Instead of being viewed in the context of adjustment to Euro-American expansion and imperialism, Native American history is cast as pristine articulation between traditional culture and natural ecology” (Blakey, 1990, 40). The association of indigenous peoples with a ‘pristine’ condition of nature and traditional culture implies that indigenous cultures were perceived as being frozen in time and had not ‘evolved’ or changed at all. Therefore, not only were indigenous peoples considered incapable of change but by limiting indigenous cultures and histories to the distant past, they were actively excluded from the present. The exclusionary actions of archaeologists and historians were informed by an exclusively ‘white’ and European understanding of change that stressed ideas of progress, technology, and civilisation, and as indigenous peoples did not appear to exhibit any of these Eurocentric concerns, they were deemed as unchanging. This also implied that the adaptations of indigenous peoples and culture to changing colonial and imperial conditions were not recognised, let alone noticed by archaeologists and historians. Furthermore it can be argued that archaeologists and historians purposefully sought to limit indigenous culture to the past so as to maintain a ‘safe’ distance between indigenous and European cultures with the intention of establishing and sustaining European cultural superiority. Historians sought to undermine and exclude all non- European histories and pasts. This was noticeable in the case of Australia, where early colonists in the attempt to present the takeover of Australia as ‘peaceful’ deliberately opted not to include Aboriginal resistance and conflict to colonisation as part of the nation’s history writing (Reynolds, 1981). The fact that Australia was declared terra

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nullius also indicates a conscious effort by the colonists to silence all signs of Aboriginal history and existence so as to justify the occupation of Australia. The blatant disregard for Aboriginal (indigenous) history(s) was underlined by the strong belief that Aboriginal people did not have any conception or idea of history. A compelling example of this mindset was cited by eminent Australian historian Bain Attwood from a 1917 school primer: “When people talk about ‘the history of Australia’ they mean the history of the white people who have lived in Australia. There is good reason why we should not stretch the term to make it include the history of the dark- skinned wandering tribes … for they have nothing that can be called history” (1996, 103). Therefore, the exclusion of Aboriginal histories from Australian history was determined by colonial perceptions of history which predominantly recognised and privileged European histories, or European settlements as in the case of Australia, as the legitimate beginnings of history. Heritage operated along much the same lines as archaeology and history. Tunbridge and Ashworth (2000) argue that the appropriation of indigenous or for that matter non-European heritage was central to processes of colonisation, which actively sought to privilege and empower European heritage. This in turn implied disinheritance and marginalisation of non-European heritages. In terms of non-European built heritage where it was sufficiently visible as in the case of Morocco it was reduced to the level of pre-modern curiosities and where it was not, as in the case of most of sub-Saharan Africa, it was simply ignored and pushed to the periphery (Tunbridge and Ashworth, 2000, 34). Other aspects of non-European heritage such as artistic works, paintings, sculptures, and cultural traditions of song, dance, and music were either housed in ethnographic museums or became a source of cultural tourism – an indication of the commodification of these heritages. Indigenous heritage was no exception to this marginalisation and is in fact widely recognised as one of the most ‘potent’ examples of the disinheriting power of heritage (Tunbridge and Ashworth, 2000, 34). The marginalisation of indigenous (non-European) heritages was aimed at discrediting the legitimacy of pre-colonial identities so that it became easier for colonisers to establish and maintain the hegemony of the coloniser-colonised relationship. Colonial constructions of the coloniser or the ‘Self’ and the colonised or the ‘Other’ were critical to the operation of heritage in the colonies. It can be argued that the manifestations of these constructions in terms of heritage were natural and built

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heritage – the two types of heritage that were most commonly employed to categorise and create distinctions between European and non-European heritages. Built or manmade heritage, including buildings and cities, was celebrated as the heritage of the coloniser, the Self, as it symbolised technological achievement – the markers of culturally superior civilisations. On the other hand non-European and indigenous heritages, as the heritage of the Other, were most often associated with nature, as nature itself was perceived as ‘non-rational’, uncivilised and ‘wild’ and needed to be tamed. This was a direct reflection of the colonial constructions of the Other which depicted the colonised as uncivilised, ‘primitive’ and savage. Accordingly indigenous heritage, was deliberately cast as primitive, belonging to the past and to cultures that had ceased to exist, and was stereotyped as part of the natural environment. In settler societies like Australia, indigenous (Aboriginal) heritages, namely artefacts, were readily assimilated as part of natural heritage. This was, however, not driven by the appreciation of indigenous heritage but more by the overriding importance that was placed on the pristine and untouched condition of the natural environment in these countries into which indigenous people and culture so neatly fitted. Australian academic Tony Bennett notes that Australia was perceived as the “fossilised land” or the “palaeontologic penal colony” (2004, 137) and these colonial perceptions were informed and enforced not only by the state of the Australian natural environment but equally by colonial ideas regarding the ‘primitive’ and ‘unevolved’ or stagnated condition of Aboriginal peoples and cultures. Aboriginal artefacts along with specimens of Australian nature were included as part of ethnological and natural history displays in European and American museums, “as starting points for their evolutionary displays” (Bennett, 2004, 139). In fact, as noted by Australian archaeologist Denis Byrne (1996), Aboriginal artefacts were widely employed by Australian colonial governments in 19th century international expositions to compare them to products of Australian settler society and demonstrate the progress that Australian had made since 1788. These artefacts “became the baseline in an epic of technological progress” driven by Eurocentric ideas of technology as the index of a civilisation’s superiority (Byrne, 1996, 90, 91). Therefore, just as perceptions of the less evolved Other strengthened the cultural superiority of the Self, indigenous heritage served the purpose of highlighting the technological achievements and prowess of the coloniser.

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The maintenance of colonial perceptions of indigenous heritage as stagnant and belonging to the distant past was driven not only by the colonisers’ desire to sustain their colonial hegemony but was also symptomatic of what has been termed “imperialist nostalgia” (Rosaldo, 1989). The term as defined by Renato Rosaldo (1989, 108) refers to a sort of nostalgia, which is “often found under imperialism, where people mourn the passing of what they themselves have transformed”. According to Rosaldo (1989, 108) imperialist nostalgia gives way to ideologies that consider ideas of the “vanishing primitive” and “mourning the passing of traditional society”. Therefore it became increasingly important for the colonisers to hold onto and promote images of indigenous peoples and cultures as they had ‘originally’ found them. An instance of this was noted by Byrne (1996, 90) who argues that while Aboriginal peoples were readily giving up stone artefacts in favour of steel hatchets and flaked glass artefacts, Europeans were busily collecting these stone artefacts and labelling Aboriginal people as users of these ‘traditional’ artefacts. Heritage, like history, sought to overlook the changes and adaptations that were being consciously undertaken by Aboriginal peoples in favour of the images of an Aboriginal past they had seen on landing in Australia. The sense of nostalgia for that which had been lost, contributed to further disinheriting Aboriginal people of a sense of heritage that was their own. The disinheritances and exclusions that have marked heritage practice are an indication of its colonial legacy and with the end of colonialism the challenge that heritage practices the world over are faced with is redefining and reworking widely circulated and largely Eurocentric perceptions of heritage, including the narrow typologies of natural and built heritage. For former colonies it is a matter of (re)working a heritage system that was set up by the colonisers, whereas for settler colonies it is a matter of including previously neglected perceptions of heritage, namely those of indigenous peoples.

Contemporary heritage practices: dealing with a colonial legacy

To move beyond colonial constructions of non-European and indigenous heritage requires contemporary heritage practice to address its colonial beginnings. Recent scholarship on heritage has contributed significantly towards developing an understanding of the Eurocentric and exclusionary nature of heritage practice. In this it

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has borrowed much from postcolonial theory and social constructivist theory, especially in terms of examining constructions of heritage from the point of view of perceptions of majority (coloniser) and minority (colonised) groups, thereby bringing forth the socially and politically constructed nature of heritage. The social constructedness of heritage has also revealed that in the midst of the myriad perceptions and meanings of heritage it is intrinsically a “contested, or contestable, resource” which often results in conflicts between different social groups (Tunbridge, 1997, xviii). While this link between social constructivism and the contested nature of heritage has gained much ground in heritage scholarship, even those who are strong advocates of this “critical dialogue” like Tunbridge, Jones and Shaw (1997, xvii, xviii) are cautious of the dependency on postcolonial social theory owing to its apparent shortcomings. Postcolonial theory is often criticised for being limited to the past, culturally insensitive, geographically homogenising, focused on Europe, and most importantly failing to recognise that power needs to be shared between the previously colonised and former colonisers. In other words, postcolonialism is often under attack for reiterating the conditions of colonialism. The cautionary approach towards postcolonial theory is advisable as heritage practice, while trying to move beyond its colonial past, does at times tend to fall back into a colonial mindset. The fact that there is an observable overrepresentation of Europe, historic towns, religious monuments, historic periods, and Christianity on the World Heritage List, is a reminder of the colonial setup of heritage practice in which there was a deliberate privileging of European heritage. However, this criticism of the Eurocentric nature of heritage although a step in the right direction, is reductive as it tends to keep the debate focused on previous power relations between the coloniser and colonised. This is where the concept of contested or dissonant heritage becomes increasingly important as it foregrounds the issue of power relations and the resulting disinheritances that are always be associated with heritage. Further, it has been suggested that in the process of including different types and meanings of heritage, heritage practice needs to be critically aware of the accompanying contestations so that it is able to negotiate between contestations of different social groups and achieve some equilibrium (Tunbridge and Ashworth, 1996). A critical aspect of this recasting of heritage practice is that it recognises that unequal power relations have occurred and continue to occur in matters of heritage and that the resulting contestations are

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indicative not only of the multidimensionality of heritage but are challenges to dominant perceptions of heritage. Indigenous heritage in settler societies has also been subjected to essentialist perceptions that continue to dominate heritage practice today. The contestations that have emerged from within indigenous groups to these stereotypical images of indigenous heritage are confronting as well as suggestive of an ongoing colonial legacy. Indigenous peoples’ perceptions of their heritage, as demonstrated in the Principles and guidelines for the protection of the heritage of Indigenous Peoples (1995), include aspects of nature and culture. This all-encompassing approach to indigenous heritage defies the natural and cultural (including built) heritage distinctions that were established as part of the colonial heritage practices, and which have been maintained to date. However, dominant perceptions of indigenous heritage as belonging to the natural environment persist within heritage practice, despite progressive international legislations such as the UNESCO /IUCN Working Guidelines for the Conservation and Management of Sacred Natural Sites (2005) and the Akwé: Kon Voluntary Guidelines (2004), and are an indication of the inertia within heritage practice towards changing its largely colonial approach. This is perhaps most observable in terms of the numerous exhibits of indigenous cultures that continue to be displayed as parts of natural history and ecology sections of museums around the world. This not only reinforces the linking of indigenous heritage with nature but also seems to cling to the ‘colonial’ idea that indigenous heritage belongs to cultures that have ceased to exist. This is despite the fact that indigenous heritage is part of a living and changing indigenous culture. It would, therefore, seem fit to assume that heritage practice tends to reiterate colonial ideas of indigenous heritage. Further instances of the neo-colonial overtones of heritage practice can be glimpsed in terms of its failure to adjust to indigenous concerns of heritage namely in terms of the identification, management and ownership of indigenous heritage. For indigenous people the heritage significance of a site depends upon the associations that they have with the site, whether these are spiritual, sacred or historical in nature. This does not necessarily involve a particular location which is in sharp contrast to the current method employed by heritage practice of ascribing a heritage value to a specific location or particular part of the natural or built environment. This difference in perceptions is, however, not readily incorporated by heritage practice, and its

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inflexibility in changing its approach towards the identification of indigenous heritage sites often results in an underrepresentation of indigenous heritage. This demonstrates that heritage practice in upholding Eurocentric viewpoints of heritage identification reinforces its ‘original’ (colonial) exclusionary structure. The issue of ownership of indigenous heritage by indigenous peoples is perhaps the most crucial and yet sensitive challenge that faces heritage practice. The ownership of traditional territories and resources is pertinent to the transmission and protection of indigenous heritages, as these are intrinsically linked with the knowledge bases that are employed to teach future indigenous generations about their heritage. However, in most cases there is considerable opposition to indigenous claims to these sites as these are usually sites associated with prime economic ventures such as logging, mining, agriculture and tourism industries, or on the other hand are sites that have overlapping indigenous and European heritage values. Economic viability is frequently cited as the reason for continuing economic ventures on these sites, and in a majority of such cases the argument for economic benefits overrides the claim of indigenous heritage. However, the benefits from these ventures very rarely reach back into the associated indigenous communities and this in turn draws attention to the ongoing neglect and exploitation of indigenous lands, resources and heritage. It is, however, the subject of overlapping heritage values which places heritage practice in the most uncomfortable and unsettled position. This is because current indigenous claims to these sites defy the (ongoing colonial) belief that indigenous heritage belongs to cultures that have ceased to exist. Also in a number of cases these sites are located in cities, which dispels the idea that indigenous heritage belongs only to the natural environment. However, the fact that most of these sites, especially those in urban areas, are surrounded by contestations and controversy indicates that dominant perceptions of indigenous heritage continue to plague heritage practice. This holds true especially in urban areas as cities have long been the strongholds of a nation’s heritage which in the case of settler societies is largely a colonial heritage. It can be argued that as indigenous heritage is perceived as a threat to this established order it becomes crucial for heritage practice to maintain that indigenous heritage belongs primarily to the natural environment and not to the built environment. There is, therefore, a notable privileging of European heritage over indigenous heritage in the spaces of the (postcolonial) city, which reflects the neo-colonial inclinations of heritage practice.

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The contestations that have emerged from within indigenous communities to the deep-seated hegemony of heritage practice are underlined by a strong sense of anti- colonial resistance. This is particularly relevant in settler societies like Australia where the hegemony of colonial culture has been reinforced (even if it no longer is) by majority groups comprised of the descendents of settlers. The situation for (the previously colonised) indigenous peoples has changed little with the end of colonialism as they continue to struggle against the ongoing colonial hegemony in political, cultural and social institutions. In matters of heritage this anti-colonial move is noticeable in terms of indigenous contestations of stereotypical images of indigenous heritage. These represent the rejection of colonial ideas of indigenous heritage. Concurrently the emphasis on recognition of indigenous perceptions of heritage and the demand for rights of ownership of heritage sites demonstrates that the restoration of local (indigenous) control of heritage is increasingly sought by indigenous peoples. By appropriating commonly understood concepts of heritage such as natural and cultural (including built) heritage, indigenous peoples have (re)defined and reinforced distinctively indigenous perceptions of heritage. Indigenous heritage according to indigenous peoples incorporates aspects of both nature and culture and challenges Eurocentric perceptions that it belongs solely to the natural environment. In matters pertaining to ownership there is growing unease among indigenous communities that the ‘assimilation’ of indigenous heritage as part of the national heritage of settler societies diminishes the control they have over their own heritage. This wary approach towards the disinheriting power of heritage has seen an increase in the demand for the return of traditional heritage sites as well as greater indigenous participation and involvement in matters related to the management and interpretation of indigenous heritages. This reveals that indigenous anti-colonial resistance to heritage practice is not simply about contesting cultural and social perceptions but is also intensely political in nature. The demand for ownership of indigenous heritage sites mirrors the ongoing struggle to reclaim traditional indigenous lands and is an anti- colonial response to the dispossession of indigenous populations by colonisation. Similarly, the emphasis on indigenous involvement in heritage affairs reflects critical issues of self-determination and self-governance. However, the political motivations and anti-colonial sentiments that underline indigenous heritage concerns are often

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overlooked in favour of the political, namely ‘nationalistic’ concerns of heritage practice in settler societies. In settler societies the incorporation of indigenous heritage as part of the national heritage has been driven by the need to establish a distinctive national identity. This was usually subsequent to the end of colonialism in these countries as the need to build and reinforce a national identity that was distinct from that of the colonial power or the country of origin was critical to settler societies. For example, in Australia during the latter part of the 19th and early 20th century as links with Britain and Europe were severed the idea of a distinct Australian identity emerged. Well-known Australian historian, Stuart Macintyre argues that this search for Australian-ness, combined with the “desire for a binding national past that would connect the people to the land … The longing for belonging to an indigenous culture”, (2004, 4) led non-Aboriginal Australians (unlike the colonists) to readily embrace the Aboriginal past of Australia which existed prior to colonisation. The antiquity and diversity of Aboriginal culture, practices, languages and art forms enriched the image of a unique Australian identity and gave the dominant ‘white’ settler Australia a sense of connectivity to the land. In terms of heritage selected Aboriginal heritage sites such as Ayers Rock at Uluru were incorporated as part of an Australian national heritage while critical aspects of Aboriginal post-contact history were deliberately excluded, such as sites of Aboriginal resistance to colonisation and settlement. This demonstrates that Aboriginal heritage of the distant past was chosen over more recent and contentious Aboriginal sites, as it symbolised a depoliticised and therefore unthreatening version of Aboriginal history that would contribute to the strengthening of national identity. National heritage is also closely associated with the political standing of a nation and increasingly the inclusion of minority heritages has come to represent the democratic status of a country. Likewise, heritage practice in Australia has made a conscious move towards recognising previously overlooked sites of Aboriginal and European contact and conflict, namely massacre sites, and include these as part of national and state registers and lists. Although this is a reconciliatory move, it is equally driven by the idea of projecting heritage practice as free of colonial hegemony and prejudices – in other words heritage practice has moved into a postcolonial position. As a result, these sites of Aboriginal-European contact are largely presented as legacies of colonialism suggesting that heritage practice is attempting to distance itself from

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colonisation. However, this postcolonial approach is highly problematic as it seeks to limit the impacts of colonisation on Aboriginal peoples and cultures to a safe and historical past. It fails to pay attention to the current heritage concerns of Aboriginal people, especially the contestations emerging from Aboriginal communities to the misappropriation of Aboriginal heritage sites throughout Australia. Contestations not only challenge the hegemonic setup of heritage practice but also present a window of opportunity to examine and understand the varying perceptions and the various actors and forces that are at play in matters of indigenous heritage. Contested heritage, according to Jones and Shaw displays multidimensionality such that it “may involve disputes between any or all of developers and preservationists, the religious and the secular, and the dominant and the subjugated and, perhaps most confusingly, encompass disagreements within, as well as between, these groups” (1997, 3). Therefore contestations represent not only the diversity of perceptions of heritage, but the focus on disputes and disagreements brings forth the difference in these perceptions based upon the subjective experience of the people or groups of people involved. In this, the concept of contested heritage is akin to the idea of indigeneity or in the case of this research Aboriginality. Aboriginality, like heritage, is a socially constructed concept and constructions pertaining to Aboriginal people and culture arise from of the subjective experiences of both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people. The two concepts are further linked as constructions of Aboriginality, namely colonial constructions of Aboriginal peoples and culture, have deeply influenced dominant perceptions of Aboriginal heritage. Correspondingly, the anti-colonial resistances that have emerged from within Aboriginal communities against stereotypical images of Aboriginal people and culture have informed contestations regarding Aboriginal heritage. However, despite Aboriginal anti-colonial responses to colonial constructions of Aboriginality and similar Aboriginal contestations of the neo-colonial practices of heritage, dominant and largely colonial perceptions of Aboriginality and Aboriginal heritage persist. This is because constructions of Aboriginality continue to be based upon historic images of Aboriginal people and fail to take into account the interactions between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples. Attention needs to be paid to the intersubjective exchange that occurs between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people in which Aboriginal people are active subjects in the construction of Aboriginality. Likewise contestations pertaining to Aboriginal heritage need to be viewed as a source

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of dialogue between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples, in which Aboriginal people are looked upon as active spokespersons and participants in the determination, management and possible ownership of their heritage. In terms of Aboriginal heritage there is a multilayering of varying perceptions of heritage which is largely governed by the experience of Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people interacting with each other and with Aboriginal culture. Non-Aboriginal perceptions of Aboriginal heritage which have propagated stereotypes, icons and mythologies about Aboriginal people and culture are quite obviously colonial but at the same time such perceptions speak of little or no contact with Aboriginal people or culture. For instance, the linking of Aboriginal heritage with nature not only denies the possibility that Aboriginal heritage might occur in the city and be a part of the built environment, but more importantly it fails to acknowledge urban Aboriginal presence and culture. Similarly, perceptions that continue to limit Aboriginal heritage to the distant past and to cultures that have ceased to exist, appear oblivious to the living and changing nature of Aboriginal culture. On the other hand, there are perceptions of Aboriginal heritage that are largely, if not completely, shaped by Aboriginal people interacting with each other. These include anti-colonial contestations that emerge from within Aboriginal communities as well as the distinctive ideas of Aboriginal heritage such as determining the heritage value of a site according to sacred, historical or spiritual associations, rather than site specificity. Although these are primarily perceptions of Aboriginal people they are not divorced from the larger context of a settler dominant society, which explains the anti- colonial responses or the reinforcement of Aboriginal identity. Therefore, perceptions of Aboriginal heritage are formed by the subjective experiences of both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples but unfortunately they exist only in relation to and not in conversation with each other. It is in matters involving contested Aboriginal heritage that Aboriginal and non- Aboriginal perceptions of heritage are pitted against each other, setting the grounds for an actual dialogue between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people. This is evident in cases that involve overlapping Aboriginal and European heritage values and are usually at the centre of intense contestations between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples. In these cases stereotypical, mostly non-Aboriginal, perceptions of Aboriginal heritage are challenged by Aboriginal viewpoints which attempt to counteract these stereotypes

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while presenting distinctively Aboriginal perspectives. The context is of a tangible and open-ended intercultural exchange between Aboriginal people and a largely non- Aboriginal heritage practice and this provides both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people involved with the opportunity to present their respective perceptions of Aboriginal heritage and adjust these perceptions based on each other’s responses. The critical aspect of this intercultural dialogue is that in bringing together these varying perceptions it also brings forth the postcolonial, neo-colonial and anti-colonial sentiments that underline these perceptions. The possibility of negotiations between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples implies that neo-colonial practices can be successfully challenged and possibly changed by anti-colonial contestations.

Summary

This chapter has established that heritage practice since its inception as an institutionalised practice developed along the lines of colonial disciplines such as archaeology and history. It sought to privilege European heritage while ensuring that most non-European, including indigenous, heritage was either neglected or relegated to the position of exotic curiosities. This marginalisation and exclusion of non-European heritages was instrumental in establishing and maintaining the cultural superiority of the colonisers which in turn helped maintain the hegemony of colonial rule. Intrinsic to this process was the association of non-European heritages with natural heritage and European heritage with built heritage. These associations were strongly underlined by the construction of the coloniser (Self) and the colonised (Other). Indigenous heritages in settler societies such as Australia were also subjected to these constructions and were labelled as primitive, belonging to the past and to the natural environment. However, there has been little change in settler dominant societies, despite the end of colonialism, as heritage practice in these countries continues to reinforce these colonial stereotypes. Contestations emerging from indigenous communities to the neo-colonial approach of heritage practice challenge as well as reject these colonial perceptions of indigenous heritage. Distinctively indigenous concerns regarding the identification, management and ownership of indigenous heritage are also being pushed forward by indigenous communities, as they demand greater local control of traditional territories and resources. These moves on the part of indigenous communities are strongly anti-

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colonial in nature as commonly understood and employed categories of natural and cultural (built) heritage, as well as common practices of heritage such as identification processes are appropriated by indigenous people to voice and present their concerns and perceptions. However, despite indigenous resistances, dominant, stereotypical images of indigenous heritage continue to circulate within heritage practice. The divide between the perceptions of indigenous peoples and a largely non-indigenous heritage practice needs to be bridged and this can be successfully achieved by tapping into the dialogue that occurs between indigenous and non-indigenous people in cases of shared and contested heritages.

Chapter 4 Aboriginal Australian heritage(s) and Australia’s (neo)colonial heritage practice

Chapter four introduces the discussion pertaining to Australian heritage practice and its approach to Aboriginal Australian heritage. From the early stages of colonisation and settlement through to the formation of Federation and until recently, commenting on, presenting and working on matters of Aboriginal Australian heritage has largely been a ‘white’ Australian privilege. Australian heritage practice has long promoted pre- contact, nature bound perceptions of Aboriginal heritage. However, in recent years owing to growing Aboriginal resistance heritage practice has been compelled to examine and rework its largely colonial approach. This has seen a shift, mostly in terms of heritage legislation, towards increasing the recognition of Aboriginal heritage sites that are part of the built environment and represent Aboriginal post-contact history. In the first of three sections that make up this chapter, the development of heritage practice in Australia is examined, to tease out the effects of colonialism and nationalism on dominant, largely ‘white’ perceptions of Aboriginal Australian heritage. The second section is a closer look at the ‘colonial’ approaches to Aboriginal heritage that continue to influence current heritage practice. The recent shift in heritage practice is discussed in the third section, with state and national level legislation forming the focus of the discussion. Current criticism of this apparent move away from colonial thinking is integrated into this section.

Aboriginal heritage and Australian heritage practice: from colonial beginnings to national undertakings

When tracing the development of heritage practice in Australia it is necessary to consider two factors – the impact of imperialism in terms of Australia’s position as a former colony of Britain and in a larger and more contemporary scenario the international trends of heritage interpretation and their influence on Australian heritage practice. A “strong regard for British imperialism” in the early years of Australia’s settlement saw the first generation of European settlers and colonists, “create a tangible communal past” through the “deliberate creation of obelisks, statues and monuments commemorating … deeds of explorers, governors and military heroes” (Freestone,

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1995, 80; Davison, 1991, 14). For these early settlers, Australia was a country without any traces of “a tangible past” as, unlike European countries, it did not bear the known and familiar signs of a “thousand years of human endeavour” – created landscapes of buildings, factories, parks, fields, canals (Davison, 1991, 14). The fact that Aboriginal peoples “had inhabited the land for 400 centuries” before European settlement of Australia was neither acknowledged nor considered worthy of recognition (Davison, 1991, 14). Davison argues that the reason for this was that the early settlers “had not yet learned to read the land for signs of an ancestral past” (1991, 14). It was, however, not solely an inability to read the land but more a sense of colonial superiority based on ideas that Aboriginal peoples and cultures were less civilised than European cultures which made the colonists and settlers to overlook Aboriginal histories and heritages. At a more intangible level, it can be argued that this somewhat ‘blind’ approach adopted by colonists was driven by the idea of discrediting the legitimacy of Aboriginal peoples and cultures which had existed prior to the British settlement of Australia in 1788. This in turn supported the notion of terra nullius which was employed to justify the colonisation of Australia. As the settlement of Australia progressed further from Sydney there was a slight change in this approach with rising European interest in Aboriginal pre-contact archaeological remains. These began to be regarded as “a benchmark of authentic Aboriginality” (Byrne, 1996, 82). This interest was accompanied by the incorrect belief and historical misrepresentation that all Aboriginal people living in these areas had died, moved or simply vanished. According to Byrne “Aboriginal culture in the southeast was perceived by white settlers to be a faded, static memory of a once vibrant ‘traditional’ culture” (1996, 87). He argues:

At the same time that various means were being used to decrease the visibility of living Aboriginal people in the landscape of the southeast various other means were being employed to enhance the visibility of the archaeological remains which, in a sense were replacing them there (1996, 84; emphasis added).

Ironically, the colonists and settlers who were responsible for the deaths, dispossession, displacement, and rapidly decreasing numbers of Aboriginal people were also the people who sought to hold onto what they perceived as the ‘remains’ of an Aboriginal culture which was slowly vanishing. This reaction of preserving archaeological remains

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of Aboriginal people and culture was possibly prompted by feelings of guilt and ‘nostalgia’ for all that they had destroyed. The response was also deeply influenced by Social Darwinist thinking which predicted the eventual demise of all Aboriginal people – they were signed off as a ‘dying race’, which in turn made it increasingly urgent to collect and protect aspects of their culture. In addition, Aboriginal archaeological remains, namely artefacts, were widely employed as comparative measures to offset the “the technological advancement of the settlers”, as well as form part of evolutionary displays in museums throughout Europe and America (Byrne, 1996, 20). The overriding importance paid to archaeological remains clearly ignored the changing expressions of Aboriginal people and culture under conditions of colonialism, in preference for images of the loin-clothed, spear carrying ‘vanishing primitive’. Things were much the same during the early 1900s, although there were changes in heritage trends with the imperialist sense of heritage being replaced by the concept of ‘national heritage’. The formation of the Federation of states and Australia’s “involvement in imperial wars” brought with it a “heightened sense of nationalism” (Freestone, 1995, 80). According to Davison:

In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, as new nation-states fought for legitimacy, people began to speak of a ‘national heritage’ as that body of folkways and political ideas on which new regimes founded their sense of pride and legitimacy. Australians, who modelled themselves upon the new nations of Europe and America, thus created their own national myths based upon the ‘pioneer heritage’ or the ‘heritage of Anzac’ (1991, 1).

Therefore, even as Australia stepped out of the shadows of colonialism, the privileging of European, namely pioneer and wartime heritages prevailed in the form of a national heritage which sought to uphold the achievements of Australian settler society. In the post-war period Australia followed Europe and America in terms of preservation movements. This saw the establishment of the National Trust of Australia (NSW) in 1947, which marked the beginning a “truly organised preservation movement” (Freestone, 1995, 82). Strong nationalistic feelings underpinned these post-war preservation movements across Europe, America and Australia, which celebrated sites and buildings as “national or spiritual heritage” (Davison, 1991, 1). However, the notion of spiritual heritage in these formative years of Australian heritage practice was limited to commemorating the pioneering spirit of the early settlers and did not include any

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representation or recognition of Aboriginal people’s spiritual relationships to land. Aboriginal people’s connectivity and associations with the land were overwhelmingly ignored, even as the Australian landscape, particularly the taming of the land by early settlers formed an integral part of the nation’s imaginary. Early ideas of Australian national heritage, therefore, seemed to deliberately omit Aboriginal perceptions of heritage. By the end of the 19th century the prevailing ‘white’ attitude towards Aboriginal heritage and history was being increasingly challenged as colonial fabrications of terra nullius and Social Darwinism were actively disputed by growing Aboriginal populations and the revival of Aboriginal culture by Aboriginal communities. This was compounded by a growing sense of ‘rootlessness’– a sense of not belonging to the land which led Australian settler society to consider embracing the very Aboriginal past and heritage they had tried so hard to conceal. Macintyre notes that there was a growing recognition that, “[A]n alternative beginning was apparent. Australia – or, rather, the earlier landmass of Sahul …was the site of an earlier way of life that had evolved over many millennia” (2004, 4). This (appropriated) version of Aboriginal history and culture was readily integrated as part of the extended history of Australia, giving Australian settler society a sense of connectivity to the land. Similarly, heritage, according to Tony Bennett (1988, 5), for a young postcolonial nation like Australia served to fill the ‘vacuum’ caused by the loss of not having a deeply grounded sense of the past. He argues that this was propelled by the need to produce “a more clearly and more completely autonomised national past” which was ‘liberated’ from “British dependency” and the exclusive focus on the “moment of settlement” (1988, 9, 14). In response Australian national heritage sought to “back-project”, and incorporate into its fold “the long reaches of unrecorded time comprised in Aboriginal life and, before that, in the history of nature itself … enabling Australia to equal the antiquity of any nation” (Bennett, 1988). Aboriginal heritage served the purpose of strengthening a sense of Australian national past. The quest for a distinctive Australian national past which drew heavily on Aboriginal ‘prehistory’ was driven by an understanding of ‘white’ Australian culture as relatively homogenous and indistinguishable from western culture at large. But Aboriginal culture was “highly distinct and recognisable internationally” and could therefore be appropriated to reinforce a unique Australian identity (Byrne, 1996). The

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‘convenient’ adoption of Aboriginal artefacts and sites as part of an Australian heritage emerged as a major exercise during the 1960s and 1970s and, as noted by Byrne (1996) state and federal legislations regarding the protection of Aboriginal heritage were introduced. In contrast to earlier years these were not opposed but introduced without any fuss or controversy. The first instance of statutory protection of Aboriginal sites in Australia occurred in 1955 with the establishment of the Northern Territory’s Native and Historical Objects Preservation Ordinance 1955. This was followed by South Australian legislation to protect Aboriginal sites in 1965. Meanwhile, in 1963 the Victorian Branch of the National Trust of Australia extended its concerns for preserving heritage to include Aboriginal rock paintings (Davison, 1991, 3). It was, however, in the 1970s that the issue of Aboriginal heritage received political impetus with the introduction of the idea of the ‘National Estate’ by the Whitlam governments, and at an international level with the formal recognition of natural and cultural heritages by UNESCO. The concept of the National Estate was initiated by Australian Prime Minister Gough Whitlam during his terms in office from 1972-74 and 1974-75. As defined in the Australian Heritage Commission Act 1975, the National Estate includes components of the natural environment, the Indigenous environment and the historic environment which have “aesthetic, historic, scientific or social significance or other special value for future generations as well as for the present community” (Australian Heritage Commission, 1975). The incorporation of Aboriginal heritage as part of national heritage was strongly recommended by the Hope Committee set up under the Whitlam governments to inquire into the establishment of the National Estate. The findings of the Hope Committee, officially known as the Committee of Inquiry into the National Estate, were critical in regard to recognising the devastating impacts of colonisation on Aboriginal heritage, namely sacred sites and ceremonial grounds. It argued that the dispossession of Aboriginal peoples caused by colonisation and settlement implied a loss of traditional culture and called for the government to accept greater responsibility for protecting significant Aboriginal sites as well as involving Aboriginal peoples in these processes. It cited this as being vital to the “survival of traditional communities and of remaining Aboriginal culture” (1974, 25). The concept of the National Estate, according to the Committee, could play “an important part: first in the protection of sites now disused but provide important records of a culture locally lost; second in

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protecting ‘living’ sites and areas still in use” (1974, 25; emphasis original). Perhaps the most commendable observation of the Hope Committee (1974, 169) was that it recognised that all efforts directed towards preserving Aboriginal artefacts and physical structures were based on the misguided perception that Aboriginal culture was soon to be lost, and this it argued was unlike the approach adopted towards European heritage which emphasised the continuation of a culture. The Hope Committee was therefore instrumental in bringing forth and questioning dominant perceptions of Aboriginal heritage. The recommendations of the Hope Committee, although deeply insightful, were largely overlooked with the change of government. This represented not just a change in the political mood but was symptomatic of the inertia within the larger scenario of Australian heritage practice that continued to cling to colonial ideologies. It would be another twenty years before the suggestions of the Hope Committee were to actually have a significant impact on heritage practice and the largely ‘white’ Australian approach it had towards Aboriginal heritage. The 1960s and 1970s were also marked by changing international heritage trends which did have a small but nevertheless considerable effect on Aboriginal heritage issues. In the 1960s, the promotion of the concept of cultural heritage by UNESCO saw a move towards recognising sites, buildings, and objects not only for their spiritual significance but also for their material value (Davison, 1991, 1). This was informed by the emerging anthropologic approach towards ‘culture’, which was now perceived as encompassing values and objects. It was within this changing framework that Aboriginal artefacts and sites were recognised as representing Aboriginal culture and were therefore considered as part of the cultural heritage of Australia. In the 1970s heritage was officially recognised in accordance with the World Heritage Convention as including built as well as natural remnants of the past. The concretisation and internationalisation of natural and cultural heritage types brought with it a new era of Australian heritage, in which natural heritage along with Aboriginal heritage were celebrated as representing the unique identity of Australia. However, in both the case of the National Estate and wider international heritage trends this formalised distinction of natural and built heritage types would prove to be disempowering for Aboriginal heritage, which despite being considered as a separate type of heritage continued to be largely associated with nature and very rarely with the built environment. Furthermore,

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the idea of historic environments as outlined by the National Estate implied that indigenous or Aboriginal heritages were not included as parts of (European) historic periods, but belonged to the time before 1788. Therefore, even as attitudes towards Aboriginal heritage changed from sheer disregard and omission to an enthusiastic inclusion as part of a unique Australian national heritage, there was very little variation to the accompanying nature-bound, pre-contact stereotypical images.

(Post)colonial approaches to Aboriginal heritage: continuing colonial associations

The linking together of Aboriginal heritage with the natural environment has its roots in colonial thinking. In the early stages of colonisation the interest in Aboriginal pre-contact heritage was underlined by colonial perceptions that stereotyped Aboriginal people as ‘primitive’ and ‘uncivilised’, and subsequently associated Aboriginal heritage with ‘wild’ and ‘non-rational’ nature. With the end of colonialism, the conscious reverence for the antiquity of nature, which in turn reinforced a distinctive Australian identity, was reflected in a similar valuing of Aboriginal heritage. In 1984, the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Heritage Protection Act 1984 (Cth) (the Act) was established by the Hawke government in response to Aboriginal demands “for priority to be given to enacting legislation which can counter the real, and at times sudden, threats which are made to significant sites and objects [of Indigenous heritage value]” (Ryan, 1984). Although the Act was set up as an interim measure and was supposed to last for two years, it continues to be operational and its purposes are “the preservation and protection from injury or desecration of areas and objects in Australia and in Australian waters, being areas and objects that are of particular significance to Aboriginals in accordance with Aboriginal tradition” (Office of Legislative Drafting, Attorney-General’s Department, 2001). It would be fair to assume that with the setting up of Aboriginal heritage as a separate type of heritage, the continuing association of Aboriginal heritage with natural heritage would cease. Instead, the growing international and national interest in natural heritage created a niche within which Aboriginal heritage could be neatly fitted. This is evident in pertinent heritage legislation such as the National Parks and Wildlife Act 1974 (NSW) which to date is one of the primary statutes dealing with Aboriginal heritage in New South Wales. The opening section of the National Parks

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and Wildlife Act (NSW) delineates that it is “An Act to consolidate and amend the law relating to the establishment, preservation and management of national parks, historic sites and certain other areas and the protection of certain fauna, native plants and Aboriginal objects” (New South Wales Parliamentary Counsel’s Office, 2004). On the one hand national parks, historic sites and the like are mentioned as a certain type of heritage that needs to be preserved and managed, whereas Aboriginal objects are quite conveniently and seemingly inadvertently placed with fauna and native plants for the purposes of protection. A further complication to the argument of Aboriginal heritage being associated with nature is the observation put forth by Lowenthal (1985, 54) who stresses that in the case of Australia the attention paid to the antiquity of nature far outweighs that being ascribed to Aboriginal “prehistoric artefacts”. He pointedly notes that Australians “find roots in nature, not in aboriginal [sic] man [sic]” (1985, 54). Although it can be maintained that Lowenthal’s argument appears to be only partially accurate as Australian history and heritage have borrowed extensively from Aboriginal past, the emphasis on Australia’s natural environment has outweighed the attention paid to Aboriginal pre-contact past. The statistics shown in Table 2 from the Australian Heritage Commission’s (AHC) Report on the National Estate, prepared in 1981, reveal that at the end of 1980, the number of indigenous (Aboriginal) heritage sites were substantially less in number than natural heritage sites. However, it was not so much natural heritage as historic sites which outnumbered Aboriginal heritage. Historic sites were five times the number of Aboriginal heritage sites and formed the largest number of listed sites on the Register of the National Estate (RNE). These sites according to the AHC (1981) were sites mostly related to European exploration and settlement which suggests that even as Australian heritage practice sought to celebrate the antiquity of nature and the distinctiveness of Aboriginal heritage it failed to move beyond the ‘inherent’ Eurocentric thinking which privileged buildings (and European architecture) over nature and indigenous culture. This in turn reflects the mindset of a postcolonial settler society which in striving to form its own identity continues to be heavily entrenched in the cultural hegemony of colonial practices.

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Table 2. Register of National Estate as prepared in 1981 State Type of Place Totals Indigenous Historic Natural NSW 78 1941 220 2239 VIC 42 1236 81 1359 QLD 14 294 122 430 WA 24 478 223 725 SA 60 534 210 804 TAS 18 889 141 1048 NT 18 25 24 67 ACT 2 15 1 18 Others 0 5 12 17 Totals 256 5417 1034 6707 (Source: Australian Heritage Commission, 2003, Annual Report, 2002-2003)

The disparate treatment of Aboriginal and historic heritages has been discussed at length by Denis Byrne and Australian academic Maria Nugent whose extensive research on Aboriginal post-contact heritage in New South Wales, revealed that:

In the early decades of cultural heritage management in NSW (1970s-1990s) a division of heritage into ‘Aboriginal’ and ‘historic’ was institutionalised, with different people working on each area and, for the most part, different legislation applying to each. One of the problems with such a division is that it implies the two are mutually exclusive: it implies that Aboriginal heritage has no place in historic (post-contact) period. It implies in other words, that Aboriginal heritage properly belongs to the time before 1788, as if Aboriginal culture and history after that date are no longer authentic or ‘real’ (2004, 5).

Byrne and Nugent’s observation is critical as it draws attention to two critical issues – the deliberate distinction between historic and Aboriginal heritages and the ongoing subscription of Aboriginal heritage with the pre-contact past and its resulting omission from post-contact history. They note that most of the work conducted in the field of cultural heritage management at this time was dedicated to recording and managing pre- contact Aboriginal and non-indigenous historic sites. This resulted in a “‘heritage landscape’ that was populated by thousands of pre-contact Aboriginal heritage sites (e.g., shell middens and rock art) and thousands of non-Indigenous heritage sites (e.g., homesteads and courthouses)” (Byrne and Nugent, 2004, 5). The problem with this heritage landscape was that not only did it imply that Aboriginal heritage was being actively limited to the pre-contact past, but it also ensured that the post 1788 landscape

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was occupied by historic non-Aboriginal sites. According to Byrne and Nugent, “[T]he artificial division of heritage into ‘Aboriginal’ and ‘historic’ fields brought into being a heritage landscape in which Aboriginal people, far from sharing the post-1788 landscape with white people, seem to have permanently departed the scene” (2004, 5). This they noted was glaringly noticeable in terms of the non-indigenous historic sites which did not recognise, let alone acknowledge possible Aboriginal associations with these sites, thereby ruling out the idea of a shared post-contact heritage. Therefore, even as Aboriginal pre-contact heritage was eagerly incorporated as part of a shared Australian history and heritage, historic heritage continued to be dominated by markers of European history. The failure to recognise Aboriginal presence in terms of post-contact (historic) heritage is reminiscent of the approach adopted by early colonists, who sought to disregard Aboriginal heritage so as to discredit the legitimacy of pre-contact Aboriginal peoples and cultures. In the more recent scenario (1970s-1990s) however, while pre- contact heritage has been upheld as an integral part of Australian heritage, it has been post-contact Aboriginal heritage which has been actively ignored and marginalised, underpinned by the dominant largely ‘white’ perceptions that Aboriginal post-contact culture and history are a diluted and ‘inauthentic’ version of the pre-colonial past. This reverberates with the negative (and dominant) imagery of the post-contact detribalised Aboriginal person, who is drunk, unemployed, out of control and has lost touch with his or her cultural identity, as opposed to the ‘authentic’, pre-contact image of Aboriginal people, which associates them with the ‘bush’, nature, mysticism and a tribal way of life. Evidence of the preference for an ‘authentic’, distant Aboriginal past can be found in terms of the listing of Aboriginal sites in the RNE during the late 1980s – the most significant Aboriginal heritage sites were of “anthropological significance (Prehistory/ Occupation), including shell midden sites, and those of aesthetic value (Art and Creative activities) including rock painting sites, rock engraving sites, and painting and engraving sites” (Wells, 1993, 138). It is important to note that the listing of such sites is regarded by Aboriginal peoples as being extremely critical to the continuation of their culture and is therefore not just a matter of ‘white’ interest. However, this has unfortunately encouraged the stereotype that Aboriginal people associate primarily with their distant past, thereby negating possible associations with the more immediate post- contact past.

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Examining the issue of post-contact heritage in depth, Byrne and Nugent (2004) argue that there is a pronounced neglect of 19th century Aboriginal post-contact heritage as compared to that of the 20th century. They attribute this to the relatively ‘invisible’ position of Aboriginal people in 19th century historical records, which was not only a result of dispossession and decreasing numbers of Aboriginal peoples, but was also caused by colonial strategies of separation and segregation that were implemented to separate ‘black’ and ‘white’ populations. These policies physically marginalised Aboriginal peoples to the peripheries of settler farms, towns and cities, thereby effectively removing them from the landscape. Furthermore, there was a notable silence regarding Aboriginal peoples in 19th century archival records, settler written reminiscences, and local histories, which were directed more towards documenting the progress of white occupation (Byrne and Nugent, 2004, 11). Recognising the continuing silence in the present towards Aboriginal presence in the 19th century landscape, Byrne and Nugent warn heritage practitioners against falling under the illusion that Aboriginal people had “vacated the landscape”, as this would only lead to further neglect of post- contact Aboriginal heritage of this period (2004, 12). In comparison Aboriginal heritage of the 20th century has received more attention, namely Aboriginal missions and reserves that were established during the late 1890s and the early to mid-1900s. This period was marked by a significant change as the earlier humanitarian approach towards Aboriginal people was replaced by harsher, racially motivated segregation policies (Byrne and Nugent, 2004; Goodall, 1996). The intention in setting up these reserves was to achieve greater administrative control over Aboriginal peoples, while allowing for the undeterred advancement and consolidation of European settlement. Paradoxically, the very strategy of segregation that sought to suppress and hide away Aboriginal presence was unknowingly responsible for ensuring that it was included as part of the archival and historical records. Aboriginal populations on reserves were closely monitored and documented, giving a clearer, although exaggeratedly negative picture of Aboriginal people in the emerging post-contact landscape. Therefore, it is important that heritage practice considers segregation as a “major theme of post-contact Aboriginal heritage, firstly because it was a major feature of Aboriginal life experience in the post-contact period and, secondly because it relates so closely to place and landscape” (Byrne and Nugent, 2004, 52). However, the current outlook adopted by heritage practice towards segregation is problematic. Even as it

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seeks to address the devastating impact of segregation on Aboriginal peoples and cultures, by listing Aboriginal reserves and missions heritage practice continues to adhere to the general conception that Aboriginal people were passive recipients and not active participants in this segregated landscape, and thereby fails to move beyond the colonial thinking of the early 20th century. An instance of the prevailing colonial mindset can be evidenced in terms of the erroneous assumption (by non-Aboriginal people) that during the periods of segregation all Aboriginal people lived on reserves. This viewpoint has failed to consider that a number of Aboriginal people chose not to live on reserves, but established fringe camps, and “other ‘off-reserve’ enclaves”, in the effort to stay away from “institutional control and defy local authorities” (Byrne and Nugent, 2004, 60). In some cases these camps formed a refuge and hideaway from white surveillance, especially in the 20th century when Aboriginal people sought to hide their children from policies of forceful removal; in other instances camps were set up on fringes of white farms, stations, villages and towns, on any pocket of vacant land that was not being used by white settlement. The Aboriginal people living in these camps often sought employment as labourers or domestic help in white households or farms and businesses (Byrne and Nugent, 2004; Goodall, 1996). The existence of these camps presents evidence of Aboriginal people’s active participation in the post-contact landscape, and symbolises Aboriginal resistance to segregation. However, for the greater part of the 20th century these camps were viewed as sources of diseases, dirt, immorality and degeneracy and were removed on the basis of being undesirable elements in the vicinity of towns and cities. The negative imagery associated with these camps coupled with the lack of documentary evidence regarding their locations implies that these sites failed to gain the attention of a largely western (non-Aboriginal) heritage practice (Byrne and Nugent, 2004). Recognising fringe camps is critical as their location on the edges of urban areas provides evidence of urban Aboriginal presence in the post-contact period. These camps form an integral part of the network of other urban heritage sites which have been, and continue to be, significant for Aboriginal people but which have been either deliberately or unintentionally excluded from the urban heritage landscape of Australian cities. In comparison Aboriginal heritage sites within the city’s landscape which are included, are those which support the stereotypical images of nature and an Aboriginal pre-contact past. Melinda Hinkson, author of Aboriginal Sydney: a guide to important

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places of the past and present, has noted: “ When I first travelled to Sydney … some Aboriginal sites were relatively easy to find, specifically those sites often described as ‘pre-contact’ such as rock engravings, shell middens, occupation shelters” (2002, 62). Furthermore, these sites have received “significant public recognition” and are often marked on maps and signposted on the ground (Hinkson, 2003, 296). One such site is the Ku-ring-gai Chase National Park, which is one of the most popular ‘Aboriginal destinations’ around Sydney, receiving over two million visitors a year (Australian Heritage Database, 2007). This site, which is located within the Sydney metropolitan area, approximately 20 kilometres north of the centre of Sydney is well known for the large number, over 800, sites and locations of Aboriginal pre-contact use and occupation such as rock engravings, shell middens, stone arrangements, grinding stones and burial sites (Australian Heritage Database, 2007). The preference for a distant Aboriginal past is evident in the case of Ku-ring-gai Chase. However, an equally significant aspect is that these Aboriginal sites are located within Ku-ring-gai Chase Park, which is noted for its “exceptional representation of the Sydney region biota, a region which is recognised as a nationally outstanding centre of biodiversity” (Australian Heritage Database, 2007). This reiterates the nature bound image of Aboriginal heritage. Interestingly the Park is listed on the National Heritage List as natural heritage and not as indigenous heritage, which corroborates Loewenthal’s argument pertaining to the unequal attention given to the antiquity of nature versus Aboriginal heritage. While pre-contact Aboriginal heritage in the vicinity of urban areas is relatively easy to locate, sites which “mark encounters between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples” or ‘contact’ and ‘post-contact’ sites are difficult to locate and are “largely invisible; many receiving little if any public recognition” (Hinkson, 2003, 296). The lack of attention paid to the heritage value of these sites is evidenced in the marked difference in the listing of pre-contact versus contact and post-contact sites. Of the 30,000 sites, recorded in the NSW National Parks and Wildlife Services (NPWS), Aboriginal Sites Register only a few hundred belong to the post-1788 period (Hinkson, 2003, 296). Hinkson (2003, 296) argues that:

This lack of recognition accorded to sites of colonial and more recent significance reflects the contested nature of Australia’s history … and more particularly, unresolved conflicts between urban-based Aboriginal people and

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state and federal governments over claims to land and compensation for historic dispossession.

This argument alludes to the colonial ideologies that underpin Australian heritage practice which, like Australian history, has until recently been exclusionary in terms of recognising urban Aboriginal presence and continues to struggle with acknowledging the impacts of colonisation on Aboriginal peoples and cultures. Hinkson also notes that the deeply contested nature of urban post-contact Aboriginal heritage is further complicated by larger, state and federal level Aboriginal issues, of native title and dispossession. The issues surrounding urban Aboriginal heritage are, therefore, a reminder of the deep-seated colonial stereotypes that are prevalent in heritage practice. There have, however, been some recent significant changes to heritage practice, predominantly to legislation regarding Aboriginal heritage which has followed critical political events such as the establishment of the Aboriginal Native Title Act 1993 (Cwlth), the success of the Mabo v Queensland (No. 2) 1992 and the Wik Peoples v The State of Queensland & Ors (No. 8) 1996 cases and the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Deaths in Custody.

Shifting trends: moving away from colonial towards neo-colonial

In this changing political scenario heritage has emerged as a major concern for Aboriginal peoples. In addition the establishment of the Principles and guidelines for the protection of the heritage of Indigenous Peoples, at the international level has added momentum to the issue of Aboriginal heritage in Australia. The most significant development has been the 1996 review of the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Heritage Protection Act (Cth) (the Act) undertaken by the Honourable Elizabeth Evatt AC at the request of the Keating Government. Commenting on the history of the Act and the Evatt Review, lawyer Russell Goldflam, notes that, “In the wake of Mabo [No. 2]…one of the key Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander demands was for ‘immediate Federal legislation ... to ensure total security for Aboriginal sacred sites and heritage’”. The need for a review was brought about by failure of the Act to ensure adequate protection of significant Aboriginal sites (Goldflam, 1997). In fact evidence pertaining to the inadequacy of the Act was brought forth in the findings of the Evatt Review (1996). It was noted that since the inception of the Act in 1984, until the time of the

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review in 1996, a total of 99 applications (from all the States and Territories) had been made under the Act, for the protection of Aboriginal sites and only one site – Junction Waterhole (Niltye/Tnyere-Akerte) near Alice Springs, in the Northern Territory received long term heritage protection (Evatt, 1996, Annex VII). Interestingly it was also noticed that, “[I]n most States and Territories the areas and sites for which protection was sought were rural or remote sites. An exception was Western Australia, where there were a considerable number of applications in regard to urban sites” (Evatt, 1996, Annex VII). While this demonstrates that for most Aboriginal people their heritage associations are largely with sites in rural or remote settings, there is also a steadily growing concern for urban Aboriginal heritage sites. The Review process involved submissions from Aboriginal organisations, individuals, land councils and Aboriginal legal services, Commonwealth, State and Territory governments, business and industry representatives, professionals such as anthropologists, lawyers, archaeologists, and the larger Australian community. On the basis of submissions, meetings, discussions and consultations with these various groups the Review (1996) identified that the most pressing problems facing Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders was the issue of ownership of their heritage and the ineffectiveness of the Act “in protecting heritage sites which conflict with the interests of Government or big business”. Most importantly the Review (1996) emphasised that the Act was meant to be “an Act of last resort”, in that it can be used by the Commonwealth Minister in cases when the State or Territory laws “do not provide adequate protection for the area or object under threat”. However, it was observed by the Review (1996) that although the States and Territories are primarily responsible for providing heritage protection, there is a “disproportionate reliance on the Commonwealth Act as the primary source of Aboriginal heritage protection”. This was identified as occurring largely due to the lack of minimum standards of State and Territory laws as a result of which the States and Territories all operate in their own ways and have marked differences in the laws, procedures and level of protection for Aboriginal heritage (Evatt, 1998). The Evatt Review while stressing the need to establish minimum standards for laws to protect Aboriginal heritage also argued that the Act should be maintained in the role of final recourse. It was proposed as an aspect of establishing minimum standards that, “State and Territory laws should be extended to protect objects of significance to Aboriginal

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people in accordance with their traditions, including traditions which have evolved from past traditions” (Evatt, 1998). It was found that the recognition of Aboriginal tradition varied across the States and Territories, with the Northern Territory, Victoria, and Western Australia (to a limited extent) paying heed to Aboriginal custom and traditions. New South Wales, Queensland and Tasmanian legislations were found to be severely lacking in this regard as their focus was more on relics than on Aboriginal cultural values. South Australia and the Australian Capital Territory were the only two distinctive cases in which definitions of Aboriginal tradition were extended to include “contemporary traditions which have evolved or developed since colonisation” (Evatt, 1998). In accordance with these findings the Evatt Review recommended that it was necessary to establish standards regarding “definitions of what constitutes indigenous heritage” and it suggested that this should include historic sites, or sites such as gaols, cemeteries, massacre sites and missions which are connected to post-contact Aboriginal history. The Evatt Review has therefore been exemplary in its role of bringing about a wider understanding and recognition that Aboriginal heritage includes both natural and built environment sites and pre-contact and post-contact sites. The findings of the Evatt Review have been welcomed and endorsed by Aboriginal organisations and community groups namely, the former Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission (ATSIC) and the Central Land Council (Northern Territory, Australia). However, the Federal Government’s response to the Evatt Review has involved only a partial inclusion of these recommendations. This is perhaps most evident in terms of the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Heritage Protection Bill (Cth) 1998 (the Bill) which was introduced into the House of Representatives on 2 April 1988, to replace the 1984 Act. The 1998 Bill has been heavily criticised by Aboriginal organisations as well as by non-Aboriginal individuals including Evatt herself. The most outright criticism came from ATSIC in its submissions to the United Nations Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination (CERD) and to the Joint Parliamentary Committee on Native Title and the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Land Fund. In both these submissions ATSIC argued that the Bill presented a watered down version of the recommendations of the Evatt Review, the most startling of which was minimum standards set for the State and Territory laws which they argued are well below the desirable standards as set by Evatt. This was also a concern voiced by Evatt in her commentary on the Bill in which she, like ATSIC, argued against the proposed

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withdrawal of the Commonwealth from indigenous heritage affairs on the basis that this would imply that “the Commonwealth would effectively abandon the field of indigenous heritage protection” (ATSIC, 1998; Evatt, 1998). The oppositions to the 1988 Bill were taken into consideration by the House of Representatives in 1999, but of the 179 amendments to the Bill only twenty minor amendments were accepted, leaving the Bill in its relatively flawed condition (Sutherland, 2001). Therefore although the recommendations of the Evatt Review provided a move away from the largely colonial setup of Aboriginal heritage legislation, the fact that it failed to have a considerable impact is evidence of the active opposition by the former federal government to these recommendations. On a more positive note the Evatt Review has brought about some much needed changes in the case of two states. In NSW this review has brought about a small but significant change in the NSW Heritage Office which now seeks to define Aboriginal heritage as that which “can include natural features such as creeks or mountains, ceremonial or story places or areas of more contemporary cultural significance such as Aboriginal missions or post contact sites” (NSW Heritage Office, 1998). The new definition appears to indicate a shift in heritage practice legislation, which now seeks to include both natural and built environment sites and pre-contact and post-contact sites. In Queensland, too, the introduction of the Aboriginal Cultural Heritage Act 2003 and Torres Strait Islander Cultural Heritage Act 2003, has replaced the older Cultural Record (Landscapes Queensland and Queensland Estate) Act 1987 (Qld), which was considered inadequate in terms of its archaeological emphasis and lack of attention to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander tradition (D’souza, and Hoare, 2004). These are long overdue changes but raise the issue of the extent to which progressive legislation can equip heritage practice to deal with post-contact urban Aboriginal heritage.

Summary

The approaches that have been adopted by Australian heritage practice towards Aboriginal Australian heritage have gone through a series of dramatic and sometimes restrained changes. From an attitude of complete neglect and omission of Aboriginal heritage, which marked the early days of a largely colonial heritage practice, Australian heritage practice moved towards a seemingly appreciative and inclusive mode. This

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sought to celebrate ancient Aboriginal history and heritage as part of Australia’s national past. However, this was accompanied by colonial stereotypes which associated Aboriginal heritage with nature and the pre-contact past. Other significant changes which sought to increase the recognition of Aboriginal heritage include the Hope Committee’s recommendations during the late 1970s, which called for a wider acknowledgment of the impacts of colonisation on Aboriginal heritage. In addition in 1984 the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Heritage Protection Act 1984 (Cth) (the Act) was introduced which was dedicated singularly towards protecting significant Aboriginal heritage. There was also a growing interest, from the 1970s onwards, in recognising post-contact Aboriginal heritage such as Aboriginal missions, reserves, gaols and massacre sites. However, this interest appears to have emphasised the 20th in preference to the largely invisible 19th century post-contact heritage. Therefore, it can be argued that heritage practice has attempted to move beyond its colonial beginnings towards a more postcolonial approach as it seeks to integrate Aboriginal heritage as part of national heritage. However, it continues to be dominated by the often overpowering emphasis on colonial stereotypes of Aboriginal heritage and its highly selective and contestable approach towards urban Aboriginal heritage sites. These include post- contact sites such as fringe camps and other off-reserve enclaves that were used extensively by Aboriginal peoples during the 20th century, as well as sites in cities that have more recent historical Aboriginal associations. There have, however, been some positive developments recently with the changing political climate, the most significant being the Evatt Review of the 1984 Act. The Review is deeply insightful and it has had some success in terms of the relatively effective reworking of NSW and Queensland laws pertaining to Aboriginal heritage. Despite Aboriginal support for the recommendations of the Review, the Federal Government has failed to incorporate it holistically. The improvements brought about in terms of legislation by the Evatt Review have set up frameworks that allow for heritage practice to move beyond its colonial legacy, but the extent to which heritage practice adapts to this obviously welcome and significant change still needs to be ascertained.

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Chapter 5 Urban Aboriginal heritage: contested terrains, spaces of subversion

The detailed reworking of legislation pertaining to Aboriginal heritage has ensured that there are more holistic frameworks available for the recognition and inclusion of post-contact and built Aboriginal heritages. Although this indicates a conscious attempt to change the largely colonial approach towards Aboriginal heritage, it remains to be seen if heritage practice has moved beyond its colonial thinking and adopted this progressive outlook towards post-contact urban Aboriginal heritage. This chapter reveals that it has unfortunately been largely a legislative move, with very few instances in which heritage practice has readily yielded to Aboriginal claims concerning sites in urban areas. There has been some movement in terms of the recognition of post- contact Aboriginal heritage sites such as missions and reserves, especially in smaller urban centres, but Aboriginal heritage in the larger urban areas, namely the state capitals continues to be a deeply contested (un)reality. There are three sections in this chapter – the first section presents a broad overview of the current trends in heritage practice towards the recognition of Aboriginal heritage in urban areas, including smaller urban centres and larger metropolitan cities. The second section entails a closer examination of two urban sites that are significant to Aboriginal people but which have, as in the case of the Old Swan Brewery in Perth, been at the centre of heavy contestations regarding their heritage status, or as in the case of Bennett House also in Perth which, while in the process of being listed was unexpectedly demolished. The third section discusses two sites in urban areas which have a significant history of Aboriginal use and which have been awarded tokenistic recognition but not listing, as in the case of the city squares in Adelaide and Musgrave Park in Brisbane.

Gaps between legislation and practice: the failure to recognise urban Aboriginal heritage

The considerable changes that have been brought about in heritage legislation subsequent to the Evatt Review have substantially altered the approach adopted by the States and Territories towards Aboriginal heritage. However, this has largely been in

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terms of legislation and has only had a very slight bearing on heritage practice. The possibility that a gap may exist between legislation and practice can be demonstrated through an examination of the listing of Aboriginal heritage sites on the RNE in the years before and after the Evatt Review. Although the RNE cannot be considered as holistically representing heritage practice trends in Australia, it is to some extent an indicator of recent shifts as well as colonial mindsets that underlie heritage practice. Table 3 includes data collated from the RNE from 1978, the year the Register was started, until 1995 and from 1996 – the year of the Evatt review – until 2003, after which the RNE was officially decommissioned. The categories in Table 3 are not those of the RNE, which simply distinguishes sites as indigenous, historic or natural heritage. For the purposes of this thesis detailed subdivisions are supplied so as to move beyond the simple binary of natural and cultural heritage and to demonstrate that there is a complexity of Aboriginal historical associations with heritage sites and places.

Table 3. Aboriginal heritage sites on the Register of the National Estate from 1978-2003 Types of Aboriginal heritage 1978-1995 1996-2003 Total Urban Aboriginal heritage 18 1 19 Shared heritage Aboriginal-European association 93 29 122 Post-contact Aboriginal heritage 48 11 59 Early and recent post-contact resistance 4 9 13 Traditional Aboriginal cultural association 10 33 43 Pre-contact or Nature bound Aboriginal heritage 113 19 132 Possible Aboriginal association 48 34 82 Total 334 136 470 Source: Australian Heritage Database, 2006, < http://www.deh.gov.au/cgi-bin/ahdb/search.pl>, compiled by author

The category which forms the central concern of this thesis is that of urban Aboriginal heritage. All such sites that exist in the midst of urban areas and have been listed on the RNE as indigenous heritage or listed primarily for Aboriginal associations have been assigned to this category. Sites which most often but not always, exist in smaller urban areas, and are recognised for both European and Aboriginal pre-contact and post-contact heritage value have been categorised as sites of shared heritage. One such site is the Prince Henry Hospital Conservation Area at Little Bay (Sydney), NSW, which is registered as a historic site associated with the treatment of infectious diseases such as leprosy, typhus, typhoid, plague and malaria, during the late 19th and early 20th

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centuries. The Aboriginal association with the site is based both on pre-contact and post-contact histories – the site has a number of Aboriginal pre-contact sites, camping grounds, axe grinding groove and pathways and is known to have housed Aboriginal people suffering from leprosy. It is also considered to be of great social significance to the Aboriginal community at La Perouse as there is a strong oral tradition that cites Aboriginal peoples as having been buried in the cemeteries at the site. Sites which focus singularly on Aboriginal post-contact history like the Ebenezer Aboriginal Mission in Antwerp VIC have been ascribed a separate category. A small number of sites have been considered as sites of Aboriginal resistance and include early instances of resistance to colonisation or more recent acts of opposition. A well-known example in this category is the Wave Hill Walk Off Sites in the NT – the site where 400 Gurindji peoples gathered in 1966 when they went on strike and walked off the Wave Hill pastoral station in protest against unequal wages. As compared to the categories mentioned so far which are largely related to post-contact history, there are two categories that are related to traditional and pre- contact Aboriginal heritage. While these categories can be critically viewed as reinforcing Eurocentric perceptions of Aboriginal heritage, such sites are nonetheless important to Aboriginal peoples as they represent Aboriginal culture, tradition and history. For instance, the Jervis Bay Territory in the ACT can be regarded as a site with continuing traditional associations – not only is it recognised as having been occupied by Aboriginal people as far back as 20,000 years ago, but it was also in post-contact years the site for the Wreck Bay settlement established by Koori people in the early 1900s. It continues to be an important site for the Wreck Bay Koori people who have maintained their cultural and traditional associations with this area. Similarly the Kakadu National Park in NT is one of the most well-known and celebrated sites of natural and pre-contact Aboriginal heritage and it is also widely recognised as holding considerable cultural and traditional value for Aboriginal communities living in the area. A careful consideration of data regarding these categories (as shown in Table 3) reveals that despite the holistic approach suggested by the Evatt Review towards Aboriginal heritage there have been very few significant changes. Undoubtedly there have been some positive changes such as the three-fold increase since 1996 in the number of sites that represent traditional Aboriginal heritage. This increase is a

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consequence of the recommendations of the Evatt Review as is the steady growth in the number of sites that are listed for possible Aboriginal associations. However, these changes are overshadowed by the fact that urban Aboriginal heritage sites continue to be underrepresented on the RNE – there are only 19 urban Aboriginal heritage sites as compared to a total of 470 sites and, in the post-Evatt years only one site – Australian Hall at Elizabeth Street, Sydney – was listed for its urban Aboriginal association. In addition, sites that reiterate the natural and pre-contact stereotypes of Aboriginal heritage continue to dominate the RNE and the listing of these sites post-Evatt has remained consistent. Although it can be argued that most of these sites were listed prior to Evatt they nevertheless represent the colonial mindset that has characterised heritage practice. Similarly, it can be contended that there are a surprisingly large number of sites that recognise shared European and Aboriginal historical significance, as well as a reasonable number of sites which recognise Aboriginal post-contact history such as missions, reserves and massacre sites. From this observation it would be fair to assume that heritage practice is attempting to shed its colonial legacy and align itself with progressive legislation. However, this move is hugely problematic as it is a shift away from colonial thinking towards a seemingly postcolonial and at times neo-colonial approach. For instance, although the recognition of sites of shared historical significance is a step in the right direction it remains a fact that in a number of instances the references to Aboriginal histories are confined to a pre-contact past. This indicates the perpetuation of colonial stereotypes regarding Aboriginal history and heritage. The listing of post-contact sites also points towards largely neo-colonial trends. In recognising these sites, heritage practice is addressing the devastating impacts of colonisation on Aboriginal people thereby assuming a postcolonial approach. But such a postcolonial position tends to restrict the impacts of colonialism to a safe and historical past. This is evidenced in the case of the listing of post-contact sites, especially missions and reserves – most of which are situated in the outback, or rural town areas – thereby maintaining a safe distance between these ‘shameful’ images of the past and larger urban areas – the symbols of national pride and European, colonial heritages. Although it can be argued, equally convincingly, that most Aboriginal missions and reserves were established in outback areas and near smaller towns, and heritage practice cannot be held responsible for their locations, it is the assumption that missions and reserves are the most obvious representation of Aboriginal post-contact history which is

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problematic. In addition, the acceptance awarded to these carefully selected sites excludes other sites of Aboriginal post-contact existence such as fringe and off-reserve camps and parts of urban areas where Aboriginal people have lived and form long standing associations with. This disregard is clearly visible in terms of the minimal number of Aboriginal sites listed on the Register that are located in urban areas.

Table 4. Buildings and sites listed as Aboriginal heritage in urban areas Site Status Type of listing Aboriginal Embassy Site, Parkes, ACT Registered Register of National Estate Alice Springs Telegraph Station Historical Listed NT State Heritage Register Reserve, Alice Springs, NT Angurugu Heritage Precinct, Groote Eylandt, NT Listed NT State Heritage Register Bangerang Cultural Centre, Greater Shepparton Listed VIC State Heritage Register City, VIC Barrow Creek Telegraph Station, South of Listed NT State Heritage Register Tennant Creek, NT Bennet House, East Perth, WA Overridden WA State Heritage Register Demolished Burra Bee Dee Mission, Coonabarabran, NSW Listed NSW State Heritage Register Carrolup Native Settlement, Kojonup, WA Listed WA State Heritage Register Cyprus Hellene Club and Australian Hall, Registered Register of National Estate Sydney, NSW CSIRO Division of Animal Production, Prospect, Registered Register of National Estate NSW Darlington Conservation Area, Darlington, NSW Registered Register of National Estate Deebing Creek Aboriginal Mission, Purga, Listed QLD State Heritage Register Ipswich, QLD Ebenzer Mission, Dimboola, VIC Listed Register of National Estate First Government House Site, Sydney, NSW Registered Register of National Estate Grave of Yuranigh, Molong, NSW Listed NSW State Heritage Register House, 1 Short St, Glebe, TAS Registered Register of National Estate Knuckey’s Store, Wellington, NSW Listed NSW State Heritage Register Moree Spa Baths, Moree, NSW Registered Register of National Estate Native Institution, Richmond Rd, Oakhurst, NSW Registered Register of National Estate Northbridge Precinct, Perth, WA Rejected Register of National Estate Place Old Parliament House and Curtilage, Parkes, ACT Listed place Register of National Estate Parliament House Vista, Parkes, ACT Listed place Register of National Estate Prince Henry Hospital Conservation Area, Little Registered Register of National Estate Bay, NSW Southport, former Telegraph and Police Stations, Listed NT State Heritage Register Darwin, NT Stirling Square, Guildford, WA Listed WA State Heritage Register Swan Brewery Precinct, West Perth, WA Listed Register of National Estate Tennant Creek Telegraph Station, Tennant Creek, Listed NT State Heritage Register NT The Block, Redfern, NSW Registered Register of National Estate The Round House High St, Fremantle, WA Registered Register of National Estate

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Tommy Windichs Grave, Esperance, WA Indicative Register of National Estate Place Tranby, Glebe, Sydney, NSW Listed NSW State Heritage Register Ulgundahi Island, Maclean, NSW Listed NSW State Heritage Register Yagans Burial Site, Belhus, WA Interim List Register of National Estate Yarra Mission Alexandra Av, Melbourne, VIC Registered Register of National Estate Source: Compiled from Australian Heritage Database, 2006; State and Territory Heritage Registers, 2006

An urban area or ‘centre’ according to the Australian Bureau of Statistics (2001) is “a population cluster of 1,000 or more people”. With respect to this definition the number of urban Aboriginal heritage sites listed on the RNE and the State and Territory Heritage Registers amounts to 34 (Refer Table 4). Seventeen of these sites, are post- contact sites such as reserves, missions, prisons, and police stations, but only three of these are located in major metropolitan areas – the Native Institution, Oakhurst, Sydney (NSW), the Southport former Telegraph and Police Stations, Darwin (NT) and the Yarra Mission Alexandra Av, Melbourne (VIC). This imbalance in the listing of urban and rural post-contact sites supports the argument that the tendency to restrict Aboriginal post-contact history to the outback, dominates heritage practice. However, this ‘oversight’ is underlined by a deeper colonial ideology – the need to maintain the “desired ‘purity’ of the colonial city” (Jacobs, 1997, 19). The colonial city and its largely exclusionary dynamics have been explored in the Australian context by Jacobs (1997, 19) who argues that the colonial “grid” city was employed “to give spatial expression to the ordered rationality of colonial intent … providing the spatial infrastructure for the distinction between the colonial self and the colonised other” (Anderson and Jacobs, 1997, 19). This was carried out by creating distinctions between Aboriginal people and the colonists and settlers with the city being occupied by the latter and the former being excluded from the city and living on its fringes. Similarly, early ideas of heritage helped maintain the stronghold of the colonial city by promoting urban heritage as European and settler heritage while simultaneously limiting representations of Aboriginal heritage to the natural environment. The scenario appears to have changed little as on the one hand nature-based representations of Aboriginal heritage continue to be perpetuated within heritage practice, effectively marginalising urban Aboriginal heritage by promoting stereotypes that “‘authentic’ Aboriginal culture is confined to the relatively underdeveloped, under-populated, and isolated” spaces of northern Australia (Hinkson, 2003, 295). On the other hand the

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propensity to limit post-contact sites to outback areas contributes further to safeguarding the colonial city’s desired purity. This purity has however always been disrupted and “compromised by the continuing presence of the colonised” (Jacobs, 1997, 19). Jacobs is referring to the enduring presence of Aboriginal peoples in cities and urban centres since the early stages of colonisation. In terms of heritage this relates to the growing number of sites in urban areas which represent an overlapping of Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal histories, a source of ‘impurity’ for some European associations. Therefore, in most cases when Aboriginal people(s) display an interest in the significance of an urban site on the basis of its associations to Aboriginal post-contact and even in some cases, pre-contact history there is a high level of opposition from a number of non-Aboriginal groups. This often results in these sites of shared heritage being at the centre of intense contestations between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal groups. This is evident in the case of nine sites on the list of heritage sites in Table 4. These include – the Aboriginal Embassy Site, Parkes (ACT), Australian Hall, Sydney (NSW), Darlington Conservation Area, Darlington (NSW), Moree Spa Baths, Moree (NSW) Old Parliament House and Curtilage, Parkes (ACT), Parliament House Vista, Parkes (ACT), Stirling Square, Guildford (WA), Swan Brewery Precinct, West Perth (WA) and The Block, Redfern (NSW). Seven of these sites have or continue to be at the centre of intense contestations or are closely associated with urban Aboriginal communities such as Stirling Square, the Block and Darlington Conservation Area (which includes the Block within its boundaries). These sites are contested because not only do they upset the purity of the colonial city but they also threaten the stronghold of colonial heritage in cities. Furthermore, the reluctance to recognise Aboriginal heritage as part of the colonial city is equally controlled by economic, political, social, and cultural factors that are associated with heritage. Jacobs (1997, 19) argues that in many contemporary cities which have “imperial or colonial pasts … transformations which are routinely understood as postmodern – gentrification, mega-scale developments, spectacularisations – are inextricably tied to colonial legacies and the postcolonial formations to which they give rise”. In other words although redevelopment, gentrification, and urban renewal projects offer the previously (post)colonial city the opportunity to include urban Aboriginal heritage, it is most often the case that these

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‘transformations’ reiterate the colonial legacy of heritage practice by emphasising European heritage and sidelining Aboriginal history and heritage.

Table 5. Status of Aboriginal heritage sites in state capital areas State Capital Type of urban heritage Totals Urban Pre-contact or Shared Historic/ Aboriginal Nature bound heritage (sites Natural heritage heritage Aboriginal of Aboriginal (sites of (centrally heritage (sites and European European or located in the vicinity significance) natural heritage sites of cities) significance) in cities) Canberra (ACT) 3 17 4 300 324 Sydney (NSW) 4 13 46 1271 1334 Darwin (NT) 1 1 11 128 141 Brisbane (QLD) 0 1 4 368 373 Adelaide (SA) 2 3 4 445 454 Hobart (TAS) 3 5 3 224 235 Melbourne (VIC) 1 5 17 1313 1336 Perth (WA) 3 4 11 342 360 Totals 17 49 100 4391 4557 Source: Australian Heritage Database, 2006, < http://www.deh.gov.au/cgi-bin/ahdb/search.pl>, compiled by author

Commenting on the contested nature of urban Aboriginal heritage Hinkson fittingly notes that, “[W]hile ‘ancient culture’ attracts tourists, unresolved political contests do not”(2003, 296). This is demonstrated in Table 5, which presents data compiled from the Australian Heritage Database on the status of Aboriginal heritage in the capital cities of States and Territories. Of a total number of 4557 sites that are listed across the eight capital cities, there are only 17 Aboriginal sites located in prominent central locations in the city that are recognised for their associations with either pre- contact or post-contact Aboriginal history. Of these, four sites – the Aboriginal Tent Embassy Site, the Cyprus Hellene Club and Australian Hall, The Block, and the Swan Brewery Precinct – have been at centre of contestations between Aboriginal people(s), including their non-Aboriginal supporters and the State, Federal governments and non- Aboriginal groups such as real estate development bodies. Furthermore the Tent Embassy, The Block, and Australian Hall are also closely related to Aboriginal political resistance movements. Despite the Aboriginal importance of these sites and the fact that each of them is situated in central, accessible parts of cities they fail to attract the same level of public attention as the 49 sites which are recognised and promoted for their

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nature-bound, pre-contact Aboriginal significance. However, in the case of these more ‘conventional’ pre-contact Aboriginal sites it is widely accepted that these areas consist of hundreds of individual sites such as rock engravings sites, middens, burial and ceremonial grounds, which when considered would increase their numbers substantially. It is, however, unlikely that this would compare with the large number (4391 in all) of sites which celebrate European and colonial history. This demonstrates that in terms of urban areas the approach adopted by heritage practice continues to be dictated by the Eurocentric emphasis on European buildings and architecture which form an integral part of the heritage of the colonial city. In light of the fact that sites which have crucial Aboriginal heritage significance do exist in Australian cities and that heritage legislation as written appears sympathetic to the idea of Aboriginal heritage as part of the built environment, it would be fair to assume that this type of Aboriginal heritage is increasingly recognised. However, the evidence pertaining to contested sites indicates it seeks to restrict the wider recognition of urban Aboriginal heritage, demonstrating that the neo-colonial approach adopted towards Aboriginal heritage is particularly strong in urban areas. The neo-colonial outlook in heritage practice is further exposed by the contestations surrounding these sites with its concomitant anti-colonial resistance emerging from within Aboriginal communities and their non-Aboriginal supporters and directed towards the hegemonic setup of Australian heritage practice.

Contested Aboriginal heritage: failing to recognise Aboriginal pre-contact or post- contact heritage

The Swan verus the Wagul: contestations in Perth The Old Swan Brewery, which is along the Swan River near the central business district of Perth has been a site steeped in controversy for over two decades. It has been described as “one of Australia’s most complex heritage debates” with “Aboriginal and environmental concerns pitted against claims of European significance” (Gregory, 2003, 269). It was in the 1970s that the first signs of contestation regarding the brewery became evident. At that time the site housed the main block of the brewery designed in 1897 by noted architect John Joseph Talbot Hobbes, as well as the 1920s and 1930s additions (Fig.1). There were also the 19th century stables on site which at that time were considered to be the only heritage-worthy aspect of the site. The Swan Brewery

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was set up in 1879 and was operational from 1888 till the 1960s as one of the largest employers of labour in Western Australia (Gregory, 2003). Its European significance is not only in relation to its long brewing history but also to its position as a landmark in the Perth cityscape. This was notable in terms of the illuminations that were set up on the river side of the brewery – the illuminated outline of a steamship during the Perth Empire Games in 1962; an outline of the Endeavour commemorating the bicentenary of Cook’s voyage in 1970 and in 1979 the outline of the logo of Western Australia’s Sesquicentenary (Gregory, 2003, 269; Jones, 1997, 139). The brewery buildings are also considered to be among the last few remaining examples of late Victorian and early 20th century brewery architecture in Australia.

The Aboriginal significance of the Swan Brewery site came to the surface in the 1970s when the closure of the brewery brought up the issue of its sale. The site is sacred to the local Nyungar people, the Aboriginal people of the southwest of Western Australia, as it is connected to the myth of the Wagul, believed to be the creator in the Dreamtime of “all the big rivers of the Southwest” (Jones, 1997, 134). The larger area known as Goonininup had been a favoured camping site as well as a teaching and ceremonial site for local Aboriginal groups such as the Mooro tribe, in precontact times, as well as during the initial years of Perth’s establishment (Jones, 1997, 135). Aboriginal resistance to European settlers occupying this site occurred in the 1830s, and was marginally and ineffectively resolved by the colonial government through the setting up of a small Aboriginal reserve – the first Aboriginal Native Institution in Western Australia. In the following years Aboriginal access to this site declined rapidly,

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firstly due to the closure of the Native institution, and secondly and most significantly due to the stringent colonial policies of segregation that restricted the movement of most Aboriginal people into metropolitan areas. Therefore, when the brewery site was on the market for the first time in 1978, a public request was made by Ken Colbung, Chair of the Aboriginal Lands Trust, for the land to be returned to the Nyungar people as it symbolised a link to their ancestral past and a continuing of tradition (Gregory, 2003; Jones, 1997). This, however, was unlikely to materialise as the commercial viability of the land and the various other parties involved in the ensuing debates only added to the contestation rather than resolving it.

There were a number of players involved in the Swan Brewery conflict – environmental groups such as the Foreshore and Waterways Protection Council, a “predominantly white” establishment, which opposed the proposed commercial redevelopment of the site, on the basis that the brewery should be demolished so as to increase the foreshore of the Swan River (Jones, 1997, 140). There were a number of other proposals for the site, which were supported by the Western Australia State government during the early 1980s, but were rejected by the same environmental groups, as well as by the National Trust and even the Perth City Council. Aboriginal participation at this time was relatively low, but increased substantially from 1986 onwards, with increasing demands from the Aboriginal Legal Services to halt all development on the site and demolish the brewery and preserve the site as open space (Jones, 1997, 140). However, building redevelopment work continued and the conflict between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal, mainly state government interests pertaining to

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the Brewery reached flashpoint in 1988, when Aboriginal groups occupied the construction site during the 1988-89 Christmas and New Year holiday. The onsite protests by Aboriginal peoples received widespread support from non-Aboriginal peoples – construction workers on the site, the Construction, Mining and Energy Union, and some of the churches in Perth. A number of non-Aboriginal supporters even joined the Aboriginal protesters on site. Despite this show of solidarity and support, the brewery was neither pulled down nor was redevelopment prevented (Fig.2). In fact in 1992, the Swan Brewery was permanently placed on the State Register of Historic Places, in terms of its European and Aboriginal significance. Although this was a partial victory for the Nyungar people, it was also a strategic move on the part of the state government. Not only did the listing ensure that the future of the Brewery was secure from any perceived threat of demolition but as noted by Australian academic, Jenny Gregory it was an indication that it “was clearly of immense significance to the European cultural heritage of the state” (2003, 280). Gregory further argues that recognition of the Aboriginal significance of the site was in no way reflected in the final redevelopment of the site as an exclusive apartment complex, with restaurant and brewery themed café (Refer Fig.1). Similarly as noted by Jones and Australian academic, Christina Birdsall-Jones, “there is no current, visible acknowledgment of the site’s Indigenous significance and Indigenous protests outside the complex, which took place on a weekly basis immediately following the occupation and continued for much of the 1990s, still occur on such occasions as Australia/Invasion Days” (2004). However, a critical outcome of the Old Swan Brewery case has been the recognition of the Aboriginal significance of a site in the midst of the city, which thus debunks the myth that Aboriginal heritage can exist only in nature. In addition, through repeated demonstrations and protests the Nyungar people were successful in challenging and to a certain extent overturning the hegemony of heritage practice.

“East Perth Half-Caste Girls Home”: erasing the ‘shameful past’ While the Old Swan Brewery represents a case in which the contestation surrounding a site of shared heritage did result in partial, if not full, acknowledgment of Aboriginal significance, Bennett House also in Perth, presents a case in which Aboriginal heritage was completely erased without any chance of possible contestation. Bennett House located in the recently revamped inner city suburb of East Perth was “a

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registered Aboriginal site of particular significance to the Stolen Generations” which was demolished on October 25, 1998, in what can only be described as a bizarrely unexpected and unconsulted move (Hillyer, 2001, 1). Established in 1931 by A.O. Neville Chief Protector of Aborigines from 1915 to 1940, within the unused and run-down quarters of the former headmaster of the East Perth State School, Bennett House then known as “East Perth Half-Caste Girls Home”, was to house Aboriginal women who were working as domestic servants (Signposts, 2007). The land, on which Bennett House stood, was acquired by Neville in 1933 and declared as an Aboriginal Reserve under the 1905 Aborigines Act despite strong opposition by local ‘white’ residents who argued that the presence of Aboriginal girls would be a bad influence on the neighbourhood, especially given its location next to the Infants East Perth State School. Like all government and church institutions and missions operating under the idea of assimilation and segregation, Bennett House served the purpose of housing ‘half-caste’ children who had been either been stolen or forcefully removed from their parents and families. This state run institution became, as it is regarded by Aboriginal people today, the “holding pen” for several hundred Aboriginal women and children each year who were temporarily accommodated at the institution, either to complete training so as to become servants in white homes, or in the case of children of mixed parentage as a transit place from their birthplaces and families to foster homes or settlements (Signposts, 2007; Hillyer 2001, 10). Therefore, Bennett House was one of the many colonial institutions throughout Australia that were complicit in destroying the lives of numerous Aboriginal families, and denying a large Aboriginal population – children of the Stolen Generations – a sense of Aboriginal identity and family. It was amongt the numerous post-contact sites that are today viewed as reminders of a deeply shameful colonial past. Upon the closure of the ‘East Perth Half-Caste Girls Home’ in 1945, the premises served as the office for the Aboriginal Child Care Agency between the 1950s and the 1980s, providing emergency accommodation for street children and young adults belonging to the Stolen Generation who were seeking their extended families. In the 1950s the building next door – the former Infants School, was converted into the Jack Davis Hostel, a facility managed by an Aboriginal woman Miss J. Davis, which provided temporary accommodation for Aboriginal peoples from all over WA seeking medical treatment at the Royal Perth Hospital, situated in the vicinity (Signposts, 2007).

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The Aboriginal associations with this site have, therefore, formed an integral part of Aboriginal history in Perth for more than half a century. For many Aboriginal people who passed through Bennett House, it was, despite the debilitating effects on their lives, a “home of sorts” where relationships formed with one another, with staff and people in the neighbourhood formed integral parts of their lives (Hillyer, 2001, 22). However, there was little recognition or attention paid to the Aboriginal significance of this site. In contrast, the European significance of Bennett House and the adjoining buildings of the school as the site of the former East Perth State School had been long recognised by the National Trust of Australia. The Headmaster’s quarters (basically Bennett House), were listed on the Register of the National Trust of Australia, but were removed in 1984 owing to its run-down condition. At the same time the remaining State School buildings were nominated by the National Trust for inclusion on the RNE (Hillyer, 2001). Simultaneously the Heritage Council of WA also approved that the School be registered on the State Register of Heritage Places, but only subsequent to the completion of the conservation and management plan for the East Perth Redevelopment Authority (EPRA) (Hillyer, 2001). It was only with the preparation of the Conservation Management Plan by Kevin Pallasis Architects in July 1996, that the Aboriginal significance of Bennett House was revealed. The CMP found that the site was of great significance to the local Nyungar (Aboriginal) community in Perth, and it formed part of “rare, uncommon or endangered aspects of the cultural heritage of Western Australia” on the basis of its historical association with Aboriginal peoples (Hillyer, 2001,13, 14). In addition, in 1998 Bennett House was also listed with the Aboriginal Affairs Department (AAD) and placed on its Interim list, which implied that any development or changes made to the site would require consent under Section 18 of the Aboriginal Heritage Act. However, the EPRA, which was the primary body responsible for the redevelopment and renewal of this area, not only neglected to consider the AAD listing, but it also sought to deliberately overlook the Aboriginal heritage value of the site as presented in the CMP. Instead it chose to focus, quite singularly, on ways in which to enhance the site’s European significance by restoring Bennett House and other school buildings “to form a complete heritage complex representative of one of Perth’s oldest well utilised turn-of the century state schools” (Hillyer, 2001, 14). The very obvious failure to recognise the shared histories associated

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with this site reflects the inherent Eurocentric and colonial approach adopted by the EPRA towards Aboriginal heritage. The EPRA was, however, not solely responsible for the subsequent ventures that saw the eventual demolition of Bennett House but was working in conjunction with the WA AAD land holding body – the Aboriginal Lands Trust (ALT), which owned the land in question. There was a controversial exchange of lands between the EPRA and the ALT, on the basis that the EPRA would make available land much needed by the Noongah Alcohol and Substance Abuse Service (NASAS) and the Perth Aboriginal Medical Service in exchange for Bennett House (Hillyer, 2001). Therefore both the EPRA and ALT sought to overlook the fact that Bennett House was a registered heritage site with significant Aboriginal associations and once the transfer documents were signed and ALT agreed to the demolition of Bennett House as part of the EPRA’s Development Plan, it was just a matter of days before Bennett House was bulldozed to the ground. This contentious exchange and transfer was carried out without any consultation with the larger Aboriginal community despite repeated suggestions made by the AAD to EPRA. In fact the ERPA, ALT, AAD as well as the Minister for Aboriginal Affairs and the Planning Ministry were all aware of the EPRA’s plans to demolish Bennett House, but the wider Aboriginal community was kept in the dark until it was too late to contest or oppose the demolition of a building that was significant to so many Aboriginal peoples, especially to those of the Stolen Generations (Hillyer, 2001). The demolition of Bennett House was met with strong opposition and outrage by the local Nyungah community. There was strong criticism for the illegal actions of the EPRA especially by the Aboriginal Cultural Material Committee who argued, although unsuccessfully, that the EPRA should be prosecuted under the Aboriginal Heritage Act (Nyungah Circle of Elders, 2007). Similarly the ALT which comprised largely of Aboriginal community members, was targeted though not explicitly by a group of Nyungah elders who stated that while all Nyungah people had wanted Bennett House to be protected, there were those who later “accepted the Government’s enticement of a land swap” (Nyungah Circle of Elders, 2007). Therefore there was marked difference in the attitude adopted by different Aboriginal groups towards Bennett House, which demonstrates that apart from the contestations between the local Nyungah community and the government there was also a considerable level of discord between different

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Aboriginal groups. The Bennett House dispute therefore presents a scenario in which the great the diversity within Aboriginal groups and their perceptions about heritage often leads to conflicting ideas between the various groups. The increasing pressure from the Nyungah community, combined with media coverage, resulted in Heritage Council of WA and the EPRA retracing their steps and placing a conservation order preventing demolition of the remaining building – the Jack Davis Hostel (Hillyer, 2001). The case of Bennett House was again, an instance, like the Old Swan Brewery, of partial victory for the Perth Aboriginal community. Toady the site is listed. However, there continues to be no acknowledgment of the relationship between this site and the Stolen Generations and recommendations made at the time of the transfer to install a plaque or monument to address this ‘dark’ part of Western Australia’s colonial history have been completely ignored.

Sites of anti-colonial resistance noted and overlooked: subverting the (in)visible Aboriginal presence

In light of the fact that there are Aboriginal heritage sites all over urban Australia that are recognised following stiff contestations and numerous legal hurdles, it would seem that heritage practice is showing some signs of addressing the issue of urban Aboriginal heritage, even if only under duress. However, these listed or recognised sites present only the tip of the iceberg as there are large numbers of such sites existing in Australian cities, which fall off or drop off the radar of heritage practice. These are sites such as parks and squares, which often exist within prominent parts of the city, and have been, and continue to be used by Aboriginal people on a daily basis and in many instances as spaces of demonstration and resistance. There is a growing recognition of these sites but most of these moves are largely tokenistic reconciliatory and politically correct gestures, such as the Aboriginal renaming of these sites or the establishment of indigenous centres, which seek to control the images of Aboriginal peoples in urban areas while failing to incorporate the spirit of Aboriginal resistance that has been associated with these sites.

Brisbane’s Musgrave Park Musgrave Park in Brisbane is an area which on the one hand represents the segregationist policies of the colonial city and on the other the appropriation and

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subversion of such colonised spaces by Aboriginal peoples. It is located in the West End, an inner-city suburb of southern Brisbane which is currently undergoing urban renewal on a large scale. Musgrave Park is today recognised as being significant to the Aboriginal community of Brisbane and it houses the Jagera Arts Centre and the Musgrave Park Aboriginal Corporation (MPAC) run Cultural Centre which is currently under construction. However, these recent reconciliatory gestures recognising Aboriginal associations with Musgrave Park are underlined by a deeply troubled colonial past. The site’s history is, however, not limited to its post-contact use but as demonstrated through recent research, namely a study undertaken by the West End State School in the 1990s, this area was extensively used by Aboriginal people as a gathering place owing to the abundance of food and water as well as being the site of a well- known bora ring (West End State School, 1997). There has, however, until recently been little mention or record of the Aboriginal ceremonial and cultural value of the site. The post-contact history of the site relates to the policies of segregation implemented within the spaces of the city. There were parts of Brisbane in the 1840s namely:

… a set of streets which demarcated the civilised areas of the city from which Aborigines were excluded after 4pm. This approximate one square mile was designed to prevent night raids by Aborigines on homes and gardens (as food sources) and to keep Aboriginal ceremonial activity which was considered indecent behaviour, out of view of the settlers (Greenop and Memmott, 2006).

These streets were commonly known as Boundary Streets and between them they formed the exclusion zone which was designed to exclude Aboriginal people, but as in the case of every colonial city attempts to maintain the desired purity of this ‘settlers only’ area were disrupted by the presence of the colonised and excluded. Musgrave Park which is located on the edge of one such boundary street – Vulture Street was, during the 1860s, designated as a reserved public recreation area (Greenop and Memmott, 2006). In the 1930s it became a popular meeting site for Aboriginal families living in the West End area – which was largely a working class suburb comprised of Aboriginal, migrant and other non-Anglo Saxon communities (Greenop and Memmott, 2006). For most of the 1940s and 1950s the Park was used extensively by Aboriginal Elders from all over south-east Queensland, and in 1960s it continued to be popular with Aboriginal

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peoples along with a number of places within Brisbane (Greenop and Memmott, 2006). The 1980s saw Musgrave Park and King George Square (situated in front of the Brisbane City Hall) being used for Aboriginal demonstrations during the Commonwealth Games (Greenop and Memmott, 2006). The National Aboriginal and Islander Day of Commemoration (NAIDOC) celebrations have also been held at Musgrave Park for a number of years (Greenop and Memmott, 2006). Therefore, Musgrave Park has been a site of Aboriginal occupation, demonstration and celebrations for the Brisbane Aboriginal community. Perhaps the most distinguishing aspect of Musgrave Park has been that it stands out as a space of Aboriginal resistance within the bounds of a largely colonial city which has tried in numerous ways to suppress, exclude, ignore and modify Aboriginal presence. This persistence of Aboriginality in the midst of the city has been recognised, as evidenced by the establishment of the Musgrave Park Cultural Centre and also in terms of its being considered a significant site of heritage within the South Brisbane area (Brisbane’s Living Heritage Network, 2007). However it took close to fourteen years of constant lobbying by a Brisbane Aboriginal community group – Musgrave Park Aboriginal Corporation – from the time when it first submitted a proposal to the Queensland government in 1985 for the government to approve funds for the cultural centre in 1999 (Brisbane’s Living Heritage Network, 2007; Musgrave Park Aboriginal Corporation, 2007). This effort, although seemingly progressive is yet again underlined by the largely ‘white’ need to appropriate a legitimate representation of Aboriginality, which seeks to focus on cultural aspects of Aboriginality while failing to pay attention to Aboriginal resistance associated with this urban site.

Adelaide’s City Squares and Parklands The city of Adelaide too is no stranger to Aboriginal presence in its City Squares, particularly Victoria, Light and Whitmore Squares. Planned and developed as a colonial city, one of the prime objectives in Adelaide as in all other Australian cities, was to remove all signs of Aboriginal existence and history. In the case of Adelaide this entailed an eradication of the cultural and historic associations of the Kaurna, the Aboriginal people long associated with the Adelaide plains (Hall, 2004, 54). Not only did the city physically and figuratively displace the Aboriginal peoples living in this area, but they were forcefully removed to areas of rigorous surveillance in missions and

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reserves. The post-World War II period saw the dissolution and closure of government missions and reserves following the South Australian Government’s policy shift from segregation to assimilation and this resulted in a steady movement of Aboriginal peoples from the various reserves and missions back into the city (Gale, 1969). However, their access to most parts of the city such as pubs, hotels and community centres, was restricted and in most cases unwelcome, even after the Commonwealth Referendum of 1967 (Hall, 2004). In response Aboriginal peoples established their own social networks and places of meeting within the city which included the use of race tracks and city parks and squares. The Adelaide Park Land belt surrounding the city which included the five city Squares of Victoria, Light, Hindmarsh Whitmore and Hurtle offered such opportunity. Designed originally to cater to the public leisure needs of the ‘white’ colonial community, these Squares for over 60 years had been actively used by the colonised. Light Square in the north western corner of Adelaide was frequented by Aboriginal peoples living in camps in the western Park Land area during the early 20th century and was later, in the post-World War II period, used by Aboriginal families living in adjoining streets as a recreation space. It was also a common meeting and drinking place for Aboriginal men who had served in World War II, and their families. However, there was a strong police presence in this area and this combined with the ban on consumption of alcohol by Aboriginal people, ensured that efforts were made to prevent drinking among ‘only’ Aboriginal peoples and that they did not dare to solicit with non- Aboriginals. This discriminatory and controlled approach towards Aboriginal peoples was also displayed in the use of Whitmore Square located in the south west part of the city. It was a popular gathering space for Aboriginal people living in that area. Despite being subject to the scrutinising gaze of the (post)coloniser, Aboriginal use of these areas continued well into the 1970s, demonstrating the strong sense of resistance and perseverance that has marked Aboriginal peoples’ relations with the larger, dominant ‘white’ community. This resistance has, however, been most visible in terms of Victoria Square – the central city square. Victoria Square is not so much associated with recreational use by Aboriginal families, as are Light and Whitmore Squares, but it has been an area of Aboriginal contestation and anti-colonial resistance. According to oral history accounts, the main city area, especially surrounding Victoria Square and the Post Office opposite

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it, constituted the “original meeting grounds for Kaurna” (Hall, 2004, 61). The 1960s saw the Square often being used by Aboriginal peoples in the city attending to all sorts of business (Hall, 2004, 61). Even as the use of the other Squares diminished with time as spaces within the city such as legal, medical and community centres began to cater to Aboriginal peoples needs, there was increasing Aboriginal visibility in Victoria Square which became a popular social and political venue. In 1971 the Aboriginal flag was unfurled for the first time at Victoria Square during NAIDOC celebrations and it continues to be the starting point of annual NAIDOC marches. Victoria Square was also the place where social justice issues were widely discussed, notably the discussions between Pitjantjara Elders pertaining to land rights (Hall, 2004, 61). It was also the most frequently used congregation point for those who had newly arrived in the city from the outback areas, and was most likely a meeting place for members of the Stolen Generations and others who were seeking their families (Hall, 2004, 62). Therefore, Victoria Square performed a critical role in the shaping of Aboriginal political and social resistance in Adelaide. Arguably a most defiant and powerful expression of Aboriginal resistance was the use of Victoria Square as a popular drinking ground by some Aboriginal people, from the late 1970s. Employing the negative stereotype of the drunk, out of control Aboriginal to upset and challenge the moral standards of the colonising culture has been acknowledged by some scholars as a deliberate move on the part of Aboriginal peoples to define their territoriality in the city, while subjecting themselves to the gaze of the coloniser who has dispossessed them (Cowlishaw, 1988). However, rather than understand this ‘unacceptable’ Aboriginal behaviour as a stark reminder of the disenfranchised state of Aboriginal peoples throughout Australia, the general reaction of local councils, state governments and most non-Aboriginal people has been to condemn and avoid this uncomfortable confrontation. In the case of Adelaide a similar reaction from the South Australian state government was to introduce a ‘curb’ on the drinking of alcohol outside licensed premises within the area of North Adelaide and the CBD, on the premise of making these areas safe. It is no surprise that the targeted areas in the city included Victoria Square and a number of other locations that were frequented by Aboriginal people (Hall, 2004, 67, 68). Not only was this move heavily criticised by Aboriginal and some non-Aboriginal groups as being openly racist and discriminatory, it also resulted in the marginalisation of this uncomfortable image of Aboriginality. This

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was evident in the alternative venues that most of the Aboriginal drinkers found at the western periphery of the city, where the drinking restriction did not apply. Not only were these unsafe and desolate areas of the city but their location is reminiscent of the fringe existence of Aboriginal peoples and the colonial conditions designed to maintain the colonial city’s purity. Around the same time urban renewal programmes initiated by the Adelaide City Council sought to celebrate the presence of Kaurna within the city by recognising Kaurna heritage and encouraging community cultural activities (Hall, 2004; Hay 2004). As noted by Australian academic Ian Hay, “In May 2002, the Council endorsed the dual naming of Tarndanyangga/Victoria Square; the permanent flying of the Aboriginal flag; and the erection of an indigenous sculpture and interpretive signs” (Hay, 2004, 209). Furthermore, the Council undertook the process of renaming 23 Park Lands in Adelaide with Kaurna names (Hay, 2004, 209). Hay (2004) argues that although the dual naming of parklands within the borders of the city does represent a significant shift in the approach adopted by the Adelaide City Council towards recognising urban Kaurna presence, there are limitations in this undertaking as parklands represent the natural and not the built environment. Therefore, there continues to be a deliberate exclusion of Kaurna historical associations from the ‘pure’ built fabric of the colonial city. Hay stresses that the recognition accorded to Kaurna association with parklands needs “to be matched by monuments and markers that reflect the diversity of contemporary indigenous lives and incidents that have shaped recent indigenous consciousness” (2004, 209). This dual naming approach presents yet another instance of the use of the moulded and convenient representations of Aboriginality that are now increasingly employed within the confines of the (post)colonial city, which seeks to distance itself from its colonial past, and in doing so free itself from acknowledging the ongoing impacts of colonisation that are conveniently restricted to the margins.

Summary

Despite the heartening changes to legislation pertaining to Aboriginal heritage, there has been very little movement within heritage practice towards holistically recognising and addressing the issue of urban Aboriginal heritage. While there has been a demonstrated effort to list post-contact sites such as Aboriginal reserves and missions,

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there continues to be very little recognition accorded to Aboriginal post-contact sites in metropolitan areas, namely the state and territory capital cities. This reluctance on the part of heritage practice displays a tendency to maintain the ‘desired purity’ of the colonial city, by actively overlooking or marginalising sites of urban Aboriginal heritage. However, over the last two decades there have been a number of cases of urban Aboriginal heritage that have challenged the stereotypical images associated with Aboriginal heritage and have demonstrated that, unlike reserves and missions, these sites present Aboriginal peoples as active participants in a changing colonial landscape. Some of the better known sites of urban Aboriginal heritage include the Old Swan Brewery, Bennett House, Musgrave Park and the Adelaide Squares, all of which present instances of Aboriginal presence, history and heritage in urban areas. The existence of these sites and the contestations, debates and arguments surrounding their heritage listing and recognition as spaces of Aboriginal use in the city dispel the stereotypes of the ‘authentic Aboriginal’ persons who associate with nature and have no relation with the city and urban areas. More importantly, each of these sites reverberates with strong anti-colonial sentiments expressed by Aboriginal peoples either through contestations or through the continuing occupation of these sites in the attempt to increase their visibility and legitimise Aboriginal presence in the city.

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Chapter 6 The (anti)colonial city: Aboriginal resistance movements, the resilience of The Block

Sites of urban Aboriginal heritage that have challenged or continue to challenge the hegemony of heritage practice form the core Chapters 6, 7 and 8. Chapter 6 deals with The Block in Redfern, whereas the Aboriginal Tent Embassy in Canberra and Australian Hall in Sydney are the case studies examined in Chapters 7 and 8 respectively. The rationale for selecting these three sites is that these sites represent the small but significant number of sites that are listed on the RNE for their Aboriginal heritage value. In addition the fact that each of these sites has a recent history of Aboriginal political resistance makes them even more valuable in terms of the challenge that have posed to mainstream Australian history. Their location in the middle of cities reinforces the existence of Aboriginal peoples and cultures in urban areas and reiterates Aboriginal historical associations with parts of the urban built environment, thereby overturning pre-contact and nature-bound stereotypes of Aboriginal heritage. More importantly each of these sites has been or continues to be at the centre of contestations between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal lobby groups regarding their heritage value, and this offers the possibility of examining the intercultural dialogue that takes place between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people regarding the issue of urban Aboriginal heritage. This chapter seeks to establish that these sites are set against the backdrop of the colonial city which, while seeking to maintain its stronghold, has sought to marginalise or moderate representation of these sites of Aboriginal history and presence. The approach adopted by heritage practice towards these particularly confrontational sites of Aboriginal heritage appears, on the one hand, to be progressive as the (usually reluctant) heritage recognition accorded to these sites does acknowledge the associated history of resistance. However, on the other hand, there is an observable tendency to present a sanitised and depoliticised version of past and current Aboriginal resistances, by memorialising and limiting these events to a safe and historical past. In cases where these sites of Aboriginal resistance and presence are unable to be ‘tamed’ or ‘uplifted’, as in the case The Block in Redfern, Eurocentric concerns of heritage pertaining to

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redevelopment and gentrification are often employed to remove or hide these ‘unsightly’ images of Aboriginality. The chapter is divided into two sections – the first section examines the critical moments that have earmarked the course of Aboriginal resistance in Australia and which have been associated with the city. It discusses events such as the 1938 Day of Mourning and Protest Conference, the Freedom Rides of 1965, the Referendum of 1967, the growth of the Black Power movement in Australia followed by the formation of the Black Panthers Party in 1972, and the lead up to the establishment of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy in 1972. The second section deals with The Block as an area that has been long associated with a number of these struggles and which has been accordingly heritage listed, but despite this protection its existence has been repeatedly threatened by its proximity to the CBD. This aspect of The Block as well as its being constantly stereotyped as a drug-infested and unsafe area has been the subject of extensive research (refer Anderson, 1993a; Shaw, 2000, 2005). This thesis seeks to extend this debate by focusing on more recent developments, namely the NSW state government’s proposed Redfern-Waterloo redevelopment plan and the emerging Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal responses to the effect this would have on the future of The Block.

Aboriginal resistance movements: the stage – the (anti)colonial city

“[T]heories of protest, as distinct from theories of revolution, remain a relatively neglected field of study in history” (Robinson, 1993, 2) and much the same can be said of the attention that Aboriginal protests and resistance movements have received as part of Australian history. As noted by Reynolds (1981), evidence of Aboriginal resistance and conflict to the colonial occupation failed to find its way into historical archives as the colonists were keen to promote the idea that the takeover of Australia by Europeans was a peaceful one in which Aboriginal peoples were depicted as passive and willing bystanders. However, this misappropriation of Aboriginal history has been actively disputed by a growing body of scholarship and Aboriginal oral histories, as well as by Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal historians and scholars such as Jack Horner, Marcia Langton, W.E.H. Stanner, Reynolds, R.H.W. Reece, and Raymond Evans to name a few. Aboriginal resistance to colonial occupation and settlement was persistently even

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throughout the 1800s marked by armed attacks by Aboriginal people, such as the Dharuk-settler conflict in the Hawkesbury area during the 1790s and early 1800s, the Wiradjuri land warfare in the 1820s and the Kamilaraay and Pikampul, Murris struggles of the 1830s and 1840s (Goodall, 1996). In the 1900s Aboriginal resistance increased dramatically taking on a more political and demonstrative approach. Colonial strategies of assimilation, segregation and exclusion were anything but discarded even with the establishment of the Federation in 1901 which should ideally have seen the newly postcolonial ‘white’ Australian society move away from this racist and exclusionary play of power. There was instead a strengthening of the colonial hold over Aboriginal peoples, who continued to be:

… denied many of the basic civil rights … Many Aboriginal people lived on missions or reserves, where white managers had control over practically every aspect of their lives…agencies such as the Aborigines’ Protection Board, which was established in 1883, had extensive powers. Aboriginal people were denied the right to vote, had restricted access to their wages and savings (Jumbunna Centre, 1989, 4).

The legacy of controlling the lives of Aboriginal peoples was perhaps most vigorously followed through by the Aboriginal Protection Board (APB). The APB as an institution for the protection of Aboriginal people was first established in Victoria in 1860. With respect to New South Wales, it was only in 1881 that a Protector for Aborigines and subsequently in 1883 that the APB of NSW was established. The APB was responsible for setting up reserves for Aboriginal peoples and keeping them away from the influences of ‘white’ society. The emphasis was on segregation and reserves were set up far enough away from towns so that contact with Europeans was limited. Segregation has been identified as a “key part of Aboriginal Protection Policy” (www.dreamtime.net.au/indigenous/timeline3.cfm). However the APB did not stop simply at segregating Aboriginal people from European settlers but in the coming years it sought to separate ‘whiter’ Aboriginal children or Aboriginal children of ‘mixed-blood’ from the influences of Aboriginal society (Gale, 1964). During this phase the powers of the APB were increased substantially with the introduction of the NSW Aborigines Protection Act in 1909. Armed with more power the APB was indiscriminate in implementing segregation policies and is today regarded

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as having, “contributed to the destruction of Aboriginal families and society by separating children from their parents” (www.cityofsydney.nsw.gov.au/barani/themes/theme3.htm). The system of the APB has been appropriately summed up by Aboriginal writer Jack Horner:

Under the Constitution, the Commonwealth had no power at all … Each state had its Protection policy with a reservation system where segregated Aboriginal communities had been placed years before. It was unlawful for any white person (or any black, without permission) to enter reserve land, except official inspectors, the manager, and the local police sergeant. Regulations under which these officials controlled the residents and other blacks varied from state to state … Not only reserve residents but black people in towns could be affected by the Protection law …The Protection Board could prevent a white man from ‘lodging or wandering’ with Aborigines (Horner, 1980, 45).

The APB did more than control the movement of Aboriginal (and for that matter ‘white’ people) in and out of reserves. It had a far reaching impact on the lives of Aboriginal people on reserves:

It could assume control and custody of a child, hold any person’s wages in trust, could order Aborigines to move their camps away, or to leave town altogether … It made no difference to the Aborigines if a state government changed: the Protection policy … was virtually unnoticed by politicians … An ‘expulsion order’ could apply to any adult refusing to do a ‘reasonable amount of work’ at a rate prescribed by the manager, and applied also to youths of eighteen or over who had a white parent or grandparent. The power to expel dated back to 1915 (Horner, 1980, 45, 46).

Aboriginal resistance to these policies was in the form of campaigns and movements throughout the 1920s and 1930s. One of the foremost Aboriginal political organisations to emerge during this period was the Australian Aborigines’ Progressive Association (AAPA) formed in 1925 by Frederick Maynard and Mrs. E. Mackenzie-Hatton who were trying “to help north shore [of NSW] Aborigines evicted from reserves, some of whom were families of girls caught trying to return home” (Horner and Langton, 1987 32, 33). The AAPA was influential in terms of demanding a change of policy regarding the forcible removal of Aboriginal girls from their families and were the first to advocate “the dissolution of the

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Aborigines’ Protection Board in favour of Aboriginal members” (Horner, Langton, 1987, 33). In 1935 another important Aboriginal association – the Australian Aborigines’ League (AAL) was formed in Melbourne by Aboriginal youth who had been expelled from reserves. The AAL was formed under the guidance of William Cooper from the Riverina (NSW) who along with other members of the League had been discussing ideas of obtaining citizenship (Horner and Langton, 1987, 33). Cooper was also influential in drafting a petition for federal representation in parliament which circulated on reserves in Australia and by late 1937 it had 1814 signatures (Horner and Langton, 1987, 33). He was also responsible for conceiving the idea of the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference. Inspired by Cooper, in 1937, William Ferguson formed the Aborigines’ Progressive Association (APA) in Dubbo, NSW and was elected its secretary. Horner notes that the APA was “an all-Aboriginal body” and under Ferguson’s leadership was able to hold “seven annual conferences until 1942, to give Aboriginal people a voice” (1980, 47). Ferguson was pushing for “equal citizenship, education, equal wages, ownership of land, the full benefit of British laws and the abolition of the Aborigines’ Protection Board” (Horner and Langton, 1987, 33). His primary concern had always been to expose the APB’s protection policies and the “poor conditions on reserves” (Horner, 1980, 47). He got his chance to do so in 1937 when a parliamentary inquiry into the APB’s operations was organised by Mark Davison, an MLA and friend of Ferguson (Horner, 1980). Another key figure was Jack Patten who along with his wife Selina was instrumental in organising the Aboriginal community in Sydney. Patten was also involved in the publication of Australian Abo Call with the help of P.R. Stephensen – the editor of the Publicist, a magazine known for its left-wing, nationalistic opinions (Horner and Langton, 1987, 34). Patten worked alongside Ferguson in gathering evidence and Aboriginal witnesses for the parliamentary inquiry. Some of the other Aboriginal people who were involved with Aboriginal resistance movements were Tom Foster from La Perouse, Pearl Gibbs from Brewarrina, Jack Kinchela from Coonabarabran and Helen Grosvenor from Redfern. The result of the efforts of these individuals and organisations was the Aboriginal Day of Mourning and Protest Conference held in 1938 at the Australian Hall in Sydney.

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Aboriginal resistance also took the form of various demonstrations and protests in rural settings notably the Cummeragunga Protest in 1939 and The Gurindji Wave Hill walk of in 1966. Most of the strikes and protests occurring in the outback and larger regional areas were related to land rights and the return of traditional Aboriginal lands. Although land was also an integral part of the ongoing resistance in urban settings, it was coupled with the agenda of attaining civil rights – equal and full rights to all benefits and protections of citizenship, a point that had been raised by the Day of Mourning and Protest activists. The 1940s and 1950s saw a further increase in Aboriginal activism as conditions worsened for Aboriginal peoples and who were now being regularly threatened by the increasingly racist and segregationist viewpoints of ‘white’ settlers in towns and cities. Policies of segregation and forced removal of children were still rampant in the workings of the APB. The steady growth in Aboriginal resistance was regularly supported by Left and Right ‘white’ political parties during the 1930s and more so during the 1960s when Aboriginal politics took on a more vocal and aggressively demonstrative tone, set against the backdrop of cities such as Sydney. A critical event of the 1960s was the Freedom Rides of 1965, initiated by Charles Perkins and Jim Spigelman, with help from Ted Noffs and Bill Ford, and the backing of the APA (Goodall, 1996; AIATSIS, 1994). The aim of the ‘Freedom Ride’ – a name that was inspired from the American civil rights movements, was to undertake a bus trip that would help “expose the entrenched racism of rural New South Wales” (Goodall, 1996, 320). Perkins with 29 white students departed from Sydney in 13 February 1965, heading in the north-west direction towards the towns of Moree and Walgett, which among other towns such as Nowra, Cowra, Wilcannia and Kempsey “were becoming bywords for segregation” (Goodall, 1996, 320). In these towns local Aboriginal people joined in with the efforts of the Freedom Rides to “break the colour ban in hotels, shops and swimming pools” and provide evidence to demonstrate to the metropolitan public the “crudity and brutality of rural white crowd behaviour” (Goodall, 1996, 320). Regarded by “some to be the most significant act in Aboriginal-European relations in the twentieth century”, the Freedom Rides were deeply insightful in terms of increasing European awareness of the problems faced by Aboriginal peoples (AIATSIS, 1994).

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The culmination of decades of Aboriginal resistance was the National Referendum of 1967, which was a dramatic and historic event in Australian history. The Referendum saw:

By the largest majority ever recorded, 91 per cent of Australians voted ‘Yes’ to amend the constitution. Voters overwhelmingly approved giving the Federal Government the constitutional power to make special laws on Aboriginal affairs which could over-rule any state legislation. It was a significant victory in our [Aboriginal] struggle (www.widget.com.au/~nlc95/Olol2alra.htm).

The implications of the Referendum were that the Commonwealth would be able to make laws for Aboriginal people, which in turn meant that it would bring parity among the various States which had until 1967 each made their own set of laws for Aboriginal peoples often resulting in drastically different treatment of Aboriginal peoples. The Referendum also moved to include Aboriginal people in the national census, which meant they would have the same citizen rights as other Australians. However, despite the obvious show of support for Aboriginal peoples, the Referendum proved to be more of an appeasement than any real change. There seemed to be little action on the part of the then Coalition government, headed by Prime Minister Harold Holt, towards bringing about changes to existing governmental policies and this became expressively clear with the establishment of the Office of Aboriginal Affairs which was nothing more than a small office invested with no powers and funds. Furthermore, the appointment to this Office of W.E.H. Stanner and Nugget Coombs, who were both widely known to be sympathetic to Aboriginal demands for land rights and self-determination would again prove to be a symbolic gesture as their recommendations regarding Aboriginal land rights and the government’s continuing assimilation policy were largely ignored. Described by The Sydney Morning Herald as a “mockery of the referendum”, it was evident that the initiatives of the government fell way below the expectations of not just Aboriginal peoples but their non-Aboriginal supporters as well. The Referendum, and its relative failure to deliver, signalled a new era of Aboriginal activism which was now largely focused on the issue of land rights. The inequity regarding Aboriginal ownership of land continued to be a highly disputed issue, especially following the Yirrkala people’s claim to traditional lands in the

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Milirrpum and others versus Nabalco and the Commonwealth 1971 case, in which Aboriginal people’s spiritual connection to land was acknowledged by presiding Judge Blackburn, but indigenous rights to land were considered unrecognised by Australian common land or property law (Goodall, 1996, 337). Although this blatant disregard for Aboriginal land ownership dangerously bordering on the idea of Terra nullius was successfully overturned by the historic 1992 Mabo judgment, its impact on the Aboriginal political movements in the 1960s and 1970s was far-reaching. By the early 1970s land tenure had became the collective slogan of Aboriginal activists. There was a growing expression and political articulation concerning the return of traditional lands that had been usurped by the Europeans. However, this was not a new concept but one that “derived much of its substance from a tradition of original ownership” as well as from stories from nearly every tribal area that told of oppression, massacres and seizure of lands by settlers (Robinson, 1993, 17, 18). Land rights was a common thread of concern for older and younger members of more traditional, and urban as well as rural communities. The sentiment that was prevalent during the 1960s and 1970s is reflected in the observation made by Dennis Walker who said, “blackfellas knew they owned the land … and nothing had been done to redress that” (1993). The Aboriginal activists gave this broader Aboriginal concern a pointedly anti-colonial expression that sought to establish Aboriginal people’s original ownership to land, as well as their distinct and separate identity(s) as a people. A major contributor to the mobilisation towards a separatist and self-determined identity was the Black Power movement in America, which saw Aboriginal peoples moving away from dependence on organisations like the Federal Council for the Advancement of Aborigines and Torres Strait Islanders and the Aboriginal Advancement League which had been predominantly established and run by non- Aboriginal white Australians and were from the late 1960s regarded as being paternalistic and unrepresentative of the expectations of Aboriginal peoples (Robinson, 1993; Goodall, 1996). Aboriginal organisations such as the National Tribal Affairs Association set up by Charles Perkins, the National Tribal Council established by Oodgeroo Noonuccal (then known as Kath Walker) emerged as Aboriginal (only) alternatives to these existing ‘white controlled’ organisations. Simultaneously, there was a growing interest in establishing Aboriginal run community services known as

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‘survival’ programmes’. These included initiatives such as the breakfast programme for Aboriginal schoolchildren organised by Shirley Smith and the Aboriginal Legal Services and the Aboriginal Medical Services established in Redfern (Robinson, 1993, 32). As noted by Robinson, these were “expressions of Aboriginal aspirations for self- determination. They assumed the role of organisations in areas which the state continued to neglect, and built a self-determined structure within the shell of mainstream Australian society” (1993, 32). There was, therefore, a conscious and deliberate effort by Aboriginal peoples to break away from a white dominated dependency and although white professional supporters such as lawyers and doctors who offered their services to these Aboriginal community initiatives were incorporated within these organisations, control and decision making powers rested exclusively with Aboriginal people. Perhaps the most radical shift in Aboriginal politics was the setting up of the Australian Black Panthers Party in 1972. This was significantly influenced by the American Black Panthers and was the most resounding demonstration of Aboriginal self-determination and separatism. The Aboriginal encounter with the Black Power movement in America was formulated by the extensive coverage of the movement in both the American and Australian media. It also developed through personal contact with its exponents notably through a visit to Australia in 1966 by the US and Caribbean Black Power advocate Roosevelt Brown, as well as a trip to America in the following year by a five member Aboriginal delegation, one of whom Sol Bellear spent a few months with the Black Panthers (Robinson, 1993; Goodall, 1996). The result of this exchange was that Black Power had a considerable effect on Aboriginal politics during the 1960s and 1970s, but it was more of “an inspirational model rather than a guiding doctrine” (Robinson, 1993, 26). However, at the same time it was also ardently followed by young, educated Aboriginal peoples in the urban areas of Sydney, Melbourne and Brisbane, and a number of them, namely Gary Foley, Paul Coe, Michael Anderson, Billy Craigie, and Dennis Walker, were among those who were at the forefront of the formation of the Australian Black Panthers Party. The Party did adopt various aspects of the American Black Panthers movement, especially the “sensational portrayal of armed Aboriginal guerrillas”, but according to Robinson this was more of a strategy to attract the media and public’s attention towards

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the oppressed state of Aboriginal peoples than a serious effort to take on an armed struggle (1993, 36). Furthermore, the Party’s demands were similar to those of other Aboriginal activists –“land rights, compensation for lands expropriated by whites … an end to all discriminatory legislations … and an Aboriginal committee to replace the existing welfare system” (Robinson, 1993, 37). In all the Australian Black Panthers were a group of young activists fed up with the impoverished conditions and discrimination that Aboriginal people continued to face even in the years following the Referendum. However, the media were quick to label the Australian Black Panthers as violent and armed and this one-sided deterministic coverage led to sharp criticism from within the broader Aboriginal community, especially from some of the older Aboriginal people who saw this new wave of activism as misrepresenting Aboriginal interests of self-determination. However, needless to say it was this very group of young activists who were the primary catalysts in the setting up of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy in 1972, on the lawns of the Old Parliament House in Canberra, as a means of symbolic, non-violent demonstration. Aboriginal political resistance movements commencing from the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference, to the Freedom Rides, the Referendum, and the establishment of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy all occurred and emerged from within the confines of the ‘colonial’ city. Suburbs such as Redfern have played a vital role in these strategic movements and are evidence of the presence of the ‘colonised’, who have not only disrupted the purity of the colonial city but have also challenged the hegemonic hold of its colonial legacies.

Resisting gentrification and redevelopment: The Block’s resilient presence in the colonial city

Known as ‘Aboriginal Redfern’, ‘Eveleigh Street’ or ‘the Black heart of Australia’, The Block in Redfern, Sydney is one of the most enduring symbols of Aboriginal history and heritage in the city (Shaw, 2004; AHC 2006). Formed in 1973 when “the Commonwealth of Australia overriding opposition from lower levels of government and local White residents, granted an Aboriginal Housing Company in Sydney’s suburb of Redfern the funds to purchase a row of (approximately forty) Victorian terraces for Black housing”, The Block continues to stand today, in the heart

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of Sydney as a deeply contested but resilient site of urban Aboriginal presence (Anderson, 1993b, 83). Bounded by Eveleigh, Vine, Louis and Caroline Streets in Redfern, The Block has been the subject of both positive and at times highly negative media coverage, and has also received considerable scholarly attention, most notably by eminent Australian academic Kay Anderson. Furthermore Shaw in her exhaustive research on the gentrification processes operating in the wider Redfern area has outlined the threat that these processes pose to the heritage listing of The Block. It is listed on the RNE as indigenous heritage owing to its long standing association with Aboriginal peoples from various parts of the country (AHC, 2004). Aboriginal association with Redfern, as noted by Anderson dates from the 1930s when there was a steady flow of Aboriginal peoples migrating to Sydney – leaving reserves and rural areas hard hit by the recession in NSW, in search of employment and a better life (1993a). The majority of the newcomers to the city settled in the inner city suburbs of Redfern, Chippendale, Newtown, Erskineville and Waterloo, attracted to these areas by “cheap housing, access to public transport, unskilled employment in the Eveleigh Railway Yards and other industrial outlets” (Anderson, 1993a, 319). By 1960 the number of Aboriginal peoples living in these inner city suburbs was between four and nine thousand (Anderson, 1993a). It was, however, Redfern, namely the blocks to the west of (Redfern) Railway station, which soon became the focus of the Aboriginal social, communal and political activity throughout the 1960s and early 1970s. Set against the backdrop of a tightly knit and increasingly politicised Aboriginal community, ideas of self-determination and land rights were being widely adopted and publicised by Aboriginal peoples in Redfern. It was in this highly charged political atmosphere that the Australian Black Panther Party was formed and whose members played a pivotal role in the setting up of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy in Canberra. In addition, landmark Aboriginal-run organisations such as the first Aboriginal Medical Service and the Aboriginal Legal Service were established in Redfern in 1971. However, it was the establishment of The Block in 1973, which marked a truly momentous event in the history of Australia as it involved the handing back of land in the midst of the city to Aboriginal peoples, and signified the highlight of Aboriginal resistance in Redfern. Much like the Aboriginal Medical Services and the Aboriginal Legal Services, the formation of The Block was a reaction to the “generic vulnerability

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to colour and class-based oppression” faced by inner Sydney’s Aboriginal peoples (Anderson, 1993a, 88). Faced with deplorable living conditions, homelessness and discrimination in the Sydney housing market – facts which had previously been noted in surveys by Commonwealth and local welfare organisations, but which had been ignored by the government at large – a group of Aboriginal ‘squatters’ in Redfern formed the Aboriginal Housing Committee (Committee) “to take into their hands” the task of finding an immediate solution for homeless people (Anderson, 1993b, 324). They were supported in their efforts by priests from St Vincent’s Presbytery – a part of Sydney’s Catholic Church, and the Builders Labourers Federation, for whom the “destitute Aborigines” became a “cause celebre” (Anderson, 1993b). The Committee identified a row of ten, unoccupied terrace houses in Louis Street that were urgently in need of repair and had been bought by a private developer and owner of the construction company ‘Tierra del Fuego’ who intended to upgrade these dwellings to medium income residential housing (Anderson, 1993b, 324). The events that followed were predictably marked by struggle on the part of Aboriginal peoples and their non- Aboriginal supporters, amidst strong opposition from members of the South Sydney Council and local residents groups, who argued that allowing Aboriginal housing in Redfern would encourage the formation of a “Black ghetto” (Anderson, 1993b, 328). However, after a series of meetings with the Office of Aboriginal Affairs, threats of work bans issued by the Builders Labourers Federation on redevelopment and building projects undertaken by Tierra del Fuego, confrontational media releases made by the Aboriginal Housing Committee, and increasing pressure by non-Aboriginal supporters like the priests of the Catholic Church, the ten houses in question along with 31 others were sold to the Aboriginal Housing Committee (by then the Aboriginal Housing Board). The funding to buy the houses was provided by the newly formed Labour government in Canberra, under Gough Whitlam, which was an enthusiastic supporter of Aboriginal self-determination and was keen to move away from older policies of assimilation (Anderson, 1993a, 92). The formation of The Block, therefore, represented a major victory for the Aboriginal land rights movement. Unfortunately three decades after the establishment of The Block it continues to be a deeply contested site and as noted by Australian academic Wendy Shaw, “[I]t is

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presented, simultaneously, as a place of successful Aboriginal political struggle and as an example of failed (urban) Aboriginal self-determination” (2000, 291). These contradictory representations, on the one hand seek to memorialise past Aboriginal resistances by commending the Aboriginal political struggle with which The Block was associated during the 1960s and 1970s. On the other hand, there is a tendency to revive colonial stereotypes of out-of-control urban ‘Aborigines’ by subscribing to current popular imaginings of an Aboriginal community “spiralling into self-inflicted decline” (Shaw, 2004,60) (Fg.3). In fact, these negative images of a marginalised, out-of-place, Aboriginal community are actively employed to discredit the heritage status of The Block. Shaw argues that The Block, despite its heritage status, continues to be threatened by processes of renovation, restoration and redevelopment occurring in the neighbouring areas of Darlington, Redfern and Chippendale (2000, 291; 2001). She further notes that Sydney is dominated by a largely ‘white’ heritage landscape which seeks to celebrate the “history of white settlement, and its architectures, grand and humble”, the most observable expression of which is the trend towards gentrification that is sweeping through the inner suburbs of Sydney (Shaw, 2004, 57).

In the midst of this race for “desirable heritage housing areas” stands The Block, which despite being a part of the listed Darlington heritage and conservation area, is

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viewed not only as “heritage-less” but is increasingly typecast as “anti-heritage” (Shaw, 2004, 60). This is driven not only by current stereotypes associated with The Block, but is perhaps more directly related to the physical fabric of the Victorian terraces on The Block (Fg.4; Fig.5). The run-down, derelict condition of these terraces poses a “threat to investment in heritage” in the Darlington conservation area and the adjoining Chippendale area which has emerged as a significant “‘industrial heritage’ landscape” (Shaw, 2004, 60, 66). The demand for smaller ‘working class’ Victorian houses has seen the area of Darlington undergo rapid transformations and the building of loft apartments in old warehouses and factories in Chippendale has contributed to the revival of an area once considered to be dead (Shaw, 2004, 65, 66). Shaw notes that the overriding heritage concern in the area surrounding The Block remains “architectural/ artefactual”, which overpowers and ignores the heritage status of The Block. She argues that, “[T]here is no commemorative plaque, or acknowledgment that this site has finally been recognised as a site of cultural heritage” (Shaw, 2004, 69). The history of The Block – its emergence as a site of Aboriginal political resistance – once celebrated is now being conveniently forgotten in the renewal and revival of the (neo)colonial city.

More recently the heritage listing, in fact the very existence of The Block, has been jeopardised by the NSW government’s plans to redevelop the Waterloo and Redfern areas. In November 2004, the government announced plans to establish the Redfern-Waterloo Authority which would be in charge of revitalising the whole area, including The Block (Davies and Maley, 2004, 3). This announcement came only eight months after the February riots in Redfern, sparked off by the death of Aboriginal

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teenager T.J. Hickey. Although (former) NSW Premier Bob Carr denied any plans of ousting the Aboriginal population, there was increasing mistrust among the Redfern Aboriginal community towards the intentions of the government. The detailed proposal put forth by the Redfern-Waterloo Authority included an AUD5 billion plan to redevelop Redfern and the surrounding suburbs and involved spending AUD27 million on upgrading The Block (Jopson, Ryle and Goodsir, 2004a). The aim of this project, which was labelled by the media as “a major piece of social engineering”, was to double the area’s population by increasing housing for private renters and balancing out the 7000 public housing tenants in the area, create new jobs and, provide space for the CBD to expand (Jopson, et al, 2004a). The contentious part of this proposal, however, was that the Redfern-Waterloo Authority would be taking control of The Block through a 10 year lease, and although it was publicly declared that this would be done in consultation with the Aboriginal Housing Company (previously the Aboriginal Housing Board), there were reports in the media that the Authority had the power to compulsorily acquire the land (Jopson and Ryle, 2004a). Equally problematic was the proposed demolition of the twin 30 storey towers of Turanga and Matavai which housed 530 public housing tenants, most of whom were ageing or disabled (Jopson and Ryle, 2004c). The most shocking part of this redevelopment proposal, as announced by the minister in charge Frank Sartor, was that heritage laws would no longer be applicable to four sites around Redfern – the Australian Technology Park, Eveleigh railway workshops, the 23-hectare public housing estates, and The Block (Jopson and Ryle, 2004b). The NSW government’s justification for the Redfern-Waterloo redevelopment plan was that it was a much needed initiative for easing the pressure on an overcrowded CBD. In a strategy paper released by the government, the need for the expansion into Redfern was defended on the basis of Sydney’s emerging position as key world city in the Asia Pacific region. It was argued that Sydney had “a comparatively small CBD in terms of area and whilst height of buildings can add floor space, to avoid congestion, [a] major CBD needs to expand horizontally as well as vertically” (Jopson and Ryle, 2004d). Furthermore, it was stressed by the government that the Redfern-Waterloo area needed to be regenerated as it had declined significantly in terms of economic sustainability forming a “weak link in the chain of commercial hubs stretching from Ryde to Botany Bay which link Sydney into the global economy” (Jopson and Ryle,

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2004d). It was also indicated that the decrease in population in this area was causing an underutilisation of government infrastructure, and it was therefore necessary to bring in more renters, namely private housing tenants – a decision which the government defended on the basis that it would “break down any stigma associated with concentrated public housing” (Jopson and Ryle, 2004d). Therefore, quite clearly the government’s primary concern for the Redfern-Waterloo redevelopment was economic – it was stated that nothing should prevent maximising the market value of the proposed developments, including any objections raised by the City of Sydney local council. Blaming the local council for adopting a particularly controlling and detrimental approach towards achieving “greater density and heights” of proposed developments, the government sought to secure the establishment of the Redfern-Waterloo Authority on the basis that such a body would be able to provide planning certainty to the market and development investments (Jopson and Ryle, 2004e).

Economic factors also underlined the approach adopted for the redevelopment of The Block. The location of The Block in the midst of government-owned lands made it extremely vulnerable to forces of redevelopment, especially with the NSW Department of Housing being the largest single landholder in this 340 hectare area earmarked for regeneration. The government’s argument for taking over properties on The Block was that the Aboriginal Housing Company, which owned 62 properties on The Block totalling a net value of AUD22 million, had a AUD1 million debt, as a result of which

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the maintenance and upkeep of this area had suffered tremendously (Jopson and Ryle, 2004). While it was not publicly revealed, it was suggested that the government acting through the Redfern-Waterloo Authority, would help repay the debt of the Aboriginal Housing Company and in return seek to acquire its properties for redevelopment. It was also reported that the NSW Department of Commerce feared that if The Block could not be ‘fixed’, then the value of planned commercial and residential developments in the area would depreciate by 25-30 per cent. Although there were no direct references to the social problems associated with The Block – its being largely stereotyped as a ‘drug- infested’, unsafe and derelict area – it was apparent that the government’s aim of ‘fixing’ The Block was an attempt to hide the unsightliness of the impoverished conditions of Aboriginal peoples, in order to maintain the unproblematic, aesthetic and ‘pure’ image of the colonial city. The Redfern-Waterloo Authority and the plans to redevelop the area were heavily criticised and condemned by residents of The Block, by the Waterloo public housing tenants, by the City of Sydney’s Lord Mayor Clover Moore, and by members of the media. Labelling the proposal as a ‘land grab’, Aboriginal groups in Redfern, including the Aboriginal Housing Company, the Aboriginal Medical Services and the Metropolitan Land Council, joined forces to form the Redfern Organisation of Aboriginal Unity, which warned of a “determined and unified resistance” to any plans that involved the forceful acquisition of lands owned by the Aboriginal Housing Company (The Sydney Morning Herald, 2 December 2004). Although Aboriginal residents did support the redevelopment, they argued that it should not be done at the cost of pushing Aboriginal peoples out of Redfern (The Sydney Morning Herald, 2 December 2004). As noted by Marcia Ella-Duncan, chairwoman of ATSIC’s Sydney regional council, the government’s plan would only fulfil the accommodation needs of about half a dozen Aboriginal families, while failing to attend to the housing crisis that was currently faced by the Sydney Aboriginal community (Jopson et al, 2004b). The general sentiment regarding the redevelopment was that the government was attempting to phase out ‘problem communities’ which included not only Aboriginal groups, but also working-class people. For Aboriginal peoples the proposed redevelopment spelt not only the usurpation of the properties of The Block but, more importantly, it implied that

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a cornerstone of Aboriginal self-determination would be lost forever (Jopson, Ryle and Goodsir, 2004). Residents of the public housing estates were equally vocal in their discontent regarding the lack of consultation. They opposed the demolition on the basis that many of them had lived in the public housing for more than 30 years, and that it was the only home they knew (Jopson and Ryle, 2004c). At the forefront of this opposition was a resident’s action group known as REDWatch – comprised of residents from Redfern, Eveleigh, Darlington and Waterloo suburbs – who argued against the unlimited powers taken on by Sartor and called for broader community consultation and participation in any decisions regarding the redevelopment of the area. Other critics of the Redfern- Waterloo proposal included City of Sydney Mayor, Moore and members of the local Labor Party who were strongly opposed to the idea that a single person, in this case Sartor would be given unlimited powers “to demolish pubic housing, override heritage laws and defy the local council in the redevelopment of the area”, a move which they argued, ruled out community consultation and demonstrated a lack of government accountability towards the community at large (Pryor, 2004). There was also considerable concern regarding the threat to heritage sites within this area. This became increasingly apparent when it was revealed that the government could lift heritage protection from a number of other sites apart from the four, including The Block that it had already identified for redevelopment. By declaring these sites to be ‘state-significant’ under the Redfern Waterloo plan, on the basis that the redevelopment of this area would benefit the local community, the government could ensure that the NSW Heritage Act would no longer be applicable. Some of the sites that were added to the list of sites that would no longer be heritage protected, included Redfern Public School, Rachel Forster Hospital and Redfern police station as well as the oldest surviving public toilet in Sydney, in Redfern railway station. The government’s actions were strongly opposed by a number of interest groups. For instance, there was sharp criticism of the proposed lifting of heritage protection from the Eveleigh railway workshops site on the basis that it was “an industrial icon for NSW and Australia” and one of the nation’s earliest buildings (Jopson, 2004). Similarly, there was concern for Redfern Railway station, even though most parts of the station were placed under permanent protection. This was due to the fact that the government’s decision to make

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concessions to this protection by demolishing the oldest public toilet Sydney located within the premises of the station was seen by many as symptomatic of redevelopment concerns overtaking heritage values (Jopson and Ryle 2004). Ironically, amidst this flurry of public debate regarding various heritage listed sites in the Redfern Waterloo area, there was very little non-Aboriginal interest in the historic value of The Block. For the Aboriginal community in Redfern, the heritage significance of The Block was connected to its survival and the maintenance of Aboriginal presence in the midst of the city. However, for most non-Aboriginal commentators, heritage concerns were largely driven by the need to critique the NSW government’s approach towards European heritage, which not only dismissed any discussions pertaining to The Block, but also reiterated the ‘heritage-less’ status that is associated with this historically significant icon of Aboriginal self-determination in the city. Despite the strong opposition to the Redfern-Waterloo redevelopment proposal, the NSW government has pushed on with its plans and in 2006 Planning Minister Sartor announced that The Block would be rezoned for commercial use (Stapleton, 2006). The reaction of the Redfern Aboriginal community at this point was pointedly critical. Chief executive of the Aboriginal Housing Company, Mick Mundine slammed the government for being racist and insensitive as it failed to understand the importance of The Block to Aboriginal peoples. A long time resident of The Block, Bill Simon fittingly noted that “[W]e are just fighting for this little bit of land …This is the heart of Australia. If they take this away, they are ripping our heart out” (Stapleton, 2006). Similar sentiments were voiced by members of resident’s action group REDWatch, namely Lyn Turnbull who stressed that “The rezoning is all about stopping Aboriginal families from being part of a viable Redfern community … This area has always been at the forefront of reconciliation, and the majority of Redfern’s non-indigenous families strongly support an ongoing Aboriginal presence here” (Stapleton, 2006). Therefore, it can be argued that for both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples living in Redfern The Block is a symbol of a continuing, visible Aboriginal presence in the city, which makes it increasingly important that this highly contested site of Aboriginal heritage is maintained as a reminder of Aboriginal self-determination and reconciliation.

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Summary

Aboriginal resistance to colonisation, once a fact that was repeatedly written out of the histories of Australia, is today an increasingly recognised reality. There are a number of sites in Australian cities and urban centres which have been the focus of the growing sense of Aboriginal resistance and self-determination. From the first Aboriginal Day of Mourning and Protest Conference in 1938, to the politically charged period of the 1960s, the Aboriginal civil rights movement has been often set against the backdrop of the colonial city, which while trying to maintain its ‘purity’ has sought to silence and marginalise these significant sites of struggle. Redfern in Sydney has been one such site of Aboriginal political activity, especially during the 1960s when critical events such as the 1965 Freedom Rides, the 1967 Referendum, the establishment of the Black Panthers Party and the subsequent setting up of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy in Canberra, not only challenged but also changed the face of a ‘colonial’ Australian history. The Aboriginal historical associations with Redfern were further consolidated with the formation of The Block, which in itself was a turning point in Australian history and signified the (then) changing relations between Aboriginal and non- Aboriginal peoples. Redfern, namely The Block is therefore regarded by Aboriginal peoples as the heart of Black Australia and in recognition of its political and historical importance it has been listed as indigenous heritage on the RNE. However, heritage listing has failed to protect The Block from redevelopment and gentrification processes which seek to overpower this site of urban Aboriginal presence and resistance by dwelling on largely negative stereotypes, while failing to address the disenfranchised state of Aboriginal peoples living in this area. The Block presents an instance in which Eurocentric concerns of heritage have effectively reduced the historical significance of this extraordinary site and this has in turn provided impetus to the larger than life commercial forces that threaten to overpower and remove The Block as it continues to struggle for its existence in the middle of a largely colonial city.

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Chapter 7 ‘Eyeballing’ the (post)colonial city: the Aboriginal Tent Embassy in Canberra

Most widely recognised as a pivotal site of Aboriginal political resistance, the Aboriginal Tent Embassy in Canberra represents the strong anti-colonial sentiments that are still prevalent among a largely underprivileged and dissatisfied Aboriginal population (Fg.6). This is a site which has upset the hegemonic foundation of heritage practice, while attacking the very basis of largely ‘white’ Australian history – the colonisation and occupation of Australia and the resulting dispossession, and “genocide” of Aboriginal peoples (Coe, 2000). It is a site that continues to be surrounded by controversies, criticism and contestations. The Embassy’s heritage status as a significant Aboriginal site has often been threatened by its strategic location in the midst of the capital city of Australia – Canberra, the historic planning and architectural achievement of Walter Burley Griffin. Removal, relocation and memorialisation threaten to marginalise this confrontational landmark of Aboriginal resistance and presence in the modern, designed and planned (post)colonial city. Continuing references to the largely negative ‘colonial’ stereotypes that are commonly associated with urban

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Aboriginal peoples are often employed to discredit the legitimacy of its heritage status. The question that emerges is whether the recognition of this obviously significant urban Aboriginal site has been largely tokenistic. Of the four sections which make up this chapter, the first is dedicated to a discussion concerning the demands of the Aboriginal Embassy which at the time of its inception in 1972 was focused primarily on land rights, and which has since its re- establishment in 1992, concentrated on Aboriginal sovereignty and self-determination. This section will also delve into the various means of demonstration and protest that have been used by the Embassy activists, with particular reference to the use of symbols, drawn from both ‘traditional’ and post-contact Aboriginal history. Opposition to the Aboriginal Embassy forms the core of the second section which examines the criticism that was directed at the Embassy by the 1972 coalition government and more recently by members of the Howard government, who have on more than one occasion employed various means such as police force to remove the Embassy from the lawns of the Old Parliament House. Section three, on the other hand, explores the support for the Embassy which has emerged from within Aboriginal communities and from non- Aboriginal people such as student groups, opposition parties and the Australian media. The fourth and last section outlines how heritage practice, namely the AHC and the National Trust (ACT) despite their support and defence of the Aboriginal Embassy tend to willingly or unknowingly reiterate Eurocentric concerns of heritage which limit representations of Aboriginal heritage to a 1972 past.

Anti-colonialism and Aboriginal resistance: Canberra’s Tent Embassy

The central role played by the Aboriginal Tent Embassy in the development of Aboriginal politics and the need to recognise it accordingly has been fittingly noted by Scott Robinson in his deeply insightful thesis, The Aboriginal Embassy, 1972:

Despite its significance to the development of the Aboriginal land rights movement, and as a model for protest action in the context of a democratic system, the Aboriginal Embassy has never been given its deserved place in modern Australian history. The story of the Embassy and its importance in the history of contemporary Aboriginal politics and context of Australian history require a much more detailed treatment than that afforded by the polemical

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literature of the time, and the few paragraphs which dispense with the Embassy in later accounts of the land rights movements (Robinson, 1993, 1).

The lack of research regarding the Aboriginal Tent Embassy has been seconded by Dr. Coral Dow (2000) of the Social Policy Group, who argues that “With the exception of Scott Robinson’s work, the Aboriginal Tent Embassy has received scant scholarly attention”.

Established on 26 January 1972 on the lawns of the (now Old) Parliament House in Canberra, by Billy Craigie, Tony Coorey, Bertie Williams, Gary Williams and Michael Anderson, the Aboriginal Tent Embassy is considered to be a critical milestone in the “history of Aboriginal political culture” (AHC, 2004). Listed as indigenous heritage on the RNE by the AHC in 1995, the Aboriginal Embassy is recognised as a site that represents “Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people’s political struggle for land rights, sovereignty, autonomy, equality and self government” (AHC, 2004). It is also recognised a part of the heritage listed Parliament House Vista in Canberra. Removed in 1972 and then again in 1975 the Embassy was re-established permanently in 1992 on the lawns of the Old Parliament. Despite repeated removals, objections and opposition the Embassy has until recently stood on the same site, representing the legacy of Aboriginal resistance as well as serving as a reminder of the disenfranchised state of Aboriginal peoples in Australia.

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Things were much the same in 1972, when the Aboriginal Embassy was set up by a group of young Aboriginal activists on the lawns of the (Old) Federal Parliament House (Fg.7). A high degree of discontentment had built up among Aboriginal peoples in the years prior to and following the victorious but largely tokenistic Referendum of 1967. However, the event that triggered the establishment of the Aboriginal Embassy was the Australia Day statement by Prime Minister McMahon aired on radio and television on 25 January 1972. The McMahon Gorton coalition government’s five-point statement began by acknowledging the “deep affinity between Aboriginal people and the land” and indicated the formulation of new policies regarding “land holdings on Aboriginal reserves and elsewhere” (McMahon, 1972). However, this was contradicted by the refusal to recognise land rights as had been set out by Aboriginal activists and their supporters, including the Office of Aboriginal Affairs. The basis for this decision was that any policy favouring Aboriginal land rights would lead to “uncertainties and possible challenge in relation to land titles in Australia which are presently unquestioned and secure” (McMahon, 1972, emphasis added). Furthermore, while land was to be made available to Aboriginal peoples in the Northern Territory it was on the condition of a fifty year ‘general purpose lease’ which would not be applicable to existing mission, reserve or crown land. In particular, the statement addressed the case of the Yirrkala people’s opposition to the Nabalco mining venture and found mining to be in favour of the “national interest” (McMahon, 1972). It also proposed a diluted assimilation policy and rejected and crushed all Aboriginal aspirations for self- determination which it found to be “utterly alien” to the objectives of Aboriginal peoples fitting in with mainstream Australian society (McMahon, 1972). It was in “direct response” to this deeply disillusioning statement by the McMahon government that “the central core of young Aboriginal activists from the eastern States” who had gathered in Redfern decided to stage a symbolic protest in Canberra, (Robinson, 1994, 50). Robinson argues that this idea may have been the “brainchild of Charles Perkins, Kevin Gilbert, Burnum Burnum, or activists associated with the newly-established Aboriginal Medial Service” (1994, 50). In what has been described as an act of great spontaneity Aboriginal activists Tony Coorey, Bertie Williams, Billie Craigie, Gary Williams and Michael Anderson accompanied by The Tribune’s photographer Noel Hazzard left Sydney for Canberra on the night of 25

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January 1972. Upon their arrival in Canberra on the same night, they established contact with a local academic known to Hazzard who provided the activists with material for placards and the beach umbrella which was to become the first structure of the Aboriginal Embassy on the lawns of the Parliament House. On the suggestion of Bertie Williams, the encampment which was set up while it was still dark was called the “Aboriginal Embassy” (Robinson, 1994, 51). The Aboriginal Embassy came as a rude awakening to the people of Canberra, and Australia, and was soon the centre of wide-spread media coverage. Having gained the attention they were seeking, the activists issued a number of statements to the press which foregrounded Aboriginal demands for land rights and emphasised the dispossession of Aboriginal people. As the Embassy moved into its second month of demonstration a more comprehensive statement of demands was released on 6 February 1972, which followed a five-point plan, much like the one in McMahon’s Australia Day speech. Whether this was intentional or not, the demands were in themselves a reaction point by point to McMahon’s speech. The demands included “Aboriginal ownership of all existing reserve and settlements (including rights to mineral deposits), ownership of lands in capital cities (including mineral rights), preservation of all sacred sites in all parts of the continent, six million dollars in compensation, and full rights of statehood for the Northern Territory” (Robinson, 1994, 52). Not only was this statement an outright demand for land rights for all Aboriginal peoples in cities and rural areas, but it was equally a call to acknowledge and redress the dispossession of the original owners of the land. Quite predictably the most controversial parts of these demands were the issues of ownership in cities and the AUD6 million compensation which created much debate in the media and public. Compensation was being sought on the basis of economic empowerment of Aboriginal peoples and a conscious move away from white controlled institutional dependency which reflected the emphasis on self-determination that had been escalating in Aboriginal communities. The issue of land ownership in urban areas was pushed forward by the Embassy activists, most of whom were from the heavily urbanised Eastern states, as they felt it was critical to bring together traditional and urban Aboriginal perspectives and representations on land rights so as to present a holistic and united Aboriginal front on this critical issue.

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While the Aboriginal Tent Embassy of 1972 clearly established land rights as being central to Aboriginal concerns, self determination and sovereignty became the slogan of activists who re-established the Embassy in 1979 on Capital Hill – then the proposed site for the new Parliament House (Dow, 2004). The call for a Bill of Aboriginal Rights and recognition of Aboriginal Sovereignty in 1979 was further strengthened in 1992 when the Aboriginal Embassy was re-established, and a Declaration of Aboriginal Sovereignty was submitted to Robert Tickner, the then Minister for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Affairs. The Declaration which was also submitted to the United Nations and foreign embassies stated:

We, the members of the Aboriginal Nations and Peoples, do hereby give notice of invoking our claim to all the land of the territories of our ancestors. Accordingly, we invoke the Rule of International Law that we have never surrendered nor acquiesced in our claim to these lands and territories …This occupation of the site of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy is evidence of our right to self-government and self-determination in our lands and territories.

As noted by Billy Craigie who was among the first group of activists who set up the Embassy in 1972, “twenty years down the track we found we had to re-establish the embassy because Aboriginal affairs was starting to stagnate back to the position prior to ’72 … we’re now asking the politicians and the rest of white Australia to recognise us as a race of people and to recognise us as the sovereign owners of this country” (Dow, 2004). Aboriginal sovereignty continues to be the focus of the Aboriginal Embassy today, 34 years after its inception, on the basis that it is has remained an unresolved issue since 1770 and until Aboriginal sovereign rights are acknowledged Aboriginal “people’s oppressive living conditions will not change” (Aboriginal Tent Embassy, 2006). In addition to foregrounding demands for land rights and Aboriginal sovereignty the Aboriginal Tent Embassy is perhaps most noted for its use of largely peaceful and symbolic means of demonstrations. On 26 January 1972 the beach umbrella and Aboriginal Embassy placard announced the arrival of the Embassy on the lawns of the Parliament House. By late February a tent had been erected on the site and a number of Aboriginal activists, including Bobbi Sykes and Bruce McGuiness from Queensland, had joined the group at the Embassy. As noted by Robinson the Embassy was:

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… a display of symbolism at several levels, simultaneously a comment on living conditions in Aboriginal Australia, on the question of land ownership (the tents and the placards were as much a re-appropriation of this particular piece of ground as their message was an appeal for the Australian-wide return of land), on relative status of Aboriginal people in a city dotted with embassies, and on the avenues of protest open to the otherwise (often) silent minorities in Australian society (Robinson, 1993, 99).

The use of tents was a distinctively Aboriginal political statement which pointedly referred to the adverse living conditions of Aboriginal peoples in certain areas. In this respect it can be argued that the symbolism employed by the Aboriginal Embassy may have drawn inspiration from ‘resurrection city’ – a shanty town made of cardboard and canvas set up in Washington D.C. in 1969 by American Black protestors who sought to draw attention to poverty in ghettos through this symbolic demonstration (Robinson, 1993, 99) (Fig.8). There was also a strong anti-colonial sentiment underlying the activists’ decision to use tents rather than buildings to stage the protest. This is evident in the argument put forward by Roberta (then Bobbi) Sykes who noted that, “to occupy a building similar in structure to those used by the oppressive bureaucratic machine would have been to alienate the protest from the level of the people” (1975, 23, 24, emphasis added). Furthermore, employing the name Aboriginal Embassy demonstrates that the activists sought to appropriate a colonial institution – the embassy, to not only draw attention to the protest but also to subvert the hegemony of colonial institutions that continued to oppress and discriminate Aboriginal peoples in their own land. Gary Foley has aptly argued that the decision by the activists to call it the Aboriginal Embassy was motivated by the feeling that “Aborigines are treated like aliens in their own land” and the Embassy was therefore needed to represent Aboriginal interests (Foley, 1991). He further states that the Embassy’s strategic location on the lawns of the Parliament House and in the midst of a landscape “dotted with embassies” was intended to draw the attention of the Australian government and Australian people to the plight of Aboriginal peoples in Australia (Foley, 1991; Robinson, 1993, 99). In yet another satirical move, Michael Anderson announced that the Embassy included a ‘ministry’ of Aboriginal Ambassadors and he was the High Commissioner and there was a minister for the Arts, Environment and Caucasian Affairs. Not only was this an exhibition of the political wit of the activists who took the idea of the Embassy a step further by deliberately

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indulging these ‘make-believe’ ambassadorial roles, but it was also an anti-colonial act by which the activists sought to appropriate the symbols of a largely ‘colonial’ system to challenge as well as question the “prevailing notions of legitimate authority” (Robinson, 1993, 104).

Similarly, symbolism has been central to the Aboriginal Tent Embassy since its re-establishment on 26 January 1992 when a new tent was erected at the same spot on the lawns outside the old Parliament House to commemorate the original Embassy (Peake, and Mackinolty, 1992, 3). A further addition to the tents on site was made in 1997, on the 25th anniversary of the Embassy when a demountable shed, a shipping container, which was used by people in East Timor as part of a self-determination campaign was included as part of the Aboriginal Embassy (Kazar, 1997). The shed – a contribution to the Embassy by the ACT Trades and Labour Council – was readily adopted by the Embassy activists as it signified the solidarity between Aboriginal and East Timorese calls for self-determination. The shed’s political symbolism was further enhanced by employing its demountable walls to exhibit the Embassy’s history through photographs and other items as well as by painting on political slogans about human- rights abuse in East Timor (Kazar, 1997). The Embassy activists also deliberately employed a number of symbols derived from ‘traditional’ Aboriginal culture. Among these were the branch-and-leaves humpies

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– temporary bush shelters used by Aboriginal peoples – which were erected on site in 1998. The largest of these was placed “directly opposite Old Parliament House … to ‘eyeball the White House’ in an effort to recognise the Aboriginal claim to sovereignty” and another one was erected “for peace, a place where opposing parties can meet and create solutions in the spirit of peace” (Canberra Times 14 March 1998, 7). In response to criticism regarding the humpies, Isabell Coe spokesperson for the Embassy stated that, “This is representative of how our people have to live in our own country – and this, I might add, is a lot better than how a lot of people have to live” (Martin, 1999, 35).

Another use of a distinctively Aboriginal symbol of protest was the lighting of a sacred fire as part a “Fire Ceremony for Peace” on 26 January 1998, which has to date been kept alight (Fig. 10). When Embassy activists were approached in February the same year to extinguish the fire, following the announcement of a Canberra wide fire ban, Embassy spokesperson and elder Kevin “Uncle” Buzzacott stated their refusal to do so on the basis that, “We will keep this fire burning until the lawmakers come and talk to us about recognising our sovereignty” (Daily Telegraph, 1998, 5). The lighting of the fire also indicated the deliberate inclusion of traditional symbols of Aboriginality to demonstrate the 40,000 years of Aboriginal occupation of Australia. In the following year when Aboriginal protestors relocated the Embassy to the lawns of the (current) Parliament House on Capital Hill, following media speculations about possible plans of

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the government to remove the Embassy, traditional symbols, namely spears were included as part of the protest. On the new site a sacred fire was lit and Aboriginal elders planted 211 “symbolic spears”, to mark 211 years of oppression and suffering faced by Aboriginal peoples (Dow, 2004) (Fig.9). Referred to as “211 sticks for 211 years of genocide”, the spears according to Uncle Buzzacott symbolised the suffering of Aboriginal people which he argued would continue if amends were not made and reconciliation not achieved (Reuters News 10 February 1999). Not surprisingly, the spears were removed and taken away by the police on the basis that they were “unapproved structures”, but were returned to the activists in return for the relocation of the Embassy to the lawns of the Old Parliament House. The spears have continued to be part of the Embassy’s landscape and have been added to with every passing year.

Perhaps the most powerful symbol of Aboriginal self-determination which has marked the Embassy site since 1972 has been the Aboriginal flag – the black red and yellow flag designed by Aboriginal artist, Harold Thomas. Since the 1970s the use of the Aboriginal flag by Aboriginal peoples has been a powerful demonstration of anti- colonial sentiment, as it not only rejects the Australian flag and the authority it symbolises but its also demonstrates that despite belonging to different language, territory and tribal groups, Aboriginal people see themselves as united in their distinctiveness from the dominant Australian culture. Contrary to popular belief that it was created at the Embassy, the Aboriginal flag was first flown in Adelaide on

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NAIDOC day in 1971 and was brought to the Embassy site in July 1972. Since then the Aboriginal flag has become a permanent feature of the Embassy, especially since its re- establishment in 1992. Coincidentally, the flag received official recognition in 1995, the same time as the Embassy was heritage listed. The Aboriginal Tent Embassy has, therefore, employed creative and demonstrative means of protest combining ‘colonial’ institutions such as the embassy and more traditional and indigenous symbols such as sacred fires, spears and humpies to strengthen the impact of the call for Aboriginal sovereignty and self-determination. There has been wide-spread Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal support and acclaim for the Embassy since its inception. At the same time there has been considerable opposition, in most cases from government officials who have heavily criticised the Embassy. This has on more than one occasion seen the removal of the Embassy from the lawns of the Old Parliament House.

Removing the Embassy: ordinances, police force and aesthetics

In 1972 the government’s response to the presence of the Aboriginal Embassy shifted from initial acceptance to one of forceful removal. Early governmental response to the Embassy was largely concerned with administrative and aesthetic issues, although a 24 hour police surveillance of the encampment was in place within days of the Embassy’s establishment. The Embassy was viewed as posing neither a problem in terms of ‘litter nor ‘health’ and was regarded as a peaceful demonstration by Aboriginal people. However, there was some discussion by Prime Minister John. G. Gorton and by the Minister of the Interior, Ralph Hunt regarding removal of the Embassy on the basis of maintaining the aesthetic quality of the lawns and preventing indefinite camping in front of the Parliament House (Robinson, 1993, 116). At this point the government had no legal grounds on which to remove the Embassy, as the only law applicable to the area was the Gaming and Betting Ordinance (Section 19a) which included a maximum AUD40 fine for loitering in a public space. However, the uncompromising and extreme approach adopted in the 6 February statement by the Aboriginal activists gained not only the attention of most Australian daily newspapers, but it made the government increasingly uncomfortable. Upon the suggestion of Hunt and the recommendations of an interdepartmental committee, the government sought to create a new law under the

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Commonwealth Land Ordinance which would replace the Gamming and Betting Ordinance, and give the government legal authority to remove the Embassy (Robinson, 1994, 52). Although no immediate action was taken to remove the Embassy, constant threats to remove it were issued to the activists by Hunt. At the same time national and international interest and support for the Embassy was growing at a rapid rate. However this did not appear to appease the government but rather served to augment their aggressive approach towards the Embassy. There were emerging differences between the government, the opposition and the Council for Aboriginal Affairs (earlier the Office for Aboriginal Affairs), with the Council and most opposition members particularly of the Australian Labor Party (ALP) expressing support and sympathy for the demands put forth by the activists. The government on the other hand showed signs of being increasingly unyielding in its resolution to remove the Embassy on the basis that it presented an instance of trespass and illegal camping on Commonwealth lands in Canberra according to the newly created ordinance. On 17 July 1972, the Embassy activists were handed a draft of the new ordinance which gave the authorities the right to remove the tents of the Embassy from the Parliament House lawns (Robinson, 1993). On 20 July, after six months of non-violent demonstrations the Embassy was removed by force by 150 policemen, in what has been described as an “all-out, all-in” brawl, leaving most of the activists and their supporters as well as some policeman injured (Robinson, 1993) (Fig11; Fig. 12). On 23 July the Embassy activists and their supporters marched through the city towards Parliament House and re-established the tents of the Embassy on the lawns once more. This was again met by force with 360 policemen moving in on the two hundred activists and supporters. Similar scenes of violence and brawling to the previous time erupted. At the end of this second eviction of the Embassy, eight Aboriginal and ten ‘white’ people were placed under arrest and some protestors and policemen were injured. In perhaps the largest show of support for the Embassy on 30 July two thousand Aboriginal people and their supporters marched from the ANU to Parliament House and re-erected the tent for the final time in 1972. Despite forebodings that there would be bloodshed and violence given the sheer number of demonstrators, there was no police action and after a day of peaceful and symbolic demonstration the Aboriginal Tent Embassy’s 1972 chapter came to a close but not

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without having set the foundation to what has been described as one of Australia’s most significant protest sites.

The Embassy’s more recent history has been as troublesome as its 1972 past. Removal, vilification, vandalism, fire and arson have threatened the existence of the Embassy since its re-establishment in 1992. It has been called “ugly”, an “eyesore”, and a “ramshackle area”, by politicians of the One Nation Party and by the Howard governments’ Territories Minister Ian Macdonald and his successor Wilson Tuckey who have both in their times been the strongest critics of the Embassy. The response of Embassy activists’ to the unsightliness of the Embassy has been to stress that it is a deliberate and necessary measure. This has been appropriately summed up by Embassy spokesperson Isabell Coe who affirmed that, “[W]e are the eyesore from down the road …We want to talk about the eyesore you have made our country into, the eyesore of genocide, the eyesore of deaths in custody, the eyesore of the stolen generation” (Macdonald, 1999, 6). Coe’s statement reflects the strong anti-colonial sentiment that has continued to underpin the aims of the Embassy, as it did in 1972, while also

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exposing the existing government’s rigid and largely neo-colonial approach towards the Embassy and its activists. The Howard government’s approach to the Aboriginal Embassy has been little different to that adopted by the McMahon Gorton coalition government in 1972. In 1999 the government reintroduced the Trespass and Commonwealth Land Ordinance 1932 for the lawns around the Old Parliament House giving authorities the power to remove any form of trespass from this area. Although this was quite obviously directed at the Embassy the government denied any ‘secret’ plans of removing the Embassy, suggesting instead that it was keen to work on the idea of a permanent memorial which it justified on the basis that the current Embassy has become “the focal point for issues totally unrelated to the original embassy and the original heritage value” (Harvey, 1999, 3; Adelaide Advertiser 26 January 1999, 4). This move by the government was met by stiff opposition from the Embassy activists who warned that any plans to remove the Embassy would be met with violence and legal action. Furthermore, they accused the government of being “racist” and “gutless” for attempting to remove the Embassy and for proposing to replace it with a permanent memorial which they rejected on the grounds that the Aboriginal Tent Embassy was an Aboriginal memorial in itself (Harvey, 1999, 3). The idea of a memorial despite being vehemently rejected by the Embassy activists continued to be actively pursued by the government, fuelled even more by the Embassy’s strategic location in the midst of ‘Walter Burley Griffin’s parliamentary triangle’. Opposition to the Embassy drew heavily on the historic value associated with the modern, planned and designed capital city of Australia seen to represent Australian democracy and the “idealism of Federation” (Ward, 1999, 19). The overriding emphasis on retaining the aesthetic quality and design integrity of Griffin’s award winning 1911 plan resulted in the proposal of Reconciliation Place as a memorial which would acknowledge the continuing problems of the stolen generation as well as celebrate Aboriginal achievements, while demonstrating the government’s commitment to reconciliation processes (Baren, 2000, 12; Grattan, Kerr and Metherell, 2000, 2). Aboriginal reactions to Reconciliation Place were marked by anger and protest directed especially “against an installation commemorating the ‘stolen generations’, with the National Sorry Day Committee angry that no members of the stolen generations were

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consulted in the design” (Lawson, 2002b, 4). In addition the Embassy activists regarded Reconciliation Place as part of a government agenda to usurp the Aboriginal Tent Embassy. Despite this show of marked resistance, the AUD5.5 million project did go ahead and Reconciliation Place was completed and inaugurated minus the stolen- generation’s installation. Ironically it failed to reconcile differences, instead evoking divided responses from Aboriginal peoples. The most noticeable instance of these differences occurred when Embassy activists were protesting on the site of the newly inaugurated Reconciliation Place and they were confronted by a group of local Aboriginal people – the Ngunawal people. The Ngunawal people who are recognised as traditional owners of the lands on which Canberra stands were drawn into the debate over the Aboriginal Embassy when the government set its sights on the establishment of Reconciliation Place. While Ngunawal elder Ruth Bell was included as a consultant on Reconciliation Place, the government did not involve any of the protestors at the Aboriginal Embassy in the process. It can be argued that this was a deliberate move on the part of the government as some Ngunawal people has different opinions about the Aboriginal Embassy as compared to those of the Aboriginal protestors on site. For instance Bell not only endorsed the plans for Reconciliation Place, but also criticised the residents of the Embassy on the basis that they had not sought permission to “put their bits and pieces there”, which she stressed the Ngunawal found to be particularly embarrassing and disgraceful in comparison to the original Embassy (The Australian, 2000, 4). Similarly, in 2002 a group of Ngunawal people attacked the Embassy activists protesting on the site of Reconciliation Place. Accusing the Embassy protesters of invading Ngunawal land, they destroyed a fire lit by the protestors and tore down their banners and Ngunawal elder Matilda House, was heard shouting, “[T]his isn’t your land, you’ve come here from Queensland so go back there and protest” (Canberra Times, 2002, 5). This assertion by the Ngunawal was carried a step further when House and her supporters targeted the Embassy itself, burning down a central humpy, extinguishing the sacred fire and dismantling tents on the pretext that they were ‘cleaning up’ the Embassy and restoring it to its original state (Canberra Times, 2002, 3). While the actions of the Ngunawal peoples were definitely shocking and harsh it nonetheless

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demonstrated that intra-Aboriginal differences exist between the diverse and varied groups of Aboriginal peoples. This diversity of opinion could have been successfully employed by the government as a means of setting up a dialogue with the protestors at the Aboriginal Embassy. Instead it quite openly defended the Ngunawal peoples’ actions. For the Embassy activists such as Isabell Coe, Darren Bloomfield and visiting Gungalidda elder Wadjularbinna, this indicated another attempt by the government to remove the Embassy and divide Aboriginal people by playing one group against another (Canberra Times, 2002, 5; The Australian, 2000, 4). In further bids to do away with the Embassy, the government, namely the National Capital Authority (NCA) argued that it posed a serious fire hazard to its own residents and to people at large. Rather than protect the Embassy and its residents from the fire and arson attacks that have threatened it on more than one occasion, the NCA went so far as to ‘unplug’ the Embassy in 2002, denying its residents electricity on the basis that it was too dangerous given the propensity of fires breaking out on the site (Sun Herald, 2002). Furthermore in 2003 when a fire gutted the demountable shed that had become the Embassy’s office and information centre, the NCA tried to move in and have it removed on the basis that it was unsafe. However, the government was unable to do so as Embassy activists “vowed to keep it as a symbol” and resisted all efforts to remove it, including erecting a fence around it, an act in which they were supported financially by Kerry Tucker, a Greens member of the ACT legislature who helped raise the AUD300 needed for the fence (Adelaide Advertiser, 2003, 5; Australian Broadcasting Corporation, 2003). The shed and the fence were however subsequently removed by a group of 20 police, despite its listed heritage value. By denigrating the Embassy as an ‘eyesore’ which had lost its original focus and intent, by attempting to replace and overshadow it with Reconciliation Place and by cutting off its electricity and removing its toilets, the Commonwealth has repeatedly demonstrated a total lack of understanding towards the purpose and aims of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy. The disagreement between the local Ngunawal people and the Aboriginal protestors at the Embassy was also unfairly employed by the Commonwealth to reinforce their position on Reconciliation Place, which also indicates

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their failure to acknowledge the wide-spread support that has built up around the Aboriginal Embassy by Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people.

“We stand by that Tent”: Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal support, heritage listing

The Aboriginal Tent Embassy according to Roberta Sykes (1989) has gained far wider Aboriginal support than the referendum that precipitated it:

Although the 1967 referendum was an important event marking change in Black/white relations, most notably in the sphere of politics, the establishment of the Aboriginal Embassy was a much larger event in the minds of most Blacks. There were actually very few Blacks involved in the movement towards the referendum. The Aboriginal Embassy is credited with bringing more immediate and much wider changes, although the possibility of some of these changes stemmed from the results of the referendum (Sykes, 1989, 93).

In 1972 the show of support for the Embassy emerged from within Aboriginal and non- Aboriginal communities. The most noticeable of these gestures was a visit to the Embassy by a group of representatives from Yirrkala, Elcho, Bathurst and Melville islands who were in Canberra for talks with the government. As noted by Robinson, support by members of traditional Aboriginal communities was critical for the Embassy activists as it added a pan-Aboriginal presence to the protest (Robinson, 1994). The Embassy had also started developing a strong non-Aboriginal support base, with members of the Australian Labour Party (ALP) including leader Gough Whitlam and local member Kep Enderby visiting the tents on several occasions. Whitlam partially endorsed the five-point statement of the Embassy by promising land rights (not to all, but to tribal communities) and ensuring statehood for the Northern Territory, as well as abolishing all discriminatory laws in all the States. The developing relation between the Embassy and the ALP was quite openly based on convenience – the ALP was the link between the activists and the Parliament where a number of its members notably Whitlam and Enderby openly defended the Embassy. A number of ALP members were also deeply committed to the issues that were raised by the activists, which made it the Party of choice for endorsement by the Aboriginal activists for upcoming elections (Robinson, 1993).

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An important group of non-Aboriginal supporters who played a critical part in the success of the Embassy was the student body of the Australian National University (ANU). The ANU’s Student Representative Council made available its facilities to the activists as well as established strong social links with them. According to Robinson, “[W]hite students and Aborigines, often encountering each other for the first time …shared their radicalism and their visions of change, and discussed their ideas on how best to effect such change in the given political environment” (Robinson, 1993, 122). The Aboriginal demand for land rights was for the students an issue which although new to them, needed to be addressed immediately (Robinson, 1994, 53). In fact student presence at Embassy demonstrations throughout 1972 was widely observed. The Embassy was also visited by tourists and by several foreign diplomats, and received considerable attention in national and international media. As observed by Embassy activist John Newfong the tremendous amount of media attention generated by the Aboriginal Embassy implied that it was a “media event of some magnitude” (Robinson, 1993, 133). The Aboriginal Tent Embassy was featured in the London Times, Time Magazine, The Guardian, The New York Times, Le Figaro, Israeli Post, Le Monde and numerous newspapers in Manila, Tokyo, Beijing, New Delhi, Jamaica and Malaysia, thereby demonstrating the power of the peaceful and creative demonstration of the Aboriginal activists (Robinson, 1993, 133). Support for the 1992 re-established Aboriginal Embassy has been equally compelling. The Aboriginal Embassy’s importance has been reiterated by a number of politicians who have also been sharply critical of the government’s approach towards it. The government’s plans for removing the Embassy in 1999 were condemned by political leaders such as opposition Aboriginal affairs spokesman Daryl Melham who argued that the Embassy was an icon and such an act was “mean spirited and vindictive” and it “sends all the wrong messages” to Aboriginal peoples in Australia (Australian Associated Press, 1999). Federal Opposition Leader Kim Beazley felt that the government should leave the Aboriginal Embassy alone as it was now “part of the scenery” referring to the Embassy’s 30 years of history on the lawns of the Old Parliament House (Australian Associated Press, 1999). The strongest supporter of the Embassy ACT Chief Minister Jon Stanhope defended the Embassy on numerous occasions. In 2002 when Territories Minister Wilson Tuckey ordered the disconnecting

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of electricity, and removal of toilets and other camping facilities from the site following a fire, Stanhope criticised Tuckey for using the fire as an excuse to remove the Embassy. He argued that the Embassy “is the pre-eminent, the No 1 symbol in Australia of the struggle by Aboriginal people for justice in this country, and I will defend it” (Canberra Times, 15 August, 2002, 1). Similar reproach for Tuckey’s decision was aired by ACT Greens politician Kerrie Tucker, who argued that, “[I]t may be an uncomfortable presence for Mr Tuckey to have the tent embassy there, but it’s an important voice of dissent” (Australian Broadcasting Corporation, 14 August, 2002). Tucker was also instrumental in raising the financial support needed by the Embassy activists in 2003 when another fire gutted the demountable shed on site and activists erected a fence around it to prevent it from being removed by the government. She also stressed that as the shed was listed in the RNE, the government could not remove it without permission from the AHC (Australian Associated Press, 21 June, 2003). It has not only been politicians, but also media and the Australian public who have demonstrated a commendable understanding of the aims of the Aboriginal Embassy and have been unequivocal in their support for one of Australia’s best known symbols of protest. There have been those who argued that the Embassy’s intention to defy “the genteel order of the garden scene. A little bit of the Third World within eyesight of the centre of Australian civic life” was embarrassing but necessary as it brought forth the plight and anger of Aboriginal people in Australia (Lauren Martin, The Sydney Morning Herald, 30 January, 1999, 35). Others have defended the need to keep the Embassy the way it is such as a reader of the Canberra Times who commented that, “[A]s a white Australian I find the tent embassy an affront … It is precisely because white Australians like me find the tent embassy discomforting that it must be allowed to stay until such time as the issues it draws to our reluctant attention are addressed” (Dr. Russell, Canberra Times, 21 August, 2002, 12). Another statement made by a reader of the Daily Telegraph argued against the idea of a memorial to replace the Embassy as, “[T]he call for a ‘suitable memorial’ is a white solution which tries to push the reality of life for many Aboriginal people under the carpet” (Daily Telegraph, 27 January, 1999, 12). There has also been wide-spread support for the symbolism of the Embassy as can be seen in the following statement: “The fact that people have the tenacity to

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maintain a presence on and off for 27 years is testimony to the strength, resilience and patience of indigenous Australians … The symbolism of the tent embassy is about indigenous resistance” (Courier Mail, 27 January, 1999). Furthermore in 2002 when the Embassy’s electricity was disconnected there was a show of support for the activists by people in Canberra as noted by Sun Herald reporter Gerard McManus: “Canberra residents have brought tonnes of wood to keep the fires burning at the camp. Others have bought hot food, and protest groups around Australia are on alert for any further attempt to remove the buildings” (Sunday Sun Herald, 18 August 2002, 16).

The Tent Embassy as Aboriginal heritage: A memorial without tents

The listing of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy on the RNE identifies it as a site which is:

… unique because it is the only Aboriginal site in Australia that is recognised nationally as a site representing political struggle for all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people … important as a site that is representative of the history of the interaction between the indigenous and non-indigenous peoples of Australia … highly valued by Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people for symbolic, cultural, political, educational and social associations (AHC, 2004).

The AHC’s listing therefore addresses very critical aspects of the Embassy – the national acceptance and recognition of the Embassy by all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples as a political symbol, the interaction that has taken place between Aboriginal peoples, namely Embassy activists and their supporters such as the ANU student groups, various members of the government and opposition parties and members of the national and international media. This indicates that the AHC itself is a strong supporter of the Embassy. The AHC has been largely consistent in terms of defending the site at points when the government has sought to remove it. In 1999 when there was talk of removing the Embassy, Territories Minister Macdonald expressed ‘uncertainty’ regarding the meaning of the current Embassy and suggested that there was discrepancy between this meaning and the heritage value of the site as noted on the RNE. Wendy McCarthy who had been the chair of the former AHC (renamed the Australian Heritage Council in

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2003) at the time that the Embassy had been listed, defended the listing on the basis that it “met both cultural and historical requirements for listing” owing to its long standing association with the land rights movement and also due to the discovery of indigenous artefacts on the site at the time of the building of the Old Parliament House (Canberra Times, 27 January, 1999, 8; Australian Associated Press, 27 January, 1999). Similarly the executive director of the National Trust of the ACT, Michael Hodgkin, reiterated that although the Aboriginal Embassy had not as yet been put on the Trust’s classification program he firmly believed that the Trust would recognise the Embassy as an extremely important site to Aboriginal people and to the history of Aboriginal land rights movement (Australian Associated Press, 26 January, 1999). The president of the Trust, Ken Taylor in response to Macdonald’s idea of a memorial, stressed that “the interpretive value and real significance of this site needs to be presented not as a museum but as a living piece of history so that people particularly begin to understand Aboriginal people’s relationship to country and what it means, why this site is important to all Australians” (Howes, Koori Mail, 10 February, 1999). The problem, however, in the approach adopted by both the AHC and the National Trust has been that in terms of recognition of the Embassy they have emphasised the site per se more than its structures. Although this is not completely true in terms of the official AHC listing of the Embassy which does consider that:

…The infrastructure presently on the site has been designed in such a way as to reflect both past and present Aboriginal living conditions. The design and on-site structures are continually changing to meet the needs of both residents and visitors…The Aboriginal Embassy Site presently has on it a core camp, a varying number of additional tents, a mail box, a flag and mast and a camping and meeting area. The site is a living place. There is a cooking fire around which people gather. A site shed serves as an information and resource centre and keeps paperwork and photographs dry.

This clearly demonstrates an understanding of the symbolism of the tents as used by Embassy activists to canvass the ‘Third World’ living conditions of Aboriginal peoples in various parts of Australia. It has also identified the demountable shed, which was removed in 2003, as the information and resource centre of the Embassy. Therefore it would be fair to assume that heritage practice, at least as represented by the AHC, has been largely sympathetic and sensitive to the concerns of the Aboriginal Embassy.

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Unfortunately, at times the AHC’s actions reveal a Eurocentric bias, indicating that although heritage practice is attempting to move beyond its colonial legacy, it continues to be held back by ‘colonial’ constructions of Aboriginal heritage. For example, in 1999 when Ian Macdonald introduced the 1932 Ordinance in a ‘denied’ attempt to remove the Embassy, there was discussion regarding the age of the Embassy with some suggesting that as the current Embassy had been re-established only in 1992 it should be regarded as only seven years old, thereby giving the government good reason to not consider it as heritage. The argument was that the Aboriginal Embassy had occupied the site in 1972 and after its removal it had been subsequently re-established and “remained until February 1975, when Charles Perkins and the Minister for the Australian Capital Territory negotiated its removal”, after which it was only re-erected in 1992 (Encyclopaedia of Aboriginal Australia; Stephen Spencer, Australian Associated Press, 27 January, 1999). This had created a 17 year gap between its re-establishment in 1975 and its more permanent occupation of the site from 1992 onwards. This argument was quite obviously aimed at discrediting the heritage value of the Aboriginal Embassy which considered the Embassy’s history as beginning in 1972. Although the AHC’s defence of the Embassy insisted “that the listing is not undermined by the 17 year gap in the occupation of the site by the embassy, because it is the site that is historic, not the buildings”, this was a paradoxical statement as on one hand it did defend the age value of the Embassy but it simultaneously reinforced the stereotype that Aboriginal peoples associate only with land and not buildings (Stephen Spencer, Australian Associated Press, 27 January, 1999). This was despite the listing of the Embassy on the RNE, which recognised all the structures on site. This stand taken by the AHC was also viewed in the media as potentially strengthening “the hand of Territories Minister Ian Macdonald” in his bid to remove the Embassy (Stephen Spencer, Australian Associated Press, 27 January, 1999). The National Trust similarly displayed a tendency to focus on the site of the Embassy and place less emphasis on the existing structures. This was evident from the statement made by the Trust’s director, Hodgkin, who indicated that the Trust in its assessment of the heritage value of the Embassy would consider the site and the structures on it separately (Australian Associated Press, 26 January, 1999). Furthermore, he also stated that the while the site of the Embassy would be considered as significant

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by the Trust as it symbolised the Aboriginal struggle for land rights and self- determination, he was unsure about any similar decisions being made about the structures on the site. Hodgkin’s statements reveal a ‘colonial’ bias of associating Aboriginal people with land and not buildings which is further, and quite literally, strengthened by the fact that the Aboriginal Embassy played a vital role in the Aboriginal land rights movement. It would be contentious to argue, but unfair if not mentioned, that although the National Trust and the AHC were defending the heritage significance of the Aboriginal Embassy, the fact that the structures on site were not considered to be as heritage worthy as the site indicates that these two key Australian heritage organisations while not in favour of removing the Embassy completely were non-committal towards keeping the structures on site. At the same time as the introduction of the 1932 Ordinance there were also rumours pertaining to a possible delisting of the Aboriginal Embassy. The Heritage Minister, Robert Hill’s office on the one hand suggested that the AHC had been contacted to review the listing of the Embassy on the RNE, but denied having done so a day later (Ludlow, Canberra Times, 28 January, 1999, 2; Canberra Times 30 January, 1999, 1). Although the Aboriginal Tent Embassy has not been removed from the RNE, in 2005 it was denied a place on the Commonwealth Heritage List by Heritage Minister Ian Campbell, despite his own advisory body – the Australian Heritage Council (formerly AHC) recommending that it be included on the list. Instead he suggested that rather than individual recognition the Embassy remain listed as part of the RNE and Commonwealth Heritage listed Parliament House Vista. Campbell’s decision was heavily criticised by Australian Institute research fellow Andrew Macintosh who stressed that, “[O]nce again, the minister has politicised the listing process …This is culture wars in action. By refusing to list the site, the Howard government appears to want to diminish the embassy’s place in Australia’s history” (Macintosh, Australian Associated Press, 3 November, 2005). Although it can be argued that this action of the government was directed at reducing the individual heritage value of the Aboriginal Embassy, the convenient inclusion of the Embassy as part of a larger predominantly white Australian heritage precinct, reflects a Eurocentric bias not only on the part of the government, but also on the part of heritage practice, namely the AHC.

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This is evident in the listing of the Parliament House Vista, both on the RNE and the Commonwealth Heritage List which states that, “[A]dding to the richness of the place is the manner in which Griffin’s vision of democracy has also been emphasised, as places within the area have become identified with political protest actions by people, as exemplified in the significant Aboriginal Embassy site” (Australian Heritage Council, 1987, 2004). Therefore it seems that the Embassy has existed in Canberra only because it has been ‘allowed’ to do so by virtue of Walter Burley Griffin’s historic and celebrated plan for Canberra as the centre of Australian democracy. The focus on “Griffin’s vision of democracy” reveals a deep-seated colonial preference for European heritage in the city, the celebration of which accommodates the mention of the Embassy. Another indication of the Eurocentricism that pervades heritage practice is the idea of memorialisation and originality which in the case of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy has been employed by government agencies repeatedly through instances such as Reconciliation Place and the constant pressure to replace the Embassy with a more permanent structure. The idea of a memorial on the site has not only threatened the credibility of the current Embassy but it has also effectively attempted to ‘freeze’ the history of the Embassy to 1972. One such move was in fact initiated by the ATSIC Queanbeyan Regional Council in 2002 when it announced that it had appointed consultants Brisbane City Enterprise and the Queensland-based Mirii Centre to undertake a process of negotiations so as to decide on the future of the Embassy and work towards the solution of a more permanent and less controversial facility on site (Lawson, Canberra Times, 1 November, 2002a, 2). The findings of the consultants were not only hugely problematic but perhaps more disturbingly were aimed at devaluing the authenticity of recent Embassy protests. This is evident in the case of the submission made by Australian academic, Adrian Atkins on behalf of the consultants. Atkins argued that:

Over the past 30 years, a number of embassy-like protests have been erected in the site since 1972 …The frequency of these protests has contributed to the assertion that an ‘embassy tradition’ has emerged between 1972 and now. This assertion essentially suggests that the protest does posses some kind of continuity in Canberra…On the other hand, the frequency of these protest contributed to the assertion that the Aboriginal embassy has become a cliché in

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contemporary Aboriginal affairs. The repetition of embassy-like protests over the past 30 years has over-exposed it to Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal Australia to the point where is no longer has any impact…Put simply, the repetition of the original protest’s occupation of the site does not necessarily mean that any encampment is automatically the Aboriginal Tent Embassy (Atkins, Koori Mail, 12 March, 2003, 22; emphasis added).

Atkins submission criticised the more recent encampments on the site for being ‘embassy-like’, indicating that there was only an attempt to copy the ‘original’ Embassy. He sought to emphasise the originality of the 1972 Embassy by asserting that the more recent ‘versions’ had failed to match the impact made by the initial Embassy activists. Not only did he seek to discredit the current Aboriginal Tent Embassy, but he has also attempted to restrict it to the past by playing on the idea of originality and authenticity. Aboriginal response to Atkins’ report was understandably one of condemnation, most pointedly by Fleur Beetson, who stressed that it was a gross misrepresentation not only of the history of the Embassy but also of its present circumstances and objectives. She argued that contrary to Atkins’ statement the Embassy was obviously having an impact as could be evidenced in the stand taken by the government which:

… has done everything possible to get rid of the Embassy: Continual police violence … attempting to negotiate the Embassy away – to be replace with something more sanitary … new legislation written just for the ability to legally remove the Embassy, eviction notices and, of course, the attempts to convince the Australian public that, ‘mainstream’ blacks are against the stuff of the ‘radical’ Embassy blacks and claims that ‘traditional owners’ don’t agree with the Embassy (Beetson, Koori Mail, 26 March, 2003, 20).

In addition she slammed ATSIC for being a government organisation that was “answerable to the law of the Commonwealth” and that it had no right to decide the future of the Embassy as it had never been involved in the Aboriginal Embassy. Although the recommendations of Brisbane City Enterprise and the Queensland-based Mirii Centre were not accepted by ATSIC Queanbeyan Regional Council and no further action was taken regarding the Embassy, the entire process unfortunately, set the pace for events to come. In 2005 the federal government in yet another attempt to move the Embassy indicated that it was keen to work on replacing it with an educational interpretive centre.

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Federal Territories Minister Jim Lloyd like his predecessors Ian Macdonald and Wilson Tuckey has been the person behind this move, although he chose a subtler path by involving a consulting company – Mutual Mediations which has worked with indigenous communities for more than 27 years – to survey Aboriginal people around Australia for their opinions regarding the Aboriginal Embassy and what they would like to see on the site (Canberra Times, 2 August 2005, 4; Australian Associated Press, 1 August, 2005). Lloyd defended this decision on the basis that the government was not trying to make drastic changes as it recognises the importance of the Embassy but it hoped to have a permanent structure on site. Problems with this new strategy became apparent early on as, while Lloyd did promise to consult the Embassy activists who were keen to be included in this process, he later backed down from guaranteeing residents of the Embassy a “seat on the key steering committee” which was to investigate the future of the site (Australian Associated Press, 2 August 2005). The argument Lloyd presented to support this was that he believed the Embassy had been “hijacked over the years by people – including non-indigenous people – protesting against a raft of issues and the site … had lost its original focus” (Australian Associated Press, 1 August 2005). Ironically, but not surprisingly, the Advisory committee which was formed to work in tandem with Mutual Mediations did include three indigenous people, Matilda House, Warren Mundine and Rodney Dillon – all critics of the current Embassy. The suggestions that did emerge after extensive consultation processes were that the current structures on the site be removed and that “the site remain, without permanent camping, and that it take on an educative role to communicate issues on the past, present and future aspirations of Aboriginal people” (Lloyd, Media Release, 9 December 2005). Despite opposition from Embassy activists including Michael Anderson who stated that the struggle for Aboriginal rights had not ended and “until proper justice is done and they deal with the true issues … the embassy will always be there and it will always be an eyesore”, the Aboriginal Tent Embassy was removed on 30 March 2006 (Australian Associated Press, 9 August 2005). A newly formed Aboriginal Tent Embassy Working Group evicted the Embassy activists and claiming that the site needed “straightening up” removed tonnes of rubbish, and the “dilapidated tents” – “all the hazards” from the site, leaving behind

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an Aboriginal Tent Embassy without its signature tents (Diana Streak, Canberra Times, 30 March 2006, 5) (Fg.13). The loss caused by the removal of the current Embassy has been fittingly noted by Canberra writer Chas Savage:

If the embassy is sanitised and pasteurised, then a legitimate voice of contrast and protest will have been made silent. By insisting that the embassy presence in the Parliamentary Triangle be made whiter and more inert, Jim Lloyd robs the nation of a reminder that his government and we as a people must do better. An authentic voice would be silenced and in its place there would be only political silence and political convenience … A well-functioning democracy needs to preserve difference, even if difference seems to the majority or the government of the day to be objectionable or offensive…It is true that the tent embassy sends a message of chaotic and dishevelled defiance. Its existence is an indigenous rejection of the not particularly good works of the ruling class. That most of us implicitly condone a protest of this kind is to our national credit. That is why the day the embassy is lost is the day when all Australians lose (Savage, Canberra Times, 17 February, 2005, 17; emphasis added).

Summary

The Aboriginal Tent Embassy has been the voice of Aboriginal dissidence and protest and its recognition as a significant site of Aboriginal heritage demonstrates this very clearly. The use of symbolic gestures of political resistance as well as the demands

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put forward by the original as well as more recent activists of the Aboriginal Embassy make it a powerful symbol of Aboriginal anti-colonial sentiment. Furthermore its strategic location in the architecturally celebrated capital city of Canberra offered the Embassy’s activists the much needed visibility to foreground pertinent issues of land rights, self-determination and sovereignty. However, it is also this very location, which although a sign of defiance on part of the Embassy, has also endangered its existence. In fact the heritage listing of the Aboriginal Embassy has also proved to be of little use in terms of preventing its removal and replacement with a more aesthetically pleasing memorial. The emphasis that is placed on the heritage and aesthetic value of Canberra often overpowers the historic significance of the Embassy. By employing negative stereotypes of ‘ramshackle’, ‘unsightly’ and ‘eyesore’ the Embassy’s status as a current site of Aboriginal heritage and culture is repeatedly discredited. Constant references to the heritage value of the original Embassy of 1972 have succeeded in silencing the voices of resistance associated with the current Embassy. Therefore, although Australian heritage practice does seem to indicate a shift in its approach towards Aboriginal heritage by recognising urban sites such as the Aboriginal Embassy, it fails in its task as the idea of heritage it tends to promote and often employ is that of an unchanging and authentic past.

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Chapter 8 “But it can’t be an Aboriginal heritage site, it’s a European-built building”: Australian Hall as a site of Aboriginal struggle

Australian Hall at 150-152 Elizabeth Street, Sydney is the only building in an urban area which has been recognised as a post-contact Aboriginal heritage site (Fig.14). Owned by the Sydney Metropolitan Local Aboriginal Land Council (MLALC), the building marks the venue of the first Aboriginal Day of Mourning and Protest Conference held on January 26, 1938 and is therefore a key site of resistance in Aboriginal political history. The Hall is registered on the RNE as ‘historic’ heritage, which refers to the shared Aboriginal post-contact and European heritage value of the site. It is also listed on the NSW Heritage Register as Aboriginal heritage. Most importantly the Hall is the first building of Aboriginal historic value that is protected by a Permanent Conservation Order (PCO). However, prior to this recognition Australian Hall was at the centre of intense contestations between Aboriginal lobby groups (and their non-Aboriginal supporters) and the owners of the Hall, with the former actively campaigning and protesting to have the site recognised for its Aboriginal historic value, thereby preventing it from being torn down for redevelopment by the latter. The case of Australian Hall demonstrates that heritage practice in recognising, albeit with considerable reluctance, the Aboriginal associations with Australian Hall has freed itself from stereotyping Aboriginal heritage and therefore appears to be moving beyond a largely colonial legacy. However, the conservation work carried out on the building has focused quite singularly on the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference while failing to account for the more contemporary resistance that earmarked the heritage recognition process. This indicates there is an ongoing tendency within heritage practice of ‘freezing’, and thereby limiting the idea of Aboriginal resistance to a safe historical past. There are four sections in the chapter – the first section discusses the significance of the Hall to Aboriginal people as the site of the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference and also delves into the European associations with the Hall. The second section deals with the central arguments concerning the Aboriginal and European heritage value of the Hall, with particular attention to the Commission of

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Inquiry that took place to decide whether a PCO should be placed on the building or whether its owners – the Cyprus Hellene Club should be allowed to demolish it for redevelopment purposes. In the third section the campaign that was initiated by Aboriginal lobby groups and which was widely supported by Aboriginal and non- Aboriginal people will be examined. The last section of this chapter concentrates on the conservation management plan and the resulting restoration that was carried out on Australian Hall.

Overlapping histories: A historic Aboriginal event and European associations

Australian Hall is an extraordinary example as it is a site of shared Aboriginal and European heritage in the city. While identified with the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference, the Hall also represents Australia’s immigrant history, owing to its connections with the German and Greek Cypriot communities of Sydney. Furthermore, its use by Australian organisations such as church groups, political parties, and theatre and cinema companies adds to its multilayered and complex history.

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Day of Mourning and Protest: rejecting 150 years of European colonisation As noted by Aboriginal elder Patrick Dodson, in his paper titled Beyond the Mourning Gate: Dealing with unfinished business presented at the Wentworth Lecture in 1998, “The leaders of the Day of Mourning and Protest in 1938 confronted the legacy of the past and they paved the way for the later successful 1967 referendum” (Dodson, 1998, 10). The Day of Mourning and Protest Conference is considered to be a turning point in Aboriginal political history. Held on 26 January 1938 – the same day as ‘white’ Australia celebrated 150 years of the First Fleet’s Landing – and organised by the Australian Aborigines’ League (AAL) and the Aborigines’ Progressive Association (APA), the Conference was a protest against the colonisation of Aboriginal peoples of Australia (Fg.15). For Aboriginal peoples, Australia Day did not represent celebration and joy, but was in fact a reminder of the suffering and humiliation they had faced as a people at the hands of the colonisers.

Ironically, the official sesquicentenary celebrations organised by the NSW Government, that preceded the Conference presented a typically colonised ‘spectacle’ of Aboriginal peoples. The executive committee in charge of the sesquicentenary celebrations, headed by Minister for Labour and Industry, John Dunningham, transported 26 ‘full-blood’ Aboriginal men from Aboriginal settlement areas of Menindee and Brewarrina with the purpose of having them form part of the re-

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enactment of the historic events of 1788 – the landing of Governor Philip and the retreat of the ‘Aborigines’ (Souter, 1987, 15, 16). The organisers of the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference were aware of this and members of the APA tried to get in touch with the men from Menindee and Brewarrina, who were being lodged at the Redfern police barracks, to persuade them to “boycott the mortifying ‘retreat’”, but were denied permission by Police Commissioner W.J. Mackay and the re-enactment proceeded as planned (Horner and Langton, 1987, 29). The sesquicentenary celebrations presented stereotypical images of ‘primitive’, ‘bush Aborigines’ performing corroborees and “cooking possum outside their gunyah” – a picture which conveniently overlooked and misrepresented the terrible conditions to which Aboriginal people were subjected (Souter, 1987, 17, 19). It was this picture that the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference hoped to bring to the attention of the Australian public.

Organising the Conference was, however, a very difficult task for the Aboriginal activists. According to National Aboriginal History and Heritage Council (NAHHC), “[T]he civil rights leaders who organised the protest drove around in a beaten up old car to publicise the meeting. On several occasions, they were thrown out of missions and

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reserves by white managers when they tried to address the Aboriginal residents” (NAHHC, n.d., http://www.koori.usyd.edu.au/NAHHC/sos.html). The organisers of the Conference made every attempt to advertise the event. One such venture was the pamphlet titled Aborigines Claim Citizen Rights, which was written by Jack Patten and William Ferguson and which appeared in a number of newspapers a fortnight before Australia Day and the Conference. In this the organisers were aided by Stephensen, the editor of the Publicist magazine, who not only lent Patten a desk in the Publicist office but also offered to print the Day of Mourning and Protest posters and handbills (Horner, 1980, 49). Horner describes the pamphlet as channelling “all Patten and Ferguson’s tensions about race into one well written article” (1980, 49) (Fig.16). The pamphlet read as follows: The 26th of January, 1938, is not a day of rejoicing for Australia’s Aborigines; it is a day of mourning. The festival of 150 years’ so-called “progress” in Australia commemorates also 150 years of misery and degradation imposed upon the original native inhabitants by the white invaders of this country…We representing the Aborigines, now ask you, the reader of this appeal, to pause in the midst of your sesqui-centenary rejoicing and ask yourself honestly whether your “conscience” is clear in regard to the treatment of the Australian blacks by the Australian whites during the period of 150 years’ history which you celebrate? (Jumbunna Centre, 1989, 7; emphasis added)

The pamphlet clearly articulated the high level of discontent and despair that was prevalent among Aboriginal peoples, and it appealed to its ‘white’ readers to (re)address the wrongs that had been done to Aboriginal peoples. The choice of Australian Hall was also a deliberate decision on the part of the organisers who hoped to enhance the visibility of the Conference by ensuring that it was in the CBD, which was to be the centre of the sesquicentenary celebrations. The Aboriginal peoples who attended the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference were aware of the possible consequences of their participation in the conference. According to the NAHHC:

In the political climate prevailing in the 1930s, the activists who participated in this action risked severe penalties and reprisals. The harsh laws that governed the lives of Aboriginal people at the time made the organisation of such a protest very hard. In those days, Aboriginal people were forced to carry a pass to control their whereabouts. Free movement was restricted (NAHHC, n.d., http://www.koori.usyd.edu.au/NAHHC/sos.html).

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Despite this the activists who took part in the Conference “risked their lives, their homes, their jobs and the prospect of arrest to fight for the rights of Aboriginal people across Australia” (Koori Mail, 19 April, 1995, 6). The restriction placed on Aboriginal people and their activities was also reflected in terms of their use of parts of the city – there is some speculation that the organisers of the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference had initially thought of holding the Conference at the Sydney Town Hall, but were denied permission, and therefore opted to use Australian Hall (Jumbunna Centre, 1989). It has also been suggested that “ [A]s part of the deal for holding their protest in the Australian Hall in 1938, the activists were forced to come and watch the 150th anniversary parade march past Sydney Town Hall” (Koori Mail, 17 December 1997, 10). There was also a noted police presence at the Hall, with two policemen standing at the back of the Hall during the proceedings of the Conference. However, apart from these two policemen, only two other white people – namely a photographer from Man magazine and another person, thought to be Stephensen, were allowed to attend the meeting (Souter, 1987, 13). The exclusion of white Australians was not accidental but was a calculated move by the organisers of the Conference, who clearly stressed in the pamphlets for the Conference that, “Aborigines and persons of Aboriginal blood only are invited” (Pamphlet for Day of Mourning, 1938; emphasis added). This expressed the deep-seated anti-colonial sentiment that was prevalent among Aboriginal people and was also a clear indicator of the move towards self- determination. After a delay caused by the official sesquicentenary procession, the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference commenced at 1:30 pm instead of the 10:00 am time advertised by the organisers of the Conference (The Abo Call, April 1938, 2). Attended by a hundred Aboriginal Australian men and women the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference passed a Resolution stating:

We, representing the Aborigines of Australia, assembled in conference at the Australian Hall, Sydney on the 26th of January, 1938, this being the 150th Anniversary of the Whiteman’s seizure of our country, hereby make protest against the callous treatment of our people by the whiteman during the past 150 years, and we appeal to the Australian nation of today to make new laws for the eduction and care of Aborigines, and we ask for a new policy which will raise our people to full citizen status and equality within the community (The Abo Call, April 1938, 2).

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Issues that were discussed at the Conference included the mistreatment faced by Aboriginal peoples at the hands of the APB, full citizen rights, the return of stolen lands, equal rights for all Aboriginal peoples in terms of education, employment, healthcare and housing, revoking the policy of forceful removal of children and most importantly the abolishment of the APB (The Abo Call, April 1938, 2).

The speakers on that day included Patten, Ferguson, William Cooper, Tom Foster, Doug Nicholls, and Pearl Gibbs. Although the speakers and other activists did raise the above mentioned issues, there was disagreement over the issue of full citizen rights and the call for immediate equality (Horner and Langton, 1987, 30-32) (Fig. 17; Fig.18). Despite these differences, a ‘ten-point plan’ was formulated and presented to the then Prime Minister, Mr. Joseph Lyons in the following week, which outlined “key suggestions for a new Commonwealth policy approach to Aboriginal affairs” (Hinkson, 2001, 24). Termed by the activists of the Conference as the “Long Range Policy for Aborigines”, some of the defining points of this list included the control of Aboriginal affairs by the Commonwealth Government, the appointment of a Commonwealth Ministry for Aboriginal affairs with full cabinet rank, the establishment of a Department

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of Aboriginal Affairs with Aboriginal representation, setting up of a Land Settlement scheme for Aboriginal peoples that was similar to the immigrant and soldier settler scheme, and equal rights to all Aboriginal peoples irrespective of whether they were ‘full-blood’ or ‘half-caste’ (The Abo Call, April 1938). The ten-point plan also appeared in The Australian Abo Call, which was the first Aboriginal written newspaper in Australia, and was edited by Patten. It was in publication for six months in 1938 and was printed and distributed to “many reserves, as well as among interested white people” (Horner, 1980, 48). By forming associations, organising meetings, conferences and preparing demands for changes in the constitution the Aboriginal peoples involved in the Conference, deliberately employed ‘colonial’ institutions of media and protest not only to appeal to white audiences but also to challenge the very systems that sought to oppress and discriminate against them. The Day of Mourning and Protest Conference was thus among the first instances of an organised and articulated demonstration of Aboriginal anti-colonial sentiment.

European associations: from 1911 to 1992 The first European owners of the property lots 150-152 on which Australian Hall stands today were John Wylde and Thomas McVitie who received the Elizabeth Street side and the Nithsdale Street portions of the site as grants in 1823 and 1831 respectively. The property passed through various hands until E. Wellman and O. Meuer purchased the Elizabeth Street portion in 1905 and the Nithsdale Street portion in 1913 on behalf of the German Club Concordia. The area surrounding the site was the focus of the German immigrant community in Sydney from the 1880s – the Lutheran Church located on the adjoining Goulburn Street was built in 1881 (GBA, 2001, 8). The initial structures on site included the German Club premises and the Concordia Hall built in 1905, which was demolished in 1910 due to the widening of Elizabeth Street. The exact date of construction of the current building is placed between 1911 and 1913 with possible suggestions that construction was undertaken in two stages (GBA 2001, 16). The German ownership and occupancy of the building lasted until May 1915, when “the Club, along with other German institutions, was closed by the authorities as part of war-time security” (GBA, 2001, 17).

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Between 1917 and 1921, the Universal Church occupied the building and a café operated on the ground floor side with access from Nithsdale Street (GBA 2001, 17). The next occupants of the building were the Knights of the Southern Cross (KSC) who bought the property from the German Concordia Club in 1920. The KSC was a Catholic lay movement, which was “a union of well-to-do Catholics” and formed Australia’s largest minority group in the inter-war period (GBA, 2001, 22). The hall was leased by a catering firm known as Miss Bishop’s until 1922, and was known as “Miss Bishop’s Hall” (GBA, 2001, 22). In 1923, the name was changed to “Australian Hall” and it became the hub of a number of social activities like cinema shows, radio station 2UE broadcasts, community singing and dances. During the 1940s and 1950s, with the changing political climate of the country the Hall was used increasingly for political party meetings such as those held by the Lang Labour Party. It was during this politically active life of the Hall that it was also the site of the 1938 Aboriginal Day of Mourning Conference. For most of the 1960s and 1970s the premises of the Hall were home to a number of different theatrical and cinema companies. From 1961 to 1971 the Hall was the venue for the Player’s Co-operative run Philips Street Theatre, which is known to have contributed immensely to the development of the modern local theatrical tradition in Australia (GBA, 2001, 46). Thereafter it had a series of occupants such as the Richbrooke Theatre during 1971 to 1974, the Rivoli Cinema in 1974, and after this it “saw many name changes, including Mandarin, Encore, Jade, 42nd Street Cinema, Trak, New Mandarin, Mandolin and Rivoli Mandolin” (Thorne, Tod, Cork, 1997, 199). Of these the (Rivoli) Mandolin Cinema continued to operate until 1997 (Thorne, Tod, Cork, 1997, 199). In 1979 ownership of the premises and the Hall were taken over from the KSC, by the Cyprus Hellene Club Ltd – a Greek Cypriot organisation responsible for “promoting and maintaining the Cypriot culture in Australia” (GBA, 2001, 52). The Club used the premises for social and cultural activities, while subletting the Hall to the various cinemas that occupied it between 1979 and 1998. The Cyprus Hellene Club were the last non-Aboriginal owners of the Hall and its premises, and in 1998 it was purchased by it current owners – the MLALC. Therefore, the building has passed through the hands of many organisations and has been put to numerous uses all of which demonstrate its rich and layered European history. Unfortunately however, this

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complex European history of the site has tended to overshadow its Aboriginal historic value.

Whose heritage? : Aboriginal, German or Greek Cypriot

Listed as ‘historic’ heritage in 1996 by the AHC, Australian Hall is recognised as:

A building of exceptional social significance, being held in high regard by the Aboriginal community for its associations with the 1938 Aboriginal ‘Day of Mourning’ and civil rights protest, which was a major event in twentieth century Aboriginal history. The former Australian Hall has particular historic associations with that event, which represents the identifiable beginning of the contemporary Aboriginal political movement and it is rare in having such an association (AHC, 1996; emphasis added).

AHC has correctly identified Australian Hall as being a rare example of Aboriginal political association as the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference in itself was exemplary as an event of political resistance for its time. In addition its European – German and Greek Cypriot associations are also documented as part of this listing, along with its use by Australian national and political parties as well as its use as a popular social venue. In 1998 a permanent conservation order (PCO) was also placed on the building preventing any redevelopment or demolition activity. This was, however, not the first time that the Hall has been heritage listed or had a PCO placed on it. In 1989 the Cyprus Hellene Club was identified as a heritage item in the City of Sydney Heritage Study, 1989 (CSHS), and in 1990 it was subject to a PCO (731) under the terms of the NSW Heritage Act, 1977 which protected the façade of the building while allowing for alterations to the interior. (PMW, 1995, 15). Furthermore, in 1992 it was listed in the Sydney Central Local Environmental Plan, 1992 – Conservation of Heritage Items (Heritage LEP). These prior listings and the PCO were in recognition of the building’s European architectural style. It was listed as forming “part of a rare Edwardian precinct in Sydney” – its architectural style identified as Federation Free style, “a non-residential style … elements and details drawn and adapted from classical, Romanesque or Queen Anne styles … decorative motifs influenced by the work of the Arts and Crafts designers” (GBA 2001, 16, 57). At this

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point there was no recognition and not the slightest reference to the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference in these listings of the site. The Aboriginal significance of the site only emerged in 1992 when a series of events sparked off Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal interest in the relevance of the building. In 1992 the adjoining building (to Australian Hall) Hercules Motors at 148 Elizabeth Street was up for auction and redevelopment. Concerned that Hercules Motors could be the site of the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference – a confusion that was caused by a mix up on the 1938 Conference pamphlets which stated the address of Australian Hall as 148 Elizabeth Street – the Jumbunna Centre for Aboriginal and Islander Studies Education and Research (Jumbunna Centre) at the University of Technology Sydney approached the Sydney City Council and the Heritage Council of NSW (Heritage Council) to alert them to the significance of the building (Mesnage, 1994). Although it was subsequently determined that Australian Hall was in fact located at 150-152 Elizabeth Street, this accidental move proved to be the beginning of the struggle to have Australian Hall recognised for its Aboriginal significance.

Colonial mindsets: favouring redevelopment over Aboriginal history The events that followed demonstrate that not only is there a ‘colonial’ bias, but there is also noticeable opposition to recognising Aboriginal heritage in the city. For example, the reaction of an official at the Heritage Council reinforced the conventional perception that Aboriginal peoples do not associate with buildings. In response to being alerted to the Aboriginal significance of the Hall, the official stated: “But it can’t be an Aboriginal heritage site, it’s a European-built building” (Mesnage, 1998, 33). This initial disregard for the building’s Aboriginal history was notably evident in the stand adopted by the Cyprus Hellene Club who knowingly overlooked the Aboriginal historic nature of the site, which had been brought to their attention by the Jumbunna Centre, and pushed ahead with its plans for redevelopment and submitted a development application (DA) to the Heritage Council in 1994 (PMW, 1995d, 1). This was in accordance with PCO 731, which necessitated that the Cyprus Hellene Club owners had to seek the permission of the Heritage Council before undertaking any work on the listed building. It was at this point that it was realised that PCO 731 had been declared void in 1990, within few months of its placement, and that the Heritage Council had

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failed to update its own records or even notify the Cyprus Hellene Club (PMW, 1995d, 1). This implied that the building was essentially unprotected, and it was therefore most likely that the Heritage Council would approve the Cyprus Hellene Club’s DA. Fearing that Australian Hall would be demolished and a vital symbol of Aboriginal history and heritage would be lost forever the Jumbunna Centre applied to the Heritage Council for a new PCO to be placed on the entire building. The Heritage Council did recommend that the Minister of Planning, Robert Webster place a new PCO on the building, but the basis for this protection was cited as the building having been an important social meeting place for diverse groups and the people of Sydney in general (Mesnage, 1998, 36). While the 1938 Day of Mourning and Protest Conference was acknowledged as an important event in Australian history, its relation to Australian Hall was not highlighted, despite the Jumbunna Centre having demonstrated this adequately in its application to the Heritage Council (Koori Mail, 24 August, 1994, 8). By overlooking the Aboriginal association with the site and by ‘assimilating’ the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference as part of Australian history and not giving it its due recognition as a turning point in Aboriginal history, the Heritage Council’s actions reflected the need to maintain a Eurocentric control not only of Australian history but also the heritage of the colonial city. Subsequently, an Interim Conservation Order (ICO 927) was applied to the building in September 1994 which, although a step in the right direction, did not necessarily entail permanent protection as objections could be raised during the time period of the ICO and the heritage (permanent) listing of the building could be stalled. This unfortunately proved to be true in the case of Australian Hall as the Cyprus Hellene Club, through heritage consultants Perumal Murphy Wu Ltd, lodged an official objection to the ICO in 1995 (PMW, 1995). The Commission of Inquiry held in response to this objection received 22 submissions from various organisations and individuals alike. Although most of the submissions were in favour of the ICO, there were four that against it, the most vocal of which was the submission made by the Cyprus Hellene Club, as represented by PMW. While the Cyprus Hellene Club and PMW did agree that the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference was a “seminal event in Aboriginal history … a significant part of Australia’s history”, they argued that this significance “does not extend to the existing building …The connection between the

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physical fabric and the historic event is too remote” (PMW, 1995a, 5). Furthermore they stressed that Australian Hall “was chosen at short notice for the 1938 meeting” and that “[A]s an example of imported European architecture, the building could hardly have been of any special value to the Aboriginal people” (PMW, 1995a, 5). These statements were evidently aimed at reducing the relevance of the Hall in terms of its being used as the Conference venue. The repeated references to the largely ‘colonial’ idea that Aboriginal people do not associate with buildings especially ‘imported European architecture’, was employed to strengthen the argument that the use of Australian Hall by the Day of Mourning and Protest activists was primarily accidental. In objection to the placement of a PCO on the whole building PMW (on behalf of the Cyprus Hellene Club) argued that it would be unnecessary and wasteful as retaining the whole building would prove to have little value for Aboriginal people as its interiors, including those of the Hall, had been altered substantially since the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference (PMW, 1995a, 9, 10). Other equally insensitive and deterministic suggestions included conserving the building’s façade, on the side of Elizabeth Street, for its architectural significance and as part of this conserved façade, placing a plaque and/or a permanent display commemorating the 1938 Day of Mourning and Protest. However, the overriding concern of the objection by the Cyprus Hellene Club was the aspect of economic unfeasibility of protecting the whole building, which they argued would not only “freeze all development” on the building but would make it financially difficult for the Club to continue running the establishment as it was undergoing financial hardship (PMW, 1995a, 11, 12). Objections to the ICO on the grounds of economic hardship are perhaps less problematic than the Cyprus Hellene Club’s reductive and negligent approach to the significance of the building to the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference. This demonstrated a deep-seated colonial ideology that Aboriginal peoples do not have an attachment to the built environment and architecture. While it was anticipated that the owners of the Cyprus Hellene Club would object to the placement of a PCO on the whole building, it was unconscionable that the Heritage Council attempted to underplay the significance of Australian Hall. Perhaps even more disturbing was the fact that prior to the action taken by the Jumbunna Centre in alerting key heritage organisations such as the Heritage Council, the National Trust

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(NSW), and the AHC of the historic value of this site, none of these organisations identified or recognised the use of this site as the venue of the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference. This collective ‘amnesia’ towards Aboriginal history in the city indicated that even after seven decades since the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference, heritage practice was deeply entrenched in its colonial legacy.

Preserving Aboriginal history: PCOs, ICOs, Aboriginal History Committee The placement of the ICO 927 on Australian Hall marked a period of tension for the Jumbunna Centre and its supporters. Concerned by the lack of recognition displayed by heritage organisations and fearing that the ICO would not be upheld – a fear that did turn out to be true – students at UTS enrolled in an Aboriginal Social and Political History course run by academic Dr. Dianne Snow, decided to form the Aboriginal History Committee (AHCo). The students had been following the case of Australian Hall through class discussions and encouraged by Dr. Snow formed the AHCo to “fight for the PCO” (Mesnage, 1998, 18). The group included Aboriginal students such as Esme Beaupark and non-Aboriginal students such as Giselle Mesnage, both of whom were at the forefront of the struggle to save Australian Hall. In due course the AHCo became the main lobby group for the case of Australian Hall, but it stressed that the Hall was only a platform to address wider issues concerning Aboriginal history and heritage. The motto of the AHCo was, “[W]orking for the recognition, preservation and promotion of Aboriginal history and Heritage” and its prime objective was to “signal that Aboriginal history did not end in 1788” (Mesnage, 1998, 18). Therefore, for the AHCo securing the heritage listing of Australian Hall was a vital step in the direction of having Aboriginal urban history and heritage recognised and given the same status as non-Aboriginal urban heritage. The AHCo submission to the Commission of Inquiry was pointedly reproachful of heritage practice, its policies and legislation. It argued that:

There are 600 PCOs in the state of New South Wales protecting buildings and places that are deemed to be of historic and cultural significance, yet none are associated with Aboriginal heritage. Placing a PCO on the 1938 Day of Mourning venue would be a step towards ensuring the NSW Heritage Act is not limited to the protection of white heritage only (Simpson, 1995, 18; emphasis added).

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This statement fittingly confronted the inherent Eurocentricism prevalent within the NSW heritage practice system which failed to acknowledge the existence of urban Aboriginal heritage. By challenging the ‘white heritage’ centred approach, the AHCo sought to pursue the recognition of Australian Hall. Furthermore, they stressed that Aboriginal heritage in cities was effectively marginalised by the strong colonial biases that were built into the “Heritage Guidelines issued by the NSW Department of Urban Affairs and Planning” which limited representations of post-contact Aboriginal heritage to missions, reserves and cemeteries (Simpson, 1955, 19). The arguments put forward by the AHCo were, therefore, perceptive and insightful, arguing the case not only for Australian Hall, but also for Aboriginal heritage at large. While the Jumbunna Centre was a major contributor in emphasising the historical importance of the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference through the various submissions, reports and applications it had made to the Heritage Council, the National Trust (NSW) and the Sydney City Council, it was the AHCo which successfully publicised the case of Australian Hall. Seeking to create awareness about the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference and hoping to raise support for Australian Hall, the AHCo organised a march to save the site on November 12, 1994, which involved 50 supporters assembling at the Sydney Town Hall and marching in silence to Australian Hall, as a re-enactment of the 1938 Day of Mourning and Protest Conference (Mesnage, 1998, 19). Although this march did not receive much media or public attention, it set the precedent for a similar march in 1996, which was widely attended and supported by Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples. In the meantime, Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal support for the AHCo and the Jumbunna Centre’s efforts was increasing. Submissions to the Commission of Inquiry by NSW Department of Aboriginal Affairs (DAA) and the NSW Aboriginal Land Council (NSWALC) were not only critical of heritage practice, but also of the representations of Aboriginal heritage it had perpetuated. The DAA’s argument in favour of listing Australian Hall as Aboriginal heritage was on the basis that there, “is very little post-invasion recognition of Aboriginal history and heritage in Sydney CBD” (Simpson, 1995, 16). They stressed that Australian Hall is a “post-invasion” site, and is therefore important to contemporary Aboriginal culture and history (Simpson, 1995,

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16). The NSWALC argued that the site should be accorded the same recognition as the Aboriginal Tent Embassy in Canberra (Simpson, 1995, 17). Similar support for the Aboriginal heritage value of Australian Hall was made by heritage agencies, which after two years of repeated appeals made by the Jumbunna Centre and then by the AHCo, finally indicated a shift in their approach. The first sign of support for Australian Hall was made by the National Trust (NSW) when it accepted an application submitted to it by the Jumbunna Centre and classified the Hall as Aboriginal heritage in October 1994 (Mesnage, 1998, 19). By the time of the Commission of Inquiry, the opinion of heritage agencies had changed considerably in favour of Australian Hall. The most surprising but heartening support came from the AHC when it listed Australian Hall on the interim register of the National Estate in 1995, a few days before the Commission of Inquiry came to a close. The reason for doing so, as stated by Wendy McCarthy, chairperson of AHC was because, “[T]his building is steeped in history and is of exceptional social significance … It is held in high regard by the Aboriginal community for its association with the Day of Mourning” (Koori Mail, 14 June 1995, 2). She further stressed that it was necessary to ensure that the building was not demolished as it would be an “outrageous disregard” for an important part of Aboriginal history (Koori Mail, 14 June 1995, 2). The Sydney City Council’s submission to the Commission of Inquiry was also in favour of the placement of a PCO on the building on the basis that it, “is a unique case where Aboriginal and European values overlap and complement each other within a single entity” (Simpson, 1995, 17). The most pertinent show of support by a non-Aboriginal, however, came from Commissioner William Simpson, Chairman of the Commissioners of Inquiry (Environment and Planning), and in charge of the Inquiry into ICO 927. Commissioner Simpson stressed that the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference is, “widely regarded as the foundation of contemporary Aboriginal political movements … is a major Aboriginal event associated with renowned Aboriginal people, advancement of civil rights for Aborigines and of social, spiritual and cultural significance to the Aboriginal community” (1995, 13). He ruled in favour of permanent conservation of the Hall on the basis that, “the ‘Day of Mourning’ conference should now be recognised as a significant event in the post European history of Australia” (1995, 26). He argued that the Day of

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Mourning and Protest in itself was “the embryonic assertion of land right claims” namely the 1992 Mabo decision and the Native Title Act of 1993 (Simpson, 1995, 26). The Commissioner’s reason for not supporting redevelopment on the site was that the significance of Aboriginal associations far outweighed any financial concerns of the Club. Furthermore, he argued that if the ICO had been placed on the building for social, cultural, historical or architectural and aesthetic reasons, then redevelopment of the site could have been permissible, but its Aboriginal historic value and current associations necessitated protection (Simpson, 1995). Although the Commission of Inquiry was in favour of the Aboriginal significance of Australian Hall, the Commissioner’s report was not released to the AHCo until a year later. In the meantime the AHCo was fearful that this show of inaction on the part of the government might indicate the lifting of ICO 927 and the resulting demolition of Australian Hall (Koori Mail, 28 February 1996, 1). This concern was voiced by AHCo chairman, Ronald Briggs who stated that “We’ve had very reliable indications that Craig Knowles (Minister for Urban Affairs and Planning) is about to decide against a conservation order” (O’Brien, 1996b, 8).

Save Our Site: the campaign to save Australian Hall

The next move by the AHCo was perhaps their most creative and successful effort. Realising that the government could act in favour of the Cyprus Hellene Club and allow the demolition of Australian Hall, the AHCo decided to publicise the case and draw in media attention and public opinion regarding the Hall. In 1996 they organised a rally, along the same lines as the march that had been initiated in 1994. The intention was to re-enact events from 1938 – the rally participants would walk in silence along the route taken by the Day of Mourning and Protest activists, from the Sydney Town Hall to Australian Hall (Koori Mail, 28 February 1996, 1). The attendance at the rally which took place on 9 March, 1996 was overwhelming with descendants of Jack Patten and William Ferguson travelling in from Grafton, Bourke and Lightning Ridge to take part in the event, and 400 supporters joining the march (Koori Mail, 27 March 1996, 3). Representatives from the AHC, the National Trust, History Council of NSW, the MLALC and the Uniting Church were also present to show their support for saving the

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Hall (Koori Mail, 27 March 1996, 3). The slogan, quite appropriately, adopted by the AHCo as a theme for this rally was “SOS – Save Our Site” (Mesnage, 1998, 23). The campaign to save Australian Hall took on a highly demonstrative and aggressive front. In July 1996 members of the AHCo, frustrated with the government’s failure to recognise the site, despite repeated appeals and protests, “stuck a symbolic Aboriginal permanent conservation order” outside the Hall (Lewis, 1996, 15). This was a deliberate act of defiance and an assertion of Aboriginal heritage claims over the building. The AHCo also sought public support through this symbolic PCO asking “all those concerned with a just reconciliation between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples to observe this order” (Koori Mail, 31 July 1996, 4). In order to increase the scope and further the issue of contemporary Aboriginal history and heritage, while simultaneously campaigning for the Hall, it was decided that the AHCo should assume a national dimension. This led to the emergence of the National Aboriginal History and Heritage Council (NAHHC). The NAHHC was formed at a national forum organised by the AHCo, in July 1996 which was attended by 140 “community leaders and activists, government and non-government representatives, students and academics” from all over Australia (Koori Mail, 31 July, 1996, 4). It was, therefore, clear from the widespread attendance at the forum that Australian Hall was a site of immense historical value to Aboriginal peoples throughout Australia. Recognition of the Hall received welcomed impetus when it was entered on the RNE in May 1996. However, this listing did not entail statutory protection for the site, and the NAHHC moved to appeal to the federal government to intervene and protect the building under the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Heritage Protection Act, 1984, on the basis of inaction on part of the state government (Mesnage, 1998, 24). Additionally they also succeeded in having the Commission of Inquiry report released under the Freedom of Information Act, 1989 (Koori Mail, 31 July 1996, 4). Despite the confrontational efforts of the NAHHC, and the pro-protection recommendations of Commission of Inquiry, neither the federal nor NSW state governments showed any signs of fully recognising the Aboriginal significance of the Hall. While the federal government rejected the appeal made by the NAHHC, the NSW state government chose to overlook Commissioner Simpson’s recommendations of placing a PCO on the whole building. Instead, Craig Knowles allowed demolition of the

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building while placing a PCO (773) only on the building’s façade (NSW Government Gazette, 1996). Terming it as “a ‘win-win’ compromise that will honour the Aboriginal communities and the owners concerned”, Knowles argued that retaining the façade would maintain “the physical connection with the meeting (Day of Mourning and Protest Conference) place site” whereas redevelopment would help ensure that the owners of the building did not have to face any financial hardships (Koori Mail, 9 October, 1996, 3; O’Brien, 1996a, 7). He also suggested that the redevelopment include a new hall that would face Elizabeth Street, the same side as the current hall, and its construction should include fabric from the original Australian Hall (NSW Government Gazette, 1996; O’Brien, 1996a, 7). The Minister’s decision was clearly biased towards supporting redevelopment and his gestures to the Aboriginal value of the building were arguably nothing more than tokenistic. The PCO 733 was no different from the earlier invalid PCO 731, which demonstrated that despite the efforts of the AHCo, the NAHHC, the rallies and campaigns, the support and recognition of the Aboriginal significance of the Hall by various heritage agencies and the Commission of Inquiry, there was no change in the largely Eurocentric approach adopted by the government towards the Hall. The reaction of Aboriginal groups, the NAHHC in particular was understandably of outrage and disappointment. As stated by Jenny Munro, chairperson of NAHHC the government’s decision represented “the desecration of the site … The place will be sullied if this proposal goes ahead. [I]t will not be a place that Aboriginal people will visit” (O’Brien, 1996a, 7). Munro’s statement fittingly indicated that for Aboriginal peoples, it was not only the site of the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference but also the Australian Hall – a building – which had historical value, thereby presenting evidence which directly contradicted and challenged stereotypical perceptions that Aboriginal peoples do not associate with the built environment. NAHHC also termed this decision as discriminatory on the basis that retaining the façade of the building signified the prioritisation of European heritage over Aboriginal heritage, as for Aboriginal peoples the interior of the building was of historic value and that was the part of the building which would be lost forever if demolished (Koori Mail, 20 November 1996, 2). Subsequently, they lodged a complaint with the Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission (HREOC) under the Racial Discrimination Act,

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1975 (O’Brien, 1996a, 7). However, the HREOC ruling stated that the decision of the Minister Knowles had not violated the Racial Discrimination Act. The NAHHC undeterred by this ruling pushed ahead in its efforts to save the building by employing political and legal strategies to challenge the government’s decision. In October 1996 members of the NAHHC interrupted proceedings of State Parliament and staged a ‘sit-down’ in front of the Hall on the occasion of the annual ‘John Pat’ march (Koori Mail, 9 October, 1996, 3; Mesnage 1998). The following month in a rally organised in front of the NSW Parliament House on the occasion of NSW Premier Bob Carr’s Reconciliation speech, a gathering of hundred Aboriginal people and their non-Aboriginal supporters protested against the demolition of the Hall. The sentiment at this rally was that the government’s promises of reconciliation were a “meaningless sham” in light of the fact that the issue of Aboriginal heritage was being unfairly treated and grossly overlooked (Koori Mail, 20 November 1996, 2). Meanwhile in an unexpected, but welcomed move, an assessment by the NSW NPWS found in favour of registering the whole building as an Aboriginal place on the basis of its “exceptional significance to Aboriginal people” (O’Brien, 1997, 9). Encouraged by the findings of the NPWS, the NAHHC approached the Land and Environment Court to have PCO 773 declared invalid (O’Brien, 1997, 7). However, it simultaneously also stressed that “any NPWS order would give the director-general of National Parks – not Aboriginal people – control of the building” (Koori Mail, 7 May, 1997, 8). At this point it was becoming increasingly clear that the NAHHC was interested in not only saving the Hall from demolition and having it listed as Aboriginal heritage, but the issue of its ownership was becoming critically important. The NAHHC’s argument for Aboriginal control of the Australian Hall was not unfounded as in May 1997 a new Development Application (DA) was lodged for the redevelopment of the site by the Cyprus Hellene Club. The redevelopment, which would involve a 36 level residential tower, was widely opposed by the NAHHC and its growing number of supporters (Koori Mail, 2 July 1997, 10). The response to the NAHHC’s appeal to its supporters to send in objections to the DA, to the Heritage Council, was astounding as “In the 21 days provided for public comment, almost 200 individuals and organisations … lodge(d) submissions opposing the DA” (Mesnage, 1998, 30). In a further act of symbolic demonstration the NAHHC organised an all-

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night sleep-out vigil outside the Hall on 9th July 1997, the day before the Heritage Council was to meet to decide upon the DA and followed this up the next day with demonstrations outside the Heritage Council’s office (Mesnage, 1998, 30). The Heritage Council rejected the DA which was welcomed by the NAHHC, on the basis that it indicated that PCO 733 would be revoked and a new PCO would be placed on the building (Koori Mail, 14 January 1998, 2). Although the NAHHC was “quietly confident” of a PCO being placed on the building, it organised its last and most widely attended and publicised re-enactment of the 1938 Day of Mourning and Protest Conference, which marked the 60th anniversary of this momentous event (Koori Mail, 14 June 1998, 2). The re-enactment which was held on 26 January 1998 was attended by hundreds of Aboriginal peoples and their non- Aboriginal supporters and was intended to draw attention to the conditions under which the Day of Mourning and Protest activists organised and held the meeting. As noted by an NAHHC official, “We will march in silence to convey the mournful emotions they (the 1938 activists) would have experienced as they walked to the Australian Hall and watched people celebrating the occupation of their lands” (Koori Mail, 17 December 1997, 10). In February 3, 1998, after the tireless efforts of the NAHHC (and the former AHCo), and wide-spread demonstration of support by non-Aboriginal people and the media, PCO 773 was declared void and PCO 731 was placed on the entire building and Hall. As noted by NAHHC chairperson Munro, it had been a very long struggle to persuade the government and heritage bodies that “Aboriginal people could actually have interest in a building” (O’Brien, 1998, 5). It had taken five long years of campaigning and struggle for the NAHHC and its supporters to be victorious and successfully challenge the hegemony of heritage practice. As noted by the NAHHC the recognition of Australian Hall was, “really an historic victory”, as it was the first time that a PCO had been issued under the NSW Heritage Act for a place of Aboriginal significance (Koori Mail, 11 February 1998, 2). June Barker, grand-daughter of William Ferguson fittingly stated:

It’s been such a long fight, but it hasn’t been in vain … Back in 1938, my grandfather and the others who gathered in that hall were saying ‘we have nothing to celebrate’… Now this victory is like a light at the end of the tunnel. At last we have something to celebrate … All the brave people who fought so

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hard to advance our rights will have a place to be remembered (Koori Mail, 11 February 1998, 2).

It was with the idea of establishing a museum dedicated to the heroes of the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference that the NAHHC announced plans to buy the building (Koori Mail, 11 February 1998, 2). Aboriginal interests in terms of gaining ownership of the building were represented by the MLALC and the NSWALC, which after a series of negotiations with the Cyprus Hellene Club in November 1996 and May 1997, purchased the building for AUD4.2 million (GBA, 2001, 58; O’Brien, 1998, 5). In December 1998 Australian Hall was transferred to Aboriginal ownership under the MLALC, which marked an equally momentous occasion as the listing of the site, for it represented one of the few buildings in the Sydney CBD that was owned by an Aboriginal organisation.

Restoration of the Hall: neo-colonial undertones

The intention of MLALC was to restore the building and use it “as an educational and resource centre and cultural museum for the Australian Aboriginal community” (GBA, 2001, 58). This had also been the recommendation of the NAHHC (at that time the AHC), to the Commission of Inquiry. In their submission the NAHHC had stated that:

If a PCO is placed in the building because of its Aboriginal heritage significance, a strong case can be presented to various agencies to seek grants to establish an Aboriginal History (Education and Resource) Centre … Such proposal would not require major alterations or modifications to the building (Simpson, 1995, 19; emphasis added).

Although the NAHHC and the MLALC proposed the same uses of the building, there was a difference in their approaches. The NAHHC felt that major alterations or modifications would not be required, whereas the MLALC sought complete restoration of the building. The MLALC employed the services of Sydney based heritage consultants, Graham Brooks and Associates Pty Ltd. to prepare the conservation management plan (CMP) and heritage impact assessment (HIA) for Australian Hall. The CMP addressed

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all aspects related to Australian Hall including its previous European histories and the Aboriginal significance in terms of the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference. The key conservation policy adopted by GBA stated that:

The building has an exceptional layered historic and social significance to both European and Aboriginal communities. However, its fundamental significance as the venue for the “Day of Mourning” conference gives it the position as a rare example of a European building that is of heritage significance to the Aboriginal community (GBA, 2001, Executive summary; emphasis added).

Although this statement by GBA did correctly identify Australian Hall as being of heritage significance to Aboriginal peoples, at the same time unknowingly it reiterated the colonial stereotype that Aboriginal people rarely associate with European buildings. Identifying it as a richly layered historical site the key conservation policy adopted by GBA was that as the building’s fabric had undergone successive changes owing to its varying ownership and uses, it had changed substantially since 1938, and therefore restoration was the primary strategy of conservation. They argued that the, “project is to restore the Australian Hall as a memorial to both the event and the community leaders who organised and attended the first ‘Day of Mourning’ conference and as a commemoration of the Aboriginal Civil Rights Movement generally” (GBA, 2001, Executive summary). The emphasis by GBA was on the reconstruction of the key parts of the building that were associated with the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference on the basis of “available physical and documentary evidence to reflect their 1938 character” (GBA, 2001, 110). For this GBA depended on two early photographs, one which was taken in the 1950s and was the earliest photograph showing the interior of the Hall, and the other which was taken in the 1960s and showed the façade. There were other photographs of the interior of the Hall, but they were from 1961 and 1974 and showed the interior following successive remodelling when the Hall was converted into a theatre and then into a cinema (Fig. 19; Fig. 20). The Hall, when the MLALC gained ownership of the building had been the Mandolin Cinema and it looked quite different from the Hall when it was used in 1938 by Aboriginal activists. Consequently, to restore the Hall to its condition in 1938 the conservation works undertaken by GBA included removing a number of features that were added on such as the cinema fit-outs and the recovery and

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re-creation of ‘original’ fabrics such as wall details, timber floors, coffered ceiling, proscenium arch and decorative plasterwork (GBA, 2001a). The work on site began in May 2000 and was completed in February 2001 costing AUD6 million. Upon completion the restoration of Australian Hall was well received and appreciated and it received both national and international awards and accolades. It was awarded the Award for Distinction from the 2002 UNESCO Asia-Pacific Heritage Conservation Award, as well as the Energy Australia National Trust 2001 Heritage Award and the Master Builders of NSW 2001 Excellence in Construction Award (NSWALC, 2002).

Judging from the awards received for the restoration of the Australian Hall, it would seem that it was indeed a successful conservation effort. The intentions of GBA, which were supported by MLALC, were indeed noble and noteworthy. By focusing on the 1938 event GBA were delivering to the site the respect and due acclaim it deserved (Fig.21). However while doing so they unwittingly took on a very selective and therefore problematic approach. By choosing to restore the Hall to its 1938 state GBA failed to fully realise the potential of the Australian Hall as an example of a site that had a complex and layered history of continuing and evolving resistance. The Hall was

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associated with two clearly identifiable acts of resistance – the 1938 Day of Mourning and Protest Conference and the 1990s struggle by the NAHHC and their Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal supporters who struggled to save the site and subvert the hegemony of heritage practice. In addition the plans of the NAHHC of setting up of an Aboriginal History Centre at the Australian Hall, was also a strong statement of resistance. By actively occupying this site with its exemplary history, Aboriginal peoples were seeking to further their presence in the city. For them the Hall was to provide a platform for showcasing the fact that Aboriginal history and heritage are part of a living and evolving culture and tradition. At the point it is important to point out that GBA did propose to upgrade the rest of the building so that it could accommodate the functions of the NAHHC, the Aboriginal History Centre and the MLALC. However the singular attention that they paid to the restoration the Hall, lent this act of resistance a certain degree of legitimacy and authenticity, which was not warranted to the more recent acts of resistance. In addition the act of restoration literally froze the idea of Aboriginal resistance to a time gone by – indicating that Aboriginal resistance is over and the ongoing impacts of colonisation against which Aboriginal people continue to struggle, do not exist anymore.

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A similar instance of ‘freezing’ a significant event in history, has been discussed by American academic Mabel O. Wilson in her essay on the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis, Tennessee, America which marks the site where Martin Luther King Jr. was killed in 1968. Wilson argues:

Like many institutions created by and about formerly marginalized groups, the National Civil Rights Museum has established an expansive agenda: it seeks to memorialize not only King, but also the achievements of all Americans who have battled racial injustice. However, by trying to “tell the whole story”…the museum unwittingly denies its public the possibility of articulating their own meanings and associations of this complex history. Thus the endeavour to memorialize encourages, albeit unintentionally, a static interpretation of African-American history. The design and exhibition of the National Civil Rights Museum reinforce an unfortunate fixity of cultural meaning and memory (Wilson, 2001, 17; emphasis added).

Although Australian Hall is not a museum with displays and exhibits like the National Civil Rights Museum, the conservation work carried out on the Hall resonates with similarities to this memorial to African-American history. Both these sites as sites of heritage tend to capture a significant moment or event in history, and while doing so each of these buildings tend to present “static” versions of African-American and

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Aboriginal histories. Cautioning against the idea of memorialisation American academic James E. Young argues that, “[I]nstead of allowing the past to rigidify in its monumental forms, we would vivify our memory through the memory-work itself – whereby events, their recollections, and the role the monuments play in our lives remain animate never completed” (1993, 15). Therefore it can be argued that if Australian Hall as a memorial to the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference, the activists and the Aboriginal civil rights movement, had also incorporated a narrative of the struggle that was undertaken by the NAHHC and its Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal supporters, it would have allowed for a more contemporary and changing expression of Aboriginal political resistance. Most importantly it would have addressed the fact that there even seventy years after the Day of Mourning and Protest Conference was held at Australian Hall, there continues to be unequal power relations between Aboriginal peoples and ‘white’ Australians. At the same time it would be fair to conclude that the reason that Australian Hall was completely restored and the possibility of a more contemporary and ‘unmodified’ appearance was eschewed – a proposal that had been recommended by the NAHHC – was because it is a European building, with an exceptional European architectural style and European associations, and it is located in the centre of Sydney, the symbolic heart of Australian history. Therefore, maintaining its European character was integral to maintaining the stronghold of European heritage, while allowing for a moderated and controlled version of its Aboriginal significance.

Summary

Australian Hall as the venue of the 1938 Day of Mourning and Protest Conference is a site that represents the cornerstone of the Aboriginal civil rights movement. It is also a site of shared heritage owing to its European associations, with German and Greek Cypriot community groups and a number of Australian religious, political, and social entertainment organisations. The Hall’s previous heritage listings acknowledged its distinctive European architectural style while failing to mention either its Aboriginal or non-Aboriginal historic value. This failure on the part of heritage practice was displayed yet again in 1992 when the Aboriginal heritage value of this site was brought to the forefront by the Jumbunna Centre and later by the AHCo. From the

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initial reaction that ignored these claims to a ready acceptance of the Aboriginal historic value of the Hall – after it had been at the centre of fierce contestations between Aboriginal lobby groups and the non-Aboriginal owners of the building – the actions of heritage practice were definitely questionable. At the same time the efforts of Aboriginal lobby groups who mounted a six year long campaign to stall the demolition of the Hall and have it recognised as Aboriginal heritage, were not only commendable but also effective as it garnered a considerable level of Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal support for the protection of the Hall. The NSW government’s reactions to Aboriginal heritage claims were at times controversial and its decision to recognise the site was unfortunately, although not unexpectedly, delayed. However the most contentious part of this deeply contested heritage process came after the site was duly recognised and listed – the conservation work carried out on the Hall, although in accordance with the demands of its Aboriginal owners of the Hall and duly commended by most Aboriginal people, has failed to represent Aboriginal political resistance as it exists today. This thesis argues that there was an overriding emphasis placed on the 1938 event with no reference made to the struggle that was undertaken to have the site recognised. This limited approach adopted by the heritage consultants employed to undertake the restoration work on the Hall, is symptomatic of the larger tendency within heritage practice to memorialise events that are in fact part of a living history of resistance.

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Conclusion

This thesis has examined the way in which Aboriginal heritage in urban areas continues to be a marginalised and deeply contested reality. It has drawn upon previous research discussing the stereotyping of Aboriginal heritage and the resultant omission of post-contact, specifically urban sites of Aboriginal heritage (Chapter Four). It has combined these findings with theories of colonialism, postcolonialism, neo-colonialism and anti-colonisation to demonstrate that the approach adopted by Australian heritage practice towards Aboriginal heritage continues to be entrenched within largely colonial and European frameworks of heritage (Chapters One, Two and Three). By focusing on sites of contested Aboriginal heritage, specifically sites of Aboriginal political resistance in metropolitan cities it has revealed that there are strong anti-colonial sentiments that underline Aboriginal claims to sites of historical significance (Chapters Five, Six, Seven and Eight). In addition, the contested nature of these sites also evidences the colonial inertia within heritage practice towards maintaining the emphasis of European heritage in the city. This chapter is divided into two sections – it firstly summarises the central concerns and themes of this thesis, by drawing out the arguments of each chapter. In the second section it reflects on the more general and wider concerns that underline the issue of urban Aboriginal heritage. Directions for future research are also considered. The findings of Chapter One indicate that the setting up of settler colonies such as Australia was founded on the idea of encouraging settlement of these seemingly uninhabited lands. By employing colonial ideas of ‘Self’ and ‘Other’ the colonists and early settlers sought to establish their cultural superiority over the ‘primitive’, ‘uncivilised’ Aboriginal peoples. Colonisation and occupation were justified on the basis of this cultural hegemony which was enforced by the deliberate exclusion of Aboriginal histories from the newly written annals of Australian history. The building of cities demonstrated the power of colonial rule and it was ensured that this stronghold was maintained by deliberately creating distinctions between the coloniser and the colonised which effectively implied that the city was occupied by colonists and settlers, and Aboriginal peoples were pushed to the margins of the metropolis. Furthermore, this chapter reveals that although direct colonisation has ended, the legacies of colonialism continue to affect the lives of the previously colonised. This is

205 Conclusion

pointedly true in the case of settler societies which, owing to their complicated dual position as coloniser and colonised, have been less successful in negotiating colonial legacies. Therefore it is paradoxical to refer to these societies as postcolonial, all the more so as the compromised position of their indigenous peoples has in many cases changed little for the better since the time of colonisation. In fact, as has been outlined in the case of Australia, the ongoing struggle of Aboriginal peoples indicates the strong anti-colonial sentiments that are prevalent among impoverished and dispossessed Aboriginal communities. The recasting of Aboriginality presents an instance of anti- colonialism as the self-construction of identity by Aboriginal peoples has implied a conscious subverting of colonial constructions and stereotypes, thereby establishing themselves as no longer objects but active participants in this process of identity formation. Integral to the formation and negotiation of Aboriginality is the idea of intersubjectivity or the intercultural dialogue that takes place between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples. It is in the processes of these dialogues that colonial stereotypes of Aboriginal identity are sometimes unfortunately reaffirmed. However, it is also from within the spaces of this dialogue that stereotypes are challenged and an active of recasting of Aboriginality occurs. Discussions in Chapter Two reflected on the changing meanings of heritage and its socially constructed, interpretive and subjective nature. Ideas of the exclusionary nature and disinheriting power of heritage were examined particularly in terms of the inherent Eurocentrism that has underlined different types of heritage, namely natural and cultural heritage. The UNESCO World Heritage List was found to be particularly biased towards the listing of European heritage sites as a result of which sites of living cultures, such as indigenous cultures were hugely underrepresented. The contested or dissonant nature of heritage was comprehensively explored and it was proposed that contestations are not necessarily problematic but may provide the opportunity for negotiations or necessary confrontations that can help achieve and maintain a balance between varying meanings of heritage. This chapter also demonstrated that heritage has emerged as a primary concern for indigenous peoples throughout the world and this was formally recognised by the UNCHR in the formulation of the Principles and guidelines for the protection of the heritage of Indigenous Peoples (1995). According to these guidelines and recent assertions by indigenous peoples in settler societies such as Canada, Australia and New

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Zealand, indigenous perceptions of heritage encompass both natural and cultural aspects of heritage, thereby moving beyond the Eurocentric nature-culture binary and unsettling stereotypes that tend to associate indigenous heritage with a prehistoric or historic past. An important issue for indigenous peoples, especially in settler societies is the ownership of heritage. Their claim to traditional lands and resources on the basis that these are intrinsically connected to the transmission and protection of indigenous heritage is most often met by stiff opposition by non-indigenous majority groups. The contested nature of indigenous heritage is clearly observable in terms of heritage sites in cities, as these sites contradict Eurocentric stereotypes that indigenous people do not associate with the built environment. This in turn jeopardizes the majority group’s stronghold on these symbolic sites of European history and occupation. In Chapter Three theories of colonialism, postcolonialism, anti-colonialism and neo-colonialism were linked with current debates of heritage. The findings of this chapter reveal that the colonial beginnings of heritage practice sought to actively privilege European heritage, while deliberately excluding most non-European, specifically indigenous heritages, which were often labelled as exotic curiosities. This marginalisation of non-European heritages worked to maintain the cultural superiority and hegemony of colonial rule. Constructions of the civilised coloniser and the primitive colonised, were integral to the portrayals of heritage which associated European heritage with cities and buildings – the symbols of civilisation, while limiting non-European or indigenous heritage to the natural environment that existed outside the confines of the colonial city. Unfortunately even following the end of colonisation, these colonial stereotypes of indigenous heritage continue to prevail in settler societies, indicating the hold of colonial legacies on a seemingly postcolonial heritage practice. Furthermore, this chapter argued that it has been in response to the largely neo- colonial and unchanging prerogatives of heritage practice that challenges to colonial perceptions of indigenous heritage have emerged from within indigenous communities. By pushing forward distinctively indigenous concerns of identification, management and ownership of heritage, indigenous peoples are demanding greater control of traditional territories and resources. A strong undercurrent of anti-colonial sentiment accompanies these demands as indigenous peoples seek to subvert the hegemonic hold of heritage practice by appropriating commonly understood and employed categories of natural and cultural (built) heritage to negotiate the identification and management of

207 Conclusion

their heritage. However, despite indigenous resistances, stereotypical images of indigenous heritage continue to circulate within heritage practice, creating a strongly contested divide between indigenous and non-indigenous perceptions of heritage. This chapter argues that these contestations, notable in terms of sites of shared European and indigenous heritage, present an opportunity of negotiations between the differing perceptions of heritage. Chapter Four focuses on Australian heritage practice and the changing approaches it has adopted towards Aboriginal Australian heritage. During the early stages of colonisation the predominant attitude of heritage practice was centred on deliberate omission of Aboriginal heritage. This changed with the formation of the Federation as the distinctive and ancient Aboriginal history and culture were readily appropriated and incorporated into the history of the nation so as to reinforce a unique sense of Australian identity. In terms of heritage this unfortunately implied that Aboriginal heritage was stereotyped as belonging to nature and the pre-contact past. However, there were considerable changes made during the 1970s and 1980s which indicated that heritage practice was moving beyond its colonial legacy. In the 1970s there was an increasing emphasis on the recognition of Aboriginal heritage, most notably made through the recommendations of the Hope Committee which also called for a wider acknowledgment of the impacts of colonisation on Aboriginal heritage. This was also accompanied by a growing interest in post-contact Aboriginal heritage sites such as missions, reserves, goals and massacre sites. Furthermore in the 1980s the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Heritage Protection Act 1984 (Cth) (the Act) was introduced as legislation dedicated to protecting significant Aboriginal heritage. However, these changes although definitely a move in the right direction have not resulted in a holistic change in approach. This is particularly noticeable in the case of urban Aboriginal heritage, such as fringe camps and other off- reserve enclaves that were used extensively by Aboriginal peoples during the 20th century, as well as sites in cities that have more recent historical Aboriginal associations. Colonial stereotypes continue to dominate and exclude these expressions of urban Aboriginality and there is often fierce opposition to the claims made by Aboriginal peoples towards the significance of these urban sites. More recently, however, there has been a significant change in heritage legislation brought about by the Evatt Review of the 1984 Act, which called for a

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greater inclusion of post-contact and built Aboriginal heritages. Although the Review has ensured the effective reworking of NSW and Queensland laws pertaining to Aboriginal heritage, it has failed to be holistically incorporated by the Federal government, despite widespread Aboriginal support. Importantly, however, it has enabled the establishment of frameworks that allow for heritage practice to move beyond its colonial legacy. While heritage legislation has taken on a progressive approach towards Aboriginal heritage there seems to have been very little movement within heritage practice towards recognising and addressing the issue of urban Aboriginal heritage. Chapter Five finds that although there has been an effort on the part of heritage practice to list post-contact sites such as Aboriginal reserves and missions, there continues to be very little recognition accorded to Aboriginal post-contact sites in metropolitan areas, namely the state and territory capital cities. Furthermore, it argues that this reluctance on the part of heritage practice is driven by the need to maintain the ‘desired purity’ of the colonial city. However, this colonial purity is ‘contaminated’ by an increasing number of sites of urban Aboriginal heritage which not only challenge stereotypical representations of Aboriginal heritage but also present evidence of the persisting existence of Aboriginal peoples in the urban landscape. Sites such as the Old Swan Brewery in Perth, Bennett House also in Perth, Musgrave Park in Brisbane and the Adelaide Squares and Parklands dispel the largely colonial notion that Aboriginal people do not associate with the built environment. The contestations, debates and arguments surrounding the heritage listing and recognition of these sites indicates that these confrontational reminders of Aboriginality in the city are deeply disputed by heritage practice which seeks to maintain a stronghold of colonial heritage in the city. However, these sites represent the opportunity of increasing the visibility of Aboriginal history and presence in a largely colonial city. Chapters Six, Seven and Eight discuss three important sites of Aboriginal political resistance and the limiting approach adopted by heritage practice towards the recognition of these sites. In chapter six the growth of Aboriginal political resistance is outlined against the backdrop of the city which, while trying to maintain its ‘purity’, has sought to silence and marginalise these sites of struggle. In 1938 the first Aboriginal Day of Mourning and Protest Conference was held in the Australian Hall – a building located in the middle of Sydney’s CBD. The inner city suburb of Redfern was the hub

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of Aboriginal political activity during the 1960s. The 1965 Freedom Rides, the 1967 Referendum, the establishment of the Black Panthers Party and the subsequent setting up of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy in Canberra, were all events that emerged from the politically charged environment of Redfern. While buildings and parts of the city have and often continue to be sites of Aboriginal political resistance, the heritage value of a number of these sites is recognised with great difficulty. Furthermore, urban redevelopment and gentrification processes threaten the existence and heritage value of sites such as The Block in Redfern, which has been listed as indigenous heritage on the RNE, due to its longstanding associations with Aboriginal peoples. In the case of The Block it was found that its heritage listing offers it very little protection against possible demolition and redevelopment schemes as stereotypes of a drug-infested, unsafe and derelict area have often been employed to discredit its historic value. In addition, the European heritage value of areas surrounding The Block are capitalised on by gentrifiers posing yet another threat to the heritage value of this significant urban Aboriginal site. The Aboriginal Tent Embassy in Canberra forms the focus of discussions in Chapter Seven. The Aboriginal Embassy was listed on the RNE as a site that represents the political struggle of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. It is an iconic site of Aboriginal political resistance and throughout its troubled history it has raised issues of land rights, self-determination and sovereignty. The Aboriginal Embassy is also noted for the creative use of symbolic gestures of political resistance. Its clearly deliberated strategic location in the architecturally acclaimed capital city of Canberra has, on the one hand, worked in its favour as this has offered the Embassy’s activists the much needed visibility for foregrounding pertinent Aboriginal issues. On the other hand, however, it is this very location that endangers the existence of the Embassy. It was found that the heritage and aesthetic values of Australia’s capital city are often employed to counter the ‘ramshackle’, and ‘unsightly’ state of the Embassy. It has been stereotyped as an ‘eyesore’ and has been threatened by federal government proposals of removal and replacement with a more aesthetically pleasing memorial. While the historic value of the 1972 ‘original’ Embassy is widely acknowledged it is also used to discredit the heritage status and use of the current Embassy. Therefore, although Australian heritage practice does appear to be shifting in its approach to Aboriginal heritage by recognising urban sites such as the Aboriginal Embassy, it is

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failing in this task as the idea of heritage it tends to promote and often employ is that of an unchanging and authentic past. The final chapter of this thesis concerns the Australian Hall, which was the venue of the 1938 Day of Mourning and Protest Conference – a seminal event in the Aboriginal civil rights movement. Australian Hall is a unique site as it represents the shared histories of Aboriginal and European peoples. It was previously owned and used by German and Greek Cypriot community groups and a number of Australian religious, political and social entertainment organisations. While the Hall was previously heritage listed, it was only in acknowledgment of its distinctive European architectural style. The Aboriginal significance of the site came to light only in 1992 through the work of Aboriginal lobby groups, namely the Jumbunna Centre and later the NAHHC. The claim to this significant site of Aboriginal heritage resulted in fierce contestations between Aboriginal lobby groups and the non-Aboriginal owners of the building. While there was considerable reluctance to recognise the Aboriginal historic value of the site, there was also a tremendous show of Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal support for the efforts of Aboriginal lobby groups who mounted a six year long campaign to stall the demolition of the Hall and have it recognised as Aboriginal heritage. Heritage organisations such as the AHC and the National Trust were also highly supportive of the heritage value of the Hall and it was listed on the RNE in 1995. However, redevelopment and demolition continued to be a significant concern for Aboriginal lobby groups and the NSW government which had the final say in this matter exhibited a particularly controversial approach in staying the demolition. It was only after increased public pressure that a PCO was placed on the Hall, making it the first building of Aboriginal heritage to be thus protected. The ownership of the Hall was also acquired by the MLALC. Perhaps the most contentious part of this deeply contested heritage process has been the conservation work carried out on the Hall. Although widely acclaimed by international and national heritage organisations, the conservation of the Hall has placed an overriding emphasis on the 1938 event with no reference made to the more recent struggle by Aboriginal lobby groups involved in saving the building. The tendency within heritage practice to memorialise this critical historical event, therefore, fails to consider that it is part of an ongoing Aboriginal resistance.

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Resistance – whether political in nature or related to contestations regarding the heritage value of a site – is the common thread that ties The Block, the Aboriginal Tent Embassy and the Australian Hall. However each of these sites not only marks a different stage in the history of political resistance but the nature of contestations regarding their heritage value is also varied. While the Aboriginal Embassy continues to operate as a symbol of Aboriginal political resistance, The Block’s political history as a site of Aboriginal reclamation in the city is largely overshadowed by its negative imagery and the Australian Hall’s significance as the site of the first Aboriginal Day of Mourning and Protest Conference is regrettably unknown to most non-Aboriginal (white Australians and migrant Australians) and possibly some Aboriginal people. There is also a marked difference in the contestations regarding the heritage listing of these sites as the Aboriginal Embassy and The Bloc, unlike the Australian Hall, have not faced any observable problems in terms of being listed on the RNE by the AHC – arguably because both the sites are symbols of Aboriginal history and association. Whereas the long drawn battle to have the Australian Hall listed and the noticeable lack of support (at least in the early stages of the struggle) by the AHC was quite obviously underlined by stereotypes that Aboriginal people do not associate with the built environment and that the Hall had been used only for a day in 1938, which did not fit within conventional ideas for listing that required extended periods of use or occupation. At the same time there were striking commonalities in the non-Aboriginal and some Aboriginal contestations regarding the heritage value of the three sites. Aesthetics was one such factor – the ramshackle condition of the Aboriginal Embassy was cited as a reason for cleaning up (as was done by the local Ngunawal people), removing or replacing it. The derelict condition of The Block has been frequently criticised and it can be argued that the restoration of the Australian Hall to its former glory subscribes to period-based ideas of aesthetics. Another common factor has been the opposition that has been posed by certain members of the state or Commonwealth governments to the listing and heritage value of these three sites. In the case of The Block the NSW Government’s Redfern-Waterloo redevelopment plan seeks to redevelop this area on the basis of increasing economic viability. The McMahon Gorton coalition government’s approach towards the Aboriginal Embassy in the 1970s was to remove it firstly through the introduction of a

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new law under the Commonwealth Land Ordinance which would give the government rights to remove the embassy, and then through the use of police force which was employed on two occasions to remove the embassy. Similarly in 1999 of the Howard government reintroduced the Trespass and Commonwealth Land Ordinance 1932 which gave the government authority to remove any from or trespass form the lawns of the Old Parliament House. DAs and a void PCO threatened the Australian Hall with demolition in 1994 as did PCO (773) placed on the building by Knowles in 1996 which would only protected the façade of the building, while allowing for the redevelopment of the rest of the site. The non-Aboriginal support from the wider public and the news media, for the heritage value of the Aboriginal Embassy and Australian Hall has been considerable, however the threat that the Redfern-Waterloo redevelopment plan proposes to The Block has unfortunately remained a largely Aboriginal concern. While it is understandable that the Redfern-Waterloo redevelopment does pose an equally compelling threat to public housing and European heritage in the wider Redfern- Waterloo area, which warrants the concern of its residents, the lack of non-Aboriginal interest in the effect of this plan on The Block suggests that it might be a while before urban Aboriginal heritage is given the same level of acceptance and recognition as European heritage in the city.

Critical concerns and the way forward

In summation there are some broader, critical concerns that have emerged as a result of this thesis. The current understanding that heritage is a socially constructed concept has helped reveal that it is also an inherently disinheriting and exclusionary idea, which has tended to be dominated by Eurocentric concerns and distinctions of natural and built heritages. This thesis has expanded this idea further by examining it from the perspective of colonisation in settler societies such as Australia. It has shed light on the colonial legacy of Australian heritage practice which either marginalised Aboriginal heritage as the heritage of the Other or conveniently celebrated it as ‘a’ part of Australian heritage, all the while propagating the stereotype that Aboriginal heritage belonged to the distant pre-contact past and to nature. Not only did this help maintain the distinctions between a ‘natural’ Aboriginal and a European built heritage, but it also

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effectively ensured that Aboriginal heritage was never associated with the built environment, especially in cities. By focusing on urban Aboriginal heritage this thesis has argued that these disinheritances are symptomatic of a hegemonic heritage practice, which has tried to maintain the stronghold of colonial heritage in the city, by actively limiting Aboriginal heritage to nature and a ‘city-less’ pre-contact past. Furthermore by drawing on the idea of contested heritage this thesis has demonstrated that the largely Eurocentric and colonial ideas of heritage are now being disputed by diverse and previously marginalised ideas of heritage, such as indigenous people’s perceptions of their heritages which contest and unsettle predetermined nature- culture binaries. The study of urban Aboriginal heritage sites like the Old Swan Brewery, Bennett House, Musgrave Park and the squares and parklands in Adelaide has presented evidence of the challenge that is emerging from within Aboriginal communities to the colonising imperatives of heritage practice. More critically by viewing Aboriginal contestations against the backdrop of the strong anti-colonial sentiments that mark Aboriginal affairs in Australia today, this thesis has illustrated that by working within the frameworks of a predominantly non-Aboriginal and previously colonial heritage practice, as was done in the case of the Tent Embassy and the Australian Hall, Aboriginal lobby groups have been partially if not totally successful in subverting the hegemony of heritage practice. The non-Aboriginal support for Aboriginal claims to urban heritage sites has been encouraging. It has helped bear light on the theoretical reflection that, the multiple meanings of heritage also imply that there are multiple stakeholders who are often involved in contestations that surround the issue of heritage. As has been demonstrated through the examination of urban Aboriginal heritage sites such as The Block, the Aboriginal Tent Embassy, and Australian Hall, the stakeholders include not only those who belong to heritage organisations and bodies, or Aboriginal peoples and lobby groups. They also include members of civil society and sections of the government and while there has been a tremendous show of support from these sections of society towards these sites of Aboriginal heritage, there unfortunately continue to be those who hold onto the stereotypical nature-bound and pre-contact idea of Aboriginal heritage. Therefore examining these varied reactions from the theoretical viewpoint of colonialism has helped reveal that there is a multi-layering of postcolonial, anti-colonial and neo-colonial perceptions of Aboriginal heritage that punctuate the contestations that

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surround these sites. In addition each of the stakeholders who engages in this process of confirming, challenging or testing Aboriginal heritage is unavoidably involved in constructions of Aboriginality and is therefore part of the larger intercultural dialogue that takes place between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples. In this thesis the debate on urban Aboriginal heritage has been presented as layered with theoretical considerations of colonisation, postcolonialism, anti- colonisation, social constructivism and dissonance. However this debate, or for that matter any debate on urban Aboriginal heritage would remain highly incomplete without due consideration of the subtle but problematic aspects that surround the recognition and conservation of these sites. The tokenistic recognition of sites like Musgrave Park and the squares and parks in Adelaide, the marked absence of Aboriginal heritage values in the redevelopment of the Old Swan Brewery, the redevelopment related demolition of Bennett House, the very near erasure of The Block brought about by heritage commodification processes, the unspoken assimilation of a sanitised and depoliticised Aboriginal Tent Embassy into the European heritage landscape of Canberra, and the freezing of Aboriginal resistance to 1938 as in the case of Australian Hall, are all indicators of the fact that heritage practice despite its attempts to adopt a more postcolonial approach, is limited by the shortcomings that are so often associated with all (post)colonial institutions. Therefore for it to move beyond this colonial legacy, heritage practice needs to recognise and address the gaps and points of failure in the post/neo-colonial dialogue that it has currently established with Aboriginal peoples. On a more positive and urgent note as a way forward it is imperative that Australian heritage practice, taps into and realises the potential of the rich and layered intercultural dialogue that takes place between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples. While it may appear that by actively opening up the issue of urban Aboriginal heritage to the general non-Aboriginal public might just prolong the process as was in the case of Australian Hall, it would be equally debilitating to not do so, as non-Aboriginal support for the recognition of Aboriginal heritage and history in cities is present and increasing. It however needs to be acknowledged that while in the case of the three sites that have been examined in this research it was possible to engage with non-Aboriginal opinions, this would not necessarily be an easy task for all Aboriginal heritage as there are a number of problems inherent in obtaining non-Aboriginal and in fact most Aboriginal

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opinions about Aboriginal heritage. The diversity and complexity of Aboriginal groups and their relationships to their own specific areas or parts of country is an aspect that needs to be factored into any discussion of Aboriginal heritage. This is because the distinct relationship to an area and a common understanding between different Aboriginal groups implies that it is most often only Aboriginal people who are from a particular area who are able comment on the heritage of that area. While heritage practice has been increasingly sensitive of this internally determined Aboriginal issue, the three cases studies of this research, which are all linked to important milestones in national Aboriginal history, demonstrate that there are sites which fall outside this sphere of influence. The three sites also indicate that heritage practice needs to integrate into its assessment processes a more holistic and updated version of Aboriginal history which recognises continuing Aboriginal presence in the city. This would ensure that it does not make the same mistakes of freezing Aboriginal heritage to a time gone by or for that matter maintain a safe distance from the shameful colonial past. In bringing together the various debates on heritage, colonialism and Aboriginality this thesis has contributed to a small but growing body of heritage research which has focused on the approaches adopted by heritage practice towards indigenous heritage in settler societies. While issues of dissonant or contested indigenous heritages have been presented as emerging from the largely postcolonial concerns of heritage practice, this thesis departs from previous research by incorporating into current heritage debates the aspect of indigenous anti-colonial sentiments. Not only does this present the argument that heritage practice has failed to move beyond its colonial legacy in concrete terms, but it more importantly highlights the fact that indigenous peoples are active participants in heritage processes. The methodology employed in this thesis – which involved a critical re-reading on secondary sources combined with the contextual analysis of primary sources such as heritage databases and newspapers – while not singular in its use has nonetheless proved a satisfactory means of establishing a holistic picture of heritage practice in Australia and the approach and attitudes it adopts towards heritage practice. Drawing on media coverage related to the three main sites of contestation discussed in this thesis has been an effective of way of examining the Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal intercultural dialogue that takes place in matters pertaining to Aboriginal heritage.

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The most significant contribution of the thesis is to the issue of urban Aboriginal Australian heritage. Although it is now commonly understood that sites of urban Aboriginal heritage are often at the centre of intense contestations between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples, this thesis expands this understanding by demonstrating that this approach adopted by heritage practice is underlined by the need to maintain the ‘purity’ of the colonial city. The Aboriginal response to the colonising imperative of heritage practice has been marked by a strong sense of anti-colonialism, most pointedly revealed in the case of Aboriginal sites of political resistance which are in themselves reminders of an ongoing colonisation, and thereby represent a threat to the existing hegemony of heritage practice. While this thesis has covered a small but significant portion of this increasingly important debate it has revealed some critical findings regarding the impact of colonial, anti-colonial and postcolonial thinking on the issue of urban Aboriginal heritage. In doing so it points to the possible incorporation of these findings into further research which could involve a closer look at heritage practitioners and associated professionals and the way in which they perceive urban Aboriginal heritage. This would be a particularly relevant area of research as heritage professionals are responsible for ascertaining the significance, listing and subsequent protection or conservation of heritage sites and buildings in the city and can therefore play a pivotal role in making urban Aboriginal heritage a reality in the postcolonial Australian city.

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