‘Friend or foe? Anthropology’s Encounter with Aborigines’ Gillian Cowlishaw

Cowlishaw

There’s a very interesting recent article on the Inside Story website.

http://insidestory.org.au/friend-or-foe-anthropologys-encounter-with-aborigines

The article reprises many of the arguments and critiques that Cowlishaw has been making for the past thirty years (as this recent article about her shows) but its publication in Inside Story makes it accessible, not just in its language, but beyond the paywall that so many academic journals erect.  In it she argues that recent, postcolonial

wholesale condemnation of the anthropological endeavour has become shallow and moralistic, and an excuse for continued misperception of that complex, contradictory and contentious phenomenon known as “traditional Aboriginal culture.” There is a postcolonial fantasy that wants to achieve redemptive virtue by condemning the past rather than understanding the complex political and social legacy that colonialism created and bestowed on us all.

While acknowledging that foundational Australian ethnographic texts used language that we now find offensive, she argues that ethnography- albeit implicated in colonial policies and practices –  employed anti-racist, anti-colonial and even anti-state frameworks at the time.   Her article is a reflection on the intersection of anthropology and politics, both black and white (she notes particularly the rise of ‘native title anthropology’) and her own development as anthropologist.

It fits in well with the recent Message from Mungo documentary that was shown on NITV this week.  [I must confess that this was the first time that I’ve watched NITV.  It’s a pity that the Recognize campaign advertisements that ran during this program aren’t shown on ABC/SBS (or at least, I haven’t seen them) and commercial stations].  It was easy to mock the accents and demeanour of English archaeologists shown, but the documentary revealed well the range and contradictions between different specialities and world views.

And  Message from Mungo was echoed by last night’s documentary on the reburial service of Richard III’s remains at Leicester Cathedral  in March 2015. The formality of the ceremony was sanctioned at the highest level of state with the Countess of Wessex in attendance and all the pomp and historical clout of the Anglican Church behind it.  It struck me, listening to the choir which included girls and singers whose  lineage was drawn from an empire undreamt of in Richard’s time, that it was a service that would have been completely foreign to Richard himself.  The desire to ‘show respect’ through ceremony sprang from the same urge voiced by those in the Mungo documentary.

Podcast: Linda Colley on Magna Carta

magnacarta

The Magna Carta has had a Big Year Out in 2015, the 800th anniversary of its signing.  A search on ABC Radio National’s webpage will bring up lots of podcasts and programs, and arguably there’s quite enough podcasts about Magna Carta already.

But I was rather taken by this one delivered by historian Linda Colley in 2014 from Backdoor Broadcasting.

Professor Linda Colley CBE (Shelby M. C. Davis 1958 Professor of History, Princeton University) – Magna Carta in British History: Memory, Inventions and Forgetting

Abstract: 2015 will witness celebrations of the 800th anniversary of Magna Carta. Yet how this iconic text has been understood, used and commemorated has changed markedly over the centuries, not just in England, but throughout the British Isles and in the one-time British Empire. This lecture explores some of these shifts over time, and discusses how – and how far – the cult that evolved around this text can be related to the UK’s lack of a written constitution.

She explores the nature of the Magna Carta as a written product and physical artefact and juxtaposes it with the American constitution.  It’s delivered very (very) slowly and deliberately, and takes it as a historical and political phenomenon rather than a strictly legal one.  Linda Colley (author of Britons and the excellent The Ordeal of Elizabeth Marsh which I reviewed here)  is a historian of empire, and so she particularly deals with the influence of Magna Carta on nineteenth century colonies.

‘We That Are Left’ by Clare Clark

wethatareleft

2015, 450 p.

What’s not to like about this? It’s a ‘Big House’ book, set in the years following World War I, with blurbs by Hilary Mantel and Amanda Foreman.  I’m a sucker for Big House books- Brideshead Revisited, Atonement, Molly Keane novels- and I really enjoyed the post WWI setting of Sarah Waters’ The Paying Guests. The front cover (complete with a picture of backs)  and the large font of my copy made me feel as if I was reading a Mills & Boon novel and so I nestled into this book as if it were a comfort read.

It’s probably more than that.  It is carefully researched  (perhaps a little too carefully researched in places) and it picks up on themes like the dearth of men after WWI; the rush to spiritualism by bereaved families; and the effect of rising death duties on the Big House in a twentieth century that no longer pays deference to them and their crusty families.

Nonetheless, there are some well-worn tropes here.  Oskar Grunewalk, his name anglicized to Oscar Greenwood in those anti-German days, is the young outsider boy who flits around the edges of the golden family ensconced  in the Big House, humiliated by and ill-at-ease with the favoured children of the family.  There are two sisters, each very different from the other.  Oscar is a mathematics prodigy, with an almost autistic fascination with numbers and details, and although treated as an interloper by the glamorous Melville family, he loves the old house, Ellinghurst.

The book opens with the funeral of Sir Aubrey Melville, and we know that Oscar now -somehow-  has charge of Ellinghurst.  The question of how this has come about is the narrative thread that draws you through the book, and it did it well enough to find me reading the book in snatches, furtively, wishing that it wasn’t so cliched  and yet enjoying the fact that it was.

My rating: 7.5

Sourced from: Yarra Plenty Regional Library

Read because: it was sitting there on the ‘New Books’ shelf.

‘Message from Mungo’ screening 18 August NITV

The documentary ‘Message from Mungo’ which was also shown at the Australian Historical Association conference this year, is screening on NITV on Tuesday 18th August 2015 at 8.00 p.m.  Filmed over eight years, the documentary explores the 42,000 year old remains of Lake Mungo woman, revealed by the shifting dunes around Lake Mungo in 1968.  The indigenous people of the area see the repatriation of her bones as a way of  returning to her tribal lands, while  historians and archaeologists see her as an artefact that reveals information about mankind. This Guardian article gives more information.

‘Black Rock White City’ by A. S. Patrić

blackrockwhitecity

2015, 248 p.

“I never taught you how useless words are, did I?” says Jovan, encountering a former student, who offers her stilted condolences on the deaths of Jovan’s children in a far-off country in a far-off time.   Ah, but words are not useless to Jovan, nor to this novel, which interweaves graffiti, poetry and silence in an exploration of grief and displacement set in bayside Melbourne during the 1990s.

Jovan had been a Bosnian poet and, like his wife  Suzana, an academic  in the former Yugoslavia,  but that is in the past. Now, newly arrived in Australia,  Jovan is a hospital cleaner, while Suzana does domestic work.  They are distanced from each other, but joined by a raw, inarticulate grief over what they left behind in Sarajevo.  Jovan is sleeping around, Suzana teeters on the edge of mental illness and buries herself in literature.

At the hospital where Jovan works, an unidentified graffiti artists carves, daubs and etches cryptic messages that become increasingly violent and unhinged.  This mystery is the hook that draws you into the book, but by half-way through you realize that the story lies elsewhere.  Not that the thriller aspect is abandoned completely, because it certainly drags you by the hand in the closing pages which were quite unputdownable.  But for me the real strength of the book was in the layering of Jovan and Suzana as characters, and their tentative negotiation of a new life in a new place.

The book is written in present tense, which usually I bridle against. But in this case, I barely noticed.  Many of the sentences are short, and the text is disrupted by bursts of poetry. The duality of the book is reflected in the title: Black Rock (the bayside suburb) White City (the literal translation of ‘Belgrade’).

The cover carries a blurb from Christos Tsiolkas, and there are resonances here of Tsiolkas’ book Dead Europe.  However, it’s very much an Australian book, and its darkness is set against a hot dazzling Australian summer.  It’s very good- I’m detecting murmurings of ‘Miles Franklin’ and I think they’re right.  Reviewers often use the word “powerful” too often to describe a book that is either engulfing or a steamroller.  This book is powerful, but quietly powerful in terms of the depth of its observation, the handling of different genres and purposes, and the poetry of its writing.

My rating: 9/10

Sourced from: Yarra Plenty Regional Library

Read because: I’d heard of it.

REVIEWS

The Saturday Paper review

Lisa’s review at ANZLitLovers

SMH review by Owen Richardson

Movie: Freedom Stories

Freedom Stories won’t be on for much longer and its season has already been extended at Cinema Nova.  It’s a documentary that follows a number of Australians who arrived during 2001 as asylum-seekers and, under the policies in force at the time, spent time in detention centres before being released under Temporary Protection Visas.

It was strange to see suburban settings juxtaposed against the images that the government didn’t want us to see of Baxter and Curtin detention centres.  It gives these people back their names, instead of the numbers they were dehumanized by.   The film-maker’s (Steve Thomas) presence is quite obvious, with each separate story starting with a computer screen-shot and a running sheet.

The documentary starts with a customer collecting his car from the mechanic after having it serviced.  “What do you know about Mustafa?” asks the film-maker.  “Oh, he comes from- was it Afghanistan, Mustafa? That’s about it really…”

I found myself looking a little more closely at the people on the footpath as I walked back from Parkville to the city.  They were from so many countries and cultures: each of them with a story.  The participants in this documentary are good new citizens, working hard, optimistic. What on earth are we doing  to people with our  refugee policies?

Movie: Madame Bovary

I don’t really think of myself as a retired person, but I suppose that I am. And what does a retired person do but go to the movies during the week, taking advantage of Miserly Monday or Tight-Ass Tuesday to avoid paying full price to watch a movie?

I’d wanted to see this for some time, and it’s now listed as ‘final days’ at Cinema Nova (my cinema of choice). I read the book at uni some 35 years ago but I don’t remember seeing any other movie adaptation of Madame Bovary.  I remembered the plot, theme and the characterization (especially of Emma) but was not particularly aware of the setting, beyond the boredom it induced in her.

Film captures setting beautifully and this is certainly the case in this book.  Village life  was muddy and it was a much smaller village than I remembered: just a single street in effect.  The houses were dimly lit at night, and rather grubby.  Emma was fetchingly decked out in orange in many scenes and, set against the forested setting, the framing of many shots reminded me of a pre-Raphaelite painting.

It was a very quiet movie and rather emotionally dead.  I expected to shed a tear (I am an emotional old thing, after all), but I felt oddly detached from her fate.

My rating:  3 out of 5.

‘The Gillard Project’ by Michael Cooney

cooney

2015,  288 p.

Near the end of this book Michael Cooney admits that its working title was “We weren’t as bad as we seemed at the time” (p253).  While the actual title is a good one, capturing as it does the slow-motion car crash that was the Gillard government, the working title was pretty apt too.  This book proudly proclaims  the fact that, despite the drama and intrigue, this was a government that passed a huge amount of  progressive legislation (especially in comparison with its successor) and that there was a definite Gillard Project of education, health, employment and disability funding.

Until I’d read Don Watson’s Recollections of a Bleeding Heart, I hadn’t particularly considered the nature of a speech-writer’s role. I found it hard to distinguish the voice of the invisible speech-writer from the speech-giver (and still do)  in such a strangely symbiotic relationship.   Michael Cooney came to the job as Gillard’s speechwriter as a Labor man after working as policy director for Kim Beazley and Mark Latham, and as founding policy director of the progressive think-tank Per Capita during the Rudd years.  He comes from the Catholic right-wing of the party, a pedigree which I’m not particularly keen on, and which I find puzzling given that Gillard was from the left.

But there is no doubt of his admiration for Julia Gillard.  My favourite chapter of the book is an interlude titled ‘The Shy Child’, extracts of which appeared in this Fairfax article, where he emphasizes her humour and downright decency.  It comes through in the other chapters as well, as he chronologically traces through the frenetic “just do it” attitudes of the early months of the Gillard government, her performance overseas, and then the awful, drawn out ending.

The political speech today is a strange beast.  Although Parliament and politics in general are largely despised sideshows,  speeches probably have a longer lifespan now than in the past with the advent of YouTube.  But they often appear as a soundbite, or in a truncated form, and we don’t have the patience to listen to a whole speech for the overarching argument.  Gillard’s misogyny speech of course springs immediately to mind, as does her speech after her overthrow – neither speech written by Cooney.  But there are other speeches as well, and this book gives Cooney the opportunity to revisit them, as well as the speeches that he wrote but were never given.  In particular, Gillard’s speech to the Mineral Council of Australia on 30 May 2012 (the ending of which she rewrote) is powerful stuff, even if proved only transitory by subsequent events:

Now I know you’re not all in love with the language of ‘spreading the benefits of the boom’. I know everyone here works hard competes in a tough global environment; you take big risks and you earn the big rewards. You build something. Australians don’t begrudge hard work and we admire your success.

But I know this too: they work pretty hard in car factories and an panel beaters and in police stations and hospitals too. And here’s the rub: you don’t own the minerals. I don’t own the minerals. Governments only sell you the right to mine the resource. A resource we hold in trust for a sovereign people.  They own it and they deserve their share…

The facts endure. Our economy is the envy of the world. Our mining industry is the envy of the world. And there’s nowhere in the world you’d be better off investing. And there’s nowhere in the world where mining has a stronger future.  And this is Australia, and it has a Labor government. (p 191)

Cooney fesses up, as well, to the speeches that bombed, most particularly the “we are us” speech that she gave to the 2012 ALP conference, to which he devotes a whole chapter.  Because this is a book written by a speech-writer, he is able to give the draft of the speech that was not given, but he doesn’t resile from responsibility for the “we are us” phrase that was ridiculed so widely. “The speech” he admits “was by far the worst moment for the prime minister that I had real responsibility for” (p 136).

I had starting reading this book some weeks ago after picking it up from the ‘New Books’ table at the State Library while waiting for material to be delivered to the Manuscripts Reading Room.  It engaged me instantly, and so I suggested that it be purchased by my local library, which subsequently obliged. I must confess that I found it harder to get into the second time, but by half-way through I was hooked again. It’s an insider’s book, with names dropped and allusions made,  very Canberra-centric and Cooney does not make any pretense over where his loyalties lie.  We’ve had the recent, depressing airing of “The Killing Season” and it’s certainly an antidote to that, just as it’s an antidote to the Government’s announcements of its carbon reduction target and quashing of the marriage equality bill.  I doubt that it will have the longevity of Don Watson’s Recollections of a Bleeding Heart but it’s a good read for now.

ANZAC Centenary Peace Coalition Forum #3: Australia 1946-1976 From ANZAC to Vietnam

peacecoalitionaugust

I’ll be going to this on Wednesday 12 August at the Melbourne Peace Memorial Unitarian Church.

‘Sir William’s Muse: The Literary Works of the First Chief Justice of Victoria, Sir William a’Beckett’ by Clifford Pannam

Judges may write poetry all the time- how would I know?- but I suspect that it’s not a particularly common judicial past-time.  William a’Beckett, the fourth Resident Judge of Port Phillip did, though, and this small book surveys his literary output from the early 1820s through to the early 1860s when he had retired back in England.  Forty years…so much poetry…such awful poetry. Well maybe not, if you like rhyming poetry because certainly Sir William did.  But these poems were of their time and fashion and should be read that way.

The author, Clifford Pannam QC starts his book with a reflection on the portrait of Sir William that hangs on the walls of the first floor of the Supreme Court library. Although a’Beckett’s writings have been dismissed as “sentimental, priggish and rather boring”, Pannam  decided to plunge into Sir William’s extra-judicial writings and found that:

[Sir William’s]  literary works reveal a romantic and passionate man who found no embarrassment at all in public confessions of his innermost feelings. (p. 4)

The first chapter deals with a travel book that Sir William wrote in 1854 on a 4000 mile European journey that he undertook with his wife and sons between August and November of 1853.  It’s a fairly conventional travel diary although he is moved to poetry in Naples. In a poem ‘At Naples- 1853’ he looks back to a poem that he was inspired to write there more than twenty years ago as a young man and compares his life then and now.  It’s quite biographical in places, especially when he writes about the death of his first wife.

In Chapter Two, Pannam moves to Sir William’s distress at his son’s marriage to Emma Mills, the brewery owner’s daughter.  Most of this short chapter deals with how this event was fictionalized in the works of Sir William’s great-grandson,  Martin Boyd, about his family (The Cardboard Crown and The Montforts).

Chapter Three tracks back to Sir William’s publication of his verse under the title ‘The Siege of Dumbarton Castle and Other Poems’, published in 1824. Between 1824 and his call to the Bar in 1829, Sir William had had hundreds of poems published in literary periodicals, and in 1829 he published them in a 200 page book ‘The Vision of Noureddin and Other Poems’ under the pen name Sforza.  There are long extracts of poems…such ‘rhym-y’ poems.  He also wrote a three volume biography of eminent people, where in the introduction Sir William admits that it was copied from other sources over four years.  Pannam notes that “It is difficult to imagine a more crushingly boring task for a young man.” (p.38) This was, however, a common way of compiling text books for young barristers waiting around for briefs.

Chapter Four sees Sir William now in New South Wales in 1838 where he delivered a series of three lectures at the Sydney Mechanic’s School of Arts entitled ‘Lectures on the Poets and Poetry of Great Britain’. Extracts appeared in the Temperance Advocate (he was a strong Temperance supporter) and he published the lectures separately, the first work of literary criticism published in Australia. He gave a similar lecture series at the Melbourne Mechanics Institute in 1856.  I must confess, reading them through, that they’re not exactly riveting reading and were probably even less riveting listening.

Chapter Five has assorted poems on varied topics: Christmas; his first wife; the conformity of the Anglican church; prize fighting; and the damaging effects of creeds- something that as a Unitarian he would have felt strongly about.

The sixth chapter examines a pamphlet that Sir William wrote under the pen name ‘Colonus’ titled “Does the Discovery of Gold in Victoria, viewed in relation to its Moral and Social Effects, as hitherto developed, deserved to be considered a Natural Blessing or a National Curse?”  As you can guess, by the length of the title, he came down pretty much on the latter.

He did do some professional writing as well, and Chapter Seven looks at the 100 page book that Sir William wrote in 1856: ‘The Magistrate’s Manual for the colony of Victoria’ (the title is longer, but you get the gist). But he also wrote current-events poems that he submitted to the Port Phillip newspapers (especially the Port Phillip Herald) under the pen-name Malwyn.  Pannam reproduces ‘Leichardt’s Grave’, written after the explorer Ludwig Leichardt disappeared the first time then re-appeared (less lucky the second time he disappeared….)

In Chapter 8 Sir William retired and returned to England in 1857 and published a “very long and marvelously romantic poem” under the title ‘The Earl’s Choice’ in 1863. It’s an apt description for this overwrought work, and at least he’s broken out of the straitjacket of rhyme.

Finally, in Chapter 9 Pannam leaves us with a poem on the future of Victoria “Advance Victoria!” also found in ‘The Earl’s Choice’ which you can download free as a Googlebook here.

Advance, Victoria!

From crowded cities severed far

Where glitters bright the southern star

There lies a land of wide domains,

Of golden rocks, and grassy plains;

Whose soil to till, and wealth unlock,

From distant climes, all people flock,

Whilst, canopied ‘neath cloudless skies,

They help a mighty nation’s rise.

If you have access to AustLit, his works are listed there.  If you’re a member of the State Library, you can view it online.