Different White People: Radical Activism for Aboriginal Rights 1946-1972

DIFFERENT

WHITE PEOPLE

DIFFERENT

WHITE

PEOPLE

RADICAL ACTIVISM FOR

ABORIGINAL RIGHTS 1946–1972

DEBORAH WILSON

First published in 2015 by

UWA Publishing

Crawley, Western Australia 6009

www.uwap.uwa.edu.au

This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced by any process without written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Copyright © Deborah Wilson 2015

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

Wilson, Deborah M., author.

Different white people: radical activism for Aboriginal rights 1946–1972 / Deborah Wilson.

ISBN: 978 1 742586 65 6 (paperback)

Aboriginal Australians — Legal status, laws, etc.

Aboriginal Australians — Civil rights — History.

323.119915

Typeset in Bembo by Lasertype

Printed by Lightning Source

For my children Sarah and Brandon

and in memory of Bob Wilson

FOREWORD

Different White People is an important addition to the literature on the enduring fight for Aboriginal rights. But it also adds to the wider national story of political activism and the role of left wing unions and the Communist Party in particular. This is an aspect of Australian politics which has largely been forgotten and which sharply distinguishes the years during and after the Second World War from the succeeding period leading up to the end of the twentieth century. So significant and distinctive was the politics of this era that Deborah Wilson’s account provides an essential component for a coherent understanding of the troubled history of relations between indigenous and settler Australians. And that story runs through the experience of every generation since 1788.

There have been different white people from the start, and they can be found in every generation and in all parts of the continent. They were distinguished by their adoption of racial attitudes which often varied widely from common views of their contemporaries. They were often more sympathetic towards the Aborigines and were, as a result, sometime critics of the whole colonial project. Their often outspoken advocacy did not win friends and they were shunned and abused. But they could not be ignored. There was too much to trouble even the toughest conscience. Violence along the frontiers of settlement accompanied Australian life for 140 years. Aboriginal despair and deprivation was all too apparent and enduring.

The different white people were often loners and eccentrics, but they usually drew inspiration from quite respectable intellectual traditions and from currents of opinion prominent overseas and particularly in Britain. Religion was the most common source of dissent. Christian missionaries from the great European mission societies played prominent roles in all the colonies establishing institutions and providing succour as well as the promise of salvation. Christian doctrine was important because it contained the message of racial equality and the belief that all of humankind was of one blood and, all alike, capable of salvation. During the nineteenth century the friends of the Aborigines, as they were often known, drew strength from what they saw as the central tradition of the English common law, which suggested that all the subjects of the Crown should be considered as equal regardless of racial difference. Britain too became the leading opponent of global slavery after the Empire-wide abolition of the institution in 1833. To many colonial dissidents, the Aborigines were treated in ways indistinguishable from slavery.

But for all the earnest advocacy of the different white people, the dispossession of the tribes proceeded without a pause. Frontier violence continued into the first third of the twentieth century and the colonial, and state, governments established systems of control and protection which removed all legal rights from Aboriginal communities. But new generations of dissidents emerged, drawing inspiration as their forebears had done from Christianity. And new ideas were added to the mix. The League of Nations introduced the idea of trusteeship and took strong stands against slavery and forced labour. But the greatest force for change came from the development of human rights during the years between the two world wars, culminating in the establishment of the United Nations in 1945 and the drafting of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights in 1948. Running parallel with these developments was the sudden surge in decolonisation in the 1940s and 1950s. These were all developments which inevitably influenced Australian attitudes and policies and provided inspiration for the new generation of activists. The total collapse after 1945 of the idea of racial difference and hierarchy (following the revelation of the Holocaust) forced a complete transformation of Australian thinking long premised on ideas of Aboriginal inferiority and primitiveness.

Much of the activism so well related by Deborah Wilson came from the left of the political stage. By the early twentieth century there were assorted socialist clubs and societies, members of which challenged contemporary ideas about race and Aboriginality. But the most powerful new force came from the men and women inspired by Marxism with its message of liberation from Imperial domination and, above all, by the way in which it overturned the prevailing ideas about race and hierarchy. Whereas racial doctrine pictured the world as divided vertically and hierarchically by race, Marxists saw the great divisions as horizontal; distinguishing class from class. Oppression and domination arose not from biology but from politics and economics, and therefore open to challenge and change.

It was not surprising, then, that Australian communists took up the Aboriginal cause in the 1920s and 1930s, and even more effectively in the 1940s while the party retained some of the authority and prestige gained as a result of the great and victorious alliance between the Soviet Union and the Western Powers. And this is the story which fills the colourful, dramatic pages of Different White People. It will bring back an almost forgotten era for older Australians, and introduce younger readers to a time of dynamic political development which makes contemporary politics look dull and conformist. For there is no doubt that Australian political life benefitted from the presence of a well-organised radical left wing party with a professional cadre dedicated to change. The Cold War dramatically affected the role and status of the Communist Party, and eventually removed it far beyond the political mainstream. The dream of a socialist Australia faded away. In that sense, the communists failed completely. But their activism for Aboriginal advancement had lasting benefits. Australia was a much better place as a result.

So this is a story of significance although it concentrates on one issue during a single generation. But the central theme remains highly relevant today. Australians still give earnest attention to the question of reconciliation, and we are currently engaged in a national debate about the constitutional recognition of Aborigines and Torres Strait Islanders. Most of the activists in this engaging study have passed away or have retired from active political engagement, but their legacy lives on. They have found in Deborah Wilson a judicious and worthy chronicler of their crusade.

Henry Reynolds

June 2015.

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Abbreviations

Introduction

Chapter One

WESTERN AUSTRALIA Pilbara Walk-Offs:

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

CENTRAL AUSTRALIA Weapons Testing Programs:

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

NORTHERN TERRITORY Wave Hill Walk-Off:

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Conclusion

Notes

Index

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The research for this book was completed while I was a PhD candidate at the University of Tasmania. Its content is drawn in large part from that thesis. Over the four years of my PhD journey, I was privileged to be supervised by Professor Henry Reynolds. I express sincere appreciation to Henry. Without his support and encouragement through difficult times, this project may not have been completed. I thank Henry for being my teacher and friend.

I was most fortunate to be awarded the Alma Stackhouse Scholarship, which significantly assisted me while researching and writing. Other support by the University of Tasmania is also acknowledged. I particularly thank Dr Hamish Maxwell-Stewart for his encouragement and assistance in the production of this book. I am also grateful to Dr Tom Dunning (head of History at the University of Tasmania until his recent retirement). Tom’s wise guidance, especially towards the end of my candidature, was invaluable. Assistance provided by Dr Mitchell Rolls (University of Tasmania’s Aboriginal Studies program) is also appreciated.

I thank staff members in archives, libraries, organisations and institutions across Australia for their diligent assistance with any queries, requests or visits. I particularly acknowledge New Theatre’s permission to allow copies of Rocket Range (including programs and publicity material for the play) to be sourced from the New Theatre Collection at Mitchell Library. I also thank the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies (AIATSIS) for providing me with a copy of The Warburton Film.

Many people have contributed their time, input and thoughts to this book. I am particularly grateful to Brian Manning, Jan Richardson, Philip Nitschke, John and Gwen Bucknall, Lenore Bassan, Mark Aarons and Max Bound for sharing their memories and personal perspectives with me. It is with sadness that I note the passing of Max Bound and Brian Manning before this publication was completed.

It is most important that the wonderful support of all at UWAP be acknowledged, particularly that given by Terri-ann White. Many thanks also to UWAP’s Katie Connolly for her fastidious editing of my manuscript.

When I embarked on this project of research and writing in 2009, the most enthusiastic supporter was my father. Whilst on his annual visit from Coffs Harbour to Tasmania a year later to visit me and my kids, he became gravely ill. Emergency surgery in Launceston revealed advanced bowel cancer. Six weeks later, I took a frail but doggedly determined man back up to New South Wales. He died four months later, aged eighty-one. I hope I have done him proud. Vale Bob Wilson.

The past five years or so have been incredibly challenging in many ways. I love and thank my children Sarah and Brandon for trying to understand just how tough it has been.

I hope I have inspired them to reach for the stars.

ABBREVIATIONS

Introduction

Between the end of World War II and the early 1970s, two emergent and distinct movements coincided as white activists fought important campaigns for Aboriginal rights. This book presents an account of that activism. Radical involvement is examined in a trilogy of case studies about significant campaigns in the Pilbara, Central Australia and the Northern Territory.

The period under scrutiny was quite exceptional in terms of Aboriginal rights advancement and radical left-wing popularity. Communist Party membership was at its highest in Australia during the 1940s and the (often communist-controlled) union movement was extremely powerful. Communists and unionists rallied to support Aboriginal people living in remote Australian regions. Stirred passions and interests inspired these ‘different white people’ (often from eastern seaboard cities) to action. Left-wing activists became significant contributors to the Aboriginal rights movement, supporting tribal or semi-tribal peoples with lifestyles far removed from the experience of their predominantly urban-dwelling memberships.

It is important to bear in mind that this period was also one of dramatic international advancement for human rights. As the world community recovered from World War II, emergent powers were keen to establish a new global order. Establishment of the United Nations (UN) epitomised this desire to eliminate possibilities of wars between countries, and to create a platform for dialogue between member states. The pursuit of human rights led to creation of general documents, particularly the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR). With graphic understanding of the Holocaust came total discrediting of any racial thinking at UN level and thus, absolute rejection of racism. It was also at this pivotal time that the process of decolonisation accelerated at remarkable speed, as numerous countries (for example, India, Ceylon and the Philippines) gained their independence from colonial rule. International policies needed to accommodate this changing environment, and the rights of indigenous populations became a matter of global importance.

This book evolved over a period of six years. My original idea – to write a story of union activism for Aboriginal rights – was sparked in 2008 while writing an honours thesis.¹ Research on that project about white Australian musicians supporting Aboriginal rights uncovered occasional references to left-wing supporters of rights campaigns. One particularly interesting source I located was a little book published by a formidable union. The Builders’ Labourers’ Song Book presented fascinating musical depictions of victory over oppression in Australia.² Lyrics celebrated bush struggles, Eureka miners, worker rebellions and Aboriginal rights campaigns. I found a passionate musical call for Gurindji land rights in the Northern Territory intriguing: why were these union members in south eastern Australia so committed to the rights of Aboriginal people in the far north? And how did they know so much about their plight?

As I now know, unions were deeply involved with Gurindji workers and their families from the day they walked away from Wave Hill cattle station in 1966 (indeed, well before that event). Their long-running commitment was significant. It is not surprising that my new knowledge about worker organisations supporting Aboriginal rights culminated with a decision to focus my doctoral thesis on this topic. It made sense that I should write about something I understood, and past experience working for a union bolstered my confidence to break down the jargon and delineate the policies. This is not to say that the study was a union history, nor was it a labour history. My research focus was upon left-wing contributions to Aboriginal rights campaigns.

This book is drawn in large part from that PhD thesis.³ And like that earlier work, in this account the actions of left-wing participants are contextualised within broader activist movements and changing political environments. One thing I had not anticipated at the outset of my doctoral study was the prominent role that communists would play in the narrative. My original (albeit naive) intention had been to simply investigate how union members supported Aboriginal peoples in their struggles for rights and land. The unexpected prominence of communists in the activism often occurred due to their close involvement and affiliation with the unions I had originally intended to study. Thus, Australian communists were soon to assume a substantial role in the narrative I was slowly piecing together.

I decided to concentrate on three Aboriginal rights campaigns in remote regional Australia, with overlapping timeframes. In this way, the nuanced study became longitudinal. My narrative begins in Western Australia in 1946. It then progresses through the 1940s and 1950s in Central Australia, and then into the 1960s and 1970s in the Northern Territory. Whilst left-wing activism during the postwar period had appeared within wider discussions about Aboriginal rights, in-depth study about the topic at hand was lacking. In my PhD thesis (and now this book), contributions of left-wing activists are the primary focus. This strategy promotes thorough investigation of left-wing activism during three campaigns and prominently highlights these important and positive examples of the support of these ‘different white people’ for Aboriginal rights.

Using a broad-based approach, I have been able to examine a raft of social, political, economic and industrial issues within each campaign. This means that my narrative has become much more than a political or social history. The activists are the central characters. Investigation of their activism has allowed a much better understanding of the campaigns themselves (and this point is particularly relevant with regard to the effects of the weapons testing programs on desert Aboriginal peoples). In this way, aspects of Aboriginal rights campaigns assume far greater complexity.

The writing of Aboriginal history has changed significantly over past decades. I believe that this book is a modern interpretation of extremely important contributions to the Aboriginal rights movement. It is crafted as an engaging analysis of change during a pivotal period of transition. The three case studies identify strong linkages and support networks involving not only the marginal left-wing activists but also numerous moderate groups, and even extremely conservative bodies. These often incongruous affiliations produced three formidable campaigns for Aboriginal rights, and the important roles of unionists and communists within this wider movement are closely scrutinised. Those associations between radical activists and others are explored as the Aboriginal rights movement moved towards a model of self-determination.

There are ten chapters. Chapter One contextualises material that follows in the three case studies. An overview of humanitarianism during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries is presented, pertaining particularly to Aboriginal rights. Changing national and international attitudes to indigenous and broader human rights are outlined, followed by an introductory discussion of union involvement with Aboriginal rights. The chapter concludes with description of communist attitudes and policies regarding indigenous rights, at local and international levels.

Chapters Two and Three deal with the Pilbara walk-offs. Of these, the first describes Western Australia’s historical responses to Aboriginal rights and pastoral industry conditions in the Pilbara region. A key left-wing supporter of the movement is introduced, and with the start of the walk-offs comes particular emphasis upon communist press coverage. Chapter Three provides detailed analysis of the contributions by left-wing activists over the first three years of the Pilbara campaign.

Chapter Four introduces the case study examining the weapons testing programs in Central Australia, along with comprehensive description of the background and establishment of the tests. The issues surrounding the dangers to desert Aboriginal peoples are outlined. Left-wing activists who took up this cause are introduced and contextualised within the wider protest movement. Attention then moves to a discussion about the nuclear tests, focusing upon their impacts upon nomadic peoples who were inconveniently in the way. Chapter Five explores left-wing responses to the establishment and conduct of weapons testing in Central Australia. Several representations of artistic protest by communists vividly display contemporary views. Radical activism is also discussed within the wider peace movement, with numerous examples of this activism examined. In Chapter Six, activism during the nuclear testing program is explored. Communist activities are prominent and this section also includes a discussion about communist front organisations. Also included is discussion about protests against the establishment of a controversial weather station and an analysis of left-wing reaction to a startling government report and associated film exposing the shocking situation for desert Aboriginal people living within the testing zone.

The final four chapters concern what is commonly known as the ‘Gurindji walk-off’ in the Northern Territory. Chapter Seven presents the background to this dispute, including industrial actions attempted by Aboriginal pastoral workers over previous decades. The walk-off is contextualised within the evolving national Aboriginal rights movement and broader international developments. The important precursor Award case which sparked the unrest is also examined. In Chapter Eight, focus turns to events as the Gurindji walk-off campaign commences and its support network establishes. Left-wing press coverage of events is conspicuous as the industrial campaign erupts into a struggle over land. In Chapter Nine, the nature of the campaign and its ultimate objectives are the focus. Left-wing support for the walk-off across the country is highlighted. The actions are contextualised alongside wider rights campaigns and governmental responses, before a number of prominent participants in the activism are closely scrutinised in Chapter Ten.

In the following chapter, discussion begins with a historical overview. This includes an introduction to Australia’s Aboriginal rights movement, the unions relevant to this study, the Communist Party, and other pertinent national and international factors in the period leading up to 1946 (when the Pilbara walk-off commences).

Chapter One

Background

When land inhabited by indigenous peoples is colonised by others, monumental and irreversible change happens. From 1788, many groups of nomadic hunter-gatherer peoples living across the Australian continent were brutally confronted when uninvited European visitors assumed permanent residence. Anthropologist Hugh Brody described this process as prosecuted by ‘white men with many powers and purposes’. The newcomers’ pervading notion was that unevolved natives should be civilised and controlled. So, with colonialism came conflict, then social and economic interdependence, as indigenous peoples necessarily adapted to new ways. This drastic cultural shock permeated hunter-gatherer societies across the globe where ancient cultural norms promoting egalitarianism, mutual respect, sharing and ecological responsibility had guided societies for many thousands of years. Sophisticated languages and music communicating complex indigenous laws (governing moral obligations and responsibilities of territory) were replaced by the rigours of British law. These new European ways were perceived as alien and bizarre.¹

Aboriginal peoples on the Australian continent tried, and failed, to recover the territory that Britain claimed. Traditional hunter-gather lifestyles and rituals, medicines, ceremonies and Dreamings were largely wiped out by advancing white settlers with guns, fences and profit margins. Any ethical duty of care binding a colonising country was conveniently disregarded as British, then Australian, governments appropriated lands and relocated peoples. The nature, extent and duration of conflict varied across regions and tribal areas. Common triggers were disputes over land, water and women; and exacerbated by the mutual non-knowing or understanding of the other’s culture.²

Humanitarianism in the nineteenth century

Not all Australian colonial residents embraced the extreme consequences of invasion. Evidence of early humanitarian concern for dispossessed Aboriginal people has been identified by numerous scholars. For example, Brian Plomley comprehensively researched colonial missionary and administrator George Augustus Robinson’s activities. He transcribed and then published Robinson’s descriptions of the ‘humane’ removal and resettlement of Aboriginal peoples from Van Diemen’s Land to Flinders Island between 1829 and 1834. Plomley also examined benevolent and compassionate actions towards Aboriginal peoples by explorer Jorgen Jorgensen in that colony at around the same time.³ In a broader example, Henry Reynolds examined the activities of colonial humanitarians actively supporting Aboriginal rights in This Whispering In Our Hearts.⁴ At a time when colonial Australia was so rapidly and profitably overwhelming Aboriginal peoples and lands, the actions of these benevolent Europeans deserve a closer look. What influenced the actions of these humanitarians? And why were these colonial residents willing to assist Aboriginal people so recently dispossessed by their own powerful new society?

To address these questions, a brief examination of what was influencing colonial Australian thinking is timely. Attitudes to the continent’s original inhabitants were affected by a variety of global ideas and events, and it is important to contextualise ethical conundrums and this rise in humanitarianism accordingly. Indeed, this flow of ‘trans-national’ knowledge heavily influenced Australia’s colonial racial thinking and legislative controls over non-white people.⁵

Relationships between Aboriginal peoples and Europeans evolved at a time when religion and Social Darwinism competed for popular belief and endorsement. Contemporary Christian thought buoyed humanitarian beliefs that all people were created by God (in his image) and that their souls were immortal. Aboriginal people needed saving. Monogenesists employed religion to battle the tenets of scientific racism which were sometimes used by administrators to justify injustice perpetrated upon indigenous peoples with little or no agency. Indeed, racism had become the rationale for many colonists to justify suppressing the natives’ resistance. Australia’s colonial mentality often reflected how slave-centric West Indies and southern American states viewed black people. That is, as a different race, Aboriginal peoples needed different treatment and management. Some Europeans became deeply influenced by what they witnessed on the frontier that was affecting peoples they were beginning to know and understand. Their strange cultures were becoming better understood and appreciated. In this way, perceived injustices and violence became catalysts for European support by a small but vocal group for the rights of those whose lifestyles and cultures were so manifestly different.⁶

Colonial thinking was built upon accepted philosophical positions of many theorists, and two are particularly pertinent here. Two centuries earlier, John Locke had devised a framework justifying property ownership. One famous premise identified that once a man worked the soil the land was his, and this philosophy continued to underpin British laws of property ownership or right. This naturally denied ownership rights for Aboriginal hunter-gatherers, as their culture did not incorporate agricultural practices combining labour and land. One particular argument by Jean-Jacques Rousseau complemented Locke’s theory. He held that primitive native peoples would be swept along a path of civilisation as civil societies evolved. Moral codes and laws would then be instituted as a social contract to administer property accumulation and division of labour. Colonial thinking incorporated both of these theories to help justify land acquisition and natural dominance over indigenous peoples.

Underlying British procurement of any lands from indigenous peoples was the idea of terra nullius. This doctrine decreed that as Aboriginal people merely wandered over the land rather than resided in a manner that British society understood, that formal occupancy and ownership of the Australian continent was up for grabs. And grab they did, justifying their actions with a powerful combination of English and international laws. At the same time, the British claimed to have acquired sovereignty, and the relationship assumed traditional form as the omnipotent Crown ruled white and black subjects.

Some colonists began questioning the ethical underpinnings of a society which (so abruptly) displaced indigenous peoples from their lands. Previously accepted philosophical theories were failing to justify unfolding events. Growing social consciousness suggested that dispossession of indigenous lands inferred moral obligation to safeguard the welfare of the dispossessed and compensate for appropriated lands. A British House of Commons Select Committee investigated the rights of indigenous peoples in colonised countries in 1837. Repercussions of the British Anti-Slavery Society’s hard-won successes were filtering through colonies, and attitudes were changing. In 1833 slavery throughout the British Empire and its colonies was finally abolished, in what Reynolds identified as ‘one of the most popular [humanitarian] crusades of the 19th century’. Anti-slavery crusaders then channelled their considerable energies and attention towards the rights of indigenous peoples around the globe. Australia’s ‘first land rights movement’ evolved during the 1830s when British and colonial advocates lobbied for Aboriginal claims to land, culminating with formation of the British and Foreign Aborigines Protection Society. Contrasts between the cruelties of slavery and those perpetuated as a result of colonisation fuelled heated and emotional debates in Britain and Australia.⁷

Benevolent Christian beliefs about racial equality drove a wave of missionaries across the globe to locate, and then save, colonised indigenous peoples. Aboriginal protectors were increasingly appointed to safeguard rights and provide protection from white abuse. But battling the benevolent Christians and humanitarian British reformers were scientists driving racial treatment of indigenous peoples, based on the tenet that white and black were unique and separate species. Phrenologists measured skulls, extrapolating from these anatomical findings to declare that difference in shapes and sizes of heads meant reduced intellectual capacity in black people. From the late 1800s a powerful new scientific approach to race known as eugenics emerged, along with concomitant beliefs of racial superiority and even more dangerous ideals of preserving racial purities. Coupled with this was an almost obsessive fear of colour, and a need to protect white Australia by limiting the rights and numbers of anyone coloured differently.⁸

Moving into the 1900s

Enthusiastic humanitarianism of the early nineteenth century waned. From around 1860 until the 1920s most Europeans chose to look the other way, and the Aboriginal plight was overwhelmingly ignored. A defensive mindset reinforced the concept that Australia was a ‘white man’s country’, weighed down by the incapability of black men. Social Darwinism provided a moral ideological platform for progress and prosperity, endorsing mentalities of other colonised nations dealing with their own questions of what to do with their indigenous populations. In short, Darwinians believed that Aboriginal peoples would eventually die out, as the evolutionary process positioned the fitter white race as survivors. People of mixed descent had been herded onto reserves, in colonial responses to dilemmas about what to do with the large ‘half-caste’ populations depending upon white authorities for welfare services and protection.⁹

With Federation in 1901 came an immediate racial declaration, as the major political parties united to support and create a ‘White Australia’ policy. ‘White Australia’ legislation drew a ‘colour line’ around the country, in a loud announcement that ‘whiteness’ epitomised national identity. Australia’s architects of federation drew upon trans-national ideas (particularly from the United States) to design laws that would keep their country as white as possible. The collective power of the Immigration Restriction Act 1901 and Pacific Islander Labourers Act 1901 was immense. Non-white workers were expelled, as Australia rushed to preserve and protect the nation’s racial integrity. Whilst support for this legislative protection of the white race was widely applauded, other people representing a broad cross-section of the community did oppose it. They included left- and right-wing activists, church congregations, and most understandably, immigrants and international workers.¹⁰

In Australia, supportive organisations such as the Aborigines’ Protection League and Victorian Aboriginal Group began to appear. Members of these groups were white. Importantly, activist organisations driven by Aboriginal people were also established at this time, and the Australian Aboriginal Progressive Association was a trailblazer for the indigenous political rights movement during the 1920s. The Australian Aborigines’ League, led by activist William Cooper, and the NSW Aborigines Progressive Association also became prominent among Aboriginal-run organisations. This energetic Aboriginal activism was famously punctuated by the sad proclamation of Australia’s national ‘Day of Mourning’ on 26 January 1938, while most white Australians were out and about celebrating the 150th anniversary of invasion.¹¹

Knowledge of Aboriginal peoples grew as anthropological investigations revealed societies rich with intricate cultures and deep understanding about land and relationships to it. Australian studies received formal recognition with the establishment of the first Chair of Anthropology at Sydney University in 1925. This appointment of A. R. Radcliffe-Brown was prompted, in large part, by Australia’s ‘acquisition’ of New Guinea following World War I. The peoples of Australian-administered Papua and New Guinea were considered far more bound by cultural traditions than Australia’s culture-contacted mainland indigenous population, hence the