'The national consciousness of settler colonial societies such as Australia often blends a complex mix of local and Indigenous identities. Historically infused with a sense of inferiority—and the imperative to stamp ownership on the continent—the stories that settlers tell, and the images and propaganda they project, seek to address this feeling. Robert Frost’s poem argued that, for the United States, “the deed of gift was many deeds of war”. For Australians, by contrast, the frontier wars neither gave nor served as a foundational narrative. In their place, mythologies emerged: of Anzac, of an impoverished Indigenous population, of an industrial “golden age”, and of a free-spirited, urbane culture. We hope that you enjoy the eight articles in this issue of the Journal of Australian Studies, each of which grapples with a question of identity and clarifies and challenges these prevailing mythologies.' (Carolyn Holbrook, Julie Kimber, Maggie Nolan & Laura Rademaker : Introduction)
Contents indexed selectively.
'Australian scholars are now familiar with the tropes of the Anzac legend. This narrative describes the realisation of an Australian masculine identity, whose characteristics were forged on the Australian frontier and validated through the ordeal of battle. Though many writers contributed to this narrative, C.E.W. Bean, the official historian of the Australian Imperial Force during the First World War, is most closely associated with the popularisation of this myth, which fused frontier and martial masculinity into a national archetype.
'This article will examine the role of the slouch hat as a material and visual device that helped communicate the Anzac legend. While most of the scholarship that examines the construction of this narrative focuses on its articulation in prose, this narrative was also popularised through other media. Artists drew symbols of the frontier into their paintings while museum directors arranged their artefacts to support this narrative. This article will argue that the slouch hat provided an essential visual device to connect the narratives of frontier and martial masculinity through the image of the Australian soldier.' (Publication abstract)
'This article examines public understandings of two key strands of Australian history that sit at opposite ends of a spectrum of remembrance: frontier conflict and Anzac. The former, W. E. H. Stanner argued in 1968, was subsumed in a vacuum of silence, lost to popular consciousness in a wilful act of forgetting. Despite a wealth of subsequent scholarship documenting the violence and dispossession that characterised European colonisation, considerable gaps in public awareness about these foundational events remain. Anzac, in contrast, has become a defining narrative of Australian history for large segments of the general population and the political class. Recent scholarship suggests that this prominence has served to mask other, important histories of the continent, including frontier conflict. In this article, we argue that this is neither a necessary nor essential binary, and further, that one can inform the other. The written reflections of 320 tertiary students enrolled in a course about Australian military history provide insights into the ways that frontier conflict is popularly understood and how the fascination with Anzac can be leveraged to raise awareness of the violent historical dimensions of colonisation.' (Publication abstract)
'In 2000, Noel Pearson drew on his experiences of growing up on the Hope Vale, the Guugu Yimidhirr–speaking community that emerged from the Cape Bedford mission in the south east of Cape York, to write a revisionist history of the region. Indigenous communities were “strong, if bruised” in the wake of colonisation, he argued, but had descended into chaos since the 1970s because alcohol and welfare benefits had undermined the formerly resilient Aboriginal norms of “responsibility”. This paper offers a critical review of this politically potent account of the past, drawing on alternative oral histories, ethnographies and ethnohistories of Hope Vale, including Pearson’s own honours thesis (1986). Without challenging this sketch of his own experience, nor the sincerity of his nostalgia for the mission of his youth, I argue that Pearson’s more recent retellings are selective. In particular, his revisionist history overlooks evidence of drug abuse in the early colonial period and overstates both Guugu Yimidhirr agency in the process of missionisation and the uniformity and representativeness of the community that developed at Cape Bedford. Finally, I offer some possible personal, philosophical and political explanations for Pearson’s shifting approach to the past.' (Publication abstract)
'This article approaches the question of how Aboriginal Australians describe their own experiences of drinking alcohol, sometimes to excess, and how they recover, through a reading of seven autobiographies alongside the scholarship on Aboriginal drinking. The evidence contained in these life stories stresses personal factors and adds to the picture we glean from the scholarship, whether academic or governmental, epidemiological, anthropological or historical, which explains Aboriginal drinking habits in more social terms. Thus, the autobiographies themselves make an important intervention into the scholarship on Aboriginal drinking. Beyond this, negotiating with the stereotype of the “drunken Aborigine” is unavoidable for Aboriginal people who write about their drinking and these autobiographies represent a challenge to this popular image. This article examines a previously unexamined discourse on Aboriginal drinking that goes some way towards undermining the public representation of a drunken Aboriginal culture while simultaneously giving individual Aboriginal Australians greater voice in describing their past and current experiences.' (Publication abstract)
'During an era of expanding social inclusion in the 1960s and 1970s, Australians increasingly drank more wine than at any previous time in colonial or national history. These wines were made in new styles and consumed in accordance with new habits across gender and class. The morphology of one of Australia’s most popular “introduction wines” of this period, Lindeman’s Ben Ean Moselle, reveals the emergence of new elements of national character. From being advertised to women in the late 1960s as “just right”, Ben Ean’s cultural messaging in the 1970s flirted with general appeal to men and women of the new middle class: “anywhere, anytime”. Then, by the mid-1980s, the ascendancy of this light, semi-sweet table wine was halted by the emergence of an elitism in which new professionals favoured consumer products of provenanced distinction. The arc of Ben Ean’s rise and fall symbolises an informalisation and subsequent reformalisation of values, conventions and identities during a time of social and cultural flux.' (Publication abstract)
'The book, Warnan [sic] Painters of Place and Time, concerns a group of aged painters from a place called Warnan, near the borders of West Australia, South Australia and the Northern Territory. These Kayili artists who live in an aged care facility, having worked in a variety of settings including the remote outstation of Patjarr, were involved in the “Warnan painting program which has taken place on Fridays since 2005”. In the light of the book’s title, it is fitting to ask, what place and what time?' (Introduction)
'This book is a lively read about four women who had independent and active careers from the end of the nineteenth century up to the outbreak of the Second World War. Three of four subjects, Dora Ohlfsen, Clarice Zander and Mary Cecil Allen, tend to not feature in the more standard accounts of modern Australian art, while Louise Dyer’s career in the performing arts has similarly been little acknowledged. Each of these modern women headed overseas; all four, we are told, “shared Melba’s international outlook. Art was their ticket to escape from the confining conventions. Their means to join a diaspora of ability that knew no national boundaries” (vii). Their mobility led the authors to draw on international archives and those in Australia to piece together their remarkable lives.' (Introduction)
