'This issue features some of the best work submitted by students enrolled in Aboriginal Political History: Ideas, Action and Agency at the University of Technology Sydney in 2016 and 2017.' (Introduction)
'The forced removal of Indigenous children has been a site of historical debate in Australia since the 1980s. This paper explores these debates and discusses the political nature of Australia’s national history, and the correlation between child removal and the legitimacy of the nation.' (Publication abstract)
'This paper explores the parallels between racism and speciesism, to argue that the colonial ‘othering’ and subjugation of Indigenous Australians reflects the domestication of farmed animals.' (Publication abstract)
'Warwick Thornton’s Samson and Delilah (2009) is an unnerving and brutal portrayal of a rural Australian reality; one that we can no longer simply ignore. 'Amidst the governments failing targets to ‘close the gap’ for Aboriginal Australians, Thornton’s 2009 film has a newfangled relevance within public consciousness. Samson and Delilah is much more than an adolescent romance; it is a stark contrast of Australian pride and failures, a bleak and truthful demonstration of where systematic government failure has led, and, a simultaneous celebration of the survival and resilience of the Aboriginal peoples.' (Publication abstract)
'Since the colonisation of Australia, the relationship between western settlers and Aborigines has been characterised by inconsistent policies, ranging from segregation to relocation to assimilation. Yet no event seems to elicit such a profound reaction as the Stolen Generation. While it has only become the product of discussion in recent decades, it is now deeply embedded in Australian consciousness, with a multitude of films, scholarly publications and memoirs inspired by it. One such film is Rabbit-Proof Fence, directed by Phillip Noyce and based on the nonfiction book Follow the Rabbit-Proof Fence by Doris Pilkington Garimara. Set in 1931, the film describes the experience of three half-caste girls, Molly, Gracie and Daisy, who are forcibly removed from their family and community in Jigalong and taken to the Moore River Native Settlement, their consequent escape and three-month journey home. But what are some of the methods utilised to portray the many issues surrounding the Stolen Generation and what are their effects?' (Publication abstract)
'Nicolas Roeg’s Walkabout, a 1971 Australian New Wave film, has ignited and continues to ignite a deep desire in its audience to ruminate and engage with Aboriginal political discourse. This seminal work emerged out of social unrest for the injustices performed on Aborigines at the time, and made a definitive mark on how Australian’s think about race relations, intercultural understanding, and the place of empathy and thoughtfulness in a shifting and vibrant political landscape. Through the film, Roeg highlights the importance of sacred land and cultural heritage to the Aboriginal people, and the obligation white Australia has to respect and appreciate such a deep and fundamental component of the continent’s history.' (Publication abstract)
'As the first novel written by an Indigenous Australian to win the Miles Franklin Literary Award, Alexis Wright’s 2006 epic Carpentaria traverses Australia’s traditionalist literary landscape and allows her readers access into the kaleidoscopic style of Aboriginal storytelling and history. Through her poignant depiction of a town in crisis, Wright challenges established notions of time and authenticity while considering the place of storytelling in contemporary Australia. Still feeling the effects of the white imperialism that arrived with the first fleet, Carpentaria’s predominantly white readership is forced to reassess whether it is truly ‘post colonial’. Through her fairly blunt, ironic characters who serve as representations of the division between Western pragmatism and Indigenous spirituality, Wright eases her readers into the long overdue flow of cross-racial dialogue.' (Publication abstract)
'Reading Walkley award winning journalist and Wiradjuri man Stan Grant’s latest book Talking to my country (Grant 2016a) can be a sharply contradictory experience. On the one hand, the book’s short, brisk sentences and emphatic, conversational style (you can almost hear him talking) might tempt you to read it in a single sitting. And on the other, it is advisable to digest its searing contents – phrases, images, metaphors, bleak statistics delivered wrapped in masterfully told stories – at a measured pace. The most poignant aspect of this riveting personal account of growing up Aboriginal in Australia is that it comes from a highly credible professional known for his “inclination to look for common ground, to be diplomatic” (Grant 2015). This is why Stan Grant’s part-memoir, part-polemic achieves the effect it sets out to create – for people to listen.' (Publication abstract)
