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Winchester et al.establishment of the Selwyn township. Th e value of such his- Fitzgerald, R. 1982 A History of Queensland: From the Dreamingtorical graffiti lies in the reconstruction of the fluid borders of to 1915 . St Lucia: University of Queensland Press.senlement at the time of European the peopling Fitzgerald, S. and Keating, C. 1991 Millers Point: The Urbanof that past with individuals' lives and experiences. Village. Sydney: Hale and Iremonger.Fysh, H. 1933 Taming the North. Sydney: Angus and Robertson.Acknowledgements Hughes, R. 1987 The Fatal Shore. New York: Knopf.Kennedy, K.H. 1979 The profits of boom: A short history of theW e thank Dr S.J. Gale of Th e University of Syd ney for Cloncurry Copper Field. Lectures on North Queensland His-constructive com ments on earlier drafts of this m anuscript, tow, pp. 1-34. 7'ownsville: Department o f History, JarnesM r 0 .Rey-Lescure of The University of Newcastle for pre- Cook University.paring Figures 1-3, The John O xley L ibrary, Brisbane, for per-mission to reproduce Figure 4 from their collection, and oneanonymous referee for hidher helpful comments.ReferencesAnon. ca. 19 14 Cloncurry 19 14. Unp ublish ed typescript, part

missing. North Queensland Collection, James Cook Univer-sity. l'ownsville.Armstrong, R.E.M. ca. 198 0 The Kalkadoons: A Study of an Abor-iginal Tribe on the Queensland Frontier. Brisbane: WilliamBrooks.Beale. P. (ed. ) 1984 A D i c t i o n a y o f s l a n g a n d U n c o nv en ti on a lEnglish. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul .Connell, R.W . 1995 h4u.sculinities. St Leonards: Allen and Unwin.Cresswell, T. 1992 Th e crucial 'where' of graffiti: A geographicalanalysis of reactions to graffiti in New York. Environmentand Planning D: Society and Space 10:329-44.Davidson, I. , Sutton, S .A . and Gale. S .J . 1993 The human occu-pation of Cuckadoo 1 rockshelter, northwest central Queens-land. In M.A. Smith, M. Spr iggs and B.L. Fankhauser (eds)Sahul in Review: Pleistocene Archaeology in Australia, NewGuinea and Island Melanesia. pp. 164-72. Canberra: De-partment of Prehistory, Research School of Pacific an d AsianStudies, The Australian National University. OccasionalPapers in Prehistory. No. 24.Evans, R. , Saunders, K. and Cronin, K. 1975 Exclusion, Exploitationand Extermination: Race Relations in Colon ial Queensland .Sydney: Austral ia and New Zealand Book Company.

Kennedy, K.H. 1980 The Cloncurry copper companies. In K.H.Kennedy (ed.) Readings in North Queensland Mining His-tory C'ol l , pp.22 1-50. Townsville: James Cook University.Kerr, J. 1980 North Queensland mining railways. In K.H. Kennedy(ed.) Readings in North Queensland Mining Histoty 1 '01 l ,pp.272-98. Townsville: James Cook University.

Major, T. 190 0 Leaves from a Squatter's NoteBook b y ThomasMajor, Late inspector of Runs for the New South Wales Gov-ernment. London: Sands and Company.Monv ood, M.J. and Walsh, T. 1993 A mark in time. AustralianNatural History 24(6):40-5.Noble, W . and Davidson, I. 1993 Tracing the emergence of modemhuman behaviour: Methodological pitfalls and a theoreticalpath. Journal of Anthropological Archa eology 12:12 1-49.

Ramson, W .S. (ed. ) l988 The Australian Xational Dlctionaty.Melbourne: Oxford University Press.Reekie, G. 1994 Wom en, region and the 'Queensland D ifference'. InG. Reekie (ed.) On the Edge: W omen s Experiences oj'Queens-land, pp.8-24. St Lucia: University o f Queensland Press.

Rooks, J. 199 1 Ancient pitches. Archaeology 44:72.Simes , G. 1992 The language of homosexu ality in Australia. InR. Aldrich and G. Wotherspoon (eds) Gay Perspectives: fisaysin Australian Ga y Culture, pp.3 1-57. Sydn ey: Departmentof Economic History, The University of Sydney.Spearritt, K. 199 0 The market for marriage in colonial Queens-land. Hecate 16:23-42.Thorne, T. 1990 Bloomsbury Dictionaly of Contemporary Slang.London: B loomsbury.

Self-representation and Aboriginal communities in the NorthernTerritory: Implications for archaeological researchPeter Thorley

Recent criticisms of ethnographic practice have focusedattention on the way Aborigines (among other groups) arerepresented in anthropological literature (Carrier 1992, 1995;Myers 1986a; Rose 1992; Toussaint 1994, 1996). In archae-ology, the notion of representation has been raised in relationto issues such as own ership of the past (McBryde 1985), therole of indigenous communities in archaeological research(Pardoe 1992) and in the context of current theoretical dis-cussions within the discipline (Hodder 199 1; mith 1995). Ithas been suggested recently that Australia is responding to

broader trends in adopting reflexive approaches to archae-ology, approaches which are directed toward the analysis ofthe author's role, placing particular emphasis on the produc-tion of texts (Burke et al. 1994). My main concern here iswith the practical implications of these ideas, that is, howthey apply in the face to face situations in which archaeolo-gists working in remote Australia are typically engaged. I nthis paper, examples are drawn from Aboriginal communitiesin the Northern Territory to illustrate the com plexities of self-representation through archaeological researc h.

I>epartnient of Anthropology. N orthern Territory University, PO Bo x403 16 , Casuarina. NT 08 1 1 , Australia

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Self-represenfution and .4borigrnal communities in the .4'ortherrr Territont Implications for archaeological research

Self-representationAnthropological and historical perspectivesThe term self-representation is used here to refer to theway individuals or groups within society choose to representthemselves, and how those representations are transmitted andvalidated. In this sense, the concept is relevant to the propo-sition that archaeological research should become a 'voice' forAboriginal viewpoints or that research questions should begenerated by Aboriginal communities rather than by issuesprimarily of concern to archaeology. To examine the basis ofthese propositions and their relevance to the applied contextsin which archaeologists in the Northern Territory work, it isnecessary as a first step to turn to the disciplines of anthro-pology and ethnohistory.

In anthropology, the issue of self-representation has beenexamined as part of the broader inquiry into the dynamicsof the way human cultures represent themselves and others(Carrier 1992, 1995; Myers 1986a; Linnekin 1992; Wagner1980). This analysis has led to a critique of ethnographicwriting as an essentially political exercise which excludes thevoices of minority cultures and justifies their subordination(Attwood and Amold 1992; Clifford and Marcus 1986;Mar-cus and Fischer 1986; Lattas 1992). As a consequence therehas been a growing number of claims for the recognition ofthe rights of indigenous and minority groups to produce theirown representations to counter those generated by majorityculture interests (Handler 1993).These themes have parallels in the recent literature onethnohistory, where history is increasingly viewed as a formof 'cultural biography' and historical sources (including arch-aeology) are 'joined to the memories and voices of livingpeople' (Simmons 1988:10). In the context of ethnohistory,much attention has been given to the role of oral accounts inrepresenting the views of cultures without a written tradition.Down (1990) argues that oral history is as valid a form ofhistorical accountas written history, while Muecke (1 992) sug-gests that Aboriginal oral history is in itself a form of 'textualrepresentation', although as Barwick (l98 1) has pointed out,its conventions are quite distinct fi-om those of written history.Others have taken the view that the transcription of oral his-tory provides cultures without a written tradition an oppor-tunity to represent their oral accounts in written form. Forexample, Rose (1992:40) maintains that in her research inthe Northern Territory:Yarralin people have put considerable effort intoteaching me because they hope the written wordwill become a vehicle for their oral testimony.Whether it is possible, however, to provide a written accountwithout detracting significantly from the original character ofthe oral perspective remains doubtful.Barwick (198 1) recognises the importance of oral accountswhich come direct from participants, but acknowledges thedifficulties involved in their conversion to written form. Manyof the values and conventions associated with oral accountsare culturally defrned and, as a consequence, are unable to bereproduced in written accounts (Hudson 1980). Invariably,meaning is lost during the transcription of oral accounts andin the process the written words come to take on more of theeditor's own assumptions and interests. For groups who havedistinctive oral traditions, it may be important to retain these

values and conventions for transmitting information withintheir own society, rather than have them tampered with tofacilitate their translation to a wider audience.Once the accounts have been removed from their originalcontexts, there are also difficulties involved in their valida-tion. In recognising the problems confronting ethnographicinformants as arbiters of their own accounts, Carrier (1992:197) writes:Western anthropologists, describing societies thatthey have studied closely and sympathetically, arelikely to c onhnt only their own honour as a checkon the representations they produce. Even if thosebeing described come to read and reject the repre-sentations, their rejection is unlikely to be voicedin the academic or social contexts which mattermost to anthropologists.Jackson (1987: 19) has taken a similar stance, noting furtherthat, through its emphasis on texts, reflexive anthropology hasachieved little more than 'salving our consciences':textualism tends to ignore the flux of human inter-relationships, the ways meanings are created inter-subjectlvdy as weJJ as 'intertextually', embodied ingestures as well as in words, and connected to poli-tical, moral and aesthetic interests. Quite simply,people cannot be reduced to texts any more thanthey can be reduced to objects (Jackson 1987: 19).While Jackson (1987) draws attention to the limitationsinherent in the reflexive emphasis on texts his comments high-light the complexities of interaction which underlie ethno-graphic representations. Carrier (1 992) and Myers ( l986b)have made similar observations.One of the main implications to come out of this literature

in anthropology is the point that ethnographic representationscannot be isolated fiom relationships formed with participantsduring the research process. Research creates a dynamic be-tween researcher and participants, which influences the waythe process is perceived and represented by each side. Theperceptions each side has of the other are typically influencedby their own assumptions and values, while the views theyproject of themselves are often embellished to fit externaland somewhat idealised notions. Taken at face value theserepresentations may lead to distortion. To go beyond thispotentially distorting mirror of self-representation it is neces-sary to cross-check statements across a range of viewpoints,to create a larger system of meaning, without which 'we can-not foretell what its participants are treating concretely in theiractivity, linguistic or otherwise' (Myers 1986b:444). The viewof culture generated by this process may be quite different,however, to the way subjects choose to represent themselves.Self-representation and Aboriginal communitiesThe North ern Territory and remote AustraliaThe Northern Territory comprises a unique set of circum-stances which influence the contexts in which archaeologyoperates. The relative autonomy and physical isolation of re-mote Aboriginal communities in the Northern Territory hasenabled residents to exercise their own systems of value ina range of cultural choices.

The following discussion draws largely on my own experi-ences in central Australia between 1986- 996 (which includes

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four years permanent residence in a remote comm unity). Indoing archaeological research and talking about archaeologyI have found that Aboriginal people are often varied in theirresponses and yet many of the same themes and assumptionsseem to underlie the interaction. From these experiences Iattempt to provide an understanding of the complexity ofAboriginal representation in archaeology rather than a set ofprescriptive answers, while acknow ledging that archaeologistsworking elsewhere in the Northern Territory and in other statesmay approach these issues from a different perspective.One of the features of many remote Aboriginal commu-nities throughout Australia is their maintenance of culturalautonomy (Row se 19 92). This has been facilitated in theNorthern Territory by legislation, particularly the Land Rights(NvAct 1976. In communities away from major populationcentres, in the Kirnb erleys and Western Desert and in remoteparts of the Cape York peninsula, a similar set of circum-stances may prevail. Row se (1992) has exp lored this in somedetail in the monograph titled Remote Possibilities. In spiteof their similarities, it must be conced ed that there are sig-nificant cultural differences amongst Aboriginal groups bothwithin the Northern Territory and outside it.Aboriginal language and cultural choiceA glance at the linguistic situation in the Northern Terri-tory (Fig. 1) shows that use of traditional language among

BURARRA6

REYBIRRNGA

ALYAWARRA

Figurel Northern Tenitory languages (dialects in italics) with over 100speakers (Black 1983).

remote Aboriginal communities remains strong. Language liesat the core of personal autonomy and is the means of trans-mission of culture and identity. In much of the NorthernTerritory, Aborigines choose to speak their own traditionallanguage or Kriol rather than English. In m ost remote com-munities, few adults have fluency in English and many haveachieved little more than basic literacy either in English orthe vernacular.This creates difficulties for communication with non-Aboriginal people both within the com munity and in the widerworld. As a result, Aboriginal commu nities often remainheavily reliant on outsiders to provide an interface with main-stream society, with its attendant problems of exploitation andmisapprop riation (e.g. Rose 19 92; von Stu nn er 198 2). Yetwhile poor English and literacy attainment impedes Aborigi-nal control on the one hand, it is also an expression of cul-tural choice; many Aboriginal people do not rely on literacyto achieve that which they value.In exercising language choice, Aboriginal people havebeen able to maintain control over know ledge within their owndomain. At Doom adgee in northwest Queensland , Trigger(1986: 116) comments that this kind of autonomyis predicated on exclusion of whites from physical

space,styles of behaviour and modes of thought (andcommunication) rather than on the capacity to wresteconomic or political power h m he wider society.In most remote Aboriginal communities, responsibility for thetransmission of valued Aboriginal knowledge rests with seniormen and women who are typically the least literate group.The se observations impIy that ariy attempts to impose arch-aeology as a fonn of representation, based as it is on funda-mentally different understandings of the world and languageconventions, may work against the very distinctive ways inwhich knowledge is transmitted and validated in the Abori-ginal domain.Cultural difference and accountabilityThe cultural autonomy coupled with relative dependencywhich prevails in remote parts of the Northern Territory pro-vides a situation which mo st outsiders find challenging if notconfronting. Carrying out archaeological research in theseconditions immediately raises questions of Aboriginal involve-ment and representation, and comm unication of the findingsback to the community. In many Aboriginal communities,however, low English and literacy competence will make itdifficult to meaningfully convey archaeological accounts and,as a consequence, the presentation of research in this way maycontribute little to community control and evaluation in realterms. The quality of the delivery is critical to the process, butas archaeologists rarely have the sophisticated level o f fluencyin local languages, effective communication of the findingsis difficult to achieve in practice. What typical ly happens isthat the archaeologist presents their own description of thefmdings to the individuals with whom the research was carriedout, or to representatives of the community, who then passwhat is assumed to be 'community' judgemen t. To commu-nicate the research in this way may achieve little, both becauseof the differing goals of the researchers and participants andthe nebulous nature of the term 'community', an issue whichwill be discussed later in this pap er.

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SeiJ-represetlturron and Aboriginal communrties ~n he Sor ther n Terrrtor),. Implications for archae ologicul resrarcllWritten accountability remains foremost among academic

values, indeed, it is the basis on which research in archae-ology is ultimately assessed. Although written representationsmay be critical fiom an archaeological point of view, Abori-ginal perceptions are likely to reflect other priorities. Researchcreates opportunities to develop what are potentially valuedrelationships, beyond which the details of the research and thewritten form it takes may generate little interest among Abori-ginal participants and audiences. In some situations, the valueplaced on relationships may actually make it more difficult forAborigines to overtly challenge what the researcher says.Interest in the relationship could be misinterpreted as approvalof the researcher's fmdings while fiom an Aboriginal point ofview the content of the research may be seen as unimportant.Different values are assigned by each side. As a society with-out a Western tradition of impersonal academic debate thereis little incentive to argue with the researcher and risk therelationship, in fact there may be a tendency to defend theresearcher in order to preserve the relationship, no matter howmisguided the representation.Self-representation and community researchA related issue facing archaeologists in remote parts of theNorthern Territory is to ensure 'community' consensus in gain-ing approval for research. The term 'community' has servedfor some time as a convenient, though in many cases mis-leading, point of reference for discussion of Aboriginal in-volvement in archaeological research (e.g. Creamer 1983).There is considerable ethnographic literature which deals withthe problems of the term 'community' and its usage in refer-ring to contemporary Aboriginal polities in remote Australia(Myers l986b, 1988; Hamilton 1987; Rowse 1992; Trigger1992). Without going into too much detail here, the ethno-graphic critique has revolved around the difficulty of incor-porating smaller, kin-based social units which characteriseAboriginal society within larger, more encompassing socialstructures which the wider society views as 'communities'.In archaeology, this defmitional problem has implicationsfor who or what is represented in 'community' research. Is itthe local community, a community organisation or specificindividuals? These are not simply issues of semantics but arerelevant to the way that researchers construct and interact withthe groups with whom the research takes place. Implicit inthe notion of 'community' representation is the assumptionthat the views held by members of a particular communityare internally consistent or that certain individuals are ableto 'speak for' the interests of the people as a whole.

In many Aboriginal communities, the issue of leadership isoften a volatile one. Decisions affecting daily lives of its mem-bers are generally made by elected representatives of com-munity councils. However, gaining consensus which binds allcommunity members is often difficult to achieve in practicebecause of social practices that divide communities along indi-vidual, gender or kin-based lines (Rowse 1992). A similarobservation has been made by Hamilton (1 987) who pointsout that the concept of community (based on a 'village' model)is more the result of bureaucratic convenience than any ac-curate conception of contemporary or traditional arrangementsin the Western Desert. This perception, she argues, has ledto

the insertion of Aborigines into power and deci-sion making apparati of the State under policies of'self management' [where] the individual is sup-posed to function as the representative of his peoplejust as surely as Bungaree was supposed to hc t ionas the King of the Sydney Aborigines (1987: 138).

In terms of decision-making, a community may be a geo-graphic entity but little more. The reality for those who workin these situations is often that their affiliations lie with parti-cular individuals or family groups (Myers 1986b; Rowse 1992).Their work cements the relationship and they become. in asense, 'owned' (von Stunner 1982). Folds (pers. comm.) de-scribed how one woman from a central Australian commu-nity claimed exclusive rights to work with a group of biolo-gists fiom the Conservation Commission of the Northern Ter-ritory (CCNT), on the basis of having worked with them in thepast and through connections with relatives in other nearbycommunities where the CCNT researchers had worked.

Archaeological research frequently offers economic in-centives (payment for involvement in fieldwork, access tovehicles, etc.) and it does not take long for groups within thecommunity to discover the kind of ififormation most likelyto encourage their own participation. Research which meetsthe perceived needs of people is then apt to become the focusof competing groups within the community, all of which areattempting to satisfy the researcher's agenda, while researchwhich does not offer anything of value is likely to languishthrough lack of interest.

Although 'community' representation may be desirable inarchaeology, in many situations it will be difficult to realise.As a general rule, research proceeds through relationshipswith individuals, and archaeologists who acquire informationin this way do not 'learn' ffom a community nor do their under-standing~ ecessarily represent the views of the majority ofpeople who happen to reside in a particular locality. A firtherunintentional consequence of 'community' research is that itmay draw Aboriginal people into a structure whose traditionslie well outside their society, placing stress on existing valuesand decision-making structures (see Folds 1993 for a discus-sion of the impact of well-meaning though culturally-biasedconcepts on Aboriginal societies in central Australia).Exchange relationships

Carrying out research in Aboriginal communities involvesexpectations of benefits on both sides. Community membershave their own agendas and naturally expect to gain some-thing of value to themselves for taking part in the researchproject, as do their researchers. In situations where Abori-ginal groups are to some extent dependent economically on'outsiders', there is far more at stake than the outcomes ofthe research or the accuracy of the representation.

In contemporary Western Desert communities, expecta-tions placed on researchers are in some respects similar tothose placed on kin. Relationships are sustained by the ex-change of resources and services and demands are propor-tional to the importance or 'closeness' of the relationship(Myers l986b; Tonkinson 1991). The distribution of resourcesamong relatives is typically the basis of such exchanges ratherthan any attempt to service the broader goals of the commu-nity (Myers 1986b; Rowse 1992). For example, access to



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Thorleyvehicles may pro vide opp ortunities to visit country or relatives, many Aboriginal groups have distinct language conventionsor to obtain fbrther resources (such as game through hunting) and ways of transmitting information about the past. Arch-which may then be shared amo ng relatives. Researchers aeology is a culture-specific method of transmitting informa-working in these situations may find themselves reluctant tion, which relies to some extent on 'insider' knowledge passedto meet requests which fall beyond the main objective of on throug h a particular Western cultural tradition. The formtheir work. No nethe less, it is their perform ance in these in which human cultures choose to represent themselves andareas, primarily through their relationships with particular the means by which k nowledg e and information are validated,individuals, that influences the standing of researchers within are highly specific. Aborigines are unlikely to dump theira community, rather than through claims to have repre- own traditions to embrace archaeology as a form of self-sented Aboriginal views in written form through the research, representation any more than archaeologists are likely to throwclaim s wh ich at any rate cou ld no t be valida ted in Ab origi- out their own research questions, although there may be somenal terms. borrow ing between the respective cultures.It is fanciful to think, for example, that Aboriginal elders While the differences between the cultures can be a prob-will be co ntent w ith teac hin g no n-A bo rig ine s abou t them- lem for self-representation in this context, they do not provideselves in order that som e far-distant and anon ymou s popu- an irreconcilable barrier between residents of remote cornmu-lation w ill gain insights into their cu lture, and w ill expect to nities and archaeologists. A m ore realistic view of the processgain, in return, nothing more than the written reports produ ced o f interaction between archaeolog ists and Aborigines livingby the research. As a minority gro up heavily dependent on in remote and relatively autonomo us regions is one based onoutsiders Aboriginal people have an investment in how theyrepresent themselves. When econo mic benefits are to begained, however, it may be more in their interests to beacceptable rather than accurate. Archaeolog ists wh o haveworked in the Northern Territory have long had an interestin remnan t hunter-gather po pulations. Ab origin es living inwhat are perceived as 'traditional' contexts are often w ell awareof this selective interest and curiosity with the traditionalaspec ts of their culture. In 10 years of working with Abori-ginal people in central Australia I have found that they areextremely astute at assessing the assum ptions of archaeolo-gists and others with an interest in their traditional cultureand past, and will frequently reprod uce these assumptions inorder to cement the relationship which will in turn improveaccess to services or resou rces.

exchange. From an Aboriginal perspective the relationshipwith the researcher is likely to be more important than theactual research. These relationships may be o f value to arch-aeological research, but they do not necessarily provide thevalidation or checking of the research across the communitythat the researcher might believe to be the case. Archaeolo-gists and Aborigines may have different interests in the arch-aeological record; to a large extent the developm ent of work-able relationships depend s on recognition of the other. Theserelationships and the exchanges they generate provide thepotential for research which produces something of valueto both sides.Acknowledgements

I thank Ralph Folds and Chris Schwarz for their com-ments on drafts of this paper. I also thank Wenten Rubun-Implications for archaeological research tja, Syd Coulthard, Rarney Campbell and Pinta Pinta Tjapa-Claims to provide 'self-representation' are growing in arch- nangka for helping me to appreciate some of the contradic-aeology following trends in anthropology and the social sci- tions their and mine.ences generally. Because of the promise they hold for greateraccountability and com munity control over the research pro-cess, the assumptions which underlie these claims requireclose attention.One of the challenges confronting proponents of self-representation and com mu nity research is to grou nd the ap-proaches in some kind of social or ethn ogra phic reality. BothByrne (1991) and Hodder (1991) have put forward arguments

for 'indigenous archaeologies' in Australia, but neither havedescribed how these mig ht translate into practice. Despitethe best of intentions, the notion o f indigenous archaeologyis itself the product of an external and more powerfbl society.This is particularly ironic, since it would seem that the basisof such approaches would draw from Aboriginal forms ofidentification, rather than a framew ork no t o f their making.The implications of the fact that representations are cultur-ally defined (i.e. are cultural artefacts) are not well appreci-ated.Because of the antithetical nature of the cultures, it wouldbe difficult to reconcile a framework based on Aboriginalvalues with a Western tradition, however ethical. Archaeologyhas little in common with existing forms of representationin Aboriginal communities in the Northern Territory, where

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Sty-representrltion and .-l boriginal communities in the .Yorthern Ter rito n. Implications for archaeological resc~archFolds, R. 1993 Assimilation by any name : Why the Federal Gov -ernments attempts to achieve social justice for indigenousAustralians will not succeed. Australian Aboriginal Studiesl993 (l) :3 1-6.Hamilton, A. 1987 Equal to whom? Visions of destiny and theAboriginal aristocracy. Mankind 17(2): 129-38.Handler, R. 1993 A nthropo logy is dead! Long live anthrop ology!American Anthropologist 95(4):99 1 9.Hodder, I. 1991 Reading the Past: Current Approaches to Inter-pretation in Archaeology. (Second Edition). Cambridge:Cambridge U niversity Press.Hudson,R. 1980 Sociolinguistics. Cambridge: Cambridge Univer-sity Press.Jackson, M. 1987 On ethnograp hic truth. Canberra AnthropologylO(2):l-31.Lattas, A. 1992 Hysteria, anthropological discourse and the conceptof the unconscious: Cargo cults and scientisation of raceand colonial power. Oceania 63(1): 1- 14.Linnekin, J. 1992 On the theory and politics of cultural con-struction in the Pacific. Oceania 62(4):249-63.McBryde, I. (ed.) 1985 Who Owns the Past. Melbourne: OxfordUniversity Press.Marcus, G. and Fischer, M. 1986 Anthropology ar Cultural Critique.Chicago: University of Chicago Press.Muecke, S. 19% Textual spaces: A boriginality and Cu ltural Studies.Sydney: New South Wales University Press.Myers, F. 1986a The politics of representation: Anthropologicaldiscourse and Australian A borigines. American Ethnologist13:138-53.Myers, F. 1986b Pintupi SeK Pintupi C ountry: Sentiment, Placeand Politics among W estern Desert Abor igines. Canberra:Australian Institute for Aboriginal Studies.Myers, F. 1988 Burning the truck and holding the country: Property,time and the negotiation identity am ong Pintupi A borigines.

InT. Ingold, D. Riches and J. Woodbum (eds)Property, Power

and Ideology in Hunting and G athering Societies. London:Berg.Pardoe, C. 1992 Arche s of radii, corridors of power: Reflections oncurrent archaeological practice. In B. Attwood and J . Arnold(eds) Power, Knowledge and Aborigines. Bundoora: La TrobeUniversity Press.Rose, D.B. 1992 Dingo Makes us Human: Life and Land in anAustralian Aboriginal Culture. Cambridge: Cam bridge Uni-versity Press.Rowse, T. 1992 Remote Possibilities: The Aborigina l Domain an dthe Administrative Imagination. Darwin: North Australia Re-search Unit, The Australian N ational University.Simmons, W.S. l988 Culture theory in contemporary ethnohis-t o y . Ethnohistory 35(1): 1-14.Smith, L. 1995 What is this thing called postprocessual archaeology... and is it relevant for Australian Archaeo logy. AustralianArchaeology 40:28-32.Tonkinson, R 1991 The Mardu Aborigines: Living the Dream inAustralia's D esert. Fort Worth: Holt. Reinhart and Winston.Toussaint, S. 1994 Review of Rose, D. 1992 Dingo Makes UsHuman. Cunberra Anthropology i 7( 1):93Toussaint, S. 1996 Review of Muecke, S. 1932 Textual Spaces:Aboriginality and Cultural Studies. Ocecnia 66(2) :17 1-4.Trigger, D. 1986 Blackfellas and whitetellas: Th e concepts ofdom ain and social closure in tlit: ahalysis of race-relations.Mankind l6(2):99- 117.Trigger, D. 1992 Whitefella comin': Aboriginal Responses toColonialism in Northern Australia. Cambridge: CambridgeUniversity Press.von Stwmer, J. 1982 Aborig ines in the uranium industry: Towardself-management in the Alligator River region? In R.M. emdt(ed.) Aboriginal Sites, Rlghts and Resource Development.Perth: University of Western Australia Press.Wagner, R. 1980 The Invention of Culture. Chicago: Universityof Chicago Press.

In defence of Arnhem Land rock art researchDarrell ~ e w i s ' ~ ~

In 1992 two papers dealing with Arnhem Land rock artwere published by Ivan Haskovec. Both contain previouslyunpublished illustrations of rock paintings and increase therange of published material available for scholarly analysis.One paper examines a particular style of human figure foundbetween Oenpelli and MagelaCreek, which Haskovec has label-led 'Northern Running Figures' or ' N W ' (Haskovec l992a).He begins his examination with an assessment of the existingArnhem Land rock art sequences. Then he moves on to dis-cuss the spatial and temporal distribution of the figures, and todescribe the style and its content. Finally, he suggests absolutedates for the period during which the figures were produced.

1 40 Tiwi Gardens Road, Tiwi, NT 0810, Australia.2 Ms. received December 1993. Accepted February 1996. Eds note thatthe delay in accepting this ms. arose out of prolonged correspondencebetween Eds and author over necessary editorial changes.

His other paper examines the claim made by Chaloupka(1977, 1979, 1983, 1984, 1985) that large paintings of animalsand human figures in naturalistic style occur near the begin-ning of the Arnhem Land art sequence (Haskovec 1992b).This paper may be considered to have two parts. The firstis primarily a reappraisal of Chaloupka's written and illus-trative evidence, and an in-the-field reappraisal of the over-lay sequences at two 'key' sites at Mount Gilruth - he sitesupon which Chaloupka based his original claim. Haskovecconcludes that evidence for the chronological position claimedby Chaloupka does not exist.

In the second part Haskovec reinterprets Chaloupka'sevidence and claims the discovery of new overlay sequenceswhich necessitate a rearranging of the sequence of art styles.He then goes on to suggest absolute dates for this new se-quence and to offer hypotheses to account for some of thechanges in the art.


Documents

Thorley Self Representation