Review of Libby Connors Warrior 2016

‫۫ۙ۝۪ۙېڷۘۢٷ۠ۧۢۙۙ۩ۏ‬ ‫ٮېۏ‪ۛҖ‬ۦۣ‪ۘۛۙғ‬۝ۦۖۡٷۗ‪۠ۧғ‬ٷۢۦ۩ۣ۞‪ҖҖ‬ۃۤۨۨۜ‬ ‫‪ỀẰẰẹẾặẬẹắΝẰềẴẰỂ‬ڷۦۣۚڷۧۙۗ۝۪ۦۙۧڷ۠ٷۣۢ۝ۨ۝ۘۘۆ‬ ‫ۙۦۙۜڷ۟ۗ۝۠‪Ө‬ڷۃۧۨۦۙ۠ٷڷ۠۝ٷۡٮ‬ ‫ۙۦۙۜڷ۟ۗ۝۠‪Ө‬ڷۃۣۧۢ۝ۨۤ۝ۦۗۧۖ۩ۑ‬ ‫ۙۦۙۜڷ۟ۗ۝۠‪Ө‬ڷۃۧۨۢ۝ۦۤۙۦڷ۠ٷ۝ۗۦۣۙۡۡ‪Ө‬‬ ‫ۙۦۙۜڷ۟ۗ۝۠‪Ө‬ڷۃڷۙۧ۩ڷۣۚڷۧۡۦۙے‬ ‫‪ẢẬẽẽẴẺẽΝΝặẰẲẰẹắẬẽỄΝặẰẬắẰẽΥẾΝắẽẬẸẬếẴẮΝặẴằẰΝẬẹắΝềẴẺặẰẹếΝắẰẬếẳ‬ڷۃۧۦۣۣۢۢ‪Ө‬ڷۺۖۖ۝ۋ‬ ‫ۀڽہۀڷۂڷ‪ψІ‬ۑٲڷۃ‪ۤۤғ‬ڷہڿھڷۃ‪Ң‬ڽڼھڷۃۢ۝۫ۢۓڷڽڷۢۙ۠۠ۆڷۃۺۙۢۘۺۑڷۃ‪ẺẹΝếẳẰΝẮẺặẺẹẴẬặΝằẽẺẹếẴẰẽ‬‬ ‫‪ғ‬ۂۂ‪ғ‬ھڿڻےڷۃھہۀڼڷڽڽڼڿ‬ ‫ۧۘۦٷۜۗ۝ېڷۢٷۜۨٷۣۢ‪Ђ‬‬ ‫ڼڼڽڷ‪Ғ‬ڷۂۂڷۤۤڷۃڿڽڼھڷۙۢ۩‪Ђ‬ڷ‪Җ‬ڷڽڼڷۙ۩ۧۧٲڷ‪Җ‬ڷڿھڷۙۡ۩ۣ۠۔ڷ‪Җ‬ڷ۫ۙ۝۪ۙېڷۘۢٷ۠ۧۢۙۙ۩ۏ‬ ‫ڿڽڼھڷۺٷیڷڽڿڷۃۙۢ۝ۣ۠ۢڷۘۙۜۧ۝۠ۖ۩ێڷۃھڽ‪ғ‬ڿڽڼھ‪ۙғ‬ۦۥ‪Җ‬ۀڽڼڽ‪ғ‬ڼڽڷۃٲۍ‪ө‬‬ ‫ﯥھڽڼڼڼڿڽڿڿڽہڽھڿڽۑٵۨۗٷۦۨۧۖٷ‪ۛҖ‬ۦۣ‪ۘۛۙғ‬۝ۦۖۡٷۗ‪۠ۧғ‬ٷۢۦ۩ۣ۞‪ҖҖ‬ۃۤۨۨۜڷۃۙ۠ۗ۝ۨۦٷڷۧ۝ۜۨڷۣۨڷ۟ۢ۝ۋ‬ ‫ۃۙ۠ۗ۝ۨۦٷڷۧ۝ۜۨڷۙۨ۝ۗڷۣۨڷۣ۫ٱ‬ ‫ھڽ‪ғ‬ڿڽڼھ‪ۙғ‬ۦۥ‪Җ‬ۀڽڼڽ‪ғ‬ڼڽۃ۝ۣۘڷڼڼڽ‪Ғ‬ۂۂڷۤۤڷۃڿھڷۃ۫ۙ۝۪ۙېڷۘۢٷ۠ۧۢۙۙ۩ۏڷ‪ғ‬ۀڿڽڼھڿڷۧۘۦٷۜۗ۝ېڷۢٷۜۨٷۣۢ‪Ђ‬‬ ‫ۙۦۙۜڷ۟ۗ۝۠‪Ө‬ڷۃڷۣۧۢ۝ۧۧ۝ۡۦۙێڷۨۧۙ۩ۥۙې‬ ‫ڿڽڼھڷۢ۩‪Ђ‬ڷڽڼڷۣۢڷہۂ‪ғ‬ھۀ‪ғ‬ھڼڽ‪ғ‬ڼڿڽڷۃۧۧۙۦۘۘٷڷێٲڷۃٮېۏ‪ۛҖ‬ۦۣ‪ۘۛۙғ‬۝ۦۖۡٷۗ‪۠ۧғ‬ٷۢۦ۩ۣ۞‪ҖҖ‬ۃۤۨۨۜڷۣۡۦۚڷۘۙۘٷۣۣ۠ۢ۫‪ө‬‬ Book reviews David Malouf’s oeuvre includes acclaimed works of fiction, poetry and nonfiction that have contributed significantly to Australian and international cultural life for almost half a century. The occasional pieces collected in these three volumes add to his oeuvre by providing another view of the writer and the man we see on stage at writers’ festivals and public lectures. There is much that can be done with these pieces to better understand not only David Malouf and his writing, but also the culture from which the man and his work have emerged. It is our turn to ‘honour the gift with our affectionate gratitude’, and continue the conversation that the writer has initiated within the boards of these three important books. Roger Osborne University of Queensland [email protected] doi 10.1017/qre.2016.12 Libby Connors, Warrior: A legendary leader’s dramatic life and violent death on the colonial frontier , Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 2015, 268 pp., ISBN 9 7817 6011 0482, $32.99. As most historians know well, Queensland was once part of New South Wales, so the pre-Separation history of the colony is an important period. Unfortunately, not enough work has been done on the ‘Queensland’ frontier before 1859, and many details remain obscure or unknown. Libby Connors’ excellent new book has changed that situation, providing Queenslanders with a remarkably detailed and well-researched account of Brisbane’s early race relations history. There is no longer any excuse for ‘not knowing’ what happened to Aboriginal people in the state’s south-east in those first years of contact. Colonists became silent on the killing of Aboriginal people after the Myall Creek massacre of 1838. Many Australians (including most Queenslanders) did not learn at school about this ‘terror’, and some still deny that it happened. Connors insightfully notes that the prosecution of Aboriginal resistance-fighters, held in Brisbane during the 1850s, was just as important as the Myall Creek massacre trials. Dundalli, the central character in Warrior, was treated as a criminal, and publicly executed in Brisbane for defending his country against European incursion. Connors argues: The formal processes of the British court had effectively rendered traditional law and authority invisible. Within its walls Dundalli, a traditional lawman, was recast as a criminal, and his enforcement of its customs as ferocious savagery. (2015: 190) This simple fact, which lies at the heart of this book, still remains largely unknown. We celebrate those who died overseas defending Australia, but not those who fell here defending their country against invasion. Dundalli was obliged by traditional law to defend his country. The criminalisation of Aboriginal warriors by colonists was a deliberate strategy that stands Queensland Review 99 Book reviews in contrast to a curious reluctance to acknowledge that any actual violence was occurring. The Colonial Office refused to define conflict with Aboriginal people as war, even though Brisbane’s European residents still lived with a siege mentality a quarter of a century after white settlement. Signs of colonists’ fear of ‘Aboriginal attack’ can readily be found throughout records of Queensland’s first half-century. Criminalising Aboriginal resistance meant that white violence could be used without fear of retribution. It began under the rule of New South Wales and continued after Queensland’s Separation. Governors, Colonial Secretaries and Ministers of the Crown in both colonies knew of the violence, and of those who had witnessed ‘unlawfully killing’, yet officials showed no real interest in stopping the violence on the frontier. This is our colonial birthmark. What was the long-term effect of this sustained and widely distributed legal violence? Killing and removing Aboriginal people helped to encourage a fiction of an unoccupied and undeveloped land, simply waiting for the application of European industry. As Connors notes, this myth grew alongside the ‘ideological cloak that smothered, and silenced Aboriginal legality’ (2015: 191). Elsewhere, Connors carefully scrutinises the actions of early missionaries in the Moreton Bay district, and the impact of their activities and competing theological points of view on rival Aboriginal groups. She has written a highly readable narrative that interweaves the actions and thoughts of colonisers and colonised, carefully exposing the internal differences and frictions on each side of the shifting frontier. Connors’s use of original records, rather than published works, is to be highly commended. Too many books on Queensland history either repeat old myths or fail to accurately identify the relevant primary sources. Connors’s research is an example for all Queensland historians. This is a book that deserves to be studied in every high school in Brisbane. Jonathan Richards University of Queensland [email protected] doi 10.1017/qre.2016.13 Yorick Smaal, Sex, soldiers and the South Pacific, 1939–45: Queer identities in Australia in the Second World War, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015, ISBN 9 7811 3736 5132, 250 pp., A$119.95. In the epilogue to his excellent new book, Sex, Soldiers and the South Pacific, 1939–45, Yorick Smaal quotes the late Bruce Ruxton, former president of Victoria’s Returned Services League. In 1982, objecting to the inclusion of openly gay veterans at a memorial event, Ruxton argued, ‘I don’t know where all these gays and poofters are coming from. I don’t remember a single poofter from World War II’ (cited in Smaal 2015: 172). To those of us who remember Ruxton’s time as a very public figure in Australia, the quote is unsurprising. Ruxton was notorious for this kind of statement. His sentiments neatly encapsulate, however, the presumptive heterosexuality of that venerated figure in our national imagination: the Aussie digger. 100 Queensland Review