Tasmanian Aboriginal resistance warriors battled against overwhelming power, but have no recognition

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4 days ago

It evokes one of the most powerful scenes in Tasmanian history.
On January 7, 1832, the last 16 Aboriginal warriors from the Oyster Bay-Big River resistance walked down Elizabeth Street in Hobart, spears in hand.
WARNING: Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised that this article contains images of a person who has died.
The warriors were on their way to meet governor George Arthur at Government House to finalise an armistice, bringing an end to the largest domestic military offensive in Australian history.
The Black Line.
The leader of the Aboriginal resistance to this show of force was Tongerlongeter, a man who paid the ultimate price for defending everything he ever knew against the overwhelming might of British colonial power.
"He'd lost nearly everyone he'd ever loved, his first wife had been abducted, never to be seen again," Dr Clements said.
"He'd lost his child. He'd lost his arm in battle.
Tongerlongeter — like others defending their lands against the world's most powerful empire — is not recognised in statues, memorials or plaques.
The scene could not have been more different than one from 60 years earlier, when European explorers first started landing in Van Diemen's Land.
Dr Clements describes these explorers as curious and generally well-intentioned towards Aboriginal people — compared with what was to come.
As colonial expansion rapidly increased by the 1820s, there was soon conflict.
The kidnap of women and girls by sealers and some settlers, and the competition for scarce resources, like kangaroos, saw the start of more organised Aboriginal resistance taking in multiple bands, led by men like Tongerlongeter.
"Tongerlongeter was defending his homeland, but there were more proximate causes. For example, the systematic abduction, rape, and murder of Aboriginal women and children," Dr Clements said.
Aboriginal people would attack solitary huts during the day, while Europeans would attack at night, Dr Clement said.
Then came the Black Line — the conscription of 2,200 soldiers, convicts and settlers to capture the remaining Aboriginal people.
While the campaign itself was largely unsuccessful, the show of force proved overwhelming to Tongerlongeter.
Historic records show he suffered a catastrophic injury to his arm, requiring amputation by his comrades without anaesthetic, the bone ground smooth with rock before the wound was cauterised.
The group agreed to an armistice, or truce, but in their ultimate meeting in Hobart, Dr Clements notes that governor Arthur did not keep records of what was discussed.
Tongerlongeter and the others were exiled to Flinders Island, losing his only child on the way.
But he continued to be a leader while in exile, before dying of illness in 1837, aged 47.
"We just need to get over this sense that this wasn't a legitimate war and that these people don't deserve the same sort of recognition as those who fought in our overseas conflicts," Dr Clements said.
"It should be a conversation for all Tasmanians so that we can all feel a part of this because, after all, someone like Tongerlongeter, we can all admire a man like that.
The idea of women and girls being kidnapped from their families to live with sealers on remote islands is something that Nala Mansell often reflects on.
It was the reality faced by Walyer — a young north-west Tasmanian Aboriginal in the 1820s.
"Her childhood would have included freedom, culture, being taught by her elders," Ms Mansell said.
"I can only imagine the terror that she would have felt … being captured and kidnapped and taken to a foreign island with white men that she'd never seen before.
Walyer was known for her determined attitude and cunning nature, likely driven by the trauma she had experienced. She observed the use of firearms by her captors, and was able to escape.
Walyer engaged in forms of violent resistance; Ms Mansell said she led others in helping to cause terror among white settlers in Tasmania's north.
She was again taken to remote islands, where her resistance continued to the end.
"I just think she embodies the Palawa spirit," Ms Mansell said.
Walyer — and the other women and girls kidnapped during the Tasmanian colonial period — are also not physically recognised in the state.
The Tasmanian government this week announced it was no longer pursuing a treaty with the state's Aboriginal people and would instead establish a truth-telling and healing commission.
There was previously a push, which included the RSL, to establish a memorial to the frontier conflict near the cenotaph in Hobart, but this ultimately did not go ahead.
Tasmania is also the only state that does not have an Aboriginal-run cultural centre, originally proposed for Macquarie Point, but now also cancelled.
Instead, plaques and monuments — such as one that celebrates Abel Tasmania for his "discovery" of Tasmania — have prominent positions, remaining a source of frustration for the Aboriginal community.
That plaque sits on the public-facing side of a government building in Launceston, used as offices for the Tasmanian premier.
Ms Mansell said stories of Aboriginal resistance are vital for Tasmanians to be aware of and to reflect on.
"It's up to the state government or the local councils who have the ability and the funds to be able to install some type of acknowledgement, but to work without the Aboriginal community so that we can find ways to honour and celebrate Aboriginal people," she said.
In a statement earlier this week, Aboriginal Affairs Minister Jacquie Petrusma said the truth-telling and healing commissioners would promote respect and self-determination.
"It is a critical and necessary step towards recognising past injustices, gaining a greater understanding of the contemporary challenges being faced by Tasmanian Aboriginal people, and making real progress in healing the wounds of the past," she said.