CHAPTER ONE
Strehlow's problem: colonial transformations and a governmental event
It was November 1937 when anthropologist and patrol officer Ted Strehlow realised he had a problem. He had travelled 130 km through the central Australian desert from Alice Springs to Hermannsburg Mission to investigate an apparent murder that had taken place some weeks earlier at Thira, a sheep camp on the upper Ormiston River. There he found that a forceful and unwanted marriage proposal had sparked a disagreement between a number of people he described as Pintubi and Ngalia. When four Pintubi women began fighting, he was to write, their husbands felt themselves compelled to act. Witjitji and Wantu's husband Kulaia âsprang up and hit Mungana over the head once with a boomerangâ, and Mungana's husband Ngulunta âtook his spear in order to punish Kulaiaâ. Kulaia, in response, seized his own spear and shield. A marital dispute now became, in Strehlow's breathlessly evocative prose, a mystical tribal feud: âThe two men advanced upon each other. It was a moonless night, and the fires were burning low, and midnight was approaching. Everyone in the camp began to stir. Ngulunta threw his spear first, but Kulaia dodged it. The spearâ, Strehlow wrote, âsped onâ, almost becoming an agent of its trajectory, determining its own path. It âburied its point in Tjukutai's left side, just over the hips. Tjukutai had walked across the spear's line of flight a few feet behind Kulaia.â1 Tjukutai, the younger brother of Witjitji and Wantu, died almost immediately and, a few days later, the thrower of that spear, Ngulunta, was himself speared through the left thigh by Nananana, a relative of the deceased.
What, Strehlow wondered, should he do? Encountering the aftermath of this situation, in which Aboriginal people had acted as though unconcerned by the spectre of his authority, he was deeply unsure. He elected to take charge through a demonstration of force, taking all those involved most of the way back to Alice Springs and holding them at the Jay Creek station. But confirming his immediate physical control only amplified his uncertainty. He wrote to his superiors in Darwin to relate the unfolding events and ask if anyone should be charged and tried, whether Ngulunta for the initial murder of Tjukutai, or Nananana for the spearing that followed; a spearing that ought to be understood, he noted, as a lawful Aboriginal response. All these men, Strehlow pointed out, were ârelatively untouched by civilisationâ, and though there were âno real tribal considerationsâ involved, the applicability of settler laws was at least questionable. On the other hand, âthese people had been warned off the settler areas previously, and told to live their own lives in the unoccupied land at Haast's Bluffâ. The problem, he suggested, was one of coexistence; of people and of laws. If Kulaia, Ngulunta, and Nananana wanted to âlive their own livesâ, they would have to do so in their own spaces. And so long as they âcontinue[d] to leave their own tribal territoriesâ in order to âhang around the stations and camps of white menâ, he preferred not to respect their jurisdiction.2
Strehlow's problem derived from his recognition that this was not a simple common-law criminal matter. What he saw was less a lawless mob than it was a people who sustained the operation of Aboriginal laws through practising Aboriginal relationships and remedies. This recognition, framed by his anthropological expertise, was characteristic of the colonising practice of indirect rule. But he was uncertain about its consequences. How could Aboriginal laws be incorporated into the government of the Northern Territory? Were there limits to the reach of settler legal force? These are questions that appear anomalous to today's observer. Though historians of Australia have turned in recent years to the study of legal pluralism, it has generally been supposed that questions of jurisdiction had largely been settled by what Lisa Ford termed the âjuridical death of Aboriginal peopleâ in the 1830s. As Heather Douglas and Mark Finnane extensively illustrate, this âjuridical deathâ was a settler fantasy which has incited continued struggle over the scope of law and sovereignty. But for them, the âprotracted struggle over what it might mean to assert jurisdiction over the Indigenous peoples of the Australian colonial territories was a nineteenth-century storyâ.3 Strehlow's problem reminds us of the continuing renegotiation of such matters. At heart, his problem emerged from the puzzle of government in a territory ruled by Australian settlers who encountered peoples who ruled themselves; peoples who appeared, in all important aspects, to be practising sovereignty. How, Strehlow essentially asked, was he to govern a people who were self-governing, who had their own laws? How could they be fixed in place, and where, and under what circumstances could their laws be both recognised and respected? How could government be ordered?4
These were questions being asked across the Northern Territory as in other sites across the British Empire. The problems that produced them were not universal problems of colonial government, but nor were they unique: Strehlow's uncertainty was far from his alone. It was to be found everywhere administrators sought to work with indirect rule, an art of government that became a standard in the interwar period and which we can trace from Fiji and Northern Nigeria to London and ultimately, in this study, to the Ormiston River in the Northern Territory. This part of Australia was far from the halls of colonial power in London or Lagos, distant and marginal to the British Empire as a whole and rarely considered by historians as a site for the elaboration of techniques of colonial government. But it represents a valuable entry point into considering the nature and implications of this moment in British colonialism.
This book charts the turn to indirect rule as a practice of governing the Northern Territory in the 1930s. As a series of developing crises in Australia's north accrued and condensed, the Australian Government was compelled to reform its administration of ânative affairsâ in the Northern Territory. Forced to reckon with Aboriginal manoeuvring and confounding acts, the official mind of Australian settler colonialism was pushed to recognise that Aboriginal social reproduction was not a threat to the fabrication of a new society in the north; in fact, it was indispensable.5 This recognition, and the 1938 policy reform that was its product, signified the reception of indirect rule; a political rationality that identified ânative societyâ as its subject, and the art of incorporating it, in some form, into the colonial state. It imagined government as dispersed, as the work of conducting customary institutions and traditional laws to articulate native society with colonial interests, ordering by striving not to dissolve but to preserve apparently intact but vulnerable traditional societies.
In telling this story, this book traces the emergence of several crises of north Australian settler colonialism: material, administrative, and of public power. The hegemony of the Northern Territory administration was failing, frustrated by the intensifying contradictory forces at work in a capitalist social formation whose main industry was reliant on super-exploited unfree Aboriginal labour, and not least by Aboriginal people's continuing practice of sovereignty in ways that confounded settler colonialism. The future of the Northern Territory seemed bleak. In response, government administrators and policymakers turned to the newly archetypal response to colonial crises, displacing instability onto native precariousness or recalcitrance, a move being made elsewhere across the Empire. By the 1930s, we can observe indirect rule in northern Australia on the cusp of enunciation; a product of the settler idea that Aboriginal people in the Northern Territory could best be governed by reference to an imperial repertoire of âgoverning nativesâ.
The art of indirect rule
In taking indirect rule seriously as a governing art, this book departs from the historical orthodoxy that reduces it to specific constitutional arrangements. Historians usually take a formalistic understanding of Frederick Lugard's Nigerian model of indirect rule as the archetype, describing it in terms of the colonial state's mobilisation of chiefly or Indigenous authority, or its recognition of local sovereignty and use of traditional authorities to govern. Margery Perham, Lugard's friend and biographer, described it as a âsystem by which the tutelary power recognizes existing African societies and assists them to adapt themselves to the functions of local governmentâ.6 Such accounts set out an instrumental practice of delegation which robs indirect rule of any ideological specificity, culminating in Frederick Cooper's argument that Lugard's work was little more than âan attempt to make retreat sound like policyâ.7 But to accept the argument that indirect rule represented a âretreatâ from the ambition of remaking Africa is to suggest that Lugard's work comprised simply popularising and advocating what was merely a necessary response to limits on colonial power. It presumes rather than questions the constitution of the colonial field. The limits âfoundâ and the scope of ânecessaryâ responses did not emerge naturally. This book argues instead that they were effects of a mid-nineteenth-century ideological turn to understand empire differently, a turn that both influenced and was transformed by Lugard.8
This turn, which Coel Kirkby describes as the âbirth of the nativeâ, can be traced through the wake of the 1857 Indian Rebellion. Responding to this crisis of order, the colonial jurist Henry Maine produced his influential theory of traditional society as simultaneously internally coherent and resting in equilibrium, and yet so fragile that almost any contact with âmodernâ society produced disintegration. For Karuna Mantena, this was the ontology that underpinned what Mahmood Mamdani has argued became the central problem of colonial government in Africa: that of maintaining order while governing intact yet vulnerable native societies. And this problem was managed by the institution of a racially bifurcated state, where citizens were governed by a civic law while the ânativeâ arm of the state mobilised ethnically or tribally constituted bodies of customary law.9 When colonial governors wrote of their practice, or when they surveyed the colonial field, they wrote of discovering limits, of the seemingly permanent intransigence of native society, and of the need for a practice â a new mode of governmentality they termed ânative administrationâ â that might manage, if not overcome, this difference. Disavowing the fundamentally productive nature of their work, they wrote of recognition, not invention; of mobilisation rather than transformation. But the colonial field they âfoundâ took form in the official mind through the ontology of native society, revealing a disjuncture between the writing and the practice of indirect rule.10 Africans understood themselves to be Hausa or Yoruba, or of any number of complementary or intersecting identities, in diverse ways with different implications. But there was no ânative societyâ prior to its identification in white writing and white imaginations. Recognition conjures its object.11
As Mamdani identifies, to govern tribes individual people needed to be made tribal. Indirect rule was, then, a practice of subjectivation, constituting and maintaining tribal subjects. Lugard, as writer, instead framed the colonial field as one populated by tribes prior to the imperial moment. He imagined native society not as an artefact of the encounter between African peoples and British colonisation but as both a limit and an incitement to colonial power, as a social body whose potential could be harnessed to the colonial social formation. This book thus begins its account of indirect rule in Chapter 2 not with constitutional arrangements but with what David Scott has described as âcolonial governmentalityâ; a complex of power and knowledge that produces the âtargets of colonial power ⌠and the field of its operationâ as âeffects of ruleâ.12
Reading administratorsâ writing critically, we find that indirect rule appears in their works as a whole way of thinking and acting in relation to colonial rule, with specific objects and ends of government. This book identifies two key elements to indirect rule: the tribe, a representation of âtraditional societyâ as its subject and object; and the management of that tribe by conducting social forces to guide customary social institutions. In the language of the South African Native Economic Commiss...