History revisited - problems with tribes

In my last column, I said that Norman Tindale (1974) concluded that the Anaiwan language group occupied the New England Tableland from Guyra and Ben Lomond south to Uralla and Moonbi Range; north to Tingha; at Bendemeer and Armidale. He listed a variety of different spellings of the name: Anaywan, Anewan, Nowan, Enni-won, Yenniwon, Ee-na-won, En-nee-win, Eneewin, Inuwan, Inuwon, Nee-inuwon, Enuin.

While I think that the small locality now known as Armidale was in Anaiwan language territory, there is a huge problem with Tindale’s work, one that bedevils us today. To Tindale, a “tribe” was an entity speaking a common language and occupying a clearly defined territory that could be mapped. In the way Tindale defined it, tribal and language boundaries were identical.

Tindale’s work has been incredibly influential, in part because it can be expressed in defined map terms. It has also been enshrined in things like land rights legislation demanding that Aboriginal people show specific defined connections with land capable of being mapped. It is also reflected in conflicts over things like welcome to country, since this has now become an ownership matter.

This is, in fact, another case of European ideas being imposed on and creating conflict within Aboriginal society.

In traditional Aboriginal life, customary ownership rested with the local group, each speaking its own dialect. Individuals had kin connections with other groups and therefore rights in other territories. Further, there were also customary rights that allowed people to travel or groups to come together. Land ownership was a cobweb of rights and responsibilities.

The Anaiwan language group or nation, to use modern terms, was not a defined entity, but the territory occupied by local groups who spoke a broadly common language and shared cultural links.

In my last column, I suggested that the Tablelands’ language groups were squeezed between powerful neighbours, making them and the territory they occupied the meeting place of multiple nations, the dividing line between the coastal and riverine traditions.

In the north, the Anaiwan language shows powerful Gumbaingirr influences, for Gumbaingirr speaking groups were neighbours, interconnected with the Anaiwan. As we move south, Dainggati influences appear. In the far south of the Tablelands, I suspect that we would find Birpai or Gadhang influences on the Anaiwan language. On the west along the length of the Tablelands, we would find Gamilaraay language connections.

There is a story to be told here, if only we can break from the obsession with who owned what at a point on the map. We can never know for certain, but we now know enough to start to start charting some of the dynamics of traditional Aboriginal life as it played out in the territory that we all now call home.

Note to readers: This post is a column that was scheduled to appear in the Armidale Express Extra on 18 December 2013. It was bumped because of the need to allow a reader a follow up response to my column History revisited - geography plays a role in language. I do not object to that, but am running the column here so that its is available.

You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013.

History revisited - geography plays a role in language

For some time, there has been a dispute about just which Aboriginal language group occupied that small patch of land now known as Armidale. I know that this has caused a degree of confusion among non-Aboriginal people who do not understand either the reasons for, or the significance of, the dispute. For that reason, I thought that I should provide you with some background material over the next few columns.

In this first column I want to start looking at the historical evidence, pointing to some of the dynamic elements involved. I write with caution and with great respect for all those involved. I fully accept that my views may be challenged on the basis of evidence.

To understand the dispute, we need to understand the geography of the Tablelands and surrounding areas and the relationship between that geography and traditional Aboriginal life. We also need to understand that Aboriginal language groups were not single entities, but combinations of local groups each speaking their own tongue that could vary greatly, while also displaying common features across space and time.

If you look at the geography of the Tablelands you can see to the east the coastal river valleys. These were occupied by large and powerful language groups whose territory followed watersheds, extending onto the Tablelands. These groups were not united, but displayed differences between those in the lower and upper valleys. Some modern Aborigines call this the salt water, fresh water divide. It was the upper valley Aborigines who were most closely linked to the Tablelands.

To the west, the geographic barriers between the river valleys are smaller. This allowed one powerful language group, the Kamilaroi or Gamillaraay. to spread so that their territory broadly stretched along the length of the Tablelands.

In geographic terms, the Tablelands stretches north-south, but is much narrower west-east. Further, it was a poorer area in ecological terms than either the coast or western slopes and plains. This made for smaller populations whose territories were relatively narrow in east-west terms, but elongated in north-south terms.

Squeezed between their powerful neighbours, the Tablelands’ language areas were the meeting place of multiple nations, the dividing line between the coastal and riverine traditions. This did not always make for an easy life, with the patterns of interaction including marriage varying greatly from place to place depending on just who the neighbours were.

Writing much later, Norman Tindale (1974) recorded the location of the Anaiwan language group in this mix as occupying the New England tableland from Guyra and Ben Lomond south to Uralla and Moonbi Range; north to Tingha; at Bendemeer and Armidale. He listed a variety of different spellings of the name: Anaywan, Anewan, Nowan, Enni-won, Yenniwon, Ee-na-won, En-nee-win, Eneewin, Inuwan, Inuwon, Nee-inuwon, Enuin

The evidence I have seen broadly supports this conclusion, placing Armidale squarely in Anaiwan territory. I believe that to be true. However, and as you might expect from the geography, the on-ground position was a little more mixed than that.

In my next column, I will look in more detail at the distribution of the Anaiwan language and the relations with other groups.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 11 December 2013. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because the columns are not on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013.

History revisited - bringing to light the advent of electricity

Continuing the story of Armidale’s electricity supply, the tepid response by ratepayers at the October 1920 Council poll on the establishment of an Armidale electricity scheme left Armidale Council in something of a quandary. The enthusiasts still wished to proceed, but how to do it?

By November, a Council committee was investigating the possibility of supplying Armidale from a hydro-electric scheme. The possible use of hydro-electricity to meet electricity needs and to support Northern industrial development was much under discussion at the time.

The chief protagonist was Earle Page, a South Grafton doctor who had just become member for Cowper in the Australian Parliament for the newly formed Country Party. Page was a passionate advocate for Northern development, as well as a key leader in the campaign for self government for Northern New South Wales,

In March 1917, Page had toured hydro-electric projects in Canada and the United States. In 1918, he became mayor of South Grafton. In that role he initiated the Nymboida hydro-electric scheme, as well as pursuing his broader vision of the electrification of Northern New South Wales and Southern Queensland.

Armidale’s electricity protagonists were interested, but cautious. The Nymboida project was still just a project. It would be September 1923 before Page, now Commonwealth Treasurer and Acting Prime Minister, laid the foundation stone, November 1924 before the power was turned on. Then, too, there was the case of Hillgrove.

The mines at Hillgrove required a heavy investment in power to light the mines, carry men and ore up the sheer gorge sides and to operate the processing machinery. The steam engines used consumed large quantities of water and timber. The residents of Hillgrove complained about constant problems in getting access to water supplies monopolised by the mining companies.

Hydro power was seen as the answer. Work began in 1893 on a plant on the Gara River. When the lights of Hillgrove were turned on in late February 1895, Hillgrove became the first town in Australia to be lit by hydro power. There were immediate problems with the small dam size, the wood flumes carrying the water to the power plant and with drought. In the end, the venture would fail, but it showed what was possible, as well as the costs and risks.

By August 1921 when Council had decided that it was all just too hard, salvation came in the form of H A Marshall, a Sydney electrical engineer. At this point, I have very little information on Mr Marshall. That’s a pity, for he is quite an important figure in Armidale’s history.

Mr Marshall was clearly something of an entrepreneur, for on August 12 1921 he presented a proposal to Council construct a generating plant if Council would provide a franchise for electricity supply. This was accepted, and the City of Armidale Electric Supply Company Ltd was formed.

Twelve months later to the day, the new plant built at a cost of £14,000 opened. Armidale was lit.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 4 December 2013. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because the columns are not on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013.

History revisited - city joins the revolution as the world lights up

Armidale, Saturday 12 August 1922. Watched by the crowd gathered inside the works, Mrs Marshall cut the blue ribbon holding a bottle of champagne above the great six ton fly wheel as the 100 horsepower Ruston Hornby suction gas engine began operation. As the band played, the 110 customers of the City of Armidale Electric Supply Company Ltd received their first electricity. 

Almost 34 years earlier, on Friday 9 November 1888, a similar ceremony had been held in Tamworth as that town of 3,000 people turned on its arc and incandescent street lighting, becoming the first town in Australia to be lit by electricity.

It was just ten years since US inventor Thomas Edison had developed the first commercially viable replacement for gas lighting and heating, seven years since the first streets had been lit by electric light in the Surrey town of Godalming.

Despite Tamworth’s early adoption, electricity generation and supply spread quite slowly. By 1906, there were only 46 electric light and power stations throughout Australia with an aggregate capacity of 23,000 kW. Of these, eighteen were operated by municipal or local authorities.

There were practical reasons for this slow spread. Power and lighting was seen as a municipal function. As happened in the City of Sydney, councils who had invested in gas lighting could be reluctant to invest further in or even allow a new and competing lighting supply, Ratepayers, too, were often opposed to any actions that might increase their rates. There were legal difficulties as well, for councils (and private interests, too) did not have the explicit power to act. Individual legislation was required.

There was initial interest in Armidale in electric supply. In 1889, electricity was much mentioned at the public meeting held in Armidale to consider the purchase by Council of the Armidale Gas Works established three years earlier. However, this was a matter for the enthusiasts, and Council decided to proceed with the purchase. Thereafter, interest lapsed.

By the spring of 1920, the establishment of a local electricity scheme was again a matter for debate, this time driven by enthusiastic aldermen. Ratepayer interest can best be described as tepid. After a poorly attended public meeting in October 1920, a subsequent Council poll was just as poorly supported. Scarcely 20 per cent of ratepayers bothered to vote, with 86 in favour of electricity, 53 against.

This tepid response left Council in something of a quandary. The enthusiasts still wished to proceed, but how to do it? Then, just when Council had decided that an electricity scheme was beyond its resources, salvation came unexpectedly.

I will continue this story in my next column.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 27 November 2013. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because the columns are not on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013.

Writing history - organising material 1: record

This series of posts is especially addressed to those who write "big" history, although I hope that they will be useful to others. What do I mean by "big" history? Simply those whose topic(s) cover a wide span\ in space or time, who have to organise a volume of material that sometimes seems beyond them,

They are also addressed to those who, like me, write in multiple formats where you tailor your work to that format and then find that the material you have written is not useful in another and especially more formal format. For example, I write a weekly history column for the Armidale Express, Those columns are directly relevant to one major project, my history of the broader New England over the last 50,000 years.

This is where my present frustration with myself comes in. The columns are only 500 words, yet each year, I write the equivalent of a large honours thesis measured by word length, an MA every two years. Because the columns are for popular consumption, I do not give references, they are compilations and interpretations. But then when I come to use them in later writing, I have a problem: where do I find the sources? Now I have to waste time replicating my work to find the original references.

The lesson? Record your sources even if they are not included in the material you publish. It sounds simple and dumb, but its true!