Journal articles on the topic 'Aboriginal Australians Victoria'

This study is an acoustic investigation of voice quality in Australian English. The speech of 33 Indigenous Australians (Aboriginal English speakers) is compared to that of 28 Anglo Australians [Mainstream Australian English (MAE) speakers] from two rural locations in Victoria. Analysis of F0 and H1*-H2* reveals that pitch and voice quality differ significantly for male speakers according to dialect and for female speakers according to location. This study highlights previously undescribed phonetic and sociophonetic variability in voice quality in Australian English.

Objective This study aimed to explore the relationships between experiences of perceived racism, mental health and drug and alcohol use among Aboriginal Australians. Method Sixty-two Aboriginal Australians, ranging in age from 19-64 years (Mage = 33.71, SD = 12.47) and residing in Victoria completed an online questionnaire containing measures of perceived racism, alcohol use, substance use and mental health. Results First, 66% of the sample reported experiencing interpersonal racism, with the highest proportion of reported experiences occurring in health settings, educational/academic settings and by staff of government agencies. Second, perceived racism was significantly associated with poorer mental health and well-being. Finally, while perceived racism was not significantly associated with substance use, there was an indirect pathway from perceived racism to substance use through mental health concerns. Conclusions The current research indicates that racism is still frequently experienced by Aboriginal Australians and is directly associated with poorer mental health, and indirectly with substance use through poorer mental health. The findings demonstrate a clear need for further research in this area.

Objective There continue to be disparate health outcomes for people who are Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander. The aim of the present study was to measure whether there were any differences in in-patient experiences between Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people and those without an Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander background. Methods Random samples of people were invited to complete a survey following admission at the hospitals at Peninsula Health, Victoria, Australia. This survey was based on the Victorian Patient Satisfaction Monitor. Open-ended questions were also asked to gauge perspectives on how the services could better meet needs of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander patients. Results A total of 154 responses was obtained. There were differences between the two groups of participants in the following variables: respect of privacy, representation of culture, assistance with meals and access to a culturally specific worker if needed. This was reflected in thematic analysis, with three main themes identified: (1) interactions with staff; (2) the challenging environment; and (3) not just about me, but my family too. Conclusion There were systemic differences in in-patient experiences. Healthcare services have a responsibility to make systemic changes to improve the health care of all Australians by understanding and reforming how services can be appropriately delivered. What is known about the topic? There is a disparity in health outcomes between Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians and those who do not identify as Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islander. In addition, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders have different interactions within healthcare services. Many rural health services have models that aim to deliver culturally appropriate services, but it is unknown whether the same challenges apply for this group of Australians within metropolitan health services. What does this paper add? This paper identifies the structural supports that are required to help close the gap in health care provision inequality. Many of the key issues identified are not people but system based. Healthcare administrators should consider the factors identified and address these at a whole-of-service level. What are the implications for practitioners? Many practitioners are aware of the challenges of providing culturally appropriate services. This research raises awareness of how traditional healthcare is not a one size fits all and flexibility is required to improve health outcomes.

ObjectivesAboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians have a substantially greater fracture risk, where men are 50% and women are 26% more likely to experience a hip fracture compared with non-Indigenous Australians. Fall-related injuries in this population have also increased by 10%/year compared with 4.3%/year in non-Indigenous Australians. This study aims to determine why falls and fracture risk are higher in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians.SettingAll clinical assessments will be performed at one centre in Melbourne, Australia. At baseline, participants will have clinical assessments, including questionnaires, anthropometry, bone structure, body composition and physical performance tests. These assessments will be repeated at follow-up 1 and follow-up 2, with an interval of 12 months between each clinical visit.ParticipantsThis codesigned prospective observational study aims to recruit a total of 298 adults who identify as Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander and reside within Victoria, Australia. Stratified sampling by age and sex will be used to ensure equitable distribution of men and women across four age-bands (35–44, 45–54, 55–64 and 65+ years).Primary and secondary outcome measuresThe primary outcome is within-individual yearly change in areal bone mineral density at the total hip, femoral neck and lumbar spine assessed by dual energy X-ray absorptiometry. Within-individual change in cortical and trabecular volumetric bone mineral density at the radius and tibia using high-resolution peripheral quantitative computed tomography will be determined. Secondary outcomes include yearly differences in physical performance and body composition.Ethical approvalEthics approval for this study has been granted by the Monash Health Human Research Ethics Committee (project number: RES-19–0000374A).Trial registration numberACTRN12620000161921.

Purpose The purpose of this paper is to examine the ways in which the mobility of indigenous people in Victoria during the 1960s enabled them to resist the policy of assimilation as evident in the structures of schooling. It argues that the ideology of assimilation was pervasive in the Education Department’s approach to Aboriginal education and inherent in the curriculum it produced for use in state schools. This is central to the construction of the state of Victoria as being devoid of Aboriginal people, which contributes to a particularly Victorian perspective of Australia’s national identity in relation to indigenous people and culture. Design/methodology/approach This paper utilises the state school records of the Victorian Department of Education, as well as the curriculum documentation and resources the department produced. It also examines the records of the Aborigines Welfare Board. Findings The Victorian Education Department’s curriculum constructed a narrative of learning and schools which denied the presence of Aboriginal children in classrooms, and in the state of Victoria itself. These representations reflect the Department and the Victorian Government’s determination to deny the presence of Aboriginal children, a view more salient in Victoria than elsewhere in the nation due to the particularities of how Aboriginality was understood. Yet the mobility of Aboriginal students – illustrated in this paper through a case study – challenged both the representations of Aboriginal Victorians, and the school system itself. Originality/value This paper is inspired by the growing scholarship on Indigenous mobility in settler-colonial studies and offers a new perspective on assimilation in Victoria. It interrogates how curriculum intersected with the position of Aboriginal students in Victorian state schools, and how their position – which was often highly mobile – was influenced by the practices of assimilation, and by Aboriginal resistance and responses to assimilationist practices in their lives. This paper contributes to histories of assimilation, Aboriginal history and education in Victoria.

Abstract The paper, focused on a few years at the end of the First World War, explores the request of a group of Aborigines in the Australian state of Victoria for freedom of religion. Given that the colony and now state of Victoria had been a stronghold of liberalism, the need for Indigenous Victorians to petition for the removal of outside restrictions on their religious beliefs or practices might seem surprising indeed. But with a Pentecostal revival in train on the mission stations to which many Aborigines were confined, members of the government agency, the Board for the Protection of the Aborigines, preferred the decorum of mainstream Protestant church services to potentially unsettling expressions of charismatic and experiential spirituality. The circumstances surrounding the revivalists’ resistance to the restriction of Aboriginal Christians’ choice of religious expression offer insight into the intersections of faith and gender within the historically created relations of power in this colonial site. Though the revival was extinguished, it stood as a notable instance of Indigenous Victorian women deploying the language of Christian human rights to assert the claims to just treatment and social justice that would characterize later successful Indigenous activism.

Purpose – Aboriginal communities in Australia must have mapping information and technology to effectively and independently administer their land holdings and to define, evidence and thus protect their community and cultural identity. The purpose of this paper is to report on a pilot project that developed a customisable education programme to support Indigenous communities in the uptake of spatial mapping technologies to protect and manage cultural heritage in Victoria, Australia. Design/methodology/approach – A training programme to support Wadawurrung capabilities in spatial mapping technologies was developed, delivered and evaluated. Concurrently, the system's database was indigenised by Wadawurrung cultural heritage workers. Types and numbers of culturally significant sites mapped using the technologies were collated. The impact of the training and technologies for students and the Wadawurrung community was gauged through participation levels and evaluations. The approach to indigenous spatial mapping projects is informed by postcolonial theories interrogating neo-colonialist cartographic practices. Findings – Indigenous communities need to be resourced in the uptake of spatial mapping technologies and if universities are going to be involved in co-developing positive learning experiences that encourage the uptake of the technologies, they must have appropriate and respectful relationships with Aboriginal communities. Training programmes need to accommodate learners with diverse educational experiences and technological wherewithal. Research limitations/implications – Findings from the training evaluations are based on a small number of participants; however, they seem to be supported by literature. Practical implications – The education model developed is customisable for any Indigenous community in Australia. Social implications – The social and political importance of spatial mapping technologies for Indigenous Australians is evident as is the need for educational providers to have appropriate and respectful relationships with Aboriginal communities to co-develop positive learning experiences that encourage the uptake of the technologies. Originality/value – The Wadawurrung Dya Baap Ngobeeyt Cultural Heritage Mapping and Management Project developed practical strategies to build community capacity in Aboriginal Cultural Heritage Management and Protection. The educational programme developed supported learners to use technologies in cultural heritage management. Data were collected using community-developed fields for inclusion and culturally appropriate encryption of data.

Established as a British Colony in 1835, Victoria was considered the leader in Australian indigenous administration—the first colony to legislate for the “protection” and legal victualing of Aborigines, and the first to collect statistical data on their decline and anticipated disappearance. The official record, however, excludes the data that can explain the Aborigines' stunning recovery. A painstaking investigation combining family histories; Victoria's birth, death, and marriage registrations; and census and archival records provides this information. One startling finding is that the surviving Aboriginal population is descended almost entirely from those who were under the protection of the colonial state.

AbstractObjectiveThe present study aimed to explore how Australian local governments prioritise the health and well-being of Aboriginal populations and the extent to which nutrition is addressed by local government health policy.DesignIn the state of Victoria, Australia, all seventy-nine local governments’ public health policy documents were retrieved. Inclusion of Aboriginal health and nutrition in policy documents was analysed using quantitative content analysis. Representation of Aboriginal nutrition ‘problems’ and ‘solutions’ was examined using qualitative framing analysis. The socio-ecological framework was used to classify the types of Aboriginal nutrition issues and strategies within policy documents.SettingVictoria, Australia.SubjectsLocal governments’ public health policy documents (n79).ResultsA small proportion (14 %,n11) of local governments addressed Aboriginal health and well-being in terms of nutrition. Where strategies aimed at nutrition existed, they mostly focused on individual factors rather than the broader macroenvironment.ConclusionsA limited number of Victorian local governments address nutrition as a health issue for their Aboriginal populations in policy documents. Nutrition needs to be addressed as a community and social responsibility rather than merely an individual ‘behaviour’. Partnerships are required to ensure Aboriginal people lead government policy development.

This article examines what kinds of policy reforms are required to reduce incarceration rates of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people through a case study of policy in the Australian state of Victoria. This state provides a good example of a jurisdiction with policies focused upon, and developed in partnership with, Aboriginal communities in Victoria, but which despite this has steadily increasing incarceration rates of Indigenous people. The case study consisted of a qualitative analysis of two key justice sector policies focused upon the Indigenous community in Victoria and interviews with key justice sector staff. Case study results are analysed in terms of primary, secondary, and tertiary crime prevention; the social determinants of Indigenous health; and recommended actions from the Ottawa Charter for Health Promotion. Finally, recommendations are made for future justice sector policies and approaches that may help to reduce the high levels of incarceration of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people.

Purpose – The purpose of this paper is to explore representations of Aboriginal people, in particular children, in the Victorian government’s school reader The School Paper, from the end of the Second World War until its publication ceased in 1968. The author interrogates these representations within the framework of pedagogies of citizenship training and the development of national identity, to reveal the role Aboriginal people and their culture were accorded within the “imagined community” of Australian nationhood and its heritage and history. Design/methodology/approach – The paper draws on the rich material available in the Victorian Department of Education’s school reader, The School Paper, from 1946 to 1968 (when the publication ceased), and on the Department’s annual reports. These are read within the context of scholarship on race, education and citizenship formation in the post-war years. Findings – State government policies of assimilation following the Second World War tied in with pedagogies and curricula regarding citizenship and belonging, which became a key focus of education departments following the Second World War. The informal pedagogies of The School Paper’s representations of Aboriginal children and their families, the author argues, excluded Aboriginal communities from understandings of Australian nationhood, and from conceptions of the ideal Australian citizen-in-formation. Instead, representations of Aboriginal people relegated them to the outdoors in ways that racialised Australian spaces: Aboriginal cultures are portrayed as historical yet timeless, linked with the natural/native rather than civic/political environment. Originality/value – This paper builds on scholarship on the relationship between education, reading pedagogies and citizenship formation in Australia in the post-war years to develop our knowledge of how conceptions of the ideal Australian citizen of the future – that is, Australian students – were inherently racialised. It makes a new contribution to scholarship on the assimilation project in Australia, through revealing the relationship between government policies towards Aboriginal people and the racial and cultural qualities being taught in Australian schools.

Background: It is recommended that Australian women aged 50-74 have a breast screen every two years. Aboriginal women have lower breast screening participation than the general population, and face barriers at a system, service and individual level including: • Cultural: lack of cultural awareness/safety at screening services • Fear: historical apprehension about health services due to the after effects of colonization and intergenerational trauma • Shame: feeling embarrassment/shame at being undressed in front of a stranger • Past experience: having a past unpleasant breast screen, or hearing about someone else' • Knowledge: lack of knowledge about screening • Logistics: not knowing service provider locations or limited access to transport During a 2016 project between BreastScreen Victoria (BSV) and Women's Health West, Aboriginal women discussed the need for a shawl to cover them during screening. This idea is based on a successful New Zealand model. Based on this, the Victorian Aboriginal Health Service (VAHS), Victorian Aboriginal Community Controlled Health Organization (VACCHO) and BSV formed a partnership to trial a breast screening shawl with Aboriginal women. A key principle underpinning the project is that success will reflect the degree to which this is an Aboriginal-led initiative, driven by the needs of Aboriginal women, and steered by community-based Aboriginal health organizations. Project aims: • Assess whether a cultural, strength based screening process increases engagement of Aboriginal women • Determine whether a screening shawl enhances comfort and culturally safety • Encourage breast screening services to develop culturally safe screening practices • Develop a flexible model that can be easily adapted by other Aboriginal health services to reproduce the shawl, in recognition of the diversity of Aboriginal communities Methods: This project adopted the following strategies: • A project steering group was established • The shawl will be trialled via a group booking at one BSV clinic • Before the group booking, BSV clinic staff will attend culturally safety training • On the trial day, women will attend an information session at VAHS about breast screening and receive their shawl, travel to the BSV clinic together for screening, and return to VAHS to discuss their experiences Results: The trial will be fully evaluated in 2018 to determine whether project aims were achieved. Conclusion: Key learnings to date are: • Breast screening interventions for Aboriginal women must be community-led to ensure they are culturally appropriate, safe and acceptable • Aboriginal women face a number of barriers to breast screening at a system, service and individual level • Health services play a critical role in adopting culturally safe screening practices • Developing a flexible model that can be easily adapted by other Aboriginal health services is critical in ensuring the sustainability and acceptability of the shawl.

Background and context: Cancer survival rates in Australia are among the best in the world, yet Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander (indigenous) people continue to experience disparities in the distribution and burden of cancer, and unwarranted variations in outcomes. Indigenous Australians are 40% more likely to die of cancer than non-Indigenous Australians. Cancer Australia developed the National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Cancer Framework (the framework), which identified 7 national priorities to address disparities in cancer outcomes experienced by indigenous Australians. An ongoing collaboration with indigenous Australians was integral to developing this shared agenda. Priority 5 in the framework highlights the need to ensure indigenous Australians affected by cancer receive optimal and culturally appropriate treatment, services, and supportive and palliative care. Aim: To improve cancer outcomes for indigenous Australians through the development and national endorsement of a population-specific Optimal Care Pathway (OCP) to guide the delivery of consistent, safe, high-quality, culturally appropriate and evidence-based care. Strategy/Tactics: Cancer Australia formed a partnership with the Victorian Department of Health and Human Services (DHHS) to address Priority 5 and develop the OCP. The approach to development was underpinned by Cancer Australia's Model of Engagement for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander People and guided by the national Leadership Group on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Cancer Control (Leadership Group). Program/Policy process: Cancer Australia, in collaboration with DHHS: • reviewed experiences of care and the framework's comprehensive evidence base • developed a draft OCP to complement tumor-specific pathways • facilitated an Expert Working Group, comprising indigenous health sector leaders and consumers to refine and validate the draft OCP • undertook national public consultation, including with the indigenous health sector and community, health professionals and professional colleges • received an indication of support to proceed to endorsement from the Leadership Group. Outcomes: The first population-specific OCP for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people with cancer received national endorsement. It will guide the delivery of consistent, safe, high-quality, culturally appropriate and evidence-based care. What was learned: Key elements of optimal care include: addressing the cultural appropriateness of the healthcare environment; improving cross-cultural communication; relationship building with local community; optimizing health literacy; recognition of men's and women's business; and the need to use culturally appropriate resources. The national priority in the framework informed and unified high-level direction, which was integral to effective OCP development and endorsement. The evidence-based, step-wise development approach contributed to its relevance, utility and quality.

This work is devoted to the study of craniological traits of Australian aborigines (male and female samples) and their geographical differentiation applying a special program of cranial traits. According to the craniological classification (Pestryakov, Grigorieva, 2004), native population of Australia belongs to the Tropid craniotype, i.e. is characterized by a relatively small size and long, narrow and relatively high form of the skull. The primary settlement of the Australian continent could only origin in the North. There are two contrasting craniotypes in Australia, which probably reflect the two main waves of the aboriginal migration across the continent. The skulls of the first migratory wave were larger and relatively low-vaulted. They are mostly characteristic of the aborigines of South Australia, who later also migrated to the north, to the arid zone of Central Australia. The second major wave is characterized by smaller high-vaulted skulls, which are now characteristic of the population of the north of the continent (Queensland and, especially, the Northern Territory and North-West Australia). The territory of the southeast of Australia (Victoria and New South Wales states) is the most favorable area for human living. The two main migratory waves mixed there, which led to the observed craniological heterosis. The craniological samples of western and northwestern Australia are also of mixed origin, but are more comparable to the Northern Territory groups. The Tasmanians are significantly different from the General Australian population in terms of craniology. This is especially true for the female sample. Perhaps the ancestors of the Tasmanians represented the very first settlement wave of the ancient Sahul continent, before the separation of the island from the mainland.

This work is devoted to the study of craniological traits of Australian aborigines (male and female samples) and their geographical differentiation applying a special program of cranial traits. According to the craniological classification (Pestryakov, Grigorieva, 2004), native population of Australia belongs to the Tropid craniotype, i.e. is characterized by a relatively small size and long, narrow and relatively high form of the skull. The primary settlement of the Australian continent could only origin in the North. There are two contrasting craniotypes in Australia, which probably reflect the two main waves of the aboriginal migration across the continent. The skulls of the first migratory wave were larger and relatively low-vaulted. They are mostly characteristic of the aborigines of South Australia, who later also migrated to the north, to the arid zone of Central Australia. The second major wave is characterized by smaller high-vaulted skulls, which are now characteristic of the population of the north of the continent (Queensland and, especially, the Northern Territory and North-West Australia). The territory of the southeast of Australia (Victoria and New South Wales states) is the most favorable area for human living. The two main migratory waves mixed there, which led to the observed craniological heterosis. The craniological samples of western and northwestern Australia are also of mixed origin, but are more comparable to the Northern Territory groups. The Tasmanians are significantly different from the General Australian population in terms of craniology. This is especially true for the female sample. Perhaps the ancestors of the Tasmanians represented the very first settlement wave of the ancient Sahul continent, before the separation of the island from the mainland

‘And there’ll be NO dancing’: Perspectives on policies impacting Indigenous Australia since 2007, edited by Elisabeth Baehr and Barbara Schmidt-Haberkamp. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2017. 354 pp. ISBN 9781443898638 ‘THE PAST is now with us; it never went away.’ The 2007 Intervention into the lives of Aboriginal people living in the Northern Territory was a low point in the relationship between the Australian government and Indigenous people. As one of the Aboriginal authors in No Dancing, Warraimay historian Victoria Grieves puts it, the Northern Territory Emergency Response (NTER), as the Intervention was officially known, ‘leaves no doubt about the relationship of Aboriginal people to the settler colonial state’ (p. 89).

In Australia, Aboriginal peoples have sought to exploit and challenge settler colonial schooling to meet their own goals and needs, engaging in strategic, diverse and creative ways closely tied to labour markets and the labour movement. Here, we bring together two case studies to illustrate the interplay of negotiation, resistance and compulsion that we argue has characterised Aboriginal engagements with school as a structure within settler colonial capitalism. Our first case study explains how Aboriginal families in Victoria and New South Wales deliberately exploited gaps in school record collecting to maintain mobility during the mid-twentieth century and engaged with labour markets that enabled visits to country. Our second case study explores the Strelley mob’s establishment of independent, Aboriginal-controlled bilingual schools in the 1970s to maintain control of their labour and their futures. Techniques of survival developed in and around schooling have been neglected by historians, yet they demonstrate how schooling has been a strategic political project, both for Aboriginal peoples and the Australian settler colonial state.

Abstract: Within Australian settler colonial history, a process of ‘space-off’ in exploration cultural representations has created a form of erasure and denial of Aboriginal and Islamic peoples. By focusing specifically on the camels and the ‘sepoys’ employed by the Victorian Exploring Expedition in 1860, commonly known as Burke and Wills, this paper identifies examples of representation and participation which led to exploration and settlement throughout inland Australia. Using visual artworks and other secondary sources of the colonial era, with the support of more recent literature associated with cameleer and Aboriginal histories, this discussion on various representations of settler colonialism and erasure highlight specific shared histories worthy of further research.

Much has been written about how progress to nationhood in British colonial settler societies was imagined to depend on safeguarding the biological integrity of an evolutionarily advanced citizenry. There is also a growing body of scholarship on how the collecting and exhibition of indigenous ethnological material and bodily remains by colonial museums underscored the evolutionary distance between indigenes and settlers. This article explores in contextual detail several Australian museums between 1860 and 1914, in particular the Australian Museum in Sydney, the Queensland Museum in Brisbane, and the Victorian Museum in Melbourne, in which the collecting, interpretation and exhibition of the Aboriginal Australian bodily dead by staff and associated scientists served to imagine human evolutionary history.

<div class="page" title="Page 1"><div class="layoutArea"><div class="column"><p><span>[</span><span>The Koori Court Division of the Magistrates’ Court in Victoria has been in operation since 2002. This article seeks to assess its development and operation, with the perspective that the Division has the potential to ad- dress problems Aboriginal people face in the criminal justice system and society generally. The author takes the view, however, that to fulfil this po- tential, the Division’s development and operation must function in a way that makes some effort to adjust the power imbalance between the Abo- riginal and non-Aboriginal community, The author sees a critical ap- proach to an evaluation of the Division as crucial, considering the background of treatment Aboriginal people have received at the hands of the criminal justice system and Australian society as a whole, and the negative impact of previous government policies.</span><span>] </span></p></div></div></div>

This article examines state efforts to assimilate Indigenous peoples through the spatial politics of housing design and the regulation of access to and use of houses, streets, and towns. Using two Australian case studies in the 1950s, Framlingham Aboriginal Reserve in Victoria and the Gap housing development in the Northern Territory, and inspired by recent scholarship on imperial networks and Indigenous mobilities, it explores Aboriginal people’s negotiation of those efforts through practices of both moving and staying put. We demonstrate the importance of micromobility—which we define as smallscale movements across short distances, in and out of buildings, along roads, and across townships—and argue that in order to fully appreciate the regulation of Indigenous mobility and Indigenous resistance to it, scholars must concentrate on the small, local, and seemingly insignificant as well as more drastic and permanent movement.

Background An increase in the notification rate of gonorrhoea was observed in the national surveillance system. In Australia, gonorrhoea is relatively rare, apart from among some populations of Aboriginal people and men who have sex with men. Methods: Data about gonorrhoea cases reported between 2007 and 2012 from all Australian jurisdictions were extracted from the National Notifiable Diseases Surveillance System. Analyses were undertaken of the time trends in counts and rates, according to jurisdiction, gender, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander status, diagnosis method and sexual orientation. Results: The largest increase in notifications between 2007 and 2012 was observed in both men and women in New South Wales (2.9- and 3.7-fold greater in 2012 than 2007, respectively) and Victoria (2.4- and 2.7-fold greater in 2012 than 2007, respectively), men in the Australian Capital Territory and women in Queensland. The highest notification rates remained in Indigenous people in the Northern Territory and Western Australia, and particularly in women, although rates may have decreased over the study period. Changes in age and sex distribution, antimicrobial resistance and patterns of exposure and acquisition were negligible. Conclusions: There is an ongoing gonorrhoea epidemic affecting Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people in Australia, but the increases in notifications have occurred primarily in non-Aboriginal populations in the larger jurisdictions. Interpretation of these surveillance data, especially in relation to changes in population subgroups, would be enhanced by laboratory testing data. Further efforts are needed to decrease infection rates in populations at highest risk.

AbstractThe poor health status of Australia’s Indigenous people is well-documented, as are the links between health and education. Aboriginal communities recognise the utmost importance of improving educational, physical, social and economic well-being in an environment where disproportionate numbers of Aboriginal students fail to complete secondary schooling. The aim of this paper is to highlight the issues of access, participation, retention and outcomes for Indigenous students wishing to study or currently studying health courses at a tertiary level. This project used a qualitative descriptive approach, conducting in-depth interviews with a number of key stakeholders and students in rural Victoria. Sixteen participants were interviewed, 14 of whom were from the Indigenous community.Participants identified key issues that were linked to the university and broader community environment. Factors in the university environment included lack of Indigenous staff within the mainstream university system, limited support and culturally inappropriate teaching that lead to negative learning experiences and poor motivation to continue with education. In the broader community, the isolating experience of leaving close-knit rural communities and the influence of past experiences on students’ aspirations for tertiary education was highlighted. The importance of community support and liaison with the university and marketing of health courses to the Indigenous communities in the region were key issues that participants identified as needing further attention.

This paper discusses the methodological framework and perspectives that were used in a larger study aiming at examining the experience of working life among female Aboriginal health care workers. Currently, the voice of Aboriginal women who work in the Australian health system has not received much attention. In comparison to other occupations and backgrounds, there is virtually no literature on Aboriginal woman health care workers despite 15% of health care and social service industry employees in Australia being Aboriginal. In this study, we selected female participants because of the fact that of these 15% of health workers in the Victorian health system, 76% of them are women. This paper outlines some of the barriers in researching Indigenous communities. These barriers were overcome in this study by framing the research in feminist theory, decolonising theory, empowerment and by employing the photovoice method. The photovoice method was used because it is relatively unobtrusive and has the capacity to be empowering. All data was extrapolated from the participants’ own narratives that were prompted by the photographs they had taken. The data produced were rich descriptions and narratives that were oral as well as visual. Finally, the article discusses the experience of using the photovoice method from the researcher and participants’ perspective.

Austin Health is one of Victoria's largest health care providers. It is a 950-bed major teaching and research hospital affiliated with the University of Melbourne. Austin Health employs more than 6,500 staff over three sites (the Repatriation Hospital, the Royal Talbot, and the Austin Hospital), and is renowned for providing high quality, comprehensive public health services. These services are provided to a significant number of the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander (ATSI) population. Throughout Australia, Aboriginal people are dying at almost three times the rate of other Australians and have a life expectancy 17 years lower than the rest of the population. All State-funded hospitals are required to give special attention to the needs of ATSI people by ensuring services are provided in a culturally appropriate way and meet the needs of ATSI people.

Warning Readers of this article are warned that it may contain terms, descriptions and opinions that are culturally sensitive and/or offensive to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders. Lothar Becker (1825–1901?), an unpretentious Silesian naturalist, twice visited the colony of Victoria and published rich and original observations on its natural history and Indigenous people on his return to Germany. On his first visit, 1849 to 1852, Becker recorded his encounter with Black Thursday, a devastating bushfire, its aftermath, and the, by then, still relatively uncleared landscape. He also related his experiences living for a time with an Indigenous family in the Omeo district. After adding to his store of natural history observations on a second visit, 1855 to 1865, Becker tried to make money from writing articles on diverse Australian topics such as ant nests, the sequence and timing of flowering, the distribution of weeds, the natural history of fungi and the world history of tobacco, in all but the latter characterised by a remarkable proto-ecological approach. Becker’s publications have been overlooked by subsequent scientific researchers, in part because he wrote for the popular press, and because his language was German. The life and work of Lothar Becker is introduced here for the first time, and translations provided of six of his articles on Victorian natural history, botany, mycology, horticulture, and anthropology. Reflections on Becker’s contribution to anthropology and to mycology are published in two associated articles by Howes, and May and Darragh.

The toxic environment that is colonized Australia has broken many of the traditional circles of care for Indigenous children and created a service system which waits for Indigenous families to become dysfunctional before there is any response. The Victorian Aboriginal Child Care Agency (VACCA) encourages an approach to Indigenous children and families which is culturally respectful, culturally appropriate and framed according to the need to respect self-determination and human rights. VACCA has developed early childhood and family welfare policies which identify how cultural-strengthening works as a preventative measure to address risk factors for Indigenous children. With the ongoing reforms to Child and Family Welfare arising from the Children, Youth and Families Act, the Victoria State Government in Australia has an historic opportunity to lead the nation in creating an Indigenous-led child and family service system which focuses on issues of prevention and early intervention. The new Act prioritizes cultural and community connection in the best interest principles for Indigenous children, recognizes self-determination and requires generalist children’s welfare services to be culturally competent. The only way to ensure that every Indigenous child is effectively cared for is by developing the capacity of Indigenous communities to look after their own by strengthening Indigenous organizations and agencies. It is Indigenous agencies who are best placed to deliver innovative programs which are culturally embedded and carefully targeted to restore the circles of care for Indigenous kids. Aculturally competent service system is what is needed to ensure better outcomes for Indigenous children.

Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples are disproportionately affected by hepatitis C, an infection that is curable with direct acting antivirals (DAAs). The Australian Government funded access to DAAs from March 2016 for all people with hepatitis C, with primary care physicians, along with clinical specialists, permitted to prescribe these treatments. The Victorian Aboriginal Health Service, in recognising the effect of liver disease from viral hepatitis within their community, and of the increased availability to DAAs, established a Liver Clinic to facilitate access to treatment for people attending the service. This study conducted semi-structured interviews to document the health service provider perspectives on the barriers and enablers to treatment; explored patients’ experiences of hepatitis C treatment and cure; and sought to identify possible health system-level changes to facilitate increased access and uptake of treatment by Aboriginal people. The study found the success of the clinic was supported by the multidisciplinary and accessible nature of the health service, and the relationships built over time between clinic staff and people with, or at risk of, hepatitis C. For those treated, the individual effect of the cure not only eliminated the hepatitis C virus, but reduced shame and increased broader social participation.

Interpretive services are accepted elements of recreational experiences in natural areas. But what do we really know about the effectiveness of interpretation? By evaluating their services through well-planned visitor research, interpreters can better focus on enriching visitors’ experiences. This paper presents findings from three Australian studies into visitors’ reactions to interpretation. At Kakadu National Park, guided activities provided more immediate responses to visitors’ questions on Aboriginal art and culture than on-site signs, while a well-designed interpretive mural mitigated people's disappointment at visiting a wetland area when no birds were present. Two studies of guided activities in Victorian national parks showed that participants were neither the “converted” nor the “same old faces,” and that they valued the very elements that make guided interpretation so special. This paper also demonstrates how variety and innovation in evaluation techniques can enhance the quality of interpretation research.

IntroductionChild maltreatment and other traumatic events can have serious long-term physical, social and emotional effects, including a cluster of distress symptoms recognised as ‘complex trauma’. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander (Aboriginal) people are also affected by legacies of historical trauma and loss. Trauma responses may be triggered during the transition to parenting in the perinatal period. Conversely, becoming a parent offers a unique life-course opportunity for healing and prevention of intergenerational transmission of trauma. This paper outlines a conceptual framework and protocol for an Aboriginal-led, community-based participatory action research (action research) project which aims to co-design safe, acceptable and feasible perinatalawareness, recognition, assessmentandsupportstrategies for Aboriginal parents experiencing complex trauma.Methods and analysisThis formative research project is being conducted in three Australian jurisdictions (Northern Territory, South Australia and Victoria) with key stakeholders from all national jurisdictions. Four action research cycles incorporate mixed methods research activities including evidence reviews, parent and service provider discussion groups, development and psychometric evaluation of a recognition and assessment process and drafting proposals for pilot, implementation and evaluation. Reflection and planning stages of four action research cycles will be undertaken in four key stakeholder workshops aligned with the first four Intervention Mapping steps to prepare programme plans.Ethics and disseminationEthics and dissemination protocols are consistent with the National Health and Medical Research Council Indigenous Research Excellence criteria of engagement, benefit, transferability and capacity-building. A conceptual framework has been developed to promote the application of core values of safety, trustworthiness, empowerment, collaboration, culture, holism, compassion and reciprocity. These include related principles and accompanying reflective questions to guide research decisions.

Abstract. The chemical composition of groundwater and surface water is often considered to be dominated by water–rock interactions, particularly weathering; however, it has been increasingly realised that plant uptake can deplete groundwater and surface water of nutrient elements. Here we show, using geochemical mass balance techniques that at our study site in Southwest Victoria, Australia, water–rock interactions do not control the hydrochemistry. Instead the chemical species provided by rainfall are depleted by plant biomass uptake and exported, predominantly through fire. Regular landscape burning by Aboriginal land users is hypothesized to have caused the depletion of chemical species in groundwater for at least the past 20 000 yr by accelerating the export of elements that would otherwise have been stored within the local biomass. These findings are likely to be representative of southeast Australia, as well as similar climatic regions elsewhere in the globe, and contrast with Northern Hemisphere studies of groundwater and surface water chemistry, where water–rock interactions are the dominant hydrochemical control.

Abstract. The chemical composition of groundwater and surface water is often considered to be dominated by water–rock interactions, particularly weathering; however, it has been increasingly realised that plant uptake can deplete groundwater and surface water of nutrient elements. Here we show, using geochemical mass balance techniques, that water–rock interactions do not control the hydrochemistry at our study site within a granite terrain in southwest Victoria, Australia. Instead the chemical species provided by rainfall are depleted by plant biomass uptake and exported, predominantly through fire. Regular landscape burning by Aboriginal land users is hypothesized to have caused the depletion of chemical species in groundwater for at least the past 20 000 yr by accelerating the export of elements that would otherwise have been stored within the local biomass. These findings are likely to be applicable to silicate terrains throughout southeast Australia, as well as similar lithological and climatic regions elsewhere in the globe, and contrast with studies of groundwater and surface water chemistry in higher rainfall areas of the Northern Hemisphere, where water–rock interactions are the dominant hydrochemical control.

In March 2011 Museums Victoria participated in the Australian Biological Resources Study’s Bush Blitz in Kurtonitj, Lake Condah and Tyrendarra Indigenous Protected Areas in western Victoria. These areas form part of the Budj Bim Cultural Heritage Landscape recently nominated for World Heritage Status. The Bush Blitz found 854 species that were not previously recorded from the reserves, including over a dozen new to science. Thousands of specimens of plants and animals were collected during the survey, including over 1000 by Museums Victoria. The Bush Blitz ran in close cooperation with Gunditjmara Traditional Owners and Working on Country rangers. The relationship established between Museums Victoria and the Gunditjmara during the initial Bush Blitz resulted in several return trips by Museum scientists. From these grew a project to combine the Gunditjmara’s traditional knowledge of the animals of their Country with the scientific knowledge generated through the Bush Blitz and other surveys. The result is a free app for iOS and Android, the Field Guide to the Budj Bim Cultural Landscape, presenting over 250 species found in and around the area. For over two-thirds of these species traditional knowledge is included, such as names in the Dhauwurd Wurrung language, information on how they were hunted and used as well as beliefs and stories. Images and descriptions of cultural objects related to daily life in this landscape are also presented. The app contains over 700 images of wildlife and country as well as calls from frogs, birds and mammals. The content of the app was developed by staff at Museums Victoria in collaboration with the Gunditj Mirring Traditional Owners Aboriginal Corporation. We believe this is the first time this sort of synthesis of cultural knowledge specific to the biodiversity of an area has been presented alongside the scientific knowledge. The app is being used on Country by Gunditjmara for education within the community, by heritage researchers working in the area and by other visitors to Stone Country. We hoped the app would be a model that other communities could adopt using the freely available code and we have had enquires about managing data for similar projects. All the information in the app is stored within the museum’s collection management database (EMu) allowing its association with taxonomy as well as specimens from the area, enriching our knowledge and understanding of our collections.

Background: There has been increasing interest in assessing longer term developmental and health outcomes in IVF-conceived offspring compared with those born after natural conception. So far, the findings have been conflicting. The Australian Early Developmental Consensus (AEDC) assesses children in their first year of primary school across five domains; physical health and wellbeing, social competence, emotional maturity, language and cognitive skills, and communication skills and general knowledge. Aim: To compare school entry (5-7 years of age) outcomes in IVF-conceived children in Victoria with naturally conceived controls. Method: We undertook a statewide data linkage study, with perinatal data (births 2005-2014) linked to data from major IVF providers in Victoria and the AEDC. Our approach to analysis included: complete case analysis, multiple imputation of missing data, consideration of clustering (siblings) and inverse probability weighted modeling to adjust for covariates. Our primary outcome was an AEDC score indicative of developmental vulnerability in two or more domains. We adjusted for the child’s age at assessment, sex, highest level of maternal education, maternal age, parity, SEIFA (Socio-Economic Indexes for Areas) quintile, language background other than English, and Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander (ATSI) status. Results: The linked dataset comprised 163,418 children, including 4,441 IVF-conceived children. The IVF conceived population had older, more highly educated mothers who lived in more affluent areas and were less likely to be from non-English speaking backgrounds or identify as ATSI. IVF-conceived children were less likely to be developmentally vulnerable, in both unadjusted (RR 0.59, 95%CI: 0.52-0.67, p<0.001) and adjusted analyses (aRR 0.72, 95%CI: 0.58-0.88, p<0.001). Conclusion: Children conceived by IVF were less likely to be developmentally vulnerable in their first year of schooling, compared with peers conceived naturally. Further research should aim to understand if similar patterns are seen in other education and health domains and the potential mechanisms for these differences.

AbstractWycheproofite is a new hydrated sodium aluminium zirconium phosphate from a pegmatite vein in granite at Wycheproof, in northwestern Victoria, Australia. The mineral occurs as compact, finely fibrous masses in small cavities in the quartz/feldspar/muscovite/schorl-bearing pegmatite. The fibrous crystals are between 5 and 10 µm wide and up to several mm long. Accompanying minerals include two other zirconium phosphates — kosnarite and a new species, selwynite, the K-analogue of gainesite — as well as wardite, eosphorite, cyrilovite, leucophosphitc, rockbridgeite, a kidwellite-like mineral and saleeite. The wycheproofite aggregates are pale pinkish to brownish orange, with a vitreous to pearly lustre. The streak is colourless, fracture rough, cleavage not observed and the Mohs hardness is between 4 and 5. Optical data are incomplete due to the fibrous nature of the mineral; the indices of refraction are in the range 1.62–1.64. The measured density is 2.83 g cm−3. Chemical analysis gave (wt.%) Na2O 6.36, K2O 0.44, CaO 0.66, FeO 0.36, MnO 0.21, Al2O3 12.03, Cs2O 0.03, ZrO2 32.43, HfO2 1.24, P2O5 35.85, SiO2 0.23, F 0.34, H2O 9.0, less 0=F 0.14, Total 99.04. The simplified formula is NaAlZr(PO4)2(OH)2·H2O. Wycheproofite is triclinic with unit cell parameters a=10.926(5) Å, b = 10.986(5) Å, c = 12.479(9) Å, α= 71.37(4)°, β = 77.39(4)°, γ= 87.54(3)° V = 1375.9 Å3. For Z= 6, the calculated density is 2.81 g cm-3. The strongest lines in the X-ray powder diffraction pattern are [dobs (Å), Iobs,hkl] 2.603 (100) 040; 4.128 (80) 121; 3.711 (65) 023; 3.465 (60) 030; 8.865 (40) 101; 3.243 (35) 132. The crystal structure has not been solved due to the finely fibrous nature of the material available. The name is for the locality, which in the local Australian Aboriginal language means ‘witchie bushes growing on a hilltop’.Data on the third occurrence of kosnarite, KZr2(PO4)3, at Wycheproof are also given.

Environmental history, as it has emerged in recent years, is most distinctive in the way it illustrates a serious engagement between the disciplines of ecology and history. This article begins with an exploration of the lineage and promise of environmental history, particularly in the Australian setting. It then analyses a number of the cultural debates about vegetation change in Australia—about clearing, open landscapes, scrub encroachment and burning practices—and draws attention to the way that morals, politics and aesthetics shaped environmental perception and still do. Clearing was the dominant discourse in the history of landscape change and a legislative requirement for secure settlement. At the same time, criticism of clearing and its effects represented an early conservationist sensibility, but the heroic pioneering labour of clearing, the political imperatives associated with it and the escalating ecological legacy it generated, have sometimes made us forget how open was much of the Australian landscape when Europeans first arrived. The morality of clearing—the arguments for and against—focused the minds of settlers on the trees and the loss of them, while the aesthetics of pastoralism attracted their eyes to the grasslands and made them rejoice in the curious legacy of 'open' landscapes. In the early nineteenth century, the most common usage of the word 'forest' was to describe land fit to graze: 'according to the local distinction, the grass is the discriminating character [of forest land] and not the Trees'. At the same time, pastoralists were unwilling to recognise the role of Aboriginal people in creating such open landscapes and this reticence to acknowledge the Aboriginality of the pastoral economy persists today. This in turn affected the way settlers perceived the new forests that appeared after European invasion. The fate of the vegetation Europeans found has understandably been so much the focus of science and history—its removal, replacement, utilisation, modification and conservation—that 'new forests' easily escape scholarly attention; and being new, they seem far less valuable and threatened. They have generally been perceived as a nuisance, as enclosing and encroaching, as 'scrub', as 'woody weeds'. The politics of understanding regrowth are related not only to the issues of clearing and density, but especially to the culture of burning in Aboriginal and settler society and its implications for management and biodiversity. If the coming together of ecology and history best defines the new 'environmental history', then the most illuminating confluences are those where each discipline helps the other to identify what constitutes a unique 'event', both ecologically and historically. The article therefore finishes with examples of events in two landscapes—the long drought of the 1890s in western New South Wales and the Black Friday bushfires of 1939 in the mountain ash forests of Victoria—to illustrate how each emerges as an intriguing artefact of nature and history, a cultural exaggeration of a natural rhythm. Even as we discover the ecological depth of each apparently 'natural' event, we are reminded of its historical specificity.

ObjectivesThere is an urgent need to improve breast feeding rates for Australian First Nations (Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander) infants. We explored breast feeding outcomes of women having a First Nations infant at three sites that introduced a culturally specific continuity of midwife care model.DesignWomen having a First Nations infant booking for pregnancy care between March 2017 and November 2020 were invited to participate. Surveys at recruitment and 3 months post partum were developed with input from the First Nations Advisory Committee. We explored breast feeding intention, initiation, maintenance and reasons for stopping and factors associated with breast feeding.SettingThree tertiary maternity services in Melbourne, Australia.ParticipantsOf 479/926 eligible women approached, 343 (72%) completed the recruitment survey, and 213/343 (62%) the postnatal survey.OutcomesPrimary: breast feeding initiation and maintenance. Secondary: breast feeding intention and reasons for stopping breast feeding.ResultsMost women (298, 87%) received the culturally specific model. Breast feeding initiation (96%, 95% CI 0.93 to 0.98) was high. At 3 months, 71% were giving ‘any’ (95% CI 0.65 to 0.78) and 48% were giving ‘only’ breast milk (95% CI 0.41 to 0.55). Intending to breast feed 6 months (Adj OR ‘any’: 2.69, 95% CI 1.29 to 5.60; ‘only’: 2.22, 95% CI 1.20 to 4.12), and not smoking in pregnancy (Adj OR ‘any’: 2.48, 95% CI 1.05 to 5.86; ‘only’: 4.05, 95% CI 1.54 to 10.69) were associated with higher odds. Lower education (Adj OR ‘any’: 0.36, 95% CI 0.13 to 0.98; ‘only’: 0.50, 95% CI 0.26 to 0.96) and government benefits as the main household income (Adj OR ‘any’: 0.26, 95% CI 0.11 to 0.58) with lower odds.ConclusionsBreast feeding rates were high in the context of service-wide change. Our findings strengthen the evidence that culturally specific continuity models improve breast feeding outcomes for First Nations women and infants. We recommend implementing and upscaling First Nations specific midwifery continuity models within mainstream hospitals in Australia as a strategy to improve breast feeding.

Abstract Background Increasingly, strength-based approaches to health and wellbeing interventions with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians are being explored. This is a welcome counter to deficit-based initiatives which can represent a non-Indigenous view of outcomes of interest. However, the evidence base is not well developed. This paper presents the protocol for evaluating a strengths-based initiative which provides life coaching services to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander community housing tenants. The study aims to evaluate the effect of life coaching on social and emotional wellbeing (SEWB) of tenants in three Victorian regions. Methods The More Than a Landlord (MTAL) study is a prospective cohort study of Aboriginal Housing Victoria tenants aged 16 years and over that embeds the evaluation of a life coaching program. All tenant holders in one metropolitan and two regional areas of Victoria are invited to participate in a survey of SEWB, containing items consistent with key categories of SEWB as understood and defined by Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples, and key demographics, administered by Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peer researchers at baseline, 6 and 18 months. Survey participants are then invited to participate in strengths based life coaching, using the GROW model, for a duration of up to 18 months. Indigenous life coaches provide tenants with structured support in identifying and making progress towards their goals and aspirations, rather than needs. The study aims to recruit a minimum of 200 survey participants of which it is anticipated that approximately 73% will agree to life coaching. Discussion The MTAL study is a response to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander community and organisational requests to build the evidence base for an initiative originally developed and piloted within an Aboriginal controlled organisation. The study design aligns with key principles for research in Indigenous communities in promoting control, decision making and capacity building. The MTAL study will provide essential evidence to evaluate the effectiveness of strengths-based initiatives in promoting SEWB in these communities and provide new evidence about the relationship between strengths, resilience, self-determination and wellbeing outcomes. Trial registration This trial was retrospectively registered with the ISRCTN Register on the 12/7/21 with the study ID:ISRCTN33665735.

Abstract Background HealthGap is a population-based cohort study aiming to understand health inequities in cardiovascular disease (CVD) risk between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians. We examined guideline-based CVD risk assessment in Victoria. Methods NPS MedicineInsight, the largest Australian primary health care dataset, provided data on CVD risk factors (age, gender, smoking status, diabetes, systolic blood pressure (SBP), total and HDL cholesterol) and Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander (Indigenous) status. The percentage of patients who had all risk factors measured was calculated and compared by Indigenous status. Results In total, 7,928 of 1,435,111 patients were classified as Indigenous. The percentage of patients with measured cholesterol was slightly lower for Indigenous (total cholesterol=31.4%, HDL=26.9%) than non-Indigenous patients (total cholesterol=35.6%, HDL=31.8%). However, more Indigenous patients had SBP measured (65.6% vs. 59.8%). Diabetes diagnosis was higher among Indigenous patients (6.2% vs. 3.6%). There was a small difference in the proportions with all risk factors measured between Indigenous and non-Indigenous patients (24.1% vs. 26.6%). Among Indigenous patients aged at least 35 years who should have had their risk assessment measured, 41.9% had all risk factors measured, while 50.7% of the non-Indigenous Australians (aged ≥45 years) had all risk factors measured. Conclusions Overall, the proportion of people with all CVD risk factors measured was smaller for Indigenous compared to non-Indigenous people. Key messages Fewer than half of Indigenous Australians have CVD risk factors captured in a primary health care setting. This has implications for health care policy and programs seeking to improve CV health outcomes among Indigenous Australians.

It was always based on a teenage love story between the two kids. One is a sniffer and one is not. It was designed for Central Australia because we do write these kids off there. Not only in town, where the headlines for the newspapers every second day is about ‘the problem,’ ‘the teenager problem of kids wandering the streets’ and ‘why don’t we send them back to their communities’ and that sort of stuff. Then there’s the other side of it. Elders in Aboriginal communities have been taught that kids who sniff get brain damage, so as soon as they see a kid sniffing they think ‘well they’re rubbish now, they’re brain damaged.’ So the elders are writing these kids off as well, as in ‘they are brain damaged so they’re no use now, they’ll be in wheelchairs for the rest of their lives.’ This is not true, it’s just information for elders that hasn’t been given to them. That is the world I was working with. I wanted to show two incredibly beautiful children who have fought all their lives just to breathe and how incredibly strong they are and how we should be celebrating them and backing them up. I wanted to show that to Central Australia, and if the rest of Australia or the world get involved that’s fantastic. (Thornton in interview)Warwick Thornton’s 2009 film Samson and Delilah won the hearts of Australians as well as a bag of awards — and rightly so. It is a breathtaking film that, as review after review will tell you, is about the bravery, hopelessness, optimism and struggles of two Indigenous youths. In telling this story, the film extends, inverts and challenges notions of waste: wasted youths, wasted memory, wasted history, wasted opportunities, getting wasted and wasted voices. The narrative and the film as a cultural object raise questions about being discarded and “the inescapable fact that the experience of catastrophe in the past century can only be articulated from its remains, our history sifted from among these storied deposits.” (Neville and Villeneuve 2). The purpose of this paper is to examine reaction to the film, and where this reaction has positioned the film in Australian filmmaking history. In reading the reception of the film, I want to consider the film’s contribution to dialogical cultural representations by applying Marcia Langton’s idea of intersubjectivity.In his review, Sean Gorman argues thatThe main reason for the film’s importance is it enables white Australians who cannot be bothered reading books or engaging with Indigenous Australians in any way (other than watching them play football perhaps) the smallest sliver of a world that they have no idea about. The danger however in an engagement by settler society with a film like Samson and Delilah is that the potential shock of it may be too great, as the world which it portrays is, for many, an unknown Australia. Hence, for the settler filmgoer, the issues that the film discusses may be just too hard, too unreal, and their reaction will be limited to perhaps a brief bout of anger or astonishment followed by indifference. (81.1)It is this “engagement by settler society” that I wish to consider: how the voices that we hear speaking about the film are shifting attention from the ‘Other’ to more dialogical cultural representations, that is, non-Indigenous Australia’s emerging awareness of what has previously been wasted, discarded and positioned as valueless. I find Gorman’s surmise of white Australia’s shock with a world they know nothing about, and their potential power to return to a state of indifference about it, to be an interesting notion. Colonisation has created the world that Samson and Delilah live in, and the white community is as involved as the Indigenous one in the struggles of Samson and Delilah. If “settler” society is unaware, that unawareness comes from a history of non-Indigenous power that denies, excludes, and ignores. For this reason, Samson and Delilah is a dialogical cultural representation: it forces a space where the mainstream doesn’t just critique the Aborigine, but their own identity and involvement in the construction of that critique.Wasted VoicesWaste is a subjective notion. Items that some discard and perceive as valueless can be of importance to others, and then it also becomes a waste not to acknowledge or use that item. Rather than only focusing on the concept of “waste” as items or materials that are abandoned, I wish to consider the value in what is wasted. Centring my discussion of ‘waste’ on Thornton’s film provides the opportunity to view a wasteland of dispossession from another cultural and social perspective. Reaction to the film has constructed what could be perceived as an exceptional moment of engagement between Indigenous and non-Indigenous voices in dialogic intercultural dialogue. By revisiting early examples of ethnographic collaboration, and re-examining contemporary reactions to Samson and Delilah, I hope to forge a space for intervention in Australian film criticism that focuses on how ‘non-Aboriginality’ depends on ‘Aboriginality’ in a vast wasteland of colonial dispossession and appropriation.Many of the reviews of Thornton’s film (Buckmaster; Collins; Davis; Gorman; Hall; Isaac; Ravier; Redwood; Rennie; Simpson) pay attention to the emotional reaction of non-Indigenous viewers. Langton states that historically non-Indigenous audiences know ‘the Aborigine’ through non-Indigenous representations and monologues about Aboriginality: “In film, as in other media, there is a dense history of racist, distorted and often offensive representation of Aboriginal people” (24). The power to define has meant that ethnographic discourses in the early days of colonisation established their need to record Indigenous peoples, knowledges and traditions before they ‘wasted away.’ At the 1966 Round Table on Ethnographic Film in the Pacific Area, Stanley Hawes recounts how Ian Dunlop, an Australian documentary filmmaker, commented that “someone ought to film the aborigines of the Western Desert before it was too late. They had already almost all disappeared or gone to live on Mission stations” (69). This popular belief was one of the main motivations for research on Indigenous peoples and led to the notion of “smoothing the dying pillow,” which maintained that since Aborigines were a dying race, they should be allowed to all die out peacefully (Chandra-Shekeran 120). It was only the ‘real’ Aborigine that was valued: the mission Black, the urban Black, the assimilated Black, was a waste (Cowlishaw 108). These representations of Aboriginality depended on non-Indigenous people speaking about Aboriginality to non-Indigenous people. Yet, the impetus to speak, as well as what was being spoken about, and the knowledge being discussed and used, relied on Indigenous voices and presences. When Australia made its “important contribution to ethnographic films of its Aborigines” (McCarthy 81), it could not have done so without the involvement of Indigenous peoples. In her work on intersubjectivity, Langton describes “Aboriginality” as a “social thing” that is continually remade through dialogue, imagination, representation and interpretation. She describes three broad categories of Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal intersubjectivity: when Aboriginal people interact with other Aboriginal people; when non-Aboriginal people stereotype, iconise, and mythologise Aboriginal people without any Aboriginal contact; and when Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people engage in dialogue (81). Since W. Baldwin Spencer’s first ethnographic film, made between 1901 and 1912, which recorded the customs of the Aranda and neighbouring Central Australian tribes (McCarthy 80), the development of Australian cinema depended on these categories of intersubjectivity. While the success of Samson and Delilah could be interpreted as opening mainstream eyes to the waste that Indigenous communities have experienced since colonisation — wasted knowledge, wasted youths, wasted communities — it could also signify that what was once perceived by dominant non-Indigenous society as trash is now viewed as treasure. Much like the dot paintings which Delilah and her nana paint in exchange for a few bucks, and which the white man then sells for thousands of dollars, Aboriginal stories come to us out of context and filtered through appropriation and misinterpretation.Beyond its undeniable worth as a piece of top-notch filmmaking, Samson and Delilah’s value also resides in its ability to share with a wide audience, and in a language we can all understand, a largely untold story steeped in the painful truth of this country’s bloody history. (Ravier)In reading the many reviews of Samson and Delilah, it is apparent there is an underlying notion of such a story being secret, and that mainstream Australia chose to engage with the film’s dialogical representation because it was sharing this secret. When Ravier states that Aboriginal stories are distorted by appropriation and misinterpretation, I would add that such stories are examples of Langton’s second category of intersubjectivity: they reveal more about the processes of non-Indigenous constructions of ‘the Aborigine’ and the need to stereotype, iconise and mythologise. These processes have usually involved judgements about what is to be retained as ‘valuable’ in Indigenous cultures and knowledges, and what can be discarded — in the same way that the film’s characters Samson and Delilah are discarded. The secret that Samson and Delilah is sharing with white Australia has never been a secret: it is that non-Indigenous Australia chooses what it wants to see or hear. Wasted SilencesIn 1976 Michael Edols directed and produced Floating about the Mowanjum communities experiences of colonisation, mission life and resistance. That same year Alessandro Cavadini directed and Carolyn Strachan produced Protected, a dramatised documentary about life on the Queensland Aboriginal reserve of Palm Island — “a dumping ground for unwanted persons or those deemed to be in need of ‘protection’” (Treole 38). Phillip Noyce’s Backroads, a story about the hardships facing a young man from a reserve in outback New South Wales, was released in 1977. In 1979, Essie Coffey produced and directed My Survival as an Aboriginal, where she documented her community’s struggles living under white domination. Two Laws, a feature film made by four of the language groups around Borroloola in 1981, examines the communities’ histories of massacre, dispossession and institutionalisation. These are just some of many films that have dealt with the ‘secrets’ about Indigenous peoples. In more recent times the work of Noyce, Rolf de Heer, Stephen Johnson, Iven Sen, Rachel Perkins and Romaine Moreton, to name only a few, have inspired mainstream engagement with films representing Indigenous experiences and knowledges. “We live in a world in which, increasingly, people learn of their own and other cultures and histories through a range of visual media — film, television, and video,” writes Faye Ginsburg (5). Changing understandings of culture and representation means that there appears to be a shift away from the “monologic, observational and privileged Western gaze” towards more dialogic, reflexive and imaginative mediation. Perhaps Samson and Delilah’s success is partly due to its contribution to social action through compelling the non-Indigenous viewer to “revise our comfortable and taken for granted narrative conventions that fetishise the text and reify ‘culture’ and ‘cultural difference.’ Instead, we — as producers, audiences, and ethnographers — are challenged to comprehend the multiple ways that media operate as a site where culture is produced, contested, mediated and continually re-imagined” (Ginsburg 14). In his review, Tom Redwood writes about the filmLike life in the desert, everything is kept to a minimum here and nothing is wasted. ... Perhaps it took an Indigenous filmmaker from Alice Springs to do this, to lead the way in reinstating meaningfulness and honesty as core values in Australian cinema. But, whatever the case, Thornton's Indigenous heritage won't make his difficult vision any easier for local audiences to swallow. Most Australians aren't used to this degree of seriousness at the movies and though many here will embrace Samson and Delilah, there will no doubt also be a minority who, unable to reject the film as a cultural curiosity, will resist its uncompromising nature with cries of 'pessimism!' or even 'reverse-racism!’ (28-29)Perhaps the film’s success has to do with the way the story is told? — “everything kept to a minimum” and “nothing is wasted.” In attempts to construct Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal intersubjectivity in previous representations perhaps language, words, English got in the way of communication? For mainstream white Australian society’s engagement in dialogic representations, for Indigenous voices to speak and be heard, for non-Indigenous monologues to be challenged, perhaps silence was called for? As the reviews for the film have emphasised, non-Indigenous reactions contribute to the dialogic nature of the film, its story, as well as its positioning as a site of cultural meaning, social relations, and power. Yet even while critiquing constructions of Aboriginality, non-Aboriginality has historically remained uncritiqued—non-Aboriginal endorsement and reaction is discussed, but what this reaction and engagement, or lack of engagement (whether because of ignorance, unawareness, or racism) reveals is not. That is, non-Aboriginality has not had to critique the power it has to continue to remain ignorant of stories about wasted Indigenous lives. Thornton’s film appears to have disrupted this form of non-engagement.With the emergence of Indigenous media and Indigenous media makers, ethnographic films have been reconceptualised in terms of aesthetics, cultural observations and epistemological processes. By re-exploring the history of ethnographic film making and shifting attention from constructions of the ‘other’ to reception by the mainstream, past films, past representations of colonisation, and past dialogues will not be wasted. With the focus on constructing Aboriginality, the cultural value of non-Aboriginality has remained unquestioned and invisible. By re-examining the reactions of mainstream Australians over the last one hundred years in light of the success of Samson and Delilah, cultural and historical questions about ‘the Aborigine’ can be reframed so that the influence Indigenous discourses have in Australian nation-building will be more apparent. The reception of Samson and Delilah signifies the transformational power in wasted voices, wasted dialogues and the wasted opportunities to listen. Wasted DialoguesFelicity Collins argues that certain “cinematic events that address Indigenous-settler relations do have the capacity to galvanise public attention, under certain conditions” (65). Collins states that after recent historical events, mainstream response to Aboriginal deprivation and otherness has evoked greater awareness of “anti-colonial politics of subjectivity” (65). The concern here is with mainstream Australia dismantling generations of colonialist representations and objectifications of the ‘other.’ What also needs to be re-examined is the paradox and polemic of how reaction to Aboriginal dispossession and deprivation is perceived. Non-Indigenous reaction remains a powerful framework for understanding, viewing and positioning Indigenous presence and representation — the power to see or not to see, to hear or to ignore. Collins argues that Samson and Delilah, along with Australia (Luhrmann, 2009) and First Australians (Perkins, 2008), are national events in Australian screen culture and that post-apology films “reframe a familiar iconography so that what is lost or ignored in the incessant flow of media temporality is precisely what invites an affective and ethical response in cinematic spaces” (75).It is the notion of reframing what is lost or ignored to evoke “ethical responses” that captures my attention; to shift the gaze from Aboriginal subjectivity, momentarily, to non-Aboriginal subjectivity and examine how choosing to discard or ignore narratives of violence and suffering needs to be critiqued as much as the film, documentary or representation of Indigenality. Perhaps then we can start to engage in dialogues of intersubjectivity rather than monologues about Aboriginality.I made [Samson and Delilah] for my mob but I made sure that it can work with a wider audience as well, and it’s just been incredible that it’s been completely embraced by a much wider audience. It’s interesting because as soon as you knock down that black wall between Aboriginals and white Australia, a film like this does become an Australian film and an Australian story. Not an Aboriginal story but a story about Australians, in a sense. It’s just as much a white story as it is a black one when you get to that position. (Thornton in interview)When we “get to that position” described by Thornton, intercultural and intersubjective dialogue allows both Aboriginality and non-Aboriginality to co-exist. When a powerful story of Indigenous experiences and representations becomes perceived as an Australian story, it provides a space for what has historically been ignored and rendered invisible to become visible. It offers a different cultural lens for all Australians to question and critique notions of value and waste, to re-assess what had been relegated to the wasteland by ethnographic editing and Westernised labels. Ever since Spencer, Melies, Abbie and Elkin decided to retain an image of Aboriginality on film, which they did with specific purposes and embedded values, it has been ‘the Aborigine’ that has been dissected and discussed. It would be a waste not to open this historiography up to include mainstream reaction, or lack of reaction, in the development of cultural and cinematic critique. A wasteland is often perceived as a dumping ground, but by re-visiting that space and unearthing, new possibilities are discovered in that wasteland, and more complex strategies for intersubjectivity are produced. At the centre of Samson and Delilah is the poverty and loss that Indigenous communities experience on a daily basis. The experiences endured by the main characters are not new or recent ones and whether cinematic reception of them produces guilt, pity, sympathy, empathy, fear or defensiveness, it is the very potential to be able to react that needs to be critiqued. As Williamson Chang points out, the “wasteland paradigm is invisible to those embedded in its structure” (852). By looking more closely at white society’s responses in order to discern more clearly if they are motivated by feelings that their wealth—whether material, cultural or social—or their sense of belonging is being challenged or reinforced then ruling values and epistemologies are challenged and dialogic negotiations engaged. If dominant non-Indigenous society has the power to classify Indigenous narratives and representation as either garbage or something of value, then colonialist structures remain intact. If they have the self-reflexive power to question their own response to Indigenous narratives and representations, then perhaps more anti-colonial discourses emerge. Notions of value and waste are tied to cultural hierarchies, and it is through questioning how a dominant culture determines value that processes of transformation and mediation take place and the intersubjective dialogue sparked by Samson and Delilah can continueIn her review of Samson and Delilah, Therese Davis suggests that the film brings people closer to truthfulness, forcing the audience to engage with that realism: “those of us ‘outside’ of the community looking in can come to know ourselves differently through the new languages of this film, both cultural and cinematic. Reformulating the space of the national from an ‘insider,’ Aboriginal community-based perspective, the film positions its spectators, both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal, in a shared space, a space that allows for new forms of attachment, involvement and self-knowledge, new lines of communication.” Davis goes on to caution that while the film is groundbreaking, the reviews situating the film as what Australian cinema should be need to be mindful of feeding “notions of anti-diversity, which “is an old debate in Australian Cinema Studies, but in this instance anti-diversity is doubly problematic because it also runs the risk of narrowly defining Indigenous cinema.” The danger, historically, is that anything Indigenous, has always been narrowly defined by the mainstream and yes, to continue to limit Indigenous work in any medium is colonising and problematic. However, rather than just caution against this reaction, I am suggesting that reaction itself be critiqued. While currently contemporary mainstream response to Samson and Delilah is one of adoration, is the centre from which it comes the same centre which less than fifty years ago critiqued Indigenous Australians as a savage, noble, and/or dying race wasting away? Davis writes that the film constructs a new “relation” in Australian cinema but that it should not be used as a marker against which “all new (and old) Indigenous cinema is measured.” This concern resembles, in part, my concern that until recently mainstream society has constructed their own markers of Aboriginal cultural authenticity, deciding what is to be valued and what can be discarded. I agree with Davis’s caution, yet I cannot easily untangle the notion of ‘measuring.’ As a profound Australian film, certainly cinematic criticism will use it as a signifier of ‘quality.’ But by locating it singularly in the category of Indigenous cinema, the anti-colonial and discursive Indigenous discourses the film deploys and evokes are limited to the margins of Australian film and film critique once more. After considering the idea of measuring, and asking who would be conducting this process of measuring, my fear is that the gaze returns to ‘the Aborigine’ and the power to react remains solely, and invisibly, with the mainstream. Certainly it would be a waste to position the film in such a way that limits other Indigenous filmmakers’ processes, experiences and representations. I see no problem with forcing non-Indigenous filmmakers, audiences and perceptions to have to ‘measure’ up as a result of the film. It would be yet another waste if they didn’t, and Samson and Delilah was relegated to being simply a great ‘Indigenous Australian film,’ instead of a great Australian film that challenges, inverts and re-negotiates the construction of both Aboriginality and non-Aboriginality. By examining reaction to the film, and not just reading the film itself, discussions of dialogical cultural representation can include non-Aboriginality as well as Aboriginality. Films like this are designed to create a dialogue and I’m happy if someone doesn’t like the film and they tell me why, because we’re creating dialogue. We’re talking about this stuff and taking a step forward. That’s important. (Thornton)The dialogue opened up by the success of Thornton’s beautiful film is one that also explores non-Aboriginality. If we waste the opportunity that Samson and Delilah provides, then Australia’s ongoing cinematic history will remain a wasteland, and many more Indigenous voices, stories, and experiences will continue to be wasted.ReferencesBuckmaster, Luke. “Interview with Warwick Thornton”. Cinetology 12 May 2009. 18 Aug. 2010 ‹http://blogs.crikey.com.au/cinetology/2009/05/12/interview-with-warwick-thornton-writerdirector-of-samson-delilah›.———. “Samson and Delilah Review: A Seminal Indigenous Drama of Gradual and Menacing Beauty”. Cinetology 6 May 2009. 14 June 2010 ‹http://blogs.crikey.com.au/cinetology/2009/05/06/samson-delilah-film-review-a-seminal-indigenous-drama-of-gradual-and-menacing-beauty›.Chang, Williamson, B. C. “The ‘Wasteland’ in the Western Exploitation of ‘Race’ and the Environment”. University of Colorado Law Review 849 (1992): 849-870.Chandra-Shekeran, Sangeetha. “Challenging the Fiction of the Nation in the ‘Reconciliation’ Texts of Mabo and Bringing Them Home”. The Australian Feminist Law Journal 11 (1998): 107-133.Collins, Felicity. “After the Apology: Reframing Violence and Suffering in First Australians, Australia and Samson and Delilah”. Continuum: Journal of Media and Cultural Studies 24.3 (2010): 65-77.Cowlishaw, Gillian, K. “Censoring Race in ‘Post-Colonial’ Anthropology”. Critique of Anthropology 20.2 (2000): 101-123. Davis, Therese. “Love and Marginality in Samson and Delilah”. Senses of Cinema 57 (2009). 7 Jan. 2010 ‹http://archive.sensesofcinema.com/contents/09/51/samson-and-delilah.html›. Ginsburg, Faye. “Culture/Media: A (Mild) Polemic”. Anthropology Today 10.2 (1994): 5-15.Gorman, Sean. “Review of Samson and Delilah”. History Australia 6.3 (2009): 81.1-81.2.Hall, Sandra. “Review of Samson and Delilah”. Sydney Morning Herald. 7 May 2009. Hawes, Stanley. “Official Government Production”. Round Table on Ethnographic Film in the Pacific Area. Canberra: Australian National Advisory Committee, 1966. 62-71.Isaac, Bruce. “Screening ‘Australia’: Samson and Delilah”. Screen Education 54 (2009): 12-17. Langton, Marcia. Well, I Heard It on the Radio and I Saw It on the Television...: An Essay for the Australian Film Commission on the Politics and Aesthetics of Filmmaking by and about Aboriginal People and Things. Sydney: Australian Film Commission, 1993.McCarthy, F. D “Ethnographic Research Films” Round Table on Ethnographic Film in the Pacific Area Australian National Advisory Committee (1966): 80-85.Neville, Brian, and Johanne Villeneuve. Waste-Site Stories: The Recycling of Memory. Albany: State U of New York P., 2002.Ravier, Matt. “Review: Samson and Delilah”. In Film Australia. 2009. 7 Jan. 2010 ‹http://www.infilm.com.au/?p=802›.Redwood, Tom. “Warwick Thornton and Kath Shelper on Making Samson and Delilah”. Metro 160 (2009): 31.Rennie, Ellie. “Samson and Delilah under the Stars in Alice Springs”. Crikey 27 Apr. 2009. 18 Aug. 2010 ‹ http://www.crikey.com.au/2009/04/27/samson-and-delilah-under-the-stars-in-alice-springs/›.Samson and Delilah. Dir. Warwick Thornton. Footprint Films, 2009. Treole, Victoria. Australian Independent Film. Sydney: Australian Film Commission, 1982.

ABSTRACTObjectivesAn accurate picture of infant mortality informs society of its social progress. It is a key indicator of how effective public health policies and programs are in caring for the most vulnerable in our society. Currently, at the population level, Victorian data on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander births and deaths are excluded from Australian vital statistics. The Victorian Aboriginal Mortality Study aimed to provide a more complete and accurate population profile of Aboriginal births in Victoria using population data linkage of Victorian statutory and administrative datasets. ApproachTwo population statutory datasets, the Victorian Perinatal Data Collection (VPDC) and Victorian Registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages (RBDM) were linked, using probabilistic matching with mother’s name and surname, child’s date of birth and sex, for all births that occurred in Victoria between 1988 and 2008, inclusive to more accurately ascertain births to mothers and fathers who identified as Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islander (hereafter respectfully ‘Aboriginal’).ResultsOver 1.34 million files, reporting births between 1988 and 2008, were linked. However, due to data integrity issues for Indigenous identification prior to 1998, the years between 1999 and 2008 only were used in the development of the birth cohort. Matching the VPDC with the RBDM resulted in identifying an additional 4,333 live births where mother and/or father identified as Aboriginal, representing an 87% increase in the number of births previously recorded as Aboriginal by the VPDC*. The largest increase (186%) in the number of births where mother and/or father identified as Aboriginal births was observed within the Victorian metropolitan areas. ConclusionThis is the first time that the VPDC and RBDM birth data were linked in Victoria. The matched birth information established a more complete population profile of Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islander births. These data will provide a more accurate baseline to enhance the Victorian and Australian governments’ ability to plan services, allocate resources and evaluate funded activities aimed at eliminating disparity experienced by Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islander peoples. Importantly, it has established a more accurate denominator from which to calculate Aboriginal infant mortality rates for Victoria, Australia. *Until 2009, the mother’s Indigenous identification only was recorded in the VPDC

In recent years a number of dramas focussing on Indigenous Australians and Australian history have appeared on the ABC, one of Australia's two public television channels. These dramas have different foci but all represent some aspects of Australian Indigenous history and how it interacts with 'mainstream' representations of Australian history. The four programs I will look at are Cleverman (Goalpost Pictures, 2016-ongoing), Glitch (Matchbox Films, 2015-ongoing), The Secret River (Ruby Entertainment, 2015) and Redfern Now (Blackfella Films, 2012), each of which engages with the past in a unique way.Clearly, different creators, working with different plots and in different genres will have different ways of representing the past. Redfern Now and Cleverman are both produced by Indigenous creators whereas the creators of The Secret River and Glitch are white Australians. Redfern Now and The Secret River are in a realist mode, whereas Glitch and Cleverman are speculative fiction. My argument proceeds on two axes: first, speculative genres allow for more creative ways of representing the past. They give more freedom for the creators to present affective representations of the historical past. Speculative genres also allow for more interesting intellectual examinations of what we consider to be history and its uncertainties. My second axis argues, because it is hard to avoid when looking at this group of texts, that Indigenous creators represent the past in different ways than non-Indigenous creators. Indigenous creators present a more elliptical vision. Non-Indigenous creators tend to address historical stories in more overt ways. It is apparent that even when dealing with the same histories and the same facts, the understanding of the past held by different groups is presented differently because it has different affective meanings.These television programs were all made in the 2010s but the roots of their interpretations go much further back, not only to the history they represent but also to the arguments about history that have raged in Australian intellectual and popular culture. Throughout most of the twentieth century, indigenous history was not discussed in Australia, until this was disturbed by WEH Stanner's reference in the Boyer lectures of 1968 to "our great Australian silence" (Clark 73). There was, through the 1970s and 80s, increased discussion of Indigenous history, and then in the 1990s there was a period of social and cultural argument known locally as the 'History Wars'. This long-running public disagreement took place in both academic and public arenas, and involved historians, other academics, politicians, journalists and social commentators on each side. One side argued that the arrival of white people in Australia led to frontier wars, massacre, attempted genocide and the ongoing oppression of Indigenous people (Reynolds). The other posited that when white people arrived they killed a few Aborigines but mostly Aboriginal people were killed by disease or failure to 'defend' their culture (Windschuttle). The first viewpoint was revisionist from the 1960s onwards and the second represented an attempt at counter-revision – to move the understanding of history back to what it was prior to the revision. The argument took place not only among historians, but was taken up by politicians with Paul Keating, prime minister 1993-1996, holding the first view and John Howard, prime minister 1996-2007, aggressively pursuing the second. The revisionist viewpoint was championed by historians such as Henry Reynolds and Lyndall Ryan and academics and Aboriginal activists such as Tony Birch and Aileen Moreton Robinson; whereas the counter-revisionists had Keith Windschuttle and Geoffrey Blainey. By and large the revisionist viewpoint has become dominant and the historical work of the counter-revisionists is highly disputed and not accepted.This argument was prominent in Australian cultural discourse throughout the 1990s and has never entirely disappeared. The TV shows I am examining were not made in the 1990s, nor were they made in the 2000s - it took nearly twenty years for responses to the argument to make the jump from politicians' speeches and opinion pieces to television drama. John Ellis argues that the role of television in popular discourse is "working through," meaning contentious issues are first raised in news reports, then they move to current affairs, then talk shows and documentaries, then sketch comedy, then drama (Ellis). Australian Indigenous history was extensively discussed in the news, current affairs and talk shows in the 1990s, documentaries appeared somewhat later, notably First Australians in 2008, but sketch comedy and drama did not happen until in 2014, when Black Comedy's programme first aired, offering sketches engaging often and fiercely with indigenous history.The existence of this public discourse in the political and academic realms was reflected in film before television. Felicity Collins argues that the "Blak Wave" of Indigenous film came to exist in the context of, and as a response to, the history wars (Collins 232). This wave of film making by Indigenous film makers included the works of Rachel Perkins, Warwick Thornton and Ivan Sen – whose films chronicled the lives of Indigenous Australians. There was also what Collins calls "back-tracking films" such as Rabbit-Proof Fence (2002) and The Tracker (2010) made by white creators that presented arguments from the history wars for general audiences. Collins argues that both the "blak wave" and the "back track" created an alternative cultural sphere where past injustices are acknowledged. She says: "the films of the Blak Wave… cut across the history wars by turning an Indigenous gaze on the colonial past and its afterlife in the present" (Collins 232). This group of films sees Indigenous gazes relate the past and present whereas the white gaze represents specific history. In this article I examine a similar group of representations in television programs.History is not an innocent discourse. In western culture 'history' describes a certain way of looking at the past that was codified in the 19th century (Lloyd 375). It is however not the only way to look at the past, theorist Mark Day has described it as a type of relation with the past and argues that other understandings of the past such as popular memory and mythology are also available (Day). The codification of history in the 19th century involved an increased reliance on documentary evidence, a claim to objectivity, a focus on causation and, often though not always, a focus on national, political history. This sort of history became the academic understanding of history – which claims to be, if not objective, at least capable of disinterest; which bases its arguments on facts and which can establish its facts through reference to documentary records (Froeyman 219). Aileen Moreton-Robinson would call this "white patriarchal knowledge" that seeks to place the indigenous within its own type of knowledge production ("The White Man's Burden" 414). The western version of history tends to focus on causation and to present the past as a coherent narrative leading to the current point in time. This is not an undisputed conception of history in the western academy but it is common and often dominant.Post-colonialist analyses of history argue that western writing about non-western subjects is biased and forces non-westerners into categories used to oppress them (Anderson 44). These categories exist ahistorically and deny non-westerners the ability to act because if history cannot be perceived then it is difficult to see the future. That is to say, because non-western subjects in the past are not seen as historical actors, as people whose actions effected the future, then, in the present, they are unable to access to powerful arguments from history. Historians' usual methodology casts Indigenous people as the 'subjects' of history which is about them, not by them or for them (Tuhiwai Smith 7, 30-32, 144-5). Aboriginal people are characterised as prehistoric, ancient, timeless and dying (Birch 150). This way of thinking about Indigenous Australia removes all agency from Aboriginal actors and restoring agency has been a goal of Aboriginal activists and historians. Aileen Moreton Robinson discusses how Aboriginal resistance is embodied through "oral history (and) social memory," engaging with how Aboriginal actors represent themselves and are represented in relation to the past and historical settings is an important act ("Introduction" 127).Redfern Now and Cleverman were produced through the ABC's Indigenous Department and made by Indigenous filmmakers, whereas Glitch and The Secret River are from the ABC drama department and were made by white Australians. The different programs also have different generic backgrounds. Redfern Now and The Secret River are different forms of realist texts; social realism and historical realism. Cleverman and Glitch, however, are speculative fiction texts that can be argued to be in the mode of magical realism, they "denaturalise the real and naturalise the marvellous" they are also closely tied ideas of retelling colonial stories and "resignify(ing) colonial territories and pasts" (Siskind 834-5).Redfern Now was produced by Blackfella Films for the ABC. It was, with much fanfare, released as the first drama made for television, by Aboriginal people and about Aboriginal people (Blundell). The central concerns of the program are issues in the present, its plots and settings are entirely contemporary. In this way it circumvents the idea and standard representation of Indigenous Australians as ancient and timeless. It places the characters in the program very much in the present.However, one episode "Stand Up" does obliquely engage with historical concerns. In this episode a young boy, Joel Shields, gets a scholarship to an expensive private school. When he attends his first school assembly he does not sing the national anthem with the other students. This leads to a dispute with the school that forms the episode's plot. As punishment for not singing Joel is set an assignment to research the anthem, which he does and he finds the song off-putting – with the words 'boundless plains to share' particularly disconcerting. His father supports him saying "it's not our song" and compares Joel singing it to a "whitefella doing a corrobboree". The national anthem stands metaphorically for the white hegemony in Australia.The school itself is also a metaphor for hegemony. The camerawork lingers on the architecture which is intended to imply historical strength and imperviousness to challenge or change. The school stands for all the force of history white Australia can bring to bear, but in Australia, all architecture of this type is a lie, or at least an exaggeration – the school cannot be more than 200 years old and is probably much more recent.Many of the things the program says about history are conveyed in half sentences or single glances. Arguably this is because of its aesthetic mode – social realism – that prides itself on its mimicry of everyday life and in everyday life people are unlikely to set out arguments in organised dot-point form. At one point the English teacher quotes Orwell, "those who control the past control the future", which seems overt but it is stated off-screen as Joel walks into the room. This seeming aside is a statement about history and directly recalls central arguments of the history wars, which make strong political arguments about the effects of the past, and perceptions of the past, on the present and future. Despite its subtlety, this story takes place within the context of the history wars: it is about who controls the past. The subtlety of the discussion of history allows the film makers the freedom to comment on the content and effects of history and the history wars without appearing didactic. They discuss the how history has effected the present history without having to make explicit historical causes.The other recent television drama in the realist tradition is The Secret River. This was an adaptation of a novel by Kate Grenville. It deals with Aboriginal history from the perspective of white people, in this way it differs from Redfern Now which discusses the issues from the perspective of Aboriginal people. The plot concerns a man transported to Australia as a convict in the early 19th century. The man is later freed and, with his family, attempts to move to the Hawksbury river region. The land they try to settle is, of course, already in use by Aboriginal people. The show sets up the definitional conflict between the idea of settler and invader and suggests the difference between the two is a matter of perspective. Of the shows I am examining, it is the most direct in its representation of historical massacre and brutality. It represents what Felicity Collins described as a back-tracking text recapitulating the colonial past in the light of recovered knowledge. However, from an Indigenous perspective it is another settler tale implying Aboriginal people were wiped out at the time of colonisation (Godwin).The Secret River is told entirely from the perspective of the invaders. Even as it portrays their actions as wrong, it also suggests they were unavoidable or inevitable. Therefore it does what many western histories of Indigenous people do – it classifies and categorises. It sets limits on interpretation. It is also limited by its genre, as a straightforward historical drama and an adaptation, it can only tell its story in a certain way. The television series, like the book before it, prides itself on its 'accurate' rendition of an historical story. However, because it comes from such a very narrow perspective it falls into the trap of categorising histories that might have usefully been allowed to develop further.The program is based on a novel that attracted controversy of its own. It became part of ongoing historiographical debate about the relationship between fiction and history. The book's author Kate Grenville claimed to have written a kind of affectively accurate history that actual history can never convey because the emotions of the past are hidden from the present. The book was critiqued by historians including Inge Clendinnen, who argued that many of the claims made about its historical accuracy were largely overblown (Clendinnen). The book is not the same as the TV program, but the same limitations identified by Clendinnen are present in the television text. However, I would not agree with Clendinnen that formal history is any better. I argue that the limitation of both these mimetic genres can be escaped in speculative fiction.In Glitch, Yurana, a small town in rural Victoria becomes, for no apparent reason, the site of seven people rising from the dead. Each person is from a different historical period. None are Indigenous. They are not zombies but simply people who used to be dead. One of the first characters to appear in the series is an Aboriginal teenager, Beau, we see from his point of view the characters crawling from their graves. He becomes friendly with one of the risen characters, Patrick Fitzgerald, who had been the town's first mayor. At first Fitzgerald's story seems to be one of working class man made good in colonial Australia - a standard story of Australian myth and historiography. However, it emerges that Fitzgerald was in love with an Aboriginal woman called Kalinda and Beau is his descendant. Fitzgerald, once he becomes aware of how he has been remembered by history, decides to revise the history of the town – he wants to reclaim his property from his white descendants and give it to his Indigenous descendants. Over the course of the six episodes Fitzgerald moves from being represented as a violent, racist boor who had inexplicably become the town's mayor, to being a romantic whose racism was mostly a matter of vocabulary. Beau is important to the plot and he is a sympathetic character but he is not central and he is a child. Indigenous people in the past have no voice in this story – when flashbacks are shown they are silent, and in the present their voices are present but not privileged or central to the plot.The program demonstrates a profoundly metaphorical relationship with the past – the past has literally come to life bringing with it surprising buried histories. The program represents some dominant themes in Australian historiography – other formerly dead characters include a convict-turned-bush-ranger, a soldier who was at Gallipoli, two Italian migrants and a girl who died as a result of sexual violence – but it does not engage directly with Indigenous history. Indigenous people's stories are told only in relation to the stories of white people. The text's magical realism allows a less prescriptive relationship with the past than in The Secret River but it is still restricted in its point of view and allows only limited agency to Aboriginal actors.The text's magical realism allows for a thought-provoking representation of relationships with the past. The town of Yurana is represented as a place deeply committed to the representation and glorification of its past. Its main street contains statues of its white founders and war memorials, one of its main social institutions is the RSL, its library preserves relics of the past and its publican is a war history buff. All these indicate that the past is central to the town's identity. The risen dead however dispute and revise almost every aspect of this past. Even the history that is unmentioned in the town's apparent official discourse, such as the WWII internment camp and the history of crimes, is disputed by the different stories of the past that the risen dead have to tell. This indicates the uncertainty of the past, even when it seems literally set in stone it can still be revised. Nonetheless the history of Indigenous people is only revised in ways that re-engage with white history.Cleverman is a magical realist text profoundly based in allegory. The story concerns the emergence into a near future society of a group of people known as the "Hairies." It is never made clear where they came from or why but it seems they appeared recently and are unable to return. They are an allegory for refugees. Hairypeople are part of many Indigenous Australian stories, the show's creator, Ryan Griffen, stated that "there are different hairy stories throughout Australia and they differ in each country. You have some who are a tall, some are short, some are aggressive, some are friendly. We got to sort of pick which ones will fit for us and create the Hairies for our show" (Bizzaca).The Hairies are forced to live in an area called the Zone, which, prior to the arrival of the Hairy people, was a place where Aboriginal people lived. This place might be seen as a metaphor for Redfern but it is also an allegory for Australia's history of displacing Aboriginal people and moving and restricting them to missions and reserves. The Zone is becoming increasingly securitised and is also operating as a metaphor for Australia's immigration detention centres. The prison the Hairy characters, Djukura and Bunduu, are confined to is yet another metaphor, this time for both the over-representation of Aboriginal people in prison and the securitisation of immigration detention. These multiple allegorical movements place Australia's present refugee policies and historical treatment of Aboriginal people within the same lens. They also place the present, the past and the future within the same narrative space.Most of the cast is Aboriginal and much of the character interaction is between Aboriginal people and Hairies, with both groups played by Indigenous actors. The disadvantages suffered by Indigenous people are part of the story and clearly presented as affecting the behaviour of characters but within the story Aboriginal people are more advantaged than Hairies, as they have systems, relationships and structures that Hairy people lack. The fact that so much of the interaction in the story is between Indigenous people and Hairies is important: it can be seen to be an interaction between Aboriginal people and Aboriginal mythology or between Indigenous past and present. It demonstrates Aboriginal identities being created in relation to other Aboriginal identities and not in relation to white people, where in this narrative, Aboriginal people have an identity other than that allowed for in colonialist terms.Cleverman does not really engage with the history of white invasion. The character who speaks most about this part of Aboriginal history and whose stated understanding of himself is based on that identity is Waruu. But Waruu is also a villain whose self-identity is also presented as jealous and dishonest. However, despite only passing mentions of westernised history the show is deeply concerned with a relationship with the past. The program engages with Aboriginal traditions about the past that have nothing to do with white history. It presents a much longer view of history than that of white Australia. It engages with the Aboriginal tradition of the Cleverman - demonstrated in the character of Uncle Jimmy who passes a nulla nulla (knob-headed hardwood club), as a symbol of the past, to his nephew Koen and tells him he is the new Cleverman. Cleverman demonstrates a discussion of Australian history with the potential to ignore white people. It doesn't ignore them, it doesn't ignore the invasion but it presents the possibility that it could be ignored.There is a danger in this sort of representation of the past that Aboriginal people could be relegated to the type of ahistorical, metahistorical myths that comprise colonialist history's representation of Indigenous people (Birch). But Cleverman's magical realist, near future setting tends to undermine this. It grounds representation in history through text and metaphor and then expands the definition.The four programs have different relationships with the past but all of them engage with it. The programs are both restrained and freed by the genres they operate in. It is much easier to escape the bounds of formal history in the genre of magical realism and both Glitch and Cleverman do this but have significantly different ways of dealing with history. "Stand up" and The Secret River both operate within more formally realist structures. The Secret River gives us an emotional reading of the past and a very affective one. However, it cuts off avenues of interpretation by presenting a seemingly inevitable tragedy. Through use of metaphor and silence "Stand up" presents a much more productive relationship with the past – seeing it as an ongoing argument rather than a settled one. Glitch engages with the past as a topic that is not settled and that can therefore be changed whereas Cleverman expands our definition of past and understanding of the past through allegory.It is possible to draw further connections. Those stories created by Indigenous people do not engage with the specifics of traditional dominant Australian historiography. However, they work with the assumption that everyone already knows this historiography. They do not re-present the pain of the past, instead they deal with it in oblique terms with allegory. Whereas the programs made by non-Indigenous Australians are much more overt in their representation of the sins of the past, they overtly engage with the History Wars in specific historical arenas in which those wars were fought. The non-Indigenous shows align themselves with the revisionist view of history but they do so in a very different way than the Indigenous shows.ReferencesAnderson, Ian. "Introduction: The Aboriginal Critique of Colonial Knowing." Blacklines: Contemporary Critical Writing by Indigenous Australians. Ed. Michele Grossman. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2003.Birch, Tony. "'Nothing Has Changed': The Making and Unmaking of Koori Culture." Blacklines: Contemporary Critical Writing by Indigenous Australians. Ed. Michele Grossman. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2003.Bizzaca, Chris. "The World of Cleverman." Screen Australia 2016.Blundell, Graeme. "Redfern Now Delves into the Lives of Ordinary People." The Australian 26 Oct. 2013: News Review.Clark, Anna. History's Children: History Wars in the Classroom. Sydney: New South, 2008.Clendinnen, Inga. “The History Question: Who Owns the Past?” The Quarterly Essay. Melbourne: Black Inc., 2006.Collins, Felicity. "After Dispossession: Blackfella Films and the Politics of Radical Hope." The Routledge Companion to Cinema and Politics. Eds. Yannis Tzioumakis and Claire Molloy. New York: Routledge, 2016.Day, Mark. "Our Relations with the Past." Philosophia 36.4 (2008): 417-27.Ellis, John. Seeing Things: Television in the Age of Uncertainty. London: I.B. Tauris, 2000.Froeyman, Anton. "The Ideal of Objectivity and the Public Role of the Historian: Some Lessons from the Historikerstreit and the History Wars." Rethinking History 20.2 (2016): 217-34.Godwin, Carisssa Lee. "Shedding the 'Victim Narrative' for Tales of Magic, Myth and Superhero Pride." The Conversation 2016.Lloyd, Christopher. "Historiographic Schools." A Companion to the Philosophy of History and Historiography Ed. Tucker, Aviezer. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009.Moreton-Robinson, Aileen. "Introduction: Resistance, Recovery and Revitalisation." Blacklines: Contemporary Critical Writing by Indigenous Australians. Ed. Michele Grossman. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2003.———. "The White Man's Burden." Australian Feminist Studies 26.70 (2011): 413-31.Reynolds, Henry. The Other Side of the Frontier: Aboriginal Resistance to the European Invasion of Australia. 2nd ed. Ringwood, Vic.: Penguin Books, 1995.Siskind, Mariano. "Magical Realism." The Cambridge History of Postcolonial Literature. Vol. 2. Ed. Ato Quayson. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012. 833-68.Tuhiwai Smith, Linda. Decolonizing Methodologies Research and Indigenous Peoples. 2nd ed. London: Zed Books, 2012.Windschuttle, Keith. The Fabrication of Aboriginal History. Paddington, NSW: Macleay Press, 2002.

Indigenous peoples experience high rates of family violence (FV) yet are said to access support at lower rates than their non-Indigenous counterparts. There is an absence of Indigenous voices regarding their help-seeking behaviors for FV, particularly concerning men’s views. The aim of this research was to seek Indigenous perspectives on their help-seeking behaviors for FV. Individual, face-to-face semistructured interviews took place with 23 Indigenous Australians (14 women and 9 men) recruited from one large community in Victoria, Australia. Interviews were audiotaped and transcribed verbatim. Data were categorized and organized, and themes were identified using thematic analysis. Five main themes emerged from the data. “You’re Aboriginal, so that’s just how it is” describes the experiences with discrimination and judgment that create general barriers for Indigenous peoples to access services. The second theme “putting a big blanket over it” articulates the role that shame plays in deterring support-seeking for FV. “How do you trust somebody?” defines the fear in the hearts and minds of Indigenous participants who contemplate help-seeking. A further main theme of “someone that they could have a yarn with” explores what occurs when participants initially decide to seek support. Their thoughts on what participants want from interactions with formal services are explored in the final theme “a safe space.” Significant barriers to seeking support for FV exist for Indigenous peoples, including discrimination, shame, and fear. Service providers need to work on addressing these barriers through an increased understanding of Indigenous experiences and beliefs in an effort to encourage help-seeking behaviors. Interventions to assist kin in dealing with FV and for service providers to create safe spaces are urgent. More research informed by Indigenous voices is needed.