Winchester et al.
establishment of the Selwyn township. The value of such his-
torical graffiti lies in the reconstruction of the fluid borders of
senlement at the time of European the peopling
of that past with individuals' lives and experiences.
Acknowledgements
W e thank Dr S.J. Gale of The University of Sydney for
constructive comments on earlier drafts of this manuscript,
Mr 0. Rey-Lescure of The University of Newcastle for pre-
paring Figures 1-3, The John Oxley Library, Brisbane, for per-
mission to reproduce Figure 4 from their collection, and one
anonymous referee for hidher helpful comments.
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Self-representation and Aboriginal communities in the Northern
Territory: Implications for archaeological research
Peter Thorley
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Myers 1986a; Rose 1992; Toussaint 1994, 1996). In archae-
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to issues such as ownership of the past (McBryde 1985), the
role of indigenous communities in archaeological research
(Pardoe 1992) and in the context of current theoretical dis-
cussions within the discipline (Hodder 199 1 ;Smith 1995). It
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Rooks, J. 199 1 Ancient pitches. Archaeology 44:72.
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broader trends in adopting reflexive approaches to archae-
ology, approaches which are directed toward the analysis of
the author's role, placing particular emphasis on the produc-
tion of texts (Burke et al. 1994). My main concern here is
with the practical implications of these ideas, that is, how
they apply in the face to face situations in which archaeolo-
gists working in remote Australia are typically engaged. In
this paper, examples are drawn from Aboriginal communities
in the Northern Territory to illustrate the complexities of self-
representation through archaeological research.
Self-represenfution and .4borigrnal communities in the .4'ortherrr Territont Implications for archaeological research
Self-representation
Anthropological and historical perspectives
The term self-representation is used here to refer to the
way individuals or groups within society choose to represent
themselves, and how those representations are transmitted and
validated. In this sense, the concept is relevant to the propo-
sition that archaeological research should become a 'voice' for
Aboriginal viewpoints or that research questions should be
generated by Aboriginal communities rather than by issues
primarily of concern to archaeology. To examine the basis of
these propositions and their relevance to the applied contexts
in which archaeologists in the Northern Territory work, it is
necessary as a first step to turn to the disciplines of anthro-
pology and ethnohistory.
In anthropology, the issue of self-representation has been
examined as part of the broader inquiry into the dynamics
of the way human cultures represent themselves and others
(Carrier 1992, 1995; Myers 1986a; Linnekin 1992; Wagner
1980). This analysis has led to a critique of ethnographic
writing as an essentially political exercise which excludes the
voices of minority cultures and justifies their subordination
(Attwood and Amold 1992; Clifford and Marcus 1986; Mar-
cus and Fischer 1986; Lattas 1992). As a consequence there
has been a growing number of claims for the recognition of
the rights of indigenous and minority groups to produce their
own representations to counter those generated by majority
culture interests (Handler 1993).
These themes have parallels in the recent literature on
ethnohistory, where history is increasingly viewed as a form
of 'cultural biography' and historical sources (including arch-
aeology) are 'joined to the memories and voices of living
people' (Simmons 1988:10). In the context of ethnohistory,
much attention has been given to the role of oral accounts in
representing the views of cultures without a written tradition.
Down (1990) argues that oral history is as valid a form of
historical account as written history, while Muecke (1992) sug-
gests that Aboriginal oral history is in itself a form of 'textual
representation', although as Barwick (l98 1) has pointed out,
its conventions are quite distinct fi-om those of written history.
Others have taken the view that the transcription of oral his-
tory provides cultures without a written tradition an oppor-
tunity to represent their oral accounts in written form. For
example, Rose (1992:40) maintains that in her research in
the Northern Territory:
Yarralin people have put considerable effort into
teaching me because they hope the written word
will become a vehicle for their oral testimony.
Whether it is possible, however, to provide a written account
without detracting significantly from the original character of
the oral perspective remains doubtful.
Barwick (198 1) recognises the importance of oral accounts
which come direct from participants, but acknowledges the
difficulties involved in their conversion to written form. Many
of the values and conventions associated with oral accounts
are culturally defrned and, as a consequence, are unable to be
reproduced in written accounts (Hudson 1980). Invariably,
meaning is lost during the transcription of oral accounts and
in the process the written words come to take on more of the
editor's own assumptions and interests. For groups who have
distinctive oral traditions, it may be important to retain these
values and conventions for transmitting information within
their own society, rather than have them tampered with to
facilitate their translation to a wider audience.
Once the accounts have been removed from their original
contexts, there are also difficulties involved in their valida-
tion. In recognising the problems confronting ethnographic
informants as arbiters of their own accounts, Carrier (1992:
197) writes:
Western anthropologists, describing societies that
they have studied closely and sympathetically, are
likely to c o n h n t only their own honour as a check
on the representations they produce. Even if those
being described come to read and reject the repre-
sentations, their rejection is unlikely to be voiced
in the academic or social contexts which matter
most to anthropologists.
Jackson (1987: 19) has taken a similar stance, noting further
that, through its emphasis on texts, reflexive anthropology has
achieved little more than 'salving our consciences':
textualism tends to ignore the flux of human inter-
relationships, the ways meanings are created inter-
subjectlvdy as weJJ as 'intertextually', embodied in
gestures as well as in words, and connected to poli-
tical, moral and aesthetic interests. Quite simply,
people cannot be reduced to texts any more than
they can be reduced to objects (Jackson 1987:19).
While Jackson (1987) draws attention to the limitations
inherent in the reflexive emphasis on texts his comments high-
light the complexities of interaction which underlie ethno-
graphic representations. Carrier (1992) and Myers ( l986b)
have made similar observations.
One of the main implications to come out of this literature
in anthropology is the point that ethnographic representations
cannot be isolated fiom relationships formed with participants
during the research process. Research creates a dynamic be-
tween researcher and participants, which influences the way
the process is perceived and represented by each side. The
perceptions each side has of the other are typically influenced
by their own assumptions and values, while the views they
project of themselves are often embellished to fit external
and somewhat idealised notions. Taken at face value these
representations may lead to distortion. To go beyond this
potentially distorting mirror of self-representation it is neces-
sary to cross-check statements across a range of viewpoints,
to create a larger system of meaning, without which 'we can-
not foretell what its participants are treating concretely in their
activity, linguistic or otherwise' (Myers 1986b:444). The view
of culture generated by this process may be quite different,
however, to the way subjects choose to represent themselves.
Self-representation and Aboriginal communities
The North ern Territory and remote Australia
The Northern Territory comprises a unique set of circum-
stances which influence the contexts in which archaeology
operates. The relative autonomy and physical isolation of re-
mote Aboriginal communities in the Northern Territory has
enabled residents to exercise their own systems of value in
a range of cultural choices.
The following discussion draws largely on my own experi-
ences in central Australia between 1986-l996 (which includes
Australian Archaeology, Number 43, 1996

four years permanent residence in a remote community). In
doing archaeological research and talking about archaeology
I have found that Aboriginal people are often varied in their
responses and yet many of the same themes and assumptions
seem to underlie the interaction. From these experiences I
attempt to provide an understanding of the complexity of
Aboriginal representation in archaeology rather than a set of
prescriptive answers, while acknowledging that archaeologists
working elsewhere in the Northern Territory and in other states
may approach these issues from a different perspective.
One of the features of many remote Aboriginal commu-
nities throughout Australia is their maintenance of cultural
autonomy (Rowse 1992). This has been facilitated in the
Northern Territory by legislation, particularly the Land Rights
(Nv Act 1976. In communities away from major population
centres, in the Kirnberleys and Western Desert and in remote
parts of the Cape York peninsula, a similar set of circum-
stances may prevail. Rowse (1992) has explored this in some
detail in the monograph titled Remote Possibilities. In spite
of their similarities, it must be conceded that there are sig-
nificant cultural differences amongst Aboriginal groups both
within the Northern Territory and outside it.
Aboriginal language and cultural choice
A glance at the linguistic situation in the Northern Terri-
tory (Fig. 1) shows that use of traditional language among
BURARRA 6
REYBIRRNGA
ALYAWARRA
Figure l Northern Tenitory languages (dialects in italics) with over 100
speakers (Black 1983).
Australian Archaeology, Number 43, 1996
Thorley
remote Aboriginal communities remains strong. Language lies
at the core of personal autonomy and is the means of trans-
mission of culture and identity. In much of the Northern
Territory, Aborigines choose to speak their own traditional
language or Kriol rather than English. In most remote com-
munities, few adults have fluency in English and many have
achieved little more than basic literacy either in English or
the vernacular.
This creates difficulties for communication with non-
Aboriginal people both within the community and in the wider
world. As a result, Aboriginal communities often remain
heavily reliant on outsiders to provide an interface with main-
stream society, with its attendant problems of exploitation and
misappropriation (e.g. Rose 1992; von Stunner 1982). Yet
while poor English and literacy attainment impedes Aborigi-
nal control on the one hand, it is also an expression of cul-
tural choice; many Aboriginal people do not rely on literacy
to achieve that which they value.
In exercising language choice, Aboriginal people have
been able to maintain control over knowledge within their own
domain. At Doomadgee in northwest Queensland, Trigger
(1986: 116) comments that this kind of autonomy
is predicated on exclusion of whites from physical
space, styles of behaviour and modes of thought (and
communication) rather than on the capacity to wrest
economic or political power h m the wider society.
In most remote Aboriginal communities, responsibility for the
transmission of valued Aboriginal knowledge rests with senior
men and women who are typically the least literate group.
These observations impIy that ariy attempts to impose arch-
aeology as a fonn of representation, based as it is on funda-
mentally different understandings of the world and language
conventions, may work against the very distinctive ways in
which knowledge is transmitted and validated in the Abori-
ginal domain.
Cultural difference and accountability
The cultural autonomy coupled with relative dependency
which prevails in remote parts of the Northern Territory pro-
vides a situation which most outsiders find challenging if not
confronting. Carrying out archaeological research in these
conditions immediately raises questions of Aboriginal involve-
ment and representation, and communication of the findings
back to the community. In many Aboriginal communities,
however, low English and literacy competence will make it
difficult to meaningfully convey archaeological accounts and,
as a consequence, the presentation of research in this way may
contribute little to community control and evaluation in real
terms. The quality of the delivery is critical to the process, but
as archaeologists rarely have the sophisticated level of fluency
in local languages, effective communication of the findings
is difficult to achieve in practice. What typically happens is
that the archaeologist presents their own description of the
fmdings to the individuals with whom the research was carried
out, or to representatives of the community, who then pass
what is assumed to be 'community' judgement. To commu-
nicate the research in this way may achieve little, both because
of the differing goals of the researchers and participants and
the nebulous nature of the term 'community', an issue which
will be discussed later in this paper.
SeiJ-represetlturronand Aboriginal communrties ~nthe Sorthern Terrrtor),. Implications for archaeologicul resrarcll
Written accountability remains foremost among academic
values, indeed, it is the basis on which research in archae-
ology is ultimately assessed. Although written representations
may be critical fiom an archaeological point of view, Abori-
ginal perceptions are likely to reflect other priorities. Research
creates opportunities to develop what are potentially valued
relationships, beyond which the details of the research and the
written form it takes may generate little interest among Abori-
ginal participants and audiences. In some situations, the value
placed on relationships may actually make it more difficult for
Aborigines to overtly challenge what the researcher says.
Interest in the relationship could be misinterpreted as approval
of the researcher's fmdings while fiom an Aboriginal point of
view the content of the research may be seen as unimportant.
Different values are assigned by each side. As a society with-
out a Western tradition of impersonal academic debate there
is little incentive to argue with the researcher and risk the
relationship, in fact there may be a tendency to defend the
researcher in order to preserve the relationship, no matter how
misguided the representation.
Self-representation and community research
A related issue facing archaeologists in remote parts of the
Northern Territory is to ensure 'community' consensus in gain-
ing approval for research. The term 'community' has served
for some time as a convenient, though in many cases mis-
leading, point of reference for discussion of Aboriginal in-
volvement in archaeological research (e.g. Creamer 1983).
There is considerable ethnographic literature which deals with
the problems of the term 'community' and its usage in refer-
ring to contemporary Aboriginal polities in remote Australia
(Myers l986b, 1988; Hamilton 1987; Rowse 1992; Trigger
1992). Without going into too much detail here, the ethno-
graphic critique has revolved around the difficulty of incor-
porating smaller, kin-based social units which characterise
Aboriginal society within larger, more encompassing social
structures which the wider society views as 'communities'.
In archaeology, this defmitional problem has implications
for who or what is represented in 'community' research. Is it
the local community, a community organisation or specific
individuals? These are not simply issues of semantics but are
relevant to the way that researchers construct and interact with
the groups with whom the research takes place. Implicit in
the notion of 'community' representation is the assumption
that the views held by members of a particular community
are internally consistent or that certain individuals are able
to 'speak for' the interests of the people as a whole.
In many Aboriginal communities, the issue of leadership is
often a volatile one. Decisions affecting daily lives of its mem-
bers are generally made by elected representatives of com-
munity councils. However, gaining consensus which binds all
community members is often difficult to achieve in practice
because of social practices that divide communities along indi-
vidual, gender or kin-based lines (Rowse 1992). A similar
observation has been made by Hamilton (1987) who points
out that the concept of community (based on a 'village' model)
is more the result of bureaucratic convenience than any ac-
curate conception of contemporary or traditional arrangements
in the Western Desert. This perception, she argues, has led
to
the insertion of Aborigines into power and deci-
sion making apparati of the State under policies of
'self management' [where] the individual is sup-
posed to function as the representative of his people
just as surely as Bungaree was supposed to h c t i o n
as the King of the Sydney Aborigines (1987: 138).
In terms of decision-making, a community may be a geo-
graphic entity but little more. The reality for those who work
in these situations is often that their affiliations lie with parti-
cular individuals or family groups (Myers 1986b; Rowse 1992).
Their work cements the relationship and they become. in a
sense, 'owned' (von Stunner 1982). Folds (pers. comm.) de-
scribed how one woman from a central Australian commu-
nity claimed exclusive rights to work with a group of biolo-
gists fiom the Conservation Commission of the Northern Ter-
ritory (CCNT), on the basis of having worked with them in the
past and through connections with relatives in other nearby
communities where the CCNT researchers had worked.
Archaeological research frequently offers economic in-
centives (payment for involvement in fieldwork, access to
vehicles, etc.) and it does not take long for groups within the
community to discover the kind of ififormation most likely
to encourage their own participation. Research which meets
the perceived needs of people is then apt to become the focus
of competing groups within the community, all of which are
attempting to satisfy the researcher's agenda, while research
which does not offer anything of value is likely to languish
through lack of interest.
Although 'community' representation may be desirable in
archaeology, in many situations it will be difficult to realise.
As a general rule, research proceeds through relationships
with individuals, and archaeologists who acquire information
in this way do not 'learn' ffom a community nor do their under-
standing~necessarily represent the views of the majority of
people who happen to reside in a particular locality. A firther
unintentional consequence of 'community' research is that it
may draw Aboriginal people into a structure whose traditions
lie well outside their society, placing stress on existing values
and decision-making structures (see Folds 1993 for a discus-
sion of the impact of well-meaning though culturally-biased
concepts on Aboriginal societies in central Australia).
Exchange relationships
Carrying out research in Aboriginal communities involves
expectations of benefits on both sides. Community members
have their own agendas and naturally expect to gain some-
thing of value to themselves for taking part in the research
project, as do their researchers. In situations where Abori-
ginal groups are to some extent dependent economically on
'outsiders', there is far more at stake than the outcomes of
the research or the accuracy of the representation.
In contemporary Western Desert communities, expecta-
tions placed on researchers are in some respects similar to
those placed on kin. Relationships are sustained by the ex-
change of resources and services and demands are propor-
tional to the importance or 'closeness' of the relationship
(Myers l986b; Tonkinson 1991). The distribution of resources
among relatives is typically the basis of such exchanges rather
than any attempt to service the broader goals of the commu-
nity (Myers 1986b; Rowse 1992). For example, access to
Australian Archaeology, Number 43, 1996

vehicles may provide opportunities to visit country or relatives,
or to obtain fbrther resources (such as game through hunting)
which may then be shared among relatives. Researchers
working in these situations may find themselves reluctant
to meet requests which fall beyond the main objective of
their work. Nonetheless, it is their performance in these
areas, primarily through their relationships with particular
individuals, that influences the standing of researchers within
a community, rather than through claims to have repre-
sented Aboriginal views in written form through the research,
claims which at any rate could not be validated in Aborigi-
nal terms.
It is fanciful to think, for example, that Aboriginal elders
will be content with teaching non-Aborigines about them-
selves in order that some far-distant and anonymous popu-
lation will gain insights into their culture, and will expect to
gain, in return, nothing more than the written reports produced
by the research. As a minority group heavily dependent on
outsiders Aboriginal people have an investment in how they
represent themselves. When economic benefits are to be
gained, however, it may be more in their interests to be
acceptable rather than accurate. Archaeologists who have
worked in the Northern Territory have long had an interest
in remnant hunter-gather populations. Aborigines living in
what are perceived as 'traditional' contexts are often well aware
of this selective interest and curiosity with the traditional
aspects of their culture. In 10 years of working with Abori-
ginal people in central Australia I have found that they are
extremely astute at assessing the assumptions of archaeolo-
gists and others with an interest in their traditional culture
and past, and will frequently reproduce these assumptions in
order to cement the relationship which will in turn improve
access to services or resources.
Implications for archaeological research
Claims to provide 'self-representation' are growing in arch-
aeology following trends in anthropology and the social sci-
ences generally. Because of the promise they hold for greater
accountability and community control over the research pro-
cess, the assumptions which underlie these claims require
close attention.
One of the challenges confronting proponents of self-
representation and community research is to ground the ap-
proaches in some kind of social or ethnographic reality. Both
Byrne (199 1) and Hodder (199 1) have put forward arguments
for 'indigenous archaeologies' in Australia, but neither have
described how these might translate into practice. Despite
the best of intentions, the notion of indigenous archaeology
is itself the product of an external and more powerfbl society.
This is particularly ironic, since it would seem that the basis
of such approaches would draw from Aboriginal forms of
identification, rather than a framework not of their making.
The implications of the fact that representations are cultur-
ally defined (i.e. are cultural artefacts) are not well appreci-
ated.
Because of the antithetical nature of the cultures, it would
be difficult to reconcile a framework based on Aboriginal
values with a Western tradition, however ethical. Archaeology
has little in common with existing forms of representation
in Aboriginal communities in the Northern Territory, where
,4ustralian Archaeology, Number 4 3 , 1996
Thorley
many Aboriginal groups have distinct language conventions
and ways of transmitting information about the past. Arch-
aeology is a culture-specific method of transmitting informa-
tion, which relies to some extent on 'insider' knowledge passed
on through a particular Western cultural tradition. The form
in which human cultures choose to represent themselves and
the means by which knowledge and information are validated,
are highly specific. Aborigines are unlikely to dump their
own traditions to embrace archaeology as a form of self-
representation any more than archaeologists are likely to throw
out their own research questions, although there may be some
borrowing between the respective cultures.
While the differences between the cultures can be a prob-
lem for self-representation in this context, they do not provide
an irreconcilable barrier between residents of remote cornmu-
nities and archaeologists. A more realistic view of the process
of interaction between archaeologists and Aborigines living
in remote and relatively autonomous regions is one based on
exchange. From an Aboriginal perspective the relationship
with the researcher is likely to be more important than the
actual research. These relationships may be of value to arch-
aeological research, but they do not necessarily provide the
validation or checking of the research across the community
that the researcher might believe to be the case. Archaeolo-
gists and Aborigines may have different interests in the arch-
aeological record; to a large extent the development of work-
able relationships depends on recognition of the other. These
relationships and the exchanges they generate provide the
potential for research which produces something of value
to both sides.
Acknowledgements
I thank Ralph Folds and Chris Schwarz for their com-
ments on drafts of this paper. I also thank Wenten Rubun-
tja, Syd Coulthard, Rarney Campbell and Pinta Pinta Tjapa-
nangka for helping me to appreciate some of the contradic-
tions their and mine.
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were published by Ivan Haskovec. Both contain previously
unpublished illustrations of rock paintings and increase the
range of published material available for scholarly analysis.
One paper examines a particular style of human figure found
between Oenpelli and Magela Creek, which Haskovec has label-
led 'Northern Running Figures' or 'NW' (Haskovec l992a).
He begins his examination with an assessment of the existing
Arnhem Land rock art sequences. Then he moves on to dis-
cuss the spatial and temporal distribution of the figures, and to
describe the style and its content. Finally, he suggests absolute
dates for the period during which the figures were produced.
1 40 Tiwi Gardens Road, Tiwi, NT 0810, Australia.
2 Ms. received December 1993. Accepted February 1996. Eds note that
the delay in accepting this ms. arose out of prolonged correspondence
between Eds and author over necessary editorial changes.
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His other paper examines the claim made by Chaloupka
(1977, 1979, 1983, 1984, 1985) that large paintings of animals
and human figures in naturalistic style occur near the begin-
ning of the Arnhem Land art sequence (Haskovec 1992b).
This paper may be considered to have two parts. The first
is primarily a reappraisal of Chaloupka's written and illus-
trative evidence, and an in-the-field reappraisal of the over-
lay sequences at two 'key' sites at Mount Gilruth - the sites
upon which Chaloupka based his original claim. Haskovec
concludes that evidence for the chronological position claimed
by Chaloupka does not exist.
In the second part Haskovec reinterprets Chaloupka's
evidence and claims the discovery of new overlay sequences
which necessitate a rearranging of the sequence of art styles.
He then goes on to suggest absolute dates for this new se-
quence and to offer hypotheses to account for some of the
changes in the art.
Australian Archaeology, Number 43, 1996