“Science has fulfilled her function when she has ascertained and enunciated truth.?
- Thomas Huxley, Evidence as to Man’s Place in Nature, 1863

“The progress of events and the rapid march of science in our country are very wonderful, but the progress of events in the eastern hemisphere at the present moment is still more amazing: Christianity and civilization are marching over the world with a rapidity not fully known or estimated by any one nation.?
- George Grey, Journals of Two Expeditions of Discovery in North-West and Western Australia, 1841

From its outset, anthropology in Australia was inexorably tied to the politics surrounding Aboriginal legal status. The earliest signs of ethnological inquiry in Australia originated in the general Aboriginal humanitarian movements centered in London. In 1937, the British Parliament created a Select Committee on Aboriginal tribes to assess the Aboriginal situation throughout the colonies and to make political recommendations to the government. Their main suggestion regarding the Australian colonies was that Parliament should fund official Protectors who would learn the native languages and customs and who would permit Aborigines to continue their subsistence activities. In 1939, several members of the Select Committee formed the London-based Aborigines?Protection Society (APS), an organization that would promote the establishment of colonial Protectors and publish reports from colonial administrators on the conditions of the natives. Though primarily a humanitarian group, some members of the Society “took the opportunity to emphasize its potential value for science as well.? Efforts were made to draw a list of “queries?that would help travelers making contact with natives to obtain valuable pieces of scientific data.

For those members with more scientific interests, however, “it was soon evident that the priorities of the Society lay in political humanism rather than dispassionate inquiry.? In 1842, several members broke from the APS to form the Ethnological Society of London, dedicated to publishing scientific discoveries and funding scientific travels. By the early 1860s, factions arose within the Society over two major but very distinct concerns: (1) whether women should be allowed to study ethnology, and (2) whether the races of mankind evolved from one ancestor (monogenism) or numerous sources (polygenism). The more conservative faction (i.e., polygenists against female admittance) left to form the rival Anthropological Society of London in 1863, which established its own journal and propounded a solidly anti-Darwinist view. Over time, however, the tension between the two groups created a strain on the scientific credibility of both, and a merging of resources and ideologies came to represent the best interests of both organizations. In 1871, the Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland was formed combining the two Societies, initiating the era of institutionalized anthropology that would carry over into the 20th century. Institutional independence of Australian anthropology came with the first meeting of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science in 1888.

While the early Ethnological Society diverged explicitly from the philanthropic purposes of the APS, it nevertheless retained ties to the political arena. It was necessary to maintain amicable relations with the government, as much of the publishable scientific data derived from government-sponsored ventures. Indeed, many of the opinions that came to influence ethnological thought in the latter 19th century were appropriated from accounts of explorers mandated by Parliament. Among these adventurers, Edward Eyre and George Grey, later colonial administrators, were two of the first to provide both ethnological “observations?and recommendations for future political treatment of Aborigines. George Stocking refers to both as the original “governor-ethnologists,?since prior to embarking on their journeys they were outwardly invested in the situation of the Aborigines, Grey as Governor of South Australia, Eyre as Resident Magistrate. Their expeditions across central and western Australia placed Grey and Eyre in close contact with some of the remotest, and reportedly most hostile, Aboriginal groups on the continent. As a result, these explorers gained access to information that contradicted many of the assumptions that had previously dominated discourse on the treatment of Aborigines. Their accounts thus became valuable tools both for the advancement of ethnological knowledge and for the development of the colonial system with respect to Aborigines. It would be beneficial to examine both Grey’s and Eyre’s reports in depth to elucidate their specific arguments and recommendations.

The Governor-Ethnographer

George Grey traveled throughout northwest and Western Australia from 1837-1839 at his own expense, though “under the authority of Her Majesty’s Government.? His journals were published in two volumes by a London printer in 1841, right around the time the scientific division of the APS was gaining momentum. While Grey devoted the entire first volume and half of the second to a chronological narrative of his experiences, the latter half of volume two contains his “Observations on the Moral and Physical Condition of the Aboriginal Inhabitants, &c. &c.? Strewn throughout these observations are passages affirming the validity and necessity of personal experience with Aborigines in making pronouncements about their character. He opens the chapter entitled “Their Traditional Laws?with a vehement denouncement of philosophers, such as Hobbes and Locke, who had propounded influential theories regarding the nature of savages. Grey writes:

Deistical writers, and philosophers of great note but small experience, have built up whole theories, and have either overturned, or striven to overturn, ancient faiths and wholesome laws, by arguments deduced, in the first instance, from the consideration of man in his simple or savage state.

After further outlining the Hobbesian concept of a state of nature, Grey scoffs, “But these are merely reveries of the closet,—dreams of the inexperienced,—and have no real foundation, in as far at least as Australia is concerned.? In other words, one cannot claim to understand native Australians without drawing on actual evidence from Australia. In this way, Grey builds legitimacy for the scientific principle of observation and data collection and reaffirms the imperative put forth by the Select Committee in 1835 to “cultivate a personal knowledge of the natives.? By emphasizing actual physical observation in creating political theory, Grey suggests an important connection between scientific enquiry and political development. In his description of Aboriginal laws, Grey consistently invokes the Enlightenment notion of societal progress seen in Vattel and other 18th century writers. McGregor notes, “By the late eighteenth century the Enlightenment idea of progress had crystallised into an assumption that societies followed a natural developmental sequence, from a state of savagery?to one of barbarism?to civilisation.? This assumption rings clear in Grey’s explanation of the existence and effects of traditional laws. Whereas philosophers posit that persons in a “savage state?retain the freedom to choose between savagery and civilization, Grey opposes the philosophers with his observations of savage behavior. He argues that the Aborigine “is in reality subject to complex laws, which not only deprive him of all freedom of thought, but?necessarily bind him in a hopeless state of barbarism, from which it is impossible for man to emerge.? In order to escape this perpetual state of savagery, the Aborigine must be removed from the binding grip of his customary law; in other words, a “civilized community?must “exercise a new influence, under which the ancient system would expire or be swept away.? Thus, Grey’s observations of native laws carry two implications vital to a legal policy regarding Aborigines: (1) Aborigines, even in their savage state, were bound by a system of laws, and (2) the primary purpose of the intervening civilized government was to release Aborigines from their binding customs and help them progress toward civilization.

After detailing his experiences with Aboriginal language, law, relationships, domestic habits, and superstitions, Grey discusses the “Influence of Europeans on the Natives?and presents his plan for their betterment. The section headings of this chapter narrate Grey’s story in a telling way: “Causes why it has not hitherto been beneficial, Wretched state of the native population, Prejudices against them, Evil effects from their ferocious Customs remaining unchecked, Plan for promoting their Civilization.? For Grey, the greatest fault of colonial policy was that it lacked specific and systematic regulations to protect the Aborigines. As such, he composed a letter to the Secretary of State for the Colonies, later presented to Parliament, detailing “the general principles which?would best promote the civilization of the race. The failure of the colonial project, Grey expounds, was in allowing Aboriginal customary law to supercede British law in matters amongst Aborigines. In this respect, the blame for Aborigines?lack of civilization fell not on any natural inferiority but rather on the colonial system’s failure to free Aborigines from their detrimental laws; for “no race, however highly endowed, could in other respects remain long in a state of civilization, if they were submitted to the operation of such barbarous customs.? If the Aborigines were to be declared British subjects, Grey argues, they should be taught from the outset that British laws would replace their own. As long as a plurality of laws existed, native elders would exert the influence of tradition and prevent the younger generations from throwing off the yoke of savagery.

Thus, we see in George Grey’s observations and letter several qualities that characterized these early ethnographic reports. First, Grey reinforces the validity of his scientific approach by emphasizing the superiority of observation over philosophical assumption in ascertaining “truth.? Even in his letter to the government he legitimates his claims by prefacing that his “report is founded upon a careful study of the language, prejudices, and traditional customs of this people.? As earlier, he denounces the perspective of those who have not observed the Aborigines, arguing that the plurality of laws “originated in philanthropic motives, and a total ignorance of the peculiar traditional laws of this people?a seemingly direct attack on the humanitarian sector of the APS. Second, Grey relies on the notion of societal progress, and constraints hindering it, to place the Aborigines into a larger historical and theoretical context. In this context he even includes God, who “willed that this people should until a certain period remain in their present condition.? Finally, embedded in Grey’s political recommendations is the presumption that the main purpose of colonial policy toward Aborigines was to civilize them. To state this purpose explicitly seemed unnecessary; Grey’s suggestions for “promoting the civilization of the Aboriginal inhabitants of Australia?took the process of civilization as a given. The only point at question was how to achieve this aim, and for Grey this required obliteration of Aboriginal customary law.

A young man commencing life

Edward Eyre traveled overland through central Australia in 1840-1841. Like Grey, he published his journals in two volumes, three quarters containing his chronological narrative, composed in beautifully Victorian prose, while the final quarter considered the “Manners and Customs of the Aborigines and the State of their Relations with Europeans.? Eyre was acutely familiar with Grey’s journals, citing them numerous times and adopting many of their elements. One consistency between the two authors is their continual appeal to the importance of scientific observation. Similar to Grey’s judgement of philosophers, Eyre criticizes those whose views are unsupported by observation. He writes, “I consider that an intimate knowledge of the peculiar habits, laws, and traditions, by which this people are governed, is absolutely necessary, before any just opinion can be formed.? This necessity of an ‘intimate knowledge?serves to legitimate his ‘just?opinion, for he had “always been in frequent intercourse with the aboriginal tribes.? When later discussing Aborigines?concept of land, Eyre again criticizes opinions not based on personal experience. The faulty notion that Aborigines lacked a concept of property, he argues, “is a feeling?that can only have originated in an entire ignorance of the habits, customs, and ideas of this people.? On the contrary, Eyre’s account of Aboriginal property rights remained true “as far as (his) own observation has extended.? At the conclusion of his detailed account of Aboriginal customs and habits, Eyre offers an explicit plea to travelers and philanthropists to “record with fidelity the facts connected with those tribes?with which they come in contact. Thus, while he laments the dearth of information regarding Aborigines, Eyre nevertheless appears confident that travelers to the continent could, and should, adopt a scientific approach to contribute to the colonial development of an “intimate knowledge.? Also consistent with Grey’s argument, Eyre relied on a notion of societal progress and believed that unchanging Aboriginal customs “must for ever [sic] prevent them from rising in the scale of civilization and improvement.? Like Grey, he argued that tradition binds Aborigines to a state of barbarism (indeed, he directly cites Grey’s passage on the natives?complex laws), and suggested that only colonial intervention could release the Aborigines from this trap. Again, the fault of failed civilization lay not in the Aborigines themselves, who were “fully equal in natural powers and intelligence, to the generality of mankind,?but rather to the defects in the colonial system. For Eyre, that failure derived from an inability to assimilate the Aborigines into white society as a result of three major problems: prejudice, lack of incentive for the Aborigines, and the Aborigines?inconsistent legal status. Like Grey, then, Eyre believed that customary law was the hindrance to Aboriginal society’s progress and assumed, without question, that the main purpose of colonial policy toward Aborigines was to “bring about the abandonment of their wandering habits.?

Where the two authors diverged was in their proposed method of phasing out Aboriginal law. Grey’s primary recommendation, in his letter to the government, was to remove the plurality in Aboriginal legal status that allowed customary laws to persist—in other words, to make British law sovereign throughout the colonies. For Eyre, however, such an act seemed hasty and even somewhat absurd, in that it “makes them amenable to penalties they are ignorant of, for crimes which they do not consider as such, or which they may even have been driven to commit by our own injustices.? In order to stamp out the “evil example?of customary laws, the colonial government must acquire “an almost unlimited influence over the native population.? With such control, the government could then effect systematic changes, such as persuading Aborigines to settle in one location, providing them economic opportunities, and protecting them from intolerant settlers. The most important change, however, would be the revamping of the native school system. Eyre’s suggestions for native schools pulse with an assimilationist prerogative. He argued that the failings of the school system resulted from (1) a lack of incentive for Aboriginal parents to enroll their children, (2) a failure to provide Aboriginal children with employment once their schooling ends, and (3) a continued influence of Aboriginal customs even when children returned from school to their camps. Consequently, Eyre proposed a system of boarding schools, enclosed such that “no other natives than the scholars should be admitted,?and “on no account should any natives be permitted to encamp or sleep within the school grounds.? Furthermore, once parents were encouraged with economic incentives to enroll their children, “parents should never be allowed to withdraw the children?after having once consented to allow them to remain there.? It seems clear, then, that Eyre’s report served as a precursor to the assimilationist arguments that guided the removal policies at the end of the 19th century.

The reports of Grey and Eyre, as well as other government-sponsored explorers, thus contributed several facets to the budding ethnological movement in Australia. They provided scientists, both in England and Australia, with a body of observational data, including both descriptions and actual material collections. The Australian Aborigine became a key point for many arguing about evolution and descent, such as Thomas Huxley, and thus the records and skulls the explorers provided proved invaluable. These expeditioners also helped legitimize the scientific approach by constantly appealing to the need for loyal observation, extensive record-keeping, and collecting. Finally, and perhaps most crucially, authors like Grey and Eyre deepened the connection between the scientific and political realms in Australia. This entwining of science and government persisted into the era of institutionalized anthropology at the end of the century. In these turn-of-the-century connections, however, we find an interesting reversal of roles: whereas Grey and Eyre were government officials providing commentary and validity to scientific endeavors, the 20th century brought career anthropologists who provided justification for government projects.

Australian Anthropolicy

When the Ethnological and Anthropological Societies merged to form the Anthropological Institute in 1871, the field incurred a shift in the nature of its participants. Victorian scholar Douglas Lorimer points specifically to a decline in the number of army officers, clergymen, and government officials involved in the Institute. He notes, “This change in membership reflected the decline in the participation of interested amateurs and the growth of specialized academic and scientific professions by the end of the century.? The amateurs that did remain fell roughly into two categories: travelers and officials stationed overseas, and doctors and biologists with an interest in physical anthropology. While both camps contributed a number of significant reports, “ethnographic topics dominated the Institute’s proceedings,?and thus, even as the field grew more professionalized, the influence of colonial officials?reports remained strong.

Anthropologists?efforts to establish their field as a profession rested on attempts to secure status and sponsorship from the British imperial government. In her recent influential volume on British anthropology, social historian Henrika Kuklick suggests that anthropologists envisioned themselves as integral to the colonial project to the extent geology had become. In the same way the government valued geological research to locate the economically profitable sectors of its empire, it required anthropological knowledge, according to the anthropologists, in order “to deal effectively with those conflicts that derived from racial and cultural variation that arose both in the colonies and at home.? The major proponent of government-supported anthropology was A.C. Haddon, an anthropologist who conducted an expedition into the Australian Torres Straits Islands and who lobbied for anthropological professorships at all the major colonial outposts. Haddon exerted a large influence on the administration of the Australian territory on New Guinea, as well as on the minds and careers of his students, some of whom, like A.R. Radcliffe-Brown, became the pre-eminent scholars on Australian Aborigines. Nevertheless, while Haddon and his supporters won numerous privileges for anthropology, “the discipline never attained the status Haddon and others had envisioned—as the systematic basis for enlightened colonial administration.? Still, the fields of ethnology and anthropology in the British empire maintained their long-standing history of ties to the political arena. At the dawn of the 20th century, the relationship between anthropology and government policy assumed two distinct forms: Parliament appointed career anthropologists to official government positions, and anthropologists received government finances and praise in return for their validation of government policies via their learned scientific opinion. Patrick Wolfe, from the Institute of Postcolonial Studies in Melbourne, explores the former type in his book, Settler Colonialism and the Transformation of Anthropology. Wolfe follows the career of Baldwin Spencer, the late-Victorian ethnographer whose reports and discoveries of the Arunta tribe in Central Australia earned him international acclaim. In 1911, the Australian federal government appointed Spencer the Chief Protector of Aborigines in the newly-acquired Northern Territory. Whereas prior state Protectors had all been army officials or colonial bureaucrats, Spencer brought to the territory firsthand knowledge of Aborigines not in a militaristic or administrative capacity but rather as an explorer, frontiersman, and scientist. His scientific perspective was not, however, immune from the political motivations of the Confederation; following the lines of the assimilationist programs gaining momentum since the 1880s, Spencer recommended in his initial report on the Territory’s Aborigines that “no half-caste children should be allowed to remain in any native camp, but they should all be withdrawn and placed on stations.? In Spencer, then, we see a reversal of roles from the time of Edward Eyre’s writing. Whereas Eyre brought support to the ethnological movement by articulating its value to government, Spencer lent credibility to a key policy in Australia’s new national strategy by advocating the policy from an ethnographic standpoint.

Most turn-of-the-century anthropologists, however, never entered the political realm as actual governmental appointees. Their tie to British politics was far more subtle and complex, and yet still sustained the symbiotic relationship between science and government. Geoffrey Gray elucidates the subtleties of this relationship in his discussion of the early career of A.P. Elkin, who became Australia’s most prominent anthropologist in the mid-20th century. Gray argues that Elkin, in his research in the Kimberley area of Western Australia, “appeared motivated by a humanitarian concern for the conditions and treatment of Aborigines and most particularly with assisting their advance to civilization.? Though Elkin witnessed countless Aborigines in degraded conditions, he vigorously advocated the policies of the Western Australia State Aborigines?Department. While the Aborigines?Department offered Elkin no official sponsorship, both Elkin and the Minister of the Department reported the extensive cooperation between the State and Elkin’s expedition, ranging from the provision of manpower and tools to accommodation on missions and stations throughout the state. Though the Minister confirmed the value of Elkin’s research to the Department’s administration of Aborigines, Gray points out that “there is no evidence that the West Australian [sic] government?actually applied any of Elkin’s research findings in the formulation of Aboriginal policy and practice.? For the state government, Elkin’s mere approval of the Department’s native policies, as an anthropologist, constituted enough compensation for state support. Because of this support, Gray argues, Elkin felt a “reluctance to be critical of West Australian [sic] government policy.? Consequently, this early 20th century relationship between scientist and state—one of state support for independent research, and scientific approval for state policies—placed the anthropologist in a position of quiescent complicity.

The turn of the 20th century thus saw Australian anthropology evolve into an independent institutional profession while simultaneously tightening its handshake with imperial politics. While the field codified its scientific methodology it also sought to prove its utility to Aboriginal policymaking in what Gray refers to as “a discourse of usefulness.? The programs espoused by the colonial government to reduce Aboriginal property and legal rights and to phase out the indigenous element of society thus found a place in the rhetoric of anthropological commentary. Though late-Victorian anthropology had established itself as a distinct institution, the ideological lines between scientific inquiry and political motivation in Australia became irrevocably blurred.

Back to Introduction
Back to Land and Law: The Changing Rights of the Aborigine
Scientific Philosophy: Prime Mover, Grand Catalyst
Concluding Remarks: Where Are We Now?