Social anthropology and Australian aboriginal studies: A contemporary overview

Social

Studies a contemporary overview

edited by RM BERNDT and R TONKINSON

First published h 1988 by Aboriginal Studies Press for the Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies GPO Box 553 Canberra ACT 2601. The views expressed in this publication are those of the authors and not necessarily those of the Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies.

O Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies 1988. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part of this publication may be reproduced by any , process whatsoever without the written permission of the publisher. National Library of Australia Cataloguing in Publication data: Social anthropology and Australian Aboriginal studies. Bibliography. iSBN 0 85575 189 4.

I. Ethnography-Australia. [2].Aborigines, Australian. I. Berndt. Ronald M. (Ronald Murray), 1916- . II. Tonkinson, Robert, 1938- . ill. Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies. Designed by Aboriginal Studies Press. Typeset In Compugraphic Avant Garde by Aboriginal Studies Press, Printed h Australia by Australian Print Group, Maryborough, Victoria.

Contents Contributors Foreword RONALD M BERNDT AND ROBERT TONKINSON A contemporary overview Gender FRANCESCA MERLAN Gender in Aboriginal social life: A review Kinship IAN KEEN Twenty-five years of Aboriginal kinship studies Economy CHRISTOPHER ANDERSON Anthropology and Australian Aboriginal economy 1961-1 986

l25

Law NANCY M WlLLlAMS Studies in Australian Aboriginal law 1961-1986 Religion HOWARD MORPHY The resurrection of the Hydra: Twenty-five years of research of Aboriginal religion Afterword JOHN A BARNES Taking stock and looking forward

239

Contributors

CHRISTOPHER ANDERSON A graduate of the University of Queensland, he is now working as Curator, Social Anthropology at the South Australian Museum. Chris has done fieldwork in north Queensland and central Australia. His main interests are economic anthropology, Aboriginal art, social and political change. He is currently writing a book, based on his doctoral thesis, on continuities and change in Aboriginal societies in Cape York Peninsula, JOHN A BARNES Formerly Foundation Professor of Sociology at Cambridge University, John now lives in Canberra where he is a Visiting Fellow in the Research School of Social Sciences at the Australian National University (ANU),He was closely associated with the founding of the Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies (AIAS], when he was Professor of Anthropology at ANU. He has done fieldwork in Africa and Norway and has published extensively on a wide range of topics, including Aboriginal Austraiia (Inquest on the Murngin). His other books include Politics in a Changing Society, Three Styles in the Study of Kinship, and more recently, Who Should Know What? RONALD M BERNDT Foundation Professor, now Emeritus, of the Department of Anthropology at the University of Western Austraiia. He and his wife Dr Catherine Berndt have done extensive fieldwork in many different parts of Aboriginal Austraiia and, individually and jointly, have published prodigiously. in addition to their general work, The World of the First Australians, Ron Berndt has edited and authored a large number of books in the Aboriginal studies field. Additionally, the Berndts have conducted fieldwork in Papua New Guinea (PNG], and their many publications on that area include the book, Excess and Restraint. IAN KEEN A graduate of ANU, where he is now a Senior Lecturer, ian taught for many years at the University of Queensland. He has done fieldwork in northeast Arnhem Land, the Alligator Rivers region and the Tennant Creek area. His main interests, besides Aboriginal studies, are social theory, kinship and political anthropology. He is the editor of Behg Black (19881, a volume on the topic of Aboriginal cultural continuities in 'settled' Australia. FRANCESCA MERLAN Trained in linguistics and anthropology, with a PhD from the University of New Mexi-

Francesca is currentlyteaching in the Department of Anthropology at the University of Sydney. Besides linguistic anthropology, her interests include social change and social organisation. She has done fieldwork in northern Australia and the New Guinea Highlands, and has published on both areas. With Alan Rumsey, she is coauthor of a book on the role of large-scaleexchange events in PNG's Western Highlands; its focus is on relationships among structure, history and social process in the constitution of events. CO,

HOWARD MORPHY Trained in anthropology at University College, London and the ANU, Howard is now Lecturer in Ethnology and Assistant Curator at the Pitt Rivers Museum in Oxford. He has done fieldwork in northeast Arnhem Land and has published widely on Australian Aboriginal art, religion and material culture. His book, Journey to the Crocodile's NW, was joint winner of the Stanner Prize. ROBERT TONKINSON A graduate of the Universities of Western Australia and British Columbia, he has taught at the University of Oregon and ANU before moving to the University of Western Australia where he teaches in the Department of Anthropology. He has done extensive fieldwork in the Western Desert and in Melanesia (Vanuatu) and has published on both areas. Author of two books on Aborigines, The Jigaiong Mob and The MardudJuraAborigines, his interests include religion, social organisation and change, migration, identity and political development. NANCY M WlLLlAMS Trained in anthropology at Stanford University and the University of California at Berkeley, Nancy has taught at the University of Washington, worked as a Research Consultant at AIAS, a Senior Research Fellow at ANU and is now teaching at the University of Queensland. She has done extensive fieldwork in northeast Arnhem Land, Darwin and the East Kimberley region, and is the author of two books, The Yolngu and Their Land and Two Laws. Her major interests are law, politics, land tenure and resource management in small-scale societies.

Foreword

RONALD M BERNDT AND ROBERT TONKINSON A contemporary overview

The Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies was twenty-five years old in 1986, and to mark this event a special conference was held during the Institute's Biennial Meeting. The conference, 'Social Anthropology in Aboriginal Studies: Selected Themes, 1961-1986: was organised by the Institute's Social and Cultural Anthropology Committee, under the chairmanship of Professor Robert Tonkinson. There were three symposia: one on the issue of inequality in Aboriginal societies, chaired by Dr Les Hiatt; one on Aboriginal identity, chaired by Dr Jeremy Beckett: and, under the chairmanship of Professor Ronald Berndt, one entitled 'Topical Overviews', on which the present volume is based. Professor John Barnes was invited to be the discussant at the conference, and his observations are included in this volume. The organising committee selected five major topics for the symposium concerned with overviewing the field. These were not intended to provide an exhaustive coverage, since certain areas, such as territorial organisation and land tenure, have already been the subject of a great deal of debate and published work. Five anthropologists were then invited to write papers on 'the state of the art', their brief being to summarise the main contributions and trends in the chosen area since the 1961 conference on Aboriginal studies, and to offer critical comment on past work as well as possible future trends. Their task was daunting, partly because most found it necessary to go back well beyond the 1961 baseline in order to set their papers into an adequate historical perspective, but mainly because of the wealth of published data that has appeared in the past two and a half decades. It was hoped that this volume, in addition to demonstrating the nature and value of the contribution made by anthropology to Aboriginal studies since 1961, would also reflect the major role played by the Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies in funding research and exerting a strong, positive influence on developments in the discipline. The organising committee was also concerned to see developments in the Australian Aboriginal field related to major theoretical trends in anthropology globally, in the hope that contributors would offer comment as to why certain of these trends failed to gain favour among Austraiianists. Because the overviews provide a major synthesis derived from a huge and diverse corpus of writings (published and unpublished), it was also anticipated that this volume would prove useful as a resource for teaching and discussion, relevant not only to professional anthropologists and other scholars of Aboriginal studies, but also to a much wider readership, which we hope will include many interested Aboriginal people. The 1961 conference, which was an event unique in the history of Aboriginal studies in this country, resulted in the publication in 1963 of an edited volume, Australian

4 Foreword

AboriginaiStudies, which provided an overview of what was known about Aboriginal society and culture at the time, along with suggestions for future research. The fiftyfive members present, who represented a variety of academic interests, assembled under the guidance of Mr WC Wentworth (whose idea it was to create the Australian Instituteof Aboriginal Studies) and under the chairmanship of the late Professor WEH Stanner. The conference evolved into an exciting and informative happening that not only steered a course for Australian Aboriginal studies but seemed to set it firmly in place for the foreseeable future. Only sixteen of those present were professional social-cultural anthropologists and only eight of them presented papers or formal comments on such papers, but there was general participation in the discussions that followed each paper. The focus of the 1961 conference was avowedly general; it did not permit any detailed examination of specific topics, in contrast to the present volume. Topics considered were: ecology and economics [FD McCarthy]; social organisation (JA Barnes, MJ Meggitt and RM Berndt); and religion and aesthetics [EA Worms, TGH Strehlow, CH Berndt, TA Jones and AM Moyle). The session on the social position of women (M Reay and CH Berndt) came under 'special problems', as did tribal distribution and population (NB Tindale). A section on what was termed the 'contemporary' Aboriginal scene was virtually separated from others that emphasised 'traditional' aspects of Aboriginal Australia. Nonetheless, issues of changing Aboriginal perspectives appeared in several of the contributions, which included some discussion of Aborigines with various degrees of involvement in European Australia. As would be expected, there are some marked differences between the treatment of the various subjects discussed in 1961 and approaches in the 1980s. Today, for example, an earlier concern with notions of salvage (ie 'getting it all down before it disappears') is largely absent as processes of change and cultural transformation take centre stage. in the period following the 1961 conference, two publications attempted to provide what were to some extent different kinds of overviews of the field. The first, AustralianAboriginalAnthropology,a volume edited by Ronald Berndt, was published in 1970. Its aim was to show, via the fourteen papers presented, the range of topics that social anthropologists were working on at the time, and how they were dealing with their data, Professor Berndt intended that the contributors would call attention to significant ethnographic problems and would carry further some of the issues that had been raised, but not in his opinion treated adequately, at the 1961conference. In 1973, KOL Burridge published Encountering Aborigines: Anthropology and the

Ronald M Berndt and Robert Tonkinson 5

Australian Aboriginal in an attempt to explain why Aborigines have been for so long a major focus of anthropological attention, and to contextualise research on Aboriginal culture within a more general framework and perspective, He wished to 'go over old problems and try to pose new ones by filling in some of the historical and intellectual background to Aboriginal studies' (Burridge 1973, X). Although his scope was more general, Burridge's book shares many of its aims with the overviews presented in this volume. The five topics chosen for review in these pages are: gender, kinship, economics, law and religion.The authors have set out to provide as comprehensive an overview as possible while focusing on certain crucial areas that have received concentrated research attention or have been topics of significant debate, No attempts were made by the conference committee to point contributors in certain directions or require them to take particular stances in their treatment of the material. Their biases, declared and implicit, are their own. The overviews presented here reveal considerable evidence of clear shifts-as well as considerable continuities-in anthropologicalapproaches, and of a steady accretion of knowledge rather than dramatic disjunctions or radical reconceptualisations of the Aboriginal data. Whether because of the Australianists' relative isolation from the intellectual ferments of the European and American scenes, or because of an Antipodean scepticism concerning new theoretical trends or 'schools', there has not been any rapid and collective embracing of new models by the Australianists in this country. There are still no signs, for example, that either phenomenology or transactionalism has had a major impact, and despite Sherry Ortner's prediction that the 1980s in anthropology will be the decade of praxis, Australianists have yet to clasp the works of scholars such as Bourdieu or Giddens to the collective bosom. The preferred attitude has been one of 'wait and see', a caution that is admittedly conservative but has often proved to be justified in view of the short lived prominence of certain approaches (cognitive anthropology and cultural ecology, for example). Within the last decade, in particular, the eclecticism that is at once the great strength and the bedevilment of anthropology-at least in its pretensions to the status of social science-has been reflected in Australian Aboriginal studies, and it evidences a new vitality, Much of the impetus has come from overseas, but certain developments within this country for example, the inception of the Aboriginal Land RightsjNorthern Territory) Act 1976, have prompted major re-examinationsof existing models and the promulgation of new ones. Anyone who attended the Fourth

6 Foreword

International Conference on Hunting and Gathering Peoples, held in London in September 1986, could not have failed to notice the major contribution made by the Australianists present to the intellectual debate. The London conference reinforced the status of this country as a focal, rather than peripheral, centre for hunter-gatherer studles. It is probably true that social anthropology in Australia, in spite of the fact that its research interests embrace Australian society at large and a number of neighbouring regions, is still evaluated within and outside this country largely in terms of research and publications on Aboriginal Australia.

GENDER Dr Francesca Merlan's review of gender related studies demonstrates more dramatically than any of the other reviews the impact of a suddenly raised anthropological consciousness on the study of Aboriginal societies. The feminist movement, and in particular its manifestations in American anthropology, gave rise to a strong and much-needed corrective to eariier androcentric biases in the anthropology of sex roles and gender. In some of the eariier feminist anthropological writings there was evidence of an overcorrection, such that women's autonomy and status relative to men were depicted as much greater and higher than an evenhanded consideration of the data would grant. The Australian Aboriginal literature, as reviewed by Merlan, provides ample evidence of both kinds of bias. The level of sophistication in anthropological conceptualisations of gender has risen markedly in recent years, and some very fine studies have emerged, particularlyfrom research carried out in Melanesia. Major works of comparable standard have yet to emerge from research done in Aboriginal Australia, but Dr Merian's superlative overview points the way forward. Earlier studies, most particularly those of the Berndts, have revealed a marked degree of complementarity and mutual dependence between the sexes. Their voluminous data on the stated opinions of members of one sex about the other, on topics as diverse as menstruation, childbirth, sexuality, initiation and ritual activitiesand on the gap between stated opinion and praxis-suggest the value of studies that focus on these dimensions of gender. Another fruitful research direction indicated by their recent work on myth (The Speaking Land: Australian Aboriginal Myth and Stow Methuen 1988) is the symbolic imagery of femininity and masculinity that abounds in the non-secret myth-telling and ritual of both sexes. in Merian's view, advances in our understanding of gender will come from a higher level of analysis than that

Ronald M Berndt and Robert Tonkinson 7

which concerns itself with either the complementarity of male-female relations or their depiction in hierarchical terms as superior-inferior. The focus should be broadened so that the elucidation of gender issues generates insights into other dimensions of social life, and vice versa, via a thorough-going examination of the relation between structure and practice. For Merlan, it is essential that the parameters of comparison be carefully and concretely spelled out, so that, for example, one can discern at what level and in relation to what other sociocultural features is women's 'equality' being depicted in a given Aboriginal community or society. Merlan is rightly critical of a tendency among Australianists to concentrate on reconstructions of 'traditional' situations to the detriment of attempts to study the complex articulation of Aboriginal societies embedded within European-Australian society. To this end, she offers an independent assessment of how the 'traditionalist' literature can be re-read in order to locate sexuality and reproductionwithin a much broader soclocultural context, and to throw new light on such topics as the instrumental uses of sexuality and the importance of sexual polarity as a generative source of symbols. It is hoped that Australianists wlll heed Francesca Merlan's call for more fine-grained ethnographic study and analysis of gender relations in contemporary Aboriginal societies. Her thought-provoking review marks out in detail a path that can be productively followed.

Dr lan Keen faced a difficult task in undertaking to review kinship-a complex and often controversial topic, Sensibly, he has widened his perspective to include social categories [sections, etc) as well as local organisation, descent, marriage and alliance, so that he outlines and discusses some of the more significant debates in the literature that have an important bearing upon the nature of Australian Aboriginal social organisation. The existence of several major works devoted to overviews of the topic (eg those of Scheffler, Shapiro and Turner] provides Keen with much material for critical comment and comparison, and he uses his own extensive research into Aboriginal social organisation to support his contentions. Most of ian Keen's fieldwork has centred on Arnhem Land, which is precisely the region of Australia where a great deal of controversy in matters relating to social organisation (egthe now-famousand perhaps never-ending Murngin debate] has centred, and he is thus able to offer an informed and insightful analysis of these issues.

8 Foreword

Keen's overview is framed by the 'hopes and fears' regarding anthropological studies of Aboriginal social organisationthat were expressed by the presenters and discussants at the 1961 conference session devoted to this topic. He begins with a discussion of the legacy of Radcliffe-Brownand L&-Strauss, both of whom proved to be major influences on the shape and direction of Australian Aboriginal kinship studies. Keen offers, through his treatment of the abundant literature, a demonstration that there have been important advances in our understanding of Aboriginal kinship and social organisation.As predicted in 1961, there has been a diminution in attention to formal analyses of kinship categories and rules, but the interest has continued, and Keen sees considerable value in the examination of the logical properties of these categories and rules, for the light thus shed on their logic of application in everyday life. In several places, as during his treatment of descent and of local organisation, Keen points to advances in understandingthat are linked to the advent of land rights legislation in the Northern Territory and subsequent land claim research. These advances have further undermined Radcliffe-Brown'smodel of the patrilocal horde, as well as notions from Tindale and Birdsell of the bounded 'tribe1-although in the latter case, major onslaughts (cf RM Berndt's 1959 paper on the concept of the tribe in the Western Desert, and most of the contributions to the volume Aboriginal Tribes and Boundaries, 1976, edited by Nicolas Peterson)had already occurred. Certainly, in the period since 1961, land tenure is the one area of Aboriginal social organisation where the greatest advances in our understanding have taken place, and the current emphasis on flexibility in land tenure systems goes beyond causal explanations phrased only in term of post-contact changes. One of the major conclusions reached by Keen closely parallels that of Merlan concerning gender studies: the need to undertake broader based studies, which will replace hitherto uni-dimensionalcomparative studies by relating the various types of kinship systems to social and economic organisation; and certainly, the need to pay much more attention to the politics of kinship, land tenure, and other issues. The need for a knitting together of structure and process, as proposed by Merlan, exists in the realm of studies of Aboriginal social organisation.In Keen's view, provided that formal analyses are not based on spurious assumptions, they can provide structures on which to base more far-reachingcomparative studies that are at the same time historical and synchronic.

Ronaid M Berndt and Robert Tonkinson 9

ECONOMY

The comprehensive overview provided here by Dr Christopher Anderson could not have been written in 1961,The raw material was lacking, although more data were available than FD McCarthy's treatment of ecology and economics covered, and the discussion that followed his presentation pinpointed some of the broader economic implications of the extant literature. Anderson notes that in the first haifcentury of Australian anthropology there was little interest in the Aboriginal economyits 'simplicity' rendered it unprobiematic, especially when contrasted with the perceived complexities of kinship and religion. Anderson's focus is on major trends in the anthropologicaltreatment of economy, and on their connection to contrasting conceptual and methodological approaches to the topic. The result is an enlightening and well argued review of how Aboriginai economy has been conceptualised by succeeding generations of anthropologists, and of how theoretical models derived from outside Australia have been variously applied, or misapplied, to the Aboriginal data, Predictably, much of this overview is concerned with the impact of ecological anthropology on both anthropological and archaeological approaches to Aboriginal economies. It has had considerable influence at the level of research methodology as well as conceptually. As Anderson notes, it has heightened awareness of regional variations in economic systems while generating a more refined and integrated view of economy than earlier approaches. On the negative side, the dangers of reductionism, determinism and the down-playing of cultural factors are spelled out-the social relations of production should feature prominently in any analysis worth its salt. Another major section of the review concerns the more macroscopic perspective, often embodied in studies made by non-anthropologist scholars, whose aim is to locate Aborigines and economy within Australian society at large. Here, the thrust of Anderson's argument is that many contemporary studies have failed to appreciate the continuing influence of indigenous cultural values on Aboriginal economic systems. The relative neglect of distributive processes, for example, distorts some of these economic analyses since they overlook a vitally important aspect of contemporary Aboriginai economies. Anderson notes the increasing attention now being paid by anthropologists to Aboriginal participation in the Australian economy, and reviews some of these recent studies, which he sees as providing a much-needed

10 Foreword

'anthropological corrective' to macroscopic studies that are insufficiently sensitive to cultural factors and their interplay with economic behaviour. Anderson concludes his review with a description of new directions in analytical approaches to Aboriginal economy, noting the emergence of more theoretically and methodologically sophisticated syntheses of micro and macro perspectives. He looks to approaches based on historical materialism and world system theory as the ones likely to produce the most fruitful studies, both of pre-contactand post-contact Aboriginal economies. Yet again, it is clear that there are parallels between this review and all the others in the call for broader based definitions of the topic and for a focus on the articulation of what can be narrowly defined as 'economic' with other major sociocultural institutions.

LAW The task of attending to the fascinating and often controversial area of the Aboriginal polity has been most ably taken up by Dr Nancy Williams, who offers a balanced view of the many debates that have raged-and continue to rage-over the nature of Aboriginal political life, Many of the threads of argument that weave through the other four contributions come together in this topic, which is in some senses therefore central to the volume. Nancy Williams has long had a major interest in the study of Aboriginal law, as her two recently published books indicate, and her familiarity with the Australian soclolegal literature, particularly as it pertains to Aboriginal topics, has enabled her to include a large number of referencesthat may be unknown to many anthropologists. The point of departure for Williams is the 1961 conference, where, in the study of law as in other sociocultural aspects, analyses that had been predominantly concerned with structure and function were subject to scrutiny, As with Aboriginal economy, very few systematic studies of the nature and content of Aboriginal law existed, and problems of definltlon loomed large. Williams notes the rise in Interest in the study of law and social control, and the analytic shift toward the explanation of process since that time. She outlines the trend toward the study of contemporary Aboriginal society, paying particular attention to the consequences of land rights legislation in the Northern Territory and the reference on recognition of Aboriginal customary law given to the Australian Law Reform Commission in 1977-two developments that have proved quite significant for studies of law. Williams makes an analytical distinction among several major aspects of the

Ronald M Berndt and Robert Tonkinson I 1

study of Aboriginal law in order to clarify historical connections and the salient anthropoiogical issues. She considers first the problematic relation between politics and administration, by focusing on the notion of government, where markedly contrasting depictions (from anarchy to gerontocracy) have engendered much debate. This leads her to an examination of rules of law and procedures of dispute settlement, where the extent of control exerted through the operation of kinship has been a point of contention among Australianists, and where, in Williams's opinion, the reporting of disputes has generally been inadequate for analytical purposes. Another important field of interest covered in this overvlew is the relationship between customary law and Aboriginal religion. Here, all studies must take account of the embeddedness of concepts of law within pervasive religious conceptions, and of law's sacred, as differentiated from secular, dimensions. Williams's discussion includes the problematic notion of 'traditional' and 'secret-sacred' laws and their accommodation within the wider Australian legal system. The penultimate section broadens the scope of discussion by relating developments in the study of Aboriginal law to changing theoretical concerns in anthropology.Williams traces the transition in conceptual emphases from structure to function to process, and shows how these changes have altered our notions about what constitutes adequate ethnography. This leads her, in conclusion, to a review of several recent studies which embody the kinds of approach that in her view are needed to meet contemporary criteria of adequacy in anthropological research and analysis concerning Aboriginal law. Valuable insights are possible from a variety of sources, including feminist anthropology, sociolinguistics and ethnohistory.Williams sees the way forward as being via greater attention to relations of power and inequality and their grounding in historical processes. These critical conslderations have been all but ignored in much of the anthropology of Aboriginal law, and yet, as Williams points out, they are amenable to observation and analysis within the existing frameworks of enquiry.

RELIGION Dr Howard Morphy begins his review of this topic with an obligatory journey back to Durkheim, who more than any other scholar set the parameters for what was to constitute the study of Aboriginal religion for almost the next half-century. Anthropological disquiet about extant research, discernible by the time of the 1961 conference, paved the way for subsequent experimentation with a whole range of

12 Foreword

different approaches, encapsulated, in Morphy's view, in two themes: the study of meaning and symbolism; and the role of religion in the reproduction of Aboriginal society. A central focus of the review is Morphy's thoughtful evaluation of the contribution of WEH Stanner, whose shadow looms large over much of the subsequent literature on Aboriginal religion, and whose writings were a major factor in the shift of attention toward content and symbolism and the structural analysis of these aspects of Aboriginal religion. As Morphy points out, however, the employment of structuralist methodology, especially in relation to the analysis of myth, totemism and ritual, owed more to L&-~traussthan to Stanner. in an insightful treatment of the significance of totemism in Aboriginal religion, Morphy draws heavily on his own data from northeasternArnhem Land to demonstrate the likelihood of any given totemic system being multiply determined and bound up with processes of creativity as well as utility. This discussion leads Morphy to the observation, in common with the other contributors to this volume, that problems of the relationship between structure and action have become a necessary part of the agenda of study. As with the approach favoured by Anderson in his review of economics, Morphy categorises several major conceptual approaches, and groups the anthropological contributorsto the literature on Aboriginal religion accordingly, One of us (RM Berndt) disagrees with his designation as one of the 'ethnographicexegetical' crowd, and would plead for separate consideration, because of his emphasis (contra Stanner) on the role of Aboriginal religion(s) in everyday life and therefore of content and belief seen within the frame of the life-cycle.No doubt, other scholars may also wish to be grouped differently, but Morphy's main concern is to document the range of approaches involved as well as their implications for an adequate understanding of the religious phenomena under study. Morphy's discussion of the inter-relationships among religion, politics and economics takes him into the arena of present day Aboriginal society. He discusses Aboriginal Christianity and offers suggestions as to why this dimension of religion has been relatively neglected by anthropologists.He concludes the overview with some suggestions for fruitful, and hitherto relatively undeveloped, lines of enquiry-most particularly, through the examination of the articulation of ritual action with the structures of society (such as relations of domination and subordination, and systems of clan organisation) and by paying much closer attention to the motives of the agents involved. Again, the thrust of Morphy's concluding suggestions has close parallels with those of all the other contributors: the call for a broadening of focus, to integrate

,

Ronaid M Berndt and Robert Tonkinson 13

structure with process by concentrating our attention on the relationships between the more narrowly defined field of study-law

or kinship-and the rest of the

sociocuiturai fabric. if, as it is hoped, today's Australianists turn their attention to such eminently reachable goals, Ortner's prediction concerning the 1980s as anthropology's decade of praxis-inasmuch as it entails a focus on the relationship between human action and structural forms-may indeed prove correct for the Aboriginal studies case.

CONCLUDING NOTE We wish to thank the contributors for the immense amount of work they have put into their reviews.Ail five have extensive field research experience in Aboriginai Australia and have already made significant contributions to the field of Aboriginal studies. They willingly took on a very difficult task, but the outcome in every case has been highly successfui, Our discussant, John Barnes, was an important contributor to the 1961 conference, and has retained a strong interest in developments in the Australian field. We thank him for his participation and for his impressions of trends during the last twenty-five years, which appear as the Afterword to this volume. We commend this volume, not only for its value as an introductionto five important and closely inter-relatedtopics in the sociai anthropology of Aboriginai studies, but aiso because it contains a great deal of provocative comment and criticism and raises important issues for future research as well as current debate. The independent assessments of the contributors exhibit a surprising degree of unanimity as to the most productive direction for future Aboriginal studies, and in so doing they provide many stimulating and noteworthy suggestions. it was never our intention that this volume be a 'navel-gazing' exercise directed primarily at disciplinary ends. On the contrary, it was designed for general communication.We are mindful of the fact that in recent years both scholarly and lay interest in Aboriginal studies has expanded remarkably, and that there has aiso been a heightened Aboriginai interest in and awareness of how their societies, past and present, are being depicted in scholarly writings. These review articles demonstratethat a sound foundation has been laid in the social anthropology of Aboriginal Australia for further significant advances to be made. We hope that the next generation of scholars, including those Aborigines who are now entering academia in increasing numbers, will build on this solid body of knowledge in the service of greater understanding, not only of Aboriginal societies, but of the full range of human social and cultural behaviours.

Gender

FRANCESCA MERLAN Gender in Aboriginal social life: A review1

The task of this review is an overview of Aboriginalist literature on gender of the past twenty-five years, 1961-86.2 i shall not, however, undertake to provide exhaustive commentary on all of the bibliography appended as relevant, partly because i think summaries of many works occur elsewhere (eg Hamilton 1979, 1981a; Bell 1983), but mainly because I wish to have the space to discuss critically certain themes arising from the literature. in the period under review, the academic research literature with explicit focus on gender has overwhelmingly emphasised exploration of the nature of Aboriginal women's involvement in society (eg Bell 1983; Berndt 1963, 1965, 1970a; Burbank 1980; Cowlishaw 1979; Hamilton 1979, 1980,1981a; Rose 1984).The absence of an equally explicit focus on men's life results from an initial imbalance. As some writers have observed (eg Bell 1983), by and large (but cf Kaberry 1939, Berndt 1950, Goodale 1971)the Aboriginalist literature had been highly androcentric in its (tacit or explicit) assumptions that men's activities were the most salient, and that little different or additional remained to be said about women. There had been a tendency to equate certain aspects of male life with wider sociality, and to treat as secondary women's contributions in these domainsS3From the 1960s, a developing concern with Aborigines as representatives of a hunting and gathering productive mode, and women's contribution to this, constituted a partial exception to this tendency (cf Anderson, this volume). This interest in traditional Aboriginal subsistence and production was one aspect of a general academic disinclination to give as serious consideration to the contemporary situation and the transformation of Aboriginal societies as to their 'traditional' life, an imbalance which, even now, and despite many and diverse efforts (eg Berndt 1962, Rose 1965, Tonkinson 1974)cannot be said to have been overcome. It is important to note that the largely woman oriented gender literature of the review period, while aiming to establish women in their rightful place as important social actors, has cycled back and forth among a number of views of women's position which are similar in form to those taken much earlier by other researchers (eg Kaberry 1939: cf Berndt's 1980, 29 comment on the recurrence of views). it has proven difficult to develop more satisfactory ways of characterising women's life owing to both kinds of theoretical and ethnographic limitations mentioned above: reconstructionist emphasis on the traditional over the contemporary; and a tendency to characterise male-female relations in one of two ways which are ultimately unhelpful, either as complementary [where are they not), or in hierarchical terms, as superior-inferior with respect to a given domain. The latter results in a kind of see-

18 Gender

saw effect, such that for every author who describes men's role in a certain domain (eg ritual] as primary, another will argue the (equal or at least distinct) importance of women's role. In the study of gender, as of most things social, one must tack back and forth between what appear to be matters directly related to the phenomenon in question, and other social relations and practices, to attempt to develop a view of their lnterrelations, hence a higher level of analysis. In discussing various positions taken on gender relations, I will try to indicate where I think this analytic step has not been taken, and why. I will try to suggest ways of advancing the discussion by placing it within a broader view of social life, in which gender issues provide Insight Into other dimensions of social relations, and vice versa. In this regard, one point I seek to make is that some of the literature which purports to deal with the issue of gender does not, in fact, do so with sufficient breadth, but rather has tended to focus much more narrowly upon the issue of women's position in Aboriginal society. Both Kaberry (1939)and Bell (19831, and other works in a similar vein, are written in explicit opposition to a much larger corpus of unself-consciously androcentric Aboriginalist literature, and to some fairly widespread, popular images of the lowly position of Aboriginal women. These two writers, whose work is separated by over four decades, seek to establish Aboriginal women as social actors, and to demolish characterisations which present them as thoroughly dominated and oppressed, mere objects of others' transactions. Such a corrective, while perhaps salutary (because depictions of male domination are often Inadequately based theoretically, and overdrawn; see the remarks on Warner below] is problematic in other ways. It tends to suggest falsely that a fairly neat and determinate characterisation of women's position is possible, a defect it shares with the literature which presents a neat and determinate picture of male domination. But it also cannot come to grips with the literature it directly opposes because it does not undertake the examlnatlon of social relations, institutions and practices in a sufficiently inclusive way. In this review, special attention will be given to those (recent) works that seek to descrlbe changes in male-female relations that have come about through the interaction of Aboriginal with European-Australiansociety (eg Altman 1982, Anderson 1984, Bell 1983). All are of special interest because, more or less explicitly, they foreground the issue of social transformation, and present quite different views of the processes Involved, What general ideological considerations lie behind the various positions that

Francesca Merlan 19

had been taken (and then, have sometimes been taken again) on gender relations, andlor women's position?Speaking very broadly, I think the tension, hence also much of the interest, derives from the questions that traditional Aboriginal social practices have seemed to pose for Europeans. Are women less than persons? Are they mere objects of men's transactions? Are they just different from men or are they also disadvantaged in some ways? Or are they different and equal? (Compare Berndt 1980 particularly for a summary of characteristic early European views of Aboriginal women, mainly emphasising what was seen as their lowly status.) But questions of this form, I believe, encouraged rather simplistic views of what meaningful answers might be, and led to the recycling of issues alluded to above, and exemplified below. More important than to give any definitive, slngle-stranded answer is to consider what aspects of social relations are relevant to the constitution of gender, and mutatis mutandis, what part the latter dimension plays in the enactment of social relations, in particular, there is much room for improvement in our understanding of the connections between the properties of institutional structures (eg marriage patterns, economic patterns)and Aboriginal social practice, including the enactment of cross-sex relations. Only that literature which seriously concerns itself with social transformation can aspire to come to grips with these connections. This review concentrates on several topics which constitute issues in some of the recent literature. First, I describe several models of gender relations which can be distilled from recent work. But 1 refer to some of the earlier Aboriginalist literature in order to show how certain points of view have recurred, in opposition to certain others. In the section on 'production', again mainly from recent literature, 1 examine contrasting viewpoints on the significance of Aboriginal women's traditional contribution to production:those which see women's former economic role as relatively independent, versus those which conclude that women's labour power was controlled, and some of its productivalue appropriated. I show that these opposing views differ because they focus on quite different dimensions of the labour process. in the section on 'sexuality and reproduction', I discuss a subject which has received relatively little systematic treatment, that of female sexuality, and problems in the definition of its relation to reproduction. Here again, in the literature we find at least two sharply opposed views: that women were sexually autonomous; versus another, that their sexuality was largely male controlled.The existing literature (much of it biased toward the 'traditional') provides evidence that certain factors are relevant to the social constitution of sexuality-its significance in Aboriginal symbolic systems, and its embodiment in persons-the connections among which have not been carefully

20 Gender

examined. In a following section, 1 formulate for discussion a set of gender constructs which seem to underlie the difference between male and female in northern Aboriginal communities I know, and to inform the definition of domains of activity as 'gendered' in the contemporary situation of Aboriginal societal encapsulation. In conclusion, I point out that despite the recent concern with gender, there are few ethnographic accounts of cross-sex relations based on the variety of forms of contemporary Aboriginal social life. It is as if the frequently found Aboriginal tendency toward dualism-insistence ideologically and practically upon some degree of male-female separatism-has impeded analysis and understanding of Aboriginal gender relations as a joint production. A recently expanding Aboriginal biographical and autobiographical literature provides some insight into gender relations, though it does not have such a focus as its raison d'iitre, but largely arises out of a sense of struggle for cultural survival.

MODELS OF GENDER RELATIONS There is now a sufficient time-depth and volume to the Aboriginaiist literature for us to distinguish major positions that have been taken on the general subject of gender relations. Before I suggest my own list, I must acknowledge at least two others. First, Hamilton (1981a, 69) adumbrates two broadly stated views taken in the general anthropological literature on the position of women: that women are and always have been subordinateto men in all societies; versus the view, that male dominance is not unlversal.She shows the relation of some Aboriginalist work to these two positions. Her own statement of issues-how, in Aboriginal societies, to explain the CO-presence of 'acute sexual inequalitiesand a high level of autonomy for women' (Hamilton 1981a, 85)-is more subtle than either general position she describes. Second, Bell (1983,241ff) identifies three broad frameworks wlthin which theories about Aboriginal gender relations have been developed. The first, which she calls 'Man Equals Culture', exemplified by the works of Roheim and Munn (among others), casts men as full culture bearers, women as something less than that. The second, 'Anthropology of Women', exemplified by Kaberry (1939). Goodale (19711, and Berndt (1950), is an attempt to restore women to their righlful place as social actors, but does not go far enough. The third, 'Towards a Feminist Perspective', questions 'the origins and mechanisms of the all-pervasive and hitherto persuasivecultural dogma of male dominance' (Bell 1983,244); or, in a somewhat different formulation, seeks 'the origins and mechanisms by which gender hierarchies and such cultural dogmas as sexual asymmetry are established and maintained',

Francesca Merlan 21

My own listing of positions on gender is related to, but different from, both of these.The first position, baldly stated, is that men are socially superior, women inferior and subordinate (to a greater or lesser degree).A first stark exemplar of this position, well before the review period, is surely Warner (1937),about whom much has already been written (eg Kaberry 1939).1 will therefore limit my remarks to general points that I think place his structural-functionalistmodel in perspective with regard to other treatments of male-female relations. Strongly influenced in his anthropological orientation by Radcliffe-Brown,Warner envisaged an institutional model of analysis of Aboriginal society (see his chapter headings 'warfare', 'magic and medicine', 'totemism' etc), and thought that in the inclusive institution of kinship he had found the single, fundamental principle of Aboriginal social organisation (Warner 4937.4). He saw clanship, and all its totemic and territorial aspects, as a direct elaboration and generalisation of kinship. Of his two 'main elements' of kinship, 'perpendicular' relationships of patrilineal descent are much stronger than 'lateral connections' of intermarriage. Within such an institutional framework, the main question about women is whether and how they fit into the basic analytic categories. The answer is, rather iess definitively than men (cf Warner 1937, 106). Warner made some now familiar structuralist assumptions concerning the full integration of the individual into the institutional order and the implications of this, for example: A man's or woman's place in Murngin society is fixed by his or her position in the kinship structure' (1937,7). He further assumed, as Parsons (1964,23) was later to state succinctly, that 'ail the components of the common culture are internalized as part of the personality structure', Through this fusion of the social and the more or iess psychological, Warner was able to generalise about male and femaie personalitytypes solely on the basis of considerations of social structure, for example: 'The first principle of age grading, the sexual bifurcation by which women are excluded from participation in the totemic mysteries, immediately limits femaie behavior in the society and tends to simplify their personalities' (Warner 1937, 6). A man's sociai personality, on the other hand, 'expands and becomes more complex by his participation in the various elaborate age-graded rituals' (1937, 6). No commentator, I believe, has come away from this part of Arnhem Land with any impression other than that there is evidence here of gender related inequality. But Warner's presentation, which entirely failed to make the connection between sociai structure and any dimension of sociai practice, was highly vulnerable on this account. Warner accepted Radcliffe-Brown's view of institutions as 'standardised modes of

22 Gender

behaviour' and viewed people's actions as entirely determined by these supposedly antecedent conditions. He therefore did not find it necessary to develop any theory of social events and action-what people actually do. The contemporary response came from Kaberry (1939).It is not merely, as many have noted (eg Hamilton 1981a, 74) that female ethnographers like Kaberry reported more favourably on women's status. Kaberry, at least, pitched much of her counterargument at a different level. Although she arrived at quite different conclusions from Warner (eg that Aboriginal woman is a 'complex social personality', Kaberry 1939, ix], she generally failed to develop any direct debate with Warner about social theory. She did not ignore institutions, or the bounding, structural dimensions of social life. But she tended to background discussion of any such issues, and to foreground as her basis for argument the quotidian role of women in production, child-rearingand ritual practice. Many of her propositionsare somewhat defensive: that women were not 'slaves' as some had alleged; did not regard their work as 'onerous'; did have their own secret ritual life; that notions of 'wrong marriage' were not completely restrictive; that marriage exchanges did not amount to a 'sale' of women; that polygamous unions were not so very common, and so on. While Kaberry was able to depict women as social actors, and show they were not just cyphers in some structural scheme, she did not address the questions about the articulation of the particular Aboriginal society she observed (nor, it should be added, its interaction with European pastoralism) which her own material raised once again. Her presentation is thus vulnerable for the opposite reason from Warner's. She was unable to dismantle fully Warner's position, not simply, as Bell (1983,243) suggests, because she was 'constrained by theoretical perspectives developed to focus on men as the leading...social actors', but because she did not have a theoretical perspective adequate to the task of exploring the constitution of gender relations, Her perspective tended to assume a certain socletal configuration, from within which she reported on women's life and their perceptions of it. (See Berndt 1980,35, who comments that had Kaberry continued Australianist work, she would have produced a 'more systematic, less preliminary' account.) In broad strokes, we may summarise a major point of contrast between Warner and Kaberry as follows: Warner treated institutions as determining (and carried out both observation and analysis with a strong androcentric bias); while Kaberry gave an interpretationof women's position against an insufficientlyexamined institutional backdrop. Goodale (1971) devoted much of her book to examination of social structure.

Francesca Merlan 23

Faced with earlier, conflicting reports on forms of social organisation and the relative importance of matrilineally and patrilinealiy recruited groups among the Tiwi, Goodale (1971, xxi) showed the existence and significance of both principles. She stressed the importance of distinguishing principles of group formation and, in concrete details of her account, the ways in which these intersected and were invoked at different levels to bring together different kinds of social units, Thus, she did not simply posit unitary relations between lineal principles and concrete social groups, She presented much of her material through the structure of the Tiwi woman's lifecycle. Although much of this is at a fairly abstract or normative level, the material is full of insights concerning the factors and relations which, overall, led her to a concluding characterisation of male-female relations as structurally unequal. A particular emphasis of the conclusions is to describe shared values of Tiwi life. The book also contains sections of concrete, detailed reporting of selected social events, for example, kularna and pukarnani ceremonies, on the basis of which Goodaie explores the relation of aspects of social structure to practice-for example, in terms of what factors could the selection of pukamani songs and dances be described (Goodaie 1971, 297)? It is perhaps because this emphasis is limited that we do not come away with an understanding of Tiwi social practice equal to the more structural picture of the society we gain. Goodale's account largely takes the female perspective as primary, but to my mind convincingly shows how the operation of the social system structures and accords a priority to male interests in certain ways. Munn's Walbiri iconography (1973) was a pioneering microanalysis of Warlpiri graphic design, which showed how a few basic design elements (eg circle and line, which contrast as femaielcamp and malelpath)are combined and recombined to generate a wide range of meanings. (For a later treatment of the generative properties of graphic design elements, see Morphy 1977.)Munn (1973, 218) saw the male-female contrast as fundamental to the design system's generative potential, and a higher unity of the system ultimately located in this complementarity: this order is built out of arrangements of elements constituting the dominant central symbols of transgenerational continuity, namely, the circular camp (female) and the elongate track (male), as well as the less dominant, varied plural elements apparently expressive of the notion of fecundity that constitute the third component of the fertility symbolism. Put in another way, the primary vehicle of this ordering level is the camptrack (circle-line) formula.

Consonant with male-female difference as the essential generative source of

24 Gender

the design system, Munn maintains (1973, 215) that there is a fundamental difference between gender contribution to maintenance of the djugurba (Dreaming): Life maintenanceat the cosmic level involves the manipulationof symbols of county. the latter being the fundamental concrete medium of the experience of unchanging permanence. Masculine Iconography synthesizes different levels of temporal rhythm in the life cycle with these experiences of permanent reality extending over the generations.

Munn argues, however (1973, 213) that on the other hand, the feminine role: is focused in the personal, biological, and family plane of life maintenance. The part women play in ritual (Includingtheir role In men's initiation rites) and the major functions of their own ancestral designs tend to be confinedto such matters as female sexuality, personal health, and the growth of children.

In men's narratives, the site-path pattern forms a 'language' for the 'macrotemporal rhythms of nomadic movement from place to place' (Munn 1973, 214), while women's stories are 'focused in the rhythms of family life...Over and over again the stories reiterate the microtemporal rhythms of the daily cycle'. It is Munn's formulation of complementary male-female differenceto which Bell (1983, 238-40 ) makes particular objection. To counter it, her book asserts parity in social value of male and female ritual activity, and grounding of aspects of male and female ritual practice in a shared Dreaming order-'women's relation to land is one which derives from the same principles as does that of men' (Bell 1983, 144). Bell says that in ritual women 'elaborate their distinctively female role of nurturer'. Nevertheless, the general structure of her argument is such that she emphasises the (neglected) importance of 'women's power base' (1983,248) and tends to leave less developed the issue of the distinctivenessof women's sociality and ritual,Presumably the latter could only be developed in the broader context of consideration of malefemale relations ('the way in which male and female domains are connected']. This is a subject in which Bell evinces interest but which is not a main focus of her book. A third ethnographer Myers (1986), has recently discussed the issue of comparative value attributed to male and female ritual practice among the Pintupi and has concluded that men's ritual, especially initiation, is a primary activity through which 'relatedness' is established, fundamentally among men throughout a region. Myers (1986, 252-53) says: This fact does not deny that Pintupi women exercise power, nor does it deny their own experience of autonomy, but women's power is not identical with men's. By all accounts,

Francesca Merian 25

women's ritual is not merely privatistic but is addressedto varieties of social dissonance, largely those within the residential group (Bell 1980a, Hamilton 1981), While these traditions may secure the social system at certain levels of relationship, the conditions of Western Desert life impart greater societal value to the interlocal relationships managed in men's rituai. Pintupi do not, on the whole, compare the value of men's ritual to women's. Certainly, I have never heard men ridicule women's ritual, although sometimes men joke uncomfortably about what women might be doing in their rituals. Nonetheless,a difference in relative value is manifest in the iabor organized by each sex's ritual. Social life is not altered much to permit women to have their ceremonies. Men's ceremony, on the other hand, involves a wider inclusiveness. Their ritual plans affect everyone: They determine the aggregation of large groups, including both men and women, and dictate the movements and iabor of women for extended periods.The respective rituals of each sex have a different integrative scope, and those of men seem far more concerned with relations of distance than are those of women. Initation, after ail, is for males the lncorporatlon into a group transcending local and kinship relations.It Is such relations with people from far away that quintessentially define adult men, while women accede to adult status through nurturing other ties, especially those with children.

A quite different perspective from Bell's which posits fairly clear-cut subordination

of women is that of Cowiishaw (1978, 1979, 1982; cf Hamilton 1981a, 73) Focusing on socialisation, sex, marriage and reproduction, she argues that as a result of male domination (as well as norms of extremely indulgentchild-rearing),there was a degree of female ambivalence toward child-bearing, illustrated by such practices as infanticide which, she argues, may have an element of subversive retaliation. i find the (earlier) ethnographic evidence of such ambivalence convincing (cf Merlan 1986a, 482). in a recent article Cowlishaw (1982)examines how socialisation practices have different consequences for girls and boys, in the context of institutional (eg rituai, marital) reproduction of 'male hegemony: She again develops the point that women may express dissent as well as pursue what they see as their own interests, but that both efforts ultimately fail to engage with reproduced institutional structures in any way that might gain for women a source of power in the wider polity. A point of agreement between Cowlishaw and Hamilton (1979) is that female sexuality and reproduction are women's realm. However, as I argue below, I find this conclusion to be based on too narrow an interpretation of (former, and in some altered respects, continuing) male intervention in both areas-intervention that has asserted its own necessity for the very creation of female adulthood. It is important to note that Cowiishaw's conclusion concerning female

26 Gender

ambivalence toward the bearing of children should not be taken to mean that reproduction is, or was, in some sense unimportant in Aboriginal societies. The early ethnography provides enough detail for us to see that, from the perspective of individual men and women, this was an area in which some of the stresses of gender relations were played out; and that women did in fact have a considerabledegree of control over their own pregnancies. Nevertheless, men typically made certain claims upon control of reproductive processes, starting with claims of control over female social-sexual maturity (see below). The extent to which we may identify contemporary reproductive practices with any 'tradltional' mode of reproduction is, however, a question of some significance, and one to be approached in terms of the ethnographic and historical specificity of each situation studied. Cowlishaw's work seems to me to give rise to this question (but she does not address it as such). The import of such works as Gale's (1970a), though she writes of the impact of urbanisation on marriage patterns is, I think, that in the communities she studied (and probably elsewhere) we must recognise other modes of reproduction, rather than continue to speak of alteratlon of some baseline 'traditional' mode. Cowllshaw's depiction of Aboriginal women's subordination and the corresponding partly realised potential for female dissent (cf Bern 1979a,129 on the latter point) contrasts wlth certain other views (eg Berndt 1970a, 1980,35; White 1970) which emphasise complementarlty of gender roles but not conflict (cf White 1975,138-40). A very different general model is that of Bell (1980, 1983).Her account of desert society emphasises sexual segregation, perhaps to a greater degree than does Kaberry's of the eastern Kimberley. It is part of her methodological position (Bell 1983, 33-36) that a female researcher may not work successfullywith people of both sexes, partly because this may give rise to suspicions of betrayal of confidences. It is clear that there are important regional differences across Australia in the form and content of gender relations, and it may well be that more thoroughly sex-segregated sociaiity in the desert is one dimension of difference, as Hamilton's (1979, 1980) accounts of the eastern Western Desert also suggest. However, to present gender relations as essentially separatist in practice simplifies the ethnographic task unrealistically. Strong Aboriginal concepts of separation in this area mean that social relations are enacted in such a way that they are seen to produce separation, But such an outcome clearly results from complex patterns of same and cross-sex interaction. Once again, compare Bell's (1983, 248) reference to the need to develop an understanding of

Francesca Merlan 27

this. Aboriginal ideas and practices concerning sexual separation cannot be taken over directly as a model of social relations, though they may clearly provide some guidelines for the researcher's deportment. The basic model by Bell (1983) is that women are-or were, before European colonial intrusion-independent (of men) in many ways, and in fact have a parallel, equivalent culture to men's. Essential values for women are tied up in activities, symbols, objects and ceremonies which women control, and through which they create a domain of their own. She rejects Warner's (1937,6)conclusion that women make little sacred progress in life-claims to status for both men and women are equally grounded in 'direct access' to the Dreaming. Clearly, a focus on ritual is significant because this is an area which certain works, like Warner's (1937), assert to be essentially unavailable to women (but cf Berndt 1980, Hamilton 1979), Most important, it is significant because the 'principal ideological representations of the Aboriginal social formation are to be found in the structure of religion' (Bern 1979b, 119). Chief emphases of separate women's ritual are nurture of land and the Dreaming, people and relationships (Bell 1983). Nurture of intersex relationships Bell terms 'emotional management'. She is at pains to down-playany sexual content of women's ritual, even of the jarrarda or yilpinji ('love magical') kinds. This is part of the general insistence on the parity and similarity (contra Munn 1973)of men's and women's ritual. Of studies of women's ritual in other areas (eg Berndt 1950) which reported different emphases, and in particular noted an explicit sexual dimension, Bell (1983, 180)tends to suggest that these reflected recent social upheaval; thus she evaluates these rituals as less pristine in content (eg less closely linked to particular sites and territories)than those she observed. It is certainly true that the sexual content of women's ritual may be more or less salient and explicit, and that some ritual sequences are more tightly bound up with land linked totemism than others. It is also understandablethat Bell (1983, 162)should deplore prurient European interest in sexual aspects of women's ritual. But comparative study of available material on women's ritual, and my own observations in the Northern Territory, have led me to conclude that there is indeed a tremendous emphasis in some women's rituals upon the constitution of sexuality as a power conferred by ceremony (see Merlan 1986b); and that here we find a crucial area of the symbolic representation of intersexual relationships involving notions of control (cf Bell 1983, 162ffJ In these ceremonies, sexuality is ritually constituted. Both laypersons and professionals (eg Berndt 1950) who have seen sexuality as an important dimension of such ceremonies have, in my opinion, captured something fundamental about

28 Gender

them. Given this, it is important to consider the essentially contradictory nature of sexuality [and female sexuality in particular)in Aboriginal societies, where men have considered themselves entitled to appropriate female sexuality in the interests of sustaining relationships with other men (in wife lending, ceremonial intercourse etc), but where women's cultivation and use of their own sexuality-however independent their ritual practice might be of male control-was always problematic. An issue which Bell's description raises is the extent to which men's and women's ritual may b e said to be the same or different in content, enactment and in other ways. As mentioned above, it is consonant with Beii's general position that she emphasises commonalities between men's and women's rituai: grounding in the same Dreamings, for example. But as also indicated above, other researchers have concluded that men's and women's ritual have very different integrative scope. A great gap in the study of women's ritual (to which Berndt 1950 is a notable exception) is consideration of its changing nature since European contact, which wouid undoubtedly help to put the general issue of the integrative scope of ritual in clearer perspective. (Compare Bell 1983, 152-54 who suggests that the scope of women's health oriented ceremonies has widened over the past few decades, shifting from a focus on the individual to resolution of intergroup conflicts in the context of settlement life,) Bell asserts women's (former) economic independence (Bell 1983, 96), and the parallelism of separation in the division of labour and in ritual (Bell 1980, 244). On this basis she treats ritual not so much as a dimension or aspect of gender relations but as a microcosm of it. Bell argues that women's domain has been ignored because of combined male ethnographer bias and male dominated theoretical bias. Of various female ethnographers who undertook studies of Aboriginal women's life, she argues that they were under the influence of the latter, andlor were inappropriately situated personally to have women's life fully revealed to them (1983, 232-33). Where Bell confronts certain dlmenslons of social structure and practice in which. it would seem, questions of disadvantage and inequaiity wouid have to be considered, her answers are two-fold. First, In a move similar to Kaberry's, she argues that women are not pawns or chattels-in short, objects in western terms. She attempts to restore them as social subjects, pointing out that they have decision making powers, employ their own political strategies, and so forth (cf Berndt 1980,31]. This, as i have already pointed out in regard to Kaberry's work, while important, does not invalidate or even contradict points of view which see inequality shaped in fundamental ways.

Francesca Merlan 29

(Indeed, one of the subthemes which runs through this review is that Aboriginalist literature focused on women has recurrently pointed to inadequacies in the conceptualisation of structure detached from social practice, but has not acted upon this recognition.) Second, following Leacock (1978), Bell argues that observable gender based inequalities are largely if not entirely the result of European domination, and the imposition of European action and value systems. It is surely true that the European impact has been enormous, and destructive. But this general proposition is fraught with unresolved problems at many different levels, Bell proposes no detailed description and analysis of the 'traditional' Aboriginal socioculturai system for any particular time period or place, The earlier independence of women is asserted as a main feature of the indigenous system, but how women's behaviour is to be related to structural properties of the social system is not spelled out. (For example, is independence located at the level of women's day to day gathering activities, at the level of factors which may account for the constitution of local groups, or through some combination of structural and other factors?) Convinced that women's own accounts of their earlier, freer lives are not just mythic, Bell attributes observable gender inequalities to European intrusion. But this skirts consideration of whether and how these may be the historical outcome of concrete processes of intersection of Aboriginal and European social relations, In which European domination was quickly established and reinforced over time. The general direction of change-from women's independence to dependence-is treated as unproblematic, though it is hard to see how such a definitive and singular conclusion could emerge from complex, and also locally somewhat specific, situations of European-Aboriginal social interaction (eg Collman 1979).4Historical processes of contact are considered to have resulted in the worsening of women's position, while women's ritual practice is treated, in the main (eg Bell 1983, 152-54, 161-62, 239, for interesting indications of the changing social context of women's ritual practice), as outside of these processes. I will give two examples of how the invoking of a notion of women's earlier independence glides over the particulars of gender related phenomena and produces no clearer understanding of them. The first concerns the vexed issue of the nature and degree of women's control over their own sexuality, particularly in the context of Aboriginal-European interactions.Bell (1983, 98), in keeping with her view of women's independence, argues that women entered into these relationships because their sexuality and feelings were theirs 'to bestow as they wished'. Without denying that women could have a degree of freedom of action, and were sometimes

30 Gender

willing to enter into such relationships, we must ask what were the indigenous antecedents of practices that made the sexual lending of women an easily understood and available notion to both men and women. Further, we must ask how we are to see it as an element in the articulation of Aboriginal and European social relations (eg Hamilton 1972, 42, who writes of the extent to which this was an effort to incorporate Europeans into local Aboriginal social networks; see also Gale 1964). Second, the notion of autonomy has been increasingly used in descriptions of Aboriginal social life, but in quite different ways. So far as I am aware, Goodale (1971) first used the term 'achievement' to capture what Myers (1986)later discussed under the label 'autonomy: This is for Aborigines the salience of a concept of the self as a reference point for action and accomplishment-where, for Myers (1986, 239). selfhood is importantly constituted through social relatedness, and thus is not to be confused with western notions of individualism. According to Goodale (1971, 337) this is a value shared by men and women, though she sees opportunities for action as structurally more limited for women. Use of the term 'autonomy' has subsequently become more diffuse and unclear, From an entry in Bell's index (1983,2861, butonomy of women', it becomes clear that she uses the notion not only in reference to the self, but as a characteristic of women as a category, amounting to a notion of their structural independence from men. This returns us to the need for a general theory of the articulation of Aboriginal institutions and practices, and closer ethnographic focus upon relations between men and women. Hamilton (1979), taking the eastern Western Desert mode of production as fundamental, seeks to explore its relationship to reproduction and symbolic production, the cult life. The overall characterisation of gender relations which emerges is that of 'dual social systems' (Hamilton 1980)-in each domain, men's and women's lives appear to be self-contained. The division of labour is 'so thoroughgoing and complete that it can better be understood as two separate systems' (Hamilton 1980, 121,There is 'total enclosure of reproductive matters in women's realm' (1979, 166). And of women's cult life Hamilton (1979, 297) says: Existence of women's secret ceremonies is necessary in order to constitute women as subjects independently of men's definitions in Aboriginal social formations, and in order to maintain the possibility of a dual social order based on the Law of men and the Law of women ...T his dual order requires matrilineal transmission for women, and the relinquishing of their sons to be constituted as male subjects by men. That is, it is not within the provinceof immediatefamily relationsthat the sexed subject emerges, but rather within a symbolic order which is the separate domain of men and women.

Francesca Merlan 31

Hamilton (1979, 271) observes that the 'big secrets' of women's ceremonies are 'statements about female sexuality which they communicate to each other but never to men'. Berndt and Berndt (1978, 72) have observed that ritual emphasis on 'specifically female attributes was much less obvious in regions with minimal secrecy in ritual affairs' (such as among the Tiwi, where both men and women were inducted into the kulama).The correlation of a separate and secret female cult life, an inward directed focus within it on female sexuality (see also White 1975),the female role more broadly, and a seemingly considerable degree of female solidarity, contrast in degree with some other parts of Australia, as Hamilton (eg 1981a) has described in a number of places. The eastern Western Desert is an area, Hamilton (1980, 4) claims, in which men did not succeed in consolidating dominance over women, though there is evidence of tendencies in this direction. Men did succeed, however, in controlling women's labour and particularly, in appropriating its product for the conduct of their own ceremonies (Hamilton 1980, 5). Discussion of the mode of production, and especially the linkages between its forces and relations, focuses upon the pre-contactsituation. Large grindstones were an essential tool in women's labour process, and were supplied by men to women (Hamilton 1980, 8). They were held within groups of matrilineal kinswomen.This is an element in a social configuration in which men were forced to be mobile, therefore could not create closed territories as they apparently would have wished. Instead, groups of close brothers tended to marry sets of sisters, who generally remained near their parents, Members of the matriline thus remained together. Polygyny was not common. Altogether, the situation contrasts strongly, as Hamilton has observed (1979, 1980, 1981a), with parts of Arnhem Land, where local organisation was apparently not focused upon matrilines, there was no autonomous women's cult life, and polygyny was more usual. However, male acquisition of grindstones, and a degree of control over women's labour, strongly suggest a measure of subordination of women. Might the focus of local groupings on matrilines be a regionally specific kind of organisation, one result of which was that these groups of women were centrally located in the labour process? As I have mentioned above, I tend to think that the notion of 'total enclosure of reproductive matters in women's realm' (Hamilton 1979, 166) rests upon too narrow a definition of the 'mode of reproduction: Hamilton mentionsthe particular importance of children to women (1979, 155-58). But here men claim the ability to 'sing' babies:

32 Gender

surely this is an aspect of the mode of reproduction, which requires broad enough definition to encompass Aboriginal concepts of procreation and related aspects of social reproduction, even if some of these appear non-instrumental(to westerners). Singing of babies is a common claim throughout Australia. What is its local significance?Clearly, here certain elements of girls' sexual training and maturation are carried out by women (Hamilton 1979,245-46), suggesting in this respect a greater equivalence of the sexes than is the case in some other parts of Australia. By pointing out important social structural differences bearing on gender relations in the desert and Arnhem Land, Hamilton has emphasised the need for detailed comparative studies. Hamilton later (1981a)formulates gender issues as having to do more explicitly with the question of power differential. She distinguishes in principle the question of achievement of power, status and authority for individual women as social actors, from that of women categorically (though there will be no doubt some regular relationships between the two). Commenting in detail on regional differences, she observes that all Aboriginal societies seem to exhibit sexual inequalities. Retaining as a central concern the separateness of men and women, she labels 'homosociality' a 'fundamental form of sociality which renders each sex powerful to itself but is premised on the ability of one to dominate the other by force when their interests are in irreconcilable conflict' (Hamilton 1981a, 69). 1 think this raises the important, insufficiently examined question: by what specific processes is the rather obvious gender based separateness constituted and maintained in Aboriginal societies? It is not sufficient to posit models of separation; we also need an account of how separation is interactionally produced, Given certain documented regularities of Aboriginal social systems to which social structural features can be related (eg the bestowal of women, as either wives or mothers-in-law),it is nevertheless true (as Hamilton 1981a. 85 recognises) that women as social actors gain recognition and have autonomy (in the etymological sense of self-direction).How, then, is separateness enacted and maintained; and where is it not? I dare say that if we can answer this question satisfactorily, it will not be necessary, as Hamilton suggests, to see direct exercise of force as the ultimate basis of gender asymmetry, but as one element of power Inequality in gender relations which are essentially constituted otherwise. principally by unequal exclusion (cf Berndt 1980,34; Cowlishaw 1982,502), and the inscribing of gender difference onto unequally evaluated, separate domains of activity. Certainly women often fear the threat of force, but the fear does not seem to arise decisively or solely from the use of force.

Francesca Merian 33

A final model of gender relations is that of interdependence across boundaries of firmly fixed difference, and functionai complementarity. Many statements about gender relations contain some references to interdependence (eg Berndt 1970a), andlor complementarity (eg Bell 1983, 84). But while many statements mention these in an attempt to arrive at a comparative view of men's and women's positions (even if these are ultimately said to be parallel), Rose (1984) develops a notion of interdependencewhich is based on a premise of men's and women's striving toward 'common goals which include the maintenance of the country and cosmos as a life giving system' (Rose 1984,59). Because these goals are shared, 'women's and men's management cannot be hierarchically ordered'. This is Rose's (1984, 59) answer to the serious contradictions she sees in models of Aboriginal society: On the one hand we have a model of egalitarian societies which seems quite applicable to Aborlglnal societies. On the other hand, we have a picture of societies characterized by a fundamental cleavage such that one half of the adult population is denied access to some of the basic necessities of life: moral, intellectual, and philosophical development; control of personal choice and mobility; and control of contexts for the expression of self as meaningful and valued.

This formulation seems to pass over the recognition of women as social actors found in the work of Kaberry, Goodale, Berndt, White, Hamilton, Bell and others. It once again seems to pose the issue, as Kaberry did, as one of women's subjecthood, but not of the wider conditions within which women are konstituted as subjects', in Hamilton's (1979, 297) terms. The view that social actors set themselves goals at the cosmic level allows one to pass quickly over, or to leave unanalysed, some rather striking manifestations of gender based difference and inequality.To mention several: women observe speech taboos upon thelr husbands' deaths, and must iater be tieared' of the 'trouble' of having been married to a 'dead body' (Rose 1984, 144).While such extended taboos have been reported elsewhere in Australia, what is striking is that men do not observe them in this context (compare Sackett 1978a, 124, on the imposition of speech taboos as punishment for men within the context of male ceremony). Second, Rose (1984, 174) suggests that bestowal practices amount to a 'loss of autonomy' for the bestowed girl, but 'she is also securing a wife for her uncle' that is to say, in a later return. What of the kompetitive singing and dancing of men and women' (Rose 1984,393) at initiation ceremonies, which seem to say something about the constitution of male and female categorically, as those who gain and give young

34 Gender

men to be initiated?5Uhis practice has been widespread if not universal in Aboriginal Australia.) Rose's discussions of bestowal and the concomitant structuring of a man's relation with his brother-in-lawand mother-in-law,of strongly cognatic rights to country and other aspects of social organisation, are interesting and important contributions to our knowledge of regional variation. But overall, guiding notions of interdependence of the sexes, and finally, androgyny (being both male and female) are pitched at such abstract levels (relating to 'maintaining the universe and reproducing human society: Rose 1984,439)that interesting and telling specificities of gender relationships are accepted as 'just so' within this wider framework. They are ultimately related to the notion of interdependence at the following general level: 'To be interdependent, then, for both men and women, requires that people enter into asymmetrical relationships' (Rose 1984, 448). Gender, and the issue of women's situation, are explosive. We approach Aboriginal societies from our own, with our deeply dichotomous and competitive ideas of gender relations. Strathern (1980) has described how, for many westerners, gender is an operator in a series of oppositions such as male-female, subject-object. culture-nature, reason-emotion and so on. The gender opposition can mediate these, so that male-female is linked with and can stand for the notion of subject acting on object, the transformationof nature by transcendant culture, and so forth. Strathern sees the association of these oppositions as related to the western project of transforming and controlling the external world. The transforming dimension of these oppositions gives rise to a colonising relation between their termsS6 A certain tension thus characterises all these oppositions, and with respect to gender, gives rise to a demand for its abandonment as a criterion of social difference because of its strong association with power differential. Approaching Aboriginal societies from this general perspective, nearly all commentators have remarked on the deeply dichotomous nature of gender relations, one obvious manifestation of which is a greater or lesser degree of sex-segregation (though this is not nearly as thorough-going as in some areas of New Guinea, as Berndt and Berndt 1978, 78 have observed). But gender relations tend not to be colonising: Aboriginal people of my (regionallylimited)experience, do not advance any clear notion of rights of common personhood on the basis of which gender difference should be eliminated (see also White 1975, 140; Bell and Ditton 1980. 15). Yet there is room for recognitionof both men and women as social actors, in the face of what to Europeans frequently looks like some degree of disadvantage to women

Francesca Merian 35

(such as being more excluded than excluding from domains accorded the highest prestige). When we encounter these non-colonisingbut unequal relations, many of us are non-plussed.How can they CO-exist?And if we seek to examine them, may we wind up doing a disservice to Aborigines, supplying more material for those who would argue the inferiority of Aboriginal society?

PRODUCTION, SEXUALITY AND REPRODUCTION Grimshaw (1981, 89) writes: Feminist anthropologists have developed wide-ranging and flexible models for the evaluation of women's status in pre-literatesocieties, including such factors as menstrual and pregnancy restrictions, extra-marital sex, divorce, the wife's right to inherit property, a woman's access to mediation with the supernatural, with the key issues the political questions of female access to distributionof wealth (oflenfood), and to decision-making processes.

This seems to me somewhat optimistic, Some of these factors have, of course, been examined. But often it is not obvious how they are to related to each other. Convincing interpretation of their interlinkages, it seems, must rest upon: 1, a theory of the social system(s) at higher levels of abstraction, which takes as one of its tasks examination of the relation between structure and practice; and 2. a theory of social transformation which does not assume its unilinearity, does not tacitly take as its major task the reconstruction of pre-contact systems (but is alert to continuity as well as change), does not shirk the extremely difficult task of trying to deal with the articulation of Aboriginal societies with EuropeanAustralian society, and takes understandingof change in the relations between social structure and practice as an important matter to which observation and analysis are to be oriented. I want to give two brief examples, based on a literature survey, of how characterisation of aspects of women's life, frequently detached from a broader framework of interpretation, leads to the recycling of arguments such as I mentioned above. These examples concern production, and sexuality and reproduction. Especially in regard to the second topic, I introduce some of my own ideas about connections that must be made among Aboriginal institutionsand practices in order that we achieve a clearer understanding of the relations between-and in some respects, the disjunction of-sexuality and reproduction.

36 Gender

Production One basic, unresolved tension in discussions of production has been between accounts which characterise it In its (former) day to day concrete aspect, versus those which seek to do so at some higher level of determination, in terms of social structural relations which contribute to and bound its specific form. Many of those who examine the first aspect have tended to conclude that women's productive activities are relatively independent and self-contained (eg Berndt 197Oa).Those who consider the second have tended to conclude that women's labour power is controlled, and some of its producth/alue appropriated (eg Bern 1979b). In either case, it may probably be said that women's productive and especially redistributive role was important in defining Aboriginal domesticity, and the current membership of particular domestic group^,^ Ethnographic sources (eg Falkenberg and Falkenberg 1981,85) indicate that though women often engaged in productive activities jointly, a woman was responsible primarily for distributing the products of her labour to her own children, husband and sometimes others attached to her Immediate hearth group; and that for her to neglect this obligation was opprobrious (Falkenberg and Falkenberg 1981, 85). In contrast, the products of men's hunting activities were often destined for wider distribution (though a primary male obligation seems everywhere to have been owed to certain of a wife's relatives, who therefore often formed part of the domestic group, cf Peterson 1970b). A second, unresolved problem Is how to deal with the great changes in Aboriginal material life everywhere, and understand them as part of complex changes throughout these societies. This task often appears so formidable that the result is what we might (invidiously)call either sociological or historical description, or anthropological description. The first approach tends to lose sight of specifically Aboriginal cultural and socletal continuities. The second (into which category fall many of the standard anthropological sources) tends to retreat from the problem of relating the present to the past, to the reconstruction of traditional systems, of which our knowledge and interpretations must necessarily be only partial and extrapolating (based in some measure upon what Aborigines now see as their traditional past). But more recently, partly as a result of the growing respectability of a marriage between anthropology and history, there has been an increasing number of works which attempt to deal with the changing inter-relationof Aboriginal economy (and other aspects of social life) with (most immediately, local) European-Australiansociety (eg Anderson 1984, Bell 1983).

Francesca Merlan 37

Kaberry (1939, 9) asked whether Aboriginal woman was 'food provider or dependent: She argued that women's work did not seem onerous to them, was not a brutal imposition; it offered freedom of movement, variety and companionship. It was less uncertain than men's hunting, yielded more overall, and women could dispose of the food they gathered (thoughthey had 'general obligations' to children and husbands, and especially to close matrilateral relatives).She made a point of saying that the husband's obligation to a wife's mother and brothers was greater than that of a woman's relatives to her as the man's wife. In other words, she was correctly pointing to structural dimensions of wife-givers' control of husband counterposed to his claims upon them. Finally, she says because women's economic role was important, it was a means of enforcing good treatment and justice. Rose (1965) remarked on the dramatic cessation of women's gathering activities from earliest European occupation around Angas Downs, in central Australia. According to his rather spare Marxist (or materialist) model, drastic infrastructural change in production was to be related to certain changes in social relations, especially to reduced incidence of polygyny. The underlying assumption is simplistic and utilitarian-with decreasing need for female production, men were content to take fewer wives. Also, this is an area where it is difficult to establish earlier incidence of polygyny, and it is not absolutely clear that Rose's (1965. 54) scant information on this distinguishes contemporaneous from serial marriage for men. Despite thoroughgoing economic change, change in the 'ideological superstructure' lagged considerably behind, as evidenced by the persistence of cult life, a fact which Rose (1965, 85) attributed to the necessity that the superstructure 'pass through the consciousness of the individual'! Certainly the changes in productive patterns brought about by introduction of European foods were drastic everywhere. Changes in day to day sociality were certainly equally dramatic, but it is difficult to know how to gauge and assess them. Whatever else may be true, Rose's model focuses on a limited view of the economic and does not relate wider social change to it in any detailed way, beyond the undemonstrated claim (see below) that decreased polygyny has resulted directly from change in women's productive role. Several papers in Gale (1970b) bear on women's economic role, Hiatt (1970) has argued for the greater importanceof women's contribution in areas where gatherable foods occur in abundance, and of men's in areas where they are scarce. The sense of 'importance' here appears to be primarily quantitative, and the implications for the interpretation of women's role within particular social systems are not clear. Sanday

38 Gender

(19731 and others have argued that mere participation in production is not an indicator of 'women's position', but that control of resources at a variety of levels is. Berndt (1970a, 41) summarises women's economic role as 'relatively independent' and 'relatively self-contained: In stressing women's substantial contribution, she remarks (1980,34) that women did not need male breadwinners-a kind of judgement which must be taken, I think, mainly in a quantitative sense. Berndt (1980, 34) also observes that women had the main responsibility for children; in other words, as mentioned above, domesticity seems to have been mainly defined by the allocation of women's daily work effort rather than men's. i have already mentioned Hamilton's (1979) finding that men's and women's productions were essentially separate. The nature of the labour process was different for each (Hamilton 1979,372). There was some integration of the separate productive spheres only in redistribution(but also in some degree of control by men of women's labour power, and appropriation of its product). Hamilton's basic statement of the relationshipof domains remains that separateness in the productivesphere parallels separateness in reproduction and the cult life, though there is evidence that men wished to consolidate their dominance, for example by establishing a stronger patrilocal emphasis. Bell's (1983, 50) view is that women were 'independent economic producers', just as they had a large measure of control over marriage, residence, reproduction and sexuality, and that on this basis they were 'full members' of their society. The question is, if they had less than full control, would they lpso facto be less than full members of society? (Compare Berndt 1980,35 on the notion of 'marginal persons', to which characterisations of Aboriginal women have often mistakenly led. See also Yeatman 1984, on the way in which domesticity has frequently been treated as a merely residual type of sociality.) Altman (1982 and 1987). writing of Momega outstation, observes that women's gathering activities have, as almost everywhere, declined greatly since the introduction of European carbohydrates, while men's important and clearly prestigious hunting productivity has been vastly enhanced by introduced technology. Women's work effort is no doubt reduced (Altman 1982,397). 1 would agree that change has 'undermined women's productive role' (1982, 312), but the implications of this for gender relations are not clear, In some respects, similar changes are occurring here the realisation of marriage promise as almost everywhere else in northern Au~tralia;~ is declining and so, apparently, is bestowal (Altman 1982,54); both men and women are marrying at younger ages, and polygyny is declining,

Francesca Merlan 39

Rose, as discussed above, thought decline in polygyny resulted directly from drastic alteration of women's productive role, Altman (1982,414) seems to agree that men are more willing to forgo polygyny because of women's decreased subsistence role. This assumes a fairly direct and singular relation between acquisition of wives and their productive potential. But of course, from a male point of view, there are other reasons for wanting wives.?Further, in the modern situation there is no reason to suppose that their productive potential is a vital consideration at all, either positive or negative.It may be true that women's possibilitiesof gaining some means of support (eg in the form of welfare benefits) are now a consideration relevant to polygyny but this has little to do with their traditional subsistence role. (Compare Goodale 1971, 126 on the supplementing of old age security at Snake Bay, as part of administrative efforts to eliminate polygyny and marriage between partners differing greatly in age.] It is therefore not clear how exactly its demise is to be related to declining polygyny. I think such a single-stranded relationship between change in production and marriage patterns, as Rose and Altman suggest, is by no means obvious. The situation seems to be everywhere precisely that there has been a clear break in the traditional nexus of marriage and female production. If this is in fact everywhere correlated with a decline in polygyny, it is not because demise of the female subsistence role causes it. The female subsistence role may be no longer crucially necessary, but foods can be otherwise obtained, Decline in polygyny is the result of complex changes in social relations which accompany the rupture of that nexus, and which remain to be more precisely specified, Nor is it obvious exactly how change in subsistence and other economic activities at Momega Is related to changes In social relations which are obviously occurring. Altman's presentation seems to me to Invite the inference that women are now more dependent within the family than formerly-though he extrapolates that their contribution to subsistence may never have been proportionally as great as we might think in this area (Altman 1982,370,404).(This argument would depend on accurate reconstruction of pre-Europeansubsistence patterns and activities, something I doubt has been, and perhaps cannot be, done exhaustively.) Yet if women are more dependent economically, it is not obvious that this results from the undermining of their subsistence role. There is some indication (see Altman 1982, 97), that in an environment of rapidly changing social security payments, women received somewhat less than men. From the material presented, women's more limited cash income can be clearly related to disadvantages they suffer in the market economy, owing to the rather definite division of labour in artefact production.1° Rose (1965,

40 Gender

77) had found at Angas Downs that men had a virtual monopoly on high priced items such as the traditional male implements: spears, woomeras, boomerangs,and also carved animals. In the same way, men produce higher priced art and women tend to produce craft, Most women have the skills required to produce the latter. Its rate of return is relatively low. Women's direct access to cash from this source is thus also low. Altman argues that the Momega economy remains essentially non-capitalist, and is able to do so because it is located within a benevolent state structure. He describes the outstation as a 'reconstitution' of the hunting and gathering mode, with adaptation of new technology to traditional production, maintenance of values of limited material wants, and egalitarian practices in distribution. In general, men's subsistence production is sustained and even enhanced, women's undermined. [One is entitled to wonder, I believe, whether it Is not the case that men's hunting role has in fact been considerably transformed.)My main point has been that, although he highlights the change in women's subsistence role, we are not able to pinpoint the effects of this, Carbohydrate staples are readily available. But change is complex and at the same time, women are disadvantaged in at least part of the cash economy. Altman (1982, 415) rejects 'articulation of modes of production' theory because, he says, while it predicts transformation of the mode of production, in actuality distribution, consumption and exchange have become more egalitarian. But I cannot see, even if we do not understand the processes in detail, that we have here anything less than radical transformation of the forces and relations of production, through articulation with aspects of imposed economic and social systems. In my view, an account of change in productiveand other social relations which succeeds in showing the links between the two more closely is that of Anderson (1984). Writing of a Cape York society, he identifies several major phases of change which accompanied the particular European 'intervention complexes' (1984,389).Anderson employs a theoretical model of articulation of Aboriginal and European social relations, and thus is not commltted from the outset to a notion of the persistence of traditional societal forms, as Altman appears to be. In the first phase, he posits that there was major change in the forces of production, but relative conservatism in the reproduction of relations of domination, largely because of the limited and local nature of European intervention. In a second phase, Kuku-Yalanjisocial structures articulated with a European 'boss' system. This was accompanied by a decline in the authority of old men, and a rise in status of younger men, and women. The third

Francesca Merlan 41

phase he describes as dissolution of a distinctively Aboriginal mode of production and accompanying social relations. This he sees as an uneven process, affecting differentially the missionised 'mobs' that are the effective units of the contemporary society, and tending toward total encapsulation through institutionalised dependency (Anderson 1984, 432-34). Of interest are Anderson's remarks (1984,321) on changes in social relations that approximately correlate with his first and second phases. The forms of European intervention, and the work process in particular, gave young Aboriginal men increased independence from senior men. One rather striking indication of this growing independence is that, in this area, initiations had ceased by around 1930. This came about more rapidly than in many other places where the span of European contact has been similar, but it: specific nature, and hence implications for social change, are rather different. Marriage arrangements were liberalised, and people began taking spouses from further afield than had been the case previously (Anderson 1984,322).Women gained a degree of independent access to material goods and other resources, partly through sexual and domestic relations with European men which they often initiatedthemselves (Anderson 1984,324; cf Hamilton 1972: Gale 1964; inter alia),Of course, such relations resulted in increasing numbers of children of mixed descent (Anderson 1984, 326). Also of interest are Anderson's remarks (1984, 421-24) on the contemporary Aboriginal economy, and the considerable control that women have gained over the pay packet due to the nature of benefits and allowances (cf Collman 1979, Larbalestier 1977). In summary, just as we cannot take women's participation in production by itself as an indication of their favourable position, so we cannot, in the modern context, take the drastic change in their productive role as an indication by itself of their worsened position. The changes which have accompanied the demise of traditional subsistence production, in which women played a large part, have been extensive, and we need to specify more clearly what they are and how they inter-relate.Clearly, the introduction of European foods had a large, immediate impact on Aboriginal society. Women's productive role lost its immediate relevance but not its abstractly positive evaluation, or its force as a statement of gender difference. Men's hunting lost some immediate relevance but also retained its prestige, partly through its relation to the domain of men's ritual activity (Sackett 1979).What was steadily diminished was the extent to which particularly women's labour power could be, or needed to be, mobilised for immediate subsistence. The degree to which those needs could be supplied from European sources, either through work or other interaction, was

42 Gender

obvious. (Sackett 1978b, 38 also emphasises the extent to which gathering around sources of European supply made economic change necessary, as the surrounding area become depleted of resources.) It was thls simple but profound change, sometimes accompanied by violence and sometimes not, which was the basis for diversification of Aboriginal economic patterns articulating with dominant European systems in a more or less direct way. Reciprocal relations with other Aboriginal people also became diversified, and the direct exchanges of food and other goods, labour and assistance which had formerly been the normative basis of affinal and other ties, were less clearly a charter for the creation of obligation and control over the actions of others. In short, the means of controlling and channelling marriage arrangements have become less clear than ever. Through all this, there persists In many places a clear sense of differentiation of male and female work roles, which take as their model the traditional productive roles. We should focus on closer examination of the complex changes in social relations, including male-female relations, that are part of productiveand economic change. The bases for evaluation of these changes need to be made more explicit, and stated in relation to particular local social systems, which cannot be defined without consideration of the nature of Aboriginal and European-Australian interaction.

Sexuality a n d reproduction The second area I wish to discuss is female sexuality, and more briefly, aspects of the relationship between sexuality and reproduction. An assumption which I take as fundamental is that gender relations cannot be treated as a separate subject matter outside a larger framework whlch seeks to understand the inter-relationsof social relations. In what follows I discuss some practices of traditional Aboriginal social life. These now have varying currency in northern communities l know, and I mention some dimensions of change. My aim is to show how these practices relate to others to which, heretofore, their relationship has not been explicitly examined. Together, these practices constitute a nexus fundamental to the constitution of gender in Aboriginal social formation, The issue of traditional concepts and practices relating to Aboriginal women's sexuality is a vexed one, partly because in the European-Aboriginal encounter these were frequently engaged to the detriment of Aboriginal women, and Aboriginal socleties.Although many sexual encounters of European men and Aboriginal women were by violence and force, many were not by direct force, but were enacted as

Francesca Merlan 43

the meeting of unfamiliar concepts and practices in a situation of domination. Hamilton (1972, 42) has written of the extent to which the offer of Aboriginal women was an attempt to establish a basis of relationship between Aborigines and Europeans. McGrath (1983, 170)and Bell (1983.98) have written of the extent to which sex was offered in order to obtain food and other goods, and of how Aboriginal men objected if their rights in women were not sufficiently recognised. Such things are problematic to Europeans, who approach them from a general perspective that sex is exclusively personal, an aspect of and by choice of the autonomous individual.Europeansare reluctant to come to grips with practices widely reported of Aboriginal societies-such as ceremonial wife exchange, or sexual intercourse as part of female puberty rites-which involve a wider social use of sexuaiity. No doubt these matters are aiso highly problematic to Aborigines who have become aware of the general European perspective on them, whose own communities do not practise them, and who also have a deep awareness of the history of colonial domination. On the one hand Europeans may tend to see these practices as reducing women to objects, stripped of personality and individuality (cf Elkin's introduction to Kaberry 1939, xxiii for a typical reaction).On the other hand, some may argue (eg Bell 1983, 98) that control of their own sexuaiity was another aspect of women's autonomy, that women were not entirely averse to such situations, and in fact on occasion may have sought to arrange or at least manoeuvre within them. Neither interpretation seems to me adequate, Such practices do seem to be a use of women as woman in a categorical sense, in a way that has continuity with traditional Aboriginal gender constituting practices. But they did not amount to the reducing of Aboriginal women to the condition of 'harried prostitute' (Kaberry 1939, 9 rejects this characterisation), nor did they repress what has been documented as considerable sexual interest and vitality on women's part (cf Kaberry 1939, 103,258; Bell 1983,98; Goodaie 1971, 132, 145). The fact that women may have gone along with these things and even sometimes encouraged them does not clarify either their availability as social practice, or the significance of their indigenous antecedents. What is clear is that, to Europeans, Chinese and others who exchanged goods or money for sex, such practices had the character of prostitution.(See McGrath 1983; aiso Berndt 1980, 36 who remarks that 'exploitation of Aboriginal women by Europeans.,.far overshadowed anything of the sort that may have gone on in traditional Aboriginal Australia') Europeans saw the women as degraded and the men as manipulative and aiso unworthy of respect. From the non-Aboriginal

44 Gender

perspective, what was seen as the commoditisation of sex stripped it of any possible social value. Now I would like briefly to examine indigenous social practices that seem to structure the significance of sexuality in certain ways. This will lead me to consideration of the relation between sexuality and reproduction, and problems in the definition of this relation. In any examination of these subjects, the significance of traditional marriage arrangements must loom very large. This is because many forms of them most emphatically did not amount to a simple domestic arrangement between two people, as many of us now understand ordinary western marriage. The tendency was for marriage to have the character of male accomplishment (cf Collier and Rosaldo 1981), its organisational basis consisting in claims established by a man to a prospective wife through her relatives. This is the marriage promise. The bases of claim, and the bases of rights to bestow women as promises, varied considerably. When I characterise marriage promise as male achievement or accomplishment (see Goodaie 1971,38; Kaberry 1939,38 for this complexion of marriage in particular Aboriginal societies), let me be careful to make clear what I do not mean, for this is liable to some misinterpretation. For one thing, I do not mean to imply that adult women were excluded from the political processes of bestowal (see Hiatt 1965, 1967; Berndt 1970a, 40; Hamilton 1970). 1 do not mean that a woman's matrikin had little say In bestowal-indeed, their say in many areas is regarded as determining (cf Hiatt 1967)-nor that matrigroups may not in many areas have had a very important structural role (eg Goodale 1971, 86-87); and I do not mean to imply that girls promised in marriage were thought of as mere objects and stripped for all time of any possibility of reacting to or making decisions about their marital and sexual lives. We must also place due emphasis upon the fact that, while bestowal was an effort by and on behalf of a man to structure claims on his potential affines and thus exert control over their future actions, so too were reciprocal claims and controls exerted upon him as a result, A man had to pay attention to his affines if he wanted to give sufficient force to his claims in order to realise the marriage. The role of affinity in organising the composition of local groups was clearly great. (Compare Peterson 1970b; Goodale 1971, 101, 104, who notes strong determination of a man's residence by that of his in-laws, but also, conversely, the importance of proximity of land holding units in determining the contracting of marriage promise in the first place. See also Goodale 1971,126.) What I do mean is that these practices defined women as a category, as

Francesca Merlan 45

bestowable, and made two kinds of claims valuable toward the achievement of status and control over other people's actions: marriage claims upon the women themselves; and the accompanying reciprocal claims of affines upon each other. These practices, though they did not define men as the exclusive category of bestowers, did define them as exercising control by successfully bringing the marriage arrangements to fruition. Bell (1980, 253) complains that anthropologists have paid an undue amount of attention to marriage by promise, and that this is due to largely male anthropological interest in the institutions of polygyny and gerontocracy. She correctly points out that women usually marry more than once, and that later marriages especially are much more a matter of women's own choice (see also Goodale 1971,227,335). Her general point is that traditional anthropological accounts have ignored women's perspective on marriage (see also Hamilton 1970, 29), and the extent to which it is a matter of political decision making in which women play a part. I agree that promised marriage has been much emphasised, but i think this is not only because of male ethnographer bias, or only because of anthropological fixation upon polygyny and gerontocracy in the abstract. It is rather, I think, becausewhether or not it has been well theorised, and women's perspective sufficiently taken into account-it is outstanding as a system of practiceswhich are a locus of attempted control by social actors over others. It is therefore a basis for status achievement and inequality (cf Hiatt 1965; Goodale 1971, 53-54, 114). and insofar as the system has regular structural properties, its Implications for the constitution of male and female as gender categories are rather different for each, as are its implications for men and women as social actors. Aboriginal societies differed in polygyny rates, relative and absolute ages of partners at first marriage, the extent to which bestowal arrangements were normally encompassed within the sanction of (both male and female) ritual practice, the constellation of kin types who ideally had rights of bestowal, and in other ways. But marriage as male accomplishment always entailed for boys and men that they cultivate extensive ties. Boys regularly travelled to meet relatively unfamiliar people as part of their initiation into adulthood (cf Sackett 1978a, 111). Men needed the assistance of other people in the arrangement of their own marriages, and tried to develop ties eventually so that they might participate in some arrangements as bestowers. All these things exemplify the political (as opposed to more narrowly domestic] nature of marriage arrangement. For women, the main point here is that emphasis upon their marriages, especially

46 Gender

first marriages, as male achievement has the corollary that their attitudes were frequently reactive to specific arrangements made by others. In societies where women were sometimes bestowed as mothers-in-law,claims upon them were indeed long range (and also for that reason, subject to alteration). Rose (1984, 155) has commented, on the basis of recent observations in western Northern Territory, upon the 'sullenness' of promised girls toward their mothers and uncles, who in that area usually have a major role in their bestowal. That girls were not construed as mere objects, however, is shown by the fact that in areas of long range bestowal, a major concern was to accustom the girl to her 'promise'. This concern was really based on an intersection of interests: on the part of the girl's relatives, that she wouid fulfil obligations they had placed themselves under; and on the part of the prospective husband, that he wouid be able to realise his claims and keep her as a wife. in the long term, of course the woman's compliance is of importance; and there was a concern in many areas with accustoming her to the arrangements made before she had 'sense'; or rather, to make the arrangements a part of the sense she had as she grew up. The practices of marriage promise which define women as bestowable may continue to have some effect on a woman's subsequent marital career, as when a deceased husband's relatives may attempt to reallocate her as wife, or others may attempt to influence her (see Goodale 1971, 51; Beli 1980). But the fact is that the degree of control which can be exerted over her as a more mature woman is simply not as great (cf White 1970, 21; Hamilton 1970; Goodale 1971, 228; Bell 1980). This may have the effect of giving a particular poignancy to the allocation of young girls and women; for while it is true that every woman may reasonably expect to marry serially, for each there is only one first marriage that is especially subject to negotiation. (See Goodale 1971,5344 who writes of the most prestigious form of marriage promise among the Tiwi, extremely long range mother-in-lawbestowal.)Another very important aspect of promise is emphasis on the establishment of reciprocal wife giving and receiving arrangements (Goodale 1971, 115; Rose 1984, 171-75). Goodale also mentions the possibiiityof a man's passing to another a wife he has finally received. in conclusion on the subject of marriage, I would like to suggest, but cannot examine fully here, the proposition that many men in areas of the north that i know, particularly older men, are at least as interested as ever in the possibilities of polygyny (contra, for example, Rose's suggestion 1965, that because of the lesser importance of female production, men are content to forgo it); but that they are much less able to bring it about because the conditions for creating the reciprocal relations of

Francesca Merlan 47

obligation and control with others are so thoroughly altered. (See Sackett 1978a for good description of some of the altered conditions mainly in the male sphere, but also importantly affecting young girls and women, See Burbank 1980, 1985a for altered conditions, with emphasis upon the female sphere.) Would-be poiygynists are much more numerous than successful ones. Among the drastic results of change, we find young men having sexual relationships with young girls and women, and often being able to sustain these relationships if they try to. (Sometimesthey do not.) We find young women openly spending time with young men of their choice, sometimes entering into what is recognised as marriage and sometimes not, but in any event often having children by them. It is not, Ithink, so much that men are willing to forgo acquiring wives because of women's altered subsistence role (see earlier discussion of production; also Sackett 1978a, 111 on the drastic reduction of environmental limitations upon the form of Aboriginal life), but rather that the conditions for the creation and realisation of obligation in respect of bestowal and marriage are altered. Goodale (1971, 126) In commenting on the continuing, unexpected vitality of Tiwi bestowal in the 1950s, makes the acute observation that marriage promise continued to be vital because it was never solely the result-the union of man and wife-that was important, but the relations of obligation established as part of the contract itself, in which there was a variable but strong element of expected reciprocity, as noted above. While it is important to clarify the significance of traditional marriage arrangements, and especially marriage by promise, I think it is equally important to move on from this to try to understand changes, and their place in the restructuring of social relations (see eg Burbank 1985a; Sansom 1978, 1980). The emphasis upon marriage as political accomplishment seems to have been related, in the earlier Aboriginal social formation, to the structuring of ideas and practices concerning female maturation, and their counter-positionto ideas about male maturation.Westerners tend to think of maturation as something which happens naturally, a biological process. But of course many other peoples do not act upon an assumption of natural, independent development, treating it instead as something that can be manipulated. Many accounts of Australian Aborigines have mentioned how closely initiation of girls is associated with marriage [eg Berndt and Berndt 1964, 182).That is, for a girl, initiation or some rites celebrating puberty are an immediate prelude to bestowal (if the girl is not already bestowed) andlor marriage, (Bestowal as mother-in-lawoccurs at puberiy among the Tiwi; the girl is ideally already married, cf Goodale 1971, 47, 50.) But the extent to which physical maturation of girls is itself

48 Gender

the subject of cultural manipulation has not been clearly emphasised. Full social recognition of female maturation does not depend just on the signs of physical development, but is the signal for Interventionto bring it about and accord it social recognition in culturally conventional ways. We may contrast this generally with the traditional treatment of boys. For them, initiation (of one degree or another) may indeed be closely connected with marriage arrangements. But there is less emphasis on physical maturation as the signifylng element (as we might expect); and less emphasis on the immediate realisation of marriage, than upon induction into the separate aspects of the world of men, and especially continuing participation in ritual (cf Sackett 1978a, 111). Women often had an important role In rites of female maturation (see Bell 1983. 152; Meggitt 1962,270; Kaberry 1939,236; Berndt and Berndt 1964,180-87). However, the significant degree of attribution of female sexual maturity to the actions of men, either through intercourse, the performance of rites, or both, has not been sufficiently recognised. Warner (1937, 75) reports of the Murngin that they believe 'menstruation is due to the sexual act, and the blood is not dangerous to a woman [unlike ritually let blood] since it comes from the abdomen and not the heart: Hamilton (1981b, 19) likewise reports of neighbouring Anbarra people that all female informants agreed 'no girl could "get blood" until a man had "helped" her by copulation: Goodale (1971,45) says the Tiwi consider sexual intercourse 'the direct and only cause of breast formation, growth of pubic and axillary hair, menarche, and subsequent menstrual periods', A quoted woman's report (Goodale 1971.47) shows that defloration is spoken of as making girls into women. I have suggested elsewhere (Merlan 1986a) that the relative mildness of male and female attitudes toward menstruation (cf Kaberry 1939, 238; Meggitt 1962,271; Warner 1937, 76; Berndt and Berndt 1964, 184-85), compared with, for instance, attitudes in parts of Melanesia concerning menstrual pollution, may be related to the fact that it is one sign of female maturity, desired and to some degree thought to be brought about by men, rather than an index of Independentlyachieved female reproductive potential. It was not only northerners who attributed such a role to men. Among the Aranda, men (at least some of them actual MBs of a girl's matriline, see Spencer and Gillen 1899, 459-60) performed songs for the purpose of inducing maturity by causing breasts to grow. A rite was performed at menarche by women at their camp. At this point the second phase, which I describe below, was undertaken: that of carrying

Francesca Merlan 49

out acts which conferred social recognition upon the girl's physical maturity, and had the express result of readying her for marriage, namely, atna-ariltha,or introclsion, and obligatory sex with a number of male partners, some of kin classes who would normally be prohibited sexual partners to her. Reports of men inducing breast development are also found in Berndt (1950, 26) for the western Northern Territory, and Kaberry (1939,97) for the eastern Kimberley. I have found that men have or had songs for this purpose in much of the Katherine area, as far south as Elliott, the furthest south I have ever made inquiries. It would appear that it is usually at menarche, or at least after there is clear evidence of some physical development, that social recognition of her maturation is conferred upon a woman. It is important to note, then, that the processes being described are not characterisable as merely physical-they confer female social adulthood, and have the effect of admitting her, fully or by degrees, to separate aspects of the world of women, as well as preparing her to marry. In some areas of Australia where there is strong opposite-sex sibling avoidance behaviour, an aspect of maturity is definitive physical separation from her brothers. (Compare Berndt and Berndt 1964, 184. See also Cowlishaw 1978, 276; 1982, 503 for particular emphasis on the unequal playing out of the brother-sister avoidance relation in Arnhem Land.) It is remarkable the extent to which the recognition of female social adulthood is also brought about by men, and continent-wide, the extent to which it involved the woman's submission to obligatory sexual intercourse (as I briefly referred to above for the Aranda], or defioration by other means. Where it involved obligatory sexual intercourse, It is further noticeablethat this was usually carried out by some men other than the prospective husband (cf Berndt and Berndt 1964,180-81). This must be seen, at least to some degree, as marking women out as members of a gender category, though of course it was also a required aspect of Individual maturation, and normally carried out by a woman's own kin who did not wish to wantonly hurt or intimidate her, Thus, processes of maturation of boys and girls seem to have been fairly highly structured, and men and women participated in both to differing degrees. But the emphasis upon sexual means of maturing girls is notable, as is the association for them between physical and social maturity, and the immediacy of the link between maturity and marriage,To a large degree, through extramarital affairs and as a result of a young man's first marriage often being to an older woman, the latter, in practice, had a significant role in Introducing young men to sex (eg Goodale 1971, 67). But this dimension of sexual relations was never part of any structured system of inducing

50 Gender

social adulthood, though the possibility of older women's interest in young boys is a matter for private comment. The close linkage between female social adulthood and marriage is shown by Gulf of Carpentaria women's accounts that upon introcision, formerly practised there, the girl's blood was smeared upon the back of the man to whom she was thus promised. From the perspective of adults, this statement of promise was extremely binding, and the breaking of it, which women call 'crossing their law', could incur extreme sanctions. Overall I would say such practices had two consequences. One was the particular emphasis on sex as instrumentality: for men, It was a transforming instrumentality which, in some contexts, could help create womanhood. For women, it was a gendered attribute of which the social rather than simply personal importance was manifested through these practices. But in the process a sense of the separability of sexuality from the person was elaborated-these practices were instances of sexuality being defined, differentially but for both men and women, as available for use as a dimension of wider social relations. (It is perhaps partly from this perspective that we may understand the development of mythological imagery of separable sex organs, for example the imagery of separable or extensible penes in much central and western mythology [cf White 1975, 130; Hamilton 1979, 2551. Hamilton, Munn [l9731as described above, and others, have noted the fundamental nature of complementary sexual imagery in ritual and design.) The second consequence, I believe, is that sexuality was defined, at least to some extent and in certain contexts, as separable from reproductive concerns. Or perhaps it is more apt to say that the conditions were created for unequal recognition of the embodiment of reproductive contribution in men and women: the attribution to men of energising potency; the attribution to women of a primarily nurturant role. To make sure this point is clear, i will offer a brief comparative contrast. In the Western Highlands of Papua New Guinea (Nebiiyer Valley) where i have also done fieldwork, exchange of bridewealth confers complete rights to a woman's sexuality and her reproductivity on her husband. Extramarital sexual activity of a woman is actionable. A woman's sexuality is never on offer, licitly, to another person. However, in Australia, though we should by no means make the mistake of underrating people's concern with reproduction, and the importance to women in particular of the display of nurturing capacities (cf Berndt 1980, 33 on the tentral bond of mother-child relationships'; Rose 1984; Myers 1986, 250-51), nevertheless it is clear that, traditionally, particular male sociopolitical interests were directed to

Francesca Merlan 51

the control of, rather than simply exclusive rights to, wife's and other female's sexuality. Men made claims on the use of female sexuality as a means of creating ordered social relations: ensuring the efficacy of ritual (Warner 1937, 306-08); expiating offences (Kaberry 1939, 152); or punishing women for violation of male ritual secrecy (Sharp 1934,41).Above, I described how common it was traditionally for male sexuality to be used instrumentally to define women as social adults in structured rites of passage, that is, to define them as marriageable. This was as integral a part of social adulthood for women as for men, but more immediate.In some areas, it is even used to define a woman as marriageable, or at least 'dear', subsequent to the death of her husband. In many of these contexts, use of sexuality was sundered from reproductive concerns; for example, reproduction (in a limited sense, at least, relating to pregnancy) was apparently not an Immediate aim of using sex to mature young girls (cf Meggitt 1962, 272). We must rather relate male participation in female maturation more immediately to men's concern with girls' marriageability (cf Kaberry 1939, 233), and the realisation of marriage promises, since some sort of formal recognition of the realisation of the marriage, or handing over of the girl, usually did not occur until then (cf Berndt and Berndt 1964, 180). Ultimately, men appear to be more explicitly credited than women with exercise of an energising or life-giving potential, No doubt this is related to the fact that men are most explicitly credited with manipulation of ancestral potency as thls is objectified in the landscape (eg in the form of spirit child sites) or in design. To get an adequate sense of the social significance of the above-mentioned sexual practices, we must remember that in certain instances women were recompensed (part of the gift they passed on to their husbands),and that non-punitive uses of sexuality, such as in the northern Gunabibi ritual, were felt to be incumbent upon both sexes (Warner 1937, 306-08). It is in the interstice between reproduction in a broad sense and sexuality as embodied in persons that I think we must locate the ideological space for many of the puzzling traditional practices and beliefs to do with procreative ideas; for example, the ubiquity of notions of impregnation by spirit children, which entail non-recognition of parental somatic contribution. Although ideas of a relation between copulation and impregnation are also ubiquitous (Warner 1937.24; Goodale 1971, 136; Hamilton 1981b. 21-22; Meggitt 1962, 272; Tonkinson 1978), the relation between these two different sets of procreative notions is not usually made explicit, so that they remain disjunct (see Merlan 1986a).By comparison, in the area of New Guinea briefly referred to, where female sexuality is located entirely within marriage, there seems to be less

52 Gender

disjunction from reproductiveconcerns, and more equal notions of the embodiment of reproductive capacity in men and women. There is only one kind of procreative ideology-that children are the result of mingling of male and femaie substances, of which there is a clear concept. To put matters somewhat differently, it would appear that the male-female sexual polarity is a (or the, cf Munn 1973, 220) fundamental source of symbolic dynamism, but that men and women as categories of social actors are credited with somewhat different relations to its potential; men's more clearly energising, women's more clearly nurturant. Men's and women's relations to 'life energy [and the] "transbodiiy" social forms that objectify this energy' (Munn 1973, 217) are thus not simply parallel. One important consequence of this is that some of the forms and processes of social reproduction (such as the spirit child complex) are far removed from the imagery of bodily reproduction, but instead fall within the range of images of ancestral potency and its representation in the landscape.Within this range of images, men and women are not equivalent in dealing with the re-emergence of the energy so objectified. (See Tonkinson 1978, 83 who reports that Aboriginal men at Jigalong rejected all talk of physiological aspects of procreation 'because it has nothing to do with the Dreamtime and their Law:) It is in the emphasis upon sexuality as social instrumentality that I think we may locate the bases for the elaboration of 'love magical' themes in some women's ceremonies (possibly also the corresponding male ones), of which one explicitly understood effect is to constitute sexuality in ritual as a power which may be used both as a source of collective and individual control over others, In women's songs and ceremonies of this type that i have heard and seen in the upper central Northern Territory, a strong thematic concern is with control over men through sexual attractiveness, constructed as a 'power' which the ceremony confers (Merlan 1986b). Although such women's ceremonies also have other content, and in some ceremonies sexual themes are quite secondary (cf Hamilton 1979, Bell 1983), this nevertheless seems to me to be a fairly widespread type of content (cf Berndt 1950, Kaberry 1939, Eliis 1970), Rather than deny or down-play the sexual content of much female ceremonial activity (cf Bell 1983, 162), it is important to clarify our ideas about the significance of sexuality. There is no space here for further discussion of the relation between sexuality and reproductivity.Suffice It to say that I am unconvinced that Aboriginal practices clearly express any notion of separate 'female reproductive power' or 'inherent' fertility (Rose 1984, 432) beyond that which males possess. It is clear that the female

Francesca Merlan 53

physiological role in maturing the child during gestation is recognised and frequently arrogated as male ritual imagery (cf Hiatt 1975),But there is other evidence that the force of ideology and practice (cf Goodale 1971,338) is precisely to limit the female contribution to this achievement, or at least not to confer any special recognition of female 'creativity' independent of males. (Some would see this as denial, which it may be in part, but i am not sure how one could ever prove or refute this.) Slightly altering White's (1970, 21) formulation, I would suggest that women's maternal achievement is undeniably seen to be in the nurturing of new human life, both internally and externally.Spirit child beliefs seem to accord creativity neither to men nor women in particular, but rather to the totemic forces (except insofar as it is most often men who claim some control over the spirit children and their appearance, ie some energising capacity; but cf Hamilton 1979, 262; White 1975, 133 for reports of women's ritual pregnancy episodes, indicating that in some areas at least women, too, were seen as able to exercise such capacity), To conclude this section, which is not so much a review of recent literature as an independent assessment of how we may need to re-readthe traditionalist literature, I repeat my general point that much recent discussion seems not to have examined sexuality and reproduction within a sufficiently comprehensive framework-that is, seeking to understand the relation of sexuality and reproduction to the organisation of Aboriginal society In general, and the forms and variations of specific societies. To do this is not to try to denigrate women, but to try to understand women in the terms of the Aboriginal societies that we encounter and read about. We are then perhaps in a better position to consider what changes are occurring and how these play a part in the restructuring of social relations. For example, why did girls' initiatory and puberty rites tend to disappear, while boys' are much slower to do so? What are the elements of male and female maturity, and to what extent is the traditional system of cultural construction of maturity now giving way to, or shifting in the nature of articulation with, other practices?

GENDER CONSTRUCTS Most commentators on gender (eg Berndt 1970a, 1978; White 1970; Hamilton 1979; Cowiishaw 1979; Bell 1983) have remarked on the clarity with which certain domains of activity are gendered, often in parallel fashion (eg woomera and the digging stick are gendered parallel symbols of productive activity). Bell (1983, 45) writes of the

54 Gender

continuing force of such differentiation: 'The idea that men have certain roles and that women occupy a particular place is today as clear-cut as it was in the past. Women's work is still women's work: men's work is still men's work.' in what follows, I attempt to identify some of the gender constructs which seem to underlie the difference between male and female in northern Aboriginal societies I know, and thus inform the distinction between domains of activity as separate. Where it seems that contrast may help to clarify what 1 am trying to say, I make brief comparisons with notions of gender difference from some New Guinean societies. First, there is a notion of completely given or intrinsic determination of sex-the sexes are genitally distinct, and this fact has implications for socialisation and the life-course. On another plane, male-female sexual polarity is fundamental and irresolvable. How could this be otherwise?We may compare this with the Hua (Meigs 1983) of the Eastern Highlands of New Guinea. Like many peoples of the area, they have a notion of male and female sexual fluids or substances, the strength or relative predominance of which can be altered by, for example, ingestion of foods which are also identified as gendered, Ingestion of female foods can make one more female, and so on. Thus there are male and female states rather than an absolutely fixed, genitally determined sexual identity. This leads to the second point, that in Aboriginal concepts and practice there seems to be no emphasis on manipulation of gender identity. This is related to its intrinsic nature. It is perhaps to be seen as an aspect of a much broader tendency in Aboriginal social life to treat as absolute and immutable (the 'law'] that which might elsewhere b e partly viewed as the product of human agency." In myth, there is found the notion that in the creative period men and women were different from what they are now, and this often takes the form that their genital identities were not as they are now. For example, in the western Roper there is a myfh that both men and women originally had long penes, which were so inconvenient that people had to sling them over their shoulders or wrap them around in order to walk about. Women's vaginas were substituted for penes. Whatever additional kind of interpretation one may want to make of this, it seems to tell how the present situation came about, and underscores the fixity of sexual identity and difference. One concomitant of this fixity seems to be, as I observed above, that the gender difference is not colonising (see Note 6). Instead, gender difference can represent strong, fixed separation of domains, which typically may have simultaneous dimensions of activity and of space. So, a women's secret site is where ancestral figures did something relating to women, or where women carry out ritual performance; a men's ceremonial storehouse containing

Francesca Merlan 55

paraphernalia used in ritual is off-limitsto other people. Many productive tasks are gender typed, and the typing carries over to the perceived modern equivalent activities, so that, for example where I have been, women consider it necessary that men use firearms, but strongly reject any idea that they themselves might do so. The fact that many tasks are gendered creates at least a temporary activity-space relation: performance of the activity creates a gendered space around it while it is being carried out. When I say there is no emphasis on manipulation of gender identity, it may be objected that this is what male and female initiation is about. But in this case, the overtly manipulated dimension is that of adulthood, (See Goodale 1971, 220 for a particularly clear example of this in theTiwi kulama; also Sackett 1978a who comments on changed ritual emphases, including the effort to incorporate boys as men into Aboriginal sociocultural systems, and resolve the modern problem of their perceived person-in-between status.) Male initiation is the already gendered creation of adulthood for boys. It is true that this almost invariably involves dramatisation of separation from women, and particularly, enactment of loss by mothers and other female kin, But in the common Kriol phrase for male initiation, 'make im man: 'man' contrasts directly with 'boy', not with any female category. For girls, currently recognised criteria of adulthood seem to include physical maturation, sexual activity, and especially birth of a child, If only the first two occur and the girl seems unsettled, it appears she is not really regarded as fully adult. (See also Sansom 1978, 106 on the possibilityfor women of intermittent return to girlhood, in the context of a discussion of the general social indeterminacy of biological ageing in contemporary Darwin fringe camp society.)Thus, there is creation of adulthood for members of each sex differentially, but the basic sexual identity is clear, and is marked by increasing sexsegregation through childhood, A continuity with the past is that, for girls, maturity Is construed as much more immediately linked to sexual maturity,A slightly changed emphasis seems to be that sexual maturity no longer has a strong component of social creation (in the western Roper, for example, women say that the traditional practice was defloration upon menarche, but not by the prospective husband), and is no longer so clearly linked with marriage, or the formation of a recognised, long term relationship with a man. This change bespeaks loss of control over girls on the part of older men and women. Birth of a child thus seems to have a heightened and earlier importance as a criterion of female maturity, and there seems to be an increasing tendency for younger girls to have children but not with any long term relationship in view, indeed often as the

56 Gender

result of promiscuous sexual activity involving alcohol. Thus subsequent chiidren are sometimes by different fathers. This might not upset what seem to be fairly strongly held ideas about the importance of the male contribution to reproduction, nor the idea, forms of which girls commonly express, which represents them as sexual objects in relation to men-the idea that a woman is made for a man. However, in communities I know, slightly older women who already have children but are not, or no longer, in a long term relationship, seem able to live as single mothers (usually in joint households), and some even say they would not marry again. (Compare Burbank 1985a, 156 on the introduction of European models of spinsterhood-or perhaps more applicable here, single womanhood-to an Aboriginal community,) All of these arrangements must be considered in relation to women's access to monetary resources, household provisioning, and other factors. For boys on the other hand, the social creation of sexual maturity never seems to have been as explicit a concept. This seems to me to be related to the fact that for boys increasing sexual and reproductive precocity fails to have positive value in two ways: it is important but not sufficient as a criterion of adulthood; and sexual misconduct is a concern of the 'law' (Sackett 1978a), but depending on circumstances, this may be an ineffective or temporary remedy, especially when young men are not committed to it, and can seek alternative life-styles. In parts of the Eastern Highlands of Papua New Guinea (eg Herdt 1981), there is a strong ideology that for boys to reach male adulthood, sufficient masculinity will not just develop by itself but must be especially encouraged, among other means by homosexual insemination. Women on the other hand reach maturity without additional help. The innateness of femaleness seems to coincide with a notion of special female reproductivity,or reproductivepower, which they achieve separately from men (althoughthe complementary subsequent reproductive roles are clearly recognised). Some commentators have even seen in these ideologies evidence of male fear of female reproductive power. However this may be, Aboriginal concepts seem quite different. Formerly, there were practices designed to both bring about and socially ratify female maturity; an important emphasis on both counts was the instrumental role of male sexuality. In contemporary Aboriginal societies these practices have been largely discontinued, though the idea that female maturity is brought about by sexual activity appears to persist in some places. Overall, the discontinuing of these practices appears to polnt to a new configuration in which female sexual and social maturity are no longer as closely linked as they were in the past. (One possible interpretation of this is as

Francesca Merlan 57

a relinquishing of the 'double standard', for male social maturity seems never to have been as tightly bound up with a notion of male sexual maturity, certainly not induced physical maturity. But persistence of cultural creation of social maturity through ceremony is on the whole much greater for males than females.) The notion seems to be that once female physical maturity is reached, women will normally g o on to have children. As far as I can see, there is no sense equivalent to that of the New Guinea Highlands fringe, described above, of special female reproductive powers beyond those of men, Women are clearly recognised as the bearers and nurturers of young children, just as men's procreative role Is recognised. In some areas like the western Roper, there is a strong ideology (subscribed to not just by men, but also strongly by women) attributing the more active or creative reproductive role to the male: 'only boy findim picaninny, girl can't findim' (Eileen Gumirr, personal communication)^ This emphasis is no doubt found in many places (cf Kaberry 1939,43; Goodaie 1971,139-40,338) but perhaps not everywhere.Though (contra Rose 1984,432) 1 can see no clear evidence of a notion of superior creative female reproductive power, women as mothers and nurturers receive recognition of their maternal achievement. A chief emphasis of gender relations, as I said above, Is to inscribe intrinsic gender difference upon domains of action (cf White 1970, 23). Although there is strong continuing symbolism of difference in the productive domain (woomera-digging stick), the male term has its most clear-cut realisation in game hunting (cf Sackett 1978b, 38 on male perception of paid labour as a partial modern equivalent), and the female in cooking or housekeeping, but most particularly in areas I know, in the preparation of foods for ritual. (Quotidian cooking, depending on camp composition,

is done mainly but not only by women.) In areas I am familiar with, the sharpest delineation of gendered domains is in ritual [cf Berndt 1970a, 41: White 1970). In general, male 'business' is seen as qualitatively pre-eminent and the most highly secret, but women have a separate role, their own ceremony ground, their own paraphernalia, and both sexes share a sense that both roles are indispensable. The precise ways in which separation is expressed differ slightly from area to area, and from ceremony to ceremony. The nature of this unequal but non-colonising participation may be illustrated by the following points, relating to the conduct of events at the most highly secretsacred ceremony of the western Roper area. The women's emblems are prepared and visible in a somewhat secluded area of the main camp temporarily devoted to ceremonial preparation. Later when put up at the women's ground the emblems

58 Gender

may still be seen by men, who at various points come down from 'on top' to find out the state of readiness of dampers and other foods prepared by the women, to consult, to rest and to sleep nearby.The women's ground is close to the main camping areas, while the men's ground is more remote.The designs worn by men are seen by women when they descend to the women's ground, but women do not talk about them in the men's presence.The men's ground is approached by women in the final phases (cf Maddock 1982,132-36) but they do not see the emblems, and never at any other time is it permitted for them to come near the men's ground. Non-participant men, women and children are more frequently around the vicinity of the women's ground. A salient element of women's role is regarded as the preparation of foods, but their role is not limited to this. Besides carrying out their own ritual sequences, participant women in fact seem to know the men's in some detail but do not comment on this openly. The same role distinctions-in this area mingirringgi,junggayi, darlnyin-are applied to women as to men, and those women who stand in particularly close relations of these types to sites where the ceremony is prescriptively performed are SO recognised, as are men.12 In Gunabibi ceremonies I have attended on the Arnhem Land fringe, men do not intrude on the women's ground, but the latter is much closer to general camping areas than the men's, within indistinct earshot of the main camps. This is no doubt related to the fact that women have their younger children with them. In the middle Roper area and south of it to Nutwood Downs, there is much greater emphasis on separate and secret women's jarrarda performance, with accompanying site-specific mythology, and women's sites and grounds which are not to be approached by men. Many important thematic elements have to do with control through the power of sexuality, but there are other elements, the general mix seeming to vary quite considerably among sets of ritual performers. Around Elliott there is a full, separate yawulyu ritual complex. In the songs and dances of the one performance I have seen, thematic elements of attractiveness and control, though present, were secondary, and less explicitly sexual. Celebration of rain Dreaming of the mother's mother's country of the 'boss' performer was the explicit guiding theme. Sanctions for intrusion by women into men's ritual domain notionally include inflicting of extreme punishments, including rape and death. uhere are no equivalent violent sanctions for men Infringing upon women's secret domain, though the ceremony itself is said to be dangerous to them, and will harm them in the event of infringement; cf Rose 1984, 436.) People mention incidents from the past which they say involved rape or killing of women, but surely neither is commonly inflicted

Francesca Merlan 59

today as clear-cut punishment, and it is hard to tell whether it ever was common. But the fact is that women seem to fear it as a possibility, even, or perhaps especially, young women; while on one occasion I saw older women take over and repel male suggestions of ritual sexual intercourse, Contexts with which such sanctions are associated are clearly perceived as ones in which there is a crucial issue of gender differentiation.Today at least, men would not suggest rape as appropriate for anything other than an extreme ritual violation. But the fact is that where socialisation makes separateness and exclusion the main signifying elements of gender difference, it is unnecessaryfor force to be often applied for it to have tremendous power of suggestion. (In areas I know, separation and exclusion are made more forcibly of women from men's domain in ritual, but in central Australia more equally of the sexes from each other's ritual domains). Exclusion operates effectively at less dramatic levels. For example, women will deny knowledge of matters that are thought to be part of men's domain; will freely say they know less, cannot talk freely about certain matters; even if by themselves will lower their voices regarding matters relating to male ritual (cf White 1975, 125), and also, will exclude men from their own affairs (cf Cowlishaw 1978, 278). Women in these respects are structurally disadvantaged, not as individuals, for particular individual rights and claims to country, kin and so on are recognised, but as members of a gender category which is more thoroughly excluded than excluding from domains accorded the highest social value. However, women have a strong sense of proprietary interest in their own domains, and for both sexes propriety consists in knowing the difference and acting accordingly (White 1975,140).Thus women derive self-esteem from proper recognition and enactment of gender difference on their own part, and on men's part. It has seemed to me that the subjective understandings of women about themselves reveal no gender based sense whatsoever of personal inferiority to men, but a sense of priority of certain male domains, especially ritual, and a strong sense of the propriety of adhering to norms of gender differentiated behaviour. This is very different from the Mount Hagen situation described by Strathern (1980). where gender notions tend to be used evaluatlvely of persons so that for example, a woman who shows special prowess by accomplishingsome feat defined as male (such as confronting an enemy), is said to be like a man, and this is strong praise. From my own experience southwest of Mount Hagen I know that men who can do some particular task defined as female, such as making netbags, take some delight in the praise they receive for being so clever. But there would b e few instances in which to describe a man as acting like a woman, such as when a widowed man

60 Gender

must dig his own tubers, would have anything but negative implications.The crosssex use of gender evaluations in respect of individuals is both forceful and asymmetrical. However, for Aborigines in areas I know, evaluations tend to be made at the categorial level. Men may say 'women know nothing of this: But to say to a woman: 'you are a man, you're talking', can only be to criticise her sarcastically for speaking when women should not. It is not praise of an Individual woman to tell her she acts like a man. However, on the basis of individual rights to country for example, and other totemic property, kin connections and so on, women feel entltled to speak up and often do so forcefully, sometimes chiding men for not doing so. And about special male knowledge which women clearly do acquire, especially as they get older, they may say of themselves, 'no matter I'm a woman, I know', In particular cases I know of, men recognise such women, saying much the same 'no matter him girl one, him got lm (that song, etc)', This does not acknowledge full entitlement where the song is considered a matter of special male concern, but does convey a poignancy and recognition of the woman's particular knowledge and abilities. I have mentioned a number of gender constructs and related aspects of behaviour which Aboriginal people I know think of as the rlght way to be. (I make no claim that emphases are the same everywhere.) I have also pointed out many obvious areas where change from stated earlier norms is occurring-in marriage and sexual practice, and loss of control over these aspects of young people's lives. Future observation might be profitably directed to concrete, detailed description of Aboriginal life, in an aitempt to capture the quotidian processes of gender separation, and to understand the nature of change and continuity in these areas (cf Burbank 1980, 1985a).

CONCLUSIONS Berndt (1980, 37) has deplored inaccurate depictions of Aboriginal, women's traditional situation, observing that in certain ways they may have had greater independence than their European-Australiancounterparts.While this should remind us not to make smug comparisons, I have tried to suggest that independence is not comparable without more concrete and detailed development of the parameters of comparison. I have tried to show how a rereading of the traditionalist literature which attempts to take a wider view of gender constitution, reveals linkages of practices concerned

Francesca Merlan 61

with sexuaiity, maturation and reproduction with those of bestowal and marriageimportant loci of attempted domination and control, not just of men over women. This re-readinggives some new perspective on particular instrumentaluses of sexuality, aspects of women's (and very likely also men's) ritual concerned with sexual themes, and on distinctions among social and personal uses of sexuality, and what I have called a concomitant, partial disjunction between sexuality and reproduction, This disjunction relates to the observation on another plane that, while sexual polarity is a crucial generative source of Aboriginal symbolism, the opposition between male and female is somewhat unbalanced in the direction of more explicit attribution of energising potential to male domains and activities, and their more explicitly stated links to the objectifications of life-force and ancestral (Munn 1973, 181) potency, in the landscape, and in the ritual representations of these forces (eg in design), Difference on the symbolic level parallels what may be called differential embodiment of sexuality in male and female persons. On the one hand, female sexuaiity has a same-sex application in those customary practices which can be employed essentially to foster social relatedness among men, and are conceived of as carrying out the imperatives of ritual performance, hospitality, and so forth. That is, these practices appear to involve male deployment of female sexuality for inclusive social purposes which (as in the case of ritual) are viewed as having societai value, but are largely identified as male-initiatedand male-directed,rhis deployment, it should be kept in mind, is or was not always unproblematic.) On the other hand, the cross-sex potency of both male and female sexuality was and is strong!y cultivated, and engaged as a prime instrumentality in the construction of cross-sex relationships. It is at these interpersonal and categorial levels that there is relative parity in the ways in which men and women can engage their sexuality. For example, both men's and women's love magical rites provide evidence of considerable concern with control over partners through sexuaiity, with constancy, and attractiveness.While both men and women have cultivated sexuality as a power in this interpersonal sense, and at broader levels of maintaining harmonious relationships and eliminating dissonance caused by cross-sex relations gone awry, there is or was no female-directedequivalent of male uses of female sexuality to create wider sociality. But even if all of this does cast some light on relationships among certain 'traditional' institutions and practices, a primary task remains to move ahead toward more adequate characterisation of social life based on the two premises I mentioned earlier: better understanding of social change, and more adequate characterisation

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of social structure and practice, and especially the dynamic relation between them. No adequate description of social structure can be given using only 'traditional' terms of reference. For example, everywhere in the north, marriage and bestowal patterns have changed and continued to change at a rapid rate, as have all of the other practices. in many places their 'traditional' forms are ideological reference points for only some people. Despite this, apart from Turner (1974), who argues that there has been 'change within tradition' but not yet 'transformation' of Groote Eylandt marriage patterns, I only know of one northern study (Burbank 1985a) which has made a beginning in trying to deal explicitly with contemporary marriage, especially for adolescent girls, and show where and how this relates to norms, and to some extent actual marriage patterns, among older women. (Compare Gale 1970a on the urban Adelaide situation.)It is no criticism of this effort to say that much remains to be done to make this a more complete picture, and also to explicate in more detail the complex nature of change and of the current situation. In the last few years, the recognition has grown that Aboriginal women's views have not been adequately represented in many important matters. In some areas, steps have been taken to improve the situation. In health matters (cf Tynan 1983). in education (cf Moeckel 1983, Egan 1983 and Kooimatrle 1983), in land claims in the NorthernTerritory (cf Bell 1981, 1982), and in other community affairs women's role has expanded. It is Important that this happen, for under contemporary conditions women as a group tend to suffer particular disabilities (ie somewhat different overall from those men suffer) as they attempt to cope with family, schooling, employment and other matters. But It must be recognised, too, that many of these roles in health, education and other vital matters, are at the interface between what Aboriginal communities regard as the external, European dominated world, and the internal affairs of Aboriginal communities and their members. In regard to the latter they often strive to maintain or redevelop some degree of independence from external control. In land claims, for example, at least part of what people say must be taken as a representationto the external world of aspects of their situation, heavily biased by the nature of things toward the traditional. Aboriginal people I know are becoming sensitised to the issue of how they represent themselves to the external worid, and how this may impinge on what they perceiveto be limited autonomy to conduct their own affairs. The attempt to understand contemporary Aboriginal social life imposes on us the requirement that we be sensitive to the external-internal relation at every step of the way, and build this too into any attempted social analysis.

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Earlier in this chapter I noted the rapidly expanding autobiographical and biographical Aboriginai literature.This gives quite a different view of Aboriginai society from the research literature. It is not analytical; in it, people talk about themselves, their lives, families and experiences, a large element of which is their reaction to oppression. Following the earlier biographies of some men (eg Batty 1963, Rose 1969, Beckett 1958, Stanner 1960), there has been a recent growth of literature relating to women, much of it autobiographical (eg Tucker 1977, Simon 1978, Kennedy and Donaldson 1982, Roughsey 1984, Kennedy 1985, Sykes 1981). Much of the content tells of the shattering effects of administrative policy: for example, Margaret Tucker's account of being forcibly taken away to the Cootamundra Domestic Training Home for Aboriginai Girls, and later working as a domestic in Sydney; or Marnie Kennedy's account of being sent to Palm Island as the half-caste daughter of a full-bloodmother. Elsie Roughsey's book is her lament for the traditional way of life of her people, Most of this literature does not dwell on gender issues explicitly, for obvious reasons-people are engaged in a fight for survival as families, and as Aborigines at varying levels of incluslveness. But there is a gender related theme that emerges fairly clearly from this literature. We can see examples of it in Kevin Giibert's Living Black (1977).Many of the women he interviewed did not raise gender issues themselves, but when asked, conveyed their idea that women are survivors, and have a certain resilience that men do not have [eg Gilbert 1977,94, 102,249,285). The same theme comes through in different ways in the autobiographies, for example Margaret Tucker's account of how her mother held the family together while her father went off to work for years at a stretch. Some of those interviewed by Gilbert (1977, 115-16, 288) tended to see issues of 'women's liberation; as they put it, as divisive of an oppressed people. (I am not taking this point of view, but simply identifying it. See also White 1975, 140.) What I want to point out is that the explicit formulation of questions about the comparative situation of the sexes in Aboriginal society has arisen in the research iiterature, largely stimulated by European concerns about the nature of women's involvement in society. It is partly for thls reason-that gender issues arose in the first instance from European social concerns rather than from an appraisal of the problems confronting Aboriginal societies today-that so much of the literature on gender has been about the nature of traditional sociocultural systems rather than about the current situation, and the specific nature of continuity and change. We have sought anthropological comparison with the maximally other. There is still no closely ethnographic, contemporary study of gender relations for any Aboriginal

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community (the nearest approximation is probably still Kaberry 1939).Aborigines who have written for the outside world have seen the main issue as their oppression within Australian society. Their chief concern has been survival of Aboriginal society in some form they can recognise, identify with and live within. I am not suggesting, especially given contemporary problems, that gender issues are unimportant, I am also not suggesting that biography is equivalent to social description and analysis, nor signalling personal agreement with the notion that women are better 'survivors'. But I am suggesting that there Is a vast gulf between the biographical and the research literature; and that to take steps toward more adequate social analysis would be to bridge some of the gulf in content by attempting to understand more fully the conditions of contemporary Aboriginal life. To do that would also be to bridge the gulf between the study of culture contact as essentially history, and also, in a more realistic fashion than has heretofore been the general case, to make description of the relations of Aboriginal societies with EuropeanAustralian society a more legitimate part of social theory and description.

NOTES 1. i wouid like to thank Victoria Burbank, Ann McGrath and Tim Rowse for their written comments on an earlier draft of this review; Anneite Hamilton and Jan Larbalestier for comments they made when part of this chapter was delivered at the Biennial Meeting of the Austraiian institute of Aboriginai Studies, May 1986; and Aian Rumsey for editorial comments. Some sections of the review are based in part on my fieldwork in the western Roper area during 1976-84. This work was funded by the Austraiian institute of Aboriginai Studies, whose support i gratefully acknowledge. Thanks also to the many Aboriginai people of the Top End with whom I have discussed issues raised in this review. 2. Of course, to use theterm 'gender' in relation to the whole review period is anachronistic, in that it seems not to have come into general use in Aboriginai studies until the late 1970s. Goodaie (1971, xxi), for example, records how her interest in the Tiwi was originally focused on sociai structure, and that Mountford suggested that she look closely at the 'role of women', since the latter seemed to have a considerable part to play, economically and ritually.Goodaie (1971. 332) comments: 'I did not conceive that the data themselves might be significantly different from a maisoriented study', She notes that she thought presentation of her material from a femaie point of view was expedient (because she is a woman, and so were many of her informants), and because to do this wouid constitute an 'interesting variation in the presentation of data'. in the event, however, the last portion of Tiwi Wives contains an interesting discussion of differences between male and femaie social perspectives (eg different emphases on sibling sets, different views of marriage, and differences in sociai structural constraints upon innovation and creativity). in other words, the concerns and methodological notions she began with did not prevent

Francesca Merian 65

Goodaie from arriving at a sense of the distinctiveness of male and female sociaiity. in her concluding chapter Goodale aiso discusses shared values of Tiwi life.

3. Jan Larbaiestier observed (personal communication)that it is quite remarkable how the efforts of such ethnographers as Kaberry. Goodaie and others to present a more balanced view of women's position have repeatedly been brushed aside in favour of more simplistic and deterministic treatments of women as dominated. As I observe in this review, the literature does indeed give an impression of stasis and recycling of old arguments. 4. in any event, discussion of change as it may have affected men and women differentially has tended to remain at such a general level that we find that other commentators, sometimes

considering some of the same dimensions of social iife as Bell, have put forward diametrically opposed opinions. For example Berndt 1970a43: 'outside contact enhanced women's aiready strong domestic and economic status and at the same time decreased the extent of her formal subordination vis 6 vis men'. See aiso Goodale's (1971, 229) interesting remarks on changes in Tiwi life such that a woman, though now freer to 'direct her own life in a way she never could in the past' has at the same time 'lost much of her power to direct the lives of others'. 5. 1 am indebted to Robert Tonkinson for a comment concerning the complexity of the symbolisations involved here. He points out that symbolic rebirth-the return to camp of initiated novices covered in blood, and their being made to lie between their mothers' parted iegsmay be seen as a statement of full re-entry to adult society in which the mother plays a part. though the novices' separation and entry into ritual iife has been effected by men. 6. 'These western nature-culture constructs, then, revolve around the notion that the one domain is open to control or colonization by the other' (Strathern 1980, 181).

7. Sansom (1980,246)who notes regarding a contemporary Darwin fringe camp: 'To announce that a marriage has taken place (or been resumed) a woman defines herself as wife by arising early and setting a hearth'. Sansom aiso observes that when people cannot sustain their own hearth they fail into a condition of 'cooking pot dependency', iocaiiy summed up as 'marrit feila takin tucker' or 'wrong kitchen business', He adds: 'To continue in a marriage, a wife should be able from day to day to reassert the grounds that were initially entered as her claim to wifely status. She should cook and give tucker to her husband and any other members of the commensal group made up from people who take tucker from her kitchen. Tucker is cooked food and tucker is to be distinguished from unprepared food. The category word for ail unprepared food is rations. Recognition of marriage is not at risk for as long as the parties to it are self-sustaining: turning their own rations into tucker.' Thus, it would seem that in this contemporary situation, too, women's food preparation and distribution is a crucial defining aspect of domesticity. 8. Tonkinson (1974, 47) observes of his major field site, Jigaiong (Western Australia), that by the 1970s some young women were successfully resistingatiempts to make them go to their betrothed husbands; but aiready in theeariy 1960s when he began work there, some older women were refusing to remarry.

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9. There may be a relation of a different sort from that which Altman suggests between declining polygyny and women's productive potential, as Robert Tonkinson has brought to my attention. No longer engaged in traditional productivetasks as the major source of household subsistence, a wife may not feel the need of help in provisioning the household that might have formerly been a positive aspect of polygyny from the female point of view (Tonkinson 4974.47). and she may see any interest on the husband's part in taking another wife as purely a sexual one. Out of sexual jealousy the extant wife may obstruct the husband's wish to marry again.

10. The Maningrida outstations were in a period of rapid economic change during the time of Aitman's survey work (July-August 1979, and updated in 1980).From 1973-80 per capita cash incomes at outstations had increased by about 180 per cent. However, Altman (1982,439-40) estimates that due to inflation, the increase in per capita cash income in real terms amounted to only about twenty-five per cent. Unemployment benefits were introduced in May 1979 and by the survey period accounted for forty-eight per cent of total cash flowing to the outstations (1982,442). in general, by far the bulk of cash income at Momega and other outstations derived from social security receipts.After unemployment benefits, other significant categories of receipts included pensions (old age, widow, invalid, accounting for thirty per cent of total cash income). and child endowment.Arts and crafts income amounted to only 5.6 per cent of outstation income during the survey period, and Altman observes that the overall significance of arts and crafts income to outstations had declined since the introduction of unemployment benefits. Cash income from wages at outstations was negligible. 11. Again, this contrasts strongly with aspects of some Meianesian ritual practice in which not only is there explicit emphasis on the role of human agency, but there is widely reported scepticism and questioning of the procedures on the part of novices and initiators alike, and a sense that the rites may not be efficacious. See Herdt (ed) 1982.

12. Robert Tonkinson reminds one that another crucial aspect of ritual performance relevant to male-female relations is its scheduling, and the relative allowances of time made for the ritual activities of each sex. See also Myers 1986. 252-53.

REFERENCES Akerman, K. 1977 Notes on 'Conception' among Aboriginal women in the Kimberleys, West Austraiian,Oceania 48.59-62. Altman, J.C. 1982 Hunter-gatherersand the State: The Economic Anthropology of the Gunwingguof Northern Australia, PhD thesis, Australian National University. 1987 Hunter-gatherers Today: An Aboriginal Economy in North Australia, Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra.

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Anderson, J.C. 1984 The Political and Economic Basis of Kuku-Yalanji Social History, PhD thesis, University of Queensland. Barwick, D. 1969 Aboriginal Women. in J. Rigg (ed), in Her Own Right: Women of Australia, Nelson, Sydney, 85-97. 1970 And The Lubras Are Ladies Now. In F. Gale (ed), Women's Role in Aboriginal Sociefy,Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra, 51-63. 1974 The Aboriginal Family in South-eastern Australia. in A. Stolier and J. Krupinski (eds), The Family in Australia, Pergamon, Sydney, 154-67. Barwick, D. and D. Bell 1979 Women in Aboriginal Society: Resources for Research. In Handbook for Aboriglnal and Islander History, Aboriginal History, Canberra, 179-87. Batty, J.D. 1963 Namafjra: Wanderer Between Two Worlds, Hodder and Stoughton, Melbourne. Beasley, P. 1970 The Aboriginal Household in Sydney. in R. Taft, J.L.M. Dawson and P. Beasiey (eds),Attitudes and Social Conditions. Australian National University, Canberra, 233-90. Beck, E.J. 1985 The Enigma of Aboriginal Health: The interaction Between Biologlcal, Social and Economic Factors in Aiice Springs Town Camps, Australian lnstitute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. Beckett, J. 1958 Man: A Study of Two Half-caste Aborigines. Oceanla 28, 91-108 Begler, E. 1978 Sex, Status and Authority in Egalitarian Society, American Anthropologist 80, 571-88. Bell, D. 1980 Desert Politics: Choices in the 'Marriage Market'. in M. Etienne and E, Leacock (eds), Women and Colonization: Anthropological krspectives, Praeger, New York, 239-69. 1981 Daly River (Malak Malak) Land Claim: Women's interests, Exhibit 8, Northern Land Council, Darwin. 1982 Cox River (Alawa-Ngandji)Land Claim: Women's Interests, Exhibit 13, Northern Land Council, Darwin. 1983 Daughters of the Dreaming, McPhee Gribble and George Alien and Unwin. Melbourne and Sydney. Bell, D. and P. Ditton 1980 Law: The Old and the New, Central Australian Aboriginal Legal Aid Service, Canberra. Bern, J. 1979a Politics in the Conduct of a Secret Male Ceremony, Journalof Anthropological Research 35(1), 47-59.

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1979b ideology and Domination: Toward a Reconstruction of Austraiian Aboriginai Social Formation, Oceania 50(2), 118-32. Berndt, C.H. 1950 Women's Changing Ceremonies in Northern Austraiia, L'Homme 1, 1-87. 1963 C0mment on 'The Social Position of Women', by M, Reay, in H. Shells (ed),Australian Aboriginal Studies. Oxford University Press, Meibourne, 319-34. 1965 Women and the 'Secret Life'.In R.M,Berndt and C.H. Berndt (eds),AboriginalMan in Austraiia, Angus and Robertson, Sydney, 236-82. 1970a Digging Sticks and Spears, or, the Two-sex Model. in F. Gale (ed),Woman's Role in Aboriginai Society, Austraiian institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra, 39-48. 1970b Proiogomena to a Study of Geneaiogies in North-eastern Arnhem Land. In R.M. Berndt (ed),Austrabn AboriginalAnthropology, University of Western Austraiia Press, Nediands, 29-50. 1973 Women as Outsiders: A Partial Parallel, Aboriginal News ((41, 7-8. 1980 Aboriginai Women and the Notion of the 'Marginal Man', In R.M. Berndt and C.H. Berndt [eds).Aborigines of the West: Their h s t and Present, University of Western Austraiia Press, Nediands. 28-38. Berndt, R.M. 1951 Kunapipi: A Study of an Australian Aboriginai Religious Cult, Cheshire, Melbourne. 1962 An Adjustment Movement in Arnhem Land, Mouton, Paris. 1976 Love Songs of Arnhem Land, Nelson, Meibourne. Berndt, R.M. and C.H. Berndt 1964 The World of the First Australians, Ure Smith, Sydney. 1978 Pioneers andseftiers: The AboriginaiAustralians,Pitman Publishing Pty Ltd, Cariton. Victoria. Biersack, A. 1986 Review of D. Bell 'Daughters of the Dreaming', University of Oregon Center for Women's Studies, mimeograph. Brown, J.K. 1963 A Cross-cultural Study of Female initiation Rites, American Anthropologist 65, 837-53. Burbank, V. 1980 Expressions of Anger and Aggression in an Austraiian Aboriginai Community, PhD thesis, Rutgers University. 1985a Three Young Girls:Adolescence, Sex and Marriage In an Austraiian Aboriginai Community, unpublished manuscript. 1985b The Mirrirri as Ritualized Aggression, Oceania 56(1), 47-55. Burton, C. 1985 Subordination: Feminism and Social Theory, George Alien and Unwin, Hong Kong. Clare, M. 1978 Karobran, Alternative Publishing Co-op, Sydney.

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Collier, J, and M.Z. Rosaldo 1981 Politics and Gender in Simple Societies. in S. Ortner and H. Whitehead (eds),SexualMeanings: The Cultural Construction of Gender and Sexuality, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 275-329. Coliman, J. 1979 Women, Children, and the Significance of the Domestic Group to Urban Aborigines in Central Austraiia, Ethnology 18. 379-97. Cowiishaw, G. 1978 Infanticide in Aboriginai Austraiia, Oceania 48, 262-83. 1979 Women's Realm: A Study of Socialization, Sexuality and Reproduction Among Austraiian Aborigines, PhD thesis, University of Sydney. 1982 Socialization and Subordination among Austraiian Aborigines, Man 17 NS, 492-507. Danieis, K. and M. Murrane (eds) 1980 UphillAil the Way: A Documentary History of Women in Australia, University of Queensland Press, St Lucia. Dundes, A. 1976 A Psychoanalytic Study of the Bull-roarer, Man 11 NS, 220-38 Egan, J.N. 1983 The Yuendumu Aboriginal Cultural Pre-school.in F. Gaie (ed). We Are Bosses Ourselves, Australian institute of Aboriginai Studies, Canberra, 122-23. Eliis, C. 1970 The Role of the Ethnomusicoiogist in the Study of Andagarinja Women's Ceremonies. Miscellanea Musicoiogica 5, 76-209. Evans, R.L. 1982 Don't You Remember Black Aiice, Sam Hoit?Aboriginal Women in Queensland History. Hecate 8, 6-21, Faikenberg, A. and J. Faikenberg 1981 The Affinal Relationship System: A New Approach to Kinship and Marriage Among the Australian Aborigines at Port Keats, Universitetsforlaget, Oslo. Frledl, E. 1975 Women and Men: An Anthropologist's View, Hoit, Rinehart and Winston, New York. Gaie, F. 1964A Study of Assimilation: Part-Aboriginesin South Australia, Libraries Board of South Austraiia, Adelaide. 1970a The Impact of Urbanization on Aboriginal Marriage Patterns. in R.M. Berndt (ed),Austraiian Aboriginal Anthropology. University of Western Austraiia Press, Nediands, 292-303. 1974 Urban Aborigines, Australian National University, Canberra. Gale, F. (ed) 1970b Woman's Role in Aborlginai Societ~Austraiian institute of Aboriginai Studies, Canberra.

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1983 We Are Bosses Ourselves: The Status and Role ofAboriginai Women Today, Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. Gilbert, K. 1977 Living Black: Blacks Talk to Kevin Giibert, Alien Lane, Penguin Press, Harmondsworth. Godelier, M. 1982 La Production des Grands Hommes, Fayard, Paris. Goodale, J. 1971 Tiwi Wives, University of Washington Press, Seattie. 1982 The Production and Reproduction of Key Resources among the Tiwi of North Australia. In N.M. Williams and E.S. Hunn (eds), Resource Managers: North American and Australian Huntergatherers, M S Selected Symposia Series, 67. 197-210. Gould, R.A. 1969 Subsistence Behaviour Among the Western Desert Aborigines of Australia, Oceania 39. 253-72. Grimshaw, P, 1981Aboriginal Women: AStudy of Culture Contact. in N. Grieve and F! Grimshaw [eds).Australian Women: Feminist krspectlves, Oxford University Press, Melbourne, 86-94. Hamilton, A. 1970 The Role of Women in Aboriginal Marriage Arrangements. In F. Gale [ed], Woman's Role in Aboriginal Socle% Australian lnstitute of Aboriginai Studies, Canberra, 28-35. 1971 The Equivalence of Siblings, Anthropoiogicai Forum 3[1), 13-29. 1972 Blacks and Whites: The Relationships of Change, Arena 30, 34-48. 1975 Aboriginal Women: The Means of Production. In J. Mercer [ed], The Other Half, Penguin, Harmondsworth. 167-79. 1979 Timeless Transformations:Women, Men and History in the Western Australian Desert, PhD thesis, University of Sydney. 1980 Dual Social Systems: Technology, Labour and Women's Secret Rites in the Eastern Western Desert of Australia, Oceania 51, 4-19. 1981a A Complex Strategical Situation: Gender and Power in Aboriginal Australia. in N. Grieve and R Grimshaw (eds],Australian Mbmen: Feminist FBrspectives, Oxford University Press, Melbourne, 69-85. 1981b Nature and Nurture: Aboriginal Child-rearingin North Central Arnhem Land, Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. 1982 The Unity of Hunting-gathering Societies: Reflections on Economic Forms and Resource Management. in N.M. Williams and E.S. Hunn (eds), Resource Managers: North American and Austraiian Hunter-gatherers,M S Selected Symposia Series. 67. 229-41. Harris, 0. and K. Young 1981 Engendered Structures:Some Problems in the Analysis of Reproduction. in J.S. Kahn and J.R. Llobera (eds), The Anthropology of Precapltaiist Societies, MacMilian, London, 109-47.

Francesca Merlan 71

Herdt, G. 1981 Guardians of the Flutes: idioms of Masculinity, McGraw-Hill, New York. Herdt, G. (ed) 1982 Rituals of Manhood: Male initiation In New Guinea. University of California Press, Berkeiey. Hiatt, B. 1970 Woman the Gatherer. in F. Gale [ed), Woman's Role in AboriginaiSociety, Australian lnstitute of Aboriginai Studies, Canberra, 2-7. Hiatt, L.R. 1964 Incest in Arnhem Land, Oceania 35, 124-28. 1965 Kinship and Conflict: A Study of an Aboriginal Community in Northern Arnhem Land, Austraiian National University Press, Canberra. 1966 A Spear in the Ear, Oceania 37, 153-54. 1967 Authority and Reciprocity in Australian Aboriginal Marriage Arrangements, Mankind6(10), 468-75. 1971 Secret Pseudo-Procreation Rites Among the Austraiian Aborigines. In L.R. Hiatt and C. Jayawardena [eds), Anthropology in Oceania: Essays Presented to lan Hogbin, Angus and Robertson, Sydney, 77-88. 1975 Swallowing and Regurgitation in Austraiian Myth and Rite. In L.R. Hiatt [ed). Australian Aboriginal Mythology, Australian lnstitute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra, 143-62. 1985 Maidens, Males and Marx, Oceania 56(1), 34-46. Howard, M. [ed) 1978 Whitefeiia Business: Aborigines in Australian blitics, lnstitute for the Study of Human Issues, Philadelphia. Huffner, V, with E.Roughsey 1980 The Sweetness of the Fig: Aboriginal Women in Transition. New South Wales University Press, Sydney. Kaberry, l? 1939 Aboriginal Woman, Sacred and Profane, Routledge, London. Keen, I. 1982 How Some Murngin Men Marry Ten Wives: The Marital implications of Matrllateral Crosscousin Structures, Man 17 NS, 620-42. Keenan, J. 1981 The Concept of Production in Hunter-gathererSocieties.In J.S. Kahn and J.R. Liobera (eds), The Anthropology of Precapitolist Societies, Macmillan, London, 2-21. Kennedy, E, and T. Donaldson 1982 Coming Up Out of the Nhaaiyn:Reminiscencesof the Life of Eliza Kennedy,AboriginalHistory 6 [l-2), 5-27. Kennedy, M. 1985 Born a Half-caste. Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra.

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Kooimatrie, J. 1983 Aboriginai Women in Education. In F, Gale (ed), We Are Bosses Ourselves, Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra, 124-25. Larbalestier, J. 1977 Black Women in Colonial Austraiia, Refractory Girl 13-14. 42-53. Leacock, E. 1978 Women's Status in EgalitarianSociety: implicationsfor Social Evolution, Current Anthropology 19, 247-75. Lockwood, D. 1962 1, the Aboriginal, Rigby, Adelaide. Lommei, A. 1949 Notes on Sexual Behaviour and Initiation, Wunambal Tribe, NorthwesternAustralia, Oceania 20(2], 158-64. Long, J. 1970 Polygyny, Acculturation and Contact: Aspects of Aboriginal Marriage in Central Austraiia. In R.M. Berndt [ed), Australian Aboriginai Anthropology, University of Western Australia Press. Nedlands, 292-304. Maddock, K. 1970 A Structural Interpretation of the Mirrirri, Oceania 40, 165-76. 1982 The Australian Aborigines: A brtrait of Their Society. Penguin, Ringwood, Victoria. Macfarlane. A. 1978 Modes of Reproduction, Journal of Development Studies 14(4), 100-20 McGrath, A. 1978 Aboriginai Women Workers in the Northern Territory, 1911-1939, Hecate 4(2), 5-25. 1983 We Grew Up the Stations: Europeans, Aborigines and Cattle in the Northern Territory, PhD thesis, Latrobe University. 1984 'Black Velvet': Aboriginal Women and Their Relationswith White Men in the NorthernTerritory. 1910-1940. In K. Daniels (ed), So Much Hard Work, Collins, Sydney, 233-97. McKnight, D. 1973 Sexual Symbolism of Food among the Wik-Mungkan, Man 8 NS, 194-209. Meggitt, M.J. 1962 Desert Bopie: A Study of the Walbiri Aborighes of CentraiAustralia, Angus and Robertson, Sydney. Meigs, A. 1983 Food, Sex and biiution: A New Guinea Religion, Rutgers University Press, Baltimore Meillassoux, C. 1973 On the Mode of Production of the Hunting Band. In I? Alexandre [ed), French brspectives in African Studies, Oxford University Press, London, 187-203.

Francesca Merian 73

Merlan, F. 1985 Review of D. Bell, 'Daughters of the Dreaming', Oceania 55(3), 225-29. 1986a Australian Aboriginal Conception Beliefs Revisited, Man 21(3) NS, 474-93. 1986b Aborlginal Women's Ritual, unpublished manuscript. Milton, K. 1979 Male Bias in Anthropology? Man 14 NS, 40-55. Moeckel, M.J. 1983 Aboriginal Women's Roie Today In Early Childhood School Education. In F. Gale (ed). We Are Bosses Ourselves, Australian Institute of Aborlginal Studies, Canberra, 104-21. Molyneux, M. 1977 Androcentrlsm in Marxist Anthropoiogy, Critique of Anthropology 3, 55-81. Morphy, H. 1977 Too Many Meanings, PhD thesis, Australian National University. Munn, N. 1973 Wolbiri Iconography: Graphic Representationand CulturalSymbolism in a CentraiAustralian Society. Cornell University Press, ithaca. Myers, F.R. 1986 Pintupi Country Pintupi Self: Sentiment, Place and biitics Among Western DesertAborigines. Smlthsonian institution Press and Australian lnstitute of Aborlginal Studies, Washington and Canberra. Parsons, T. 1964 Social Structure and ~ersonality.Free Press of Glencoe, New York. Peterson, N. 1969 Secular and Ritual Links: Two Basic and Opposed Principles of Australian Social Organization as Illustrated by Walblrl Ethnography, Mankind 7, 27-35. 1970a Buluwandi:A Central Australian Ceremony for the Resolution of Conflict. in R.M. Berndt (ed), Australian Aboriginal Anthropology, University of Western Australia Press, Nediands, 200-15. 1970b The Importance of Women in Determining the Composition of Residential Groups In Aboriginal Australia. In F. Gale (ed), Woman's Roie In Aboriginal Society. Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies. Canberra, 9-16. Quinn, N. 1977 Anthropologlcal Studies on Women's Status, Annual Review of Anthropology 6. 181-225. Reay, M. 1951 Mixed-blood Marriage in North-western New South Wales: A Survey of the Marital Conditions of 264 Aborlginal and Mixed-blood Women, Oceania 22(2), 116-29. 1963 The Soclal Position of Women. in H. Shells (ed),Australian Aboriginal Studies, Oxford University Press, Melbourne, 319-34. Reid, J. 1979 Women's Business: Cultural Factors Affecting the Use of Family Planning Services in an

74 Gender

Aboriginal Community, MedicalJournal of Australia I,Special Supplement on Aboriginal Health. 11, 1-4. 1983 Sorcerers and Healing Splrifs, Australian National University, Canberra. Roheim, G. 1933 Women and Their Life In Central Australia, RoyalAnthropoiogicailnstituteJournal63,207-65. 1974 Children of the Desert, Basic Books, New York. Rohrlich-Leavitt, R., R Sykes and E. Weatherford 1975 Aboriginal Woman: Male and Female Anthropological Perspectives. In R. Reiter (ed], Toward an Anthropology of Women, Monthly Review Press, New York, 110-26. Rosaldo, M.Z. and L. Lamphere (eds) 1974 Woman, Culture and Sociefy, Stanford University Press. Stanford. Rose, D. 1984 Dingo Makes Us Human: Being and Purpose in Australian Aboriginal Life, PhD thesis, Bryn Mawr Coiiege. Rose, F.G.G. 1965 The Wind of Change In CentralAustralia: The Aborigines at Angas Downs, 1962, Akademie Verlag, Berlin. Rose, L. 1969 Llonel Rose, Austrolion: The Life Story of a Champion (As Told to R. Humphries), Angus and Robertson, Sydney. Roughsey, E. 1984 An Aboriginal Mother Tells of the Old and the New, McPhee Gribble, Fitzroy, Victoria. Ryan, L. 1986 Aboriginal Women and Agency in the Process of Conquest:A Review of Some Recent Work, Australian Feminist Studies 2, 35-43. Sackett, L. 1978a Punishment in Ritual: Man-making Among Western Desert Aborigines, Oceania 39(2), 110-27. 1978b Clinging to the Law: Leadership at Wiiuna. In M. Howard (ed), Whifefella Business: Aborigines in Australian Fblitics, Institute for the Study of Human issues, Philadelphia. 37-48. 1979 The Pursuit of Promlnence: Hunting in an Australian Aborlginal Community,Anthropologlca 21 (2) NS, 223-46. Sacks, K. 1975 Engels Revisited: Women, the Organization of Production, and Private Property. In R. Reiter (ed), Toward an Anthropology of Women, Monthly Review Press, New York, 211-34. Sanday, FR. 1973 Toward a Theory of the Status of Women, American Anthropologist 75. 1682-1700. Sansom, R 1978 Sex, Age and Social Control In Mobs of the Darwin Hinterland. In J.S. La Fontaine (ed). Sex andme as Principles of D/f&rentlation, MA Monograph No 17, Academic Press. London, 89-108.

Francesca Merlan 75

1980 The Camp at Wailoby Cross: Aborlginal Fringe Dwellers in Darwin, Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. Shapiro, W. 1981MiwuytMarriage: The CulturalAnthropology ofAffinify in NortheastArnhem Land, lnstitute for the Study of Human Issues, Philadelphia. Sharp, R.L. 1934, Ritual Life and Economics of the Yir-Yiront of Cape York Peninsula, Oceania V(I), 1952 Steel Axes for Stone-ageAustralians. In E.H. Spicer (ed),Human Problemsand Technological Change, Russell Sage, New York, 69-81. Simon, E. 1978 Through My Eyes, Rigby, Adelaide. Smith, D.E. 1980 Rights in Nurturing: The Social Relations of Child-bearing and Rearing Amongst the KukuNganychara, Western Cape York Peninsula, MA thesis, Australian National University. Smith, H. and E. Biddle 1975 Look Forward, Not Back: Aborigines in MetropolitanBrisbane 1965-66, Australian National University, Canberra. Spencer, R and F.J. Gillen 1899 The Northern Tribes of Central Australia, Macmillan, London. 1927 The Arunta: A Study of a Stone Age kopie, Macmillan, London. Stanner, W.E.H. 1960 Durmugam, a Nangiorneri. In J.B. Casagrande (ed), The Company of Man, Harper and Row, New York, 63-100. Strathern, M. 1980 No Nature, No Culture:The Hagen Case. In C. MacCormackand M. Strathern (eds),Nature, Culture and Gender, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 174-222. Sykes, R 1975 Black Women in Australia-A History. In J. Mercer (ed), The Other Half: Women in Australian Sociefy, Penguin, Ringwood, Victoria, 313-21. Sykes, R and S. (Mum Shlrl) Smith 1981 Mum Shiri, Heinernann, Richmond, Victoria, Tonklnson, R. 1974 The Jigaiong Mob: Aboriginal Vlctors of the Desert Crusade, Cummings Publishing Company, Menlo Park, California. 1978 Semen Versus Spirit-child in a Western Desert Culture. In L.R. Hiatt (ed),Australian Aboriginal Concepfs, Australian lnstitute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra, 81-92. Tucker, M. 1977 If Everyone Cared, Ure Smith, Sydney.

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Turner, D. 1974 Tradition and Transformation: A Study of Aborigines in the Groote Eyiandt Area, Northern Australia, Austraiian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. Tynan, B.J. 1983 Women in the Health Role. In F. Gale (ed), We Are Bosses Ourselves, Australian lnstitute of Aboriginai Studies, Canberra. 93-99. Vazey, M. 1985 Some Aspects of the Position of Aboriginai Women in Australian Society. The Aboriginal Child at School 13(2), 32-52, 60. Warner, W.L. 1937 A Black Civilization, Harper, New York. White, I. 1970 Aboriginal Women's Status: A Paradox Resolved. In F. Gale (ed), Woman's Role In Aboriginal Sociefy, Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra, 21-29. 1975 Sexual Conquest and Submission in Aboriginai Myths. In L.R. Hiatt (ed),AustralianAboriginal Mythology, Australian lnstitute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra, 123-42. 1977 From Camp to Village. In R.M. Berndt (ed), Aborigines and Change: Australia in the ' 7 0 ~ Australian lnstitute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. White, I., D. Barwlck and B. Meehan [eds) 1985 Fightersandsingers: The Lives of Some Aboriginal Women, George Allen and Unwin. Sydney. Woodburn, J. 1980 Hunters and Gatherers Today and Reconstruction of the Past. in Proceedings of the Second International Conference on Hunter-Gatherers, Laval University, Quebec. Yeatman, A. 1983 The Procreative Model:The Social Ontological Bases of the Gender-kinshipSystem, Social Analysis 14, 3-30. 1984 Gender and the Differentiation of Social Life into Public and Domestic Domains. Social Analysis 15, 32-49.

IAN KEEN Twenty-five years of Aboriginal kinship studies

At the conference on Aboriginal studies twenty-fiveyears ago John Barnes and Mervyn Meggitt presented papers on sociai organisation, the equivalent topic to my own. John Barnes was not surprised that for many Aboriginal societies the only data available consisted of marriage rules, kinship terms and the names of subsections, sections and moieties, given the special difficulties and limitations facing the ethnographer working in Austraiia. He commented (in Sheiis 1963, 205): even this meagre amount of information is sufficient to define a formal structure of considerable complexity.These formal structures have considerable aesthetic appeal and comprehending their logical properties tests the intellectual agility of those who analyse them. Many anthropologists have, alas, been mesmerised by these systems; their study has become a recognisedspeciality and attention has been diverted from discovering how these systems actually work in Australia. The latter task is certainly the harder one but it is I think the more important.

In discussion, Barnes touched on the neglect of the study of territorial organisation, closely tied to economic activity, and the relation between the conceptualisation of territory and land tenure and use (in Sheils 1963, 227). In a similar vein Meggitt commented that accounts of sociai organisation should go beyond the merely structural (in Sheils 1963, 212). He thought there was little left to do in the way of recordingthe salient formal features of kinship systems, or of the general geographical distribution of the main types. Detailed analyses of observed behaviour were available only for a few 'tribes', and attempts at quantificationwere rare (in Sheils 1963, 213). Knowledge of the structure of descent groups was even more limited outside Arnhem Land and central Austraiia. Least was known about local organisation, and it was unlikely that more would ever be known because local groupings as well as economic activities were the first elements of sociai life to break down under European impact. Meggitt predicted pessimisticallythat for these matters as well as the organisation of other forms of grouping we have little information and, for practical reasons, no prospect of acquiring much more, Anthropologists would do better to focus less on traditional society, and more on 'the plural society of Aborigines, Europeans, Asians and people of mixed ethnic origins' (in Sheils 1963,2161. in his comments on the papers RM Berndt was more optimistic about achievements and prospects, but urged comparative studies similar to African Systems of Kinship and Marriage, in order to achieve understanding of the general principles underlying Australian systems of kinship, marriage and sociai groupings (in Sheiis 1963, 224). How far have these hopes and fears been borne out in the results of the twenty-

80 Kinship

five years of study of Aboriginal kinship, marriage and social organisation which have succeeded the 1961 conference? This topic of kinship is construed fairly broadly to include such matters as local organisation and section systems as well as descent, marriage and alliance. As a preface to the review I recount the legacy of RadcliffeBrown, the dominant figure in Australian Aboriginal studies of the first half of this century, whose works have provided the terms of reference for the majority of studies in kinship and social organisation; and that of 6vi-Strauss,At the beginningof our period many students followed Radcliffe-Brown's lead closely, but his assumptions and generalisations have been increasingly questioned and revised. Gvi-Strauss drew on Radciiffe-Brown's synthesis in the construction of his theory of kinship (!hi-Strauss 1949, 1969a) which has also shaped the path of subsequent kinship studies in Australia.

Radcliffe-Browndeveloped in his 1930-31 papers an elegant and formally integrated view of kinship, social categories and local organisation.The basic elements of social structure are the family, the horde-'a small group owning and occupying a definite territory or hunting ground1-and groupings for social purposes based on sex and age (1930-31, 34). The horde consists of male members, unmarried sisters and daughters of male members, and the wives of male members (1930-31,35361, and is the war making unit. Hordes are grouped into tribes, which have a certain homogeneity of language and custom, but lack political unity (1930-31, 36-37). Subsections, sections and moieties are part of the kinship system (1930-31, 42). By 'kinship' Radcliffe-Brownmeans genealogical relationships; those 'set up by the fact that two individuals belong to the same family', although paternity in Aboriginal society is 'a purely social thing' (1930-34.42).Aboriginal society gives the widest possible recognition to genealogical relationships (1930-31,43), Systems of kin classification are governed by three principles: the equivalence of brothers; the bringing of relatives by marriage within the classes of consanguineai relatives: and, although every term has a primary meaning, the non-limitationof range (1930-31, 44-45). There is a certain pattern of behaviour for each kind of relative, and the kinship system regulates marriage (1930-31, 44-45). Radcliffe-BrownbelievedAboriginal kinship systems to be similar in many respects, but to have many variations in others, The variations can be classified with reference to the form of marriage and the number of lines of descent in the kinship terminology

lan Keen 81

(1930-31, 47-53). in the Kariera system oniy two types of male kin are recognised in the grandparental generation so that the system 'brings all collateral relatives into two lines of descent'. The Kariera system is correlated with, based on and implies the existence of cross-cousin marriage (1930-31, 46, 51). In the Aranda system four iines of descent are recognised, and a man marries his MMBDD, or a relative classified in the same way. The Kumbaingeri system is like the Kariera system in having two iines of descent, but a man may oniy marry a ciassificatory MBD or FZD. in the Wikmunkan system a man marries his MyDB, but not his MeBD. In the Karadjeri type, which includes the Murngin, a man marries his MBD but may not marry his FZD. The Yaraide type is similar to the Aranda type, but prohibits marriage with close relatives, on the basis of clan relationship. The Ungarinyin type has four iines of descent, but permits MMBSD marriage. The Nyui-Nyui is an aberrant type, and in a considerable part of the northwest coast of Australia a man may marry his ZSD. Sections and subsections are part of the systematic classification of relatives in Radciiffe-Brown'sview, and the marriage ruies between sections and so on result from the more fundamental marriage ruies between kin, Patrilineai and matrilineal iines of descent constitutethe moieties (1930-31,53-55). Two tribes with the same section system may have very different kinship systems and marriage rules (1930-31, 58). Despite certain formal inconsistencies and incompleteness, Radciiffe-Brown's scheme has a great formal eiegance, integratedas it is with a patriiineai, patriiocai model of local organisation. The very elegance of the paradigm, however, gave rise to anomalies when empirical data did not fit models within the scheme, the most notorious of which are documented in the Murngin literature (Barnes 1967). Radciiffe-Brown's sociai structural synthesis has informed in one way or another the studies of most workers in the field of Aboriginal kinship ever since. The second major paradigm to make its mark from the beginning of the period is alliance theory. What has become known as the alliance approach to Aboriginal kinship studies, originated in the work of L6vi-Strauss(1949, 1969a),and the independent work of the Dutch School. L6vi-Strauss'stheory of kinship and marriage is difficult to summarise briefly, but the following points appear to be central (de Josseiin de Jong 1962, Scheffier 1973a, Barnes 1971),L&-Strauss conceives of sociai structure as a model, and is concerned with universal constants of systems of categories and ruies. Kinship systems are ail built upon an 'atom of kinship' consisting of a man, his wife, his sister, her brother, and the children of the married couple. Marriage is a form of exchange between such units. The exchange of women is one of the three principal levels of communication-of women, goods and services, and messages-for it is men who

82 Kinship

control the destinies of women. Marriage exchange arises from the prohibition of incest, which Is the fundamental step in the transition from nature to culture, and which establishes mutual dependency between families. In the case of complex structures marriage choice is left to chance, whereas an elementary structure of kinship is one with positive marriage rules. Crow-Omaha systems are an intermediate type. Within the category of elementary structures, restricted exchange refers to symmetrical relations of exchange between an even number of groups; generalised exchange is asymmetrical, involves more groups. and is compatible with any number of groups. These forms correspond to varieties of cross-cousin marriage, and in general to disharmonic and harmonlc regimes. Under an 'harmonlc regime' the rules of descent (L&-Strauss's filiation) and of residence are either patrilineal and patrilocal or matrilineal and matrilocal. In a 'disharmonic regime' descent is patrilineal and residence matrilocal, or descent is matrilineal and residence patrilocal. The result of a disharmonic regime is a system of groups cross-cut by descent groups of the opposite type. Generalised exchange is usually harmonlc, whereas restricted exchange is usually disharmonic. Generation based moieties arise from a disharmonic regime. kvi-Strauss'stheory was revised by Needham (1962a)and Maybury-lewis(1965). Needham introducedthe distinction between prescriptive and preferential rules, and argued that rules applied to categories are not reducible to genealogical relatives. It Is to the analysis of kin classification that we now turn.

THE ANALYSIS OF ABORIGINAL SYSTEMS OF KIN CLASSIFICATION Radcliffe-Brown's typology of Aboriginal systems of kin classification has remained the standard reference point, although AP Elkin (1964)revised it to some extent without greatly extending it.' Scheffler's synthesis (1978) is both a tribute to, and a critique of, Radcliffe-Brown.It continues Radcliffe-Brown's project 'to reveal the structures and relations among the structures of Australian systems of kin classification', and defends his view that the basis of Aboriginal kinship is genealogical, against those who argue that so called kin categories are social categories. However, while Radcliffe-Brown's conceptual framework was social-structural,that of Scheffler is structural-semantic. Radcllffe-Brown (1930-31) insisted on the genealogical basis of Aboriginal kin classification, although he regarded paternity as social. But are the Aboriginal relational categories commonly labelled 'kin' categories merely 'social' categories as Needham (1971) argues, or do they indeed have a genealogical basis? These

lan Keen 83

questions have been recently reviewed by Scheffler (1978)who educes an impressive body of evidence that knowledge of the physiological role of men in reproduction is widespread among Aborigines, providing, with the matrifilial relation, the genealogical basis for kin classification (cf Ashley-Montagu 1974, Barnes 1973, Merlan 1986). Recent ethnographic accounts of conception beliefs (eg Tonkinson 1978a, Hamilton 1981) show both that beliefs are context dependent and that people posit a variety of causes of pregnancy, Furthermore, Scheffler argues that kin categories cannot be derived from so called 'marriage classes', because the latter are logically dependent on the former. Scheffler (1978, X) criticises Radcliffe-Brown for failing to demonstrate that all Aboriginal systems of kinship and marriage are varieties of one general type, because of misconceptions about structural principles, and the confounding of structuralsemantic with sociological accounts, Scheffler's own account is based on formal semantic analysis developed by Lounsbury (1964), and Scheffler and Lounsbury (1971). among others. It entails the componential analysis of core 'meanings' of kin terms (exemplified also in Epiing's 1961 analysis of Njamal kin terminology), and the formulation of equivalence rules to account for other senses of the polysemous categories. The features and dimensions, or 'principles of conceptual opposition', posited by Scheffler are these: kinsman versus non-kinsman; lineal versus collateral; degree of generational removal; seniority; sex of Alter; relative sex; and sex of Ego. Primary categories are defined in terms of these components, and equivalence rules account for their extension to other genealogical referents. Scheffler augments this mode of analysis with the concept of 'superclass' to account for certain features of the Australian data. A superclass is a 'generic, higher order, or more inclusive class, which consists of several subclasses'. For example, if the term for FZ is extended to all women whom Ego's father classifies as 'sister', and some of those kin who are Ego's potential mothers-in-laware picked out by an additional designatum, then the latter as well as the residual class both comprise the superclass 'FATHER'S SISTER'. Scheffler analyses Pitjantjatjara, Kariera-like systems, Nyul-Nyul and Mardudhunera, Karadjeri, Arabana, Yir-Yiront and Murngin, Warlpiri and Aranda, Dieri, and Omaha-like systems. Differences among these systems are, he believes, secondary to, and in part based on, the common structural features. The varieties of Aboriginal kin classification analysed are based on the same components, and there is little variation in the principal classes, in Scheffler's opinion. Table 1 contains a summary of the typology resulting from the posited extension rules. In my view Scheffler is led to underestimate the differences between systems such

84 Kinship

Table I Extension rules characteristic of Australian systems of kin classification (after Scheffier 1978).

Pi Ka Ny Kd Ab W MU Di Ng sibling merging

X

half-sibling

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

stepkin merging

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

same-sex sibling merging

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

parallel-cross neutralisation

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

parallel-cross status extension

X

X

X

X

X

X

cross-stepkin merging

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

spouse-equation

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

AGA

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

AGU

G+/-3 Omaha skewing

Legend PI = Pitjantjatjara Ka = Kariera-like Ny = Nyul-Nyul and Mardudhunera Kd = Karadjeri Ab = Arabana W = Ylr-Viront Mu = Murngin

DI = Dieri, Walbiri and Aranda Ng = Ngarinyin

X X

X

X

X

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as the Kariera and the Murngin through his focus on equivalence rules and the analysis in terms of super~lasses.~ Furthermore Rumsey (1981) provides data inconsistent with Scheffler's inference of certain superciasses in Ngarinyin kin classification, Linguists and anthropological linguists have contributed greatly to our knowledge of the variety of modes of kin classification, and to their use in context, as well as behaviour governed by kin relations such as avoidance codes. Several such studies have recently been brought together into a volume edited by Heath, Merlan and Rumsey (1982),Kin relations are reflected in syntax, especiallythe structure of personai pronouns, Hale (1966)finds that agnation and the principle of alternating generations play a role in the syntax of some Australian ianguages. His examples include noun phrase reduction and the structure of pronouns which, among other things, distinguish first person duai agnate from first person duai non-agnate(Hale 1966,324). Schebeck (1973)and Hercus and White (1973)discuss the association between pronominal series and various kin terms, For example, one series is used to denote persons in the speaker's own, grandparent's, and grandchild's generation, contrasted with the speaker's parent's and child's generation. Another series is used for persons in a father-son relation (Hercus and White 1973 , 55-56). In Panyjina, first and second person pronouns encode kin relationshlps and categorise them. For example the loss of distinctions between inclusive and exclusive in part of the first person paradigm, and non-use of pronouns in parts of the second person paradigm, reflect respect and avoidance rules (Dench 1980-82). Kaytej personal pronouns are marked for categories of kinship, a feature also of the closely related Arandic languages (Koch 1982). Relations which entail avoidance or respect provide the motivation for special codes. The relation between brothers-in-lawis marked by a restricted vocabuiary in Guugu-Yimidhirr (Haviland 1979a, 1979b1, Some everyday words survive in brotherin-lawvocabuiary, whereas in some cases everyday words are replaced by multiple service words, and in others brother-in-law words have no everyday equivalent, In GurindJiavoidance relationship is also the motivation for the reduction in the number of simple conjugable verb stems to one, and the deletion of the second person pronoun (McConvell 1982).Rumsey (1982) reports similar vocabulary reduction in the Bunaba avoidance language gun-gunma. Sutton (1982) shows that a degree of respect and circumspection is characteristic of all kin reiations in Cape Keerweer, especially between close relatives, and this is reflected in linguistic usages. Features similar to avoidance ianguages are exhibited in other special languages, in the

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dhamin auxiliary language of the Lardil, formerly taught to subincision initiates, lexical items are more general and abstract than in ordinary Lardil, Kin terms are reduced to five, constructed partly on section and partly on subsection principles (Hale 1982). The use of kin terms themselves depends on the context, Rumsey (1981) found that the Ngarinyin term 'mother' can be used to refer to all women of the opposite moiety. The merger of generations tends to occur in the context of discourse about interclan relations. Rumsey infers that there is no single structure for the Ngarinyin terminology. Anthropologists have recorded basic terms of reference and address. Linguists have reported a degree of flexibility and polysemy hitherto unrecognised; for example in Heath's (1982a) detailed linguistic data on the use of Yolngu kin terms. Several linguists have reported other series, including dyadic terms of the type 'fatherand-child' (Heath, Merlan and Rumsey 1982), and altercentric terms of the type 'your mother' (Merlan 1982). Kin terms can sometimes be shown to be the etymological basis for social categorical terms such as kirta and kurtungurlu in Warlpiri and other semi-desert languages (Nash 1982). Such categories were analysed in terms of a descent framework at the beginning of our period.

DESCENT The concept of descent line is a crucial component of Radcliffe-Brown's synthesis, providing as it does the conceptual link between the mode of kin classification, marriage rules, and the structure of the local group. He also believed the clan, and by derivation the horde, to be universally a patrilineal descent group, as have many Australianists until recently (eg Berndt and Berndt 1964. Stanner 1965, Turner 1980a). Several issues focused on descent have been prominent in the literature over the last quarter-century:the confusion of a line of descent with a lineage, descent group or some other kind of group; the question whether Aboriginal land holding units are appropriately labelled descent groups at all; and the degree to which they are corporate, By a 'descent line' Radcliffe-Brown(1951, 1956) simply meant a sequence of kin categories as shown on a diagram, and not a social group, although descent lines were related to social groups or categories (Barnes 1967,31; Scheffler 1978,43-51). Others such as RM Berndt (1955), Meggiii (1962,201) and more recently Morphy (1978) have used this expression, or a related expression such as 'patriline', to refer to a type of social group. Some have taken sequences of terms on a kinship diagram to represent a definite number of descent groups related by marriage exchange

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(Lawrence and Murdock 1949). Radcliffe-Brown's early criticism of these trends (1951, 1956), has been reiterated more recently by Piddington (1970) and Shapiro (1981). Is the term 'descent' appropriately applied to Aboriginal social groups? Australianists have used the term in different ways. Some have followed Rivers to mean filiation that confers group membership, or through which rights and duties are transmitted, but which does not imply descent from a common ancestor (eg Reay 1962-63; Hiatt 1965; Turner 1980a, iii).Others have implied that the group is defined by descent from a common ancestor (Berndt and Berndt 1964). Shapiro (1967a) introduces the distinction between absolute and relative affiliation, equivalent to direct and indirect descent, Yolngu patrimoieties are recruited by relational affiliation, on the evidence that the child of an incestuous union is of the opposite moiety from that of the mother. Fortes (1969)assesses Warlpiri descent lines as successive degrees of kinship reckoned by steps of patrifiliatlon and matriflllation. The patriline, but not the matriline, has more definite descent attributes, and 'some rudiments of corporate structure' (Fortes 1969, 117). Piddington (1970) does not dispute the applicability of the term 'descent' to Aboriginal Australia; however, Scheffler (1973a),who has advanced a refined set of criteria for the application of descent concepts, argues that Warlpiri patrilines and patrilodges are not descent groups or patrilineages, because they are not defined with reference to ancestors. They are rather 'patrlfllial kin groups' (Scheffler 1978, 522-23). Aboriginal concepts of kinship are grounded in concepts of bisexual reproduction, but the kin links postulated between human and Dreamtime Beings are 'metaphoric'. Western anthropologists have found it all too easy to understand egocentric kin categories as lineally defined or descent ordered categories. The central error in Radcliffe-Brown'sthinking about Australian Aboriginal society was Yhat he failed to realise that even the 'patrilineal clan" is a kind of kin class' (1978, 524). His 'descent lines' are not the categories on which Australian systems of kin classification are based, but are structurally derivative, and dependent on rules of kin class definition and expansion. He was right, however, to insist that in Australia social structure is equivalent to kinship (1978, 524). A comparison of eastern Warlpiri and Yolngu clans reveals something of the variability in the constitution of Aboriginal social groups. Some eastern Warlpiri adults are hazy about genealogical links even among members of their parents' generation; what is important is that members of a clan have a set of fathers' fathers, and fathers' fathers' sisters (see also Myers 1986). By contrast, whereas Yolngu clans are not all bounded by common descent from a human ancestor, so that 'patrifilial kin group'

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is a happy description, descent constructs are important in the definition of personal identity as well as lineage and sublineage identity for some clans, through the inheritance of names from a common ancestor, in his last paper Radcliffe-Brown(1956, 365) writes: The clan is corporate in the sense that its adult male members can and do engage in collective action, and that as a clan they have collective ownership and control of a certain territory with its food resources and its 'totem centres' with their associated rites and myths...A woman belongs to her father's clan but to her husband's horde.

The corporatenessof patrilineal land holding units has been questioned by Piddington (1970) and Shapiro (1981).Shapiro allows that Yolngu ('Miwuyt') sibs have some degree of corporateness, but not the totemic unions or linguistic groups into which the sibs are grouped (Shapiro 1981, 24). The group of sisters' sons of a clan is important in clan affairs, so that one must either accord the sisters' sons of a clan some degree of corporateness, or deny that of the sib (1981, 104). Furthermore the articulation of the kin terminology with the patrilineal groups is limited. The question of corporateness is essentially about control as well as the definition of group and category identity and inter-relations.Moreover, it is a question that can only be answered for each particular case. The recent literature on land claims displays variations, for example, in the rights of children of women of a clan as against the clan members (Hiatt 1985). Recent ethnography has shown the assumption, that land holding units are universally patrilineal, to be false. Layton and Rowell (1979) and Layton (1983) describe Pitjantjatjara groups as ambilineal. Pintupi groups have the structure of bilateral kindreds according to Myers (1976, 1986).The membership criteria of Western Desert groups include principles other than descent or filiation: birth on an estate; conception at an estate; father's membership of the group; mother's membership (lessfrequently stressed); and the estate in which a man is circumcised nonkinson 1978a). Every individual is entitled through these principles to membership in more than one estate group through bonds of shared spirit and substance (1978a, 52). This account is consistent with RM Berndt's assertion that in the Western Desert region there is only a 'bias toward patrilineal descent' (Berndt 1959, 96), an assertion made despite representing Western Desert local organisation in terms of patrilineal local groups. The application of the term 'descent' has exercised anthropologistsand lawyers in the course of Aboriginal land claim preparation and hearings pursuant to the Aboriginal Land Rights (NorthernTerritory) Act 1976, for the expression 'local descent

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group' forms part of the definition of 'traditional Aboriginal owners' in the Act. The resulting debates have no doubt influenced academic anthropological discourse, if only indirectly, but I do not consider the debates themselves here for they arise out of the complex matter of the legal application of anthropological expressions (see Hiatt 1984a; Maddock 1982, 1983), There is a close relationship between the paradigm in which descent is a core concept, and the alliance approach, in which, in some interpretations, marriages constitute exchanges among male members of descent groups.

ALLIANCE Those who have discussed or applied the alliance approach to Aboriginal kinship have done so from various points of view. The main interpreter of a structuralist approach to kinship into English speaking anthropology has been Needham. Early in our period Needham (1960) refuted Livingstone's representation of Ungarinyin kinship as based on alternating exchange, and continued his attack (Needham 1962a. 1962b, 1963a)on the theory of Homans and Schneider (1955).These authors had argued that L&-Strauss's theory of cross-cousin marriage was an example of an explanation in terms of 'final causes' (ie functions), but that this was Insufficient to explain the adoption of an institution, which must be explained in terms of 'efficient cause' (ie motivation, Homans and Schneider 1955, 16). Homans and Schneider attempt to show the motivation behind various forms of cross-cousin marriage. In patrilineal societies the father-child relation is marked by respect and constraint, whereas the mother-child relation is characterised by warmth and nurturance.These sentiments are extended to other close kin of each parent respectively. Matrilateral cross-cousin marriage is appropriate in patriiineal societies because of the extension of sentiments to the mother's brother and to her daughter, reflected in patterns of visiting and so on, and the converse case is found In matrilinealsocieties. Needham (1962a)attempted to refute the argument by collating evidence inconsistent with the theory, especially on Purum kinship. As for Australian kinship specifically, Needham (1962b, 1963a, 1963b, 1965) interprets McConnel's and Thomson's reports of Wikmunkan kinship and marriage in order to represent the system as a two-sectionsystem of prescriptive alliance, and in the same context questions the position of Homans and Schneider (1955, 1962) on the genealogical basis of kin categories. One who was astonished at all the heat generated over unilateral cross-cousin

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marriage was the Marxist anthropologist FGG Rose, whose main contribution to Australian studies has been to relate the demography of kinship to material relations. Rose (1965) explained matrilateral cross-cousin marriage as arising from the age difference between husband and wife (see also Rose 1960a). Leach (1965 ) replied that a statistical fact cannot convert into a jural rule; structuralists were concerned with the latter. (Leach thus reveals a structuralist's difficulty in conceiving material conditions for, or effects of, rule governed action.)Goodaie (1962) had made a similar point to that of Rose in her explanation of why the choice of Tiwi women was limited to a FeZS as their first husband. This was accounted for by the average twenty year age difference. Needham (1966) sought to refute Rose's hypothesis that gerontocracy led to the abandonment of bilateral cross-cousin marriage; the conclusion was valid only for first cousins, he thought, and Rose's own data show no disparities between the ages of patrilateral and matrilateral cross-cousins. However, de Josselin de Jong (1962) had already pointed out that the MBD category included 'mothers', and the FZD category included ZDs, which could account for any unexpected similarities of age. Hiatt (1962, 1965) questions the empirical validity of LW-Strauss's theory with reference to his Gidjingali data, He shows that a model of exchange among four groups, derived from de Josselin de Jong's (1962) account of bvi-Strauss's theory, 'has no bearing on the realities of kinship and marriage among the Gidjingali' (1965, 129).In a response to Fox (1967). Hiatt (1967,472) examines Gidjingali bestowal rights and actual exchanges and finds that: any attempt to explain Aboriglnal kinship systems in terms of sister- or daughterexchange, either between individuals or In the sense of reciprocal arrangements between patrilineai descent groups, would seem to have a fairly weak empirical foundation.

In another paper Hiatt shows that only a small percentage of Gidjingali men managed to marry women to whom they had rights (Hiatt 1968,166). but concedes the following: that the people had a definite notion of reciprocity between individuals with regard to marriage; that marriage rights were defined partly in terms of clan membership; and that men occasionally spoke of traditional exchange relationships between clans (1968, 172). However, patrilineai groups did not engage as groups in exchange transactions; rather, niece exchange was a contractual arrangement between individuals, so that assertions of traditional exchange relations must be taken as a 'half-formed ideal of how the system should work' (1968, 173).

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in his reply to Hiatt, Fox (1969) argues that Hiatt takes too narrow a view of GviStrauss. it is immaterial what the actual units of the system are. Whatever the units, the way in which women are 'exchanged' in Austraiian society is 'elementary', and usually direct, but with Murngintype systems having features of direct and generalised exchange (1969, 17),Ail this is not to say that formal groups are always the agents of exchange in Fox's view. Despite these remarks, Fox (1967) represents Aboriginal marriage as a matter of exchange between descent groups, kin relations being secondary in determining marriages (1967, 186).The 'operators' are local lineages (1967,218).Shapiro's (1981)account of Yoingu kinship challenges such a model (see below). Gvi-Strauss (1969b) used the Birdseil defence against Hiatt (1968)-the Gidjingaii are 'a collapsing Austraiian tribef-and backed it up with the Leach stratagem; he was concerned only with the rules, which 'have their own life', Hiatt (1968) countered with the information that the Gidjingall have two kinds of marriage rules, those expressed In terms of general categories, and those in terms of genealogical specifications. Gvi-Strauss's theories were based on the former. Like Hiatt, Sackett (1976) tests alliance assumptions against Australian data. Restricted exchange is inadequate to account for Western Desert marriage, where men marry a somewhat distant cross-cousin, and patterns of marriage are somewhat asymmetrical, indirect exchange is the rule, and direct reciprocity impossible (1976, 174).According to Sackett's explanation, the wide ranging social network resulting from distant marriage overcomes difficulties in times of poor resources and drought. it was Maddock (1969a) who brought structuralism directly into Australian anthropology, but his version of alliance theory, like Leach's (19611, is rather more concrete than that of LW-Strauss.The functions of wife-bestowing, wife-yieldingand wife-receiving are disposed in various ways among descent groups. In patrllineal societies wife-bestowers and wife-receiverswill be in the same moiety, so that contrary to Leach (1961) exchanges take place between groups of the same moiety, and by individuals of both sexes (Maddock 1969a, 24). in a later work Maddock (1972.69) develops the link between ritual and affinai ties, arguing that 'the relation set up by marriage in one generation continues in the next as bestowal and management: In this as well as a later revision of the same book (1982), clans or sibs remain important as the basic units of sociality (1982, 76). Morphy (1978)takes up Maddock's scheme to represent Yoingu marriage as an exchange between clan subgroups within the moiety, with the exception of ZDD exchange. Keen (1986)finds that Morphy's notion of 'agreements' between MM and

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ZDC subgroups of clans does not fit the facts at Millngimbi. The affinai network among clan subgroups can equally be explained in terms of sons' rights following from the marriages of their fathers. The Dieri case was regarded as anomalous by L&i-Strauss (1949,260-62), that is, as a transitional type between generalised and restricted exchange. By representing the terminology in terms of matrilines rather than patrilines, Korn (1971) claims to demonstrate similarities between the Dieri and Aranda systems. A strong critique of both descent and alliance views of Aboriginal kinship and marriage, especially those of Leach and Maddock, is advanced by Shapiro (1981) in a study of Yolngu 'affinity'. Both Leach (1961) and Berndt (1955)emphasised local corporations allied asymmetrically (Shapiro 1981, 1-2). Contrary to Maddock's claim (1969a. 24; 1974,71) that each patrilineal clan stands at the centre of an exchange network the other elements of which are also patrilineal clans, the transaction is indeed part of an exchange network, but its elements are individualsand aggregates of matrikin' (Shapiro 1981, 102). Shapiro presents an alternative analysis of Yolngu kinship based on the concept of the 'endogamous kindred: in Shapiro's analysis, the endogamous kindred, which cross-cuts clan membership, is the basis of Yolngu affinity as well as residence. Marriage alliances take place between groups of matrikin or 'matrilines' and the 'local coliectivlty' within the kindred is 'encoded' into a four-fold ordering of clans in a semi-moiety system (Shapiro 1981, 152-54). However, the concept of 'endogamous kindred' presents some problems, for Shapiro confuses the egocentred kindred with a sociocentred cognatic network when he remarks that the marriage clusters described by White (1976) are more or less identical with locally endogamous kindreds (Shapiro 1981, 155).Moreover the idea that a residence group could be based on a 'single kindred' is quite incoherent unless the group is either wholly endogamous, or it coincides with the kindred of a slngle member or group of full siblingsa3Nevertheless, the focus on cognatic kin networks is an important corrective to more clan orlented accounts. In contrast, Kupka and Testart (1980) offer an account of Yolngu marriage as a matter of exchange among clans and clans-aggregate. David Turner (1980a) uses an alliance framework to construct a typology of Aboriginai kinship systems. Turner assumes the universality of bilateral kinship in Aboriginai Australia, the universality of patrillneai land owning groups, and that 'an exchange of spouses between groups is desired even though it may not always be practised: Turner's thesis is that 'Australian systems of kinship and marriage reflect different alliance arrangements between land owning groups reckoned over a

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culturally defined genealogical grid' (Turner 1980a, ii]. inter-relations between cognatic reiatedness and relations to the patrigroups of cognates, as well as membership of one's own, determine the classification of kin.Turner constructs models of Aboriginal systems of kinship and marriage in terms of 'patrigroup famiiies', that is, members of patrigroups linked through marriage, and constructs a typology based on these m ~ d e i sTwo . ~ extreme theoretical possibilities of marriage alliance are postulated. At one extreme the members of a patrlgroup may choose to marry only their own members, their kiosest' relatives, precluding the possibility of fraternal aliiances, but achieving the greatest solidarity. At the other extreme, the men of a patrigroup may decide to marry into a group with no previous affinai relationship with their own, that is they wouid avoid marriage into their cognates' patrigroups, achieving the most comprehensive network, Each marriage precludes future affinal alliances between the same groups (Turner 1980a, xi). Most Australian peoples have opted for solutions somewhere in between. Although the universality of Turner's postulates is questionable, his scheme has interesting implications for the kinds of social networks associated with different kinship systems. The value of formal and mathematical models of marriage 'exchange' systems, such as the group-theoretical model by Tjon Sie Fat (1981), or those of Liu (19701, is hard to assess, but it seems clear that alliance theory has advanced understanding of Aboriginal marriage systems through a process of conjecture, modification and refutation. it wouid be helpful now to return to Evi-Strauss's original vision, and analyse bestowal and marriage within Aboriginal exchange economies as wholes.

BESTOWAL RELATIONS One by-product of the alliance debate has been the discussion of agents and relations in marriage arrangements. Data on the nitty-grittyof the politics of bestowai are hard to come by-the richest account of conflicts over bestowals, from the point of view of men at least, remains that of Hiatt (1965).Maddock's (1969a)differentiation of bestowal functions, defined in terms of group rights, has also been influential,The main contribution of Shapiro, who has focused rather on networks of matrikin (cf Peterson 19691, has been the elucidation of mother-in-lawbestowai (Shapiro 19711, which, as with ZDD exchange (Shapiro 19681, he was the first ethnographer of the Yoingu region to document. Piddington stresses the distinction between egocentric networks and sociocentric groups. The former, but not the latter, are involved In marriage arrangements which

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entail individual obligations; the latter are concerned with ceremonial, economic and political affairs, which entail reciprocal obligations (Piddington 1970, 338-39). Discussion has also focused on the relative roles and powers of men and women in marriage arrangements (Hamilton 1970, 1981; Bell 1983). For example Hamilton (1970) examines women's accounts of the agents in marriage arrangements in northcentral Arnhem Land, No woman admitted being able to bestow her own daughter, and women nominated a variety of relatives including the bestowed girl's mother's mother, other women of the matrigroup, men of the girl's patrigroup, and the girl's father (the predominant nominee of bestowed girls themselves).Older women were more likely to nominate a member of the matrigroup,

THE AGE FACTOR IN MARRIAGE We have already encountered the suggestion that age factors should be taken into account in the explanation of matriiateral cross-cousin marriage.Discussionfrom this perspective has links to historical materialism, which articulates political, economic and social structural factors. At the beginning of the quarter-century Rose (1960a) made his seminal contribution to the topic which has become known, rather inappropriately, as 'gerontocratic polygyny', reviewed by Hiatt (1985). Rose (1960a, 1968) examines the implications of the large difference in the ages of husbands and wives on Groote Eyiandt, and explains the assumed evolution from group marriage to pairing in terms of the invention of the spear, and polygyny as serving the needs of women during the child-rearing period. Older men were able to sustain their monopoly of wives through the initiation of young men. The classic ethnography of gerontocratic polygyny is that of Hart and Pilling on the Tiwi (1960). Goodale's (1971) study of Tiwi women does not so much contradict Hart and Pilling's account as complement it, Old men did control the distribution of women as wives, but Hart and Pilling missed the importance of a Type A contract between a woman, her father, and her daughter's potential husband.They focused on the Type B contract between a man and his daughter's husband, which could only be made if the Type A contract had expired (Goodaie 1971, 54). Some doubts have been cast on the validity of aspects of Rose's theory (Maddock 1972, 72); nevertheless, some scholars have accepted and elaborated on the connection proposed between initiation, the authority of eiders, and polygynous marriage. Maddock (1972,72) proposes that young men remain single because of the promise of religious gratification through a long induction into the religious life,

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in which 'the power of the eiders acting in concert is deeply impressed on them: Were women to go through a similar period of instruction, their marriages too would be delayed, and so age related polygyny on any scale would be impossible. The oider men therefore exclude women from the initiation ceremonies. The doctrine of the structural and historical unity of society and nature imparted in the cults gives social norms a firmer hold (Maddock 1982, 141).The religious separation of maies and females does not entail polygynous marriage (as suggested in Keen 1978),and the Tiwi case Is problematic. Tiwi maies and females both move through religious induction, yet they have a rate of polygynous marriage which is among the highest recorded for Aboriginal Australia. The contrast is not as clear as Maddock believes, for even in systems where only men are inducted into age grading rituals, there is no necessary reason why a young man could not aiso marry. In Tiwi society there was no clear correlation between ritual induction and the age of marriage (Goodale 1971). The connection between religion and polygyny is rather that the authority of the elders and the apparent cosmic necessity of the norms, are established through the religious life, which the older men control, Keen (1978)argues that oider Yolngu men, the main beneficiaries of polygynous marriage, require some means of preventing the young men from marrying women of their own age. This is achieved through a complex system of betrothal, and through the authority of oider men, based on their imputed control of, or access to, supernatural powers in the major ceremonies, and control of esoteric religious knowledge. Furthermore, no advantageous alternatives are (or were) available to the young. Older men do not have powers of command to any extent outside a ritual context; it is rather that young men in general do not actively prevent older men from having young wives (1978, 377-78; see aiso Keen 1982; Hiatt 1985). The degree of polygyny varies greatly among Aboriginal communities. Meggitt (1965) explained the differences among three Warlplri communities as being due to differences in the degree of acculturation. Long (1970) extended the comparison to include a number of Northern Territory Aboriginal communities, and found that length of contact did not explain the variation; other factors must also be considered. The difference in the degree of polygynous marriage between the Gidjingaii and the western Voingu arises from differences in the systems of kin classification and the ethic of generosity, according to Keen (1982). Some oider Yolngu men are able to acquire many more wives than any Gidjingaii men because the Yolngu mode of kin classification determines an optimum age difference between potential spouses; whereas the form of the Gidjingali system of kin classification explains why women

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over whom Gidjingali men have claims are so seldom of marriageableage. A positive feedback effect is also posited, for the success of Volngu men in marriage is a condition for the rapid growth of clans, and in turn, males of large clans are better able to press their marriage claims. But how are these relations and processes articulated within the social order as a whole? In Bern's (1979) Marxist account of power differences between men and women, the elaborate structure of men's cults as well as the men's control over the access of young men to secular and religious knowledge, and to wives, effectively deprives women of political equality or economic autonomy, These discussions tend to assume that polygyny is only In male interests. In an early paper on women of northern Arnhem Land Hamllton (1970)argued that polygyny was in the interests of older women as well as men. Because oider men monopolised the younger women, the older women had access to the younger men. This perspective implles that polygyny is not necessarily an index of male domination. However, in a later paper Hamilton (1981) contrasts Arnhem Land with eastern Western Desert marriage. Arnhem Land polygynous marriage provides the basis for the financing of men's 'ritual extravanganzas', for an oider man can obtain younger wives as labourers, relinquishing earlier, or even altogether, the need for the labour of daughters and sons-in-law.The presence of an autonomous women's ritual life in the eastern Western Desert is a powerful deterrent against polygyny. Women have rights regarding marriage arrangements and to determine their sexual transactions with men. The age factor in Aboriginal marriage motivates the 'double helix' model of Alyawarra marriage proposed by Denham and others (1979).The authors construct a diagram of Alyawarra kinship terminology with patrimoieties, matrimoieties and subsections superimposed, although these are only implicit In this system, and find that the modei does not altogether predict kin term assignments in Denham's data. The authors assume a mean age difference between husband and wife of fourteen years, with the husband older, and hence a patrifiiial generation 1.5 times as long as a matrifilial generation. They then construct a modei based on the Kariera system, of marriages between categories of genealogical kin representingthe resultant age differences two-dimensionally, showing in effect which categories are within marriageable age range of one another. in the model, patrilines and matrilines are not coordinated, and generations are fuzzy. Sibling exchange is precluded by the age bias, and so the Karlera modei becomes a system of indirect exchange. in the opinion of the authors the model 'seems to accommodate better most available data

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concerning both the ideology and the practice of central Australian descent, marriage, and kinship' (Denham, McDaniel and Atkins 1979, 1). This article drew a number of critical responses (Martin 1981; Scheffier 1980, 1982; Turner 1980~). For example, Scheffler (1980)comments that Radciiffe-Brownneither authored nor endorsed the first model, and that models of this kind represent logical reiations among categories. Denham imposed the arbitrary demand that people supply only one term for each relative, and did not ascertain the basis on which a term was supplied, Many of the anomalies are thus a result of defective methodology. Scheffler (1982) adds that the notion of a 'best term' is ethnographically unsound, and that the authors do not show how the double helix model 'accounts' for the data. Certain apparent inconsistenciesin reciprocals could be due to superclass-subclass reiations (Scheffier 1982, 180-81). The article also inspired a formal mathematical treatment by Tjon Sie Fat (19831, a model which generates varieties of helical structures 'with age-biased matriiateral cross-cousinmarriage' by mapping age structure onto a group-theoretic model of generalised exchange, Paradoxically, models such as the double helix appear to be too simple, for incumbents of a given kin category in relation to Ego are traced through a variety of genealogical and other links. Glven the differences between matrifiliai and patrifiiial generations, the range of average ages of incumbents of certain categories in an Aranda type system traced by different genealogical routes varies greatly (see Keen 1982).There does seem to be a consensus through the period that marriage is not regulated by what used to be called 'marriage classes:

SECTIONS, SUBSECTIONS, MOIETIES AND SEMI-MOIETIES Discussions of class systems have revolved around several issues: the nature of the relations among the classes, and between them and kin classification; their descent basis; their functions; the demographic conditions for their operation; their role as reiations of production; and the question of their origins. At the beginning of our period Hammei (1960) constructed a formai seven-fold typology of section and subsection systems, Theories of the derivation of class systems were summarised by Service (1960),According to Lawrence and Murdock (1949)and their precursors, four section systems arose from the intersection of matriiineai and patriiineai descent groups, and subsections from division of sections through a particular marriage rule. Lane and Lane (1962, 50) on the other hand, see sections as resulting from the moieties bisecting sibs of an opposite linearity. Service (1960)

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and Fox (1967) argue against this 'double descent' theory. Indeed, in retrospect such theories about the production of more complex categories from the intersection of simple ones seem to say more about the propertles of synthetic models than about the origin of the systems. Models, too, are often overgeneralised. Hence Reay (1962-63) argues that, contrary to Radcliffe-Brown, the simultaneous occurrence of matrilineal and patriilneal moieties is not 'a necessary concomitant of a subsection system' (Reay 1962-63,97; RadcilffeBrown 1929, 199; 1930-31, 39); and the unnamed patrimoieties of the Anyuia are an 'abstraction' (Reay 1962-63.981. Scheffler polnts out that not all societies with section systems have patrimoieties, matrimoieties and generation moieties, so that even if these gave rise to the systems, they are not now structurally dependent on them. He offers a theory of the origin of Australian class systems in kin 'superclass' categories. The unnamed moieties of Waripiri society, like the Kariera and Aranda are 'nothing more than falrly complex kin classes' (Scheffler 1978,522). Both Dumont (1966)and White (1981)see alternating generatlon categories-generation 'classes' on the one hand, and generation moieties on the other-as irreducible features. Shapiro (1967b) extends the expression 'semi-moiety' to the quadripartite classification of sibs (1967b, 4671, and attributes such a system to the Yolngu. This view Is elaborated in two later works (1969, 1981).The imputation by Shapiro of semimoieties to the Yolngu has been questioned by Berndt (1976), Morphy (1977) and Keen (1978, 1986)who found Shapiro's view inconsistent with their data. Similarly Heath (1978, 1980) questions the existence of named patrimoieties attributed to the Mara by Spencer (19141, and of necrophagous and ceremonial moieties attributed to the Mara by Maddock (1969b, 1979), on the basis of recent linguistic fieldwork with a Mara informant. Maddock argued that the Mara possessed an implicit but elaborate and symmetrical cognitive representationof their social order based on the principles of binary opposition and logical complementarity (Maddock 1969b; Heath 1978.468). Maddock and Heath make different inferences from Spencer's incomplete and ambiguous record. Maddock questions the relevance to the period of Spencer's fieldwork, of Information from a living, if old, Informant.Heath questions the relevance of Maddock's Daiabon fieldwork to the Mara. Perhaps the interestingquestions which arise out of this debate are these. In what sense can 'implicit' moieties have any existence? And to what extent can structuralist constructs represent 'cognitive' categories of the people in question? Some anthropologists have characterised moieties and semi-moietiesas descent groups (Reay 1962-63.95: Lane and Lane 1962,47) although Reay denies this status

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to sections and subsections (1962-63,99). Dumont regards descent as a misnomer (1966, 237), as does Scheffler (1978), in whose opinion sections and the rest are not marriage classes, nor do they have a descent basis. Radcliffe-Brown(1930-31) asserts that sections and subsections have nothing to do with the regulation of marriage, a view with which Elkin (1964), Service (1960), Meggitt (1962) and Scheffler (1978), among others, agree. They serve rather to systematise and generalise kinship relations. Reay on the other hand believes that Yanyula subsections regulate marriages, and the members of semi-moieties own and control important ceremonies (Reay 1962-63, 98). What, then, are the functions of subsection systems? Munn (1973, 21) suggests that the Warlpiri subsection system has a broad synthesising function. It is a code which 'lays out the articulation of the basic principles of the social structure in a single framework'. It can be translated into egocentric kin relations, and expresses the relationships among and between descent groups, semi-moieties (subsection patricouples) and moieties. A useful generalisation about Aboriginal classification systems is made by Burridge (1973, 133), who stresses the 'interdigital and crosscutting nature' of classification schemes as they relate to humans, and as humans relate to features of the environment. No category has exclusive membership, and each category 'groups together those who, in other situations, will be differently grouped: Rivalry is balanced by cooperation, opposition by complementarity. The question of the origins of these systems has a number of dimensions, including historical, linguistic and structural. Lane and Lane (1962,47) hypothesise that moieties, which they characterise as descent groups, may arise as structural epiphenomena 'by the combination of other features of social structure', Such implicit moieties may remain unnoticed until other conditions call attention to their existence. As we have seen, Scheffler derives sections and subsections from posited kin superclasses, agreeing with Radcliffe-Brownand Elkin that the systems systematise and summarise kinship. McConvell(1985)uses linguistic evidence to show that Elkin's (1970) hypothesis about the diffusion of the subsection system was substantially correct, to locate the area of origin, and to speculate on the emergence of another type of subsection system out of a form of marriage exchange. Yengoyan (1968)explains the alleged correlations between varieties of section systems and environment, by calculating the number of possible eligible wives in systems with no sections, with moieties only, with sections, and subsections. He concludes that population size sets limitations on the operation of the systems. Meggitt (1972) on the other hand concludes from an examination of the Register of Wards

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of the Northern Territory, that intertribal demographic differences had no discernible effects on the presence or functioning of subsections, and that these are not necessarily concerned in the regulation of marriage. Godelier (1975) bases a discussion of the relation between mode of production, kinship relations, family organisation and demographic structures on Yengoyan's findings, and argues that kinship relations function simultaneously as infrastructure and superstructure, control the access of groups and individuals to the conditions of production and to resources, regulate marriages, provide the framework for politico-religiousactivity, and function as an ideology (Godelier 1975, 10).McKnight (1981), however, sheds considerable doubt on the validity of Yengoyan's methodology and the reliability of his data. Yengoyan makes a number of questionable assumptions:that marriage classes are somehow an index of kinship and marriage systems; that the complexity of class systems reflects the degree of restrictions on choice of marriage partner; that most 'tribes' are endogamous; and that marriage is organised on the basis of local groups. Nevertheless, the questions of how different systems of kinship restrict marriage possibilities, and the demographic conditions under which the systems work, are interesting ones. What of the way in which people in different kin relationships behave toward one another?This matter has been touched on in the review of the kin classification literature.

ASPECTS OF KIN RELATIONS Several ethnographic studies (eg Berndt 1965, 1971) have continued the practice of reporting social norms and behaviour by looking at reciprocal kin relations in turn. Meggitt's ethnography (1962)is organised in this way, and he treats the social norms in detail; however, the framework provides the context for a rich ethnographic study of interactionand conflict. Conflict, particularly among men over marriage bestowals, is the focus of Hiatt's study of the Gidjingali (1965), reflecting the influence of the Manchester tradition, through his doctoral superviser John Barnes. Some shorter studies have examined and attempted to explain particular aspects of kin relations such as joking relationships (Jackes 1969), and especially the mirrirri and mother-in-law avoidance. Mlrrlrri is an Arnhem Land custom in which a man attacks his sisters if someone swears, or alludes to sexuality in some other way, in their hearing. Warner (1937, 112) explains that a brother treats his sister as the culprit in order to prevent a rift in the kinship structure. Hiatt (1964) finds Warner's functional

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explanation unsatisfactory,suggesting that the explanation should be sought in the stringent sexual prohibitions between brother and sister (Hiatt 1964, 125).The brother attacks his sister out of revulsion due to the sexual prohibition. People may believe that the two have had sexual relations, so that the attack In effect proves the brother's lack of interest in his sister (1964, 128). Such an explanation rests on unproven psychological suppositions, according to Makarius (1966, 149). The Murngin brother's behaviour is an extreme case of a more general phenomenon, the 'general aversion of primitive man to hear obscene language addressed to their sisters', which causes a brother to throw spears. The consequences of incest are deadly, and may be forestalled only by the spilling of blood, Makarius speculates. By classifying a sister as wokinngu, 'without kin', their blood ties with the rest of society are denied and they cease to be dangerous (1966, 150). If this is so, one wonders why the mirrirrl is still necessary: furthermore, Makarius offers no explanation for the allegedly general aversion. Hiatt (1966) replies that Makarius's hypothesis is too broad, and points out that men do not always draw blood. But he agrees that his own theory does not explain why a man attacks his sister if he sees her copulating with her husband. He suggests that the swearing inflicts suffering on the brother because he has been taught that it is shameful even to think about his sister's sexuality, His sister is seen as the real cause of the pain (Hiatt 1966, 154). A structuralist interpretation is offered by Maddock (1970b).The behaviour makes sense when it is understood as an element in a larger pattern, it helps to express a binary opposition, heighteningthe distinction between a sibling or FZC of the same sex, and a slbling or FZC of the opposite sex, Uhis relation is subject to a similar custom among the Dalabon.) The custom functions to stress that sisters and FZC are not marriageable (Maddock 1970b. 176). Burbank (1985)suggests that a man's attack on his sister may be seen as the substitution of one form of aggressive expression for another. The woman is expected to run away, for a brother and sister are not supposed to fight, so that a man's attack on his sister is like an aggressive attack on an object, and is not expected to lead to injury (Burbank 1985, 53-54). Mirrirri is an example of redirected aggression such as damage to school windows following aggression from a teacher. More recently Hiatt (1984b) explains the sexual content of mother-in-law avoidance, as well as the element of shame, as arising in this way. A youth who has had a mother-in-lawbestowed on him has a long time to wait for a wife. Meanwhile he behaves in one important respect like a husband-he gives her meat. A flow of

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sexual impulses in the same direction would threaten the uxoriai interests of the fatherin-law, and the mother-in-law might react favourably owing to the privations of polygyny. The imposition of avoidance protects the interests of her husband. We turn now to a quite different topic, in which kinship articulates with other dimensions of the social order; that of local organisation.

THE LOCAL ORGANISATION DEBATE Radcliffe-Brownposited a quite straightforward connection between descent groups and groups of people living together to exploit the land, i cannot trace the development of his ideas here, but by the time of his 1930-31 synthesis RadcliffeBrown distinguished the horde or iocai group from the iocai patrilineai cian. in an earlier paper Radciiffe-Brown(1918) attributed ownership of iand to the horde, but in a later work the clan had become a land owning corporate group (1956).Elkin (1964, 45) follows this model, more or less, but uses the expression 'iocai group' ambiguously. RM Berndt (1959)ascribes iand ownership to the local group, identified as the patrilineai cian, as distinct from the horde.The horde has no territorial claims, and is localised only in a general sense (Berndt 1959, 1041,Berndt and Berndt (1964, 42) contrast the local descent group (a term derived from Leach), united by common descent, with the patriiinealor matrilineal cian whose members may or may not share a common ancestor. Hiatt's (1962) influential critique of Radcliffe-Brown, made in the light of his and Meggitt's then recent fieldwork, distinguishes ritual from economic relations to iand. The horde as described by Radciiffe-Brownis not typical, nor is the patrilineai cian ubiquitous. The common residence group in many areas is not a horde but a community, including members of up to twelve patriiineal descent groups, and splitting up into smaller food seeking units each of which commonly includes nonagnates and whose movements are not constrained by territorial boundaries (Hiatt 1962, 285). in his defence of Radciiffe-Brown, Stanner (1965) coined the much cited distinction between the totemic 'estate' of the patriiineal group and the 'range' of the 'territorial group' which has some members of a dispersed patriiinealgroup as its core members. Territorial groups have a strong tendency toward patriiocal and virilocal residence. Birdsell's (1970)assault on the 'Sydney anthropologists' brings evidence together to refute the existence of a large community as a residence group, but unconvincingly explains findings which do not support the Radciiffe-Brown model as due to social change (see also Piddington 1971).

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More recent research suggests that both Birdseli and Hiatt were right and wrong, but in different ways: Birdsell was justified in questioning the replacement of the band or horde by iarge communities, but incorrect in adhering to the universal RadcliffeBrown model of the horde and to the universal dialectal tribe; Hiatt was right to question the Radcliffe-Brownmodel, but his picture of large communities is misleading. Named communities seem to be loosely bounded regional networks rather than residence groups, or groups with common and distinct rights in land. Peterson's data (1970)on an Arnhem Land band suggest that composition varied over time and between bands. Each band had a core of one or two older men, living on their own clan estate with their families and young sons-in-law, as well as a wife's mother in many cases. Variations in composition are accounted for by the developmental cycle of the domestic groups which made up the band, Shapiro's data on several Arnhem Land outstations and settlement camps led him to conclude that residence groups are based primarily on affinal ties. Agnates will live together only if they can do so without violating their obligations to affines, Each residence group has a wide range of choice of residence sites, although there is a preference for residing in territory associated with a cian ('patri-sib') with which one or more of its members is linked by close kinship ties. Moreover individuals, Shapiro believes, are more or less unrestricted in the territories in which they may forage (Shapiro 1973, 379). A close examination of Shapiro's data, in conjunction with Peterson's and my own, shows that in outstations from the mid-1960s, the core of the band, that is those most closely related to the estate on which it is situated, are as likely to b e living on their mother's cian estate as their own. Blundeil and Layton (1978) also suggest that men of the Kimberleys lived for periods on their mothers' and wives' estates, as did the parents of a newly betrothed woman. Alyawarra household clusters reveal a patriiineal core plus a variety of uterine kin and afflnes (O'Conneli 1978). Two other issues must be mentioned here. First, Maddock (1982) has questioned the attribution of land ownership to the patrilineal group, at the expense of uterine descendants of group members. Verdon and Jorion (1981,100) make a similar point: members of totemic corporations have the strongest claim over land surrounding their totemic sites, but ownership is shared with others occupying the land, the strength of their rights depending on their 'ontological distance' from the ancestor-totem.This issue is related to the critique of the assumption that clans are corporate, and the relationshipof the rights and action of the descendants of cian women (Shapiro 1981). The issue has also been a central one in the application of the Aboriginal Land Rights (NorthernTerritory) Act 1976, leading to much discussion of the definition and relative

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rights of 'owners' and 'managers' (Peterson 1981, Peterson and Langton 1983, Hiatt 1984b). Second is the nature of the tribe, Burridge (1973) was hesitant over the use of the term 'tribe', which he considered to be an imposition on Aboriginal practices. Burridge preferred the expression 'unspecified larger group' (1973, 129). The issue is canvassed in papers collected in Peterson (1976); but the most cogent critique is that of Sutton (1982), who questions the validity of Tindale's (1974) and Birdsell's (1953) notion of the relatively endogamous, politicallyand territorially discrete dialectal tribe. In an examination of the relation between language, speech community and social network in Cape York Peninsula, he finds no structure resembling the 'tribe: Finally, the terms in which local organisation has been discussed have been recently questioned by Myers (1976, 1986), who challenges the applicability of the Radcliffe-Brownian model of local organisation to the Pintupi. Their territorial organisation diverges markedly from models of Aboriginal land tenure which treat bounded groups as basic. Neither bands (or 'hordes') nor rules of group recruitment are fundamental, Pintupi residential groups can best be understood through the egocentric concept of 'one countrymen', those who potentially share a camp and cooperate in the food quest. Land owning groups overlap in membership and are bilateral in composition. People make claims to country on a wide variety of bases including conception, initiation, birth, father's conception, mother's conception. residence and death of a close relative (Myers 1986). Myers' account reveals not only the results of a change in perspective, but also the degree of variation in Aboriginal relations to land.

SYSTEM CLOSURE, CULTURE HISTORY, AND SOCIAL CHANGE Recent research, then, including that carried out in preparation of Aboriginal land claims, has revealed more variation in Aboriginal social organisation than was previously realised.This trend has been accompanied by a paradigm shift in social theory away from systems thinking; a trend reflected in the Australianist literature to a greater or lesser extent. This review began with the formal elegance and integrity of Radciiffe-Brown'smodels of Aboriginal kin classification, marriage rules and local organisation, characteristic also of Gvi-Strauss'sanalyses of Aboriginal kinship systems. The best known example of anomalies thrown up by a systems paradigm is the 'Murngin problem', which so dominated discussions of Aboriginal kinship twenly years ago (see Barnes 1967, Maddock 1970b).

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The problem arose out of certain assumptions about Aboriginal social organisation:that descent is primary; that kin categories are genealogical; that the system cannot be open ended; and that social life is organisedthrough the subsection system (Burridge 1973, 141-43). The controversy arose also out of anomalies in the ethnography, especially differences in accounts of subsection organisation, and the lack of logical fit between the subsection system and kin classification. There was an assumption, then, that formal models of categories, as well as models of the articulation between different orders of categories, captured the essence of Aboriginal kinship systems which are, or ought to be, formally tidy. The assumption of system closure and tidiness is no longer widely held however, so that rather than the Murngin problem being solved, all the other apparently more tidy systems have become dis-solved, as the debate over Alyawarra kinship, as well of the contributions of the linguists, suggest. This general process of dissolution in part reflects new data, as a result of new fieldwork techniques, such as the recording of discourse. But it also reflects a change of paradigm In social theory from a systems approach to a 'structurationist' perspective in which social life is pictured as a looser weave across the warp of time. A more adequate representation of Murngin (Yolngu)kinship and marriage was nonetheless achieved through the ethnographic fieldwork of Shapiro, Morphy and Keen. Shapiro (1967a. 1967b, 1969,1970a, 1971,1982) clarifies differences in bestowal relations, and describes the relations involved in ZDD exchange, but confuses matters through inferring semi-moietieswhere there are none. Morphy (1977, 1978)shows that the network of marriage could be, and sometimes was, closed in a cycle involving six lineages (and not clans as Liu 1970 assumes). Keen (1978) demonstrates some of the complexities of the marriage network, and shows that kin terminology tends to determine the asymmetry of the marriage network at the level of the lineage, and more strongly at the uterine subiineage level. Marriage links between clans, however, are often reciprocal. Despite these contributions, some anthropologists continue to construct models of marriage exchange between subsections, even though Yolngu marriage is governed by kin relations (Jorion and de Meur 1980, Kupka and Testart 1980). The studies reviewed up to this point are, for the most part, synchronic descriptions and explanations of current practices or reconstructions of past institutions. Since evolutionism went out of fashion,speculation about the historical development of forms of Aboriginal kinship and related institutions has been rare. But there has been some discussion.

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I have already mentioned McConvell's hypotheses about the diffusion of subsection systems. Two other culture-historical studies should be mentioned,Lucich (1968) combines a hypothetical developmental sequence in Kimberley kin classification and marriage rules with a causal explanation. The developmental sequence is from first cousin marriage in a society with two patrimoieties, through a variant of a four section system, or via matrilineal moieties, to classificatory MBD marriage corresponding to the Karadjeri system. WBD or WFZ marriage is the 'efficient cause' of the Omaha terminology, rather than a principle of descent group lineality. A change in the marriage rules will produce a change in terminology. Testart's design is more ambitious. In a short summary of his book uestart 1981, see also Testart 1978) he finds that even when the symbollc associations of sections vary, when the variants are put together to form matrilineal moieties they show the same dual classification, The only way to account for this 'astounding' fact Is that the same original matrilineal classification was subsequently bisected in varying ways to produce different quadripartite classifications, and subsequently regrouped to form patrilineal moieties.These hypotheses are based only on a few cases, but Testart supports them with a mathematicallyinformed survey of similarities and differences among systems of classiflcation.This purportsto show that there are greater similarltles within matrilineal classifications than patrilineal. Blows (1981) has examined Testart's use of evidence in some detail. She finds dubious Howltt's assumption that the Kalabara were patrilineal, an assumption on which Testart relies (Blows 1981, 152); and finds Testart's inference that Cherbourgtribes were patrilineal to be a misinterpretation of Kelly's (1935) information. She also questions Testart's coherence index for several groups. What Testart counts as patrilineal descent is often the relation of relative affiliation or indirect descent between sections. Even if subsequent Investigations justify Testart's findings that there is greater coherence among classifications associated with sections in a matrifillalrelation than those associated in a patrifilial relation, this is not direct evidence of the temporal priority of matrillny, but could have other explanations, such as that subsections in patrifilial relations are more often adjusted in the process of diffusion than subsections in matrifllial relations. A number of anthropologists have examined changes in the practices of remote communities, as well as the significance of kinship among Aboriginal people in southern Australia. Several studies examine changes in marriage practices and kin classification.A higher proportion of Haasts Bluff men were marrying In their late teens

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and early twenties, according to Long (1970), and intermarriage of Plntupi people with other groups appeared to be increasing.Turner (1974) constructs hypothetical vectors of change on the basis of a contrast between formal definitions and the complexities of the application of terms. Section and kinship systems had changed little at Jigalong, although residence patterns had changed radically Uonkinson 1974, 56). At Wiluna the new social environment had imposed limitations on people's attempts to maintain their traditions (Sackett 1975). Fringe dwellers in Alice Springs have begun to change their reckoning of filiation, according to Coliman (1979). In some families children were named after their mothers, legitimising the emergence of matricentric domestic groups. Beckett (1965, 16) found in western New South Wales that people of the same origin tended to be concentrated in one or two main localities, and that people tended to live near at least some of their kinsfolk. There were some continuities In marriage rules, for mating with any consanguineal kin was regarded as improper; and obligationsto share food and other goods with kinsfolk were strong (Beckett 1965, 17).Beckett (1967) reconstructs Maljangaba marriage, circumcision and avoidance practices from the memories of old people. A very generalised account of the changes in kinship is also provided by Calley (1969). In Aboriginal communities of southeastern Australia most people preferred to reside in their home region and marry within it, according to Barwick (1978). They were distinct from other working class Australians in their retention of extended family ties, and residence in large, composite households. Certain traditional norms might regulate marriage choices, including the prohibition of marriage with close crosscousins, Intermarriage with other ethnic groups was especially high in urban areas. The Aboriginal population of Adelaide in the mid-1960s, on the other hand, had a far lower incidence of marriage among adults than in the white population, and a higher rate of divorce and separation (Gale 1970). Beasiey (1970, 185) found kin ties to be important among the Sydney Aboriginal population. People desired to live with relatives from their own rural area, and kin relations determined household composition and entailed obligations to provide hospitality.

CONCLUSIONS Anthropological knowledge of Aboriginal kinship and social organisation has advanced considerably over the last quarter-century. There have been significant additions to ethnography. To mention only monographs, anthropologists have.made

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substantial contributions to knowledge of Groote Eylandt, Warlpiri, Gidjlngali, Murinbata, Gunwinggu, Tiwi, Western Desert, Kimberley, and Yolngu kinship (Rose 1960a, Turner 1974, Meggitt 1962, Hiatt 1965, Falkenberg 1962, Berndt and Berndt 1970, Hart and Pilling 1960, Goodale 1971, Thomson 1972, Tonkinson 1978b, Lucich 1968, Myers 1986, Shapiro 1981). Several scholars have contributed synthetic treatments (Maddock 1972, Shaplro 1979, Scheffler 1978, Turner 1980a). Let me now return to the question with which we began-how far have Barnes's and Meggltt's hopes and fears been realised? Formal analysis of categories and rules has become less prominent in Aboriginal kinship studies, although it continues. The emphasis has Indeed swung more to a consideration of 'how the system really works', especially through the recent work of anthropological linguists.We no longer expect to find very neat patterns of closed systems. Nevertheless formal models have proved to be heuristically valuable, stimulating research and debate, despite the danger that they might be built on false assumptions. Furthermore, it is necessary to understand the logical properties of systems of categories and rules In order to examine how they are applied in practice. Sophisticated comparative studies such as that of Scheffler (19781, despite their apparent narrowness and formalism, will be of great value in constructing broader based comparative studies. Anthropological knowledge of local organlsation has grown during the last decade in part through land claim research in the Northern Territory, although land claim anthropology is often limited by the requirements of the Act, Recent research has shown Aboriginal social organisation to be more varied and less firmly based in nesting corporations than was assumed at the beginning of the period. We find, rather, that Aboriginal land holding groups are often embedded in a network of crosscutting, more inclusive, but loosely bounded, sets. Furthermore,there are no clearly bounded Aboriglnal societies such as the 'tribe' model suggests. Comparative studies have tended to be uni-dimensional, and to assume universals in Aboriginal social organisation. It is high time for broader based comparative studies to be attempted, not least along the lines proposed by Stanner over twenty years ago (19651, Given the centrality of kinship in Aboriginal social organlsation, the anthropology of Aboriginal kinship must begin to examine more widely the implications of different forms of kinship systems for social and economic organisation. Such comparative studies can be both synchronic and historical. The Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies bibliographies of the early 1960s expressed a divide between studies of traditional social llfe and of social change.The influence of Marxism has led younger anthropologists to demand that studies of contemporary Aboriginal social llfe be

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embedded in its social, political and historical context. The study of Aboriginal social life in its broader social context of fringe camps, cattle stations, missions and towns is no longer regarded as second rate. I see no great conflict between this goal and the goal of reconstructing pictures of Aboriginal social life of the past, aided by ethnohistorical data, for Aboriginal institutions have been shaped by millennia of life in a continent of hunters and gatherers. Historically informed accounts of the interaction of Aborigines and settlers, and of changes in Aboriginal social life, depend on hypotheses about the past. However, the terms of reference have changed greatly over the last twenty-five years. Anthropologists studying contemporary Aboriginal social life find its richness and variety inherently fascinating. Its value does not lie in being simply a gateway to a pristine past.=

NOTES I.Eikin subsumes the Kumbaingeri under the Kariera system, substitutes the Nyui-Nyui for the Aranda, and the skewing Ungarinyinfor the Yaraide type, and adds the Aiuridja system. There are four lines of descent in the latter, but cross-cousins are ciassified as B and 2, and father's and mother's cross-cousinsare ciassified as B and 2, and father's and mother's cross-cousins are classified as parents' brother and parents' sister. Cross-cousin marriage is prohibited, and marriage is to a different kind of second cross-cousin than in Nyui-Nyui or Aranda systems. 2. For example Scheffier posits a supercioss F ' ATHERS ' SISTER' which included the categories rnukul b a : p (FL) and rnukulrurnaru (MMBD, potential WM).The fact of the matter is, however, that despite the common element rnukul, a man cannot legitimately marry dhuway, the daughter of rnukul ba:pa, whereas galay. the daughter of rnukulrurnaru is the only proper spouse category. Yoingu peopie define rnukul ba:pa as the daughter (mC)of rnari'rnu (FF) and the daughter (WC)of rnurnu (FM, MFZ), and would define rnukul rurnaru as the daughter (mC)of rna:rl (MMB)and of rnurnalkur (MMBW, MMMBD), and the galay (W) of ngaplpl (MB) and so on. Furthermore the superclass equivaiences are context dependent (Rumsey 1982).Ethnographic data show that there is more than one set of superciasses, and that these overlap. Yolngu peopie told me that dhumungur (FZDC) and ngathlwolkur (MMMBS) are both 'kinds of waku' (WC,MMM).This equation conflicts with their inclusion by Scheffier in tross-grandchild' and kross-grandparent' superciasses.

3. Shapiro uses the term 'kindred' in an unusual way, for the kindred is apparently defined in terms of cian membership in conjunction with genealogical iinks. The lineages which comprise Yoingu clans are not always connected agnaticaiiy however, so that some members of a person's kindred appear to be members solely by virtue of cian membership, rather than ciose geneaiogicai iinks. My data show that there are no absolute criteria for defining 'full' as opposed to 'partial' kin, and the cian of a ciose relative may include both categories (Keen 1986). Furthermore, twenty-nine per cent of marriages in Shapiro's sample did not conform to any of his five criteria of kindred endogamy.

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4. Brotherhood group endogamy is exemplified by the Kaiadllt. Patrigroup family exogamy is exemplified by the Varalde. The Alurldja and Dieri exemplify the third type, brotherhood group endogamy with patrigroup family exogamy. The fourth type is direct exchange renewable in consecutive generations, exemplified by the Kariera. Direct exchange renewable in alternate generations is the fifth type, exemplified by eastern Arnhem Land, Mara and Anyula, Aranda and Nyul-Nyul.The sixth type is direct exchange renewable every third generation. exemplified by the Bardi. Turner goes on to hypothesiseprocesses of change from Kariera to Aranda types. and characterises Karadjerl systems as transitional. Similarly Ungarinyin Is transitional between Aranda and Kariera.

5. 1 am grateful to Kerry Nagle and Scean Kearns for bibliographical assistance, and to the Department of Anthropology and Sociology, University of Queensland, for support.

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1976 indirect Exchange in a Symmetrical System: Marriage Alliance in the Western Desert of Australia, Ethnoiogy 15(2), 135-49. Schebeck, R 1973 The Adnjamathanha PersonalPronoun and the 'Waiipi Kinship System: Papers in Australian Linguistics No 6, Pacific Linguistics Series A, No 36. 1974 Texts on the Sociai System of the Adnjamathanha People, Pacific Linguistics Series D, No 21. Scheff ler, H.W. 1970 The Elementary Structures of Kinship, by Ciaude L6vi-Strauss:A Review Article, American Anthropologist 72(12), 251-68. 1971 Some Aspects of Australian Kin Classification, Mankind 8, 25-30. 1972a Kinship Semantics, Annual Review of Anthropoiogy 1, 309-28. 1972b Afterword. In D.F. Thomson, Kinship and Behaviour in North Queensland: A Preliminary Account of Kinship and Sociai Organization on Cape York Peninsula, Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra, 57-72. 1973a Austraiian Kin Classification, Paper presented at the International Congress of Anthropological and Ethnological Sciences, Chicago. 1973b Kinship. Descent and Alliance. in J.J. Honigmann (ed),Handbook of Sociai and Cultural Anthropology, Rand McNally, Chicago, 747-93. 1974 Meaning and Use in Ngarinyin Kin Classification, Oceania 54(4), 310-22. 1978 Austraiian Kin Classification, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. 1980 Comments on the Double Helix Kinship Model. American Ethnologist 7(1), 190-92. 1982 Theory and Method in Social Anthropology: On the Structures of Systems of Kin Classification, American Ethnologist 9(1), 167-84. Scheffler, H.W. and F! Jorlon 1981 Austraiian Kin Classification, Man 16(1), 139-41. Scheffler, H.W. and F.G. Lounsbury 1971A Study In StructuralSemantics: The Siriono Kinship System, Prentice-Hail,EnglewoodCliffs, New Jersey. Service, E.R. 1960 Sociocentric Relationship Terms and the Austraiian Class System. In G.E. Dole and R.L. Carneiro [eds), Essays in the Science of Culture in Honour of Lesiie G. White, Crowell, New York, 416-36. Shapiro, W. 1967a Relational Affiliation in 'Unilineal' Descent Systems, Man 12. 161-63. 1967b Semi-moiety Organization, Mankind 6, 465-67. 1968 The Exchange of Sister's Daughter's Daughters in Northeast Arnhem Land, Southwestern Journal of Anthropoiogy 24, 346-53. 1969 Semi-moiety Organization and Mother-in-LawBestowal in Northeast Arnhem Land, Man 4 NS, 629-40. 1970a Local Exogamy and the Wife's Mother in Aboriginal Australia. In R.M. Berndt (ed),Australian Aboriginal Anthropoiogy, University of Western Australia Press, Nediands, 51-69. 1970b The Ethnography of the Two-section System, Ethnology 9, 380-88.

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1971 Patri-groups, Patri-categoriesand Sections in Australian Aboriginal Social Classification. Man 6 NS, 590-600. 1973 Residential Grouping in Northeast Arnhem Land, Man 8 NS, 365-83. 1979 Social Organization In AboriglnalAustrallo, Australian National University Press. Canberra. 1981 Miwuyt Marriage, Institute for the Study of Human issues. Philadelphia. 1982 The Place of Cognitive Extensionism in the History of Anthropological Thought, [Review of 'Australian Kin Classification' by H.W. Scheffler),Journalof the blynesian Society 91[2), 257-97. Sheik, H. (edl 1963 Australian Aboriglnal Studies: A Symposlum of Papers Presented at the 1961 Research Conference, Oxford University Press, Melbourne. Spencer, R 1914 Natlve Tribes of the Northern Territory of Australia, Macmilian, London'. Stanner, W.E.H. 1965 Aboriginal Territorial Organization:Estate, Range, Domain and Regime, Oceania 36, 1-26. 1979 Durmugam on Kinship and Subsections, Canberra Anthropologist 2[2), 46-56. Strehlow, T.G.H. 1965 Culture. Social Structure and Environment in Aboriginal Central Australia. In R.M. Berndt and C.H. Berndt (eds). Aboriglnal Man in Australia, Angus and Robertson, Sydney, 121-45. Sutton, P. 1978 Wik: Aboriginal Society, Territory and Language at Cape Keerweer, Cape York Peninsula, PhD thesis, University of Queensland. 1982 Personal Power, Kin Classification and Speech Etiquette in Aboriginal Australia. In J. Heath, F. Merlan and A. Rumsey [eds), Languages of Kinship in AboriginalAustralia, Oceania Linguistic Monographs No 24, University of Sydney Press, Sydney, 182-200. Testart, A. 1978 Bandes et Clans en Australia Pourquoi des Clans Patrilineaires et Localises, Journal de la Soclete des Ocianistes 34(61), 147-59. 1981 On the Anteriority of Matrilineal Descent in Australia: Logical Mathematical Evidences, Mankind 13[1), 15-24. Thornson, D.F. 1972 Kinship and Behaviour in North Queensland: A Preliminary Account of Kinship and Social Organlzation on Cape York Peninsula, Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. Tindale, N.R 1962 Some Population Changes Among the Kaiadilt of Bentinck Island, Queensiand, Records of the South Austrdian Museum 14, 297-336. 1974 Aborlginal Tribes of Australia: Their Terrain, Environmental Controls, Distribution, Limits and Proper Names, Australian National University Press, Canberra. Tjon Sie Fat, F. 1981 More Complex Formulae of Generalized Exchange, Current Anthropology 22, 377-99.

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1983 Age Metrics and Twisted Cylinders: Predictions from a Structural Model, American Ethnologist lO(3). Tonkinson, R. 1974 The Jigaiong Mob: Aboriginal Victors of the Deserf Crusade, Cummings, Menlo Park California. 1978a Semen Versus Spirit Child in a Western Desert Culture. In L.R.Hiatt (ed),Australian Aboriginal Concepts, Australian lnstitute of Aboriginai Studies, Canberra, 81-92. l978b The MardudjaraAborigines: Livingthe Dream in Australia's Desert, Holt, Rinehart and Winston, New York. Turner, D.H. 1974 Tradition and Transformation: A Study of Aborigines in the Groote EylandtArea of Northern Australia, Austraiian Institute of Aboriginai Studies, Canberra. 1977 The Concept of Kinship:Some Qualifications Based on a Re-examinationof the Australian Data, Bijdragen tot-de-Taal-,Land- en Volkenkunde 133(1), 23-43. 1980a Australian Aboriginal Social Organization, Humanities Press, Atlantic Highlands and Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, New Jersey and Canberra. 1980b Leiden Anthropology and the Reinterpretationof Australian Aboriginal Social Organization, Bijdragen tot-de-Taal-,Land- en Volkenkunde 136(1), 116-35. 1980c Aranda and Alyawara, American Ethnologist 8, 780-82. Verdon, M, and l? Jorion 1981 The Hordes of Discord: Australian Aboriginal Social Organization Reconsidered,Man 16(1), 90-107. Warner. W.L. 1937 A Block Civilization: A Study of an Australian Trlbe, Harper and Row, New York. White, I. 1981 Generation Moieties in Australia: Structural. Sociai and Ritual implications, Oceania 52(1), 6-27. White, N. 1976 A Preliminary Account of the Correspondence Among Genetic, Linguistic, Social and Topographic Divisions in Arnhem Land, Mankind 10, 240-47. Yaliop, c 1968 A Brief Survey of Alyawara Kinship Terminology in Use at Lake Nash, Northern Territory, typescript (AIAS restricted use), Canberra. Yengoyan, A.A. 1968 Demographic and Ecological influences on Aboriginal Australian Marriage Sections. In R.B. Lee and I. DeVore (eds), Man the Hunter, Aidine, Chicago, 185-99. 1972 Biological and Demographic Components in Aboriginal Australian Socio-economic Organization, Oceania 43(2), 85-95. 1984 Review of 'Names and Substance of the Australian Subsection System' by C.G. Von Brandenstein, Anthropological Linguistics 26(3), 345-49.

CHRISTOPHER ANDERSON Anthropology and Australian Aboriginal economy 1961-1986' Australian Aboriginal economic life, defined broadly as the way Aborigines make a living, was one of the foremost characteristics which singled out this culture and its people for attention from the earliest days of contact, Indeed, it was particular features of thls economy-the lack of cultivation, the simplicity and sparsity of its technology and the low level of specialisation-which led nineteenth century theorists such as Morgan, to place Aborigines at the lowest levels of their evolutionary scales. Other traits too, for example low intellect and a 'base' nature, were presumed to be closely related to Aboriginal modes of living. On the other hand, the notion of Aborigines as noble savages was based on the presumptionthat Aboriginal economy was more natural and closer to the supposed original idyllic state of early humans. The reputation of the Australian Aboriginal economy as simple was thus well established very early on, and it continued, ironically, as the emerging discipline of anthropology was demonstrating the complexity of Aboriginal life in other areas, particularly social organisation,The simplicity of the economy and the complexities of its social life were seen for many years as unconnected.The unproblematic nature of what was regarded as economy probably accounts in part for the relative lack of importance accorded it in the mainstream of research in the first fifty or so years of Australian anthropology. In the quarter-century since the first Institute conference in 1961, the economy of Australian Aborigines, in one guise or another, has become a topic of increased importance. The aim of this chapter is to review critically and comprehensively the research which has been done in anthropology on the topic of Aboriginal economy in the past twenty-five years. My aim is to discern broad patterns of theory and approach rather than recount ethnographic descriptions. I am relatively unconcerned with the content of scholars' descriptions and will focus more on the nature of the description, and the assumptions underlying it. Also, owing to the brief given, I concentrate primarily on work done in social anthropology. It will be necessary, however, to say something of related work on economy in other disciplines. I note four major trends in anthropological research with respect to economy over the last twenty-five years. These are interlinked and overlap and particular scholars often cut across several categories. They are thus only very broad trends, but they nonetheless represent fundamentally different concepts, assumptions and methods. The four are: I , economy as material culture and as food getting activity; 2, the consideration of human social and cultural activity, including economic, within an ecological framework;

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economy as the measurable state of human material conditions (le the figures whlch economists produce): and 4, economy as part of a broader set of social relations or polltlcal economy. Before discussing these categories it is Importantto examine briefly the major concerns In anthropology In the period just prior to the 1961 conference. Then, as something of a baselinefor thls present chapter, I will summarise what was said at that conference concerning Aboriglnal economy. 3,

NOTIONS OF ABORIGINAL ECONOMY AROUND 1961 The major research Interests around the time of the 1961 conference were kinship (Meggltt 1962, Rose 1960, Warner 1958) and mythology and religion (Stanner 1959-61, 1963, McConnell 1957), Interest was developing In local organisation (Berndt 1959, Hiatt 19621, and In the issue of polltical control (Sharp 1958, Hiatt 1959, Hart and Pilling 1960), Under the direction of Elkln, work was also being done on the position of Aborlglnes in European dominated rural areas (Bell 1959, Gale 1964, Reay 1964). The economic life of Aboriglnes had always been a relatively neglected area of research in Australia. In 1959, Berndt, In an article entitled 'Research Demanding Urgent Aitention', noted that 'as far as detailed studies of economlc organ1zation.are concerned, there is much we need to know' (in Shells 1963, 448). Throughout the 1961 conference attention was continually drawn to the need for work on Aboriglnal economy. It was stated that 'studies of the ecology of selected areas from the point of view of a hunting and collecting economy are lacklng but are essential If we are to understand the economlc basis of tradltlonal Aborlglnal llfe' (Shells 1963, 469); and that 'one aspect of Aborlglnal llfe about whlch we know little Is the pattern of economic and productive activities under tradltional condltlons' (Sheils 1963, 200; see also pages 172, 184, 412, 463, 468, 470, 474-76). Calls were made for more studies not only in traditional settings: 'In the outback Aboriglnes play an Important part In the modern economy and to understand the social llfe of Aborlglnal rural and pastoral workers study Is needed of the rural and outback economy with special reference to the Aborlglnal component' (Sheils 1963, 469). The final report of the Social and Cultural Anthropology Committee of the conference reported that 'there exist very considerable gaps In existing knowledge of ...the economlc bases of tradltlonal Aboriglnal Ilfe' (In Shells 1963, 463: see also the report of the Material Culture Committee). Why was examlnatlon of economlc aspects of Aborlginal llfe so neglected? The

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reasons were partly practical ones. There were very few anthropologists and many areas and topics to study (Berndt 1963, 444; Elkin 1963, 20; McCarthy 1965). Most of these scholars had as a predominant concern the more formal matters of social structure, Barnes (1963,200-01) mentions two further reasons: the physical, practical difficulties for researchers studying the economic activities of hunting and collecting peoples (see also McCarthy 1963, 184); and the fact that 'the economic life of Aborigines, more than any other aspect of their lives, has been affected by white contact deeply and for a long period of time', The sedentised communities of Aborigines in which most anthropologists worked embodied this change, While these are undoubtedly reasons for the relative paucity of economic studies in Australia, there is a more fundamental one, which relates to how the notion of economy was constituted for researchers in Australia during the period to the early 1960s.The elements of this notion and its continuity in social anthropology for a halfcentury can be seen by comparing the Royal Anthropological Institute's Notes and Queries (1912) and McCarthy's summation of research into 'material life' in 1961 (McCarthy 1963),These two works share a great deal in what they assume economy to encompass. The primary elements of both are: 1, the environment and indigenous knowledge of It; 2, mobility and population as a function of environment; 3, food resources, and techniques for obtaining and for preparation; 4, division of labour; and 5. rules governing access and distribution of food (including religious sanctions). Both works also place great emphasis on tools and technology and on trade and exchange, but the discussion of these is separated from that of the above elements. McCarthy (1963, 174) notes that most of the work on economy in Australia was done before the 1920s. For the period to 1961, he complains that while social anthropologists 'recorded a substantial body of data on the ritual background to the economic life, particularly totemism' (1963, 176), only a handful of works dealt with economy in any comprehensiveway. Here he mentions Kaberry (1939).McCarthy and McArthur (1960),McArthur (19601, and also notes the work of Stanner (1933-341, Thomson (1949) and Berndt (1951) on ceremonial exchange systems. McCarthy's (1963, 184) major recommendation for research into Aboriginal economy was that: Prolongedfield studies by anthropologists willing to travel about with Aborigines are needed for desert, coast. and inland groups to provide adequate data about their relationshipto their environment, use of resources, division of labour, utilization of time, seasonal life, ratios of animal and plant foods and their bearing upon Aboriginal

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physique, the function of the material culture between the people and their environment, and the ritual aspects of the economy.

What was the conception of economy held by social anthropologists in the work they did and published just prior to the 1961conference and into the 1960s?To what degree did it fulfil the requirements as stated by McCarthy? Let us look first at the overviews of Aboriginal culture and life provided during this period by Elkin and by Berndt and Berndt. For the 1964 edition of The Australian Aborigines, Elkin wrote a new chapter on the significant aspects of the Aborigines' nomadic, food gathering economy, entitled 'Living off the land: The chapter contains sections on knowledge of nature, the seasons, technology, hunting and food gathering techniques, material possessions, and nomadism.It also contains a discussion based on economic factors of the classification of Aborigines among the world's cultures. In The World of the FirstAustralians, also published in 1964, the Berndts have a chapter entitled 'The basis of economic life', in which the topics discussed include exploitation of the natural environment, food preparation, hunting and gathering techniques, division of labour, reciprocity and exchange and trade. McCarthy's (1957)overview includes chapters called 'Hunters, fishers and foragers' and 'The stone-age craftsmen: He notes in the introduction (1957, 33) that 'the economic life embraces a very wide field-the search for food and its distribution, feasts, obligations of barter and gift exchange, material culture, ritual and magic, and the songs, sacred sites and paraphernalia associated with them, the ownership of property and the everyday social regulations: The work by the geographer Lawrence (1968), also provides an overview, this time through comparison of subsistence techniques, technology and resources in different environments in Australia. Meggitt published a considerableamount on Aborigines during this period. How did he deal with economy? Generally, the topics he includes coincide with those of Elkin and those of Berndt and Berndt. in a general paper entitled 'Aboriginal foodgatherers of tropical Australia', Meggitt (1964a) discusses habitat, diet, techniques for gaining food, the importance of vegetable foods and use of flre to alter the landscape. Meggitt (1964bI includes material on technology and mobility. In his work on the Warlpiri, Meggitt separates these economic aspects from his major ethnographic concerns, Meggitt's 1957 paper is concerned with 'wild foods of the Warlpiri', and in Deserthople (1962) there is only brief habitat description and a list of food resources: local organisation and social structure are described as

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independent of economy. Similarly, Meggitt (1966) has no discussion of economy defined in the McCarthy sense. Hart and Pilling's (1960) work on the Tiwi includes a chapter called 'Life in the bush: It discusses daily economic activities, hunting and gathering techniques, material culture production and residential group composition. Goodale (1971) spends a chapter looking at the economic role of the Tiwi wife, in which she discusses division of labour, men's and women's foods, men's and women's food getting equipment, food preparation and distribution, and beliefs concerning foods and food gathering. Berndt and Berndt (1970), in their Gunwinggu monograph, follow the pattern of their overview work and include a chapter called 'Living with the land', in which they discuss seasonality, food resources and preparation, material culture, and knowledge of the environment. Turner (1974) has a section on subsistence economy in which he describes Groote Eylandt Aboriginal resources, food taboos, preparation techniques, tools used and division of labour. Worsley (1961), also for Groote Eylandt, discusses food resource utilisation. Mountford (1965) describes for the Ayers Rock area Aboriginal economy as a 'means of gaining a livelihood in the desert' and looks at resources and equipment. Two other social anthropologists, Hiatt and Munn, who worked in Arnhem Land and central Australia respectively during this period, say little or nothing about economy in the McCarthy sense in their major works (eg Hiatt 1965, Munn 1973). What can be said then about the way these anthropologists defined economy? Two major points stand out: first, in their writings economy is object and activity oriented, with the environment there in a contextual way; second, it is by and large seen as a domain independent of social structure and other similar features. The scholars who did include economic data in their ethnographic work during this period, covered, at least, McCarthy's recommendationson environment, resources, techniques and technology. Division of labour was sometimes described, but the rules governing access and distribution less so. In any case, both for McCarthy and for other writers here, division of labour was really seen as merely a function of production tasks and of general factors such as gender and age, not something more basically related to social structure.Similarly, the rules governing access to and distribution of food were seen as discrete bodies of cultural beliefs and actions almost at the level of 'how to' instructions. This is especially true of McCarthy's mention of totemism and ritual as part of socioeconomic life (eg 1963, 175)-they are seen as connected only in a superficial, pragmatic sense. McCarthy's work was a focal point for a definition of economy which had reigned

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supreme in Australian anthropology for many decades. It was one largely accepted by social anthropologists working from the late 1950s to the mid-1960~~ Yet a decade after the 1961 conference McCarthy still complained about the lack of work on economy done by anthropologists. In 1970 he noted that the Institute had funded only five projects on material culture (out of a total of 305) since its inception (McCarthy 1970, 13). In the year following his retirement as Prlnclpal, McCarthy sharply criticised social anthropologists for their fallure to deal adequately with Aboriginal economy, He said that while social anthropologists had been arguing since the 1920s about local organisation, tribal boundaries, kinship, and political authority (assuming then that these are unrelated to economy), 'the daily economic life of the Aborigines lacks clear definition, largely because insufficient ethnographic data has been collected in widespread areas as a key to the understanding of these and other matters' (McCarthy 1971, 24). It is worthwhile quoting more of McCarthy's chastisement here as it demonstrates something of his notion of economy and of how it was basically atheoretical and largely only a matter of needing more data. He says (1971, 24): Perhaps I am beating a tired horse when I complain of the numbers of papers one reads whlch are reduced to the bare theoretical issues, the economic life Is summarized in a few paragraphs and the material culture is completely Ignored...Thus, while the cohesion of Aboriginal culture, and the interdependence of each unit within It upon all of the others, is stressed by social anthropologists, they contlnue to compartmentize [sic] field research into social structure, kinship, religion, the role of women, mythology and the like, or abstruse aspects of them.

What McCarthy is saying seems by and large to be true. Social anthropologists in this period saw description of the envlronment, technology and food getting techniques as part of the normal comprehensive ethnography. A section on this was seen as unproblematlc description, and an almost obligatory part of one's introduction to the real problems and the more exciting aspects of Aboriginal life. Yet It is difficult to blame them. Economy as defined in practice within the McCarthy tradition was largely without social or cultural content.There were no great theoretical problems to address, only more data to gather, Theory In McCarthy's sense consisted of a search for origins and distributional and variational matters. The sterility of such a notion of economy-noted very early on by Mallnowski-is demonstrated by the lack of interest shown in it after about the 1960s. However, it is not solely McCarthy's fault. He did argue, as I noted above, for the examination of some social factors in discussing economy. Yet neither he nor the social anthropologists mentioned above

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had the theoretical means by which to integrate economy with the social and cultural aspects of Aborlginal life that concerned them so greatly. The irony here is that elsewhere in the world, following from Maiinowski but largely stemming from Raymond Firth, a vital and productive sub-discipline of economic anthropology was emerging. The question to consider briefly here is why there was never any economic anthropology as such in Australia (at least not among those anthropologists working with Aborigines); this certainly was not true of those based in Australia but doing fieldwork in Melanesia or the Pacific. Partly, I think, it was a matter of tradition. The notion of economy as material culture and subsistence activity had dominated Australia since the time of the earliest ethnographers. As has been pointed out many times, there was also the powerful influence (on what was after all a very small number of scholars) of, first, RadcliffeBrown and then Elkin. Their overriding interest in the formal structures of social organisation, kinship and belief systems set a firm imprint on anthropology in Australia. But in addition, if one defined economy as objects and activities, and these things had been affected by contact very early on, then of course one had little or no economy to study. Finally, the economic anthropology being done in other parts of the world in the Firth tradition was generally with peoples who had markets and market commodities, capital investment goods, currencies and so on. It was generally the view that there were no equivalent phenomena in Aboriginal Australia and that therefore, there could be no economic anthropology here.2

ECONOMY AND ECOLOGY By the mid-1960sthere emerged not only a new conception of economy in Australian Aboriginal studies, but also a new way of thinking about the inter-relatedness of aspects of Aboriginal life. This was the beginning of the ecology era. Most work on economy per se during this period was subsumed within this larger framework, so it is to this that we now turn. Ecoiogical concepts have been In use in the natural sciences since the nineteenth century, Interest in them developed within Australian anthropology for several reasons. Partly it was dissatisfactionamong younger scholars with a dominant paradigm's disregard for study of the material conditions of Aboriginal life. There also developed in this era a general concern in western societies for the environment. The notion of humans living within the environment rather than separate from it, was

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popularised. Such concerns went hand in hand in American anthropology with a resurgence of interest in the work of scholars such as Leslie White and Julian Steward, and a subsequent burgeoning of fields such as cultural ecology. These developments also affected Australian anthropology. Along with ecological approaches to fieldwork came the classification built into an evolution oriented theory-Australian Aborigines became 'hunter-gatherers: This is a significant shift which implies a number of fundamental things about the new approach. Aborigines were no longer merely the people indigenous to Australia: they were placed, according to their subsistence means and ways, into a category along with other peoples from all over the world. This indicatesthat the new framework was both materially oriented and comparative. In the mid-1960s major conferences were held which focused on hunter-gatherers, and the publication of papers from them along with the Harvard based research on the lKung and other southern African foraging societies were to have great impact on Australian anthropology. The most signlficant conference was, of course, the first 'Man the Hunter' conference in 1966 in Chicago. Out of this came the seminal work edited by Lee and DeVore (19681, in which there are papers on Australian Aborigines by Birdsell, Hiatt, Meggitt, Pilling, Rose and Yengoyan. It is indicative that most of the discussion of Australian material concerns ideological systems and formal models. During this same period, there were also several Canadian conferences on band societies (eg Dumas 1969). The interests and assumptions represented in these conferences were to influence quite a number of Australian researchers undertaking doctoral work in the early to mid-1970s. I will return to these shortly. There are two other factors which also helped bring about an increasing focus on Aboriginal ecology: the emergence of archaeology in Australia; and the debates in the 1960s on local organisation. I will now discuss each of these, the first, because a great deal of work on economy (perhapsmore than that by social anthropologists) has been done by archaeologists; and the second, because with the local organisation discussion, we can see the consequences of an overconcern with formal models to the neglect of the physical and material realities of Aboriginal life.

Archaeology, ecology and economy Prehistory has always been interested in environment and in the economic activities and materlal culture of Its subject peoples. Environment, partly because its parameters affect the nature of the evidence; economic activities and their associated objects,

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because it is their residue which is the evidence. Prehistory was first taught in Australia at the University of Sydney from the early 1960s. Topics for the honours degree theses done then reflect this interest in environment and economic activities. Ailen (1968), Bickford (1966) and Hiatt (1965), for example, deal with reconstructions of various traditional economies. Theses in prehistory were also being done on similar topics at the University of New England during this period (eg Sullivan 1964, 1970).The sources for such works were almost entirely historical and archaeological and the topics examined included detailed descriptions of the relevant environments, as well as of dlet, equipment and food procuring methods, and size and movement of populations. In this respect then, these works more or less conform to the earlier definition of Aboriginal economy as set down by McCarthy. At the same time that the first Sydney trained prehistorians were finishing their postgraduate work in the new Department of Prehistory at the Australian National University, seminars were being held there on Aborigines and environment in Australia. The papers from these appeared subsequently in Mulvaney and Golson (1971, vii) and they bttempt[ed] the first comprehensive specialist sketch of prehistoric environment, land use and adaptation in Australia: The papers include detailed discussions of environment and its long term changes: of the implications of this for archaeological evidence; and of changes in the genetics and population structure of Aboriginal groups; the relationship between ethnographic data and archaeological evidence; and a paper on Aboriginal habitat, economic activity and equipment and their relationship to environment. The above work, while focused on environment, did not yet have the hallmarks of cultural ecology: the notion of ecosystem and the causal (or at least, correlative) explanatory emphasis, The prehistorian who played a significant role in introducing such things to the study of Aboriginal life was Richard Gould. Gould undertook fieldwork with Aborigines in the Warburton Ranges from 1966 to 1967. His work was based on the notion of 'living archaeology1-the gathering of ethnographic data on the types of problems which confront archaeologists when they are excavating and analysing their data. His first major paper from this work is entitled 'Subsistence Behaviour Among the Western Desert Aborigines of Australia: In it Gould (1969a, 273) argues for holistic descriptions of Aboriginal life which concentrate on 'daily life and the business of making a living under chancy and often rigorous physical conditions: He proceeds to describe the environment of the Western Desert, the demography of the Aboriginal population there and subsistence means (food resources, food getting techniques, etc). He notes that Warburton Aborigines tend not to maximise

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the food storage potentiais that they have and instead prefer to relax and forage on a day to day basis (1969a, 265). Gould also stresses the severely limiting role of water in the desert economy and settlement patterns, He argues (1969a, 267) that there are three main factors which determine the directions in which camp shifts are made: I, where rain was last seen failing (the most important factor); 2, the direction of known food staples at a given time of year; and 3, the direction of known waterhoies in line with factors 1 and 2, Gould aiso stresses the practical value of exogamous marriage in the establishment of usage rights in territorles other than one's own. In his book Yiwaro (1969b), Gould argues, among other things, for the utilitarian functions of ceremonies which involve the inculcation of discipline and the learning of site names which are also associated with waterholes. He says this 'show[s] that Aboriginal ceremonial life is not cut off from the practicalitiesof subsistence and daily living' (1969b, 121; see aiso Gould 1982, 86), This functional relationship between sociocuitural institutions and ecological variables is an important theme of Gould's other major work LivingArchaeology (1980, X-xi). He argues for the careful application of uniformitarian generalisations: about human behaviour that are not subject to alteration or amendment through symbolic or ideationai manipulations by the human beings we propose to study...ecology [is] one area of study that has produced general principles of a uniformitarianistnature that can be used to understand and explain Important aspects of human behavior. By looking first at the general relations between ecological variables and particular adaptive responses by human beings in specific societies. we can establish a baseline against which to measure the effects of symbolic and ideational variables in such situations.

Gould (1980,43) rejects the notion of culture as being of little use to the analyst 'trying to observe relationships between the essential requirements for sustaining human life in given kinds of situations and the ways in which people behave in response to those requirements: in describing Aboriginal behaviour within a total ecosystem, Gould draws on a distinction made by Bennett (1969) between adaptive behaviour and adaptive processes. The former is problem solving or coping behaviour by individuals and groups in the short term, whereas the latter involves the cumulative effects of these strategies (whether successfui or not) over a longer term. The adaptive behaviours which Gould (1980, 62-69) lists for Western Desert Aborigines include:

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a diet which is primarily vegetable based; men hunting regularly but with poor results; women working a maximum of six to seven hours a day obtaining food; ample leisure time; large group aggregations (up to 150 people) occurring at times of good hunting, this also being the ceremony time; and groupfissioning linked directly with the decrease in water availabiiity, signalled by a reduction in meat intake. The most important adaptive process is one Gould (1980, 86-87) describes as risk minimisation: NI subsistence decisions and behavior...tend to minimize uncertainty, even at the possible expense of increased yields of food in certain areas where reliable waterholes do not exist: Regular seasonal movements, such as exist elsewhere in Australia (see below), do not and could not occur in the Western Desert. Gould says (1980, 87): Movement by groups is frequent and far-rangingand is basically random with respect to areas that do contain usable water sources. Groups also fluctuate in size in direct response to the local availability of rainwater..Kirtuallyno other options exist, and a hunting and gathering life based on any other approach, including a seasonal one, would surelv fail.

In Gould's (1980, 87) view then, 'technological, economic and social behavior can be viewed as responding to and interacting with other ecological variables' More than this, he suggests that all social and cultural institutions and traditions have to be consistent with the limiting factors which occur within their particular system (1980, 109).He argues both here and in other works (eg Gould 1982)that particuiar institutions which seem to be only cultural in content actually have a functional reality at a different level, namely an ecological one, The best example of this is sharing behaviour, which Gould (1982, 73) describes as a way of accumulating social capital to: 'minimize risks in an inherently risky environment [Western Desert Aborigines] establish and maintain multiple, long-distance kin sharing networks that enable people to move freely to better favored areas during drought'. Sharing behaviour, he concludes, is a result of environmental circumstance and not of culture (see also Gould 1981). The fundamental issue for Gould, then, is to determine the invariant limiting factors within a given ecosystem and to identify the adaptations which people have made to them. I have discussed Gould's work at length, as he has written more on Aboriginal

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economy than most social anthropologists during this period, and also because it is in his work that we can see most explicitly the concepts and assumptions of the ecological school. On the eastern side of central Australia and working within the same framework as Gould, there is also the ethnoarchaeological work of O'Connell and others on the Alyawarra (see Hawkes and O'Connell 1981, O'Conneli and Hawkes 1984, O'Connell, Latz and Barnett 1983, Binford 1984). In northern Australia significant work on Aboriginal ecology and economy has also been done by the archaeologists, Rhys Jones and Betty Meehan.They did major fieldwork with the Anbarra of eastern Arnhem Land from 1972-73. Originally they had thought that they would be merely recording 'some remnant information about the subsistence strategies of an Aboriginal group which would be relevant to the archaeology that [they] planned to do in the same area' (Meehan 1982, 9).3Because they found themselves 'in the midst of a fully functioning hunting and gathering society', they decided to document more systematically and comprehensively all aspects of Anbarra ecology and economy. Meehan's published work focuses on shellfish and shellfish gathering as the primary element of Anbarra subsistence ecology.She stresses the importance of habitat and of local and seasonal variations in resources and In exploltation and settlement patterns (Meehan 1977a. 197713, 1982). Meehan's conclusions are that the Anbarra have a two-part strategy which combines opportunistic economic activities with dependence on the reliable supplies of shellfish and vegetables. She also stresses that Aborigines, such as the Anbarra, living on the tropical coast, are affluent with respect to time spent making a living and with respect to the quality of their diet. Jones (1980, 129) discusses the land systems or habltats of the Gidjingali, their food resources and seasonal exploitation.Comparlng the coastal groups with those further inland, Jones notes 'a strong correlation between resource diversity and population density: In explaining how the Gidjingali are able to 'float above' seasonal and sporadic environmental stresses, Jones (1980, 136)concludes from quantitative analysis that it is the result of thelr reliance on access to dependable meat sources: 'The Aborigines of the tropical savanna were substantially meat eaters to the extent that some two thirds of the gross weight of food was in the form of meat of all sorts, and that even in calorific terms possibly half of the food came from meat: This is in sharp contrast, Jones points out, to the situation in the arid interior of Australia, where Aboriginal dlet is dominated by vegetable foods. The food getting strategy of the Anbarra Gidjingali is summarised by Jones as combining, along the lines suggested

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by Meehan, 'two types of foraging activities: high yieldllow probability ones with ones giving a low yield but a high probability of success' (Jones 1980, 136). Archaeologists in their focus on the food resources and diet of living Aborigines are also interested in the association of these with macro environments and with long term ecological processes. In a comparative overview, Jones and Bowler (1980) conclude that as a result of ethnographic and other 0bse~ationS with living groups, it is evident that hunters and gatherers of the Australian tropical savanna were primarily meat eaters whereas those of the rainforest areas had a diet dominated by vegetable foods. Jones and Bowier argue that this gives us important clues to the prehistoric origins of horticulture elsewhere and about proto-human diet and environment. Summarising this section, I will mention some of the more important effects of the work by archaeologists, on the analysis of Aboriginal economy. In addition, this is an appropriate point at which to extract the main elements of ecologlcal theory as evident in the use of the framework by researchers in Australia. The main effects of the ecological approach, as represented in its use by archaeologists, were to: I , bring about a focus on actual behaviour instead of concentration solely on conscious models and on verbal behaviour; 2, produce quantitative data on diet, time spent in particular activities, and composition of task groups; 3. bring attention to the inter-relationships between sociocultural institutions and environmental and economic factors; and 4, establish, often in quantitativeterms, the limiting factor of aspects of the Australian environment such as rainfall levels, seasonality, vegetation distribution and topography. The essential components of the ecological framework used by archaeologists have been adopted from biology and include ecosystem, habitat and adaptation. With these, humans are merely seen as one element in a complex, functioning whole. Adaptation is viewed as a process in which change occurs in a particular direction according to some external set of events and most attention here has been given to adaptations of a cultural nature in response to environmental forces. The approach adopted by archaeologists then, in their study of living Aboriginal groups, generally subsumes economy in McCarthy's sense into the larger concept of ecosystem. In general, it treats the environment as an independent variable, it stresses the unity of culture and nature, it tends to be explanation oriented and attempts to be systemic in its description. It is comparative, both with respect to time

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and to geography, and it generally has implicit in it a longer time scale than social anthropological studies. I will discuss below some of the criticisms of this approach made by social anthropologists. It is clear, though, that archaeologists during the period since the late 1960s have made a major contribution to the ethnographic record of Aboriginal subsistence behaviour.This is ironic given that many social anthropologists had been saying for some decades that the opportunities for research of this sort had long disappeared (cf Meehan 1982, 7). There were anthropologists, though, who had written on this topic in Australia, prior to the full development of cultural ecology. It is important to look at their work before dealing with the response of Australian social anthropology in the 1970s to the ecological paradigm.

Thomson, Tindale and Strehlow: the mavericks Donald Thomson was originally trained in zoology and botany at Melbourne University. He demonstrated part time in zoology at Sydney University while doing anthropology. Thomson published extensively in natural history, herpetology and in ornithology, and he was the first student to obtain the Diploma of Anthropology from Sydney under Radcliffe-Brownin 1928 (Peterson 198313).His fieldwork was in Arnhem Land, western Cape York Peninsula and the Great Sandy Desert. His anthropological research interests included those of the more 'normal' anthropology of his day: he published on formal systems of kinship and related behaviour and on mythology and ceremony. He also published on material culture (eg Thomson 1939a, 1939b. 1960) and on particular subsistence activities (eg Thomson 1934). Yet Thomson's major works are ones which were important precursors to the ecologically oriented work of several decades later. 'The seasonal factor in human culture' Fhomson 1939a)was a systematic description of the subsistence of the 'Wik people' within a total environmental context. He establishedthe regular and systematic nature of Aboriginal movement according to season and resource needs and laid the groundwork for the later work (1970s) on ethnoclassification in Australian anthropology. Thomson's (1949) work on ceremonial exchange in Arnhem Land presents a background discussion on social organisation, economic structure and activity, land and resource access, before examining notions of 'wealth' and motivationsfor exchange and production.The book was well received but had little impact on Australian anthropology. Peterson (1983b. 14) states that 'the profession

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typed him as an ecological anthropologist mainly interested in the unfashionable areas of subsistence economics and material culture: Thomson visited central Australia on three fieldtrips in the 1960s. In his posthumous book Bindibu Country (1975, 4). Thomson described his interests: I wanted to learn how [the desert Aborigines] were able to adapt themselves to their environment and procure their food supply from a terrain that appears completely barren, that supports few mammals and has few plants of known economic value...l was interested particularly in the adaptation of these people to extremes of heat and cold, to their method of finding water and the relation of their food-gatheringcycles to the sporadic rains that often deluge quite local areas

Thomson was accompanied by naturalists on his desert trips and, although no major academic work came of these, his 1975 book is interspersed with information on desert ecology, material culture and subsistence activities. Norman Tindale, who originally trained and worked as an entomologist, was Curator of Ethnology at the South Australian Museum from 1927 until 1965. He did major anthropological fieldwork on Groote Eylandt Uindale 1925, 1926, 19591, at Princess Charlotte Bay (Hale and Tindale 1933, 1934), and in central Australia and northern South Australia (see for example, Tindale 1972, 1977, 1981).Tindale's earliest ethnographic works, for example his Princess Charlotte Bay publications, were traditional in their coverage of most aspects of Aboriginal life, although they were probably more comprehensive on material culture and food procuring activities than most work of the time. In 1936-37, while a Carnegie Fellow, Tindale met Carl Sauer at Berkeley.Sauer was a major influence on American ecological anthropology and geography; from this time on, Tindale's anthropological work takes on a distinctly ecological orientation and it shares important assumptions with the work of archaeologists described above (see Tindale 1959, Tindale and Cleland 1954, Cleland 1966).4The multidisciplinary nature of many of his fieldtrips and his interest in natural history also helped incline him in this direction. If one examines his whole work, the importance of the ecological approach and the hypotheses he generated with it become apparent.This fact has become overshadowed by Tindale's reputation concerning his work on 'tribes' in Australia (although the latter is also largely a result of his ecological perspective; see also the work of Birdsell on this).Here I want to review briefly his major works published since 1970. Tindale's 1972 work is a detailed description of the Pitjantjatjara of northern South Australia, Tindale (19811 compares desert dwelling Aborigines with the southern coastal peoples. His massive work on Aboriginal Tribes of Australia (1974) contains

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a great deal of summary information on the ecology and subsistence activities of Aborigines over the whole continent. In his 1972 paper, Tindale gives a description of Pitjantjatjara movements and Of subsistence activities, along with a detailed outline of the region's climate, topography and vegetation.The necessity for the latter is seen in that Tindale posits largely ecological factors for things such as territorial limits and the determination of camp site locations.Territorial limits are 'usually...at places least likely to sustain life for long periods of time' nindale 1972,236).The major factors in camp site location are, according to Tindale: water, firewood, ability to see the approach of strangers, ground texture, presence or absence on the ground of prickly plant species, wind obstruction, distance to game and distance women have to travel to gather vegetable food (1972,244-45). His discussion of Pitjantjatjara social organisation and ceremony is descriptive and not linked directly to environmental factors. However, this Is not the case in his 1981 paper. Here Tindale often argues for a relationship between sociocultural elements and ecological variables. Generally though, unlike Gould, Tindale only goes so far as to posit a likely effect of a particular institution, for example (1981,1857, 1870, 1875): I, the sacrosanct nature of tribal boundaries having 'the pragmatic effect of protecting the carrying capacity of the country'; 2, the practical aspects of the geographical knowledge gained during the 'training' aspects of ceremony; and 3. 'food prohibitions, usually favoring the elderly...seem to have had practical aims in maintaining the species by restricting the[ir] taking'. With respect to prohibitions Tindaie also states (1981,1880)that the 'indication of restrictions on the use of animals suggests that the hunter-gatherer economy did place such food resources under pressure' and that the latter was supported by 'the universal presence of "Increase ceremonies" aimed at inducing nature to stimulate the productivity of animal and plant species vital to the existence of Aborigines: Tindale also argues for the limiting ability of the environment, Rainfall is one of the prime forces he suggests here. in another case, Tindale (1981,1861)suggests mineral deficient soils as a possible explanation for low population numbers in some areas, and that social and communlcatlveboundaries between groups are brought about by 'strong geological, physiographic and ecological factors' (1981,1856).In his work on the tribe in Australia, Tindale argues that ecological factors are of utmost significance in determiningthe size and nature of tribes and the area of their territories (see 1974,31,55).Food resource levels and water supplies are the most significant

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factors in human patterns of aggregation and dispersal (1974,62. 114). In general, for Tindale, many aspects of Aboriginal life, including economy, are directly linked to the ecology of the Australian environment, In his major works, he argues for at least a correlation, if not a causal link, between many social and cultural traits and environment and the physical requirements for existence. Although he is not as detailed in his treatment of ecology as Thomson and Tindale, TGH Strehlow, in at least two of his works (1965, 1970), demonstrates some sophistication in his discussion of the relationship between sociocultural elements and environment in Aboriginal central Australia. The majority of Strehlow's other work concerns wholly social and cultural matters, although he always displayed an awareness of the environment and its force in the desert regions. Strehlow (who originally trained in linguistics) begins his 1965 paper by stating that 'in all human communities social organization, religious beliefs, social control, and material culture can be fully comprehended only when they are considered In their inter-relationswith each other and In relation to their geographical and economic setting' (1965, 121). He discusses in particular how rainfall levels and the localised nature of falls in the arid centre affect Aboriginal settlement patterns. He stresses the ecological advantage of the intense local knowledge that comes of the close ties which members of a local group have with their territory. Strehlow also points out that the totemic relationships between people are not merely religious in nature but also act as a means of spreading risk associated with droughts and other environmental problems. In comparing Aranda speaking groups and Western Desert Aborigines, Strehlow argues that the latter would not be able to operate with a section system because in their harsher environment there could not be economically selfsufficient local groups. Also he attributes the greater degree of cultural conservatism of the Aranda to their relatively richer environment. Finally, Strehlow points out the economic role of restricted access sites, as 'game reserves: In his 1970 paper Strehlow again points to the ecological 'buffer zone' created by the location of many ceremonial sites at permanent waters. He also notes the relationship between resource supply levels and the conduct of ceremony. He concludes that 'the social, political and religious Institutions of the Aboriginal Central Australians [were bound up] with the economic facts of this geographical environment and the detaiis of their totemic landscape' (1970, 133).For Strehlow, then, economy, in the sense of Aborigines making a living, involved both ecological factors and social and cultural ones. In this respect, his work represented in these two papers stands out as unique for this period.

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Thomson, Tindale and Strehlow all wrote about economy in a way which was different from most of the anthropological work of their time. This partly reflected the fact that all three had initially non-anthropological professional backgrounds, It was also a function of the fact that they were largely outside the mainstream of Australian anthropological life, in a geographical, personal and intellectual sense.

Stanner and the local organisation debate The debate on local organisation which occurred in the 1960s also had an effect on anthropological thought and field practice in Australia with respect to economy. I will discuss this briefly before moving to my review of social anthropology (in general) and ecology. I do not wish to review the dimensions of the debate, or even to outline the issues. This has been done by numerous writers (eg Berndt and Berndt 1977, Birdsell 1970, Stanner 1965).The only aspect I wish to refer to is the new level of sophistication of data and data gathering methods concerning land, and land and resource usage, which was an end product of the discussion. Stanner's 1965 paper on 'estate, range and domain' did not argue that local organisation was merely a function of ecological factors (cf Birdsell 1970). Stanner did, however, draw attention to the vital need for systematic consideration of environmental and habitat features in looking at Aboriginal territoriality,He notes (1965. 3): 'The time has certainly come for a consideration of the bearing on territorial organization of the physical regime, that is, the whole combination or assemblage of natural conditions important to life and steadily characterizing a region.' In the end Stanner (1965, 3) still believed that there was no obvious relationship between the sociological and the ecological: 'Social organization and culture...had become so complex in the development of aboriginal life that simple, significant and obvious correlations can scarcely be expected'. Yet he stressed that to understand adequately Aboriginal land occupation and usage patterns, researchers must produce detailed information on ecological variables and a comprehensive picture of Aboriginal interaction with them-in other words, of Aboriginal economy.

Social anthropology and ecology The work done by archaeologists on Aboriginal economy, the interactionswhich some social anthropologists had with archaeologists, along with fashion, and the call by

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Stanner for due consideration of the physical reality of Aboriginai life, all had the effect of increasing the attention paid by social anthropologists to ecology and ec~nomy.~ In this section, instead of attempting a comprehensive coverage, i review representative works from the period to about the late 1970s, by anthropologists working in Arnhem Land and the Western Desert. I then turn to the work focusing on Cape York Peninsula. Finally I summarise the impact of the ecological approach on the study of Aboriginai economy and criticise some of its basic assumptions. in the 1977 edition of their work World of the First Australians, RM and CH Berndt include a new section with comments on the chapter which deals with Aboriginai economic life. In it they discuss some of the issues raised by the more ecologically oriented literature.These issues include the composition of the coresidential economic units and the rights and obligations of its members vis-a-viseach other; adaptation, wherein the Berndts review recent iiterature concerning the physical relationship of Aborigines to various environments; the division of labour and its social implications; and the vital importance of cooperation for survival. RM Berndt (1982, l], mentions the environment and religion as the two major factors which limited internal change and around which social organisation revolved. He aiso says (1982, 3) that 'a kind of social organization' was developed to cope with a situation of 'utter dependence' on the land, In addition, seasonai variation is shown to determine group size and movement (1982,8]. These last two points are also raised in Berndt (1976).Berndt (1979, 24) reviews traditional Aboriginal iife in Western Australia, He discusses the nature of the food getting unit, the seasonal and resource pressures on it and the implications of a division of labour based on gender, That men's activities were more irregular and their return less certain was, he suggests, a possible factor in their greater involvement in ritual affairs. Berndt implies, too, that the ecological view of the unity of culture and nature was an Aboriginal perspective as well. He also stresses, as elsewhere in his works, the kin based nature of cooperation in the economic units of Aboriginal life and the adaptive value of this. Berndt's ethnographic study of the Walmadjeri and Gugadja in Bicchieri's Hunters and Gatherers Today (1972) includes substantial data on ecology and economic iife. It is one of the few works by Berndt within the 'hunter-gatherer' approach so common for this period,in the paper, Berndt describes the Western Desert environment and Aboriginai classification of its physiographic features. He aiso looks at relationships to the land and demonstrates the complementarity of the two most significantsocial categories:the community (one or more local groups) and the band

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(individuals from several different communities). His major point is the significance of the relationship between myth and ritual on the one hand, and socioeconomic life on the other. The mythic tracks which crisscross the desert represent 'the essential fabric of social life', but are also of vital economic significance-mnemonics for sources of water, and information on the locations of other resources, trade channels, and so on (see also Berndt 1970). In The MardudjaraAborigines, Robert Tonkinson includes ethnographic data on 'the physical and ecological setting for Mardudjara culture and provides an overview of the technology and subsistence behavior of the Aborigines as they go about the business of getting a living from their desert homeland' (1978, 20). Topics covered include mobility, flexibility, attitudes toward the environment and knowledge of it. tools, residence patterns, subsistence activities, trade and health and nutrition. Subsistence activities and their relationship to the desert environment are also examined in Kimber (1976, 1984) and Silberbauer (1972). The work of Nicolas Peterson in many ways epitomises the effect of the ecological framework on social anthropology in the late 1960s and early 1970s in Australia. This influence is most apparent in his earlier work where he argues for the use of ethnography in archaeological work in Australia (Peterson 1968, 1971, 1973, 1976a; White and Peterson 1969).Whlte and Peterson (1969). in an attempt to explain variation in a site near Oenpelii, use a seasonal-economic model based on Thomson's (1939a) west Cape York work. In his 1971 paper Peterson complains, like Tindale, of the lack of anthropological interest in ecology and economy and says that it is a reaction to classical environmental determinism (see also Peterson 1973, 191; 1976a, 265). He makes the comment that 'the value of an ecological approach to the study of man is that it does not tie the investigatorto any particular theoretical framework, though it does ensure that recognltion is given to the physical surroundings his subject lives in and to his demography and subsistence patterns' (1971,244-45). In anthropological examinations of Aboriginal economy, Peterson calls for a more sophisticated view of Aboriginal-environment relationships and points out the necessity for fine-grained distinctions of environmental components in this examination. The ecological perspective on economy and aspects of culture becomes most apparent in Peterson's 1973 publication. He notes here that the Aboriginal hunting and gathering 'way of life [was] highly adaptive and closely honed to the Australian environment', He says that the assumption about such adaptation is that, as in biology, 'selection pressure is a determinant of the structure of Aboriginal economies favouring those local variations of regional economies that are more efficient' (1973, 173). Assuming a

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basically unchanged environment and technology, Peterson argues that this pressure will lead to a reduction in food getting effort and to an increase in leisure time. He describes the effects of seasonality, the resources, and diet of the Aborigines of central northeast Arnhem Land and the (basically ecological) reasons for camp site location. He concludes by saying that before we can know anything about the adaptiveness of cultural behaviour, anthropologists need to know what people "'have to do", on the basis of optimality assumptions and given their technology and their environment' (Peterson 1973, 191). Peterson's later paper argues against cultural factors as being the primary cause for Aboriginal failure to adopt horticulture. He says that, rather, it was a consequence of the Aboriginal economy. Peterson describes the latter, following Sahlins's Important 1974 work, as an anti-surplus economy; as having inherent pressure toward reduction of work effort; as having a fluid and flexible pattern of land use, and as demonstrating the principle of diminishing returns and its relationshipto localised adaptations. He argues for an optimising model of behaviour, 'not as the basis for understanding self-conscious decision-making, but for analysing the effects on the economy and settlement patterns of selectlon pressure over long periods of time' (1976a. 268). In a short paper first given in 1976 at a symposium on 'The nutrition of Aborigines in relation to the ecosystem of Central Australia', Peterson (1978a)focuses on Aboriginal adaptation in the Western Desert. He demonstrates the effect on subsistence strategy of amount and distribution of rainfall and looks at diet and work patterns. Elsewhere (1974, 1983b), Peterson looks at the nature of and reasons for residence patterns in his quest to look beyond ideological formulations of land associations. In Peterson (19741, he argues that women are key determinants of some aspects of residential group composition because of the need for older men to have access to women's labour power. Later he assumes that flexibility is the norm for hunting and gathering groups and examines the effect of flux on social process (Peterson 1983b), In the late 1970s the focus of Peterson's work shifted from sociocultural and ecological relationships, to the broader issues of territoriality and the relationship between cultural groupings and environmental patterning. In his 1975 paper, Peterson looks to the ecological aspects of territoriality to explain how populations were regulated, and he discusses the adaptive aspects of unilineal ideologies in localising land using g r ~ u p sPeterson .~ (1976b, 59) looks primarily at the population study aspects of ecology, but he does also summarise the hallmarks of Aboriginal hunting and gathering economy: 'conservation of effort, imminence of dlminlshing returns, seasonality and scheduling, a mixed diet, and the division of labour: He says that

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they 'combine to produce a small-scale exploitative population, the band, that is the basic social unit with adaptive significance in Aboriginal life' (1976b, 59). Peterson (1979) compares !Kung and Aboriginal territorial organisation and finds similarities both in behaviour and in ideologies. He suggests possible ecological reasons for the differences in patterns of residence and association with locale. I will return to this paper shortly. Jon Altman (1979), analyses the pre-contact economy of the Yolngu of northeastern Arnhem Land. He tests Sahlins's (1974)assertion that hunters and gatherers were an affluent society in terms of time spent working, amount of leisure time, and the degree to which their material needs were met. Altman finds that the amount of time spent by Yolngu speaking Aborigines in non-subsistence production for exchange and for ceremonial purposes was so great that subsistence production levels must have been more than adequate. However, in a later paper (1984)based on fieldwork, he doubts this finding. I will return to other aspects of Altman's work later.

Ecology, economy and anthropology in Cape York Peninsula Following the early work of McConnel, Thomson and Sharp, little work was done in Cape York Peninsula from the 1940s until the late 1960s (cf von Sturmer 1978). When work did resume it was a social anthropology significantly influenced by ecological concepts and methods. As with the work reviewed above, the notion of economy in the Cape York work became absorbed into a more general ecosystem concept. Yet there were important differences between the work of the prehistorians in central Australia and the anthropologists in Cape York: first, the primary focus of the latter was on land tenure and occupation (thus economic activities were only one of a number of things that people did on the land); second, as opposed to a sole concentration on social organisation and environment, there remained a strong interest in the interaction of the cultural domain with the ecological context. Cape York Peninsula had been a focus for biological and zoological research for many years as the Archbold and other scientific expeditions to the area demonstrate (see Kikkawa 1976).The Bridge and Barrier volume (Walker 1972) and the interest of prehistorians (eg Golson 1971) in Cape York's proximity to Melanesia also stimulated research into human-land relationships in the area in the early 1970s. At this time the Cape York Ecology Project became a focus for such research. Anthropological work in general in Cape York Peninsula for the period under review was almost wholly land based, In other words, it took Aboriginal relationship

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with the environment-in all its physical and cultural senses-as the basis of inquiry. Not surprisingly, then, the work drew heavily on ecology for models, concepts and methods. Before discussing how this affected its interpretation of Aboriginal economy, 1 want to summarise the Cape York school's primary areas of concentration. There are six major topics which have been the subject of ecological anthropological research interest in Cape York Penlnsula since about 1970: land tenure systems, broad land usage and occupation patterns (Anderson 1979a, 1980, 1983, 1984; Chase 1980a, 1984; Chase and Sutton 1981; Rigsby 1980; Smyth 1982; Sutton 1978; Sutton and Rigsby 1982; Taylor 1976, 1984; von Sturmer 1978); reconstruction of pre-contact subsistence systems and their relationship with contrasting macro- and micro-environments(Anderson 1979a, 1980, 1983, 1984, forthcoming; Chase 1980a, 1980b; Chase and Sutton 1981; Harris 1978; Sutton 1978; Taylor 1976, 1984; von Sturmer 1978); primarily ecological aspects of Aboriginal use of (including effect on) physical environment (Chase 1978, Harris 1975, Hynes and Chase 1982, Webb 1977); socioecological factors and their relationship to language (Sutton 1978, Sutton and Rigsby 1979); political processes and land (Sutton and Rigsby 1982, von Sturmer 1978); and ethnoscience:Aboriginal cultural domains and the physical environment (Chase 1980a, Chase and von Sturmer 1980, Sutton 1980, von Sturmer 1978). In the present review I discuss only the first two of these and attempt to distil from them the principles underlying the work. First, though, it will be instructive to look at the origins of the Cape York Ecology Project (CYEP),as its aims reflected the research interests of the time.' An Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies Ecology Advisory Committee was set up, and first met in November 1973 to consider a long term multidisciplinary ecological study of Cape York Peninsula. Among others, the themes for research were to include: 'energy flow, its history and its transformation to the present in a particular community..,withaccess to marine resources...and the natural and cultural areas of Cape York Peninsula...in evolutionary perspective' (Ucko 1974, 7). The Committee sent Peterson, Chase and Sutton in late 1973 to various Cape York communities to assess Aboriginal support for the project. The project's aim was refined by 1976 to a focus on the ecology of changing subsistence patterns of Aborigines. Most of the fieldworkers who had done research in Cape York Peninsula since the early 1970s were involved in some way with the CYEF', although direct full time research for the

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project was done only by John Beaton (archaeology), myself (social anthropology), and Dermot Smyth (ecology). However, the project acted as an umbrella for most of the fieldwork done in Cape York Peninsula from the mid-1970s to the early 1980s. What work has been done on Cape York Peninsula Aboriginal environment, land usage and subsistence patterns and related matters'?What have been the results and what are the underlyingassumptions?The main studies have been those of Sutton at Cape Keerweer on western Cape York and in the Flinders group in Princess Charlotte Bay; Anderson in the Bloomfield and Annan River areas of southeastern Cape York; Harris in the southern rainforest areas of the Peninsula, the northeast and in Torres Strait; Chase in the Lockhart River region and adjacent coastline; von Sturmer in the Archer and Holroyd regions of the west coast; and Taylor to the south at Edward and Mltchell Rivers. It is worth pointing out that virtually all these researchers have also conducted research wlth one another in most of the other settings. Anderson (1979a) shows how subsistence patterns on the southeast coast correspond to resource clusters and how group Identity is based partly on predominating associated environments. I also describe the tendency for knowledge about environment to be resource speclfic and for the use of that knowledge to be socioculturally restricted.The coastal patterns are contrasted further with the Annan River area inland groups in Anderson (1983,1984). Chase (1980a, Chase and Sutton 1981) in the northeast of Cape York Peninsula also descrlbes the pattern of group identification with habitat type and role of environment/social group specific knowledge (see also Hynes and Chase 1982).He also presents a detailed description of the cultural factors involved in distribution of major meat sources. Chase (1980b) discusses in detail Lockhart River region land tenure systems, estate and larger regional affiliations and the local Aboriginal environmental classification systems, seasonality and group movements. Taylor (1976), working primarily wlth Thaayorre people In southwestern Cape York Peninsula, reconstructs the seasonal patterns of group movements and subsistence resources and activities. Sutton (1978),further north at Cape Keerweer, descrlbes Aboriginal perceptions of season and habitat, and discusses traditional resource exploitation and access rights. David Harris, a geographer, has done considerable work on Aboriginal subsistence and environment in the north Queensland area. In his 1975 and 1976 papers he describes resource use and habitat for four areas: the rainforest of the southeast; the interior of Cape York Peninsula; the northeastern coast; and Torres Strait. For this work he relied on historical records, field studies of plant distribution and in some cases, instruction from local Aborigines in the bush. Two further works

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demonstrate well the ecological approach. In a 1978 paper, 'Adapfationto a tropical rainforest environment', Harris describes the rainforest ecosystem and the bultural system' of the Aborigines there, along with population density and its regulation, He concludes (1978, 131): The pattern of adaptive behaviour that linked the cultural system with the rain-forest ecosystem found expression mainly in the actions of family groups and bands. They selectively exploited the generalized ecosystem, with its 'fine-grained' distribution of component species, by following an annual cycle of subsistence and ceremonial activities which involved group aggregation and disaggregation and which meshed with the seasonal reproductive cycles of the principal rain-forest biota that were used for food.

Harris (1979) draws interesting conclusions about the existence of similarities in population size and social group structuring on three different Torres Strait islands, despite their differing subsistence systems. An important paper which discusses the relationship between anthropology and ecology and which attempts to synthesise some of the research in Cape York is by Chase and Sutton (1981).The paper compares environment, demography, local organisation, seasonality, mobility and subsistence activities for three different coastal areas: the Nesbit River; Cape Keerweer; and the Hinders Islands. The authors find considerable micro variation in environment-human interactions despite the common tropical coastal environment. Factors that are common, though, include a subsistence strategy based on a dichotomy between predictable and dependable resources (often vegetable ones) and those that are less predictable and hard to get (usually meat ones)-a finding similar to that of Meehan and Jones; and the relative sedentism of all groups. Chase and Sutton (1981, 1850) note that moves by residential groups were over only very short distances and that 'explanation for this based on critical distances from food resources and conservation of effort hardly seems adequate', arguing that social factors must be considered. Chase and Sutton put forward a correlation between resource availability and levels of social differentiation and of population, although they are tentative about this. John von Sturmer in his PhD thesis (1978) makes a similar finding, but goes further than in any of the other Cape York material by examining systematically and comprehensively the relations between economy, local organisation and sociocultural institutions. Von Sturmer compares the Wik-Mungkan (based on McConnel's and Thomson's earlier research) with the Kugu-Nganychara,with whom he worked. Although he finds no major differences in social organisation and culture

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between the two groups, he says there are significant differences in coastal versus inland peoples and argues that Thomson and McConnel missed this because of their reliance on informant statements and ideal models, and their failure to get into the bush to observe and record behaviour and land usage in the actual environments. Von Sturmer, in comparing the coast with the inland, finds that in the former there is less correspondence between increase sites and totems than in the latter and that this correlates with systematic differences in environment and land tenure principles. The Cape York work took the ecological model as more of an inspiration for the examination of inter-relationships than as a set of assumptions about causal connections of specific elements (see Peterson, Chase and Sutton 1974).The attempt was to cut across disciplinary boundaries to investigatesystematicallythe Interaction of 'socioculturai man and biophysical environment' (Chase and Sutton 1981, 18191. The emphasis was thus on a total set of ecological relationships and not just on one particular aspect. Thus Aboriginal economy, defined as subsistence activity, became-as with the other ecologically oriented anthropologicalwork-just one point of interaction (although a significant one] between Aborigines and land. Another significant point about the Cape York work is that it attempted, perhaps more than any other, to meet Stanner's call for comprehensiveness and methodological rigour in the description of Aboriginal economic behaviour.

The ecological model In Australian social anthropology: an assessment We have seen how ecology provided new concepts and new ways of doing fieldwork in social anthropology in Australia. I have also shown that, beginning with the work of prehistorians in central Australia and in coastal Arnhem land, through to the work of social anthropologists such as Peterson and to the work of the Cape York group, the ecological model has had a significant influence on the way anthropologists think about Aborlginul economy. The specific achievements of this trend are several. Ecology has drawn attention to land as not just a cultural notion but as a physical reality. This is Ironic given that the latter was and is a major Aboriginal concern, Its influence has forced anthropologists to do two things: to try to match Aboriginal interest in land, by describing and understandingthe way Aborigines see and use the environment and its resources; and to come to grips with the landscape in a western scientlfic sense.

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That is, by describing it (by species identification for instance] and also by looking at broad patterns and relationships that may not be apparent to Aboriginal people on the spot and thus not part of conscious models. Ecological influence has brought about a greater awareness of the differences in Aboriginal systems across the continent, and because it is inherently comparative, has encouraged examination of Aboriginal habitat and resource exploitation in contrasting environments and in non-Australian settings such as Melanesia, North America and southern Africa, The ecological model has also influenced fieldwork and methodology. It has made description of land and land use much more comprehensive and systematic. This is most apparent in the concept of 'mapping' which had its origins primarily from Stanner (1965),was developed further in the early fieldwork of von Sturmer and Taylor, and received programmatic treatment in Taylor (1976)and in the several pro forma site books used by von Sturmer, Sutton, Chase, Anderson and Trigger (see von Sturmer 1979).The ecological model and mapping as a field technique also had a significant impact on land claim fieldwork procedures in the Northern Territory. This has always been the case, but it is most apparent in the new practice directions for the type of data required and the form of presentation needed In a land claim submi~sion.~ A focus on behaviour, and not merely reliance on ideal models, has led to important findings which have challenged some of our longest held views about hunting and gathering societies. The most obvious one is the work demonstrating the major contribution of women to Aboriginal subsistence production (see for example, Berndt 1974; other papers in Gale 1974; Hamilton 1975; and note the change in title of the 'Man the Hunter' conference series). Another area where the cleft between ideology and behaviour has been more clearly revealed is in studies of local organisation, Ecologically oriented work has highlighted the importance of both culture and actual behaviour in this area. As well as environmental description, ecology has promoted investigation of the inter-relationshipsbetween, on the one hand, the general features of the environment (eg rainfall] and specific aspects (eg habitats), and on the other, cultural and social features of the Aboriginal groups living in those contexts. Thus most of the work reviewed above makes statements about such relationships; however, the nature of these relationships varies. At one extreme, we have Gould (and to a lesser extent, Tindale) arguing for direct causal relationships in specific instances; while at the other, we have Chase and Sutton, reluctant to link directly environment and sociocultural institutions. Berndt, Peterson and von Sturmer are somewhere in the middle with arguments for the limiting role of environment.

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The influence of the ecological model has, in the end, I think, produced a much more sophisticated and integrated view of 'economy'than that defined in the earlier work in Australian anthropology. There are problems, however, and l want to mention a few of these and the works which have revealed them. Yengoyan (1976)argues against a materialist reduction of Aboriginal culture to survival necessities. He maintains (as did Stanner) that Aboriginal culture is too complex to be only the result in detail of ecological factors. Nevertheless he admits that some social institutions, for example, the section system, do have 'adaptive value' given certain environmental conditions. This understressing of cultural content is also a criticism made by Berndt (1976). He says (1976, 133) that Aborigines have 'built up elaborate protective crusts or sociocultural buffers which define their place in nature while at the same time bringing nature into a familiar and manageable frame of reference', While recognising the dependence of Aborigines on the environment and their detailed knowledge of and complex interaction with it, Berndt says that we must not lose sight of Aboriginal culture as a meaningful entity. He emphasises this in his argument elsewhere (Berndt 1979, 1982) that religion was the major driving force of Aboriginal culture (see also Myers 1982). Tonkinson (1978) makes the point that in the Aboriginal world view, religion

is seen as the basic underlying force and that economic factors are largely dependent variables. Peterson criticises ecological anthropology's behaviourist tendency. He says (1979, 125), for example, that by concentrating on 'behaviour drained of meaning, the emphasis on flux in hunter-gather society is now doing as much to obscure the nature of territorial organization as the concentration on ideology did in the past: Petersonsays that this is partly the result of a simplistic view of the relationshipbetween ideology and behaviour and that we must integrateverbal and non-verbalbehaviour to adequately understand human ways of life (see also Peterson 1983a). Finally, another major problem with the ecological perspective in some of its forms, is that ecology is not the same as economy, despite their common etymological root. Human belngs do not just obtain and consume food and other necessities as Individuals in the quest for nutrition and physical suwival. They only do these things through a set of social relationships and, through these, in a particular way, because culture bestows use values on the environment and its components. The human interaction within an ecosystem then, is by cultural transformation of nature within the context of a specific set of social relationships (see Ellen 1982, Sahilns 1972).Scott Cook (1973, 846) argues persuasively that the ecologist's tendency to cast humans

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as merely another species along with all the others in an all-encompassingecosystem, ignores the fact that humans are 'the only species that produces its own means of subsistence by directly manipulating and transforming the physical environment through organized social activity' and that at least as important a focus in economy as raw materials and environment should be the social relations that realise or enable physical production (see also Berndt 1977, 149; Anderson 1979b; Sutton and Rigsby 1982).

ECONOMY AND ABORIGINES IN AUSTRALIAN SOCIETY This section examines work based on a notion of Aboriginal economy quite different from that which we have seen thus far. It is one which concentrates on Aboriginal involvement in the general, industrial based Australian economy. My review reveals that much of the work done on this has been by non-anthropologists. In fact, there is a fundamental separation between the concepts, assumptions and methods of the anthropological studies reviewed up to now and most of the works dealt with in this next section. Yet the type of information produced by these scholars is important for anthropoiogists interested in processes of social change. Also, these writers are increasingly using anthropological works, concepts and methods to illuminate their own concerns. Conversely, anthropologists have themselves begun to rely on formal methods and have gathered data similar to those used by economists and others in order to understand similar phenomena. In the end, the aim of economists and others is similar to that of the anthropologists reviewed in the previous sections-to describe and to understand how Aboriginal people make a living, albeit within a wholly different context. There are several differences between the research already discussed and the work on Aborigines In the general Australian economy. First, there is generally a difference in the type of Aboriginal community examined. In the early periods economic studies were almost exclusively of Aborigines and communities in 'settled Australia'. Second, there is very often a difference of scale. The formal economic studies often have a more macro focus, looking at large populations or at broad patterns over a range of communities. Third, there is generally a difference of method, with economists using gross money flow data, collecting statistics and using census material, questionnaires and formal interview techniques. However, despite these differences, we will see that the earliest studies of Aborigines in Australian society were done by anthropoiogists, and that over the last

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decade there has been renewed anthropological interest in this topic. Specifically, I identify four phases in the study of Aborigines in the Australian economy: I, anthropological studies of Aborigines in rural and urban settings in southeastern Australia, which looked at, among other things, socioeconomic status; 2, 3,

4,

poverty studies, a policy oriented, reformist and descriptive phase, undertaken by social workers, historians, sociologists and others; a phase, overlapping somewhat with 2, characterised by an increasing empiricisation of studies combined with a move to examination of the economies of Aboriginal communities in non-settled Australia: and a phase which I have termed, perhaps more hopefully than descriptively, the 'anthropological corrective',

Early anthropological studies Primarily under the aegis of AP Elkin, important work was done by anthropologists after World War iI on Aborigines in southeastern and southern Australia. Early works included those of Beckett (1958a, 1958b). Bell (1956, 1959). Berndt and Berndt (1951), Calley (1956), Fink (1957), Reay (1945) and Reay and Sitlington (1947).These were basically ethnographic descriptions of partAboriginal life in rural Australian towns. The focus was generally on assimilation-how well, or otherwise, Aborigines fitted into the broader European scene. A major part of this fitting in was socioeconomic status, and writers looked at what types of jobs Aborigines had, and problems of conflict between their lifestyleand economic success. There are also the early papers of Berndt and Berndt (1946, 1948) on Aborigines in the pastoral industry in the Northern Territory, with discussion of the role of cultural and historicalfactors affecting Aborigines on properties. Into the 1960s, work continued in this vein, but at a slower rate. Beckett published material on his western New South Wales work (1965a, 1965b). Barwick (1962, 1963) presented the findings of her fieldwork with Aboriginal people in Melbourne. In 1963, the Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies initiated a study of the effect on the Aboriginal inhabitantsof bauxite mining and related developments at Weipa in north Queensland (Hinton 1965, 1966, 1968). These studies were firmly social anthropologicalones and in the economic sphere looked primarily at the effect of social and cultural factors on involvement in formal employment, the nature and level of expenditure, housing and material goods, and

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so on. Beckett (1965a) describes kinship and community and their effect on mobility and economic behaviour. Barwick (1962)demonstrates ways in which Aborigines in Melbourne were able to participate in the cash wage economy without becoming assimilated culturally and socially-showing group support, cooperation and a strong sharing ethic. Hinton (1968) suggests historical and personal factors in the pattern of relations between Europeans and Aborigines, along with differing notions of the value of work, as reasons for the lack of significant Aboriginal employment at Weipa. Berndt (1966) looks at the effects on Aborigines of development in remote Australia and argues for some economic and other benefits to accrue to Aborigines as a result of suffering the disruptive effects of development. Several papers in Reay (1964) and Berndt and Berndt (1965) discuss the socioeconomic position of Aborigines in urban and rural town settings (eg lnglis 1964, Bell 1965).Generally, their conclusions are that the life of Aborigines in these situations is 'a poverty-stricken reflection of the life of Australian working people' (Wilson cited by Bell 1965, 396).

Aborigines and poverty The second phase in studies of Aborigines and the economy is dominated by nonanthropologists.In this work, Aborigines became 'Aboriginal labour: the 'Aboriginal problem', 'welfare recipients' and so on, but most generally they became 'poor: Work was directed at objective measures to demonstrate this, and the implications of this for policy were directly addressed. One of the first examples of this work was Sharp and Tatz's Aborigines in the Economy (1966).This volume was the result of a seminar at the Centre for Research into Aboriginal Affairs at Monash University in 1966. The seminar itself resulted from a directive from the Native Welfare Conference which had met in Canberra in 1961 and asked for data on 'the types of jobs in which Aborigines are at present engaged, their proficiency at their tasks and their earnings from them' as well as 'the size, location and skills of the Aboriginal labour force and the extent and diversity of jobs available to provide employment now and in the future' (cited in Sharp and Tatz 1966, vii).Topics covered by papers in the volume include: factors affecting vocational training of Aborigines; health and employment; seasonal work.schemes; Aboriginal employment problems; wages and the effects of changing their level; and Aborigines and development projects. The work which most typifies this phase and encompasses much of the work done

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at this time is the 'Aborigines in Australian Society Project: This was set up by the Social Science Research Council in 1963 to elucidate 'the problems arising from contacts between Aborigines and non-Aboriginesand [to] formulate policy implications from these' (cited in Stevens 1974, v). CD Rowley, an historian and former principal of the Australian School of Pacific Administration, directed the project for its duration (1964-67). The main interest of the project was initially 'the social and economic situation of persons of Aboriginal descent in the closely settled areas' (Rowley 1972, v), but information was collected from remote Australian communities as well. Rowley's own three volume work (1972) is probably the best known of the material to come out of the project.The second two volumes are of most relevance here. The second volume, Outcasts in White Australia, describes the emergence of mixed descent communities in eastern and southern Australia and government policies dealing with them. Rowley presents detailed statistics, from surveys done by the project and from census figures, on the living standards of rural and urban Aboriginal people and on household and individual income and expenditure, employment, ownership of property, and so on. The third volume, The RemoteAborigines, looks at Aboriginal settlements in what Rowley calls 'colonial Australia': life on these settlements (wages, conditions, etc); effects on them of mining developments; land rights as a policy issue; and so on, The emphasis in the work, which is historically oriented, is on policy, and it depends primarily on secondary sources and survey material. Another set of publications to come out of the Social Science Research Council project and concerned with the economic position of Aboriginal people, is the work of Stevens (1968, 1969, 1971, 1974, 1980).His major role in the project was to investigate Aboriginal employment in northern Australia. He discusses (Stevens 1971, 1974) Aboriginal exploitation in the pastoral industry and the campaign for award wages. the nature of Aboriginal work and living conditions on stations, and Aboriginal and European attitudes. His methods were based on short visits, surveys and formal and informal interviews. Stevens (1969)discusses the relationship between Aborigines and the mining project at Weipa, arguing that the government in collusion with the mining company turned the Aborigines into paupers by taking their land and forcing them into a marginal social and economic situation. His overview work, The Fblitics of Pre]udice (1980), argues that the low socioeconomic status of Aborigines is due to European attitudes which establishes the conditions under which Aborigines live and the 'industrial relations' systems within which they work. Long's (1970) study of the major Aboriginal settlements of eastern Australia was also part of the Social Science Research Council project. Long presents material on

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living conditions, community services, employment, income and welfare benefits of residents. Other major works from the project dealing with Aborigines and economic status include Smith and Biddle (1975),Gale (1972), Schapper (1970)and Taft, Dawson and Beasley (1970). Studies not related to Rowiey's project, but similar in orientation, methods and findings include Lickiss (1971)and Rogers (1973).Middleton (1977a) summarises much of the data produced from the studies of this era. The work done in this period, both with the project and independently, was often positivist in approach, general in coverage and aimed at influencing the policy and practice of governments in dealing with Aborigines. Some Marxist writers also discussed Aborigines and socioeconomic position during this period (eg Middleton 1977b. Rose 1965, and various contributors to the journal Arena in the 1960s).Much of this latter work, though, displays an ignorance and naive6 about traditional Aboriginal systems, and a tendency to down-playthe diversity of Aboriginal contact and dealings with Europeans. It often rejected anthropological studies as being ideologically unacceptable, and data on Aboriginal society and contact history were forced into general models without adequate research. One important work in this vein, however, is Hartwig's (1978) application of the notion of internal colonialism. Although capitalist development in southern areas of Australia destroyed Aboriginal society, Hartwig maintains that in other areas articulation between the capitalist and the Aboriginal modes of production occurred in such a way that the latter was partly conserved. He had in mind particularly the pastoral industry in northern Australia. The concept of internal colonialism was also used by Becketf (1977) in his analysis of the pearl shell industry in the Torres Straits.

Economists and large scale empirical studies From the mid-1970s to the present there have been a number of major economic studies of Aborigines and Torres Strait Islanders.These have been done, by and large, by economists whose methods, not surprisingly, have been those of formal economics. I will here review some of the most important of these, One of the earliest was the Australian National University (ANU)study of the Torres Strait Islands and their economy. During 1971, at the request of the Commonwealth and Queensland governments, the Department of Economics at ANU undertook a komprehensive series of socio-economicstudies of the Torres Strait islanders' (Duncan

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1974, vi). The survey resulted in a six volume study which included Duncan's 'Socioeconomic conditions in the Torres Strait', Treadgold's (1974) 'The economy of the Torres Strait area: a social accounting study', and Fisk, Duncan and Kehl(1974)on Islanders in Cairns and Townsvilie. The conclusions of the study were that the economic development prospects for the islands were poor and that those persons best able to undertake productive labour were migrating to the mainland, Income levels were low and mainly based on government transfer payments, Subsistence production played only a minor role in the economy of the islands. Another regional study depending on survey methods was done by Fay Gale on Aborigines In Adelaide (Gale 1972, Gale and Binnion 1975, Gale and Wundersitz 1982).Although Gale is not an economist, her studies include material on important socioeconomic indicators as well as demographic and social data, They have also been done at intervals over a period of fourteen years, allowing examination of changes in key indicators.The general trend she and her co-authors describe is one of a deteriorating economic position as measured by income, employment and housing. The studies also demonstrate the importance of kinship ties for Adelaide Aborigines In mitigating their economic problems. A prime mover behind major studies of Aborigines in the Australian economy in the 1970s was David Penny of the Departmentof Aboriginal Affairs research section. Apart from his own work (eg Penny 1976, Penny and Moriarty 1978), Penny arranged funding for works which compiled and analysed available data and those which also involved original research. Major publications resulting from this work include Altman and Nieuwenhuysen (1979) and the recent studies from the Development Studies Centre of the Australian National University. The work of Altman and Nieuwenhuysen(1979)is one of the most comprehensive surveys of the economic situation of Aborigines in Australia (see also Altman 1980). The book examines Aboriginal economic status in a range of residential settings: government settlements; pastoral properties; outstations; and rural and urban centres. For each of these the authors examine demography, health, housing, employment and household income. Their sources of data range from the Australian Census material through to Department of Aboriginal Affairs reports, The conclusion of their review is that the Aboriginal population is disadvantaged by low formal educational status, poor housing and health, and extremely low levels of employment and income (see also Rowley 1982). More recently, the Development Studies Centre has published a series of case studies In four volumes (Young 1981, Young and Fisk 1982a, Young and Fisk 1982b,

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Gale and Wundersitz 1982),The aim of this project was to study the economic activities of Aborigines in a variety of settings. I have already discussed one of the studies, Gale and Wundersitz (1982). Young and Fisk (1982a) present four case studies of Aboriginal popuiations in town settings: Young on the general situation in New South Wales; Bryant on a Victorian town; Drakakis-Smithon Alice Springs; and Dagmar on Carnarvon, Western Australia, These studies note the continuing migration of Aborigines into towns and the economic implications of this. The other two volumes in the series will be discussed in the following section, A fifth volume in the series, The Aboriginal Economy in Town and Country by Fisk (1985),was published separately and summarises the findings of the whole study. Fisk states that the aim of the research program was to 'discover and analyse the principal dimensions of the Aboriginal economy and its setting in the total Australian economy' (Fisk 1985, 103), and to 'provide the type of economic information an economist would need for policy formation in this field'. Although he points to some improvements (including a substantial increase in per capita incomes and dramatic reductions in infant mortality rates), Fisk's findings are similar to those of previous studies: 'The main economic problems impeding the adjustment of Aboriginai people to conditions in modern Australia are poverty, unemployment, location, housing, land and various social problems with acute economic consequences such as alcohol abuse, poor health, and low levels of education' (Fisk 1985, 104). There are several other studies by economists or ones undertaken using formal economic measures. Specific area studies include Ball's (1985) work on Newcastle Aborigines. Studies focusing on specific issues include: Turnbull (1980)on economic development in Aboriginal communities in the Northern Territory; Young's comparison of outstation economies (1982b) and her study of income and employment of Aboriginal women in remote communities (1983); Coombs (1972) on employment; Stanley (1976)on Aborigines and employment on pastoral properties; Altman (1983), Altman and Peterson (1984)and Cousins and Nieuwenhuysen (1984) on Aborigines and mining; and Loveday (1982) on services and outstations. The overwhelming conclusion of all the studies reviewed above is that Aboriginal people almost universally in Australia are, by any measure, poor. Does this necessarily mean, then, that they all form part of the same economy in the same way or that they all make a living in the same way? It is difficult for formal economic studies to answer this question. The surprising thing about these studies is that very few of them mention any of the anthropological work concerned with 'traditional' Aboriginal economy. This is

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partly because many of the formal economic studies have been done in areas where Aboriginal economic activities have radically changed, and where there has been little anthropological research (although this is not always the case]. What it really says though is that the concept of economy in both types of study is very different, as are the methods for finding out about it. Although important for gaining an overview of certain aspects of Aboriginal life, much of the work by economists and others suffers from ethnocentric assumptions and methodological naivete. Many studies fail to recognise the continuing influence of cultural values on Aboriginal economic behaviour and the existence of social forms quite different from those In European contexts which are the basis of a different economy. I now examine the ways in which anthropologists have handled Aboriginal involvement in the broader Australian economy, and how their perspective produces an important counterbalanceto the macro, formal, statistically oriented work of the economists.

The anthropological corrective Apart from the earlier studies mentioned, most social anthropologists in Australia have seemed loath to examine contemporary Aboriginal economies. There was in some cases a tacit assumption that the communities in which anthropologists studied were not part of the larger Australian society. An examination of the reasons for this disregard would be worthy of a separate study. Nevertheless, one result was a lack of anthropological input into economic policy development with respect to Aborigines. This is curious given the critical role of anthropologists in other areas recently (eg land rights) and the significant part played by anthropologists(eg Elkin) earlier on in the development of Aboriginal policy. However, since the late 1970s, anthropologists have begun collecting information on Aboriginal participation in the broader Australian economy; for example, on cash incomes, formal employment, living conditions, and so on (see Altman 1982a, Anderson 1984, Chase 1980a. Peterson 1977, Taylor 1977).1 will not review here those findings per se, as they are similar in general to those discussed in the previous section. What I wish to do is to demonstrate the different perspective on and often different interpretations of the formal data which anthropologists bring to bear. One of the most obvious areas where anthropologists have shown the value of detailed, in-depth knowledge of local situations, is in the awareness of cultural and social factors affecting the nature of Aboriginal participation in the cash economy. Peterson (1978a),for instance, shows the role of cultural factors in the selection of store

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bought food by Aborigines and warns against the danger of ethnocentrism in concepts of 'poor diet'. Morphy (1980)shows the effect of cultural factors on artefact production for the market. Palmer (1982) describes the way in which the Aborigines running a cattle station in the northwest of Western Australia saw the property's commercial success as subsidiary-in fact contradictory-to other, sociai and cultural, aspects. Also in Western Australia, Stanton (1982) describes the relationship of the money economy to what he terms 'the economy of ritual knowledge' In this, the older men used the fact of their knowledge as a means to gain control over goods and services. In a study of Wiluna, Sackeit (1979, 1982) demonstrates that although people have become increasingly sedentary, hunting by men has retained great cultural significance and continues to provide important dietary input. In a study of three central Australian communities, Young (1981) shows how residents in them do not consider the accumulation of money as a valuable end in itself, stressing instead the small scale sociai aspects of its use.Young argues from this that there is no universal notion of economic motivation. Another area where anthropologists have highlighted problems with the use of survey based and aggregate data economic research is that of Aboriginal employment and income levels. The main problem is in the comparability of figures in different settings and in the judgements made as to what constitutes low or high levels. Turner (1974), for example, shows that Groote Eylandt residents only needed to work part of the time to fulfil their cash needs, and that full time work was really only necessary for the purchase of luxury goods. This finding was supported by Peterson (1977) in a survey of four central Australian communities in which people had, by European standards, very low per capita income levels, but had substantial amounts of cash surplus to their subsistence needs. Anderson (1980, 1982) similarly reported low and extremely variable incomes of first receipt for Bloomfield River, north Queensland Aboriginal households, but found that use of kin networks evened out these variations. The Arnhem Land outstation studied by Altman (1982b) was characterised by relative affluence (in Sahlins's 1972 sense) and economic certitude, although cash levels were low, because of local control of distribution and because of the input from subsistence production.The dangers of sole reliance on indicators such as income levels to gauge Aboriginal economic status from which policy decisions are made, can be seen in Taylor's (1977)study which shows a relationship between increased wages and an overall decline in store food purchase due to Aboriginal patterns of spending and consumption. In her study of Aborigines in an urban setting, Eckermann (1977)argues that despite similarities to working class whites

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according to objective measures such as income levels, a separate Aboriginal identity helped maintain group differences and promoted different values which affected economic behaviours such as employment patterns. Morris (1983) looks at the ways in which contact patterns and the labour history of Aborigines on the coast of New South Wales affect the economic relationships between Aborigines and the local European community. A perennial problem in most formal economic studies of Aboriginal communities, particularly in northern and central Australia, is their characterisation of subsistence production. Because of their definition of economy and of economic activities some analysts ignore it altogether (see Anderson 1982, 127). However, anthropological studies have recently shown that fine-graineddescriptions of subsistence production are possible (see Altman 1982a, 1982b; Anderson 1982, 1984) as is quantification of output (Altman 1982a. Meehan 1982). Other studies have demonstrated the importance of subsistence production to many Aboriginal economies and have shown its interaction with the money economy. Sackett (1982), Chase (1980b) and Altman (1982c, 1982b) all give cases of the increase in productivity in subsistence pursuits with the introduction of European resources or technology. Anderson (1980, 1982) demonstrates how Bloomfield Aborigines rationally allocate their time and labour, mixing wage work with subsistence production to balance out cash needs with the need for bush food and the desire to live outside the centralised community. Finally, anthropological work has shown that a focus only on production and income and on the nature of employment often misses one of the most characteristic features of contemporary Aboriginal economies-the distribution systems. Gambling as a significant means of distributing surpluses, is mentioned by Altman (1985), Anderson (1982) and Chase (1980a, 1980b). Altman (198213) describes traditional kinship obligations and the sharing ethic as a major means of distributing goods. cash and bush foods. Peterson (1977) uses the notion of 'social capital' to describe the end product of redistribution.Distribution, as opposed to production, is mentioned in the Social Impact of Uranium Mining Project (see below) as the basis of the Aboriginal economy in the Alligator Rivers region (Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies 1984, 295). Two other anthropological studies throw light on an Aboriginal social and residential situation which is little studied by economists-the urban fringe camp. Coilmann (1979),in a study of a camp near Alice Spri~gs,shows how the consumption and sharing of alcohol is an integral part of the domestic economy and is related to patterns of interdependence between men and women resulting from the nature

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of their involvement in the Australian money and bureaucratic based economy. Sansom (1980) in the fringe camps of Darwin, describes the culturally based rules guiding Aboriginal use of cash and their relationships with key representativesof the European dominated economy. He also describes vividly the internal dynamics of the camp economies, especially the distribution of surpluses according to camp poiitical processes and structure. One final area I will mention is the anthropological contribution to impact studies. Here too, we find a useful counterbalance to overly formalistic descriptions of Aboriginal economic parti~ipation.~ The Social Impact of Uranium Mining project provides a good example. Kesteven (2983. 1984) writes about the effects of mining royalties on Aborigines in western Arnhem Land and shows how money and the channels for its distribution constitute the major social impact of mining in the area. She complains that (1984, 143): All directives about distribution of [royalty] money, whether to groups of Aborigines or to individuals, have been made on the basis of a poor understanding of Aboriginal culture and social organization. In particular, most non-Aboriginal people making decisions have been ignorant of Aboriginal economic activities, including ceremonies as 'business' and of social responsibility.

Von Sturmer (1984, 791, too, in the same volume, criticises the earlier Fox Inquiry for its failure, to address...the nature of the contemporary Aboriginal economy. A proper treatment of this question would require a good deal more than the compilation of statistics about the level of employment or unemployment, or even a determination of the sorts of employment people were engaged in and when.

He argues that an adequate description of the economy must deal with the importance of Aboriginal land ownership, and the nature of kinship relationships which people have with land owners. He gives the example of people who do not work, yet have steady access to all goods and services because of particular relations they have with relevant land or land owners. Von Sturmer also stresses the necessity to delineate the relationship between hunting and gathering activities and wage labour; the structure and content of distribution mechanisms, the generation and redistribution of surpluses; and their conversion into ritual capital and prestige. I have shown in this section how the studies in the 1960s, using very general and

relatively superficial and positivist methodologies, revealed the fact that Australian Aborigines, at least by reference to their economic position in Australian society, were

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poor. The more detailed and economically sophisticated studies of the next decade corroborated this assertion while going further and recognising the diversity of Aboriginal socioeconomic situations. Finally we have seen how, although anthropologists started late, their concepts and methods provided in the end, not only additional micro, case study data on a variety of Aboriginal contexts, but also in many cases, proved a corrective to formal economic notions which ignored social and cultural factors. The end result is a more comprehensive and accurate picture of the range and diversity of Aboriginal economy in the contemporary setting. At the level of theory, however, the study of Aboriginal economy has not advanced significantly. As I noted before, the integration of work on models of precontact systems and contemporary economic behaviour is poor. The work on the latter has thus far been primarily descriptive. The other problem handled badly has been the relationshipbetween micro settings and macro forces, The predominantly structural-functionalist basis of most of the work is unable to cope with either the sociocultural and economic change which came with the involvement of Aborigines in the wider Australian and world system, or with the differences in scale between local structures and processes and those of a significantly greater order. However, the Marxist inspired work of the time is little better, primarily because of its overideological nature and its empirical shortcomings. In the next section I will look at some attempts to overcome the difficulties these problems present for an understanding of Aboriginal economy.

NEW DIRECTIONS IN THE ANALYSIS OF ABORIGINAL ECONOMY There are three major aspects to some of the newer work on Aboriginal economy in Australian anthropology:

I, looking at the intedace between micro processes and macro structures; 2, constructing new general models of pre-contact Aboriginal systems; and 3,

bridging the analytical gap between pre-contact systems and contemporary ones. The works I review below include one or more of these aspects. Two recent studies which attempt to encompass within the same analytical framework local structures and processeswith more macro structures and processes, are Thiele (1982)and Collmann (1979,1981).Thiele's work is a study of an Aboriginal run cattle station in southeastern Arnhem Land. He describes the formation and the demise of the enterprise and looks at the interaction of and relative influence of factors

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such as government policy and practice, market and other generalised economic forces, Aboriginal cultural values and attitudes and Aboriginal social and political forms and processes.Thiele's view is that, although the latter are certainly important, anthropologists have overstressed the local forces and ignored the significant factors that lie within Australian society as a whole. Collmann (1979, 1981) too, argues that the key to understanding Aboriginal socioeconomic situations lies in the detailed examination of particular micro social settings, but only in conjunction with the study of how larger forces are manifest in that setting. His study focuses on the fringe camps in Alice Springs and he says that they %anonly be understood in the context of emergent structure of social relationships between Aborigines and whites in Central Australia' (Collmann 1979,208),Collmann argues that the camps are not 'transitional' Aboriginal residences or merely reflective of social problems. He says that on the contrary, they are a means whereby Aboriginal people minimise Interference in their lives by bureaucratic structures. Collmann (1981) demonstrates how the domestic group in the camp is the major context in which people negotiate for access to necessary resources and how this situation is a consequence of the fact that Aboriginal people in these situations do not control the productive processes in which they participate. Bern (1979)attempts to construct models of the pre-contactAboriginal politicaleconomic system. Bern's paper is part of a larger project in which he reconstructs a model of what he calls 'the Australian Aboriginal social formation in a marxist problematic' (1979, 118). in this paper he starts on that part of the analysis in which he discusses the relationship between ideology and poiitical domination in the Aboriginal system. Bern shows that 'the structure of dominance' was located in religion (1979, 126) and it was mature men's control of religion that also gave them control over the organisation of society. The relevance of this work to the present review is that it is through these relations of production that economic activity-including access to land, resources and technology-was undertaken, thus bringing back the 'social' into the early, narrower definitions of economy. Hamilton's (1980) paper also presents an integrated view of the social and the economic. She reconstructs,for the eastern Western Desert, the relationships between technology, production processes and social relations between men and women. She demonstrates that men and women had essentially separate production activities, technologies and rules governing distribution.Further, the Aboriginal male ceremonial life depended upon the control by men of women's labour and the appropriation of their product. However, Hamilton describes the limitations on the

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men's ability to do this because of the nature of women's work organisation and the existence of their own secret life. This paper is part of Hamilton's larger work 'Timeless transformation: women, men and history in the Australian Western Desert' (1979),In this she uses a historical materialist approach based on Friedman and Godelier to understand changes in the Aboriginai social formation in the eastern Western Desert. She looks at local organisation and land ownership, technology and religious objects, the population and reproduction systems, division of labour (especiallythat based on gender], symbolic production and ceremonial life and kinship. Hamilton demonstrates, amongst other things: 1, the existence of the notion of 'ownership', stating that relations with land which we might see as fundamentally 'economic' are seen by Aborigines as ritual rights which entail economic ownership; 2, that with respect to the technological basis of the society, men and women are wholly independent in production of their essential tools; and 3, that, related to this, men's and women's productive labour and the distribution of product are separately patterned. Hamilton also discusses some hypotheses concerning the relationship between external physical changes and internal social ones as factors in the transformation of Australian Aboriginal systems (see also Hamilton 1982). Finally, two other works attempt to combine both micro and macro perspectives and to deal with the problem of the transformation of Aboriginal economy under contact. These works are the recent theses of Anderson and Altman. My thesis ('The political and economic basis of Kuku-Yaianji social history', Anderson 1984), uses the notion of mode of production to describe and analyse the Aboriginal system which operated in southeast Cape York Peninsula prior to European contact and the changes which occurred as a result of contact. Mode of production here, consists of forces of production (land, resources, labour and technology] and relations of production (rules and relationships governing access to the forces of production], along with the ideological elements which, among other things, justified the system Intellectually. Using historical and ethnohistorical sources along with ethnographic reconstruction, I demonstrate two key elements in the pre-contact system: 'camps' as primary domestic groups (relativelysedentary bands] and as focal points for the camps, majamaja-powerful individuals within the dominant category of older males. The major part of the work uses the concept of articulation to describe and explain aspects of the interaction between the frontier capitalist mode of production

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and the Aboriginai mode from 1880to 1980.1argue that the relationshipof articulation in southeast Cape York Peninsula had three phases. In the first, conservation of the Aboriginal mode of production occurred primarily because of the nature of the local manifestation of the capitalist mode. Here we see again the primacy of the social, in that the resource base of the system was altered but not the relations of production, so no structural change occurred. In the second phase the Aboriginai mode is subordinated to the capitalist one because of the linking of camp locations, their resource base and the power of the majamaja to particular Europeans and to their economic enterprises. Finally, with the aid of state intervention, the third phase, dissolution, appears and the Aboriginai mode of production is radically altered and disappears. The aim of the study is to understand the ethnographic present of Aboriginai life in southeast Cape York Peninsula in terms of the transformations which occurred in the ways in which Aborigines made a living in the broadest sense of the term. An attempt is made as well to relate the social processes of, for example. camp life, to macro forces such as the price of world commodities like tin. Altman's (1982a) thesis is a description and explanation of the contemporary economy of an Aboriginai outstation (Momega) in western Arnhem Land. His aim is to explain the persistence of a hunting and gathering economy despite decades of contact with alien societies and direct state intervention.Altman uses an eclectic approach in his study. He collected formal economic data, used social accounts and time allocation methods, as well as standard anthropological procedures. He provides extensive data on Momega diet, income and expenditure, cash and bush food distribution and consumption patterns and the economic significance of ceremonies. Aitman examines the formal parameters of the Momega economy to 'ascertain the significance of hunting and gathering (subsistence production), production of artefacts for market exchange, and other production; and to gauge the extent of external dependence on market foodstuffs and goods' (1982a, ix]. He found that 'while subsistence production remains the mainstay of the outstation's economy, there exists a limited dependence on market commodities, purchased primarily by cash transfer payments from the Welfare State' (1982a, ix). By looking at the rules governing production, distribution, consumption and exchange in this society, Aitman (1982, X) shows that, despite the adoption and adaptation of market technology, production is still oriented to meet domestic needs. There has been a definite preservation of traditional sharing practices, most of which have been transposed from the subsistence to the cash nexus.

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This preservation has made the domestic accumulation of goods and ...cash earned via production for market exchange, most difficult.

Thus although there is market involvement, 'this has not resulted in radically changed social relations of production.The forces of production have altered, but access to the means of production-mainly the land and simple western technology, and sharing of soclety's production-are still organized as in pre-contacttimes' (Altman 1982a. 3).

CONCLUSIONS John Barnes commented during the Institute's 1961 conference that komparatively little has been published about Aboriginal economic activity' (Barnes 1963, 209). I hope that this review has shown that this is no longer true and that a considerable amount has been achieved in the last twenty-five years. In the examination of traditional settings, the trend has been for a move away from a narrow definition of economy as only including subsistence activities and technology, to a detailed understandingof the environment and its interaction with Aboriginal economic systems, In looking at the contemporary situation, the move has been one away from simplistic and solely quantitative descriptions of Aboriginal poverty, to comprehensive formal descriptions of economic patterns combined with anthropological analyses of sociocultural factors affecting economic participation. A few studies have utilised new theoretical concepts in attempts to merge into one analytical framework principles of both the traditional subsistence and the money economies. It is likely that more work in the future will be devoted to this topic, particularly to the processes of change from one economy to the other and the effects of this transformation. The predominant characteristic of the literature on Aboriginal economy has been its largely atheoretical nature. The earlier years of anthropology in Australia were dominated by a Spencerian-natural history approach and by diffusionism. Later, the Radcliffe-Brownera failed to provide a paradigm which economic anthropologists might have found very useful.The emergence of ecology inspired work in the 1960s was, in a sense, merely a new functionalism, and seemed to take off as it did for practical reasons-people saw it as a useful framework within which to collect data in an area that had been sorely neglected in Australia. This work was 'materialist' by virtue almost solely of its concentration on observable phenomena, along with

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its tendency to environmental determinism. It was certainly not inspired by the Marxism that, for instance, was beginning to be adopted by French anthropologists. Rather, it stemmed from White's and Steward's oversimplification of materialist theory and their removal of social organisation from an infrastructural role. Similarly, in the ecologicaiiy influenced anthropology of the 1970s in Australia there was no great integration of culture (as mental phenomena] with the physical realities being described. The discussion tended to be in simplistic, opposing materialistlideaiist categories, On the one hand, there were the attempts to prove that culture was really only a product of other (environmental] factors, and on the other, there were cultural determinists conceding, if at all, nothing more than a limiting role for the material worid. The Cape York work was somewhat ambiguous in this respect, in that detailed data were collected on both cognitive and physical domains, yet the work on ethnoclassification, for instance, is largely divorced from the analysis of land tenure, usage, subsistence and social life. The failure of an economic anthropology to develop in Austraiia was part of a general trend in which many of the major theoretical trends elsewhere in the woridfor example transactionalism, phenomenology, and even Marxism to a degreemade little impact on Australian Aboriginal anthropology. This has tended to make its thrust overly descriptive and atheoretical, Specific issues within economic anthropology elsewhere-for example, the formalist-substantivistdiscussion in America and the growth of structural Marxism in Europe, are only now beginning to have an effect on the way anthropologists are dealing with Aborigines and economy in Austraiia. This may be a good thing, however, as much recent work here exemplifies Clammer's (1978) call for economic anthropology to be done instead getting itself trapped in endless semanticism,This new work, some of which I have reviewed above, is eclectic, yet solidly theoretical, and is grounded in sound empirical research. The work based on historical materialismand worid system theory seems particularly fruitful for the study of Aboriginai economy, both its pre-contactform and in its transformation through contact with European systems. in these, 'economy' becomes first and foremost, a set of social relationships and not just a list of activities or objects. In this respect it signals an important shift for social anthropology.

I. This is a revised draft of a paper given at the conference 'Social Anthropology in Aboriginai Studies, 1961-1986: Biennial Meetings of the Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra,

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11-13 May 1986.1thank Jon Altman, Annette Hamilton, Nicolas Peterson, Peter Sutton and Robert Tonkinson for their comments on earlier drafts of this chapter. 2. Stanner (1933-34). Thomson (1949) and Kaberry (1939) are outstanding exceptions. 3. It is Instructive in this context to quote Meehan's discussion as to why archaeologists have undertaken such research: 'Within Austraiia, anthropological studies have focused on social structure, kinship, religion and politics. In the many monographs on these topics, the ecology of the people being studied has usually been dealt with In a few paragraphs or pages. or at the most, a chapter...It is revealingto note that all the recent ecological studies into the nature of Aboriginal hunting and gathering have been attempted either by archaeologists or by anthropologistswith some archaeologicaltraining. Rather than castigating "the anthropologists" for not producing relevant information, these scholars have gone out into the field themselves and carried out ethnographic enquiries that were more directly pertinent to their own disciplines' (Meehan 1982, 6). 4. Interestingly, Tindale Introduced Gouid in the field to the same group of Ngadadjara that he had worked with in the Warburtons in 1935 (Tindale 1986, 248). 5. Austraiia was not alone in this. Anthropologists working in Melanesia and elsewhere were similarly affected (cf Rappaport 1967). 6. As we shall see below, ecology and economy are not wholly equivalent. There has been a degree of influence of ecological theory on social anthropology that has little to do directly with economy as we have presented it thus far. This work includes the Australian material on marriage and demography in Lee and DeVore (1968),the work of Yengoyan (1968, 1972) and of Peterson (1976b, 1978b). 7. There was also a human ecology project in Arnhem Land; see White 1976, 1978. 8.1 have not reviewed land claim books In this chapter, although these sometimes include material on Aboriginal economy and land usage. It Is my view, however, that anthropological work on the claims, especially the later ones, has been significantly affected by the ecological model. The practice directions were written by Mr Justice Maurice of the Northern Territory Supreme Court, after consultation with John von Sturmer and interested parties such as Aboriginal land councIIs. 9. I am not able to review all of it here, but this is true of recent literature on Aboriginal interaction with industrial developments in general and with mining in particular. With referenceto the latter, see especially the Jabiluka Environmental Impact Study (19791, Kesteven (1983), Altman and Peterson (1984) and papers in Berndt (1982).

REFERENCES Allen, H.R. 1968 Western Plain and Eastern Hill:A Reconstructionof the SubsistenceActivities of the Aboriginal Inhabitants of Central Eastern Australia. BA Hons thesis, University of Sydney.

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Altman, J.C. 1979 The Question of Affluence: Yolngu Economy in Northeast Arnhem Land. Canberra Anthropology 2(1), 1-29. 1980 The Aboriginal Economy. in R, Jones (ed), Northern Australia: Options and Implications, Research School of Pacific Studies, Australian National University, Canberra, 87-108. 1982a Hunter-gatherers and the State: The Economic Anthropology of the Gunwinggu of North Australia, PhD thesis, Australian National University. 1982b Maningrida Outstations:A Preliminary Economic Review. In E.A.Young and E.K. Fisk (eds), Small Rural Communitles, Volume 3: The Aboriginal Component in the Australian Econom)! Development Studies Centre, Austraiian Nationai University. Canberra, 1-42. 1982c Hunting Buffalo in North-central Arnhem Land: A Case of Rapid Adaptation Among Aborigines, Oceania 52(4), 274-85. 1983 Aborigines and Mining Royalties in the Northern Territory. Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. 1984 Hunter-gatherer Subsistence Production in Arnhem Land:The Original Affluence Hypothesis Re-examined, Manklnd 14(3), 179-90. 1985 Gambling as a Mode of Redistributingand Accumulating Cash Among Aborigines: A Case Study From Arnhem Land. in G, Caidwell (eds), Gambling in Australia, Croom Helm. Sydney. Altman, J.C. and J. Nieuwenhuysen 1979 The Economic Status of Australian Aborigines, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. Altman, J.C. and N. Peterson 1984A Case for MaintainingAboriginai Mining Veto and Royalty Rights in the NorthernTerritory, Australian Aboriginal Studies 2, 44-53. Anderson, C. 1979a Aboriginai Economy and Contact Relations at Bioomfield River, Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studles Newsletter 12, 33-37. 1979b From Ecology to Political Economy: An introductionto the Study of Cultural and Economlc Change at Bioomfieid River, North Queensiand, manuscript. Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. 1980 Multiple Enterprise: Contemporary Aboriginal Subsistence Strategy in Southeast Cape York Peninsula. In N.C.Stevens and A. Bailey (eds),ContemporaryCape York Peninsula, Royal Society of Queensland, Brisbane, 77-81. 1982 The BioomfieldCommunity, North Queensland.in E.A.Young and E,K, Fisk (eds),Small Rural Communitles, Volume 3: The Aboriginal Component in the Australian Economy, Development Studies Centre, Australian National University, Canberra, 89-156. 1983 Aborigines and Tin-mining:A Case Study in the Anthropology of Contact History, Manklnd 13(6), 473-98. 1984 The Political and Economic Basis of Kuku-Yalanji Social History, PhD thesis, University of Queensland. [Forthcoming]Material Culture of the Kuku-Yalanjiof Bloomfieid River.In B. Reynoids (ed),Material Culture Handbook (Northeastern Volume), Robert Brown and Associates, Sydney.

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Golson, J. 1971Australian Aboriginai Food Plants: Some Ecologicai and Culture-historicalImplications. In D.J. Mulvaney and J. Golson (eds), Aboriginal Man and Environment in Australia, Australian National University Press, Canberra, 196-238. Goodale, J. 1971 Tiwi Wives, University of Washington Press. Seattie. Gould, R.A. 1969a Subsistence Behaviour Among the Western Desert Aborigines, Oceania 39(4), 253-74. 1969b Yiwara, Collins, London. 1980 Living Archaeology, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. 1981 Comparative Ecology of Food-sharingin Australia and Northwest California. In R.S.O.Harding and G. Teieki [eds), Omnivorous Primates, Columbia University Press, New York. 422-54. 1982 To Have and Have Not: The Ecology of Sharing Among Hunter-gatherers.In N.M.Wiliiams and E.S. Hunn (eds), Resource Managers: North American and Australian Hunter-gatherers, Westview Press, Boulder, Coiarado, 69-92. Hale, H. and N.B. Tindale 1933 Aborigines of Princess Charlotte Bay, North Queensiand, Part I,Records of the South Australian Museum 5(1), 64-116. 1934 Aborigines of Princess Charlotte Bay, North Queensland, Part 2, Records of the South Australian Museum 5(2), 117-72. Hamilton, A. 1975 Aboriginal Women: The Means of Production. In J. Mercer (ed), The Other Half, Penguin, Harmondsworth, 167-79. 1979 Timeless Transformations:Women, Men and History in the Western Australian Desert, PhD thesis, University of Sydney. 1980 Dual Social Systems: Technology, Labour and Women's Secret Rites in the Eastern Western Desert of Australia, Oceania 51(1), 4-19. 1982 The Unity of Hunting-gathering Societies: Reflections on Economic Forms and Resource Management. In N.M. Williams and E.S. Hunn (eds), Resource Managers: North American and Australian Hunter-gatherers,Westview Press, Boulder, Colorado, 229-48. Harris, D. 1975Traditional Patterns of Plant-foodProcurement in the Cape York Peninsula and Torres Strait Islands, Report to Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. 1976 Aboriginai Use of Plant Foods in the Cape York Peninsula and Torres Strait Islands,Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies Newsletter 6, 21-22. 1978 Adaptation to a Tropical Rain-forestEnvironment. in N.G. Blurton-Jonesand V. Reynoids (eds]. Human Behaviour and Adaptation, Taylor and Francis, London, 113-34. 1979 Foragers and Farmers in the Western Torres Strait Islands:An Historical Analysis of Economic, Demographicand Spatial Differentiation.In P.C.Burnham and R. Ellen (eds).SocialandEcological Systems, Academic Press, London, 75-110.

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McConnel, U.H. 1957 Myths of the Mungkan. Melbourne University Press, Melbourne. Meehan, R 1977a Man Does Not Live By Calories Alone: The Role of Shellfish in a Coastal Cuisine. In J. Allen, J. Golson and R. Jones (eds), Sunda and Sahul, Academic Press, New York, 493-531. 1977b Hunters By the Seashore, Journal of Human Evolution 6(4), 363-70. 1982 Shell Bed to Shell Midden, Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. Meggitt, M.J. 1957 Notes On the Vegetable Foods of the Waiibri of Central Australla. Oceanla 28, 143-45. 1962 Desert People, Angus and Robertson, Sydney. 1964a Aboriginal Food-gatherers of Tropical Australia, Proceedings and Papers of the Ninth Technical Meeting of the international Union for Conservationof Nature and Natural Resources, Nairobi, 30-37. 1964b Indigenous Forms of Government Among the Australian Aborigines, Bldragen, Tot de taai-, Land- en Volkendunde, Part 120, 163-78. 1966 Gadjori Among the Walbirl Aborigines of Central Australia, Oceania Monographs No 14, University of Sydney Press, Sydney. Mlddleton, H. 1977a Aborigines, In A.F. Davies, S. Encel and M.J. Berry (eds),Aust~~]ilan Society (3rd ed), Longman Cheshire, Melbourne, 356-82. 1977b But Now We Want the Land Back, New Age, Sydney. Morphy, H. 1980 The Impact of the Commercial Development of Art on Traditional Culture. In R. Edwards and J. Stewart (eds). Preserving Indigenous Cultures: A New Role for Museums, Australian Government Publishing Service, Canberra, 81-96. Morris, B. 1983 From Underemployment to Unemployment: The Changing Role of Aborigines in a Rural Economy, Mankind 13(6], 499-516. Mountford, C.P, 1965 Ayers Rock, Angus and Robertson, Sydney. Mulvaney, D.J. and J. Golson (eds) 1971 Aboriginal Man and Environmentin Australla. Australian National University Press, Canberra.

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Munn, N. 1973 Waibiri iconography, Cornell University Press, Ithaca. Myers, F. 1982Always Ask: Resource Use and Land Ownershipa Among PintubiAborigines of the Australian Western Desert. In N.M.Williams and E.S. Hunn (eds), Resource Managers: North American and Australian Hunter-gatherers, Westview Press, Boulder, Colorado, 172-96. O'Connell, J.F. and K. Hawkes 1984 Food Choice and Foraging Sites Among the Alyawarra, Journalof Anthropological Research 40(4), 504-35. O'Connell, J.F., P.K. Latz and P, Barnett 1983 Traditional and Modern Plant Use Among the Alyawarra, Economic Botany 37(1), 80-109. Palmer, K. 1982 An Aboriginai Cattle Station: Economy of a Community in the North of Western Australia. In E.A. Young and E.K. Fisk (eds),Small Rum/ Communities, Development Studies Centre, Australian National Unlversity, Canberra. 43-60. Penny, D.H. 1976 Social Accounting for Aboriginal Communities: The Cases of Wlllowra and Papunya, Research Section, Department of Aboriginal Affairs, Canberra. Penny. D.H. and J. Morlarty 1978 Aboriginal Economy-Then and Now. In B.S. Hetzel and H.J. Frith (eds], The Nutrition of Aborigines in Relation to the Eco-systemof Central Australia, CSIRO, Canberra, 25-38. Peterson, N. 1968 The Pestle and Mortar:An EthnographicAnalogy for Archaeology in Arnhem Land, Mankind 6, 567-70. 1971 Open Sites and the Ethnographic Approach to the Archaeology of Hunter-gatherers,in D.J. Mulvaney and J. Golson (eds), Aboriginal Man and Environment in Australia, Australian National University Press, Canberra, 239-48. 1973 Camp Site Location Amongst Australian Huntergatherers:Archaeological and Ethnographic Evidencefor a Key Determinant,Archaeology and PhysicalAnthropology in Oceania 8(3), 173-93. 1974 The Importance of Women in Determining the Composition of Residential Groups in Aboriginal Australia. In F. Gale (ed), Woman's Role in Aboriginal Society, Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. 1975 Hunter-GathererTerrltoriallty:The Perspective From Australia, American Anthropologist 77, 53-68. 1976a Ethnoarchaeoiogy in the Australian Iron Age. in G, de G. Sieveking and I.H. Longworth (eds), Problems in Economic and Social Archaeology, Duckworth, London, 265-75. l976b The Natural and Cultural Areas of Aborlglnal Australia: A PreliminaryAnalysis of Population Groupings With Adaptive Significance. In N. Peterson (ed), Tribes and Boundaries in Austrolio, Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra, 50-71. 1977 Aboriginai Involvement With the Australian Economy in the Central Reserve During the Winter

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1971 The Destruction of Aboriginal Society, Australian National University Press, Canberra. 1972 Outcasfs in White Australia, Australian National University Press. Canberra. 1972 The Remote Aborigines, Australian Nationai University Press, Canberra. 1982 Equality by Instalments:The Aboriginal Householder in Rural NSW, 1965 and 1980, Australian lnstitute of Aboriglnal Studies Newslefter 18 NS, 6-38. Royal Anthropologlcal lnstltute 1912 Notes and Queries on Anthropology (4th ed), Royal Anthropological Instltute, London Sackett, L. 1979 The Pursuit of Prominence:Hunting in an Australian Aboriginal Community, Anthropologica 21, 223-46. 1982 Working for the Law: Aspects of Economics in a Western Desert Community, Anthropological Forum 5(1), 122-32. Sahlins, M . 1974 Stone Age Economics, Tavistock, London, Sansorn, R 1980 The Camp at Wallaby Cross: Aboriginal Fringe Dwellers in Darwin. Austraiian institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. Schapper, H.P, 1970 Aboriginal Advancement to integration, Austraiian National University Press, Canberra. Sharp, I. and C. Tatz (edsl 1966 Aborigines in the Economy, Jacaranda Press, Brisbane. Sharp, R.L. 1958 People Without Politics. In V.F. Ray (ed), Systems of FbliticaiControl and Bureaucracyin Human Societies. Proceedings of the American EthnologicalSociety, University of Washington, Seattle, 1-8. Shells, H. (ed) 1963 Australian Aboriginal Studies, Oxford University Press, Melbourne. Sllberbauer, G.B. 1972 Ecology of the Ernabella Aboriglnal Community, Anthropologlcal Forum 3(1), 21-36. Smith, H.M. and E.H. Biddle 1975 Look Forwardnot Back: Aborigines h MetropolitanBrisbane, 1965-66, Australian National University Press, Canberra. Srnyth, D.M. 1982 Aboriginal Occupation of inland Cape York Peninsula: A Report on Ethnobiological Fieldwork, Australian Institute of Aboriglnal Studies Newslefter 17, 8-13. Stanley, 0. 1976 Aboriglnal Communities on Cattle Stations in Central Australia, Australian Economic ,%per's 15, 158-70. Stanner, W.E.H. 1933-34 Ceremonial Economics of the Mulluk Mulluk, Oceania 2, 156-75; 4, 458-71.

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1959-61, 1963 On Aboriginai Religion, Oceania 30(2), 108-27, (4). 245-78; 31(2), 100-20, (4), 233-58; 32(2), 79-108; 33(4), 239-73; 34(1), 56-58. 1965 Aboriginal Territorial Organization: Estate, Range, Domain and Regime, Oceonia 36(1), 1-26. Stanton, J. 1982The Mt Margaret Community, Western Australia. in E.A. Young and E.K. Fisk (eds). Small Rural Cornrnunltles, Development Studies Centre, Australian National University, Canberra, 61-88. Stevens, F. 1968 Equal Wages for Aborigines, Federal Council for the Advancement of Aborigines and Torres Strait islanders, Melbourne. 1969 Weipa: The Politics of Pauperization, Australian Quarterly 41(3), 5-25. 1971 Aboriginai Labour, Austrailan Quarterly 43(1), 70-78. 1974 Aborigines in the Northern Territory Coffle Industry, Austraiion Natlonal University Press, Canberra. 1980 The P~llticsof Preludice, Alternative Publishing Co-op, Sydney. Strehlow, T.G.H. 1965 Cuiture, Social Structure and Environment in Aboriginal Centrai Australia. In R.M.Berndtand C.H. Berndt (eds), Aboriginal Man in Australia, Angus and Robertson, Sydney, 121-45. 1970 Geography and the Totemic Landscape in Centrai Australia: A Functional Study. in R.M. Berndt (ed), Australian Aboriginal Anthropology. University of Western Australia Press, Nediands, 92-129. Sullivan, S.M. 1964 The Material Culture of the Aborigines of the Richmond and Tweed Rivers of Northern New South Wales at the Time of the First White Settlement, BA Hons thesis, University of New England. 1970 The Traditional Culture of the Aborigines of North Western New South Wales. MA thesis, University of New England. Sutton, P.J. 1978 Wik: Aboriginai Society, Territory and Language at Cape Keerweer, Cape York Peninsuia, Australia, PhD thesis, University of Queensland. 1980 Linguistic Aspects of Ethnobotanicai Research, mcific Linguistics Series A No 59, 303-14. Sutton, P.J. and R Rigsby 1979 Linguistic Communities and Social Networks on Cape York Peninsula, mclfic Linguistics Series C NO 54, 713-32. 1982 People with 'Politicks': Management of Land and Personnel on Australia's Cape York Peninsula.in N.M.Wiliiams and E.S. Hunn (eds),ResourceManagers: NorthAmerican andAustrallan Hunter-gatherers,Westview Press, Boulder, Colorado, 155-71. Taft, R., J.L.M. Dawson and P. Beasley [eds) 1970 Affitudes and Social Conditions, Australian National University Press, Canberra. Taylor, J.C. 1976 Mapping Techniques and the Reconstruction of Aspects of Traditional Aboriginal Cuiture,

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Treadgold, M.L. 1974 The Economy of the Torres Strait Area: A SocialAccounting Study. Department of Economics, Research School of Pacific Studies. Australian National University, Canberra. Turnbull. C. 1980 Economic Development of Aboriginai Communities in the Northern Territory. Australian Government Pubiishing Service. Canberra. Turner, D.H. 1974 Tradition and Transformation: A Study of Aborigines in the Groote Eylandt Area, Northern Australia, Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. Ucko, P.J. 1974 Review of AlAS Activities 1973, Australian institute ofAboriginai Studies Newsletter 1 NS. 5-15. von Sturmer, J.R. 1978 The Wik Region: Economy, Territoriality and Totemlsm in Western Cape York Peninsula, North Queensland, PhD thesis, University of Queensland, 1979 Mapping. in D. Barwick, M. Mace, and T. Stannage (eds), Handbook for Aboriginal and islander History, Aboriginal History, Austraiian National University, Canberra. 1984 A Critique of the Fox Report. In Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Aborigines and Uranium, Australian Government Pubiishing Service, Canberra, 20-96. Walker, I. (ed) 1972 Bridge and Barrlec The Natural and Cultural History of Torres Strait, Department of Biogeography and Geomorphology, Research School of Pacific Studies, Australian National University, Canberra. Warner, L. 1958 A Black Civilization. Harper, New York. Webb, L.J. 1977 Ethnobotany: The Co-operative Approach to Research, Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies Newsletter 7 NS, 43-44. White C and N. Peterson 1969 Ethnographic Interpretationsof the Prehistoryof Western Arnhem Land, SouthwesternJournal of Anthropology 25, 45-67. White, N. 1976 A Preliminary Account of the Correspondence Among Genetic, Linguistic, Social and Topographic Divisions in Arnhem Land, Australia, Mankind 10, 240-47. 1978 A Human Ecology Research Project in the Arnhem Land Region: An Outline, Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies Newsletter 9 NS. 39-51. Worsley, RM. 1961 The Utilization of Food Resources By an Australian Aboriginal Tribe, Acta Ethnographic0 10, 153-90.

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Yengoyan, A. 1968 Demographic and Ecological influences on Aboriginal Australian Marriage Sections. In R.B. Lee and I. DeVore [eds), Man the Hunter, Aldine, Chicago, 185-99. 1972 Biological and Demographic Components in Aboriginal Australian Socio-economic Organization, Oceonio 43(2), 85-95. 1976 Structure, Event and Ecology in Aboriginal Australia. in N. Peterson (ed], Trbes and Boundaries In Australia, Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra, 121-32. Young, E. 1981 7ilbol Communities In Rural Australia, Development Studies Centre, Australian National Unlverslty, Canberra. 1982a Aboriginal Town Dwellers in New South Wales. In E.A. Young and E.K. Fisk (eds), Town bpulatlons, Development Studies Centre, Australian National University, Canberra, 1-26. 1982b Outstations, 1981: The Wider Setting. in P. Loveday (ed), Service Delivery to Outstations, Australian National Unlversity, North Australia Research Unit, Darwin, 70-84. 1983 Income and Employmentfor Women in Remote Communities: Examples from the Northern Territory. In F. Gale (ed), We Are Bosses Ourselves, Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra, 126-35. Young, E, and E.K. Flsk (eds) 1982a Town bpulotions, Development Studies Centre, Australian National University, Canberra. 1982b Small Rural Communities, Development Studies Centre, Australian National University, Canberra.

Law

NANCY M WlLLlAMS Studies in Australian Aboriginal law 1961-1986

At the 1961 conference on Aboriginal studies, John Barnes gave a paper entitled 'Social Organisation: Limits of Contemporary Studies', In it, he made some comments which were pertinent to the study of law and which form an appropriate springboard for this review (Barnes 1963, 197): Each major area of the world has its distinctive geographical character and a similar distinctiveness is often present in the body of ethnographic literature describing the indigenous peoples of a region. The literature has its characteristic style, a styie determined by the common features of the people studied, the conditions under which the ethnographic studies are made, and the intellectual traditions of those making the inquiries. A styie may change as new conditions arise in the region or as new trends of thought affect those who study it but the change is likely to be gradual rather than abrupt. The styie characteristic of Australian ethnography during the last thirty years or so is likely to persist, despite some modifications, for another decade or more.

Barnes (1963, 198) referred 'to the study of social institutions which are traditionally or specifically Aboriginal and [left] out of account the many important problems that arise in the study of Aborigines who are becoming like their white neighbours'. His comment was nevertheless apt in reference to studies of urban and rural Aborigines which were then just underway. (For some examples of the early results, see Reay 1964.)Those studies revealed, among other things, that for all Aborigines a sense of continuity in tradition was as important as change. The continuities in law became socially and politically significant even among those who had ostensibly become 'like their white neighbours' later in the 1960%following enactment of land rights legislation and investigation into the possible recognition of 'customary law'. Barnes urged that intensive studies of how Aborigines used kinship would reveal a great deal about their 'political life', and were needed despite the difficulties that, he perceived, anthropologistsworking (necessarily)chiefly on government settlements and mission stations would have in undertaking them. The behaviours he named could have been as easily designated 'legal' as 'political'. He said (1963, 205): There is fighting, girls elope and wives desert, spears are thrown and sometimes people are killed. Disputes are discussed and penalties fixed; men leave their jobs or will not work together. Obviously these are matters that concern the employer, welfare officer or missionary and in some instances the police are involved. in general Aborigines seem to take the sensible view that the less said about these things to those in authority the better.

At the 1961 conference TGH Strehlow (1963, 452) was particularly concerned about the destruction and rapid disappearance of 'one of the finest treasure houses

192 Law

of living ancient cultures' and urged a coordinated national research effort, Included in information of great interest to scholars, he said, were 'various legal and political concepts among the central Australian tribes'. Strehlow listed the features which throughout his career he consistently regarded as the hallmarks of central Australian Aboriginal law-and not coincidentally described them in the past tense. He said that (1963, 456): These tribes had no hereditary chieftains, no police force, no lawyers, and no judges appointed by a central government. Yet strict norms of behaviour were enforced among them, and offenders could even be put to death by local councils of eiders. These derived their power from their guardianship of the sacred ceremonial sites and their knowledge of the ancient traditions. The decisions of these eiders were obeyed only if they rested on the traditional norms and on what may be termed legal precedents. Again, inter-tribal marriages were facilitated by the establishment of special rules for effecting such ties; and the principle of granting asylum to fugitives from strange tribes was well established long before any white people came to central Australia.

Speakers at the 1961conference placed a great deal of emphasis on recording traditional Aboriginal culture, They seemed quite sure what 'traditional' meant. Ronald Berndt (1963, 447), however, was recorded as expressing doubt about the desirability of 'separating out...indigenous from introducedfeatures', while he agreed with Barnes that It was becoming increasingly difficult to do so. Berndt (1963. 448) suggested that research should be topically guided, and he indicated some topics he felt were particularly important and should be the subject of detailed study. Among them were 'social control and social order (includingquestions of conformity, nonconformity, authority patterns, 'law' and informal regulation of conduct. [and] political institutions)', The major trends in studies of Aboriginal law during the past twenty-five years have been influenced by a general shift in research from analysis of the structure and function of institutions of Aborlglnal society to explanation of process. Attempts to reconstruct (or salvage) 'pure', traditional Aboriginal society and culture (that is, what presumably existed before the advent of English colonists), which were evident in papers presented at the 1961 conference, gave way to an emphasis on research in areas of contemporaryAboriginal society. That analytical shift was given impetus by the apparent changes in white Australians' attitudes toward Aborigines, signalled by the 1967 referendum, and the resulting constitutional changes and policy initiatives of the Commonwealth government. The most influential of those changes for studies

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of law occurred some ten years later: the passage of the Aboriginal Land Rights (Northern Territory) Act in 1976; and the reference on recognition of Aboriginal customary law given to the Australian Law Reform Commission [ALRC) in 1977. During the decade beginning in 1961, publishedwork, some of it based on field research extending back to the 1930s, continued to be mostly in the form of generalised portrayals of the functions of Aboriginal law and explained in the terms of English jurisprudential concepts. During that decade, however, Hiatt's study of the Gidjingali appeared. In the course of explaining the pragmatics of kinship, Hiatt provided a corpus of case material describing the process of disputing behaviour in the Aboriginal community at Maningrida in the late 1950s. Yet there followed not so much an interest in the study of law or legal process as an interest in government and politics. Questions related to governance, leadership, egalitarianism, and hierarchy which had been raised in the early 1960s by Meggitt were taken up by Hiatt, and they remain subjects of debate in Australian anthropology. Thus, issues of authority related to the management of disputes, or to broader questions about the nature of law, were not addressed In detail because the focus of interest was on the nature of government and politics in Aboriginal societies.That law was religion (sometimes referred to as 'the law' or 'Law'), remained the operative assumption of scholars, and was generally not seen as an Issue until questions raised by the Law Reform Commission's reference gave it prominence on the research agenda. During the decade of the 1 9 7 0 ~ when anthropologists were putting increasing emphasis on explaining social and cultural process, they were producing finegrained analyses of particular aspects of Aboriginal life, especially contemporary Aboriginal life. Although few studies focused on legal topics or social control, much work in areas such as linguisticsadded considerable insight to the processes of social control in contemporary Aboriginal communities. The major research related to law during that decade was conducted in the area of Aboriginal systems of land tenure, research that was occasioned by land claims. Virtually all anthropologists working in Australia learned something about Aboriginal land tenure following passage of the Aboriginal Land Rights (Northern Territory) Act, as they played various roles in land claims. Some had studied it before, and some continue. Considerable research was also undertaken in connection with the Law Reform Commission's reference, again involving many anthropologists in Australia in new research, or in re-examining data acquired from earlier fieldwork. Also during that decade Aborigines began to play a role in legal research, not only as claimants of their traditional land, but as lawyers and field officers for Aboriginal legal aid services, political activists, and

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as scholars in history and anthropology, This Aboriginal involvement has continued and will increasingly influence the kind of research undertaken and the nature of the results. During the present decade, anthropologists' interests in the contextualisation of law has grown, as has concern with context in other areas of study. This shift has been influenced by trends in other disciplines but especially in history, politics, gender studies and linguistics. Thus studies of Aboriginal law are now increasingly being placed in the context of historical processes of control, and their adequacy judged in terms of how they deal with the relation of legal forms to political and economic forms. Although recent acknowledgement by anthropologists of the importance of historical process will not in itself satisfy practising historians that they are properly schooled in the requirements of historiography, it constitutes a beginning. Feminists' studies of gender relations have demonstratedthe significance of analysing power and its expression in relations between individuals and groups, and the adequacy of studies of Aboriginal law is also likely to be evaluated on how sensitively power is analysed. As studies in linguistics-especlally in sociolinguistics-have demonstrated the importance of understanding Aboriginal modes of discourse in explaining social process, the work of researchers with first language competence will be Increasingly productive. Here the contributions of Aboriginal scholars will be particularlyvaluable in expanding and refining an understanding of Aboriginal law. In taking into account all relevant material published since 1961, 1 have had to use a broad definition of publication-even broader than the 'make generally known' of the Oxford English Dictionary-since a great deal of what has been recorded in the area of Aborigines and law during that time exists not in books or scholarly journals, but in transcripts of evidence and submissions in a variety of legal forums and commissions of inquiry, reports to government instrumentalities, reports of special commissions, and theses. Although the increased interaction between anthropologists and lawyers has expanded interest in each other's approaches to law, in 1981 Keon-Cohen,a lawyer, could nevertheless observe that (1981,271-72): In Australia, the discipline of 'Aboriginal law' is still in its infancy. There Is no legal literatureto speak of; one text, irregular articles, and no legal journal devoted to the issue. ...in recent years the only substantial scholarly attention to the 'discipline' has been in the form of occasional theses for advanced degrees and the work of anthropologists with regard to researching and documenting evidence in the preparation of tradltional land claims before the Northern Territory Aboriginal Land Commissioner. Major research work concerning Aboriginal customary law and

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interaction problems experienced by Aboriginals within the Australian legal system, is now being pursued by the Australian Law Reform Commission. Published results of this research are gradually appearing.

rhese results were in the form of widely distributed research papers and discussion papers until the Commission's final report was tabled in Parliament in June 1986. Reports of seminars, for example ALRC 1977a, 1977b. were also circulated for comment; see also Hennessy 1984.) Five years earlier, Dickey (1976, 350), another lawyer, had made a similar observation about the paucity of published work on Aboriginal law: 'It seems scarcely credible that despite the immense amount of research that has so far been undertaken into Aboriginal culture studies of traditional Aboriginal law are almost non-existent'.' Maddock (1984, 212), one of the anthropologists who has published most on legal topics, suggested that the reason for the thinness of systematic studies on Aboriginal law is to be found in Australian history. In his view: 'We need not look long for an explanation. Local law and customs were officially ignored by the British colonisers of Australia. This neglect continued after the colonies became selfgoverning.' The question of defining law has been addressed by some authors while others have omitted the subject and dealt with conflicts and disputes in a manner that did not seem to require definition of law, Definitional discussion of law, like others that flow from institutional labels derived, perhaps inevitably, from European forms, has often led to conclusions of presence or absence. Some writers have looked for forms or functions that could be seen as analogues to those of European law and then used descriptive terms with the object of permitting comparison of functional equivalents in different societies. [Goodale 1962, for example, uses the term 'contract' in referring to Tiwi marriage arrangements,)Still others have indicated that a broad assumption about the nature of order may be used to define the general field of law. For example, on one occasion i said (Williams 1977, 2) that: "Law" refers to the existence of an overarching concept of order in human affairs backed by belief in its moral base and certainty in the application of rules legitimated by the moral order'. In sum, changes in the focus and style of studies of Aborigines and law during the years 1961-86 have reflected shifts in the general theoretical interests of anthropologists and fluctuations in the Australian political climate which influenced the administration of Aboriginal affairs.

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LAW AND GOVERNMENT Since the 1930s, studies of law and social control in Australia have been marked in several important ways by continuity. Perhaps the most striking feature of continuity has resulted from an overlap of political and legal topics. This may be a function of European ideas about the connection between law and politics in the development of nation states. Because of this historical connection, it is necessary to distinguish the fields analytically if their relationshipsare to be shown clearly. Many would follow Barnes (1971)in making a distinction between politics and administration and locate law in the field of administration. So conceived, politics is concerned with the struggle for power and with arguments about policy, while administration is the process of organisation and management of the affairs of a social unit (Barnes 1971, 100-01). This distinction is based on a view 'from the top down' and many recent studies focus on the view of individuals, especially those engaged in conflict and dispute, 'from the bottom up'. Perhaps it is the latter view, whether explicit or implicit, that permits discussion of disputes without the need for defining law. in any case, questions about the problematic relation between politics and administration are raised by Barnes (in an English setting), and those questions are a useful guide to what is involved in maintaining conceptual distinctions. Barnes asks (1971,99-100): Is It possible to keep entirely separate the pamphleteerlng,electloneerlng, lobbying, and disputation that characterise polltlcs from the orderly operation of precise commands and regulations that constitutesadmlnlstratlon?When a Bill becomes an Act does It move from the disorderly and unpredictableworld of competing interests into a quite separate orderly environment of balanced rights and duties where breach inevitably leads to remedy? Is legislation the alchemist's touchstone for transmuting the base metal of factional polemic into the pure gold of the sovereign wlll?

These questions go to the heart of debate about the exercise of authority and Aboriginal law, whether it is approached from the top down (are there elders or councils of elders one of whose responsibilities is to settle disputes?),or from the bottom up (when individuals are involved in a dispute, are there other individuals vested with authority, such as leaders or a council of elders to whom they can turn in attempting to gain a settlement?).And it is evident that these and related questions have not yet been approached with consistent conceptual distinction by writers on Aboriginal law. It may be impossible, Hiatt, who did not find it necessary to define law for his purposes In analysing disputes among the Gidjingali in his 1965 book, framed his explanation in terms of

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administration, or government as he called it, implicit is the assumption that governments are vested with the authority to administer rules and to adjudicate disputes. Hiatt (1965, 146) found no individual or group 'with permanent authority', the hallmark of government. Moreover in the literature on Aborigines from the midnineteenth century to the mid-twentieth, he found no convincing account of the operation of government or how government-like functions were carried out. It is possible that an exhaustive investigation of all the early sources, beginning with the first European accounts of Aboriginal life in the eighteenth century, would provide enough data to make some more detailed inferences about the procedures of dispute settlement (includingthe roles of individuals in authority) than Hiatt allowed possible, but such a study has yet to be carried out (see Smith 1976, 20-64; also Cieland 1963,29). What Hiatt did address himself to, that is, the process of disputing and dispute settlement, resulted in a major advance in understanding the actions of individuais involved at various phases of conflict. To return to the observation of continuity in research, Hiatt, in his Wentworth lecture 'Aboriginal Political Life', confined his discussion to questions of politics and administration from the top down, as control by older men of younger members of their group, and did not take up issues related specifically to the administration of law in areas such as dispute settlement. He did, however, refer in passing to 'laws governing land tenure and marriage' (Hiatt 1986, 13). He also referred to his own portrayal of the Gidjingaii 'ethic of generosity regulating access to resources', and 'the importance of a set of common values and formally defined rights and obligations operating within a system lacking institutionalized authority' (1986, 6). Moreover, he responded to Bern's (1979a)criticism 'of the SharplMeggittlHiatt position' and thereby indirectly referred to the role of indlviduais, whether temporarily or permanently in positions of authority, in settling disputes as described since the 1930s. (Sharp's publications based on his Cape York study began in 1934; see 1934a, 1934b,)Evidence of continuity is also apparent in the publications of RM Berndt on law and social control. In both his 1977 (with CH Berndt) and 1965 chapters he refers to the work of other anthropologists as well as his own work published before 1961 (Elkin 1931, Kaberry 1939, Sharp 1934a, Warner 1958, Hart and Pilling 1960) as well as the observations of nineteenth century writers. in all these accounts the issue of law is primarily a matter of the exercise of authority, Because of their differing interpretations of roles of leadership and the exercise of authority, often measured by the involvement of leaders in disputes and dispute settlement, major writers on those topics have frequently been pictured as opposing

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camps: thus Sharp, Meggitt and Hiatt are on one side and Strehlow, Elkin and Berndt on the others2Elkin (in his 1938 text, and in reprinted editions to 1964) wrote in two paragraphs and in general terms about the nature of authority and the role of men in positions of authority in the settlement of disputes. He said (1964, 87): Male elders...exercise authority in the local groups, and at meetings of such groups. There Is usually one head-manfor each group who unofflclally presides at meetings. settles quarrels and makes declslons bearing on the group's economic, social and ceremonlal actlvltles, though other elders also express their opinions.

In a case presented to illustrate the obligations of kinship, however, Elkin (1964, 144-47) stated that for breaches of rules prescribing kin defined behaviour, 'there are usually definite punishments, some of which are 'supernatural" in character'. He named death, banishment, and physical punishment. 'These matters are decided by the elders, or more particularly by certain relations such as the 'uncle" and 'fatherin-law"' (Elkin 1964, 144). In a paper published in 1947, Elkin devoted several pages to the role of Aborigines in Australian courts established to deal with Aboriginal matters. There he assumed the existence of Aboriginal law (but did not define it). Elkin (1947, 210) urged the increasing involvement of Aborigines in such legal forums, and concluded by saying that the experiments already in train: 'should be continued and developed. They are in keeping with the Aborigines' own "councils" of headmen and eiders for matters concerning the welfare, order and ceremonial life of the tribe. More formalized native courts may follow.' In his 1962 Warlpiri ethnography Meggitt used essentially the same criteria to identify authority (more fully developed in a 1964 paper) as had Sharp (1958; but see Sutton and Rigsby 1982 for a contrary view), and not surprisingly arrived at essentially the same conclusion with respect to the Warlpiri as had Sharp for the YirYoront. As he put it (1962, 250-51): the community had no recognlzed political leaders, no formal hierarchy of government...[There are no] indlvldualsor groups in Walblrl society wlth permanent and clearly-defined leglslatlve and judicial functions [but] there are explicit social rules, which, by and large, everybody obeys; and the people freely characterize each other's behaviour Insofar as It conforms to the rules or deviates from them.

Despite the absence of 'government', however, Meggitt (1962, 255-56) said the effective punishment of law breakers involved the general acceptance of certain conditions by the public at large:

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some person (or group) who is acquainted with the law must be accepted as competent to compare the alleged facts with the legal norm and to decide whether the behaviour in question is illicit; some person conversant with the range of legal penalties current in the society must be accepted as competent to nominate the punishment due to the offender; some person must be accepted as competent to administer the punishment, which should be sufficiently publicised to deter potential law breakers; and some person must ensure that the offender and his kinsmen do not try to retaliate against the administrator of the legal punishment. Hiatt used his own observations of disputes and dispute settlement at Maningrida and also drew on published accounts of other anthropologists (including Warner, Kaberry, RM and CH Berndt and Worsley) in support of his conclusion that the Gidjingaii, like the Warlpiri, 'had no governmental institutions' (Hiatt 1965, 147; see also 1957, 1959). Other factors operated in conflict resolution. Berndt and Berndt (1977) and Strehlow (1970)both argued specifically against Meggitt and Hiatt; both appear to assume that in order to maintain the existence of Aboriginal law they must establish the existence of authority which in some contexts is capable of the privileged use of force. Strehlow (1970, 112) credits Berndt with 'the best account of law and order in Aboriginal Australia', and claims himself to deal 'only with the problem of Aboriginal authority and its relationship to geographically based totemism'. For Strehlow (1970, 112), however, all authority derives ultimately from religion: all effective authority ultimately rests on force, and ...the power of inflicting capital he ultimate power over life and punishment represents the ultimate use of force death [was] possessed by the ceremonial chief (ingkata),supported by...his 'council' of elders (kngaribata],in cases of sacrilege.

...m

More recently, Chase (1980) found in the Lockhart River community during the first half of the 1970s, 'little evidence of leadership in public affairs for any of the identity groups'. He adds (1980, 297): 'in daily settlement life, there was little opportunity for [the role of 'big man'] to survive...Things simply were decided without them, and usually through the presence of a European.' However, Chase describes a dispute at some length in which it appears that individuals senior to disputants played a major role in attempts to deal with it. Von Sturmer (1978, 450) described the role of 'big man' in the Aurukun area in the late 1960s and into the 1970s as pre-eminent in decision making, including issues that were contentious.

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In 1982 Maddock referred to the debate about government in Aboriginal societies, and concluded (1982, 55): The Aboriginal polity, with its contrast between local or inward-lookingand expansive or outward-looking concerns, its freedom from any over-riding institution of enforcement, and its consequent stress on self-reliance and mutual aid within a framework of generally recognisednorms, was a kind of anarchy in which the active and enterprising might obtain influence with age but in which none was sovereign.

LAW: RULES AND DISPUTE SETTLEMENT Meggitt (1962,256-57) listed 'Offences recognised by the Walbiri' (whichwere twelve of commission and two of omission) and 'the penalties faced by Walbiri law-breakers' (which were seven), that may be invoked to sanction each offence in the categories of 'offences recognised', (Stanner 1977, 5 confirmed the existence, in the parts of Aboriginal Australia that he knew, of Meggitt's list of offences except that he said he would add two offences of omission.) Although Meggitt was not concerned specifically to demonstrate the procedures of dispute settlement, some of his descriptions of disputing behaviour make it possible to infer the procedures used. One extended case involving marriage contracts is especially valuable for the strategies of dispute settlement it reveals (Meggitt 1962, 173-84). Hiatt concluded that among the Gidjingaii most conflicts were about women. He says (1965, 146-47): Although the ethic of generosity was important in regulatingaccess to both food and here demand commonly women, conflicts over women frequently occurred exceeded supply, quarrels occurred over the acquisition of unmarried girls, adultery. and wife-stealing. There was no institution with authority to deal with such disputes; there was a community of people wlth a set of common values and a system of formally-defined rights and obligations. On rare occasions, individualsachieved their ends in defiance of the code of good conduct and without regard for the legitimate interests of others. But usually they attempted to justify their actions or demands by appealing to an acknowledged right or value. As both antagonists could often produce acceptable but opposed arguments...a quarrel was seldom an obvious clash between right and wrong. Nevertheless, public opinion about the merits of the cases clearly Influencedthe behaviour of people concerned...and was a factor in determining its outcome.

...m

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How public opinion influenced the outcome, how it was expressed, and who was expressing it are topics that readers in the 1980s would wish spelled out. Strehiow presented a number of cases of executions for sacrilege, including some for sacrileges alleged to have been committed by ceremonial chiefs themselves, to demonstrate the authority of the ceremonial chiefs, but, more importantly, the authority of religious law. The cases occurred he said, during the period from about 1850 to about 1940. The jurisdiction of the ceremonial chiefs was limited to the land owned by their local groups, within which they exercised both religious and administrative functions. Administrative functions, according to Strehiow (1970. I O I ) , included 'all means of social control among members living within a defined geographical area'. (Strehlow did not use the terms 'administration' or 'social control' elsewhere in that publication.) The executions and the disputes relatedto them which Strehlow presented (see especially 1970, 112-28) do not reveal a great deal about the procedures of dispute settlement.This is unfortunate, especially since in some of the cases the sentences were not accepted as final outcomes by all those who were apparently involved: in approximately one third of the executions for sacrilege, the executions were regarded as having created culpability for which those who had ordered or carried them out were regarded as themselves liable to retaliatory sanctions. The Berndts have been critical of those who have denied the existence of law in Aboriginal society, as well as of those attempting 'to fit Aboriginal 'law ways" into an alien and preconceived perspective'. (Both approaches, they say, are 'outdated'.) They argue that Aboriginal law-like that of any other society-must be understood in its own terms. 'Much of Aboriginal law was necessarily informal, but much of it too was institutionaiized.'The basis of Aboriginal law according to Berndt and Berndt (1977, 364) is to be found in religion, however: To identify firm legal procedures in traditional Australia, we might ask who was, or were, in a position to maintain them. The answer must be in terms of particular persons (that is, leaders).But part of it is to be found in the ethical system itself, which established a blue-print for behaviour that, Ideally, had to be followed by the members of a particular society.

As a designation for one mode of dispute settlement, 'self-help' has a long history in studies of law. Berndt and Berndt (1977, 347) assert that 'self-help...is the basis for legal procedure in Aboriginal Australia, [but] in most areas more or less formal discussions or meetings are held at irregular intervals to settle grievances'. In contrast,

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the kind of gatherings that came closest to resembling courts of law in Aboriginal Australia were observed in only one region. These were judicial councils constituted by some of the people who once lived in the lower Murray River area. Such councils were reported by Taplin (in Woods 1879,34-35 as cited by Berndt 1965).As described to Berndt (1965, 177) in 1942-43, they were 'past oriented, retrospective accounts', since such councils had not functioned for nearly seventy-fiveyears at that time. The Berndts believe that this kind of council function was probably not widespread throughout Australia, although the employment of strategies of self-help was. The web of kinship enmeshes all who utilise self-help in dispute settlement, including men whose ritual authority spills over into the secular sphere (Berndt 1965. 170). In making that observation, Berndt was arguing contra Sharp and others that all is not merely kinship. Yet he equivocates-all are kin, but In some cases, 'other than kinship considerations may intervene', Berndt cited a man with ritual status who intervened to break up a fight: 'apparently unmoved by considerations of kinship [he] acted in a police capacity, meting out punishment and restricting the spread of fighting by prompt a ~ t i o n 'Berndt .~ (1965, 173-74) argued that: It is not uncommon for a man to 'take the law into his own hands', especially in the heat of the moment or under extreme provocation: and this seems to have been recognized as legitimate, or at ieast normal in the circumstances, even if he is penalized later. Yet there are generally accepted and conventional means of proceeding in order to heal a breach. These conventionai means, some of them ritualized, vary throughout the continent. But they all demonstrate that there is a public concern with the problem of keeping order, even though the machinery through which it is maintained Is informal, and sanctions are not easy to enforce because of the weakness of the political structure. It is, therefore, not simply a matter of kinship and nothing more. It is a question of the way in which any such action is shaped, the way in which settlement or retaliation is organized and institutionalized: there are conventionai avenues through which redress may be obtained, or at ieast sought. And this presupposes that some men are in a position to exert or enforce their authority.

The apparent dilemma here is based on an implicit assumption that by definition (or in its nature) kinship entails partiality, and that by definition (or in its nature) law is impartial. These assumptions may be seen in the criteria used to define self-help and the role of a leader In the settlement of disputes (illustrated in the passage quoted above). They both rest on an implicit comparison with the ideal model of a European derived legal system. But as Moore (1972, 73) has argued: Justice and fairness [in European social structures and legal systems] are conceived as depending upon an impartial evaluation of the rlghts of disputant parties, or the

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culpability of wrongdoers, by neutral persons. These neutral persons are public officials who represent 'the law' conceived as the norms and Interests of society at large. Seifhelp seems exactly the opposite of this conception of fairness and justice, since it is the purest partisanship.In these models private and partisan are equated. Moreover, public officials are associated with centralized government and the wellbeing of all, while private causes are associated with the personal advantage of Individual~.~

Despite their authors' assumptions, theoretical proclivities, or interests in explanation, case materials-that is, descriptions of disputing behaviour and procedures for dispute settlement-recorded by a number of anthropologists (and some others) contain sufficient detail to make them useful in elucidating the processes involved. Although recorded some twenty-five years before 1961, Kaberry's (1939) descriptions of disputes, used to illustrate the relationships between husbands and wives and among those with various rights in arranging marriages, the role of women in public ceremonies connected with dispute settlement, and women's exercise of authority are sensitive accounts (see especially pages 126-33, 142-52, 176-77, 181). Meggitt's (1962) cases are similarly revealing. Of Hiatt's (1965) cases, those that he observed during his research at Maningrida (1958-60) contain the detail useful to understanding the strategies involved in the conduct of disputes and in attempts to settle them. Cases of disputes about control in the sphere of men's ritual at Ngukurr in 1970-71 have been well analysed by Bern (174, 1979b). although his primary interest was in political conflict rather than in dispute settlement processes. Taylor (1984)has described in fine detail the processes of disputing at Edward River in the 1960s, both in the Aboriginal residential areas of the settlement and in the context of the local court. In analysing the causes of disputes, he draws on Sharp's (1937) categories and finds (not surprisingly) a number of causes no longer represented in the court docket. Macdonald's (1988)fine-grainedportrayal of fighting behaviour among a group of Koories in New South Wales also provides data about the procedures of dispute settlement that Koories may invoke. Rose's (1984a)extended account of the events foliowing a murder at Yarralin in 1982 reveals the transformation that may occur in the process of managing disputes. Hamilton's (1972, 10-12) description of the use of space and time in verbal disputing behaviour, although not intended as analysis of disputes, contains pertinent kinesic and proxemic detaiin5 What no ethnographer of law has consistently done, however, is to treat in analytically distinct ways, that is, as separate orders of data, their actual observations of disputes, and accounts given to them of past disputes, sometimes called 'memory cases' (but see Williams 1973).

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LAW: SACRED OR SECULAR? In his 1971 decision on the Gove land rights case, Mr Justice Blackburn concluded that Yolngu relations to land were a matter of religion and therefore not law (1971, 167,273-74; see also Wiliiams 1986, 193-203), Followingthat decision, a commission of inquiry prepared a draft Land Rights Bill which was the basis for legislation implemented in 1976 in the Northern Territory. Because of the Act's definitions, the question whether Aboriginal law is sacred or secular has had great practical effect. This question was an issue in land claims heard under the terms of the Act; it was also made an issue in the work of the Law Reform Commission in its reference on the recognition of Aboriginal customary law. The terms of the Land Rights (Northern Territory) Act determined that Aboriginal interests in land would be put in terms of religious ties to land. Section 3 defines traditional Aboriginal owners in relation to land as 'a local descent group of Aboriginals who-(a) have common spiritual affiliations to a site on the land, being affiliations that place the group under a primary spiritual responsibility for that site and for the land; and (b) are entitled by Aboriginal tradition to forage as of right over that land.' (Section 3 also defines a 'sacred site'.) From the outset of work on the referenceon 'Aboriginal customary law', questions relating to the religious nature of Aboriginal law were paramount.They were raised at a seminar convened shortly after the ALRC received the reference from the Attorney-General, and they were matters of concern in Discussion Paper No 17 issued in 1980. Section 6 of that Discussion Paper dealt with 'some problems in recognition', and stated that 'there may be two obstacles to complete recognition.They involve the sacred-secretissue and repugnant rules and punishments' (ALRC 1980,50).Those obstacles were expressed in terms of the religious nature of Aboriginal law; the first (secrecy) directly, and the second (repugnance) indirectly: A considerable portion of Aboriginal customary law can be categorized as religious or having religious derivations...some is secret and access to its knowledge is restricted to certain categories of persons Breach of the secrecy rules may result in death. In relation to that portion which is secret, how can the Commission recommend recognition of what is not known and cannot be known?

...

Concerning repugnancy, the Discussion Paper stated: 'A number of "rules" are manifestly repugnant to white Australian notions of civil rights, for example, the punishments of killing and spearing' (ALRC 1980, 50-51). The obstacle labelled 'repugnance' is a reflex of common non-AboriginalAustralian assumptions about

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Aboriginal law-it is reiigious law, and breaches are punished by 'tribal killings' or 'tribal executions'. Mr Justice Kirby, then Chairman of the Law Reform Commission, had put the issue somewhat more colloquially at a seminar on 'Law Reform and Aboriginal Customary Law' sponsored by the Australian Institute of Criminology In Canberra (1-3 November 1977),He referred to the views of Strehlow, and said (Kirby 1977, 14): in the hierarchy of Aboriginal offences there is no offence greater than offences of a religious kind...The law, no doubt, as in ancient Hebrew times, is religious law. interfering even in minor ways with religious artefacts or matters of that kind is of critical importance generally warranting grievous penalties, often death. One question for the Australian community...is this: would we tolerate any legal recognition or any recognition at all ...permitting the infliction of death as a punishment in a sltuation of religious interference with artefacts?

The terms of the Attorney-General's reference had embodied this concern. They concluded with the injunction that: 'In making its inquiry and report the Commission will give speciai regard to the need to ensure that no person should be subject to any treatment, conduct or punishment which is cruel or inhumane' (Attorney-General 9 February 1977). Perhaps no societies in the world have impressed anthropologists and other outsiders as being so much of the whole cloth as Australian Aboriginal societies. And perhaps in no area of social or cultural study has it been more difficult to tease out what may be logically and empirically (or conceptually or emotionally) the separate strands of what we wish to call law. Maddock (1984, 212) asks, 'when Aborigines use the English word law, what do they mean?' He answers the question first by citing some terms from Aboriginal languages that have been glossed as law, and then he remarks (1984, 213) that: 'Whether anything in the broad Aboriginal concept is seen as answering to a lawyer's idea of law will depend on the lawyer.' (In that paper Maddock probably assumed he was writing primarily for an audience of lawyers.] For anthropologists the question has often been resolved, at least in the first instance, into a further, institutional, question: 'is Aboriginal law sacred or secular?' Answers have tended to reflect the intellectual concerns of the people who asked them. So for students inquiring into some aspect of religion, Aboriginal law referred to, or was denoted as, Aboriginal religion, and for students whose interests stemmed from or were formed by aspects 6 t h e administration of law, or g o v e r n , or social control in nation states, Aboriginal law was investigated in areas of authority, or command, or conflict resolution.

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Linguists have pointed out, as have anthropologists using linguistic techniques to discover the semantic domain of law, that Aboriginal terms glossed as law may have a broad range of significations including those that are normative or those that are statistical. That is, they may refer to what is moral, obligatory and ordained by unapproachable authority, or to what regularly and predictably occurs, or to both. In searching for useful translations anthropologists have sometimes pointed out that English terms derived from law have a comparable range of meanings. as even a cursory glance at the entry on law in the OxfordEnglishDictionaryconfirms. (Since that is the case, why European legal scholars have written whole volumes in search of a universally valid definition of law is an interesting sociological question.) A good deal of ink has been spilled on the issue of using terms of European jurisprudence as translations of what are presented as comparable terms in nonEuropean languages. Probably the critical issue is whether the aim of explanation is at the level of a single group, community or society, or whether the aim is arriving at a generalisation based on comparison, In most cases, however, anthropologists writing on topics of Aboriginal law have provided their readers with definitions of the terms they use. In his Warlpirl ethnography Meggiti (1962,212-13) refers to the authority of elders as 'generally defined in terms of the ultimate dreamtime laws' and 'normally limited to ceremonial situations'. He adds, 'the basic sanction upholdingtheir authority within the lodge [of the religious cult group] is the threat of keeping back ritual knowledge, without which the younger men cannot become full social persons', Later (1962,2501, he notes that 'people's behaviour in joint activities was initiated and guided largely by their own knowledge and acceptance of established norms [based on Dreamtime precedents]'. Meggitt continues (1962, 251): The totailty of the rules expresses the law, djugaruru, a term that may be translated also as 'the line' or 'the straight or true way'. Its basic connotation is of an established and morally-rightorder of behaviour (whether of planets or of people], from which there shouid be no divergence.

Although religion provides the ultimate foundation of Aboriginal law for Meggitt, In the section on law in his chapter devoted to 'Government and Law', he defines Warlpiri law in secular terms. It is (Meggitt 1962, 251): a body of jurai rules and moral evaluations that specify: (a)the rights and duties (the role-expectations] associated with ail the statuses in the society; (b) the manner in which reasonable occupants of the statuses shouid fulfil the expectations; and (c] the procedures to be followed when the expectations are not fulfilled.

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Hiatt, as already noted, does not deal with the topic of law as such, and thus has no need to deal with its definition. Strehlow (1970, 126)speaks of 'legal principles involved' in actions taken against men who had committed sacrilege, and of the 'legal rights and wrongs involving religious authority in the Aboriginal communities of the Centre'. By implication, law for Strehlow is primarily a matter of religion, or is determined by religion. He speaks of the 'crime' committed by a man who killed his father-in-law,but the father-in-law was also the man who had circumcised his future son-in-law.Strehlow (1970, 128) sums up his discussion of 'tribal executions' by concluding that 'the foundations of Aboriginal authority in Central Australia rested on religion and on geography'. Moreover, 'there was no sharp division between religious and secular authority' (1970, 133): The division found in the judicial systems of the Central Australian tribes between sacrilegious acts on the one hand and offences against private persons or ordinary marital misdemeanours on the other was of rather a different nature [than the distinction between criminal and civil offences]. The reason glven for this division was that the totemic ancestors themselves had instituted sickness and death as punishments for sacrilege, and that secular offences [that is, acts that would approximate to our 'civil' offences) had been left to human beings for punishment or to settlement according to long-establishedYrlbal' precedents [which dictated how severe a punishment could be inflicted on an offender by a wronged individual with the tacit approval or connivance of the community). However, since all social actions and all marriage arrangements had, in the first place, been instituted by the ancestral beings, religious attitudes here too influenced the behaviour of all parties involved in these disputes; for appeal to mythological precedents were [sic] often made, even on occasions at which they would have been considered as being quite irrelevant by our~elves.~

Among the last of Strehlow's published works were responses to the Law Reform Commission's reference on the recognition of Aboriginal customary law. While not addressing himself directly to defining law, he asserted its existence and its effect. He remained consistent in his emphasis on its religious basis and consequent unalterability, as well as in his portrayal of its effects in terms of severe sanctions, especially in cases of sacrilege. Where he does-parenthetically and in quotation marks-by implication define law, the context is the use of corporal and capital punishment; there he writes that 'the punishments were correct according to the ancient norms' (1978b, 1I). For Strehlow it was 'easy to understand why all Aboriginal law was ultimately based on religious beliefs, and why the death penalty was accepted almost without demur' (1978a, 1).

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RM Berndt and CH Berndt began the chapter 'Law and Order' in their 1977 textbook on Australian Aborigines with a statement on government, which shapes their conception of law (Berndt and Berndt 1977, 336): 'Government throughout Aboriginal Australia is, or was, very informal and loosely organized. inevitably, this has had a direct bearing on the maintenance of law and order.' Despite its informality, however, the Aboriginal view of law is portrayed by Berndt and Berndt (1977, 336-37) as immutable because its basis is in religion: the mythical characters [of the Dreamtime] instituted a way of life which they introduced to human beings: and because they themselves are viewed as eternal, so are the patterns they set...But whether they represent the good or the bad example, the mythical figures are said to have laid down precepts or made suggestions of which people are expected to take notice today.

Berndt and Berndt discuss rules, offences, criminal acts, and sanctions, but the term law is linked with religion. In the section dealing with the 'breaches of sacred law' (1977, 343-44), they begin with a discussion of ritual leaders meeting to make decisions 'on the appropriate punishment-which in extreme cases is death'. They descrlbe several procedures, however, simply as legal: 'self-help...is the basis of legal procedure in Aboriginal Austraiia' (1977, 347) or which 'have a legal quality' (1977, 353); and also describe the 'embryonic court' of the Jaraldi and Dangari referred to above (1977, 347-49). In a section on 'feud and warfare' (1977, 356-59), they state, 'law and war are two sides of the same coin'. Berndt and Berndt (1977,363) refer to RM Berndt's 1965 chapter 'Law and Order' as complementaryto the 1977 chapter, the former emphasising 'how and by whom the "law" (variously conceived) was maintained'. As RM Berndt conceives it, in ail its functions (Berndt 1965, 201): 'finally we have the influence of the sacred: the recognition that religion can serve as a harmonizing force, which can be brought to bear on matters of everyday living. In Aboriginal Australia "law" speaks, for the most part, through religion'. Maddock, who as already noted has written a great deal on legal topics, has not offered his own definition of law. In a paper subtitled 'a test case in legal anthropology' (1981),which deals with topics related to ownership of land, he relies on part of Biackburn's definition in the Gove land rights case (1981,86) to generalise the existence of 'a system of land tenure' which fits the Warlpiri. In his 1984 paper Maddock uses the term 'Aboriginai land law'. Yet in his book on Aboriginai society, where he discusses Aboriginal responses to death by sorcery (1982, 149-50), he

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concludes that certain procedures constitute a 'custom [which] is at most only a borderline case of law', and in the 1984 paper Maddock concludes (213) that: 'if Aborigines have law, in an acceptable English sense, the rules and practices in which it consists will be among those known asjulubidior djugaruru or by the corresponding words in other languages.' Maddock here cites definitions by Meggitt and Tonkinson of these terms. Tonkinson (1974, 7) uses the term Law (capitalised, following Wilson 1961) 'to refer to the Aboriginal concept, which connotes a body of jural rules and moral evaluations of customary and socially sanctioned behaviour patterns that are believed by the Aborigines to have originated in...the Dreamtime.' (Djugaruruas defined by Meggitt has already been mentioned.) Both Maddock (1977)and Bern (1974)discuss the contrast between 'blackfella law' and 'whitefella law', and at that level of contrast Aboriginal law is religious. Bern writes (1974, 25-26) of the people at Ngukurr: Blackfella law refers to ideology, the body of norms and values, which validate Aboriginal kinship and religlous behaviour and provide sanctions for its breaches...Blackfella law is the framework-the code of proper conduct-which subsumes the content and consciousness of Ngukurr society.

At its base, however, Aboriginal law is framed in terms of religion: 'Blackfella law encapsulates the traditional order of society, which is most prominently maintained, at Ngukurr, through the organization of religious cults' (Bern 1974,216). Maddock (1977, 14), in contrasting the two laws at Beswick Reserve, writes of the way law is conceptualised: the concept of law is used prescriptiveiy as well as descriptively...as well as asserting regularities of behaviour It asserts that they are good to follow and ought to be followed. Blackfeliow law has this value by virtue of its connection with The Dreaming and the world-creative powers who then shaped nature and culture.

Bell and Ditton, in a report to the Central Australian Aboriginal Legal Aid Service (published by the journal Aboriginal History in 1980),discuss 'problems of definition' of customary taw as Aboriginal law, opposed to introduced Australian law. They summarise the approaches that other writers on topics of Aboriginal law have taken and set out their own approach to definition (agreeing with Daunton-Fear and Freiberg [1977, 811that while 'customary law is easy to recognise it is hard to define precisely'):

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Customary law in Aboriginal society almost defies definition. In Aboriginal English the word 'law' is frequently used to encompass both the body of rules which are backed by religious sanctions and to explain the daily behaviour of peace abiding persons. it is all the law...Much of the law is secret Its operation Is in the hands of experienced respected elders (however defined), but there is no established permanent body of judges whose authority extends across vast areas ...The law is underwritten by the activities of the ancestral beings who gave the land form and shape In thelr travels. Today, through the re-enactmentof these travels by the living descendants of the dreamtime ancestors, the law is made known to all. it is in principle unchanging. The dogma of immutability is however a cultural statement and there is evidence to show that changes have occurred. The rights, responsibilities and obligations of the law. as articulated by the ancestors, are organized through the highly complex kinship system, The law is learnt at first hand. The rules are taught at the same tlme as the sanctions whlch back them.

...

For the purpose of their research on women's views of various aspects of contemporary legal problems, Bell and Ditton (1980, 24) concluded that: customary law had to be seen as both a body of rules backed by sanctions and as a set of dispute resolution mechanisms.At a more informal level it is also a series of accepted behaviours whlch allow daily social life to flow. The formal rules are backed by sanctions and are clearly articulated In terms of what one should do and why. These shade into more informal areas of behavioural controls which may never be clearly stated, but whlch are the stuff of Interpersonal relationships.

in a discussion of morality in relation to law, Rose (1984b,28-30) has shown what is revealed in the accounts Yarralin people give about Captain Cook. For Yarraiin people, 'morai principles are universal' although 'they recognize different laws': the European term 'law' is used to refer to several distinct sets of principles and ruies In Aboriginal life. For example, yumi refers to all actions which are undertaken because of a precedent established In Dreamingtlme...At its broadest yumican be considered to be synonymous with 'Aboriginal culture'.

Yarraiin people use other terms they gloss as 'law' to refer to relations between groups, obligations based on affinal relationships, and ritual participation. Yet all the terms 'assume an underlying morality' (1984b, 28). In their tales, Captain Cook, on Rose's (198413, 30) analysis, 'represents, to Yarraiin people...a figure who both develops and acts upon a law (rules governing behavior) but whose law has no basis in morai principles'. Given the present practical significance of questions relating to whether-or to what extent, or in what ways-Aboriginal law is sacred, the lack of anthropological

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writing addressed specifically to this issue is notable. In the case of land claims, both preparation and presentation of Aboriginal evidence, as well as its acceptance by the Aboriginal Land Commissioner, has tended to emphasise the first term of the definition in the interpretation section of the Act (common spiritual affiliations and primary spiritual responsibility), and virtually take for granted the second (right to forage: more broadly, economic interests in land). On the other hand, discussion papers, research papers and sections of the Law Reform Commission's report on the recognition of Aboriginal law reveal innovative approaches to dealing with the nature of law and in handling specific topics, no need to base them on definitions premised specifically on their sacred or secular nature.' Ail writers on particular topics of Aboriginal law after 1961 have tended to deal summarily with the definition of law, or to define the parameters of the specific legal topics discussed, and in general to regard the exercise of full scale definition for definition's sake to be unimportant or at least unnecessary (cf Bell and Ditton 1980, 23). In addition to studies mentioned above, a substantial amount of work has been done on other subjects relating to law. Studies whose primary focus is on some aspect of religion and only secondarily on law, which are also substantial, are omitted here. Women's roles in conducting rituals for the resolution of conflict and for healing have been described (Bell 1983b), and the relations of law to sorcery, its practitioners, diagnosticians and curers have been analysed (Cawte 1974, Maddock and Caw-te 1970, Maddock contra Cawte 1974, Reid 1983). Issues of social control in relation to children and adolescents have been discussed by Brady (1985) and Brady and Morice (1982).Brady and Morice's analysis of the patterns of juvenile offences at Yalata provides a sensitive picture of the social context in which certain acts are labelled deviant-in an institutionalsetting which makes the reader wonder why the children and adolescents would behave otherwise. Problems of communication in courtroom settings are analysed through the use of ethnomethodological (and sociolinguistic)techniques by Williams (1974)and more extensively by Liberman (1981, 1985).The problems had of course long been noted (see Strehlow 1936, Elkin 1947, Kriewaidt 1960). Brennan (1979) makes specific recommendations for interpreting , and translating services to ameliorate the problems. (Von Sturmer's 1981 paper is also relevant.) Perhaps the largest corpus of material on legal topics has been generated by studies of Aboriginal land tenure systems, with increasing ease referred to as land law (sometimes 'traditional land law' or 'customary land law'). A number of studies in Aboriginal land law have been published (for example, Peterson and Langton

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1983; Hiatt 1984; Layton 1986; Maddock 1980,1983; Williams 1986; and the reports of the Aboriginal Land Commissioner on land claims), but the greatest amount remains in unpublished form. Under the Aboriginal Land Rights (Northern Territory) Act 1976 Sections 25(1), (2) and (3), land councils have a statutory obligation to 'attempt conciliation' to settle or to prevent disputes about land between persons within a council area. In fact, land councils have taken many actions under this section of the Land Rights Act, but they have treated the research into disputed or contentious issues about land as confidential and virtually all the resulting reports are restricted (cf Smith 1984).

FROM STRUCTURE TO FUNCTION TO PROCESS: CHANGING CRITERIA OF ETHNOGRAPHIC ADEQUACY In her review of legal processes in the Annual Review of Anthropology (1975, 121), Collier wrote that, 'every approach to empirical data is motivated by a theoretical scheme that highlights some questions, issues and facts, but leaves others unexplored: Maddock (1984, 217) remarked that 'anthropologists organize and interpret their observations in the light of current theoretical issues in their discipline'. Barnes had said much the same thing in 1961. Studies of Aboriginal law in Australia are no exception. They reveal the nature of the intellectualfurniture of the time during which field research was undertaken and results analysed, and thus what were regarded as data. The data were of course a reflex of what were taken to be appropriate questions to ask. As already noted, during the past twenty-five years, research has been influenced not only by changing theoretical Interests, but also by issues arising from certain policies and legislative acts of governments in Australia, Yet policy and legislation need to be seen in the context of the social issues identified, Some have been broad and some narrow. Those affecting studies of law most explicitly were of course those that resulted in land rights legislation in the early 1970%including the inquiries that led to the drafting of legislation as well as what followed from its implementation, and the Law Reform Commission's reference on Aboriginal customary law. Anthropologists have played a role in both. And in both these is evidence to substantiate Barnes's observation of the persistence of a style of Australian ethnography from the 'thirty years or so' before 1961 as well as evidence of a significant change beginning with studies of 'law' and 'government' in the 1960s. it is not that anthropologists have only recently become involved in issues of law, either introduced

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English, or Aboriginal, or in the interactions of the two; their involvement has a history that goes well back into the last century, (For references see Strehlow 1936; Elkin 1947; Stanner 1960; Williams 1986, 158). During the 1970s however, virtually all anthropologists working in Australia contributed to research in some aspect of Aboriginal law; on issues relating to land, marriage and family relations, and community justice procedures among others. Linguists, sociologists, criminologists and psychologists as well as lawyers became similarly involved, (See Berndt 1962, Dhamarrandji 1982 and Sutton 1985 on 'tribal' or customary marriage; Wurm 1963 on Aboriginal languages and concepts of law that may or may not have English equivalents; Sackett 1977 on alcohol related problems with legal implications. See Neate 1979 on the problems in relation to rules of criminal evidence; and see Hawkins and Misner 1973-74, Hocking 1979, Hope 1984, Lemaire 1972, Lyons 1983, Taft 1981, and Toohey 1984 for other lawyers' concerns with conflicts in Aboriginal and Australian jurisdictions.)In addition, since the early 1970s anthropologists have been increasingly called to give expert evidence on aspects of 'Aboriginal law and custom' in criminal cases in which Aborigines were defendants. Their status as expert witnesses in Aboriginal law-although it was not called that-was first at issue in hearings of the Gove land rights case in 1970-71, a case in which Aborigines were plaintiffs:Milirrpum and Others v Nabalco Pty Ltd and the Commonwealth of Australia (see the judgement of Mr Justice Blackburn, 1971).8 Searching for a formal means of structuring an accommodation of Aboriginal law and Australian law has been a concern of anthropologists, lawyers and administrators since at least the 1930s. The Law Reform Commission's reference on recognition represented a culmination of this concern, Before the commission began its work, however, Coombs (1985) had recommended that community justice mechanisms based on Yolngu procedures of dispute settlement be implemented at Yirrkala, a proposal which came to be known as 'the Yirrkala scheme', and in its Final Report the Law Reform Commission endorsed a trial of the Yirrkala scheme. The Northern Territory government had undertaken a pilot project in three other Aboriginal communities which involved the visiting magistrate's use of anthropologist-assessor and consultation with Aboriginal community leaders and offenders' families. (Davis 1985 describes the operation of this scheme at Elcho Island and Williams 1987 offers a critique.) The Groote Eyiandt Task Force (1985) also addressed the problems of effective rapprochement of Aboriginal and Australian legal procedures.in Western Australia, a Stipendiary Magistrate (Sydall 1978, 1984) initiated the involvement of Aborigines in courts which led to the Western Australian Aboriginal Communities Act

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(1979) and the appointment of Aboriginal Justices of the Peace in communities which elected to adopt this form of community justice system. (See Hoddinott 1985 for a critique of the system, and Haziehurst 1985 for an attempt to reconcile Hoddinott's criticisms and Sydall's goals.) Work in these areas of law (much of which was applied anthropology) was undertaken during a period when theoretical emphasis was shifting from analysis of the structure of societies and their component institutions, to explanations based on social process. As Collier (1975, 139) noted, anthropologists had become less concerned to identify the legal, and more concerned with law as a social process. rwo influential books published in the last ten years, for example, are Moore's Law as Process, 1978 and Comaroff and Roberts's Rules and Processes, 1981.) Process as anthropologists have conceived it has directed research to focus on individuals, and the choices, strategies and perceptions of individual actors. The shift to an emphasis on process in studies of law had been foreshadowed in Meggitt's (1962) Waripiri ethnography, based on fieldwork at Hooker Creek and Yuendumu from 1953 to 1960, not so much in his analysis of Warlpiri law as a system as in the abundant case material he provided (although consistent with the ethnographic style of the time, most of the cases were presented to illustrate aspects of Warlpiri society rather than law or specifically legal functions). Hiatt's 1965 study was the first book length publication specifically devoted to a topic in Aboriginal law, that is law as manifest in dispute processing (based on his fieldwork at Maningrida in the late 1950~).~ Hiatt examined the realm of kinship in action, and, as Barnes (1965, viii-ix) noted in the foreword to the book, Hiatt was the first to attempt to answer such questions as: How are the precision, uniformity, and lack of ambiguity in the system of kinship terminology reconciled with the everyday demands for gradations of amity and hostility, and for shifts from involvement to indifferenceand back again, and with the perennial tactical need for ambiguity and imprecision in the give-and-takeof social life? How does a man realize in practice the rights and claims over and on his kinsmen that he has in theory, and what happens when his recognized rights conflict wlth rights asserted by others?

Hiatt's answers to these questions, as Barnes (1965, xi) concluded, showed that: The conflicts, mainly about women ...are real conflicts, sometimes leading to violence and bloodshed, and not symbolic conflicts expressed in ritual and ceremonial.Conflict may well be a source of increased social cohesion, but for Dr Hiatt it is more important

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that in situations of conflict latent antagonism is made manifest, equivocation gives way to commitment, and social machinery for limiting or settling disputes comes Into action.

Along with increasing public concern about social and political issues that impinged on Aboriginal communities in Australia, the interest of anthropologists shifted away from the analysis of Aboriginal law per se. (The public concern, as noted above, was signalled by the referendum of 1967 which gave the Commonwealth government for the first time a mandate to play a direct role in Aboriginal affairs, and resulted in the creation of official instrumentaiities to implement that mandate.) Moreover, coincident with the increasing emphasis on Aboriginal involvement in the management of the institutions (missions and settlements) into which Aborigines had been moved, and signalled by increasingefforts to create Aboriginal councils, was the shift in anthropological interest to issues of government and politics. After Hiatt's late 1950s study on kinship and conflict (1965), no ethnographic research was undertaken with a specific focus on Aboriginal law (that is, on the secular aspect of law) for a decade (that is, until my study at Yirrkala 1969-70).10 The only other such work to appear so far is Langton's 1983 (BA Hons) thesis. Langton's study represents a significant breakthrough in the use of sociolinguistic methods and in the demonstration of the nature of cultural continuity in Aboriginal responses to relations with Australian legal institutions marked by power differentials. Eggleston's 1976 book (based on her PhD thesis, submitted in 1970 and on research beginning in 1965)was a new departure In the approach of the Australian legal establishment to Aborigines-she was, I believe, the first legal scholar to take the position that Aborigines were subject to the jurisdiction of two systems of law. Previously lawyers and judges had regarded Aborigines as being subject to local custom (sometimesthe distinction had been phrased as an opposition of 'law' and 'lore'), and they treated individuals' acts in terms of how, or to what degree, they might have been influenced by Aboriginal custom. Although Eggleston focused on the effects of the imposition of the Australian jurisdiction on Aborigines, she included a chapter on the 'recognition of tribal law' (1976, 277-305). While not dealing explicitly with Aboriginal law, Sansom's 1980 publication on Aboriginal fringe dweilers in Darwin, based on research from the mid-1970s, contributed significantly to the understanding of Aboriginal processes of disputing; despite their urban location, their modes of dispute had many parallels with those of Aborigines on remote settlements and mission stations in the northern third of the Northern Territory (cf Williams 1985). Maddock, who worked at Beswick in the

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mid-1960%outlined the historical process of Aborigines' elaboration of distinctions between 'blackfella law' and 'whitefella law: A number of books and theses produced between 1961 and 1986 contained chapters or specific sections that dealt with topics related to law, and some remain useful both as general summaries of the institutions of Aboriginal law and of its functions. In books, these chapters include not only Meggitt's on government and law in the 1962 Warlpiri ethnography; R Berndt's chapter on law and order in the 1965 Elkin Festschrift; the chapter on law and order in the textbook by Berndt and Berndt 1964 (revised editions 1977 and 1985);Strehlow's chapter on geography and the totemic landscape in central Australia, in which the role of Aranda keremonial chiefs', especially in the punishment of sacrilege is described; and Tonkinson's cases of conflict resolution between groups and individuals in his 1978 study of the Mardudjara (based on fieldwork at Jigalong beginning in 1963).Again, it is the case material in these chapters that reflects an interest In the social processes of law and also increasing concern with issues arising from Aborigines' subjection to the jurisdiction of both Australian law and their own law (see also Shaw 1981, 1983).Theses that include chapters or sections that elucidate understanding of these processes were written by Bern (1974, based on research at Ngukurr 1970-71), Chase (1980, based on research at Lockhart River from 1971 to 1976), Taylor (1984, based on research at Edward River between 1968 and 1973) and Rose (1984a, based on research at Yarralin, 1980-83). Additional contributionsto the analysis of the social processes involved in specific aspects of law or social control have appeared during the twenty-five years under review. A topic that has generated several analytic approaches is the patterned Aboriginal behaviour which very early engaged the interest of anthropologists because it seemed inexplicable in terms of European psychology. it has retained the name mirrirri(or cognate term) by which it is widely known in Arnhem Land. From his study at Milingimbi (1926-28). Warner (1958, 109-13) had described the response of a man in whose hearing some reference to his sister's sexuality was mentioned as an immediate physical attack on that sister andlor any other woman who stood in a 'sister' relationship to him. Hiatt (1964; 1965, 118; 19661, Maddock (1970), and Makarius (1966) subsequently wrote papers offering analyses based on hypotheses ranging from social structure to psychodynamics, Hiatt's based on his observations at Maningrida as well as others' accounts. Maddock and Cawte (1970, 172) suggested that the appropriate approach to explanation would be through Aboriginal concepts of fault and responsibility, an approach not yet extensively

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considered by Austraiianists. Burbank (1985, 47-55) analysed rnirrirri as 'ritualised aggression'. Burbank's thesis (1980)while not addressed specifically to a legal topic, deals with expressions of anger and aggression at Numbulwar, where she worked from 1976 to 1978, and provides valuable description of aggressive behaviours as well as analysis of the causes of and responses to various forms of aggression.She relates the overt or nominal 'causes' of such behaviours to valued andlor permitted expressions of emotion. lnsights into the social processes of disputing and of conflict resolution through an analysis of Aboriginal concepts are contained in Berndt's (1970) study of Aboriginal morality and Peterson's (1970) account of Buluwandi, a central Australian ceremony which Peterson views as ritual resolution of conflict between wife givers and wife receivers. A number of reports written in connection with the Law Reform Commission's reference on Aboriginal customary law have contained material that advances comprehension of various processes of Aboriginal law. One of the most influential, related partly to the fact that it has become generally available through publication in 1980, is that by Bell and Ditton (see also Bell 1983a). Bell and Ditton set out to fill what the Law Reform Commission had identified as a serious gap in information available to it, namely women's perception of law and the legal process, and women's role in them. Through consultationwith women in six representative Aboriginal communities in central Australia, they were able to provide considerable data and also to indicate the way in which ongoing consultation should be conducted. Change in requirements for consultation has developed in tandem with change in the criteria of ethnographic adequacy.What ethnographic adequacy now means is, I believe, instanced in Rose's preface to her account of a murder committed in 1982 which involved people at Yarralin, and of her role in subsequent events. She writes that the murder was committed after she had been at Yarralin for more than a year. By that time Rose says (1984a, 357-58) she was: conversant with all of the participants and with most of the background necessary to foiiow the flow of information; i was able to understand enough of a range of languages to foiiow the discussions. I became involved in the negotiations...Evewbody realised that a murder would have to involve outside (European) authorities and concepts of justice. Many people hoped that by having me write their words in my notebooks, the notebooks would become a sort of context-free source of data which might prove useful in dealing with Europeans.They also thought that I might be called

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in to court as an outside witness.To this end, peopie took a great deal of time teaching me everything they thought I might need to know as an 'expert witness' and I was present at all the public negotiations about the event. in addition, some people took the opportunity to enter their private views into my notebooks as a back-up against the possibility they might wish to make their private views public at some future point (this use of my notebooks was not unique to the murder case).

in the course of ensuing negotiations concerning both fact and theory related to the murder (includingthose about motivation), Rose (1984a, 358-79) was able to show the process of the juggling of identities to define relationships between groups; the principle of symmetry; the use of available information to define and redefine the meaning of events; the lines of responsibilityfor individual and group autonomy; and the negotiation of events and identity, autonomy and dependence. Chase (1980, 292-95) reports in somewhat more summary fashion a series of events following the death of a child at Lockhart River in 1971. His purpose was primarily to provide an example of the process through which a conflict escalates.

NEW RESEARCH AGENDA FOR THE STUDY OF ABORIGINAL LAW Several features of recent research, i believe, contribute to the formulation of questions for further research in Aboriginal law that will enable both a more comprehensive description than heretofore of the phenomena we want to call 'legal' and perhaps take us some way toward understandingthe nature of law. These studies have not been confined to areas labelled law or iegai; they are also contained in writing oriented by questions derived from politics, especiaily power and hierarchy; from feminist studies of women in Aboriginal societies; from studies in Aboriginal history, particularly those oriented to analysis of the relation between change and continuity; and from research which has relied on linguistic methods, especially those of socioiinguistics.Increasingly, Aboriginal scholars writing on these topics are making insightful contributions in these areas, and that may result in the most significant alteration in the intellectualfurniture on the scene of Aboriginal law study. At the 1961 conference, writing the scenario for Aboriginal studies, a note of desperation was apparent: Aboriginal peopie, their society and their culture, were rapidly disappearing-at least the pure, traditional people, society and culture-and only the most dedicated, disciplined and coordinated research would salvage what was left (or what could be recovered from the memories of old peopie). in the intervening years, what we have learned, through increasing kinds of interaction involving both

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Aborigines and non-Aborigines, perhaps most importantly is how the research agenda should be revised, But then that is perhaps characteristic of all serious scholarship. In a review article based on recent anthropological publications on law, Chanock (19831, a lawyer, has identified the ruling ideas in anthropologists' thinking about law. Chanock titled his article 'Signposts or tombstones' and his analysis is both a critique of previous studies by anthropologists and a stimulus to change in direction because it does contain signposts for future research-or at least a way out of the graveyard. In tracing where we went wrong, Chanock says that the anthropological study of law began as a search for law, that is, for the universal attributes that could define law, and in the course of its development came to study dispute processing, which was not necessarily law and was probably something else, 'though the tendency not to notice this because of the coalescing of the distinct concepts of dispute processing and law continues' (1983, 115).1' Under the aegis of law and society studies, which Chanock (1983, 110) characterises as 'an undifferentiated mixture of English positivism and American realism' (the latter having an appeal to anthropologists because of its 'apparent attention to law as a social process') a new direction was taken. Anthropologists working from this research agenda 'were interested in how law worked or what use was made of it. The nature of the legal...was not problematic' (Chanock 1983, 111). Increasingly, however, as they found the earlier functional studies static and timeless, they began to ask questions about particular histories and about power, In the collection of studies edited by Nader and Todd (1978),the editors as well as the authors take up questions of power, both in terms of individual differentiation and political hierarchy (see Nader and Todd 1978, 18-40 for the editors' summary of the issues). Tonkinson (1985) considers Aboriginal concepts regarding sources of power and their effects on Aborigines' attempts to maintain autonomy in dealing with problems of contemporary settlement life. There has been increasing concern with placing studies of law in a political context, but the context of substantive rules has remained of less interest in anthropological studies of law than the means of maintaining order, particularly through processes of dispute settlement. As Chanock (1983, 120) says: Now that ...the maximizing strategies of litigants acting within a broader political field is the focus of interest, the substantive content of norms is even less stressed, for it has become clear that their content is defined by and in their use...their content-in-action is often negotiable.

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More broadly, Keesing (1982,43) has argued that 'when a more serious ethnography of norms in natural context is undertakenJ expect it to show that normative assertions are very often contextually created to suit the purposes of the moment, not simply cited: Tatz has been consistently concerned with questions of the relations between law and political action in the nation state, and in pointing out the political consequences of uses of law in the exercise of power. He has noted Aborigines' attemptsto manipulate these relationships and has described some of their successes. In a 1977 paper Tatz advocated that Aborigines use Australian civil law in pursuit of political goals (see especially 1977, 396-99). In an afterword to my study of dispute settlement processes at Yirrkala in 1969-70 (1987a) 1 referred to a 'moment of legal time', a moment characterised by adaptations to the dominant system of Australian law that clan leaders (and others to whom aggrieved persons looked for assistance in settling disputes) were making. From the perspective of the Yolngu the 'moment of legal time' (Williams 1987a, 159, 162): was marked by their attempt to maintain sufficient autonomy to keep within their community the procedures of social control. The Yolngu leaders made that attempt at a time when the physical presence of the dominant society denied control by any other [than thelr own]. in these circumstances the strategy of the Yolngu leaders to control the behaviour of their people involved tactics that asserted their jurisdiction. sometimes by disguising compromise. The 'moment of legal time' for the Yolngu community is not unique. It is an aspect of colonial domination. Wherever the features of social scale and social field are comparable, similar changes are llkely to occur.

In a submission to the Law Reform Commission, Vachon (nd] 14) argued that a 'framework must be adopted to include a discussion of Aboriginal control of detrimental policies and practises which have been imposed by outside and more powerful agencies and interests: For Chanock, the analysis of relations of power and hierarchy, and their location In hlstorlcal processes12are the critical considerations that have been overlooked in most anthropological studies of law and are factors that could have been (and are) observed in the kinds of situations anthropologists have studied. His concluding comment contains suggestions that have in fact already been taken up in the most recent studies that bear on Aboriginal law (Chanock 1983, 123-24): A combination of the current concerns of the anthropology of law and an historical one would lead us to a clearer appreciation of how the now dominant legal level

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forms the other levels in its image and how disputants are not simply strategists with interests but people struggling with ideas about human relationships which are often incompatible with the dominant social and legal forms of the societies in which they now find themselves living.

It is not surprising that a number of Aborigines have connected some increase in control over their traditional lands with the ability to maintain or revive their own law (or Law; see for example Albert 1977 and Anonymous 1973, but Kolig 1974 contra), At the very least, for some Aborigines both the conceptual and the pragmatic bonds linking land and nation state law have become abundantly clear. Some of the most important contributions to an understanding of power in the context of Australian Aboriginal studies have come from the work of feminists, and from those whose work has been influenced by feminist concerns such as the relation between autonomy and control (for example, Bell 1983a. 1983b. 1983c; Cowlishaw 1978; Hamilton 1981; Myers 1986). Hamilton's 1981 paper on gender and power is a significant contribution of relevance to studies of law because of its sensitive analysis of the nature of power in contemporary Aboriginal societies, Hamilton focuses on questions of power in the relations between men and women, mainly within Aboriginal societies, by decomposing 'the question of status and power into that of sociality and power' (1981, 85). She is thus able 'to explain why Aboriginal societies show both acute sexual inequalities and a high level of autonomy for women' (1981, 85). Hamilton draws on Foucault's approach to power as pervasive and inchoate except as it receives particular expression, That approach to understanding demands, Hamilton says, 'that power be seen as polyvalent, polymorphous and polysemic, an element in every relationship.Power can thus be accepted as a necessary component of every social analysis: (She goes on to ask, 'is this also the first step in the "rehabilitation" of aggression as an acceptable dimension of theory?' [1981, 2801) In discussing the relationship of women's law with men's law Hamilton (1981,78) observes, 'it is important to note that these 'Laws" are not in conflict with one another, but rather reinforce the over-arching common social principles separately for each group', in Aboriginal thought, however, 'the world itself is replete with power' (1981, 79). and 'in order to use this power, all are subject to the rule of the law. The law is as binding on men as it is on women' (1981,80).This is the case, Hamilton shows, in the area of Aboriginai religious thought and ritual practice. Here, as in other contexts, Hamilton argues that the questions which need to be asked are about how power is expressed in particular situations. What needs asking in relations between men and women may also be

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profitably asked in relations among men, among women, and similarly between groups and institutions includingthose defined as Aboriginal and European: 'which.,.is the more powerful, in which contexts, and how is the pattern of those power relations maintained, reproduced and sometimes transcended?' (1981, 74). Myers's (1986) analysis of Pintupi polity deals with some of the same issues, although he does not use the term 'power', He argues persuasively that the Pintupi work to structure an event (a meeting) which is the Pintupi polity. He uses a method he calls 'structural sociolinguistics' (1986, 444) to focus on the apparent contradictions between the value of individual autonomy and the need to express relatedness among the Pintupi at Papunya (where he first worked 1973-75). Myers says (1986,442): For Pintupi, reiatedness is egocentric and unsubordinated to group membership; its network quality makes it essentially dyadic in form. The polity, a temporary jurisdiction among those who regard themselves as related and subordinated to a binding set of principles, is not predicated on membership in groups, has no offices and no enduring structure.That it is based on the creation and maintenance of dyadic relations gives a special quality of intimacy, fragility, and subjective responsibilityto interaction among autonomous equals. For the Pintupi, especially, the polity is one of 'feeling,' in that the jurisdiction of reiatedness-of shared identity-must constantly be renegotiated among those who participate.Hence, the principle held sovereign within this jurisdiction is reiatedness...An important Western Desert custom reported by informants may Illustratethe problem of jurisdiction:when a person is accused of serious sacrilege, a 'firestick' (uangl)is sent from group to group to inform men of the region about the 'trouble' and to gain legitimacy from the relevant polity for the sanctions appropriate as Law. What is significant is the diffuseness of the authoritative body, the breadth of those considered to have a right to be consulted.

In contrast to Sharp (1958) who saw Yir-Yoront controls inhering in dyadic relationships, Myers sees control (including the ability to impose sanctions) for the Pintupi as externalised to the Dreaming: 'Only the Dreaming remains a control, a structure beyond individuals and binding them to itself' (Myers 1986,31). Myers points to the differences between the loci of control among Western Desert Aborigines and those of Arnhem Land, and emphasises the importance of recognising the differences in order to interpret them adequately (1986, 31): That the fragility and intimacy of a system built out of dyadic ties is not even general throughout Aboriginal Australia has important implications for ascribing subtle differences in cultural emphasis to structural variation in foraging societies.

The 'subtle differences' are crucial to the analysis of Aboriginal law.

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Langton's (1983) thesis that Aboriginal swearing and fighting are features of Aboriginal customary law further demonstrates the strength of analysis based on attending to issues of control and historical process. Langton uses sociolinguistic techniques in analysing recorded verbal behaviour and observation of relevant verbal and non-verbalbehaviour in contemporary settings, as well as records of cases provided by a state anti-discrimination agency and descriptions drawn from Aboriginal ethnographies. Langton can also rely on her own knowledge of the linguistic codes being used. She shows (1983, 4) that: swearing and fighting in contemporary Aboriginal society constitute dispute-processing and social ordering devices derived from traditional Aboriginal cultural patterns. The behaviour in question is not mass deviancy and anarchy but appropriate ruiegoverned behaviour adapted from earlier indigenous patterns to enable meaningful existence in the new political, legal and sociai situations imposed by the dominant Angio-Australian regime.i3

...

Not only are there 'ritualised codes' for swearing and fighting among Aborigines, but Langton argues that these codes are also used against white Australians and Australian institutions.14 To interpret correctly the strategies of individual actors and their relevance to disputing behaviour requires the analytical skills of sociolinguistics as well as a great depth of knowledge of the relevant community. Langton (1983, 13) says: An understanding of the goals and strategies conveyed or disguised by the verbal exchanges requires not just access to the privileged and personal information which the interlocutors...have and are willing to divulge to each other, but also competence in the norms of communication required in these privileged conversations: the cuiturai assumptions about what kind of behaviour is appropriatelinappropriate, rightlwrong; the subtle range of levels which imply aliegation, threat, sense of personal insult, degree of personal involvement in an issue, and so on; the ability to interpret the indigenous humour and especially the thin line between aggressive exaggeration and humorous exaggeration, always a risky business, even for the insiders. Most important is the ability to interpret the difference between mere posturing and real threat of imminent violent attack or threat of Intended attack. This, of course, depends upon knowing whether or not a breach of the Aboriginal moral or legal order has been committed andlor if the allegation of such a breach is weii-foundedand backed up by ability to avenge the misdeed.45

Langton's conclusion (1983,73-74), based on a reading of the literature on Aboriginal disputing behaviour and her own research, is that:

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swearing and fighting were the most common dispute processing mechanisms,and were availableto ail adults without regard for status or sex, except in that these brought into play certain rules.Swearing and fighting were both part of one complex of action used by individuals to publicly achieve redress for grievances...The involvement of kin and affines checked the disputes ensuring that usually no permanent breach ensued or that violence did not exceed acceptable limits-that is, equal retaliation was required...indlviduais manipulated the standard of law and order to maximise their advantage in the situation. Kin and affines co-operated to the extent that they supported or denied the contentions of the disputants, again seeking to maximize the outcome for the person to whom they owed allegiance...There is clearly an historical precedent for contemporary swearing and fighting in Aboriginal society.The way in which social organization and language use organized these confict resolution methods in traditional societies can be seen to survive in contemporary society.16

...

Addressing herself to the question of mode of recognition for swearing and fighting as part of Aboriginal customary law according to the Law Reform Commission's terms of reference, Langton notes a number of difficulties. Chiefly they result from the effects of Aborigines' historical relations with white Australian society: 'most Aboriginal people in "settled"Australia believe that "tribal"Aboriginal law, which they understandto mean ceremonial life, is the only existing kind of Aboriginal law' (1983, 85): they may, as a result of whites' denigration of their culture, be too embarrassed to discuss aspects of Aboriginal law such as swearing and fighting (1983, 87), or they may 'have accepted to some extent the dominant society's definition of the behaviour as deviant' (1983, 87).17

CONCLUSIONS There are now convincing arguments for taking into account historical process and the significant differences that they may reveal as well as similarities in the social processes of law, both Aboriginal law and adaptations in Aborigines' response to Australian law. Anthropologists' research questions about law should provide data that will enable us to see how legal forms are related to political and economic forms and the distribution of power,48 I have suggested that in advancing studies in all areas of Aboriginal law, questions of the nature of power should be asked and that Hamilton's approach to analysis of the power inherent in all social relationships provides innovative leads, I have also suggested that the ethnographic skills necessary for the conduct of research which will result in greater understanding of law will include sociolinguistic techniques (cf Hiatt 1986, 14). Thus, ideally, mastery

Nancy M Williams 225

of the languages (dialects, genres, codes) that are being used in legal processes under study will be required. Langton's analysis of swearing and fighting demonstrates the promise held by these approaches in studies of Aboriginal law. Implicit in the foregoing evaluation of research trends is the assumption that research based on them wili result in enhanced understanding of Aboriginal law, and that this is a desirable outcome. On the other hand, if we are increasingly successful in acquiring more precise understanding of the relation of law to the exercise of political and economic power, through better language competency and cultural mastery, we may become victims of our success; we may become involved in privileged communication and obliged to play roles which wili preclude our public discussion of them. That aside, the bulk of material already accumulated in areas of law-and it is vast-has resulted from research connected with land claims, the Law Reform Commission reference, and legal proceedings in Australian courts. When analyses of these so far minimally interpreted data begin to be published we shall be able to discern the major trends in the agenda for the next decade-perhaps even for the next 'thirty years or so', In the course of pursuing our studies we should keep in mind the caveat that we may learn more about human institutions by showing differences than by revealing similarities (Chanock 1983, 18). We should aiso look at what anthropologists have called law (or Law) and what Aborigines have called law (or Law, including terms so translated) in the context of Australian history and the political and economic relations of power in which legal forms have developed within Aboriginal communities and in Aborigines' relations with Australian legal instrumentaiities. We may then have something to say about what law is.'9

NOTES I.Dickey (1976) published the results of his own investigation into the introduction of law (he means Anglo-Australian law)to the Worora, based on accounts glven to him by Aboriginal elders in the Western Kimberley, and he began by discussing the difference between the way legal scholars and anthropologists have used the term 'law', 2. Elkin (1931)wrote of the kopara, which is a ritualised means of settling accounts; directed by the heads of kin groups and practised by the Dieri and their neighbours as a mechanism for the settlement of grievances; and R Berndt (1965, 190) says of the kopara, that it is a 'legal procedure'.

3. Maddock criticised Berndt's interpretation of police-like intervention in this case. Rather, Maddock says, 'there are too many loose ends in Berndt's account for it to satisfy a reader who is sceptical of the police theory...If the police analogy holds at all, is it not more likely that many

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men have the potential of "acting in a police capacity" than that one or a few men are "police officers"? "Citizen's arrest' might be a more apt example, if we are looking at an analogy with our processes of law and order' (Maddock 1984, 229). 4. Moore adds, 'there is an accompanying conception of Western law in which police and public prosecutors are conceived to move on their own against violations of law, like impersonal angels of justice, punishing wrongdoers on behalf of "society". in fact, in industrializedsocieties. even in criminal prosecutions, officials are frequently set in motion by citizens who have suffered some damage or injury and have complained' (Moore 1972, 73). 5. Hamilton, an architect, was studying Aboriginai use of space In the central desert area. in order to design appropriate housing. 6. One half of Strehlow's book Aranda Faditionsis a single chapter devoted to 'Vmnga Ownership' and more than half of that chapter describes 'Laws Governing Tjurunga Ownership', Here Strehlow does not specify the nature of law, but does refer (1947, 164) to disputes about the ownership of Tjurunga and their settlement. 'In all the manifold disputes which centre around the possession of the sacred Tjurunga, the word of the eiders of a clan decides the quarrel once and for all. There is no appeal from their authority: There is also a hierarchy of authority among the clan elders. Strehlow observes that 'the old men who control the affairs of a cian do not all stand on an exactly level footing. The place of leader is filled by the oldest man of the cian whose intellectual powers have remained unimpaired' (1947, 165).

7. There may be some irony in the long debate in Australian jurisprudence about whether Aborigines' evidence could be given under oath, the efficacy of the oath being religious (Christian) beliefs in a Supreme Being and reward or punishment after death (see for example, Elkin 1947, 189-94). 8. R Berndt (1981, 10) comments that, 'perhaps the first direct anthropological statement relevant to land claims appeared in my Gove Dispute paper (1964)'.From the beginning of the Law Reform Commission's reference on Aboriginal customary law, anthropoiogists were consulted and their submissions solicited; their participation in the reference became increasingly active (see for example Bell 1983a).

9. A review of the literature on law and government in Aboriginai Australia was presented in Hiatt's 1957 BA [Hons) thesis. 10. The 1973 PhD thesis and a book published in 1987 are based on data from that study. 11. A criticism Chanock makes of a basic assumption of social scientists is one that anthropologists in particular must answer if we are to give any warrant to our generalisations: 'it is perhaps the most flawed assumption of social scientists that one learns more about human institutions by revealing similarities than by showing differences' (1983, 118). 12. in urglng the necessityfor situating the study of law within historical process. Chanock (1983, 121)warns that 'much ground has been gained by dissolving law Into its context of other forms

Nancy M Wiiliams 227

of power, norms and pursuit of interests...But to recognize the specificlty of law as one of the ways of reproducing a durable social and symbolic order one does need a...sense of history...Whether or not, in some pure definition01 form, law must be connected with the state or the domination of society by a particular form of commodity relations (and clearly as matter of definition there is no reason why it should be) the real historical process through which many of the "subjects" of the anthropology of law have lived and are living is that of the domination of a statelcommodity law, a peculiar combination in terms of forms of definition of rights and a state apparatus. This dominant form, spread by capitalism and imperialism, has re-shaped and re-formed modes of social control at all levels. This is not to say that the local ievels simply eventually reflect the dominant mode, for there are resistances and adaptations, but ail have been changed by its power' (1983, 121). 13. Langton further explains that, 'for Aboriginal people swearing and fighting are familiar features of life. There are rules, or at least, the individuals involved manipulate the action according to certain well known and approved formulae. in daily discourse, swearing is subject to social ruies, so that individuals who choose swearing as one of a number of discourse strategies wili know that they may swear jokingly to certain others and in certain contexts and yet by swearing aggressively to others wili know that the likelihood of precipitating a fight is high. Thus fighting as well proceeds according to ruies and is usually precipitated deliberately by public accusation and insult involving aggressive swearing' (1983, 4-5). 14. In contemporary Aboriginal societies where English is used, Langton argues: 'the swear words, although apparently English words, are polysemic, relying for much of their cultural content on traditional Aboriginal ways of looking at the world. The fighting behaviour proceeds according to Aboriginal rules, and particularly according to the Aboriginal principle of reciprocity...Swearing and fighting amongst Aboriginal people in "settled" Australia are two aspects of evolving indigenous law, but misperceivedby the Angio-Australianlegal system and its enforcers' (1963.76). 15. Analysis of recorded conversations show the process through which these strategies are used. in one example, a conversation between two women, Langton demonstrates 'the power of 'gossip' amongst women...as they recast past incidents to influence others to their particular point of view, cast moral judgements in order to alert others to an impending dispute and to actually incite disputes and fights over alleged breaches of the Aboriginal legal order' (1983, 11). 16. Langton's examination of the ethnographic literature convinces her that although certain kinds of obscenity expressed in patterned ways between certain kin are vehicles for the expression of good relations, they may be used to goad others to fight; that use of obscenity is also deliberate and patterned. Thus she argues, contra Thomson (1935).that 'this type of swearing-that is, aimed at inciting a fight-is an organised social activity, dependent both on the existing social norms of swearing and on individual calculations of how to manipulate these norms to cause insult beyond the acceptable standard' (1983, 49).

17. In addition, Langton notes that 'many Aboriginal people will notice that two sets of norms are operating; for instance, whites do not approve of women swearing, but black women are

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subject to no sanctions for swearing and indeed have their own sex specific style and vocabulary for the purpose...To choose not to swear and fight in the Aboriginai way is a social strategy employed by some Aboriginal people in order to cope with conditions of racism' (1983. 88).

18. In 1975, Collier said that 'having studied Zinacanteco legal process, and analysed Zinacanteco norms, procedures, and choice-making', she was subsequently 'searching for techniques to analyze economic and political relations between groups' (1975, 140). 19. A note on the location of sources and bibliographies on Aboriginai law: A great deal of material on Aboriginal law in 1986 (and later) exists in forms other than published books, journals. magazines, newspapers and the like. it is located in transcripts of evidence given to courts of several jurisdictions (Summary, State and Commonwealth), and to Commissions of inquiry (chiefly on land rights and customary law), in submissions and reports to courts and commissions, as well as in reports and judgements of these bodies. It is also in reports prepared for Aboriginai legal aid services, and in correspondence between anthropologists (and others) and officers

of the legal aid services. It is to be found in theses for advanced degrees, the shelving of which, regardless of restricted conditions of access, is usually treated as tantamount to publication. Materials in all these forms are held in the libraries of the Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies, the Australian Institute of Criminology and the Australian Law Reform Commission, as are field notes, field reports and unpublished papers by a number of researchers. Published guides include bibiiographies (Brockwell 1979, Eggleston 1973, Hazelhurst 1986, McCorquodale 1987 and Pursell 19841, Other published material includes proceedings of seminars and symposia on various topics touching on Aboriginai law held under the auspices of law schools, the Institute of Criminology and the Law Reform Commission. An Aboriginal Law Bulletin began publication in 1981 under the auspices of the Aboriginai Law Research Unit (now the Aboriginai Law Centre) at the University of New South Wales.

REFERENCES Albert, S. 1977 An Attempt to Compromise, Paper presented at Seminar on Law and Aborigines: Critical Issues, Monash University, Faculty of Law. Anonymous 1973 Elders Revive Tribal Laws, Western Australia AboriginalAffalrs PlanningAuthority Newslefter 1(4), 45-46. Australian Law Reform Commission 1977a Law Reform and Aboriginal Customary Law, Seminar sponsored by the Australian lnsitute of Criminology, 1-3 November, Canberra, 1977b Reference on Aboriginai Customary Law, Report on a Seminar on the Methodology of Reform. Faculty of Law, New South Wales lnstitute of Technology, 15 October, Sydney. 1980 Aboriginai Customary Law-Recognition? Discussion Paper No 17, Australian Law Reform Commission, Sydney.

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Barnes, J.A. 1963 Social Organisation: Limits of Contemporary Studies, in H. Shells (ed), Australian Aboriginal Studies, Oxford University Press, Melbourne, 197-210. 1965 Foreword. In L.R. Hiatt, Kinship and Conflict, Australian National University Press. Canberra. 1971The Politics of Law. In M. Douglas and P. Kaberry (eds), Man In Africo. Anchor Books, Garden City, New York. Bell, D.R. 1983a Aboriginai Women and the Recognition of Customary Law in Australia, Paper presented at the Symposium on Folk Law and Legal Pluralism, Xllth International Congress of Anthropological and Ethnological Sciences, 19-23 August, Vancouver, British Columbia. 1983b Daughters of the Dreaming, McPhee Gribbie and George Alien and Unwin, Melbourne and Sydney. 1983c Exercising Discretion:Sentencing for Murder and Customary Law in the Northern Territory, Paper presented at the Symposium on Folk Law and Legal Pluralism, Xlith international Congress of Anthropological and Ethnological Sciences, 19-23 August, Vancouver, British Columbia. Bell, D.R. and R Ditton 1980 Law: The Old and the New: Aboriginal Women in Centrol Austrolio Speak Out, Aboriginal History for the Central Australian Aboriginal Legal Aid Service, Canberra. Bern, J. 1974 Blackfeila Business, Whitefeiia Law: Political Struggle and Competition in a South-eastArnhem Land Aboriginal Community, PhD thesis, Macquarie University. 1979a ideology and Domination: Toward a Reconstruction of Austraiian Aboriginai Social Formation, Oceanio 50(2), 118-32. 197913 Politics in the Conduct of a Secret Male Ceremony, Journal of Anthropologlca~Research 35(1), 47-60. Berndt, R.M. 1962 Tribal Marriage in a Changing Social Order, University of Western Australia Low Review 5, 326-46. 1963 Research Demanding Urgent Attention. In H. Sheiis (ed),Australian AboriglnalStudies, Oxford University Press, Melbourne, 443-51. 1964 The Gove Dispute: The Question of Australian Aboriginal Land and the Preservation of Sacred Sites, Anthropoiogical Forum 1(2), 258-95. 1965 Law and Order in Aboriginai Australia. In R.M. Berndt and C.H. Berndt (eds), Aboriginal Man In Australia, Angus and Robertson, Sydney, 167-206. 1970 Traditional Morality As Expressed Through the Medium of an Australian Aboriginal Religion. in R.M. Berndt (ed), Austrolion Aboriginal Anthropology. University of Western Australia Press, Nedlands, 216-47. 1981 A Long View: Some Personal Comments on Land Rights, Austrolian Institute of Aboriginal Studies Newsletter 16, 5-20. Berndt, R.M. and C.H.Berndt 1977 The World of the First Australians, Ure Smith, Sydney.

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Biackburn, R.A. 1971 Miiirrpum and Others v Nabalco Pty Ltd and the Commonwealth of Australia, Judgement of Mr Justice Biackburn, Federal Law Reports 17, 141-294. Brady, M. 1985 Children Withouf Ears: FBtroiSnifinghAustrolio, Drug and Alcohol Services Council, Adelaide. Brady, M. and R. Morice 1982 Aboriginai Adolescent Offending Behaviour: A Study of a Remote Communify. Fiinders University, Western Desert Project, Adelaide. Brennan, G. 1979 The Need for interpretingand Translation Services for Austraiian Aborigines, with Special Reference to the Northern Territory-A Research Report, Department of Aboriginal Affairs, Canberra. Brockweii, C.J. 1979Aborigines and the bw:A Bibliography, Law Department, Research School of Social Sciences. Austraiian National University, Canberra. Burbank, V.K. 1980 Expressions of Anger and Aggresion in an Austraiian Aboriginal Community, PhD thesis. Rutgers University, New Brunswick. 1985 The Mirrirri as Ritualised Aggression, Oceania 56, 47-55. Cawte, J. 1974 Medicine is the Law, University of Hawaii Press, Honolulu. Chanock, M. 1983 Signposts or Tombstones? Reflections on Recent Works on the Anthropoiogy of Law, Law in Context 1, 107-25. Chase, A.K. 1980 Which Way Now? Tradition, Continuity and Change in a North Queensiand Aboriginai Community (Lockhart River), PhD thesis, University of Queensland. Cieland, J.B. 1963 Discussion of Eikin's Review Paper 'The Development of Scientific Knowledge of the Aborigines', in H. Shells (ed), Australian Aboriginal Studies, Oxford University Press, Melbourne. Collier, J.F. 1975 Legal Processes. In B.J. Siegei, A.R. Beais and SA Tyler (eds),Annual Review of Anthropoiogy, Volume 4, Annual Reviews, Paio Alto. Comaroff, J.L. and S. Roberts 1981 Rules and Processes: The Cuiturol Logic of Dispute in an African Context University of Chicago Press, Chicago. Coombs, H.C 1985 The Yirrkala Proposals for the Control of Low and Order. in K.M. Haziehurst (ed), Justice Programs for Aboriginai and Other indigenous Communities, Austraiian Institute of Criminology, Canberra.

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Cowiishaw, G. 1978 infanticide in Aboriginai Austraiia, Oceania 48, 262-83. Daunton-Fear, M.W. and A. Freiberg 1977 'Gum-tree' Justice: Aborigines and The Courts. in D. Chappeii and P. Wiison (eds], The Australian Criminal Justice System, Butterworths, Sydney. Davis, S. 1985 Aboriginai Communities Justice Project: Northern Territory. in K.M. Haziehurst (ed), Justice Programs for Aboriginai and Other indigenous Communities, Australian Institute of Criminology, Canberra. Dhamarrandji, M. 1982 Tribal Marriage [interview with Stuart Reid], identity 4(6), 9-10. Dickey, A. 1976 The Mythical introduction of 'Law' to The Worora Aborigines, University of Western Australia Law Review 12, 350-67 (Part 1). 480-98 (Part ii). Eggleston, E. 1973 Austraiian Aborigines. in J. Giiessen [ed], Bibliographicalintroduction to Legal History and Ethnology, Free University of Brussels, Brussels. 1976 Fear, Fovour or Affection: Aborigines and The Criminai Law in Victoria, South Australia and Western Australia, Austraiian National University Press, Canberra. Elkin, A.P. 1931 The Kopara: The Settlement of Grievances, Oceania 2(2), 173-98. 1947 Aboriginal Evidence and Justice in North Australia, Oceania 17(3), 173-210. 1964 The Australian Aborigines: How to Understand Them, Angus and Robertson, Sydney. Goodaie, J.C. 1962 Marriage Contracts Among the Tiwi, Ethnology 1, 452-66. Groote Eylandt Task Force 1985 Report to Northern Territory Minister for Community Development and CorrectionalServices and to Commonwealth Minister for Aboriginal Affairs, Aiyanguia, Groote Eylandt. Hamilton, A. 1981 Gender and Power in Aboriginai Austraiia. in N. Grieve and P. Grimshaw (eds), Australian Women, Oxford University Press, Melbourne. Hamilton, P. 1972 Aspects of interdependence Between Aboriginai Social Behaviour and The Spatial and Physical Environment. in Royai Austraiian institute of Architects [eds), A Report of a Seminar on Aboriginai Housing, Royai Austraiian lnstitute of Architects, Canberra. Hart, C.W.M. and A.R. Pilling 1960 The Tiwi of North Australia, Hoit, Rinehart and Winston, New York Hawkins, G.L. and R.L. Misner 1973-74 Restructuring the Criminal Justice System in the Northern Territory: Submission to the

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Minister for the Northern Territory, Austraiian Government Publishing Service, Canberra. Hazlehurst, K.M. 1985 Reflectionson the Sydaii/Hoddinotf Western Australia AboriginalJustice of the mace Debate: A Submisslon to the Australian Law Reform Commission, Australian Institute of Criminology, Canberra. Hazlehurst, K.M. (ed) 1986 Aboriginal Criminal Justice: A Bibliographical Guide, Australian Institute of Criminology, Canberra. Hennessy, P.K. 1984 Aboriginal Customary Law and The Australian Criminal Law: An Unresolved Conflict. in B. Swanton (ed), Aborigines and Criminal Justice, Austraiian Institute of Criminology, Canberra. Hiatt, L.R. 1957 An Analysis of Conflict in Some Areas of Aboriginal Australia, BA (Hons] thesis. University of Sydney. 1959 Social Control in Central Arnhem Land, South Fbcific 10. 182-92. 1964 Incest in Arnhem Land, Oceanla 35(2), 124-28. 1965 Kinship and Conflict: A Study of an Aboriglnal Community In Northern Arnhem Land, Austraiian National Universlty Press, Canberra. 1966 A Spear in the Ear, Oceanb 37(2), 153-54. 1986Aboriglnal~liticalLife: The Wentworth Lecture 1984, Australian lnstltute of Aboriginal Studies. Canberra. Hiatt, L.R. (ed) 1984 Aboriginal Landowners: Contemporary Issues in the Determination of Troditionai Land Ownership, Oceania Monograph No 27, University of Sydney Press. Sydney. Hocking, R 1979 Does Aboriginal Law Now Run in Australia? Federal Law Review 10, 161-87. Hoddinott, A. 1985 That's 'Gardia' Business: An Evaluation of the Aboriginal Justice of the &ace Scheme in Western Australia, Criminology ResearchCouncil, Australian Institute of Criminology and Prisons Department, Western Australia. Hope, D. 1984Contemporary issues in the Management of Law and Order in a South Australia Pitjantjatjara Community. In B. Swanton (ed),Aborlgines and CriminalJustice, Australian Institute of Criminology, Canberra. Kaberry, P. 1939 Aboriginal Woman: Sacred and Profane, George Routledge and Sons, London. Keeslng, R.M. 1982 'Cultural Rules': Methodological Doubts and Epistemological Paradoxes, Canberra Anthropology 5(1), 37-46.

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Keon-Cohen, LA. 1981 Native Justice in Austraiia. Canada, and the USA: A Comparative Analysis, Monash Law Review 7, 250-325. Kirby, M.D. 1977 Law Reform and Aboriginal Customary Law: Comments Made a t InstructionalCourse for Criminal Justice brsonnei, Australian Institute of Criminology, Canberra. Koiig, E. 1974 Kerygma and Grog: Elders Revive 'Tribal Law' in the Kimberleys, ~estern~ustraiia~boriginal Affairs Planning Authority Newsletter 1(7), 44-52. Kriewaldt, M.C. 1960 The Application of the Criminal Law to the Aborigines of the Northern Territory of Australia, University of Western Australia law Review 5, 1-50. Langton, M. 1983 'Medicine Square': For the Recognition of Aboriginal Swearing and Fighting as Customary Law, BA(Hons) thesis, Australian National University. Layion, R.H. 1986 Uiuru: An AboriginalHistory ofAyers Rock, Austraiian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. Lemaire, J.E. 1972 The Application of Some Aspects of European Law to the Aboriginai Natives of Central Austraiia, LLM thesis, University of Sydney. Liberman, K.B. 1981 Understanding Aborigines in Austraiian Courts of Law, Human Organization 40(3), 247-55, 1985 Understanding Interaction in Central Australia: An EthnomethodologlcaiStudy of Australian Aboriginal Bople, Routiedge and Kegan Paul, Boston. Lyons, G. 1983 Aboriginal Perceptions of Courts and Police: A Victorian STudy, Australian Aboriginal Studies 2, 45-61, Macdonaid, G. 1988 A ~ i i a d j u rFight i Story. In I. Keen (ed), Being Black: Aboriginal Cultures in 'Seffled' Australia, Aboriginai Studies Press, Canberra. Maddock, K.J. 1970 A Structural interpretation of the Mirrirri, Oceania 40(3), 165-76. 1977 Two Laws in One Community. in R.M. Berndt (ed), Aborigines and Change: Australia in the 70s, Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. 1979 Is Medicine the Law?Journal of the Anthropological Society of South Australia 17(5), 15-25. 1980 Anthropoiog)! Law and the Definition ofAustralianAborlginaiRights to land, Catholic University (Publikaties over Volksrecht Vi), Nijmegen. 1981 Warlplri Land Tenure: A Test Case in Legal Anthropology, Oceania 52(2), 85-102. 1982 The Australian Aborigines: A brtralt of Their Sociefy, Penguin Books, Ringwood.

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1983 Your Land is Our Lond: Aboriginol Lond Rights, Penguin Books, Ringwood. 1984 Aboriginal Customary Law. In P. Hanks and B. Keon-Cohen(eds),Aborigines and the Law George Alien and Unwin, Sydney. Maddock, K.J. and J.E. Cawte 1970 Aboriginal Law and Medicine, Medlco-LegalSociety of New South Wales Proceedings 4, 170-92. Makarius, R. 1966 Incest and Redemption in Arnhem Land, Oceania 37(2), 148-52. McCorquodale, J. 1987 Aboriglnes ond the Law: A Digest, Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra, Meggltt, M.J. 1962 Desert hopie: A Study of the Wolbiri Aborigines of CentroiAustralia, Angus and Robertson. Sydney. 1964 Indigenous Forms of Government Among the Australian Aborigines, Bldragen Tot de TaaiLond- en Volkenkunde 120(1), 163-79. Moore, S.F. 1972 Legal Liability and Evolutionary interpretation: Some Aspects of Strict Liability, Self Help. and Collective Responsibility. In M. Giuckman (ed), The Allocation of Responsibility, Manchester University Press, Manchester. 1978 Low as Process, Routledge and Kegan Paul. London. Myers, F.R. 1986 Reflections on a Meeting: Structure, Language, and the Polity in a Small-Scale Society, Americon Ethnologist 13(3), 430-47. Nader, L, and H.F. Todd Jr (eds) 1978 The Disputing Process-Law In Ten Societies, Columbia University Press, New York. Neate, G. 1979 Dying Declarationsand Customary Marriages of Australian Aborigines and Rules of Criminal Evidence, BA [Hons) thesis, Australian National University. Peterson, N. 1970 Buiuwandi: A Central Australian Ceremony For the Resolution of Conflict. in R.M. Berndt [ed], Australian Aboriglnoi Anthropology, University of Western Australia Press, Nediands. Peterson, N. and M. Langton (eds) 1983 Aboriglnes, Lond and Lond Rights, Australian lnstitute of Aboriginal Studies. Canberra. Pursell, V. 1984 Aboriginal Customary Law: Reference, Research and Bibliography.In Nationai Law Librarians [eds). Adjustment and Survivol, Proceedings of the National Law Librarians Conference, Perth. Reay, M. (edl 1964 Aborigines Now: New hrspectives in the Study of Aboriginal Communities. Angus and Robertson, Sydney.

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Reid, J.C. 1983 Sorcerers and Healing Spirits: Continuity and Change in an Aboriginal Medical System, Austraiian National University Press, Canberra. Rose, D.B. 1984a Dingo Makes Us Human: Being and Purpose in Austraiian Aboriginai Culture, PhD thesis, Bryn Mawr College. 1984b The Saga of Captain Cook: Morality in Aboriginal and European Law, Austraiian Aboriginal Studies 2. 24-39. Sackett, L. 1977 Liquor and the Law: Wiiuna, Western Austraiia. in R.M. Berndt (ed), Aborigines and Change: Australia in the 70s, Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. Sansom, BL. 1980 The Camp at Wallaby Cross: Aboriginal Fringe Dwellers in Darwin, Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. Sharp, R.L. 1934a The Social Organisation of the Yir Yoront of Cape York Peninsula, Oceania 4, 404-43. 1934b Ritual Life and Economics of the Yir Yoront of Cape York Peninsula, Oceonia 5, 19-42. 1937 The Social Anthropology of a Totemic System In North Queensland, Australia, PhD thesis. Harvard University. 1958 People Without Politics.in V.F. Ray (ed),Systems of blitical Controland Bureaucracyin Human Societies, Proceedings of the American Ethnological Society, 1-8. Shaw, B. 1981 My Country of the Pelican Dreaming: The Life of an Australian Aborigine of the Gadjerong, Grant NgabldJ, f904-1977 as told to Bruce Show, Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. 1983 Banggoiyerri: The Story of Jack Suiiivan as Told to Bruce Shaw, Australian institute of Aboriginai Studies, Canberra. Sheils, H. (ed) 1963 Australian Aboriginal Studies, Oxford University Press, Melbourne. Smlth, D. 1976 Past-Masters Now: A Study of the Relationship Between Anthropology and Austraiian Aboriginal Societies, BA (Hons) thesis, University of Queensland. 1984 'That Register Business': The Role of the Land Councils in DeterminingTraditional Aboriginal Owners. In L.R. Hiatt (ed), Aboriginal Landowners: Contemporary Issues in the Determination of Traditional Land Ownership. Oceania Monograph No 27, University of Sydney Press, Sydney. Stanner, W.E.H. 1960 Durmugam, a Nangiomeri. in J.B.Casagrande (ed), In the Company of Man, Harper and Brothers, New York. 1977 Some Notes on Aboriginai Law and its Possible Recognition: Submission Prepared for the Australian Law Reform Commission, Sydney.

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Strehlow, T.G.H. 1936 Notes on Native Evidence and Its Value, Oceania 6(3), 323-35. 1947 Aranda Traditions, Melbourne University Press, Meibourne. 1963 Anthropological and Ethnological Research. in H. Shells (ed),Australian Aboriginal Studies, Oxford University Press, Meibourne, 452-60. 1970 Geography and the Totemic Landscape in Central Austraiia: A Functional Study. in R.M. Berndt [ed), Australian AboriginalAnthropology, University of Western Austraiia Press, Nedlands, 92-129. 1978a Aboriginai Customary Law, Strehlow Research Foundation Fwmphiet 5(1]. 197813 Aboriginai Law, Australian Nurses Journal 7(12), 10-12. Sutton, P.J. 1985 Aboriginai Customary Marriage-Determination and Definition, Aboriginal Law Bulletin 12, 13-15. Sutton, P.J. and R Rlgsby 1982 People with 'Poiiticks': Management of Land and Personnel on Australia's Cape York Peninsula. In N.M.Wiiliams and E.S. Hunn (eds),Resource Managers: NorthAmerican andAustralian Hunter-Gatherers,Westview Press, Boulder, Colorado. 155-71. Sydall, T. 1978 Court Procedures:Manual for Aboriginai Justices of the Peace, Broome, Western Austraiia, typescript, 14 pp. 1984 Aborigines and the Courts I, Aborigines and the Courts Ii. in B. Swanton (ed),Aborigines and Criminal Justice, Australian institute of Criminology, Canberra. Taft, RR Jr 1981 Tribal Customs and Western Law: An Australian Dilemma, Police Magazine 4(1), 51-58. Tatz, CM. 1977 Aborigines: Political Options and Strategies. In R.M. Berndt (ed),Aborigines and Change: Australia in the 70s. Australian Institute of Aboriginai Studies, Canberra, 384-401. Taylor, J. 1984 Of Acts and Axes: An Ethnography of Socio-culturalChange in an Aboriginal Community, Cape York Peninsula, PhD thesis, James Cook University. Tonkinson, R. 1974 The JigalongMob: Aboriginal Victors of the Desert Crusade, Cummings Publishing Co. Menlo Park. 1978 The MardudjaraAborigines: Living the Dream in Australia's Desert, Holt, Rinehart and Winston, New York. 1985 One Communi% Two Laws: Aspects of Conflict and Convergence h a Western Australian Aboriginal Settlement, Revised Paper Presented at the Symposium on Aboriginal Law and Tradition in Australian Society: Problems of Conflict, CO-existenceand Adaptation, Xllth international Congress of Anthropological and Ethnological Sciences, 19-23 August. Vancouver, British Columbia.

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Toohey, J. 1984 Aboriginal Customary Law. in National Law Librarians [eds), Adjustment and Survival: Proceedings of the National Law Librarians Conference, Perth. Vachon, D.A. nd Submission to the Law Reform Commission on Aboriginal Customary Law, manuscript held in Australian lnstitute of Aboriginal Studies Library. von Sturmer, J.R. 1978 The Wik Region: Economy, Territoriality and Totemism in Western Cape York Peninsula, North Queensland, PhD thesis, University of Queensland. 1981 Talking with Aborigines. Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies Newsletter 15, 13-30. Warner, W.L. 1958 A Black Civilization, Harper, New York. Williams, N.M. 1973 Northern Territory Aborigines Under Australian Law, PhD thesis, University of California, Berkeley. 1974 Constraints on Judicial Decision-making:The Application of Legal Rules in Cases involving Aborigines in the Northern Territory of Australia. Paper Presented at Seminar on Aborigines and Law, Monash University. 1977 Law, Laws, and 'The Law': Aborigines and the Administration of CriminalJustice, With Brticuiar Reference to the Northern Territory, Paper Prepared for instructional Course for Criminai Justice Personnel, Australian Institute of Criminology, Canberra, 1-3 November 1977. 1985 On Aboriginal Decision-making.In D. Barwlck, J. Beckett and M. Reay [eds), Metaphors of Interpretation: Essays in Honour of WE.H. Stunner, Australian National University Press, Canberra. 1986 The Yolngu and Their Land, Stanford University Press and Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies. Canberra. 1987a Two Laws: ManagingDisputesin a ContemporaryAboriginal Community, Austraiian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. 1987b Local Autonomy and the Viability of Community Justice Mechanisms. In K.M. Haziehurst [ed), ivory Scales: Block Australia and the Law, New South Wales University Press, Sydney, 227-40. Wilson, J. 1961 Authority and Leadership in a 'New Style' Austraiian Aboriginal Community: Pindan, Western Australia, MA thesis, University of Western Australia. Worsley, P. 1954 The Changing Social Structure of the Wanindiijaugwa, PhD thesis, Australian National University. Wurm, S.A. 1963 Aboriginal Languages and the Law. Universify of Western Australia Law Review 6, 1-10.

HOWARD MORPHY The resurrection of the Hydra: twenty-five years of research on Aboriginal religion The 1961 conference on Australian Aboriginal studies came at a turning point in research into Aboriginal religion. As far as theory is concerned, writings on religion had been dominated by Durkheim, directly through the Influence of his work and indirectly through the influence that he had on Radciiffe-Brown. Durkheim's arguments had won out in debates with the intellectualists Tylor and Frazer and the evolutionist Lang. Much of the agenda for research and many of the terms of debate over the forty years following publication of The Elementary Forms of the Religlous Life were set by Durkheim, even if in some cases the framework was set by disagreements with him over particular aspects of his theory (cf Kaberry 1939).The few who followed different lines of argument, such as Father Worms, tended to appear at least in retrospect somewhat parochial, being isolated from the mainstream of research. For heuristic purposes it is possible to define somewhat tentatlveiy three main focuses of research, or perhaps more loosely, sets of writings, in the period between 1915 and 1961. One set consists of writings in an ethnographic-exegeticaltradition which is characteristic of much Australian anthropology. it had its roots in the ethnographies of Sir Baldwin Spencer and FJ Glllen, and was continued in the works of Warner, Strehlow, Roheim, Kaberry, Thomson, Catherine Berndt and Ronald Berndt. From Warner on it was characterised by the extensive use of exegesis, which often carried or demonstrated the argument of the work. From early on in Australian anthropology Aborigines were present as people. The second tradition was a descriptive, typological, synthesising one that produced a picture of regional differences and formal variation between types of organisations and sets of practices. This tradition, which had its roots in the work of Howitt and to a lesser extent Spencer, influenced many of the anthropologists working in the first tradition. But it is particularly exemplified in the writings of Radcliffe-Brown and Elkin. Both of these traditions, the ethnographic-exegeticaland the typologicaidescriptive were for a long time couched within an overall Durkhelmian paradigm, though they had their origins in an earlier period and continue to the present. The third tradition can be labelled comparative religion or perhaps cosmological particularism.This tradition pursued many of the questions raised by earlier theorists such as Frazer and Lang, and was represented in the work of Worms and Eiiade, though in Eliade's case the goals broadened to include as a central concern a hermeneutic understandingof the basic metaphysical position of Aboriginal religion.' M o u g h by 1961Worm's work was lateral to the concerns of most other researchers, it was he who gave the summary paper on Aboriginal religion to the conference on Aboriginal studies.

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By 1960 there was clearly some dissatisfaction with the state of research into Aboriginal religion.There was a general questioning of the Durkheimian or RadcllffeBrownian paradigm in anthropology. In particular there was criticism of its typological approach to comparative analysis. Such arguments were brought to bear directly on studies of Australian totemism (LWStrauss 1964).Catherine Berndt (1963)argued that many of the cultural and artistic aspects of Aboriginal religious performance had been neglected, and Stanner (1963a, 273) found the agenda set by Durkheim overiy restrictive. Although the next twenty-five years were to be rich ones, in which an understanding of Aboriginal religion was pursued from a number of different perspectives,two themes stand out from the rest as foci of research during the period. One is the study of meaning and symbolism. This theme was foreshadowed by Catherine Berndt at the 1961 conferencewhen she wrote (1963,260):'the two-pronged issue of social and personal meaning is, with some exceptions, a subject for future investigation rather than a field already well surveyed'. The second theme can be stated as the role of religion in the reproduction of Aboriginal society. This theme was present but not convincingly incorporated in Stanner's work; was implicit in the debates of the 1960s on Aboriginal politics between Ronald Berndt, Hiatt, Meggitt, Sharp and Strehlow among others; and was to become a positive theme in the works of Maddock, Munn, Bern and Keen. The two themes are potentially closely interconnected, and, depending on the theory of culture adopted, the former (meaning and symbolism) can either be central to a consideration of the latter, or thought to be liable to lead one into murky and muddied waters where the symbolist red herring resides. In some readings of Stanner's work the second theme is almost reversed to become 'what is the role of Aboriginal society in the reproduction of Aboriginal religion?'Although this fails to do justice to the complexity of Stanner's posltion, Stanner clearly saw Durkheim's work as being almost vulgarly social reductionist (see Stanner 1967).Following a Durkheimian paradigm, religious phenomena can b e seen to be reduced to social phenomena: the function of rellglon was social in that religion reinforced social groups; systems of classification were extensions of social categories; and on the whole the meaning of religion to its adherents and the Intentions of the actors were neglected. One senses that Stanner was almost offended by Durkheim, that he found his approach to be a slight on Aboriginal religion. Durkheim was guilty of applying a perspective from western sociology (in which 'social' is the allencompassing concept) onto Aboriginal society where the concept of the Dreaming

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holds an equivalent status. To Stanner, the goal was to understandAboriginal religion from within, or in its own right, and this led him to shift the focus from social structure to meaning-as long as meaning did not involve psychoanalytic theory (cf Stanner 1982). The shift to meaning could certainly have been accomplished within a Durkheimian paradigm, as the work of Munn and to a lesser extent of Maddock has shown, It is a pity therefore that Stanner's opposition to Durkheim led to a perhaps reactive neglect of the political and social dimensions of Aboriginal religion, especially as Stanner clearly saw the importance of the political dimension. Understanding religion in its own terms can be part of a larger analysis aimed at understanding Aboriginal religion in relation to sociological theory without being overly reductionist; for example, the emic-etic distinction is one way of conceptualising the relationship between the two perspectives. The change in direction that Stanner helped to initiate has generally been understood as a change of both topic and method-a move toward a focus on the content (and symbolism) of Aboriginal religion and toward a structural analysis of that content. This change, in Austraiia at least, came first in the work of Stanner (1959, 1960a, 1960b, 1961a, 1961b, 1963a, 1963b1, and almost immediately after in the works of L6vi-Strauss (1964, 1966). In some ways it was a tragedy that Stanner's work did not appear some years earlier, as it fell under the shadow of L&-Strauss, especially outside Australia, and has taken a long time to emerge. Hiatt (1975a, 11) was undoubtedly right when he wrote: 'there would be a wide agreement among Australianists that [Stanner's] Oceania Monograph 'On Aboriginal Religion' is the most sensitive analysis of the subject to have appeared: Nevertheless, for such a major work it has been relatively little cited by others working in the field, and has only recently been subject to a critical review (Keen 1986).In some cases (eg Bell 1983) the acknowledgement to Stanner in the introduction is the main reference to him in the whole work. Studies by Munn (197313) and Morphy (1977a)that were clearly influenced by his work hardly refer to him at all. It is almost as If his influence has been so general and pervasive that it cannot be quite pinned down. Although many phrases stand out in Stanner's work, and many passages are extremely quotable, there is no catch phrase that captures his method and jogs the citation reflex, when unconsciouslywritten. In this respect Stanner is in marked contrast to Evi-Strauss,whose works rapidly shifted from the status of Gallic obscurantism and mystification to a distilled formula for structural analysis and its theoretical justification, as several 'how to do it' books were written. Stanner cannot be potted so easily! There is no doubt

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that his work is difficult and requires interpretation, and that his method of analysis and theoretical position are neither fully worked out nor entirely coherent. As Keen (1986) has shown, his theory of action is defective and his semiotic terminology inconsistent and not clearly stated. It can be argued neverthelessthat Stanner's work has been influential in at least three separate ways-methodologicaily, hermeneutically and thematically. First. Stanner's structuralism is one that is linked to the way in which myth and ritual are produced, to the historicalcontext of the Punj, and to the existence of myth in segments and versions. His theoretical perspective seems to be derived partly from the way he sees Aboriginal people using analogy to get across understanding of religious phenomena. Symbolism to Stanner is a form of intellectual practice (1960b, 1021: I put forward the hypothesis that familiar things of the social order provide shapes or njinipun by which religious mystery can be formulated in an understandable way. The same intellectual process seems to be revealed in the spatial configurations of ceremony: familiar things of the physical environment provide shapes or njinipun for the arrangement of ritual conduct.

It is in this respect that Stanner's structuralism differs from the more abstract methods of the later Lgvi-Strauss.(It is closest to the Gvi-Strauss of Asdiwal.) Secondly, Stanner has come to certain conclusions about the content of Murinbata symbolism that others have found insightful and of broader application, partly as a result of his analysis and partly, I suspect, through gut feeling (or intuition]. His often quoted conclusion that 'life is a joyous thing with maggots at the centre' is one example (cf Hiatt 1975a, II), which has itself become a symbol for the fatalism and acceptance that is an aspect of the Aboriginal world view, at least in certain parts of Australia. Finally, Stanner explored certain topics that had previously been neglected.Many he simply hinted at for future research, aesthetics for example (1959, 126) others he explored in more depth. One of the questions that recurs throughout his work is that of the moral position of Aboriginal religion, its status as an ethical system (eg Stanner 1965, 218). He approached the problem from a perspective that was very different from Durkheim's, focusing on the content of myth as ethical discourse. Stanner did not come to any clear conclusion, nor did he present a precisely formulated problem. What he did was to present the apparent contradiction between the moral ambiguity of myth and the intuition that the ritual system was in some senses profoundly moral. He drew attention to something that had worried people, a problem that was sensed

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rather than articulated; he did not provide an answer and yet people who followed have clearly been influenced by the way he addressed the issues (see RM Berndt 1970, 220; Berndt 1979; Tonkinson 1978b). Lirvi-Strauss'sinfluence is in some respects easier to assess, since it has largely been one of method, the application of which to Australian data has been fairly limited. Moreover his statement of his aims and methods, once they ceased to be elusive, were simpler than Stanner's.On the other hand Evi-Strauss'svast corpus since The Savage Mind has hardly begun to influence the analyses of Australianists, and the subtleties of his work hold enormous potential. Totemism did three main things. It demonstrated that totemism as a unitary phenomenon did not exist, it cast doubt on previous explanations of totemism, in particular intellectualist ones, and it introduced the idea that totemic relations in Australia mlght be best approached from the perspective of symbolism, as instances of universal principles of human thought. The critique of totemism was hardly original and Gvl-Strauss argued that his major conclusions followed on very much from the insights of Radcliffe-Brown,but in the context of increased exposure to L6vi-Strauss's general perspective the work had considerable impact. The LW-Straussthat came across initially, perhaps because of Totemism, was one that was close to the Durkheim of Primitive Classification, in which homologous sets of meanings and sets of natural species were associated with social groups at particular levels of segmentation within the system.These social groups or categories have the appearance of fixed points in the system, structuralist pegs to hang totems on that are then viewed as the natural raw material for human thought. The problem with linking totems so closely to social category pegs is that although they are 'good to think with: on the whole they are used by the analyst only to think about the relationship between social groups and categories. At Its worst this results in a kind of neo-Durkheimian social reductionism. This narrow version of LW-Straussian structuralism is very different from that of Stanner, in whose work on religion, as Hiatt (1975a, 15) has pointed out, social groups are almost entirely absent. The problem with the Gvi-Strauss of Totemism was that on the one hand he demolished totemism as a category, making it a more complex phenomenon or set of separate phenomena than it was before; yet on the other hand he made it into a system that others were to see as being too neat, too formalised and centred on simple dualisms. The message was that totemism was too messy to be a unitary phenomenon, yet the feeling was that the Gvi-Strauss transformation of it into a mode of thought was too tidy. The feelings of the time were well captured in Worsley's (1967) critique.

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Worsiey attempted to relate Levi-Strauss's arguments to the actual situation among the Wanandilyagwa of Groote Eylandt. He showed how the set of totems that actually occurs in association with each Groote Eylandt clan as a result of historical processes, is arbitrary as far as any overarching system of inter-clan symbolism is concerned. The clan as an entity is historically produced, and semantic factors are not primary in the redistribution of the totemic load to create what Worsley (following Vygotsky's terminology) refers to delightfully as the clan's totemic 'heap': 'the appearance of compendious systematization can be "substantiated" only by selective and unscientific concentration upon the more systematic part of the totemic compendium to the exclusion of all the contingent parts' (Worsley 1967, 151). Worsley was by no means wholly critical of Gvi-Strauss'senterprise and arguably played a very important role in clarifying precisely what was Involved. It is clear that what LBvi-Strauss was concerned to demonstrateearly on was a style of analysis associated with a particular theoretical perspective. Too many people tried to see his work as a rigid formula. Maddock (1972, 1975, 1976, 1979) has been more influenced by Gvi-Straussthan any other Australian anthropologist, and his general book is a testimony to the productivity of a structuralist approach. Maddock (1975, 120) recognises variations within the corpus of Gvi-Strauss and urges the adoption of a criterion of relevance in structural analyses, namely, that they should relate to problems in the analysis of the particular society. Maddock (1972, 102) addresses Worsley's criticism by implication when he argues that all oppositions are not likely to be salient, and that there will be a degree of semantic arbitrariness in the way totems are hung on the social structural pegs:the 'classifications [manifest] tendencies to system, without ever achieving complete coherence', The problem with this qualification is that it still allows the implication that the main criterion employed in sorting totems and allocating them to pegs is a semantic one, and that even though other contingent factors such as the survlval of the group, fission and fusion may interfere with the process, the tendency is toward the creation of the symbolically coherent artefact. Von Brandenstein (1970, 1972) appears to have found such a system in Western Australia, where world view is condensed into a formula that neatly coincides with a section system, and in which the whole seems to operate rather like a children's fortune-telling game, where first you choose a colour, secondly a wind and so on. Regional variation may be a factor here. It may be possible that those systems characterised by an overarching superstructure consisting of precisely articulated, hierarchically structured categories of moiety, semi-moiety(section) and subsection, do have a greater tendency to order in the allocation of appropriately opposed

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signifiers to appropriately opposed groups, than systems that tend to asymmetry or looseness of structure, such as the Yolngu or the Pitjantjatjara.I doubt it, and indeed work by Bern (1974, 1979a) in an area where social category does appear to be potentially all-embracing has shown how subject totemic affiliations are to political reorganisation and restructuring. None of this is to deny that there may well be processes of structuration operating over time that create continuities of form or consistent patterns of transformation between and within different sets of myth. Nor is it to deny that some totemic relations function to mark moiety difference, or to provide the basis for thinking about relations between different orders of things, Rather, I would argue that the process is a highly complex one, and any overall order or for that matter disorder in the totemic system is likely to be multiply-determined,and to contain within it many potential structures which involve processes of creation as well as utilisation. If we take the Yolngu as an example, any totemic object can be used as a marker of moiety, as everything in the world is allocated to one moiety or the other. Some things are used fairly consistently in myth and ritual to indicate moiety, for example red ochre for the Dhuwa moiety and yellow for the Yirritja, Within the moiety each clan has a unique set of totemic associations, but membership of the set overlaps with that of the sets of many others. The sets are very much like Worsley's heaps, although they have areas of greater and lesser structure within them according to the ways in which the components are linked together by songs and dances and so on, It is possible to draw innumerable connections between the heaps by exploiting the overlapping content, and this is done all the time in ceremony (see Morphy 1984). For example singers may choose to follow the same Ancestral track through different countries, following the Crocodile or Shark from place to place. Or people may apply apparently quite arbitrary criteria for linking totems of different clans or different places, as Keen (1978) has shown; for example, they may link a set of yellow objects of different types. Knowledge of sets of overlapping totems and their connections to ritual, song and individuals' histories is part of the Yolngu people's knowledge of the world, and is something to be used both in everyday discourse and in ritual. It provides a rich source of allusion and analogy. The fact that someone can simply shout ‘\oak out, your mother is comingl' as a warning to a person who is spearing fish and whose mother's clan has Shark as totem, shows the familiarity that people must have with the use of totems in discourse. Often the oppositions, the similarities and differences between totems are created by emphasising attributes that seem relevant to the

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particular purpose. Or more general ordering schema may be applied to the particular objects, schema such as Inside-outside, dull-brilliant, birth-death or swallowing-regurgitating. The same object can have different values according to the purpose of the ordering criteria applied. Of course, everything is not always invented anew, and in the songs, dances and myths particular oppositions are encoded or institutionalised, some with quite precise reference.For example, each Yoingu clan has a peace-makingceremony (makarrata] in which an accused person has to undergo an ordeal. First he has to dodge spears that are thrown at him by his accusers. Then he has to offer his leg and allow a hook spear to be thrust into his thigh and broken off at the tip. Once this has happened the dispute is theoretically over and relations become harmonious once again. Each clan has its own myth to explain the origins of its rnakarrata. In one case the accused acts as a crocodile and the accusers as stingrays. This refers to a Dreamtime battle between the Crocodile and Stingray that took place over a territorial dispute in the waters off Caledon Bay. The battle concluded with the Crocodile being speared in the leg, and the two of them agreeing to respect each other's territorial rights. In the case of another clan the accused acts as a cycad nut and the accusers as cycad pounders.This may at first seem a little removed from the theme of makarrata but a little reflection will show it to be a productive and relevant image. The pounder hits the cycad nut as the spear hits the person. The cycad nut, like the crocodile, is dangerous, being poisonous in its raw state. Pulverised and leached in water it can be turned into edlble bread, the sacramental bread of the regional ceremonies for which peace is an essential pre-requisite.In both cases the symbolism is in harmony with the objectives of the makarrata, and in a certain sense the stingray and the pounder can be seen as united in opposition to the crocodile and cycad. Each myth picks up very different aspects of the rnakarrata, The Crocodile myth emphasises that peace comes through punishment and the recognition of the rights of others; the Cycad myth focuses on the transformation of a dangerous situation into a safe one through cultural processes. Both however provide wonderful source material on how the institution and the contradictions that existed within it were understood. I hypothesisethat it would also quickly provide the analyst with the means to create new myths for new clans, and new reflections on the makarrata, which brings us dangerously close to the borderline between developing a productive anthropologicalmodel of cultural process, and sliding into structuralist or hermeneutic flights of fancy. It seems to me that in Australia at least it is necessary to develop a perspective

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on totemism that sees it as more than a reflection of universal properties of human thought (although it clearly is to some extent), one that links it with human action, social organisation and world view. In the Australian context totemism (or the use of the environment as a semiotic resource, the signifying Hydra) is a key component of many mediating processes, between human and spiritual spheres, living and dead, individual and group, and so ona2 The system of totems will appear partially structured and partially ordered or sorted because some oppositions and sets are institutionalisedin ritual episodes, in myths and songs which are transmitted over time. There will be some structure created because of the use of organising schema, such as inside-outside, to reorder material in a systematic way, and some of the order will seem to reflect the pattern of relations between social groups because the relationship between groups provides a basis for organising ritual action, for selecting sequences of songs and so on. The social order will also have an effect on the totemic order because, to the extent that the latter is owned, it is a symbol of group identity and may be the subject of rivalry between groups. However, the structure is not a rigid, deterministic one, but one that is imminent. It is revealed in the process of transmission and in the use of the system. There is continued reworking of partially structured materials in which the structured material itself, as part of the cultural resource of the individual actor or group, affects the way in which it is reworked. At the same time the process of reworking influences the way in which it is reproduced for future generations. The problems of the relationship between structure and action, and related distinctions between collective and individual meaning, and tradition and creativity have been part of the agenda of studies on Aboriginal religion from Durkheim onwards. Stanner tried to deal with them by combining structuralism with transactional theory; Tonkinson and Maddock have approached them from a perspective of ideology versus practice: Layton (1970) has employed the distinction between langue and parole; and Keen (1978,4) has made use of ideas from the philosophy of action. Part of the difficulty of conceptualising the problem of the relationship between structure and action in Aboriginal religion is that'anthropologists have had to contend with a ready-made Aboriginal answer. Tonkinson (1978b, 15) has characterised the Aboriginal theory of action in the following way: 'the measure of man becomes a continuing willingness to follow the founding design, to submit to what Stanner (1965) calls a sacred purpose', Or as a Yolngu man Gamball Ngurruwutthun put it to me: 'we are always running to catch up with what has been done before', in essence the model is one that gives priority to structure and form which are simply replicated

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through human action to the extent that, as Maddock and Tonkinson have shown, Aborigines deny their own creativity.What this means to the analyst, however, is not that the theory should be accepted as true but that the relationship between structure and action in Aboriginal Australia necessarily involves the consideration of such things as ideology, world view or indigenous theory, and systems of knowledge. Following on from Stanner, much research has focused on the way that the Dreaming is internalised, how it is experienced, how it affects understanding and the interpretation of the world. (For example, Munn 1970, Tonkinson 1978a, Biernoff 1974, Thomson 1975, Rudder 1983 and from a different perspective the highly original work of Myers 1986.)Others have looked at how the apparent inconsistenciesbetween theoryand reality are masked to maintain the ideology (Keen 1978, Morphy 1977a). Keen (1978) for example, has shown how people can privately hold conflicting interpretations of songs and rituals while publicly maintaining agreement. Other research has consideredthe issue of creativity in the expansion of the Dreaming and its incorporationof new elements (Kolig 1981, Maddock 1972, Tonkinson 1974, 1978b), and creativity in a ritual context (Keen 1978, Maddock 1969, Morphy 1984, Tonkinson 1970). The developing perspectives on the Dreamtime as a theory of origin and a philosophy of action have been accompanied by an increasingly detailed knowledge of the way in which the Dreaming is encoded, communicated and utilised in ritual action. It may be helpful to divide studies of meaning in Aboriginal religion into three types: 1. the production of texts or descriptive content; 2, analyses of the way in which meaning is encoded and conveyed: and 3, analyses that attempt to discover the symbolism of Aboriginal religion, the underlying meaning. While this division is fairly arbitrary and not necessarily theoretically valid, the three types do reflect different foci of study. From early on there have been studies that have focused on the translation of songs, texts and exegesis, as a source of data on Aboriginal myth and religious belief. Too often the status of the material has been ambiguous, being presented in the form of a myth summary in English, with no evidence of how it was constructed from the original text. Many of the more recent studies, some informed by literary criticism, others by ethnographic knowledge, still others using sophisticated linguistic methodology, have been quite outstanding (for example Strehlow 1971, Berndt 1976b. Clunies Ross 1978).The translations of RM Berndt and Strehlow in particular have provided the data for many interpretative analyses.

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There have been relatively few studies of the visual arts and ritual as sources of data on myth in the past twenty-five years. Meggitt on the Gadjari (1966a)and Mountford (1965, 1976) and Groger-Wurm (1973)on the visual arts are the exceptions. In the case of the visual arts however, there has been an increasing number of studies of the second type which have been concerned with the way in which meaning is encoded. It could be argued that in the case of many codes, particularly those not based on spoken language, it is necessary to study the way in which meaning is encoded before it is possible to see what meanings are being communicated and what the potentiality of the communication system is (and I would argue that this qualification applies equally to language-basedcodes or genres).Thus by analysing the structure of the Warlpiri graphic system, Munn (1973b)was able to show how it operated as an ordering system which encoded the relationships between different orders of things; for example relations between the Ancestral past, topographical space and social group. Certainly the potentiality of the desert graphic system had been realised from Spencer onwards (in particular see Stanner 1961b, 105; Strehlow 19641, but until Munn no one had demonstrated in detail the structural properties of the system and linked them to its operation. Subsequentlythere have been a number of detailed analyses of artistic systems elsewhere in Australia from a broadly similar perspective (Morphy 1977a, 1977b; Taylor 1979, 1984; Layton 19831, which have drawn attention to the differences that exist between the properties of visual systems in different parts of the continent. There have been studies of the way in which meaning is coded in music (Wild 1984, Moyle 1979); dance (Grau 1984); ritual action (Munn 1973a, Maddock 1969, Keen 1978, Morphy 19841; topography (Berndt 1976a, Merlan 1982, Roe and Muecke 1984); song (Keen 1977, Ciunies Ross 1978); food and kinship behaviour (McKnight 1973) and oral tradition.On the whole, however, research into the properties of these genres or media as systems of encoding and communicating meaning are not as far advanced as research into the visual arts. Studies are starting to appear that illustrate how elements from different codes are used in combination to construct a ritual performancehow they interact and contribute to the whole (see Ciunies Ross 1983 for a general discussion).Such studies are not just qualitatively different from earlier studies of ritual that produced a descriptive summary out of the variety of events and acts involving different media (a kind of average description that corresponds to nothing in actuality). Rather, they rest on the assumptionthat each code (song, dance, painting) has its own properties that have to be understoodseparately before the production, organisation and meanings of the whole can be comprehended. There is a danger,

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however, that such studies, if they aim to be exhaustive without applying a criterion of anthropological relevance, could well end up as a more refined kind of Boasian particularism, Structural and symbolic analyses of the content of ritual and myth are, or may

"

,.

be, complementary to these other studies. Because oppositions and structures are to some extent independent of any one system of encoding they can be subject to independent analysis, so long as one can have confidence in the status of the data which are used, and if that status is made explicit. But it may be necessary to analyse the encoding system before the oppositions encoded within it can be seen. The more removed the code is from verbal language, the more this qualification may apply. The oppositions contained in verbal presentations of myth may be very partial, and even atypical of the whole. An analysis of the encoding properties of a system can show that a given code is particularly appropriate for encoding particular oppositions. Visual systems may encode dark-bright oppositions more effectively than other systems, although the opposition may also be referred to in song. Complementary to this, a key opposition may play a role as an ordering schema within the culture, and once that opposition is demonstrated it can be helpful in revealing or explaining structural features of a particular encoding system. The Yolngu opposition inside-outside, for example, helps to explain the relationship between geometric and figurative systems of representation (see Morphy 1977a). Moreover there is no reason why a structural or symbolic analysis should not be sensitlve to the ways in which members of the society are socialised into systems of meaning, how knowledge is acquired, how oppositions and symbols are understood and exploited, and to the way in which men and women, or young and old, may have different understandingsfrom one another (cf CH Berndt 1970, Bell 1983).By analysing the system of meaning in relation to the distribution of knowledge, structural analyses can be more readily linked to the social and political structure of society, and to the production and reproduction of knowledge, i will return to these issues belowon the whole they have been neglected in studies of the symbolism of Aboriginal religion, The majority of symbolic studies have been vignettes that have used a rather narrow database fairly selectively.The Wawilak sisters mythology, for example, has been particularly productive for structural analysis, partly because of the excellent data of Warner (1958) and Berndt (1951), partly perhaps because of its archetypal nature (see for example Buchler 1978, Hargrave 1983, Hiatt 1975b, Knight 1983, Layton 1970, L6vi-Strauss 1966, Maddock 1976. Munn 1969).Many structural analyses have

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been somewhat one dimensional, coming to conclusions that relate a key opposition of the myth to an aspect of or apparent contradiction in Aboriginal social structure. They have tended often to be on the reductionist side of L6vi-Straussian analysis. Occasionally some analyses (for example those of Hiatt and Munn) have gone beyond that, to link a structural analysis of the myth with the effect of ritual on the participants in ceremony, in relation to psychological and structural aspects of Yolngu society. Perhaps the most detailed analysis so far along these lines has been produced by Morton (1985) in his treatment of central Australian mythology. From another part of the continent McKnight (1973, 1975) has produced an interesting set of papers on Wik-munkan symbolism. Many of these analyses of symbolism are extremely plausible, although most fall down in that they are neither backed up by exegesis, nor shown to be relevant to the choice of particular elements in ritual, and nor is it shown that the particular interpretation has wide explanatory powers.This is not to deny the usefulness of such analyses; it is merely to suggest that they could have been more useful. Indeed, it could be for example that the analyses of the Wawilak myth are right, even the ones that contradict one another, but in a less universal way than they are presented.The multivalency of ritual action, of the signs from the Dreaming, of the ancestral images, leaves it open for all to be possible interpretationsthat may be relevant to the way in which some Yolngu understand ritual, to the way ritual components are selected and so on. Too often, however, the results of symbolic analyses are presented as if they hold the ultimate and final meaning. Some interpretations may indeed be more general than others in that they are more widely held, or apply across codes, or underlie other interpretations, and some may be more important than others in motivating the form and content of myth and ritual. But the form and interpretations of a myth (or rite or song) are likely to be multiply-determined and continuously changing, as part of the historical processes of Aboriginal society. Stanner saw this when he wrote (1960a. 248): it is thus necessary to examine the relationship between at least three sets of phenomena: the ontological system, the conjoint phenomena of myth and rite, and the main social relationships as continously interdependent over time.

It would be most misleading, however, to imply that Stanner dealt adequately with the relationship between religion and society in his writings. He did provide a neat phrase that captured essential components of the relationship when he wrote that a large part of Aboriginal religion is concerned with the 'rightful possession and

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dutiful use of efficacious signs' (Stanner 1959, 121). He did not go on to explore in detail the issue that he raised, nor did he consider that rightful possession may be established after competition and by persuasion. He also used the promising phrase 'economy of knowledge', but what he meant by it was far removed from any political connotations that such a phrase might have. It was another emic model, expressing the idea that religious power and sacred knowledge were a finite resource that had to be conserved and curated, channelled along proper courses and handed on to the next generation.Again, this was a fundamental insight, but one which leaves unresolved the problems of how new sacred knowledge is created, and how it is possible to use control of knowledge for political purposes.These are issues which Stanner left largely unexplored. I argued earlier that one of the things that motivated Stanner was a desire to switch from an outsider's to an insider's perspective, one that approached Aboriginal religion in its own terms as a system of meaning. Much of the work of the 1960s and early 1970s aimed to establish this insider's perspective on Aboriginal religion, and to set up a climate in whlch the question of the role of religion in the reproduction of Aboriginal society could be addressed more meaningfully.This does not mean stepping back into the 'what does religion contribute to society?' approach, which is implicitly functionalist. Such an approach to religion pre-supposes a definition of religious phenomena which enables them to be identified clearly and segregated from other social facts, to whlch they can then be related.This has proved to be difficult in Australia. As Stanner (1959, 109) wrote: it is obviously absurd to try to relate what is not yet classified to a total system of lifesay, to the kulture' or 'social structure' of the Murinbata-for part of that total system is the very conduct to whlch not even a good name can be given.

This epistemological problem has led some people to adopt a position which sees power being exercised in a religious context but denying that in such a context this is political. As Bern (1979b)points out, there are conflicting definitions of politics, and I doubt that anyone today would argue that Aborigines are people without politics (at least according to someone's definition of politics). How religion plays a role in the reproduction of the particular kinds of relationships between men and women, owners and managers, young and old is clearly a valid etic question, and it is not answered by the emic reply: 'we are just following the ways of our ancestors: The 'ways of our ancestors', from the anthropologist's point of view, must be seen to be produced by human agency even if Aboriginal ideology denies the fact. Such

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questions must involve a consideration of the way in which religious institutions, structures and beliefs articulate with other components of the sociocultural system. At least three perspectives have been developed on the relationship between religion and politics in Aboriginal Australia. One has seen metaphysical factors as being dominant in the reproduction of the society. This view, of Aborigines 'living the Dreaming', is one that most nearly coincides with Aboriginal ideology, and is reflected in the work of Stanner, Tonkinson and Maddock (see also Charlesworth 1984),Then there are theories which see as key factors the small scale nature of the kinship system, The existence of these factors results in an orientation toward egalitarianism or individualism, with limits set on the possibilities for competition and little possibility for the long term ascendence of any group or sector over others. This perspective allows that religion may be concerned with metaphysical and psychological matters as well as with functional integration, social control or resource management, but avoids positing any simple determinancy (Hiatt 1971, 1975~1,1975b; Meggitt 1962; Sharp 1958; and to some extent Peterson 1972, Munn 197313, Wiiliams 1985).The third perspective sees Aboriginal society as non-egalitarian, and inequality as being a determinant factor rather than a consequence of processes such as resource management, clan organisation, age, or the possession of differential ritual knowledge. Theorists who work from this perspective provide some elucidation of the role of religion in reproducing these inequalities (for example, Keen 1978, Bern 1979b, White 1975, and to an extent Strehlow 1970). None of these perspectives is mutually exclusive, and in separating them out I have inevitably simplified the positions of the individuals mentioned, but I would argue that they do represent key positions in debates that have occurred (even if the positions are fuzzy around the edges).There has also been a separate issue lurking in the background of the debate which is reievant to all three perspectives, and that is the ecological (and economic) context of Aboriginal religion (somethingthat has been explored in depth only in the work of Peterson 1972). The potential overlap between these different perspectives is shown by the fact that Bern's work (1974, 1979b), which has most explicitly pursued the political dimension of Aboriginal religion, has a lot in common with that of both Stanner and Durkheim who represent respectively the other two positions. Although they do not use the same theoretical framework, Stanner and Bern both see religion as having a dominant position in Aboriginal society and both are opposed to a simplified Durkheimianview which sees religion as determined by and referring to society. in other respects, however, Bern's argument can been seen as a development of Durkheim's.Whereas

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in Durkheim's case religion functions to maintain structures that are necessary for the perpetuation and maintenance of an orderly society, Bern sees it operating to reproduce a particular structure of relations of dominance and subordination between members of society over time. To Durkheim the power relations are unproblematic: they are part of the way the society survives. To Bern for those who control religion: 'these benefits are the intended consequences of the conduct of religion which relate men collectively, and affirm the structure of their relations with other social categories' (Bern 1979b, 125). Bern's contention is controversial in a number of respects. It has been argued now by many (for example, Berndt 1950, 1965; Bell 1983; Hamilton 1980) that the relations of domination and subordination are much more complex than Bern would allow for: that the male role in the economy Is much greater (Altman 1984); and that women's autonomy in everyday life is such that women's labour power cannot be said to be 'distributed among the mature men in such a way as to maintain the common interests of the men' (Bern 1979b, 127). Moreover, research into women's religious belief and practice, and their role in ritual, suggests that women are not under male hegemony to the extent that Bern's arguments imply, and that the structure of dominance can only be located in the sphere of religion if women's religious practice is disregarded (seefor example, Berndt 1950, Bell 1983, Hamilton 1980).Thus we have advanced beyond the stage where women's role and beliefs are asserted rather than demonstrated. Nevertheless, in most Aboriginal societies there are structures of dominance in some spheres of ritual practice that are similar to those found in other contexts, and the relationship between these and women's beliefs and practices is clearly an important topic for research. Despite the fact that Bern tends in his article to assert connections rather than demonstrate them, he has contributed in a significant way to the establishment of the framework for discussing the role of religion In the reproduction of Aboriginal society, Keen (1978) has also focused on the relationship between political and religious institutions. In some ways his research has been a direct development of Stanner's, concerned as it is with a theory of action. He has shown how the resources of the Dreaming, religious knowledge, are used in action not simply from the perspective of Aboriginal ideology but also in relation to political objectives.In a detailed analysis he has elucidated ways in which religious institutions articulate with other institutions, such as gerontocratic polygamy, and help to reproduce them over time. Another work which shows the connection between religion and politics is RM Berndt's An Adjustment Movementin Arnhem Land (1962),which is contemporaneous

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with Stanner's major work. Berndt's book is an exceilent example of what i termed earlier the ethnographic-exegeticaltradition. It demonstrates the connection between political and religious institutions in the context of social change. It shows Aboriginal people reflecting on aspects of their reiigious practice in order to develop effective ways of acting in a post-colonial situation. The exegesis is placed in context by the author's extensive knowledge of the regional ethnography. Social change has provided a good though neglected context for analysing aspects of the structure, process and politics of Aboriginal religion, and some excellent studies have been produced by Tonkinson (1974), Kolig (1981)and Bell (1983).Change has also made the problem of acquiring data and controlling them more difficult because of the speed of change, the expansion of local communities and the increase in the variety of factors that affect any particular situation. It has also made it difficult to analyse Aboriginal religion in the context of a hunting and gathering society. Very few studies indeed have attempted to show the way in which religion articulates with the economy except from the perspectlve of the control of resources. Peterson (1972)has, however, produced a highly original argument in which religion plays a key role in territorial organisation and in ensuring the physical reproduction of society.Again there is no reason why the model should be taken as a deterministic one that explains all features of the system, but it may well be a significant component. Such analyses, and the reconstruction of Aboriginal religion in its hunting and gathering context, are to be encouraged if we are ever to gain a comprehensive perspectlve on the transformation of Aboriginal religious systems over time (see also Yengoyan 1970). It will also be necessary to take such analyses up to the present, It is in fact ironic that not only has the relation between Aboriginal religion and a reconstructed Aboriginal economic system been neglected but so too has its articulation with post-colonial institutionsand the transformed economic context.This last neglect goes hand in hand with the neglect of Aboriginal Christianity.Apart from studies of, and theoretical discussion on, the Elcho island Adjustment Movement (Berndt 1962, but also Maddock 1972, Morphy 1984), post-colonial developments have not figured prominently in anthropological studies of Aboriginal r e l i g i ~ nThere .~ are both positive and negative reasons for this neglect. It is, for example, partly a symptom of Aboriginal resistance to missionary pressure that there are to an extent Aboriginal victors of the various crusades (Tonkinson 1974).And many anthropological accounts have been written implicitly from that perspective. Most contemporary ethnographies of Aboriginal societies have certainly not been reconstructions of an ideal ethnographic past, but have placed events firmly in their contemporary context,

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(Myers 1986 provides a good example but there are many others.) Nonetheless it is disappointing that so few have sought to understand or produce ethnographic accounts of Aboriginal Christianity as a central aim of their research (Caliey 1964 being a notable exception), or have focused their research on the religion of Aborigines in urban situations. There are some signs that this situation will soon be remedied with a number of research projects underway into Aboriginal Christianity and with the attention recently given to research into new religious movements (see Kolig 1979, AlAS 1981). But we still await significant publications in this area. Certain other themes have been neglected, perhaps surprisingly, during the last twenty-five years. Sorcery and magic, which were topics of major interest to anthropologists from Spencer and Gillen to Warner and Thomson, have almost faded out of existence in recent decades, though work by McKnight (1981)and Reid (1977, 1983) suggests a renewal of interest. Sorcery and magic in fact seem obvious topics for research since they are in some respects at the fulcrum of articulation between Not only do sorcery beliefs highlight differences Aboriginal and European societyn4 in world view and conceptual systems in the two cases, they do so in arenas (eg of medicine and the law) where the two societies must confront those differences in everyday life. The whole area of the relationship between religion and health is one that has hardly been studied (but see Reid 1982).

CONCLUSIONS It would be quite wrong to end this review on a negative note, for despite the omissions referred to above my feeling overall is that our understandingof Aboriginal religion has been greatly enhanced by the work of the past twenty-five years. The theoretical developments that have occurred (as opposed to the topical gaps which exist) suggest that research could now be most profitably directed toward the study of religious and ritual action, its determinants and effects. We now have a good idea of the extent to which cultural knowledge is structured, we have developed more sophlstlcated models of social and political organisation and we have an Increased understanding of Aboriginal ecology and economy. But there have been relatively few studies of ritual in recent years and fewer still that have looked at the organisation of ritual action as behaviour which reflects choices made in the light of political, psychological and semantic factors. It is people who mediate the transmission of the Dreaming from generation to generation, and who are instrumental in its changing. Yet the Dreamtime, the resource of culture, which provides the source of

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collective ideas, persuasive images, possible goals and aesthetic structures that people employ in action, will only make sense if it can be accommodated to the understandings held by members of the society. in ritual action, religion articulates with the structures of society, with relations of domination and subordination, and with systems of clan organisations. There are individuals and groups who have an interest in fixing the meaning of a Dreamtime resource, in persuading others of the correctness of their line, in gaining recognition as the owners of or authorities on a particular chunk of Ancestral Law. But there are also other kinds of motives at work: aesthetic, ethical, metaphysical and spiritual; and there are enormous constraints on what kinds of action are possible.Just as ritual action is semantically dense and can fulfil a number of purposes, so too are the motives of the actors multiple and varied. The form of ritual will be the product of those multiple motivations constrained by the need for collective agreement. At a different level the form of ritual, the order and disorder of the totemic system, the structure and accident of myth are all likely to be multiply-determined, subject to chance, changing and imminent.And it is my feeling that the general metaphysical ideas that Stanner was stretching toward, the maggot-centred fatalism, the seeking of closure; the psychological motivations (cf Roheim 1945; Hiatt 1975b. 1978; Morton 1985); and the effect of structures of dominance and the structure of social groups are all factors that are active in determining the form of Aboriginal religion and the content of the Dreamingns

NOTES 1. Apart from Eliade's book there are few recent general introductions to Aboriginal religion. Maddock's text book, Berndt's book and Religion in Aboriginal Australia by Charlesworth et al. are all In their different ways useful general works. 2. Stanner (1982, 5) uses totemism in a similar sense: 'When I dismiss totemism in its classical formulation I do not dismiss the need to study the epistemological and philosophical systems within which the several classes of totems stand, and the contribution they make'. 3. However Wells's (19821important biographical account of religious, political and moral aspects of the Gove land rights mining lease controversy should not be forgotten, Many recent doctoral theses consider Aboriginal life in relation to Christianity in a mission context (eg Taylor 1984; Trigger 1986; and the earlier work of Turner 1974).

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4. Land claim hearings and the literature associated with Aborlginal land rights have produced much fascinating material and intricate debate on people-land relationships, much of which Is relevant to understanding Aboriginal religion. In the future such material, often involving apparently arcane debates over the relationshipbetween spiritual affiliation and responsibility, the nature of religious groups and so on, will prove to be of Immense importance.To make sense of it all, however, would require a separate revlew paper. Peterson and Langton 1983; Berndt 1982; Hiatt 1984; and Maddock 1983, provide some insights into the Issues involved.

5. In writing this revlew I decided from the beginning to adopt a thematic rather than an encyclopaedic approach and I must apologise to those who feel I have not dealt adequately with their work. Many people have commented on the paper andlor provided additional references. i thank first and foremost Frances Morphy without whom the original paper would not have been produced In time, Nic Peterson, Klngsley Palmer, Ron Berndt, BobTonkinson, Rodney Needham, Chris Birdsall, Debbie Rose and John Bern all provided helpful suggestions, most of which I have followed. I thank Marion Cobbold for typing the difficult manuscript.

REFERENCES Altman, J.C. 1984 Hunter-gatherer Subsistence Production in Arnhem Land: The Original Affluent Society Hypothesis Re-examined, Mankind 14(3), 179-90. Australian lnstltute of Aborlglnal Studies (AIM) 1981 Symposium on Contemporary Aborlglnal Religious Movements, typescripts, Australian lnstltute of Aborlginal Studies, Canberra. Bell, D.R. 1983 Daughters of the Dreaming, McPhee Grlbbie and George Alien and Unwin, Melbourne and Sydney. Bern, J. 1974 Blackfella Business; Whitefelia Law, PhD thesis, Macquarie University. 1979a Poiltlcs In the Conduct of a Secret Male Ceremony, Journal of AnthropologicalResearch 35, 47-60. 1979b Ideology and Domination: Towards a Reconstruction of Australian Aborlginal Social Formation, Oceania 50, 118-32. Berndt, C.H. 1950 Women's Changing Ceremonies in Northern Australia, L'Homme 1, 1-87, 1963 Art and Aesthetic Expression.in H, Shells (ed),Australian Aboriginal Studies, Oxford University Press, Melbourne, 256-77. 1965 Women and the 'Secret Life', In R.M.Berndt and C.H. Berndt (eds),AborlginalMan in Australla. Angus and Robertson, Sydney, 236-82. 1970 Monsoon and Honey Wind. In J. Poullion and P. Maranda (eds), Echanges et Communications: M6langes Offerts b Claude L6vi-Strouss,Mouton, Paris, 1306-26.

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Berndt, R.M. 1951 Kunaplpi, Cheshire, Meibourne. 1962 An Adjustment Movement in Arnhem Land, Mouton, Paris. 1970 Traditional Morality as Expressed Through the Medium of an Austraiian Aboriginai Reiigion. In R.M. Berndt (ed), Australian Aboriginal Anthropology, University of Western Australia Press, Nedlands, 216-47. 1974 Australian Aboriginal Religion, Brill, Leiden. 19760 Territoriality and the Problem of Demarcating Sociocuitural Space, In N. Peterson [ed), Tribes and Boundaries, Australian institute of Aboriginai Studies, Canberra, 133-61. 1976b Love Songs of Arnhem Land, Nelson, Meibourne. 1979 A Profile of Good and Bad in Australian Aboriginal Reiigion, Coiloquium 12. 17-32. Berndt, R.M. [ed) 1982 Aboriginal Sites, Rights and Resource Development, University of Western Australia Press, Nedlands, Biernoff, D. 1974 Safe and Dangerous Places. in L.R. Hiatt (ed), Australian Aboriginal Concepts. Austraiian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra, 93-105. Buchier, I.R. 1978 The Fecai Crone. In I.R.Buchier and K.J. Maddock (eds), The Rainbow Serpent:A Chromatic Piece, Mouton, The Hague, 119-212. Calley, M. 1964 PentecostalismAmong the Bandjalang. In M. Reay (ed),Aborigines Now: New Perspectives on the Study of Aboriginal Communities, Angus and Robertson, Sydney, 48-58. Charlesworth, M. 1984 Introduction, in M. Chariesworth, H. Morphy. D.R. Bell and K.J. Maddock [eds), Reiigion in Aboriginal Austraila, University of Queensland Press, St Lucia, 1-22. Clunies Ross, M. 1978 The Structure of Arnhem Land Song-poetry, Oceanla 49(2), 128-56. 1983 Modes of Formal Performance in Societies Without Writing: The Case of Aboriginai Australia, Australian Aboriginal Studies 1, 16-26. Durkheim, E. 1954 The Nementary Forms of the Religious Life, Allen and Unwin, London. Eliade, M. 1973 Australian Religions: An Introduction, Cornell University Press. ithaca. Grau, A. 1984 Dreaming, Dancing, Kinship: The Study of Yol, the Dance of theTiwi of Meivilie and Bathurst island Northern Australia. PhD thesis, Queens College, Belfast,

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Groger-Wurm, H.M. 1973 Australian AboriginalBark kintings and Their Myfhologicalinterpretations,Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. Hamilton, A. 1980 Dual Social Systems: Technology, Labour and Women's Secret Rites in the Eastern Western Desert of Australia, Oceania 51, 4-19. Hargrave, S. 1983 Two Sister Myths: A Structural Analysis, Oceania 53(3). 347-57 Hiati, L.R. 1971 Secret Pseudo-Procreation Rites Among the Australian Aborigines. In L.R. H i d and C. Jayawardena (eds),An~fopoicgyin Oceania: Essays Presentedto lan Hogbin, Angus and bbertson. Sydney, 77-88. 197% introduction. in L.R. Hiatt (ed),Ausfroiian Aboriginal Mythology, Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra, 1-23. 1975b Swallowing and Regurg'rtation in Australian Myth and Rite. In L.R. Hiatt (ed),Ausfruikrn Aboriginal Mythology Australian lnstltute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra, 143-62. 1984 Aboriginal Landowners, Oceania Monogmphs No 27, University of Sydney Press, Sydney. Hiatt, L.R. (ed) 1978 Ausfrolion Aboriginal Concepts, Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra.

Kayberry, F? 1939 Aboriginal Woman: Sacred and Profane, Routledge, London. Keen, I. 1977 Ambiguity in Yolngu Religious Language, Canberra Anthropology 1(1), 33-50. 1978 One Ceremony One Song, PhD thesis, Australian National University. 1986 Stanner on Aboriginal Religion, Canberra Anthropology 9(2), 26-50. Knlght, C.D. 1983 Levi-Straussand the Dragon: Mythologies Reconsidered in the Light of an Australian Myth, Man 18 NS, 21-50. Kolig, E. 1979 Djuluru: ein Synkietischer Kult Nordwest-Australiens,Baessier-Arch27, 419-48. 1981 The Silent Revolution: The Effecfs of Modernization on AustralianAboriginal Religion, Institute for the Study of Human Issues, Philadelphia. Layton, R. 1970 Myth as Language in Aboriginal Arnhem Land, Man 5 NS, 483-97. 1983 The Cultural Context of Hunter-gatherer Rock Art, Man 30 NS, 434-53. L&-Strauss, C. 1964 Totemism, Merlin Press, London. 1966 The Savage Mind, Weidenfeld and Nlcholson, London.

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Maddock, K.J. 1969 The Jabuduruwa, PhD thesis, University of Sydney. 1972 The Australian Aborigines: A brtroit of Their Sociefy, Penguin Press, London. 1975 The Emu Anomaly. in L.R. Hiatt (ed), Austroilan Aboriginai Mythology, Australian institute of Aboriginai Studies, Canberra, 102-22. 1976 Communication and Change in Mythology. In N. Peterson (ed), Tribes and Boundaries, Australian institute of Aboriginai Studies. Canberra, 162-79. 1979 A Structural Analysis of Paired Ceremonies in a Dual Social Organisation, Bijdrogen tot de Tool Land- en Voikenkunde 135, 84-117. 1983 Your Land is Our Land: Aboriginal Land Rights, Penguin Books, Melbourne. McKnight, D. 1973 Sexual Symbolism of Food Among the Wik-munkan, Man 8 NS (2), 194-209. 1975 Men, Women and Other Animals: Taboo and Purification Among the Wik-munkan. in R. Willis (ed), The Interpretation of Symbolism, Maiaby, London, 77-97. 1981 Sorcery in an Australian Tribe, Ethnology XX(I), 31-44. Meggitt, M. 1962 Desert People, Angus and Robertson, Sydney. 1966a Gadjari Among the WaibiriAborigines of CentralAustralia, Oceania Monographs No 14, University of Sydney Press, Sydney. 1966b Indigenous Forms of Government Among the Australian Aborigines. in H.L. Hogbin and L.R. Hiatt (eds), Readings in Australian and hcific Anthropology, Melbourne University Press, Melbourne, 57-74. Merian, F.C. 1982 A Mangarrayi Representational System: Environment and Cultural Symbolization in Northern Australia, American Ethnologist 9(1), 145-66. Morphy, H. 1977a Too Many Meanings, PhD thesis, Australian National University. 1977b Schematisatlon, Meaning and Communication in Toas. in P.J, Ucko (ed), Form in indigenous Art, Australian Institute of Aboriginai Studies, Canberra, 77-89. 1983 Now You Understand-An Analysis of the Way Yolngu Have Used Sacred Knowledge to Retain Their Autonomy. In N. Peterson and M. Langton (eds),Aborigines, Land and Land Rights, Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra, 110-33. 1984 Journey to the Crocodile's Nest, Australian institute of Aboriginai Studies, Canberra. Morton, J. 1985 Sustaining Desire, PhD thesis, Australian National University

. ' Mountford, C 1965 Ayers Rock, Angus and Robertson, Sydney. 1976 Nomads of the Australian Desert, Rigby, Sydney. Moyle, R.M. 1979 Songs of the Pintubi, Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra.

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Munn, N.M. 1969The Effectiveness of Symbols in Murngln Rite and Myth. in R.F. Spencer (ed], Forms of Symbolic Action, Proceedings of the American Ethnological Society. University of Washington Press, Seattie, 178-207. 1970 The Transformation of Subjects into Objects in Walblri and Pitjantjatjara Myth. in R.M. Berndt (ed), Austrullan Aboriginal Anthropology University of Western Australia Press, Nediands, 141-56. 19730The Spcrtiai Representation of Cosmic Order in Walbiri Iconography. In J.AW Forge (ed),PrimM Art and Socle$ Oxford Universlty Press, London, 193. 197313 ~ I b i rIconogruphy. i Cornell University Press, ithaca. Myers, F.R. 1982 ideology and Experience:The Cultural Basis of Pintubi Politics.In M C Howard (ed),Aboriginal hwer in Austraiian Sociefy, University of Queensland Press, St Lucia, 79-114. 1986 Pintupi Countr)! Pintupi Self: Sentiment, Place and hlitlcs Among Western Desert Aborigines. Smithsonian Institution Press and Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies, Washington and Canberra. Peterson, N. 1970 Buluwandi:A Central Australian Ceremony for the Resolution of Conflict. In R.M,Berndt (ed). Australian Aboriginal Anthropology. University of Western Australia Press, Nediands, 200-13. 1972 Totemism Yesterday: Sentiment and Local Organisation Among the Australian Aborigines, Man 7 NS, 12-32. Peterson, N. and M. Langton (eds) 1983 Aborlglnes, Land and Land Rights, Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. Reid, J. 1983 Sorcerers and Heolhg Splrits, Australian National University Press, Canberra, Reid, J. (ed) 1982 Body, Land and Spirlt, University of Queensland Press, St Lucia. Reid, J, and D. Mununggurr 1977 'We Are Losing Our Brothers': Sorcery and Alcohol in an Aboriginal Community, Medical Journal of Australia Special Supplement 2, 2-5. Roe, P, and S. Muecke 1984 Readlng the Country. Fremantle Arts Centre Press, Fremantle. Roheim, G. 1945 The Eternal Ones of the Dream: A Psychoanalyflcal Interpretationof Australian Myfh and Ritual, international Press, New York. 1964 Rudder, J. 1983 QualitativeThinking: An Examinationof the Classificatory Systems, Evaluative Systems and Cognitive Structures of the Yolngu People of North East Arnhem Land, MA thesis, Austraiian National University.

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Sharp, R.L. 1958 People Without Politics.In V.F. Ray (ed), Systems of biiticai Control and Bureaucracyin Human Societies, Proceedings of the American Ethnological Society, University of Washington Press, Seattie, 1-8. Stanner, W.E.H. 1959 On Aboriginal Religion: The Lineaments of Sacrifice, Oceonia 30, 108-27. 19600 On Aboriginal Religion: Sacrementalism, Rite and Myth, Oceanio 30, 245-78. 1960b On Aboriginal Religion: Symbolism in the Higher Rites, Oceania 31, 100-20. 19610 On Aboriginal Religion: The Design Plans of Riteless Myth, Oceonia 31, 79-108, 1961b On Aboriginal Religion: The Design Plans of Mythless Rites, Oceania 32, 233-58. 1963a On Aboriginai Religion: Cosmos and Society Made Correlative, Oceania 33, 239-73. 1963b On Aboriginai Religion: A Concluding Note, Oceania 34, 56-58. 1965 Religion, Totemism and Symbolism. In R.M. Berndt and C.H. Berndt (eds), Aboriginal Man in Australia. Angus and Robertson. Sydney, 207-37. 1967 Reflections on Durkheim and Aboriginal Religion. In M. Freeman (ed), Social Organisation: Essays Presented to Raymond Firth, Cass, London, 217-40. 1982 On Freud's Totem and Taboo, Canberra Anthropology 5(1), 1-7. Strehlow, T.G.H. 1964 The Art of Circle, Line and Square. in R.M. Berndt (ed), Australian Aboriginol Art, Ure Smith, Sydney, 44-59. 1970 Geography and the Totemic Landscape in Central Australia: A Functional Study. in R.M. Berndt (ed), Australian Aboriginal Anthropology. University of Western Australia Press, Nediands, 92-129, 1971 Songs of Central Australia, Angus and Robertson. Sydney. Taylor, J.C. 1984 Of Acts and Axes: An Ethnography of Socio-culturalChange in an Aboriginal Community, PhD thesis, James Cook University, Taylor, L. 1979 Ancestors into Art, BA Hons thesis, Australian National University. 1984 Dreaming Transformation in Gunwinggu Bark Paintings, Paper presented at the 1984 AlAS Biennial Conference on Aboriginal Arts in Contemporary Australia, Canberra. Thomson, D.F. 1975 The Concept of 'Marr' in Arnhem Land, Mankind 10(1), 1-10. Tonkinson, R. 1970 Aboriginal Dream-spirit Beliefs in a Contact Situation.In R.M. Berndt (ed),Australian Aboriginal Anthropology, University of Western Australia Press, Nedlands, 277-91. 1974 The Jigoiong Mob: Aboriginol Victors of the Desert Crusade, Cummings, Menlo Park. 1978a Semen Versus Spirit Child in a Western Desert Culture. in L.R. Hiatt (ed),Austraiian Aboriginal Concepts, Australian institute of Aboriginai Studies, Canberra, 81-92. 1978b The MardudlaraAborigines: Living the Dream in Australia's Desert, Holt, Rinehart and Winston, New York.

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Trlgger, D.S. 1986 Doomadgee:A Study of Power Relations and Social Action in a North Australian Aboriginai Settlement, PhD thesis, University of Queensland. Turner, D. 1974 Tradition and Transformation: A Study of Aborigines in the Groote Eyiandt Area Northern Australia, Austraiian institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. von Brandenstein, C.G. 1970 The Meaning of Section and Section Names, Oceania 41, 39-49. 1972 The Symbolism of the North-western Australian Zigzag Design, Oceania 42. 223-34. Warner, W.L. 1958 A Black Civilization: A Study of an Australian Tribe, Harper, New York. Wells, E.A. 1982 Rewardand Punishment in Arnhem Land 1962-1963, Austraiian instituteof Aboriginal Studies, Canberra. Whlte, I.M. 1975 Sexual Conquest and Submission in the Myths of Central Australia. in L.R. Hiatt (ed],Australian Aboriginal Mythology, Australian institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra, 123-42. Wild, S.A. 1984 Waibiri Music and Culture: Meaning in a Central Australian Song Series. In J.C. Kassler and J. Stubington (eds), Problems and Soiuflons: Occasional Essays in Musicology Presented to Alice M. Moyle Hale and iremonger, Sydney, 186-203. Willlams, N.M. 1985 On Aboriginai Decision-making.In D.E. Barwick, J. Beckett and M. Reay (eds), Metaphors of interpretation, Australian National University Press, Canberra, 240-69. Worms, E.A. 1963 Religion. in H. Sheiis (ed),Australian Aboriginai Studies, Oxford University Press, Melbourne, 231-47. Worsley, P. 1967 Groote Eyiandt Totemism and Le Totemisme Aujourd'hui. in E.R. Leach (ed), The Structural Study of Myth and Totemism, Tavistock, London, 141-59. Yengoyan, A.A. 1970 Demographic Factors in Pitjandjara Social Organisation. in R.M. Berndt (ed), Australian Aboriginal Anthropology, University of Western Australia Press, Nedlands, 70-91.

JOHN A BARNES Taking stock and looking forward1

I should begin with an apology, for the convener of the conference has assigned

me a task for which I am quite hopelessly unqualified.An adequate apology would however take up far too much of the limited and precious time left to us. I shall therefore ask you to take my apology as read. I hope that my ignorance of the matters that I have to discuss is widely known, and that I may therefore be excused if l present an idiosyncratic interpretation of the past and receipe for the future. After what we have heard during the last three days there are no grounds for being surprised at even the most implausible manipulations of the evidence from the past to suit the demands of the present and future. The unavoidable benchmark for taking stock, for comparing the present position of social anthropology in Aboriginal studies with what it was in the past, is the 1961 conference, as immortalised in the volume edited by Helen Sheiis (1963).Weighing that book on one side of the scales against the coilection of papers we have heard during the last three days is an encouraging experience. Although the 1961 papers seemed at the time they were presented to be stimulating and authoritative, by comparison they now look dull and uninformed. In retrospect, it is easy to be surprised at how little was known about Aboriginal society and culture In 1961. The cause of our surprise is obvious. The abundance of good work that has been done during the last twenty-five years has led us to take the present level of research activity for granted. The achievements of the period are particularly encouraging in the light of the decidedly gloomy forecasts made in some of the 1961 papers. As ian Keen reminded us this morning, Meggitt, in his contribution to the 1961 conference, argued that in almost all the major areas of Aboriginal social structure, 'we have little information and, for practical reasons, no prospect of acquiring much more' (Meggitt 1963,215).Ron Berndt (1963,222) criticised Meggitt at the time for being too pessimistic and perfectionist but I think that the achievements that have been gained by social anthropologists during the ensuing period have exceeded even what Berndt envisaged as possible in 1961. In my view there are two main reasons for the research successes of the last twentyfive years. In 1961 virtually all the conference participants saw the task before them and their successors as a rescue operation. At the eleventh hour the Aboriginal heritage had to be recorded for the benefit of posterity before the Australian Aboriginal population became fully converted into Aboriginal Australians, indistinguishable from the rest of the inhabitants of the continent.There were several reasons for taking this view. It was a perception of the research task that came naturally to some of us but, more importantly, it was the politically expedient

270 Afterword

perception to promote if the Commonwealth government was to be persuaded to provide the funds for research that we all sought. Defined in these terms, the proposal for a greatly increased program of empirical research into all aspects of traditional life had a component of urgency which, so we hoped, would force the government to act swiftly before it was too late, before the last remaining speakers of unrecorded languages died (and preferably before they lost all their teeth), and before the memory of discontinued ceremonies faded beyond recall. By stressing the contrast between the traditional culture of the past and the rapidly changing social and cultural arrangements of the present, it was possible to give the impression that the proposed research program would not impinge in any significant way on the interests of the Aboriginal welfare bureaucracy which at that time was well entrenched in the Northern Territory and in all the states except Tasmania. It was only several years later, and only after a good deal of argument on both sides, that the welfare bureaucracy was able to secure representation on the Council of the Aboriginal Institute. By then, sufficient research under the Institute's auspices had been carried out to show that it was focusing its attention on aspects of Aboriginal life that were unlikely to be of immediate concern to welfare administrators who, in any case, might begin to look to the newly created Council for Aboriginal Affairs as the proper sponsor for their research requirements. Finally, by presenting the research task as a rescue operation, it was possible to argue that the government's commitment to provide finds would be only of finite duration. After a certain number of years (a number that luckily we were never asked to specify) everything that could be recovered from the past would have been recorded. The rest would have gone for ever and the comparatively expensive researchtask would have been completed. It would have been replaced by an enduring obligation to display to the public, of Aboriginal and non-Aboriginaldescent alike, a picture of how life used to be long ago, a much less expensive undertaking and well within the capacity of government to underwrite. With these assumptions the Prime Minister, who in the terminology of this conference would be described as 'tradition oriented', (he was to become the Warden of the Cinque Ports in England) responded to the prompting of Mr WC Wentworth and established the Institute as a Commonwealth statutory body, as well as writing a foreword to the volume of conference papers. Thus funds became available for research on a wide range of aspects of traditlonal Aboriginal life on a scale previously unknown, as Nic Peterson reminded us this morning. But if this is the first reason why the outcome of the ensuing twenty-five years has been so abundant, there is a second reason that is just as important. For I am very

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doubtful that we would have achieved nearly as much during these years if the perception of the task of the Institute, and indeed of social anthropology more generally in Australia, as it was defined by the contributors to the 1961 conference, had remained operative. In 1961 no one, I think, foresaw the transformations that lay ahead in the relation between the Aboriginal population and the wider Australian society, For a research program premised on the imminent disappearance of a distinctive Aboriginal component in Australian life would, it seems to me, probably have resulted only in a repetition of the kind of uninspiring ethnography that characterised the work of American anthropologists prior to World War Ii: a careful reconstruction of so called 'memory cultures' with an emphasis on the study of material culture and the plotting of the geographical distribution of culture traits. We were lucky in being able in 1961to present our research aspirations in a politically felicitous form; we were doubly lucky in that we were able to escape from this form as the research program got underway. We escaped because of events that we had little hand in bringing about. Because I was out of Australia in exile for most of the period under review, i am somewhat unsure about which events impinged most critically on the course of research in Aboriginal studies. Seen from afar, the first event to note seems to have been the 1967 referendum whereby the Commonwealth government acquired the power to legislate about Aborigines in the states, though this was to be followed a few years later by a move in the opposite direction when the Northern Territory was transformed into a quasi-state.In 1971 came the Gove case and the beginning of arguments about the constitutional basis for the British occupation of the Australian continent. In 1973 the Whitlam government introduced legislation to provide machinery for Aborigines in the Northern Territory to acquire rights in land. Maybe the equal wages case in the Northern Territory should be added to this list and we should certainly include the introduction of the doctrine of multiculturalismand with it the apparent acceptance of ethnic minorities as a permanent feature of Australian society, Aborigines being included reluctantly among them under the new label of 'first Australians: The impressive publications arising out of the project on Aborigines sponsored by the Academy of the Social Sciences and directed by Charles Rowley helped to change elite thinking about public policy toward Aborigines, Anthropologists and other social scientists became involved in one way or another in some of these events but none of them, apart from the Academy project, occurred as a result of initiatives taken by them. The writings of social scientists over the last hundred years had made a diffuse contribution to the formation of public opinion

272 Afterword

and elite thinking about the treatment of Aborigines, but in the allocation of substantial resources for empirical research we became the fortunate beneficiariesof initiatives taken by others. This dependence on events not of our own choosing is particularly marked in the case of the iand rights industry which has provided so many opportunities for employment for anthropologists and others. i think we should remember that a research program in social science, although cheap compared to research in many natural sciences or in defence technology, nevertheless is beyond the means of the private citizen and requires outside financial support which may or not be forthcoming for reasons that have little to do with the intellectual merits of the program. In 1986, in Australia as in many other countries, we seem to be entering a period of reduced funding for research; by comparison, the 1960s in retrospect look iike a period of abundance. There may be little we can do to modify these swings in the extent of public support for social science research but we can and should be alert to the changes and be ready to adjust our expectations about what modes of research are feasible and worthwhile. We should also continually monitor our research practice to understand in what unplanned and unconscious ways we have responded to changes. Reading the conference papers, and the review papers presented today in particular, it is easy to gain the impression that applied anthropoiogy, and research carried out in connection with iand claims in particular, is still segregated intellectuallyfrom more socially innocuous modes of inquiry. i realise that this segregation arises in part from real differences in the ownership and control of research findings. Nevertheless i think more might be done to recognise that there is a great deal of common ground. Even the most mundane applied inquiry may have a component of intellectual eniightenment as well as being a basis for social action. On the other hand even the most arcane inquiry into, say, the algebraic properties of subsection systems may have its practical and political implications. if inquiries in applied anthropoiogy are treated as separate from the mainstream, or at least from what used to be the mainstream, of anthropological research, it is easy to overlook the difficult and important issues that these inquiries raise. The publications or reports that flow from, for instance, an investigation of claims for the recognition of traditional ownership or of the incidence of malnutrition in a rural Aboriginal population are essentially instrumental documents, intended to generate social action and to change the world in some specified way; they are not documents of pure scholarship aimed at providing eniightenment rather than constituting a mandate for action. Hence reports and recommendations have to be recognised

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as a separate genre, aimed at a different audience and following different conventions about the onus of proof required for reaching conclusions and the extent to which all steps in an argument need to be spelled out. Indeed, John Muivaney made this point explicitly in his comment about the Arcadian image of traditional Aboriginal society presented to the public by archaeologists writing in the 1960s. Documents generated by land claims pose special problems, for they are intended for insertion in a legal process and are necessarily written in a special code, readable by lawyers but baffling to the lay person,They are heavily influenced not by the ruling intellectual paradigm, in Kuhn's sense, but by the terminology of the legislation which the document is intended to activate. These features perhaps constitute issues in the sociology of applied anthropology rather than in applied anthropology itself, but even at a more mundane level we have to recognise the differences between two modes of investigation-one driven by curiosity and the other by a wish to change the world. The salience of these differences enhances the importance of the practitioners of each mode striving to learn from the others' experiences, rather than each reinventing the wheel independently, The advantages of seeking to learn from research carried out under terms of reference different from one's own are found in other contexts as well. For instance, many social anthropologists have documented the effects of missionary activity on Aboriginal life, but these would be much better understood if there were good studies of the missionary endeavour in Australia from an anthropological standpoint. These, alas, seem to be lacking.The recent controversy in Western Australia over the treatment of Aborigines by the police has highlighted the absence, as far as I know, of studies of the police, in their dealings with Aborigines, anywhere in Australia. We shouid not be dependent on 'Four Corners' to do our fieldwork for us. Are we content to speak only to Aborigines because it is easier to empathise with them than with the police? Warner, in his preface to A Black Civilization, acknowledges his companionship with a north Australian mounted policeman, a 'fine gentleman, scholar in his knowledge of the native, and excellent judge of good whiskey' (1937, xii). Maybe we should use more whiskey on our fieldwork and be more ready than Warner was to make analytic use of what we hear while drinking it, It seems clear that Aborigines are much more visible to other Australians than they were twenty-five years ago. This is mainly a consequence of the sequence of events I mentioned earlier, plus the growth of the Australian tourist industry, the popularity of exotic art and so on. Yet though it may be easier to see them than it used to be, it has become harder, so it seems, to study Aborigines. By this I mean

that, as in very many other parts of the world, people who previously were protected from anthropological scrutiny only by alien colonial gatekeepers have succeeded in becoming their own gatekeepers. Aborigines are now much better placed than they were to define the terms on which an outsider may come among them and start to collect data about them; indeed, in this respect Aborigines are probably in a stronger position than any other segment of the Australian population. The right to freedom from being researched has emerged in discussions about social science inquiries in North America. In this matter Aborigines may provide an example that other social groups in the Australian population may wish to follow. If so, we can expect further complications in negotiating field projects. The necessity of negotiation before beginning an inquiry is one indication of the decline of the natural science paradigm for social research. The abandonment of this model raises a host of problems, several of which have surfaced during the conference, notably in the discussions we have had on constructing, rather than rediscovering, the characteristicsof pre-colonial Aboriginai society, and on whether or not there can be something called Aboriginal history. There is time to take up only one of these issues. in my paper for the 1961 conference I said 'Aboriginai studies should not remain indefinitely a White monopoly' (Barnes 1963,206). Some progress has been made in that direction though the movement has been greater in some other sections of the Institute's activities than in the field of social anthropology. A good deal of serious thinking does however remain to be done about the implications of this shift, for the issues raised are not confined to the possibility of Aboriginal history, Social anthropology, Gvi-Strauss(1963,360-63) once declared, is distinguishedfrom other social sciences by the outsider perspective it adopts toward society and culture. In the connection, the work of Stanner on Aboriginal religion has a special significance, for it poses in acute form the question of authenticity, How much input does the observer unavoidably provide in the delineation of emic concepts, and how authentic is the outsider's interpretation of the insider's view? What is the ontological status of the structural glosses that are the stock-in-trade of some anthropologists?These questions may be hard to answer, but asking Aborigines what they think about what we wrlte about them seems to me to be a necessary and practicable first step toward finding answers, even if it is no more than a first step. The possibility of research into the social and cultural life of the observer's own society is, of course, nothing new. it is interestingthat, despite the questionable status of Aboriginai history which some speakers have posited, one of the areas in which this kind of introspective, or socially introspective, study is already being undertaken

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by Aborigines is oral history, where the distinction between observer and informant, as traditionally conceived in anthropological praxis, tends to break down. But quite apart from the difficulty of presenting an outsider's view of a society to which one belongs, there is with Aboriginal societies the particular difficulty to which Lenore Coltheart referred briefly when she contrasted the universal availability, in principle, of knowledge in the Carteslan mode with the typical Aboriginai dogma that knowledge is not a freely available good but a scarce and precious resource which can be imparted only to specified and qualified persons and often only in closely delimited social and spatial contexts. This characteristic is often seen as a feature that distinguishes Aboriginal culture from the cultures of many other indigenous peoples, as well as from the corpus of scientific knowledge on which so much of western culture is based. But we should not forget that the same attitude toward knowledge as a kind of private property, rather than as a source of universal enlightenment, is found in many bureaucracies, not least among them being bureaucracies in Australia. Nevertheless, the comparatively involuted quality of Aboriginal epistemology, or perhaps we should say Aboriginal heuristics, seems to me to be a matter to which more theoretical attention might well be paid. At present we seem to deal with this phenomenon mainly in practical terms, by segregating audiences and restricting access to records and publications, or, as at Yuendumu, building separate museums for men and for women. The response of the Russian authorities to the accident at Chernobyl should remind us that it is not only Australian Aborigines who take the view that knowledge should be hoarded rather than distributed. in this connection it was unfortunate that there was no opportunity to discuss Howard Morphy's paper on religion, particularly in relation to John Bern's work on the politics of knowledge. This is an issue that needs attention both as affecting relations within Aboriginal communities and as influencing the dissemination of knowledge about Aboriginal culture to the wider Australian public. It is probably no accident that the paucity of the Aboriginal contribution to the social anthropoioglcalcomponent of Aboriginal studies has been demonstrated only too clearly at this conference. Although many Aborigines are engaged in the development of courses in Aboriginal studies in Australian schools, there seems to be some reluctance on the part of Aborigines to engage in social research. There are other intellectual and professional tasks that are understandably seen as more attractive or more urgent, and there is also among some Aborigines a wish to avoid contact with white culture as much as possible. I understand that a few Aborigines argue that since their forebears managed to exist on this continent for 40,000 years

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without needing to read or write, there is no reason for Aborigines to acquire these skills today. From this standpoint, 'back to the Dreaming' or'back to pre-1788' becomes a slogan analogous to 'back to the Koran and the Shariah' in the Middle East. From a fundamentalist perspective, and accepting L&i-Strauss's comment on the outsider perspective of social anthropology, Aboriginal studies by Aborigines that included an anthropological component, would seem to be a contradiction in terms. If so, we should remember that the Institute should be seen as a standing invitation to Aborigines to share with nondboriginal Australians at least some of the glories and wisdom of the Aboriginal heritage. We should also remember that if it is L W Strauss's prescription that rules out the possibility of a social anthropology of Aboriginal society conducted by Aborigines, It is the same L6vi-Strauss(1956, 143) who credits Australian Aborigines with being 'the founders of general sociology' and 'the real innovators of measurement in the social sciences: it would be a great mistake to take any of these Parisian pronouncements too seriously. Many speakers have asserted the existence of a basic uniformity in traditional Aboriginal culture throughout the continent. There is, of course, the possibility that this similarity may merely reflect a uniformity in ethnographic praxis in Australia, or what we are looking at merely the common basis of social life shared by all huntergatherers. The increased interest world wide in the characteristicsof hunter-gatherer societies should help us to avoid overemphasising the distinctiveness of Australian Aborigines. There is still, however, the danger of asserting uniformity only as an excuse for arguing that because the group one knows well behaves in such and such a way, there must therefore be something defective about the evidence from some other group whose members are claimed to act differently.To avoid this trap I think more attention might be given to identifying regional distinctions within Australia, while at the same time keeping our eyes open for parallel evidence from communities outside Australia. Almost all the papers presented at the conference have dealt, explicitly or by implication, with one or other aspect of the impact on Aboriginal life of public policy, as generated within essentially white political and administrative institutions. In all the papers the speakers discussed these policies and their implications partly as social scientists, as disinterested observers, but also partly as citizens. Few if any speakers made any attempt to conceal where their sympathies lay. They spoke as white citizens and, by and large, expressed their conviction that Aborigines ought to get a better deal from their white fellow citizens, even though some speakers indicated little hope that this would happen easily or soon. This expression of sympathy

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is appropriate and welcome but, in my view, not fully worked out. Perhaps because

of their own white identity, the speakers tended to analyse the conditions of domination almost entirely from the white side, though of course from a liberal (with a small 'l') and what seems to be becoming a minority white viewpoint. In their analyses they tended to ignore the view from the black side and not to examine the Aboriginal response to domination, notably the admittedly few successful Aboriginal responses. I think this was the burden of the complaint made by Dr Coombs. I would strongly endorse what he said and would like to see more work done on the tactics being developed by Aboriginal groups, and by Aboriginal individuals, to get more of what they want from the dominant society in order to overcome their present disadvantages. We should look not only at success in achieving a new autonomous and distinctively Aboriginal way of life but also at successes in establishing new niches inextricably embedded in the wider society. Howard Morphy in his review paper drew attention to studies of successful responses by Aborigines to external pressures in symbolic or religious terms but parallel responses, successful and unsuccessful, on the mundane or material plane have been comparatively neglected by observers,Despite their relative material poverty not all Aboriginal pie is in the sky. During the last twenty-fiveyears there has been a great increase in publications on the history of anthropology. Much has been written about the origins of anthropologyand its growth during the heyday of western imperialism.Writing about the development of anthropology has in Australia been less affected than it has in other parts of the west by neo-Marxist interpretations of this process. But even in this country we have been reminded of the extent to which the development of the discipline has been shaped by social and political factors. During the conference we have heard a good deal about what has come to be termed the colonial period in black-white relations in Australia. Even if the classic phase of this period may be said to have come to an end, in many respects and in many parts of the continent Aborigines remain in an essentially colonial status. If we can look forward hopefully to a final end to colonial conditions during the nexttwenty-fiveyears, does this entail us looking also at an ending of social anthropology in Australia as part of the vanishing ideological superstructure of repression'?I hope not, for it would be a great pity if, with the murky bathwater of colonalism we were to throw out the baby of social anthropology, a cherubic but lusty infant that has already done much good in the world. But if the final withering away of the white monopoly of Aboriginal studies presents

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difficulties that naively in 1961 1 did not forsee, there is no denying the ending of the monopoly of Aboriginal studies by social anthropologists which our predecessors might be said to have enjoyed up to, say, the time of Radcliffe-Brown.The rubric of Aboriginal studies has been greatly expanded and social anthropologists now share this intellectual umbrella, and the limited resources of the Institute, with practitioners of other disciplines, notably linguistics, musicology, prehistory and documentary cinema. Yet I could not escape being surprised by the spontaneous indignation expressed yesterday at the news that a conference on Aboriginal affairs, apparently organised by developmental economists, was being held right now in Brisbane to which no social anthropologists had been invited. Recently I attended a national conference in Canberra, organised by lawyers, on the rights of indigenous peoples, where I enjoyed listening to vigorous and scholarly papers by Aboriginal speakers, while regretting the absence of any contributions from social anthropology or sociology. In that conference we were transported to the fairyland of term nullius, compared to which even discussions of the algebraic properties of subsection systems seem like practical common sense. In both theory and practice the disciplinary monopoly has been shattered beyond recovery and, in my view, quite rightly so. Judy Inglis, in her classic analysis 'One hundred years at Point McLeay' (1962),ended her paper with the prediction that there would be no bicentenary to celebrate at that historic site of South Australian protectionism. We here are working to a shorter timespan. Nevertheless, I think that social anthropologists will have to display at least as much intransigence, to use Rowley's term, as Aborigines have done if there is to be another conference like this one in twentyfive years time. NOTE 1.Addressto conferenceon 'Social anthropology in Aboriginal studies: selected themes. 1961-86' organised by the social and cultural anthropology committee, Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Tuesday 13 May 1986 at Acton House, Marcus Clarke Street, Acton, ACT 2601. REFERENCES Barnes, J.A. 1963 Social Organization: Limits of ContemporaryStudies, In H. Shells [ed),Australian Aboriginal Studies, Oxford University Press, Melbourne, 197-210. Berndt, R.M. 1963 Commentary.In H. Shells (ed),Austmlian AboriginalStudies,Oxford University Press. Melbourne, 218-24,

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Inglis, J. 1962 One Hundred Years at Point McLeay, South Australia, Mankind 5, 503-07. L&-Strauss, C. 1956 Race and History In United National Educational Scientific and Cultural Organization, The Race Question in Modern Science, Unesco, Park, 123-63. 1963 StructuralAnthropology, Basic Books, New York, Meggitt, M.J. 1963 Social Organization: Morphology and Typology, in H. Sheils (ed),Australian AboriginalStudies, Oxford University Press, Melbourne, 211-17. Sheils, H. (ed) 1963 Australian Aboriginal Studies, Oxford University Press, Melbourne, Warner, W.L. 1937 A Black Civilization, Harper, New York.