Indigenous cultures are not terra nullius -- nobody's land, free to be taken. True Tracks is a ground-breaking work that paves the way for the respectful and ethical engagement with Indigenous cultures. Using real-world cases and personal stories, award-winning Meriam/Wuthathi lawyer Dr Terri Janke draws on twenty years of professional experience and personal stories to inform and inspire leaders across many industries - from art and architecture, to film and publishing, dance, science and tourism. How will your project affect and involve Indigenous communities? What Indigenous materials and knowledge are you using? Who owns Indigenous languages? True Tracks helps answer these questions and many more, and provides invaluable guidelines that enable Indigenous peoples to actively practise, manage and strengthen their cultural life, keeping tracks into the future to empower the next generations. If we keep our tracks true, Indigenous culture and knowledge can benefit everyone.
Terri Janke was born in Cairns in Far North Queensland and is of Wuthathi and Meriam heritage. Her family moved to Canberra in 1976, and she now lives in Sydney with her husband and two kids, where she runs a successful legal practice. The firm is well known for its work with Indigenous business and intellectual property. She is the author of the novel Butterfly Song and has also written many articles about Indigenous cultural and intellectual property. Terri believes in the power of stories to inspire, connect and heal. Her proudest moment was being awarded NAIDOC Person of the Year in 2011.
Janke's work has been foundational in changing government and corporate approaches to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander cultures over the last two decades. True Tracks - the title representing Janke's approach about laying pathways rather than implying complete solutions - documents much of that work as well as providing a handy guidance for engaging with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander cultural property. With topics as diverse as fire management, the flag, language material and art, this is a book that should sit on pretty much everyone's shelf. While the material is referenceable - and chapters designed to be readable in isolation, with relevant material cross-referenced from other chapters, Janke puts herself into the narrative in a way that makes the book very readable as a volume as well.
This book held great promise and does contain very important information and guidelines. Unfortunately it reads poorly and is plagued by factual errors which I suspect are far more extensive than those I detected on a first read.
The work is a rewrite of a PhD thesis, and is set out in themed chapters that would make it useful as a reference work to an individual working in a particular industry to which a given themed chapter applies. This means however, that in a cover to cover read one will repeatedly encounter the same cases, the same individuals and entities and often almost identical passages of phrase. Which leads one to wonder whether the book could have been robustly edited and rewritten to almost half its current 400, repetitive pages.
The general style is anecdotal, and while anecdotal writing can be effectively used to engage the audience, in this case it leads to suspicion whether statements are being made on the basis of wide-ranging and thorough research, or on the basis of personal experience and encounter reflected in anecdotal prose. In an academic work or one based on a PhD one might expect a field and its experts to be introduced along the lines of : " A review of literature on topic w indicates x, prominent persons emerging from this review are y & z who are interviewed / summarised here".
In contrast the author of True Tracks almost invariably introduces experts or themes with the formula: " I (the author) attended x (a conference or other event) on topic y where I heard z speak". This is then followed by interview or encounters with z and other thematically linked individuals. But glaring gaps are evident in this which leaves me to consider that wider research was not undertaken beyond fortuitous encounters. To provide only 3 glaring instances of this:
Chapter 9 deals with research into Bush foods and traditional medicine. Among the numerous instances of researchers and also of businesses that the authors legal firm has assisted, there is no mention of the countries outstanding scholar on the topic. Dr Beth Gott is now nearly 100 years of age and still active. She almost single-handedly spearheaded the academic study of Aboriginal plant use and is warmly and reverently accepted by the Kulin people on whose land she practices and with whom she has enjoyed a very long and reciprocal relationship. She is unmentioned in the current work
Page 218 (Chapter 14) states that: "The return of Mungo Man in 2018 highlights how coordination of museums, Indigenous people and government policy makers can achieve a respectful outcome".
This statement is problematic on two accounts. Firstly, Mungo Man was returned to Mutti Mutti country in 2017, not 2018. Secondly, because despite four years of struggle by the Mutti Mutti, Barkandji and Nyampai people to have Mungo Man reburied in accordance with their wishes, Mungo Man and the remains of over 100 other Ancestral people have since 2017 remained in a storage closet at the National Parks and Wildlife office at Lake Mungo, while a highly fractious and often vindictive process has played out between government, scientists and the Aboriginal community. I do not know who the author speaks for here, or with what authority, but I sincerely doubt it is that of the Mutti Mutti traditional owners of the country to which Mungo Man should return. Coincidentally, the NSW Department of Premier and Cabinet only three days ago (8 July 2021) listed this matter for public comment - http://epbcnotices.environment.gov.au...
Lastly, an erroneous throwaway remark by the author regarding Budj Bim (Chapter 14, p 334): "From an archaeological perspective, deep time represents a period of at least 32,000 years."
As a professional archaeologist, with some 20 years of study in the field, I have never encountered any such criteria that an age of 32,000 years in particular represents a boundary between deep and more recent time. One could argue that points in time such as at 11,500 years ago between the older and colder Pleistocene and the newer warmer Holocene might be significant time breaks. But 32,000 is to the best of my knowledge simply either a cherry picked or erroneous date.
I had great hopes for this work and completed reading it in 2.5 days of covid lockdown. In my work as a Heritage Consultant I had hoped that I could take away valuable new information. In many ways I am reassured - the Ten True Tracks are norms that are already deeply embedded in the practice of ethical Heritage Consultants - certainly those who abide by the ethical codes of the industry such as the Australian Association of Consulting Archaeologists Inc. But, after the first listing of those Tracks, little new information came to light other than their re-presentation in a variety of different settings.
Terri Janke’s True Tracks is like no book I have read before. It is a non-fiction text that outlines all the ways best to protect the work and knowledge of Indigenous Australians. It is rich with not only well-researched knowledge, but a plethora of anecdotal stories and happenings in the history of Indigenous Australian peoples and their fight for ownership of their art, music, and dance.
Terri Janke is an Indigenous lawyer with Meriam and Wuthathi heritage. Janke’s law firm was established in 2000 and focuses on Indigenous Cultural and Intellectual Property law and commercial law.
As a non-Indigenous Australian, I was fascinated by the chapter on Indigenous languages. Janke includes impacts, protocols, and the best way to care or pass on Language. What is even better is at the end of each chapter Janke provides resources and notes that allow readers to further their own search on what was mentioned. Janke discusses Kylie Bracknell’s Tedx talk where she asked an audience who knew how to say ‘hello’ in an Australian Indigenous dialect. Unsurprisingly, there was not anyone who could. But Bracknell insisted that people could recite other worldly greetings. This certainly stopped me as I read and made me think of whether I could or not. There are probably four or five ways of greeting I can remember from Japanese to French, but when it comes to an Australian Indigenous dialect, I was not sure. I took from this the opportunity to research a few Nyoongar words, which is the group situated in Western Australia’s South West. ‘Hello’ is Kaya and ‘welcome’ is wanju – read more here.
While a long read with a few terms I had to look up, it is a book well worth diving into to become a well-informed citizen. Janke looks at the ownership of the Aboriginal flag inchapter 17: Appreciate don’t appropriate: It’s fashionable to be culturally respectful. This has been a point of contention since 2019, where, if businesses wanted to reproduce the flag on jerseys or t-shirts, they had to pay. This is not applicable for the Australian flag. Janke makes a point of discussing Harold Thomas – the copyright owner of the Aboriginal flag – and how it is his legal right to seek license fees. In January of 2022 the Australian Government purchased the flag and made it freely available for public use. Reading this section, I had not thought of it before and how if the flag were to be made free, Harold Thomas’ right to his work could be taken away. I had not previously thought of the issue in this light and was able to look at other perspectives on this issue.
Janke does this throughout her body of work, making you think, re-think, and think again on all the issues of copyright and respecting Indigenous knowledge and culture. Janke outlines that her framework for ethical Indigenous engagement or “True Tacks: is about ‘set(ting) a track or pathway that people could follow. In this way it is proactive not reactive.” (page 14). I thoroughly enjoyed engaging in this text and learning more about respecting Australian Indigenous people’s knowledge and culture. Learning about such important ideas as you read is a privilege and I appreciate all the effort and research that Janke has put into this work.
Important reading - but also personal and engaging.
In my work (video/ documentary maker) I sometimes need information about Indigenous art, design, usage and artifacts, and this book has already helped me. I feel guilty when I keep hitting up my small number of friends of Indigenous background for answers to questions that are contained in this book - it's not their job to educate me - but mine to be educated. This helps me be informed of things I should have learned in High School / University and hopefully means my opinions are better shaped and informed.
Dr Janke's work is approachable and I found the personal accounts really help me to warmly engage with and understand better the background and knowledge of the author.
Terri Janke is a lawyer, and an expert in her niche of Indigenous Cultural and Intellectual Property (ICIP) law. If you look up any resources about dealing with cultural content in writing, art, music, fashion, architecture – I mean, you name it – if Janke hasn’t written it herself, she’s cited for it. She’s built her career on championing ICIP and this book is a valuable curation of significant instances of cultural appropriation / collaboration across the world from someone who’s intimately familiar with the ways in which the legal system fails Indigenous people and their rights and has played an active role in many of the disputes.
Chapter 1 describes Janke’s best practice framework for ethical Indigenous engagement – this constitutes a detailed description of what she means when she references general guiding principles for ethical engagement. The other 16 chapters are plaited with:
1. overviews of case studies driven by personal anecdote in Janke’s position in ICIP events, 2. brief evaluations of whether or not they seem to be exemplary of good practice (informed by the True Tracks framework of Chapter 1) and, 3. context provision about how ICIP is viewed by the legal system that helps the reader to better understand the case studies.
These Chapters are each dedicated to a variety of different topics. For example, two I was particularly excited to read were Chapter 6 (Shifting the Focus in Australian Film & Television) and Chapter 7 (Amplifying Indigenous Voices in Writing), and one I that I was surprised managed capture my interest so strongly was Chapter 13 (Indigenous Excellence in Digital and Technology).
Now, I get the impression that the intention for the book was that readers would pick, maybe, 1 to 3 chapters that interested them and just read those, because I read it from start to finish and it was rather... repetitive. Many case studies would overlap with the themes of other chapters and so would be rehashed, and reading concluding sentences or paragraphs inspired a lot of deja vu. But as I said, I suspect that may be because I didn’t consume the book the way it was meant to be consumed, so I don’t think I can fairly criticise it too much for that.
The chapters themselves read quite conversationally, but not without authority. I mean to say, the writing is done in a warm, informative tone without sacrificing assertiveness in its message and values. I think that’s an impressive balance to have struck, and in a contained chapter that's not subject to the repetitiveness I described, makes for easy digestion.
The overall formula has given me a much more robust contextual backdrop with which I can better understand contemporary ICIP disputes and the moral responsibilities I have as an artistic practitioner in a space governed by (the lack of) ICIP laws, which is wonderful! And exactly what I hoped I would gain from it, so lucky me.
With this personal experience in mind, I don’t know that I’d describe it as a ‘guide’, as it boasts on its cover. To be fair, I guess “a formula that provides a robust contextual backdrop with which everyone can better understand ICIP disputes and the moral responsibilities they have in this space” isn’t quite as efficient as a quick “read this definitive guide!”. (Note to self: my chronic inability to communicate with concision will not be conducive to a career in marketing.) However, if, after seeing this description, you’re expecting chronological instructions on how to go about ethically incorporating Indigenous material into anything you’re pursuing, I can tell you that you’re not going to get them.
Frankly, I don’t think that’s possible, and Janke herself makes it very clear that ICIP is a space that needs to be navigated with patience, respect, and a willingness to invest in meaningful and collaborative relationships. If that's what you're looking for, I wholeheartedly recommend it with gesture to each of the 5 stars I offered it.
As part of NAIDOC Week, I’ve been intentionally reading books by Indigenous authors to expand my understanding of First Nations culture, law, and lived experience. True Tracks by Dr Terri Janke is an outstanding guide to doing just that—with care, respect, and deep reflection.
This book centres on ICIP—Indigenous Cultural and Intellectual Property, which refers to the rights of Indigenous peoples to protect and manage their cultural heritage. That includes artistic works, languages, ancestral knowledge, stories, performance, human remains, sacred sites, and more. Dr Janke, a Meriam/Wuthathi lawyer and leading authority in this space, has distilled over 20 years of work into a clear, practical, and powerful framework for ethical engagement with Indigenous culture.
At the heart of the book are the Ten True Tracks Principles:
1. Respect – Indigenous people have the right to protect and benefit from their cultural heritage. 2. Self-determination – They must be empowered in decision-making about their culture. 3. Consent and Consultation – Free, prior and informed consent is essential. 4. Interpretation – Indigenous peoples should be the primary interpreters of their heritage. 5. Integrity – Maintaining the integrity of cultural knowledge is vital. 6. Secrecy and Privacy – Sacred knowledge must be respected and kept confidential. 7. Attribution – Acknowledge Indigenous custodianship of knowledge. 8. Benefit Sharing – Communities must share in the profits and recognition. 9. Maintaining Culture – Cultural practices and future use must be safeguarded. 10. Recognition and Protection – Laws and contracts should protect ICIP rights.
What stood out most was the richness of real-world examples. Janke brings in stories from art, language revival, publishing, and even the long debate over the copyright of the Aboriginal flag. I especially loved the chapter on Indigenous languages, which inspired me to learn that in Nyoongar, kaya means “hello” and wanju means “welcome.”
The structure is thoughtful, and each chapter includes resources for further reading. While there are some technical legal terms that required a bit of rereading, Janke writes with warmth and clarity. Her goal is not to scold, but to guide—to offer a roadmap for respectful collaboration and cultural sustainability.
Whether you’re a creator, researcher, educator, policymaker—or just someone trying to be better informed—this is essential reading. It’s a privilege to learn from this work.
As Janke puts it: “If we keep our tracks true, Indigenous culture and knowledge can benefit everyone and empower future generations.”
Ileant so much about Indigenous Cultural Intellectual Property and the common appropriatation and theft of Indigenous art, song. dance, stories, medicinal knowledge and more.
Modern copyright legislation does not protect indigenous knowledge and so much more needs to be done.