The story of the Tasmanian Black War of 1824-31 is one that has still to permeate popular consciousness, even in Tasmania. While growing up there in the 1970s and 80s, I was taught a version of it in school, though it was a very brief acknowledgement of some level of conflict and a story of the "Black Line" campaign of October 1830, with admiring acknowledgement of its failure and the cleverness of the Aboriginal fighters who successfully evaded this massive and futile operation. But the savage fighting before and after this event was only touched on lightly and the story quickly moved to a very benign account of George Augustus Robinson's "Friendly Mission" and then the sad but, apparently, inevitable end of traditional Tasmanian Aboriginal culture, usually finishing with Truganini being presented as "the last Tasmanian Aborigine". As recently as four years ago on visiting Shene Estate in the Jordan River Valley - a hot spot in the Black War - the gun loops in a sandstone barn from this period were explained by a helpful tour bus driver as "to defend against bushrangers", though the estate owner later confirmed my suspicion that they were actually there for defence against Aboriginal war parties during the Black War. Tasmania still has an uneasy amnesia about this War, and most other Australians know nothing about it.
This makes Clements and Reynold's book a useful contribution and a powerful effort toward educating the general reader about a conflict that has been too often forgotten or skimmed over. Reynolds, now in his 80s, has long been an advocate for better remembering and confronting the frontier conflicts on which Australia was built. Clements has recently focused on the Black War in his bookThe Black War: Fear, Sex and Resistance in Tasmania (UQP, 2014), which draws on his useful and detailed cataloguing of recorded attacks and casualties, which shows exactly how violent and extensive the conflict was. But this new book distils the source material into a narrative that brings the hard reality of the War into sharp focus, largely by turning the colonist sources around and presenting them, as much as possible, from the Aboriginal perspective.
Taking the tribal leader and war chief Tongerlongeter as the central point in this makes sense both as a tribute to a remarkable person and as a focus for the wider story. His life spans almost the whole breath of the interaction between the colonists and the Indigenous Tasmanians; from the first encounters between whites and the local people he may have been told about as child, to the first settlements he would have been aware of as a teenager, though his role as one of the leaders of the resistance fighting that made up the Black War and then his leadership at the ill-fated settlement at Wybalenna on Flinders Island, and then its legacy after his death. Each of the major phases of the interactions and conflicts in the first half of the nineteenth century can be examined through the events of his remarkable life. The figure that emerges from the often fragmentary evidence is one of a highly intelligent, adaptable, pragmatic and charismatic leader and an extremely effective military commander. The accounts of him by the colonists, who were generally not inclined to praise of the people they considered "savages", were consistently admiring. And any warrior who could use clever tactics and force multipliers to sustain a war in against a technologically superior enemy who outnumbered his people 200 to 1 for many years is to be admired from a purely military point of view.
Clements and Reynolds don't shy away from the violence of the conflict and, thankfully, don't romanticise the Tasmanians as pacific "noble savages" or pathetic passive victims. The brutal violence meted out by both sides in the War is presented in often graphic detail, though put in context so that it can be understood. The fiction that Australian Aboriginal people were naturally entirely peaceful and only driven to conflict by the invaders - something flirted with by Bruce Pascoe's problematic Dark Emu for example - is also avoided. The authors make it clear that Tasmanian nations had always fought each other on occasion and continued to do so even while fighting the colonists (though at least partially, in those latter cases, as a result of the pressures of the invasion and its consequences). Both sides in the War often acted out of both fear and vengeance and this resulted in some truly bloody and savage incidents. That said, the early provocation of the Aboriginal people, especially the systematic abduction and rape of Aboriginal women and the casual deadly violence against them, makes their relative restraint and limited actions early the in conflict quite remarkable. Though the authors don't avoid the fact that, when the War turned to a fight for survival for Tongerlongeter's people, absolutely no quarter was given to the settlers. That relatively small groups of highly effective fighters could inflict over 250 casualties in hundreds of attacks over a fairly short period is remarkable, especially when they were suffering far higher per capita causalities themselves.
The real strength of the book is the way its narrative approach and focus on the perspectives of its Aboriginal protagonists brings this story to life. Aside from Tongerlongeter himself other figures, who can be little more than names in the sources and in other books on the period, become far more vivid through this approach. The author's account often has to depend on (acknowledged) speculation, but Tongerlongeter's ally, the Big River chief Montpelliata, or the rather tragic figure of Kickertopoller, a man caught between two worlds, became more easily understood thanks to their careful and sympathetic analysis. The book's account of the harsh life of the Tasmanian fighters, living constantly on the run but still fighting with great effectiveness for years on end, is highly evocative, particularly for anyone who has spent time in the Tasmanian bush or high country in winter. And the details of the amputation of Tongerlongeter's arm after a musket wound are not for the faint-hearted and are a stark testament to exactly how tough and determined these people were.
The book also contains references to small details that give us brief flashes of insight into the usually obscured and often, to us, rather alien world of traditional Tasmanian Aboriginal society. References to abandoned bark huts decorated on the inside with paintings of hunting scenes and game, or a woman at Wybalenna honouring the dead with a ceremony using flat oval stones painted with red and black designs, or the way bones of the dead (including the skull of Tongerlongeter's baby son) were worn as revered sacred talismans give us fleeting, vivid insights into a lost cultural world that had existed for thousands of generations in total isolation before it was so violently interrupted and largely destroyed.
There is no way this story can be told without it being one of terrible sorrow - this is, in many ways, a desperately and bitterly sad book. But the authors certainly succeed in turning the picture around and showing it from the point of view of the indigenous Tasmanian defenders, not the white British invaders. This makes Reynolds' plea for an acknowledgement of Aboriginal resistance fighters like Tongerlongeter in the book's conclusion an effective one. He quotes multiple colonists who, at the time, recognised and acknowledged the great bravery, nobility and skill of the Tasmanian fighters and praised them for defending their lands against overwhelming odds. It is bizarre, therefore, that many modern Australians, who are very ready to acknowledge other military heritage often to an absurd degree, refuse to do so when it comes to these frontier wars. If New Zealand and even the United States can recognise the bravery of First Nations people who resisted colonisation, it's a sign of national immaturity that Australia still doesn't do so. In a nation studded with monuments to overseas wars, one to Tongerlongeter, Montpelliata and the other Tasmanian fighters would be a healthy addition.