Suchergebnisse

The lower Georges River, on Dharawal and Dharug lands, was a place of fishing grounds, swimming holes and picnics in the early twentieth century. But this all changed after World War II, when rapidly expanding industry and increasing population fell heaviest on this river, polluting its waters and destroying its bush. Local people campaigned to defend their river. They battled municipal councils, who were themselves struggling against an explosion of garbage as population and economy changed. In these blues (an Australian term for conflict), it was mangroves and swamps that became the focus of the fight. Mangroves were expanding because of increasing pollution and early climate change. Councils wanted to solve their garbage problems by bulldozing mangroves and bushland, dumping garbage and, eventually, building playing fields. So they attacked mangroves as useless swamps that harboured disease. Residents defended mangroves by mobilising ecological science to show that these plants nurtured immature fish and protected the river's health. These suburban resident action campaigns have been ignored by histories of the Australian environmental movement, which have instead focused on campaigns to save distant 'wilderness' or inner-city built environments. The Georges River environmental conflicts may have been less theatrical, but they were fought out just as bitterly. And local Georges River campaigners – men, women and often children – were just as tenacious. They struggled to 'keep bushland in our suburbs', laying the foundation for today's widespread urban environmental consciousness.

The 1983 call by the Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific (NFIP) campaign to end imperialism built strong alliances between disempowered Indigenous peoples and descendants of the unfree, indentured labourers who had been moved between colonies. The colonies and new nations of the Pacific, including Australia, had been left with populations that included both Indigenous and non-Indigenous (formerly indentured) people, all damaged in different ways by colonialism. There were unresolved tensions between these two groups, particularly in Fiji where the NFIP campaign was established. This paper traces responses in Tranby, an organisation that demonstrated the dilemmas of these tensions for Australian Indigenous people. Tranby, the Aboriginal-led Adult Education Co-operative, took a strong anti-colonial position in the 1980s, advocating land rights as well as endorsing the NFIP campaign. Yet Tranby's support wavered over the tensions between Indigenous people and those displaced by colonialism through indenture. Tranby's history demonstrates how its links had continued with colonised peoples damaged in both ways across the Indian and Pacific Oceans, suggesting why it reshaped its support for the NFIP campaign after the 1987 Fiji coups.

While violence directed at Indian students in Australian cities has been highlighted in the Indian and Australian press, far less attention has been paid to the violence directed at Indians in rural areas. This has most often involved Indians employed in contract labour in seasonal industries like fruit or vegetable picking. This article reviews various media accounts, both urban and rural, of violence directed at Indians from 2009 to 2012. It draws attention to the far longer history of labour exploitation which has taken place in rural and urban Australia in contract labour conditions and the particular invisibility of rural settings for such violence. Racial minorities, like Aboriginal and Chinese workers, and women in agriculture and domestic work, have seldom had adequate power to respond industrially or politically. This means that in the past, these groups been particularly vulnerable to such structural exploitation. The paper concludes by calling for greater attention not only to the particular vulnerability of Indians in rural settings but to the wider presence of racialised and gendered exploitation enabled by contract labour structures.

While violence directed at Indian students in Australian cities has been highlighted in the Indian and Australian press, far less attention has been paid to the violence directed at Indians in rural areas. This has most often involved Indians employed in contract labour in seasonal industries like fruit or vegetable picking. This article reviews various media accounts, both urban and rural, of violence directed at Indians from 2009 to 2012. It draws attention to the far longer history of labour exploitation which has taken place in rural and urban Australia in contract labour conditions and the particular invisibility of rural settings for such violence. Racial minorities, like Aboriginal and Chinese workers, and women in agriculture and domestic work, have seldom had adequate power to respond industrially or politically. This means that in the past, these groups been particularly vulnerable to such structural exploitation. The paper concludes by calling for greater attention not only to the particular vulnerability of Indians in rural settings but to the wider presence of racialised and gendered exploitation enabled by contract labour structures.

At the end of World War 2, there were high hopes across the Indian Ocean for a new world in which the relationships between working people would mean more than the borders which separated them. This paper will explore the fate of the hopes for new worlds, in the decades after 1945, by following the uneven relationships among working class Australians, Indonesians and Indians in the aftermath of an intense political struggle in Australia from 1945 to 1949 in support of Indonesian independence. They had been brought together by intersections between the networks established through colonialism, like trade unions, communism and feminism, with those having much longer histories, like Islam. The men and women in this Australian setting expressed their vision in 1945 for a future of universal and transnational networks across the Indian Ocean which would continue the alliances they had found so fruitful. Today their experiences as well as their hopes might be called cosmopolitanism – they expected that the person-to-person friendships they were forming could be sustained and be able to negotiate the differences between them to achieve common aims. Although these hopes for new futures of universal alliances and collaborations were held passionately in the 1940s, all seem to have died by 1970, diverted by newly independent national trajectories and defeated by the Cold War. Yet many of the relationships persisted far longer than might be expected and their unravelling was not inevitable. This paper will trace the course of a few of the relationships which began in the heat of the campaigns in Australia, 1943 to 1945, in order to identify the continuing common ground as well as the rising tensions which challenged them.

At the end of World War 2, there were high hopes across the Indian Ocean for a new world in which the relationships between working people would mean more than the borders which separated them. This paper will explore the fate of the hopes for new worlds, in the decades after 1945, by following the uneven relationships among working class Australians, Indonesians and Indians in the aftermath of an intense political struggle in Australia from 1945 to 1949 in support of Indonesian independence. They had been brought together by intersections between the networks established through colonialism, like trade unions, communism and feminism, with those having much longer histories, like Islam. The men and women in this Australian setting expressed their vision in 1945 for a future of universal and transnational networks across the Indian Ocean which would continue the alliances they had found so fruitful. Today their experiences as well as their hopes might be called cosmopolitanism – they expected that the person-to-person friendships they were forming could be sustained and be able to negotiate the differences between them to achieve common aims. Although these hopes for new futures of universal alliances and collaborations were held passionately in the 1940s, all seem to have died by 1970, diverted by newly independent national trajectories and defeated by the Cold War. Yet many of the relationships persisted far longer than might be expected and their unravelling was not inevitable. This paper will trace the course of a few of the relationships which began in the heat of the campaigns in Australia, 1943 to 1945, in order to identify the continuing common ground as well as the rising tensions which challenged them.

A discussion of the ideas and the workshop which generated these articles, dialogues and opinions.

Two events involving Indians in Australia have grabbed news headlines at different times. One was the 1945 campaign supporting Indonesian Independence in which Indian seamen – known then in Australia as "lascars" – played a high profile role for which they have seldom been acknowledged. The more recent has been the 2009 series of violent attacks on Indian students in Australia, which have aroused major news coverage and public debate in Australia and India. How might "news" media reflect better the potential of both these stories to tell transnational "Indian Ocean news" in which more than one narrative is heard? How, in fact, might they reflect the qualities of the Indian Ocean itself in fostering circulation and dialogue? To contribute to this wider question, this article explores two issues. Firstly, do cultural stereotypes persist over time and, if so, is it because news media re-create and re-circulate them in changing circumstances? Secondly, how does "access" to "making news" come about: whose voices are heard and how are "news" stories identified and told? In the light of what appears to be the simple perpetuation of old stereotypes into the 2009 stories, this paper examines both newspaper and documentary filmic representations of the 1945 campaign. It argues that the outcomes in each case involved selective, rather than wholesale, use of stereotypes. Moreover, each was the result of interaction and often contestation between the participants and the recorders of news – the "sources" and the "producers" – rather than complete dominance by Australian reporters or Western filmmakers over how the stories were told. The paper identifies the more effective of the 1945 strategies used by Indian actors and points to the ways such stories might be read as "Indian Ocean news" which makes visible not only each side of the story but the interactions themselves. This is no longer just a possible future scenario – digital media and internet communication mean that today's stories are being read and watched almost simultaneously around the world by very different audiences. So working out what "Indian Ocean news" might be is now a matter of urgency.