Anthrovision, 4.1 - OpenEdition Journals

AnthrovisionVaneasa Online Journal

4.1 | 2016Visual Creativity and Narrative Research in and onOceaniaEstelle Castro-Koshy and Géraldine Le Roux (dir.)

Electronic versionURL: http://journals.openedition.org/anthrovision/2004DOI: 10.4000/anthrovision.2004ISSN: 2198-6754

PublisherVANEASA - Visual Anthropology Network of European Association of Social Anthropologists

Electronic referenceEstelle Castro-Koshy and Géraldine Le Roux (dir.), Anthrovision, 4.1 | 2016, “Visual Creativity andNarrative Research in and on Oceania” [Online], Online since 04 September 2016, connection on 15January 2021. URL: http://journals.openedition.org/anthrovision/2004; DOI: https://doi.org/10.4000/anthrovision.2004

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction. Creative Collaborations, Dialogues, and Reconfigurations: Rethinking Artistic,Cultural, and Sociopolitical Values and Practices with Indigenous people in Australia,French Polynesia, New Caledonia-Kanaky, and Papua New GuineaEstelle Castro-Koshy and Géraldine Le Roux

Jimbin Kaboo Yimardoowarra Marninil: Listening to Nyikina Women’s Voices. Film as aStrategy of ResistanceMagali McDuffie

Poétiques, éthique et transmission sur la toile : l’univers littéraire et le patrimoine culturelde Flora Aurima-Devatine, Nathalie Heirani Salmon-Hudry et Chantal Spitz Flora Aurima-Devatine and Estelle Castro-Koshy

An Extraordinary WeddingSome Reflections on the Ethics and Aesthetics of Authorial Strategies in Ethnographic Filmmaking Rosita Henry and Daniela Vávrová

Transforming Representations of Marine Pollution. For a New Understanding of the ArtisticQualities and Social Values of Ghost Nets Géraldine Le Roux

Visibilité du destin commun et invisibilité de l’histoire : discours, célébrations etconstruction de la citoyenneté en Nouvelle-Calédonie Stéphanie Graff

Research and experimental section

Performance : Le grand Bingo colonial du clown BarnabottMartin Préaud

Reviews

Barbara Glowczewski, Totemic Becomings. Cosmopolitics of the DreamingBook ReviewGerko Egert

Vivid Memories: A History of Aboriginal Art. Musée d’Aquitaine, Bordeaux, February2014Exhibition ReviewHelen Idle

Anthrovision, 4.1 | 2016

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Introduction. CreativeCollaborations, Dialogues, andReconfigurations: RethinkingArtistic, Cultural, and SociopoliticalValues and Practices with Indigenous people in Australia,French Polynesia, New Caledonia-Kanaky, and Papua New GuineaEstelle Castro-Koshy and Géraldine Le Roux

1 Visual anthropology and the anthropology of the visual generate a strong interest in

various domains such as academia, museums, cultural institutions, and festivals. Ascrucial means to study “what is not visual in human society” (MacDougall 2004), theyoffer an invitation akin to that of Indigenous studies to move beyond disciplinaryboundaries as well as “to reveal and accept the complexity of knowledge intersections”(Nakata 2004: 13). Through the analysis of how different visual, textual, andperformative materials are constructed and circulate, this issue aims to reflect andprolong the dialogues established by its contributors across the disciplines, beyondacademia, and between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people. It includescontributions from scholars – some of whom are also filmmakers, artists, poets,educators, and curators – who are Indigenous or have worked with Indigenous peoplefor at least a decade (in some cases several decades), and who have produced visualmaterials as a result of these collaborations. This issue interrogates and provides

examples of how to incorporate new decolonising, emancipating or empoweringknowledge and approaches into academic, visual, and cultural productions. It alsoexamines the challenge tackled by most authors to engage new audiences and create


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bridges between societies while respecting Indigenous protocols and codes of ethics.The contributions were developed as part of the Research Project “TransOceanik:Interactive Research, Mapping, and Creative Agency in the Pacific, the Indian Oceanand the Atlantic”, an international collaboration (Laboratoire International Associé,2012-2015) between the French National Scientific Research Centre (CNRS-LAS) andJames Cook University/The Cairns Institute.1

Weaving words and images

2 This collection of essays and video contributions both focuses and relies on interactions

between texts and images.2 AnthroVision – as an online journal aiming to “includeaudiovisual material and to promote innovative ways of writing within an academicframework” – is therefore an ideal publication avenue for this volume, which alsoaddresses the strategies, choices, and constraints that shape research that is conductedwith these two media (texts and visuals). The articles do not only unveil the“epistemological backstage” (Olivier De Sardan 1992: 185) of visual documents; theyquestion the dialogic relationship between images and texts. Magali McDuffie, RositaHenry and Daniela Vávrová, as well as Flora Aurima-Devatine and Estelle Castro-Koshy,for example, chose a two-tool writing process. In their articles, the film questions,completes, and gives more depth to the written text; it does not “double” it. In all thecontributions, the film and/or the photographs and the text are mutuallyenriching. This is also the case in Barbara Glowczewski’s book, Totemic Becomings.

Cosmopolitics of the Dreaming/Devires Totêmicos. Cosmopolitica do Sonho, which is reviewedby Gerko Egert: Egert stresses that the bilingual book “composed as a rich assemblageof images and text […] charts the complex cartographies of Warlpiri Dreamingcosmologies” – a mapping that Glowczewski also explicates and gives examples of inher video contribution to this issue.

Conference at Collège de France. « I don’t like pink ». Quand le cancer attaque les femmes Warlpiri(Australie centrale)

https://www.odsas.net/scan_sets.php?set_id=1756&doc=188523&step=0

Barbara Glowczewski


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https://www.odsas.net/scan_sets.php?set_id=1756&doc=188523&step=0

Well Women Workshop. Warnayaka Arts Centre, Lajamanu

https://www.odsas.net/scan_sets.php?set_id=1756

Barbara Glowczewski

3 The four-hand writing process in the essays by Henry and Vávrová, and by Aurima-

Devatine and Castro-Koshy, also enhances their rich assemblage of videos and textualanalysis. In the innovative essay by Aurima-Devatine and Castro-Koshy, the intertwinedvoices of the researchers become distinct at times, thus lending a dynamic to the textwhich invites the reader to engage more intimately with its topics. Pluriform writingsometimes allows the scholar(s) or the artist(s) to convey the emotion he/she hasexperienced or what he/she cannot say with words, to carry the voices of the peoplewith whom he/she works, or to better give justice to the efficacy of certain images.

4 The examination of the significance and contextualisation of visual productions is

central to this collection of articles and videos, which addresses the need to(re)historicise visual productions as well as to engage with the expertise brought andmeanings ascribed by the artists/filmmakers to their creative processes. StéphanieGraff’s essay sheds light on visual attempts to make invisible colonial history and Kanakclaims to sovereignty in New Caledonia-Kanaky. While her essay brings to the fore –through her textual analysis – what is not represented on the place du Mwâ Kââ inNouméa, the photographs she provides communicate the violence that was used by thecity when the cases (customary houses) were demolished by bulldozers during theAffaire des cases.3 The deconstruction and reconfiguration of narratives surroundinghistorical images and discourses is performed in Martin Préaud’s contribution, entitled“Barnabott the Clown’s great colonial bingo”, which was first delivered at the Collegede France in December 2015. Through humour, irony, as well the superposition ofgestures, photographs, and texts (including historical documents, statistics, and quotesfrom newspapers), this political farce denounces what Préaud cogently calls in hisaccompanying essay the contemporary manifestations – in public discourses andpolicies – of “the political imaginary underpinning settler colonialism”. Géraldine LeRoux’s article focuses on Australian ghostnet art and introduces new perspectives onthe circulation of marine debris, stepping away from the sole negative impact ofmarine pollution. Her detailed, sophisticated analysis of ghostnet techniques,philosophy, and of the “intimate connections” that the artists have with theirenvironment and weave into their artworks is informed by the multi-sites and multi-sited approach she has developed as an anthropologist and an art curator, as well asfrom the time she spent “cutting, stitching and coiling nets with the artists”.


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5 This volume helps understand the limits of what can be said or filmed and furthermore

of what cannot be shown, either in a filmic or in a written form. Henry and Vávrováunderline the need to carefully ponder over these issues in their essay on an“extraordinary wedding” and on bride price transactions in the Western Highlands ofPapua New Guinea. The authors note that Henry filmed the events with a light-weightdigital camera as her intention was initially to give a recording of the wedding to thefamily. The anthropological significance of the events and potentiality of the footagewere revealed to her during the filming. This après-coup is classic in anthropology andraises the question as to what the camera adds to the research. The camera can beimpressive to the interviewees as an object and because of the potential circulation itcan give to a particular recording. Henry and Vávrová also recall how often “actors orparticipants […] narratively direct the filming”. Conscious that this “shared, dialogicprocess […] often halts once filming stops and the editing process begins”, they choseto involve the people whose lives are portrayed in the film in “participatory editing”and explore the modalities and effectiveness of this process in their article. McDuffie’sarticle emphasises that the scholarly work she has undertaken on her filmmaker’s workhas led her to reflect upon the filming process as a “process with countlessramifications” resulting from her participatory approach. The two aforementionedessays offer a particularly judicious and illuminating engagement with the literature onethnographic filmmaking. Working with a camera (Glowczewski; Henry and Vávrová;McDuffie), elaborating multimedia research tools (Glowczewski), establishing anartistic dialogue (Aurima-Devatine and Castro-Koshy; Le Roux; Préaud), mountingexhibitions (Le Roux) can trigger – for interviewees and researchers – new discourses,attitudes, and work relations.

Production, circulation, and (re)interpretation of filmsand visual arts in and on Oceania

6 This issue looks at the production and reception of films and visual arts in and on

Oceania. The importance of ethical, cultural, and economic concerns during creativeprocesses and for the circulation of the works are highlighted by contributors to thisvolume. McDuffie’s enlightening essay analyses “strategies of resistance (culturalactions, economic, and self-determination initiatives)” developed by Nyikina women –from the West Kimberley region of Western Australia – through the medium of film.Her decade-long collaboration with the women informs her essay, which stresses theparamount role film has played over the years for the “inter-generational and inter-personal transmission of knowledge”, in the process of community building, and tocreate “a network of local and global relationships and connections”. Moreover, as away to prevent any risk of commodifying Nyikina culture, the women and McDuffiehave established that “monetary gain from [their] films is never a goal, nor an indicatorof popularity or success: priorities are not set within the traditional academic, researchor distribution outputs”. Le Roux analyses both the “translocal identity” of theghostnet art movement and its local particularities in the Torres Strait Islands andCape York. Her article shows how artworks commissioned for an international artexhibition were made by the artists to strategically increase the internationalrecognition of their Indigenous knowledge, cultures, and societies. Aurima-Devatineand Castro-Koshy discuss three video interviews with Indigenous Tahitian writers,


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Flora Aurima-Devatine, Nathalie Heirani Salmon Hudry, and Chantal Spitz, as well asAurima-Devatine’s performance of her poem, “Te pata’uta’u a te vahine tutuha’a”(“The rhythmic song of women beating barks to make tapa cloth”). Castro-Koshy, incollaboration with filmmaker, Dominique Masson, produced these videos to givefurther visibility to Indigenous Pacific authors. The essay by Aurima-Devatine andCastro-Koshy demonstrates that these videos offer new ways to understand the writers’work and Tahitian society. The interviews and the scholars’ analysis inform and expandthe field of Oceanian literary and cultural studies, as the concept of “interorality” theydevelop in this essay – to better interpret Aurima-Devatine’s work as well as the annualmulti-arts and multilingual Tahitian event Pina’ina’i – illustrates.4 With this concept,Aurima-Devatine and Castro-Koshy show how diverse oral and textual sources arecreatively woven into the works of contemporary Tahitian writers and performers.Henry and Vávrová crucially interrogate how to author a narrative that can appeal to abroad audience “without diminishing the integrity of the lifeworld of the characters”.Their essay also draws attention to the editing choices made in order to avoid“rekindl[ing] tensions that would otherwise lie dormant”.

7 In contexts where new technologies and social media are increasingly used, research

with and into makers of stories and “collectors of stories”5 often needs tosimultaneously look at what is produced and at who gains access to information andknowledge. This issue explores how different levels of knowledge are negotiated byartists, filmmakers, and scholars according to the local, national, and internationaldestination of their work. Who disseminates and controls, or cannot control, thecirculation of films and visual arts? What are the roles of different media platforms –including those providing free online access – and cityscapes for cultural productionsthat are not mainstream or would benefit from greater visibility? These questions areaddressed in this volume, which also provides insights into the choices made bystorymakers to create awareness on specific political, historical, ecological, and societalissues in the Pacific. It tackles the crucial question of researchers’ levels of involvementwith the people about whom cultural productions are made, as well as that of “who”becomes involved in the knowledge-making-process.

Artistic and narrative interventions in Oceania

8 This contribution to the research conducted on Oceania places great emphasis on the

flourishing creativity of artists and cultural makers. It also reveals “another side” ofthe story. The volume shows how some historical events, especially in contexts wherehistory was written through the lens of the colonial power, can only be understoodthrough the unfolding of a narrative. Préaud’s powerful performance made availablehere in video creatively analyses the violence of settler colonialism in Australiaunderstood in the terms of late historian, Patrick Wolfe – to whom Préaud pays tribute– as “a structure and not an event” (2006: 388). Préaud’s essay highlights the context inwhich the performance was elaborated and the rationale behind some of his theatricalchoices: as an artistic response to the announcement by the Western Australia Premierin 2014 of the closure of Aboriginal communities in his state,6 the farce aims to makevisible the blood shed upon which the wealth of Australia as a country was built, whilealso emphasising the “continuing, persevering, and tireless” presence and resistance ofIndigenous people in Australia and the world. Graff analyses how different versions of


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history are represented in the public space in the capital city of New Caledonia-Kanaky.Her thought-provoking essay argues that what she calls a “politics of common destiny”acts as historic and cultural rewriting in New Caledonia-Kanaky through the“displacement and replacement of facts, narratives, and symbols”. She focuses inparticular on public visual productions and actions that construct Caledoniancitizenship without addressing the issues of anti-colonialism, decolonisation, andindependence. By analysing what sense of identity and political project for theterritory appear through the Mwâ Kââ square and the Affaire des cases, her essay raisescritical questions for other countries in Oceania: what would a Caledonian (or national/Pacific) identity that does not recognise the sovereignty of Kanak (or Indigenous)people be? Can visual evocations of the past in the public sphere be read as signs of theway the future will be built? As Graff and Préaud draw the readers’ and viewers’attention to the brutal and continuing impact of settler colonialism on Indigenouspeople over decades, they also underscore the persistence of Indigenous protestsmovements – regarding sovereignty, basic human rights, or the protection of culture –since the 1970s.

9 This issue brings attention to cultural heritage that has been recorded or reinterpreted

and to the need for Indigenous people to build “memories for the future” (Aurima-Devatine and Castro-Koshy). The artworks studied by Le Roux, the films by GoenpulJagara and Bundjulung filmmaker, Romaine Moreton, analysed by Castro-Koshy in herconference presentation as well as the films directed and produced by McDuffie havealready gained national and international recognition. Castro-Koshy’s eloquentdemonstration brings to the fore that Moreton’s films represent a “two-way verticaltransmission” of knowledge – from elders to the youth and from the youth to olderpeople: while The Oysterman evokes the heritage that the grandfather has passed on tohis grandson, in The Farm, “the mother reconnects with her memories, history, andability to engage with the old people through her senses thanks to her daughter”.

Conference at Collège de France. Poésie visuelle, lieux-histoires, et philosophie aborigène dans lesfilms de Romaine Moreton The Farm and The Oysterman

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This media file cannot be displayed. Please refer to the online document http://journals.openedition.org/anthrovision/2191

https://vimeo.com/173430658

11 In the corpus constituted by Castro-Koshy, love as well as the transmission of values

come forth as transversal themes. Expressed through the woman figure and/or filialrelationships, these themes are explored by Moreton and the three Tahitian writers toemphasise the importance and influence of their ancestors, family, and heritage ontheir lives and artistic productions.

12 Castro-Koshy also highlights that Moreton’s films – and their emphasis on tenderness –

emerge as “breaths of visual and emotional poetry” – even more so in film festivalswhere relationships are often depicted through violence. By analysing the choicesmade by Moreton to evoke colonial conflicts without re-enacting their violence, allowthe land to “do much of the storytelling”, as well as show “how people’s ancestral linkswith places can be read […] through engagement and an inscription of the senses”(Langton 2002: 254), Castro-Koshy also suggests that Moreton’s films are a deployment


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of “visual sovereignty” (Raheja 2010). The potential role that the arts can play inshifting representations, and, consequently, people’s attitudes, comes forth in severalessays. Le Roux shows how ghostnet artists have drawn national and internationalattention to the destructive impact of marine pollution while transforming discardednets into acclaimed artworks and even humoristic fashion material. Her essayhighlights the multifaceted success of this new art movement through whichIndigenous people tell their stories, “different stories”, and challenge differentcommunities – of spectators – to engage constructively and aesthetically with marinepollution. Le Roux also demonstrates how Ghostnet artists have encouraged manypeople to move away from “disempowering attitudes that are often seen aroundenvironmental issues”. Aurima-Devatine and Castro-Koshy underline in their essayhow Nathalie Heirani Salmon-Hudry’s narrative, through her autobiographical book, Jesuis née morte (I was born dead), and her video interviews, aims to “show difference in adifferent way” and to raise awareness about the issues faced by people with a disability.The parallel between these issues and those encountered by Indigenous people – suchas their marginalisation in the education system or in visual productions – is subtlydrawn in this volume, which also concentrates on the many ways by which Indigenouspeople both respond to destabilising representations of themselves or theircommunities and enrich the Oceanian repertoire of artistic expressions. Helen Idle’sreview of the exhibition “Vivid Memories” – produced by the Musée d’Aquitaine andco-curated by Arnaud Morvan, a member of the TransOceanik project – also reveals “anartworld that blends innovation with continuity while adapting technologies to expressthe variety of worldviews of artists from many Aboriginal nations”.

13 For individuals and communities who fight for the survival of their people, culture or

epistemological heritage, or whose histories have been silenced, establishing a body ofwork that is available for local, national, and international communities is nothing lessthan rewriting history. The voices, thoughts, philosophies, struggles, and creativity ofIndigenous Oceanian people are therefore of paramount importance to this volume. ForTahitian writers, Aurima-Devatine, Salmon Hudry, and Spitz, “les mots soignent les

maux”: words hold the power to heal – whether they have been inflicted by colonialhistory, trauma, stereotypes, ignorance or even academic essays (Aurima-Devatine andCastro-Koshy).

14 The political urgency that resonates in this issue echoes the urgent response that

Aboriginal, Kanak, and many Oceanian people or communities are asking when facingstructural problems that are mostly the result of colonisation. The films, art works, andresearch that are central to this volume confront different discourses and practicessurrounding images or representations. The stories that are shown and told work as“counter-discourse” (McDuffie) or “counterpoint to a history that is often narrated asshattered or ruptured” (Castro-Koshy). From this perspective, and echoing LindaTuhiwai Smith’s idea, Magali McDuffie explores “the use of film both as an empoweringact of resistance to neo-colonial oppression, and a decolonizing methodology”. Thisvolume invites the research community and readers/viewers to pay attention to thecomplexity of narratives, and to the multiple voices that inform them, sometimeswithout leaving visible traces.


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Establishing enduring collaborations

15 One of the major contributions of this issue is to present collaboration as a way of

working, a methodology, an “ethics-methodology” (Aurima-Devatine and Castro-Koshy). It also highlights some examples of protocols and processes that wereestablished to foster long-lasting collaborations. Just like films can be a way of doingethnography, collaboration and consultation are also ways of conducting research,“emphasizing the agency” (Le Roux) of the people we work with, and, in some cases, of“producing new cultural material” (Aurima-Devatine and Castro-Koshy). McDuffie’senriching collaboration with Nyikina women led her to undertake doctoral studies. Therichness of her cinematographic productions testifies to the relationship of trust thatshe has established with the Nyikina women. She highlights that the film Three Sisters:

Women of High Degree (2015) “is not a film one could make in one short trip – it is a filmthat emerged after seven years of conversations”. Thanks to a long-term collaboration,Castro-Koshy’s contribution on Romaine Moreton’s films includes segments from thetwo short films, including excerpts from The Oysterman, a short film that has beenscreened in festivals but has not yet been commercialised. Similarly, the essay co-written by Aurima-Devatine and Castro-Koshy results from and prolongs acollaboration of ten years – that also led to the production of the first audiovisualproduction on Flora Aurima-Devatine which the essay discusses. A firm believer in theincommensurable value of Tahitian cultural heritage, Aurima-Devatine went as early as1968 to record and talk to the old people in Tahiti. For many years, she composed thetraditional poems for the Heiva sung by Papara. Le Roux’s essay is the result of severalyears of engagement with Ghostnet artists; the two artworks she selected for anexhibition she curated in Paris in 2012 were the first ghostnet works shown overseas.Graff has conducted research in New Caledonia-Kanaky since 2005 and is the onlyanthropologist working on an everyday basis in the Caledonian political spheres. Henrymet Maggie, the mother of the bride whose wedding Henry filmed, in the 1970s, andkept in contact over the years. Préaud has conducted research in Aboriginal Australiasince 2002.

16 Barbara Glowczewski has used new technologies innovatively to further her

collaboration with Aboriginal people. In her oral presentation – made available for thisissue on an open access video – she presents a synthesis of her use of different media incollaboration with Warlpiri people from Lajamanu in Central Australia, and tracesWarlpiri women’s understandings of health issues and healing over several decades.Glowczewski provides the anthropological context for several films, and in particularfor two films she shot thirty-five years apart: a 1979 16mm footage of women onlyrituals, and a 2014 video clip on a breath cancer prevention workshop filmed at theWarnayaka arts centre. Her demonstration highlights some critical challenges raised bydifferent cultural perceptions of – or lack of familiarity with – inside knowledge andritual secrecy. It subtly addresses the need for official policies to take into account theknowledge, beliefs, and everyday realities of the people for whom these policies aredesigned. Glowczewski’s various audiovisual material can be accessed on ODSAS, theOnline Digital Source and Annotation System – developed by Laurent Dousset and –dedicated to archives collected by researchers working in Oceania.7 Glowczewskioriginally developed her archives so as to return her audio-visual data to the Warlpiripeople from Lajamanu and make it available for their own use.8 Hundreds of hours of


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singing and storytelling in Warlpiri, thousands of photographs, pages of fieldworknotebooks, and hours of films are made available with various commentaries andlinked through hyperlinks on ODSAS: the access to some files is restricted to respectWarlpiri cultural protocols but can be authorised through the odsas system.9

Collaborative annotation of her material by Warlpiri people has also been developedsince 2011 during workshops she has organised in Lajamanu. Glowczewski’s extensivefieldwork with Warlpiri people is contextualized in the book reviewed in this issue.

17 Most contributions in this issue underline the challenges posed and rewards gained in

these two-way processes or “inter-action” (McDuffie), when the crafts and savoir-faire

(know how) of the researcher/filmmaker/artist/curator and that of the participantcommunity person/artist enter into dialogue. The public version of An Extraordinary

Wedding is the result of numerous conversations between Henry, Vávrová, and thebride’s family, who all contributed to shaping the message and values conveyed by thefilm. Henry negotiated with the families during the writing process and she went backon the field to better integrate them in the process. Despite her death, Maggie Leahyplayed a major role in the writing process; her voice guided the anthropologist’s work.These essays deal in depth with “authorial strategies” (Henry and Vávrová) and thesort of attention that ethically-concerned researchers and artists aim to attract. Trustand integrity are also recurrently highlighted as being fundamental to establishingenduring and rewarding collaboration. This volume argues that consultation practicesare not antithetical to creative processes. It supports the view that recognising theagency of people about whom knowledge is circulated can only provide more insightfulunderstanding of situations, societies, and historical events that are complex. With sixessays, three video contributions, one exhibition review, and one book review, thisissue stands as a collective assemblage of creativity and singularities – very much in theimage of the TransOceanik network.

18 Estelle Castro-Koshy and Géraldine Le Roux, guest editors.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Langton, Marcia. 2002. The Edge of the Sacred, the Edge of Death: Sensual Inscriptions.

In Inscribed Landscapes: Marking and Making Place. Bruno David and Meredith Wilson, eds. Pp.

253-269. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press.

MacDougall, David. 2004. L’anthropologie visuelle et les chemins du savoir. Journal des

anthropologues 98-99: 279-233. http://jda.revues.org/1751.

Nakata, Martin. 2004. Indigenous Australian Studies and Higher Education: the Wentworth

Lectures. Canberra: AIATSIS.

Olivier De Sardan, Jean-Pierre. 1992. M. Augé & J.-P. Colleyn, Nkpiti. La rancune et le prophète.

L’Homme 32. http://www.persee.fr/doc/hom_0439-4216_1992_num121_369483.

Raheja, Michelle H. 2010. Reservation Reelism. Redfacing, Visual Sovereignty, and Representations of

Native Americans in Film. Lincoln and London: University of Nebraska Press.


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http://jda.revues.org/1751

http://www.persee.fr/doc/hom_0439-4216_1992_num121_369483

Wolfe, Patrick. 2006. Settler Colonialism and the Elimination of the Native. Journal of Genocide

Research 8(4): 387-409.

Websites

Atelier prévention de cancer filmé à Lajamanu https://www.odsas.net/scan_sets.php?

set_id=1756

NOTES

1. This project was coordinated by Barbara Glowczewski (CNRS), Rosita Henry (JCU), and Ton Otto

(JCU, 2012-2013). For other publications that resulted from the project, see etropic issues: Behind

the scenes: Transversality of Invisible Lines and Knowledges 15(2) (2015); Value, Transvaluation and

Globalization 13(2) (2014); TransOceanik: Academic Research and Public Domains 12(1) (2013). See also

Glowczewski, Barbara, Rosita Henry and Ton Otto. 2013. Relations and Products: Dilemmas of

Reciprocity in Fieldwork. TAJA 14(2): 113-125.

2. The three video contributions were recorded during the conference “Theatre of operations.

Staging of Action, Coordination of Movement and Transformation of the World”, the last

conference organised by the LIA TransOceanik (Collège de France, December 2015). Two

presentations given at the conference are made available here as an attempt to exploit different

research media and expand the scope of this issue on visual creativity and narrative research.

3. The forceful demolition of the cases is also recalled in a song by Kanak performance poet, Paul

Wamo, called “Le Kaillou” (https://soundcloud.com/paul-wamo/sets) and in “12 11 12”, a short

story named after the date of the event and published in Nouvelles de Nouvelle-Calédonie. Pp.

113-122. Paris: Éditions Magellan et Cie.

4. An article that Aurima-Devatine and Castro-Koshy wrote on Pina’ina’i with 17 other – mostly

Indigenous – contributors from French Polynesia will be published in the forthcoming 2016 issue

of Journal de la Société des Océanistes (JSO) on cultural performances in Oceania.

5. We are here taking up eloquent words used by Rosita Henry during the TransOceanik

Colloquium, “Difference and Domination: The Power of Narrative in Ritual, Performance and

Image”, The Cairns Institute, Cairns, 24-25 July 2014.

6. For his other responses to the announcement, see http://www.huffingtonpost.com/martin-

preaud/australian-aboriginal-communities-should-not-be-closed_b_7161392.html and http://

www.huffingtonpost.fr/martin-preaud/aborigenes-australie-femeture-

communautes_b_11350692.html.

7. ODSAS was developed by Dousset to respect scientific, cultural, and ethical protocols which

take into account the copyright of both the authors-producers of the archives and the traditional

owners of the Indigenous knowledge.

8. See the filmed conference by Glowczewski, “Ethics of anthropological archives: academic

heritage and Indigenous priorities”, Canberra, AIATSIS (12 August 2013): http://vimeo.com/

73112943.

9. Viewers are able to request a password directly on www.odsas.net: the platform automatically

sends an email to the author/producer of the archive for authorisation.


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https://soundcloud.com/paul-wamo/sets







http://www.huffingtonpost.com/martin-preaud/australian-aboriginal-communities-should-not-be-closed_b_7161392.html




http://www.huffingtonpost.fr/martin-preaud/aborigenes-australie-femeture-communautes_b_11350692.html






http://vimeo.com/73112943

http://vimeo.com/73112943

http://www.odsas.net/

AUTHORS

ESTELLE CASTRO-KOSHY

College of Arts, Society and Education, James Cook University

[email protected]

GÉRALDINE LE ROUX

Université de Bretagne Occidentale / James Cook University

[email protected]


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Jimbin Kaboo Yimardoowarra Marninil:Listening to Nyikina Women’sVoices. Film as a Strategy ofResistanceMagali McDuffie

Introduction

1 Nyikina people are the people of the Mardoowarra, the Lower Fitzroy River, in the West

Kimberley region of Western Australia. The lived experiences of three Nyikina womenand their families inform my research: Lucy Marshall (OAM) and Jeannie Wabi areSenior Nyikina Elders who grew up working on the early settlers’ pastoral stations.They have both been instrumental in protecting Nyikina country, language, culture,and traditions, for most of their lives, through a wide range of educational and culturalactions. Their kin sister, Dr. Anne Poelina (2009; in Madjulla Inc., and Magali McDuffie2012), is a generation younger: she was able to pursue a university education, and,guided by the senior women, established a non-government organisation, Madjulla Inc.,in 1989, through which she advocates nationally and internationally for the rights ofNyikina people, particularly in the context of the rampant industrialisation of theirland. The women, their families, and some Nyikina communities chose the medium offilm nearly twenty years ago to protect their rights and country, and share Nyikinaculture. Our paths met when the women invited me to collaborate on a film project in2007: we have worked together ever since. This enriching collaboration has led me toundertake doctoral studies.


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Three Sisters: Jeannie Wabi, Lucy Marshall, Anne Poelina

Jeannie Wabi, Lucy Marshall, Anne Poelina

Photo by Ian Perdrisat

2 In my thesis, ‘Jimbin Kaboo Yimardoowarra Marninil – listening to Nyikina women,

from the inside to the outside: an inter-generational journey of cultural actions,economic and self-determination initiatives on Nyikina country’ I explore Nyikinawomen’s aspirations for sustainable community development, their engagement with,or disengagement from, the state apparatus, and the strategies of resistance andalternatives they have developed over the years in response to the failure of variousgovernment policies. By firmly grounding the women in their cultural landscape withvisual story-telling, and carrying out a Foucauldian deconstruction of the historical,anthropological, and development discourses which have shaped their livedexperiences, I reflect on the women’s strategies of resistance and examine their agencyin an increasingly neo-colonial context. I contend that film plays a paramount role inreclaiming these discourses, and reveals the often invisible counter-discourse, whichthe filmmaker / researcher’s role is to ‘make seen’, and ‘make heard’, thereby giving aspace to the subaltern where he or she can be listened to (Spivak in Landry andMacLean 1996: 292). In this paper, I would like to explore the use of film both as anempowering act of resistance to neo-colonial oppression, and as a decolonizingmethodology (Smith 1999).

3 While this paper solely concentrates on the role of film in an Indigenous context, it is

important to point out that ever since the beginning of Australia’s colonisation,Aboriginal people have been engaging, both privately and publically, in dialogues withindividual members of the settler society or government institutions at large: whetherthese dialogues took the shape of letters, petitions, witness statements, life narratives,and later on, autobiographies or films, they have been consistent in their presence boththroughout time and space (Van Toorn 2001). Films represent only one of the manymanifestations of this engagement – what Faye Ginsburg refers to as ‘shooting back’(Ginsburg 1999: 295).


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Ethnographic Filmmaking in Australia

4 The concept of ‘ethnographic filmmaking’ never really appealed to me – in fact, this is

not something I thought I was doing until someone labelled me ‘an ethnographicfilmmaker’. Early ethnographic filmmaking merely evoked images of explorersgathering footage of ‘un-discovered’ peoples, of the ‘Other’ in all its differences,‘oddity’, and exoticism (see for instance, Curtis, Land of the War Canoes, 1914; or Johnson,Among the Cannibal Isles of the Pacific, 1918). Filmmakers filmed what they wanted theiraudiences to see, responding to ‘folk culture’ expectations (Ruby 2000: 10). These filmswere mainly ‘expository films’ (MacDougall 1998: 4), placing the filmmaker in theposition of the ‘all-knowing’ observer and giving him unquestioned authority. Jay Rubyhas argued that such films only served to uphold a ‘colonial view of the world’ (Ruby2000: 7-10).

5 In Australia, starting in the early 20th century, numerous films were made about

Aboriginal people, most of them concerned with ceremonies, and highlighting thereductionist notions of the primitive ‘Other’ of social Darwinism and biologicaldeterminism, and the deficit discourse (Fforde et al. 2013). Not much changed until the1960s, when the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies setup a film unit with the main purpose of doing scientific research and archiving culture(Bryson 2002: 13-16). Non-interference was spoken about in theory – but in practice,mainly because of time and financial constraints, filmmakers were still directingpeople, choosing the times the ceremonies should be performed, and the clothes peopleshould be wearing, all this in a bid for ‘authenticity’ (Bryson 2002: 25). The ‘take yourclothes off, throw on some ochre, and look noble’ attitude, as Mackinolty and Duffy(1987) put it, was unfortunately the norm for a very long time. Through visualrepresentations to non-Indigenous audiences, the concept of authentic ‘Aboriginality’was defined as a negative: a problem to be solved (McKee 1999: 140-143) throughaccepted, repetitive, stereotyped representations of Aboriginal people; or a controlmechanism through which European eyes would supposedly ‘know’ what Aboriginalitywas, thereby enabling them to dispense truths on Aboriginal people’s wants, needs andrequirements (Attwood 1992, in McKee 1999: 147), and to participate in theconstruction of an Australian ‘national imaginary’ justifying the country’s colonisation(Hamilton, in Ginsburg 1993: 561).

6 In the 1970s and 1980s, with the growing awareness in Aboriginal communities of the

power of visual representation in the media, conflicts emerged over offensivestereotypical representations of Aboriginal people, the good noble savage and his‘residue of culture’, as Wolfe puts it, or the threatening, drunken man on the outskirtsof towns – both enabling constructions of the ‘Other’ characteristic of a logic ofelimination by the colonising power (Wolfe 1999: 27). Communities – such asYuendumu in the 1980s (Michaels 1994) – insisted on more local content, produced bythem locally, for local broadcast. As well as arguing for Aboriginal-owned media, andenvisaging film as a tool for political resistance and cultural maintenance (Hinkson2005: 158), Michaels found opportunities existed in collaborative filmmaking, but onlyas an interpretive act of negotiation between filmmakers and communities.Filmmakers, he said, should adjust to the rhythm and expectations of the community,and become catalysts, or conduits, working with and for Aboriginal communities(Michaels 1994: 36). Michaels argued that film could only be a tool for political


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resistance if video production became embedded in traditional forms, raising the all-important issue of authenticity (Hinkson 2005: 159). For Hinkson, by emphasizing thetraditional aspects of the Warlpiri films, Michaels overlooked their significant inter-cultural dimension, in terms of who participated in the projects, who was driving them,whose traditions were being engaged, and which meanings were being produced(Hinkson 2005: 164-165). Thus, collaboration was a feature of early ventures byAboriginal media associations, and Hinkson suggests it still is (Hinkson 2005: 166). Filmcould therefore be viewed as a mediating object, in which form ‘cannot be consideredapart from the complex contexts of production and interpretation that shape itsconstruction’ (Ginsburg 1999: 296).

7 Governments discouraged ‘local content’ on the ground of economic imperatives

(Michaels 1994: 37). However, a growing interest from the international community forAboriginal cultures and political activism showed the need to communicate on abroader scale. Aboriginal people’s agency continued to materialise in films,performances, festivals, and political actions across the world: thus, the 1980s sawnumerous Aboriginal Elders, performers, and political activists travel to France, Europeand the United States to ‘not only represent’ their culture, as Arnaud Morvan argues,but to reproduce it and re-establish it, as a way of re-affirming their identity in a newcontext, empowering themselves, and creating new networks through old and newways of connecting with people in an international space (Morvan 2011: 107). The useof the film medium also played an important part in the process of ‘historical, political,and cultural consciousness-raising’ (Turner 1991: 69) for not only did it bringIndigenous people’s stories into the public light, but it also showcased Indigenouspeople as self-conscious agents of power filming the stories that were important tothem (Turner 1991: 70). Representing themselves to the dominant power, Indigenouspeople were able to enter a process which would take them from self-conscientizationto political mobilisation (Turner 1991: 70). Like the Kayapo people of Brazil, Nyikinapeople successfully made the transition from film subjects to collaborators andproducers.

Nyikina Films

8 In the 1980s, a film by Oliver Howes, On Sacred Ground (1980), retraced the fight of

Noonkanbah people against a mining company wanting to explore a sacred Aboriginalsite. Distributed internationally, it highlighted the Australian Government’s colonialistpolicies, and to this day, still encapsulates Nyikina and Walmajarri Elders’ aspirationsand will to fight for their land rights. It was also the symbol of Indigenous solidarityand agency not only across Australia, with Warlpiri Elders bringing a ceremony toNoonkanbah in support of the protesters, but across the world (Glowczewski 2011: 2).In 1991, The Kimberley Mob followed the daily lives and trials of three brothers in aNyikina community, running one of the first Aboriginal-owned cattle stations in theKimberley, Mount Anderson, after the out-station movement. In 2000, professionalfilmmakers came to train and work with young people at Jarlmadangah Community tomake a documentary, Jarlmadangah Mob. It followed the lives of the young people ontheir community as they talked to each other about their hopes, aspirations, daily livesand struggles. The film generated positive memories of growing up on community andis still watched enthusiastically by the children of the then young people in the film. In


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1992, the Creation Story of the Fitzroy River by the ancestor Woonyoomboo was toldand re-enacted in a film by Wayne Jowandi Barker: Milli Milli (Barker 1992).Appropriating the medium (Pink 2007: 179), Nyikina people realised the importance ofpreserving and transmitting their cultural capital, their stories, traditions and songs,and began to produce videos and DVDs about Nyikina culture, such as the Madjulla Inc.video series, Nyikina Cultural Activities (2004). There was at the time a strong emphasison the significance of Nyikina culture for the younger generations, as a way to groundtheir identities which for so long had been denied through removal and assimilationpolicies. Collaboration with non-Aboriginal filmmakers was often a feature of theseproductions.

9 When our collaboration started the purpose of our films was to showcase the various

positive initiatives of Nyikina people for sustainable development in theircommunities, in an attempt to attract funding from government and non-governmentorganisations alike in order to sustain a diversity of cultural projects, such as languageand training programs (Nyikina Language Hub, 2010), the creation of a Wilderness Centre(The Majala Wilderness Centre, 2009), plans for a cultural centre (The Nyikina Cultural

Centre, 2007), book publications (Nyikina Stories, 2010), cultural tourism (Oongkalkada

Adventures, 2009), and awareness-raising films (Mardoowarra, Living Water, 2012). Theatmosphere was one of energy and dynamism, positive achievements, and of hopes forthe future.

Working With Lucy

Magali McDuffie, Lucy Marshall

Photo by Josh Marshall

10 With the onset of the world financial crisis, this atmosphere underwent a radical

change. In order for Western Australia’s economy to continue to be competitive, theBarnett government decided to further develop the Kimberley, an ancient land rich inminerals, such as coal, bauxite, copper, iron ore, coal seam gas, diamonds, and otherprecious metals (Martin Pritchard in Three Sisters: Women of High Degree, 2015, 29:45).The intensity and extent of this push was unprecedented. The arguments put forward


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by the government were those of education, health facilities and housing for Aboriginalpeople in the area. Community divisions emerged, families split, and today thesituation is a very different one to the one I saw when I first arrived in Broome in 2007.In a contemporary manifestation of the escalation of neo-liberalism within a settler-colonial context, the Kimberley, which had previously been somewhat protected by itsremoteness, is witnessing the invasion of a new kind of colonizer, the multi-nationalmining corporation, often operating with questionable ethical practices and escapingthe gaze of the outside world. They have been welcomed by the Australian Government,again with the thought that Aboriginal land is empty and ready for exploration andexploitation – not much different, I dare say, from the days of Terra Nullius.

11 In this context, the voices of the women I worked with took on some political urgency.

Our films, reflecting people's needs, values and perceptions, became tools foremancipatory action research (Pink 2007: 126). The women soon tackled the politicalscene, as it seemed to be the only avenue to defend their right to informed consentabout what was happening on their land. Local actors thus became empowered withinwider issues (Pink 2007: 22). Dr Anne Poelina became the Deputy Shire President ofBroome in 2011, speaking and presenting our films at various conferences nationallyand internationally, including UNESCO in Paris, about Aboriginal rights in theKimberley, and about the need for an open debate at an international level, framedwithin the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, and the UN UniversalDeclaration on Human Rights (Poelina, in Mardoowarra, Living Water 2012). Senior Eldersjoined the fight to protect the Kimberley and challenged government policies,particularly during the intense James Price Point-Walmadany campaign (Walmadany

Corroboree, 2011) against the Woodside Gas Hub, brilliantly covered in EugénieDumont’s film Heritage Fight (2012). Films became a tool to use in the lobbying ofpoliticians both in the state and federal governments, as well as to disseminateinformation to national and overseas organisations. For instance, Duchess IS Paradise

(Madjulla Inc. and McDuffie 2014) was used as a submission to the EnvironmentalProtection Agency of Western Australia against the proposed Duchess-Paradise coalmine on Nyikina country.

12 Our films, like moments in time reflecting the changes happening on the ground

(MacDougall 1998), still followed the same basic principles of reciprocity, inclusiveness,and dialogic approach (Freire 1970) that had characterised them from the start. Fromfilmmaker I had by then also become a PhD researcher. This required me to reflect onour collaborative process, and on the underpinning principles of Indigenist research, aswell as the role of film within it – a necessary undertaking for any filmmaker, asMuecke points out: ‘in the making of movies we have to consider not just the narrativein the production, the story-line, but the narratives about production – what ‘we’ thinkwe are doing’ (Muecke 1994: 6).

13 This is particularly well illustrated in the Three Sisters, Women of High Degree

documentary (Madjulla Inc. and McDuffie, 2015) in which I make an introductorystatement about my position as a filmmaker, working with Nyikina women, and myoverall understanding of our filmic and academic collaboration.


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Participatory and Emancipatory Filmmaking

14 One of the precursors of participatory documentary is French filmmaker Jean Rouch,

who had a significant influence on cinéma-vérité, and formulated the main principlesof participatory filmmaking and shared anthropology. The various principles that cameout of his filmmaking practice bear extensive similarities with our own collaborativework, albeit in a different context. Very early on, Rouch developed the practice of‘returning to show the finished film to the people who had participated in its making’(Eaton 1979: 4). After editing the film in Paris he would return to Niger, screen it, andoften record a voice-over by the participants themselves: a unique and most forward-thinking approach at the time. For Rouch, feedback from participants was essential inthe filmmaking process, creating mutual understanding, and giving them the dignitythey were owed.

15 In 1971, Rouch stated that:

"The idea of film is to transform anthropology, the eldest daughter of colonialism, adiscipline reserved to those with power interrogating people without it. I want toreplace it by a shared anthropology. That is to say, an anthropological dialoguebetween people belonging to different cultures, which for me represents thediscipline of human sciences for the future." (Rouch in Eaton 1979: 26)

16 Rouch was convinced that one day film would be a ‘one-man system’ (Eaton 1979: 40),

whereby a filmmaker could work on his own in the field for extended periods of time.He saw this as the ideal to be achieved, intimating that film crews were too complex,too expensive, intrusive, and constituted an‘obstacle to participant cinema’ (Eaton1979: 55). True to his predictions, I am indeed a ‘one-woman system’ with usually onlyone camera, one tripod, one set of mics, a ‘paring away’ of technical means to suit therequirement of being extremely mobile at all times in order to be able to shoot at anymoment, in any place. Rouch viewed the filmmaker as an ethnologist having to makesense of events as they happened in the field rather than consulting his field notes onhis return. Rouch suggested that films should be constructed in the field, with theparticipants. In Rouch's opinion, films are a distillation of meaning, an open door to aworld of knowledge that the written word cannot synthesize in the same manner, or asconcisely (Eaton 1979). In our films, there is almost never a second take of events,discussions, meetings, or trips on country, because of time and budget constraints.

17 These direct narratives, in the form of conversations, enable a cyclic process with

countless ramifications, encouraging the production of knowledge. As stories are told,more stories emerge from other people through a ‘trigger effect’ (Pink 2007: 16).Complementary historical research conducted at the Australian Institute of Aboriginaland Torres Strait Islander Studies, with a view to repatriate this material tocommunities through the setting up of the Nyikina Cultural Database, enables olderrecorded visual and audio material to be re-discovered, which itself becomes a talkingpoint for further conversations. This has been an important component of my research.

Deconstructing the Historical and AnthropologicalDiscourses

18 The subsequent juxtaposition of re-discovered, and often incomplete, Western audio-

visual archives and writings, with early recorded voices of Aboriginal people, whether


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written or audio-visual, enables a re-reading of past events and accepted discourses,and the emergence of a counter-history (Foucault 2003: 69). Alexander Forrest’s diaryof exploration of the Kimberley can be read jointly with Nyikina Elder Paddy Roe’s oralhistory statement of his grand-parents catching the first glimpse of the party of whitemen advancing on their country (Durack 1977: 22). Archival newspaper articles relatingstories of massacres are re-visited in interviews of Nyikina Elders today re-telling theterrible events (Rosie and Grace Mulligan in Warlangkooroo-Kandarra, Stories of

Noonkanbah Country 2014). In fact, Rouch viewed film as a therapeutic device, in whichpeople would become aware of, and then ‘accommodate, the psychological disjunctionscaused by colonialism’ (Eaton 1979: 6). In this sense the camera takes on a performativerole, and becomes active rather than passive, an indispensable witness to livedexperiences, and a catalyst for taking action – enabling people to give their ownevidence of history, and to create their own archive (Foucault 2000). In the Kimberley,performances of the Jandamarra story, focusing on the heroic deeds of the famousresistance fighter, have enabled Kimberley Aboriginal people, as Barbara Glowczewskiargues, ‘to digest historical conflicts’ (Glowczewski 2011: 10) and re-interpret andreclaim them through their own oral histories. This is illustrated in the film Whispering

In Our Hearts (2002), by Mitch Torres, a Nyikina film director, about the Mowla Bluffmassacre, which inter-weaves Aboriginal oral stories with police reports of the time,and which proved to be a cathartic experience for the young Nyikina and Mangala menacting in the dramatization scenes of the massacre.

19 Appropriated in this way, the film medium can also be a way of reclaiming ‘popular

memory’, which is constantly being appropriated and recoded by the dominant power’sinstitutions (Foucault 2000: 161-162). As Henry Reynolds argues (1999), frontierviolence against Aboriginal people was quite openly talked about and not necessarilyhidden, contrary to what one may think nowadays. According to Tonkinson, theabsence of these accounts in most of the 19th and early 20th century Australianhistorical writings on the settlement of Australia is conspicuous – referred to byStanner as an ‘unremembering’ (Tonkinson in Gribble 1987: xiii). Even moreconspicuous is the lack of awareness of these accounts within the broader publicsphere, which film can somewhat rectify.

20 In further deconstructing the historical discourse, police records may shed some light

on the treatment of Aboriginal prisoners, particularly in their omissions and silences –but certainly not as vividly and poignantly as Mick Michael Wiljaniny’s interview at theOld Derby Prison in 2008:

"People been little bit weak, from chain, from hittin"…Kartiya been hit ‘im, tracker been hit ‘im… with, I don’t know, that whip… That stick. I been still workin’ strong, from all that whip. Kartiya been hit me all the time, with the stick,or the chain… Or with that rope, that prickly one rope. Hit me, blood come aways, I never go hospital, and still workin’. I am in the gaol house, in ol’ man place here… Lookin’ at all of them, ol’ people from longway, all the police boys, they been working here, cart them people from long way station,bring them up here for court, and I been still here… I been lookin’ at all the people fromstation, bushman people too, with the chain… And all that tree, that two white tree, tied upwith the people, tied up with ol’ people, and tied up… Lookin’ down." (Mick Michael Wiljaniny, in Madjulla Inc. and McDuffie, Three Sisters, Women of HighDegree 2015, 18:35)

21 The ‘xenographic’ intents of most early anthropological accounts (Wolfe 1999: 53) can

also be re-read, corrected, added to, and re-appropriated in current Native Title


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applications. Previously undisclosed material can also be produced as an act ofresistance, a counter-proposal establishing evidence of another truth, as inWarlangkooroo-Kandarra, Stories of Noonkanbah Country (Madjulla Inc. and McDuffie 2014).Thus, as Cavadini and Strahan argued (Cavadini et al. 1981), film can be regarded as aprocess of construction, reconstruction, and transformation.

The Counter-Discourse: A Multiplicity of Dialogues

22 Jessica De Largy Healy (2011), in her work with Yolngu people, uses the term ‘dialogic

history’ to describe the process through which historical archives left byanthropologists, or early filmmakers, can be re-claimed by Aboriginal people today to‘fill in empty spaces’ (2011: 64). Relating their own versions of the stories they know,and engaging in a virtual dialogue with their forebears, becomes a way of recognisingtheir contribution, of re-affirming their identity (Pink 2007), and re-appropriating theWestern discourses. Thus film as a counter-history becomes not only a way of leaving acultural record for future generations, but also a way to reinforce the Elders’ version ofhistory and re-actualise it. In the process of deconstructing and re-appropriating thehistorical, anthropological, and development discourses, it is therefore, in Spivak’sterms, possible for the subaltern to speak (Spivak 1996), by listening to the numerousvoices which intersect dialogically in the past, present, and future – in fact, ‘completingthe speech act’ (Spivak 1996: 292). At this temporal, dialogical intersection, much like inBookarrakarra, the Nyikina Dreaming, past Elders talk to present Elders, and presentElders talk to the young generations, and future ones. In our documentary, Three Sisters

(Madjulla Inc., and McDuffie 2015), one such moment occurs when footage from theNoonkanbah events in 1980 and of Elders speaking up against drilling exploration isused, with permission of the families, to demonstrate the position of Kimberley peopleat the time regarding land rights and mining. On a more personal level, this dialoguealso highlights the significance of the media space in connecting with the past,remembering, longing, speaking, and knowing (Pietikäinen 2008: 26). These statementsfrom the past are re-examined in the current neo-colonialist context of rampantindustrialisation of the region, and provide a solid point of departure for the currentpro-sustainability stance of the Nyikina women I work with, in the development oftheir collaborative dialogues on wider socio-political issues (Iseke and Moore 2011: 19),and their vision for the future (Srinivasan 2006: 499). The past and the future thusbecome ‘mutually reinforcing rather than mutually exclusive’ (Grixti 2011: 3).

23 In this dialogic process, our interviews are merely ‘individual conversations’ (Doring,

personal communication, September 2013). In fact, I often say that I have beeninterviewing people in the Kimberley for the past eight years and probably have neverasked one question! This is because people are not talking directly to the camera, or tome, but to other people around us – we rarely do one-on-one interviews, and there isnever a list of questions to answer. So when Lucy speaks in the film, she may be talkingto Anne, who is sitting beside me, and more broadly speaking, she is talking to hergrandchildren, to future generations, and sometimes to me, as an outsider and awitness, for a wider international audience. This multi-layered process forms part of aninter-generational and inter-personal transmission of knowledge in which Nyikinawomen can re-affirm their identity, and create new networks of understanding in thecontext of new social alliances. In a practical sense, such media projects not only


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promote the women’s responsibilities for country, allowing them to reconnect withcountry through visits to important sites (Standley et al. 2009), but also re-affirmNyikina identity and kinship networks. In Warlangkooroo-Kandarra, Stories of Noonkanbah

Country (2014), the Mulligan family shares creation stories of, and explains family linksto, the country around Calwynyardah. A wish was initially expressed by the family thatthese stories should be recorded. Through her involvement with the Nyikina-MangalaNative Title claim, Anne Poelina heard of this and facilitated the project, involvingfamily members, myself as the filmmaker, and an anthropologist. We camped for a fewdays in Calwynyardah for the initial recording in 2013, and I went back in 2014 to domore work with both families and other elders, travelling to other sites of significanceand recording stories. Outside of the inter-generational transmission of knowledge, andthe recording of stories of place and country, these trips took on a much moreimportant role: they enabled Anne Poelina, her family, and the Mulligan family toreinforce already-existing kinship ties. Anne was able to further strengthen herrelationship with the Noonkanbah community, and the place of birth of hergrandmother.

Filmed Conversations: Lucy Marshall, Magali McDuffie, Anne Poelina

Lucy Marshall, Anne Poelina, Magali McDuffie

Photo by Ian Perdrisat

24 As much as the film process forms an integral part of community building, it also comes

to reinforce a sense of belonging to a wider network (Pietikäinen 2008: 29). Theestablishment of new research and collaboration partnerships between Nyikina womenand Indigenous and non-Indigenous scientists from France, New Zealand, and theUnited States over the past four years also illustrates the significant role of the filmmedium in sharing ideas, networking, and disseminating information, particularly withthe use of the internet. Prins and Srinivasan argue that the internet has become ‘a vitalspace for archiving indigenous history, generating pan-Aboriginal dialogue, and


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informing transnational Web surfers about indigenous concerns’ (Prins and Srinivasan,in Santo 2008: 330).

25 This is evidenced in the numerous, international Indigenous cross-platforms websites,

YouTube, and Facebook sites which have come into existence to showcase positiveimages of Indigenous people and communities, and inform the global community ofIndigenous concerns. Through a bottom-up approach, and by mobilizing grassrootsmovements and people globally, creating what Appadurai calls deterritorialized‘ethnoscapes’ (1996), the vertical, binary relationship of power that characterizes thecoloniser/colonised interaction can be challenged from a broader horizontal base,offering a possibility of resistance (Kwok 1999, in Srinivasan 2006: 503). The James PricePoint campaign against the construction of a major gas hub north of Broome could beseen as one of the first environmental campaigns fought almost entirely on socialmedia, connecting ‘protectors of country’ and their allies nationally and internationallyuntil its successful completion in 2014 (Muir 2012). Our film, Walmadany Corroboree

(Madjulla Inc. and McDuffie 2011), was, again, only one representation and moment intime of this protracted campaign – but also the inscription of an open, inclusive,ceremonial performance into a global space, with its screening at the Human RightsCommission at UNESCO in 2012, and its wide distribution on YouTube.

26 Through film, Nyikina women set out to create and foster a network of local and global

relationships and connections. It is a world they are part of and want to engage withwhile retaining and promoting Nyikina identity and values. Our films are a consciousact to bring the facts they record into reality (Turner 1992, in Srinivasan 2006: 500).Local dialogue is always a vital necessity for one of our films to be conceived of andcome into existence. Some of our films start as local information films, aimed atinforming other Aboriginal communities in the region in a bid to apply the principlesof free, prior, and informed consent (United Nations Declaration on the Rights ofIndigenous Peoples, 2008, Articles 10, 11, 19, 28, 29, 32). The filmic process itself is thuspremised on, allows for, and results in, intra-community and inter-communityinvolvement, encouraging processes of identity-building themselves located innegotiations of complex alliances within what we should regard as heterogeneous, notunified, communities (Valaskakis 1993, in Meadows 2010: 312). Mardoowarra Living Water

(Madjulla Inc. and McDuffie 2012) followed this path, circulating first locally, thennationally at various conferences, to finally be shown in an extraordinary session at theHuman Rights Commission at UNESCO in Paris in 2012. What is Fracking? (Madjulla Inc.and McDuffie 2015), made for Nyikina communities, is currently being translated intovarious Aboriginal languages to share information amongst other communities inNorthern Australia, with more of an inter-community focus. The filmic process thusenables the women to create a broader network of connections to implement newprojects, within new partnerships, and to continue to develop training, educational,self-representation, and more broadly self-determined development initiatives fortheir communities and others (Standley et al. 2009: 3; Salazar 2009: 509). Thismultiplicity of dialogues within our filmic methodology is well summarized byJorgensen:

"The most dialogic ethnography is one based on dialogue (the methodologicalaspect); consists of dialogue (the epistemological aspect); and ultimately enters intodialogue (disseminating knowledge)." (Jorgensen 2007: 60)


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Film: Process, Perspective, and Performance

27 The global mediatisation of Indigenous issues raises questions of commodification of

culture (Santo 2008: 335). In an attempt to avoid this, our collaboration is alwayspremised on ‘our common humanness’ (Poelina, personal communication, August 2014).Monetary gain from our films is never a goal, nor an indicator of popularity or success:priorities are not set within the traditional academic, research or distribution outputs.As such, our films are reflective of a meta-cultural dialogic process, in which allparticipants transcend cultural boundaries to work in a space of shared identities andcommonness of aims – what Paul Falzone describes as ‘transcendent ethnography’(Falzone 2004: 332). This process identifies the ethnographer as an often-anonymousmediator willing to forego career success and monetary gain for an ethnographicpractice based on idealism, trust, confidentiality, and the empowerment of participantsthemselves (Falzone 2004: 332-335). Rouch conceived of the camera as an ‘accelerator’,allowing people to reveal themselves more rapidly than they would have otherwise,provided that trust be the essential founding element of their relationship with thefilmmaker. In this process the filmmaker was not only accepted by the participants, butalso integrated in the action (Eaton 1979). Paul Falzone describes this as belonging toan ‘in-group’ or ‘out-group’ status, in which the researcher, or filmmaker, is able totranscend their identity as a member of the out-group to achieve some level of in-group status, by working towards a superordinate goal which supersedes individualidentities (Falzone 2004: 330-331). In our particular case, these superordinate goalscould be described as shared environmental, socio-political, and family values – whatTerence Turner describes as a ‘convergence’ of theoretical views and political valueswhich drive the researcher to adopt an interventionist approach and become an activeparticipant / activist in his or her collaborators’ lives (Turner 1991:71-72). In myposition as a filmmaker I am a catalyst, or a facilitator (Ruby 1995: 78) whose presencefacilitates the women’s initiatives, and promotes their agency, but I also have my ownvoice.

28 In this dialogic process, film perspective, and the position of the filmmaker as an

outsider within, has to be examined. The films we make are ‘Jimbin Kaboo’ – from theinside to the outside. They are made by, with, and for the women, on their terms – notabout them: content is determined by the women’s priorities at the time of filming. Wenever work with a script, and the choice of locations, interviewees, themes, and storiesare the women’s only: they develop their own methodologies (Standley et al. 2009: 3).However, this is often a tricky balancing act, as I, as a filmmaker, also do have to makequite significant editorial decisions. Starting out as an almost invisible observer, or so Ithought, I have had to concede that my position is much more complex and multi-layered: I am not invisible – a turning-point in the understanding of my role being theexpectation of the women that I had to appear in our documentary, Three Sisters (2015).The knowledge of the women, their lived experiences, and their vision of the world,shape the content of our films – something that Piault, describing Jean Rouch’s workwith his Nigerien friends, calls an ‘open-ended interaction’ (Piault in Jorgensen 2007:64), a process in which the filmmaker is strongly influenced by the participants’perceptions of reality. I must understand the women’s world view in order to edit a filmwhich will reflect it. For a French filmmaker with no prior knowledge of Nyikinaontologies, the visual inscription of landscape in the films, essential to ground the


24

women in their cultural landscapes, required a long learning process – a shot whichmay look like a pan over an empty landscape to European or Australian eyes, will beloaded with meaning for an Aboriginal person (Michaels 1994: 93), as they will seeancestors’ tracks, stories, and ceremonial places where a non-Indigenous audience willsee only a creek, or a desert landscape. In Three Sisters (2015), the Mardoowarra (FitzroyRiver) is a prominent character in the film, in which images of water, billabongs,creeks, soaks, springs, and significant sites on the river, are interwoven in theconversations with the women, through slow dissolves, as the river making its ownstatement of presence and existence – emphasizing the use of film as ‘witness of place’(Verran and Christie 2007: 5). When Jeannie Wabi saw the completed film for the firsttime, and I asked her what she thought of it, she replied: ‘proper water that one. Proper

water…’ (Jeannie Wabi, personal communication, 2014). Three Sisters (2015) is not a filmone could make in one short trip – it is a film that emerged after seven years ofconversations, and, on my part, from a very progressive, albeit still minimal,understanding of Nyikina culture. For instance, the telling of the story ofWoonyoomboo, at the very start of the film, in which separate accounts of severalElders recorded at different times and in different places on the river are editedtogether and interwoven with images of the Woonyoomboo Story book, and shots ofriver and country, could only be edited in that way after I, as the filmmaker, hadlearned some Nyikina language, but more importantly, had understood the complexity,rhythm, and richness of the story: indeed, the rhythm of a story (or song), cannot beplayed with or altered – and two images cannot just be juxtaposed randomly and out ofcontext (Glowczewski 2005: 27). The deep learning-to-listen, and learning-to-see, in theact of ‘becoming’ (Muecke 1994: 3), and the ensuing reciprocal relatedness, are onlypossible through long-term, close relationships with participants.

29 Film is both product, and process: a ‘finished’ film can only offer a small window over a

much broader process of collaboration (Falzone 2004: 331) and cultural mediation(Ginsburg 1995: 256) in time and space. Over time, kaleidoscopic parts of stories andcountry, like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, slowly assemble to create a broader web ofmeaning from which emerges a film which can be re-visited and re-edited at regularintervals for the needs of different audiences, or as external circumstances evolve andchange. As such, our films are never a ‘finished product’ but are endowed with afluidity characteristic of Aboriginal ontologies, illustrating the notion that culture isalways ‘poised, in transition, between different positions’ (Hall 1992: 310).

30 Thus, the fundamental dialogic component of our methodology leads to a multiplicity

of personal and inter-personal potentialities of relatedness, referred to by Langton asan inter-action, or inter-textuality between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people(Langton 1993: 35). Stephen Muecke describes this as an ‘in-betweenness’: when ourcollaborative paths cross, they create a third entity of mutual understanding, a‘dialogue situation in which both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people participate in amutual construction of identities’ (Muecke 1994: 251).

31 The films we make are a performative device connecting people to themselves and

others locally, nationally, and internationally. In fact, they are the ultimateperformance, encompassing all other cultural actions and acts of resistance into avisual interpretive story which is simultaneously a visual act of inscription and aunique lived experience of Indigenous singularities (Glowczewski 2011: 2), renewing oldand forming new social alliances with other Indigenous singularities across Australia


25

and non-Indigenous people across the world, much like in the rhizome effect describedby Deleuze and Guattari (1972-1980). Multiple points of views are necessary for a ritual,in our case, a film, to be performed from a variety of positions, so that society as awhole can be regenerated (Glowczewski 2005: 27-28; 34), thus ‘allowing the emergenceof meanings and performances, encounters, and creations as new original autonomousflows’ (Glowczewski 2005: 34).

32 As filmmakers, we can only tell good stories by living them, positioning ourselves

within them, but we also become the stories we tell…

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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295-322. Oxford: Blackwell.

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Narratives. Media International Australia 116: 24-35.

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1-26. Oxford: Bardwell Press.

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‘Scoundrels’ in Niger. Visual Anthropology 20(1): 57-73.

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Chakravorty Spivak. New York and London: Routledge.

Langton, Marcia. 1993. Well, I heard it on the radio and saw it on the television. Sydney: Australian

Film Commission.

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Mackinolty, Chips and Michael Duffy. 1987. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner in Arnhem Land? Darwin:

Northern Land Council.

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Relationship in Indigenous Media Research. Observatorio (OBS) Journal 4(4): 307-324.

Michaels, Eric. 1994. Bad Aboriginal Art: Tradition, Media, and Technological Horizons. Minneapolis:



27

Morvan, Arnaud. 2011. ‘You Can’t Keep It to Yourself’: Indigenous Australian Artistic Strategies in

France, 1983-2006. In The Challenge of Indigenous Peoples: Spectacle or Politics? Barbara Glowczewski

and Rosita Henry, eds. Pp. 101-122. Oxford: Bardwell Press.

Muecke, Stephen. 1994. Narrative and Intervention in Aboriginal Filmmaking Policy. Continuum

8(2): 248-257.

Muir, Kathy. 2012. Politics, Protest and Performativity: The Broome Community’s ‘No Gas on the

Kimberley Coast’ Campaign. Australian Humanities Review 53: 1-17.

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Hybridisation. Journal of Multicultural Discourses 3(1): 22-35.

Pink, Sarah, ed. 2007. Visual Interventions: Applied Visual Anthropology. New York: Berghahn Books.

Poelina, Anne. 2009. Action Research to Build the Capacity of Nyikina Indigenous Australians. PhD Diss.

Armidale: University of New England.

Reynolds, Henry. 1999. Why Weren’t We Told? A Personal Search for the Truth About Our History.

Ringwood, Victoria: Viking.

Ruby, Jay. 1995. The Moral Burden of Authorship in Ethnographic Film. Visual Anthropology Review

11(2): 77-82.

Ruby, Jay. 2000. Picturing Culture: Explorations of Film and Anthropology. Chicago and London:

University of Chicago Press.

Salazar, Juan Francisco. 2009. Self-Determination in Practice: The Critical Making of Indigenous

Media. Development in Practice 19(4-5): 504-513.

Santo, Avi. 2008. Act Locally, Sell Globally: Inuit Media and the Global Cultural Economy.

Continuum: Journal of Media and Cultural Studies 22(3): 327-340.

Srinivasan, Ramesh. 2006. Indigenous, Ethnic and Cultural Articulations of the New Media.

International Journal of Cultural Studies 9(4): 497-518.

Standley, Peta-Marie, Nicola J. Bidwell, Tommy George Senior, Victor Steffensen and Jacqueline

Gothe. October 2009. Connecting Communities and the Environment through Media: Doing,

Saying, and Seeing Along Traditional Knowledge Revival Pathways. Journal of Community, Citizen’s

and Third Sector Media and Communication 5: 9-27.

Smith, Linda Tuhiwai. 1999. Decolonizing Methodologies - Research and Indigenous Peoples. London:

Zed Books.

Turner, Terence. 1991. The Social Dynamics of Video Media in an Indigenous Society: The

Cultural Meaning and the Personal Politics of Video-making in Kayapo Communities. Visual

Anthropology Review 7(2): 68-76.

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https://www.humanrights.gov.au/publications/un-declaration-rights-indigenous-peoples-1

Van Toorn, Penny. 2001. Indigenous Australian life writing: tactics and transformations. In Telling

Stories: Indigenous History and Memory in Australia and New Zealand. Attwood, Brian and Fiona

Magowan, eds. Pp. 1-20. Crows Nest, NSW: Allen and Unwin.

Verran, Helen and Michael Christie. 2007. Digital Technologies and Aboriginal Knowledge

Practices. In Indigenous Knowledge and Resource Management in Northern Australia. Charles Darwin

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December 31, 2016).


28

https://www.humanrights.gov.au/publications/un-declaration-rights-indigenous-peoples-1

http://www.cdu.edu.au/centres/ik/pdf/DigTech_IndigPlaceAust.pdf

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Wolfe, Patrick. 1999. Settler Colonialism and the Transformation of Anthropology: the Politics and Poetics

of an Ethnographic Event. London: Cassell.

Films

Barker, Wayne Jowandi, dir. 1992. Milli Milli. Ronin Films (production). 53 min. http://

www.bretagne-et-diversite.net/fr/films/milli-milli/

Chase, Graham, dir. 1991. The Kimberley Mob. Graeme Isaac (production). 54 min.

Curtis, Edward, dir. 1914. In the Land of the War Canoes. 1:51 min. https://www.youtube.com/

watch?v=u2yCPEDAgU4 (accessed August 10, 2015).

Dumont, Eugénie. 2012. Heritage Fight: Duel en Terre Aborigène. France: Keystone Films. 90 min.

Howes, Oliver, dir. 1980. On Sacred Ground. Film Australia (production). 56 min.

Jarlmadangah Burru Aboriginal Corporation. 2000. Jarlmadangah Mob. 14 min.

Johnson, Martin and Osa Johnson, dirs. 1918. Among the Cannibal Isles of the South Pacific.

Robertson-Cole Picture Corporation (production). https://www.youtube.com/watch?

v=tEy3Di-11sg (accessed August 10, 2015).

Madjulla Inc. and Magali McDuffie, dirs. 2009. The Majala Wilderness Centre. 14 min.

Madjulla Inc. and Magali McDuffie, dirs. 2010. The Nyikina Language Hub. 9 min.

Madjulla Inc. and McDuffie, Magali, dirs. 2011. Walmadany Corroboree. 2 min and 4 min. https://

www.youtube.com/watch?v=UmdHNyZ5pns / https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIotH6GqvQI

Madjulla Inc. and Magali McDuffie, dirs. 2012. Mardoowarra Living Water - Mardoowarra, Rivière de

Vie. 28 min. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y72GgNnV19g

Madjulla Inc. and Magali McDuffie, dirs. 2012. Anne Poelina: My Story. 4 min. https://

www.youtube.com/watch?v=MO2--PZh9Hw

Madjulla Inc. and Magali McDuffie, dirs. 2014. Duchess IS Paradise. EPA Submission. 20 min.


Madjulla Inc. and Magali McDuffie, dirs. 2015: Three Sisters: Women of High Degree. 46 min. https://

vimeo.com/147866161 - Password: Kimberley.

Madjulla Inc. and Magali McDuffie, dirs. 2015. What is Fracking? 5 min.

Madjulla Inc., Rosie Mulligan and Magali McDuffie, dirs. 2014. Warlangkooroo-Kandarra: Stories of

Noonkanbah Country. 80 min.

Madjulla Inc., Anne Poelina and Ian Perdrisat, dirs. 2004. Nyikina Cultural Activities.

Nyikina Inc. and Magali McDuffie, dirs. 2007. The Nyikina Cultural Centre. 17 min.

Oongkalkada Adventures, and Magali McDuffie, dirs. 2009. Oongkalkada Wilderness Camp. 5 min.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rmXP0aYO8wo

Torres, Mitch, dir. 2002. Whispering In Our Hearts. Ronin Films (production). 52 mins.

ABSTRACTS

Using film as a decolonizing methodology, in a collaborative and emancipatory action research

framework, Magali McDuffie’s research explores Nyikina women’s aspirations for sustainable

community development on their country in North-Western Australia, and their resistance to


29

http://www.bretagne-et-diversite.net/fr/films/milli-milli/

http://www.bretagne-et-diversite.net/fr/films/milli-milli/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u2yCPEDAgU4




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tEy3Di-11sg




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UmdHNyZ5pns




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIotH6GqvQI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIotH6GqvQI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y72GgNnV19g

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MO2--PZh9Hw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MO2--PZh9Hw









neo-colonial oppression. By carrying out a Foucauldian deconstruction of the historical,

anthropological, and development discourses which have influenced their lived experiences,

Magali reflects on the women’s strategies of resistance (cultural actions, economic and self-

determination initiatives), where film plays a paramount role in not only reclaiming the

dominant discourses, but also re-affirming Nyikina identity, and disseminating knowledge. The

films produced are thus both a dialogic and performative device connecting people to themselves

and others locally, nationally, and internationally. As visual acts of inscription, they present a

unique lived experience of Aboriginal singularities, renewing old and forming new social

alliances with other Indigenous and non-Indigenous people, across Australia and the world.

En utilisant le film comme méthode de décolonisation, dans le cadre d’une recherche-action

participative et émancipatrice, le doctorat de Magali McDuffie explore les aspirations des femmes

nyikina en ce qui concerne le développement de leurs terres, situées dans la région des

Kimberleys, au nord-ouest de l'Australie, ainsi que leurs stratégies de résistance face à

l’oppression néo-coloniale.

Par l’intermédiaire d’une déconstruction foucaldienne du discours historique, anthropologique,

et des concepts de développement eurocentriques qui ont influencé leurs expériences vécues,

Magali McDuffie évoque les stratégies de résistance des femmes nyikina (actions culturelles,

initiatives économiques et d'auto-détermination), où le film joue un rôle primordial, non

seulement pour contrer le discours dominant, mais aussi pour ré-affirmer l'identité nyikina, et

diffuser la cosmologie nyikina à travers le monde. Les films produits sont donc à la fois un

dialogue et une représentation qui engendrent des connections au niveau local, national et

international. En tant qu’actes visuels d'appartenance, ils présentent une expérience vécue

unique de singularités autochtones, renouvelant à la fois des connections ancestrales et

instaurant de nouvelles alliances géo-politiques avec d'autres peuples, autochtones ou non-

autochtones, à travers l'Australie et dans le monde entier.

Utilizando el cine como un método de descolonización dentro del marco de la investigación-

acción participativa y emancipatoria, el doctorado de Magali McDuffie explora las aspiraciones de

las mujeres nykina en relación al desarrollo de sus tierras, situadas en la región de Kimberleys, en

el noreste de Australia, así como sus estrategias de resistencia contra la opresión neocolonial.

Mediante una deconstrucción foucoultinana del discurso histórico y antropológico, así como de

los conceptos de desarrollo eurocéntricos que han influenciado las experiencias vividas de las

mujeres nyikina, Magali McDuffie evoca las estrategias de resistencia de estas mujeres (acciones

culturales, iniciativas económicas y autodeterminación), donde el cine puede jugar un rol

primordial, no solamente para oponerse al discurso dominante, sino también para reafirmar la

identidad nyikina y su cosmología por todo el mundo. Las películas producidas son pues a la vez

un diálogo et una representación que generan conexiones a nivel local, nacional e internacional.

En tanto que actos visuales de pertenencia, presentan una experiencia vivida única hecha de

singularidades autóctonas, reanudando a la vez conexiones ancestrales e instaurando nuevas

alianzas geopolíticas con otros pueblos, autóctonos y no autóctonos, a través de Australia y del

mundo entero.


30

INDEX

Palabras claves: Culturas aborígenes, Pueblos Autóctonos, Australia Occidental, Kimberley,

Pueblo Nyikina, Cine Etnográfico, Política, Entorno, Resistencia, Desarrollo

Keywords: Aboriginal cultures, Western Australia, Kimberley, Nyikina, Ethnographic Films,

Politics, Environment, Resilience, Resistance, Development

Mots-clés: Cultures aborigènes, Peuples autochtones, Australie Occidentale, Kimberley, Peuple

Nyikina, Film ethnographique, Politique, Environnement, Résilience, Résistance, Développement

AUTHOR

MAGALI MCDUFFIE

National Centre for Indigenous Studies, Australian National University

[email protected]


31

mailto:[email protected]

Poétiques, éthique et transmissionsur la toile : l’univers littéraire et lepatrimoine culturel de FloraAurima-Devatine, Nathalie HeiraniSalmon-Hudry et Chantal Spitz Flora Aurima-Devatine et Estelle Castro-Koshy

1 En 2013 et 2014, Flora Aurima-Devatine, Nathalie Heirani Salmon-Hudry et Chantal

Spitz, trois écrivaines tahitiennes, sont interviewées sur leurs sources d’inspiration,leurs œuvres, leurs aspirations pour le site libre d’accès Île en île, créé par ThomasSpear pour valoriser les ressources informatives et culturelles du monde insulairefrancophone :

2

Ce média ne peut être affiché ici. Veuillez vous reporter à l'édition en ligne http://journals.openedition.org/anthrovision/2307

http://ile-en-ile.org/flora-aurima-devatine-5-questions-pour-ile-en-ile/

3


http://ile-en-ile.org/nathalie-heirani-salmon-hudry-5-questions-pour-ile-en-ile/

4


http://ile-en-ile.org/chantal-t-spitz-5-questions-pour-ile-en-ile/


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5 Doyenne-fondatrice de la littérature tahitienne, membre de l’Académie tahitienne,

première directrice de la revue Littérama’ohi Ramées de Littérature Polynésienne1,chercheuse, Flora Aurima-Devatine, née en 1942, est l’auteure de poèmes traditionnelsen tahitien, de poésie libre en français (Humeurs, et Tergiversations et rêveries de l’écriture

orale) et de nombreux articles sur la littérature et la culture tahitiennes. Chantal Spitz,née en 1954, est l’auteure du premier roman tahitien, L’Île des rêves écrasés, premierroman tahitien traduit en anglais par Jean Anderson. Figure majeure de la littératuretahitienne, elle a publié : Hombo, transcription d’une biographie ; Pensées insolentes et

inutiles ; Elles, terre d’enfance, roman à deux encres ; et Cartes postales. Elle est la directricede publication de Littérama’ohi depuis 2008. Nathalie Heirani Salmon-Hudry, née en1983, est l’auteure de Je suis née morte , récit autobiographique qui lutte pour « lareconnaissance de l’handicapé en tant qu’être HUMAIN » (2012 : 101). Sa personnalitéet ses mots bouleversent, inspirent et mettent en joie sous tous les horizons ; entémoignent le succès de son TedX sur YouTube et les témoignages des spectateurs2.

6 Cet article propose une mise en lumière analytique de ces trois portraits d’auteurs et de

la contribution que ces supports vidéo, révélant des voix, des visages, des gestes, desparcours, des valeurs, des tons, de la poésie et de l’humour, constituent pour lalittérature tahitienne et la compréhension de la société dont elle jaillit. Il met l’accentsur le kaléidoscope littéraire et sociétal qu’offrent ces entretiens, et sur l’originale miseen valeur des mouvements entre texte et contexte que permet le genre filmique. Lapremière partie analyse comment les vidéos contribuent à l’histoire littéraire de Tahitien ouvrant des voies et voix nouvelles pour investir les écrits. La deuxième examinel’éclairage apporté sur la société. La troisième partie se concentre sur l’émotion et lepatrimoine culturel et humain que ces entretiens donnent à voir.

7 Dans cet article coécrit, les italiques sont utilisés lorsque l’une des auteures s’exprime

en son nom propre.

Histoire littéraire : des voies et voix nouvelles pourinvestir les écrits

Genèse des vidéos

8 L’entretien avec Flora Aurima-Devatine précédé d’une performance et suivi de lectures

de poèmes, ainsi que la coécriture de cet article, sont à la fois le résultat, lamanifestation, et l’approfondissement des échanges et collaborations que FloraAurima-Devatine et Estelle Castro-Koshy, enseignante-chercheuse, ont établis depuis2006 sous le signe d’une volonté commune de mise en valeur et d’analyse de la richessedu patrimoine littéraire et culturel océanien autochtone. Les trois vidéos ici examinéesont été coréalisées avec Dominique Masson3 et la contribution de Laurence Fosse. Deuxreportages, réalisés par Christian Tortel4 et Thalassa5, avaient déjà été consacrés àChantal6. La (modeste) production audiovisuelle sur Flora, que l’écrivain maori WitiIhimaera considère comme « l’une des plus importantes protectrices de l’ADN culturelet éducatif du Pacifique7 », est la première réalisée sur elle.

9 Fin 2014, Île en île comprenait deux entretiens avec des auteurs tahitiens, Jimmy Ly et

Moetai Brotherson, et neuf avec des auteurs de Nouvelle-Calédonie-Kanaky dont DéwéGorodé et Paul Wamo, écrivains kanak. Professeur à New York, hébergeant sur son site


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la présentation de Littérama’ohi, Thomas Spear souhaitait depuis longtemps que desentretiens avec Flora et Chantal figurent sur Île en île. La proposition d’une vidéo avecNathalie rencontra aussi son enthousiasme.

10 Les écrivaines ont été consultées sur le déroulement du tournage, le résultat du

montage, et le rendu des notes de transcription8. Dans le champ des études océaniennesautochtones, les universitaires et écrivains autochtones, leurs collaborateurs, et lesprotocoles éthiques qui encadrent en Australie les recherches avec les Aborigènes etInsulaires du Détroit de Torres9, demandent que la recherche implique les personnesconcernées, tienne compte de leurs préoccupations, et rende compte de la diversité quiexiste au sein des populations (Langton 1993 ; Tuhiwai Smith 1999 ; Moreton-Robinson2000 ; Glowczewski et Henry 2007). La réalisation des trois vidéos contribue à ouvrir lavoie dans ce sens. L’éthique-méthodologie suivie pour la production des vidéos, visant àce que les personnes partageant leurs vécus et réflexions aient le dernier mot sur lamanière dont elles sont représentées fut aussi au cœur du travail de Chantal pourHombo, transcription d’une biographie, qui dura cinq ans. L’écrivaine souligne que donnerà la personne-source du témoignage la possibilité de dire « ça tu enlèves » ou « tu n’aspas compris » invite à l’humilité (Castro et Masson 2015 : 14:40-15:20). Cette éthique detravail rend aussi possible l’expression du respect, de la pudeur, de l’estime de soitout au long du projet.

Que les mots guérissent les maux

11 L’analyse littéraire et artistique s’enrichit des rencontres avec les créateurs. Comme

l’explique Nelson Goodman, « [e]n prenant conscience de certaines des décisions d’unartiste et des facteurs qui entrent en jeu dans sa décision, on peut accéder à des aspectsd’une œuvre ou d’un art qu’une grande partie du public n’avait pas encore discernés »(1996 : 91). Cette analyse est particulièrement pertinente dans le contexte océanien oùécrire peut être, selon les mots de Déwé Gorodé :

« écrireune îleun paysoù les êtres étaientoù les êtres étaient sans êtreoù les êtres sont sans êtresans diresans viesans voiesans voixsous la chape desilenceet en coupe réglée dela pensée unique » (in Gorodé et Kurtovitch 2000 : 10)

12 Ecrire pour les écrivains autochtones est ainsi souvent investi d’une charge vitale,

éthique et politique face à une histoire longtemps écrite d’un point de vue colonialisteou exogène. Plusieurs auteurs tahitiens autochtones (Aurima-Devatine 1997 ; Pambrun2010 ; Richard 2005 ; Spitz 2006 ; Grand 2015) ont souligné les malentendus et blessuresdus aux universitaires ou bien aux écrivants qui s’expriment sur Tahiti ou la littératurepolynésienne tout en méconnaissant « ses assises humaines, sociales, culturelles,historiques » (Aurima-Devatine 2002). Chantal Spitz a en outre critiqué les différentes


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appellations accolées à la littérature tahitienne dans un essai intitulé « à toi, Autre quine nous vois pas » qui résonne comme une mise en garde : « Arrimé à tes postulats testhèses tes arguments tes démonstrations tes conclusions tu oublies sensibilitédélicatesse générosité nécessaires pour démonter un texte et accéder à son sens sessens » (2006 : 101).

13 Les entretiens sont trois façons singulières d’appréhender des histoires de vie et la

société. Nathalie souhaite « montrer la différence autrement » en offrant « un aperçudu handicap vu de l’intérieur » (2012 : 134). Elle déconstruit par exemple la théoried’une relation « fusionnelle » entre elle et sa mère énoncée par les psychologues « dudimanche » passant à côté de la relation d’amour, de complicité et de respect qui existe

entre les deux femmes. « Élever un enfant handicapé, c’est réinventer la vie. […] C’estl’amour que vous lui porterez qui déterminera le sort de votre enfant infirme » (2012 :20), écrit-elle comme en écho à la citation de Victor Hugo choisie comme épigraphepour son livre : « L’amour fait songer, vivre et croire. » Les analyses simplistess’effondrent face à la clarté de sa pensée et à la conviction joyeuse qu’elle incarne depouvoir être elle-même car elle est aimée (Castro et Masson 2014b : 13:05-14:15). Jean-Baptiste Hibon, psychosociologue, dit avec éloquence : « le préjugé ne s’abat pas, il sedépasse10 ». Cette phrase qui pourrait qualifier la démarche de sensibilisation menéepar Nathalie souligne également le pouvoir de dépassement que peuvent avoir les motset le véritable dialogue.

14 Elle rejoint l’injonction suivante de Flora :

« C’est pourquoi il faut créer, favoriser des lieux et des moments de parole oud’écriture, et laisser dire ce que l’homme polynésien a à dire, à donner à entendre, ànous apporter, Car son mal d’expression est aussi le nôtre,Ce qu’il a à dire est aussi important pour lui que pour nous.Il faut l’aider à évacuer, par les mots et non plus seulement par les silences, quitte àdire les mots pour lui, L’aider à sortir de ses ressentis pour entrer dans d’autres qui ne font de mal àpersonne, pas à lui, en particulier, en lui donnant, en lui reconnaissant, La parole qui guérit,"La parole guérisseuse",

Son baume, son vaianu ! » (Aurima-Devatine 1997 : 191)

15 Cette injonction, de Tahiti, rappelle ce que Victor Hugo demandait en lieu et place des

canons et bombes dans son poème « A ceux qu’on foule aux pieds » :

« Moi, pour aider le peuple à résoudre un problème,Je me penche vers lui. Commencement : je l’aime.Le reste vient après. Oui, je suis avec vous,J’ai l’obstination farouche d’être doux[.] » (Hugo 1872)

16 La conviction que « les mots peuvent guérir les maux » fut au centre de la conférence

que Nathalie donna pour TEDx. Selon elle, « utiliser les mots pour donner une teinte ànotre ciel gris, comme un arc-en-ciel, après chaque orage, c’est le miracle des mots ».La certitude que mots et littératures peuvent transformer la douleur et guérir lesblessures est aussi au cœur de l’écriture de Chantal et de son poème intitulé « à mescompagnons de littérature » (http://ile-en-ile.org/spitz-poesie), dans lequel elleaffirme :

« l’assurance que nos mots guérissent nos mauxl’évidence que nos maux fleurissent nos motsl’exigence que nos mots grandissent nos mots


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http://ile-en-ile.org/spitz-poesie

l’insolence que nos mots pâlissent leurs mots » (2006 : 169)

17 Répondre au défi de penser et de reconnaître des mots qui pansent (Aurima-Devatine

1997) alors que l’histoire littéraire tahitienne et océanienne se construit en tant quechamp d’études nécessite à la fois de saisir ces œuvres comme littératures pouvant être« appréciées comme telles » (Gannier et Patel 2009) et de les comprendre à l’aune desspécificités des environnements, des peuples, et des individualités desquels ellesproviennent.

De l’identité île à la « littérature-île »

18 Flora: à partir du moment où il y a affirmation d’une identité-île, on ne peut que développer

« une littérature-île », on est ce que la terre fait de nous, on est ce que l’île, le motu11 fait de nous,

une littérature qui est une partie d’un tout, avec une pensée, et les mêmes qualités et défauts que

les autres parties du même tout, une littérature qui est celle d’une société microcosmique, partie

intégrante du macrocosme.

19 Le monde de la Polynésie française, comme le monde océanien, est un ensemble d’archipels

20 où il y a des îles hautes et des îles basses, où les archipels ne se ressemblent pas,

21 et à l’intérieur de chaque archipel, chaque île est particulière.

22 On est « île », « motu », « rupture », « déchirure », à partir d’une vision extérieure,

23 mais on est « île », « motu », « limite », « frontière », à partir d’une vision de l’espace, intérieure,

on est « île », « motu », sous la poussée volcanique, et sous la montée des eaux !

24 « L’identité île » affirmée par Nathalie et Chantal amène aussi à imaginer une

« littérature-île » ou « littérature-archipel » qui n'est en rien restrictive puisqu'elle estbien, et toujours, littérature, « littérature monde », à son échelle spatiale et humaine.La notion d'espace est d'importance relative. C'est une question de point de vue. Unpetit espace de moins d'un km2 de superficie comme sur l'îlot de Chantal, est undomaine immense où on a maison, cocotiers, arbres fruitiers et jardin potager, en plusde la beauté du paysage ! Elle y « a l’espace ». Les trois écrivaines ne vivent pasl'isolement, elles apprécient (tout se passe dans la tête, dans la vision) l'espace, ouvert,largement ouvert. Celui-ci peut appeler au voyage, à partir, comme il rappelle toujoursau retour à la source, sa base. Flora parle ainsi de l’inspiration « infinie » (évoquée aussidans le poème) « au Pari » (Castro et Masson 2014a : 46:04). Edouard Glissant a écrit que« [l]'île est amphithéâtre aux gradins de mer, où la représentation est tentation : dumonde ». Il ajoutait quelques lignes plus loin : « Je crois aux petits pays » (1997 : 152).

Une constellation de questionnements et de réflexions littéraires,

sociétales et philosophiques

25 Suivant les « cinq questions d’Île en île » (influences, quartier, enfance/famille, œuvre,

insularité) et allant au-delà, les entretiens éclairent des questionnements axés sur« l’écriture ». Pourquoi on écrit ? Qu’est-ce qu’on écrit ? Sur quoi on écrit ? Commenton écrit ? Quels problèmes pose l’écriture ? Qu’est-ce qui inspire l’écriture ? Commentnaît l’écrit ? Comment naît l’auteur ? Dans quelle langue écrire ? Se posent aussi desquestions et réflexions sur : l’auteur ; « le livre », « le bon livre » ; l’œuvre, la grandeœuvre ; la publication ; la réception par le lectorat de l’ouvrage.


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26 Se profilent ou s’ensuivent des réflexions sur ce qui tient la société, ce sur quoi elle

repose : le pays, la terre ; la place de la terre, du fenua ; le rôle de la terre et du nom ; lecordon ombilical ; le rôle de transmission ; la transmission de l’histoire du pays, de lafamille ; les généalogies ; les héros ; le rôle des femmes (qui portent le « pufenua12 ») ; lerôle des femmes, des mères dans l’entrée en littérature (encouragements, exhortationsà écrire). Sont abordés : l’amour, la vie, la confiance en soi, la bienveillance, la liberté, lafoi, la religion, la différence, les ressemblances, le temps, l’espace, le continent, l’île,l’îlot.

27 Flora : Les entretiens, qui sont des tranches de vie offertes, des moments privilégiés d’échange, de

transmission des expériences, des savoirs accumulés depuis que nous écrivons, que nous nous

intéressons à notre société autochtone, à la culture, aux arts, à la littérature, à la poésie en

Polynésie, ouvrent des voies/voix nouvelles pour investir nos écrits.

28 Les propos que chacune de nous tient, découlent non seulement d’un vécu, mais aussi

d’un questionnement, d’une réflexion. De ce fait, ils dévoilent ce que nous pensons de lasociété, de la culture, à un instant donné, depuis un lieu défini, par ce que nous endisons, donnons à voir. Ce faisant, ils apportent un éclairage singulier, ils confortent ceque l’on savait déjà, ils enchérissent les connaissances acquises et les matériaux quidemeureront au patrimoine culturel autochtone.

29 L’un des buts des entretiens et de cet article est de souligner des angles d’approche qui

vont au-delà de ceux souvent privilégiés pour étudier la littérature tahitienne, et ainsid’ouvrir le champ (des pistes).

L’éclairage sur la société

Regards sur la famille et la communauté

30 Une multitude de domaines est abordée dans ces trois entretiens : la société tahitienne,

des îles de la Société, leur diversité et leurs fractures ; la communauté, la famille(l’enfance, les parents, les grands-parents, les mères, les grands-mères, les cousins)… enville, aux portes de la ville, dans les districts, loin de la ville, au bout de l’île ; lacommunauté du village, celle en dehors du village, au centre, à la périphérie ; les gensde la ville et ceux du bout du monde, de la terre de brousse, de bois, d’herbages, defalaises ; les jeunes exclus du village et les habitants vivant loin, en dehors de la ville ; leparcours de vie difficile pour les personnes avec un handicap ; l’éducation à la famille, àla vie communautaire ; les demis ; les gens entre les deux ; la classe dominante,gouvernante.

31 Flora : Toutes trois nous témoignons de cela dans nos écrits, dans ce que nous disons, par

exemple de l’enfance, de l’apprentissage de la vie, de l’éducation et de l’exemple donné par les

grands-mères, par les femmes. Nous évoquons une enfance, en divers lieux de l’île de Tahiti

(Paofai, Papeete ; Pirae, Paea ; Tautira au Fenua ‘Aihere, Papara), avec ou sans tâches

quotidiennes, avec ou sans livre(s) que nous mettons dans nos écrits, dans les récits de vie, dans

la poésie, dans les articles sur la culture et sur la société.


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Fêlures et apprentissages

32 Les auteurs rendent compte du choc des cultures (par exemple Castro et Masson 2014a :

5:21-5:50 ; 18:32-19:14), créateur de difficultés, des problèmes d’inadaptation, desquestions d’enseignement, de pratique, d’utilisation, de traduction de la languetahitienne et de la langue française.

33 L’école apparaît comme un lieu de coupure avec l’environnement, la famille, la langue

d’origine, les traditions ; lieu inadapté, producteur d’échecs, créateur d’exclusion ; lieudes blessures, des préjugés. Les souvenirs évoqués par Flora à la question posée sur lesujet sensible de l’apprentissage du français (Castro et Masson 2014a : 35:31-36:10,40:02-40:22) invitent tout enseignant à garder à l’esprit qu’un apprenant est un être endevenir auquel il faut s’adresser avec délicatesse. « On porte ça toute sa vie », confie-t-elle à propos des commentaires de ses professeurs.

34 L’école apparaît cependant aussi comme un lieu d’apprentissage, d’acquisition de

connaissance, de culture pour ceux qui réussissent à s’adapter. Pour les exclus dusystème, les naufragés de l’école, en dépit de tout, elle est un lieu d’expression, de ladignité, de l’amour propre, de la conscience, de la créativité, de la volonté de seréaliser. Elle prépare aussi à l’accès à la société et à la culture occidentales, et pour unepartie de ceux éduqués, intégrés dans la société et la culture française, ou occidentale,mondiale, à leur retour dans la société et la culture traditionnelles. L’école est aussi lelieu où Nathalie apprend aux jeunes générations à apprécier les ressemblances au-delàdes différences.

35 Dans L’Île des rêves écrasés, l’importance de l’échec scolaire est décrite comme « le

résultat direct d’un système établi par le colonisateur et perpétué par la nouvelle élite,

nouveau colonisateur de son propre peuple. L’inestimable ressource que représente

l’intelligence des individus est habilement inexploitée » (2003 : 200). Dans son livre,Nathalie expose quant à elle le besoin de se réaliser scolairement et socialement (2003 :148) et invite à accorder plus de reconnaissance au corps enseignant : « Souventj’entendais des jeunes se plaindre de profs chiants, ils ne savent pas leur chance d’avoirjuste un prof, quelqu’un capable de répondre à leurs questions ! » (2003 : 82). Sontémoignage invite à écouter les histoires des personnes plutôt que de prendre les faitshors contexte, puisque ses diplômes ne disent pas en eux-mêmes le parcours ducombattant qu’elle mena pour poursuivre ses études, pour l’essentiel parcorrespondance. Plusieurs facettes et fonctions de l’école sont ainsi soulignées par lesauteures.

36 Le second choc auquel font référence Flora et Chantal est l’arrivée de la modernité (par

exemple Castro et Masson 2015 : 5:19-6:29 ; 10:23-29:02), l’expérience traumatisante quien résulte : individuellement, collectivement, communautairement. D’autresproblématiques sont pointées du doigt, au bout de la langue et des mots, au gré desentretiens : la mémoire et l’oubli ; l’histoire et la défaite du peuple ; le silence ; lemanque de reconnaissance ; l’injustice et la justice ; la colonisation ; les essaisnucléaires.

37 L’expérience du vide, du manque et de la blessure se décerne en particulier à travers les

paroles sur : l’expérience de l’ailleurs ; le deuil ; la confrontation à l’inconnu, aumanque de mots et du sens des mots, à la violence des réactions (des demis à la sortiede L’Île des rêves écrasés), au manque d’échanges, à l’indifférence (les exclus du village,


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les personnes handicapées…). Les mots de Nathalie : « J’aime la vie, j’aime rire, j’aimeparler » résonnent avec d’autant plus de force.

Les voyages

38 L’importance des voyages, prises de conscience, apparaît au fil des mots, des voyages

dans l’île, entre districts, sur terre, en mer ; entre les îles, Tahiti, Huahine, îlots ; lesvoyages hors de l’île, en France, autour du monde ; réels ou dans les livres (Nathalie :avec un livre, « je pars »), dans les mondes littéraires (les trois auteures ont une grandeculture littéraire).

Tranches de vie

39 Chacune des écrivaines apporte sa vision, ses récits, sa tranche de vie.

40 L’une s’inspire des récits de vie de personnes qu’elle a connues, et qu’elle met en

romans ; des tranches de vie de la société dans lesquelles elle est présente, a évolué, sedébat.

41 L’autre apporte sa vision de l’évolution de la culture, de la société, des problèmes qui se

posent à la société, par des écrits qui ne racontent pas une histoire, ou son histoire, saufquand il lui faut donner ses sources.

42 Flora : C’est que je ne suis pas arrivée à l’étude de la société et de ses problèmes par hasard. En

amont, il y a eu une formation, reçue dans mon lieu de naissance et dans mes lieux de vie, par

toutes les personnes rencontrées au cours de ma vie, et par l’environnement avec lequel j’avais

appris à composer ; une formation qui m’a forcément et fortement influencée.

43 La troisième relate avant tout son histoire. A travers elle et son témoignage, la place est

donnée aux personnes handicapées, à qui la société fait peu de place13. Mais d’être faceà la société, au cercle qui l’entoure, et non pas à elle-même, lui permet, et permet auxlecteurs-spectateurs, d’avoir de la société une vision globale, plus large.

44 Flora : Nos angles de vision ne sont pas les mêmes, nos différents champs de vision se

chevauchent, mais ce que toutes trois nous exprimons se complète.

45 Nous sommes deux protestantes, de deux générations ; Nathalie est catholique, et d’une troisième

génération ; la première est dans le doute philosophique ; la seconde serait dans le rejet de la

religion, mais en réalité, il y a du respect de l’essentiel, de la dignité humaine et des traditions ;

seule la dernière, la plus jeune, a la foi, claire, forte.

La mémoire

46 Pour Chantal, il n’y a plus de mémoire, car « quand on est une colonie on a la mémoire

du vainqueur ». Aussi veut-elle « poser » une mémoire face à « notre non-mémoire »(Castro et Masson 2015) : celle de son expérience, depuis son angle de vision ; lamémoire de son entourage, celle des femmes de sa famille (la sœur, la mère, la grand-mère maternelle...) qui ont compté dans sa vie, lui ont donné la force de vivre (dansElles) ; la mémoire de ce qui se passe aujourd’hui, dont celle des bouleversementsethniques, sociaux, économiques, culturels, éducatifs. En écrivant L’Île des rêves écrasés,elle voulait que ses enfants « sachent l’histoire vue de notre côté » (Castro et Masson2015), et que s’élève :


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« notre mémoire écrite de nousnotre histoire dite pour nousnotre trajectoire pensée par nous » (Spitz 2006 : 163)

47 Nathalie embrasse une tranche de mémoire qui dépasse la famille, avec les problèmes

des personnes handicapées dans la société, face à la société, et sur lesquels elle a tenu àconclure son entretien filmé. Par ailleurs, pour Nathalie, celui qui ne laisse aucunetrace n’existe plus (Castro et Masson 2014b : 7:20-7:56). L’écriture permet de faire face àl’angoisse de la perte, du vide, de l’abandon et du silence. Nathalie écrit poursauvegarder la mémoire de ceux qui n’ont rien écrit. Elle écrit pour qu’ils laissent unetrace par son intermédiaire. Chantal n’agit pas autrement quand elle écrit sur les exclusdu village, quand elle évoque les femmes de sa famille.

48 Flora : Dans le manque d’histoire, il y a un problème de mémoire à retrouver, à préserver, à

inscrire, à transmettre. Et qui est aussi un problème humain : quand il faut traiter l’ensemble des

problèmes de la société ; quand il faut à l’intérieur des gens ouverts sur l’extérieur.

49 En réalité, nous faisons toutes les trois la même chose, c’est-à-dire écrire pour ceux qui n’écrivent

pas. Mais il y a aussi à faire en sorte que tout le monde écrive ; et quand il y en a qui écrivent, les

encourager à passer à la publication, qui est la seule façon de laisser une trace qui permette une

reconnaissance, non seulement personnelle, individuelle, mais aussi, collective, de la

communauté.

50 S’intéresser aux trésors vivants, porteurs de patrimoine (thème du numéro 22 de

Littérama’ohi) (les chers disparus ; le grand-père de Nathalie ; les grands-mères deChantal et Flora), prolonger le passé par un lien vers le futur (la revue Littérama’ohi),c’est assurer la continuité avec toutes les ruptures de la société tahitienne.

Emotion, singularités, interoralité

Un patrimoine qui donne de la vie aux textes

51 Les vidéos sont un patrimoine dans le sens où les témoignages, performance et lectures

ont été filmés, enregistrés, et où ils sont transmis, fixés. Cela restera dans les mémoires,les bibliothèques, les vidéothèques.

52 Les vidéos donnent de la densité aux textes et les soutiennent.

53 Flora : La valeur des entretiens est indéniable ! D’une richesse inépuisable !

54 En même temps si fragile, si délicate parce que si humaine !

La vidéo : une source d’émotion, de vérité, à un moment donné

55 Une émotion palpable passe par la vidéo, y est en prise directe plus que par le texte

quand les écrivaines parlent des grand-mères, des grands-pères ou de leur absence. Lavidéo permet de saisir la part de vérité de l’auteur, celle du moment, de l’instant, del’instant de vérité. Et la vérité du moment, c’est l’émotion de l’auteur, une émotion del’instant, une émotion-« vérité » que l’on ne trouvera pas dans les écrits dont certainssont relus, remaniés dans le temps. Les entretiens permettent ainsi d’en saisir plus destextes.


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56 Les sources écrites, enregistrées, filmées peuvent constituer à elles seules un domaine

d’étude par ce qui est dit à un instant donné, qui pourra être comparé avec d’autresinstants, ou qui pourra s’ajouter à d’autres instants. Tout être chemine.

57 Une part, belle, de partage, de leur personnalité surgit chez les trois interviewées.

58 Chez Nathalie, c’est le courage et la confiance en soi, l’amour de ses proches et de la vie,

sa joie de vivre contagieuse que révèlent les rires, éclats de rires, et sourires quil'animent constamment, et l'illuminent. La grande énergie qu'elle dégage, en réalité àlaquelle elle fait appel, qu'elle rassemble, concentre, pour pouvoir s'exprimer, tenirlongtemps, longuement, inspire tout comme sa philosophie de la vie qui met lapersonne, le partage et l’espoir au premier plan.

59 Chez Chantal, sous sa réserve et des sourires, c’est l’intelligence de la raison et une

grande sensibilité. Sa présence à l'écran et la modestie avec laquelle ses idées fortes etoriginales sont exprimées éclaireront sans doute des lectures futures de l’œuvre del’écrivaine, connue pour ses propos anticolonialistes, indépendantistes et ses prises deposition contre les essais nucléaires de la France dans le Pacifique.

60 L’intelligence de l’esprit et du cœur sont manifestes chez ces deux auteures.

61 Estelle : Tout comme chez Flora. Chez l’écrivaine rayonnent aussi une grande délicatesse,

générosité, et humilité, ainsi que l’érudition et une force sereine et déterminée. L’entretien révèle

la puissance d’une pensée qui se déploie simultanément en précision, profondeur, et nuances, et

s’ingénie à toujours donner du sens et à en investir le quotidien. L’écran devient le témoin d’une

personnalité qui sait « féconder les esprits [et] motiver la recherche et la plongée dans

l’imaginaire polynésien » (Pallai 2013 : 155).

62 Flora : Quant à la satisfaction des interviewées, elle découle du sentiment d’avoir déposé quelque

chose qui pourrait servir à ceux qui nous succèderont.

Valeurs et singularités

63 Les entretiens présentent avec force l’engagement des trois auteures dans la

transmission de valeurs. Flora comme Chantal souhaitent entraîner la société dans unmouvement d’appréciation de son patrimoine ; Nathalie a la volonté de faire changerles mentalités vis-à-vis des personnes handicapées. Chez les trois auteures se décerneune aspiration profonde à ce que la dignité des êtres soit respectée. Selon Thomas deKoninck : « Tout être humain, quel qu’il soit, possède une dignité propre, inaliénable, ausens non équivoque que Kant a donné à ce terme : ce qui est au-dessus de tout prix etn’admet nul équivalent, n’ayant pas une valeur relative, mais une valeur absolue »(2002 : 1). Si dans L’Île des rêves écrasés, le terme dignité apparaît presque toujours aveccelui de liberté (2003 : 102, 103, 126, 197, 200, 201), pour Nathalie il se pense en relationavec le don-contribution que tout être peut apporter (2003 : 120). Les trois auteuress’interrogent sur ce qui donne et comment donner du sens à la vie.

64 Estelle : Flora a « conscience de l’infini de l’esprit » (Aurima-Devatine 2003 : 31). Son approche

poético-philosophique qui laisse de côté tous les « -ismes » pour s’intéresser à l’être lui permet

d’accorder une grande importance aux contributions de tous, à tout ce qui l’entoure, aux grandes

questions de société, à l’histoire tahitienne contenue dans les chants traditionnels appris et avec

lesquels elle « se promène », tout comme à « l’air après la pluie », « l’oiseau sifflant sur sa

branche », « l’enfant à son réveil » (Aurima-Devatine 1998 : 104).


41

65 Nathalie souligne de maintes façons l’importance de l’appréciation et de l’acceptation

d’autrui dans notre construction, expliquant qu’on ne peut croire en soi « que lorsquequelqu’un le fait déjà » (2012 : 138). « Comme c’est apaisant d’être tout simplementacceptée ! », confie-t-elle à propos de son bonheur d’aller à l’église (2012 : 58). Elleaffirme aussi la foi qui la soutient dans sa vie et avec ses problèmes au quotidien (inCastro et Masson 2014b : 14:21-15:21). Sa puissante volonté se révèle dans son humouret l’injonction que « mon passé pèse le poids que je lui donne / Il est l’immense champsur lequel mon présent moissonne » (2013 : 36). Sa force est de ramener à l’essentiel,comme avec son émouvante évocation de son ami Marius, qu’elle conclut ainsi : « endépassant le cap des 20 ans, il nous a permis de bien profiter avec lui ! » (2012 : 28). Cesmots rappellent ceux partagés par l’auteure Anne-Dauphine Jullian : « quand on nepeut pas ajouter des jours à la vie, on peut toujours ajouter de la vie aux jours14 ».Nathalie invite à être pleinement dans le présent, du côté de la vie.

66 Quant à Chantal, sa critique des injustices sociales et des bouleversements sociaux

héritiers de la colonisation élague, pour que fleurissent les mémoires, l’estime de soi, etl’histoire des oubliés de l’histoire. D’autres analyses ont souligné le caractère incisif(Saura 2007) et radical de ses écrits qui « éveillent les consciences » (Close 2014 : 396),ainsi que sa « remise en cause de l’occidentalisation de la Polynésie française (dans Hombo) » (Saura 2007). Peu d’attention a été porté au fait qu’elle se soit attelée dans L’Île

des rêves écrasés comme dans Elles à la difficile tâche de parler d’amour, pour la terre, lesancêtres, au sein du couple, dans la famille, à travers les enfants, les parents et grands-parents, d’une génération à l’autre ou sur plusieurs générations. Or, si les clefs d’untexte se trouvent en partie du moins dans le texte lui-même, le terme « amour »apparaît 212 fois dans L’Île des rêves écrasés (et 87 fois dans Elles). L’entretien éclaire quel’évocation par l’écrivaine de la souffrance d’un peuple ou d’individus va de pair avecson amour de son pays et son attention à l’autre. Le fait même que la terre soit rêvée« d’amour et d’espérance » (2003 : 80-81) est un acte profondément anticolonial car ilmarque le refus que la terre qui fut colonisée soit condamnée au désespoir et que soitplongé dans l’oubli ce que transmirent les anciens et les familles.

67 L’entretien souligne aussi que l’apprentissage de la différence comme richesse est au

cœur des préoccupations de l’écrivaine. Dans une discussion en octobre 2014, ToniMorrison déclara qu’une œuvre selon elle est réussie si elle se fait lieu d’apprentissage.Elle expliqua que « l’acquisition d’une connaissance par le personnage est [sa] manière[à elle, l’auteure] de tendre vers le bien » (in White 2014). Si les écrits et témoignages deFlora et Nathalie ont en commun de toujours faire jaillir du positif dans la difficulté etl’épreuve, les écrits et témoignages de Chantal peuvent être interprétés commeproposant des expériences d’apprentissage dans l’espoir de « former un pays neuf, àsociété humaine » (Spitz 2003 : 197).

68 Estelle : Frappe aussi l’humilité avec laquelle Flora et Chantal parlent de leur œuvre (respective),

en n’en mesurant visiblement pas l’importance. Comme Nathalie, elles expriment leur

reconnaissance envers celles et ceux qui ont fait d’elles ce qu’elles sont.

Littérature, performance et interoralité

69 Estelle : Le choix de faire débuter l’entretien avec Flora par la performance du poème

d’exhortation de sa composition « Te pata'uta'u a te vahine tutuha'a » (« Le chant rythmé des

femmes batteuses d'écorce pour fabriquer du tapa ») reflète l’ambition de mettre en lumière


42

l’originalité et la spécificité de son œuvre dans son ensemble, et en particulier, une partie

méconnue ou plus difficilement accessible de celle-ci, sa « source d’inspiration la plus

importante », sa « culture de l’oralité » (Castro et Masson 2014a : 2:07–2:43), qui inclut ses

compositions traditionnelles et poétiques en tahitien. D’une famille d’orateurs, de « dépositaires

de connaissance » (Castro et Masson 2014a : 8:19–8:58), Flora décida dès 1968 d’aller apprendre

auprès des anciens et de les enregistrer. Elle fut notamment, pendant de nombreuses années, la

compositrice des poèmes traditionnels chantés par Papara pour le Heiva. Le titre de son ouvrage-

méditation, Tergiversations et Rêveries de l’Ecriture Orale. Te Pahu a Hono’ura, invite toutefois

le lecteur à dépasser l'opposition entre littérature orale et écrite. A la fin de l’entretien, ses

poèmes d’Humeurs viennent nourrir, éclairer et habiter les propos qu’elle vient d’avoir sur son

passé, le futur, Tahiti, son patrimoine, l’horizon. Puis les poèmes tirés de Tergiversations

évoquent une écriture plaisir, désir, besoin, introspection, humour, incomprise, possible et

tournée vers les autres. Tout s’élève en poésie. Les poèmes qui figurent à l’écrit sur Île en île

permettent de revenir sur une écriture « autant visuelle que sonore » qui invite à une « lecture

interactive » selon l’heureux mot de Violaine Piens (2005 : 60).

70 Lors de l’intervention de Flora et Chantal dans le cours sur les littératures autochtones du

Pacifique que j’ai enseigné avec Ian Henderson à King’s College, London en 2011, les talents

d’oratrice de Flora ébahirent l’assemblée quand elle se leva à la fin de la rencontre, à la demande

de Chantal, pour interpréter le poème d’exhortation qui précède l’entretien. La performance

suscita de nouvelles questions des étudiants et collègues présents sur la langue tahitienne, la

place qu’occupent en Océanie les langues autochtones, et le patrimoine qu’elles représentent. Le

but du film-entretien était de faire émerger tout un monde de savoirs, d’inspiration, de voyages

en pirogue, monde nourri du « savoir de la langue » tahitienne et de « l’enseignement du Pari »

(Gérard 2004 : 196) que l’écrivaine choisit consciemment d’approfondir après une formation

universitaire en France.

71 Comment faire entendre l’oralité sinon par l’oralité ? Comment transmettre un rythme, une

mélodie, des intonations, sans l’oralité même ? Pour restituer l’art oratoire de la poétesse,

patrimoine de Tahiti, l’outil-film semblait indispensable.

72 Bruno Saura (2007), anthropologue, qui qualifia le poème « Te Manava Ihotupu » (« La

Conscience polynésienne ») – que nous avons aussi enregistré (http://ile-en-ile.org/flora-aurima-devatine-la-conscience-polynesienne) – de « merveilleux appel au réveilidentitaire », a noté la rareté des poèmes de Flora publiés en tahitien et d’ouvrages engénéral écrits en langues polynésiennes. Flora en a expliqué les raisons à des lycéens,dans un entretien publié (chose rare) dans le numéro 10 de Littérama’ohi : « Il est vraiqu’on connaît davantage ce que j’ai écrit en français. […] Mes textes en tahitien ne sontque peu voire pas du tout connus car il n’y a pas beaucoup de lecteurs en tahitien. Eneffet, les gens qui s’intéressent à mes écrits sont majoritairement francophones.Cependant, je trouve qu’écrire en tahitien est beaucoup plus intime et profond » (2006 :111). Pour les poèmes composés pour être déclamés, la vidéo est un medium privilégiéde publication.

73 Depuis 2011 se déroule chaque année à Tahiti un événement inter-arts, « Pina’ina’i :

écho de l’esprit et des corps », organisé par l’association Littérama’ohi et chorégraphié,mis en scène par Moana’ura Tehei’ura15. Pendant le spectacle, des textes d’écrivainssont déclamés, souvent par les auteurs eux-mêmes, et interprétés par des danseurs etmusiciens. Les captations de cet événement inter-arts et multilingue désormais d’unegrande popularité constituent des ressources importantes pour l’étude de la créativitélittéraire de Polynésie française et de ce que nous, auteures de cet article, appelons


43

http://ile-en-ile.org/flora-aurima-devatine-la-conscience-polynesienne

http://ile-en-ile.org/flora-aurima-devatine-la-conscience-polynesienne

l’interoralité. Nous suggérons que cette notion permet à la fois de rendre compte aumieux de l’œuvre de Flora dans son ensemble et de servir d’éclairage à la littératureocéanienne autochtone au regard de l’influence et de l’importance des traditions oralesrevendiquées par de nombreux auteurs.

74 Les œuvres d’auteurs polynésiens autochtones sont souvent étudiées à la lumière de

l’intertextualité. La littérature telle qu’elle apparaît dans les entretiens est variée,pluriforme et plurilingue : classique, scolaire, formelle ; celle de jeunesse ; cellesfrançaise, espagnole, afro-américaine, antillaise, africaine… avec des livres de tous lesgenres ; celle, informelle, des revues, des journaux, de tout genre ; celle écrite, enfrançais, à lire, repliée, enfermée, silencieuse, et celle orale, de langue tahitienne, dontla poésie traditionnelle de langue tahitienne, qui se vit, ouverte, expressive, vivante ;celle des bibliothèques dans le silence et celle de la nature, de l’environnement pépiant,sifflotant, tumultueux, changeant (arbres, vent, mer, soleil, lune…). Existant grâce à lamusique de la langue, des mots et des chants polyphoniques, la littérature tahitienneest constituée aussi bien de genres littéraires traditionnels que de récits, de poésie, deromans. Elle est peut-être aussi, comme le souligne Chantal, dans les paniers des gensqui n’ont pas publié. Les entretiens donnent donc des pistes de recherche intertextuelle(par exemple, Hugo pour Flora et Nathalie, Glissant et Morrison pour Chantal16) tout enrévélant que la créativité et l’imaginaire des écrivaines ont été nourris par les grands-mères et les mères, les orateurs, « les valeurs de [l’]enfance » et « [l]e sourire reçu enhéritage » (Salmon-Hudry 2013 : 36), les chants polyphoniques traditionnels : Chantalgrandit avec les tärava tahiti et depuis presque trente ans chante le tärava raromata'i17.

75 Michael Macovski, professeur de littérature, utilise l’expression « interoralité des

textes » pour renvoyer aux « origines parlées des formes textuelles » (1997 : 7). HanéthaVété-Congolo-Leibnitz, spécialiste de la Caraïbe, soutient que l’interoralité, qu’elledéfinit comme « transposition systématique de contes africains et européens dans lechronotope caribéen » est le « phénomène esthétique spécifiant la Caraïbe » (2011 :quatrième de couverture). Dans le contexte océanien autochtone, l’oralité estconstituée et se manifeste par « des chants, des gestes, des récits, et […] la langue »(Aurima-Devatine 2015 : 59), ainsi que par « un certain nombre de traditions, de modesde relation, de communication, de rapports au monde et aux autres » (Castro 2007 :184). En Polynésie française, l’oralité est « restitution » et « libération » de la mémoire,« recréation de la culture » ; elle se révèle notamment « dans ce qui est dansé, chanté,mis en pièce, mis en musique, rythmé, ramé, surfé, couru » (Aurima-Devatine 2009 : 1,1118).

76 Le concept d’interoralité invite donc à déceler et analyser comment ces éléments divers

constitutifs de l’oralité sont mis en relation et tressés dans les textes et lesperformances, ainsi qu’à inclure des ressources autres qu’écrites pour analyser lacréativité littéraire tahitienne contemporaine. Les productions audiovisuelles dont ilest ici question encouragent, modestement, à une pratique de l’écoute qui peut enrichirla pratique de la lecture.

Conclusion

77 Les trois entretiens permettent de mieux comprendre les œuvres et trajectoires de

chaque écrivaine. Passant en revue, de façon plus ou moins ouverte, les problèmes


44

sociétaux, entre la société et soi, ou entre son environnement proche et soi, et desquestions tous azimuts, touchant à presque tout, ils mettent en relief la « complexitéd’affiliations contemporaines » (Gagné et Salaün 2012 : 389) à prendre en compte pourétudier la littérature tahitienne ma’ohi. Ils s’entre-éclairent et font tomber un certainnombre de préjugés souvent reflets d’une méconnaissance, de Tahiti, du peuple, duhandicap, de la littérature tahitienne autochtone. Les vidéos permettent ainsi unemeilleure compréhension de l’histoire, de la littérature, de la culture et de la société. Enfiligrane se dessine aussi ce qui est richesse et bien-être social pour ces auteures. Ce quela sociologue Dominique Méda demande de reconnaître comme les « composantesessentielles du bien-être social, car celui-ci ne se réduit ni à un taux de croissance, niplus généralement à des considérations exclusivement monétaires » sont au cœur desréflexions de ces trois auteures : « désirs de paix, de beauté, de relations, d'éducation,de parole, de participation » (in Parinaud 1999).

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v=QMI7PkJVoSU. Publié en ligne le 16.04.2013 (consulté le 1er avril 2015).

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www.youtube.com/watch?v=9089irNhFMs. Publié en ligne le 6.12.2014 (consulté le 1er avril

2015).

Castro, Estelle et Dominique Masson. 2015. Entretien avec Chantal T. Spitz. 29 min. http://ile-en-

ile.org/chantal-t-spitz-5-questions-pour-ile-en-ile/ https://www.youtube.com/watch?

v=bvEV048icbI. Publié en ligne le 28.06.2015 (consulté le 1er juillet 2015).

Chantal T. Spitz - La Vahiné, mythe et réalité. http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x9c941_chantal-

spitz-la-vahine-mythe-et-re_lifestyle. Publié en ligne le 20.05.2009 (consulté le 1er avril 2015).

Chantal T. Spitz - Polynés-iles. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mtNA4flYl2E. Publié en ligne le

19.02.2012 (consulté le 1er avril 2015).

Etonnants voyageurs 2012. Rencontre avec Chantal T. Spitz et l’éditeur Christian Robert. https://

vimeo.com/42851059. Publié en ligne le 25.05.2012 (consulté le 8 juin 2016).


47

http://news.ucsc.edu/2014/10/morrison-davis-q-a.html

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QMI7PkJVoSU



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SaJ9mzOcXcU


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9089irNhFMs

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9089irNhFMs



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bvEV048icbI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bvEV048icbI

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x9c941_chantal-spitz-la-vahine-mythe-et-re_lifestyle


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mtNA4flYl2E



Huahine, the rebel island/l’île rebelle. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MteQQ8PqFHc. Publié en

ligne le 25.03.2012 (consulté le 1er avril 2015).

Je suis née morte, se réaliser par l’écriture. Nathalie Heirani Salmon-Hudry. TEDxPapeete

(production). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lzwbzw1UpnY. Publié en ligne le 17.03.2015

(consulté le 1er juillet 2015).

Pina’ina’i 4.14. Anapa Production. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bqIpTUZAZPs. Publié en

ligne le 2.03.2015 (consulté le 1er avril 2015).

« Pina’ina’i » ou quand danse et musique illustrent la littérature polynésienne. Polynesie1ere

(production). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ShDXD65tUxk. Publié en ligne le 19.10.2014


Tahaa I Te Pia Tarea for Himene Tarava Raromatai in 1989. Association TAO'A NO TAHITI

(production). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lXsxLEV8xWk. Publié en ligne le 24.02.2007


Tamarii Papara for Himene Tarava Tahiti at Heiva 1989. Association TAO'A NO TAHITI (production).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyjXQsMO_Tk. Publié en ligne le 24.02.2007 (consulté le 8

juin 2016).

Websites

Chantal T. Spitz, 5 Questions pour Île en île. http://ile-en-ile.org/chantal-t-spitz-5-questions-

pour-ile-en-ile/. Publié en ligne le 28.06.2015 (consulté le 8 juin 2016).

Chantal T. Spitz, poésie lue par l’auteure. http://ile-en-ile.org/spitz-poesie. Publié en ligne le

24.06.2016 (consulté le 24 juin 2016).

Flora Aurima-Devatine, 5 Questions pour Île en île. http://ile-en-ile.org/flora-aurima-devatine-5-

questions-pour-ile-en-ile/. Publié en ligne le 19.11.2014 (consulté le 8 juin 2016).

Flora Aurima-Devatine, La Conscience polynésienne. http://ile-en-ile.org/flora-aurima-devatine-

la-conscience-polynesienne/. Publié en ligne le 25.06.2016 (consulté le 25 juin 2016).

Nathalie Heirani Salmon-Hudry, 5 Questions pour Île en île. http://ile-en-ile.org/nathalie-

heirani-salmon-hudry-5-questions-pour-ile-en-ile/. Publié en ligne le 06.12.2014 (consulté le 8

juin 2016).

Pina’ina’i 5.15 sur TNTV. http://www.tntv.pf/Pina-ina-i-5-15-sur-TNTV_a8708.html. Publié en

ligne le 12.11.2015 (consulté le 8 juin 2016).

Pina’ina’i, une cinquième édition en l’honneur de Flora Devatine. http://www.tahiti-infos.com/

Pina-ina-i-une-cinquieme-edition-en-l-honneur-de-Flora-Devatine_a139069.html. Publié en ligne

le 15.10.2015 (consulté le 8 juin 2016).

NOTES

1. Creuset plurilingue de la richesse et de la diversité de la littérature et de la culture

polynésiennes, mine de réflexions sur les questions de société en Polynésie française et au-delà,

Littérama’ohi accueille auteurs reconnus et émergents, penseurs, universitaires, étudiants et

lycéens, de Polynésie, et d’ailleurs. Voir Aurima-Devatine 2002 et Castro 2013.

2. Je suis née morte, se réaliser par l’écriture. www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lzwbzw1UpnY.

3. La filmographie de la réalisatrice comprend notamment Les journées de Maurice Huberson,

paysan du Perche (1975), La dernière grève – la grève des mineurs britanniques (1985), Nous


48

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MteQQ8PqFHc

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lzwbzw1UpnY

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bqIpTUZAZPs

https://www.youtube.com/user/polynesie1ere

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ShDXD65tUxk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lXsxLEV8xWk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyjXQsMO_Tk



http://ile-en-ile.org/spitz-poesie



http://ile-en-ile.org/flora-aurima-devatine-la-conscience-polynesienne/

http://ile-en-ile.org/flora-aurima-devatine-la-conscience-polynesienne/



http://www.tntv.pf/Pina-ina-i-5-15-sur-TNTV_a8708.html

http://www.tahiti-infos.com/Pina-ina-i-une-cinquieme-edition-en-l-honneur-de-Flora-Devatine_a139069.html


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lzwbzw1UpnY

sommes au début du bonheur, un village roumain juste après la chute de Nicolae Ceausescu

(1990), Black Israel (2002) coréalisé avec Maurice Dorès, We don’t call them ‘Blackboys’ anymore

(2005) coréalisé avec Laurence Fosse.

4. Chantal T. Spitz - Polynés-iles. www.youtube.com/watch?v=mtNA4flYl2E.

5. Huahine, the rebel island/l’île rebelle. www.youtube.com/watch?v=MteQQ8PqFHc.

6. Elle a aussi été interviewée pour www.dailymotion.com/video/x9c941_chantal-spitz-la-

vahine-mythe-et-re_lifestyle et https://vimeo.com/42851059.

7. Commentaire fait au Salon du livre océanien de Rochefort de 2014.

8. Nathalie et Chantal ont aussi eu la possibilité de commenter cet article.

9. Voir Pathways & Protocols: A Filmmaker’s Guide to Working with Indigenous People, Culture and

Concepts de Terri Janke : http://www.screenaustralia.gov.au/about_us/pub_indig_protocols.aspx

et http://aiatsis.gov.au/research/ethical-research/guidelines-ethical-research-australian-

indigenous-studies.

10. 3e Colloque « Fragilités interdites », février 2013, Nantes : https://www.youtube.com/watch?

v=QMI7PkJVoSU%20 (3:52).

11. Île, îlot.

12. Placenta.

13. Je suis née morte évoque les structures existant ou manquant à Tahiti et le combat des

personnes handicapées pour leurs droits.

14. Best of du 3e colloque Fragilités interdites ? https://www.youtube.com/watch?

v=QMI7PkJVoSU.

15. Voir par exemple « Pina’ina’i » https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ShDXD65tUxk; Pina’ina’i

4.14. / https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bqIpTUZAZPs. Une grande partie des textes

interprétés a été publiée dans les numéros 20, 21 et 22 de Littérama’ohi. Le Pina’ina’i 2015 fut

consacré à l’œuvre en tahitien et en français de Flora. Voir http://www.tntv.pf/Pina-ina-i-5-15-

sur-TNTV_a8708.html ; http://www.tahiti-infos.com/Pina-ina-i-une-cinquieme-edition-en-l-

honneur-de-Flora-Devatine_a139069.html.

16. Les pistes sont aussi variées que les auteur(e)s. Pour Richard, la littérature polynésienne « ne

se retrouve pas dans le mouvement antillais, ni africain » (2006 : 97).

17. Exemple de himene tärava tahiti chanté par les Tahitiens http://www.youtube.com/watch?

v=NyjXQsMO_Tk. Exemple de himene tärava raro mata'i chanté par les habitants des Îles sous le

vent. www.youtube.com/watch?v=lXsxLEV8xWk. Remerciements à Chantal pour l’envoi de ces

extraits.

18. L’article propose une réflexion approfondie sur l’oralité en Polynésie.

RÉSUMÉS

Cet article propose une mise en lumière analytique de trois portraits-vidéo réalisés avec les

écrivaines tahitiennes Flora Aurima-Devatine, Nathalie Heirani Salmon-Hudry et Chantal Spitz. Il

examine les conditions d’élaboration des entretiens, ainsi que la constellation de réflexions

poétiques, sociétales et philosophiques que ces supports vidéos, révélant des voix, des gestes, des

parcours, des valeurs, de l’humour, constituent pour l’histoire littéraire tahitienne. La première

partie analyse comment les vidéos ouvrent des voies et voix nouvelles pour investir les écrits et

soulignent la volonté des auteures que les mots guérissent les maux. La deuxième partie examine


49

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mtNA4flYl2E

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MteQQ8PqFHc



http://www.etonnants-voyageurs.com/spip.php?article9610.

http://www.screenaustralia.gov.au/about_us/pub_indig_protocols.aspx

http://www.screenaustralia.gov.au/about_us/pub_indig_protocols.aspx

http://aiatsis.gov.au/research/ethical-research/guidelines-ethical-research-australian-indigenous-studies




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QMI7PkJVoSU%20

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QMI7PkJVoSU%20



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ShDXD65tUxk;

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bqIpTUZAZPs





http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyjXQsMO_Tk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyjXQsMO_Tk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lXsxLEV8xWk.

l’éclairage apporté sur la société, le handicap, les mémoires, la colonisation. La troisième partie

se concentre sur l’émotion et le patrimoine culturel et humain que ces entretiens donnent à voir.

Elle souligne que les trois écrivaines proposent, chacune à leur manière, une réflexion sur la

dignité et sur comment participer à une société plus juste.

This essay sheds analytical light on the interviews of three Tahitian writers, Flora Aurima-

Devatine, Nathalie Heirani Salmon-Hudry, and Chantal Spitz. It examines their conditions of

production, as well as the constellation of poetic, societal, and philosophical reflections that the

videos – and the voices, gestures, trajectories, values, and humour that they convey – constitute

for Tahitian literary history. The first part explores the new ways offered by the videos to study

Tahitian literature and emphasises the authors’ desire to conjure up healing words. The second

part focuses on the perspectives offered by the writers on society and societal topics such as

disability, memory, and colonisation. The third part concentrates on the emotion and on the

cultural, humane heritage revealed by these interviews. It shows that the three writers, each in

their own terms, offer a reflection on dignity and how to participate to a more equitable society.

Este ensayo analiza las entrevistas a tres escritoras tahitianas: Flora Aurima-Devatine, Nathalie

Heirani Salmon-Hudry, and Chantal Spitz. Examina sus condiciones de producción, así como la

constelación de reflexiones poéticas, sociales y filosóficas que los vídeos –y las voces, gestos,

trayectorias, valores y humor que éstos transmiten- constituyen para la historia literaria de

Tahití. La primera parte del texto explora las nuevas maneras de estudiar la literatura tahitiana

que el vídeo ofrece y enfatiza el deseo de las autores para conjurar palabras curativas. La segunda

parte se centra en las perspectivas que ofrecen las autoras sobre la sociedad en general y sobre

cuestiones sociales como la discapacidad, la memoria y la descolonización. La tercera parte se

centra en la emoción y en la herencia cultural y humana que estas entrevistas revelan. Pone en

evidencia cómo las tres autoras, cada una en sus propios términos, ofrecen una reflexión sobre la

dignidad y sobre cómo alcanzar una sociedad más equitativa.

INDEX

Keywords : Tahitian Literature, French Polynesia, memory, interorality, poetry, disability,

colonisation, love, indigenous, cultural history

Mots-clés : Littérature tahitienne, Polynésie française, mémoire, interoralité, poésie, handicap,

colonisation, amour, autochtone, histoire culturelle

Palabras claves : Literatura tahitiana, Polinesia Francesa, Memoria, Interoralidad, Poesía,

Discapacidad, Colonización, Amor, Autóctono, Historia Cultural

AUTEURS

FLORA AURIMA-DEVATINE

Poétesse, membre de l’Académie Tahitienne

[email protected]

ESTELLE CASTRO-KOSHY


[email protected]


50



An Extraordinary WeddingSome Reflections on the Ethics and Aesthetics of Authorial Strategies inEthnographic Filmmaking

Rosita Henry and Daniela Vávrová

1 Anthropologists and other scholars have long reflected upon the various authorial

strategies employed in the construction of written ethnographic texts (Clifford andMarcus 1986; Geertz 1988). Similar questions of authorship and voice have been raisedin relation to the making of ethnographic and documentary films (e.g. Ruby 1992;MacDougall 1998). Filmmakers frequently face intractable dilemmas of both ethics andaesthetics, when deciding what to include and what to sacrifice from hours of footageof complex socio-cultural practices and performances.

2 We too have grappled with these dilemmas in the making of An Extraordinary Wedding, a

film about brideprice transactions in the Western Highlands of Papua New Guinea. Inthis paper we reflect upon the authorial strategies we have employed in this work-in-progress. We consider issues of authorship and authority and discuss our attempts towork with some of the ‘characters’ in the film to create an audio-visual narrative thatcan be understood and appreciated by a broader audience without diminishing theintegrity of the lifeworld represented.

An invitation

3 In December 2012, one of the authors of this paper, Rosita Henry, was invited to Papua

New Guinea to attend the brideprice exchange of the daughter of an old school friendfrom the Western Highlands. It was a poignant visit for her, as her friend, Magdaline(Maggie) Wilson, had passed away suddenly and unexpectedly three years earlier.Customarily, Maggie would have played a significant part in organizing the event, buther English husband Keith Wilson, and their children Bernadine, Olivia, Maki, andNadia now had to shoulder the responsibility for working with their Highlands kin toarrange this complex ceremonial gift exchange between intermarrying clans and theirallies.


51

4 Maggie had regularly participated in, and contributed to, brideprice exchanges when

she was alive but she had also spent much time thinking about the practice and wasconcerned about how brideprice exchanges had changed over time and whether theyhad become corrupted under conditions of modernity. She was proud of the traditionsof her people but was worried about the transformations that were taking place andwhat this signified in terms of the status of women.

5 In the case of her own wedding to Keith Maggie had refused to allow her father and

brothers of the Penambi Wia clan to ask for or accept brideprice, explaining to themthat it was not a customary practice among Keith’s people. Yet, now their youngestdaughter Nadia and husband-to-be Hebrew Maipson, a Mogei Nambuga man, wanted tobe married in the customary way of their Highlands kin, as well as by a priest. For thesake of Nadia, her father and her siblings agreed to the brideprice exchange goingahead.

Nadia and Hebrew’s Wedding

Father Garrett Roche conducting the marriage of Nadia and Hebrew 4 January 2013

Photo by Kanawi Danomira

6 Thus, as an old friend of the mother of the bride, Rosita found herself eagerly accepting

an invitation to attend and record the main series of events that comprised Nadia’smarriage transactions.

Mother of the bride

7 Maggie was born in the Western Highlands near Mt Hagen. She grew up in the village as

the daughter of Kuan, a Penambi Wia man, but her biological father was Patrick Leahy,older brother of Michael and Daniel Leahy, who were among the first white men toexplore the Highlands of PNG while on an expedition searching for gold.


52

8 Maggie and Rosita met at boarding school in Australia during the 1970s and kept in

touch over the years closely following the unfolding of each other’s adult lives,Maggie’s in PNG, and Rosita’s in Australia. Rosita visited Maggie in Mt Hagen in 1974but it was not until the year 2000 after finally submitting her doctoral thesis inanthropology that she was able to return. She travelled to Mt Hagen to conductresearch on the iconic films by Bob Connolly and Robin Anderson First Contact (1983), Joe Leahy’s Neighbours (1989) and Black Harvest (1992), which feature members ofMaggie’s extended family and which Maggie had facilitated by providing advice andresearch assistance to the filmmakers (Connolly and Anderson 1987; Connolly 2005). Infact, Maggie appears in a scene in First Contact, eliciting narratives from a group ofwomen about their memories of the Leahy brothers and other white men who firstarrived in the Highlands in the 1930s.

9 After viewing these films and screening them for many years in undergraduate

anthropology classes, Rosita had wondered what Ganiga people, Joe Leahy, and othermembers of the Leahy family, including Maggie, thought of the trilogy and the waytheir lives had been represented to a global audience through these films. Maggiehappily facilitated the research project, providing accommodation and transport andher own son, Maki, as a research assistant and translator. Yet, it was not really a studyMaggie would have chosen herself; she would rather have done research aboutsomething much closer to her heart – gender relations and the problems facing womenin the Highlands, including domestic violence, poor health care, and tough childbirthconditions. She was particularly interested in the question of brideprice and its impacton the status and treatment of women.

10 After her funeral in 2009 (an account of which can be found in Henry 2012), Maggie’s

daughters gave Rosita a copy of the autobiography their mother had begun to write. Itwas something that Maggie had wanted Rosita to help her with before she died so, withthe family’s permission, Rosita began intermittently doing the field research necessaryto complete the book, travelling to Papua New Guinea each year between 2009 and2012, to stay at Maggie’s house in Kunguma Village, on a mountain ridge above Hagentown.

11 In order to learn more about what life was like for Maggie, Rosita immersed herself as

much as possible in the lives of Maggie’s Penambi Wia kin, attending manycompensation payments, funerals, brideprice and other types of ceremonial exchangesthat preoccupied them. She often took a digital video camera with her, not with theview of making a film, but simply to record the proceedings for the participants and aspart of her research – documenting the unfolding of Maggie’s life and her presencewithin an entangled web of kinship relations, even years after her death. The marriageof Maggie’s daughter Nadia promised to be a significant event in that it would help toshed light on this complex web of relationships, particularly the long history ofexchanges between Maggie’s people, the Penambi Wia, and the Mogei Nambuga of theHagen area.

Father of the groom

12 The groom’s father, Phillip Num Maipson, bore the main responsibility for putting

together the brideprice with the support of his Mogei Nambuga kinsmen, his exchangepartners in other clans and his affinal kin. It was a considerable undertaking on his part


53

to procure the large number of pigs and substantial amount of money that he wantedto give to the bride’s kin to compensate them not only for Nadia, but also for the twochildren she had already borne. After much hard work, at the brideprice ceremony hewas proudly able to present a very generous brideprice, one of the highest paid in theWestern Highlands to date.

13 Interestingly, the way in which Phillip presented the brideprice was different to how

anyone had ever done it before among Hagen people. Instead of presenting the wholebrideprice to the bride’s kin, the Penambi Wia, for redistribution, he made a point ofgiving a good part of the brideprice directly to the bride and groom (see videoinserts 1and 2 where Phillip and his kinsman, John Pamunda, comment on the unique way inwhich the brideprice was presented).

14 In terms of understanding the importance of this marriage to the parties involved, it is

particularly constructive to listen to the speeches that Phillip and his kinsmen gaveduring the brideprice exchange, where the history of relations between the PenambiWia and the Mogei Nambuga were described, including not only past marriages thathad contributed to building alliance relations between the two clans, but also a moredistant history of tribal conflict in the 1920s during which the bride’s greatgrandmother (Maggie’s grandmother) had been killed.

Video excerpt from An Extraordinary Wedding

Phillip Num Maipson, father of the groom, and John Kawa, the bride’s mother’s brother, givingspeeches at the brideprice exchange, Palimp Village, December. https://vimeo.com/197332741password: wedding

A film by Rosita Henry and Daniela Vávrová

Sisters of the bride

15 During the years of research for Maggie’s book, Rosita became especially close to

Maggie’s eldest daughter, Bernadine, who facilitated the project and hosted Rositaduring her many visits to Kunguma Village. Thus, Bernadine and her husband Kanawiinvited Rosita to stay at their house for the few weeks during which the bridepricetransactions would take place. Bernadine, as the oldest of Maggie’s children, took astrong lead in the arrangements for the marriage, assisted by her sister Olivia, brother


54



Maki and the bride herself. First they had to organize with their Penambi kin theinitiatory gift of cooked pigs and vegetable food that the bride’s kin group istraditionally expected to carry to the place of the groom and present to his kin a weekor so before the brideprice proper is to take place. Then, without knowing exactly how,what, or how much would be presented in brideprice, they had to carefully plan how itwould be redistributed amongst their kin and friends once it was given. According tocustom the redistribution has to take place in public immediately after the gift is givenon the ceremonial ground of the groom’s clan.

16 Since their mother, Maggie, had passed away and could not be present, the bride’s

older sisters, Bernadine and Olivia, were expected to accept the biggest pig (‘mother’spig’) and other goods and money that are traditionally presented to the mother of thebride.

The Bride’s Sisters

The bride’s sisters being presented with gifts, seated from left to right, Olivia and Bernadine, with thebride, Nadia, standing, 29 December 2012.


17 Later, during the week after the brideprice, the sisters had to mobilise their kin to help

procure new pigs of equivalent size to the ones that had been given. Customarily, halfthe number of pigs, vegetable and other goods and money that the bride’s groupreceives from the groom’s group are expected to be returned at a ceremony called thebekim (Tok Pisin meaning ‘return’). It is important that the same pigs are not returned,so new pigs of the same size have to be found. On top of all of this planning and work,the sisters had to organise the marriage ceremony that was to be performed by theCatholic priest in conjunction with the bekim.

18 As witness to all the plans and preparations, Rosita sought and was given permission to

film the full series of events that comprised the marriage, not only for her researchtowards Maggie’s book, but also in order to make a ‘wedding video’ for the bride andgroom.


55

Filming the events

19 Equipped with a light-weight digital camera and a tripod, Rosita attended and filmed

not only the brideprice, the bekim, and the marriage ceremony performed by theCatholic priest, but also the thoughts and reflections of family members and friendsbefore, during and after the events.

Rosita initially had no intention of making a film for an outside audience. She was thesole filmmaker and had no sound recording assistance. Moreover, she had training inneither filmmaking nor sound recording, and little experience with the newlypurchased digital camera she had brought with her. Filmmaker

Rosita Henry filming preparations for the brideprice bekim in Kunguma Village, Western Highlands,PNG, 4 January 2013.


20 These limitations are evident in some of the footage. Initially Rosita did not use the

tripod but held the camera in her hand and moved with the flow of the crowd as itentered the ceremonial grounds. However, knowing that public oratory is highlyvalued and politically significant in the Highlands of Papua New Guinea, after thespeeches began, she decided to set up the tripod so she could focus the camera steadilyon the speakers. As she was only using the simple directional microphone on thecamera itself, Rosita did not dare to move the camera and tripod for fear of missing asignificant part of the speeches. Unfortunately, this also meant that she was unable touse a diversity of camera angles. Much footage consists of hours of speeches, of greatfascination to the participants and of research value to anthropologists and linguists interms of the texts and meaning of what was said, but not necessarily aestheticallypleasing from a filmic perspective. The directional microphone captured the speechesquite well, apart from those by a couple of more softly spoken speechmakers.


56

21 As Errington and Gewertz (1987: 368) note, ‘the anthropologist as memorializer’ faces a

particular dilemma. It is the anthropologist’s (and filmmaker’s) ‘power to inscribe andthus memorialize – to render tangible and substantial individual lives – that makes himor her especially subject to coercion by claims of reciprocity to record not a dialoguewith a plurality of voices, but a monologue in which an individual or a faction forpolitical advantage presents one view as authoritative.’ Thus, while tempted to scan thecrowd and film the faces and responses of the listeners and the ‘plurality of voices’ inthe crowd, Rosita focused her camera on the main speakers, those who were managingand controlling the proceedings.

22 Additionally, out of respect for the participants and concern not to impose herself too

much, Rosita stood back and tended to film from a distance, only using the zoomfunction sparingly and taking few close-up shots. The long shots provide rich materialon the crowd of participants in attendance at the event, and some of their responsesand reactions to the speeches, but do not capture well the facial expressions of theorators. In the context of public oratory in PNG, which is often full of metaphors andhidden meanings, it is particularly important to see a speaker’s face and bodilygestures, not just hear the voice, in order to fully understand what is being said.

23 It was only during the filming itself that Rosita became aware that the participants

were constructing a certain narrative through their speeches and activities that wouldbe fascinating to an outside audience. Again and again, participants claimed that thisparticular brideprice was different, that it was ‘extraordinary’. Thus, Rosita began tofilm more strategically, adopting an anthropological lens and asking for clarificationfrom behind the camera about how and why this brideprice was different from pastbrideprices in the Western Highlands (Merlan and Rumsey 1991; Strathern, A. 1972;Strathern, M. 1972, 1988; Strathern and Stewart, 1998). In other words, while sheinitially began to author the film only minimally through where she placed the cameraand via her decisions about when to turn the camera on and off, she ended upauthoring it much more consciously and with more direction, through her decision toask questions and record participant responses. Altogether, Rosita filmed five hours offootage over two separate days, including interviews with participants before and afterthe main public events.


57

Video excerpt from An Extraordinary Wedding

John Pamunda, member of the groom’s clan, the Mogei Nambuga at the brideprice exchange,December 2012. https://vimeo.com/197332903 password: wedding

A film by Rosita Henry and Daniela Vávrová

24 While playing back the hours of footage to members of the family through the camera,

when they gathered to debrief after the events, Rosita asked for permission to not onlymake the wedding video for the bride and groom, but also to edit the footage so as tomake an ethnographic film. Maggie’s children readily agreed, as did their Penambi Wiakinsman, Thomas Las, Maggie’s younger brother, who is well acquainted with thetrilogy by Bob Connolly and Robin Anderson. After all, it had been Maggie who hadfacilitated the filming of First Contact (1983). Some years later, in June 1990, during theshooting of their award-winning film Black Harvest (1992), the filmmakers sought refugewith Maggie at her village tourist lodge, Haus Poroman, after their house was destroyedduring the tribal fighting in the Nebilyer Valley and the situation became dangerous forthem at Kilima Plantation (Connolly 2005). In fact, her association with the filmmakersinspired Maggie to become a filmmaker herself. She took the opportunity to attend avideo-making workshop in PNG in 1984, Skul Bilong Wokim Piksa with Séverin Blanchetof Ateliers Varan, the cinéma vérité school founded by Jean Rouch in Paris, and in 1986she travelled to Paris for a more advanced workshop in 16mm with teams from Papua-New Guinea, Senegal, Brazil and Italy. During this workshop she made a film with twoother Papua New Guineans (Kumain Nunguya Kolain and Lahui Vagi Geita) aboutFrench astronomers and their concept of the Universe entitled Raiders of the Planet Mars

(Les aventuriers de la planète Mars) (See http://www.film-documentaire.fr/4DACTION/w_fiche_film/44947_1). Kumain Nunguya Kolain’s film Sinmia: Haus Bilas Bilong Manmeri

Bilong Baruya (1989) was one of the first PNG productions made by a PNG filmmaker inhis own village. It is a Baruya perspective on the male initiation ritual.

25 For some years after her return to Papua New Guinea, Maggie worked as a filmmaker

for the national PNG television channel EMTV (‘emteevee’). Among the films thatMaggie made during her filmmaking career for EMTV was a documentary entitled Bride

Price in Hanuabada (1990) that explored the inflation of brideprice in this urban villagein Port Moresby. Harnessing the support of her clan people, Maggie also established herown freelance filmmaking company in Mt Hagen, Tilkil Kuan Productions Pty Ltd. Shewrote and directed her own video drama, Stolen Moments (1989), which was billed as ‘a


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http://www.film-documentaire.fr/4DACTION/w_fiche_film/44947_1




story of love and intrigue in contemporary Mt Hagen’. It was co-produced and co-edited by anthropologist Nancy Sullivan. According to Sullivan (2003: 379), ‘[o]nly twomembers of the cast were hired and the rest, like the crew, were associates and kin ofMaggie’s’. Thus, her kin are relatively well versed in how stories can be told, ormessages conveyed, through film.

Maggie Wilson – Filmmaker

Maggie Wilson, filming for MTV

Photo from the Wilson family album

26 Having watched the trilogy by Bob Connolly and Robin Anderson again and again in the

tourist lodge that Maggie built in their village, her kin are also well aware of hownarratives are able to escape their local origins to travel far and wide across time andplace and how long after a film is made and released, ‘stories are created by viewersaround the film, stories of and from viewing experiences’ (Mermin 1997: 40).

27 Thus, what began as an observational exercise to create a mere visual document aimed

at providing an objective record of the events developed into something different asthe filmmaker became aware of the narrative that the participants were themselvescomposing. As Henley (n.d.) notes: ‘Although it might faithfully record what is in frontof it, the camera clearly cannot determine the significance of what it records’. Asanthropologists, our understanding of the significance of what was recorded, and thevalue of making the film for a wider audience of scholars, is informed by a substantialliterature concerning transformations in brideprice exchanges in PNG (eg. Josephides1999; Macintyre 2011; Stewart and Strathern 1998, 2002; Strathern and Stewart 2000;Sykes 2014; Zimmer-Tamakoshi 1997) as well as by other ethnographic films (such asBridewealth For A Goddess by Chris Owen and The Institute of Papua New Guinean Studies2000). Yet, to understand the importance of the event to the participants and why theypresented the brideprice as ‘extraordinary’ required paying attention to the moment


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and the narrative that the participants were themselves constructing in the context oftheir very participation in the event.

28 It takes perceptive insight on the part of an ethnographer and filmmaker to recognize

the narrative practices of the participants in the activities being filmed and then towork with the unfolding narrative. In other words the actors or participants, as authorsof their own lives, actually narratively direct the filming, so that authorship of the filmis already a shared, dialogic process from the moment the camera is turned on. Yet,participant contribution to authorship of a film often halts once filming stops and theediting process begins, unless conscious effort is made to involve the actors in editorialdecision making.

29 As she had little experience in film editing, Rosita invited ethnographic filmmaker

Daniela Vávrová, based at the Anthropological Laboratory for Audiovisual Research(ALTAR), James Cook University, to join her on the project as the film editor. Rosita hadin mind an ethnographic film of less than 50 minutes, which would be suitable forscreening for teaching purposes.

Editing the footage – early stages

‘Brideprice is not buying a woman. Brideprice brings two tribes together and itseals the marriage. In the fifties, in the forties, in the sixties, when a man andwoman got married and brideprice was paid, the marriage was sealed and theylived together until they got older and they brought up kids and they got older andthey died and they went to the same cemetery and it worked very well … Nowadays,people are going to school, they are getting educated. Boys are having girlfriends,girls are having boyfriends, and they say, ‘I love you, I love you’, and love also sealsa marriage.’ (Thomas Las, 2012, in An Extraordinary Wedding)

30 With these words Daniela chose to start the narration in An Extraordinary Wedding.

Daniela knew very little about the background of the wedding prior to receiving thefootage for editing. She was, however, excited about it, having had her own experiencesdoing research in Papua New Guinea (PNG). She was familiar with Tok Pisin and thesocio-cultural constraints pertaining to PNG communities (Vávrová 2014). Moreover,she was eager to learn about the changes in brideprice exchange. Daniela was given thefootage of several series of events spread over a period of time and in two differentlocations, namely, Palimb and Kunguma villages. In addition to this footage, Rositaprovided a long conversation with Thomas Las, the bride’s mother’s brother. Afterlistening to this, Daniela decided to use Thomas reflections as a means of anchoring thestory and elucidating the changes in customary practices of gift exchange andmarriage.

31 The first storyline took the form of a simple chronology of events. Daniela cut out most

of the passages that were out of focus or too shaky, but decided to keep some of thesebecause of their chronological importance and their apparent narrative significance.She looked for editing within the shots and used minimum transitions, using Thomas’explanations as a bridge between the sequences. The next step was watching the firstcut with Rosita to work out ways to reduce the length, which was over an hour and ahalf long. Sequences in local languages were kept as these still needed to be translated.Soon afterwards, Rosita returned to PNG and showed the rough cut to bride’s family,including Thomas Las. This was the first opportunity for feedback on the editing of thefilm (see part on ‘Editing as participatory practice’).


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32 Rosita’s recordings had two angles of view: one of a family friend and the other one of a

researcher documenting what was happening. As an external editor Daniela became thesecond viewer after the filmmaker herself. It is the editor who slices the sequencestogether creating new meaning. An external editor does not know more than she seesand hears from provided footage. Jean Rouch argued that external editors are neededas they bring an objective perspective into the dialogue between subjective filmmakersand protagonists (in Feld 2003: 40). Usually, authors of ethnographic films insist on ‘thepriority of the given’ or, as Dai Vaughan writes, ‘that meaning should be generateddirectly from the organization of the visual and auditory material, rather than thismaterial being subordinated to something prior or extrinsic – typically, a pre-scriptedschema or a dominant verbal narration’ (1999: xv). In editing An Extraordinary Wedding,Daniela tried to keep a balance between this insistence and a more dynamic montagewith additional recordings. She was aware of the importance of the two sites of thebrideprice (the villages of the groom and the bride) and kept a key speaker from eachsite and side dominant in the two parts of the film.

33 After showing the rough cut to an ethnographic filmmaker who was not familiar with

the cultural context of brideprice exchange in the Highlands of PNG, it became clearthat there was a need to clarify to an outsider the identities and roles of the variouscharacters. Thus, we decided to create an introduction to outline the kinshiprelationships in the film. We also thought that it would be helpful to add someexplanatory commentary by the main female character, the bride’s oldest sisterBernadine. We were concerned about how to best convey to an outside audience thecomplex interrelationships among the participants in this PNG context. For the sake ofthe insider audience, however, we had to avoid oversimplifying and cutting out toomuch. While an outsider audience might find the speeches long and tedious, these werein fact the most interesting and engaging aspect of the film for insiders. The dilemmawe faced was that in order to shorten the film and make it engaging for an outsideaudience, we had to cut some of the speeches but if we did so, people could feel insultedor excluded.

34 There were several scenes that were recorded out of focus, overexposed, or the voices

were too low to hear. These are common problems when recording in the field alone.One has to pay attention not only to the technical issues, but also listen to the people inconversation and even maybe take part in it. One often forgets to check the camerasettings when focused on listening and participating in discussion. Yet, thesedifficulties can also become an advantage in editing. We were forced to find a way todisclose things in a balanced way that could be understood by an outsider audience butthat would still ring true to an insider. Thus, we experimented with stills and voiceover in order to save scenes that were crucial to the narrative but that were out offocus or that had poor sound. Ultimately, the editor is directed by the viewer. For An

Extraordinary Wedding, the audience that we had in mind when we began editingincluded foremost the protagonists themselves, their children and grandchildren. Atthe same time, we wanted to address anthropologists, who are interested in social andcultural transformation, especially issues associated with contemporary bridepriceexchanges in PNG. We envisioned a film that would have educational value and couldbe used for teaching as this was the main expectation of the key participants, the brideand groom and their kin, in opening their lives to public scrutiny. For them ‘a wideraudience’ means other people from Hagen, the Western Highlands and Papua New


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Guinea in general, as well as a global audience of students interested in learning aboutthe social and cultural complexities of contemporary life in PNG.

Editing as participatory practice

35 Daniela created the second cut based on feedback Rosita had received from key

participants in the film during her visit to Kunguma Village.

Participatory Editing

Thomas Las watching and commenting on the first cut of An Extraordinary Wedding

Photo by Rosita Henry

36 Daniela edited the cut accordingly, but several of the events that the participants

requested to be included were out of focus. This complicated the situation and meantthat a compromise had to be found. The participants also wanted to shorten or cutsome sequences, as they did not think these family tensions should be publicly aired. Inparticular, they wanted certain speeches and conversations to be cut from the film incase they caused embarrassment or even conflict among family members. While theevents had occurred in public, repetition of them in the film might rekindle tensionsthat would otherwise lie dormant. Most of these sequences were in the local language(tok ples) which Daniela did not understand. She had included the shots for the sake ofchronology and because they were technically well shot, were aesthetically pleasing toher and had an expressive mood. These considerations, however, were not as importantto the participants as what was actually said. Thus, several sequences that Danielainitially liked and had linked together were edited.

37 There were also other responses from participants in the events filmed that made

Daniela think differently about the next stage of editing. In the first cut, to open thefilm, she included a compilation of several scenes that were out of chronological order.She did not specifically intend to disturb the chronology of events, but wanted to


62

introduce certain characters early in order to draw the viewer into the story and setthe scene for what was to come. However, after seeing the rough cut, a participantasked for one of these scenes to be removed. This was a scene in which the bride’skinsman was counting pigs. The participants advised that the original sequence ofevents had to be maintained in this case as it would be deemed very impolite to startcounting gifts before they were actually presented. A dynamic and discontinuous styleof editing and juxtapositioning of shots was inappropriate in this case.

38 The bride’s sister Bernadine subsequently watched the second cut with Daniela in the

editing studio and gave her further suggestions. Daniela is currently further editing thefilm. The participatory approach to editing that we have attempted for An Extraordinary

Wedding has led us to reflect critically upon the authorial strategies we have adopted tocreate this ethnographic film.

Authorial strategies – Ethical and aesthetical

39 Ethnographic filmmaking raises ethical issues with regard to the relation between our

own voices as filmmakers and anthropologists and the other voices constructing thenarrative. MacDougall argues that ‘it is only through the author’s agency that we areallowed to hear other voices, by a process of “transmission”’ (1998: 156). There havebeen attempts to include a multiplicity of voices and plural authorship in so called‘polyphonic’ films (Eraso 2006: 1). But there is also a danger that such films createcontradictory arguments leading to confusion among viewers.

40 Eraso (2006: 11) writes that in the expositional style of ethnographic films ‘there is an

argument around which the film is constructed and through which it evolves, and theimages and narratives are chosen to support this’. However, in An Extraordinary Wedding

it became evident to us early in the piece that it was mostly the participants themselvesconstructing the narrative. This is not to say that we were not aware of our ownauthorial agency, but that it was already tempered by what the participants weresaying and doing.

41 According to MacDougall (1998: 158):

"Films are shaped as much by the structures into which they are placed as by theiravowed form and intention. The making of some films is thus part of a socialprocess larger than the film itself."

42 An Extraordinary Wedding is this kind of film. We felt that it was imperative to include

some scenes in the film because of their importance for understanding that bridepriceis not as much about the relationship between the bride and the groom as about acontinuing social process that includes historical ties of alliance and enmity betweentheir clans. The past relationship between the clans of the bride and the groom wasraised repeatedly during the speeches. Even events that had occurred as far back as the1920s were mentioned. At one point, special note was made of the death of the bride’sgreat-grandmother during a tribal war in which the groom’s and the bride’s clans hadbeen on opposite sides of the conflict. The bride’s mother, Maggie Wilson, mentionsthis event in her autobiography (Wilson and Henry, in prep.):

"My father Kuan was the eldest surviving child of our lineage in the Penambi Wiasub-clan and he was about 13 at the time; he had four younger brothers, Tugl, Wai,Penapel and Kut who was the youngest, then only two or three years old. Their


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father, my grandfather Megl, had died of natural causes two crop cycles before thiswar but their mother, my grandmother, was killed during the war."

43 As part of Nadia’s brideprice exchange, the groom’s side, the Mogei Nambuga,

presented the Penambi Wia with some pigs in compensation for the death of Maggie’sgrandmother (father’s mother) during this 1920s war, which is also mentioned inConnolly (2005: 226). We felt it was important to highlight this exchange in the film,knowing, as anthropologists, that a history of past relations between groups is crucialto a full understanding of the meaning of the speeches and actions of participants inany exchange ceremony in the Western Highlands. Yet, the complexity of suchrelations is not as readily conveyed through a visual mode of representation as througha written ethnographic text (Hastrup 1992).

44 According to Herzfeld (1997: 6) it was ‘the encounter’ between his anthropological

interests and the writings of Andreas Nenedakis, whose biography he wrote, thathelped him to understand how Andreas negotiated ‘the engagement of his culturalbackground, his sense of tradition and value, with the encompassing enormities of histimes’. Similarly, in the making of An Extraordinary Wedding, the encounter between ourinterests as anthropologists and the practices and performances of the people filmedhelped us to understand how Western Highlanders negotiate concepts of tradition andmodernity and different notions of value in these times of rapid social change in PNG.We have wrestled with the problem of effectively conveying the social transformationsand rise of new inequalities in PNG that are expressed in brideprice exchanges. Do theauthorial strategies we have employed for the film have the capacity to reveal complexintertwined histories and emerging inequalities of race, gender, and class? It seemspossible to only partially address these issues via editorial techniques and the inclusionof particular speech events. Yet, because of the agency of the viewer, an ethnographicfilm just like a documentary ‘always exceeds its maker’s prescriptions’ (Vaughan 1999:82).

45 As Vaughan (1999: 83) writes, ‘[j]ust as the ethics of filmmakers are experienced as

aesthetics by the viewer, so the anthropologist’s objectivity translates into ambiguity:and the “real-life” density commonly attributed by viewers to such film is ourexperience of active engagement in the generation of meaning’. An Extraordinary

Wedding is a collective creation of meaning by many agents – participants, filmmaker,editor, and the various viewers (potential, virtual and actual). Today the people withwhom anthropologists conduct research often readily embrace the potential of film togenerate their own meanings and achieve their own narrative ends. For example,Yolngu people in Australia, according to Jennifer Deger (2007), have sought to producetheir own desired effects in film and ‘to reach an audience dispersed over both timeand space, and beyond restrictions of clan, age, or gender’ (Deger 2007: 108-109; seealso De Largy Healy 2013).

46 Anthropologists, filmmakers, editors, viewers and the people whose lives are featured

in ethnographic films are all engaged in ‘narrative practices’ (Gubrium and Holstein2008).Yet, like all practices, narrative practices are subject to power relations. AsBarbara Glowczewski reminds us, on the basis of her experience with Warlpiri people inAustralia, ‘[r]esearch implies constant negotiations, as contexts change with time, as docultural priorities’ (2014: 159). Glowczewski argues for taking into account our subjects’perceptions, ‘that is, the way they express their visions, memories, and history, as wellas assemblages that include other agents, and all living systems intertwined with


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environment and technology’ (2014: 147). The interpretive power of the anthropologistis always constrained by the historical context and the interests and understandings ofthe people whose lives or lifeworlds are being explored. This productive tension is notspecific to visual anthropology. It lies at the core of ethnography, indeed of all socialinquiry. Nevertheless, the narrative practices of the ethnographic filmmaker and editorusually remain dominant in the creation of the final product, even where participatoryfilmmaking is attempted as a means ‘to add integrity to the ethnographic documentaryfilm’ (Mathew 2014: 20).

Conclusion

47 Crane (1991: 295) writes that authors ‘determine the order in which they unfold their

arguments, and this power of presentation is enormous’. As filmmakers we have thepower to edit, to select and exclude, to highlight and comment on, and to circumventthe linear path in the way events temporally unfold. But the perceptiveness anddiscernment of the viewer, both insider and outsider, limits our power. As filmmakerswe are constrained by what we think the viewer will be able to grasp of the meaning weare trying to convey. In this sense our visual narrative is ‘composed’ or ‘crafted’ ratherthan ‘created’ or ‘produced’ (Crane 1991: 293). We have tried to convey that, for boththe participants and the anthropologists, the wedding is extraordinary not onlybecause a large part of the brideprice was given directly to the bride and groom as acouple, which is not customarily how brideprice is distributed, but also because of thestatus of the particular families involved. The bride’s mother, Maggie Wilson, was ahighly respected big woman in the Western Highlands and also a Leahy, daughter ofone of the first white men to settle permanently in the Hagen area and this fact isemphasised in some of the speeches filmed. However, there are also other things,apparently taken-for-granted by the participant insiders, which might appearextraordinary to an outside viewer. For example, introduced animals such as goats andsheep supplement the rows of pigs that are customarily given, indicating the presenceof Seventh Day Adventist converts among the participants. Other iconic signifiers ofmodernity and social transformation, including a coca cola marquee, a portable electricfan and a microphone, appear in the film. Such symbols of wealth are not present at allbrideprice exchanges in the Western Highlands, but are relatively common amongwell-to-do Papua New Guineans living in, or in close proximity to, urban centres.

48 In editing An Extraordinary Wedding, we moved from first imagining that we were going

to play only a very minor part in the authorship of what initially was to be merely an‘observational’ film, to recognizing and facing up to the weight of our own narrativepractices and authorial contributions as anthropologists, filmmakers and editors. Byengaging with the characters whose lives are portrayed in the film in a process ofparticipatory editing, we have tried to ethically convey the intricacies of the socialrelationships at stake for them while, at the same time, leaving some space foraesthetic expression and experiential freedom in viewing this film. As a result we hopethat the final cut will allow for many different analyses and interpretations concerningthe extraordinariness of this wedding.


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BIBLIOGRAPHY

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Connolly, Bob and Robin Anderson. 1987. First Contact. New York: Viking Penguin Inc.

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Feld, Steven. 2003, ed. Ciné Ethnography. Jean Rouch. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

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Bloomsbury Academic.

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Methods. Sharlene Nagy Hesse-Biber and Patricia Leavy, eds. Pp. 241-64. New York: The Guilford

Press.

Hastrup, Kirsten. 1992. Anthropological Visions: Some Notes on Visual and Textual Authority. In

Film as Ethnography. Peter Ian Crawford and David Turton, eds. Pp. 8-25. Manchester: Manchester

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Henley, Paul. n.d. Authorship in Western Ethnographic Film-making: A Selective History, https://

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Henry, Rosita. 2012. Gifts of Grief: Performative Ethnography and the Revelatory Potential of

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Herzfeld, Michael. 1997. Portrait of a Greek Imagination: An Ethnographic Biography of Andreas

Nenedakis. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.


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and Local Concepts in Mount Hagen, Papua New Guinea. Oceania 68(3): 170-188.

Strathern, J. Andrew and Pamela J. Stewart. 2000. Creating Difference: A Contemporary Affiliation

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(production). 53 min.


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Connolly, Bob and Robin Anderson, dirs. 1989. Joe Leahy’s Neighbours. Bob Connolly and Robin

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Nunguya, Kumain, Lahui Vagi Geita and Magdaline Wilson, dirs. 1987. Les Aventuriers de la planète

Mars. Ateliers Varan (production). 25 min.

Nunguya Kolain, Kumain. 1989. Sinmia: Haus Bilas Bilong Manmeri Bilong Baruya. Skul Bilong Wokim

Piksa and Atelier Varan (production). 47 min.

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Wilson, Maggie, dir. 1990. Bride Price in Hanuabada. EMTV (production).

ABSTRACTS

In attempting to create visual narratives, ethnographic filmmakers often face intractable

dilemmas of choice, both ethical and aesthetical, in what to sacrifice from many hours of footage

of complex socio-cultural practices and performances. How do we author a narrative that can be

understood and appreciated by a broader audience without diminishing the integrity of the

lifeworld of the characters? How do we convey the intricacies of the social relationships at stake

while, at the same time, leaving some space for experiential freedom in viewing the film? These

are some of the questions that we have grappled with in the making of An Extraordinary Wedding,

a film about contemporary marriage and brideprice exchanges in the Western Highlands of

Papua New Guinea. In this piece we reflect upon the ethics and aesthetics of the authorial

strategies we have employed in this work-in-progress.

Dans leurs tentatives pour créer des récits visuels, les cinéastes ethnographes sont souvent

confrontés à d’insolubles dilemmes tant éthiques qu’esthétiques quant au choix des séquences à

sacrifier parmi les nombreuses heures d’images montrant les complexes pratiques et

performances socio-culturelles. Comment créer un récit qui puisse être compris et apprécié par

un large public sans pour autant diminuer l’intégrité du monde habité par les personnes

représentées ? Comment transmettre les subtilités des relations sociales en jeu tout en laissant

une certaine liberté au spectateur ? Ce sont là quelques-unes des questions auxquelles nous

avons été confrontées lors de la réalisation d’« Un mariage extraordinaire », film sur le mariage

contemporain et les échanges autour du « prix de la mariée » dans les Hautes-Terres occidentales

de Papouasie Nouvelle-Guinée. Cet article discute les enjeux éthiques et esthétiques des

stratégies d’auteurs que nous avons adoptées dans ce travail en cours de progression.

En sus tentativas para crear historias visuales, los cineastas etnógrafos deben confrontarse a

menudo con insuperables dilemas de carácter ético y estético en relación a la elección de

secuencias que hay que sacrificar entre las numerosas horas de imágenes que muestran

complejas prácticas y performances socioculturales. ¿Cómo crear una narración que pueda ser

comprendida por un público amplio sin disminuir la integridad del universo vital de los actores?

Estas son algunas de las cuestiones a las que nos hemos tenido que enfrentar durante la

realización de “Una boda extraordinaria”, una película sobre las bodas contemporáneas y las

discusiones en relación al “precio de la novia” en las tierras altas occidentales de Papúa Nueva-


68

http://www.film-documentaire.fr/4DACTION/w_liste_generique/C_10126_F

http://www.film-documentaire.fr/4DACTION/w_liste_generique/C_84677_F

http://www.film-documentaire.fr/4DACTION/w_liste_generique/S_23_G

Guinea. Este artículo discute las problemáticas éticas y estéticas de las estrategias que, como

autores, hemos adoptado en este trabajo, todavía en fase de realización.

INDEX

Keywords: Ethnographic film, visual anthropology, Papua New Guinea, Western Highlands,

research ethics, brideprice

Mots-clés: Film ethnographique, anthropologie visuelle, Papouasie Nouvelle-Guinée, Hautes-

Terres occidentales, éthique de la recherche, prix de la mariée

Palabras claves: Cine Etnográfico, Antropología Visual, Papúa Nueva-Guinea, Tierras Altas

Occidentales, Ética de la investigación, Precio de la novia

AUTHORS

ROSITA HENRY

James Cook University, College of Arts, Society & Education, Townville, Queensland, Australia

[email protected]

DANIELA VÁVROVÁ

James Cook University, Anthropological Laboratory for Audiovisual Research, The Cairns

Institute and College of Arts, Society & Education, Cairns, Queensland, Australia

[email protected]


69



Transforming Representations ofMarine Pollution. For a NewUnderstanding of the ArtisticQualities and Social Values of GhostNets Géraldine Le Roux

The research for this paper was financially supported by the Université de Bretagne Occidentale

(UBO/CRBC) and James Cook University. In developing the ideas presented here, I have received

helpful input from Lynnette Griffiths, Diann Lui, Sue Ryan, Greg Adams, Riki Gunn and Marions

Gaemers'. I also thank Estelle Castro-Koshy, Stuart Speirs and Marion Maddox as well as the two

anonymous reviewers for their generous feedback.

1 An increasing number of non-governmental organisations work on marine pollution,

such as Washed Ashore, Sea Shepherd, Tangaroa Blue, and WWF; one of them,GhostNets Australia, focuses on the destruction caused by discarded fishing gear.According to the United Nations Environment Programme (2005), marine debris “is anypersistent, manufactured or processed solid material discarded, disposed or abandonedin the marine and coastal environment”. The expression “ghost nets” specifically refersto abandoned, lost or discarded fishing gear.1 The nets dramatically impact on theenvironment, trapping fish, crabs and endangered species such as turtles and sharks;they also kill corals and mangroves (Kiessling 2003; Gregory 2009). Under the guidanceof Riki Gunn, a former prawn trawler skipper, a group of researchers, AustralianIndigenous rangers, volunteers and artists, formed an alliance in 2004 to address thisenvironmental issue.2 Under the name of Carpentaria Ghost Nets Programme – laterchanged to GhostNets Australia - GNA (2008-2012) – they acted to reduce nets enteringthe marine ecosystem. In a few years GNA grew from “a small grassroots approach to amulti-faceted project that has gained international recognition” (Gunn 2010: 5). What Iam particularly interested in for this issue on visual anthropology is that GNA hassupported a wide range of activities in the fields of art and craft. The visual productions


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that have been independently or collaboratively produced by or with GNA –documentary, animation films, puppet show, fashion parades and artworks – differfrom the negative representations that usually go with marine pollution.

2 GNA’s newsletters, as well as the press articles published on their actions have often

described the dramatic impact of ghost nets on the marine life. But they have alsoopened a more sociological perspective telling the story of the removal of thousands ofnets, a successful action largely due to the collaboration between Indigenous and non-Indigenous groups and between scientists, fishermen, rangers and artists. In the article“A Value Chain Analysis of Ghost Nets in the Arafura Sea: Identifying Trans-boundaryStakeholders, Intervention Points and Livelihood Trade-offs”, Butler et al. reveal “thecomplexity of the ghost net issue” (2013: 21). They describe and analyse the values of anet at the different moments of its life, from “the manufacture of webbing in SouthKorea, fishing and loss by an Indonesian vessel, retrieval as ghost net on the northernAustralian coastline by Indigenous rangers, and disposal or re-cycling as ‘GhostNet Art’by Indigenous artists” (2013: 14). Although they mention ghostnet art, the authors havenot addressed the particularities of the artistic movement and they do not show howartists specifically collect, use and speak about ghost nets.

3 The development of Australian ghostnet art, from the first workshops conducted in

remote Indigenous communities (Ryan 2010) to its recognition by the Australian artmarket (Ryan 2012a; Glenn 2012; Sardaki-Clarke 2015; Mitchell 2015) and theinternational art world (Le Roux 2016), is described in several short articles publishedin art magazines and exhibition catalogues. In an academic paper (2010), the Australianart historian Sally Butler also briefly mentioned the ghostnet art practice in relation toIndigenous weaving techniques in the community of Aurukun.

4 This article will highlight how artists are using ghost nets to tell their own stories,

stepping away from the sole ecological perspective. The artistic appropriation ofdiscarded nets reveals the intimate connections that Indigenous people have built withtheir environment and the economic, cultural and diplomatic strategies they havedeveloped to protect it. This study also contributes to the recent anthropologicaldiscussion on recycling as well as on the economisation and marketisation ofenvironmental issues, and in particular “the convergence [and confrontation] ofeconomic values with cultural values” (Norris 2012a: 129).

5 After a short presentation of my methodology, I will focus on GNA’s actions, in

particular one of their short films. The reader will see marine pollution through TorresStrait Islanders’ points of view that have been contextualized to emphasize how a localcommunity is addressing the issue. I will then show how artistic interventions cangenerate positive feelings and constructive attitudes. The third part will discuss thetranslocal identity of the ghostnet art movement, in particular regarding the tradesystem.

Methodology

6 Recently I was asked to write an essay on ghostnet art for the catalogue of the

exhibition “Taba Naba. Australie, Océanie, arts des peuples de la mer” held at theOceanographic Museum in Monaco. The museum was hosting this temporary artexhibition dedicated to the protection of the oceans, and ghostnet objects were part ofthe Australian Indigenous art component. It was the largest ghostnet art installation


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ever presented overseas. As an anthropologist and an art curator I had been in regularcontact with ghostnets artists since 2012 when I first selected two ghostnet artworksfor an exhibition at the Musée du Montparnasse, Paris. The Garden Lady from FlorenceGutchen (Erub Island) and the Gecko coiling sculpture made during a series of collectiveworkshops with the Northern Peninsula Area Family and Community Services atBamaga were the first ghostnet works ever shown overseas. In the following years Ikept a strong interest in the already growing movement and stayed in touch with theartists through emails, social media and cultural events. When I was asked to write thecatalogue essay for Monaco, I decided to conduct two months of fieldwork. I studied thehistory of the movement through GhostNets Australia’s photographic archives and Iconducted formal and informal interviews in several places in North Queensland.3 I alsospent 16 days on Erub (Darnley) Island in the outer Eastern Torres Strait to attend atwo-week workshop organised by the local art centre.

7 The request for the Monaco article stated it had to be a general article made for a wide

audience, mostly for Europeans who did not know much about Aboriginal and TorresStrait art, culture and history. Therefore, new fieldwork was not necessary. I couldhave written the article from the information I had gathered through the years. Butdiscussing the content of the article with the people involved, looking at the work inprogress hour after hour and observing the artists’ interactions were important stepsto follow to understand the objects beyond their sole aesthetic dimension. Cutting,stitching and coiling nets with the artists also gave me a better appreciation ofghostnet techniques and philosophy. Both the Anthrovision and the Monaco articles (LeRoux 2016) were informed by this participant observation.

8 In relation to this volume’s issue my particular position impacted on the writing

process. I was both an anthropologist, author, independent curator as well as theperson who knew the two parties involved (the general project manager of the Monacoexhibition and the Australian artists). As an author I felt I had to reassure people that Iwas not going to write on every aspect I observed while living with them in their homeand/or in their community. Some artists seemed to have appreciated our on-goingdialogue and also that I committed myself to send a preliminary version of my articlebefore submitting it.4 Before and during the fieldwork, I was also an independentcurator in the process of organising a photographic exhibition in Brest, a projectconducted with my students as part of their Masters course on applied anthropology.Last but not least, I was French and the international and intercultural dimensions ofthe Monaco project were a source of some kind of misunderstanding. Both partiessometimes asked me to explain what was at stake between them and the other partyinvolved. Eventually my methodology became multi-sites and multi-sited.5

9 I eventually decided not to analyse the Monaco exhibition despite the fact that it would

have been an interesting case study for this volume. Knowing the backstage of thisproject, I could have interrogated the understanding of cultural protocols from aninternational point of view, the blurred relationships between public display andcommercial strategies and the collaborative process between Indigenous and non-Indigenous artists. For example, Erub artists decided to create several objects includinga double outrigger canoe, which is an important and historical object in their culture(Haddon 1912). But due to the limited time-frame they were subject to, they could notgo through the entire consultation process that they wanted to follow. Therefore, theyeventually decided to give and make a “modern interpretation” of the canoe.6 For ethical


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reasons I decided not to tackle the aforementioned questions in this paper. I felt thatdue to my own time constraints I would have lacked some reflexive dimension and Iwanted to be careful about the potential impact of revealing the strategies undertakenby the different partners involved in the project. What I see as important in thatparticular case study will be discussed in the future, in articulation with the publicreception and the media coverage of the Monaco event.7 This current article focuses onthe dialogic relationship between images and texts with regard to the representationsof ghost nets.

10 As Korom (1996), Laviolette (2006) and Norris (2010) have demonstrated, people who

reuse elements do it for various reasons, not only for economic or ecological concerns.This publication being the first academic paper dedicated to ghostnet art, I includedsignificant quotes from the interviews I conducted with the artists to reflect theplurality of the voices of the people involved in the development of ghostnet art.Following that logic, I am also starting the article with extracts from a shortdocumentary made by GNA, The Making-of The Young Man and the Ghost Net.

Visual representations of the ghost nets

Stepping away from the dramatization of the marine pollution

Ghostnet art workshop

Cairns Indigenous Art Fair, Cairns, 2014

Photo by Géraldine Le Roux

11 Over the years, GNA liaised with and presented the work of Indigenous rangers from

more than 40 linguistic groups, covering a total surface of 3,000 kilometers andremoving more than 13,000 nets. GNA’s website explains in detail the process ofcollecting nets and emphasizes the difficulty of the process due to the remoteness ofthe areas and the arduousness of the work.8 The success of the first four years of


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activities of GNA led to large amounts of ghost nets collected. To imagine alternativeactions to the landfill, the Carpentaria GhostNets Programme organised a nationalcompetition called Design for a Sea Change “where entrants were challenged to designproducts that could be made of ghost nets and that would be capable of beingmanufactured in the Indigenous communities where nets were collected”.9 While theyexpected to receive potential industrial products, it was eventually mainly artists whoproposed works.10 “GNA was ahead of its time as since then a high tech solution hasbeen developed in Europe that turns nylon nets into yarn for industrial carpets,clothing and socks.”11 Amongst bags, hammocks and kitchen ware, the guitar strapmade by Chantal Cordey was selected by the jury.

12 The award the artist received was flights for four people to travel to the Northern

Territory. Not comfortable with the idea of being a tourist, she asked whether she couldworkshop her techniques.12 The first two workshops were held in Yirrkala in theNorthern Territory and on Hammond Island in the Torres Strait. The success of thatevent confirmed GNA’s hunch to push the creative process involved in makingghostnets objects. GNA engaged visual artist and former Cape York Indigenous artcentre coordinator Sue Ryan to undertake a Scoping Study. Ryan’s visits to a dozencommunities on the west coast of Cape York and in the Torres Strait testified to thecreative potential of ghost nets and revealed strong interest on the part of artists, whowere already aware of the destructive effects of ghost nets on the marine environment.In 2009 Ryan was hired by GNA to implement the recommendations of her ScopingStudy Report (Ryan 2010).

13 Over the years, workshops and public events were organised in cities, spreading both

the ecological message and demonstrating the artistic value of ghostnet artworks (Ryan2012b). At the Cairns Indigenous Art Fair, where ghostnet works have been shown since2010, visitors are invited to participate in free workshops by either collaborating on alarge-scale piece or working on their own piece. In allowing people to bring back homea small item, GNA members knew that “visitors will bring back the story with them”.13 Inencouraging people to do something with the ghost nets, GNA subtly moved theposition of the visitors into the one of “spect’actor”, encouraging them to becomeagents of change. This dynamic and relational methodology differs from the negativeand disempowering feelings and attitudes that are often seen around environmentalissues.

14 GNA facilitated workshops, production of films and art initiatives to educate people on

the complex issue of ghost nets. The short documentary on the Puppet show received agreat level of attention worldwide. It was translated in four languages – English,French, Chinese and Korean – and toured in exhibitions and film festivals as far away asSouth Korea, Hong Kong, Hawaii, Brazil, Saint Martin (in the Caribbean), France, theUSA, Alaska and all over Australia. The poetic and almost phantasmagorical Puppetshow is different to the still images of garbage and mutilated turtles that are commonlyassociated with marine pollution. This positive perception is often acknowledged byviewers and visitors.14

The Puppet show. The Young Man and the Ghost Net


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A collaborative piece

Photo by Karen Hethey and Ilka White © GhostNets Australia

15 In 2010 GNA organised a workshop on Moa Islands in Central Torres Strait, under the

mentorship of two Australian artists, Ilka White and Karen Hethey. GNA’s teamproposed “to team them up”15 for the two-week workshop because they could see howtheir expertise in sculpture, costume, theatre settings and fibre creations could inspireTorres Strait artists. White had lived on Moa Island when she was a teenager and shewanted to go back. After a few days on Moa Island, the two artists decided to stay twoweeks longer in order to organise a puppet show. Their proposal to expand the timeframe and to do it without being paid for that additional time reveals their enthusiasm,a dynamic that is common to many ghostnet art lovers.

16 Materials were locally collected and items woven and stitched together in community

workshops with the art centre, primary school, churches and the wider community,“all contributing significantly”.16 They created fish and corals out of plastic bottles, netsand fine paper glued over cane and organised a puppet show for the community. Achoir of 65 musicians and singers and puppeteers of all ages joined them to tell thestory of The Young Man and the Ghost Net. This was the first puppet show on the islandand it was presented as the first Australian theatre show ever made out of ghost netsand marine debris. It showcased the journey of discarded nets floating in the water,killing sea animals and negatively impacting on human activities.

17

This media file cannot be displayed. Please refer to the online document http://journals.openedition.org/anthrovision/2221



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18 Many coastline people from Northern Australia seem to estimate that the ghost nets

issue started to impact them around the mid-1990’s.17 The artistic director of Erub ArtCentre, Lynnette Griffiths, has vivid memories of marine pollution:

19 “I grew up on the water, along the East coast of Australia. The first time Geoff [her husband]

and I went to Weipa, on the West coast of Cape York, it was around 1985; there were no nets,

absolutely no net. When I moved to Bamaga in 1991, it was still quite rare to see nets. Then, on

Thursday Island we lived there and still, down the Cape York or out toward the western side of

Prince of Wales it was still rare, you didn’t see them much in that early 1990’s. And then it

became a phenomenon in the late 90’s, 2000’s. Then going backward and forward, because we

lived on Darnley then, we could see that there were much more nets.”18

20 In The Making-of The Young Man and the Ghost Net, the viewer hears several interviewees

and while the film goes on, it becomes clear that the Puppet show’s story also reflects anegative experience that is shared by most Islanders and sailors. Both the show and thefilm express the sorrow of Saltwater people when they see animals trapped indiscarded nets (GNA 2010: 03:45-06:17). These feelings echo the ones of manyIndigenous people, both from Torres Strait and from Cape York. They acknowledge thatthe sea is part of their life and animals should be respected as living beings. The filmstresses the urgency to deal with the issue but does not victimise people. As Levi says:“If we don’t take care of it who will?” The short documentary highlights the agency ofthe people living on the coast. A 15 seconds sequence also lightly responds to somemisrepresentations about contemporary Indigenous land management. When an oldman regrets that “they say we kill too much turtles, but it’s not us, it’s the nets”, thespectator starts to understand the effect of collaborations between artists, researchersand community members: it is useful not only to document the origins of the nets andto encourage their removal, but also to reveal the intricacy of ecological, economic,cultural and symbolic dimensions of this global issue. It is in this logic of raisingconsciousness about inter-cultural relationships that some artists decided to take partin the Monaco exhibition. They wanted to speak about the ecological challenge they arefacing but also to attract attention on the specificities of their own culture (Le Roux2016).


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Removing the ghost nets

The removal of nets requires machinery and equipment that are expensive to freight toremote communities.

Photo by Pormpuraaw Rangers © GhostNets Australia

21 Islanders from areas other than Central Torres Strait express feelings similar to the

ones we hear in The Making-of The Young Man and the Ghost Net. In her artist’s statementfor the Gab Titui catalogue, Maria Ware (2013: 43) wrote “I feel sorry for these seacreatures who suffer because of the nets”. All the artists I interviewed on Erub hadwitnessed nets either caught on a reef, buried under the sand, matted in mangroves orwrapped around logs as well as ropes floating on the surface. After a few weeks in thefield, I found a diversity of representations that I did not initially see after firstwatching and reading GNA’s documents. Maybe it was because I had been myselfcaught by the extraordinary story of the big and old nets. “For years it [a net] cantravel across different oceans carried by currents, waves and wind. Frayed by the giantwashing machine sea, encrusted in barnacles and seaweed, within it entangledbleached bones and living things, Taiwanese toothbrushes, the odd children’s toy,lures, floats and driftwood, it heads for the coast” (Ryan 2012b: 5). GNA hasdocumented the removal of some very big and old nets like the one collected atNhulunbuy in the Northern Territory. It weighed one ton and was 12 metres deep, sodense that a person could sit on it. Artists have embraced that type of discourse like thePormpuraaw art coordinator who wrote in a short paper that some nets have been inthe water for such a long time that they “come with compressed sand chunks like looseconcrete attached. We think that these nets must have been stuck on the sea floor for along time in order for this to happen” (Jakubowski 2015: 12).

22 Conversely to these large nets, the plastics that circulate under the surface and

disintegrate into micro-particles (Reisser et al. 2013; Pham et al. 2014) are difficult torepresent visually. Small pieces of nets, like the ones that have been washed up on thereef, are visually less impressive than the large ghost nets, but they are still a dangerfor the marine life. Jan Cattoni is one of the rare filmmakers who have filmed small


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pieces of nets (Erub Ghost Nets 2013). 19 Most artistic directors film the largest nets,because they catch spectators’ attention. It even seems that some image makers haveconsciously placed one big net on the beach for the shooting of their documentary.However, in the numerous visuals widely promoted by the ghostnet network, humouras well as joy are clearly perceptible and express the richness of the collectiveexperience as well as the complexities of marine pollution and its removal. In thefollowing part, we will see how artists have found unique way to introduce people tothese multiple layers of realities20.

Magic nets

23 “There is something incredible with ghost nets, when you turn them into something

different. If you can capture the spirit and the character of the animal, it’s likemagic.”21

A sense of familiarity

Bruce and Nemo, Erub Island, 2015.

Photo by Marion Gaemers’, 2015

24 One day, a European art dealer asked me to explain why ghostnet art was so fine and

beautiful whereas the ecological dimension of the phenomenon was so dramatic. He feltit was a “paradox” that artworks did not literally represent the danger of nets.Ghostnet artists seek inspiration from Indigenous myths and legends, ecologicalknowledge and everyday lifestyle. The first ghostnet works produced between 2009 and2011 were mostly baskets and jewelry. Later, with the evolution of the techniques andunder the guidance of several non-Indigenous mentors new objects appeared, withmore complex shape and bigger size (Le Roux 2016). Many objects depicted reveal


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totemic affiliations, or are related to important stories such as the Crocodile Sorcererand Water Spirits.

25 Amongst the hundreds of ghostnet artworks that have been produced since the first

workshop, only a few objects literally represent the dramatic impact of ghost nets onthe environment. For the Monaco installation, Pormpuraaw artists decided to make asawfish and a shovelnose ray to make a strong comment on the evolution of theecosystem and the necessary evolution of their society. Faced with the disappearanceof sawfish, the shovelnose ray has taken on a more important role in Wik society,especially in period of mourning (Mitchell 2015). A few years ago, Florence Gutchenfrom Erub drew a sketch representing a turtle caught in a net. Angela “Mahnah”Torenbeek from Moa Island produced a ghostnet turtle trapped in a net. CeferinoSabatino from Hammond Island also made a series of three works, Clinging for Life,which directly discuss the problem. It won the Gab Titui “People’s Choice” IndigenousArt Award in 2014. A collective work made in Erub, entitled Giant Weres, also addressedthe problem of overfishing by supersize trawlers. At the 2015 Gab Titui award, TonyHarry from Warraber Island presented a mixed media work. On a canvas he painted aturtle trapped in a net, using a real rope. It was entitled Waru Pingerr Ya Alali (Turtle

caught up in a net). Even if not many ghostnet works represent the animals trapped bydiscarded nets, they express a strong connection to the sea environment. Talking abouthis work, Sabatino explained that “it’s my way of contributing as a visual artist incaring for country”.22 Ghostnet art explores this relationship between art and nature –something that the Monaco installation also reveals. This knowledge is represented byErub artists through fine details; with their works, “it’s the environment and theculture that come together”.23 For example, the turtle made for Monaco by these artistsis extraordinarily realistic and her shell was made to reflect the sun and the corals. Themultiple layers of nets on the shark were also ingeniously selected to evoke the coloursof the skin through the water. Even the lay out and the mounting of the wholeinstallation was initially planned to evoke the animals’ movements during a huntingscene.

26 There is also a strong comic dimension in ghostnet art. Artists from Erub enjoy creating

very colourful fish and they love making fun with them. During the time of thefabrication process, the fish were called with nicknames and the shark became Bruce,as a reference for the Finding Nemo film (2003). This sense of familiarity can also be seenin the way people play with the nets. During workshops, people smile and laugh whenthey are making things out of the nets. Participants do not only stitch, unravel and cutnets; they also play with the forms they have just created.24 Materials are used either asbody ornament or as cloth: a piece of green gillnet becomes a scarf; a delicate blackthin net is worn as a veil; and a big coiling piece is transformed into a hat. Some peoplewill even try to fit in the large basket they have just finished. The Erub art centrepushed that idea further by dedicating one of their annual fashion parades toghostnets. As part of their 2014 Christmas party, they ran a friendly competition withartists and community members who had 15 minutes to dress up from a heap of netsand ropes. The result is stunning: the originality of the dresses and hats is enhanced bythe natural beauty of the materials. Artists have transformed themselves for atemporary time as models, demonstrating once again the extraordinary potentialitiesof plastic nets if they are no longer seen as waste.


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Modeling (with) the nets

Photo by Lynnette Griffiths, 2014

Playing with the nets

Photo by Lynnette Griffiths, 2014


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27 So, is there a disconnect between the discourse and the practice like the art dealer

suggested? It seems that ghostnet artists celebrate the beauty of their environment,their relation to the sea and the land, transmitting the principles of the caring for

country’s concept25. This is how I understand Maria Ware’s words, when she says thatshe “feel[s] sorry for these sea creatures who suffer because of the nets. I am nowcreating baskets and objects to raise awareness of the dangers of ghost net. I enjoydoing it. It makes me very happy” (2013: 43). The proximity of the feelings of sadnessand happiness in one sentence may seem a bit paradoxical. But the ghostnet artpractice expresses the close relationship that people have with their land. In exploringit artistically they both embody their environment and reveal it to a global audience,encouraging people to “do something about it”26. Artists give another perspective onmarine pollution, in showing the beauty of the environment, in explaining thecomplexity of the issue – articulating the ecological, economic, social and culturaldimensions – and in revealing the aesthetic quality of the ghost nets. In the followingpart, we will see how artists are now considering ghost nets as art materials and nolonger and solely as marine debris.

The artistic life of the ghost nets

28 When they first saw ghostnet artworks my French students were surprised by the

diversity of the materials. Living on the Atlantic coast side, they frequently see blackand green nets and white ropes amongst plastic bottles, thongs and natural marinedebris. But looking at the Australian ghostnet artworks, they found that they weremade out of a large variety of materials with a broad array of colours and textures.Students asked the very question that I was asking myself: how do Australian artists getso many nets with such a diversity of colours and shapes?27 The next part will showhow art centres and independent artists are dealing with the increasing interest inghostnet art, and how they are now “looking for more nets”.28 As the Erub art centremanager Diann Lui noted: “We use so much net, we need to get more nets!”29

Flux and origins of the ghost nets

29 Studies show that the Gulf of Carpentaria – the Australian most affected region by

ghost nets – is a place of intense fishing activities, with numerous vessels from variouscountries such as China, Thailand, South Korea and Vietnam (Wilcox 2015). Commonly,each country would have its own fishing net factories. The mesh size of the net, thelength of the niche, how the knots are made, if it is twisted or braided, etc. can differaccording to the country of origins of the net and the fish targeted. Marine debrisfound on shores reflects human activity, both locally and internationally as tides andcurrents carry debris on miles.

30 90% of the ghost nets that impact Australia are found in the northern half of the Gulf of

Carpentaria; within that region some areas are less impacted than others. In northwestCape York, Aurukun, Old Mapoon, Injinoo and Bamaga are the most affectedcommunities. Some like Pormpuraaw will mostly get nets after cyclones.30 In theNorthern Territory, Groote Eylandt, Yirrkala and Mornington Island are regularlyaffected by marine pollution. Due to its geological situation, with hundreds of islandsand reefs, the Torres Strait has exceptional hydrographic conditions and a highly


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complex system of tides (Johannes and MacFarlane 1991). Consequently, the ecologicalproblem of ghost nets does not impact identically in the Torres Strait. Around Westernand Central Torres Strait, there are a lot of nets and various fishing debris. Firstlybecause trawlers are very active in that area; secondly because the currents hit theWestern coast of Cape York and generate a circular circulation of marine debris, the“washing machine” as some people call it. The outer islands are less affected by ghostnets. This brief description of marine waste’s circulation reveals that the AustralianIndigenous communities which are now the most renowned for ghostnet art – Erub andPormpuraaw – are not the most affected by marine pollution. How do artists and artcentres get the nets?

Trading nets

31 “[…] our nets come from somewhere else and we use a large variety of sources.”31

32 Under the guidance of GNA, art centres used discarded fishing gears from rangers

(Gunn 2010). With the recent development of the art and the increasing number ofcommissions, art centres and independent artists have had to get them from a widerrange of people and places: rangers, freight companies, fishermen, relatives andindependent people. Nets can be collected on the shore, in the dumping zone and somecommunity art centres even order and pay for bags of nets to be transported fromanother community. Artists and art coordinators try to get the right material, eitherwhen they look for it on the shore, when they buy them or if they exchange materialwith their peers. The rarity of the material as well as the thickness and the colour canbe sought. With the recent recognition from the art market, artists are getting moreconcerned by the quality of the material and would choose one over another, makingsure the plastic does not fall apart.

33 Artists living in remote communities also access nets from their own networks.

34 “Here, on the beach there is no ghost net. In deep water there are some. On York Island, they get

nets. It’s not far away from here. It depends on the motor boat; it can take about 30 minutes. My

brother stays there. He stays with my husband’s sister. No, I don’t buy it from them, they are my

in-laws. Sometimes I give them the things I have created. Like the bowl I bring yesterday. Things

like that. I do it with their nets. Not with the materials provided by the art centre. It’s my own

pocket money.”32

35 On Erub, where I conducted most of my interviews, artists acknowledge that they get

nets both from the art centre and from relatives. Even if modern Torres Strait life hasbeen shaped by liberal economy, practices of exchange and gift-giving with in-laws andneighboring countries (Papua New Guinea, Cape York) are still practiced. Exchangesalso used to be intensive between Torres Strait Islander groups and Aboriginal groupsfrom Cape York. Even if these relations were drastically altered by the development ofwestern marine activities – the pearl and the beche-de-mer industries – as well asmission time and assimilation policy, exchange and trade are still important to people.Modern ghost nets have been integrated into a traditional system of collecting andexchanging: “On the shores, we got lots of trees from PNG that we use for building our houses.

We also get sago. We collect seeds from the beach. Foreign plants grow on our shore. We also

collect timbers that fell down from the ships. We even get some dinghy and canoes all away from

PNG. All good things come from the sea. Now we collect nets.”33 When people find nets theywill also report it to their relatives. The numerous necklaces and body ornaments that


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artists make out of ghost nets are a source of income and a practice that recalls howpeople used to collect things from the sea.

36 “My family […]collect[s] nets and shells for me. They know I am an artist. Some of my things are

from home and it’s important because here I’m making things and people say ‘it’s beautiful’ and

I say ‘it’s from my home’. I don’t stay there anymore, here it’s my home. It remembers me where I

am from.”34 Like Florence Gutchen, artists enjoy using material that is meaningful tothem. Lynnette Griffiths also acknowledges her personal story, coming from aManchester family of rope makers and having grown up on a boat. Like Laviolette(2006: 72) who stated that Cornish recycled art can be seen as “an allegory for theregeneration of culture, history and heritage”, we can say that ghostnet art is bothinscribed in a contemporary and worldwide issue and portrays the strength ofIndigenous values, depicting the core elements of family, land and sea, history, identityand culture. It is in that perspective that one artist told me how she was hoping thatthe Monaco exhibition will establish new opportunities for Torres Strait Islanders whoare, indeed, less visible on the art market than Aboriginal artists. This use of theWestern taste for art to highlight political and cultural agendas is a common practice inAustralian Indigenous communities (Langton 1993; Morphy 2008; Le Roux 2010).

A clean and a dusty piece of a ghostnet art

Detail of a work by Marion Gaemers’ and the Townsville community. The Reef exhibition. TownsvilleRegional Art Gallery, 2015

Photo by Géraldine Le Roux

Conclusion

37 Artists invite us to see ghost nets as an important source of marine pollution that can

be both visually impressive – the global circulation of massive pieces of nets – and an


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almost invisible phenomenon – the decomposition of the nets into micro-particles.Their artistic intervention transforms the representation of ghost nets from “old”,“dirty”, anonymous and “non-desirable” “rubbish” into a potential art material whichcan be collected on the shores, purchased or acquired through trade and gift-givingprocesses. An innovative recycling process dedicated to ghost nets is currentlyemerging under the influence of a few sparse initiatives. For example, Adidas, inpartnership with Parley for the Oceans, created shoes made of recycled plastic andghost nets. Two Dutch engineers have imagined a process of recycling plastic to buildlightweight, prefabricated roads (Rinaldi 2015). But conversely to the recyclingindustry which strips away “personal associations” (Gregson and Crewe 2003 in Norris2012a: 130), artists recognize and highlight the “social life” (Appadurai 1996) of thenets. The broad range of colours and textures of ghost nets is due to the diversity of thefishing industry in the Arafura Sea. It is also linked to the history of the net itself. If theghost net has laid in the water or under the sun for a long time it fades and might befull of dust and oil. Some artists will specifically choose new or old pieces of netsaccording to their aesthetic plan and the message they want to pass on. In doing so,they not only represent the evolution of the fishing activities worldwide but also createspaces of encounters between people who are not often connected: artists, fishermenand art lovers; Indigenous and non-Indigenous environmental activists, etc. Manyartists have developed their own expertise about ghost nets and informal discussionsare often about the technical qualities of a piece of net and the type of fishery it wasused for. The slowness of the gesture, similar to weaving techniques, allows people toconnect to others, to transmit stories about the land, the sea and the culture, bothlocally and internationally. The beauty and the realistic details of the ghostnetartworks reflect the many ways people care for country.

38 Ghostnet art is a transgenerational and transcultural practice. The numerous grants

collected by GNA for the projects run between 2004 and 2012, the large amount ofdonations obtained for the Monaco ghostnet installation as well as the practice ofgifting nets done at an interpersonal level all show how this new art practice resonateswith people. Ghostnet art reflects the articulation of Western and Indigenousknowledges, two systems of thought and action that are united to solve ecological,economic and cultural issues. With the label and the marketing of ghostnet art, onemay wonder if the values around the picking and recycling of ghost nets will change. Itwould therefore be fruitful to conduct further study to better grasp how therepresentations of ghost nets in Indigenous communities and the motivations of thedonors who financially support ghostnet art compare. For example, with their annualgala and charity event, the Oceanographic Museum of Monaco and the Prince Albert IIof Monaco Foundation collected €1.4 million35. This amount will be allocated to theconstruction of a turtle rehabilitation centre in the city of Monaco. How did theghostnet art installation contribute to this fundraising? More globally, will themessages of the artists continue to be linked to environmental issues? To art? ToIndigenous welfare?


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Korom, Frank J. 1996. Recycling in India: Status and Economic Realities. In Recycled, Reseen: Folk

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Harry N. Abrams.

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impliquée et multi-située avec des artistes de la côte est d’Australie. PhD Diss. Brisbane:

University of Queensland/Paris: EHESS.

--- 2016. Twenty Thousand Nets Under the Sea. Vingt mille filets autour de la mer. In Ghostnet Art.

L’art des ghostnets. Pp. 9-55. Paris: Editions Arts d’Australie. Stéphane Jacob, http://

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Mitchell, Scott. 2015. Ghost Nets: A Threat to Australian Marine Life Highlighted through

Indigenous Art. Museums Australia Magazine 23(4): 14-18, https://issuu.com/museumsaustralia/

docs/mam_23_4 (accessed 31 December, 2016).

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South Wales Press.

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Indiana University Press.

Norris, Lucy. 2012a. Trade and Transformations of Secondhand Clothing: Introduction. Textile:

Cloth and Culture 10(2): 128–143, doi: 10.2752/175183512X13315695424473.

Norris, Lucy. 2012b. Economies of Moral Fibre? Recycling Charity Clothing into Emergency Aid

Blankets. Journal of Material Culture 17(4): 389-404, doi: 10.1177/1359183512459628.

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the Shelves to Deep Basins. PLoS ONE 9(4), http://dx.plos.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0095839


Reisser, Julia et al. 2013. Marine Plastic Pollution in Waters around Australia: Characteristics,

Concentrations, and Pathways. PLoS ONE 8(11), doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0080466.

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magazine.com/en/high-tech-road-ideas (accessed 31 December, 2016).

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system/files/resources/62db1069-b7ec-4d63-b9a9-991f4b931a60/files/nourishing-terrains.pdf


Ryan, Sue. 2010. Ghost Nets Art, newsletter (3): 7.

Ryan, Sue. 2011. Ghost Nets Moa Island Puppets. Textile Fibre Forum 30(2): 46-49.

Ryan, Sue. 2012a. The Ghost Net Art Project. Artlink 32(2): 108-110, https://www.artlink.com.au/

articles/3780/the-ghost-net-art-project/ (accessed 31 December, 2016).

Ryan, Sue. 2012b. The Ghost Net Project. In The Long Tide. Contemporary Ghost Net Art, exhibition

catalogue, T. Finn (ed.) 5-6.

Sardaki-Clarke, Ester. 2015. Conservation and Creation. The Work of GhostNets Australia. Signals

112: 40-43.

UNEP. 2005. Marine Litter, an Analytical Overview. http://www.unep.org/regionalseas/

marinelitter/publications/docs/anl_oview.pdf (accessed 31 December, 2016).

Ware, Maria. 2013. Gab Titui Indigenous art award. Thursday Island: Gab Titui Cultural Centre.

Westwood, Matthew. Indigenous Exhibit the Big Winner in Arts Funding. The Australian, February

2, 2016, http://www.theaustralian.com.au/arts/indigenous-exhibit-the-big-winner-in-arts-

funding/news-story/342e88a3363551a72dfc4ce64402631d (accessed 31 December, 2016).


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http://www.artsdaustralie.com/pdf/catalogue-Ghostnet-taba-naba.pdf




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Discarded Fishing Gear on Marine Turtles in Northern Australia. Conservation Biology 29(1):

198-206.

Films

Cattoni, Jan, dir. 2013. Erub Ghost Nets. Tropics (production). 3 min.

GhostNets Australia, 2010. The Making-of The Young Man and the Ghost Net. Visual Obsession

(production). 20:53 min.

Stanton, Andrew, dir. 2003. Finding Nemo. Pixar Animation Studios and Walt Disney (production).

100 min.

NOTES

1. To emphasize the difference between the ghost net as marine pollution and the ghostnet art as

an artistic operation, I write the former in two words and the latter in one word: ghost nets and

ghostnet art. The association GhostNets Australia has formalized another spelling, writing it in

capitals and plural form.

2. Due to colonial history, Australia commonly uses two distinct terms for Indigenous peoples:

Aboriginal for those on the mainland and Torres Strait Islanders for those living in the Torres

Strait.

3. The fieldwork took place in November-December 2015. I was generously invited to stay in the

homes of Marion Gaemer's, Lynnette Griffiths and Sue Ryan, three of the leading non-Indigenous

ghostnet artists who have actively contributed to the emergence and development of the

movement. I am also grateful to Diann and Walter Lui for their hospitality on Erub. I also visited

Jan Cattoni, a filmmaker who has done several films in the Torres Strait and Cape York, the two

areas from whence the ghostnet art movement spreads.

4. All formal semi-directive interviews were transcribed and shown to the interviewees while I

was on the field. Interviewees were invited to review them. Preliminary versions of the articles

have also been discussed collectively and the final version of this article was sent to interviewees

for consultation.

5. I developed this methodology for my PhD dedicated to the production, reception and

circulation of contemporary Australian Indigenous art. I took up the term of George Marcus to

explore and express two ideas: the circulation of the artworks from their local site of production

to their international scene (multi-sites); the impact of the double position of anthropologist and

curator on the production of knowledge (multi-sited) (Le Roux 2010).

6. Interview with Jimmy Thaiday, Erub Island, November 30, 2015.

7. One month before the Monaco opening, the Australian journalist Matthew Westwood (2016)

published an article in The Australian. It questioned the equity of the new distribution of Federal

grants and asked if a project run by two private art dealers should get $500,000, an amount “that

could have supported the annual program of two key arts organisations for a whole year of

operation”. I will discuss this question amongst others in the Monaco Exhibition Review that will

be published in the forthcoming 2016 issue of Journal de la Société des Océanistes (JSO), a double

issue on the Reinvention of Cultural Performances in Oceania.

8. http://www.ghostnets.com.au/ranger-activities/ (accessed 31 December, 2016).

9. http://ghostnets.com.au/the-problem/waste-not/design-for-a-sea-change/ (accessed 31

December, 2016).

10. Interview with Riki Gunn, Ravenshoe, November 19, 2015.


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http://www.ghostnets.com.au/ranger-activities/

http://www.ghostnets.com.au/ranger-activities/

http://ghostnets.com.au/the-problem/waste-not/design-for-a-sea-change/

http://ghostnets.com.au/the-problem/waste-not/design-for-a-sea-change/

11. Riki Gunn, e-mail message to author, February 28, 2016.


13. Interview with Riki Gunn and Sue Ryan, Ravenshoe, November 19, 2015.

14. Such as the visitors to the exhibition, “Ghostnets. Des filets-fantômes, un art et des hommes

dans le nord de l’Australie” organised by a group of Masters students from Université de Brest

Occidentale (UBO), under my supervision. It opened in January 2016 (Océanopolis and UBO in

Brest) and since then it has toured in several places both in France and overseas (Saint-Martin in

the Caribbean in May 2016; Festival Interceltique in Lorient in August 2016, etc.).


16. Extract from the foreword of The Making-of The Young Man and the Ghost Net, GNA.

17. Interview with Riki Gunn, Karumba, November 19, 2015.

18. Interview with Lynnette Griffiths, Cairns, December 17, 2015.

19. Personal conversation with Jan Cattoni, Townsville, December 15, 2015.

20. Several non-Indigenous artists have experienced and formalized innovative techniques to

create original ghostnet works; this article mainly focuses on Indigenous practices and relations

to material and immaterial heritage.

21. Interview with Sue Ryan, Ravenshoe, November 18, 2015.

22. Sabatino quoted in a post written by the Torres Strait Regional Authority, May 28, 2014, on

Facebook.

23. Interview with Diann Lui, Erub Island, November 29, 2015.

24. These are the results of ethnographic work conducted through an analysis of GNA’s

photographs and my own participation at various workshops, mainly at the CIAF 2012, 2014 and

at the Erub workshop (2015).

25. “People talk about country in the same way that they would talk about a person: they speak

to country, sing to country, visit country, worry about country, feel sorry for country. […]

Country is multi-dimensional – it consists of people, animals, plants, Dreamings; underground,

earth, soils, minerals and waters, air.” (Rose 1996: 7; 8).

26. Interview with Racy Oui-Pitt, Erub, November 30, 2015.

27. The research on ghostnets art in Brittany that I have started seems to indicate that this

common representation does not reflect the reality: ghost nets in that area can be very diverse, if

people carefully look at them.



30. Phone Interview with Paul Jakubowski, December 4, 2015.


32. Interview with Nancy Naawi, Erub Island, November 27, 2015.

33. Interview with Florence Gutchen, Erub Island, November 28, 2015.

34. Interview with Florence Gutchen, Erub Island, November 28, 2015.

35. Officially announced by Museum director Robert Calcagno during the press conference. 30

March, 2016, Monaco.


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ABSTRACTS

In the last few years, an increasing number of texts published in environmental journals and in

art magazines have addressed the “ghostnet” issue and referenced how artists in Northern

Australia use discarded or abandoned nets to create art and craft items. By analysing the artistic

life of the ghost nets, from the creative process to trade networks, this article provides a new

perspective on marine pollution and highlights Australian Indigenous peoples' agency toward

this environmental and global issue. It presents ghostnet art as a transgenerational and

transcultural practice that reflects the articulation of Indigenous and Western knowledges, two

systems of thought and action that are united to solve ecological, economic and cultural issues.

Depuis plusieurs années, un nombre croissant d’articles publiés dans des revues d’études

environnementales et dans des magazines d’art traitent du problème des filets-fantômes et

évoquent la façon dont en Australie du nord des artistes utilisent des filets perdus ou abandonnés

pour créer des objets d’art et d’artisanat. En analysant la vie artistique des filets-fantômes, du

processus créatif aux réseaux d’échange, cet article ouvre une autre perspective sur la pollution

marine, en mettant en valeur l’agentivité des populations autochtones australiennes face à ce

défi environnemental mondial. L’article présente l’art des ghostnets comme une pratique

transgénérationnelle et transculturelle qui reflète l’articulation de savoirs autochtones et

occidentaux, deux systèmes de pensée et d’action réunis pour résoudre des enjeux écologiques,

économiques, et culturels.

En los últimos años, un número creciente de textos publicados en revistas sobre medio ambiento

y en cuadernos de arte han abordado la cuestión de las “redes Fantasma” (Ghost Nets), estudiando

cómo los artistas del noreste de Australia utilizan redes descartadas o abandonadas para crear

arte y artesanía. Analizando la vida artística de las “redes fantasma”, desde el proceso creativo

hasta el intercambio, este artículo aporta una nueva perspectiva sobre la polución marina y

subraya la iniciativa de los pueblos aborígenes australianos en relación a esta cuestión, con

implicaciones medioambientales de carácter global. Presenta el arte de las “redes fantasma”

como una práctica transgeneracional y transcultural, y refleja la articulación de los saberes

indígenas y occidentales, dos sistemas de pensamiento y acción que están unidos para solventar

problemas ecológicos, económicos y culturales.

INDEX

Mots-clés: Australie, Cap York, Torres Strait, art aborigène, déchets marins, filets fantômes,

anthropologie des déchets

Keywords: Australia, Cape York, Torres Strait, Aboriginal art, marine debris, ghost nets,

anthropology of waste

Palabras claves: Australia, Cabo York, Estrecho de Torres, Arte Aborigen, Desechos Marinos,

Redes Fantasma, Antropología del residuo

AUTHOR

GÉRALDINE LE ROUX

Université de Bretagne Occidentale / James Cook University


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[email protected]


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Visibilité du destin commun etinvisibilité de l’histoire : discours,célébrations et construction de lacitoyenneté en Nouvelle-Calédonie Stéphanie Graff

1 Depuis la prise de possession par la France en 1853, la Nouvelle-Calédonie a été

marquée par de violents conflits. La source de ces conflits est sans conteste le refus et larésistance du peuple autochtone, le peuple kanak, à se voir soumis à un systèmedominant2. L’administration coloniale lui imposa cependant le cantonnement dans desréserves, le régime de l’indigénat (Merle 1995, 2004). Ce n’est qu’en 1946, avecl’abolition du régime de l’indigénat, que les Kanak devinrent des citoyens français ; ilsn’obtinrent toutefois le droit de vote qu’en 19573.

2 La Nouvelle-Calédonie fut d’abord terre de bagne. Puis, en 1894 le gouverneur Feillet

orchestra une politique de colonisation de peuplement libre. Des travailleurs provenantd’autres territoires d’outre-mer français ou étrangers (Ni-Vanuatu, Indonésiens,Vietnamiens, Wallisiens et Futuniens, Polynésiens, Réunionnais, Antillais, Chinois etaujourd’hui Philippins) y furent engagés pour fournir de la main d’œuvre sur les mineset diverses plantations. Dès la fin des années 1940, une politique de colonisation depeuplement fut appliquée par la France, intensifiée sous la présidence de Charles deGaulle, puis sous le gouvernement Messmer dans les années 19704.

3 En conséquence, le peuple kanak devint progressivement minoritaire sur ses terres, ce

qui fut un facteur clef de la revendication indépendantiste et de la cristallisation dudébat politique autour de la définition du corps électoral pour un éventuel référendumd’autodétermination5. Ce fut un des principaux facteurs déclencheurs des conflits de lapériode dite des « Evènements »6 qui prit fin avec la signature des Accords de Matignonen 1988 entre le Front de Libération Nationale Kanak et Socialiste (FLNKS), leRassemblement Pour la Calédonie dans la République (RPCR) et l’État français7. Cesaccords mettaient en place un nouveau statut d’autonomie pour la Nouvelle-Calédonieet l’engageaient dans un processus de décolonisation qui devait prendre fin avec un


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scrutin d’autodétermination en 1998. Ce scrutin n’eut pas lieu mais un nouvel accord,l’Accord de Nouméa, fut signé à la place le 5 mai 1998 par les structures précitées. Ilprévoit qu’à partir de 2018 une partie de la population devra s’exprimer par vote lorsd’une consultation sur l’accession du pays à la pleine souveraineté8. Aujourd’huiencore, la question de la souveraineté et de l’indépendance est au cœur des conflits. Demême, la question de la définition du corps électoral reste problématique et fait l’objet,depuis le 1er mars 2016 d’une mission des Nations Unies chargée d’observer le processusd’établissement et de révision des listes électorales spéciales9.

4 L’application de l’Accord de Nouméa de 1998 a suscité le développement d’une politique

mise en œuvre par les pouvoirs publics (locaux calédoniens et étatiques français), celledu « destin commun »10. J’analyserai ici les enjeux politiques de la mise en place de cestermes à travers deux exemples : la « fête de la citoyenneté » et « l’affaire des cases ».L’argument de cet article est que cette « politique de destin commun » réécrit l’histoire,en mettant en avant et en rendant visible certains symboles qu’elle mythifie audétriment de l’expression vivante de la culture kanak qui se voit alors davantagemarginalisée et stigmatisée. Les deux exemples de la « fête de la citoyenneté » et de« l’affaire des cases » montreront que ce révisionnisme historique et culturel impliquépar la « politique de destin commun » se répercute, dans les politiques publiques, sur cequ’il est acceptable de voir et de montrer à la société calédonienne au cœur de la villede Nouméa. Ces deux exemples permettent d’analyser dans l'espace urbain et publiccalédonien la manière dont l'idéologie et les effets pratiques de l'injonction de lapolitique de destin commun se manifestent, parfois même de manière brutale pour unepartie de la population kanak. L’apport méthodologique du visuel ajoute ici à l’analyseanthropologique textuelle davantage de capacité de représentation, de compréhension,et d’amplitude.

5 L’objectif de la « politique du destin commun » est double. D’une part, il s’agit de

parvenir à une réconciliation entre le peuple et les communautés11 en présence sur leterritoire. D’autre part, cette politique vise à créer un sentiment d’appartenance à unecitoyenneté calédonienne, à faire émerger l’idée d’un « peuple calédonien » partageantune identité commune et une mémoire collective qui unissent les communautés. Cettestratégie politique est basée notamment sur un révisionnisme historique et culturel quipasse par un double mouvement de déplacement et de remplacement des faits, récits,et symboles. Elle tente d’évacuer la question de l'indépendance en soi pour laremplacer par une communauté de destin au sein de laquelle la question del’indépendance et de la souveraineté du peuple kanak vis-à-vis de la France ne seposerait plus12.

6 En effet, depuis la déclaration commune pour l'indépendance élaborée en 1975 par une

quarantaine de personnes, membres de l’Union Calédonienne, de l’Union Multiraciale,des Jeunesses Ouvrières Calédoniennes, du Groupe 1878, et des Foulards rouges (Leblic1993 : 61), les présidents successifs de la République française ne souhaitent pasl’indépendance de la Nouvelle-Calédonie. En outre, si, en 1983, la déclaration de la tableronde de Nainville-les-Roches reconnaît le droit inné et actif du peuple kanak àl’indépendance, le texte précise : « dans le cadre de la Constitution française13 ».


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La citoyenneté calédonienne

7 L'Accord de Nouméa a formulé un « contrat social » notamment dans l’objectif de

sceller une citoyenneté calédonienne et d'établir progressivement la notion d'unpeuple calédonien. La fusion de toutes les communautés dans une seule communautéde destin, dans un seul « peuple », est donc un principe de base de l'Accord qui estdevenu, et depuis la signature de l’Accord en 1998 a été, la principale référence detoutes les politiques et institutions de Nouvelle-Calédonie. Ce principe de « destincommun » trouve ses prémisses dans la déclaration de la table ronde de Nainville-les-Roches lorsque les « victimes de l’histoire » ont été reconnues en tant que tels par lesKanak et les représentants du Front Indépendantiste14. Ce principe retrouve égalementson incorporation symbolique à travers la poignée de main entre Jacques Lafleur15 etJean-Marie Tjibaou16, représentant respectivement le RPCR et le FLNKS lors de lasignature des Accords de Matignon (1988).

Poignée de main entre Jacques Lafleur (RPCR), à gauche, et Jean-Marie Tjibaou (FLNKS), à droite,après la signature des Accords de Matignon

Image 1

© ADCK-CCT, G. Merillon & D. Simon

8 Ainsi, le préambule de l’Accord de Nouméa mentionne : « [qu’il] est aujourd'hui

nécessaire de poser les bases d’une citoyenneté de la Nouvelle-Calédonie, permettantau peuple d’origine de se constituer avec les hommes et les femmes qui y vivent unecommunauté humaine affirmant son destin commun. » S’il faut poser les bases d’unecitoyenneté calédonienne, qui sont les citoyens ?

9 Selon Alain Christnacht17, « […] ce qu’on a fait dans l’Accord de Nouméa et qui n’était

pas dans les Accords de Matignon, c’est de définir une citoyenneté calédonienne qui est


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un sous-ensemble de la nation française. C’est-à-dire que tous les citoyens calédoniensont la nationalité française mais tous les nationaux français vivant en Nouvelle-Calédonie ne sont pas des citoyens calédoniens. Les citoyens calédoniens sont ceux quisont inclus dans le corps électoral restreint. Les citoyens calédoniens […] ont deuxdroits exorbitants que n’ont pas les autres Français vivant en Nouvelle-Calédonie : ilsont le droit de vote pour le scrutin d’autodétermination futur et pour les élections auxassemblées de province et au congrès et ils ont un droit prioritaire à l’emploi18. »

10 Les citoyens calédoniens seraient donc les individus inclus dans les corps électoraux

restreints pouvant voter aux élections provinciales et à la consultation sur l’accessiondu pays à la pleine souveraineté prévue à partir de 201819.

La « fête de la citoyenneté »

11 Depuis 2005, est organisée par le gouvernement de la Nouvelle-Calédonie en

partenariat avec le « Comité 150 ans après », la « fête de la citoyenneté » qui se déroulele 24 septembre sur la place nommée communément « la place du Mwâ Kââ », au centre-ville de la capitale, Nouméa. La « ville blanche » – expression communément utiliséepour parler de la ville de Nouméa dans laquelle se concentre en grande majorité lapopulation européenne – est située en Province Sud et concentre plus d’un tiers de lapopulation totale : 99 926 habitants en 2014 pour une population totale de 268 767habitants. (La Province Sud compte 199 983 habitants soit 74% de la populationtotale.)20

Le Mwâ Kââ

Image 2

Photo de Stéphanie Graff, 2011, Nouméa


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12 Le 24 septembre est la date à laquelle, en 1853, l’amiral Fébvrier Despointes prit

possession de la Nouvelle-Calédonie au nom de la France. Pour les indépendantisteskanak, ce jour est jour de deuil, le jour de leur colonisation21. A partir de 1872, lacommémoration mit à l’honneur la France et l’armée ainsi que les bienfaits de lacolonisation (Carteron 2012 : 48). La première contestation de la commémoration du 24septembre sous cette forme a été faite en 1974 par le Groupe 1878, mouvementconstitué, entre autres, de jeunes étudiants kanak revenus de France qui ont stoppé ledéfilé militaire en manifestant avec des banderoles, ce qui leur a valu d’être arrêtés etemprisonnés. C’est à leur sortie de prison que ces jeunes ont commencé à parlerd’indépendance pour la revendiquer dans une déclaration officielle le 22 juin 1975(Graff 2012 : 64). En 1980, une première tentative pour faire du 24 septembre la « fête dela fraternité pluriethnique » fut un échec.

13 En 2003, sous l’égide du Sénat coutumier22, fut créé le « Comité 150 ans après » en

référence au 150ème anniversaire de la colonisation23. Cette année-là, un mât totémiqueappelé Mwâ Kââ – qui peut être traduit comme « maison de l'homme de l’endroit24 » –fut érigé en face du Musée de la Nouvelle-Calédonie. Les huit sculptures sur la place etles huit flèches faîtières placées sur le mât représentent les huit aires coutumières dupays kanak. Selon le « Comité 150 ans après », le Mwâ Kââ a été érigé comme rappelsymbolique de la présence et de l'identité kanak dans une « ville blanche », « là où

matériellement rien ne signifie la présence kanak »25.

14 En 2005, année où le gouvernement de Nouvelle-Calédonie a pris en charge

l’organisation de la célébration de la « fête de la citoyenneté », tout en continuant d’yassocier le « Comité 150 ans après », des symboles reflétant l'Accord de Nouméa et undestin commun ont été ajoutés sur la place du Mwâ Kââ. Dans ce sens, un bloc de nickela été placé à l'entrée de la place, sur lequel est gravé un passage du préambule del’Accord de Nouméa:


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Symboles du destin commun sur la place Mwâ Kââ

Image 3


15 Cette année-là fut également celle de l’inauguration officielle d’un nouvel

aménagement de la place, redessinée afin que le mât soit implanté au milieu d’unepirogue, sur laquelle a été ajouté un « Vieux », barreur de la pirogue. Toutes lescommunautés ont été invitées à se rassembler sur cette « grande pirogue du destincommun » (Carteron 2012 : 53) pour la cérémonie du 24 septembre.


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Le canoë qui constitue la base du mat Mwâ Kââ, et le « Vieux », barreur du canoë

Image 4


16 En 2009, le gouvernement de Nouvelle-Calédonie a pris le contrôle des célébrations de

la place et, l’année suivante, cette dernière fut rénovée avec des symbolessupplémentaires de destin commun. Dès lors, et conformément à la « politique dudestin commun », la commémoration du Mwâ Kââ a été transformée d'une journée dedeuil de colonisation en un jour de célébration de la citoyenneté calédonienne. Tous lessymboles kanak, signes visuels d’une autochtonie, sont alors incorporés dans une entitécalédonienne plus large. En outre, récemment, des discussions ont eu lieu afin dedéterminer si la place du Mwâ Kââ devrait être rebaptisée « Place de la citoyenneté ».

17 Ainsi, après avoir manifesté la présence et l'identité du peuple kanak dans la ville, le

Mwâ Kââ a donc été progressivement transformé en un symbole d'une identitécollective calédonienne et est devenu la représentation d'un destin commun. Lareconnaissance de l’identité kanak et de sa qualité de peuple autochtone devient alorssimplement un préalable à la construction et à l’expression d’une identité calédonienneplus globale. Dans un article de 2012, Benoît Carteron a écrit que « le Mwâ Kââ estl’expression d’une identité offensive (Touraine, 1981) dont l’enjeu est d’opérer, à partirdes référents kanak, un décloisonnement entre des groupes historiquement hostiles »(Carteron 2012 : 58). Nous verrons plus loin que l’« affaire des cases », postérieure à lapublication de son article, nous permet d’en douter.


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Le symbole de la poignée de main : un destin communpour effacer le passé ?

18 En 2003, le « Comité 150 ans après » a produit un document accompagnant la

commémoration des 150 ans de prise de possession et la pose du Mwâ Kââ.

Couverture de l’ouvrage réalisé par le « Comité 150 ans après » pour la commémoration du 150ème

anniversaire de deuil de colonisation / de la prise de possession

Image 5

19 Le titre de l’ouvrage est Du malentendu originel à la communauté de destin. Sur l’'image

accompagnant le titre on peut voir un homme « blanc », qui semble porter un uniformede l'armée, probablement français, et un homme « noir », probablement kanak, assis enface d'une boîte que l'homme « blanc » est en train de lui montrer. Plusieurs autreshommes « noirs », probablement kanak, sont debout à côté et portent des vêtementsmilitaires. La légende sur l’image indique la chose suivante : « un envoyé françaisdistribuant des présents à des chefs indigènes ». Si l’on reprend le titre « Dumalentendu originel à la communauté de destin » et qu’on regarde l’image, de quelmalentendu s’agit-il ? Doit-on comprendre que les représentants de l’Etat français àl’époque et les chefs kanak se seraient mal compris…? La prise de possession et lacolonisation étaient-elles un « malentendu » ?

20 Sur aucun des tableaux peints sur le canoë, ajoutés à la place du Mwâ Kââ en 2010, ne

peut être trouvée une référence à la prise de possession et à la colonisation françaisepuisque la date de 1774 est celle du débarquement de James Cook.

21 On y raconte seulement que : « Des Vieux Kanak observent l’arrivée des Européens, le 4

septembre 1774 [donc James Cook] ».


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Peinture sur la coque du canoë du Mwâ Kââ

Image 6



99


Image 7


22 Ensuite, le mode de vie traditionnel kanak (la pêche, les guerriers, les plantations,

l'habitat traditionnel, et la vie en tribu) est décrit en lieu et place de l’histoire. C’est le

vide historique jusqu’à… la poignée de main.

Peintures sur la coque du canoë du Mwâ Kââ

Images 8 & 9



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Image 10


23 De même, les valeurs soulignées dans l'Accord de Nouméa (paix, solidarité, prospérité,

accueil) et les références aux éléments clés du développement économique (tourisme,nickel) sont mises en exergue sur les peintures du canoë.


Image 11



Image 12



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Image 13



Image 14


24 Puis tout à coup apparaissent : la poignée de main, sceller un destin commun, affirmer

une solidarité, se rassembler autour de l’appel du « toutoute »26, sans qu’on comprennepourquoi puisque les conflits ne sont pas évoqués.


Image 15



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Peintures sur la coque du canoë du Mwâ Kââ

Images 16 & 17


25 Cette succession de peintures reflète l’Accord de Nouméa. Un fait colonial en parti

avoué27 (images 6 & 7), puis, comme l’écrit Geneviève Koubi (2008 : 73) « lareconnaissance de l’identité kanak [images 8, 9 & 10], pensée comme un préalableindispensable à la refondation du contrat social »28 (images 11 & 12) en gardant la foique la colonisation a amené des lumières29 (images 13 & 14), le tout trouvantaujourd’hui sa place dans l’idée d’un destin commun (images 15, 16 & 17). L'histoire estainsi remaniée dans le miroir de l'Accord de Nouméa.

26 Lorsqu’on regarde la peinture de la poignée de main, on peut observer qu'elle se réfère

à un certain type de réconciliation. En effet, la poignée de main entre Jean-MarieTjibaou et Jacques Lafleur et celle sur la peinture du Mwâ Kââ symbolisent toutes deuxla réconciliation entre les citoyens calédoniens. Dans ce registre, cette poignée de mainentre le soldat « blanc » / drapeau français et le guerrier kanak / drapeau FLNKS(image 15) peut être vue comme la réconciliation entre les parties pour et contrel'indépendance. Dans cette série de poignées de main, la France n’est pas directementvisible. L’acteur « Etat » apparaît seulement indirectement, derrière son soldat« blanc ».

27 Il convient de noter que les sculpteurs kanak, sollicités pour la réalisation du Mwâ Kââ

en 2003, par le « Comité 150 ans après » à l’occasion de la commémoration des 150 ansde la prise de possession, avaient quant à eux choisi de rendre visible la colonisation,contrairement aux peintures ajoutées sur la coque en 2010. En effet, selon BenoîtCarteron, « [l]a colonisation est rappelée dans les sculptures de deux aires coutumières: Hoot Ma Whaap en bas, qui a vu arriver les bateaux européens ; Djubea Kaponé, ausommet, qui a ressenti le plus vivement la colonisation avec la fondation de Nouméa


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sur ses terres. Le sculpteur de cette dernière a ainsi représenté un vieux guerrier lesarmes à la main pour signifier qu’il ne les a jamais déposées […] ».

L’« Affaires des cases »30

28 Pour la « fête de la citoyenneté » du 24 septembre 2012, sur la place du Mwâ Kââ, le

« Comité 150 ans après » avait comme projet d’élaborer une tribu dans la ville enconstruisant neuf cases sur un parking attenant à la place du Mwâ Kââ : huit cases pourreprésenter chaque aire coutumière du pays kanak et la neuvième comme « case dudestin commun », celle de toutes les communautés en présence sur le territoire qui ontété accueillies dans le pays kanak31.

29 Au mois de mai 2012, lors d’une réunion de préparation de la « fête de la citoyenneté »,

un accord de construction des neuf cases a été passé entre le « Comité 150 ans après »,la mairie de Nouméa, le gouvernement de Nouvelle-Calédonie, et le représentant del’Etat32. Mais peu de temps avant le 24 septembre, alors que les préparatifs étaient déjàbien avancés, la mairie retira son accord pour le projet, argumentant un problème liéaux règles de l’urbanisme. Après de nombreuses discussions avec le « Comité 150 ansaprès », elle accepta à la condition que la construction des neuf cases soit provisoire etqu’elles soient retirées une fois la « fête de la citoyenneté » terminée, au plus tard le 29septembre (Lefevre 2015 : 260). Le « Comité 150 ans après » accepta. Il ne restait alorsplus que quelques jours pour construire les neuf cases : la jeunesse kanak urbainesollicitée par le « Comité 150 ans après » contribua à en construire huit.

La « Tribu dans la ville », octobre 2012

Image 18

© Nathalie Cathala, etoiledelune.net, http://voyage.nat-et-dom.fr/wp-content/archives/1147/image/jpg2Wmw5f_TyV.jpg, consulté le 31/03/2016

30 Il y eut un malentendu autour du caractère provisoire des cases entre certains des

membres du « Comité 150 ans après » et les jeunes. Beaucoup de jeunes ayant participé


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http://voyage.nat-et-dom.fr/wp-content/archives/1147/image/jpg2Wmw5f_TyV.jpg

http://voyage.nat-et-dom.fr/wp-content/archives/1147/image/jpg2Wmw5f_TyV.jpg

à leur construction n’ont pas compris leur caractère provisoire et/ou ne voulaient pasl’accepter. Cette divergence d’opinions sur la pérennité des cases incita les opposants àleur démolition à créer un collectif d’abord appelé « La tribu dans la ville », puis « Laville dans la tribu » qui lança une pétition pour le maintien des cases33.

Manifestation du collectif « Tribu dans la ville »

Image 20 octobre 2012

©NC 1ère, http://la1ere.francetvinfo.fr/nouvellecaledonie/sites/regions_outremer/files/styles/top_big/public/assets/images/retro_faitssociete.jpg?itok=H8iEZJep, consulté le 31/03/2016

31 Finalement, le 13 novembre 2012, au lever du jour, la mairie de Nouméa, sans

l’autorisation légale d’un juge, fit détruire les cases par des hommes cagoulés34. Lesforces de l’ordre françaises étaient présentes « en cas de troubles à l’ordre public »(Chauchat 2012).


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http://la1ere.francetvinfo.fr/nouvellecaledonie/sites/regions_outremer/files/styles/top_big/public/assets/images/retro_faitssociete.jpg?itok=H8iEZJep

http://la1ere.francetvinfo.fr/nouvellecaledonie/sites/regions_outremer/files/styles/top_big/public/assets/images/retro_faitssociete.jpg?itok=H8iEZJep

Destruction des cases aux bulldozers 13 novembre 2012

Image 21

© Nouvelle-Calédonie 1ère. Cédric Michaut http://la1ere.francetvinfo.fr/nouvellecaledonie/2012/11/13/les-cases-du-mwa-ka-degagees-au-bulldozer-2164.html, consulté le 31/12/2016

Destruction des cases aux bulldozers par des hommes cagoulés, ordonnée par la mairie deNouméa, 13 novembre 2012

Image 22

© NC 1ère Daphné Gastaldi, http://la1ere.francetvinfo.fr/nouvellecaledonie/2012/11/13/les-cases-du-mwa-ka-degagees-au-bulldozer-2164.html, consulté le 31/03/2016

32 Comme l’écrit Tate Lefevre, « [c]es évènements ont révélé jusqu’à quel point les récits

coloniaux dépossèdent encore maintenant les Kanak de l’espace urbain – même si laNouvelle-Calédonie connaît un processus de décolonisation » (2015 : 255). Cette« affaire des cases » interroge sur ce que la société calédonienne dominante souhaitevoir et rendre visible dans la ville. De toute évidence, il y a un rejet de voir la culturekanak au cœur de la ville, notamment comme représentant le destin commun et lacitoyenneté. Pourtant, à la même période, les travaux d’aménagement (construction


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http://la1ere.francetvinfo.fr/nouvellecaledonie/2012/11/13/les-cases-du-mwa-ka-degagees-au-bulldozer-2164.html




d’une porte, mise en place d’un monument commémoratif, de lampions et desculptures) qui permettent d’identifier et de visualiser le quartier asiatique de Nouméa,étaient en cours, à une distance d’à peine un kilomètre de la place du Mwâ Kââ. N’yaurait-il que certaines communautés qui seraient bénéficiaires du destin commun ?

Quartier asiatique Nouméa

Image 23



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Vietnamiens de Nouméa posant devant le monument rendant hommage à leurs parents, les ChânDang, lors de l’inauguration du quartier asiatique de Nouméa en octobre 2013

Image 24

© AFP/Fred Payet, http://la1ere.francetvinfo.fr/sites/regions_outremer/files/styles/top_big/public/assets/images/2013/10/24/nc241013.jpg?itok=ckuPURtk, consulté le 31/03/2016

33 Cette marginalisation et cette stigmatisation de la culture kanak et des lieux de

rassemblement kanak dans la ville interrogent, comme l’a soulevé Ulysse Rabaté danssa conférence sur la jeunesse kanak (2016). Elles relèvent en effet d’une logiquecoloniale de contrôle social et de régulation urbaine qui nie le peuple autochtone ettente de l’acculturer dans une identité calédonienne plus globale.

34 Suite à « l’affaire des cases » en 2012, il n’y eut plus d’organisation commune de la

commémoration du 24 septembre. En 2013, le gouvernement de la Nouvelle-Calédonieorganisa la fête de la citoyenneté à Poya, tandis que le « Comité 150 ans après »organisa sa propre commémoration à Nouméa. En 2014, le gouvernement choisit Ouvéapour célébrer la fête de la citoyenneté, alors que le FLNKS fêtait les 30 ans de sacréation, le 24 septembre, à Nouméa. En 2015, le gouvernement organisa la fête du 24septembre à la tribu de N’Dé, pendant que le « Comité 150 ans après » s’associait à lacélébration des 30 ans de Radio Djiido35, le même jour, sur la place du Mwâ Kââ.

Conclusion : limites et répercussions de la « politiquedu destin commun »

35 L’« affaire des cases » fut traumatisante pour l’ensemble des acteurs kanak qui l’ont

vécue et a ravivé les tensions autour de la cérémonie du 24 septembre. La vision de ladestruction des cases au bulldozer est restée gravée dans les esprits, car il s’agissaitavant tout de revendiquer un « droit à la visibilité36 » au cœur de la « ville blanche ».L’analyse que fait Tate Lefevre dans son article soulève ce point en mettant l’accent surla revendication identitaire du peuple kanak : « […] il s’agit d’une revendicationidentitaire liée au « droit à la ville blanche », la « tribu dans la ville » doit avant toutêtre comprise comme une demande insistante de reconnaissance de la légitimité del’identité kanak […] » (2015 : 255). Néanmoins le refus d’une partie des acteurs kanak,


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notamment les jeunes, d’accepter le caractère provisoire des cases, imposé finalementpar la mairie, peut être perçu également comme une stratégie de résistance. Celle-ci estnon seulement culturelle, vis-à-vis de pouvoirs publics qui tentent d’effacer lesexpressions visuelles et visibles d’une culture kanak spontanée dans l’espace urbain,mais aussi une stratégie de résistance politique et d’affirmation d’une revendicationhistorique d’indépendance et de regain de souveraineté. Car une grande partie dupeuple kanak, surtout les jeunes, est laissée à la marge d’un système culturellement etpolitiquement assimilant. C’est ainsi que s’opère également, au sein du peuple kanak,une division entre ceux qui ont choisi de monter dans le wagon des institutions, ceuxqui s’y refusent, et ceux qui sont laissés sur le bord de la route.

36 En conclusion, les tentatives d'attiser la reconnaissance d'un destin commun entre les

personnes et les communautés, de créer une identité collective calédonienne partagéeexistent, mais chaque personne interprète avec sa propre représentation ce qu’est, oudevrait être, le destin commun. Pour certains le destin commun et la citoyennetécalédonienne ne sont que mensonge ou illusion au regard des discriminations etinégalités qui subsistent en Nouvelle Calédonie. Les disparités sociales et économiquesentre les populations autochtones et non autochtones sont en effet difficiles à ignorer.

Photo de gauche: Manifestation du collectif pour un drapeau commun, 25 août 2011 Photo dedroite : Graffiti sur la Save-Express (voie rapide) de Nouméa, mars 2012

Images 25 & 26


37 Malgré la tentative de faire disparaître dans une citoyenneté calédonienne et un destin

commun les deux blocs indépendantiste et non-indépendantiste ayant depuis fortlongtemps une vision opposée de l’avenir, les tensions et polémiques autour du Mwâ

Kââ prouvent que si celles-ci sont de l’ordre du non-dit, elles n’en sont pas moinsréelles. Ainsi, un membre du « Comité 150 ans après » a souligné que le 24 septembre


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étant lié à la prise de possession, il est impossible de dissocier cette date de son histoire,même si certains pensent qu’il faut faire table rase du passé pour laisser place à unecitoyenneté calédonienne et un destin commun.

38 La version officielle de l’histoire donnée en Nouvelle-Calédonie fabrique des images,

des symboles et des mythes pour créer l’histoire présente et future, mais aussi lesouvenir collectif de l’histoire passée. Selon Linda Tuhiwai Smith: « [h]istory isimportant for understanding the present and that reclaiming history is a critical andessential aspect of decolonization » (1999: 29-30). Il est donc important pour le peuplekanak, comme pour les autres peuples autochtones, d'écrire leur propre histoire.

39 Les conflits qui historiquement ont secoué la Nouvelle-Calédonie, et sont toujours

d’actualité, portaient non pas sur le fait de vouloir ou non un destin commun, mais biensur la question de l’indépendance.

40 La version historique officielle des conflits en Nouvelle-Calédonie sous-entend qu’il

s’agissait de conflits ethniques entre le peuple kanak et les communautés non-kanak.Or, s’il existe un conflit ethnique, il résulte de l’instrumentalisation politique despopulations hétéroclites en présence qui dissimule le fait que le fond du problème n’estpas l’ethnie, mais bien le fait colonial toujours actuel. Il y a toujours eu des individusnon-kanak soutenant l’indépendance du peuple kanak et de la Nouvelle-Calédonie,comme des individus kanak étant contre l’indépendance. Le conflit est d’abordpolitique car entre partisans de l’indépendance et partisans du maintien de la Nouvelle-Calédonie dans la France. Les communautés non-kanak étant en grande majorité contrel’indépendance, l’amalgame est très rapidement fait. Etant issu de la prise de possessionpar la France, ce conflit sur la souveraineté reste un conflit colonial. La réécriture del’histoire qui vise à faire croire que le conflit est ethnique et non politique offre à laFrance l’avantage de pouvoir se positionner en tant qu’arbitre et garant de la paixsociale.

41 Aujourd’hui il est très fréquemment sous-entendu que vouloir l’indépendance c’est être

contre le destin commun. Or, le destin commun ne peut-il pas être envisagé dans unpays indépendant ?

42 La finalité de la « politique du destin commun » est peut-être de masquer cette question

brûlante de l’accession du territoire à la pleine souveraineté, la faire oublier endonnant un maximum d’autonomie et en fabriquant une citoyenneté calédoniennemais qui doit tout de même rester un sous-ensemble de la nationalité française. Cettestratégie politique tente de présenter la société calédonienne comme une sociétémulticommunautaire noyant dans un tout le peuple autochtone et colonisé, quihistoriquement revendique son indépendance.

43 « L’affaire des cases » montre que le chemin du destin commun et de la réconciliation

entre le peuple et les communautés de Nouvelle-Calédonie est encore long, et que lanégation et la marginalisation du peuple autochtone et colonisé est toujours d’actualité.Le destin commun semble être un chemin à sens unique sous-entendant l’assimilationet l’acculturation des Kanak à une société qui se veut calédonienne. C’est ainsi que dansson discours d’investiture en 2015, le président du Congrès Thierry Santa prononçaitces mots : « Je vous avais […] fait part du rêve qui m’anime. Le rêve qu’un jour nous neparlerons plus du peuple premier, ni des victimes de l’histoire, mais uniquement dupeuple calédonien. »


110

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ANNEXES

NOTES

1. Rather than the usual translation by « hut », the author prefers to keep the French word

« case » : such Kanak customary houses are places for everyday life as well as collective

discussions and decisions. Their architecture reflects the structure of the whole Kanak society.

2. Stéphanie Graff fait des recherches en Nouvelle-Calédonie depuis 2005. Elle y vit depuis

plusieurs années et travaille au sein d’une institution locale. Elle est la seule anthropologue à être

impliquée au quotidien au cœur des sphères politiques calédoniennes notamment sur les

questions qui concernent l’avenir politique et institutionnel du pays et les thématiques traitées

dans sa thèse (autodétermination, décolonisation, etc.). Sa posture méthodologique dépasse celle

de l’observation participante de l’ethnographie. Elle relève davantage de la « participation

observante » (Tedlock 1991 ; Turner 1991 ; Albert 1997 ; Makaremi 2008) et au-delà, de la «

participation radicale » (Goulet 1998 et 2004, cité dans Giabiconi 2012 : 11). Son ethnographie

peut être qualifiée d’« engagée » (Wright 1988 ; Hastrup et al 1990 ; Scheper-Hugues 1995 ; Bosa

2008 ; Cefaï 2010, Giabiconi 2012), « circonstanciée » (Marcus in Cefaï 2010 : 395) et « multisituée »

(Marcus 1995). Cet article se fonde sur son expérience professionnelle quotidienne. Une partie

des connaissances acquises sur le terrain ne peuvent être ici utilisées ou citées par l’auteur pour

des raisons de réserve et de confidentialité.

3. Les anciens combattants, chefs coutumiers, pasteurs, ou moniteurs d’enseignement kanak

furent les premiers à obtenir le droit de vote en 1951, les autres l’obtinrent en 1957 (Mohamed-

Gaillard 2010 : 478).

4. Pour davantage de détails sur la politique de colonisation de peuplement par la France, voir

Leblic 1993 ; Baissat 2006 ; Graff 2015. Voir également la Lettre de Pierre Messmer, Premier

ministre, à Jean-François Deniau, secrétaire d’État aux DOM-TOM, datant du 19 juillet 1972

(Gabriel et Kermel 1985 : 51), le tableau de l’évolution de la population de Nouvelle-Calédonie de

1887 à 1983 (Leblic 1993 : 25) et le tableau en annexe de cet article.


114

5. Plusieurs référendums d’autodétermination furent prévus, mais ils furent soit avortés, soit

boycottés par les indépendantistes kanak en raison de leur désaccord avec la définition du corps

électoral.

6. Notamment le boycott actif du statut Lemoine par les indépendantistes qui considéraient que

ce nouveau statut, adopté à l’Assemblée nationale le 31 juillet 1984, ne respectait pas les

négociations et accords passés durant la table ronde de Nainville-les-Roches – qui constitue la

première négociation entre la France, les indépendantistes, et les non-indépendantistes –

notamment en ce qui concerne la définition du corps électoral. Ainsi, à Canala, le 18 novembre

1984, pour marquer ce boycott actif, Éloi Machoro brisa l’urne du bureau de vote de la mairie.

7. Les Accords de Matignon-Oudinot ont été signés le 26 juin (Accord de Matignon) et le 20 août

(Accord d’Oudinot) 1988.

8. La part de la population qui sera appelée au vote est définie à l’article 218 de la loi organique

n° 99-209 du 19 mars 1999 relative à la Nouvelle-Calédonie, faisant suite à l’Accord de Nouméa.

Cette consultation « portera [en théorie] sur le transfert à la Nouvelle-Calédonie des compétences

régaliennes, l’accès à un statut international de pleine responsabilité et l’organisation de la

citoyenneté en nationalité » (Point 5 de l’Accord de Nouméa).

9. Cette mission fait suite à un fort lobbying du Groupe UC-FLNKS et Nationalistes ayant dénoncé

des « fraudes électorales » depuis 2013 auprès du Comité de décolonisation des Nations Unies. Il

convient de préciser que cet article ne porte pas sur les enjeux actuels de l’avenir institutionnel

de la Nouvelle-Calédonie, ni sur la question institutionnelle de sortie de l’Accord de Nouméa,

analysés ailleurs (Graff 2015). De même, les problèmes complexes portant sur la définition des

corps électoraux ne peuvent qu’être survolés ici : sur cette question et celle du droit de vote en

Nouvelle-Calédonie, voir Faberon 2001 ; Clinchamps 2008 ; Chauchat 2012 ; Wamytan 2013 et

2014 ; Graff 2015.

10. Expression issue du préambule de l’Accord de Nouméa : « L’avenir doit être le temps de

l’identité, dans un destin commun. »

11. Dans le contexte calédonien, si l’on se base sur les définitions des Nations Unies, déjà très

largement débattues par un grand nombre de chercheurs (Daes 1986 et 1993 ; Schulte-Tenckhoff

1997 et 2012 ; Anaya 2000 ; Bowen 2000 ; Koubi et Schulte-Tenckhoff 2000 ; Lam 2000 ; Kuper

2003 ; Kenrick 2004 ; Asch 2004 et 2006 ; Barnard 2004 et 2006 ; Bellier 2013 ; Graff 2015),

concernant les notions de « peuple autochtone » et de « peuple colonisé », le seul peuple

autochtone et colonisé en Nouvelle-Calédonie est le peuple kanak. Le terme « peuple » au

singulier se rapporte donc au peuple kanak. Le terme « communauté » se rapporte aux personnes

issues d’autres peuples, qui, ayant émigré en Nouvelle-Calédonie et y ayant retrouvé d’autres

personnes de leur peuple, ont constitué ensemble une communauté.

12. Pour une mise en perspective théorique des questions dans le cadre des controverses

mémorielles en France, autour du fait colonial, voir notamment Bertrand 2006.

13. 5 jours à Nainville-les-Roches. Document du secrétariat d’Etat aux DOM-TOM, 1983.

Ci-après quelques références de déclarations faites par des présidents de la République française :

François Mitterrand aux indépendantistes au moment du boycott de la loi Lemoine :

« l’indépendance jamais, au pire la partition » (http://www.afriques21.org/spip.php?article11,

http://madoy-nakupress.blogspot.fr/2011/01/des-bons-souvenirs-qui-restent.html, consulté le

23/09/2012) ; Nicolas Sarkozy lors de ses vœux à l’Outre-mer en 2010 : « Il n'y a qu'une seule

ligne rouge : celle de l'indépendance. L'outre-mer est français et restera français » (http://

infoantilles.sasi.fr/web/infoantilles/Actualites.nsf/Actualites%20Antilles%20accueil/

7748FFA9609ED0AE042576B000530ECB?opendocument, consulté le 30/04/2012); François

Hollande aux Outre-mers en 2012 : « Et la France grâce à vous est présente partout dans le

monde. Nous sommes sans doute un des rares pays de la planète à pouvoir être partout, sur tous

les continents du monde. […] il y a la République, la République française une, indivisible et

laïque. Et la République ne craint pas la diversité […]. » (http://www.touspourhollande.fr/


115

http://www.afriques21.org/spip.php?article11

http://madoy-nakupress.blogspot.fr/2011/01/des-bons-souvenirs-qui-restent.html

http://infoantilles.sasi.fr/web/infoantilles/Actualites.nsf/Actualites%20Antilles%20accueil/7748FFA9609ED0AE042576B000530ECB?opendocument



http://www.touspourhollande.fr/2012/03/11/discours-de-francois-hollande-aux-outre-mers-du-samedi-10032012/

2012/03/11/discours-de-francois-hollande-aux-outre-mers-du-samedi-10032012/, consulté le

23/09/2012).

14. Point 2 de la déclaration de la table ronde de Nainville-les-Roches : « […] autodétermination

ouverte également pour des raisons historiques aux autres ethnies dont la légitimité est

reconnue par les représentants du peuple kanak ». De plus, des représentants du RPCR, parti

politique contre l’indépendance, rassemblant majoritairement la population d’ascendance

européenne, furent appelés à la table des négociations au titre de « victimes de l’histoire ».

« Cette expression avait été avancée par les indépendantistes, notamment par l’Union

Calédonienne, dès le début des années 1980, pour nommer ceux que les indépendantistes kanak

acceptaient comme légitimes pour s’exprimer sur l’avenir du pays, c’est-à-dire ceux ayant subi

les méfaits du colonialisme français, ceux issus d’une colonisation de peuplement forcée, ceux à

qui l’administration coloniale avait imposé l’installation en Nouvelle-Calédonie » (Graff 2015 :

126).

15. Jacques Lafleur est un homme politique calédonien fondateur du Rassemblement Pour la

Calédonie (RPC) en 1977 devenu un an plus tard le Rassemblement Pour la Calédonie dans la

République (RPCR). Il avait décidé de fédérer tous les partisans du maintien de la Nouvelle-

Calédonie dans la France en réponse au positionnement de l’Union Calédonienne, premier parti

calédonien créé en 1956, en faveur de l’indépendance.

16. Jean-Marie Tjibaou est un homme politique kanak du parti Union Calédonienne ayant émergé

sur la scène politique au travers du festival Melanesia 2000 en 1975. Il fut président de l’Union

Calédonienne, et premier président du FLNKS et du gouvernement provisoire de Kanaky en 1984.

Il est le signataire FLNKS des Accords de Matignon-Oudinot en 1988. Il est mort assassiné le 4 mai

1989.

17. Ancien Haut-commissaire de la République française en Nouvelle-Calédonie, impliqué dans la

rédaction de l’Accord de Nouméa. Conseiller d’Etat à la retraite, Alain Christnacht est toujours

engagé auprès de l’Etat sur le dossier de l’avenir institutionnel de la Nouvelle-Calédonie. Il est

membre de la mission d’experts ou de « facilitateurs » en charge des « groupes de travail » et

autres « comités de pilotage » notamment sur le transfert des compétences régaliennes.

18. Entretien à Paris, mars 2011.

19. Il existe en Nouvelle-Calédonie trois corps électoraux : le corps électoral permettant de voter

aux élections nationales françaises et aux communales, non restreint ; et deux corps électoraux

restreints, pour les élections aux assemblées de province et à l’élection des membres du congrès,

et pour la consultation sur l’accession du pays à la pleine souveraineté. Les critères de ces corps

électoraux restreints, qui déterminent également la définition du citoyen calédonien, sont

développés au point 2.2.1 de l’Accord de Nouméa et font l’objet des articles 188 et 218 de la loi

organique du 19 mars 1999 relative à la Nouvelle-Calédonie.

20. Pour une meilleure idée de la répartition de la population par communauté dans Nouméa voir

http://www.isee.nc/population/recensement (consulté le 31/12/2016) ainsi que le tableau en

annexe.

21. Entretien avec Thierry Kameremoin, membre du « Comité 150 ans après », Nouméa, 28

octobre 2010.

22. Le Sénat coutumier est une institution créée par l’Accord de Nouméa qui fait suite au Conseil

consultatif coutumier créé par les Accords de Matignon.

23. Ce comité comprenait des représentants coutumiers, des représentants de diverses

associations (Association pour la Commémoration de l’Année des Peuples Indigènes en Kanaky

(ACAPIK), Conseil National pour les Droits du Peuple Autochtone (CNDPA), Comité Rheebu Nuu,

etc.). L’ACAPIK a été créée pour la célébration de l’année des peuples indigènes en Nouvelle-

Calédonie. La date de l’organisation de cette célébration fut choisie pour coïncider avec la

commémoration de « deuil kanak » de la prise de possession du 24 septembre 1853 (Monnerie

2005 : 81-118) et pour traduire en Nouvelle-Calédonie le projet de la Décennie sur les droits des


116

http://www.touspourhollande.fr/2012/03/11/discours-de-francois-hollande-aux-outre-mers-du-samedi-10032012/

http://www.isee.nc/population/recensement

peuples autochtones des Nations Unies. Le Comité Rheebù Nùù a été créé en 2002 pour contrer le

projet Goro-Nickel de construction de l’usine d’exploitation de nickel dans le Sud de la Nouvelle-

Calédonie. Avec le Congrès Populaire, créé en 1992, et le CNDPA, Conseil National des droits du

peuple autochtone, épigone de l’ACAPIK, créé en 1993, ces associations constituent les

fondements structurels de la revendication kanak « autochtoniste ». Leurs revendications sont en

grande partie calquées sur le modèle de la Déclaration des Nations Unies sur les droits des

peuples autochtones. Graff (2015) a proposé une analyse approfondie de la question hautement

complexe de l’émergence d’une revendication autochtoniste à côté de la revendication

indépendantiste.

24. En langue drubea, langue vernaculaire de l’aire Drubea-Kapumë du Sud de la Nouvelle-

Calédonie.

25. Entretien avec Thierry Kameremoin, ibid. Historiquement, l’accès des Kanak à la ville était

réglementé (Merle 1995). En 1975, le festival Melanésia 2000 constitue le premier grand événement

public au cours duquel la culture kanak était donnée à voir, comme image kanak dans la « ville

blanche ».

26. « Toutoute » est le mot communément utilisé localement pour « conque ».

27. « Il convient de faire mémoire de ces moments difficiles, de reconnaître les fautes, de

restituer au peuple kanak son identité confisquée, ce qui équivaut pour lui à une reconnaissance

de sa souveraineté, préalable à la fondation d’une nouvelle souveraineté, partagée dans un destin

commun. » (Préambule Accord de Nouméa). Or la colonisation est-elle uniquement une perte

d’identité ? N’est-elle pas aussi une perte de souveraineté… ?

28. « […] il convient d’ouvrir une nouvelle étape, marquée par la pleine reconnaissance de

l’identité kanak, préalable à la refondation d’un contrat social entre toutes les communautés qui

vivent en Nouvelle-Calédonie […]. » (Préambule Accord de Nouméa).

29. « Le moment est venu de reconnaître les ombres de la période coloniale, même si elle ne fut

pas dépourvue de lumière. » (Préambule de l’Accord de Nouméa).

30. Expression utilisée communément en Nouvelle-Calédonie pour évoquer le problème de la

« fête de la citoyenneté » en 2012, voir notamment Lefevre 2015.

31. Entretien avec un membre du collectif « Tribu dans la ville », puis « Ville dans la tribu »,

décembre 2012.

32. Il est à noter qu’au sein des représentants institutionnels kanak, les opinions étaient

divergentes quant au maintien ou à la destruction des cases. Ainsi le Sénat coutumier s’était

prononcé en faveur du non maintien des cases. Pour plus d’informations à ce sujet, voir l’article

de Tate Lefevre déjà mentionné.

33. Pour davantage de détails sur « l’affaire des cases », voir Chauchat 2012 et Lefevre 2015. Cette

dernière a analysé le "conflit dans le conflit", qui a opposé les jeunes kanak aux coutumiers

kanak autour du maintien ou non des cases.

34. Selon la version officielle les hommes envoyés par la mairie étaient cagoulés pour préserver

leur anonymat.

35. Radio Djiido est une radio créée par le FLNKS le 24 septembre 1985.

36. Sur les questions de « droit à la visibilité » dans l’espace géographique, voir Pantz 2015.


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RÉSUMÉS

Il existe aujourd’hui en Nouvelle-Calédonie, colonie française depuis 1853 engagée dans un

processus dit de « décolonisation » depuis la signature de l’Accord de Nouméa le 5 mai 1998, une

stratégie politique, que l’auteur qualifie de « politique de destin commun ». Celle-ci vise à créer

un sentiment d’appartenance à une citoyenneté calédonienne grâce à la réconciliation entre les

peuples et communautés en présence dans ce pays. Pour ce faire l’histoire est réinterprétée,

réinventée, et réécrite en étant basée sur l’argument du destin commun, du vivre-ensemble. La

réécriture de l’histoire et la réconciliation sont les moyens par lesquels l’objectif de la

citoyenneté calédonienne peut être atteint. Pour illustrer cette argumentation, les exemples de la

« fête de la citoyenneté » et de « l’affaire des cases » seront discutés dans cet article. Cet article

s’interroge sur le sens, et l’objectif donné, des productions visuelles publiques, de même que sur

ce qu’il est acceptable de voir et de montrer dans le contexte de la construction d’une

citoyenneté calédonienne en Nouvelle-Calédonie.

New Caledonia has been a French colony since 1853 – it is now a sui generis overseas “collectivity”

– and is currently engaged in a process of “decolonization” following the signature of the Accord

de Nouméa on the 5 th of May 1998 (cf. point 4 of the preamble). This article argues that this

process of decolonization is counteracted by a political strategy, which the author will refer to as

the “politics of a common destiny”. This strategy aims at creating a feeling of citizenship by

fostering reconciliation between peoples and communities living in New Caledonia. To achieve

this, history is reinterpreted and reinvented by emphasizing togetherness and shared destiny. By

way of illustration, the “celebration of the citizenship” events as well as the “affaire des cases1”

will be here discussed. This article focuses on the meaning, and the given objective, of public

visual productions, and examines what is acceptable to see and show in the context of the

construction of a Caledonian citizenship in New Caledonia.

New Caledonia, decolonization, citizenship, common destiny, Mwâ Kââ, 24th September, “affaire

des cases” (destruction of customary houses), tribe in the city, Noumea, Kanak presence in urban

áreas.Visibilidad del destino común e invisibilidad de la historia: discurso, celebraciones y

construcción de la ciudadanía en Nueva-Caledonia. Nueva Caledonia ha sido colonia francesa

desde 1853 –ahora es una colectividad transoceánica sui generis- y se encuentra actualmente

inmersa en un proceso de “descolonización” como consecuencia del acuerdo conocido como

Accord de Nouméa firmado el 5 de mayo de 1998 (cf. Punto 4 del preámbulo). El presente artículo

sostiene que este proceso de descolonización se ve contrarrestado por una estrategia política a la

que el autor se referirá como “la política del destino común”. Esta política tiene por objetivo

crear un sentimiento de ciudadanía promoviendo la reconciliación entre los pueblos y

comunidades que viven en Nueva Caledonia. Para alcanzar este objetivo, se reescribe y se

reinterpreta la historia, enfatizando las ideas de comunión y porvenir compartido. A modo de

ilustración, se discutirán los eventos de “la celebración de la ciudadanía”, así como las “cuestión

de las casas” (affaires des cases). El artículo se centra en el significado y el objetivo de

producciones visuales públicas, y examina qué se acepta ver y mostrar en el contexto de la

construcción de la ciudadanía de Nueva-Caledonia.


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INDEX

Keywords : New Caledonia, decolonization, citizenship, common destiny, Mwâ Kââ, 24th

September, “affaire des cases” (destruction of customary houses), tribe in the city, Noumea,

Kanak presence in urban areas

Mots-clés : Nouvelle-Calédonie, décolonisation, citoyenneté, destin commun, Mwâ Kââ, 24

septembre, « affaire des cases », Nouméa, présence kanak en milieu urbain

Palabras claves : Nueva Caledonia, Descolonización, ciudadanía, Destino Común, Mwâ Kââ, 24 de

septiembre, cuestión de las casas (affaire des cases), tribu en la ciudad, Noumea, Presencia Kanak

en las áreas urbanas

AUTEUR

STÉPHANIE GRAFF

Membre associé UMR 7367 DynamE (MISHA Strasbourg), chercheur associé Cairns Institute

(Université James Cook, Australie)

[email protected]


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Research and experimental section


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Performance : Le grand Bingocolonial du clown BarnabottMartin Préaud

« If I could tell you what it meant,there would be no point in dancing it »

Isadora Duncan

1 La performance intitulée « Le clown Barnabott », dont un montage vous est ici

présenté, appartient au genre heureusement méconnu de la farce coloniale. Elle n’estpas drôle. A bien des égards même, elle ressemble plutôt à une tragédie : pour le clownBarnabott d’abord, personnage de fiction qui n’a jamais fait rire personne, pour lespeuples autochtones d’Australie surtout, confrontés quotidiennement à la violenceordinaire du discours colonial qu’affectionne Barnabott, dissimulant sous de bonssentiments paternalistes les pires formes d’exclusion et d’oppression. Il s’agit d’untravail sur l’obscénité, celle de l’imaginaire politique du colonialisme de peuplement1 etde ses manifestations contemporaines en Australie, dans le discours comme dans lespolitiques publiques menées à l’encontre des autochtones.

2


Link: https://vimeo.com/167167132

Martin Préaud

3


Link: https://vimeo.com/178908538

Martin Préaud

4 La performance du clown Barnabott a pour origine l’annonce, par le premier ministre

d’Australie Occidentale Colin Barnett, durant l’hiver 2014, de la fermeture de plusieurscentaines de communautés aborigènes reculées en leur coupant purement et


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simplement les services d’eau et d’électricité, droits fondamentaux mais jugés tropcoûteux. Une fois la nature fallacieuse de l’argument économique démontré, enparticulier dans une perspective de long terme (sur ce sujet, voir par exemple Codding,Bird and Bird 2015), M. Barnett n’a pas hésité à recourir à des préjugés douteuxconcernant les communautés isolées (protection de l’enfance, arriération économique,refus de la modernité, voir Grégoire 2015 par exemple). Le motif véritable de cesfermetures annoncées me paraissait pourtant clair: il s’agissait de vider le pays de seshabitants afin, notamment, de pouvoir procéder plus facilement à l’exploitationdéterminée des ressources contenues dans son sous-sol.

5 Il n’est certes pas nouveau que le discours politique australien prétende faire le bien

des Aborigènes tout en autorisant des degrés supplémentaires dans leur oppression etleur exclusion de la société australienne ; c’est tout particulièrement le cas pour lescommunautés dites « isolées », manifestement rétives aux efforts les plus déterminésd’assimilation de leurs habitants et d’effacement de leur différence. L’enjeu impliciteest bien de se débarrasser de ces autochtones qui perturbent le bon roman national.Peut-être s’agit-il là simplement de la proverbiale goutte d’eau. Avec BarbaraGlowczewski, directrice de recherche au CNRS travaillant aux côtés des Aborigènesdepuis les années 1970, nous avions alors publié un article (Préaud and Glowczewski2015) dénonçant ces fermetures annoncées, relayé sur les réseaux sociaux oùs’organisait une mobilisation de grande ampleur des organisations de défense desdroits des peuples autochtones d’Australie. Aussi, lorsque Barbara Glowczewski m’acommandé une performance pour le colloque « Le Théâtre des Opérations » qu’elleorganisait avec son confrère Périg Pitrou au Collège de France en décembre 2015 – lecolloque du Laboratoire International Associé TransOceanik intitulé « Le Théâtre desOpérations : mise en scène de l’action, coordination des mouvements et transformationdu monde » – l’ai-je compris comme un prolongement de cette mobilisation.

6 A la lecture de l’argumentaire, j’ai rapidement réalisé qu’il me serait impossible de

donner à voir les multiples formes de création et de résistance déployées par cescommunautés : en tant qu’anthropologue, artiste ou citoyen, il ne me paraissait paslégitime de m’exprimer à leur place. Si les « opérations » m’étaient ainsi fermées, merestait en revanche le théâtre : c’est alors que Barnabott a fait irruption et m’a offert detransformer une colère politique en une modeste provocation créative. Ce faisant, j’aichoisi de m’appuyer sur une étymologie personnelle du mot « ob-scène » commedésignant ce qui est non pas sur la scène, bien en vue et face au peuple, mais devant,contre la scène, à l’abri des regards. L’obscénité consiste alors précisément à figurer surscène ce qui ne devait surtout pas y paraître clairement : c’est le rôle de Barnabott.

7 Le nom de ce clown est la contraction de deux fameux hérauts de l’invasion coloniale

de l’Australie: Colin Barnett, premier ministre d’Australie Occidentale (toujours enexercice) et Tony Abbott, premier ministre d’Australie (2013-2015) jusqu’à son évictiondu pouvoir par l’un de ses rivaux au sein de son propre parti. C’est à ce duo que l’ondoit l’annonce subite du projet de fermeture de communautés à la fin de l’année 2014.Tony Abbott, une décennie plus tôt, alors simple ministre dans un précédentgouvernement conservateur remarqué pour sa régression totale sur les questionsautochtones, s’était fait l’avocat d’un retour à une forme de « nouveau paternalismesocial » pour les communautés aborigènes (Grattan 2006).

8 La farce coloniale du clown Barnabott est une réponse non discursive à ces arrogances

au racisme à peine voilé qui sont l’expression nue de la logique profonde qui soutient et


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nourrit le colonialisme de peuplement: la logique d’élimination des autochtones, tellequ’analysée par le regretté historien Patrick Wolfe et condensée dans une formule quireste plus que jamais d’actualité : « l’invasion n’est pas un événement mais unestructure » (Wolfe 2006, ma traduction). La performance entend asséner cette analysecomme une gifle. Car il s’agit bien d’une performance et non d’une présentationargumentée dans les termes d’une discipline universitaire: il ne s’agit pas d’une analyseni d’une contribution théorique mais bien d’un geste, dénonçant la pérennité ducolonialisme australien sous ses masques changeants. Son point de départ n’est pas uneethnographie, quoiqu’elle s’en nourrisse, mais une émotion.

9 La farce coloniale du clown Barnabott entremêle et superpose différents flux : images,

textes, paroles, gestes. Cette superposition, renforcée par l’entremêlement du français(de la voix) et de l’anglais (dans les chiffres et textes projetés), est une source voulue deconfusion pour le spectateur confronté à la nécessité de focaliser son attention dans unflux chaotique.

10 Les images d’abord. Un film est projeté durant la performance: le grand bingo colonial

du clown Barnabott qui reflète en la détournant l’omniprésence des statistiques dansles affaires autochtones. Ce qui domine dans ce flux, ce sont donc des chiffres quidécrivent la situation autochtone en Australie aujourd’hui: taux d’emprisonnement, dechômage, espérance de vie, causes de mortalité. Les chiffres rendent abstraites dessituations vécues par des personnes humaines, ils anesthésient la pensée et, aussichoquant qu’ils soient, offrent une forme de confort en éloignant la réalité vécue dansune rationalité mathématique. C’est pourquoi, en contrepoint de ce bingo macabre,d’autres éléments apparaissent: des citations tirées du texte lu en voix-off, des imagesde l’histoire coloniale et politique des Aborigènes (chain-gangs, manifestations,documents historiques) ainsi que des slogans populaires des mobilisations en faveurdes droits des autochtones depuis les années 1970 qui sont toujours employésaujourd’hui (« Treaty now ! », « white Australia has a Black history »). Toutefois, ceséléments de contrepoint sont ambigus dans la mesure où ils viennent couper, toutautant que soutenir, le terrible déroulé des statistiques.

11 C’est également dans le détail des images que se situent les éléments réellement

farcesques de la performance. Ils ont pour but de replacer la condition autochtoneaustralienne dans son cadre international : tel homme politique est ramené à saparenté symbolique au britannique capitaine Cook, le « G20 Big Band of Thieves » et« Primitive Accumulation Ltd » sont les deux principaux sponsors de la performance –deux masques du capitalisme global né dans la matrice coloniale et nourrie à son sein –et Barnabott offre ses services pour animer vos camps de rétention, en particulier ceuxdont l’Australie délègue la gestion à des entreprises de sécurité privées sur des ilotstragiques du Pacifique (sur ce sujet, voir notamment le site : http://researchersagainstpacificblacksites.org/). Enfin, le nom de la maison de production,fictive, « Kartiya prod. » est, quant à lui, une référence plus locale et un clin d’œiladressé aux relations nouées en terre aborigène: « Kartiya » est en effet le termeemployé par les Aborigènes du Kimberley et du Great Sandy Desert pour désigner ceux,en majorité des Blancs, qui ne sont pas socialisés dans leur système de parenté et dontBarnabott est une figure paradigmatique.

12 Le texte ensuite, dont l’essentiel est tiré d’un message enregistré par le ministre des

Affaires culturelles d’Australie Occidentale à l’attention des aînés de la communauté deNoonkanbah qui, au début des années 1970, s’opposèrent au forage de leur Pays


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http://researchersagainstpacificblacksites.org/

http://researchersagainstpacificblacksites.org/

(Country) et à la recherche pétrolière. Ce texte, publié dans Hawke and Gallagher 1989,visible dans le documentaire On Sacred Ground, est un monument de colonialisme. Touty est : le paternalisme, la condescendance, l’arrogance hautaine et l’hypocrisie froideainsi que la menace, jamais lointaine, de la violence physique. La voix féminine,volontairement excessive, agit à la fois en contrepoint et en renforcement des excèspropres à ce texte qui pourrait encore être adressé, tel quel, à ces communautés quis’opposent aujourd’hui à l’exploitation des gaz de schiste sur leur territoire. Poursouligner cette contemporanéité, j’ai inséré quelques extraits de discours plus récents,parus dans des journaux reconnus, émis pour la plupart par Barnabott lui-même(Barnett ou Abbott) en relation avec l’annonce de la fermeture de communautés. C’estle cas notamment du terme « choix de vie » utilisé par Tony Abbott pour décrire lesAborigènes préférant prétendument de vivre dans des communautés éloignées descentres urbains quand en réalité ils désirent vivre sur le territoire qui est le leur depuisplusieurs dizaines de milliers d’années, sans considération il est vrai pour les choix del’Australie en matière d’aménagement du territoire ; le terme même est devenu un motclé de la mobilisation (#lifestylechoice) coordonnée par l’association SOS Blak Australia.Seule l’introduction est une pure création, qui détourne une phrase de Guy Debordpour situer la performance dans un théâtre bien particulier, celui du spectacle érigé enseconde nature et source d’une vérité qui n’est jamais que d’apparence, toujours auservice du capital (voir ci-après le texte identifiant ses différentes composantes).

13 Les gestes enfin: le clown Barnabott a d’abord l’aspect d’un homme politique déroulant

un discours ferme mais convenu devant un parterre d’électeurs assimilé à une masseinfantile. Il se saisit ensuite d’un saladier empli de peinture rouge dont il se lavejoyeusement les mains avant que d’y tremper sa cravate avec complaisance et de larenouer, sanglante, autour de son cou. Voilà l’obscénité: le bain de sang, qui n’est pasune métaphore, sur lequel repose historiquement la richesse australienne actuelle et ledéni complaisant de ses dirigeants politiques. Si leur attitude revient à se laver lesmains des tragédies vécues par les Aborigènes, la coloration sanguine de cette histoireet de son actualité n’est que rarement perceptible dans leurs discours publics. Laperformance en fait le cœur de son travail. A la fin de la performance, la puissancesymbolique du sang fait l’objet d’un retournement et Barnabott s’en trouvemétamorphosé en une figure de résistance, une image de la présence continue,persévérante et acharnée, des peuples autochtones. Alors, la puissance de résistance etde création des autochtones se révèle, soutenue par le pow-wow électronique dugroupe amérindien A Tribe Called Red.

14 Dans le montage présenté ici je n’ai fait qu’une seule modification substantielle par

rapport à la performance. J’ai ajouté une citation de Patrick Wolfe, en hommage autranchant de sa pensée et de son influence sur ma compréhension de la situationaustralienne; parce que son analyse, à la manière d’un rasoir d’Ockham, permetaujourd’hui de rendre compte des actes d’un Barnabott, ou plutôt parce que Barnabottest une manière de donner corps et voix à cette analyse du colonialisme de peuplement.Il paraît que Patrick Wolfe avait de l’humour; tout espoir n’est donc peut-être pas perdupour Barnabott, clown tragique d’une farce globale dont les peuples sont tout à la foisvictimes et acteurs. Aimé Césaire, dans sa générosité, avait de la mansuétude pour lescolons, affectés en retour par l’attentat qu’ils commettaient: c’est la seule forme desourire que Barnabott peut encore espérer.


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Discours du clown Barnabott

Code de lecture :- Fiction

- Message enregistré du ministre Grayden à la communauté de Noonkanbah, 1973,reproduit dans Hawke and Gallagher 1989- Presse 2014-2015

Mesdames et messieurs, très chers collègues et estimés inconnus.

Je m’adresse aujourd’hui à vous par le biais d’un enregistrement, ma voix est

celle d’un.e autre.

Dans ce monde réellement renversé, le vrai est un moment du faux et la scène

est son prophète.

En vérité je vous le dis, je ne suis pas celle que vous croyez.

« Je parle au nom du gouvernement d’Australie OccidentaleJe suis le ministre aux affaires culturelles du capitaine Cook.Je vous apporte un message du gouvernement.Il est important, pour vous tous.J’essaie de vous aider.Je veux vous parler des problèmes autour du forage pétrolier dans votrecommunauté.C’était mal d’arrêter le forage.C’était mauvais pour vous.C’était mauvais pour nous tous.Nous avons besoin de pétrole pour faire de l’essence, pour les voitures et lescamions.C’était une erreur d’empêcher le forage.Nous avons besoin de trouver du pétrole.Le pétrole est un minéral.Nous avons aussi besoin de trouver d’autres minéraux.Pour nous aider à trouver des minéraux, nous avons une loi.La loi dit que les gens qui obéissent à la loi peuvent rechercher des minéraux.Ils peuvent regarder chez vous et dans n’importe quelle autre station oucommunauté.Et il est mal de les en empêcher.Laissez-moi vous expliquer pourquoi.Ce que nous ne pouvons pas faire, c’est de financer indéfiniment des choix de vie, si ces choixne mènent pas au genre de participation pleine et entière à la société australienne que toutepersonne est en droit d’attendre. Vivez dans un lieu isolé, bien sûr, mais il y a une limite à ce que vous pouvez attendre del’Etat si vous souhaitez habiter là. Vous êtes sur une station d’élevage.Les personnes qui l’utilisent passent un accord avec le gouvernement.Lorsque des Blancs l’utilisent, ils passent un accord.L’accord dit qu’ils peuvent l’utiliser pour élever du bétail.L’accord autorise des personnes à y rechercher des minéraux.L’accord fait partie de notre loi.Et l’on a toujours obéi à la loi.La loi est pour tout le monde – nous sommes tous pareils.La loi ne peut pas être différente pour les Aborigènes.Nous sommes tous australiens.Nous sommes tous Australiens ensemble.Si des Aborigènes ou des Blancs ne respectent pas la loi, cela entraîne desproblèmes.D’autres Australiens vont dire « Pourquoi les Aborigènes devraient-ils avoir une loidifférente ? Ce n’est pas juste ». La loi doit être la même pour tous.


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Certains d’entre vous ont bloqué les routes pour empêcher les gens de rechercherdes minéraux.C’est mal.Vous devriez respecter l’accord.Si vous vous inquiétez pour vos sites sacrés, rappelez-vous, je vous en prie, quenotre loi dit que les véritables sites sacrés ne doivent pas être endommagés.Nous en prendrons soin.Nous en prendrons soin parce que nous les respectons.Les Aborigènes vivent ici depuis longtemps.Ils ont vu construire beaucoup de choses : des maisons, des chantiers, des barrières,des routes, des pistes d’atterrissage et beaucoup d’autres choses encore.Nous nous sommes bien entendus pendant toutes ces années, sans aucun problème.Nous pouvons toujours nous entendre sans problème si nous nous aidons les uns lesautres.Les gens des compagnies minières doivent être autorisés à entrer chez vous.Lorsqu’ils reviendront, il ne vous sera fait aucun mal ni à vos sites sacrés.Personne ne sera déplacé de force de ses terres. Personne ne sera intimidé ou menacé. Lesvies des Aborigènes et de leurs communautés vont s’améliorer.La zone de campement et de travail pour les ouvriers du forage sera bien délimitée.Les ouvriers vivront à l’intérieur de la zone.Ils n’auront pas le droit d’avoir de l’alcool.Ils n’auront pas le droit d’avoir des fusils.Un seul d’entre eux sera autorisé à vous rencontrer.Avec cet homme, vous pourrez parler de ce qui se passe, donc il n’y aura pas deproblèmes.Le gouvernement fera en sorte que le forage ne porte pas atteinte à votre mode devie.Ces choses-là, nous vous les promettons, pour vous aider et vous protéger.Mais nous devons aussi protéger les employés des compagnies minières.Vous devez les laisser tranquilles et les laisser faire leur travail.Vous devez respecter leurs droits, et ils doivent respecter les vôtres.Il y a de nombreuses personnes au sein de la communauté – moi-même y compris –qui veulent vous aider.Mais vous nous rendez cette tâche très difficile si vous adoptez une attitudeintransigeante.Je demande à vos anciens de parler à tout le monde de ce message.Qu’ils laissent tout le monde entendre ce message avec leurs propres oreilles.Qu’ils vous parlent avec leur voix propre.Que les voix extérieures se taisent.Vos anciens peuvent nous dire ce que vous ressentez.Nous avons confiance en vos anciens.Nous pensons qu’ils nous font confiance.Bientôt, le clown Barnabott viendra chez vous.

Il s’assiéra avec vos anciens et les écoutera.Cela fait longtemps qu’il veut venir.Il désire pouvoir vous parler en privé, juste lui et vous.Mais des discussions privées ne peuvent pas avoir lieu si certains d’entre vousinvitent des étrangers.Le Grand clown viendra au moment voulu, lorsqu’il sera garanti que les discussionsseront privées, juste entre lui et vous.Il pense que vous avez une ravissante école. Vous êtes surpeuplés, vous avez besoin de

logement et Barnabott a dit : « Pourriez-vous s’il vous plaît nettoyer la communauté,ramasser les déchets ? » et vous avez reconnu que c’était ce qu’il fallait faire. La communauté nationale veut voir les Aborigènes faire quelques efforts. Cela doit être un processus mutuel, aussi difficile que cela puisse paraître.Je demande aux anciens de permettre cela.


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Nous voulons que cela soit un nouveau départ, de sorte qu’il n’y ait plus deproblème pour personne.C’est ainsi que nous pourrons tous vivre heureux ensemble.Nous sommes vos amis.Nous vous avons aidé à obtenir cette station, parce que nous voulons que vous yviviez.Nous voulons que chaque petit garçon et petite fille de cet Etat puisse grandir en sécurité eten bonne santé. Nous vous demandons de nous rejoindre sur cet objectif. Nous voulons que vous soyez heureux et c’est pour cela que nous voulons que vousrespectiez la loi comme tout le monde.Aidez-nous à vous aider pour faire de chez vous une merveilleuse station d’élevage.Je vous en prie, rappelez-vous que le gouvernement doit obéir à la loi.Nous pouvons vous aider si vous obéissez à la loi.Vous pouvez utiliser votre terre pour aussi longtemps que vous le souhaitez, si vousobéissez à la loi.S’il vous plaît, obéissez à la loi et aidez-nous à vous aider.Nous sommes vos amis.Nous voulons vous aider.Merci de votre attention.

Barnabott the Clown’s Speech

Reading guide:- fiction,

- tape recorded message from minister Grayden to the Noonkanbah community,1973, reproduced in Hawke and Gallagher 1989, - press articles 2014-2015

“Ladies and gentlemen, dear colleagues and esteemed strangers

I talk to you today through a recorded message; this is someone else’s voice

In this really reversed world, truth is but a moment of falsehood and the stage

is its prophet

In truth I tell you: I am not the one you believe I am

I am speaking for the Government of Western AustraliaI am Minister for Cultural AffairsI bring a message from the GovernmentIt is important to all of youI am trying to help youI want to talk about the trouble over the drilling on your communityIt was wrong to stop the drillingIt was bad for your peopleIt was bad for all of usWe need oil to make petrol for car and trucksIt was wrong to stop the drillingWe need to find oilOil is a mineralWe need to find other minerals tooTo help find minerals we have a lawThe law says people who obey the law can look for mineralsThey can look on your and any other stationsAnd it is wrong to stop themLet me tell you whyWhat we can’t do is endlessly subsidise lifestyle choicesIf those lifestyle choices are not conducive to the kind of full participation in Australiansociety that everyone should have


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Fine, by all means live in a remote location, but there’s a limit to what you can expect thestate to do for you if you want to live there.Your community is a pastoral stationPeople who use it make an agreement with the GovernmentWhen white people use it they make an agreementThe agreement says they can use it for cattleThe agreement lets people look for minerals on your countryThe agreement is part of our lawAnd the law has always been obeyedThe law is for everyone – we are all the sameThe law cannot be different for Aboriginal peopleWe are all AustraliansWe are all Australians togetherIf Aborigines or white men break the law it means troubleOther Australians will say “why should Aborigines have a different law? It is notright. The law must be the same for everyone”We want you to stay in your communityWhen you got the station we made an agreementThe agreement lets you use the land as a place to live and run your cattleThe agreement also lets anyone who obeys the law look for minerals on you countryBut you have broken the agreementThis is wrongYou should keep the agreementIf you are worried about sacred sites, please remember our law says proper sacredsites must not be damagedThey will be looked afterWe will look after them because we respect themAboriginal people have lived here for many yearsThey have seen many things built here: houses, yards, fences, roads, airstrips andmany other thingsWe got along together all these years without any troubleWe can still get along together without any trouble if we help each otherNo one is going to be forced off their landNo one is going to be intimidated or threatenedBut the lives of Aboriginal people and their communities will improve.The mineral people who came to drill, and went away, must be allowed to comebackWhen they come back there will be no harm to your people or your sacred sitesThe camp and the work area for the drillers will be fenced off, so your cattle willnot be hurtThe drilling people will live inside the fenceThey will not be allowed to have alcoholThey will not be allowed to have gunsOnly one of them will be allowed to meet with youThat man and your people will be able to talk about what is happening, so there willbe no problemsThe Government will make sure that any drilling or mining will not hurt your wayof lifeThese are the things we promise you, to help you and protect youBut we must also protect the drillersYou must leave them alone and let them get on with their workYou must respect their rights, and they must respect your rightsThere are many people in this community – including myself – who want to helpyouBut you make this very difficult by adopting an uncompromising attitude.


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I ask your Elders to talk to all your people about this messageLet them hear this message with their own earsLet them talk to you with their own voicesLet the outside voices be quietYour Elders can tell us what you feelWe trust your EldersWe believe they trust usSoon, Barnabott the Clown will come to your communityHe will sit down with your Elders and listen to themHe has been wanting to come for a long timeHe has been wanting private talks, just him and youBut private talks cannot be held when some of your people ask strangers to join inThe Clown will come at the right time when it is agreed the talks will be private,just him and youHe thinks you have a lovely school. You are overcrowded, you need housing and Barnabottsaid: “Can you please clean up the community, pick up the rubbish?” and you haveacknowledged that’s what’s neededThe national community wants to see Aboriginal people make some effortIt must be a mutual process, difficult as it might seemI ask the Elders to make this happenWe want this to be a new start, so there will be no more trouble for anyoneThis is the way we can all live happily togetherThere is no ban on people living in communities but the provision of services of the rightquality will not apply in the futureWe are your friendsWe helped you and your community get this station, because we want you to livethereWe want every boy and girl in this state to grow up to be healthy and to be safeWe ask you to join us in doing thatWe want you to be happy there, and that is why we want you to obey the law likeeveryone elseHelp us to help you to make a wonderful cattle station herePlease remember, the Government must go with the lawWe can help you if you go with the lawThe law says you must not make trouble for the mineral people, and the mineralpeople must not make trouble for youYou can use your community as long as you wish, if you go with the lawPlease go with the law and help us help youWe are your friendsWe want to help youThank you for listening”.

BIBLIOGRAPHIE

Codding, Brian F., Douglas W. Bird and Rebecca Bliege Bird. 2015. The real cost of closing remote

communities. Arena Magazine 135(4): 5-7. http://arena.org.au/the-real-cost-of-closing-remote-

communities-by-brian-f-codding-douglas-w-bird-and-rebecca-bliege-bird/ (accessed April 26,

2016)


129

http://arena.org.au/the-real-cost-of-closing-remote-communities-by-brian-f-codding-douglas-w-bird-and-rebecca-bliege-bird/




Grattan, Michelle. 2006. “Abbott in call for new paternalism”. The Age, June 21, 2006. http://

www.theage.com.au/news/national/abbott-in-call-for-new-paternalism/

2006/06/20/1150701552947.html (accessed April 26, 2016)

Gregoire, Paul. 2015. “Are mining interests behind Western Australian remote aboriginal

community closures?”. Vice, March 20, 2015. http://www.vice.com/read/are-mining-interests-

behind-western-australian-remote-aboriginal-community-closures (accessed April 26, 2016)

Hollis, Hannah. 2015. “Child removals continue to rise as intergenerational trauma perpetuates,

says social worker”. National Indigenous Television, October 27, 2015. http://www.sbs.com.au/nitv/

article/2015/10/27/child-removals-continue-rise-trauma-perpetuates-says-social-worker

(accessed April 26, 2016)

Préaud, Martin and Barbara Glowczewski. 2015. “Non aux fermetures de communautés

aborigènes en Australie.” The Huffington Post, April 27, 2015. http://www.huffingtonpost.fr/

martin-preaud/non-aux-fermetures-de-communautes-aborigenes-en-australie_b_7151048.html

(English version at http://www.huffingtonpost.com/martin-preaud/australian-aboriginal-

communities-should-not-be-closed_b_7161392.html (accessed April 27, 2016))

Wolfe, Patrick. 2006. Settler Colonialism and the Elimination of the Native. Journal of Genocide

Research 8(4): 387-409.

References used in the film

Georgatos, Gerry. 2015. “The issue of our time – 1 in 3 deaths by suicide”. The Stringer, July 20 ,

2015. http://thestringer.com.au/the-issue-of-our-time-1-in-3-deaths-by-

suicide-10614#.VlLkDF50bxA (accessed April 26, 2016)

Georgatos, Gerry. 2014 “600 black deaths in custody by 2025”, The Stringer, November 20, 2014.

http://thestringer.com.au/600-black-deaths-in-custody-by-2025-jail-numbers-to-

soar-9102#.VlLi8F50bxA (accessed April 26, 2016)

Hawke, Steven and Michael Gallagher. 1989. Noonkanbah. Whose Land, Whose Law. Fremantle:

Fremantle Arts Centre Press.

Medhora, Shalailah.2015. “Remote communities are 'lifestyle choices', says Tony Abbott”. The

Guardian, March 10, 2015. http://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2015/mar/10/remote-

communities-are-lifestyle-choices-says-tony-abbott (accessed April 26, 2016)

Perpitch, Nicolas, Christian Bonnie and Andrew O’Connor. 2015 “Colin Barnett pushed as anger

erupts at protest over remote communities closure”. ABC News, March 19, 2015. http://

www.abc.net.au/news/2015-03-19/protesters-rally-against-closure-aboriginal-remote-

communities/6332526 (accessed April 26, 2016)

Stein, Ginny. 2015. “Indigenous communities closure: West Australian Premier Colin Barnett says

'no person will be forced from their land'”. ABC News, May 1, 2015. http://www.abc.net.au/news/

2015-05-01/wa-government-softens-language-on-closing-aboriginal-communities/6439138

(accessed April 26, 2016)

Wahlquist, Calla. 2015a. “Colin Barnett shrugs off protests against WA's remote community

policy”. The Guardian Australia, May 1, 2015. http://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2015/

may/01/colin-barnett-shrugs-off-protests-against-was-remote-community-policy (accessed April

26, 2016)

Wahlquist, Calla. 2015b. “Colin Barnett links closure of remote Aboriginal communities to child

abuse”. The Guardian, May 20, 2015. http://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2015/mar/20/


130

http://www.theage.com.au/news/national/abbott-in-call-for-new-paternalism/2006/06/20/1150701552947.html






http://www.vice.com/read/are-mining-interests-behind-western-australian-remote-aboriginal-community-closures




http://www.sbs.com.au/nitv/article/2015/10/27/child-removals-continue-rise-trauma-perpetuates-says-social-worker




http://www.huffingtonpost.fr/martin-preaud/non-aux-fermetures-de-communautes-aborigenes-en-australie_b_7151048.html








http://thestringer.com.au/the-issue-of-our-time-1-in-3-deaths-by-suicide-10614#.VlLkDF50bxA




http://thestringer.com.au/600-black-deaths-in-custody-by-2025-jail-numbers-to-soar-9102#.VlLi8F50bxA




http://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2015/mar/10/remote-communities-are-lifestyle-choices-says-tony-abbott




http://www.abc.net.au/news/2015-03-19/protesters-rally-against-closure-aboriginal-remote-communities/6332526






http://www.abc.net.au/news/2015-05-01/wa-government-softens-language-on-closing-aboriginal-communities/6439138




http://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2015/may/01/colin-barnett-shrugs-off-protests-against-was-remote-community-policy




http://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2015/mar/20/colin-barnett-links-closure-of-remote-aboriginal-communities-to-child-abuse


colin-barnett-links-closure-of-remote-aboriginal-communities-to-child-abuse (accessed April 26,

2016)

References of websites in the film

Aboriginal Heritage Action Alliance, https://aboriginalheritagewa.com/

Australian Human Rights Commission. “Submission by the Australian Human Rights Commission

under the Universal Periodic review Process 2015”. https://www.humanrights.gov.au/australias-

universal-periodic-review-human-rights (accessed April 26, 2016)

Australian Government Productivity Commission. “Overcoming Indigenous Disadvantage: Key

Indicators 2014”. http://www.pc.gov.au/research/ongoing/overcoming-indigenous-

disadvantage/key-indicators-2014 (accessed April 26, 2016)

NOTES

1. Traduction française de « settler colonialism », la traduction littérale, « colonialisme des colons »

étant peu éclairante.

RÉSUMÉS

« Le grand bingo colonial du clown Barnabott » est une performance qui veut montrer la manière

dont les gouvernements australiens pratiquent actuellement le colonialisme de peuplement. Ce

texte accompagne une captation remontée de la performance de Barnabott lors d’un colloque au

Collège de France en décembre 2015 traitant de la manière dont l’action est mise en scène dans

les domaines dans lesquels des humains expérimentent de nouvelles façons de transformer ou

d’interpréter le monde. Ainsi, Barnabott tourne à la farce sanglante la continuation, sous des

masques politiques bien policés, de la lutte de gouvernements coloniaux contre des peuples et

sociétés autochtones.

“Barnabott the Clown’s great colonial bingo” is a performance that seeks to show how Australian

governments currently practice settler colonialism. This essay accompanies the edited video

capture of Barnabott’s performance at a colloquium held in December 2015 at the College de

France in Paris focusing on how action is staged in domains where humans experiment new ways

of transforming or interpreting the world. Barnabott thus turns to farce the bloody continuation,

under polite political masks, of a settler government’s attack of indigenous peoples and societies.

“El gran bingo colonial del payaso Barnabott” es una performance que busca mostrar cómo los

gobiernos australianos practican actualmente un asentamiento colonial. Este ensayo acompaña la

versión editada de la performance de Barnabott en el coloquio que tuve lugar en diciembre de

2015 en el College de France de París, centrándose en cómo la acción es interpretada en ámbitos

donde los seres humanos experimentan nuevas formas de transformar o interpretar el mundo.

Barnabott convierte en una farsa la sangrienta continuación, bajo las amables máscaras políticas,

de un de un ataque gubernamental basado en el asentamiento contra los pueblos indígenas y sus

sociedades.


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https://aboriginalheritagewa.com/

https://aboriginalheritagewa.com/

https://www.humanrights.gov.au/australias-universal-periodic-review-human-rights




http://www.pc.gov.au/research/ongoing/overcoming-indigenous-disadvantage/key-indicators-2014




INDEX

Mots-clés : Australie aborigène, colonialisme de peuplement, farce politique

Palabras claves : Australia Aborigen, Asentamiento colonial, Farsa política

Keywords : Aboriginal Australia, settler colonialism, political farce

AUTEUR

MARTIN PRÉAUD


[email protected]


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Reviews


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Barbara Glowczewski, TotemicBecomings. Cosmopolitics of theDreamingBook Review

Gerko Egert

REFERENCES

Glowczewski, Barbara. Totemic Becomings. Cosmopolitics of the Dreaming / Devires

Totêmicos. Cosmopolítica do sonho. [Bilingual Edition: English – Portuguese] Translated byJamille Pinheiro with Abrahão de Oliveira Santos. Helsinki and Saõ Paulo: n-1publications.

1 Barbara Glowczewski’s book Totemic Becomings. Cosmopolitics of the Dreaming begins with

the visual: the white and red lines of the ritual body painting of Melody Napurrurla

(Lajamanu, 1984) lure the reader into the manifold worlds and cartographies ofWarlpiri cosmologies and beyond. The Brazilian publisher, n-1, produces what he calls“object-books” with a special touch for each title. For Totemic Becomings, one or severalhand painted red lines cross the side of each book as if continuing the body paintingthat features on the front and back pages.


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Barbara Glowczewski: Totemic Becomings

n-1 Publications


135

Yumurrpa Yarla [site of the Yam Dreaming], 1991, acrylic on canvas by Yulyulu Napurrurla,124x124cm

Lajamanu, Australia, private collection

Published in Totemic Becomings, inside cover

2 Opening the book the reader is offered another cartography: Yumurrpa Yarla [site of the

Yam Dreaming] (Yulyulu Napurrurla, 1991). Composed as a rich assemblage of imagesand text, the book continues as a journey through drawings, photos, and notebooksketches, which inspire the reader to flip back and forth through the pages.1 Moreover,the reader can enter the bilingual book from both sides to explore the series ofGlowczewski’s text from the last 30 years as well as the manifold pictures – which evendiffer in the English and Portuguese part.

3 The text contained in the volume is also full of images: Already in the first pages,

Glowczewski charts the complex cartographies of Warlpiri Dreaming cosmologies byfollowing a meandering narrative that moves between Warlpiri “businesswomen” inCentral Australia performing a ritual with a sacred rope and the wanderings of a boy inFernand Deligny’s movie Le moindre geste. These movements “unfold across thelandscape” (16) and connect these two situations across various space-time differences.Yet another movement that unfolds throughout the text is the movement betweenphilosophy and anthropology: as Glowczewski weaves her description with theunfolding of theoretical concepts, the demarcations between the two disciplinesvanish. In Totemic Becomings, concepts like dreaming, ritual, law, and travel areimmanent to the numerous descriptions of vibrant sensations. Here, perception andthinking are mutually imbricated, creating what the anthropologist calls a“cosmopolitics of the dreaming.”


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Warlpiri women dancing ngatijirri Budgerigar Dreaming

Published in Barbara Glowczewski, Totemic Becomings (6-7). Photo by Barbara Glowczewski

4 The Warlpiri concept of the dream exceeds – as Glowczewski thoroughly argues – the

individual as well as the human in many ways. Dreams do not belong to, nor do theygive us a platform to interpret the inner psyche. Rather, dreams create a complexcartography that spans various modalities of time and space. The moving songlinesweave together experiences with mythic stories, totemic powers, and travelling bodies.Yet, they do not remain within the realm of the imaginary or the unreachable mythicpast – they operate as an immanent cartography. These cartographies are full ofmovement and process – Glowczewski writes of “cartographic work” (69) or“cartographic effort” (70) – and by that they produce new connections and new stories.The cartographies of dreaming are actualised in the ritual dances, and thus becomepart of an ongoing transformation of the world. These “totemic becomings” cannot bereduced to the displacement of the human body; they transversally cross images andmatter, stories and songs, animals and plants, atmosphere and land, kinship andcosmology. Dreaming is, as Glowczewski explains, “the condition of life and of everytransformation” (60). As transformative forces, dreams operate in interrelated fields asdiverse as: sickness and healing (Chapter: “Shamans”), belief and religious practice(Chapter: “Is God a Dream(ing)?”), or gender and engendering (Chapter: “Acting andBecoming”). (“Shamans” and “Is God a Dream(ing)?” are excerpts from Les Rêveurs du

désert, Plon, 1989, which has been published in full in English as Desert Dreamers,Univocal, 2016).


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Yiripanta May Napaljarri, mother of Maurice Luther

Painted with the cave and sand dunes of Yinapaka

Published in Barbara Glowczewski, Totemic Becomings (104). Photo by Barbara Glowczewski

5 Throughout these chapters, the book follows the movements of a “constantly

reproducing heterogeneity” (36). Even the most universal concept of the Hypercubedoes not provide the reader with a total overview, but with a pluriverse of relations –thus foregrounding the multiple perspectives of kinship. The dreams and cartographiesGlowczewski engages call for an asignifying analysis2: She does not interpret them asmere representations of an object or a situation, she follows their immanent forces,movements, and becomings of time, history, land, myths, bodies, and totems.

6 By providing a processual and relational cartography of Warlpiri songlines, the book

questions the notion of many familiar concepts such as dreams, law, gender, andmovement. By following the “totemic becomings,” the book also challengesfundamental dichotomies of subject/object, movement/stasis, and agency/passivity.Yet Glowczewski does not project a distant and disconnected word. She does not offerWarlpiri movement as a foil to Western stillness, but shows how movement itselfcannot be reduced to an elitist cosmopolitanism. She thus raises the question of howmovement can become the possibility of escaping individual displacement. How canmovement compose an “undercosmopolitanism” as Fred Moten writes (2014: 54) ?Glowczewski’s book offers an engagement with a world very much entangled in thecurrent political struggles of land rights, police violence, and the capitalist logics of the(art) market. Within these transversal relations, Totemic Becomings articulates itspolitical, cosmological as well as ecological force. Glowczewski’s politics is notrestricted to the state or the public realm, but operates in an “eco-logical” or“ecosophical” manner (Guattari 2000) cutting across realms of the social, the mental,


138

and the environmental. By interlacing cosmological, aesthetic, and activist practices,the book opens up the possibility of another world and thereby enhances whatGlowczewski describes as anthropology’s responsibility: “the heterogeneous diversityon all levels in such way that culture and nature are not reified as fixed domains butunderstood as symbolic ‘milieu’ that people can transform to stimulate improvedcoexistence” (40).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Moten, Fred. 2014. Notes on Passage (The New International of Sovereign Feelings). Palimpsest: A

Journal on Women, Gender, and the Black International 3(1): 51-74

Guattari, Félix. 2000. The Three Ecologies. London, New Brunswick: The Athlone Press.

NOTES

1. A selection of Glowczewski’s notebooks, films and photos can be accessed here: http://

www.odsas.net/index.php?action=set_category&cat=aut&value=60

2. These asignifying techniques are in many ways connected to the schizoanalyic concepts of

Félix Guattari. See especially chapter 1 and the transcripts of two seminars that Glowczewski

held together with Guattari, which are documented in chapters 2 and 3 of the book.

AUTHOR

GERKO EGERT

Ghent University, Studies in Performing Arts and Media (S:PAM)

[email protected]


139

http://www.odsas.net/index.php?action=set_category&cat=aut&value=60

http://www.odsas.net/index.php?action=set_category&cat=aut&value=60


Vivid Memories: A History of AboriginalArt. Musée d’Aquitaine, Bordeaux,February 2014Exhibition Review

Mémoires vives: une histoire de l’art aborigène. Musée d’Aquitaine, Bordeaux,

February 2014

Helen Idle

Vivid memories of Bordeaux

1 The following response to the exhibition Mémoires vives: une histoire de l’art aborigène,

some time after its closure, writes through memory and photographs of the exhibition,and the catalogue. The lived experience of the exhibition is supplemented by slowthinking, away from the museum and far from the origins of the artworks. My work isframed within Australian Studies and uses methods of ficto-critical writing and ego-histoire to write through the body in response to Australian Aboriginal art displayed inEurope, away from home and out of country.1 In this review I think about the themes ofjuxtaposition and intercultural connections proposed by the exhibition in Bordeaux.

2 The Musée d’Aquitaine was founded on the disciplines of archaeology, history and

ethnography, in the former University of Bordeaux Faculty of Science and Letters, oncehome to the ‘father of sociology’, Émile Durkheim. Within this setting of culturalexchange and intellectual enquiry curator Arnaud Morvan, Anthropologist, Laboratoired’Anthropologie sociale (Paris), with co-curator Paul Matharan, Curator of Non-European Collections (Musée d’Aquitaine), introduced visitors to a history of AustralianAboriginal art in the exhibition Mémoires vives: une histoire de l’art aborigène (October2013-March 2014).2

3 The exhibition introduced a history of Aboriginal art from pre-British colonisation to

current day. It showed an artworld that blends innovation with continuity whileadapting technologies to express the variety of worldviews of artists from many


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Aboriginal nations. The curators proposed a history of art through exhibitingconnections between artworks across time, and beyond national and internationalboundaries. Through the selection and display of Mémoires vives Australian Aboriginalart was presented as a ‘fully contemporary practice mixing both ancient and moderncomponents in dynamic ways’ (Morvan 2013: 229). The strategy of juxtaposition wasemployed to examine issues that have continued to arise when looking at Indigenousart about authenticity, and notions of ancient and modern.

Wooden object with photograph

Left: Artist unknown, Spear thrower. Right: Tony Albert, No Place 2 (2009). Installation photo of Mémoires vives, Musée d’Aquitaine, Bordeaux

Photo by Helen Idle

Who is looking at who?

4 The entrance to the exhibition featured Tony Albert’s photo-portrait (No Place 2, 2009)

and a spear thrower to introduce the visitor to Aboriginal art. The photograph showssomeone in a Mexican lucha libre wrestler’s mask decorated with a red spiral line thatspins clockwise outwards until the face area is covered. This, a visitor may assume, isthe first portrait of an Aboriginal person in the exhibition; masked, unrecognizable –who is he or she? A similar height spear thrower with the same spiral pattern paintedone above the other is next to the photograph. Albert dressed his relatives as luchadores

with masks he had brought home from Mexico to make the No Place series ofphotographs in his hometown of Cardwell in far north Queensland (McLean 2010). Thisplayful positioning of two works invited me to think about the fluidity of identity, andchallenged fixed ideas about how we construct our own identities and makeassumptions about others. Looking through the mask and the pattern from Mexico toAustralia, in Bordeaux, connects the artists, the work and the viewers in anintercultural exchange.

5 The longue durée of Aboriginal art was explained visually by linking the spiral marks on

the spear thrower with those on the mask, and time collapsed. This sense ofcontemporaneity was dominant throughout Mémoires vives: une histoire de l’art aborigène.


141

A later part of the exhibition further displayed the vibrant circulation and exchange ofvisual languages both within Australia and beyond its physical borders, before andsince colonisation by the British in 1788. Links were made between France, Germanyand Aboriginal Australia through the placement of the painting Luku (footprint), byRamingining (Northern Territory) artist elder David Malangi, alongside a printHandprint from Charlotte Wolff (Marcel Duchamp) by German artist Hans-Peter Feldmann.Through the representations of a human foot and human hand, recognisable beyondnational and cultural boundaries, we were put in relation to each other. The handprintof Duchamp, the artist who broke with the western artworld to privilege ideas over artconventions, reminded the viewers that there are many art histories, of whichAboriginal art is one.

Two images side by side

Far Left: part view of Reko Rennie, Black Magic (2011). Left: Hans-Peter Feldmann Handprint fromCharlotte Wolff (Marcel Duchamp) and Right: David Malangi’s Luku (footprint) (1995). Installation photoof Mémoires vives, Musée d’Aquitaine, Bordeaux. February 2014

Photo by Helen Idle

6 The proximity of objects and artworks continued through the following rooms:

photographs of rock art and graffiti; video, photography, and song; a huge blow-upplastic clown. Works from Arnhem Land, Central and Western Desert, the Kimberley,and Australian cities were represented in rarrk on bark, acrylic and ochre on canvas –each major genre was covered to show the diversity of Aboriginal art.

Juxtaposition

7 The artist-intervention in the museum by Brook Andrew challenged notions of time

and history through collocation of materials from the museum collection and archives:photographs, marble busts, glass hand-axes, illustrated comic books and, what Iinterpreted as an art-history object, a Duchamp-a-like ready-made portes-bouteilles

(Sechoirs a bouteilles (Bottle Drier) 1914/64) were displayed in glass vitrines in the entranceto the museum and part way through the exhibition. The unexpected juxtaposition of


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objects in Trophés oubliés exposed the artifice of traditional museum narratives, anddisplayed multiple temporalities and realities in one transparent space.

Trophés oubliés

Installation photo of Brook Andrew, Trophés oubliés in Musée d’Aquitaine Bordeaux. February 2014

Photo by Helen Idle

8 Andrew placed objects from different cultures in proximity to each other and we were

encouraged to ‘see something that allows us to think for ourselves and not be told howto think’ (Morvan 2013: 246). Trophés oubliés invited the visitor to think more carefullyabout narratives of race, history, memory, and power. The comic book, Les Passagers Du

Vent 3: Le comptoir du Juda by François Bourgeon, from a series about the 18th centuryAtlantic slave trade, is placed beside the upper part of a skull on the shelf above therepresentations of women. I connected Andrew’s display to the role of Bordeaux in theslave trade, narrated through objects in the permanent collection upstairs.

Personal connections

9 What is missing in my review is any mention of beautiful artworks that thrilled the eye

and soul, and were brought together to show the depth of Aboriginal art histories.Rather I have selected three displays that showed the complexity of the exhibition. Mypersonal experience can be read in the photograph above where I am slightly reflectedin the glass, taking the photograph, and so I am implicated in the display as an uncannyobject; as a settler-colonial observer juxtaposed with museum objects I extend theintercultural connection from Africa and Europe to Australia, and then through theskull to connect all of humanity.


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BIBLIOGRAPHY

Morvan, Arnaud. 2013. Ancient/Modern: Transformations of Australian Indigenous Art. In

Mémoires vives: une histoire de l’art aborigène, Exhibition Catalogue. Arnaud Morvan and Paul

Matharan, eds. Pp. 229-230. Paris: Éditions de La Martinière.

Rose, Deborah Bird. 1996. Nourishing Terrain. Canberra: Australian Heritage Commission. http://

www.environment.gov.au/system/files/resources/62db1069-b7ec-4d63-b9a9-991f4b931a60/

files/nourishing-terrains.pdf (accessed February 26, 2015).

McLean, Bruce. 2010. There’s no place like home. Artlink 30(1): 70-73.

NOTES

1. I refer to Rose’s definition of country: ‘… country is a living entity with a yesterday,today and tomorrow, with a consciousness, and a will toward life.’ (Rose 1996: 7)

2. Hereafter referred to as Mémoires vives.

AUTHOR

HELEN IDLE

Menzies Centre for Australian Studies, King’s College London

[email protected]


144

http://www.environment.gov.au/system/files/resources/62db1069-b7ec-4d63-b9a9-991f4b931a60/files/nourishing-terrains.pdf







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