“….what's
past is prologue, what to come
In yours and my discharge.” The
Tempest Act 2, Scene 1.
The
recently opened National Museum of African American History and
Culture is a
staggering achievement. Located in a prime position on Washington’s mall, the
museum is an imposing and thought provoking architectural presence, at once
part of but apart from the raft of other galleries along the mall.
Rightly
acclaimed both for its design, but more importantly its symbolic importance,
its establishment implicitly challenges Australia to reconsider its own record
in documenting and acknowledging the history of our First Peoples.
The genesis
of the museum can be traced through advocacy and agitation over more than a
century, recounted in the short account of its establishment by Mabel Wilson: Begin with the Past. It
parallels in some respects the establishment of the National
Museum of the American Indian whose enabling legislation was passed by Congress in1989. That gallery
adopts (in my view) a less satisfactory approach which emphasises the
distinctiveness of the hundreds of different tribal groups and their
traditional cultures.
The new
museum adopts a more eclectic and unified approach, which traces the origins
and history of slavery in the Americas, the pathways through to the civil war,
reconstruction, and the arrival of the so-called Jim Crow laws which reversed
most of the gains of reconstruction, and in turn the process of incremental
deconstruction exemplified most potently by the passage of the Civil Rights Act
due to the political skills of Lyndon Johnson. Along the way, it highlights the
myriad and indispensable contributions of individual African Americans and
communities to making the USA what it is today.
As
President Obama said in his powerfully insightful speech opening the Museum only a few weeks ago,
African Americans are not the underside of American history, but are an
essential part of it. His speech is worth reading or listening to for its sophisticated defence of
the proposition that understanding national history framed in terms of the lives
of both the powerful and the powerless is essential to any attempt to map a national
pathway for the future.
The heart
of the Museum starts 80 feet below ground level, with vivid accounts of both
the history and experience of the trans-Atlantic transportation of African
slaves, a transporting in both physical and moral terms. The displays then wend
upwards to develop into accounts of the experience of slavery, the heart
wrenching break up of families, resistance and uprisings, the freedom railroad
to the North, the political machinations which led to the Civil War, and the
post bellum outcomes, initially positive and ultimately deeply discriminatory.
All of this
is told through numerous individual narratives, of both famous advocates such
as Frederick Douglas and Harriet Tubman, and ordinary people and families. This
part of the exhibition is backed up by thousands of exhibits, documents,
photographs, and objects. On the top level is an extraordinary and almost
overwhelming melange of the tangible contributions of African Americans to the
nations identity, from popular culture in all its manifestations through to the
intellectual, economic and artistic contributions of both individuals and
African American culture generally.
My purpose
is not to describe the content of the Museum in detail so much as to give a
sense of its extraordinary vitality and energy, alongside its tangible
evocation of the injustice and suffering engendered in the name of commercial
and economic ideology, and ultimately directed to the imposition of political
domination and subjugation.
The Museum
was a throng of African American visitors, vibrant, laughing, exuberantly
taking in the top floors; while down below visitors were deeply subdued,
apparently stunned by the visible proof of both the cruelty involved and meted
out to their ancestors and struggling to take in the implications of it all. I
too found it extremely moving, and was surprised that there weren’t more
visitors in tears. It clearly had a deep impact on virtually every visitor. The
stated purpose of the Museum, that it is designed to tell a national story as
much as the African American story, appears to be how African Americans are
interpreting it too.
For me, the
object which has stayed in my memory is the stone block, two-foot-high, two-foot square,
originally from a town square where it had been used to display slaves as they
were auctioned to the highest bidder. It had been preserved over the centuries
because it had also been used by Henry Clay and Andrew Jackson to give stump
speeches, and this was the plaque which had been affixed. President Obama too
mentioned this object in his opening speech, pointing out the irony that it had
only been preserved because two powerful white men, both opponents of
abolition, had given unmemorable speeches upon it.
So what are
the lessons for Australia? Our history has strong parallels with North American
experience: British heritage, institutions and colonialism, a shared national
language (albeit one that is increasingly being replaced by Spanish in the US),
genocidal wars against Indigenous peoples, nation building on a foundation of
immigration and individual enterprise. Our national paths differ in key
respects too: Australia’s roots are in its convict heritage; the US has come
through the scarifying furnace of slavery and civil war; our immigrant inflows
have come at different phases in our national experience.
Australia
is yet to make the leap of imagination to establish a national museum dedicated
to acknowledging our Indigenous history, and the shared experience of Indigenous
and non-Indigenous Australians since settlement. Our National Museum has dedicated substantial resources and effort to
explaining and recording the history of our Indigenous peoples both before and
after settlement. One of three key objectives in its legislation relates to
Indigenous Australian histories. However, from the start it was hog-tied by a
push from a small group of conservatives appointed to the Board who opposed any
attempt to tell the truth about our Indigenous history, labelled it as ‘black
armband’ history, and who ultimately forced the removal of Dawn Casey the first
Director of the Museum, and a strong advocate for including our national
Indigenous narrative in our National Museum as well as for a standalone
Indigenous History Museum. The current strategic plan appears to gloss over the
Indigenous objective, though the Museum does have an active Indigenous unit and
newsletter focussed on Indigenous histories as well as an Indigenous Reference
Group.
The US
experience tells us that we have a long way to go in Australia in terms of our
preparedness to acknowledge the standalone identity of Indigenous peoples. Our
insistence on limiting our formal expositions of Indigenous history to our National Museum, and even then to
constrain the way in which we tell the story, suggests an underlying insecurity
about who we are and how we have treated Indigenous citizens.
I mention
this not to re-prosecute controversies of the past, the so called culture wars,
nor to criticise the National Museum of Australia, but to make the comparison
between Washington and Canberra, the US and Australia, and to draw relevant
lessons form that comparison.
We believe
ourselves to be engaged in a national dialogue on recognising Indigenous
Australians in the Constitution, but are stuck in a revolving door where we
have movement but no progress. Without an agreed proposal for change, we are
unlikely to succeed in recognising our nation’s Indigenous history in our
founding document any time soon. While Museums are not solutions in themselves
to issues such as inequality or disadvantage, or political recognition, they
are powerful indicators of the tenor of the national conversations which
underpin our national political debates.
In the
light of the US experience, Australia’s failure to establish a national museum
of Indigenous History and Culture amounts to a lost opportunity. Far from
reinforcing separatism, the US experience suggests it would send a powerful
signal of inclusion, while providing a platform for Indigenous achievement and
contributions to be celebrated and contextualised.
Such a
Museum would provide a firmer foundation for the inevitable political
conversations about our intertwined national and Indigenous histories as we
grapple with issues such as the republic, Indigenous recognition, and more
diffusely, our distinctive national identity in a globalising world. A world which
is shaped in our imaginations by global media corporations largely based in the
US; where social media is ubiquitous and paramount, news feeds are tailored to
our internet search histories, and events in the US have ten times the news
value as similar events in China or Nigeria.
If we value
our national story, our national narrative, if we believe in an Australian
national identity, then we should take deliberate steps to institutionalise it
and give it a tangible recognition in the national capital. We have a War
Memorial, an Australian National Gallery, a National Library, and a Portrait Gallery.
The logical next step is a National Museum of Indigenous History and Culture.