Meeting Prince Charles at Newman

It can be difficult to retain the romance of regional Australia in these modern times. If it isn't the local Blockbuster at Tom Price, it is hearing The Best of Bryan Adams four times in a row on the drive down there from South Hedland. Still, you can't complain about the vistas that confront you from time to time. By road you are confronted by spinifex-covered plains as far as the eye can see. That landscape can quite rapidly transform into anything from gorges to bush gum forests. The sky, even when overcast, always blusters some shade of blue, gradually bleeding into streams of red and grey as the sun begins to set. Even the plains of spinifex that appear monotonous at first eventually reveal texture and variety. Something similar could easily be said about the Aboriginal communities you meet.

Like any other lawyer, land council lawyers need to obtain appropriate instructions from their clients. This necessitates group meetings with specific Aboriginal groups when matters of significance arise. Meetings can vary in size. Anywhere from 10 to over 700 individuals may be present! Explaining complex ‘white fella’ law during these meetings can be challenging.
The process of undertaking this explanation often reveals Aboriginal communities’ overwhelming sense of frustration with a system which, despite its complexity, unambiguously disenfranchises traditional owners from their land. We are talking here of people who, despite having been affiliated with very specific areas of land and water for several generations, have consistently been ignored. There are constant reminders of this. One of the mountains in the Pilbara is called Mount Nameless. It is so named because the first Europeans to stumble upon it assumed it was a nameless, vacant bit of land. Although Mount Nameless was rich in significance to the local Aboriginal tribes, they were never consulted in the naming process. Mount Nameless may as well be an emblem for a nameless people. The present legal system requires these same people to prove to complete outsiders that they can speak for the land. To say that this occasionally causes frustration to boil over into overt resentment of outsiders, even outsiders who are their legal representatives, is to speak lightly of the situation.

At a meeting in the town of Newman last Thursday, a towering, heavily obese man introduced himself to me as Prince Charles. "...I live in England." Given his age, it is unlikely he heard me reply "I thought you looked familiar." Prince Charles is, of course, a senior elder from the local mob. And his real name isn't Prince Charles. No doubt he had met several lawyers before me, so many other strangers promising to deliver recognition, or benefits, or whatever else. State and Federal law requires mining companies to negotiate with traditional owners before they can mine in their country. Yet the reality is that, at best, the most that can be delivered is a tiny, tiny fraction of the royalties from multi-million dollar mining ventures. In theory, traditional owners can object to a mining project, even if they have been offered benefits in return for the mining. In practice, the tribunal that assesses objections has always found in favour of mining companies. This usually takes the form of a one-off payment or vague pronouncements to build a relationship with the communities upon whose land mining is proposed.

To their credit, most mining companies now offer some level of benefits. A typical example of this is the promise to consider members of the community for employment opportunities. Despite this, the communities I’ve met have consistently complained that the mining companies should train their young adults, not just make theoretical job pronouncements they know cannot be met. More than anything, communities seek enduring relationships with big business and the government. The response from the government and big business is to consider situations on a case-by-case basis.

Earlier in the week I took part in a heritage survey with Freddie Milton*, one of the senior most elders in the region. Freddie is one of those iconoclastic old, wise men. With exaggerated pupils leaping out of his large spectacles, increasing his already earnest manner of speech, he explained, walking stick anchored surely into the ground, the significance of one or another ‘dreaming’ site. Remarkably fit for a man in his late 70s, he was not dissuaded from climbing rocky inclines or trudging through heavy bush growth if there was a site there. It is difficult to comprehend a sacred site. The significance is often all too subtle for untrained eyes to notice, but there is definitely something there. You just have to be patient and listen closely. The significance of these sites begins to emerge as much from its history as its physical characteristics.

* Not his real name.