If non-Indigenous people are still only encountering Indigenous people via the works of non-Indigenous writers/historians/filmmakers/artists, then are they really encountering us at all?
The intersection of literature and ethics reveals the relationship between readers, texts, and the cultures they inhabit. By examining the works of First Nations storyteller Bill Neidjie and scholars Mary Graham and Jeanie Bell I want to dissect the meaning and complexities of story, Country and language, exploring the importance of an Indigenist framework for approaching Aboriginal literature — particularly for non-Indigenous people. By understanding the value of Aboriginal epistemologies, readers can better appreciate the ethical imperative of engaging with Indigenous narratives, ultimately empowering Indigenous peoples to reclaim their rightful place within literary discourse.
As Derek Attridge writes in JM Coetzee and the Ethics of Reading, a work of literature can be thought of as an “ethically charged event, one that befalls individual readers and, at the same time, the culture within which and through which, they read.” Literary works are not static entities. Indeed, Attridge argues, “we perform them, and they perform us, as we read.” By engaging with literary works, readers are shaping and being shaped, in a reciprocal way. Literature can therefore be thought of as happening, rather than being. Through the exploration of interpretation, judgement, responsibility, creativity and artistic commentary, readers participate in an ongoing dialogue that extends beyond the confines of the page. These elements — all of which are central to ethical consideration — have the power to influence the cultural and political landscape. Literature as an ethical practice therefore serves as a catalyst for introspection and societal engagement, ultimately shaping individual consciousness and collective identity.
Gaagudju Traditional Owner Bill Neidjie was a Bunitij storyteller and the last known surviving speaker of the Gaagudji language from northern Kakadu. Neidjie’s work helped to shape the pedagogy of Indigenous stories and their telling, contributing to the mediation and preservation of Aboriginal knowledges in late twentieth-century Australia. In one of his most renowned works, Story About Feeling (1989), Neidjie observes the natural world in a reflective and conversational way, representing and subsequently interpreting complex Aboriginal epistemologies to those who wish to engage. Neidjie emphasises the profound emotional and sensory impact of storytelling when you “listen careful,” working with Keith Taylor to record the stories he wanted to be heard further than the lands to which they related. The linguistic composition of the story itself speaks to the connection between orality and narrativity within First Nations storytelling, suggesting how a story is told verbally is key to the nature of its telling and its reception. As Stephen Muecke observes in Paddy Roe’s Gularabulu: Stories from the West Kimberley “storytelling patterns rise and fall with rhythmic breathing of the body … listeners chip in with a phrase or two; laughter regularly punctuates the narration, and this pleasure is our reward for following the storyteller as he takes us on his errant pathways.” In this sense, feeling is not limited by time or space, but instead manifested through a combination of story and reader disposition, reaffirming the value in the act of reading and the connection to its telling. In Story About Feeling, as in the reading of the text itself, the reader who persists will be rewarded by moments of sacred truth and wisdom.
In order to challenge Western assumptions about traditional stories being myths or mythic, unjustly undermining the status of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander stories and storytellers within literature, Neidjie suggests that readers must carry with them a willingness to listen and a level of reciprocity. In her introduction to Storykeepers (2001), Marion Halligan reinforces the importance of First Nations storytelling for all people. She explains: “stories are things that exist, that must be found, that must be preserved and guarded, with respect, not stolen or usurped or rewritten…We tell one another stories in order to learn how to live…Unless our stories are kept we will perish.” Storytelling thereby serves as an important form of cultural continuity for First Nations, and more broadly, the continuity of the natural world.
Mary Graham is a Kombu-Merri/Waka-Waka scholar from southeast Queensland. Her work predominantly explores Indigenous governance, sovereignty and knowledge systems. In Some Thoughts about the Philosophical Underpinnings of Aboriginal Worldviews (2008), she explores Indigenous Australian philosophy — not just as a way of understanding nature, humans and the environment, but also as a “system for realising the fullest potential of human emotion and experience.” Graham suggests that interconnectedness is central to Aboriginal identity, as encapsulated in the axiom “you are not alone in the world.” This idea is further contextualised by kinship systems, which extend not only to human relations, but also to the land itself, speaking to the relational aspect of human existence within Country, where stewardship and custodianship are fundamental principles.
This, Graham explains, is directly connected to Dreaming stories, where each person is seen as carrying a part of the creative essence of ancestral beings, imbuing them with a sense of duty to care for the land and maintain its vitality. She suggests that “the world is immediate, not external, we are all its custodians, as well as its observers.” This emphasises the prioritisation of the collective over the individual in Aboriginal epistemologies, reflecting the shared sense of responsibility for the land and its inhabitants. It’s a “custodial” ethic which inherently challenges Western systems of individualism and materialism.
Through this understanding, Graham interrogates land ownership by providing “a view of the West from an Aboriginal perspective,” critiquing colonial society and the structures that perpetuate the quest for advancement. These systems encourage materialism and individualism, along with the erosion of spiritual values. Disconnection in turns promotes hostile relations with nature and the commodification and conquest of land. Graham contrasts this with the non-ego based nature of Aboriginal society. Here, land is not property, but a source of meaning — it is the foundation of human identity. Graham establishes “Aboriginal people are not against money, economics or private ownership, but they ask that there be a recognition that ownership is a social act and therefore a spiritual act.”
Neidjie reaffirms this idea: “the white man’s law is always changing, but Aboriginal Law never changes, and is valid for all people.” By respecting the permeance of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander law/lore, values and philosophies and maintaining a collective spiritual identity, humans can better navigate issues of environmental sustainability and social wellbeing.
Jeanie Bell is a Jagera and Dulingbara linguist from southeast Queensland, renowned for her efforts in preserving and promoting Aboriginal languages. In Australia’s Indigenous Languages (1994), she argues for the importance of language in fostering connection and belonging within communities, and its power to shape social structures and relationships as well as influence how individuals interact and perceive themselves and others within their communities. “Language is part of us, and it’s like our land — it’s not something that we easily gave up.” Having established a link between language revitalisation and connection to Country and culture, Bell reflects in this work on her own journey of learning language and how it led her to “developing more confidence in [herself] as an Aboriginal person”.
Like Bell, many Indigenous Australians have suffered as a result of the suppression of their language. Cristina Eira has referred to events which contributed to the loss of language as “language contact situations,” in the form of “widespread violence, forced mass relocations, removal of children and legally enforced confinement to reserves.” Bell echoes this view, writing that, “[Indigenous Peoples’] rights to language had been deemed by government authorities to be out of our hands, so we were denied access to the languages of our parents and grandparents.” Language revival is therefore a long process of reconstruction, one which involves piecing together fragments of historical data, producing a “common core.”
Bell continues her research in Language attitudes and language revival/survival, finding that regardless of government funding and other contributions, a programme is more likely to survive when there are strong positive attitudes, or changeable attitudes, and support from within the language community itself (2013). Therefore, it is important to first engage with language attitudes to understand how they may determine the success or failure of language revival efforts.
By centring Indigenous perspectives, a framework emerges — one that challenges colonial hierarchies and fosters First Nations visibility, empowering Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander People to reclaim narrative sovereignty in the colonial paradigm of Western literary spaces. As Jeanine Leane teaches us, settler representations of Indigenous Australians remain a “tool of cognitive imperialism,” that continues to further the colonial project. She further observes that “literary representations are never just benign descriptions; they enter into and shape our national discourse,” and that it is through these texts that we learn about the Aboriginal other. Blak writing has interrupted the unquestioned privilege of white Australia, challenging ideas of the past, present and future. By understanding the value of concepts such as storytelling, Country and language, non-Indigenous readers will be better equipped to approach Blak stories with a sense of ethical responsibility. Leane, again: “without knowing us, our histories, our stories, it is impossible to ‘write’ an Aboriginal story.” Because after all, as she asks, if non-Indigenous people are not reading Indigenous accounts of self-representation, how can they write about Indigenous lives and experiences?
Neidjie, Graham and Bell illuminate the intricate connections between story, Country, and language. Through their works, we witness the vitality of Indigenous epistemologies and the necessity of employing an Indigenist framework. By doing so, readers of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander literature — both Indigenous and non-Indigenous — may partake in a dialogue that extends beyond the confines of the written word.
Image: a detail from the cover of Story About Feeling
