Archival practices and Indigenous perspectives: Yarning with Dr. Rose Barrowcliffe

1.Prologue

As a recent settler in Australia, I have been undergoing a rapid immersion into the rich and complex histories of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. My upbringing in the UK, like that of many others, provided little insight into the British colonies and their lasting impacts. Now, as an academic librarian and a member of the Critical Race Theory collective (https://crtcollective.org/), I am driven by a passion for knowledge around libraries and archives, and an understanding that these institutions are not immune to the impact of racism and coloniality. This led me to meet Dr. Rose Barrowcliffe, a Butchulla woman whose work in archives is both inspiring and crucial. I had known of Dr. Barrowcliffe primarily through her work on the Indigenous Referencing Guidance for Indigenous Knowledges (Indigenous Archives Collective, 2023), a tool that I use in my work as an academic librarian, but it was our mutual connection to the Critical Race Theory collective that brought us together. I was lucky enough to catch Rose shortly before she set sail to NYU as the 2023–2024 ENRICH11 Global Co-Chair, exploring Indigenous rights and representation in US collecting institutions.

Yarning22 with Rose was an honour. Her work exemplifies the power of integrating Indigenous perspectives into archival practices. I had read extensively about her achievements and accolades, which can be quite intimidating, especially as someone new to the details of archival work. However, I was struck by how deeply personal her journey was, helping me to understand the disconnect between traditional archival practices and the lived experiences of Indigenous peoples.

Rose’s work is a testament to the importance of “re-search” – an approach that challenges colonial narratives and centres Indigenous voices (Ndlovu-Gatsheni, 2017). Her advocacy for Indigenous data sovereignty and efforts to reshape archival practices align with the principles of resistant knowledges, aiming to unmask and counteract the pervasive influence of coloniality.

Dr. Barrowcliffe’s insights have broadened my understanding of the transformative potential of inclusive archival practices. Her dedication to empowering Indigenous communities to take control of their historical narratives is not just an academic endeavour but a vital step towards a more just and equitable archival landscape. This journey with Rose has been enlightening, and I am grateful for the opportunity to learn from her experiences and share these crucial narratives with others who, like me, are seeking to understand and address the complexities of our shared histories.

2.Introduction

The archival field is undergoing a remarkable transformation, increasingly embracing Indigenous perspectives that breathe new life into our understanding of history (Smith, 1999; Thorpe et al., 2021). One of the people helping drive this shift is Dr. Rose Barrowcliffe, a Butchulla Aboriginal researcher whose passion and pioneering work at Macquarie University in Sydney are reshaping how archives are perceived and managed. Dr. Barrowcliffe is not just studying archives; she’s redefining them to ensure they serve as a bridge between past and present, particularly for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples.

As someone who is growing in the application of Critical Race Theory (CRT) in my own work, I can deeply appreciate Rose’s transformative approach to archival practices. Her expertise in this field has been formally recognised through her role as the inaugural First Nations Archives Advisor to the Queensland State Archives (QSA). This significant role aligns with the Queensland Government’s Path to Treaty, underscoring how vital archives are in supporting Indigenous self-determination and the broader Treaty process. An active participant in the Indigenous Archives Collective (IAC), Rose passionately champions the rights and representation of Indigenous peoples within the archival community.

The core of this article springs from a yarn with Rose about her chapter, ‘The future of Australian Indigenous records and archives is social,’ in The Routledge Handbook of Australian Indigenous Peoples and Futures (Carlson et al., 2024). In her writing, she explores the significant hurdles that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities face with large institutional archives and their creative uses of social media to bypass these barriers. This practice highlights the dynamic evolution of archival methods and underscores the urgent need for more inclusive practices that truly respect and incorporate Indigenous rights and perspectives.

Exploring Rose’s insights and experiences reveals how her work is contributing to transformations in archival practices in Australia but also enriching our broader understanding of Indigenous self-determination and representation in the digital era. Her contributions highlight a shift towards acknowledging and integrating Indigenous voices in a field that is increasingly influenced by digital advancements.

3.The journey to archival research

Given the significant impact and depth of her work, I had assumed before meeting Rose that she had carefully mapped out her path to becoming an archivist. However, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that her journey was rooted in personal experiences, “I ended up researching in archives because of my own experience of trying to access an archive about my traditional Country.” This archive, although more of a collection, was launched without involving her community. “We weren’t even aware of the archive until it was launched at a symposium,” she shared, reflecting a mix of surprise and determination. Rose happened to be at the event as her mother’s “glorified chauffeur”, and this unexpected discovery sparked a series of actions. The Elders, upon hearing about the archive, requested to see it. Initially, the response was dismissive: “Their response was, ‘Well, you know, there’s not really any cultural information in it …you probably won’t find it that relevant.”’ But, with persistence, the university organised a bus trip for the Butchulla community to visit the campus and review the records.

What they found was significant: names of their ancestors, mentions of important events and places. The librarians, unfamiliar with the family’s genealogies and stories, didn’t recognise the significance of the information in the records they held. Rose’s mother took on the task of looking into the archive more deeply and so Rose, by virtue of being her mother’s driver, found herself regularly visiting the campus and going through the records. This experience sparked Rose’s interest in the nature of archives and the representation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples, igniting her passion for the field.

Guided by Professor Sandy O’Sullivan, a Wiradjuri academic at Macquarie University whose expertise in reversing the gaze in collecting institutions has enlightened many, Rose found a new opportunity. “The academic staff suggested I could pursue this as a postgrad, which opened up a whole new pathway for me,” she recounts the excitement about the unexpected turn in her career. Influenced by Professor O’Sullivan’s research on the representation of Indigenous peoples in museums across the US and Australia (O’Sullivan, 2016) Rose encountered the concept of symbolic annihilation, a term that captures how Indigenous peoples are often erased or misrepresented in cultural narratives, including museums and archives (Tuchman, 2000). This, alongside her introduction to critical race theory (CRT), equipped her with language to articulate and challenge the systemic biases embedded within archival practices. Reflecting on her early experiences, Rose’s words resounded with me deeply having had similar experiences in my own work, “I didn’t have the language to describe what I was experiencing …discovering critical race theory helped me understand what was happening here,” allowing her to recognise and address the deep-seated misrepresentations in the field. The mentorship by Professor O’Sullivan didn’t just highlight the challenges within Indigenous archives but also provided Rose with the critical tools to address these challenges deepening her impact in the field.

As Rose aimed to understand and challenge these archival practices, she learned from the works of theorists like Michelle Caswell, co-founder of the South Asian American Digital Archive (https://michellecaswell.org/). Caswell’s research, which focuses on how archives can empower marginalised communities, resonated with Rose’s exploration into how archival records could better represent Indigenous communities – not just in quantity but in the quality and context of their representation. Rose shared a significant moment from her research: “In one of the records, a single sentence about my great, great grandmother revealed why she left the island – a pivotal moment that reshaped our family history.” This seemingly minor detail overlooked by archival staff held profound implications for her family. This brief sentence unlocked a critical piece of her family’s history, altering their collective memory and deepening their connection to their heritage. The story highlighted to me the power of seemingly small archival entries to reveal significant, life-changing narratives the impact these discoveries can have on personal and community identity, and the shortcomings in how these records are managed and interpreted by those outside Indigenous communities. Motivated by this experience, Dr. Barrowcliffe has become a staunch advocate for the ‘Right to Know.’ This principle asserts the rights of Indigenous peoples to access and fully understand archives that pertain to their own history and culture, championing transparency and inclusivity in archival practices.

4.Challenges in Indigenous archives

The ‘Right to Know’, a primary challenge for Indigenous people in colonial archives, is a concept that underscores the right of Indigenous peoples to access records about them. This principle, initially articulated by Vine Deloria, a prominent Native American author and activist from the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, underscores a critical aspect of Indigenous self-determination and identity. Throughout his career, Deloria emphasised the importance of accessing archives for Indigenous communities, advocating for their right to know their past, their traditional alternatives, the specific experiences of their communities, and the world that surrounds them. He argued for direct funding from the federal government to tribes for library, information, and archival services, and for the transfer of records dealing with tribal histories to modern and adequate facilities on reservations (Deloria, 1978).

“[The] first lens I was looking through was the Right to Know …All Indigenous people have the right to know about records that relate to them,” Rose explained. This seemed like a straightforward enough notion to me, but the very need to state this principle highlights the significant challenges Indigenous communities encounter when accessing their own historical records. These challenges range from reliance on imprecise finding aids written from a non-Indigenous perspective, to complex legal and procedural hurdles like privacy laws and freedom of information processes, and of course financial costs associated with gaining access. These complications are exacerbated by a lack of supportive legislation for accessing personal information in non-government records, severely hindering the retrieval of family or community history (Barrowcliffe, 2024). Further compounding matters, are the inadequate metadata descriptions in archival records. Dr. Barrowcliffe highlights this issue, explaining, “The descriptions of these records are so insufficient to be able to identify what’s actually in the records …to be able to enact the ‘Right to Know’ is almost impossible in its current state.” In this context, Derrick Bell’s theory of Interest Convergence33 can be particularly insightful which suggests that meaningful advances in racial equity often coincide with the interests of the dominant group (Bell, 1980). This CRT principle is directly relevant to Dr. Barrowcliffe’s findings, revealing why the rights of Indigenous peoples to access archives might not be fully acknowledged unless they also serve the broader objectives of archival institutions or align with prevailing societal interests.

In response to these layered challenges, Dr. Barrowcliffe calls for a transformative approach to knowledge management that centres Indigenous knowledge authority, aligning her work with Indigenous data sovereignty (IDS). This approach not only acknowledges the right of Indigenous peoples to control their own data but also champions the creation of metadata that reflects Indigenous perspectives (Kukutai & Taylor, 2016), thereby enhancing the discoverability and accessibility of records. Through this lens, the work of archival professionals and researchers can begin to address the structural inequities embedded within their practices, moving towards a more inclusive and equitable archival future.

5.UNDRIP and the Tandanya Adelaide Declaration

Being new to IDS and archival studies, I found the specific frameworks, principles, and initiatives mentioned in Rose’s chapter a bit overwhelming, though I knew they were crucial to grasp. Fortunately, Rose took the time to explain in simple terms, that the Tandanya Adelaide Declaration is essentially “placing UNDRIP within an archiving setting.”44 The Declaration turns broad UNDRIP principles into actionable guidelines for archives, ensuring Indigenous communities have control of records that concern them.

As a recently appointed executive member of the Maiam nayri Wingara collective, a group dedicated to championing Indigenous control over their data, Dr. Barrowcliffe is a strong advocate for Indigenous people’s rights to their knowledge. Her understanding of and advocacy for the different approaches to Indigenous perspectives within archival practices enabled her to explain the tools and frameworks to me. She connected the dots between overlapping models and frameworks, highlighting their joint impact on transforming archival practices. “These tools are critical because they empower our communities,” she explains. This collaborative approach aims to enable Indigenous peoples to govern every aspect of their records – creation, storage, description, and access – aligning with UNDRIP principles to rectify historical injustices and assert Indigenous autonomy over their cultural narratives and heritage.

6.Ownership and access in archival materials

Ownership and access in Indigenous archives are not just technical issues; they’re entwined with Indigenous Cultural and Intellectual Property (ICIP) rights. These rights acknowledge that Indigenous knowledge is not just collective – it’s also enduring, unlike the finite nature of copyright in Western law. Dr. Barrowcliffe stresses the importance of building archival practices from the ground up with those who are most connected to this knowledge. She points out, “The issues of access start well before the archive …we want to have been, as much as possible, acquiring records or managing records with the people in the community that have the closest relationship to that knowledge, not some third party who has come in, captured and then gone on to be the copyright owner.” This proactive approach challenges traditional notions of ownership and access, shedding light on how these practices often reinforce ‘Whiteness as Property,’55 a concept where intellectual authority is predominantly seen as white, perpetuating systemic inequalities in access and ownership (Harris, 1993). This connection underscores yet another link between CRT and Rose’s approach to her work, emphasising the systemic challenges she seeks to address.

The emotional and cultural significance of archival materials often leads Indigenous communities to discover innovative ways to preserve and share their heritage, especially when faced with restrictive traditional access methods. Rose’s example from her own experience struck a chord with me: for many Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, a photograph in an archive signifies a deep familial connection. She explains, “Like, ‘That’s a photo of my great-grandmother. And so that’s my family’s record. I don’t care if the Colonial Secretary took that photo back in the 1850s.”’ This perspective challenges the often detached, legalistic barriers that can seem so disconnected from the human element of archival materials. It was a pivotal moment for me, realising how legal frameworks frequently fail to recognise the deep connections Indigenous communities have with their archival materials – revealing a stark contrast between bureaucratic procedures and the rich tapestry of personal and communal history.

For First Nations peoples, the decision to share such photographs on social media often transcends institutional rules, emphasising family and community connections over formal restrictions. This act of sharing not only serves to maintain vital links to their past but also demonstrates the crucial role social media plays in circumventing traditional barriers, enabling Indigenous peoples to actively control their own historical narratives.

7.The role of social media in enriching indigenous records

Social media has transformed how Indigenous communities enrich and share their records. Dr. Barrowcliffe points out, “When things become impractical, people always find other ways to achieve things …if one person goes and pays for a digital copy, or for a scan of a record, and their aunty or their cousin is looking for that exact same record, of course, [they] are going to share it.”

Reading Dr. Barrowcliffe’s chapter before our yarn, I wondered about the effectiveness or sustainability of Indigenous communities using social media to share their records, considering that these platforms are ultimately controlled by others. This got me thinking about the implications of using platforms created by colonisers, which brought to mind Lorde’s idea that “Master’s Tools Will Never Take Down the Master’s House” (Lorde, 1984). This is a tricky situation: Indigenous communities are leveraging social media to keep their records accessible and share them widely, but the underlying fact is that these platforms are owned by entities that could misuse the data. I asked Rose what she thought about this, “I think when people are using social media in that way, they’re certainly not thinking about it, in terms of, Facebook owns all of these photos now …I find that most people don’t understand how much we’re giving up by sharing so much online.” She adds, “I don’t necessarily agree with this notion of decolonising an archive. I just don’t think it’s possible to decolonise an archival institution.” She mentions the work of Verne Harris in post-apartheid South Africa as an example. Harris felt that South Africa’s transition to democracy in 1994 presented a powerful opportunity to reconfigure its archival practices (Harris & Hatang, 2000). However, despite the optimistic outlook, the reality was that, as Dr Barrowcliffe notes, “the systems [were] still inherently colonial, and it didn’t change anything”. Years later, few of the aims of making archives more accessible and transparent in South Africa had been achieved, an example which underscores the complexities and limitations of using existing systems and tools to achieve true decolonisation in archival practices.

Rose points out that while social media platforms are useful for sharing, they cannot replace the true value of traditional knowledge sharing, like storytelling on Country. She references a story from Debra Dank’s book, We Come With This Place (2022), to make her point: “[Debra] talks about that, out on her Country, there’s a circle of cycads …you would just assume that they’re growing wild there, and that this is mother nature doing her thing. But her great grandmother took her and her kids out there and told the story that every one of those cycads had been planted by her mother and her mother’s mother and her mother’s mother. So, this cycad ring is an archive in itself …It’s recorded time and place. And now they have planted their own cycads.” This was beautiful to me, much more enchanting than a traditional archive. A living piece of ancestral nature on Country, something descendants can experience and cherish every day. Rose emphasises that these ‘Living Archives on Country’ are crucial connections to the past. While social media is handy, “It’s just a medium for sharing. It’s not the knowledge itself.” This emphasises how First Nations peoples value traditional knowledge transmission methods, showing the limits of digital tools in preserving Indigenous cultural practices.

8.Counter-narratives and Indigenous story work

Dr. Barrowcliffe’s work shows how powerful counter-narratives can be in challenging colonial archives. She pushes for Indigenous communities to be active partners in managing records, aiming for a future where metadata truly reflects their worldviews. This empowers Indigenous voices in archival access decisions and supports the Tandanya Declaration. Rose points out, “If you have an organisation that has adopted Tandanya, and they’re not acting in accordance with the values of that document, then you can point that out.”

She also highlights the importance of Indigenous-led management of archival data: “I’d like to see more Indigenous communities managing and having their own repositories …there’s absolutely no reason if communities are well resourced that they need to have their knowledge stored anywhere else.” Rose’s vision of Indigenous communities as the true custodians of their cultural heritage does not appear farfetched or unreasonable to me, while it does align perfectly with the principles or “re-search” – challenging the way archives have traditionally been run. It seems like such a logical and beneficial approach for everyone that it is baffling to me that it is still such a challenge to achieve. This realisation underscores how much I still have to learn about the complexities and obstacles faced by Indigenous communities in asserting their rights over their cultural and intellectual property.

Rose’s dedication to changing archival practices is clear: “Everything I do, ultimately, is trying to be a counter-narrative …to this notion that colonial archives are the authority on this Indigenous place or about these Indigenous people. The next stage of that counter-narrative production is having Indigenous communities really be seen as partners in the management of those records that relate to them.” This effort to transform archives offers a plan for empowering Indigenous stories globally. Richard Delgado66 talks about how counter stories can “open new windows into reality, showing us that there are possibilities for life other than the ones we live” (Delgado, 1989, p 2414). Rose’s work is a great example of this, using counter-narratives to challenge old archival norms and imagine a more inclusive future.

9.Conclusion

Dr. Rose Barrowcliffe’s research and advocacy have significantly illuminated the path towards a more inclusive and equitable archival landscape. By embedding Indigenous perspectives into archival practices, her work not only reshapes how archives operate in Australia but also offers vital insights for global practices. It underscores the importance of recognising and integrating Indigenous knowledge systems, not as supplementary information but as central to the narrative structure of our shared history and culture.

Her efforts to promote Indigenous self-determination and data sovereignty challenge the traditional paradigms of archival practices and advocate for a future where Indigenous communities are not merely subjects of archives but active curators of their historical narratives. This shift towards inclusive archival practices is crucial for rectifying past injustices and ensuring that Indigenous voices are respected and prioritised within historical narratives.

As the archival field continues to evolve, the collaboration between Indigenous communities and archival institutions will be pivotal. Dr. Barrowcliffe’s work serves as a blueprint for how these partnerships can be formed and maintained, ensuring that the rich tapestry of Indigenous history is preserved accurately and respectfully. Through such collaborative efforts, we can ensure that First Nations voices, which have long been sidelined, are brought to the forefront, enriching our understanding of history and culture in profound and enduring ways.

It was an absolute pleasure to speak with Rose and learn from her experiences. Her insights have broadened my perspective on the transformative power of inclusive archival practices and the importance of empowering Indigenous communities in preserving their heritage.