12 minute read
The Hort Section
Decolonising botany: unsettling the narrative around the way we interpret botanical collections
Eliza Tyson
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Eliza is a Sydney-based horticulturist with degrees in horticulture and environmental science. She is currently an external student at Charles Darwin University in the Northern Territory of Australia where she is studying towards a Master of Arts through the Faculty of Indigenous Futures.
Acknowledgment of Country
I would like to acknowledge the Gadigal and Wangal people of Eliza Tyson the Eora Nation whose unceded land I live and work on and pay my respects to elders past, present and emerging. I recognise that the continent now called Australia was founded on the genocide and dispossession of First Nations people, and I accept that I have a responsibility to the original inhabitants of the place I call home. I extend that recognition to all First Nations and colonised peoples globally and consider myself an ally in their struggle for recognition, representation and empowerment.
When we think of, or stroll in, the places within botanic gardens where we live and work, it might not cross our minds to imagine a time when gardening was a means of survival. The very success of the early Australian colony was dependent on the successful growing and harvesting of food resources. Gardening was crucial to colonisation in terms of survival and subsistence. By the same token, this success for the settlers meant the opposite for the First Nations inhabitants, whose means of survival and subsistence were taken away and altered forever with the taking of their land. Laws and policies of the colonisers now meant dispossession and oppression for the First Nations population, who were categorised as primitive, treated with brutality, exploited and forced to assimilate, while at the same time deprived of their culture and traditional way of life.
Fast-forward 234 years and the results of colonisation are all around us. Colonisation is more than a physical process; it is also cultural and psychological in deciding whose knowledge is privileged and who gets to be a ‘knower’. Colonisation has been pointedly called a ‘structure, not just an event’ by historian and anthropologist Patrick Wolfe. The devastating effects of colonisation on First Nations people endure today and are also passed on through generations of trauma in families.
In the summer 2021 issue of this magazine, horticultural editor Bryn Hutchinson wrote of horticultural decolonisation and the idea that we are increasingly facing a reckoning with our colonial past and its impact on the present. More and more people are starting to seek knowledge of First Nations ways of knowing, being and doing, and an understanding of the ways colonisation has affected First Nations people on so many levels. Having worked with Bryn in the horticulture sector, our common interest in bringing this topic to light has driven many discussions and was the impetus for writing this article. I present a working model for a way forward − a place of collaboration between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people, where First Nations plant knowledge is given the respect it deserves and plant species are viewed through a different lens − one that decentres Western hegemony and centres First Nations knowledges in a new imagining of what plants are, how they are named and who and what they represent.
Colonising/decolonising botanical collections: what does it mean?
The way living plant specimens were gathered (essentially ‘stolen’ from the colonised lands by the colonisers in the name of science), classified, named and systematised was the result of Australia’s imperial history and a legacy of colonialism. Of course, this was not the case in Australia alone. Plants were expropriated worldwide during colonial global conquests during the 16th to 19th centuries by nations such as Britain, France and Germany. The incentives for these plant ‘discovery expeditions’ included a striving for knowledge, power, food, medicine, agriculture and national pride.
The binomial nomenclature (genus and species designation) system that horticulturists and botanists are familiar with today was first outlined in Systema Naturae, devised by Swedish botanist Carl Linnaeus (‘the father of modern taxonomy’) and published in 1735. This was a system that compartmentalised plants according to morphological differences in their reproductive organs and resulted in many odd groupings, which were not always useful or accurate. Plants have been viewed, described, classified and named through this Western lens since then.
First Nations forms of knowledge, cultural protocols, systems of classification and deep connection to plants were not considered in the naming of endemic species. This was despite First Nations people often being used by the early settlers as guides to show the location and uses of the different plants. When botanists Joseph Banks and Daniel Solander went ashore at Botany Bay in April 1770 to collect plants for naming and classification, Banks reported that he saw ‘nothing like people’ even though he knew that the lands on which they were collecting were inhabited (and had been, as we now know, for over 60,000 years). This narrative fitted the legal doctrine of
terra nullius, Latin for ‘land of nobody’, which meant the collection and taking of plants (as with the taking of land) was deemed legal as it ‘belonged to nobody.’ The plants were then named and classified according to Banks’ and Solander’s own systems and standards of ‘scientific’ knowledge. The plants collected and sent back to Britain in the late 18th century were for the ‘betterment of the Empire’ and were seen as a way to transform the ‘waste’ of nature into economic prosperity and productivity for the benefit of the new colony. Botany was thus integral to the development of Britain’s wealth and power.
Having control of the narrative that describes and names plants that hold deep cultural significance (long before they were classified and named according to the Linnaean classification system) is an important step in the decolonisation process for First Nations people. Working towards dismantling thought systems that place Eurocentric, Western descriptors of plants above all else, through oral histories, creation stories, songlines, respecting cultural knowledge and unsettling the narrative that certain plant species were ‘discovered’ by the colonists, is a way of giving ownership back to First Nations people in an evolving ethic of care.
How did we get here?
The Black Lives Matter movement and others, such as Decolonise this Place (New York) and Rhodes Must Fall, an increase in articles published in the literature and a general push for First Nations recognition and voice globally, has gathered momentum in recent years. This has brought decolonisation to the fore and opened the conversation. Recently, the head of Science at the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, Alexandre Antonelli, published an article that discussed the legacy of colonialism and the prevalence of imperialist views that exists today. It included how scientists continue to report that new species are ‘discovered’ every year, even though these species are often known and have been used by people for thousands of years in the regions in which they are ‘discovered’. The time is upon us to start to think how we might address these issues moving forward.
Decolonising is not the same as diversity
When we regard decolonising museum collections, it is not simply a matter of returning or relocating statues or objects taken from their rightful owners. Similarly, decolonising living plant collections is not just solved by adding Indigenous names to interpretation signage or creating roles for Indigenous staff. We need to be careful that decolonisation efforts do not replicate colonial behaviours and attitudes. Decolonisation is not just about representing diversity or placing First Nations names on signage. These endeavours might be viewed as tokenistic attempts at decolonisation to allay settler guilt or viewed as a form of ‘black cladding’. This is when a non-Indigenous business entity has marketed or ‘cladded’ that they are Indigenous to appear inclusive and representative of First Nations people but in reality, are not. Using Indigenous terminology and marketing in a bid to win government contracts is an example of black cladding.
We need to think about decentring the colonial narrative around so-called plant ‘discovery’ and collection, and reframe the interpretation of collections according to First Nations knowledge. If there is dispute over naming of certain species by different clans in the area where the species is found, First Nations elders would be consulted to establish the naming of plant species according to the language group in that area. It would then be stated − before the binomial name is given − that, for example, ‘this is the naming convention we are using to describe and name this plant according to Gadigal/Wangal elder’s name xxxx’. There needs to be a true acknowledgment of the over 300 language groups in Australia and the 29 clan groups in what is now the Sydney area (known collectively as the Eora Nation). Similarly, we should acknowledge and interpret significant sites of first contact such as botanic gardens for their deep cultural significance to First Nations people. Why are there no statues of Pemulwuy who fought bravely for his people in attempting to resist the colonisers but plenty of statues of the colonists, including many who were responsible for the ordering of massacres and other atrocities upon First Nations people? When will we embrace First Nations people as the oldest living continuing culture of humans on earth to be truly representative of inclusion and diversity?
Reimagining interpretation and education
A reimagining of interpretation would aim to educate and relay information of where significant plants were known to have originally stood before clearing by settlers. What were the significant sites across Sydney, for instance, where the cadi (or gadi, see 1) (Grass Trees Xanthorrhoea spp.) stood in abundance, or the daranggara (see 2, Cabbage-Tree Palms Livistona australis) used by the Dharawal and Gadigal people for their many resources? Who were the people who lived and thrived around these areas for many thousands of years, the Gadigal people of the Eora Nation? Interpretation is key to educating people of the cultural significance of plants and country to First Nations people. Appropriate interpretation of significant sites across first contact areas and the adoption of a model of interpretation that aims to describe, name and classify plants as they relate to the local inhabitants of the area is imperative − a collaborative model where both Indigenous ways of knowing, being and doing and non-Indigenous ways could complement and work together towards decentring universal concepts of what plants mean.
1 https://www.australianbotanicgarden.com.au/learn/living-learning/primary-school-resources/roots-shootsflowers-and-fruits/grass-trees-grass-or-trees
2 https://dictionaryofsydney.org/natural_feature/livistona_australis_cabbage_tree_palm
This model of interpretation and education would operate as a conscious and mindful acknowledgment and as an action towards creating meaningful representation and belonging.
It would help in some way to begin to heal the trauma colonisation has inflicted upon Indigenous peoples worldwide. We must try to understand the assumptions and prejudices in our own culture and likewise garner an understanding of those in other cultures to interrogate the dominant Western system of knowledge creation. We must challenge this notion of superiority in a re-envisioned collaborative alliance that respects and celebrates First Nations peoples and culture.
A way forward
One group believing that their knowledge, understanding and value of plants is dominant over another’s is no longer an appropriate model of understanding. It can be hard to find a way forward when the narrative has been one-sided for so long. What we can do as individuals − our personal power that we all possess − is to change our own thinking. This will help us begin to understand and examine where we are positioned in our own culture and engage our relational and reflective skills to enable us to do the work of decolonising minds and words.
What we can do as individuals is to change our own thinking.
As custodians of the land for thousands of years prior to colonisation, Indigenous peoples globally hold deep knowledge of the science of sustainability, of caretaking for country and of reciprocity. Only taking what was necessary for sustenance and survival allowed for renewal and replacement of resources, not depletion and disruption to diversity and ecosystems. Indigenous people are experts of sustainability from whom we can all learn to gain a deeper engagement with nature and the interconnectedness of all things.
Further reading
Antonelli, A. (2020). Director of science at Kew: it’s time to decolonise botanical collections. https:// theconversation.com/director-of-science-at-kew-its-time-to-decolonise-botanical-collections-141070
Atlas of Living Australia. (2019). Indigenous language names in the ALA. https://www.ala.org.au/ blogs-news/indigenous-language-names-in-the-ala/
Buchan, B. (2020). Botany and the colonisation of Australia in 1770. https://theconversation.com/ botany-and-the-colonisation-of-australia-in-1770-128469
Fairbanks, E. (2015). The birth of Rhodes Must Fall. https://www.theguardian.com/news/2015/ nov/18/why-south-african-students-have-turned-on-their-parents-generation
Hutchinson, B. (2021). Horticulturally decolonising botanic gardens. THE BOTANIC GARDENer, 57: 55−58. https://issuu.com/bganz/docs/tbg_iss57_dec2021_final_211129
O’Dowd, F. & Heckenberg, R. (2020). What is decolonisation? https://theconversation.com/ explainer-what-is-decolonisation-131455
Summerell, B. (2022). Slave traders’ names are still stamped on native plants. It’s time to ‘decolonise’ Australia’s public gardens. https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2022/oct/01/ slave-traders-names-are-still-stamped-on-native-plants-its-time-to-decolonise-australias-publicgardens
Troy, J. (2019). Trees are at the heart of our country – we should learn their Indigenous names. https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/apr/01/trees-are-at-the-heart-of-our-countrywe-should-learn-their-indigenous-names
Wolfe, P. (2006). Settler colonialism and the elimination of the native. Journal of Genocide Research, 8(4):387-409. https://doi.org/10.1080/14623520601056240
Wright, S. D. & Gillman, L. N. (2022). Replacing current nomenclature with pre-existing Indigenous names in algae, fungi and plants. TAXON, 71(1):6−10. https://doi.org/10.1002/tax.12599
