In 2018, I published Frederick Walker: Commandant of the Native Police,[1] which covered the history of the northern native police from their inception in 1848 to the dismissal of Walker in 1855. In 2020, I published Queensland Native Police The First Twenty Years. This book covered the period 1855 to 1879 and dealt with the complete history of the native police within that timeframe. In the course of researching the subject, it became apparent to me that Queensland’s indigenous colonial history was not one-dimensional and that eulogising the heroic struggle of indigenes for national liberation and land rights while denouncing the invasion by imperialist forces and its local servants in the same breath, was not a true narrative of the historical development of colonial Queensland. The emphasis on pastoral expansion in Queensland with its alleged attendant effect of indigenous insurgency was, even if true, not the full picture. Because the evil colonists expanded into the surrounding seas, waterways and islands thus impacting other disparate groups of indigenes. Moreover, the evil colonisers not satisfied with their local blacks, imported a whole new race of natives, South Sea Islanders, to preform slave labour on their sugar plantations.[2]
Consequently, I was sidetracked as I set about exploring these issues. Since 2020, I have published Bêche-de-mer and the Binghis, 2022,[3] Dispela Kantri Bilong Mi, Nau! Queensland Annexes New Guinea, 2023,[4] and Kanaka Boats is A-Comin’ Pacific Island Labourers in Queensland, 2023. Having endeavoured to understand the colonial history of Queensland relating to indigenous groups who were part of the development of the colony, I then turned to completing the history of the Queensland Native Police. Based on my research, the history of the Queensland Native Police cannot be told in a single tome. The subject is a vast array of intricate pathways leading to all aspects of colonial life. Where ever the settler went, eventually, he would interact with an indigene in some form or other. This would invariably lead to situations of conflict from the very real lack of understanding between the parties, coupled with, on occasion, the unscrupulous greed of each party to take advantage of the other. The result of which would end in serious personal injury or crippling property damage. With the expectations of the settler not being realised, the government would be accused of failing the settler community and, consequently, traditional methods of control and regulation would be introduced. To portray this endless series of events, together with their attendant interventions and inquiries, is impossible within the scope of a single volume.
The reader should read Bêche-de-mer and the Binghis in conjunction with this book, as I have excluded from the narrative any material relating to the maritime frontier. Where I felt it was necessary to refer to events on the maritime frontier, I have provided the appropriate citation. All of my writings on Queensland colonial history relate to the Queensland Native Police. Therefore, the reader is encouraged to refer to them out of interest or the need to clarify an issue. Furthermore, the research arising from the compilation of this book reinforces my approach and conclusions reached in my earlier books and I take this opportunity to reaffirm all my earlier books.
It is as well to remind the reader that the timeframe is nineteenth-century colonial Queensland and although firearms, and communication and transport infrastructure had made significant advances in technology such as breach loading and repeating rifles, steam engines, railways and the telegraph, the colony remained undeveloped and sparsely populated with significant numbers of uncontacted tribal Aboriginals still occupying areas of the colony. Even at this early stage of political growth, the colony was divided between the north and the southeast metropolitan region. This dichotomy shaped the outlook of how the colony was viewed and governed. The colony was described as settled or unsettled. Aboriginals were viewed as degenerate pariahs on the outskirts of southern towns while in the north, as hostile, treacherous blacks. The police were divided into a white force to protect and supervise the white population and a force of indigenous sepoys under white officers to control and regulate the wild blacks of the unsettled districts of the north and west. Furthermore, these black sepoys were eventually divided into two groups known as troopers and trackers. Ultimately, the euphemism tracker was adopted across the board to avoid any connotation of violence towards Aboriginals. However, trackers were employed purely for their skills in bushcraft[5] and for tracking lost persons or criminals on the run. In some respects, they could form a separate study, but the limitation of space precluded their inclusion in the book.
[1] Frederick Walker: Commandant of the Native Police, Paul Dillon, Connor Court Publishing, Brisbane 2018.
[2] So, the Comintern says. See Reynolds, Loos, Saunders, Evans, Richards, Bottoms, Burke et al.
[3] The History of Bêche-de-mer Fishing in Queensland Waters and Adjacent Islands, Paul Dillon, Connor Court Publishing, Brisbane 2023 (an abridged edition).
[4] Queensland’s Contribution to the Development of British New Guinea, Paul Dillon, Connor Court Publishing, Brisbane 2023 (an abridged edition).
[5] Such as fire making, foraging food and water, shelter making, general navigation, and horse finding and catching.
Paul Dillon Commentator and Author 