Jason MacLeod, Deloraine

A recently published book by fellow Tasmanians Henry Reynolds and Nick Clements gives Australians a new hero: Tongerlongeter, a man who defended his country with grit, grace, and fierce determination.

Not so long ago the Meander Valley was a frontline in a rapidly expanding war.

The conflict was so fierce that it came to define the meaning of the word genocide.

But massacres were only one feature of the war. Tasmanian Aboriginal people also led a fierce guerilla resistance.

Between 1823 and 1831 two hundred and fifty-eight Europeans were killed in fierce fighting across Tasmania’s frontier.

In some places in Tasmania casualties were roughly 50/50, as convicts on the frontier were armed with muskets and rifles, and settlements were fortified with palisades.

When we put these numbers in perspective, the scale of the war is staggering.

Because of the low population levels in Tasmania at the time, per capita battle deaths during the Black War were ‘greater than during the Second World War’ and that ‘the death toll overshadows the 340 Australian deaths in the Korean War and the 521 in Vietnam’ (pg 210).

These startling numbers reposition Tasmania’s Black War as one of Australia’s most significant conflicts, even more so because it took place on home soil.

The key strategist in the Tasmanian war was Tongerlongeter, a war chief, coalition builder, and negotiator, who fought alongside Montpelliatta, and other warriors, to defend their country.

At the height of the war, in 1830 alone, there were 124 attacks against white settlements (pg 101).

Incredibly at the same time as this spike in Tasmanian Aboriginal resistance, the numbers of the Oyster Bay and Big River Nations, the alliance that Tongerlongeter led, had plummeted to just over two dozen people, including women and children.

Despite this, Tongerlongeter and the other warriors not only continued to fight but escalated attacks on White settlement, making a mockery of Arthur’s ‘black line’ and other military strategies designed to defeat the resistance.

As they carefully chart the progress and outcome of the war, Reynolds and Clements make it clear that there was no surrender, no defeat.

Towards the end of the war Tongerlongeter, and what was left of the Oyster Bay and Big River Tribes, retreated to the Plateau where they continued to wage hit and run raids.

Finally, at wits end and pressured by colonists, Governor Arthur Phillip entrusted the missionary George Augustus Robinson to broker a ceasefire.

Robinson guaranteed them safe passage and the survivors agreed to travel south to hammer out the terms of settlement.

On Saturday 7 January 1832, Tongerlongeter and the remaining 25 men, women, and one child, walked down the centre of Hobart with their hunting dogs, spears, ‘shrieked their war song’ (pg 11) to meet the Governor.

We will never know what exactly transpired in the Treaty negotiations, but Reynolds and Clements, and Robinson’s own records, make it clear that the Tasmanians understood they would be able to return to their country after a period of time on Flinders Island.

Framing Tongerlongeter as a hero for all Australians, as a person who defended and fought for country, is a stroke of genius.

And it is a narrative that is gaining traction. When I went to the book launch in Launceston, Tasmanian’s Premier, Peter Gutwein, launched the book.

This Liberal Party politician spoke at length with respect, even admiration, for Tongerlongeter.

All of us who love this country – who would do what we can to defend and protect Tasmania – can admire him.