The recent revelation by former Labor Prime Minister Bob Hawke that he supports the establishment of a radioactive waste dump in the Northern Territory, and that Chief Minister Adam Giles also supports this project (since confirmed by Giles), is hugely ironic in light of what occurred over this matter in the late 1980s – a time when Hawke presided as the PM of the nation and the CLP, never out of office, ruled the Northern Territory. A low-level radioactive waste dump to be located somewhere in Central Australia was very much on the cards, and both proponents and opponents of nuclear technology saw this as an opening gambit for a much larger role for the Territory in a nuclear future. Alex Nelson recalls those times and shows that, much like radioactive waste itself, this is an issue that simply won’t go away …

By far the most constant theme that arises in my various topics of discourse is the extraordinary circularity and interconnectedness of current political and social issues with the recent past. So it should come as no surprise that this observation has been noted before, no less than by Alan Wauchope who first worked as an editor and journalist for the Centralian Advocate in its first full year of publication in 1948. All through the 1980s Mr Wauchope wrote The Old Alice for the Advocate, a chatty column of anecdotes, tales and speculation over the local history and identities of the Centralian region.

In his first article for 1990, published 13 months before he died, Wauchope noted the repetition of local history: “During my five or so weeks away from here the only papers I read were the racing pages, and the crossword puzzles, so when I reached home I started to wade through a pile of Advocates, and quickly realized that although there’s a lot of brouhaha going on, we haven’t changed much, have we? And by that statement I don’t mean just over five weeks – but over a span of years. Just for the hell of it, I dug out some 30 year old copies of our paper and found that the same problems were being aired (in a slightly different context, sometimes, but with the same ends in view for the same sorts of people).” (The Old Alice, Centralian Advocate, 19 January 1990).

Centralian Advocate, May, 1989

Among all the brouhaha of that era was the news in May 1989 (a quarter of a century ago) of the sale of Muckaty Station for $1.4 million to a Japanese consortium intending to establish a classy “dude ranch” resort, a hotel, an 18 hole golf course, and even a “multi-function polis” – a high tech urban centre – that would inject $3 million annually into the local Tennant Creek economy.

In the last few years Muckaty Station has been at the centre of controversy as the proposed site for a national low-level radioactive waste facility. Proposals to dispose of nuclear or radioactive wastes in the Northern Territory, especially Central Australia, recur regularly in our recent history.   One of the earliest – and oddest – ideas was the suggestion by “Dr A. Matheson, an American scientist who is in Australia as the guest of the Uranium Producers Forum” that “Ayers Rock could be used for storage of nuclear waste” (“Scientist suggests Rock for nuclear waste”, Centralian Advocate, 24 March 1977). He reasoned that Ayers Rock (Uluru) “is a stable formation which has been there for millions of years. It is a possibility for storing nuclear waste”.

Well, that could be one means to discourage tourists from climbing Uluru now but the idea was given short shrift by local Conservation Foundation representative John Reeves, and by the Director of the NT Reserves Board, Tom Hare, who flatly declared: “The suggestion warrants no consideration at all”. Yet Dr Matheson may have had the last word, for “he could see the possibility that Australia, because of its vast and arid regions, would be asked to store uranium waste”.   The idea certainly gained prominence from 1985 onwards, following the publication of a paper The Nuclear Power Industry – A Responsible Approach by R.A. (Roger) Watters and S. Chandra to the “10th Australian Radiation Protection Society Conference” in Melbourne that year.

The paper strongly advocated “that uranium enrichment, fabrication of fuel elements, spent fuel reprocessing, and the storage and disposal of wastes could take place in the Northern Territory of Australia”. A region to the northeast of Alice Springs was envisaged as ideal for the storage and disposal of much of the world’s high-grade nuclear waste.   The paper’s foreword declared “the Northern Territory Government supports its publication” but “it is not necessarily its official position nor should it be seen as a firm proposal by that government”. By far the greatest impediment to such a proposal was the politics of the time. The Federal Labor Government, under PM Bob Hawke, was constrained by ALP policies rejecting the notion of nuclear technology development in Australia. The ALP did allow for a limited development of uranium mining under its “three mines policy”, hence the go-ahead for Roxby Downs in South Australia under Labor Premier John Bannon, but otherwise the party rejected all pleas and proposals for anything more.

However, there was one related issue which the Hawke Government sought to resolve – where to safely store the nation’s accumulating piles of low-level radioactive waste materials? Late in 1986 the Minister for Resources and Energy, Senator Gareth Evans, called for expressions of interest from all state and territory governments for studying the feasibility of establishing a low-level radioactive waste dump.   There were no takers except one – the Northern Territory Government. In March 1987 the Centralian Advocate revealed: “The Territory Government has responded positively to a Federal Government call for interest in housing a low-level radioactive waste dump. The Territory’s chief uranium officer Roger Watters said this week the most likely site for a dump is Central Australia, because of its stable geology, isolation and dry climate” (“Government reacts to waste move”, Centralian Advocate, 27 March 1987).   An editorial in the same edition supported the NT Government’s decision, noting the “Territory Government is so far the only one to respond positively to the Federal Government’s proposal – and that shows some political courage”. Maybe, but it’s noteworthy this contentious topic was not raised in the campaign leading up to the Territory elections of 7 March 1987, just three weeks earlier!

The caution continued after the news had broken; for example, the Territory Government “so far had only expressed interest in the idea and had not considered any specific sites”. Likewise the Federal Government “had asked the Territory to provide a ‘definitive proposal’ on how it would approach field studies to determine a suitable site” and “was not asking for a list of possible sites”. The Territory Labor leader, Terry Smith, warned “that unless there is a cautious approach to the plan, people could find themselves with a facility they did not want and which they know nothing about”.

The attraction of this proposal for the NT Government was alluded to in the Advocate’s supportive editorial: “Such a dump could be a good revenue earner for the Territory”. This was true, as the Federal Government tightened the screws on public funding for the Territory. This added to the CLP’s woes of ongoing internal feuding and dissension, augmented by the rebel political party, The NT Nationals, which sought to replace the CLP as the main conservative political voice in the Territory.   The prominence of the proposed low-level radioactive waste dump proved short-lived – it effectively disappeared as an issue almost as quickly as it had appeared. In fact it was shunted aside as the real agenda for a fully-fledged nuclear energy industry based in the NT gradually gained momentum.

The major player here was the NT Minister for Mines and Energy, Barry Coulter – “a political warhorse for the uranium mining industry” – who became the principal salesman promoting the cause of full Territory participation in the nuclear fuel cycle. This became a major plank of CLP policy by late 1988.   Again, the attraction here was financial, as it was claimed the NT’s economy would be transformed from its dependency on Commonwealth funding to becoming the principal source of revenue for the whole of Australia. In his Ministerial Statement Prospects for the Territory’s Nuclear Industry read in the NT Legislative Assembly on 25 May 1988, Coulter urged: “Instead of exporting uranium as yellowcake, Australia could export fuel elements which would be leased to overseas nuclear utilities. The spent fuel would be returned to Australia for reprocessing and deep geologic disposal. Mr Speaker, such a scheme would solve Australia’s balance of payments problems.”

Coulter further noted: “The US Secretary of State for Energy, Mr John Herrington, said in Darwin recently that Australia could play the uranium role in the world that Saudi Arabia has played so dominantly for oil… The Territory is the logical place for establishing an integrated nuclear fuel cycle industry, it has two producing uranium mines, two more ready to proceed, a population which is 80% in favour of uranium mining, proximity to foreign ports, and it needs to develop a self-supporting economy.”

Contrast this statement with the first paragraph of the Conclusion to Watters and Chandra’s paper published three years earlier: “As the Northern Territory has the two producing uranium mines in Australia, two more ready to proceed, a population which is 80% in favour of uranium mining, has the need to develop a self-supporting economy and a government with the will to pursue such a course, it is the logical choice for an integrated nuclear fuel cycle industry”.   But Barry Coulter was realistic, for though he was “supremely optimistic in the future of the Northern Territory as a centre for a high-technology nuclear industry”, he also recognized “the immediate prospects for national decision-making on Australia’s involvement in a nuclear industry do not look bright.”

And so it came to pass, for both the Federal Labor Government and the NT CLP Government were in dire straits with public opinion in the late 1980s. While proponents of the NT’s nuclear energy industry regularly trotted out the timeworn claim that 80 per cent of Territorians were in favour of uranium mining, the polar reverse was true of public opinion nationally.   And as Australia’s overheated national economy of the “greed is good” era slid into reverse, Federal Labor became ever more reliant on the Australian Democrats and the rising Green movement (not yet a formal political party) for its survival in office – and these increasingly influential minor political forces were implacably opposed to all things nuclear. The Minister for the Environment, Senator Graham Richardson, played a crucial role in gaining the preferences of minor party voters towards Labor’s narrow victory in the federal election campaign of February 1990. As the Commonwealth bears all direct responsibility for uranium mining and nuclear technology in Australia, there was simply no possibility of Federal Labor countenancing the NT Government’s campaign for developing a nuclear energy sector in the NT.

The CLP equally had its own concerns for political survival. From the time that Ian Tuxworth lost party support and resigned as Chief Minister in 1986, the CLP was engaged in a protracted struggle with Tuxworth’s rebel NT Nationals, and was wracked with internal disputes and instability. By late 1989 the CLP had lost two by-elections in the formerly safe seats of Flynn (September 1988) and Wanguri (August 1989) with massive swings against the party – 20 per cent and 16 per cent, respectively. Notably, the Greens candidate in Wanguri, Debra Beattie-Burnett, achieved 16 per cent of the primary vote – equal to the swing against the CLP – and contributed to Labor’s victory for the seat. The CLP was now down to 13 seats, a majority of just one, and was in its most parlous position since the party’s inception in 1974.

Matters weren’t helped by the failure of the federal election campaign of February 1990, in which the CLP failed dismally to retake the seat of the Northern Territory from sitting Labor member Warren Snowdon after his first term of office. In the first half of 1990 the CLP faced the prospect of losing office for the first time in its history. As with federal Labor, all the CLP’s efforts and attention were focused towards its political survival and this meant jettisoning any policies that could hinder this objective.

The major casualty of this desperate rearguard action was the ditching of the CLP’s public support towards developing a nuclear energy industry in the NT. This was announced in June 1990. It was a completely pragmatic decision, as it was an issue over which the NT Government had no control and the Federal Labor Government was not going to support. There was simply no point in offending a section of the voting public on this matter at a time when the CLP’s prospects for survival in office now hung in the balance.   The CLP’s support for a low-level radioactive waste dump was included in this decision. This was noted with great satisfaction in the lead article “Nuclear Waste Dump Update” of the June 1990 issue of CACC News, the newsletter of the Central Australian Conservation Council (now the Arid Lands Environment Centre), where it exalted: “Barry Coulter, the Minister for Mines and Energy, announced, almost ruefully, on ABC radio that he is no longer interested in a nuclear waste dump. It appears the Federal Government does not want the dump here after all.”

The newsletter concluded prophetically: “However, we would be surprised if we have heard the last of it.”   For the time being, however, the matter was now dead and buried. The CLP’s turnaround on nuclear policy in June 1990 proved to be the starting point for arguably the most extraordinary comeback in Australia’s political history. In the elections of October 1990 the CLP was returned to office with an increased majority and ultimately gained another decade in power. This didn’t go unnoticed in the federal political sphere.

This account concludes on an ironic note. Alan Wauchope, who had noted “that the same problems were being aired (in a slightly different context, sometimes, but with the same ends in view for the same sorts of people)”, passed away on 21 February 1991. Only a week earlier, news emerged that Muckaty Station was on the market again: “Plans for a $20 million luxury tourist resort near Tennant Creek have been scrapped” (Centralian Advocate, 15 February 1991). “It was announced today that the station was to be sold following the dissolution of the Japanese partnership.”   The property was sold again on 13 April 1991: “The new owners of Muckaty Station, north of Tennant Creek, will embark on a program of land regeneration. The Northern Land Council bought the station for $545,000 at a Darwin auction on Saturday on behalf of the traditional owners. The owners are Warramungu language members associated with the Warlpiri, Mudburra and Warlmanpa groups and known as the Muckaty Aboriginal Association” (“Muckaty land to be regenerated”, Centralian Advocate, 18-19 April 1991).

Who would have thought at the time, less than a year after the CLP had dumped plans for a low-level radioactive waste dump somewhere in Central Australia, that the scene had inadvertently been set for the eventual return of this vexed project? And would Muckaty Station be the favoured site for a low-level radioactive waste dump had the Japanese tourist resort development proceeded there, as opposed to traditional Aboriginal ownership of that land?

The Waste of time: Advocates from 1977 and 1987

Alex Nelson

The CLP gained breathing space with the recent Blain by-election victory but Chief Minister Adam Giles will need to do a good deal more than “get on with business as usual” after a 16 per cent swing of primary votes against his party, leaving it with a one-seat majority of 13 members.

The CLP has been here before. In August 1989 the CLP also suffered a 16 per cent swing against it in the first Wanguri by-election. However, on that occasion the CLP lost the seat (formerly held by Minister Don Dale) to Labor and has never regained it.

That result also left the CLP clinging to government with 13 members, and the party had to pull every trick in the book (and then some) to retain office in the general elections of October 1990.

It’s interesting to note that the Blain by-election result echoes the first Araluen by-election of April 1986, when the CLP suffered its first 16 per cent swing against it but managed to retain the seat (Labor needed 20 per cent to win).

The 1986 Araluen by-election was the last time the CLP won a by-election in office until Terry Mills won Blain in June 1999, a period of 13 years, also with a swing against the government.

Remarkably, a similar time elapsed (14 years) between that by-election victory and the CLP’s recent victory in Blain (the CLP’s by-election wins of Katherine, Greatorex and Araluen in 2003, 2007 and 2010 respectively were during the party’s time in Opposition).

Another point worth noting is that Ian Tuxworth was the Chief Minister at the time of the Araluen by-election in April 1986 but less than a month later he resigned after losing the support of the party – and here I do mean the party, not his parliamentary colleagues!

By contrast, Marshall Perron was Chief Minister at the time of the Wanguri by-election loss in 1989; and he also presided over the even worse result of the Flynn by-election loss in Central Australia of September 1988, when the CLP suffered a whopping 20 per cent swing against it.

By early 1990 Marshall Perron seemed certain to lead the CLP government to its first general election loss yet by the end of that year his party staged an astonishing reversal of fortune, not only winning the election campaign but ultimately another decade in office.

The full story of the CLP’s remarkable comeback in 1990 has not yet been fully told – suffice to say it has gone on to affect the course of Australian federal politics in subsequent years.

As for Perron, he went on to become the longest-serving Chief Minister of the Northern Territory and is the only one to retire from politics at the height of his power and on his own terms.

Why the difference between Tuxworth and Perron, given both suffered huge primary swings in by-election results against their governments?

Nearly a decade ago I wrote an article pointing out that leaders of political parties in the NT whose electorates are based outside of Darwin always suffer negative results (“Pollies holy grails: an Alice ALP seat, Darwin CLP boss”, Alice Springs News, August 3, 2005).

That was Tuxworth’s problem – he was the Member for Barkly, a seat outside of Darwin, whereas Perron’s advantage was that he was the Member for Fannie Bay, a seat inside Darwin.

To date history continues to show that no political party is led successfully by a leader whose electorate is based outside of Darwin. Strikingly, this rule even holds for those whose electorates were in Palmerston, on the outskirts of Darwin – just ask former CLP leaders Denis Burke and Terry Mills!

It was the first CLP leader, Goff Letts, the Member for Victoria River, who commenced this pattern – he lost his seat in 1977 in the election campaign leading up to NT self-government, which saw a widespread swing against the CLP government.

Letts was replaced by Paul Everingham, the Member for Jingili based in Darwin, who became the unconquerable “King of the Kids”, leading the CLP to two election victories, including the party’s greatest result of 19 seats in December 1983.

But Everingham resigned as Chief Minister in October 1984 and was replaced by Ian Tuxworth, the Member for Barkly. Tuxworth not only suffered the loss of his party’s support in 1986, he is the only Chief Minister never to lead the government in a general election campaign.

Tuxworth’s successor, Steve Hatton, the Member for Nightcliff, subsequently led the CLP to a 15 seat victory in March 1987 (the CLP actually suffered a massive swing against it but won back sufficient votes through distribution of preferences in a number of seats).

Hatton’s election victory didn’t settle the turmoil afflicting the CLP at the time, and he became the first Chief Minister to be ousted suddenly by one of his colleagues, Marshall Perron, in July 1988 – an event echoed last year when Adam Giles rolled Terry Mills for the top job.

Perron took the CLP to two convincing election victories in 1990 and 1994, in the latter case winning 17 seats.

Chief Minister Shane Stone, the Member for Port Darwin, took the CLP to an 18 seat victory in August 1997; but his successor, Denis Burke, the Member for Brennan in Palmerston (and just outside Darwin) went on to lead the CLP to its first defeat in August 2001 and subsequently to a catastrophic loss in June 2005, becoming the second CLP leader to lose his own seat.

In between those two election losses the leadership had been held for a time by Burke’s electoral neighbour, Terry Mills, but he had handed the baton back to Burke after admitting his inability to lead the CLP.

After the bloodbath of June 2005 it was Jodeen Carney, the Member for Araluen in Alice Springs, who led the CLP in opposition – she was the leader at the time of my article in August that year.

Jodeen Carney is unique as the only CLP leader to serve her entire political career on the opposition benches – she was never in government.

Terry Mills replaced Carney as CLP leader in 2010, in which position he led the party to victory in 2012 but subsequently fell victim in a period of turmoil remarkable for its intensity, still going on to this day.

The same historical observation applies to Labor. Bob Collins, Brian Ede and Maggie Hickey were all based in electorates outside of Darwin, and all took Labor to its worst election defeats post 1974 – strikingly, not even Labor’s defeat of 2012 under Chief Minister Paul Henderson was as bad in terms of numbers of seats held.

More pointedly, Clare Martin led Labor to its first election victory in 2001 and then its greatest victory in 2005, rivaling the CLP’s result of 19 seats in 1983 – and she (like Marshall Perron before her) was the Member for Fannie Bay in Darwin.

There has been no exception to the rule that a leader of a political party whose electorate is based outside of Darwin will be unsuccessful yet this obvious fact continues to be ignored, with Chief Minister Adam Giles, the Member for Braitling in Alice Springs, now holding that office.

This is unusual when seen from a national context, too, as currently Victoria is the only state where the premier’s seat is located outside of the capital city.

History is clearly against Adam Giles and the CLP if they seek to continue “to get on with business as usual” – they are not out of the woods yet.

Turbulence in the CLP of days gone by (Centralian Advocate, April, 1988)

Alex Nelson

Very interesting to read Corey Sinclair’s story in the Centralian Advocate about speculation on the possible merger of two Alice Springs electorates at the next redistribution of electorate boundaries (“Electorate merger fears”, March 18, 2014), especially Professor Rolf Gerritsen’s opinion that the town seat boundaries are likely to be pushed out to include Hermannsburg or Santa Teresa.

It’s almost a quarter century (1990) since the last occasion when Alice Springs lost an electorate in favour of the Top End, when the electorates of Flynn and Sadadeen were abolished to form Greatorex and enlarge Araluen and Braitling.

At the time Flynn was held by NT Nationals member Enzo Floreani, and Sadadeen by conservative independent Denis Collins; conversely Araluen and Braitling were held by CLP ministers Eric Poole and Roger Vale respectively.

Denis Collins was a former CLP backbencher until losing preselection to Shane Stone in 1987, thereafter he was an independent.

Flynn had been held by CLP Deputy Chief Minister Ray Hanrahan until he resigned in 1988 (see clipping, left)– in the subsequent by-election the CLP suffered a 20 per cent swing against it in the primary vote; and it was the CLP’s preferences that enabled Enzo Floreani to take the seat over Labor’s Di Shanahan.

I was an active member of the CLP’s Flynn Branch from 1984 onwards, and was the branch chairman in 1990-91. Late in 1989, Chief Minister Marshall Perron advised local CLP members that Central Australia could not avoid the loss of an electorate in the next redistribution; consequently a committee was formed to devise the CLP’s submission on boundary changes.

However, this work was required in January 1990, precisely when everybody was absent on summer holidays. It fell to me alone to do all the work on the CLP’s submission concerning all electorates south of the Top End, which subsequently was adopted in its entirety in two CLP submissions by the party and parliamentary wings to the Electoral Redistribution Committee.

My design featured the retention of Araluen, Braitling, Flynn and Sadadeen while targeting the Labor bush seats of MacDonnell and Stuart. I extended the Flynn boundaries to include much of MacDonnell (now Namatjira), exactly as Professor Gerritsen envisages will likely occur now. (Interestingly, the seat of Araluen today has had its boundaries pushed out into the rural area so that geographically it’s markedly similar to the old Flynn electorate).

If the CLP had retained Flynn, it’s likely one of the town seats would have had its boundaries extended into the bush seats; however, it was the two urban seats not held by the CLP that disappeared whereas the Centralian seats held by the CLP or Labor were largely unaffected.

Consequently I ended up being the last chairman of the CLP’s Flynn Branch and the inaugural chairman of its replacement, the Greatorex Branch.

Story and photos by Alex Nelson

And now for something completely different …

Fairly early on Sunday morning, following one of the most divisive town council election campaigns in the history of Alice Springs, I walked from my home in the Old Eastside along the east bank of the much-maligned Todd River, into the grounds of the Olive Pink Botanic Garden (where once I used to work) and up to the top of Meyers Hill.

I was a man on a mission because there was a particular photograph I wanted to take overlooking the town before the sun had risen very high.

But I got more than I had bargained for; as I had encroached on the territory of the local macropods that were slouching around, in and on the boulders that clad the crown of Meyers Hill, as they were sunning themselves on a pleasantly cool morning.

(Macropod, in case you’re unaware, translates as “big foot”, a reference not to yowis or yetis but to the distinctive hind quarters of kangaroos and wallabies that empower their special mode of locomotion).

The first to make their appearance known was a hill kangaroo, or euro, which popped her head sleepily over a boulder to see what kind of clumsy creature was tramping around nearby … “ah, it’s another one of those strange long-legged critters that couldn’t leap over rocks to save themselves from a rampaging gecko! This one’s up here early – oh, heck, it’s seen me; sneaking towards me pretending that it hasn’t noticed I’m here”.

The euro regarded me sleepily as I made my way closer towards it to take a photo; unfortunately the camera I had with me is a little Kodak EasyShare digital model that’s quite inadequate for wildlife snaps (and it has a cracked lens). However, the roos at Olive Pink are used to the presence of people and it wasn’t unduly alarmed at my presence so I was able to get close enough to take a few shots.

Unbeknownst to me, out of my sight next to mama roo was a half-grown joey, which decided to see what its mother was concerned about. While adult kangaroos at Olive Pink are generally relaxed about the presence of people, joeys are instinctively more wary (developing trust in humans is a learned behaviour); and this youngster was no exception.

The joey took flight but only briefly, because mother didn’t seem to be in any hurry. So the pair of them obligingly stopped atop a rock as I took another photo. Suddenly a large male euro entered the scene; he had been camped nearby out of sight but now joined the other two – it seems they were a little family unit. Unfortunately they decided to move on before I could get a portrait of them altogether.

Not to worry – this incident was a bonus! Then no sooner had the euros loped off than I caught sight of another macropod quickly disappearing around a cluster of boulders. Wow! That was a rock wallaby! There’s always been a few of them on Meyers Hill at Olive Pink Botanic Garden but they tend to be much more nervous of the presence of people. I decided to follow in the hope I might catch a glimpse of it again.

I was in luck. Like the euros, the black-flanked rock wallabies also enjoy sunning themselves on the boulders during cool mornings; and shortly I spied the delightful sight of one sitting atop a rock as it contemplated the view of the Todd River, the town, and the magnificent MacDonnells stretching into the vastness of the western horizon. The wallaby had its back towards me, its long tail drooped over its rocky pad; but it was paying close attention to me all the same as its little ears swiveled around to keep track of my encroaching presence.

But this occasion became very special, as the wallaby obligingly stayed its ground as I carefully stepped and stumbled around to get a few pictures. In the past I’ve succeeded in getting some very nice photos of rock wallabies at Olive Pink with the aid of a zoom lens on my old film camera but never before had I the opportunity to get so close to one that I was able to obtain some decent photographs with just a cheap little giveaway digital camera!

The wallaby, for the most part, had studiously ignored me, as if to demonstrate it was far superior at making good its escape should I take it into my head to chase after it. But perhaps it was disinclined to flight because it was obviously a mother, too, for its pouch was distended with what must be a well-grown joey inside.

After obtaining my photos I retreated; and the last I saw of the rock wallaby, she was still sitting motionless on a boulder contemplating the vastness of the scenery.

In the space of about half an hour I had obtained some lovely photos of emblematic wildlife at a location almost in the centre of our town, on a magnificent morning at the beginning of the best season of the year in Central Australia. It’s part of the privilege of living in this lovely land.

Incidentally, I did get the photo I had originally set out to obtain that morning.

Can anyone identify the body of this little native rodent? I found it lying on a vehicle track at precisely 11 AM, Tuesday, 26 July, 2011, immediately realizing this specimen was quite unusual and possibly significant.

This supposition has been underscored by the range of names suggested by local wildlife experts whom I’ve approached for its identification – these range from Kultarr (a marsupial), Long-haired Rat, Spinifex Hopping-mouse, or another species of Hopping-mouse in the genus Notomys.

The first two suggestions can be dismissed. My specimen’s two prominent upper incisors instantly mark it as a rodent, not a marsupial; however, it’s equally clear it is not a Long-haired Rat, as my specimen is substantially different in appearance to this occasionally prolific native rodent species.

In body shape and size the mystery rodent does bear a resemblance to Hopping-mice but, so far as I can tell, its fur colour doesn’t match any species recorded for Central Australia, including Spinifex Hopping-mice.

The animal’s coat appears grizzled grey-brown above – almost speckled – but this may not be accurate due to the condition of the body when it was discovered.

Two anatomical features stand out; first, the ears are quite long but it’s the tail which is most striking (it separated from the body when I collected it).

The tail is sparsely covered with coarse hairs nearest to the body but is more densely furred towards the end, creating a brush-like appearance.

This is a fairly typical characteristic of Hopping-mice (but also of Tree-rats and Rabbit-rats, too, although these are unknown from inland Australia). Like the body, the tail is dark above and light-coloured underneath.

However, it’s the arrangement of the hairs on the tail that truly distinguish this little rodent, as they emerge at regularly spaced intervals creating a distinct banded or segmented appearance. I haven’t found this trait illustrated or described for any species of native rodents in Australia.

The location where I found the rodent is quite unusual, too – it had been run over on a track beside the east bank of the Todd River, directly across from the town centre of Alice Springs. From my reading so far, this is an abnormal habitat for Hopping-mice species in Central Australia.

It leaves open the possibility that my specimen is not a Notomys (Hopping-mouse) but a member of another genus of native rodents, such as Tree-rats or Rabbit-rats. That’s a long shot, as no species of either genus have been found anywhere close to Central Australia.

However, they are all recorded as favouring shelter in the hollow limbs and trunks of eucalypts; and there is no shortage of such accommodation in the old river red gums that grace the Todd River.

Moreover, I’m familiar with another native rat species that is commonly distributed on the north and east coasts of Australia but has previously been recorded in Central Australia.

In early December 1997 I chanced to find a rodent skull and some other bones scattered over a small area – less than a meter square – on the sandy bed of a creek 30 km west of Alice Springs. The skull seemed to be a little too large for a House Mouse (of which there were many in the area at the time).

I collected the bones, delivered them to the Museum of Central Australia – and some months later received a couple of calls from the Alice Springs Desert Park notifying me that the skull had been identified as Rattus tunneyi (Pale Field-rat).

This was apparently a very rare find for Central Australia (I believe they may be considered extinct in this region). The bones I found were of quite recent origin at the time – they were of a bright lustre, undamaged and hard, not brittle and discoloured as one might expect of old weathered remains.

Moreover, they were lying on a tiny patch of sand in a creek bed that had run a banker some 10 months earlier; however, I was told the bones I had found must be an old specimen and I heard no more about it from that time.

Nevertheless, this experience demonstrates the possibility that the range of other coastal species of native rodents may also have more extensive distributions than are usually attributed to them.

Whatever, my little specimen rodent remains unknown and it would be nice to find someone who can take my request for its identification a little more seriously.

CAPTION: The centerfold of the past future – the foldout pages in the Alice Springs Urban Development Study, which features a photographic panorama of Alice Springs in 1974 (top) and an artist’s impression of the same scene predicted for the turn of the century (below). The high-rise office block for the Commonwealth administration on the site of the current Jock Nelson Building (at left of the photo) is clearly visible in the central lower left of the document. Photo by Alex Nelson.

By Alex Nelson

On Wednesday, 27 July 2011, two seemingly unrelated events occurred that – to my mind, at least – illustrates perfectly the peculiarly interconnected and cyclical nature of history in our town.

The first of these was the revelation that the cleared site for a major five-storey complex, formerly Melankas, had been placed online for sale.

The second was the final decision of the NT Electoral Commission of the redistribution of electoral boundaries, which opted to retain the name of Araluen for a local electorate after previously advocating it be renamed Perkins, in honour of Hetti Perkins, a prominent Aboriginal matriarch in Central Australia.

As is usually the case about local issues, both of these topics have attracted controversy – but let’s delve a little deeper.

Hetti Perkins was the mother of many children, one of whom gained considerable national prominence – Charles Perkins, who (amongst many achievements) was the head of the Aboriginal Development Commission in the early 1980s.

It was in this capacity that Charlie Perkins (as he was commonly known) was amongst the earliest and most ardent advocates for the construction of high-rise development above the three-storey height limit in the CBD of Alice Springs.

The concept of multi-level building development above three storeys in the town centre isn’t new. For example, the Alice Springs Urban Development Study undertaken in 1974 during the Whitlam Labor Government (ironically published in December 1975, when the Fraser Coalition Government won office) contains a centre-spread of a photographic panorama of the town viewed from Anzac Hill – and an artist’s impression of what the town would look like by the year 2000.

The CBD is depicted with a number of two and three-storey buildings and one prominent office block of seven storeys located where the Jock Nelson Building now stands. Clearly NT Self-government was not a priority of the Commonwealth at the time!

However, debate about height limits commenced in earnest in 1982 when Bruce Chalmers, the proprietor of the Stuart Arms Hotel, sought planning approval for a ten-storey hotel on that site (the corner of the modern Alice Plaza nearest the Todd Mall sails, and opposite the site of the old Commonwealth Bank building in Parsons Street that now has approval for a six storey office block).

Part of the rationale for this radical proposal was the claim (by the developers) that Alice Springs had already lost much of its character – hugely ironic in light of the subsequent history of property development in the CBD.

The proposal was rejected but it triggered a fierce debate about high-rise development that lasted on and off until 1990.

Even as Chalmers’ ten storey hotel project was refused permission in September 1982, the wheels were set in motion for a far more protracted controversy.

The Uniting Church was in the process of transferring ownership of its land on Hartley Street to the Aboriginal Development Commission (now the site of the Yeperenye Shopping Centre). In an address to the Synod of the Uniting Church, Charles Perkins envisioned the site “would be suitable for a business enterprise owned by Aboriginal communities in the Centre and used by them as a focal point for them and as a source of revenue”.

He was confident that “it will clearly show how successfully the re-development of Aboriginal society can be if approached on a commercial basis rather than in a welfare oriented way” (Black enterprise – not welfare, Centralian Advocate, October 13, 1982).

Perkins’ vision took form in plans for a six storey office complex, including above-ground car-parking. Coming hard on the heels of the uproar triggered by the failed Stuart Arms proposal, the timing could hardly have been less propitious.

And while in 1982 the debate over high-rise was largely a local issue, especially within the Alice Springs Town Council, it took on a far greater significance in 1983 within the context of a looming NT election campaign.

1983 was a landmark year in the history of NT self-government, because (like now) there was a major revision of electoral boundaries throughout the Northern Territory. What sets this occasion apart, however, was the implementation of a decision to increase the number of elected members of the NT Legislative Assembly from 19 to 25.

Six electorates were proposed in and around Alice Springs – and one of these was a brand new seat by the name of Araluen.

The scene was set for an extraordinary year in the history of Alice Springs.

A magnificent specimen of Georgina Gidgee (Acacia georginae) in full flower – and pong – outside the Town Library on Gregory Terrace, Alice Springs – perhaps soon to be renamed Racosperma georginae? Photo Alex Nelson.

As reported in The Age today, botanists from all around the world are meeting in Mebourne this week to decide once and for all whether we can legitimately refer to our beloved wattles as “acacias”. Alex Nelson enlightens us on the politics of plant names and proposes a solution to this vexing issue.

It’s a lovely day, now watch someone come along and stuff it up.

This well-worn sentiment applies equally to good ideas, like taxonomy – the practice of classifying plants and animals, alive and extinct, with scientific names.

It was invented by a Swedish botanist, Carl Linné (or Carolus Linnaeus) in the early 1700s as a means of overcoming confusion arising from all the different common names we apply to organisms. His intention was to give each creature a scientific name which is universally recognized, regardless of languages and cultures.

Take ironwood trees, for example. Locally this is the common name we give to tall graceful wattles found only in Central Australia; but ‘ironwood’ is commonly used for other trees around Australia. Several are eucalypts, and there is the notoriously poisonous northern, or Cooktown, ironwood tree found across the tropical north.

These unrelated trees have each been allocated their proper scientific names – our Central Australian ironwood is Acacia estrophiolata.

It’s a system that most of us Homo sapiens are familiar with; and is usually written with Latinized or ancient Greek terms.

“Acacia”, for example, comes from the Greek “akakia”, meaning thorn – a reference to the thorn trees of Africa (Acacia nilotica), which Linnaeus himself named.

The key to classification is consistency. Strict rules are followed in taxonomy, intended further to reduce confusion over names.

For example, in 1964 my father, Des Nelson, discovered a species of wattle unknown to science, and it was duly named in his honour, Acacia nelsonii. How nice! Then it was realized there is already an Acacia nelsonii in Africa and the rules state whichever organism has been named first takes precedence; so the local Acacia nelsonii was renamed Acacia desmondii.

But taxonomy is not just about allocating flash scientific names, it also provides a method of relating all organisms in the context of evolution – essentially it describes our pedigree.

Take ourselves, for instance. Humans are apes (surprised?), and all apes are primates (monkeys, lemurs, tarsiers); primates are placentals (animals that have long gestations), and all placentals are mammals (including marsupials and monotremes, like echidnas) – and so on until we reach the broad classification of the Animal Kingdom. This is a very simplified example.

What’s in a name? This popular wildflower has had three botanical name changes (a fourth was proposed) but we all still know it as Sturt’s Desert Pea. Photo Alex Nelson.

Since Linnaeus’ time, taxonomy has been determined by painstaking studies of comparative anatomy and morphology (form and structure) to establish the relationships of all living things.

But the advent of genetics and molecular biology has thrown a spanner in the works – these disciplines often reveal more complex and unexpected biological links that force revision of taxonomic classifications. This is where a lot of confusion arises, especially with plants in Australia because many are shown to be more distantly related to their first-named overseas cousins.

For example, Sennas (a popular genus of showy native shrubs in gardens) were all Cassias a few decades ago (most remaining Cassias are now exotics).

It can happen within Australia, too – many people are surprised to learn ghost gums are no longer gum trees; they are Corymbias, separated with all the bloodwoods from the eucalypts. (Ghost gums are Corymbia aparrerinja, the latter word is an Arrernte name).

However, not all botanists agree with such changes, and proposals for revision of names can spark vigorous debate for years. In their own fashion researchers and academics are liable to engage in a stoush as any Joe Regular on the footy field.

If scientists have difficulty reconciling these matters, how do we mere mortals cope?

In July 2004 Don Burke came to the Olive Pink Botanic Garden to film a segment for his popular show Burke’s Backyard. I asked him of his opinion about so many botanical name changes. He rolled his eyes skyward and heaved a great sigh of exasperation – and he wasn’t acting. He told me that usually he waited five years after an official name change before gradually introducing it into his program; otherwise it became too confusing for his viewers.

This frustration is shared across the plant nursery trade, because botanical name changes require expensive updating of labels, signs and publications, and years of education for customers.

This inconvenience lay behind the debate for many years for a significant name change proposal – the renaming of Australian Acacias. Revision of this genus showed that the Acacias of Africa, Asia, the Americas and Australia were sufficiently distantly related to separate them into different groups.

As the genus name ‘Acacia’ was first used to describe African plants, the rules dictated that Aussie Acacias must change. The proposed new name was ‘Racosperma’. Raco-what? Exactly.

And there was one other problem – with well over 960 species recorded to date (out of some 1300 worldwide), Australia had by far the greatest diversity of Acacias. The revision of taxonomic status and name changes for so many species was daunting, to say the least.

Ultimately, in 2005, a bit of good old-fashioned cultural imperialism (or common sense) prevailed; Australia retained the name Acacia for our wattles, and the poor old Africans, Asians and Latin Americans have had to change the names for all their former Acacias.

So now that African Acacias are renamed something else, does this mean Des Nelson’s Wattle in Central Australia can revert to the original proposed name of Acacia nelsonii?

And was it really that difficult a problem? Australians know Acacias as wattles – could this not have provided a simple and easily recognized new botanical name? Many orchids grown in horticulture are known as Cattleya’s, so couldn’t Aussie wattles be Wattleya’s, too?

Something to ponder – oh, and have a lovely day.

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Photos by Alex Nelson

By Alex Nelson

In the Ray Bradbury story Something Wicked This Way Comes, a sleepy mid-Western town is abuzz with excitement after the arrival at night of a circus train that sets up the Big Top and stays to entertain the townsfolk.

But two intrepid boys discover the glitz and glamour of the carnival masks a malevolent and sinister purpose that, if left unchecked, will destroy the idyllic little town.

Life sometimes imitates art, and an element of this story may apply to the north-south railway that bisects Alice Springs.

The construction of the railway to Darwin, finally achieved in 2004, was a long-awaited development anticipated by many to derive much economic benefit to the Northern Territory.

The railway has yet to fulfill this dream but there are certainly many more train movements, of freight as well as the Ghan passenger service, through our fair town.

In recent weeks there’s been some grumbling about the length of time trains travel through the rail corridor in town, and it’s transpired they are proceeding more slowly.

The inconvenience for motorists is not the only effect of slower rail movements – it’s also killing gum trees along the rail corridor.

At a time when Central Australia is so green it almost hurts your eyes, sick and dying vegetation stand out in stark contrast.

Recently I’ve noticed from casual glances when traveling along Telegraph Terrace and the Stuart Highway south of town that there are a number of chlorotic (yellowing) and defoliating trees along the rail corridor.

This intrigued me, as I’m familiar with trees displaying symptoms of poisoning (I had been involved with a tree herbicide trial on Alcoota Station in 1987/88, when working at AZRI).

My first suspicion was that there had been an over-zealous application of herbicide along the rail line for weed control.

An excellent example of this kind of mishap occurred in the summer of 1997/98 when several trees on the AZRI boundary along Colonel Rose Drive began to sicken.

Discreet enquiries with my former work colleagues revealed that a staff member had misread the label for a herbicide used to treat the firebreak, and had applied the chemical at ten times the recommended rate.

It was very embarrassing and never publicly revealed but of course nobody lived on that land so there was no need for the public to know, was there? The dead trees remain standing along Colonel Rose Drive.

However, closer inspection of the trees along the rail corridor, extending from St Mary’s Creek to Larapinta Drive opposite Billygoat Hill, reveals a very different cause of poisoning.

Herbicide can be ruled out as there are stretches where trees are dying yet the undergrowth (mainly buffel grass) is green and healthy, or vice versa.

More telling, however, is that not all tree and shrub species are equally affected. Eucalypts and corymbias (bloodwoods, including ghost gums) are by far the worst affected in closest proximity to the railway, followed by beefwoods (Grevillea striata).

In contrast the wattles (Acacias) and she-oaks (Casuarinas) are barely affected at all – I observed only one of each type that was sick.

Significantly all bar one of the ironwood trees (Acacia estrophialata) near the railway are healthy – this species is usually highly susceptible to herbicide poisoning.

However, the eucalypts of all types and species are subject to massive and rapid die-back, and the apparent cause is the exhaust fumes of train engines as they pass by slowly – this seems to have tipped the balance against these trees.

There are some examples where the cause is clearly evident, as the canopies of the trees are worst closest to the railway but comparatively healthy on the opposite side.

Many of the sick trees were established in a major beautification project along the rail corridor in the 1980s.

Ironically, in recent weeks there has been another big beautification project with hundreds of young trees established along the rail corridor by Telegraph Terrace, and the overwhelming majority are eucalypts. These trees are unlikely to flourish in the short term.

Other dying eucalypts are naturally occurring trees, and some of these are very old.

Several large river red gums display clear signs of distress, most noticeably a cluster of tall trees by the turnoff to the causeway at Heavitree Gap.

Interestingly the river gums by the road and rail in Heavitree Gap itself show no signs of ill health; it appears they are saved because the Gap acts as a funnel that amplifies wind, and also being in shade for much of each afternoon means the air is cooler, which lifts the hot exhaust gases from the trains out of harms way for the foliage.

There are also several old Coolabah trees in the rail corridor in proximity to Billygoat Hill that also display dieback; and this has potentially serious legal implications as these trees are considered sacred by Aboriginal traditional custodians.

The sudden recent manifestation of this problem means that at present very few trees have actually died; it’s very obvious, however, that many of them are close to perishing and more are just beginning to display symptoms of ill health.

If nothing is done to resolve this problem it’s likely the overwhelming majority of eucalypts, and a few other species, in close proximity to the rail line in and near town will be lost by year’s end.

Photo Commons Wikimedia

By Alex Nelson

Last Saturday night at about 10 pm I rode my bicycle along Colonel Rose Drive on my way back to town after a very pleasant dinner engagement at Petrick Road.

At one point, roughly in the vicinity of the proposed suburb of Kilgariff, I stopped my bicycle by the roadside to just “take in” the realm of the darkness that enveloped me.

There was no traffic, and the nearest artificial lights shone over the distance across the Butcher’s Paddock from the Alice Springs Airport. There was no wind, not a murmur of a breeze.

The night sky was punctuated throughout with the brilliance of countless stars, for which inland Australia is justly famed; while a golden crescent moon, tipped ominously on its side, slid towards obscurity on the horizon directly in line with Colonel Rose Drive.

A flaring meteor briefly pierced the inky blackness of the western sky.

It was a moment of utter serenity, surrounded by the stillness of the dark. The only sound, initially, were crickets chirping here and there – but then I began to perceive another noise, barely audible at first.

I heard a soft low moan, emanating somewhere in the darkness across the road in the Butcher’s Paddock. This was answered by a similar call further away behind me on AZRI.

As I listened intently, I could hear these soft moans from all directions. I couldn’t see what was making these calls but I knew instantly what it was I could hear – it was the singing of tawny frogmouths, or mopokes.

These nocturnal birds are amongst the most cryptic of creatures, for they are highly secretive and rarely observed. They are probably more common than we think but their plumage is so well camouflaged that these birds assume the appearance of dead stumps on tree branches as they rest during the daytime.

It’s quite likely many of us have seen them without realizing it.

Rarer still is to hear the song of these birds. The sound is similar to blowing air across the neck of an empty glass bottle, a very low “whoo-oo”.

It requires conditions of absolute stillness and quiet to hear them, including quietening one’s mind of the noise and distraction of your thoughts and imagination.

Even when I was pedaling my bike on the road it was impossible to hear the mopokes; the noise of the tyres on the bitumen and the still air rushing past my ears instantly drowned out their soft songs.

As I stood there listening to the mopokes’ call, it was easy to comprehend why Aboriginal custodians of the land at AZRI regard this area as the domain of ancestral spirits of the Dreamtime, wandering across that country to this day.

This belief is the reason why, 21 years ago, the Sacred Sites Authority denied permission for a 100-180 hectare multi-million dollar citrus farm, utilizing sewerage effluent, to be established at AZRI.

This is despite the fact there are no sacred sites on the land; rather it is the whole area (according to a life-long Aboriginal acquaintance whom I first knew when we were small boys living at AZRI) that is considered sacrosanct and no new buildings should be constructed upon it.

I’m not saying this now for the first time; it was published in my letter “Knowledge centre cause for concern” (Centralian Advocate, 12 November 2002).

But, as all true natives know, the colonists never take any notice – nothing gets in the way of their mindless worship of the Almighty Dollar.

So that moment of serenity as I stood on the side of Colonel Rose Drive in the stillness of the night, surrounded by the songs of the mopokes that no-one else will hear, encapsulated for me all that is so beautiful with our natural world – and everything that is so wrong as we systematically despoil it.

Diving for cover.

The Battle of Bulldust – Fierce dogfight in the skies over Alice

A first-hand account by on-the-ground reporter Alex Nelson

The roar of high-powered piston engines over my rooftop on Wednesday afternoon last week alerted me a sneak air raid was in progress over our fair town.

There was no air-raid siren warning us to take cover, somehow a formation of enemy fighters had avoided detection and were now fully intent on pressing forward with their dastardly attack.

Upon racing outside I observed several of the enemy planes wheeling around and reforming into an echelon – clearly a quick reconnoiter over the target, after which they commenced their assault.

Their target was obvious, as they swooped low over Anzac Hill, strafing defense installations at the RSL Club, the radar facilities of the USAF’s Detachment 421, the barracks at St Philips Army Base Camp and Minnamurra Army Mess Hall.

There’s no question this was a bold and cunning attack, the enemy had chosen a perfect opportunity early in the afternoon of a bright sunny day with scattered high cloud,providing excellent all-round visibility.

These conditions are equally good for detection and defence, but those cunning devils  had caught us with our guard lowered – who’d have thought they would dare attack at such obvious risk to themselves?

At first it looked like everything was going their way – where the hell were our fighters?

But then I spied a fighter group low to the south and in perfect formation as they raced in to engage the enemy.

Fan-bloody-tastic, now we’d show ‘em who’s boss around here! Our foes had missed their chance to escape, now they had to battle their way out.

Aircraft twisted and turned low over the rooftops, engines snarled and strained, the sky was creased with contrails and plumes of smoke. It was hard to make out who was who but it was a terrific affray up there!

Suddenly I realized I didn’t have my tin hat for protection. Damn! I hadn’t washed the dishes yet, after using it for a bowl of soup at lunchtime.

Not to worry, I kept my brolly handy in case spent cartridges started dropping out of the sky but fortunately none fell near me.

The intense aerial struggle seemed to last for ages but suddenly it was over as quickly as it began. It looked like our lads had prevailed yet again, as they winged their way back to the aerodrome for a well-earned break.

Soon I caught up with one of our brave lads for an interview, an Irish volunteer in the Air Force, Flying Officer Paddy O’Guiness.

I asked F/O O’Guiness what it was like up there today; he replied: “Aye, it was toff, real toff!

“I had one of those Fokkers in me gunsight but another Fokker came in behind me.

“Then there was another Fokker on me left and a Fokker on me right. Bejeebers, those Fokkers were everywhere!”

So are those Fokkers a type of German aircraft, I inquired.

“Aye”, concurred Paddy, “and they were all Messerschmitts, too!”

Alright, I confess, on Wednesday last week the Alice was treated to a splendid display of aerial acrobatics by the elite RAAF Roulettes as they toured the Territory.

The “interview” with “F/O P. O’Guiness” is adapted from the first-ever live-to-air radio broadcast, conducted by a BBC reporter of an Irish volunteer fighter pilot during the Battle of Britain, and that’s pretty close to what he said!