The Uncomfortable Mirror of Bennelong’s Legacy
History rarely offers heroes who fit neatly into boxes. Take Woollarawarre Bennelong—a man branded a traitor by some, a cultural bridge by others, and a tragic figure by nearly everyone. His life, fractured by colonization, now crackles back to life through Jane Harrison’s Bennelong in London. But why does this 18th-century Wangal man’s story matter so much today? Because, as it turns out, Bennelong isn’t just a relic of the past. He’s a mirror held up to our collective struggle to reconcile identity, survival, and what it means to navigate worlds not built for you.
Why Bennelong’s Contradictions Matter
Let’s get one thing straight: Bennelong defies easy categorization. Kidnapped, forced into colonial society, then later choosing to return to England—his choices infuriate those who demand their historical figures be either warriors or martyrs. But here’s the thing: Bennelong’s complexity is precisely the point. What many people don’t realize is that his life wasn’t a failure to “choose a side”—it was a masterclass in survival. In my opinion, we judge him too often through the lens of modern nationalism, forgetting that in 1793, “siding” with colonizers wasn’t a moral failing; it was a gamble for influence. Bennelong bet on understanding the enemy, and though the odds were rigged, his gamble wasn’t naïve. It was strategic.
Art as a Time Machine (With a Twist)
Harrison’s play doesn’t just retell Bennelong’s story—it weaponizes theater itself as a tool for cultural excavation. By plopping a modern actor (Sebastian) face-to-face with Bennelong’s spirit, the narrative becomes a conversation across centuries. A detail that I find especially interesting is how this meta-framework dismantles the myth of “objective history.” The past isn’t some inert artifact; it’s alive, arguing, and demanding we reckon with its messiness. When Sebastian grapples with Bennelong’s contradictions—his love of alcohol, his tactical alliances—it’s not just character development. It’s a metaphor for how Indigenous Australians today negotiate their place in a society still steeped in colonial logic. We’re not just watching a play; we’re watching history being interrogated in real time.
Reclaiming Narratives in a World of ‘White Eyes’
Here’s the dirty secret colonial histories rarely admit: the records we rely on are warped by racism. Bennelong’s biographers were settlers who saw him through what Harrison calls “the white eye”—a gaze that reduced him to exotic curiosity or inconvenient savage. So how do you resurrect a soul from that wreckage? Harrison’s answer: look inward. By drawing on the Black men in her own life—uncles, brothers, Elders—she sidesteps the trap of “accuracy” to reach for emotional truth. What this really suggests is that decolonizing history isn’t about correcting facts; it’s about reclaiming humanity. Bennelong stops being a footnote and becomes a person—flawed, cunning, and tragically human.
The Stage as a Battleground for Memory
Let’s zoom out. Bennelong in London isn’t an isolated act of storytelling—it’s part of a tidal shift. From Bangarra’s haunting dance piece to Wesley Enoch’s I Am Eora, artists are tearing up the script on how Australia remembers (or forgets) its First Peoples. What makes this particularly fascinating is how these works refuse to let audiences off the hook. You can’t watch Bennelong’s spirit haunt a modern actor and walk away thinking, “Well, that’s all in the past.” No. The play whispers: The colony never ended. It just changed costumes. Institutional racism, cultural erasure, the burden of representation—these are Bennelong’s struggles repackaged for TikTok-era Australia.
Why This Story Haunts Us Now
Jane Harrison’s residency in Rome—a city where she felt the disorientation of linguistic exile—adds a layer of irony. To write Bennelong, she had to become a little Bennelong herself. A deeper question emerges here: Can any of us ever truly “translate” across cultures without losing something essential? The play says yes—but only if we embrace the loss. By giving Bennelong a voice unshackled from colonial archives, Harrison doesn’t just resurrect him. She invites us to ask what parts of our own identities have been colonized, and what we’re willing to reclaim.
Final Thoughts: The Ghost We Need, Not the One We Deserve
Bennelong’s epitaph once sneered he was “a thorough savage.” Harrison’s play spits back: And you’re a thorough hypocrite. The true power of Bennelong in London isn’t in its facts or even its drama. It’s in the way it dares us to see history not as a dead thing, but as a living argument. Personally, I think we’re all haunted by Bennelongs—those unresolved chapters of our past that won’t stay buried. The question isn’t whether we’ll listen. It’s whether we’ll finally understand.
