Australian Outlaws and Cultural Distinction

Kelly Burke

5/4/2015

Senior Capstone 2015 – University Honors Program

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Australian Outlaws and Cultural Distinction

As a phenomenon spanning thousands of years, outlawry has firmly grasped the public

imagination in myth, song, and visual arts since the earliest civilizations. Most cultures have

some conception of the outlaw archetype, and despite unique demographic variations between

societies, these concepts are far more similar than different. Australian culture, for example, has

a very complex history with the outlaw figure, most often praising but occasionally condemning

the works of these daring renegades. While the Australian outlaw tradition certainly shares

similarities to the British tradition from which it was first derived, and the American tradition

with which it shares a common “parent,” it reaches greater heights in the public life of Australian

citizens. For example, prominent Victoria outlaw Ned Kelly has earned a position of national

import, having been dubbed “perhaps the best known Australian figure” by his sizeable fan-base

(Eggert 2007). Author Peter Carey even declared Kelly a prominent founder of the Australian

aesthetic, stating that the beloved outlaw is more similar in terms of public influence to Thomas

Jefferson than to Jesse James, who is debatably America’s most famous outlaw (Bemrose 2001).

How, then, is the concept of the outlaw and his or her symbolic value so unique within the

Australian vision, and how does this uniqueness impact Australian artists’ interpretations of this

tradition within their works?

In order to answer these questions, one must analyze the Australian outlaw tradition

through both cultural and historical lenses, as a common vein of oppression and injustice runs

through the very nation itself. This inequality bleeds through into art, poetry, and historical

texts, all expressing the same conflict between law and justice, rich and poor, powerful and

oppressed, and British and non-British. In order to fully explore the reasons behind the national

elevation of the Australian outlaw, I will compare historical events and overarching literary

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themes to specific poems glorifying the continent’s most famous outlaws, such as John Donohoe

and Ned Kelly. For historically-based works of poetry, I will focus on “The Wild Colonial Boy”

and “Kelly Country.” Contemporary Australian authors will give voice to their tradition as well;

considering that they have been intimately raised alongside the subject matter, their insights are

perhaps among the most valuable to be taken into consideration. The contemporary poem which

I analyze will be Robert Adamson’s “Sonnets to be Written from Prison.” To further highlight

the uniqueness of the Australian outlaw tradition, I will draw parallels between British and

American outlaw culture, which, as parent and sibling nations, reflect yet diverge from deeper

national consciences. All cultures have their outlaw heroes, but Australia’s foundation as a penal

colony which heavily discriminated against Irish immigrants and inmates directly corresponds to

the valuing of outlawry as a form of social protest.

THE UNIVERSAL OUTLAW

To understand the significance of what the outlaw symbolizes within an Australian

context, one must first grasp the fundamental characteristics of an “outlaw hero” in a general

sense. These traits transcend time, space, race, and gender; although the legends themselves are

significantly diverse, their central heroes’ innermost qualities remain mostly interchangeable.

Author Graham Seal identifies several traits associated with the outlaw hero tradition, which can

be almost universally affirmed. The first of these identifying markers states that “such characters

represent a struggle against a power greater than themselves and those who support them” (Seal

2011:2). To be considered truly heroic in a tradition which glorifies thieves, killers, and rebels,

one must not work purely for one’s own gain; such is the way of a coward, unworthy of

immortalization through myth and song. The death of the outlaw holds equal significance in his

or her glorification: “Almost always [the outlaws] die violently and always their legends

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celebrate them and their actions, despite the usual ambivalence of their lives” (Seal 2011:2).

These lawbreakers die as they lived - immersed in violent conflicts and refusing to go down

without a fight, affirming their vision with the finality and determination of an old-world martyr.

Perhaps the most distinctive mark of the outlaw is their characteristic struggle against the

wealthy on behalf of the poor: he or she “may arise whenever and wherever there is perceived

inequity and oppression, leading to conflict over ownership of land or access to its resources”

(Seal 2011: 3). Outlaw robbers were expected to share the rewards of their conquests with the

downtrodden and impoverished, who otherwise had no one to rely on and possessed very limited

means of supporting themselves (Seal 2011). Such generosity would, in turn, solidify the

conception of the outlaw as a champion of the people, elevating them through the tales and

gossip of the day and transforming them into something far more significant than a nuisance to

the rich from whom they stole. In return for the gallant deeds of the outlaw, the impoverished

would aide him or her, returning his or her favors with “sympathy and active support;” a

majority of the disadvantaged loyal to their local outlaws would hide them from law

enforcement, even going as far as to supply them with provisions and shelter in dire

circumstances (Seal 2011: 2-3). Whether or not the outlaws’ actions could truly be justified was

of little importance to their most faithful followers, who lauded them as defenders of the

demoralized against the consistently oppressive and wealthy ruling class. Acceptance by their

peers ultimately legitimated the outlaws’ deeds, often leading to their crimes being overlooked in

favor of the greater good by all but the rulers whom they opposed (Seal 2011).

The geneses of the outlaw are more complex, however, and often at a distance from the

society in which they originated. At the beginning of every myth, an outlaw “has been cast out

of society, either for a crime or because he has become a threat to those in power – sometimes a

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combination of both these things” (Seal 2011:4). The isolation of the outlaw is not always

uniform, as some are banished into the wild, where they must learn to function without frequent

human interaction, while others are incarcerated within society itself, sequestering them from the

general population to prevent further violent contact (Seal 2011). Presumably, this would afford

the outlaw ample amounts of time to dwell upon the systems which failed and wronged them,

thus leading to the formulation of their grand schemes to heal social ills. Indeed, most outlawry

was typically a “reaction to a long period of political, social, and economic turmoil,” which

served to plant the seeds of revolution within the future heroes (Seal 2011:5). The incidents

which lead to the expulsion of outlaws from society were often considered minor in nature, such

as an insult hurled at an outlaw’s family members; their true potency was due, in large part, to

“tensions and conflicts over land, resources, ethnicity, religion and political borders” which

magnified the particular mistreatments that the outlaws and their families suffered (Seal 2011:6).

Not all outlaws were afforded time for uninterrupted reflection, however, as many were

actively hunted down from the launch of their criminal career. Many old-world legal systems

classified criminals as non-persons who were entirely devoid of human rights; thus it was

justifiable by law for civilians and law enforcement alike to kill an outlaw on sight (Seal 2011).

Conditions as dehumanizing as these could easily inspire one to turn to illicit means of survival,

and outlaws were already no strangers to this brutal concept of justice. According to Seal,

“violence is an inevitable feature in outlaw activity” which spares no one within the outlaws’

spheres: enemies and allies suspected of informing or otherwise aiding the enemy are given swift

and often unceremonious justice, always concluding in the death of the offending party (2011:7).

Authority figures are also quick to resort to harsh methodology, as they employed imprisonment,

torture, and execution against suspected outlaw sympathizers and, when captured, the outlaws

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themselves (Seal 2011). Sanguinary action on both sides created an atmosphere of perpetual

suspicion and mistrust; as such, most outlaws were betrayed by their seemingly closest

comrades, the avoidance of personal violence on part of the traitor being one of the strongest

motivations (Seal 2011).

Certain persons are, however, protected under the outlaw code, and those rebels who

trespass against these unwritten rules fall from grace and are turned against by those

communities which they once served. Persons who were economically disadvantaged and

socially downtrodden were spared; orphans and widows were held up as those most worthy of

protection, as social structures often left them the most vulnerable and disadvantaged within the

community (Seal 2011). This code also specified that violence should only be directed against

the oppressors in power and should be applied primarily in self-defense, as these forms of

justified retribution directly contrasted the sanguinary trespasses committed by authority figures

(Seal 2011). Such grievances forced the outlaw to turn to a life of crime. The fact that the

outlaws initially seem to have little choice in the matter makes them even easier to sympathize

with, inspiring the hope that they would have lived peaceful, honest lives had they been given the

proper means.

Aside from the code, the outlaw possesses other means to shape the views of his or her

audience. For example, propaganda played an important role in the shaping of public opinion in

the tales of many outlaws, with Ned Kelly’s “Jerilderie Letter” being a prime example (Seal

2011). Other means of swaying public opinion included treating victims courteously, especially

women, whose “delicacy” necessitated that they be handled more gently and respectfully than

their male counterparts.1 Sometimes, evading direct confrontation with authorities worked to 1 An excellent historical example of this code being enforced is the case of partners Brady and McCabe: “When his partner McCabe threatened to rape a settler’s wife, Brady shot him through the hand, flogged him mercilessly and

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improve the image of the outlaw, as it illustrated him or her as both less bloodthirsty and more

intelligent than law enforcement officials (Seal 2011). No greater humiliation could be felt by

officers than to lose the prey that had been so ardently hunting, as it sent a message to the public

that societal structures were incapable of maintaining their precarious stability. Oppressors were

made to feel their grasp on control wavering, always on the brink of destruction by rouge

elements outside the system.

These common traits are easily identifiable in outlaw legends across Australia from its

foundation as a penal colony to the modern age. Despite remaining faithful to the depiction of

the archetypal outlaw, Australia’s tradition has its own unique flavor, which cannot be fully

understood without significant knowledge of the continent’s past. To further delve into the

works of Australian poetry, it is necessary to outline the environment in which the poems are set.

Thus, one must understand the impacts of colonization by prisoners of the justice system,

widespread discrimination against Irish Catholics, and the conditions under which many of these

oppressed parties lived. In the next section, I will outline a brief history of the Australian outlaw,

or “bushranger,” and the effects of their existence upon society.

BRIEF ORIGINS OF THE BUSHRANGER

In the year 1778, Australia was founded as a penal colony, with its main purpose being

the isolation of the growing population of English lawbreakers from the rest of the law-abiding

populace (Hughes 1986). A fleet of convicts known simply as the “First Fleet” was shipped

from England to the then-foreign continent, most of them against their will and a

disproportionate amount of them with Irish Catholic origins (Hughes 1986). Once these outlaws

were introduced to the settlement system, however, it was far more difficult to keep them

threw him out of the gang.” McCabe was captured and hanged ten days later (Hughes 1986: 232).

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contained than the British Crown had initially assumed. Many criminals escaped by “taking to

the bush,” with “the most persistent absconders” coming from the Irish Catholic population

(Hughes 1986: 203). Their faith gave them hope that they would reach a promised paradise once

they escaped the state of “Purgatory” in which they had been caught, and they were willing to

face starvation, dehydration, and death at the hands of both British authorities and hostile

Aboriginals to fulfill this vision.2 As the odds of these escapees surviving in the outback were

considerably low, they were mostly left to die in the early days of the colony, especially in New

South Wales3, where space was practically unlimited and the odds of the convicts’ rediscovery

was less than likely (Hughes 1986).

Escaped convicts were a larger issue in Van Dieman’s Land4, however, as the island

settlement limited both space and resources for its people to live off of. It was in this location

that the first bushrangers originated, initially working as gangs of kangaroo hunters who would

sell the animals’ meat to supplement the limited diet of the settlers, as livestock and crops were

still acclimating to the settlement at this time (Hughes 1986). While technically remaining

outlaws, these men were a form of necessary evil, as it would have been a greater disadvantage

for law enforcement to let the settlers die of starvation in the event of crop failure than to let

small gangs of escaped convicts roam the bush. Once “food supplies grew more secure and [the

colony’s] dependence on kangaroo meat declined,” however, the bushrangers became a more

serious issue for the government, as they took to sheep thievery to replace their lost source of

income (Hughes 1986: 226). These men began to steal from larger, more industrialized farms

2 The initial plan of escape was actually far more complex than I have illustrated it as. A complete history of these “absconders” can be found in Robert Hughes’ The Fatal Shore (1986).3 Modern-day Sydney (Hughes 1986).4 Now known as Tasmania (Hughes 1986).

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and “sell the mutton to free farmers for sugar, flour, tea and gunpowder,” which they could not

acquire on their own (Hughes 1986: 226).

Because of these perceived good deeds on the part of the bushrangers, small-time farmers

began to view them as Robin-Hood type figures. These farmers felt little need to hand over the

bushrangers to the authorities, as both parties profited far more from the illicit understanding

(Hughes 1986). The bushrangers’ networks expanded beyond farmers, however, and often

incorporated criminals who had not fled the official boundaries of the penal colonies. These men

and women “would bring food to bushrangers in hiding” whilst supplying them with information

about activities within the settlement, especially concerning the movements of local law

enforcement (Hughes 1986). Through this arrangement, the bushrangers were better able to

avoid potential pursuers, while the other convicts subtly defied the authority which held them

captive. This network was so effective that the number of active bushrangers grew at a steady

rate and, by 1814, then-Lieutenant-Governor Thomas Davey declared that “a court-martial could

hang anyone without reference to the criminal court in Sydney” in hopes of thinning the enemy

population and discouraging other criminals from joining the ranks of elite thieves (Hughes

1986: 228). Authorities feared that the “convict population,” then numbered at 1,900 persons,

would “rise and join the bushrangers, consigning Van Dieman’s Land to anarchy” and thus

thwart the Crown’s best attempts at colonization (Hughes 1986: 228).

During this time, one of Davey’s chief enemies was Michael Howe, perhaps the first

Australian bushranger to gain national fame (Hughes 1986). Howe and his group of bushrangers

roved throughout Van Dieman’s Land, terrorizing “landowners with a reputation for treating

convicts badly;” one such man was a “flogging magistrate” by the name of Adolarius William

Humphrey, whose crops they burnt and whose house they sacked whilst he was away on

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business (Hughes 1986: 228). Howe would always present speeches to the servants of the

landowners whom he sabotaged, comparing himself to the British highwayman Dick Turpan, a

popular figure memorialized for stealing from the rich to give to the poor (Hughes 1986).

Whether or not this comparison was entirely accurate was of little consequence to Howe5, as he

so intimidated the servants that they were inclined to believe and obey whatever he proclaimed;

it was in this manner that Howe set about recruiting new gang members to replace those taken in

by the legal system (Hughes 1986).

Howe was eventually betrayed by his Aboriginal “wife,” a woman known as “Black

Mary,” for allegedly abandoning her when the couple was ambushed and wounded by soldiers

tracking the bushranger (Hughes 1986). This bitter parting inspired Black Mary to aide law

enforcement agents by tracking Howe down. Although the search parties were unable to capture

Howe, they put such a significant amount of pressure on him that he attempted to reason with the

new Lieutenant-Governor Sorrel, who had a more lenient pardoning policy than his predecessor

(Hughes 1986). After Howe’s confession, in which he also exposed many “law abiding” citizens

as receivers of stolen livestock, he was promised a pardon yet never granted it, prompting him to

flee back into the bush (Hughes 1986). He was eventually captured by soldiers with the aide of

Muskitoo, “an Aboriginal blacktracker imported from Sydney,” and bludgeoned to death by

officers, his head severed and taken back to the settlement to be put on display as a warning to

other would-be bushrangers (Hughes 1986). An opposite effect occurred, however. Because

Howe was locally supported by servants, ex-convicts and free settlers, these persons mourned his

death and glorified his deeds, raising him up post-mortem as a “popular hero” (Hughes 1986:

231). The mold which Howe had cast would become the prominent model for future 5 There is actually little historical evidence which supports that either Turpan or Howe actually benefitted anyone other than themselves through their criminal actions. Thus many scholars have called their heroic status into question; Hughes falls soundly on the side proclaiming them common criminals (Hughes 1986).

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bushrangers, a vigilante acting on behalf of the wronged and bringing the oppressive authorities

to justice.

This tradition spread to the mainland and, “after 1825, the popular myth of the Australian

bushranger took its final form in story and folksong” (Hughes 1986: 234). Bushranging took

longer to form into a distinct tradition around the Sydney area because the colony had not

depended on bushrangers for kangaroo meat, as their provisions had been in a better state than

those on Tasmania (Hughes 1986). Once the practice had taken root, however, it posed even

more of a threat in Sydney than it did in Tasmania because there was far more open space which

could conceal the bushrangers, such as Blue Mountains6, which were located “within striking

distance of new trunk roads and farms” (Hughes 1986: 235). These bushrangers possessed such

deadly skills that Governor Brisbane formed a squadron of mounted police, whose sole purpose

was to track down and capture these outlaws (Hughes 1986). The mounted police, however,

were not well-received by the general public, even by the citizens suffering robberies perpetrated

by bushrangers: “They were apt to use violence when dealing with small Emancipist settlers

whom they routinely suspected of harboring bushrangers out of criminal sympathy” (Hughes

1986: 236). This method of justice was questionable at best and only contributed to the culture

of mistrust which gripped the settlement. These officers were also despised by “free workers,”

who were often arrested under suspicion of being bushrangers based solely on their migratory

nature (Hughes 1986).7 Given the state of corruption within law enforcement agencies, it was

only a matter of time before many people began to sway their sympathies towards the

6 Most bushrangers within this region had originally been absconders fleeing the “dreaded iron gangs,” who were forced to mine under punishing physical conditions; many fled out of fear for their lives (Hughes 1986).7 The law demanded that all men traveling must have both a ticket of leave and a travel pass on his person to prove that his journey was business-oriented; anyone failing to produce these documents was arrested on spot (Hughes 1986).

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bushrangers. Out of this culture of mistrust sprung the man who would later be evoked as the

archetypal Australian bushranger: John Donohoe.

John was “sentenced to life transportation in Dublin in 1823,” igniting the long tradition

of the Irishman as the quintessential bushranger (Hughes 1986: 237). Although he worked as a

servant for two years, he began a life of cattle robbery in 1827, but was unfortunately captured

quickly and sentenced to death by hanging (Hughes 1986). He was, however, determined to

survive, and managed to escape before he could be locked in his holding cell. Donohoe quickly

became immersed in the bushranging lifestyle, gathering a band of absconders who burglarized

the wealthy and participated in many horse-thefts (Hughes 1986). After he was killed in a shoot-

out, it was revealed through the help of an ally-turned-informant that Donohoe had supplied

thirty or more seemingly upstanding settlers with a plethora of stolen goods, exposing the dark

underside of polite society (Hughes 1986). Although his run lasted but a few short years,

Donohoe was quickly elevated to the ranks of public hero via popular ballads, newspaper

coverage, and goods bearing his image and likeness – his success was as commercial as it was

social (Hughes 1986). There were other reasons behind his rapid claim to fame, however.

Governor Darling, who was responsible for ordering the ruthless hunt of the young outlaw, was

generally disliked by the public, and it was considered prime entertainment for these people see

this man made a fool through his failed attempts to capture Donohoe (Hughes 1986).

Donohoe was quickly immortalized through ballads, marking the first significant shift in

the portrayal of outlaws in song. Before Donohoe’s escapades, outlaw ballads employed the

criminal figure as a form of cautionary tale, which bespoke the dangers of refusing to accept the

values of the English government system (Hughes 1986). Ballads centered around the figure of

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Donohoe8 openly defied the system and bespoke the benefits of asserting one’s independence

over an unjust rule (Hughes 1986). Instead of sympathizing with the protagonists’ final laments

and urge to return to the system, the reader sympathizes with the protagonist him/herself because

he or she represents a righteous struggle. The focus is given to a very different kind of character

– one who pursues pure moral codes, even at the cost of the ostensibly superior legal system.

Once the glorification of the outlaw became widely accepted, the genre transformed its

previously taboo nature, and literary forms began to diverge from conventional norms of

portraying bushrangers. It was this shift in presentation which enabled poems such as “The Wild

Colonial Boy” and “Kelly Country” to gain such renown with the Australian audience.

AUSTRALIA’S MOST BELOVED OUTLAW – NED KELLY

Before a full analysis of the aforementioned poems can be given, one must understand

the history of Ned Kelly himself, whose life exemplifies trends of discrimination against Irish

Catholics amidst a culture in which figures such as John Donohoe had gained popular support.

Born in 1855 in Victoria, Ned Kelly was the son of Ellen Quinn and “Red” Kelly; his mother had

immigrated to Australia at a young age with her family, who became “free selector” settlers9,

while his father had been shipped to the country as a criminal charged with swine theft (McGrath

2012). Ned became engaged in criminal behavior from an early age, having faced multiple stints

in jail for horse theft and robbery by the time he was fifteen (Seal 2011). It was during one of

these brushes with the law that Ned Kelly, the small-time criminal, transformed into Ned Kelly

the bushranger. When officers were tracking Ned’s younger brother, Dan, with the intention to

arrest him for horse theft, the Kelly home was invaded sans a proper warrant and Kelly’s mother

8 Variations of Donohoe’s name appear throughout other works, all with the initials J.D.9 Under the Robertson Land Acts, persons with little means were given small sections of land, which they were required to farm to advance the settlement of the country (McDermott).

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and sister, Kate, were ostensibly harassed by one Officer Fitzpatrick, who threatened to shoot

them if they did not cooperate (McDermott 2002). Ned returned to the family home to find

Fitzpatrick in the process of arresting his brother Dan and, according to Kelly, gravely

mistreating his female relations. In his rage at what he perceived as discriminatory treatment

against his family, Ned initiated a struggle with Fitzpatrick ending in the officer being disarmed

and the Kelly brothers fleeing into the bush (McDermott 2002). A bounty was put on the

brothers’ heads and their mother was arrested and taken into custody along with her infant

daughter (Seal 2011).

The brothers formed a tight-knit band alongside several of their closest friends, also of

Irish descent, who had allegedly been treated unfairly by the police, accused of crimes without

“proper” legal proceedings (McGrath 2012). These men were deftly skilled in bush survival and

enemy evasion, and officers sent to track and apprehend them usually came up empty-handed.

This prolonged chased came to a head on the twenty-sixth of October, on which the Kelly gang

discovered a police encampment at Stringybark Creek; the ensuing armed confrontation left three

of the four officers shot to death and the remaining officer too frightened to recollect the exact

manner in which the shoot-out had transpired10 (Seal 2011).

The government raised the bounty on Ned’s head and evoked the New South Wales

Felons Apprehension Act against him, which declared that Kelly could be shot on sight and that

persons suspected of harboring him or aiding him in some other manner could be arrested

without significant substantial proof (Seal 2011). With their lives already compromised, the

Kelly gang felt no need to back down from their criminal activity, as they were guaranteed unfair

10 It remains a matter of debate as to who actually shot first in the confrontation. The officer asserted that Kelly and his gang unexpectedly opened fire on the encampment, while Kelly’s “Jerilderie Letter” insists that the officers shot first (McDermott 2002).

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treatment under the law. Dire conditions inspired them to commit grander crimes, which would

have a greater impact upon the public conscience. No longer were the members of the gang

petty livestock thieves given to brawling and disorderly conduct, but bank robbers and

homestead burglars who took hostages on multiple occasions (Seal 2011).

At the height of their activity, the gang planned “to derail a police train near Glenrowan

Station” in an act of ultimate defiance of a corrupt system (Seal 2011: 98). They took many

hostages, who were held at a Glenrowan hotel, but treated these persons with a surprising

amount of respect; none of the civilian hostages were harmed by the gang, who even entertained

their captives with a lively party to ease the collective boredom (Seal 2011). During this

merrymaking, Kelly delivered several speeches to his audience, crying out for social justice

which had been denied to him and fellow Irish free-selectors. Relying on his ancestor’s well-

established oral tradition, he swayed public opinion to sympathize with him and his seemingly

noble plight (Eggert 2007). It was also during this revelry that Kelly dictated his now-famous

“Jerilderie Letter” to Joe Byrne, the only literate member of his gang, and coerced one of the

hostages into having the work published in the local paper (McDermott 2002).11 These letters

build off of Kelly’s various speeches and present his ethic in a clear and concise form,

elaborating on his past and the wrongs he had suffered under the Victorian legal system while

advocating large-scale social changes he deemed necessary to a prosperous Australian future.

Sadly, the great “ethicist” was not to live to see any of his goals realized.

Officers had been informed of the derailment plan ahead of time and rapidly flocked to

the scene, prompting a shootout of far greater proportions than had been witnessed at the

11 There is, however, ongoing debate about the true authorship of the Kelly Letters, hinged on the belief that Byrne could have significantly altered Kelly’s original dictation. For an in-depth debate on the matter which ultimately declares Kelly the true author, see McDermott’s “Who Said the Kelly Letters” (2002).

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Stringybark Creek incident (Seal 2011). Aaron Sheritt, the suspected police informant, was shot

by Kelly’s men at the beginning of the gun fight, which would claim the lives of three gang

members and several hostages, who were shot to death by the police force (Seal 2011). Despite

the “armor”12 Kelly had fashioned out of scrap metal, he was hit in an exposed portion of his leg

and captured, being “nursed back to health” before he was “tried for murder and hanged in

Melbourne on 11 November 1880, amid considerable public outcry at his fate” (Seal 2011: 99).

His now-iconic last words rang loud and clear throughout the courtroom: “Such is life”

(McGrath 2012: 7).

While Kelly’s tale is compelling even in modernity, how is he significant enough to

solicit such enduring fame from his Australian audience? His life does not appear momentously

different from that of many famed British and American outlaws, such as Dick Turpin and Jesse

James, the latter being one of his most noteworthy contemporaries.13 In many ways, James’ life

mirrored Kelly’s. Like Kelly, James was born in a then-expanding colonial territory (Missouri)

and suffered great legal persecution by Union officers, as he was a Confederate and a thorough

Southern sympathizer (Jones and Wills 2009). His female relations were harassed and

imprisoned for much the same reasons as Kelly’s were, and his brother was also the subject of

legal persecution (Jones and Wills 2009). James also took to the same criminal measures as

Kelly, joining a guerrilla army which eventually developed into the James Gang; the group was

dedicated to robbing banks and hijacking trains, but was sensationalized by the papers as 12 There have been several artistic depictions of this unusual gear, with famed artist Sydney Nolan portraying the most iconic variation. Nolan’s display can be viewed at the NGA alongside the actual armor itself; the collection is incomplete, however, as the suit owned by the Police Museum would not relinquish it for the fear of the public “glorifying a police killer” (McGrath 2012: 20).13 Kelly and James are, perhaps, most interesting to compare and contrast in terms of film, for although Kelly had a film based on his life much earlier than James, James has made far more movies across the years. This is due, in part, to a ban which was placed on outlaw films in Australia in 1911, which was not revoked until 1942 (McFarlane 2006). Australian films were also largely influenced by Hollywood Westerns, giving the “sibling” nations striking similarities in their outlaw portrayals. For a more complete analysis, see McFarlene’s “Ned Kelly Rides Again” and Eisenberg’s “Shooting Cinematic Outlaws.”

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successors of the highwayman tradition (Jones and Wills 2009). While James was popular in the

west, he was not received so well in the east, which was majority Union-sympathetic. The west

identified with his plight, however, as most of the population had suffered harsh treatment by

Union soldiers as a punishment for their actions in the Civil War (Jones and Wills 2009).

Although James and his people were not persecuted on an ethnic basis like the Kelly Gang, they

possessed intimate knowledge of being in the position of the downtrodden and socially wronged.

Jones and Wills perfectly sum up James’ relation with the post-war South: “He reflected the

problems of a post-war Missouri, bankrupt, corrupt and struggling. True to Western tradition,

vigilante justice seemed to be more capable than newly arrived law officials from the North. The

unfolding James legend reflected a desire for protest against the new South” (2009: 249).

Except for geographic variations, this quote could apply exactly to Kelly and his purposes

for the outlaw lifestyle. If these men were so similar, then, why is Kelly elevated to the ranks of

national hero, whilst Jesse James is more of a popular culture ideal? By analyzing David

Campbell’s “Kelly Country” in light of these historical factors, one can draw conclusions about

Kelly’s critical renown.

KELLY COUNTRY

Campbell’s poem is divided into six separate sections, all of which are connected by

underlying themes as opposed to a strict chronological order. The first and last stanzas of

Section I (“Power’s Lookout”) are entirely void of temporal indicators; they could easily have

taken place before the birth of Kelly or decades after his execution. In fact, it is hinted that the

poem fluctuates throughout time, as the concluding stanza of Section I reads “Make love not

war./Beyond the polished tourist rail/A young man lies beside his girl” (18-20). There would be

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little reason for a “tourist rail” to be in place at the time of Kelly’s crimes, as he was not fully

immortalized until after his death; it would be more socially acceptable for locations that he had

visited to be designated as tourist sites postmortem. “Make love not war” was also a popular

saying of American hippies during the 1960’s and would not yet have existed in 1800’s

Australia. This flexibility of time creates the effect of Kelly defying imprisonment within a

particular time or genre, as his presence exists within the past and the then-future.14 While James

is well-known in American culture, he tends to remain confined to the Western genre, which

evokes a specific time and place within the country’s history (Jones and Wills 2009). This

popularity within his niche has led James to become a well-known but highly limited topic,

unlike Kelly, who can be examined through the lenses of genre, social reform or Australian

aesthetics.

“Kelly Country” utilizes ample amounts of natural imagery, a common trope in

Australian poetry, as the bush was highly exotic, and even dangerous, to the first Englishmen

who explored it. In the poem, however, the typical foreign quality of the landscape is

significantly downplayed, void of words commonly applied to animals and plants in the

Australian vernacular with the exception of “bush.” This removal of the alien creates a sense of

familiarity within the reader. English-speaking audiences anywhere could read the poem and

only have an indication of its setting due to the naming of specific towns, creating a unique

universality which is absent in the James tradition. Depicting Australia as less foreign and more

familiar intimately ties Kelly to the land itself. He is thus transfigured from an Australian outlaw

into the spirit of Australia itself – tough and imposing but recognizable and experienced by all.

14 Campbell’s poem was published in 1974.

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This distinctive interplay of Kelly as universal yet irrevocably Australian allows his importance

to travel outside the country while fostering national spirit within it.

Sections III and IV of the poem “The Eleven Mile Creek” and “Kelly’s Tree: Stringybark

Creek” respectfully) enforce this theme most concretely. Section III describes the Kelly

residence as “Two chimneys of apricot/At the Eleven Mile the Kellys built” (3-4), painting the

image of the family as cultivators and shapers of the land. The family quite literally transformed

the land around them and left their mark on it by constructing their dwelling place, representative

of their influence upon the public sphere. It was not just one Kelly who contributed to the famed

historical events, but was rather a chain reaction balancing on the links between relations. Kelly

was always immersed in crime, but many believe that it was the violation of his kin that

solidified his determination to reshape society (Seal 2011).

The concluding line of Section III describes the dwelling of the Kellys as “A country rich

in poverty” (15). This statement is so encompassing that it identifies the entire country as

corrupt and unbalanced, with a significant amount of the population suffering while a minority

lives in opulence. One reason for Kelly’s eager reception during his heyday, then, would be a

question of numbers: if the majority of the population would benefit from Kelly’s actions and

desired reforms, then it would make more sense for them to support him as opposed to those in

power. In America, however, the situation was not as clear-cut, as the Civil War had led to a

divide between the North and the South. This is a more equivalent division, and while the North

was responsible for punishing the South with harsh measures, there was a bigger base of

Northerners who would back this oppression. Kelly had the masses on his side, while American

masses were more divided on the reception of James (Jones and Wills 2009).

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Section IV describes the shooting at Stringybark Creek through the point of view of

wildlife within the creek itself. The fact that the title contains the phrase “Kelly’s Tree” is

indicative of his tie to the land, perhaps hinting that he is more deserving of dominion than the

forces in power that actively oppress him. Kelly’s connection to the land is what allowed him to

evade capture for so long, and his skills were so developed that only Aboriginals could ever track

him through the bush (McGrath 2012). If the land is seen as belonging to and acting in

cooperation with Kelly, then Kelly’s leadership ideals are not only superior to and more

inherently Australian than the “foreign” British supporters’ methods, but are quite literally the

“natural” way for society to function. Lines 11 and 12 further enforce the landscape’s alignment

with Kelly: “The whip-bird cracks a rifle shot/And twice his mate replies in kind.” Nature is

imitating the works of Kelly, who has just shot officer Lonigan dead at the Creek. By mirroring

Kelly’s deeds, the natural world can be seen as validating the outlaw’s actions, as these birds are

spreading knowledge of what has occurred through their imitation. One can read this as a form of

heroic praise, with the true spirit of Australia rooting for Kelly.15

Section V, titled “Glenrowan,” moves away from the natural aspect of Kelly and focuses

on the brutality of those who opposed him. Once again slipping through time into a more

futuristic setting, the section describes the desolate state which the titular town has been left.

The first verse describes the location of the burnt down hotel where Kelly hosted his last public

performance, noting that near the destruction there is “A roadsign [that] says Police” (4).

Standing so close to the locus of devastation, the sign shamelessly points towards the harshest

aggressors in the situation: those who were ideally supposed to protect the civilians’ lives. As

15 Interestingly enough, Ned Kelly later gained popular appeal with the Aboriginal peoples, because they viewed him as a fellow victim of British imperialism who was not as disrespectful to their people and their way of life. Historical records even state that Kelly learned the art of navigating the bush from a nearby Aboriginal tribe, and these skills made them far more fearsome to him than any white police officer (McGrath 2012).

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stated earlier, it was the police, not the Kelly gang, who were responsible for shooting the

civilians at the siege of Glenrowan, just as it was the police who sacked and burnt “Mrs. Jones’

hotel” (2).16 As time moves on, the scene does not seem to improve, as “a dump for cars” joins

the charred remains of the hotel (5). By preserving the scene as an epicenter of ruin, the poem

implies that the damage caused by the corrupt persons in power can never truly be rectified, and

will continue on throughout the years. This underlying political note is what gives Kelly

relevance to the modern audience, as they can rally around him to work for social change which

would reduce harm by authority and uplift those struggling under the current system. The

government sealed its role as unjust executioner when they hung Kelly despite popular appeal

and pleas for his life by a majority of the public.

The government, however, was not directly responsible for the death of Jesse James.

Even though they were responsible for putting a bounty on his head, it was a friend and former

confidant of James’, Robert Ford, who shot and killed the popular outlaw; he was lured by the

promise of reward, which he was mostly denied, before being murdered in vengeance by another

friend of James’ months later (Jones and Wills 2009). While ironic and perhaps tragic, James’

death has a certain finality about it: he leaves us with neither chilling last words nor a biting

manifesto. On the other hand, by associating Kelly with lasting and continuous damage, the

poem frames the struggle between oppressors and oppressed as never-ending. It continues on in

the modern half of the stanza, implying that such practices continue on with different external

presentations. By making the same issues relevant today, persons can rally around Kelly as a

hero against unjust systems, keeping his legend, and thus his social importance, alive.

16 This action becomes considerably crueler when one notes that Mrs. Jones probably had very little choice but to cooperate with the outlaws (McDermott 2002).

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The last stanza of Section VI (“If It Moves”) perhaps illustrates the corruption of

government structures most poignantly: “If I’d my way/I’d shoot or hang/All thinking

men/While they are young” (21-24). The speaker of these lines is never named, though one can

infer that it comes from an authority figure, as Kelly’s hanging has just been described. Unlike

the previous stanza set specifically during the execution, however, this stanza is not anchored in

time, leaving the exact moment it was spoken up to reader interpretation. Did the official speak

these words as Kelly was being executed, or is this an official speaking from the future? By

leaving these lines ambiguous to historicizing, Campbell invites the reader to apply the same

principle both in the past an in the future. Unless the Kellys of the world succeed in their

missions, then those in power will continue to oppress and undermine those who would oppose

them. Such subjugation has been witnessed from African warlords to Nazi Germany to the rule

of North Korea, and unless someone defies the law, history will continue to repeat itself.

While not directly presented in the poem, Kelly quite literally continues to call modern

audiences into action through the preservation of his earlier mentioned “Jerilderie Letters.” In

this manuscript, Kelly called for a vast social reform, which some scholars have even speculated

would transform the Victoria region into a republic independent of control from the British

Crown (McDermott 2002). He called for the better treatment of free selectors, those of Irish

descent, widows, orphans, and the impoverished, accusing the police force of systematically

mistreating these vulnerable groups (McDermott 2002). Kelly also sought to justify himself and

his actions through these letters, narrating the story of his life because his enemies had spread

many rumors about his family and his upbringing, most of which were not favorable for public

reception (McDermott 2002). Most of all, the letters serve as a plea for the audience to

understand the drastic actions Kelly was forced to take. As an archetypal outlaw, he would not

Burke 22

have resorted to murder if such a course was at all evitable; it was the system and its enforcers

which left him no choice but to lash out to save himself and his family (McDermott 2002).17

James wrote several letters to the paper asserting his innocence and expressing his political views

much like Kelly, yet his message was not quite as revolutionary. James desired for the South to

return to its pre-Civil War glory, which was a sentiment commonly held by Southerners at the

time (Jones and Wills 2009). Kelly’s radical call to begin an independent republic would have

been far more shocking to the British authorities, as they had already suffered the loss of their

former colonies in America. The “Jerilderie Letters,” perhaps, raise so much interest because

they portray a radically different vision of the ways that Australia could have progressed as a

country.

THE WILD COLONIAL BOY

Another poem which cannot be left out of any analysis on the permanence of Australian

outlaw worship is “The Wild Colonial Boy,” which was penned by an anonymous author in

1881.18 Many sources imply that Ned Kelly was familiar with some version of the tune; the

exact scope of its impact upon his later career is unknown, but it would have been a prominent

cultural phenomenon during his upbringing (Hughes 1986).19 “The Wild Colonial Boy” details

the life and capture of Jack Doolan, which is believed to be variation of the earlier discussed

John Donohue. While this poem is also widely regarded as a beloved folk song, its true impact

upon the culture is not one of content, but of portrayal. Earlier outlaw verses with a distinctly

British flavor20 served as cautionary tales, whereas “The Wild Colonial Boy” openly praises the 17 Kelly, however, did not consider the killing of the police force as murder, instead presenting it as both self-defense and “killing his natural enemies” (McDermott 2002: 259). 18 Though this is just one of many versions; the poem has been reworked so many different ways it is nearly impossible to chart all the different variations of the John Donohue tale (Hughes 1986).19 The connection is so prevalent in modern film adaptations of the Kelly story, in fact, that most of them feature Kelly singing the poem (McFarlane 2006).20 Widely known as “border ballads.” For more information, see Soodalter (2004).

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exploits and aesthetic of Jack Doolan. The poem begins by lauding Doolan’s lineage as

respectable: “Of poor but honest parents he was born in Castlemain/He was his father’s only

hope, his mother’s only joy,/And dearly did they love the wild Colonial boy” (2-4). Unlike the

earlier cautionary ballads, Doolan is not the product of bad stock; he is of fundamentally good

blood and is thus ultimately a moral character himself (Hughes 1986). His upbringing was warm

and loving, not serving to corrupt his character like the highwaymen of British verse. This setup

of a tightly-knit family reflects the disheartening exportation of the historical John Donohue,

who was sent to a foreign continent against his will and forever removed from his grief-stricken

parents (Hughes 1986). In light of this historical context, the powerful oppressors are framed as

the true villains early on in the poem, albeit in a subtle manner.

The next stanza is narrated from Doolan’s point of view, and it outlines the deeds which

the hero and his band will engage in: “Together we will plunder, together we will die” (6). While

such a course of action may initially appear objectionable, the poem is quick to clarify Doolan’s

true character: “We’ll wander over valleys, and gallop over plains,/And we’ll scorn to live in

slavery, bound down with iron chains” (7-8). Doolan is not a petty criminal who delights in

robbery and death, but is a young man who has been forced into outlawry by oppressive societal

norms. The iron chains probably relates to the harsh mining conditions in the Blue Mountains,

which prompted large numbers of convicts to abscond; for many, even death was a gentler

punishment than this life of inhumane labor (Hughes 1986). Many of the Irish prisoners were

imported into the country against their will, turning them, for all intents and purposes, into literal

slaves (Hughes 1986).

Doolan is not entirely without his scruples as to who he targets, however: “He robbed

those wealthy squatters, their stock he did destroy” (11). Like a true outlaw hero, Doolan

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aggrieved those whom the oppressed would perceive as “deserving” of such a punishment.

Many of the impoverished free-selectors were disadvantaged by squatters who circumvented the

legal system to procure the best swathes of land for themselves (Hughes 1986). Doolan was not

the first to rebuff the system, and his rejection becomes a form of reaction against those who

have already committed the greater evil. He was also an honorable young man, who employed a

strict code of morals when going about his crimes. For example, when he robs the corrupt Judge

MacEvoy, he does not use physical violence against the man, simply taking the desired gold and

leaving the Judge be with a warning for the future: “… and told him to beware,/That he’d never

rob a hearty chap that acted on the square” (17-18). The outlaw is thus presented as a

reformative figure, who lets the offender off with a warning in the hopes that the man will

change himself for the better. Doolan also avoids harming vulnerable populations, especially

women and children: “Never to rob a mother of her son and only joy” (19). Unlike the

cautionary ballads, Doolan does not have to wait until the brink of death to learn a valuable

lesson, as he has already come to the conclusion that he must not harm a person the same way his

beloved mother was harmed. He thus refuses to worsen the condition of society by contributing

to the cycle of violence.

Doolan’s demise is also a great deal more dignified than previous examples given in the

outlaw genre up until that point in time. He expresses no regrets at his encroaching death, and

goes down fighting, killing one of his assailants and wounding another (24-32). It is the men of

the law who are presented as the aggressors in the scenario, as they track Doolan down for the

sole purpose of capture, intruding on his territory and thus setting into motion the bloody chain

of events which followed. At the time of the first attack, Doolan is described as “A-listening to

the little birds, their pleasant laughing song” (21). In this line, Doolan is both highly vulnerable

Burke 25

and the picture of innocence; instead of attacking a dangerous man, the trackers are framed as

inciting violence against a peaceful, nearly childlike revolutionary. Perhaps if these men had not

been so eager to obtain “justice,” then the deaths could have been avoided and the meaningless

damage left undone. Instead of glorifying those who brought the outlaw to justice, as earlier

ballads did, this poem frames them as ruffians who seek out conflict merely on a whim. Such

characterization does not highlight social systems positively, and instead of praising the

normative value system, “The Wild Colonial Boy” admonishes it.

“The Wild Colonial Boy” is not so influentially famous for its form and content, which

have been replicated many times since the poem’s inception. Rather, it was so deeply influential

in Australian culture because of its innovation. By shifting the outlaw to the position of hero, the

poem generates a new form allowing the common person to openly speak out against an

oppressive legal system. While this shift may be something a modern, Western audience takes

for granted, it would have been significantly radical at the time, as rules were set forth by the

Crown. Historically, the Crown was considered in league with and instrumental to God’s will on

earth, and most persons in the English-speaking tradition were of a Christian descent, which they

took seriously; thus, it was unlikely that many people would consider speaking out for fear of

insulting God, even if they disagreed with the policies of the secular ruler (Hughes 1986). Such

boldness on Doolan’s part indicates a growing sense of autonomy within the oppressed

populations, many of whom doubted that the punishment doled out by the rulers was in line with

divine will at all; hence the vast number of Irish absconders who viewed their escape into a

(mostly imagined) Paradise as ultimate liberation from their overlords (Hughes 1986). It also

indicates the development of a distinctly Australian tradition, which is related to but separate

Burke 26

from its “parent” British tradition. The outlaw figure allows generations of future Australians to

realize their own culture as distinct, not merely an offshoot or vestige of the British tradition.

Framing the outlaw as a bringer of autonomy was even more significant in the Australian

tradition than it was in the American tradition. Because Australia was founded as a penal

colony, a majority of the persons within the land could personally relate to this new wave of

ballads. This tradition had the potential to challenge the ways in which society viewed these

convicts and the ways in which the convicts viewed themselves. By realizing that a system

which gives rise to the need for such illicit conditions must be ultimately flawed, the convicts

could begin to formulate solutions for the wider societal problems; Ned Kelly is perhaps the best

example of this shift in his “Jerilderie Letters.” America, on the other hand, was not founded by

criminals, but by law-abiding merchants and settlers for the purpose of colonization and

gathering of natural resources. Unlike Australia, one of its primary factors for inception was not

the isolation of criminals from a wider population, and the original settlers were not imported

against their will (Hughes 1986).21 Thus, America would already have a greater sense of

autonomy, which would make the figure of the outlaw inspiring but less striking.

“SONNETS TO BE WRITTEN FROM PRISON”

As “The Wild Colonial Boy” is renowned because it crystalizes a shift in major literary

traditions and a reshaping of public opinion, it is by no means the final step in this evolutionary

process. The outlaw tradition in Australia is continuing to develop to this day, both

conventionally and in ways which appear to be at odds with this well-established convention. A

primary example of this shift can be witnessed in internationally famous poet Robert Adamson’s

21 Unless one considers the slaves brought in from Africa; these people, however, were not counted as citizens and were thus not usually factored into the demographics of colonial America.

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“Sonnets to be Written from Prison,” in which an outlaw reflects on his current predicament –

incarceration. Adamson does not present his outlaw as a rowdy freedom fighter; rather, he

works through the bizarre situation of being held against one’s will and the psychological

consequences of such a way of life. These six sonnets are so remarkable due to their unique

inspiration – Adamson’s real-life incarceration (2015).

Perhaps no one is better qualified to write about an outlaw than an outlaw himself. Like

traditional outlaws, Adamson took up criminal activity at a young age, stealing the rarest Bird of

Paradise from the Taronga Zoo at the ripe age of eleven (Adamson 2015). Throughout his teens,

he was in and out of the juvenile justice system for multiple cases of burglary, and was subjected

to some of Australia’s harshest correctional facilities. Despite being brought up in the rich

outlaw culture of Australia22, he never admired these figures aside from an interest in Hollywood

movies, as his pacifist nature made many of these men and women’s brutal tendencies quite

shocking to him. Even under situations of great injustice and wrongdoing, Adamson never

advocated violent means to eliminate problems (Adamson 2015). Obviously, he is quite unlike

the traditional outlaw, which is a fascinating point to be considered later on.

The voice of the disillusioned outlaw rings clear through Adamson’s six prison sonnets.

Sonnet number one opens with “O to be “in the news” again - now as fashion runs/everything

would go for “prison sonnets”: I’d be on my own” (1-2). The world-weary speaker reflects on

the tendency for the news to sensationalize the deeds of outlaws, turning crimes into a means of

public entertainment and gossip. This painful sense of self-realization is voiced in the following

22 Adamson’s father, who was Irish Catholic, was fond of the Ned Kelly legend and would frequently sing songs about the renowned outlaw; even then Adamson never admired Kelly or other famous outlaws because their violent lives always ended in premature death (Adamson 2015). He did, however, acknowledge that Kelly did legitimately suffer from heavy discrimination against the Irish and even stated that had Kelly refrained from a life of bushranging, he could have been a brilliant poet due to the beauty and complexity he exhibited in the “Jerilderie Letters.”

Burke 28

lines: “I could once more, go out with pale skin/From my veritable dank cell – the sufferer,

poking fun/at myself in form, with a slightly twisted tone” (3-5). These lines comment on the

potential danger of glorifying the deeds of an outlaw, even one who might seem justified by

fighting in the name of the greater good. If all crimes are normalized and become nothing more

than a spectacle, then there is no need to sequester the criminal as a danger to society. As the

watered-down version of criminal as entertainer posits, then there is no stigma to wrongdoing; it

becomes a “laughing matter” of sorts in which the speaker literally mocks himself through the

poems, and the general public laughs along.

Sonnet number two is focused on the necessary elements which foster the growth of this

unhealthy tradition. Sensationalizing crime is an ineffective method of solving the underlying

cause of the actions. The victims of the crimes are not helped to recover, even if they are pitied,

as the general public is too preoccupied wondering what the outlaw will do next. It is this media

exposure and public curiosity that feeds the outlaw craze, which cannot continue to grow without

the aforementioned factors: “Once more, almost a joke - this most serious endeavor/is too

intense: imagine a solitary typewriter? Somehow fashion runs its course -” (1-3). When

outlawry once again becomes unfashionable, then what will be left of the tradition? Only people

whose voices are still not heard, destruction that has yet to be repaired, and legal officials who

are more willing to oppress their followers for fear of a future uprising.

The corrupt justice system is mocked throughout all of the sonnets, yet the speaker never

proposes violence as a legitimate means of solving this ill. For example, sonnet number two’s

“Your Honour, please -/bring me to my senses” perfectly captures the ridiculousness of some

methods of administering justice (10-11). While the poem clearly advocates a need for reform of

the justice system, it suggests a different means: “bringing poetry and lawbreaking into serious

Burke 29

interplay” (6). If a dialogue is opened between the oppressor and the oppressed, then change and

compromise become possible. This type of action is a viable solution to the actual underlying

problem, which the speaker believes earlier acts of defiance against the law did not truly support.

The deeds of famous outlaws managed to bring the issues to light through an extreme form of

protest, but they ultimately did not resolve anything after the outlaws’ deaths. Even with popular

support on the side of the protestor, no negotiating was seriously carried out between the

disadvantaged and the empowered. The goal of poetry (and other communicative arts) is thus to

enlighten those in power; it persistently sends the message that the masses have something that

they need to say, and that they cannot be silenced forever. If this exchange is not taken seriously,

then criminal issues will only continue to occur and nothing will be resolved: “So the myth

continues, growing/fat and dangerous on a thousand impractical intuitions” (10).

Adamson debunks the glory of the outlaw tradition while operating within the very same

tradition, demonstrating that this ages-old form of absolving social ills needs to be phased out.

Violence, even if undertaken with the best of intentions, can only inspire further violence;

disasters will continue on repeat unless halted by a drastically different plan of action. The

sorrowful and cynical tone of the incarcerated outlaw in these six sonnets also highlights other

pitfalls within the outlaw tradition, as they focus on glorifying the rebellious ways of the outlaw

without illustrating ways in which these men and women were very much human. Making a god

out of mortals runs the risk of making them infallible objects of worship which no longer serve

their original purpose - questioning the way society works while striving to improve its

downfalls. The need for social regeneration should be at the center of the outlaw tradition, not

the mythologizing of their lives and criminal actions. This is the new social conscience that the

next generation must inhabit, as the time of violent protest has come and gone.

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As a figure entrenched in the very core of human culture itself, it is unlikely that the

outlaw hero will ever completely die out. While the history of the tradition has shown

significant shifts, such as the outlaw becoming a symbol of freedom as opposed to a

representative of the necessity for repentance, the general traits of these men and women have

remained consistent. Adamson presents an outlaw who is both identical to, yet divergent from,

the illustrious outlaws of the past. These persons protest unjust systems, yet violence has been

largely taken out of the equation. We are in a state of increasing globalization, rapidly

connecting humanity in ways never before witnessed while raising new questions about power,

morality, and justice. Will the “outlaws” of the future conform to the blueprint, fighting for

liberation with violence which they believe is ultimately justified by their noble goals? Or will

these men and women follow Adamson’s way, and partake in vigorous yet nonviolent protests,

aiming to heal society by bringing the people and the government into dialogue? Perhaps it is

time for the outlaw tradition to travel a less-beaten path and once again become a symbol of

innovation and social change.

REFERENCES

Adamson, Robert. Personal interview. 17 March 2015.

Adamson, Robert. “Sonnets to be Written in Prison.” The Literature of Australia. Ed. Nicholas

Jose. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2009. 1036-38. Print.

Bemrose, John. “Dialogue with a desperado.” Maclean's 114.13 Mar. 2001: 48-50. Academic

Search Complete. Web. 3 May 3, 2015.

Campbell, David. “Kelly Country.” The Literature of Australia. Ed. Nicholas Jose. New York:

W.W. Norton & Company, 2009. 602-5. Print.

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Eggert, Paul. “The Bushranger's Voice: Peter Carey's "True History of the Kelly Gang" (2000)

and Ned Kelly's "Jerilderie Letter" (1879).” College Literature 34.3 Summer2007: 120-

139. Academic Search Complete. Web. 3 May 3, 2015.

Eisenberg, Daniel. “Shooting cinematic outlaws: Ned Kelly and Jesse James as viewed through

film.” Studies in Australasian Cinema 5.2 May 2011: 145-54. Art Full Text. Web. 3 May

2015.

Hughes, Robert. The Fatal Shore. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1986. Print.

Jones, Karen R. and Wills, John. American West : Competing Visions. Edinburgh : Edinburgh

University Press, 2009. eBook Collection. Web. 3 May 2015.

Juddery, Mark. “THE STORY OF THE KELLY GANG.” History Today 58.1 Jan. 2008: 24-30.

Academic Search Complete. Web. 3 May 3, 2015.

McDermott, Alex. “Who Said the Kelly Letters?” Australian Historical Studies 33.118 Jan 2002:

255-73. Academic Search Complete. Web. 3 May 2015.

McFarlane, Brian. “NED KELLY RIDES AGAIN … AGAIN AND AGAIN.” Screen Education

41 2006: 24-32. Academic Search Complete. Web. 3 May 2015.

National Museum of Australia: Jerilderie Letter. National Museum of Australia (n.p.), 2003-

2013. Web. 3 May 2015.

O'Callaghan, John and Micheal O hAodha. Narratives of the Occluded Irish Diaspora :

Subversive Voices. Oxford: Reimagining Ireland, 2012. eBook Collection. Web. 3 May

2015.

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Seal, Graham. Outlaw Heroes in Myth and History. London : Anthem Press, 2011. eBook

Collection. Web. 3 May 2015.

Soodalter, Ron. “Poor Boy, You’re BOUND TO DIE.” American History 48.6 Feb. 2004: 36-41.

MasterFILE Premier. Web. 3 May 2015.

“The Wild Colonial Boy.” The Literature of Australia. Ed. Nicholas Jose. New York: W.W.

Norton & Company, 2009. 127-28. Print.