A lot has been written about Australia, especially in recent times. In the 1960s - when I was a teenager, there a few classics that demanded a close reading. They included Arthur Jose (History of Australasia, 1899/1914); Ernest Scott (A Short History of Australia, 1916/1947); J.P. Chard (History of Australia for Commonwealth schools, 1928); W.K. Hancock (Australia, 1930/1961); Brian Fitzpatrick (The Australian People, 1946); Manning Clarke (Select Documents in Australian History, 1955 & A Short History of Australia 1962); Russell Ward (The Australian Legend, 1958), Gordon Greenwood [ed.] (A Social and Political History. 3rd Edition, 1964); and A.G.L. Shaw (Economic Development of Australia).
Today there are hundreds of books and articles that explain the nation's evolution, discuss what it is to be an Australian, and interrogate its current status. The following postings cover key incidents that not only helped shaped the nation's political institutions, but also impacted on the nation's social and economic structures and national character. Special attention will be given to social and cultural cohesion on one hand, and social and cultural division on the other.
In May 1942 Robert 'Bob' Menzies delivered a speech that set the tone for the conduct of politics in Australia for the next three decades. Bob was Australia’s longest-serving Prime Minister having had two goes at it. His first stint ran from 1939–1941, and one of his tasks was - following the lead of Great Britain, the mother country so to speak - declare war on Germany. He regained the levers of power in 1949 and remained the nation's Prime Minister until 1966, when he retired from public life. All up, he spent 18 years as Australia's PM, a record that is unlikely to be beaten.
In 1942, as part of his rehabilitation and subsequent reinvention, he helped establish the Liberal Party of Australia. One of his great achievements was to compile a 'manifesto' that explained what the Liberal Party stood for and identify its key constituents, who were all those forgotten people in the suburbs of Australia's major cities. They were, in short, the middle classes, who Bob labelled the 'backbone of the country.' His speech tapped into the values and aspirations of 'middle Australians like no other previous political pronouncement. It was a landmark document and is reproduced below.
THE FORGOTTEN PEOPLE
Quite recently, a bishop wrote a letter to a great daily newspaper. His theme was the importance of doing justice to the workers. His belief, apparently, was that the workers are those who work with their hands. He sought to divide the people of Australia into classes. He was obviously suffering from what has for years seemed to me to be our greatest political disease - the disease of thinking that the community is divided into the relatively rich and the relatively idle, and the laborious poor, and that every social and political controversy can be resolved into the question: What side are you on? Now, the last thing that I would want to do is to commence or take part in a false war of this kind. In a country like Australia the class war must always be a false war.
But if we are to talk of classes, then the time has come to say something of the forgotten class - the middle class - those people who are constantly in danger of being ground between the upper and the nether millstones of the false war; the middle class who, properly regarded represent the backbone of this country. We do not have classes here as in England, and therefore the terms do not mean the same; so I must define what I mean when I use the expression "middle class." Let me first define it by exclusion. I exclude at one end of the scale the rich and powerful: those who control great funds and enterprises and are as a rule able to protect themselves - though it must be said that in a political sense they have as a rule shown neither comprehension nor competence. But I exclude them because, in most material difficulties, the rich can look after themselves. I exclude at the other end of the scale the mass of unskilled people, almost invariably well-organised, and with their wages and conditions safeguarded by popular law. What I am excluding them from is my definition of the middle class. We cannot exclude them from problems of social progress, for one of the 2 prime objects of modern social and political policy is to give them a proper measure of security and provide the conditions which will enable them to acquire skill and knowledge and individuality. These exclusions being made, I include the intervening range - the kind of people I myself represent in Parliament - salary-earners, shopkeepers, skilled artisans, professional men and women, farmers and so on.
These are, in the political and economic sense, the middle class. They are for the most part unorganised and unself-conscious. They are envied by those whose benefits are largely obtained by taxing them. They are not rich enough to have individual power. They are taken for granted by each political party in turn. They are not sufficiently lacking in individualism to be organised for what in these days we call "pressure politics." And yet, as I have said, they are the backbone of the nation. The communist has always hated what he calls the "bourgeoisie", because he sees clearly the existence of one has kept British countries from revolution, while the substantial absence of one in feudal France at the end of the eighteenth century and in Tsarist Russia at the end of the last war made revolution easy and indeed inevitable. You may say to me, "Why bring this matter up at this stage when we are fighting a war, the result of which we are all equally concerned?" My answer is that I am bringing it up because under the pressure of war we may, if we are not careful - if we are not as thoughtful as the times will permit us to be - inflict a fatal injury upon our own backbone. In point of political, industrial and social theory and practice, there are great delays in time of war. But there are also great accelerations.
We must watch each, remembering always that whether we know it or not, and whether we like it or not, the foundations of whatever new order is to come after the war are inevitably being laid down now. We cannot go wrong right up to the peace treaty and expect suddenly thereafter to go right. Now, what is the value of this middle class, so defined and described? First, it has a "stake in the country". It has responsibility for homes - homes material, homes human, and homes spiritual. I do not believe that the real life of this nation is to be found either in great luxury hotels and the petty gossip of so-called fashionable suburbs, or in the officialdom of the organised masses. It is to be found in the homes of people who are nameless and unadvertised, and who, whatever their individual religious conviction or dogma, see in their children their greatest contribution to the immortality of their race. The home is the foundation of sanity and sobriety; it is the indispensable condition of continuity; its health determines the health of society as a whole. I have mentioned homes material, homes human and homes spiritual. Let me take them in order. What do I mean by "homes material"? The material home represents the concrete expression of the habits of frugality and saving "for a home of our own." Your advanced socialist may rave against private property even while he acquires it; but one of the best instincts in us is that which induces us to have one little piece of earth with a house and a garden which is ours; to which we can withdraw, in which we can be among our friends, into which no stranger may come against our will. If you consider it, you will see that if, as in the old saying, "the Englishman's home is his castle", it is this very fact that leads on to the conclusion that he who seeks to violate that law by violating the soil of England must be repelled and defeated. National patriotism, in other words, inevitably springs from the instinct to defend and preserve our own homes. Then we have homes human.
A great house, full of loneliness, is not a home. "Stone walls do not a prison make", nor do they make a house. They may equally make a stable or a piggery. Brick walls, dormer windows and central heating need not make more than a hotel. My home is where my wife and children are. The instinct to be with them is the great instinct of civilised man; the instinct to give them a chance in life - to make them not leaners but lifters - is a noble instinct. If Scotland has made a great contribution to the theory and practice of education, it is because of the tradition of Scottish homes. The Scottish ploughman, walking behind his team, cons ways and means of making his son a farmer, and so he sends him to the village school. The Scottish farmer ponders upon the future of his son, and sees it most assured not by the inheritance of money but by the acquisition of that knowledge which will give him power; and so the sons of many Scottish farmers find their way to Edinburgh and a university degree. 4 The great question is, "How can I my son to help society?" Not, as we have so frequently thought, "How can I qualify society to help my son?" If human homes are to fulfil their destiny, then we must have frugality and saving for education and progress. And finally, we have homes spiritual. This is a notion which finds its simplest and most moving expression in "The Cotter's Saturday Night" of Burns.
Human nature is at its greatest when it combines dependence upon God with independence of man. We offer no affront - on the contrary we have nothing but the warmest human compassion - toward those whom fate has compelled to live upon the bounty of the State, when we say that the greatest element in a strong people is a fierce independence of spirit. This is the only real freedom, and it has as its corollary a brave acceptance of unclouded individual responsibility. The moment a man seeks moral and intellectual refuge in the emotions of a crowd, he ceases to be a human being and becomes a cipher. The home spiritual so understood is not produced by lassitude or by dependence; it is produced by self-sacrifice, by frugality and saving. In a war, as indeed at most times, we become the ready victims of phrases. We speak glibly of of many things without pausing to consider what they signify. We speak of "financial power", forgetting that the financial power of 1942 is based upon the savings of generations which have preceded it.
We speak of "morale" as if it were a quality induced from without - created by others for our benefit - when in truth there can be no national morale which is not based upon the individual courage of men and women. We speak of "manpower" as if it were a mere matter of arithmetic: as if it were made up of a multiplication of men and muscles without spirit. Second, the middle class, more than any other, provides the intelligent ambition which is the motive power of human progress. The idea entertained by many people that, in a well-constituted world, we shall all live on the State is the quintessence of madness, for what is the State but us? We collectively must provide what we individually receive. The great vice of democracy - a vice which is exacting a bitter retribution from it at this moment - is that for a generation we have been busy getting ourselves on to the list of beneficiaries and removing ourselves from the list of contributors, as if somewhere there was somebody else's wealth and somebody else's effort on which we could thrive.
To discourage ambition, to envy success, to have achieved superiority, to distrust independent thought, to sneer at and impute false motives to public service - these are the maladies of modern democracy, and of Australian democracy in particular. Yet ambition, effort, thinking, and readiness to serve are not only the design and objectives of self-government but are the essential conditions of its success. If this is not so, then we had better put back the clock, and search for a benevolent autocracy once more. Where do we find these great elements most commonly? Among the defensive and comfortable rich, among the unthinking and unskilled mass, or among what I have called the "middle class"? Third, the middle class provides more than any other the intellectual life which marks us off from the beast; the life which finds room for literature, for the arts, for science, for medicine and the law. Consider the case of literature and art. Could these survive as a department of State? Are we to publish our poets according to their political colour? Is the State to decree surrealism because surrealism gets a heavy vote in a key electorate?
The truth is that no great book was ever written, and no great picture ever painted by the clock or according to civil service rules. These are the things done by man, not men. You cannot regiment them. They require opportunity, and sometimes leisure. The artist, if he is to live, must have a buyer, the writer an audience. He finds them among frugal people to whom the margin above bare living means a chance to reach out a little towards that heaven which is just beyond our grasp. It has always seemed to me, for example, that an artist is better helped by the man who sacrifices something to buy a picture he loves than by a rich patron who follows the fashion. Fourth, this middle class maintains and fills the higher schools and universities, and so feeds the lamp of learning. What are schools for? To train people for examinations, to enable people to comply with the law, or to produce developed men and women? Are the universities mere technical schools, or have they as one of their functions the preservation of pure learning, bringing in its train not merely riches for the imagination but a comparative sense for the mind, and leading to what we need so badly - the recognition of values which are other than pecuniary?
One of the great blots on our modern living is the cult of false values, a repeated application of the test of money, notoriety, applause. A world in which a comedian or a beautiful half-wit on the screen can be paid fabulous sums, whilst scientific researchers and discoverers can suffer neglect and starvation, is a world which needs to have its sense of values violently set right. Now, have we realised and recognised these things, or is most of our policy designed to discourage or penalise thrift, to encourage dependence on the State, to bring about a dull equality on a fantastic idea that all men are equal in mind and needs and deserts: to level down by taking the mountains out of the landscape, to weigh men according to their political organisations and power - as votes and not as human beings? These are formidable questions, and we cannot escape from answering them if there is really to be a new order for the world. I have been actively engaged in politics for fourteen years in the State of Victoria and in the Commonwealth of Australia. In that period, I cannot readily recall many occasions upon which any policy was pursued which was designed to help the thrifty, to encourage independence, to recognise the divine and valuable variations of men's minds.
On the contrary, there have been many instances in which the votes of the thriftless have been used to defeat the thrifty. On occasions of emergency, as in the depression and during the present war, we have hastened to make it clear that the provision made by man for his own retirement and old age is not half as sacrosanct as the provision the State would have made for him if he had never saved at all. We have talked of income from savings as if it possessed a somewhat discreditable character. We have taxed it more and more heavily. We have spoken slightingly of the earning of interest at the very moment when we have advocated new pensions and social schemes. I have myself heard a minister of power and influence declare that no deprivation is suffered by a man if he still has the means to fill his stomach, clothe his body and keep a roof over his head. And yet the truth is, as I have endeavoured to show, that frugal people who strive for and obtain the margin above these materially necessary things are the whole foundation of a really active and developing national life. The case for the middle class is the case for a dynamic democracy as against the stagnant one. Stagnant waters are level, and in them the scum rises. Active waters are never level: they toss and tumble and have crests and troughs; but the scientists tell us that they purify themselves in a few hundred yards.
That we are all, as human souls, of like value cannot be denied. That each of us should have his chance is and must be the great objective of political and social policy. But to say that the industrious and intelligent son of self-sacrificing and saving and forward-looking parents has the same social deserts and even material needs as the dull offspring of stupid and improvident parents is absurd. If the motto is to be "Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you will die, and if it chances you don't die, the State will look after you; but if you don't eat, drink and be merry and save, we shall take your savings from you", then the whole business of life would become foundationless. Are you looking forward to a breed of men after the war who will have become boneless wonders?
Leaners grow flabby; lifters grow muscles.
Men without ambition readily become slaves. Indeed, there is much more in slavery in Australia than most people imagine. How many hundreds of thousands of us are slaves to greed, to fear, to newspapers, to public opinion - represented by the accumulated views of our neighbours! Landless men smell the vapours of the street corner. Landed men smell the brown earth and plant their feet upon it and know that it is good. To all of this many of my friends will retort, "Ah that's all very well, but when this war is over the levellers will have won the day." My answer is that, on the contrary, men will come out of this war as gloriously unequal in many things as when they entered it. Much wealth will have been destroyed; inherited riches will be suspect; a fellowship of suffering, if we really experience it, will have opened many hearts and perhaps closed many mouths. Many great edifices will have fallen, and we shall be able to study foundations as never before, because war will have exposed them.
But I do not believe that we shall come out into the overlordship of an all-powerful State on whose benevolence we shall live, spineless and effortless - a State which will dole out bread and ideas with neatly regulated accuracy; where we shall all have our dividend without subscribing our capital; where the Government, that almost deity, will nurse us and rear us and maintain us and pension us and bury us; where we shall all be civil servants, and all presumably, since we are equal, heads of departments.
If the new world is to be a world of men, we must be not pallid and bloodless ghosts, but a community of people whose motto shall be, "To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." Individual enterprise must drive us forward. That does not mean we are to return to the old and selfish notions of laissez-faire. The functions of the State will be much more than merely keeping the ring within which the competitors will fight. Our social and industrial laws will be increased. There will be more law, not less, more control, not less. But what really happens to us will depend on how many people we have who are of the great and sober and dynamic middle-class - the strivers, the planners, the ambitious ones. We shall destroy them at our peril.
WOW!
Bob Stewart
10 February 2024
In June 1949 Australia's prime minister - Ben Chifley - delivered a speech to an Australian Labor Party (ALP) Conference. Ben used it to not only thank rank-and-file party members for their loyal sport during difficult times, but also re-emphasise the ALPs lofty economic and social mandate, which was to improve living standards, create better social conditions, and strive for the betterment of mankind. The speech has Biblical origins, with the phrase being adapted from Jesus' Sermon on the Mount, which can be found in the Gospel of Matthew. The speech is regularly referred to in the ALPs promotional and election campaigns.
THE LIGHT ON THE HILL
I have had the privilege of leading the Labor Party for nearly four years. They have not been easy times and it has not been an easy job. It is a man-killing job and would be impossible if it were not for the help of my colleagues and members of the movement.
No Labor Minister or leader ever has an easy job. The urgency that rests behind the Labor movement, pushing it on to do things, to create new conditions, to reorganise the economy of the country, always means that the people who work within the Labor movement, people who lead, can never have an easy job. The job of the evangelist is never easy.
Because of the turn of fortune's wheel your Premier (Mr McGirr) and I have gained some prominence in the Labor movement. But the strength of the movement cannot come from us. We may make plans and pass legislation to help and direct the economy of the country. But the job of getting the things the people of the country want comes from the roots of the Labor movement - the people who support it.
When I sat at a Labor meeting in the country with only ten or fifteen men there, I found a man sitting beside me who had been working in the Labor movement for 54 years. I have no doubt that many of you have been doing the same, not hoping for any advantage from the movement, not hoping for any personal gain, but because you believe in a movement that has been built up to bring better conditions to the people. Therefore, the success of the Labor Party at the next elections depends entirely, as it always has done, on the people who work.
I try to think of the Labor movement, not as putting an extra sixpence into somebody's pocket, or making somebody Prime Minister or Premier, but as a movement bringing something better to the people, better standards of living, greater happiness to the mass of the people. We have a great objective - the light on the hill - which we aim to reach by working the betterment of mankind not only here but anywhere we may give a helping hand. If it were not for that, the Labor movement would not be worth fighting for.
If the movement can make someone more comfortable, give to some father or mother a greater feeling of security for their children, a feeling that if a depression comes there will be work, that the government is striving its hardest to do its best, then the Labor movement will be completely justified.
It does not matter about persons like me who have our limitations. I only hope that the generosity, kindliness and friendliness shown to me by thousands of my colleagues in the Labor movement will continue to be given to the movement and add zest to its work.
YEP!
Bob Stewart
11 February 2024
This book takes the reader back about 70 years. Five or so years after WW2 had ended Australia entered a period of rapid growth fuelled by the agricultural and manufacturing sectors. Living standards were rising and migration levels were high. A lot of good things were happening in a conservative and respectable sort of way. This is the context in which this study was undertaken.
It contains a detailed study of a small Australian country town, and how its citizens ran their daily affairs. It was part of a UNESCO Social Tensions Project, which aimed to find out more about community values and lifestyles, and to what extent they might breed conformity, anxiety and bigotry on one hand, and independence, peace and tolerance on the other. Details of the project can be found in James Saum, UNESCO’s Tension Project, The Phi Delta Kappan, 5 (32), January 1951, pp. 194-196.
It was part of a pilot study involving a typically urban precinct and rural community in each of France, India and Australia. The Australian country town was located in Victoria’s north-west, in what came to be called the Mallee. It was in the middle of an ostensibly wheat growing region that had been settled by Europeans in the 1850s and 1860s, having removed the indigenous Aboriginal community from the land. The town, which went under the pseudonym of Mallee Town, had a population of about 500, and comprised 12 shops in the main street, sixty houses, four churches, a hotel, a school, and several workshops and mechanical repair sites. The closest large towns – which both housed around 1,500 people – were located 40 kilometres east and west respectively. The town was most probably Ouyen, but then again, it might have been Birchip, Rupanyup, Jeparit, Wycheproof, Donald, even Charlton.
But whatever town it was, the total adult workforce was 156, with 68 farmers, 14 small business owners and staff, 31 white collar workers, and 43 labourers, with 7 on-farm, 8 skilled, and 28 unskilled (p.30). The overwhelming majority of paid workers were male. There was a clear social and political divide, with every farmer affiliated to the Country Party, a conservative rural based party. On the other hand, most labourers, and a smattering of white collar and small-business people, were linked to the Labor Party, which had more reformist political agenda. However, politics was rarely a topic of conversation (p.33).
The social elite, and the wealthiest social group was the wheat farming community. They were also members of the Methodist Church. It is not surprising, then, that the social divide was accentuated by their teetotaller habits and aversion to gambling. The farmers took their Methodist church ethos very seriously. They do not frequent the local hotel, which was a centre of social life for most of the town’s inhabitants. The pub provided space for those lower on the social hierarchy - who were more Catholic than Methodist, and nearly always men - to drink without interference, and talk about family and sport using a less rigid vocabulary than would otherwise be the case. The Methodist spent a lot of their leisure time at the lawn bowls club.
Family life was underpinned by traditional gender roles, which meant that wives and mothers did most of the household chores, while husbands and fathers were the breadwinners. This gender-based allocation of family duties was the same for all the social classes. However, it appeared that the division of home-based labour was more pronounced in the farming community, especially in relation to boys and girls. In each case the role models were nearly always the parents, and for girls this meant that a career in anything other than domestic work was mostly closed off very early on in the piece. Town girls, though, having left school often got jobs quite different from their parents. These experiences ‘lessened the relative potency of the family' (p.103).
The researchers initially invited the younger residents (that is children and adolescents) to talk about their beliefs and attitudes, especially as they relate to people and communities outside their immediate terms of reference. When asked to decide who either starts or stops wars, just under 90% believed that it would be either Russia, Germany or Japan. When it came to stopping wars, more than 90% mentioned one of Australia, the USA and England (p.54). Younger residents were also invited to rank different nations and ethnic groups in terms of their ‘acceptability, their congruence with Australian values and customs, and the international tensions they created. A rough and ready ‘likeability’ index was constructed which went as follows:
Japan and Germany were ranked the lowest because they ‘had made war with our country’ and tried to ruin us’. The Russian were ranked poorly because they had been ‘acting aggressively’ and ‘looking for fights’. The Jews had a low ranking because they were seen to have ‘started wars’ and engaged in violent ‘struggles against the British’ in the Palestine-Israel region. Chinese were seen as ‘hard working’, while aboriginals were ranked highly because they seemed likeable, and because they had always lived here (pp.73-75).
Young townsfolk were also asked to comment on tensions in the workplace and who was mainly responsible for causing industrial disputes and strikes. Around 40% thought communists were the main culprits, while another 30% reckoned workers were to blame. Just under 10% blamed government, while only 2% announced it was a greedy employer (p. 54). When it came to family tensions, parents were inevitably blamed for imposing too many rules, which for adolescent boys usually involved the drinking of alcoholic beverages (p.95), and for girls, not being given enough independence (p.97).
The research writers concluded that while rural communities were multifaceted, they were usually built on a specific economic foundation. In this case the economic imperative was the production and sale of wheat (p.227). This in turn created a social hierarchy linked to specific occupations, where each level in the hierarchy had its own distinct values, beliefs, and normative practices. It is also noted that within each level, the pressures to conform were strong, where adolescents were ’coerced into many relationships’ (p.197).
In short, Mallee Town appeared to be busy and productive. But it also had a strict class structure, which centred on wealth and status. But while the labouring class were at the bottom of the social hierarchy, farmers acknowledged their contribution to the community, which hinted that an egalitarian ethos was at work. The district also offered opportunities for young town people – in contrast to the children of farmers, where traditions hold sway - to aspire to something beyond their current experiences. It seemed like a great place to grow up in, but it also had a conservative underbelly that had a hint of intolerance.
Bob Stewart
14 February 2024
This book maps the values, attitudes, and behaviours of 1000 Sydney adolescents over a three-year period beginning in 1951. It provides a sharp insight into the teenage experience during Australia's early post WW2 period and has many fascinating things to say about their transition from school to work and their social aspirations. It also picks up on their leisure time activities. The research findings show that life was simpler and more ordered than it is today. It is an important historical document.
It begins by noting that 70% of these Sydney adolescents had attended government/public secondary schools, 20% had attended ‘Roman Catholic’ schools, with the remaining 10% attending Private and Denominational schools (p.13). However, by the age 16 (i.e. form 5/6) – after taking to account dropouts, the percentages changed to 40, 30, and 30 respectively (p.13). Overall, the study found that 60% of all students who entered in year 7 had left school by the age of 15.
When it came to doing stuff with their peers, girls opted for just talking (30%), organised sport (19%) informal sport (19%), pictures/cinema (14%), dancing (7%), and church-related activities (4%) (p.61). For boys the most popular activities were informal sport (29%), organised sport (26%), just talking (13%), pictures/cinema (10%), dancing (3%), and youth club activities (3%) (p.60).
Most boys (71%) who had entered the workforce were initially satisfied with their jobs. But after a couple of years the job satisfaction rate falls to 65%. The opposite occurred for girls. Whereas 68%) were initially satisfied with their jobs, satisfaction rates increased to 87% after two years in the workforce (p.89).
Both girls and boys dreamt of having a career that provided them with both money and satisfaction, with many girls being attracted to thinks like nursing and modelling (p.90). At the same time, nearly 50% of girls wanted to either ‘marry the man I love’ or ‘bring up a happy family’ (p.90). But many of the older girls were also ambitious to travel, go abroad, look around, and orient themselves before settling into ‘contented matrimony’ (p.90). Boys were far less enthusiastic about travelling overseas.
Book-reading frequency and preferences were illuminating. Girls read more books (three a month) than boys (two a month). The differences in the type of books read were especially stark. Boys aged 13-14 were obsessed with the Biggles adventure books.[1] As they got older, they spent time reading A Tale of Two Cities, Treasure Island, Uncle Tom’s Cabin, The Cruel Sea, Count of Monte Cristo, and We of the Never Never (p.184). But none of these books had the mass appeal of the Biggles series.
These books (written by W.E. Johns, an English writer and journalist) tell the tale of an airman called Bigglesworth, who began his career as a WW1 pilot, became a squadron leader in WW2, and ended up being appointed to the position of Air Detective Inspector of Scotland Yard. He led a group of old Airforce ‘chums’ including Algy, who was a pale imitation of Biggles but no less honourable, Bertie, a titled and stiff-upper-lipped Englishman of aristocratic stock, and Ginger, an air mechanic from a strong working-class background. Their job was to track down foreign enemies and bring them to justice, while all the time displaying the traditional British virtues of determination, courage, dependability, and, of course, fair play (p.187).
Girls’ reading habits were substantially broader. For 13–14-year-olds the most popular titles were, in order of number of readers, Pollyanna, Anne of Green Gables, Good Wives, Little Women, Thunderhead, Norah of Billabong, and Anne of the island. Older girls preferred Tale of two Cities, Back Beauty, Jane Eyre, and Les Misérables.
This research study ended with the interesting observation that in order to make sure adolescents were prepared for a productive and rewarding adulthood, they should be able to display three traits. First, they can ’play the kinds of roles their position and ability demanded of them’. Second, they have ‘schooled their emotions and stabilised their feelings to such a degree that they are able to pursue the level-headed, discreet, and unexcited life of a normal adult’. Third, they can, through their acquired interests and their formal education, sharpen their intelligence and accumulate such knowledge that as will enable them to pursue their vocation successfully, and accept maturely the responsibilities that economic independence and adult citizenship bring to them (p.200).
It was concluded that if, as they entered adulthood, adolescents were comfortable with their identity, they felt part of the community, were emotionally resilient, made rationality a priority, had a vocation that gave meaning and security, and engaged in active citizenship, then they were in the position to make society a better place. The researchers, though, did not indicate the extent to which Sydney adolescents were able to achieve the above lofty ideal.
Bob Stewart
15 February 2024.
This book studied the people living in a new housing estate on rolling hills in Melbourne’s south-east. It went under the pseudonym of Newtown. The aim of the research was to better understand ‘the life patterns, attitudes and hopes’ of people living in this new suburb, and the communities it housed. The researchers wanted to explore their values, aspirations, and patterns of living, and link them back to notions of ‘class and income’ (p.9).
Newtown came into being in 1955 when the Victorian Housing Commission the government’s provider of low-cost public-housing - began developing the site. The project was completed in 1966 when approximately 2,500 dwellings had been built (p.21). The Housing Commission had also allocated land on the eastern fringe for private development. It was underway by the late 1950s.The Newtown site was chosen for development because of the growth of industry in the district. In addition, a large car manufacturer had announced in late 1954 that it would be soon building a multi-purpose plant. By the middle of the 1960s Newtown was servicing the labour needs of a big car plant, a large truck assembly business, a multinational food manufacturer, and many mid-sized manufacturing and engineering businesses. They included General Motors Holden, International Harvester and the H.J. Heinz Company.
In 1966 the Newtown estate housed approximately 12,000 residents, with 51% born in Australia, 24% born in the UK, and another 24% born in various parts of Europe, including the Netherlands, Germany, Malta, Hungary and Italy. Just under 35% of household had four or more children in residence (p.355).
Newtown was viewed as a working-class suburb, but it also had a smattering of professional and technically trained residents. Just under 53% of male householders were either unskilled or semi-skilled, with another 22% identifying as skilled, which usually meant they had some type of trade qualification. Just over 8% worked in the clerical and sales area, while 10% were self-employed. Just under 5% held managerial and professions work-roles, and 2% were on a pension (p.35). Newtown could be safely called a blue-collar suburb.
Nearly every adult male had a job. Women were also significant contributors to the workforce even though they were usually viewed as ‘working mothers and ‘working wives’ (p.52). Just under 31% of female householders in Newtown were working, with a quarter of them being part time shift workers (pp. 53-55). Interestingly, 79% of all household husbands approved of their wives working, with most of them appreciating the extra income they bought into the home (p.75). What is more, a majority of households (60%) said they were able to manage their finances without undue stress. Only 4% said that it was impossible to adequately manage their finances (p.95).
Overall, Newtown residents were not heavily educated. Around 60% of male householders had left school at the end of year nine – or form three in High School terms – while only 12% had completed year eleven – or form five. At the same time, 66% of male householders had some form of post-school industrial training, with many of the being trade apprenticeships (p.43). Women also had low levels of education, with only 11% of wives and mothers going beyond year 10. Finally, only 40% of female householders had some form of work-related training (p.56).
Newtown was literally built around low-cost housing, and while it had a working-class tone, it was far from drab. It was ‘an attractive place to live’, the land was hilly, and most houses [had] pleasant gardens which [showed] obvious signs and care and attention’ (p.19). It was ‘very much a family suburb’ (p.19).
Newtown also had a broad array of clubs, civic bodies, and service organisations, which attracted someone from 29% of all households (p.170). Residents had a lot to choose from. There were churches for four different denominations, primary and secondary school committees, the rural fire brigade, Red Cross, scouts and guides, a brass band, and broad array of sporting clubs. The only things missing were business-related service organisations like Apex, Rotary and Lions, which were had a bias to administrative and professional workers (p172).
So, to summarise Newtown, may have been viewed as a low-income working-class district with a spate of social problems, but it also had a vibrant community culture that gave residents a relatively good standard of living. People had the opportunity to talk to a range of professional counsellors, while 71% of residents said they had friends in the district they would frequently meet up with (p.115). Social isolation and the disorders that went it was a problem, but most people had regular episodes of social interaction, and many positive experiences.
Overall, 42% of households had a favourable view of Newtown, while only 19% were unimpressed with the suburb’s ‘character and conditions’ (p.131). But, when pressed to say something about Newtown’s sense of community, the researchers were very cautious. They conceded that population turnover would always be a problem, while also noting that day-to-day mobility undermined the establishment of strong local ties.
In a moment of monumental defeatism, the researchers concluded that a strong and permanent sense of community would only happen if motor cars were banned, people could work and play closer to home, and they can ‘live in the suburb all their lives’ (p.301). Sounds like an impossible dream to me.
And, as a final note, the Newtown housing estate was actually Doveton, which was located on the outskirts of Dandenong. Doveton today is a mix of run-down housing commission (i.e. public housing) homes, many tidy new cottages, and a few mock Mac-mansions. While lush front gardens are still conspicuous by their absence, it appears to be an OK place to live.
Bob Stewart
2 July 2024
This book looks at the ways in which two adjoining towns and a nearby factory hamlet in country New South Wales went about running their affairs. Unlike the Newtown study, the site for this research project was identified up front. The two main towns were Rylstone and Kandos, with the factory hamlet being Charbon, next door to Kandos. They were situated in the Rylstone Shire, in the middle of the central tablelands.
The aim of the study was to see how the residents of the two main towns went about their daily lives. The focus was on the ways in which residential groups were either stratified on one hand, or united through an egalitarianism ethos on the other. Most of the observations were gathered between 1966 and 1969.
The results showed a sharp class divide between Kandos and the Rylstone district. Whereas Kandos had just under 440 residents working in manufacturing, the Rylstone district total was 240. The opposite was the case when it came to primary industry, with Kandsos providing employment for 63 people, and the Rylstone delivering jobs to 456 people. Jobs in the commercial, finance, and business sectors were evenly divided between the two sites (p.67). Around 90% of each district had Anglo-celtic heritage, with 62% affiliated to Protestant churches, and 26% identifying with the Catholic church. (pp. 76-77).
Political affiliations and voting patterns were also quite different between the two districts. In the 1966 election Kandos delivered 651 votes to the ALP, but only 270 Rylstone voters gave their first preference to the ALP. The split was less severe when it came to the Country party vote, with Kandos delivering 277 first preferences, and the Country Party just over 310 (p. 72).
One of the most revealing documents in this research study was the membership lists for all the voluntary organisations in the two districts. These days they are identified as a core component of civils society.
First of all, the region had a vibrant range of clubs and associations. There were 55 sporting/recreation clubs (ranging from rugby league, tennis, and women's bowls, to darts, chess and cards) and 70 youth groups, service clubs, and religious organisations (including the Masonic Lodge, Rotary, a girl guides troop, and the Rylstone Hospital Auxiliary) (pp.148-150).
Second, many of these clubs and associations had a narrow membership profile. Some were dominated by people from the ‘upper stratum’ of the local community who were farmers, businessmen, and professionals, while others had mostly lower stratum representation, who worked in manufacturing – especially the cement producing factories – labourers, and shop assistants. This class divide was prominent in the Darts Club (90% from the lower stratum), the Masonic Lodge (95% from the higher stratum), the Adult Bandsmen Club (98% from the lower stratum), and Rotary (100% from the higher stratum).
Third, many other clubs and associations large slabs were segregated on the basis of sex, or gender - as we now call this male/female divide. Nearly every sporting club was segregated by sex, and included not only cricket, bit also billiards, cards, and lawn bowls. Finally, some were segregated by both class and gender. Both the Kandos Rugby League Club and the Kandos Fire Brigade were dominated by lower stratum men, Rylstone CWA and was dominated by upper stratum women, and the Kandos Girls Marching Group was dominated by lower stratum women (pp.112-119).
The researcher of this project concluded that despite some evidence to the contrary, the Rylstone Shire espoused a strong egalitarian ethos. This appeared to be true to the extent that people ‘got on’ with little difficulty. The building of a new library was seen to be an excellent example of the community working together for the common good. On the other hand, rumblings of controls over alcohol use, and signs of a retreat into home-centred leisure activities became a cause for concern.
But overall, there were very few intergenerational, class-based, or gender-related tensions that made life uncomfortable the locals.
Bob Stewart
10 July 2024
This book looks at the lives and social relationships of residents of a mid-size town situated in the Southern Highlands of New South Wales. The research was conducted from 1967-1973, and the town went under the pseudonym of Bradstow.
The aims of this research study were threefold. First, it explored the ways in which a community goes about establishing a system of social classes. Second, it examined the ways in which residents gravitated to, and consolidated their positions in, a particular class. Third, it looks at the ways in which the classes interacted, and how negotiation and consensus-building was able to balance the competing interests of each social class.
Bradstow was an inspired choice for a study on social class in rural Australia. The district around Bradstow was settled in the 1830s, and quickly became a popular place to live. It not only contained rich grazing land, but also reminded settlers of the beauties of the English countryside (p. 7). Over the following 120 years Bradstow became a prosperous rural centre, and its cattle grazing, dairy farming, and stud farms – cattle and horse - provided the financial backdrop for a bustling service-town to emerge. The town’s prosperity was also underpinned by a range of small-scale primary producers who specialised in ‘market gardens, orchards, poultry and mushrooms’ (p.28). A rush of hobby farmers – mostly comprising affluent professional types from Sydney - also made their presence felt, while the scenic beauty of the town, and the concomitant tranquillity, attracted many tourists and retirees (p.23). It was fashionable for city folk to spend their weekends in Bradstow ‘riding horses and playing golf’. P.31). In addition, a large cement works was operating just outside the town perimeter.
By the late 1960s the town had approximately 5,300 residents, many of whom were quite well off. Workforce figures revealed, not surprisingly, that Bradstow had a much higher proportion of professional and technically trained people (15%) than the NSW average (9%). The same thing was evident in administrative, executive managerial occupations (9% versus 6%), and personal services, sport and recreation (13% versus 8%). On the other hand, its supply of production-process workers, labourers and craftsmen (29% versus 36%), and clerical staff (10% versus 15%) were proportionately smaller than the NSW average (p. 25).
The deeper the researchers dug, the more apparent it became clear that Bradstow was not only a wealthy rural town, but also a conservative and class-riddled one. According to the researcher it had six distinctive classes of residents that were demarcated on the basis of occupation, wealth, and social position. At the top of the class hierarchy were the old established graziers and large landholders. Below them were wealthy town dwellers who owned prestigious properties. Just below them were the town’s major business owners, merchants, managers and professionals. The fourth tier comprised small shopkeepers and skilled tradesmen, and together with the fifth tier, the run-of-the-mill workers and employees, whose skills were usually learnt on the job, comprised more than 50% of all residents. The bottom tier was made of people with low income earning capacity and held back both socially and occupationally by some form of disadvantage or disability (pp.36-38).
These class divisions were surrounded by a strong Christian religious tradition built on the back of Protestantism. Just under 45% of residents were Church of England, with another 15% either Presbyterian or Methodist. Catholicism was the denomination of choice for 28% of residents. Just under 6% did not nominate any religious affiliation (p. 225).
Education also mattered, and anyone with a university or further education qualification (4% of all residents) secured some level of prestige, mainly because most people had limited exposure to the formal educational at post primary level. About 66% of Bradstow residents had not gone beyond form 3 at secondary school level (p.225).
Bradstow had cultivated an ethos of conservative civility, and ‘genteel conventions’ that were reflected in an appreciation of all things English, an interest in finely crafted gardens, and an active involvement in the arts and education (p.31). But while the town was inherently conservative, there were many tensions, with one of the main ones being the anti-gambling and anti-alcohol values promulgated by the churches, and the more commercial values pushed by the business community.
These tensions rose to the surface in the late 1960s when the local council considered a proposal to have a TAB (a betting agency) set up shop. The churches were highly critical of the proposal, but councillors with a more commercial bent were keen to get it up and going, since they thought would provide a strong economic boost (p.161). The proposal was approved, but amid a lot of dismayed stakeholders.
Overall, this study showed that social stratification, and the divides that go with it, was alive and well in this Australian town. It also showed that the political/policy/development agenda was set by those in tiers 1-3, while those in 4-6 were essentially just passive observers in the game of local power and politics (p.205).
And the ‘real’ name of Bradstow was Bowral.
Bob Stewart
10 July 2024.
This report examined the Victorian state government’s public housing program from 1962 to 1974. During this period the Housing Commission of Victoria (HCV) - a state government enterprise responsible for providing low-rent housing for low-income families - built 45 high-rise residential blocks (or towers as they were sometimes called), some of which had 25-30 levels. They contained just under 8,000 units clustered in Melbourne’s inner suburbs. There were 28 sites spread across 19 suburbs.
It all began in the late 1940s when church-groups claimed that Melbourne's slums were close to being uninhabitable. An all-churches meeting in 1952 set up the Slum Abolition campaign and, in 1954 the Brotherhood of St Laurence published a ground-breaking document called What's Wrong with Victoria's Public Housing Programme? According to the report there were 7500 dwellings in inner Melbourne which were so inadequate or so deteriorated as to ‘endanger the health, safety and morals of its inhabitants'.
In 1956 the Victorian Government undertook a 'brutal slum clearance program’. The Premier, Henry Bolte, said the Government was determined to clean up 'the decadent areas of Melbourne… as …'bad houses made bad people'. HCV (which had been established in 1938), had gained both political and community support for slum reclamation, and used its broad powers to press on with the job.
At first, redevelopment took the form of two or three-storey flats, but these were criticised as (1) uneconomic given the costs of reclamation, and (2) inadequate for the housing required. High-rise emerged as the solution following a study tour to Europe by HCV officials. Despite evidence from the United Kingdom that families preferred houses to flats, and that children had not been considered in flat design and construction, the high-rise project went ahead.
The high-rise concept had also secured support from the architectural profession. It started with Charles-Édouard Jeanneret (otherwise known as Le Corbusier), a Swiss French architect, designer, and urban planner, and one of the pioneers of modern architecture. One of Le Corbusier’s grand ideas was to fuse art with mass-production. The Greater London Council embraced these ideas, and the late 1950s, with HCV following the lead. Melbourne was the perfect setting. Not only was so much of the inner suburbs viewed as substandard and beyond repair, but HCV also had a prefabricated concrete plant at Holmesglen (in Melbourne's middle east) that was ready to produce the building materials.
Not everyone thought the high-rise program was a good idea, though. For some, they were nothing more than 'new slums' and 'prisons in the sky'. However, these criticisms were countered by the results of a study/report titled High Living: A Study of Family Life in Flats, prepared by Stevenson, Martin and O'Neill for the Brotherhood of St Laurence, and published by Melbourne University Press in 1967.Most residents said they would have preferred to live in houses, and ‘their hearts were set on the suburban way of life that the rest of the community enjoyed’. But hey conceded that that this was an impossible dream, and understood they were fortunate to have what they had in comparison with the housing from which they had come.
The hype surrounding high-rise estates reached its peak with the completion of the Park Towers estate in South Melbourne in 1969. The building also received a major, architecture award. But things turned around in mid-1971 when the Victorian Government announced the phasing out of all high-rise public housing developments.
In addition, the pressure exerted from resident action groups during the 1980s forced a total reversal in public housing policy. Recently arrived, Italian and Greek migrants, together with local buyers with the motivation and money to restore run-down, nineteenth century cottages, formed a coalition of resident associations that were impossible to budge. The HCV was accused of being a cultural vandal, and responsible for destroying Melbourne's 19th century architectural heritage. What is more, local councils which had used rate-payers funds to remove slum-dwellers in the 1960s, now sided with the residents' associations. The nail was put in the high-rise coffin in the 1990s when it was found that inner-city developments of this type were now more costly than cottage and flat development in middle and outer areas of Melbourne.
And, interestingly, the arguments against slum reclamation and high-rise estates were addressed by Michael Jones' study, Housing and Poverty in Australia, published in 1972. This study was severely critical of two of the fundamental assumptions upon which the program was based. First, there was no evidence that bad housing led to bad people, or that poor quality housing caused social problems. Second, there was even less evidence to show that inner city, high-rise public housing was the most efficient way to accommodate low-income families.
And, with 2024 now half-completed, Melbourne faces a massive housing shortage. It will be interesting to see if more high-rise public housing estates will be built to help alleviate the problem.
Bob Stewart
30 July 2024.
In the early 1990s Ken Dempsey wrote two books; one was titled Smalltown: A Study of Social Inequality, Cohesion and Belonging (and the other was titled Ken Dempsey, A Man’s Town: Inequality between Women and Men in Rural Australia.
These two volumes provided a detailed examination of a mid-size Australian country town, which went under the name of Smalltown. Ken did not reveal the town’s real name, but he situated it in north-west Victoria, approximately 250 kilometres from Melbourne.
Each book had a specific focus. Smalltown concentrated on the class divisions that become apparent early on in the study. This led into a discussion inequality between the social classes, and the ways in which differences in wealth and status impacted on community cohesion. Man’s Town also looked at inequality, but this time the focus was gender, and the distribution of power, autonomy and wealth between men and women. The study took place during the 1980s.
. The Smalltown district was opened up to pastoralists in the 1840s. Gold was found in the 1850s, and the last operating mine was closed down in 1925. But, as the importance of gold diminished, the economic space was taken up by grazing and agriculture, especially cereal crops like wheat, oats and barley.
At the beginning of the 1980s Smalltown was a ‘reasonably prosperous community’ (ST p.20). Around 2700 people within the town boundaries, while another 1050 lived in the surrounding farming district (ST p.16). The main street contains shops, banks, a post office, courthouse local government offices, stock and station agents, and six hotels. The outskirts of the town contained some light industries including a knitting mill, a water tank manufacturer, and a stock feed manufacturer. It had two primary schools and one secondary school. Major landmarks included five Christian churches – Anglican, Catholic, Church of Christ, Salvation Army, and Uniting (an amalgamation of Congregationalists, Methodists and Presbyterians in 1977), and a large grain silo.
Just under 1300 people were in paid employment, with 924 being males. The main occupations were professional and high-level administration (2%) farmers (26%), business owners (12%), other administrative jobs &10%), mid-level white collar workers and sales assistants (19%), skilled manual workers and tradesmen (11%), and semi/unskilled rural and factory workers (21%). Most women were employed as typists, clerks and shop assistants (43%), and low skill domestic and factory workers (29%) (MT p. 120).
There were 130 voluntary organisation – ranging from sporting clubs to church organisations and business associations - in Smalltown which compared more than favourably with the Bradstow study (AS6), where there were 108 in a town double the size (ST, p. 189). This appeared to create a strong sense of community cohesion, and even solidarity, amongst the town folk. But, like the Shire of Rylestone study, most of these organisations were dominated by people from the middle and higher classes. And what is more, they were often sex segregated, with few mixed-sex clubs.
At the same time, Ken identified some positive features of this town. It had clean air, tidy streets, and spaces for young people to engage in healthy physical activity. But these features were overwhelmed by his finding that men – no matter what class they came from - dominated and exploited women in ‘virtually every sphere of life’ (MT, p. 271). He went on to say that men had subordinated women to the unpaid roles of wife and mother, and had, in the process, made them both socially and emotionally dependent (MT, p. 271). What’s more, these men had forced women to suffer a multiplicity of injustices, and had, metaphorically speaking, pummelled them into submission.
Having reflected on whether or not this state of affairs would change, Ken believed that the men included in this study were ‘unlikely to surrender their considerable advantages willingly’ (MT, p. 272). He noted that whenever women appeared to threaten men’s dominant position, they were likely to be branded as a ’poor mother’, an ‘ungrateful wife’, or an ‘aggressive bitch’ (ST, p. 294). It seemed that Smalltown’s womenfolk were destined to live a life of relentless misery.
[As for the town's 'real life' name it was immediately obvious. It may have been Dunolly, it could have been Avoca, it certainly wasn’t Wedderburn or Charlton, but it was most probably St Arnaud}.
Bob Stewart
10 August 2024.
At first glance this question has a simple answer: As advertisers keep telling us, we are a happy-go-lucky crowd that like doing fun things and not spending too much time thinking about politics, religion, and world affairs. We think slow, drive fast, and talk loudly. We are socially conservative, but radical innovators when it comes to drinking alcohol, betting on sporting contests, and doing physical stuff outdoors.
But this is a tiny and stereotypically simplistic part of what it is to be an Australian. In searching for a clear picture of Australia's national identity, our national character, our collective personality, the typical Australian, and the essential Australian way of life, it becomes apparent that who we are today is the result of what was happening in the past. So, let’s begin our historical journey by looking at what was going on in colonial times.
And, as we all now know, Australia had been inhabited by Aboriginal for around 60,000 years prior to white (that is British) settlement, which occurred in 1788. The first fleet arrived with the singular purpose of establishing a penal colony, and later, a self-sufficient society. The colony of New Sdouth Wales. It was formally proclaimed on 7 February 1788 when Governor Arthur Phillip announced that 'his Majesty's forces' had taken possession of the country, and thereby rendering the local inhabitants powerless. It was essentially a military prison, and Phillip's governorship was supported by a civil administration and courts of law.
Things got off to a bad start when crops failed to mature, and food shortages were threatening the settlement’s viability. Progress was slow and the locals were inhospitable. But there was upside to the settlement that surprised everybody.
For example, when setting up his plans for the colony’s governance, Phillip reminded everyone that in line with recent developments in Britain, the convicts would not be treated as slaves, since there 'can be no slavery in a free land'. While most NSW's convicts quickly became a form of indentured labour, Phillip's sentiments were socially progressive since Britain's Abolition of Slavery Act was not introduced until 1834.
Phillip was progressive in other ways as well. For example, when facing famine in the first few months of settlement, Phillip insisted that everyone in the colony would have to reduce their meagre rations. And neither did he get a lot of moral support for his decision to 'gift' land to convicts once their sentences had been completed. Phillip also believed that family life was the backbone of a civilised society, and at the end of 1788 proudly announced that 70 marriages had been celebrated.
It would be fair to say that Phillip's initiatives- and the tone he set - not only ensured the colony’s survival, but also provided a template for an egalitarian ethos that, in many people's minds, had threaded its way through the cultural fabric of Australia for the next couple of centuries. But not everyone agreed.
Unfortunately, Governor Phillip was less successful when dealing with the locals, who been living in Australia for around 60,000 years. But then, could anyone have done better given the ways in which the Aborigine's land had been taken off them? Governor Phillip tried to be conciliatory - he sought to understand their customs, establish communication with local clans and tribes, ensure his officers would avoid violence, treat the indigenous people with respect, learn their language, exchange gifts, and provide items such as cloth, tools, and food as a gesture of goodwill. Despite these effort conflicts arose all over the place, misunderstandings and disputes were common, and violent clashes became the norm. And, if that wasn't bad enough, thousands of the locals were killed off by diseases that came with the 'invaders'. It was the beginning of the end for the traditional Aboriginal 'way of life'.
In short, colonisation, had an immediate and profoundly harmful impact on the Aboriginal population, with its effects still with us today. The locals had no chance, and with a few decades they had lost their land, their dignity, and their independence. There were now two 'Australians', with the White British colonist version possessing all the power, and the Black Aboriginal version being close to impotent.
But despite the many frontier skirmishes (or massacres, as many writers have claimed) colonial society moved on at a rapid pace.
Some of the developments were good, but others were not. For instance:
• Governors came and went (there were eight during the first 50 years of settlement), but some form of material progress was evident throughout their collective tenure.
• In 1803 the government printer, ex-convict George Howe, established the first newspapers in Australia, the Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser. But they were subject to censorship since Governor King believed that newspapers could 'foment dissent' and 'endanger the safety of the colony'.
• The Marine (NSW) Corp undermined the authority of governors, while also becoming wealthy landholders.
• Most convicts were given hard labour at best, and tortured, at worst.
• Some convicts were politically radicalised.
• Other convicts, having been emancipated, became model citizens.
• Currency lads and lasses (the native born) became significant contributors to the commercial and cultural life of communities within each colony.
• In 1824 the first 'free press 'newspaper was published in Van Dieman's Land under the title of the Hobart Town Gazette,
• Racism was endemic, with the use of Pacific islander "Kanaka' labour coming close to slavery.
• All the best land was grabbed - that is stolen – that covered the Darling Downs and Australia, Felix and everyplace in between.
• Black-White wars broke out on many fronts - with the Whites winning in nearly every instance.
• The pastoral sector expanded, with fine Merino wool being the best in the world.
• The assisted migration of 'free settlers' reached record levels.
• By the late 1840s – with convict ‘transportation’ having been discontinued - there were more people of European heritage (450,000) in the colonies than there were Aborigines (400,000).
• Exports continued to build, and local economies thrived.
• Vulnerable female migrants were protected, with Caroline Chisholm setting the scene for government initiatives on social welfare issues.
• Christianity took a spiritual hold over both 'Australias', with 'Missions' providing Aborigines with a full acculturation into the world of whitefellas.
• But Christianity was also problematic - it was divisive amongst the white fellas, with Anglo-Scottish Protestants at the top of the social hierarchy, and Irish Catholics at the bottom. It became a significant cultural divide over the following 100 years or so.
• The gold rushes of the 1850s transformed every level of society, although the trickle-down effect, was, like today, probably exaggerated.
• Church-sponsored schools provided a broad education for the sons - but not the daughters - of wealthy rural landholders and a growing urban middle-class.
• Democracy evolved, but society continued to be highly stratified, with White 'propertied' men of British stock occupying most positions of power.
• From the 1850s onward worker-rights took centre stage, with the Eureka rebellion being seen as a symbol of democracy at work and the right to be heard. Some people even called it an insurrection.
• By the early 1870s there were 1.7 million white fellas living in the six colonies: NSW (1788), [Van Dieman's Land/ Tasmania (1803), Western Australia (1826), South Australia (1836), Victoria (1851), and Queensland (1859)].
• There were only 350,000 black fellas, which accounted for around 20% of all inhabitants.
• The right to an education was written into the law. The 1872 Victorian Education Act made education free, universal, and secular.
• As the 1770s unfolded trade unions began to assert their industrial muscle,
• Melbourne was fast becoming the wealthiest city on the planet.
• All the big cities accumulated wealth, stylish architecture dominated the skyline, with a thriving bohemian / artistic community adding to the urban experience,
• But most people (be they white or black) lived in the 'bush.
• At the end of the 1870s just under 70% of all Australians lived outside the colony's capital cities.
• And as we will find out, the countryside was where national identities were shaped, characters were forged, and stories about the 'real and authentic' Australia were told.
• Over this entire period the landscape dominated the lives of every inhabitant. It was inescapable.
This was all well and good, but I began to think...how can we talk about a national identity, national character, and what it means to be an Australian when we don't have a nation until 1901?
This makes intuitive sense, but it needs to be remembered that national identities and national characters evolve over time. They begin as an idea in an earlier period, gets acted out as guiding principles, modes of conduct, and ways of doing things. They are then re-invented as an ethos that both explains and shapes our day-to-day behaviour, 'worked over' by artists, poets, writers, journalists, religious leaders, and politicians, and inflated into a fully formed story [a narrative if you like] that brings us together by announcing who we are, what we stand for, what we believe in, and what unites us.
Thus, through a romantic rendering of fact and fiction, stories are turned into seductive myths that capture the public imagination, are promulgated by their proponents, and pulled apart and put together again by our artistic community. Finally, with successive retelling some of them become embedded in the collective psyche of citizens. And, presto, we have confirmation of what it is to be an Australian.
Some common themes were emerging during the first 80 years of settlement, and they were not all positive. At the same time, it is a bit of a stretch to argue that the corrupt conduct of the NSW Corp has been an endemic feature of government - especially at the state level - ever since. The same goes for gender, where we might say that right from the beginning white British settlement men have always been in charge, with women invited to do all the menial duties in close-to-invisible circumstances.
On the positive side, though, the frequent mention of bush and its majestic if sometimes frightening nature, and the deep spiritual connection Aborigines have with it, tells us something about why it has been so special to those of us born into it over the last 200 years or so.
The Eureka rebellion has also got a certain symbolic quality that taps into the common contemporary belief that de-centred, accountable, and transparent democratic processes are the key to a happy and prosperous society.
But it also occurred to me that there was an interpretative problem to contend with. It relates to the fact that while we can usually agree on the overall details of an incident, case, event, or happening, we can interpret them in vastly different ways. Take, for example, the case of convicts. We found out that the experts (be they historians, religious leaders, politicians, government officials, social activists, or media commentators) took a variety of positions on how they may have shaped our identity and character.
Bob Stewart
6 October 2024
In part one of this ‘essay’ I mistakenly imagined that the most pervasive influence on Australia's identity and image would be the original inhabitants, the aboriginal people. They had been here for around 60,000 years and demonstrated how a rich and rewarding simple non-material lifestyle could be maintained with careful adaptation and minimal long-term damage to the environment. And it made sense to think that their deep understanding of the land we now shared, their land-management practices, their spiritual traditions, and their social relationships would shape the 'personality' and way of thinking of new Australians. But beyond a respect for the land’s life-sustaining capacity, itappeared that not much seemed to rub off.
On the other hand, there was no such reticence when it came to describing what the British did to the Aborigines. For the first 100 years of European settlement havoc was wreaked on them. Their civilisation came close to being wiped out. Moreover, racism was embedded in the land grabs that followed and continued as a shameful national trait well into the 20th century.
A less controversial factor was the influence of the early governors of the colonies. Arthur Phillip had a profound influence, some of it positive and some negative. He tried to establish peaceful relations with the local tribes and clans but was undermined by the destructively exploitative actions of many Marine /NSW Corp and settlers. On the other hand, his generous allocation of land to ex-convicts showed a humane approach to the idea of prisoner rehabilitation, while also encouraging community engagement and active citizenship. You could comfortably say that say that Governors Phillip and Macquarie set the scene for the emergence of an egalitarian ethos.
The next factor was the Australian landscape, which invoked both terror and a sense of wonder. It was something Europeans had never experienced before. It wasn't just the grandeur of eucalyptus forests, but also the rolling plains west of the great-dividing-range. The vast vistas of space and light ignited utopian dreams about a new society and fuelled materialist ambitions for money and power. Our First Nations people also had dreams, but they were mostly of the non-material kind.
The development of the wool industry was also a significant contributor to the image and character of Australia. It was close to an economic miracle and demonstrated the entrepreneurial capabilities of the early settlers. The McArthur family developed some of the best fine Marino wool in the world, built a massive export market, and helped create a great Australian myth around the rural worker that reached its zenith in last two decades of the 19th century. Tom Robert’s classic painting, Shearing the Rams, said it all. But if you dig as bit deeper it also suggests that Australia had, like the ‘mother country’, created a class system based on the ownership of large-scale profit-generating property.
Local politics also had a role to play, especially when it came to the introduction democratic structures and processes.
By international standards Australia had been a leader in the implementation of social and legislative reforms during the first 120 years of European settlement. Worker unions had occupied significant amounts of industrial relations space, colonial government had established legislative councils with voting rights to match, and women got the right to vote, culminating in full voting rights at Federal elections in the early part of Federation. Democracy was more than an ideological plaything; it was uniquely progressive, and a defining feature of Australia's evolving political system.
The 1850s gold rushes also changed the face of Australia. They attracted people from all over the world, who saw the possibility of becoming monstrously rich in a short space of time. Most didn't, but it made Melbourne the richest city in the world during the 1870s and 1880s. The gold rushes also enable Melbourne to enhance its reputation as an architectural marvel where public buildings - be they post offices, town halls, theatres, libraries, and museums became work of art in themselves.
The 1854 Eureka miner rebellion was also a significant event since it demonstrated how collective worker resistance could engender social and political change. But there was also a highly visible downside, where Chinese miners, and anyone else who did not speak English, were victimised and vilified.
During the 1880s the growing sophistication of the cities was balanced by the down-to-earth lifestyles of rural dwellers. The expansively fertile plains of western NSW, the vast farmlands of the Riverina, and the open spaces of western and northern Victoria were populated by an eclectic mix of graziers, agriculturalists, farmers, bullock drivers, jacks of all trades, stockmen, farm labourers, and itinerant workers. The lifestyles of the lower classes – that is, those with either very small land holdings or no property at all - were encapsulated in the idea of the bushman, where his casual approach to life, his dry humour, his storytelling capabilities, and his capacity for both hard physical work and inert procrastination were defining features.
And according to some historians (especially Russell Ward) the archetypal bushman was also disdainful of formality, especially when it came to deferring to those occupying 'superior' social positions. Jack was as good as his master'. But the thing that mattered most was the loyalty that bush workers, drovers, and stockmen showed to their 'mates'. They were the people you would most like to have in your corner, so to speak, when things had gone wrong, when you were 'down on your luck' and there were few people to call on. Egalitarianism was once again front-and-centre in rural Australia, where cutting down tall poppies and jettisoning any pretence of formality was the norm.
Rural workers, together with outback stockmen and high-plains horsemen, led to the creation to a larger-than-life image - a myth if you like - about the hundreds of supposedly class-less communities spread across the colonies, where people worked hard for their money, but were quick to give it away when people were in distress. And at the centre of their lives, aside from the family unit, were their horses, that not only helped them make a living, but also provided them with vast amounts of outdoor pleasure.
At the same time, the rural life - especially on outback stations - was both physically and psychologically demanding, with loneliness a constant threat to one's well-being. But it was also a place where the stoic, the resilient, and self-sufficient thrived, with women in the vanguard.
Some horsemen were, however, feared rather than revered. They were the bushrangers. Many were romanticised because of their colourful outlaw image and daring, but others was little more than bandits after some easy money. But whatever your view about their morals, they also captured the public imagination, with Ned Kelly being the exemplar.
For many, Ned epitomised the Irish Catholic rebel-battler whose 'social activism' and concern for equality was undermined at every turn by rich and powerful Protestants and their compliant - or was it complicit? - police force. To others he was a violent young man whose psychopathic tendencies were tempered by his charismatic appearance, astute political observations, and Robin Hood' style support for his oppressed brothers and sisters. Either way, he became an iconic figure and personified anti-establishment rebels who stood up - and in extreme cases gave up their life - for the rights of the poor and disadvantaged. There is no doubt Ned - and the near-epic stories that surrounded his life -contributed to a sense of who we are as Australians.
There had also been many social welfare initiatives along the way, with the work done by Caroline Chisholm during the middle of the 1800s - when she assisted female migrants in their settlement arrangements providing a benchmark.
The 1907 Harvester judgment of Justice Higgins, where he ruled in favour of a minimum - that, is basic - wage for all workers was also a landmark initiative (a world first). It became the gold-standard for wage setting processes for the next 70 years. It signified the importance Australians attached to social justice issues, with the idea of a 'fair go' underpinning their value system and code of ethics.
Australians were also seen as outdoor people who enjoyed the rough and tumble of life. It would be not unfair to say that during the first decade or so of the 20th century most Australians were more hedonistic than intellectual. Yes, they valued education, they enjoyed reading, they were skilled letter writers, and they understood the benefits that came from value of hard and honest work. But in the middle of summer, when faced with the choice of a few more hours in the foundry, attending a mechanics institute class on socialism in Europe, or frolicking in the surf, the decision was obvious.
As it turned out the beach, the surf and the pool became an iconic part of the Australian experience. During the first two decades of the 20th century beachgoing became a part of everyday life across the coastlines of the nation. It was, in a way, a subversive thing to do since it privileged easy hedonistic leisure over hard instrumental work. But it was also highly democratic since it was available to everyone, and the cost of admission was close to zero. Ther beach was a classic 'public good 'where the more it got used the safer and more satisfying it became, and the better off we all were. Nearly every Australian - be they city slickers or country folk - had a good story to tell when it came to the beach. By the 1930s Australia had become a nation of beach lovers.
This is all good, but we have still only touched the surface of the Australian character.
For example, where does the Anzac tradition fit when asking ourselves what it is to be an Australian? And what about our WW2 heroics along the Kokoda trail? Well, we clearly take it seriously, since we have allocated a lot of scarce government resources into commemorating the selfless service of our defence forces over a long period of time. The Australian War Memorial in Canberra is an amazing facility, and over the last 80 years or so no expenses were spared in giving visitors an unforgettable experience. But a few years ago, someone decided that the building was too small, and the displays needed revamping. As a result, in 2019 the Federal government approved a $540 million upgrade, with not even the Greens objecting.
The Australian War Memorial had, for all intents and purposes, become a sacred site where the dead were mourned, and military victories celebrated. It demonstrated what Australian can do, and what sacrifices we make when facing adversity. According to many politicians - and most of all, John Howard - it told us everything we needed to know about our national character. The Great War especially had ‘welded a people together in common purpose.’ And, according to C.E.W. Bean the Australian government’s official WW1 historian, ‘The Digger's unspoken, unbreakable creed was the miner's and bushman's, "Stand by your mate."
And, according to Mr Bean, despite the all the killings and relentless horrors, the Australian nation for the first time ‘came to know itself.’ And it liked what it saw. ‘Their own men … flash[ed] across the world's consciousness like a shooting star.’ So, despite being a failure, the Gallipoli campaign became a defining moment for Australia. It not only solidified our sense of nationhood, but also gave full force to the Anzac spirit where bravery, ingenuity, endurance, and, of course, our commitment to our mates, was on full display.
There was though, an alternative narrative doing the rounds a few years ago. According to a Mr P. Stanley, in a 2010 book titled Bad Characters: Sex. Crime, Mutiny, Murder and the Australian Imperial Force, Australian soldiers were ten times more likely than British, Canadian or New Zealand soldiers to go absent without leave during WW1 and three times as likely as their allies to contact venereal diseases. According to Mr Stanley, this reflected the fact that the Australians were volunteer soldiers rather than regular or conscripted troops, and thus felt entitled to maintain aspects of their ‘civilian way of life. However, his story failed to get much traction amongst rank-and-file military historians.
And what did the 1930s economic depression do to our national psyche? Well, for one thing it made us realise that experts from Britain did not have the answers to our economic woes. With the director of the Bank of England, Sir Otto Niemeyer, leading the way, they made them worse by telling us the pathway to prosperity was a cut in both wages and government spending. They were wrong on both counts.
And there was also the cultural importance of horse racing and the betting that sustained it. It all began in Sydney in the early 1800s, found its way into every nook and cranny of Australian society over the next 200 years and is today a massive industry that every state government supports despite its often-corrupt underbelly.
And we must not forget the impact of Christianity on the nation’s moral development and public values. It was effectively the ‘state religion’ for many years, and thus united us under one faith. But it also led to many problems, with the Catholic - Protestant divide being a source of serious mistrust and hostility during most of the 20th century.
And then there were the massive waves of migration from all parts of the world as we entered the 1950s.
And what did all those big infrastructure projects say about what it meant to be an Australian? And we need to remember that the 1960s was a golden age for local manufacturing.
There was also the great Australian suburban dream to work through, with the idea of having a home of your own in the suburbs still having great cultural resonance.
And as we moved through the 1960s and 1970s a culture of consumerism enveloped us all. Our love affair with shopping malls might tell us something about our national character.
There were also a few researchers who reckoned they had discovered Australia’s real identity and national character by getting a sample of citizens to undertake a ‘collective personality’ test.
And other experts were saying our concomitant love affair with all things American was re-shaping our sense of what it was to be an Australian.
And while this was happening the sports and arts sector was impacting on our national identity, and united us when the world was watching.
There was, in addition, a plethora of contemporary cinema ‘period’ pieces where ‘typical’ Australians were given centre stage. The Castle and Muriel’s Wedding were standouts. But was it more nostalgic than real?
The multi-cultural movement followed, and over the first two decades of the 2000s the face of the nation underwent an extreme cosmetic makeover, so to speak.
In recent times we began to question who we were as a nation, what we stood for, what our distinctive features were, and what bound us together. And some people were left wondering if we were, indeed, a nation at all, if you define it as group of people with a common – that is, shared - geographic territory, language, history, AND culture.
So, whatever way you looked it over the last few decades our traditional Anglo-centric view of what it was to be an Australian was being challenged at every turn. Moreover, there are signs that the things that divide us are far stronger than the things that unite us. Religion, class, and gender have always been problems, but in recent times ethnicity and race have been added to the mix. In 2006 it was encapsulated in the Cronulla riots where Skips and Lebs faced off against each other. In 2024 it was most visible in the clashes between the Israelis and Zionist on one side of the barricades, and the Palestinians and Hamas defenders on the other.
What it is to be an Australian has become increasingly problematic. I invite you ask people you know to describe the Australian national character and tell you what the typical Australian looks and sounds like.
Bob Stewart
8 October 2024
I reckon Australians are facing an identity crisis. And, in my mind, this because we have so many competing identities. We are no longer defined by the place we live, the way we are governed, and the values we share. We are now defined by what we look like, who we think we are, what we believe in, the deprivations we suffer, and the discrimination we face. In short, how we see ourselves is shaped by our gender, body shape, skin colour, ethnic heritage, religious beliefs, physical disability, and a whole range of psychological and cognitive impairments that include dyslexia, autism, attention deficit disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder, anxiety, and mood fluctuations. And in many instances this plethora of personal identities, is accompanied a loathing of anyone whose identify confers them with undeserved power and privilege. As a result, Australian society has become more fragmented than ever before.
But all is not lost. This fragmentation has an upside, the main one being our uniqueness. We have many special qualities – from the banal to the exotic - that are worth sharing and celebrating. For example:
· We live in a big, sunburnt country deep in the southern hemisphere.
· We are surrounded by sea.
· We are, overall, sparsely populated… Our population density is just over 3 people per square kilometre. India’s is 464, and United States’ is 36.
· Around 85% of us live within 50 kilometres of the coast.
· We are highly urbanised, with just over 80% of us living in cities and large towns.
· We are a ‘new world’ nation shaped by 60,000 years of aboriginal habitation, 112 years of British colonisation, and 123 years of independent, democratic governance.
· We are more than a ‘luck country’…
· We are an inventive and adaptive nation
· We are a highly productive nation built on the back of the massive mechanisation of agriculture, large-scale infrastructure projects - rail, road, bridges, dams, and power generation - and a highly capitalised mining industry,
· We are an English-speaking nation and are proud of our idiosyncratic accent.
· We are a nation that celebrates our heritage, conserves what is valuable, commemorates our darker moments, while always moving forward.
· We both cherish and romanticise our colonial heritage, especially the laconic ‘bush worker, the heroic horsemen, the stoically resourceful bush women’, and the mateship that permeated rural life in colonial times.
· We have used these traits to provide support for the disadvantaged and the disabled.
· We believe in home ownership for all and great the suburban dream.
· We celebrate our spectacular landscape
· We embrace the outdoors and all that it offers
· We passionately believe in democracy, representative government, a professional trained and independent public service, and an impartial legal system, while also being free from the tyranny of authoritarianism and military rule.
· We view the protection of human rights – especially when it comes to freedom of expression, assembly, and travel - as a non-negotiable part of the Australian way of life.
· We lament the harm we have perpetrated on our first nation / indigenous brothers and sisters.
· We have a strong tradition of civic engagement that brings communities together and enhances citizen well-being.
This isn’t bad for nation of 27 million people that started out as an open-air prison 230+ years ago in an inhospitable land in the middle of nowhere.
Bob Stewart
10 October 2024
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