Patriotism and Its Discontents: a Small Town in a Great Strike I
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Patriotism and its discontents: a small town in a great strike i Julie Kimber Lecturer in Politics Social & Policy Studies Faculty of Life and Social Sciences Swinburne University of Technology Mail H31 PO Box 218 Hawthorn VIC 3122 Australia Email: [email protected] Tel: + 61 3 9214 8103 Fax: + 61 3 9819 0574 1 Patriotism and its discontents: a small town in a great strike Julie Kimber* Much ink has been spilt on the question of the General Strike of 1917. Despite nuances of interpretation there exists a general consensus that the strike was a product of the deeply disruptive social, economic and political circumstances of World War I. This paper seeks to add to that discussion through a vignette of the strike, as it played out in the town of Orange in central western NSW. The battle for the meaning of words unleashed during the period illustrates the now well- known fault lines of power and social control embedded in Australia. The 1917 Strike cannot be studied in isolation from World War I. As Dan Coward argued the reaction to the strike ‘reflected a corrosive social and political malaise’ then prevalent (Coward, 1973, p. 80). Despite differing nuances, a historiographical consensus exists on the particularly brutal effects of the processes of the war (see, for example, Gollan, 1963; Turner, 1965; Coward, 1973; Taksa, 1991; and Bollard, 2006). The conscription referenda campaigns, punctuated by the General Strike, lifted the veil of consensus, created new social fractures and entrenched divisions between political parties. It purged these parties of marginal supporters, removing the cross-class nature of organisations in infancy. Such schisms are evident in the competing hegemonic discourses. Those on opposing sides employed the same rhetoric: scabs, shirkers, slackers, loafers, loyalists and traitors. Mateship was evoked time and again to cajole, set straight, belittle and triumph. Behind the invective lay the inexplicable tragedy of World War I (Inglis, 2001, p. 97). The physical violence abroad was met by the ‘symbolic’ violence of language at home: the latter shows up the fallacy of the shared ‘consensus’ of the young nation, revealing instead the structural inequalities extant within society. The strike corroded the very thing that expressed a common culture: language. The 1917 General Strike was one of the most dramatic events in New South Wales labour history. Its development is now well known: coming just weeks after protests against the Government for halting public works projects, the General Strike was a response to the introduction of a time card system in the New South Wales Railway workshops. The strike spread to other unions and parts of Australia, and soon involved almost one hundred thousand workers (see for example Taksa, 1991; Patmore, 1985; Turner, 1965). Its immediate causes are also familiar. As Taksa (1991, p. 16) commented, ‘despite previous assurances that conditions of labour would not be altered during the war’, the New South Wales government introduced a time card system on the railways, and the fear of the ‘speed-up’ precipitated wild cat strikes that culminated in the official walk-off on 2 August 1917. The government’s intransigence and refusal to send the dispute to arbitration undermined what Taksa described as the ‘tradition of meliorism’; as such the government had ‘evaded’ the ‘traditional compact between workers and the state’ (Taksa, 1991, pp., 22-24). This paper attempts, through the lens of experiences in the town of Orange, to show that the ‘compact’ alluded to by Taksa was illusory; representing instead, a coerced acquiescence to a supposed Governmental paternalism, which was, in any case, shattered by the process of war. Such acquiescence was premised on largely unquestioned but competing interpretations of language. It is when these interpretations are employed for completely opposite objectives that the fallacy of shared consensus is revealed. 2 Orange, historically maligned in favour if its near neighbour, Bathurst, lies west of that centre on the rich volcanic soil of Mount Canobolis. A strong agricultural hub, the town has also been the centre of a vibrant manufacturing industry and of a small, though substantial and diverse local industry. The railway cemented its longevity and ensured for much of the first half of the twentieth century its connection with the rest of the state. It is unsurprising, therefore, that the cleavages within the railways would affect this town and the trajectory of the strike would echo the experience elsewhere. This paper attempts to show how the gentle social fabric of Orange was woven on a tenuous shared use of language, and how, during the strike, a competition for the control of language occurred within the town. **** In 1917, the large regional railway junction in Orange employed up to 60 wages staff, overseeing some 115,000 passenger journeys a year. The wages staff, familiar with the troubles before the strike, held a mass meeting after the appeal to stop work was issued by the Amalgamated Railway and Tramway Service Association (ARTSA). They agreed, ‘with one or two exceptions’, to quit. (Orange Leader, 1 August 1917; 3 August 1917; 6 August 1917; Report of the Commissioners, for year ending June 30, 1917, p. 60). As with the experiences of others, their decision to strike was not made lightly. It was made in spite of appeals to loyalty in wartime and promises that such loyalty would be rewarded. The decision precipitated an immediate walk-off, shortly before the mail train was about to arrive from Forbes. Railway management sent out an appeal to ‘clerical staff to fill the breach’. Men, who were ordinarily poring over ledgers or compiling returns, were for the nonce transformed into porters, ticket collectors, and anything else required of them. They wheeled the heavily laden luggage trucks up and down the platform, showed passengers to their seats with an amiability altogether foreign to the passenger, and successfully conducted the whole of the arrangements as if they had been accustomed to it as part of their daily avocation (Orange Leader, 8 August 1917). This quote comes from the local newspaper, The Orange Leader, which, due to a combination of both a paucity of sources and the textual analysis it enables, is used extensively in this paper. Local newspapers in towns like Orange acted as a medium of the public sphere and as such reveal much of the tensions and hegemonic structures of power in localities (see, for example, Hurd, 2000; Mayer, 1968; Kirkpatrick, 2000; Aitkin, 1985; Habermas, 1992). The war coloured the language employed by the newspaper, which borrowed heavily from military allegories and an urgency hardly fitting the (local) situation at hand. Important also was the use of sarcasm and humour, both of which were employed by strikers and ‘loyalists’ alike during the dispute. The use of language formed the central strategy in the battle for moral ascendancy irrespective of the reality it portrayed. Despite the ‘glowing report’ of the amiable, courteous and able strikebreaker, the strike severely curtailed the running of trains through Orange and created large frustrations. Those 3 trains that did manage to get through were so heavily laden with passengers that many had to stand for the entire journey to Sydney. The ‘loyalists’ (mainly salaried office staff) busied themselves with the work of porters, platform hands and cleaners. Even the ‘call boy’ had gone on strike, his job filled by the superintendent’s clerk. As occurred elsewhere, railway officers and the government were successful in positioning the strike in relation to the war effort and the strikers’ loyalty to King, Empire and Nation was put on notice. The Leader played its role in maintaining such division and for the most part backed the loyalists during the strike by publishing telegrams in support of the government sent by ‘the public of Orange’. In one, the ‘public’ ‘expressed deep admiration’ to the Superintendent of Lines for his attempt to ‘overcome the difficulty of transport’; the same message also congratulated ‘loyalists who have remained true to their employers, and the country’ (Orange Leader, 8 August 1917). A second telegraph from ‘loyalists’ in Orange was sent to Deputy Commissioner E. Milne. It read: ‘accept heartiest congratulations stand taken by Commissioners in this regrettable strike. Hope your action will be strongly supported by the Government. Western friends are with you.’ (Orange Leader, 8 August 1917). The publication of the telegraph, while not immediately evident in this quote, fits with the long- standing appeal to the rationality and superiority of localism against class identity, which permeated local politics. Such appeals were made within the context of straitened circumstance. For Orange an immediate effect of the strike was a shortage of food. Several grocers arranged to have teamsters drive to Sydney, a return journey that could take over two weeks. Within days of the strike in Orange, rationing of sugar and butter commenced. While the Leader credited the Orange strikers for being ‘very orderly’, it maintained that they ‘would go back at once, but for the fear of being called scabs and blacklegs’. The strike reproduced the language of the conscription struggle before it. Lines were drawn between loyalists and traitors. The term ‘scab’ was invoked by both sides. With the slaughter of Passchendaele now evident, the strikers struggled for legitimacy. The Leader chastised the strikers by asking: ‘what greater sin could be perpetrated than that of scabbing it on their mates in the trenches’ (Orange Leader, 8 August 1917; see also 13 August 13, 1917). A ‘largely signed requisition to the Mayor’ appeared in the Leader calling for a town meeting ‘for the purpose of obtaining an expression of opinion from the citizens with regard to the present railway strike’ (Orange Leader, 8 August 1917).