The Big Fella, page 25
Most of the press fusillade against Labor during the 1927 elections campaign was frantic to the point of puerility. But the Sydney Morning Herald again stood out in depth of analysis, quality of writing and effective determination to assail Lang and Labor: as a corollary it also apparently had men associated with it who had links with the hard core of conservative zealots. From May the paper presented more than usual unsigned articles as well as the habitual long editorials excoriating Lang and his Party, concentrating on the dangers they posed to ‘the Constitution’ through their ‘red affiliations’. Some of the items incorporated legitimate criticism, designed in accepted party political terms: in this sense the Herald acted effectively as the unofficial organ of the National Party. But much of the material went beyond rational discussion, despite an appearance of objectivity, often with a tendentious, if useful, historical basis. On 27 May an unsigned article gave a seriously distorted ‘history’ of ‘The Red Rules’, bringing in the ‘OBU preamble’, ‘Mr. Garden and Moscow’; and ending with the alarming opinion that Lang’s success at the April Seale conference in reinforcing the ban on Communists was ‘about as effective as would be a label on a tiger affirming he is not a tiger’.512
Far and away the most sustained, best researched and most insidious piece of irrational propaganda was presented in a series of seven special articles and a postscript written by ‘Orion’ and published in the Herald in September-October 1927 as the election campaign reached its climax.513 The pieces totalled about 10 000 words. They are the best example of the propensity of the conservative reaction to the Labor Party and Lang to foster the kind of fallacies that fuelled the lurking anti-democratic forces which were being organized, at least in Sydney and Melbourne, in the 1920s, and which would burst into the light in 1931 with the formation of the Fascist New Guard.514 The scale of ‘Orion’s’ investigative journalism inevitably involved the highest level of editorial and proprietorial co-operation.
‘Orion’ was F. M. Cutlack,515 a British army officer in World War I, who had been educated in Adelaide; he became C. E. W. Bean’s assistant in his great work during the war on the history of the Australian military forces. Cutlack wrote the volume on the Australian Flying Corps. He was on Prime Minister Bruce’s staff at the 1923 Imperial Conference. He had joined the Herald in 1920, became one of its chief leader-writers in the 1920s and was associate editor in 1938-46. He had close connections with high military officers516 and with top conservative politicians and entrepreneurs. The Herald’s general bias against Lang and Labor enabled Cutlack to indulge his revulsion against Communism to a degree which revealed that, when the crunch came, the quality newspaper’s policy differed only in style from the fury of the inferior conservative press.
Cutlack was a very good writer and his articles are a valuable contemporary source on aspects of the history of Lang and the New South Wales Labor Party in the 1920s. But they have to be used with much critical care. Starting with a typical quote from Garden, which the Herald had used before, ‘The good old times of playing at politics are gone. Revolution has stepped upon the stage’, Cutlack sketches Labor’s background ‘of unending party dissensions; of acute personal strife for petty power; of threats, scandals and vendettas’. He gives great detail of Willis’s role, and of Lang’s clash with Garden. He argues that eventually Lang became a tool of Garden, a threat to the Constitution, and eventually a gullible dictator operating under the ‘Red Rules’.
Cutlack’s compelling motive was to prejudice voters against Lang, but he went beyond that acceptable objective, and beyond reasonable warning against the social danger of Communism, to console and encourage the nebulous groups who sought more efficient methods than the ballot box to cling to their ideology and privileged positions. His article published on 1 October was headlined ‘The “Class War”. Trades Hall Committed. Following Moscow’s Lead’; its peroration included a long quotation dug from Garden’s inexhaustible repertoire of fearsome sayings, which, Cutlack asserted, involved the May 1927 All-Australian Trades Union Congress in Melbourne in a preference for ‘affiliation with the Red International of Moscow—a branch of the Soviet Government’. His final thunderbolt was ‘Let Mr. Lang explain this to the electors if he can’. Cutlack’s series was not the first kick at the Communist can, but it is the best example of that aberration in the 1920s. And it set a high standard for countless future imitators.
It is possible to understand the failure of contemporary conservative political commentators, even one so well qualified and experienced as Cutlack, to unravel the complexities of Garden’s gyrations, accompanied as they were with frightening theatricalism and fierce dialogue, made bewildering at times by an accelerating Scottish burr. But many Laborites, including Seale, Beasley and O’Reilly, knew that not far below the threatening exterior of the Labor Council’s secretary was a personality craving the limelight, generous, with a vision, however distorted, of international workers’ solidarity which would bring peace and happiness to all people; and they sometimes appreciated his sense of humour, which bordered occasionally on the comical, although they questioned his honesty, marvelled at his superstition, and often cowered in embarrassment at his frequent public gaffes. In Russia Garden would have been a minor commissar for life. In Australia he was condemned to be Lang’s unpredictable lackey for several years. He was not an ogre menacing the fabric of Australian society.
But similar forbearance cannot be accorded to the critics’ almost complete misreading of Willis. They presented him relentlessly as a ‘red-ragger’, who, even more than Garden—for Willis was a well-read and serious man—supplied the revolutionary streak that they wanted to discern in the forces they claimed to detect in control of Lang. In making this judgement the publicists defied both logic and insight and exposed the almost complete absence of any liberal leaven in their conservatism: a notable deficiency in political commentary in the 1920s in New South Wales. This defect was remedied to a degree in parliament by several Nationalists and members of the Country Party, especially Bavin, Buttenshaw, Arthur and Carruthers.
Willis certainly had had a turbulent career as an outstanding trade union leader, and had been embroiled in much Labor Party conflict. He also possessed an intellectually based socialist outlook, which he could express ably in speech and action. But he was patently in the British tradition of radicalism, and from 1922 he adapted astutely and sincerely to Australian conditions. His work as government leader in the Legislative Council was facilitated by his background, and illustrated very well the important point that the Labor Party had been making since 1891—that political power in a democracy was not the monopoly of favoured social and economic groups. Cutlack and other analysts could not accept this fact. But voters were not deceived. By definition they acted politically on behalf of their society, to which the Labor Party and its members belonged. If Willis had wanted to enter the local Legislative Assembly or the national House of Representatives, and could have arranged preselection in an appropriate seat (which he most probably could have done), he would certainly have been elected. Even Garden, in the fullness of time and hope, would become an alderman and an MHR.
The main reason, among a motley cluster of sources, for the strong reaction of the conservatives and their literary cohorts against Lang and the Labor Party was because he and it sought, and ultimately achieved, benefits for the trade unions. The resistance was complicated by ideological stimulation, none the less effective for being rudimentary and formless; but it was firmly based on the belief that each increase in wages, each reduction in working hours, each improvement in working conditions cost employers money and hence redistributed income by reducing profits and dividends. Lang had repeatedly assailed the shadowy, but powerful, National Consultative Council, on which the major Sydney capitalist groups were represented, and which was the major source of funds for the National Party. This body crystallized the opposition to trade unions, backed up by several other organizations, principally the Employers’ Association.
For their part, the unions were insatiable in protecting the interests of their members. They were led by capable, tough men, virtually all of whom had worked, or were working, in the trades and labouring occupations they represented. Nearly all of the leaders were members of the Labor Party. But all of them were exposed to the gusts of eclectic, radical concepts, ranging from self-improvement and Christian socialism to Communism. They were a vital part of the community conduit through which progressive political and social ideas were assessed. Nevertheless, they had been formed in the democratic environment of Australia—some had come from Britain (for which they were tormented when quarrels broke out)—so they could distinguish, at least in practice, between Communism as a familiar, if potent, statement of the need for social betterment and membership of the Communist Party, which involved a commitment to the ‘class war’, revolution, and, in the end, Stalin. Their conditioning meant that, despite the dissent of a few of them, as a group they took for granted the national institutions of Crown, parliament and Churches. With grudging awareness, they accepted variably the indigenous capitalist economic system, which was inextricably bound up with the freedom on which unions depended—of speech, association and assembly, governed by the rule of law. Indeed, trade unionism, itself, had become an Australian institution, impervious to onslaughts from the left as well as the right.
The leaders reflected the opinions of the great majority of trade unionists. They all realized, however dimly, the great historical role of trade unions in Australia, not least as seen in the multitude of strikes since the 1830s, accentuated from the 1890s, which made the nation a freer and juster society than it would have been without them. Many, probably a large majority, of the rank and file of unionists shared in the general community attitude of blended scepticism and deference towards politics, which implied that there were more interesting activities in a democracy. They were not downtrodden, but their incomes were restricted to wages that even for tradesmen were barely sufficient to obtain for themselves and their families minimum standards of food, clothing and shelter. Unemployment was a constant threat to their existence. To improve their lot they brought diverse pressure to bear on the authorities, not only of the State, but also of the Labor Party. They fought for an arbitration system that became increasingly complex and often did not deliver what they demanded. They never renounced the right to strike, which was their industrial ultimate weapon—and a primary principle of Australian society.
Trade unionists were the substantial component of the Labor Party and provided most of its funds; and nearly all their gains, and retentions of positions already won, were achieved through the Party, though not all of them voted Labor all the time. But they knew and the Party as a whole knew that, in an imperfect world, the two should remain together. And the New South Wales voters—most of whom, including many employees, were not trade unionists—did not disagree with that decision.
The National Consultative Council and the Employers’ Association, and the National and Country Parties, were well aware of the power of the relationship between the Labor Party and the unions. This knowledge provided the central impulse to the struggle they waged against the Labor Party. And the Country Party knew, as did the country Labor MLAs, that many rural people, some of them affected by the slump of the AWU, had different problems from city dwellers and were not in sympathy with unions.
Thus unions were pivotal in democratic politics: by the end of 1927 Lang was fully attuned to their public and Party importance.
So, while the manifest disunity of the Labor Party in 1927 was the chief cause of its electoral defeat, the administrative decisions and, especially, the legislation the Party had implemented on behalf of the trade unions were vital, fused factors. The non-Labor groups were not so disturbed by the social reforms of Lang’s government: indeed, their minority liberal wing favoured some improvements in this field. The anti-‘red’ propaganda disclosed the growth of undemocratic forces but had no serious effects on the New South Wales poll.517
Lang claimed that the new parliament would ‘contain a virile and united fighting Labor Party representing nearly half a million of the people’.518 That was true in respect of the Legislative Assembly. But the pre-elections Party fissures were still apparent in the Legislative Council where two Labor groups emerged, Willis the leader of the official MLCs, Coates of the others.519
On the wider Party front the omens were brighter. Lang had reaffirmed the predominance of parliamentary action; and, reinforcing his leadership strength, he now had an admiring, even hero-worshipping, band of Trades Hall supporters: King and Schreiber had joined Seale, Culbert, Beasley and O’Reilly among the most prominent. The ‘Trades Hall Reds’, never as united or active as Garden had presented them, had been dissipated in the theoretical maze and exhausted by the practical problems of trying to reconcile ‘redness’ and/or ‘communism’ with the realities of the demands of trade unionism and Labor politics. They had been no match for Lang.
The new peacefulness was symbolized by a function held at the Town Hall on 6 December when Lang (reportedly indisposed and unable to appear) and Seale were honoured by a well-attended ‘smoke concert’. W. M. Webster was in charge—he had replaced Seale as president of the Party. On Lang’s behalf, Gosling received from Charlton a case of cutlery. Theodore presented a gold watch and chain to Seale, whose ill health continued.520 The Federal branch, not dismayed by the election results, had become reconciled to the position in New South Wales, and was preparing to make a spirited challenge to the Bruce-Page government at the 1928 general election. Theodore’s participation in the function showed that he, too, had adapted to the hard facts of Lang’s domination, even if with some mental reservations which would have been sharpened by Lang’s pointed absence. Seale had earned his presentation.
By the beginning of 1928 more unemployed men than ever were sleeping in the Sydney Domain and the increase in their numbers reflected a spreading economic malaise not only in Sydney and New South Wales, but also throughout Australia.521 As part of his determination to renew the Federal Parliamentary Labor Party and to prepare a strong campaign for the Federal elections, Scullin ‘For many months … had warned that Australia was facing an economic crisis’. The languid Bruce-Page government, ensconced in power since February 1923, mainly because of its manipulation of the ‘Red Menace’, was preparing a deficit budget for 1928-29.522 When Lang moved a censure motion against the Bavin-Buttenshaw coalition in April 1928, his goading rhetoric indicated that he would concentrate on the multiplying financial problems facing the government: the actual number of unemployed in New South Wales, he said, was 22 000, not 13 000 as claimed by Bavin.523
Associated with the beginnings of the shadows of what was to prove the greatest depression in Australian history was the accentuation of industrial disturbances. Strikes had long been a normal feature of Australian life. Despite the fact that they were universally deplored, and often produced grave hardships, especially to those on strike, work stoppages had helped to modernize the national society in a variety of ways. All governments had attempted to create conditions that would at least reduce their frequency and duration. The national system of arbitration in a federated democracy had fashioned a mesh of laws which, overall, had improved industrial relations, but had by no means abolished chronic disputes that often ended in strikes. Even Labor governments were afflicted—strikes often gave trade unions opportunities to assert their independence of the ALP.
The Federal government’s policy in the 1920s reflected the conservatives’ view that, while lip service should be paid to the need for conciliation and arbitration, the most effective way to deal with recalcitrant workers was by some form of coercion. This judgement was a reaction to union militancy which was interpreted by the government as sedition, with ‘reds’ lurking behind the facade of the labour movement. The failure of the government at the 1926 referendum to gain complete power over industrial issues and the rejection the previous year by the High Court of its attempt to deport maritime union leaders, Thomas Walsh and Jacob Johnson, left Nationalist Prime Minister Bruce with virtually no ideas on peaceful industrial relations. Country Party Deputy Prime Minister Page, a country doctor, had no understanding of trade unions, let alone sympathy for them.
As economic conditions worsened in 1928-29, the industrial ferment spilled over to serious national disputes, variously described as strikes and lockouts, in the shipping, timber and coal industries. New South Wales had been the centre of workers’ industrial action since the nineteenth century and was again the worst-affected State. During the ships’ cooks’ strike which ended in June 1928 Garden declaimed to bemused reporters that ‘scab’ cooks were likely to become seasick and would seek relief ‘at the taffrail, and may lose their balance. In which case the water is damp, the sea is deep, and dead men tell no tales’.524 Charged with incitement to murder and defended by R. Curtis, KC, Evatt and McKell, he was acquitted on 27 August.525 A waterside workers’ strike broke out in September. The timber strike was long and bitter, beginning in January and ending in October 1929.526 There was argument about whether the coal dispute which lasted fifteen months from March 1929 was a strike or a lockout, but there was no doubt about its serious national repercussions, socially and politically as well as industrially.527
With the industrial and economic clouds darkening and the Federal elections impending, the 1928 New South Wales annual Easter conference, if not subdued, was comparatively quiet. It featured some complex portents of the changed disposition of power in the ALP. There was no doubt that Lang was in ultimate control in the State and that the Federal branch had accepted his victory: accompanying Lang on 6 April there were fifteen other MLAs on the platform and six MHRs, including Theodore and Blakeley. The Herald’s continuance of its vendetta against Lang prevented it from discerning the subtle changes that were consolidating his prestige. Its headline, ‘Garden Faction in Control’, fatuously misrepresented the swing of Trades Hall support to Lang and the fact that Garden (still out of the Labor Party) had perforce linked the Labor Council to the momentum, not only to express his hopes of personal political advancement, but also to defend himself from the attacks of members of the Communist Party.528 His influence on the conference was virtually nil.
