Un-Settling Settler Desires

By Scott Morgensen, Unsettling Ourselves

My presentation to the Dakota Decolonization class echoed my broader teaching and writing by centering the principles of Indigenous feminist thought and its ties to women of color and Third World feminism. Andrea Smith in her book Conquest: Sexual Violence and American Indian Genocide (2005) writes that colonization and heteropatriarchy inherently interlink, so that opposition to one requires opposition to the other. Her Indigenous feminist argument links to the principle of intersectionality in women of color and Third World feminisms, which appears in the Combahee River Collective’s “A Black Feminist Statement” (1977) in the claim that “all the major systems of oppression are interlocking.”

I learned to commit to these principles by investigating and challenging the power and privilege that structure my life as a white, educationally-privileged, US American male, non-transgender and (temporarily) able-bodied. My lifelong experience as a queer person who has suffered from heteropatriarchy did teach me about oppression and resistance, as did my family’s struggles with work and income. But given my social locations, those experiences were not sufficient to teach me that colonization is the condition of heteropatriarchy and capitalism in the U.S., or that all the major systems of oppression intersect. Learning this required being challenged by Indigenous and women of color and Third World feminists to study how colonization, whiteness and racism, capitalism, ableism, and heteropatriarchy interlink in the world and in my life. Such an understanding contextualizes all my words about settlers and settlement.

My writing critically investigates the desires of settlers to feel connected to Indigenous land and culture. In her contribution to this sourcebook, Waziyatawin discusses Albert Memmi’s distinction of the colonizer and the colonized. I intend my use of the term “settler” to be compatible with Memmi’s term “colonizer” and with its discussion by Waziyatawin. “Settler” is a way to describe colonizers that highlights their desires to be emplaced on Indigenous land. The settler desires I study are not tied to any particular politics. Among settlers, “conservatives,” “liberals,” and “radicals” (to name only a few) share similar desires that simply express in varied ways. For instance, settler radicals, including anarchists, have proven capable of forming movements that profess to be anticolonial even as they claim Indigenous land and culture as their own. I recognize among settler radicals a difference between those who pursue a politics that tries to sustain their ties to Indigenous land and culture, and those who question any desire to possess them. I promote the latter in this essay as a way to radicalize settlers to challenge settler colonialism and support Indigenous decolonization.

I argue that critical reflection on settler desires for Indigenous land and culture will be crucial to any effort by settlers to ally with Indigenous decolonization struggles. I invite settlers to ask: How do their desires for Indigenous land and culture express colonization and contradict efforts to support Indigenous decolonization? How can settlers question their desires for Indigenous land and culture as a basis of committing to decolonization? Settlers can study every attachment they have felt to Indigenous land and ask how those relate to colonization. Historically, a desire to live on Indigenous land and to feel connected to it–bodily, emotionally, spiritually–has been the normative formation of settlers. Settler radicals who commit to Indigenous decolonization must act differently. Is it possible, at once, for settlers to wish to live on or feel linked to Indigenous land, and to act in support of decolonization? Should settler radicals first commit to be willing to no longer live on Indigenous land or have any connection to it, as part of fully committing to work for decolonization? Note that my questions do not dictate answers to how settlers’ lives will appear after pursuing such work. I merely insist that asking such questions define how settlers begin such work, so that they inform what comes after. How can settler radicals commit to be ready to no longer live on Indigenous land, or to have any connection to it as part of joining work for decolonization? How would settler radicalism appear differently if this question were central to it?



If settler radicals challenge their desires to live on Indigenous land, they also will challenge their desires to study, practice, or feel in any way linked to Indigenous culture. I am thinking here of Andrea Smith’s critique in Conquest of spiritual appropriation as a form of colonial and sexual violence. I also think of Waziyatawin’s statement to the Dakota Decolonization class of the relationship between Indigenous land and spirituality, which makes decolonization of land necessary to the practice of Indigenous spirituality. With these claims in mind, settler radicals must ask how their feelings of attachment to Indigenous land and culture enact appropriation and violence. Settlers are supposed to be people who connect to Indigenous land–the land where they were raised, or that they inherit after settling it–by studying Indigenous history and culture and linking it to their lives. Historically, non-Natives became settlers by adapting Indigenous dwelling sites, travel routes, place names, modes of gathering or cultivating food, and spiritual knowledges and practices.1 These acts are part of the normative function of conquest and settlement. Thus, decolonization does not follow if settlers simply study and emulate the lives of Indigenous people on Indigenous land.

Settler radicals desperately need to investigate this truth. It is relevant in particular to those for whom anarchism links them to communalism and counterculturism, such as in rural communes, permaculture, squatting, hoboing, foraging, and neo-pagan, earth-based, and New Age spirituality. These “alternative” settler cultures formed by occupying and traversing stolen Indigenous land and often by practicing cultural and spiritual appropriation. Their participants have imagined that they act anti-colonially by “appreciating” Indigenous culture or pursuing what they imagine to be Indigenous ways of life. But using these methods to try to be intimate with Indigenous land and culture expresses settler desires without necessarily contradicting them. Critiquing and separating from these practices may be necessary for settlers to commit to work for Indigenous decolonization.

This is a hard lesson for settler radicals to learn if they felt led to support Indigenous people by participating in “alternative” settler cultures. They must ask, then, if their interest to support Indigenous people arose not from an investment in decolonization, but in recolonization. Did they emulate, or impersonate Indigenous culture in order to gain the trust or affection of Indigenous people; in hopes, then, that they would gain access to the Indigenous culture or land that they, as settlers, actually desire? It’s twisted, but true: settler radicals may seek “solidarity” with Indigenous people by pursuing settler desires to possess Indigenous land and culture for themselves. If this is so, their supposedly “alternative” cultures present no alternative to the settler cultures that Indigenous decolonization will disrupt. All must be questioned if settlers are to commit to the work of Indigenous decolonization.

I write these brief thoughts in order to introduce and invite broader conversations whose complexity my words here have not begun to fulfill. My statements and questions mean not to limit conversation but to open it. I have asked settler radicals to continually pursue critical reflection that will un-settle their senses of self and relationship to place. I am playing here on multiple meanings in the word “unsettle,” notably its correlation with the word “displace.” Certainly, in this context, “unsettling” suggests the work of displacing settlers from their possession of Indigenous land. The word reminds settler radicals to divest of their desires to occupy Indigenous land in order to work for decolonization. But “unsettling” also can invoke the qualities that settlers try to avoid feeling, such as uncertainty, discomfort, and–in an emotive sense–displacement. Colonization is an ongoing process making settlers desire the certainty and comfort of emplacement. Such feelings are incompatible with the commitment to work for Indigenous decolonization. Embracing uncertainty and discomfort–getting used to these feelings, and learning to live well amidst them–will be the productive and enlivening result of settlers displacing their centrality on stolen land and committing to work for Indigenous decolonization.

~

1 Among the wide array of writing on these histories by scholars in Native Studies, my words here refer in particular to Vince Deloria, Custer Died for Your Sins: An Indian Manifesto (1969) and to Philip Deloria, Playing Indian (1998).

Field Punishment No.1 - a film on objectors to the First World War

'Field Punishment No.1', the story of the 14 objectors shipped to Europe and tortured during WW1 is screening tonight: http://tvnz.co.nz/field-punishment-no1/index-group-5869688.

You can also watch it online at the link above.

Why the term ‘settler’ needs to stick

By Corey Snelgrove and Klara Woldenga, The Martlet

This semester, I’ve heard at least one person express their love for this land and their discomfort with the term “settler.” This individual did not see how the term applied to their situation and found it divisive and hurtful. They chalked up conflicts within indigenous-settler solidarity efforts to simple differences in cultures and worldviews.

The latter statement is fundamentally connected to the speaker’s discomfort with the term “settler.”

Simplifying these conflicts ignores and hides the ongoing colonial power dynamics that shape indigenous-settler relationships. This logic frames colonialism as historic, rather than an ongoing structure.

This is why the term “settler” is used: to denaturalize our — that is, all non-indigenous peoples’ — status on this land, to force colonialism into the forefront of our consciousness, to cause discomfort and force a reckoning with our inherited colonial status, to create the understanding and desire to embrace, demand and effect change.

“Settler” is a political and relational term describing our contemporary relationship to colonialism. It is not a racial signifier. Rather, it is a non-homogenous, spatial term signifying the fact that colonial settlement has never ceased. Colonial settlement is ongoing and it will remain so as long as we continue our implicit consent by remaining willfully oblivious to, or worse, actively and consciously defending, colonial power relations.

Dispossession, disconnection and destruction is the story of Canada. But it doesn’t have to be our future.

If we don’t acknowledge and understand our settler status, how will we work together, in solidarity and in practice, for a better future?

Of course, being called a settler or self-identifying as a settler doesn’t mean we understand this relationship — perhaps we never will fully understand the extent of it. Nor is it an end in itself. Unsettling is a longer and larger-than-life process involving the emotional, psychological and mental, but more importantly, the material.

We have inherited “settler” status because the structures of colonial domination remain to benefit us, whether you are first or eleventh generation on these lands (though these benefits flow unequally amongst us). Understanding this is the first step in creating new relationships based on peace and mutual respect — the first move towards producing the conditions for solidarity.

But this is only the first step.

Defending Ōrākau

Reposted from NatLib: Many New Zealanders will be aware of the approaching centenary of the beginning of the Great War, but it is also important to remember the New Zealand Wars fought on our own soil. Between March and June, the 150th anniversaries of the battles of Ōrākau, Pukehinahina (Gate Pā), and Te Ranga will be commemorated. Next week the Library is hosting public events featuring different perspectives on the Waikato War, and in particular, the battle of Ōrākau.

This is in association with the exhibition Borderland: The World of James Cowan , currently showing in the Turnbull Gallery. The writer James Cowan (1870-1943) grew up close to the site of the Ōrākau battle, and his family farm included part of the Ōrākau pā.

Sketch of the country about Orakau. Plate 16 from Journals of the Deputy Quartermaster General, 1864. Ref: MapColl 832.14hkm 1864 6659

The Waikato War (1863–64) was waged by the government against the Kīngitanga movement, which arose in resistance to land sales in Waikato.

Towards the end of that war, Rewi Maniapoto was persuaded by members of Ngāti Raukawa and Tūhoe to defend Ōrākau. The fortified pā was still being built on 31 March 1864 when more than 1,000 British troops arrived, led by Brigadier-General Carey. The pā withstood frontal attacks and shelling, before the British soldiers surrounded it and constructed a sap, digging their way in a zig-zag motion towards the 300 Māori defenders.

By the time General Cameron arrived on 2 April, the Māori were suffering from thirst and starvation. Cameron called for a ceasefire and offered them a chance to surrender.

There are several versions of what happened next. Most agree that one of the defenders replied with: ‘E hoa, ka whawhai tonu ki a koe, ake, ake’ – ‘Friend, we will fight you forever and ever’. The women were then offered a chance to leave, but Ahumai Te Paerata replied: ‘Ki te mate ngā tāne, me mate anō ngā wāhine me ngā tamariki’ – ‘If the men die, then the women and children must also die’.

Rewi defying the British troops at Orakau. Wilson & Horton lith. Auckland, 1893. Ref: C-033-004.

 Later that day, the Māori defenders broke out of the pā in a group, taking the British by surprise. They headed towards the nearby swampland and scattered. One of the survivors, Hitiri Te Paerata, later reported: ‘A storm of bullets … seemed to encircle us like hail’. Of the 300 in the pā, 160 were killed.

One survivor of the Waikato War – after being invited to attend the 50th ‘jubilee’ event commemorating the battle in 1914 – said to James Cowan ‘The Pākehā, is willing to let bygones to be bygones, but does he offer to give me back my potato ground?’

At a recent symposium hosted by the Alexander Turnbull Library, in conjunction with the Centre for Colonial Studies of the University of Otago, various themes were explored into Cowan’s legacy, including relating to his recording of the battle of Ōrākau. Paul Meredith, of Ngāti Maniapoto, who grew up in Kihikihi area, spoke about Cowan’s methods of writing down oral histories, and collaborating with tribal scholars such as Raureti Te Huia when he gathered information about the wars. Meredith suggested that Cowan’s methods have parellels with kaupapa Māori methodology of today.

There is a letter in Borderland from Raureti Te Huia to Cowan, in which Te Huia gives feedback on the validity of two maps that Cowan had sent him, relating to the layout of Ōrākau pa. This letter was a part of the collection of Cowan papers that the library acquired at the end of 2012 which inspired the Borderland exhibition.

Photograph of six Ngāti Maniapoto survivors of the Ōrākau battle, taken by James Cowan in 1914. Ref: 1/1-017975-G

 Commemorations for the 150th anniversary of Ōrākau include three days of activities in Waikato (31 March-2 April).

The National Library is hosting a season of lunchtime talks next week, focusing on Ōrākau.

On 24 March we have the kuia, Rovina Maniapoto, a mokopuna of some of those who fought at the battle, who will be talking about the Ngāti Maniapoto perspective on the events of the battle and what has happened since.

On 25 March Te Kenehi Teira will be talking about The New Zealand Historic Places Trust's recent registration of Ōrākau as a wāhi tapu area. Teira, who spoke at the recent Cowan symposium, will also talk about the driving tour ‘apps’ they have developed which allow people to learn a lot about the history of Waikato War sites, while at the relevant sites.

On 26 March, the historian Vincent O’Malley will talk about how Ōrākau has been remembered (or forgotten) focussing on the 50th and 100th year commemorations in 1914 and 1964.

And there are more events coming up soon. Have a look!
 
For more information about the James Cowan symposium held at the National Library, see this post from Lachlan Paterson on the Centre for Research on Colonial Culture's blog.

And if you'd like to learn more about the the Battle of Ōrākau you could start with this page from NZHistory.net.

The Ōrākau battlefield as it appears today. Photo: Paul Diamond

Done

This is what finishing your Masters looks like.

The Treaty and the Word: The Colonization of Māori Philosophy (an extract)

Sheet 1: The Waitangi Sheet. [IA 9 9 Sheet 1]

The nature of my work means I engage with Te Tiriti o Waitangi on a regular basis. This has led me to learn a lot more about Te Tiriti, the colonial history of Aotearoa, and tikanga (Māori law). There are a number of resources available on these topics, but two writers that have challenged my  understandings of both Te Tiriti and tikanga are Moana Jackson and Ani Mikaere.

The following extract is from a chapter written by Moana Jackson in Justice, Ethics, and New Zealand Society (Oxford University Press Australia & New Zealand, 1992). There are one or two other chapters worth reading, but 'The Treaty and the Word: The Colonization of Maori Philosophy' stands out for its radical re-framing of the Treaty debate, its clear description of tikanga (Māori law), and its sweeping critique of colonization. 

To take an extract out of its context is always problematic, especially when the text has been constructed in a concerted way. However, the part I've highlighted here really is worth highlighting.


The Māori philosophy of law, te māramatanga o ngā tikanga, was sourced in the beginning. From the kete of Tāne it was handed down through the precedent and practice of ancestors. Like an intricate tāniko pattern, it was interwoven with the reality of kinship relations and the ideal balance for those within such relationships. It provided sanctions against the commission of hara or wrongs which upset that balance, and it established rules for negotiation and agreement between whānau, hapū, and iwi. It formulated a clear set of rights which individuals could exercise in the context of their responsibility to the collective. It also laid down clear procedures for the mediation of disputes and for adaption to new and different circumstances.

This philosophy was a body of thought which acknowledged the potential for conflict in human relations, a conflict sourced in the beginning disputes of creation. Its wisdom lay in the ideas it developed to maintain balance in accordance with the notion of whakawhitiwhiti kōrero, or consensual mediation. Its efficacy was ensured through the exercise of political authority, mana, or rangatiratanga, which compelled compliance through ultimate sanctions such as muru or utu.

The effectiveness of sanctions was due to the fact that rangatiratanga was a total political authority. It was defined by Sir James Henare in 1987 as authority over the Māori way of life, and by Te Ataria a century earlier as the power to determine life and death. It was also, as the 1835 Declaration attests, a statement or philosophy of independence

This philosophy and the institutions which arose from it were, of course, quite different from those of the Pākehā law. they were also quite unacceptable in the context of the power structures which colonization sought to implement. They were, in fact, a source of independent sovereign authority incompatible with the givens of the colonial way. If colonization was to proceed, therefore, they needed to be dismissed, redefined, or subsumed within the alien institutions of the colonist. They were a part of the Māori soul, and the needed to be attacked by the Leviathan of Crown sovereignty.

The institutions of Māori law were to be replaced by a mythology of Pākehā law which sought to deny the reality of its cultural bias and its political servitude through a dishonest rhetoric of impartiality and equality. And they were to be supplanted by a Pākehā political authority which sought to justify its power through a rhetoric sourced in the mythology of that law.

In the realm of mythology, however, the ultimate reality is human interest, and the mask of mythology rarely hides the truth. In imposing their own myths, the fabric of their own word, Pākehā law and politics removed Māori rights and authority from their philosophical base. Colonization demanded, and still requires, that Māori no longer source their right to do anything in the rules of their own law. Rather they have to have their rights defined by Pākehā; they have to seek permission from an alien word to do those things which their philosophy had permitted for centuries.

Their rights as tangata whenua defined by Māori law have been replaced by a Pākehā concept of aboriginal rights exercised within, and limited by, the Pākehā law. Their political status, as determined by a shared whakapapa which underlay the exercise of rangatiratanga, has been replaced by a common subordination to a foreign sovereignty. The mythological right to impose that sovereignty is claimed by the Crown on several grounds. The imperial order of annexation issued by the Colonial Office in January 1840, the unilateral alleged conquest of Maāori in battle, and of course, the Treaty - these are all advanced as proof of the Crown's right to rule over Māori.

Yet such claims flow from an acceptance of the givens of the Pākehā word and a rejection of the Māori. At its most simplistic level they articulate what is almost a petulant position: that because the Crown has proclaimed sovereignty it has it. Like deLoria's bully, the Crown pouts and claims, "I have asserted my sovereignty, so of course I am sovereign."

Alternatively, in a slightly more refined petulance, it claims that because it now exercises de facto sovereignty, the Pākehā rule of law requires the rejection of any other sovereign claim. The validity of Māori rule of law is, of course, lost in the petulance. However, the mere assertion of authority or the passage of time can neither justify an imposed power, nor render meaningless the rights of those who have been subjected.

Yet the assurance and arrogance of the Pākehā word are such that it can make these claims: within its law they are valid. But according to the word of the people over whom the claims are made, they are not at all valid. They are merely symbols of oppression which no amount of legalistic righteousness can deny.

Under Māori law, it was impossible for any iwi to declare its authority over another except through absolute military conquest. It was equally impossible for any iwi to give away its sovereignty to another. The sovereign mana or rangatiratanga of an iwi was handed down from the ancestors to be nurtured by the living for the generations yet to be. It could not be granted to the descendants of a different ancestor, nor subordinated to the will of another.

This firm reality, however, was dismissed by the alien word - if in fact it was ever understood. It was merely part of a primitive political construct which needed to be civilized; and if, as the Black American writer LeRoi Jones has stated, 'in order to civilize you must first oppress', then so be it. And if that Māori construct was ever to be actually given written expression, as it was in the Treaty, then it needed to be redefined and made acceptable to the oppressor's word.

 The story of this redefinition, and indeed the whole Pākehā analysis of the Treaty, is one of legal and political gymnastics performed behind a veil of apparently reasoned justification. As such it is a story that has more to do with a continuing but covert colonization than it does with acknowledging the truth; with creating ever-changing myths about the reality of power, rather than establishing honest relations between Māori and Pākehā.

The opening chapter of this story is always a debate about whether the Treaty is, in fact, a valid agreement under Pākehā law. The fact that it is valid in Māori law does not even merit a footnote.

The question of whether or not it is legal under Pākehā law does not prevent the second chapter beginning with the claim that the cession of Māori sovereignty in Article One of the English text is a clear and valid transfer of authority to the Crown. Because of this claim. the Pākehā word and its writ can run according to its law for the rest of the story. The attacks on Māori soul can hereafter be carried out in the name of Pākehā law.

Māori law and the Māori text of the Treaty, of course, allowed no such thing. Because it was impossible to give away the mana of the iwi under Māori law, no transfer of sovereignty could occur, hence no attack on the rights or soul of the Māori was permitted or even contemplated.

Thus, in Article One of the Māori text, the rangatira grant to the Crown a notion of kawangatanga - of authority to govern the settlers, the people our ancestors called 'ngā tangata whai muri' - 'those who came after'. For the Māori text to have done more would have been contrary to Māori law, and the rangatira would have been unable to sign.

The Māori version of the Treaty is a reflection of the ancestral precedents and rights which were defined by Māori law. If fulfilled the form of Māori law since it was discussed by the representatives of iwi, and it both recognised and preserved the authority which they had as rangatira to sign on behalf of their people. It was the text around which all the discussion at Waitangi was based, and to which most rangatira attached their moko. It did not, therefore, give the Crown the right to rule of Māori simply because within the philosophy of Māori life and law that was impossible. It did not even suggest such an option because the political realities of 1840 precluded it.

Article Two of the Māori text acknowledged both the political reality and Māori philosophy when it reaffirmed the rangatiratanga of iwi. In spite of that acknowledgment, however, the truths of Māori law and political control remained unacceptable to the colonizer's view of the new world they sought to create and the new word they sought to impose. The Māori text was therefore eventually dismissed, and the word of the English was elevated into an unchallengeable given.

- Moana Jackson

Ready for Revolution

AK Press snapped these neat pics of my cover design for Ready for Revolution: The CNT Defense Committees in Barcelona, 1933–1938 by Agustín Guillamón. I think it came out well, but even better is the book. From what I've read of the text (and Barry Pateman's excellent introduction), it's well worth getting. As Stuart Christie blurb notes:

Agustín Guillamón’s latest work, Ready for Revolution, is one of the most illuminating and stimulating books on the CNT to appear since José Peirats’s The CNT in the Spanish Revolution. The structure and role of the union’s defense and action groups is of crucial importance not only in understanding the anarchist core of the CNT unions during that pivotal period in Spain’s history, but it provides today’s industrial, commercial, environmental, and social activists with useful organizational insights—a must have.

 Barry makes a similar point in the introduction:

Chapter 11, “The Barcelona FAI Radicalized by the Defense Committees,” is a wonderful opportunity for the reader to see the various groups discussing the situation they find themselves in. It’s rare to find this type of material in English that is not written from memory and in reflection long after the events described. The discussion leaps off the page and is full of contradiction, confusion, affirmation, and certainty, all served with a high level of sophisticated perception. There is an immediacy to it, not least because these are not the voices of the more sophisticated speakers and writers who we are used to reading, but those of the ordinary militant... This is radical history at its finest as the anarchists attempt to deal with the actions of the Stalinists, their other supposed allies, and the behavior of the CNT’s “higher committees.”

The book is not scared to take a critical look at the events of the Spanish Revolution, and as a result, brings fresh insights to this inspiring period of working class struggle.

You can get your very own copy or e-book here: http://www.akpress.org/ready-for-revolution.html

Top Ten IPA's for 2013

As you know, I like craft beer. I've been sampling a few over the last year, so here's my top 10 IPA's for 2013:

1. No.8 Wired Hopwired IPA
2. Tuatara Double Trouble
3. Garage Project Pernicious Weed
4. Panhead Vandal IPA
5. Emersons Bird Dog IPA
6. Epic Hop Zombie dIPA
7. Cassels & Sons One PA
8. Parrot Dog American IPA
9. Parrot Dog Bitter Bitch IPA
10. Croucher Galaxy IPA

Also worth a mention is the Renaissance MPA (Double IPA, which I had ages ago so I can't remember where to rank it).

Special Branch (Police) records at Archives New Zealand

I wanted to share a new collection with you all that will be of interest.

Archives New Zealand has recently acquired a set of Police Special Branch recording sheets for the years 1920-1945 (1945-57 is coming next year): http://www.archway.archives.govt.nz/ViewEntity.do?code=24890

This series contains records that were known as Old Police Records (OPRs) in the New Zealand Security Intelligence Service (NZSIS). The OPRs index the reports of the New Zealand Police Special Branch, which existed from 1920 to 1956, and consist of individual Special Branch Recording Sheets, each recording the receipt of a report and collected (mostly) into annual files.

The Recording Sheets contain things like name of individual, and a line on their movements (ie 'attended CP meeting 21/5/31' for example). The actual files and reports referred to in the sheets are held on separate classified files, which will be coming to Archives New Zealand next year.

Of what I have seen so far, they are amazingly detailed, although a number of personal files have been destroyed. For example, I've recently had copied full reports of the founding of the Communist party in 1921, including a speech by Andy Barras in which he is challenged by a wobbly about putting communists in Parliament!

Will update you all once the full set is there.

New Zealand soldiers charged with mutiny during the First World War

click to enlarge

This is a list of 34 New Zealand soldiers charged with mutiny during the First World War. It comes from the book British Army Mutineers 1914-1922 by Julian Putkowski. It is organised by unit, rank, name, location, date, offence, finding/punishment, amendment, and archives reference (Public Records Office, Kew, UK).

It does not cover other court martials and those charged with desertion or other offences—offences that make up over nine packed boxes of records at Archives New Zealand.

I may look to write about this in the future, as unfortunately there's little or nothing online. There's some info about Sling Camp riots here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sling_Camp but the little literature on New Zealand WW1 mutinies is in print. The two main sources are Nicholas Boyack, Behind the Lines: The Lives of New Zealand Soldiers in the First World War, Allen and Unwin, Wellington 1989; and Christopher Pugsley, On the Fringe of Hell: New Zealanders and Military Discipline in the First World War, Hodder and Stoughton, Auckland 1991, which refers to several mutinies and the military executions of NZ troops. 

1913: still relevant after all these years? A talk by Jim McAloon, Melanie Nolan, MUNZ & RMTU

19 November 2013: 5.30pm at the Museum of Wellington City & Sea, Queen’s Wharf 

Dr Jim McAloon will introduce three speakers, discussing the relevance of the 1913 strike to workers a century later.

1913: still relevant after all these years?
The Great Strike was about local and particular labour issues which are canvassed well in the collection, Revolution, The 1913 Great Strike in New Zealand (Canterbury University Press in association with the Trade Union History Project, 2005), edited by Melanie Nolan. But the 1913 Great Strike was a battleground of democracy. Workers and others battled over the shape of New Zealand society and the role of unions in it. Professor Melanie Nolan will further explore how these issues are relevant today.

Melanie Nolan is Professor of History, Director of the National Centre of Biography and General Editor of the Australian Dictionary of Biography in the School of History at the Australian National University (ANU). As general editor she has published the Australian Dictionary of Biography, vol. 18 (2012) and a history of the Australian Dictionary of Biography, The ADB’s Story (2013).

The New Zealand Waterfront in 2013: Back to the future?
The 1913 general strike was fought on and around the waterfront in Wellington and other ports. In the century since, maritime workers have remained a central part of New Zealand’s social and industrial history and class struggle, through key events such as the 1951 lockout and more recent struggles against casualization and insecure jobs.

After a sustained attack on workers rights for the last generation, have we come full circle and are maritime workers fighting the same battles today? Joe Fleetwood, National Secretary, Maritime Union of New Zealand will explore how have things changed and how have they stayed the same.

Joe Fleetwood was elected National Secretary of the Maritime Union of New Zealand in 2009. Joe has been a seafarer and a member of the New Zealand Seafarers Union and now the Maritime Union for over thirty two years. He previously served a term as National Vice President of the Maritime Union, and served as Secretary of the Wellington Seafarers Branch MUNZ. Previous to this Joe served as job delegate for around 25 years. Joe is a fifth generation seafarer and dock worker.

Solidarity on the waterfront since 1913
The Rail and Maritime Transport Union will discuss the development of solidarity on the waterfront since 1913.

Reds & Wobblies: working-class radicalism & the state

NOTE: An updated and expanded version of this talk, Fighting War, is available here: http://garagecollective.blogspot.co.nz/2014/05/fighting-war-anarchists-wobblies-and.html

In July this year, political commentator Bryce Edwards led a NZ Herald article with the following quote: “Multiple spying scandals and sagas show that New Zealand is suffering from a democratic deficit.” He was, of course, talking about the Kim Dotcom, GCSB and Defence Force surveillance sagas.

That Edwards wrote of democracy in financial terms is both ironic and apt, considering that the protagonists of my talk tonight believed parliament was ruled by economic interests! So in keeping with this language; if democracy is to be judged on its use of surveillance, numerous records in the archives suggest that democracy in New Zealand has often been in the red. In fact, ‘seeing red’ has been a constant factor through New Zealand’s history, especially in times of social and industrial unrest. Working-class radicals who promoted an alternative to capitalism were particularly targeted by those in power. Arguably, those who were most targeted in the early part of the twentieth century were members of the Industrial Workers of the World (known as Wobblies).

During and immediately after the First World War, the actions of Wobblies were heavily scrutinised by the governments of the day, leading to sedition charges, jail time, or deportation from the country.

My talk tonight hopes to look at some of this working class radicalism, and the reaction to it by the state. Much of this activity was centred on the distribution of radical literature–‘mental dynamite’ in the form of penny pamphlets, newspapers, and other ephemera. Ports and postboxes became the battleground for an intense cultural struggle—a struggle that questioned the war, the nature of work, and authority itself. This battle for minds had material results. Intense state surveillance and a raft of legislation not only determined who could read what, but who would be considered a legitimate resident of the so-called ‘workers paradise’ that was New Zealand.

Wobblies 101



The Industrial Workers of the World was founded in the United States in 1905, by a conglomerate of socialists, Marxists and anarchists. Its founders were disenchanted by the craft nature of the American Federation of Labour and its exclusive membership criteria. Instead, the IWW sought to organise all workers, especially the so-called ‘unskilled’ neglected by the AFL. As well as being open to workers of any gender or colour, the IWW promoted the ‘One Big Union,’ a fighting union that—through the solidarity of workers organized along class lines instead of trade, and the tactical use of the strike weapon—would abolish the wage system.

Its widely quoted preamble stated:

The working class and the employing class have nothing in common. There can be no peace so long as hunger and want are found among millions of working people and the few, who make up the employing class, have all the good things of life.

Between these two classes a struggle must go on until the workers of the world organize as a class, take possession of the means of production, and abolish the wage system [1908 Version]

Although the IWW initially promoted both industrial and political action, it split in 1908 over the rejection parliamentary politics. For the Chicago IWW, the political arena was controlled by capital and therefore the place to make change in society was the workplace. As one New Zealand wobbly argued, “Parliament is a mirror reflecting conditions outside. When your face is dirty, do you wash the mirror?”

The IWW advocated building a new world in the shell of the old, which meant how the union and its struggles was conducted were just as important as the outcome. As a result, direct democracy and the curbing of power in the hands of a few was core to the organisation. “The IWW considered a reliance on leadership as fostering dependence amongst the working class,” notes Stuart Moriarty-Patten, whose forthcoming book on the IWW in New Zealand is being published by Rebel Press. New Zealand Wobblies decried the local labour movement as “cursed and hampered by leaders.” Instead, “active, intelligent workers [should] determine to do their own thinking… to fight on all occasions for complete control by the rank and file and against sheep-like following of leaders.”

As a result the IWW was much more than a simple union movement. As well as fighting for better conditions and shorter hours, the IWW fostered education, internationalism, and a radical working class counter-culture through the influential use of song and graphics. Although not without its faults, the appeal of the IWW made it social and cultural movement on an international scale.

The IWW in New Zealand



New Zealand’s first IWW local was formed in Wellington in December 1907, and other locals were formed in Christchurch and Auckland – both of which received official charters from the IWW headquarters in Chicago. Informal groups sprung up in industrial towns such as Huntly, Waihi, and Denniston, and the cultural norms and tactics championed by the Wobblies—such as the general strike, sabotage, and the go-slow—soon spiced the local discourse. The rally-cry of ‘a fair day’s wage’ was dropped for ‘abolish the wage system;’ ‘fellow-worker’ replaced ‘comrade’; and for a period, the New Zealand Federation Of Labor adopted the IWW’s revolutionary preamble.

Bert Roth Collection, Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand

Pamphlets and newspapers of the IWW had a wide circulation in New Zealand. According to the Secretary of the Waihi branch of the Socialist Party, imported IWW anti-militarist pamphlets were “finding a ready sale” in 1911. Chunks of IWWism and Industrial Unionism, two locally produced pamphlets, sold in quantities of 3,000 and 1,000 copies each, while the Industrial Unionist, newspaper of the New Zealand IWW, reached a circulation of 4,000. These figures do not indicate their true readership however, as workers shared their copies or would read the columns out loud in groups.

As Mark Derby has pointed out, the distribution of cheap printed propaganda was vital to the spread of IWW ideas and tactics. “New Zealand Wobblies relied on the impact of IWW literature such as the Little Red Songbook,” moving from town to town “sowing the seed of rebellion.” This constant agitation bore fruit, and the IWW played a visible part in the strikes that formed the upsurge of militant labour before the First World War.

Wartime activity

However, on the outbreak of war in August 1914, the IWW was fragmented and weakened by the defeat of the 1913 Great Strike. Many of their leading members had fled New Zealand to escape prosecution, but there were still IWW locals in Auckland, Wellington, Denniston and Christchurch. Wobblies continued to soapbox on street corners across the country and were active in the workplace, especially on the waterfront.

Members of the National Ministry of New Zealand. S P Andrew Ltd :Portrait negatives. Ref: 1/1-013626-G. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. http://natlib.govt.nz/records/23134795

Yet times were tough for those openly against militarism and capitalism. The IWW found itself up against a wartime government itching to prove its loyalty to the British Empire. The National Coalition of William Massey and Joseph Ward took measures to clamp down on any non-conformist activity it deemed seditious, using the pretence of war conditions to muzzle dissent—whether it was opposition to conscription (in the form of the 1916 Military Service Act), or highlighting economic conditions at home. Numerous War Regulations empowered the executive branch of the Coalition government to regulate without reference to Parliament.

Richard Hill notes that these regulations, initially used for military purposes, “gradually increased in severity and in political rather than military significance.” For example, war regulations were soon unleashed on socialist speakers and strikes in industries deemed essential to the war effort. Rather tellingly, those convicted of publishing information deemed valuable to the enemy were fined a maximum of £10, while anyone who publicly criticised the actions of the New Zealand government was fined £100 or received twelve months imprisonment with hard labour.

Not surprisingly, Wobblies were targeted due to their advocacy of direct action in the workplace, the fostering of an oppositional working class counter-culture, and their radical critique of militarism. New Zealand’s Crown Prosecutor “repeatedly stressed the distinction between sincere objectors… and ‘parasites’, ‘anarchists’, and other IWW types.” As a result, a number of Wobblies were arrested and given maximum jail time during the war.

Wobblies had been scapegoats for all kinds of scrupulous activity before 1914, but in wartime the press found new ways to discredit the IWW. Hysterical headlines were quick to dub Wobblies as ‘Hirelings of the Huns’ or ‘German-born children of the devil,” and any union radicalism was tarred with the IWW brush.

In one bizarre article, ‘The Critic’ responded to an auctioneer’s listing of ‘famous IWW hens’ in the Manawatu Evening Standard with: “‘IWW hens?’ If these belong to the order of ‘I Wont Work’ they will probably get it where the Square Deal would like to give it to their human prototypes—in the neck!” When the shipping vessel Port Kembla struck a German mine off the coast of Farewell Spit in 1917, one writer in the Ashburton Guardian put it down to pro-German sabotage, stating: “this Dominion is not by any means free of the noxious IWW element… this type of human being should be put out of existence on the first evidence of abnormality.”

Censorship of IWW propaganda

Ironically, scaremongering by the press publicised IWW methods such as the go slow far more than Wobblies could ever have done on their own. The go-slow used by watersiders, miners, drivers, and tramway was a major concern to employers and government, and abhorred as a significant threat to the established economic order. “It is the most serious problem that we face at the present time” wrote Defence Minister James Allen to Massey in January 1917. “[Alexander] Herdman has been taking evidence on behalf of the Police about going-slow… as far as Defence is concerned, if any man is proved to be going slow’ [before a military Service Board] we shall cancel his exemption… we cannot possibly allow this fatal practice to get hold in New Zealand or else the nation is doomed.” Not only did these tactics threaten war profits or the government’s lucrative trading deals with Britain; the go slow questioned the work ethic central to the wage system itself. As a result, the War Regulations of 16 February 1917 included going slow in the category of seditious strikes.

C1 Box 161 36/959/101-120. Archives New Zealand, Wellington, New Zealand

Authorities were also dismayed at the volume of IWW ephemera still finding its way around the country. Bearing such lines as “Fast workers die young” or “Go Slow! Do Not Waste your Life,” IWW stickers peeked out from walls and lampposts across New Zealand. In a cheeky swipe at conscription, one sticker was stuck in the middle of a National Registration poster. As late as 1927, Wellington customs found 125 of these stickers in the baggage of a SS Maheno seaman named Evans.

Thomas Barker. Ref: 1/2-019136-F. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. http://natlib.govt.nz/records/23067556

Another ‘silent agitator’ that caused uproar was a satirical poster by ex-New Zealand Wobbly Tom Barker. ‘To Arms!’ called on “Capitalists, Parsons, Politicians, Landlords, Newspaper Editors and other Stay-At-Home Patriots” to replace the workers in the trenches. Four copies were “smuggled across the Tasman... and pasted up outside the Supreme Court in Wellington,” causing the judge to suspend the court until the offending posters were removed.

AD1 Box 995 51/3. Archives New Zealand, Wellington, New Zealand

Anti-war pamphlets were also making their rounds. “War and the Workers” was a pocket-sized booklet printed by the Auckland IWW that implored workers not to become “hired murderers.” Sold from their Swanson Street office, the booklet insisted, “Those who own the country [should] do the fighting! Let the workers remain home and enjoy what they produce.” After being distributed at the Buckle Street Drill Hall in Wellington, the booklet was forwarded to Solicitor-General John Salmond. Salmond urged for war regulations to be extended so that immediate powers would be available to punish those responsible for such “mischievous publications.”

MP John Hornsby also raised concerns about IWW ephemera in Parliament, decrying the “circulation in this country of pamphlets of a particularly obnoxious and deplorable nature, emanating from an organization known as the Independent World’s Workers [sic]—commonly referred to as the IWW.” Hornsby asked whether immediate steps would be taken “to prevent the circulation through the post of the harmful publications in connection with the propaganda of this anarchial [sic] society—a society which openly preached sabotage, which meant in plain English, assassination and destruction of property?” The resulting Order in Council of 20 September 1915 specifically prohibited “the importation into New Zealand of the newspapers called Direct Action and Solidarity, and all other printed matter published by or on behalf of the society known as ‘The Industrial Workers of the World.’”

Reason and Revolt, http://www.reasoninrevolt.net.au/

Direct Action was a lively newspaper published by the Australian IWW that found its way to New Zealand via seamen crossing the Tasman, or by mail. Two months after the Order of Council was in place, the Post and Telegraph Department reported the withholding of “14 single copies [of] Direct Action; 2 bundles [of] Direct Action;” as well as “6 bundles [of] Solidarity.” A number of these copies were then used by Police to chase up New Zealand subscribers listed in its columns. In December 1915 detectives in Auckland, Napier and Wellington hunted for a subscriber listed as Erickson. At first they thought he was a Wellington socialist named Frederickson, but soon concluded he was in fact Carl Erickson, a casual labourer and friend of Wellington anarchist Philip Josephs (who was also a Direct Action subscriber). The Police report noted that both men had donated to the Barker Defence Fund, set up after Tom Barker was convicted for publishing an anti-war cartoon in Direct Action.

The military also used a 1915 edition of Direct Action to investigate the Workers’ University Direct Action Group, a ‘workers university’ that had been set up by Auckland Wobblies. According to Direct Action, lessons dealt with “economics, biology, physiology, Social Democrat fallacies, State Ownership ie State Capitalism fakes, Law and Authority Bluff, the anarchist doctrines of ‘Total Abstention’” and “scientific sabotage, the most potent weapon of the intelligent militant minority.” They also had IWW literature on hand for the ‘worker students’. After their Queen Street landlord forced the workers’ university to disband, its members were lucky to escape imprisonment (if they did at all).

P12. Archives New Zealand, Wellington, New Zealand

One radical who was not let off the hook was prominent 1913 striker Charles Johnson. When Johnson was arrested in 1917 and found to have “an enormous amount of IWW literature” in his possession, including three copies of Direct Action, the Chief Detective said “with the greatest confidence” that “this man is a danger to the community.” Johnson asked to be let off with a fine; the magistrate replied, “Oh, I can’t let you off with a fine in these conditions.” He was sentenced to twelve months imprisonment with hard labour.

Censorship of correspondence

As well as the suppression of IWW publications, war regulations also made it illegal to “incite, encourage, advice or advocate violence, lawlessness and disorder, or express any seditious intention.” What exactly constituted a “seditious intention” was interpreted broadly by the state, and included the contents of private correspondence.
Both Customs and the Post and Telegraph Department had a number of censors working within their ranks, the latter including the Deputy Chief Censor, William Tanner. But it was the military that managed censorship during the War. Tanner and other censors located across the country answered directly to Colonel Charles Gibbon, who was both Chief Censor and Chief of the General Staff of the New Zealand Military Forces. Postal censors were mostly officers of the Post Office and worked in the same building “as a matter of convenience”, but censors acted “under the instructions of the Military censor. As a result, the Defence Department’s earlier interest in the monitoring of agitators carried over to agitation of the handwritten kind.

PM9 Box 3 10. Archives New Zealand, Wellington, New Zealand

“During the course of the late war,” wrote Tanner:

it was considered necessary to examine secretly the correspondence of certain persons who were supposed to be disaffected, and who were working to defeat the efforts of the New Zealand Government in meeting its obligations regarding the war by advocating [the] ‘go slow’ or inciting to resist the Military Service Act.

Instructed to “suppress whatever was of a seditious or treasonable nature,” Tanner believed his work “gave the Police the necessary opening… to break up the organizations whilst still in the act of formation.”

(Image) Caroline Josephs. (Letters) AD10 Box 10 19/16. Archives New Zealand, Wellington, New Zealand

One of those under Tanner’s watchful gaze was the Wellington anarchist Philip Josephs. After letters to US anarchist Emma Goldman were spotted in October 1915, Josephs was arrested and “detained all day in the ‘cooler’ until 4 o’clock in the afternoon,” when he was released without being charged. While Josephs was in police custody, two detectives searched his shop in Cuba Street and took possession of all books and papers on anarchism found on the premises. They then repeated their search at his Khandallah home.

As well as holding a considerable stash of anarchist literature, it appears Josephs’ shop had been the Wellington Local of the IWW. Police found “a number of unused official membership books, rubber stamps, and other gear used in connection with that constitution,” as well as IWW correspondence, pamphlets and papers.

One such correspondent was the Christchurch Wobbly, Syd Kingsford. Two Police reports show that he was put under surveillance, while the chief military censor, Colonel Gibbon, made sure his correspondence was also censored.

AD10 Box 10 19/16. Archives New Zealand, Wellington, New Zealand

Another was J Sweeny, a Blenheim-based labourer who was writing to Josephs to order anarchist newspapers. In a letter that never reached its destination, Sweeny asked Josephs to “remember me to the Direct Action Rebels in Wellington,” indicating there were still Wobblies active in the capital at that time. With typical Wobbly flair, Sweeney signed his letter: “Yours for Direct Action. No Political Dope.”

Other censored letters written by an Auckland Wobbly, William Bell, give a sense of the level of surveillance put in place by the state. “The Johns and military pimps are on the look out for the correspondence of men known in our movement,” wrote Bell, who was trying to secure a dummy address “for the purposes of ordering leaflets without an imprint for secret distribution at this end of New Zealand.” Also mentioned in Bell’s letter was “a private meeting of picked trusted militants” due to take place at his bach, confirming that Auckland Wobblies were still active in mid-1917, albeit discreetly. Obviously Bell was not discreet enough. He was arrested and sentenced to eleven months imprisonment.

(During his hearing, Bell provoked laughter in the courtroom. When the magistrate, referring to a comment in Bell’s letter, asked him what a ‘snide-sneak’ was, Bell replied: “A man who plays both ways. We have plenty in the Labor movement, unfortunately”).

Seditious soapboxing

P12. Archives New Zealand, Wellington, New Zealand

The war regulations used against those in possession of seditious correspondence also targeted the spoken word. ‘Rabid Orator’ and past Committee member of the Wellington IWW, Joseph Herbert Jones, was imprisoned for sedition in January 1917 after soapboxing to 500 people in Dixon Street, Wellington. “I want the working class to say to the masters,” said Jones, “we don’t want war. We won’t go to the war.” During his court appearance Jones read a long and ‘inflammatory’ poem that received applause from onlookers in the court. The judge was not impressed, nor did he share Jones’ view that all he had done was defend the interests of his fellow-workers. He was sentenced to twelve months imprisonment with hard labour.

P12. Archives New Zealand, Wellington, New Zealand

 Another radical to be jailed for 12 months was William Parker, a watersider who told a Wellington crowd in 1917 that the only way to stop conscription was with a general strike. In 1919 Parker was in court again, having distributed locally produced flyers promoting the go slow, the lockout of the oppressors, and building a new society in the shell of the old. After amusing the large crowd of watersiders in the back of the court by “verbally annihilating His Worship”, Parker was sentenced to 12 months for ‘IWWism’ (sedition).

For a few in power, the jailing of Wobblies was not enough. In 1917 MP Vernon Reed asked in Parliament whether Prime Minister Massey had considered the provisions of the Unlawful Associations Amendment Bill introduced in Australia, “aiming at the destruction of the IWW and kindred institutions, and providing for the deportation of undesirables; and whether he will introduce into Parliament a measure having similar objects?” In reply, Massey stated that such a law was under consideration. The eventual result was the 1919 Undesirable Immigrants Exclusion Act, of which more below.

AD10 Box 4 11/5. Archives New Zealand, Wellington, New Zealand

 Wobblies not already in jail were kept under close surveillance during the later years of the war. In October 1918 the Defence Department had their eyes on Nita aka Lila Freeman, a female wobbly active in Wellington. Correspondence of “an anti-conscriptionist and seditious nature” between Nita and a fellow wobbly named ‘Don’ was discovered by the military censor, which sparked further surveillance. ‘Don’ had been giving classes on political economy and socialism in Blackball, and it was hoped ascertaining their identities would lead to arrests: “in all probability the woman will be arrested on some charge at an early date,” noted the file.

Although it appears Nita Freeman was never arrested, by the war’s end 287 people had been charged with sedition or disloyalty—208 were convicted and 71 sent to prison. That many Wobblies were among those arrested is hardly surprising, considering their radical opposition to militarism and direct action tactics.

Post-war surveillance

Despite the cease of hostilities in Europe, surveillance of the IWW did not end with the First World War. Industrial unrest and social revolution immediately after the war’s end was a deeply entrenched concern for the New Zealand Government. The Bolshevik Revolution in 1917, coupled with unrest around the globe in 1918-1919, was seen as potential source of increased revolutionary activity in New Zealand. Bolshevism would now compete with the IWW for the state’s attention, and for the title of New Zealand’s favourite scapegoat.

As well as international upheavals such as mutinous soldiers, police strikes and the downfall of various regimes, the cost of living and dissatisfied returned servicemen were also seen as catalysts to major unrest. The government passed a range of anti-firearms laws, and watched closely the rhetoric of political parties like the New Zealand Labour Party and the Communist Party of New Zealand.

The state also kept tabs on the second wave of syndicalist organizations, such as the Alliance of Labour and the One Big Union Council. Formed in 1919 to promote class solidarity between watersiders, seamen, miners and railway workers, the Alliance of Labour was decried by the Reform government as nothing less than the IWW in disguise. Indeed, their promotion of direct action and rejection of parliamentary politics saw them align with the IWW, causing the Employers Federation to lament the “lawless tendency on the part of Extreme labour.” In the end however, the Alliance failed to live up to its revolutionary rhetoric.

In Auckland, Wobblies like Bill Murdoch, George Phillips and Leo Woods helped to form the One Big Union Council. Leo Woods had sat on the Thames strike committee during the 1913 Great Strike, and in 1917 was thrown into what he called “one of Massey’s concentration camps, Kiangaroa Prison Camp,” for 18 months. After his release, Woods became the literary secretary of the One Big Union Council and was delegated to smuggle banned literature from Sydney. He would go on to co-found the Communist Party in 1921. The secretary of the Council was former wartime-secretary of the Auckland IWW, George Phillips, who, like Woods, had been jailed for refusing to be conscripted.

For those in power monitoring these developments, the possibility of a general strike seemed imminent. Recorded industrial disputes had risen from 8 in 1915 to 75 in 1921. As a result, Prime Minister Massey urged his party faithful to “secure good men to stem the tide of Anarchy and Bolshevism.” This radical tide, complained Massey, “is worse than folly… the matter must be taken in hand and stopped.”

Massey’s red baiting had significant support from a number of high profile allies. The Protestant Political Association, led by the vehement Reverend Howard Elliot, vowed to oppose “Bolshevism and ‘IWWism’ in every shape and form.” Also active was the New Zealand Welfare League, formed in July 1919 for the express purpose of curbing the activities of revolutionary labour, IWW doctrines, and Bolshevism. The League’s active press campaign featured newspaper articles on the IWW and their “criminal” attitudes towards work, property rights, and state authority.

The red scare whipped up by conservative interests allowed the state to extend its wartime grip into peacetime. Tanner was kept on as censor in July 1919 by Defence Minister Allen, who wrote to Massey that, “a good deal of valuable information comes to the government through the medium of the censor, and it was thought wise not to lose this information.” The war regulations that created Tanner’s job were also extended under the War Regulations Continuance Act of 1920 (which was not repealed until 1947).

Other forms of surveillance continued apace. In his history of the New Zealand Police Force, Graham Dunstall notes that in January 1919, Police Commissioner John O’Donovan sent a confidential memo to officers across New Zealand:

“In the view that considerable industrial and other unrest is reported from other countries and may extend to this Dominion it is necessary that special precautions be taken to keep in touch with the movements and actions of persons of revolutionary tendencies who are already here, or who may arrive” 

Meetings of radicals continued to be attended by police and fortnightly reports were sent to Police Headquarters. Detectives in each district systemised this work by compiling an index of individuals who had “extreme revolutionary socialistic or IWW ideas.”

P12. Archives New Zealand, Wellington, New Zealand

One Wobbly to be caught in this post-war net was Henry Murphy, an Australian labourer based in Auckland. In April 1919 Murphy wrote to a fellow worker in Australia that military deserters were being picked up every day; detectives “run the rule” over passengers arriving by ship; and that two Wobblies, “Nugget and Scrotty,” had been “turned back”. The letter was intercepted by a censor and handed to police. “Murphy appears to be a dangerous character of the IWW type,” noted the censor. “He is an admirer of the Bolsheviks and is gradually drifting towards anarchy, revolution and outrage… his hatred of work is one of the traits of the IWW character.” Murphy was hauled before the court for failing to register as a reservist under the Military Service Act, where he declared, “anti-militarists have done more for democracy than all the soldiers who went to Europe.” He was sentenced to 14 days hard labour and was due to be deported under the war regulations, but instead he agreed to leave New Zealand voluntarily.

Deporting ‘undesirables’

Murphy’s ‘voluntary’ deportation foreshadowed a law change designed to further extend the state’s reach over radicalism. In November of that year, the Undesirable Immigrant Exclusion Act was passed into law. This Act gave the Attorney-General power to single-handedly deport anyone whom he deemed "disaffected or disloyal, or of such a character that his presence would be injurious to the peace, order, and good Government" of New Zealand. He could also prevent anyone landing in the country, which meant Customs and Police further cemented their wartime responsibilities of monitoring the harbours.

However the Defence Department was kept in the loop by having copies of every alien identity certificate sent to them. The military would then match these certificates up to their own black list of “revolutionary agents and undesirables.”

According to Massey, the Undesirable Immigrant Exclusion Act would be used against those who “favour Bolshevism and IWWism.” It was soon put to good effect. Two Wobblies named Nolan and McIntyre were prevented from landing in New Zealand and promptly sent on their way to Sydney – their fares paid by the government. But one Wobbly who wouldn’t go quietly was the Australian seaman and returned serviceman, Noel Lyons.

http://trove.nla.gov.au/work/184714486

In May 1925 seamen on board the SS Manuka refused to leave Wellington until their food was improved. However as the Union Steamship Company made clear to reporters, the real issue was “the deliberate attempt to institute job control” via the go slow. Using the pretext of IWW literature and posters found on board the ship, Lyons was read the Undesirable Immigrant Exclusion Act and given 28 days to leave New Zealand. Instead, Lyons and the crew walked off their Sydney-bound vessel singing ‘Solidarity Forever,’ and convened a meeting at the Communist Hall.

300 people packed into the Manners Street Hall to hear Lyons speak about the ‘ham and egg’ strike. “I have been described as a paid agitator,” argued Lyons, “but it is a well known fact that all who take an active part in attempting to better the condition of the worker… develop whiskers overnight, and appear as a Bolshevik.” Despite resolutions of protest from numerous unions, Lyons was imprisoned for two weeks before being shipped to Australia. On his arrival Lyons made the most of what the NZ Truth called ‘the new spasm of [the] IWW,” organising mass meetings and reviving the Sydney IWW.

The deportation of Lyons highlights how the authorities would pick and choose when someone was to be considered a New Zealander, a British subject, or foreign immigrant. The Reform government’s loyalty to Empire and their making of the world ‘safe for democracy’ did not seem to contradict the deportation of British subjects. “New Zealand is more conservative than England,” noted Lyons on his arrival in Sydney. “They regarded me as a foreigner… It is too funny for words. When I was on my to France as an Australian solider, they did not say I was an undesirable… But now, when I put up a bit of a fight for humanity, they turn me out of the country.”

Conclusion

Noel Lyons was not the only radical to be deported in the post-war years, nor was he the first. But his case is indicative of the systematic surveillance put in place after the First World War, and the attitude of the New Zealand government towards the IWW. Although this treatment pales in comparison to the violence and mass deportations inflicted on the American IWW, the National Coalition and Reform governments clearly felt threatened. Class struggle and revolution from below; the flouting of law; the go-slow and the disregard shown to the work ethic; such tactics called into question the social relationships needed for capitalism and the state to function. As a result, the Defence, Police, and Customs Departments, as well as scores of legislation, was used to ensure the IWW never regained its pre-war strength.

Obviously the IWW formed but a tiny part of the working-class radicalism of the day, and the IWW label was thrown about rather hysterically. This makes the identification of Wobblies during the war even harder. However the actions of the IWW during 1915-1925, and the reaction to them by the state, indicates a discernible legacy of IWW radicalism in New Zealand—one that reached well beyond the Great Strike of 1913. While it is hard to measure their precise influence on the local labour movement, I hope the examples above help to question what Kerry Taylor has called the “premature obituary” of the IWW and revolutionary syndicalism in New Zealand.


SOURCES
 Records at Archives New Zealand - Army Department, Customs Department, Post and Telegraph Department, Department of Internal Affairs, Police Gazettes, Old Police Records, Sir James Allen Papers, Prime Ministers' Department
Records at the Alexander Turnbull Library - Bert Roth Collection, Papers Past
New Zealand Parliamentary Debates
New Zealand Gazette
New Zealand Official Yearbooks
Burgmann, Verity, Revolutionary Industrial Unionism – the Industrial Workers of the World in Australia, Melbourne, 1995
Davidson, Jared, Remains to Be Seen: Tracing Joe Hill's Ashes in New Zealand, Rebel Press, 2011
Davidson, Jared, Sewing Freedom: Philip Josephs, Transnationalism & Early New Zealand Anarchism, AK Press, 2013
Derby, Mark, 'Towards a Transnational Study of New Zealand Links with the Wobblies'
Dunstall, Graeme, Policeman's Paradise? Policing a Stable Society, 1917-1945, Dunmore Press, 1999
Eldred-Grigg, Stevan, The Great Wrong War: New Zealand Society in WW1, Random House New Zealand, 2010
Gustafson, Barry, Labour's Path to Political Independence: Origins and Establishment of the New Zealand Labour Party, 1900-19, Auckland University Press, 1980
Hill, Richard, The Iron Hand in the Velvet Glove: The modernisation of policing in New Zealand 1886-1917, Dunmore Press, 1996
Moriarty-Patten, Stuart, “A World to Win, a Hell to Lose: The Industrial Workers of the World in Early Twentieth Century New Zealand,” Thesis, Massey University, 2012
Olssen, Erik, The Red Feds – revolutionary industrial unionism and the NZ Federation of Labour 1908-1913, Auckland 1988
Roth, Herbert, Trade Unions in New Zealand: Past and Present, A. H. and A. W. Reed, 1973