On 13 January this year, a group of Chinese internet users converged on Google’s Beijing headquarters bearing flowers and candles. Google had announced the day before that it would no longer comply with Chinese internet censorship laws—a decision which, the group suspected, would result in a ban on the popular search engine. Upon reaching Google headquarters, however, they were informed by a neighbourhood security guard that they would need to apply for a permit before laying their flowers on the company plaque. If they did not, they would be committing an “illegal flower tribute”, and would be liable for persecution.

Illegal flower tribute. Put together, those three words seem about as much of an oxymoron as “Microsoft Works”. Yet they also happen to epitomise the very same logic that is used to justify internet censorship. The act of censorship is defined as the examination of an information medium “for the purpose of suppressing parts deemed objectionable on moral, political, military, or other grounds”. When a government takes on this responsibility, it is effectively deciding what information should or should not be made available to its citizens. This is an immense power to wield and, to quote Superman, it can have a devastating effect when placed in the wrong hands.

So how does internet censorship affect people? How has internet censorship been employed by governments, and how have those affected managed to get around it? Is there an acceptable form of internet censorship? This article will address these questions by looking at three recent examples—Google China and Operation Aurora, the 2009 anti-government protests in Iran, and the Great Firewall of Australia.

China: Flower Tributes and Cyber Attacks

Google China has a controversial history. When it was founded in 2005, it announced that it would comply with China’s existing laws on internet censorship. It later justified this position by arguing that “while removing search results is inconsistent with Google’s mission, providing no information … is more inconsistent with our mission”. The fact that Google would come to hold 29 per cent of the search engine market share in China may also have influenced their decision.

The extent of internet censorship in China is substantial. “The Chinese government has undertaken to limit access to any content that might potentially undermine the state’s control or social stability,” writes the OpenNet Initiative.

“[It does so] by pursuing strict supervision of domestic media, delegated liability for online content providers, and increasingly, a propaganda approach to online debate and discussion.”

The Chinese government, according to OpenNet, censors anything that is considered to be “endangering national security and contradicting officially accepted political theory, conducting activities in the name of an illegal civil organization, or inciting illegal assemblies or gatherings that disturb social order”.

The type of material that is censored varies from the potentially subversive (such as searches on Tianamen Square, Falun Gong or the Dalai Lama) to the potentially offensive (such as criticisms of national leaders, distortions of Chinese culture, and material that is “sexually suggestive or provocative”).

Google China received heavy criticism for its policy of compliance with such strict censorship laws—collectively titled the ‘Golden Shield Project’—for so long. Therefore, it came as a shock when, in January 2010, Google suddenly announced that it was “no longer willing to continue censoring [their] results”.

“We will be discussing with the Chinese government the basis on which we could operate an unfiltered search engine within the law, if at all,” the announcement continued.

“We recognise that this may well mean having to shut down Google.cn, and potentially our offices in China.”

Even more surprising was what had led to the change of heart. “In mid-December, we detected a highly sophisticated and targeted attack on our corporate infrastructure originating from China that resulted in the theft of intellectual property from Google.”

Google believed that “a primary goal of the attackers was accessing the Gmail accounts of Chinese human rights activists”.

Operation Aurora, as the attack came to be named, had not only been directed at Google. It had begun as early as the middle of 2009, and had been directed at dozens of major companies around the world. Along with search engines, Aurora appeared to have targeted aeronautical firms like Northrop Grumman and antivirus developers like Symantec. McAfee concluded that the operation had been intended to steal “highly valuable intellectual property from its victims”.

So what does this extreme bout of cyberspace fisticuffs have to do with censorship in China? “Censorship, such as the blocking of websites, is fairly crude but effective when combined with targeted surveillance and attacks,” explains Nart Villeneuve, senior fellow at the Citizen Lab, Munk Centre for International Studies University of Toronto.

“The objective is to influence behaviour toward self-censorship, so that most will not actively seek out banned information of the means to bypass controls and access it.

“[This] nexus of censorship, surveillance and malware attacks … is the key to China’s information control policies.”

Iran: Social Networking and the Green Revolution

When the results of the June 2009 Presidential election in Iran were announced, many Iranians expressed disbelief. Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, conservative fundamentalist and political firebrand, had been re-elected in a landslide, gathering almost twice the number of votes as his closest opponent, Mir-Houssein Mousavi. Almost immediately, supporters of Mousavi took to the streets, alleging widespread fraud and vote-rigging. This initial demonstration would escalate into a widespread protest movement called the ‘Green Revolution’, named after the colour adopted by protestors from Mousavi’s campaign.

The internet played a crucial role in the unrest. All internet service providers in Iran must go through a single government-managed gateway, providing the government with a single point of access for monitoring and filtering internet usage. This allowed the government to block access to all major foreign news outlets during and after the elections, as well as the websites of several opposition parties.

“The Internet censorship system in Iran is one of the most comprehensive and sophisticated in the world,” states OpenNet. “[It is] rooted in its constitution, which declares that ‘the media … must strictly refrain from diffusion and propagation of destructive and anti-Islamic practices’.”

“Efforts to control online speech by the Iranian government have relied primarily on large-scale internet filtering and the threat of targeted legal action,” continues OpenNet, adding that the government has a strong focus on developing its own web monitoring tools in order to reduce its dependency on Western software.

Despite the Iranian government’s attempts at censorship, the protestors made extensive use of social networking tools to get information out to the world. “Any democratic movement in a totalitarian state needs as much international support as it can get,” states Homy Lafayette, author of a blog titled ‘Iran News in English’.

“Hence, the choice of language I use for my blog. I want to influence, in my own humble way, international public opinion.”

Blogging in English became one of the most popular ways for Iranian protestors to bypass internet censorship due to the fact that censors targeted blogs written in Farsi. “I blogged for years at my Farsi weblog,” writes Jadi, author of ‘Inside Iran’, “but these days I’m filtered in my own country so I have to write here in English.”

Video sharing websites such as YouTube allowed for the direct uploading of amateur footage from the protests. The video showing the shooting of a protestor named Neda Agha-Soltan was later termed “the most widely witnessed death in human history”.

Twitter and Facebook proved invaluable for organising protests and disseminating information within Iran, with the former even postponing a scheduled network upgrade during the protests so as not to disrupt its service. “We have no national press coverage in Iran,” tweeted mousavi1388 during the protests, “[so] everyone should help spread Moussavi’s message. One Person = One Broadcaster.”

“Part of the efforts of those who oppose the regime is concentrated on overcoming state propaganda,” agreed Lafayette.

“It is ironic that someone in London is usually better-informed of what is truly occurring in Tehran, than someone in Shiraz.”

Lafayette indicates, however, that attempts to bypass internet censorship were merely part of an overall campaign by protestors to bypass government crackdowns. “In the first days of the post-election unrest, for example, I would argue that SMS messages were much more effective than websites,” he says.

“CDs and DVDs containing video files showing the regime’s brutality have been distributed around the country to people who do not necessarily have broadband or Internet know-how. In some rare cases, I know that important statements and speeches have been photocopied and distributed hand-to-hand on good old paper.”

Lafayette asserts that these methods “not only convey information, but also set the tone and maintain resistance.”

Australia: Where the bloody hell are ya, internet?

The debate over internet censorship in Australia had never been a particularly vocal one before December 2009. Up until then, censorship laws were comprised of a smorgasbord of state- and federal-level legislation aimed mostly at preventing unsuitable material from being made available to minors.

On 15 December 2009, however, the incumbent Labor government introduced a new piece of federal legislation titled ‘Measures to improve safety of the internet for families’. This legislation proposed to introduce, for the first time, a set of mandatory internet filters for all Internet Service Providers. The subsequent furore over the proposal led to it being dubbed the ‘Great Firewall of Australia’.

So what does the legislation propose, exactly? In the media release for the legislation, the Minister for Broadband, Communications and the Digital Economy Stephen Conroy stated that it was intended to block “child sex abuse content, bestiality, sexual violence including rape, and the detailed instruction of crime or drug use”, as well as subject matter related to terrorism. This material, collectively referred to as Refused Classification (RC) content, is “already illegal to distribute, sell or make available for hire … [in] films, computer games and publications.”

Upon first glance, Conroy’s proposal might seem fair—a measure aimed at applying the same standard to the internet that is applied to other communication media. However, the legislation has evoked intense opposition from both the public and from private organisations. “This plan will … waste millions of taxpayers’ funds in a bid to enforce a level of censorship that will set human rights in Australia back several decades,” argues the Digital Liberty Coalition (DLC).

“[It] will impact legal as well as illegal material.”

The DLC concern over the impact the legislation will have on legal material seemed to be confirmed by a leaked copy of the Australian Communications and Media Authority blacklist of Refused Classification sites. Among other innocuous websites, the list included the URL of a Queensland dentist, a tuckshop convener and a kennel operator.

“506 sites would be classified R18+ and X18+, which is legal to view in Australia but would be blocked for everyone under Labor’s mandatory censorship scheme,” wrote The Age.

Critics have also pointed out the lack of transparency in both the creation and ongoing maintenance of the blacklist. “This scheme was implemented without public consultation,” argues the DLC. “Even the advisory board for this scheme is closed-door and by invitation only … All minutes of meetings and information as to goings-on within this advisory panel have thus far been kept out of the eye of the public.”

Anti-censorship campaign group GetUp agrees. “Under the plan, the government can add any ‘unwanted’ site to a secret blacklist.”

They add that testing of internet filters demonstrates that they “will slow our internet by up to 87 per cent, make it more expensive, miss the vast majority of inappropriate content and accidentally block up to 1 in 12 legitimate sites.”

To censor or not to censor

When it comes to the examples of China and Iran, the case is fairly clear-cut—when you are suppressing domestic criticism and preventing the flow of news in and out of your own country, it’s a pretty fair bet to say you are abusing your power. But is there an acceptable level of internet censorship that can be agreed upon? The concept of ‘net neutrality’, which runs deep in most Western countries, would suggest otherwise.

The ‘Great Firewall of Australia’ presents an interesting case. On the one hand, the Labor government’s desire to prevent children from being exposed to material that almost everyone would consider offensive—child pornography, racism, bestiality and sexual violence—would seem to be a logical, even noble one. On the other hand, the mechanisms by which they are pursuing this goal—mandatory censorship, secret blacklists, inability to distinguish between what should and should not be blocked, and unproven technology that affects internet speed—are questionable, to say the least.

But if the idea of internet censorship is to be seriously called into question, should it not also logically extend to other forms of censorship? If it is considered unacceptable to sell Refused Classification material in movie or video game form, should it not also be unacceptable on the internet? Or, as the ‘net neutrality’ argument goes, is the internet a special case where the free flow of information—however corrupt and perverse at times—should not be interfered with? Alternatively, do ALL forms of censorship strip citizens of their personal liberties, as the libertarian argument goes? Does stripping individuals of the right to figure out for themselves what is and is not questionable material make them less well-rounded human beings?

At the very least, we should all be thankful that we live in a country where we can have these debates without being in danger of persecution. Nobody should ever have to fear reprisal for making an ‘illegal flower tribute’.

When I was about six or seven years old, I remember going on a road trip with my dad around New South Wales. As we headed north from Newcastle, he suggested that I might want to look out the window, for there was something big ahead of us. When I asked what it was, he told me that it was Ayers Rock. “Not even, Dad!” I replied, full of the cocky self-assurance of a child with a second-grade education. “Ayers Rock isn’t even in this state!” “I’m telling you, it is!” he replied with a laugh. “You just wait and see!”

And sure enough, another kilometre or two later, there it was—a giant, plastic eyesore, shaped and painted to look like Uluru. “The Rock Restaurant,” I read, groaning at my dad’s attempt at being cool. “But that’s not really Ayers Rock, Dad!” “No,” he replied, “but it is one of Australia’s ‘Big Things’.”

And so I was introduced to the common Australian practice of small things writ-large. Since then I’ve seen many more of them—the Big Ant, the Big Oyster, the Big Gold Panner. I even had the privilege of going to university in the town famous for the most sexually suggestive of the big things—the Big Banana. But what about New Zealand? As it turns out, you Kiwis have a few big things of your own—but surprisingly few people have written about them. This article is dedicated to small towns in New Zealand and their ‘big things’.

A long and lively history

The year was 1967. The Vietnam War was raging, the Space Race was at its height, and the hippies of the world were taking their first tentative puffs from the doobie of youthful rebellion. All of this paled, of course, to the preparations for the Christmas celebration in the small Kiwi town of Paeroa. In front of the town Post Office was erected a seven metre-high replica of a space rocket, topped by a loudspeaker that would blare music and announcements throughout the festival. The theme proudly proclaimed that “Paeroa was to rocket into Christmas”—and so it did.

The following Christmas, the rocket was reassembled and painted in a familiar pattern of brown and yellow. Thus was the ‘Big L&P Bottle’, world famous in New Zealand, born.

Most of New Zealand’s big things have similarly humble origins. Ohakune’s ‘Big Carrot’, for example, was conceived by Peter Hammond, a local grower of the Ohakune Growers’ Association. “The opportunity arose from the ANZ Banking promotion on [television] in the 80s as a prop from their advertising,” explains Bruce Thompson, Deputy Chair of the Waimarino-Waiouru Community Board.

“[It] was officially ‘opened’ by the King Country MP Mr Jim Bolger, and our mayor at the time Mr Bill Taylor.”

The operators of ‘Kiwi360’ in Te Puke—home of the ‘Big Kiwifruit’—stress the harmonious nature of their icon. “[It] is the shape of a kiwifruit slice, made up of Maori canoe paddles (waka hoe).

“The inclusion of Waka Hoe symbolises the land’s Maori heritage, the Mana Whenua of this land to the Tauranga Moana Iwi, and the orderly cooperation between peoples which has resulted in the success of our business.”

Big things also serve as a focus for ongoing pageantry in small towns. “Since 1984 a Carrot Festival has been held in the town featuring the large machinery for harvesting, floats and stalls,” says Thompson.

“It has [also] featured on the New Zealand postage stamp.”

It’s all about the produce

Big things typically represent the staple produce of their hometown. Apart from carrots, kiwifruit and bottles of soft drink, New Zealand’s other big things include a Big Crayfish in Kaikoura, a Big Salmon in Rakaia, a Big Trout in Gore, and a Big Sheep and Sheepdog in Tirau.

“[The Big L&P Bottle] represents our branding,” says Paeroa ward councillor Julie Bubb.

“We have flags down the main street with the L&P theme. All the food outlets in town have L&P painted frontages. We even have the L&P Cafe, which has a replica plastic bottle in front.”

Thompson proudly asserts that “the town of Ohakune was known as the carrot capital of the North Island”, and that the Big Carrot “stands proudly today promoting Ohakune and its wares”.

Martin Svehla, Ministry of Tourism Senior Communications Adviser, agrees that ‘Big Things’ are representative of what small towns have to offer. “Personally, I see them as a bit of fun. An exclamation point on what’s important to that town or area—something the community is proud of.

“There’s a big trout in Gore, and I understand that fishing on the Mataura can be spectacular.

“In terms of town branding I’d have to say I love what Tirau has done,” adds Svehla, referring to the Big Sheep and Sheepdog. “That’s a real feature, and I bet it makes people stop and have a coffee and slice of cake.”

A bit of fun

The people of Paeroa are “definitely proud of our local icon,” says Bubb. “The ‘bottle’ has become one of the most well known and photographed structures in New Zealand.

“There must be million of photographs of it around the world.”

Not everything about the icon has been effervescent, however. Before 2002, the bottle presented a rather unique problem in that the best place to take a photo of it was from right in the middle of State Highway 2. “There was naturally a concern about accidents, so the bottle was shifted at great cost to its present location where some bollards prevent the photographers from going on the busy highway.”

The biggest problem that the Big Carrot faced was of a more ideological nature. “Opponents were concerned at the anti-feminist nature of the ‘phallic symbol’,” explains Thompson.

“[They] suggested that two big swedes would be more appropriate.”

Quality over quantity

While New Zealand’s ‘Big Things’ may be few and far between, they are just as cherished by their small town patrons as their Australian counterparts. They present a light-hearted celebration of local industry and produce, as well as an unashamedly cheesy tourist attraction.

And just how do our ‘big things’ rate against their cousins in Australia? “I’m sure Australia has more,” admits Svehla. “I heard they’ve really embraced the whole ‘big thing’ idea on a large scale over there.

“[But] we really focus on quality here in New Zealand. I bet ours are made better. Probably using the latest America’s Cup fibreglass technology and the like.”

In case you haven’t heard, Avatar is awesome. An alien moon circling a distant planet, an exotic swathe of extraterrestrial flora and fauna—oh, and let’s not forget the ten-foot tall sentient beings who dart across the landscape like giant blue ninjas. What makes James Cameron’s masterpiece different, however, is the role of humanity in the interstellar first contact. No longer the hapless victims of an alien invasion, Avatar’s humans are themselves the invaders—the “sky people” from a far-off world. In Cameron’s digitally-created world, we are the aliens.

Strange as it may seem, the idea that humans might one day be extraterrestrial emissaries to an alien world is not entirely far-fetched. Yet almost everywhere we look, the task of finding life seems to be a daunting one. Interstellar distances and that pesky light-speed barrier make our chances of actually meeting alien life beyond our solar system rather slim. Closer to home, scientists speak excitedly about the possibility that microbial life may have existed on Mars millions of years ago.

But there is another candidate for life beyond our world. It is close to home, it contains a body of water larger than all of Earth’s oceans combined, and it has its own internal energy source. It has all the components believed to be necessary for life—and, what’s more, it has them today. Right now. Enter, stage left, Europa.

No, it’s not the band that wrote ‘The Final Countdown’. Europa is one of about sixty satellites of Jupiter, the largest planet in our solar system. It was discovered by Galileo Galilei in 1610 along with the three other ‘Galilean moons’—Io, Callisto and Ganymede. Very little was known about it until the 1970s when NASA’s Voyager missions were able to photograph it up close. What emerged would puzzle scientists. Europa appeared to have an icy outer crust crisscrossed with an ever-shifting landscape of cracks, fissures and craters. Through some unknown process, the surface of Europa seemed to be continually reinventing itself like a bad home renovation show.

The subsequent Galileo mission concluded that Europa’s bi-polar topography is most likely due to an ocean of liquid water beneath the shifting crust of ice. This ocean, heated by Jupiter’s immense tidal pull, is estimated to be as much as 50 kilometres deep. This same tidal pull is the cause of the fiery volcanic activity of Europa’s cousin, Io, and it is highly probable that the same volcanic activity occurs on Europa in the form of volcanic vents on the ocean floor. What’s more, it is theorised that the impact of cosmic rays on Europa’s exterior could convert the ice into oxidizers, providing a supply of oxygen into the subsurface ocean.

Europa contains all of the ingredients necessary for the development of a food chain—liquid water, oxygen, and an energy source. Put them all together, and that’s life, baby.

The grand scheme of things

So why is Europa so important?
“[Europa is] one of the very few places, along with Earth, where all the ingredients for life potentially exist,” says Dr Curt Niebur, NASA Program Scientist for the Europa Jupiter System Mission. “And what we’ve found on Earth is that wherever you have those ingredients for life, life somehow manages to make things work.”

“At the moment we know of just one planet which supports life,” adds Dr Claire Bretherton, Education and Public Programmes Manager at Carter Observatory Wellington. “But if we could find life on one of our own near neighbours this opens up the possibility of many, many more locations in our universe where life may be able to exist.”

For many, this puts Europa at the top of the list in the search for life. “Some scientists rate it higher than Mars as a likely abode of life and more worthy of a major initiative,” explains David Maclennan, President of the New Zealand Spaceflight Association.

“Wherever there is water, there is usually life, even if only of a microscopic nature.”

Niebur stresses that Europa presents a case study of what might be a common phenomenon throughout the universe. “As we’ve explored the universe … we’ve found that these giant gaseous planets like Jupiter are very, very common.

“And while we would not necessarily expect life to arise on these gas ball planets, what we’ve found unexpectedly in our solar system is that the moons orbiting them can actually be quite hospitable places.

“It could be that Earth-like planets are very rare in the universe, but habitable moons around gas giants might be quite commonplace.”

This means that the ‘goldilocks zone’—the narrow strip of space around any given star where the temperature is ‘just right’ for life to arise—may not be as significant as it was originally thought. Europa is well beyond this hypothesised temperate zone, yet it seems to harbour all of the necessary preconditions for life. “We’ve completely turned that [idea] on its ear in the past five to ten years,” says Niebur.

Fly me to the Moon… of Jupiter

If you’re anywhere near as geeky as me, you’re probably wondering the same thing I am—when are we going already?! As it so happens, NASA is currently working on a joint mission with the European Space Agency (ESA) to do just that. The Europa Jupiter System Mission, scheduled to be launched in 2020, is comprised of several spacecraft designed specifically to explore the moons of Jupiter, with a focus on—you guessed it—Europa.

“The goal of the overall mission is to investigate what we call the emergence of habitable worlds around giant planets,” explains Niebur.

“We’re going to study these unexpected oases in the outer solar system—learn how they formed, learn what sustains them, and learn exactly how hospitable they are. And once we understand these things, we can then perhaps learn how unique our solar system is, or if these kind of conditions might be commonplace in the universe.”

NASA has announced that the mission will not include a lander, citing both the complexity of a landing and a lack of knowledge of the Europan terrain. “Simply put, we just don’t understand enough about Europa yet to land there,” says Niebur.

“There are some basic, global science questions that we are asking that can only be answered from orbit. And once we learn enough, we’ll be able to both ask more focused questions that require a lander and, just as importantly, be able to design a vehicle that can survive landing—which is not an easy thing to do.”

Money is also an issue, with the ESA’s contribution facing competition from two other proposed European space missions. President Obama’s recent proposition that NASA focus its energy on a manned mission to Mars may also distract vital funds and expertise from Europa. “At the end of the day, it all comes down to money,” explains Maclennan.

“No bucks, no Buck Rogers.”

Can you dig it?

Like the kid on the first day of school who comes prepared with a full pencil case, NASA is already thinking ahead. In 2009, a team of scientists braved the cold and the threat of rampaging penguins to test out a small submersible vehicle named ENDURANCE in the frozen waters of Lake Bonney, Antarctica. Their key objective was to determine whether it was possible for an automated craft to melt through several kilometres of ice and explore the subterranean ocean underneath it—without any input from human operators.

The mission was a resounding success. “It was very much like being on a space mission at times,” explains Associate Professor Peter Doran, the mission’s lead investigator. “We’d be in the tent in the middle of the lake watching the live feed.

“Part of the excitement was the discovery of new things, part was the fear of getting it stuck … It is now a $5 million plus vehicle and we had little interest in losing it!”

Apart from exploring and taking scientific measurements, ENDURANCE can also render a three-dimensional map of its underwater world. “It was exciting … when we were exploring the terra incognita of the underwater glacier face,” says Doran.

The craft, affectionately nicknamed “The Bot”, is now “on R&R back in Austin Texas”. But will it ever go into outer space? “ENDURANCE itself is too big to ever go to Europa,” states Doran.

“It has just been teaching us how to do autonomous science in an extreme aquatic environment. For the Europa science, the next stage is to scale down.”

Niebur asserts that an ENDURANCE-based mission is the next logical step in the exploration of Europa after the 2020 mission. “I would bet that a lander mission is going to be sitting right near the top of the list for future exploration.”

We could be the “Sky People”!

What exactly might we find beneath Europa’s icy surface? “We really don’t know,” explains Niebur. “You would assume that it would be simple life—single-celled organisms—but we have no way of telling.

“Even in what we would consider drastic and unwelcoming environments on Earth, like around hot springs or volcanic vents, you can see a very complex eco-system arise.”

And how might the discovery of life beyond our planet affect us here on Earth? “How would it NOT affect us?” Niebur asks. “The implications of finding life beyond Earth would be profound in all walks of life.

“It’s impossible to imagine what you could learn scientifically or philosophically or spiritually if life—if ANY kind of life—were discovered beyond Earth.”

Maclennan is somewhat sceptical of the effect it would have on the everyday person. “I really can’t see the average Joe/Jane Bloggs getting too worked up about it.

“I think most people would just shrug their shoulders and go back to watching the real alien life forms on reality TV shows like Survivor or Big Brother.”

At the very least, the prospect that extraterrestrial life might exist within our backyard is an exciting one. And whether or not Europan life is complex in nature or merely the alien equivalent of herpes, it would solve once and for all the riddle of whether we are alone in the universe. If life can evolve independently twice in the same solar system, the chances are that it is prevalent throughout the universe.

And as for me? I’m holding out for alien sea monkeys.

“He took me over to the poles, which were willow stumps, six to eight inches in diameter and twice the height of a man, and placed me against one of them … I stood with my back to it and he tied me to it by the ankles, knees and wrists. He was an expert at the job, and he knew how to pull and strain at the ropes till they cut into the flesh and completely stopped the circulation … I was alternately burning hot and shivering with cold, and the constant pain in my joints woke me whenever I did doze off from exhaustion … When I was taken off my hands were always black with congested blood.”

So wrote Archibald Baxter of his experiences during the First World War. This incident, however, did not occur in a German prisoner of war camp. It was called ‘Field Punishment No.1’, and it was the ultimate disciplinary measure of the First New Zealand Expeditionary Force.

Baxter was one of a small handful of individuals known as ‘conscientious objectors’—people who refused to obey the commands of their superiors rather than fight in a war that they did not believe in. His story is one that few people are aware of. Indeed, in the greater narrative of the Anzac Day tradition, the experiences of objectors are often swallowed up by stories of patriotism and sacrifice. And while the Anzac tradition is undeniably a valuable one, the stories of those who oppose war are just as noteworthy.

A conservative nation

Turn-of-the-century New Zealand was a far more conservative place than it is now. Strong ties to Great Britain and a powerful church made for a state with a hand in both the political and moral character of the nation. New Zealand had demonstrated its loyalty to the ‘mother country’ during the Boer War in the 1890s, and the state began to push for a robust defence force of its own in the following decade. This led ultimately to the introduction of compulsory military training (CMT) in 1909 for all men over the age of 11.

The roots of conscientious objection lie in the CMT legislation. It was opposed by a minority of religious leaders, socialists, and pacifist groups, who claimed that the legislation denied civil liberties and would lead to the militarisation of the nation’s youth.

“It was sort of … a test ground for what later emerged,” says Steven Loveridge, a PhD candidate at Victoria University studying the New Zealand home front during the Great War.

When war broke out in August 1914, many of these groups disbanded or perished.

“Most of the pacifistic societies … realised they weren’t going to win the mainstream over at the time,” Loveridge explains. Organised labour was also split between those who supported the war and those who saw it as a capitalistic struggle. The majority of the country, however, was unanimous in its support for Great Britain.

It was initially hoped that enough men would volunteer for service as to make conscription unnecessary. Indeed, 14,000 men had enlisted within the first week of the war. Nevertheless, by the beginning of 1916 the flow of volunteers was beginning to dry up; word began to reach home of the harrowing conditions on the front, along with the horrific injuries of the first returned soldiers. In August 1916 the government decided to take the plunge—it passed the Military Service Act approving conscription.

Who were the ‘conchies’?

Conscientious objectors (or ‘conchies’) were known by many derogatory names during the First World War—shirkers, cowards, loafers, parasites. Whatever the label, it is important to note that conchies were not a unified group. They came from diverse backgrounds and ethnicities, and their reasons for refusing to be conscripted were varied.

Not all conchies were anti-war, either. “People confuse pacifism and conscientious objection,” says David Grant, a prominent New Zealand historian on conchies.

“Conscientious objection is where a person refuses to be a part of the military establishment, by refusing to train under compulsory military training or refusing to join the army during wartime, on grounds of conscience.

“Pacifism is anyone who has an objection to war, but may or may not be [a] conscientious objector.”

The typical objector was either Pakeha, Maori or Irish, and they objected on religious, political, ideological, or anti-militarist grounds.

“You’d want to whittle out those who were motivated by not wanting to fight in a British fight, like the Irish and Maori,” argues Loveridge.

“They weren’t necessarily pacifists—they just wanted to pick their fight.”

Loveridge adds that the most vocal objectors were “miners and militants—those who objected to the war because of their view that it was a capitalistic struggle”.

Nevertheless, the state held all the cards in the conscription debate. With the passing of the Military Service Act and the War Regulations, those who openly protested against conscription risked imprisonment. Indeed, many individuals were charged with sedition and sentenced to hard labour for speaking out against the act, including Labour MP Paddy Webb.

The narrow provisions of the Military Service Act exempted only those who could demonstrate that their religion defined war as “contrary to divine revelation”. This left a broad swathe of conchies without a leg to stand on.

Defiant to the end: The story of Baxter and Briggs

Archibald Baxter and Mark Briggs were, for all intents and purposes, ordinary men. Baxter came from a working-class background, having left school at the age of 12 to help support his seven siblings. A pacifist and a Christian, he would later assert that “passive resistance to evil is the power that will yet conquer the world”. Briggs, in contrast, was a socialist and a radical unionist. The experiences of these two men represent the apex of state persecution of conscientious objectors during the Great War.

Baxter appealed for exemption as a conscientious objector after being conscripted in 1916; however, because he was not a communicant church member, his application was denied. He was transported to Trentham Military Camp where he refused to obey any orders issued to him. Over the following months he was moved between various gaols and barracks in the Wellington area, where he received a variety of punishments including solitary confinement and bread-and-water rationing.

Briggs was conscripted in the March 1917 ballot. After refusing a medical exam and repeatedly disobeying orders to drill, he was court martialed and sentenced to 84 days’ hard labour in Mount Cook prison. He gained a reputation among the other conchies as an unyielding objector who refused to obey even the most trivial of orders.

Believing that internment on their home soil was an inadequate deterrent, the government decided in 1917 that conscientious objectors should be sent overseas to the front. As a result, Baxter and Briggs—along with 12 other conchies—were rounded up and sent to the Wellington docks. The entire affair was conducted in secret—the Captain of the Waitemama, the troopship that would take the men to the front, was unaware of what was happening until the conchies arrived.

After being physically dragged aboard the ship, the men were forced to strip and don military uniform. Briggs initially refused to do so; however, he was given little choice when his clothes were thrown overboard. Handcuffed in a small cabin and taunted by the troops aboard the ship, Briggs and Baxter nevertheless remained recalcitrant. Briggs in particular refused even to walk where ordered, forcing his commanders to drag him wherever he had been ordered to go on the ship.

Upon reaching Europe, the 14 men were sent to Etaples base in France. Once there they were split up, confined, given reduced bread-and-water diets, mocked and threatened repeatedly with execution. Baxter and Briggs were singled out as the ringleaders of the group, with Briggs refusing to walk, stand, salute or wear uniform. On one occasion he was beaten by a group of volunteer soldiers when he refused to salute a sergeant.

Some of the conchies broke—sentenced to five years’ hard labour at a military prison in Dunkirk, they relented and became stretcher-bearers. For Baxter and Briggs, however, the situation only got worse. They were sentenced, along with two other objectors, to ‘Field Punishment No.1’, the most brutal penalty in the military arsenal. Bound hand and foot to a pole in the barest of clothing, the men were left for hours each day to the mercy of the winter elements. “The cold was intense,” Baxter would later write. “A deadly numbness crept up till it reached my heart and I felt that every breath I drew would be my last. Everything grew black around me.”

Somehow, the men survived their ‘crucifixion’. Baxter and Briggs were then sent to the section of the trenches experiencing the heaviest shelling, where they were beaten and denied food. Each day they were required to walk along the ‘duckwalk’ to the front. Naturally, Briggs refused, and was subsequently dragged on his back along 1000 feet of rough wooden planks and unforgiving ground. His back and thigh were torn open by nails; however, in place of medical treatment, he was thrown in a pool of freezing water and told to drown.

In 1918, the two men were made to march to the Somme. Briggs, still recovering from his injuries, could barely walk, while Baxter discovered that it had been ordered that the two of them were not to be fed. Half-starved and freezing, Baxter collapsed halfway to the Somme and was left behind. When he was finally found by a troop of British soldiers he had, despite the intense cold, removed his military uniform.

Baxter and Briggs were both discharged in April 1918—the former for exhibiting “mental weakness”, the latter with muscular rheumatism. Baxter would only write about the experience in 1939 at his wife’s insistence. In contrast, Briggs never spoke of his experiences again.

Evaluating the conchie experience

What made Baxter and Briggs stand out over their fellow conscientious objectors? “Stubbornness,” says Grant, “[and] a determination that they would not fight under any conditions.

“Despite the privations, despite the intense program that was hurled at them—number one field punishment, beatings, dragging up to the front line—they survived, they stuck it out to the end. The other 12 succumbed at various times, understandably.”

Grant does not consider the two men to be heroes. “I’ve been taken to task by a couple of my reviewers [for that],” he laughs. “I’ve tried to portray them as kind of ordinary men, because they had very ordinary backgrounds.

“But I think that they underwent an extraordinary experience and they handled it in an extraordinary way, so I think that their actions were extraordinary,” he says.

“Conscientious objectors… were treated with huge derision and anger by many other people in the populace. These people had not meted up as ‘true and proper citizens’ of the British Empire, and the treatment that they received would have been accepted as being correct by the vast bulk of the populace.

“These two stand out because they survived all those privations.”

The conchie legacy and the Anzac tradition

Baxter’s book, titled We Shall Not Cease, was a rallying point for anti-Vietnam war protestors. “The second edition happened to come out around 1968,” says Grant. “There’s no doubt that it was a stimulant for anti-Vietnam War protestors.” But what of some of the more recent anti-war protests? How do they fit into the dual traditions of Anzac and conscientious objection?

In 2007, members of Peace Action Wellington (PAW) held a protest against the Anzac Day dawn service in Wellington. They held banners stating that conscientious objectors were “the real war heroes” and burnt two New Zealand flags. Two members of the group were subsequently arrested and charged with offensive behaviour.

The protest was widely condemned as disrespectful. The protestors were seen as dishonouring fallen soldiers and hijacking a day of remembrance. But was that the true intent of the protest? “These protests are not an attack on old soldiers or their relatives,” stresses Valerie Morse, a member of PAW.

“The purpose has been to communicate that New Zealand is involved in wars of occupation, most notably in Afghanistan and Iraq … It is about recognising that while politicians spout phrases like ‘Lest we forget’, they are busily engaged in waging more wars.”

Morse highlights the thematic similarity between PAW and the conchies. “Peace Action is a united front, and as such has members from a wide variety of political perspectives.

“In the broadest sense, it can be seen as a continuation of a tradition of anti-war activism in New Zealand.”

Loveridge agrees that there are some similarities between the conchie tradition and recent protests. “In terms of the Iraq War, I think there’s a lot of connections between what you see in World War One and now. I remember one story about someone who refused to pay their taxes in Britain because they wanted to not be a part of … the war in Iraq.

“I guess it raises these questions of what extent you’re involved in society as a taxpayer, as a labourer, as a potential conscript, or as an ideological supporter.”

The protests undoubtedly upset and angered a number of Anzac supporters—but is that in itself enough reason to condemn them? “On one hand, one can view Anzac Day as a day of remembrance for the soldiers who died in war,” states Morse.

“On the other hand, one can view Anzac Day as political propaganda: it is attended by politicians and state officials who use the day as a means by which to link current New Zealand troop deployments with the fight against Nazi Germany.

“Flag-burning can be seen from the perspective that the government is not upholding the ideas embodied by the flag, and is therefore an appropriate symbol to attack.”

Open to questions

First and foremost, it should be recognised that Anzac Day is an important and valid commemoration in itself. Recognising those who have died in the nation’s wars is a good thing, and it should be encouraged. However, reserving the right to question the Anzac tradition is not only wise—it is essential.

The experiences of conscientious objectors during the First World War is one of those questions. Baxter and Briggs’s stories fly in the face of the traditional Anzac ethos. They were not humble, patriotic heroes, nor were they examples of the often-repeated ‘silent division’ stereotype. By refusing to participate in the war, these men thought they were fighting for freedom—and, in return, they were persecuted for their beliefs.

The PAW protests, however extreme, expressed several legitimate opinions. The protestors claimed that the Anzac tradition was being used to reinforce support for new wars. While Anzac supporters can—and should—reserve the right to rebuff these claims, they must first accept the right for them to be voiced in the first place. Nobody should ever be strung to a pole for disagreeing with the majority.

Baxter and Briggs demonstrate most of all the problem of overshadowing individual experience with collective legend. The men and women who fought—or refused to fight—in World War One did so for many reasons. By focusing on the high-level Anzac tradition, we risk losing these low-level, individual stories. In the end, how can we truly hope to appreciate the sacrifices made by the men and women who have fought and died for New Zealand if their stories are lost within the rosy haze of legend?

When I was a wee lad, I did the typical thing and joined my local rugby team. Bear in mind that, growing up in Australia, this meant ‘league’ and not ‘union’. It was an unmitigated disaster—the handful of times that I actually touched the ball in the entire season usually led to moments of embarrassment (for myself) and hilarity (for others). The day that I dove headfirst into an inconveniently placed pile of mud while attempting to crash-tackle my opponent made me realise something—footy just wasn’t for me. Would that I had known that there were alternatives better suited to my unique tastes! Fortunately for you, I’ve gone and done a little investigating into what New Zealand has to offer in the way of weird and wacky sports. Could you be the next world champion at one of them?

Globe Riding

The quintessential example of Kiwi sporting ingenuity, globe riding (or ZORB globe riding when using globes designed, manufactured and owned by ZORB) involves “rolling people down hills in large inflatable globes”. The key ingredients are a grassy hill, a globe, water, and a willing participant. Combine these ingredients just right and you get a recipe for pure awesome.

“The initial design for the ZORB globe was developed by two Kiwi blokes with a desire to walk on water,” says Andy Havill, Group Marketing Manager for ZORB.

“The first prototype was designed and tested on water, but found to be too tame. Looking back at the Auckland skyline, the number of volcanoes sparked an idea—why not roll down a hill in it?

“It is a completely unique experience unlike anything you have experienced before. It’s a mix of sliding down a water slide, riding on a roller coaster, soaking in a bath and being in a motion-master—all at the same time!”

Globe riding comes in two main variants: the Zydro ride, where one or more participants move freely within the globe as it rolls down the hill, and the Zorbit ride, where a sole participant is strapped to the inside of the globe.

The sport has expanded to the United States, and has featured on the Discovery Channel and The Amazing Race. “It has become popular due to its uniqueness, and the fact we can provide something so different and so unique in a safe manner for everyone to enjoy.”

And where to for the future? “We hope to expand to new countries and continents,” Havill states. “Some people have suggested ZORB globe riding should be an Olympic sport.”

For more information, visit www.zorb.com.

Sheep Shearing

Nothing says ‘manly’ quite like a farmer wrestling with a disgruntled sheep. To us townies, it conjures up images of Kiwi pioneers carving out a living on the verdant plains of the New Zealand countryside. To many, however, shearing is more than a living—it is a sport.

Shearing sports are among some of the oldest in New Zealand. “Shearers have … competed against each other from the day the first sheep were shorn,” says Doug Laing, Publicity Officer for Shearing Sports New Zealand.

“Blade shearing competitions were around in the 1880s, and the first machine-shearing competition we believe was at the Hawkes Bay Show in 1902.”

The sport is divided into three main categories—sheep shearing, wool handling, and wool pressing. Sheep shearing is the most popular, with contestants battling it out to see who can perform the fastest and cleanest shear. The annual ‘Golden Shears’ in Masterton typically attracts up to 500 contestants and runs over three days.

Shearing is also an international sport, with the first World Championships being held in England in 1977.

“There were 28 countries represented in Norway [last year],” Laing explains, “but New Zealand has been by far the most dominant country.”

And what is so great about the sport? “The commitment and fraternity,” Laing responds without question.

“The shearing ‘circuit’ is much like your local club cricket competition, except the events are all over the country.

“It is nothing for [a] shearer to jump in the car and drive 500km for a Saturday competition and then drive 500km home again.”

“All would tell you it’s the camaraderie.”

For more information, visit www.shearingsports.co.nz.

Underwater Hockey

Two teams. Ten per side. A weighted puck and a crapload of sticks to push it with. Also known as ‘Octopush’, underwater hockey takes all the best elements of regular hockey and adds an extra touch of liquid awesome by submerging them in up to two and a half metres of water.

The sport was invented in 1954 by Alan Blake of the Southsea Sub-Aqua Club in the United Kingdom, and has since spread to over two dozen countries worldwide. While a variant of the sport was played in Nelson as early as 1963, it was only in 1976 that it was first introduced to the diving community—in Palmerston North, of all places.

“Some likely lads from Auckland … handed us long sticks, leather welding gloves and showed us how to heave an enormous red rubber coated puck around the bottom of the pool,” explains Brian Stewart, formerly of the Department of Marine Science at Otago.

“The rough concrete bottom made short work of the gloves and the puck didn’t slide too well, but I was hooked.”

Far from being a fringe sport, underwater hockey is rapidly gaining in popularity in New Zealand.

“There is such large participation at secondary schools,” says Rebecca Leach, Universities Development Officer for Underwater Hockey New Zealand.

“We need to work on keeping those who play at school continuing into university with club teams and university games.”

Turns out that you Kiwis are actually pretty damn good at it too. In the 2008 World Championships, the ‘Black Fins’ took out second place, while the women’s juniors team came home with the gold.

And what are some of the best things about underwater hockey?

“I enjoy the challenge of the sport as well as the social side,” says Leach. “It can also take you many places for travel.

“At only 16 I went to my first Worlds with the elite women’s team to England, and have also been to Australia and South Africa for competitions.”

For more information, visit www.underwaterhockeynz.com.

Chess Boxing

Yes, you read right—chess boxing. Cram roast beef and salami onto the same sandwich (or, for the vegetarians among us… I don’t know, tofu and eggplant?), and you might get a glimpse of the sheer awesomeness that this sport entails.

It’s about as literal a title as you can get. Contestants alternate between rounds of chess and boxing for up to 11 bouts of thinky-punchy goodness.

Chess boxing was the brainchild of a Dutch artist named Iepe Rubingh, with the first tournament being held in Amsterdam in 2003.

“[Iepe] was sharing an office with my partner in Berlin,” says Luka Hinse, New Zealand agent for the World Chess Boxing Organisation, “so I was close to the sport from its beginning.”

Hinse explains that the sport is still fairly low-key in New Zealand.

“So far just a few people are interested. I think it will take a while until people get the concept.

“In New Zealand boxers are boxers and chess players are chess players. Their worlds hardly overlap.”

Many will be familiar with the sport through the music video for Reb Fountain’s ‘Tab’.

“I am actually playing the referee in this video,” says Hinse.

“Reb saw my … presentation about chess boxing, that’s how we met.” Boxer Dylan Russell, the star of the video, aspires to one day become New Zealand’s first professional chess boxer.

So where might the sport be headed in the future? “I would like to see chess boxing being taught at school,” says Hinse.

“It teaches the kids, in their language, that a physical fight doesn’t solve anything. The boxing part functions as a relief valve for aggression in order to be open for knowledge.”

For more information, visit www.wcbo.org. Alternatively, you can visit Hinse’s ‘Pecha Kucka’ page at www.pechakucha.co.nz.

Noel Cox

Matthew: Why do you support retaining a constitutional monarchy in New Zealand?

Noel: I think it’s the most practical form of government for New Zealand. It’s also the one that people are most familiar with, and it works very well for us.

Matthew: What are some of the advantages that the monarchy provides New Zealand?

Noel: The primary one would be political stability and political neutrality—in the sense that the head of state is non-partisan.

Matthew: Do you believe that issues like national identity tie into it as well?

Noel: They don’t have to at all. You can have national identity being weak or strong irrespective of the form of government you’ve got, so long as you’re an independent country—and New Zealand has been independent for a very long time. I don’t think that national identity is at all central to this debate.

Matthew: What do you believe would be some of the negative effects of instituting a republic in New Zealand?

Noel: It would depend to some extent on how the system was changed. Any change could be seen potentially as a sign of political instability. But apart from that, we would have to adopt a system that people understand, and one that provides the same sort of safeguards that our present system has.

Matthew: What do you believe the role of the monarchy should be in New Zealand? What powers should it retain?

Noel: Well essentially, it’s not so much the power the monarchy retains as it is the power it denies politicians. For instance, with the judicial role, it’s not that the queen or the governor-general actually presides in a trial, but it’s that the justice system operates in the name of the Crown, and is therefore totally non-political and independent of the government of the day.

The powers that are vested in the governor-general should be those that are necessary to the workings of government. They should also include some additional powers which may be necessary in the case of a crisis—for instance, the ability to sack the Prime Minister.

Matthew: A number of changes were implemented in the last decade that changed the role of the monarchy in New Zealand affairs. This included replacing appeals to the Privy Council with the New Zealand Supreme Court and replacing the British honours system with a New Zealand one—although the British honours have subsequently been re-introduced by Prime Minister John Key. What is your opinion on these changes?

Noel: Well, as to the Privy Council, the government that implemented the changes was fairly ambivalent about them. On the one hand they said it was necessary for national identity, but at the same time they said it wasn’t a constitutional change.

Speaking as a lawyer rather than someone associated with the monarchy, I would say that the abolition of appeals to the Privy Council was a legal change that didn’t have any direct relation to the question of monarchy or republic. After all, there are some republics that retain the right of appeal, just as there are some monarchies that have abolished it.

The honours question is more interesting. The terminology that is often used is either ‘British’ or ‘Imperial’ honours, as distinct from New Zealand. But of course the reality is that, over many decades, the system has become more and more indigenised. We had the Queen’s Service Order in 1975, for instance.

It wasn’t really a case of abolishing the British honours system and creating a New Zealand one—we already had a New Zealand honours system—it was merely removing all of the remaining links with the British system. What we’ve got now is a purely New Zealand system. The Knighthoods are still a part of the New Zealand system—it’s clearly a case of the royal honours system, but it’s not the British honours system. So that’s as it should be for an independent country.

Matthew: Recent public opinion polls show that the retention of the monarchy enjoys somewhere between 50 and 60 per cent public support. However, Prime Minister John Key has stated he believes that, in the long term, becoming a republic is ‘inevitable’. Do you think it is inevitable, or do you think the current level of support for retaining the monarchy will remain high?

Noel: To answer your second question first, opinion polls over the last 40 years have indicated a fairly consistent level of support for the monarchy. Certainly, any political party would be envious of that level of support.

And that really ties into the first question, which is do I think it is inevitable. I don’t think anything is inevitable. I’m not going to say that New Zealand won’t become a republic, but, I mean, what makes it inevitable? The only way you could describe it as inevitable would be if the monarchy were a temporary or a transitional arrangement. But it’s actually the only form of government we’ve known in New Zealand, and there is no reason why that has to change.

Matthew: Some opponents of republicanism have argued that, if New Zealand were to become a republic, the relationship between the Crown and Maori—specifically, the Treaty of Waitangi—might come under question. Do you believe that this would be the case?

Noel: Well, there’s two answers to that. One is the technical/legal one—which is largely irrelevant when you’re taking about politics—and that states that, whatever the form of government, the new regime will assume responsibility for the treaty. So becoming a republic wouldn’t remove the Treaty of Waitangi.

But the reality is that the cosmetic or symbolic side of things is actually far more important. The Treaty is seen as a partnership between the Crown and Maori, so if you remove one of the parties then it does raise fundamental questions about the whole nature of the treaty.

So, yes, it could be a problem. And I think that, for New Zealand, the question of how we deal with the Treaty of Waitangi is a much more difficult and fundamentally important question than whether or not we should be a republic.

Matthew: What is your opinion on Keith Locke’s ‘Head of State Referenda Bill’, which seeks to bring about a referendum on the question of whether New Zealand should become a republic?

Noel: I think it’s an interesting bill because Mr Locke has tried to suggest that this is not a bill promoting a referendum on the monarchy as the head of state. That’s a chimera; that’s illusory. The reality is that he wants New Zealand to become a republic, so he’s introduced a bill which would cause a referendum on the subject.

So on the one hand it’s a bit dishonest, but more fundamentally it’s not answering the core question. There may be people who want a republic, and there may be people who say it’s inevitable even if they don’t want one, but clearly that is no grounds upon which to hold a referendum now.

My third point is that it’s a very poorly drafted bill. It is introducing a particular referendum model which is not ideal at all.

Matthew: Assuming that the referenda did go ahead, and a majority opted to retain the monarchy, would you see that as a validation of the monarchy?

Noel: I think if we do have a referendum—whether it’s badly drafted or not—and the people give a clear answer, then that should resolve matters one way or the other. But then again, if we look at the Australian example where the referendum ten years ago resulted in a fairly strong vote of support for retaining the monarchy, that didn’t bring an end to discussions. It didn’t bring an end to the republican movement.

So a referendum, whichever way it goes, is not necessarily going to resolve matters.

Lewis Holden

Matthew: Why do you support instituting a republic in New Zealand?

Lewis: We support a republic for three main reasons.

The first is around our sense of nationhood and national identity. We feel that it is time for New Zealand to assert its independence to the world and to have a constitution that reflects our values and our egalitarian tradition in New Zealand.

Second, because we believe in democracy. We believe that all political offices in New Zealand should be open to New Zealanders and appointed on merit rather than birth.

And thirdly, we believe that we need to develop better checks and balances in our government. Becoming a republic is a part of that debate.

Matthew: What are some of the advantages that becoming a republic would provide?

Lewis: Well, the first set of advantages is symbolic, but a lot of people assume that the republican argument is all about symbolism. Whilst a republic would assert our independence to the world and be good for national identity, it’s also about taking ownership of our constitution, defining what the powers of the head of state are—which are currently undefined—and also about asserting checks and balances on the Prime Minister and the cabinet.

So the main benefit from a republic is actually around the constitutional changes that would result—defining what those reserve powers are, and ensuring that we have a head of state who can keep the prime minister and cabinet in check.

Matthew: What form does the Republican Movement envisage that a restructured central government—in particular the judiciary and the head of state—would take under a republic?

Lewis: Well there wouldn’t be any change to the judiciary—the last link to the UK was cut off seven years ago with the Privy Council.

At the moment you’ve got a governor-general who is de-facto appointed by the Prime Minister, who every six years sends a fax off to Buckingham Palace which says “this person is going to be our governor-general for the next five years”, the Queen rubber-stamps that, and presto! You get a governor-general.

So what we’re really talking about is reforming the office of governor-general—firstly into a full head of state, and secondly into an elected position. So what that means is that you’re decreasing the power of the prime minister and taking away his or her ability to simply put forward one of their mates.

Matthew: How do the goals of the Republican Movement resemble those pursued by Jim Bolger in the nineties? How do they differ?

Lewis: Bolger raised the debate in ’94 because he was very much about the ideal of national identity. And that’s pretty much where the Republican Movement came from—a group of students at VUW got together and said “this national identity stuff is really starting to matter in New Zealand now”. After the eighties there was a sense of confidence in ourselves that hadn’t been there before.

In terms of where we differ from Bolger, well, we don’t really differ too much. What Bolger proposed was a minimal change, which is essentially what we say we should do—reform the office of governor-general into a full head of state. It’s not legally difficult to do.

One thing that Bolger did say is that we should directly elect the president. The Republican Movement’s policy is that that decision should be up to New Zealanders—it should be the public’s choice on how the President is selected, not the prime minister’s. And any process around becoming a republic should be as inclusive of the general public as possible.

Matthew: Recent polls show that the retention of the monarchy enjoys somewhere between 50 and 60 per cent public support. What is your comment on that?

Lewis: That’s a pretty average reflection. The long-term trend is towards more support for a republic. Obviously at the moment the polls are slightly down because of Prince William’s visit, but we’ll probably go back up in the next few years.

The incredible thing is that, in the late eighties, support for the monarchy was about three quarters of the population. Whereas now, the last New Zealand electoral study said 48 per cent. So that’s quite a decrease in support for the monarchy.

The critical thing for us though is that, whilst people may not be supporting the monarchy, that doesn’t actually mean that they support a republic—hence why support for a republic is only around 30 or 40 per cent. But more and more people are becoming undecided on the issue. So the debate is actually heating up, and it will happen whether people want it to or not.

Matthew: What is your stance on the honours system? British, New Zealand, or both?

Lewis: Our position is reflective of what our membership thinks, which is that we kind of like the idea of titles. In terms of what those titles should be, that’s where our debate is. We’ve suggested that they should really introduce some sort of Maori/indigenous title.

The actual concept of titles isn’t exclusive to monarchies, though—they have them in Italy, Portugal and Malta, which are all republics. So these aren’t mutually exclusive things—you can still have the Privy Council in a republic as well.

Matthew: Some opponents of republicanism have argued that, if New Zealand were to become a republic, the relationship between Crown and Maori—specifically, the Treaty of Waitangi—might come into question. Do you believe that this would be the case?

Lewis: Well, it’s a very important part of the debate for New Zealand. But the critical thing is that, under the status quo, who the Crown is, actually isn’t very clear. When the treaty was signed in 1840, the Crown meant Queen Victoria and her government. Then in 1852 we got a settler government, and they started confiscating Maori land and bringing out imperial troops to force them off their land—all these sorts of ugly things which we are now dealing with. The Crown now in New Zealand actually means the New Zealand government—it doesn’t mean Queen Elizabeth over in the UK. So in essence, that relationship won’t change if we become a republic.

The real question is what we do with it symbolically. I guess that from a Maori perspective, there is a lot of concern that it could mean an end to treaty settlements because there is no longer a ‘Crown’. But I believe it would actually be quite beneficial for us because it would actually clarify who the Crown is and what that actually means in terms of treaty settlements, because Maori are now part of the Crown.

It’s also worth making the point that a lot of Maori, in urban regions specifically, support a republic, even more so than non-Maori New Zealanders. And I think that may be because of the history of the Crown oppressing Maori and taking away their culture. So there’s actually quite a good understanding of the fact that the Crown never did anything to protect Maori. It’s only been since the New Zealand government has been in the driving seat that things have changed.

Matthew: Over the last few decades there have been several political parties that have formed to campaign on the question of becoming a republic. Are there any plans for the Republican Movement to launch a party?

Lewis: No. We’re not a political party. We’re a campaign group, and we’re going to stay that way.

We’re cross-partisan as well—we’ve got people like David Farrar who’s heavily involved in the National Party, Jordan Carter who is very much involved with Labour—so we’ve got quite a good mix of people from both sides of politics. Our general way of campaigning is around party activists, so we work a lot with people who are involved in the democratic process.

There’s always been a tendency for people to expect us to contest elections, but we’re not going to do that. The first reason for that is because it doesn’t actually get us anywhere. The second is because New Zealanders aren’t going to vote on a republic issue at a general election, because the top tier issues are always going to be health, education, employment, that sort of thing. Constitutional reform is an esoteric thing—it doesn’t make you get a hip operation faster, it doesn’t ensure that your kids get a good education.

What we actually need is for the big parties to adopt a policy of change and say that we will have a constitutional convention on this issue that will draft recommendations, and then we will have a referendum.

Matthew: And finally, your thoughts on Keith Locke’s ‘Head of State Referenda Bill’?

Lewis: It’s quite a good piece of legislation in terms of getting the discussion started. Whether or not it will ever get to be in a referendum is open to question. I would say that the critical thing at this stage is that, if it goes to a Select Committee, we can actually have that debate for the first time. This republic debate has been going on since the sixties, but we’ve never had a discussion at the parliamentary level on this issue. And I think it’s critical now that we actually start talking about it.

Matthew: 1968 in particular is an interesting year because it coincided with a wave of student protests overseas, especially in France and the United States. How do you think that reflected on the tone of the mag?

Bill: It was an interesting experience. The editorial for March the 19th 1968, for example, was all about student power. It was essentially a little manifesto—quite grandiose at the time—that demanded reforms from the university.

We requested that students be given control of the Student Union Building; a staff/student committee be set up to deal with administrative and academic complaints; that students have three representatives on the university council. It was signed by the President of the Labour Club, several members of the students’ association, myself and the former Editor of Salient Barry Saunders, who is now on the right wing.

The point I’m making is that this wave of international protest wasn’t just something that happened overseas. It was something that happened here too. The opening of Parliament in 1968 was pretty spectacular—a big demonstration of students and workers. We broke through the ceremonial troops, the governor general had to go in the side door, the Australian High Commissioner’s car was trampled on.

Matthew: It has been suggested that it was because of what was going on overseas the university was more responsive to the reforms that you championed.

Bill: Well, they hadn’t gotten so far overseas by March.

The day that editorial was published, I got a telephone call from the acting Vice-Chancellor—a guy called Ian Campbell—who suggested that we come over for morning tea. So we went over, and he said, “Some of my colleagues have been up in arms about this, but it all seems okay in principle to me, and perhaps we can set up a committee to investigate and come up with some recommendations.” That did take the wind out of the sails of student protest.

Matthew: You could almost say that was a good thing—the objectives of student protest were met so easily.

Bill: I don’t know that it was good or bad—it just was.

Here’s an interesting sequel though. One of the things that I do these days is I work as a celebrant at civil unions and funerals. So, about five years ago, I got a call, from Ian Campbell. I didn’t even know he was still alive, he seemed ancient back in 1968! But he said, “My wife and I are getting a bit long in the tooth, and we thought you might do our funerals.” And I have in fact done those funerals now, and what Campbell was really wanting was to have that story told by the only person who could tell it.

Matthew: Another key subject that Salient reported on in ’68 was the escalation of the Vietnam war. What was that like, and how hard was it not to get involved? Did you feel that it was Salient’s duty to remain impartial?

Bill: No, no! You’ll see me saying somewhere that Salient is not impartial—that it never will be impartial whilst I am editor.

Salient has a tradition that there’s really no such thing as journalistic impartiality.

I started off the year as a member of the National Party. I’d been under the influence of left-wingers—well, I’d been arguing with them—and I wasn’t your typical member of the National Party.

I opposed the Vietnam war from within the National Party. But it was the growing evidence of conservatism’s incapacity to make rational decisions that helped move me to the left. I eventually ended up on the very far left, some miles to the left of Labour.

Matthew: You said at the beginning of 1968 that you celebrated the Salient tradition of “healthy radicalism”, and that students should hold views on social and political matters. This was quite a contrast to the Salient of the 1950s which took more of a conservative stance. Was this a deliberate move of yours away from the past?

Bill: Well, Salient has wobbled around a lot—there’s some issues of Salient in the 50s that were quite left-wing. For the last few years in my time it had been a kind of ‘left-conservatism’. Hugh Rennie, for example, was the outstanding editor of my generation, and he was a critical-liberal type of person.

I was part of a movement of student media and student politicians moving to the left. Most of them were Maoists—I was a Trotskyist. Whilst, perhaps at later points, Salient pushed a particular line, I quite deliberately sought out a variety of points of view—strong points of view, rather than trying to express a balanced point of view. So we had a right-wing commentator to write on things, and a left-wing commentator to write on things. It was difficult to find right wingers who wanted to express their views in Salient. There was a guy called Jim Mitchell who was, in his way, quite good at capturing a right-wing perspective.

I had an attitude of trying to whip up argument and debate. Some people on both sides saw me as a troublemaker because of that fact.

Matthew: How hard was it maintaining that balance between radicalism and conservatism?

Bill: I didn’t try to balance it particularly—I simply wanted lots of different views. One of the things about a student newspaper is that you’ve got a licence to play a little—as long as you make something that has some interesting stuff in it.

You’ll actually see that Salient of my day was quite a mess. It was all over the place. But I think that’s possibly a good quality—we didn’t try to present a smooth editorial line.

Matthew: What is your best memory from your time as editor?

Bill: Well, it was a wonderful time to be a student. It was a time when things were happening, and to be editor of Salient in that period of intellectual ferment was great fun.

Matthew: What do you see as being the key role of student media?

Bill: I guess that changes at different times.

I’m interested in politics, I’m interested in students taking political roles, and I’m interested in students getting involved in the conflicts and ideas. I think that student media can enter into those political things, be those political things, and reflect those political things. And not only political things, but other cultural and intellectual movements.

I think that can be a pretty big part of a student’s university experience—their growing up and their education.

1938

Salient was born amidst the first stirrings of war. Editor ‘Bonk’ Scotney stressed that the timing was no coincidence. “Unless a sufficiently large and well-informed mass of public opinion can be formed the world over … the very academic detachment so forcibly and so often placed before us as the ‘correct’ attitude of the student mind, will—along with most other things that make a university what it is—be lost forever.”

Salient tackled the question of whether or not students were ‘qualified’ to hold political opinions. “They are not,” stated one Professor Shelley. “Freedom of speech depends upon the discipline of the minds of those entering upon the discussion.

“You will remember that public discussion on sex and religion has been banned by our own university authorities.” Poor Salient—not even a year old and already the carnal conversation starter had been banned.

1939

War! New Zealand followed Britain in declaring war on the Nazis after their invasion of Poland. Salient counselled moderation. “For those who are resolved that war is the solution, they should examine their premises, as should those who possess pacific tendencies.

“To the jingoist it is an opportune time for his airy urgings, but even the jingo accuser should beware that he is not similarly guilty … Such an attitude can only result in placing the defender of the aggressed in a position comparable to the aggressor.”

1940

A reduced newsprint magazine started feeling the pinch of war. “Our greatest loss is likely to be caused by the absorption of our best intellects into the military forces.”

Just as serious, however, was the fear that freedom of speech or expression might be curtailed in the interests of national security. Salient staunchly supported Professor von Zedlitz against the cries of “hysterical patriots” claiming that he was an “enemy alien”. Not bad for a three-year-old!

1941

With the war raging in Europe, Salient did its best to keep its readership informed of the whereabouts of students serving overseas.

Salient was not all war, however. A great deal of attention was dedicated to ‘Tournament’, the 1940s equivalent of Uni Games. “Tourney is a very important opportunity to learn how to win friends and influence people,” Salient claimed, foreshadowing the catch-cries of future self-help gurus.

1942

Salient veered toward the radical. Editor Cecil Crompton promoted a socialist perspective on the war, despite conservative criticisms from much of New Zealand society. Crompton was infamous for celebrating the entry of the Soviet Union into the war by painting a hammer and sickle atop the Arts Building.

1943

Salient did its utmost to promote a united front against the war despite its radical tendencies. It lauded the £600 contribution donated by Vic students to the war effort. The poverty of students is traditional.

“While today few if any at Victoria exist on bread crusts and water in dim garrets, they are still a relatively impoverished section of the community.” It’s nice to know things haven’t changed.

1944

“The footsteps of war are now heard less clearly from New Zealand shores,” wrote Salient, “but this does not lessen our responsibilities.

“Work hard, support all moves which help the war, and above all … study to fit ourselves for the more responsible tasks in civil life.”

Salient also tackled one of the pressing issues of the war effort—the role of women in the workforce. The absence of thousands of young men had led to an increase in female employment, raising the question of pay inequity. “On a certain job men and women doing identical work over the same period were paid in a ratio of about two to one.

“It is … a question which we students cannot afford to ignore; it affects us too vitally.”

1945

Victory! With the streets “packed with confetti, streamers, people and inebriates”, Salient partied like ‘twas nineteen forty-nine. In a fashion that most contemporary students will appreciate, Salient also reflected on “the disaster of the morning after”.

Salient commented on the emerging post-war world, focusing on China and Mao Tse-Tung. Mao, it was thought, would bring “democracy not only in the voting procedure and freedom of speech, but also in the conduct of economic and cultural affairs”. Well, at least he made for a good capitalist t-shirt icon.

1946

Salient celebrated the birth of the United Nations by interviewing the New Zealand Delegate to UNESCO. UNESCO sought to “contribute to peace and security by promoting collaboration among the nations through education, science and culture”. Whether or not this collaboration would include international drinking competitions was not mentioned.

The rising cost of tertiary study was revisited. “Education is dispensed on a class basis, and … the children of the workers do not have the same opportunities as those of the wealthy.”

1947

Salient aroused controversy in 1947 when it protested against the Dutch military action in Indonesia. This sparked an attempt by the students’ association to rein in the magazine. Editor Alec McLeod responded that Salient was “in no way subject to the whims of that body”. The relationship between Salient and VUWSA has, of course, been nothing but peachy since then…

1948

The onset of the Cold War evinced a furious commentary from Salient. It condemned “the old men, the psychopaths, the property owners, the fanatic nationalists, and those who let the comic strips fight for them”.

“Russia has now become the terrible bogy” through “American aggression and intolerance”.

1949

Salient maintained its opposition to the Cold War. The student association’s Manifesto for Peace stated its “unequivocal opposition to all preparations and plans for war.

“We denounce all those who, by propaganda, by provocation, by armament or conspiracy, are attempting to lead the common people of the world into a new war against their fellow men.”

1950

With Korea exploding into a ‘hot’ war, Salient called upon the United Nations to resolve the conflict. “If both sides now make an attempt to settle the thing without letting every trigger happy warrior free to work off his feelings, then UN action will mean something.”

Salient also sarcastically lamented Vic’s unexpected success in the year’s Tournament. “We suppose it was bound to happen in the end.

“For years it was the proud boast of VUC clubs that, whatever could be thrown against our defences, the wooden spoon was ours.”

1951

The flames of radical rhetoric began to dwindle as Salient stepped into the hands of a string of conservative editors. Salient decried the radicalism of the 40s, stressing that “a more impartial approach is needed”.

Salient also dedicated several issues to discussing the “Peace Movement” that had arisen in response to the ongoing Korean War, ultimately rejecting it as being “dominated and controlled by Communism”.

“[Salient does not] believe that the Peace Movement necessarily wants peace, except on the terms of Soviet Russia.”

1952

Salaries for students? According to Salient, the prospect of paying students a basic wage was worth considering. “A high proportion of students are physically unfit.

“There are frequent cases of absolute hardship, and many cases of undernourishment.”

The average student was found to be too weak from malnutrition to comment.

1953

Salient continued to promote a less radical line to entice new students. It encouraged “the corporate varsity spirit both in work and play” over the stereotype of Victoria as a “hotbed of sedition”.

Meanwhile, students from Otago University won the “Drinking Horn” at Tournament in the “phenomenal time of 14.9 seconds”.

1954

An unusually prescient Salient Editor reflected on the potential consequences of the situation in Vietnam. “The defeat of the French armies in Indo-China will have implications which this generation will have to face in the future.

“[Vietnam] appears to be a further step towards world domination by the forces of Communism.”

Paranoia aside, Salient criticised the communist witch hunt in the United States under Senator Joe McCarthy. “We have had rabble rousers before, men who appealed to the mob spirit and the lynching instinct, but never before have such men operated on the highest level.”

1955

The year dawned with the question of education quality foremost in Salient’s mind. Victoria’s over-investment in infrastructure and under-investment in student services was seriously called into question.

“What good is a seven-story science block or a new 250,000 volume library to the student body, if at the end of their stay they come out impoverished in spirit and in health, with a degree signifying that they have satisfactorily regurgitated their textbooks and lectures and are prepared to apply their narrow intellects and glassy eyes to advancing the quality of toilet paper or wrappings for chewing gum?”

1956

Salient lauded Victoria’s abysmal performance at the annual Tournament and rejoiced in regaining the wooden spoon. “Victoria performed dismally, compiling a points total less than a third of those of Otago.”

Meanwhile, several conservative party poopers attempted to ban the traditional drinking competition. “The Drinking Horn this year was a disgusting shambles, and it was little worse than others of previous years.

“A certain amount of decency should be maintained in what is not in itself a very civilized sort of competition.”

Said conservatives rejected the claim that they needed to get laid.

1957

The big story of the year was Salient’s criticism of New Zealand’s foreign policy.

“Our foreign policy is dominated, as it has been for generations, by hostility and suspicion towards the people of Asia—summed up in the old nightmare of the ‘yellow peril’.

“A realistic foreign policy would be directed towards coming to terms with these people, and working out some method of mutually satisfactory peaceful co-existence with them.”

1958

Salient’s twentieth birthday coincided with Victoria finally being granted university status. No longer a college or “night school”, the university was able to make the gargantuan acronymic leap from ‘VUC’ to ‘VUW’.

The first hints of a resurgent left-wing began to appear as the magazine protested against nuclear testing.

“The testing or use of nuclear weapons in any way whatsoever is grossly immoral.”

1959

Salient’s gradual drift toward the left was epitomised by its condemnation of apartheid. The magazine criticised the decision of the All Blacks not to include any Maori players in its upcoming tour of South Africa. This commentary foreshadowed the renewed radicalism of the following decade.

1960

Victoria University’s rolls were filled to the brim with the offspring of the baby boomer generation. This led to a revival of left-wing politics at university, with Salient being no exception. The magazine tackled issues such as sex and censorship, as well as writing an extended feature on “Columbo Plan” exchange students from Asia.

Less seriously, the inaugural issue for the year joked about the possibility that Adolf Hitler might have fled to New Zealand after the war. “No one knows for certain that [he] is dead.”

1961

Alcohol and panty raids were the talk of the town, with Salient reporting extensively on the damage done to the new common room in the Student Union Building after the yearly graduate supper. “The floor was pocked by stiletto heels, furniture was saturated with beer and the men’s toilets left awash with vomit.” Sounds like a typical Friday night at Coyote’s.

Meanwhile, two 17-year-olds were arrested during the traditional “panty raids”, leading to the banning of the activity.

1962

Salient began the year with a call for action against the “grooved apathy” of the previous decade. “A stultifying complacency has almost deadened the students’ voice.

“Are we going to sit tight for the next fifty years; or are we going to open the doors and let in the winds of change?”

Salient certainly took up its own challenge, with features on cold war tensions in Laos, Berlin and Cuba.

1963

Salient enjoyed a brief flirtation with conservatism. Editor Geoffrey Palmer launched an attack on the “new woman” of Victoria University, calling her a “hard and brash super-sophisticate, with dyed hair and drip-dry morals”.

Meanwhile, a visit to the university by the governor general ended with a long string of tin cans being surreptitiously tied to the back of his Bentley. Funnily enough, the normally poor students had also filled his hubcaps with pennies.

1964

Student pranks reached new levels of notoriety with a mock murder in Te Aro. Emergency services and the press—not to mention a sizeable crowd—were all fooled by the event.

“When the crowd learned that it was only a stunt they turned on the students. Cries of ‘Lynch them’, ‘Throw them out of the university’, were heard.”

1965

Opposition to apartheid continued into 1965, with Salient reporting favourably on VUWSA’s decision to offer scholarships to South African students.

In addition, Salient ran a feature on race relations in New Zealand, highlighting the level of cultural discrimination against Maori. The magazine put out a call for students to write “of any incidents, trivial or important … that would help to elucidate the true nature of relationships … between the Maori and the Pakeha.”

1966

Alongside growing student discontent with the escalating Vietnam war, Salient stood firmly against conscription. “There are good reasons for strengthening this country’s forces for a defensive role. But these reasons do not hold when it comes to conscripting this country’s youth for a war half a world away.”

On a lighter note, Salient noted with amazement the introduction of a new piece of technology to an engineering classroom at MIT—A COMPUTER! “[Classes] now can consider problems in a single session that ten years ago could not have been handled over a period of many months.” Students marvelled at the dramatic increase in porn-viewing efficiency.

1967

“Slum living for students” was the first headline of the year. Salient visited several flats to report on deteriorating living conditions.

“One of the better examples had no hot water system, the floor coverings were rotting, it was impossible to see through the grime on the windows, the stench of decaying food permeated the entire house, and there were several poems inscribed on the walls of the toilet.”

Salient heavily criticised the government’s decision to double the number of troops in Vietnam. “It is regrettable the government should feel it necessary to commit New Zealand further into a war from which there is little to gain and so much to lose.”

1968

Revolution! Salient’s thirtieth birthday coincided with a wave of student protests across the Western world, bringing with it a reminder of the magazine’s original purpose. “[Salient] believes that students are qualified to hold views on political and social matters.”

Editor Bill Logan campaigned actively for greater student involvement in university governance. “The five thousand students are as much members of the university as the five hundred of the staff.”

Salient remained highly critical of the Vietnam War, claiming that it was “inspired by misguided self-interest and executed with bumbling atrocity”. It analysed the make-up of the protest groups, demonstrating that its members came from all walks of life.

Matthew: I’m here talking with David Do, Co-President of NZUSA, about the issue of student membership—and specifically, Roger Douglas’ bill. David, firstly, why do you and NZUSA support compulsory student membership in student unions?

David: Well, the current model is universal membership, not compulsory, since students can individually opt out, and the current situation is that all students can collectively decide what choice they want in terms of membership systems. So we use the term ‘universal membership’ to describe the current situation.

We support the current status quo because students can already choose how they want to organise themselves—they can choose to opt out. And the services, the representation, the welfare, and the experience that associations provide are only possible because students are automatically members of their association. So that’s our main reasons for supporting this, because the current situation does help students in their education and the experience they have at tertiary institutions. And we don’t see the need for that to change—the status quo is satisfactory.

Matthew: And what are some of the advantages that you believe universal student membership provides?

David: Well, students’ associations provide a wide range of services for students. There’s representation, there’s welfare, there’s experience, there’s clubs and societies, advocacy—lots of various things. And the main reason why students’ associations are able to provide those services is because students are automatically members. They pay a small levy, and that gives the association the ability and the resources to provide what students want. And these are services that students want because they are based on student demand, and the association is responsive to students in many ways. They are accountable to students through general meetings, through regular elections, through the threat of being voted out at a special meeting. So students’ associations are accountable and democratic.

So there are many advantages of the current situation that really wouldn’t be the case if there was voluntary student membership.

Matthew: And what is NZUSA’s official policy on Roger Douglas’ Freedom of Association Bill?

David: Well, we oppose the bill because we believe it is up to students to decide how they want to organise themselves, not for parliament. We support the current situation because students can already choose individually to opt out, and collectively through referendum, whereas Roger Douglas’ bill is going to force voluntary on everyone. We believe students should make those decisions, as they already can under the current legislation. So that’s why we oppose the bill.

Another key reason why we oppose the bill is because of the very negative effect the bill will have on students. Students’ associations in a voluntary environment will probably not be able to sustain many, or any, of the services that they currently offer. That’s going to hurt the quality of education that students receive and the quality of experience that they have at tertiary institutions.

So we’re really concerned with how students will be affected through quality of education and quality of experience.

Matthew: What actions and policies are NZUSA pursuing in support of retaining universal student membership? Specifically, I have heard talk of a ‘student membership summit’ and a ‘President’s Committee’ that was held towards the end of last year. Do you have any comments on either of those?

David: Well, NZUSA is working with students’ associations, and one of the key things is to inform students as much as possible about what this bill means for them, what is at stake, what associations do, and the value that they bring to students. Our goal is to inform students and encourage them to take action against the bill because of the negative effects that this bill will have on their education and their experience. So that’s one of the many areas of activity—informing students and encouraging them to take action.

Secondly, we’ve been talking with members of parliament, and talking to other organisations in the tertiary sector, and trying to get their support on board for the campaign. And throughout all of this, we at NZUSA are going to continue our core business of representing students at a national level and ensuring that students’ perspectives are heard where the decisions are made on things like education quality, fees, loans and allowances. So VSM is a very important campaign because it does affect all students, but we are continuing at NZUSA with our normal work that we do in representing students every day.

Matthew: Now, if voluntary student membership were introduced in New Zealand, what are some of the effects that you think we would see in the university experience?

David: In the university experience there are five main impacts. I’ll focus on two or three.

Firstly, it will devastate important student services; for example, at VUWSA, with welfare, advocacy, support for clubs and societies, among others, they are an essential part of the tertiary education experience. They help enhance what students learn in the classroom and provide a useful experience outside it. The real concern is that, under voluntary membership, these services will be lost because associations will no longer have the revenue to provide them. Also at Victoria University in particular, specific support for particular groups such as Maori students, Pacifica, Queer, students with disabilities. Also faculty representation that VUWSA helps facilitate, that’s something that’s going to be lost because associations will not be able to sustain those structures.

So for the student on the ground, their experience will be severely diminished because a lot of what VUWSA does will disappear. A lot of those things do contribute to the overall experience that a student has when they come on campus.

Also with the representation side, students’ associations play a very important watchdog role on the institution through student representation on all the committees inside the institution, and also being a regular feedback mechanism the institution uses to see how things are going. So students’ associations play an important part in quality assurance.

The risk is also that the quality of education that students receive will diminish over time as well, because the institution is less likely to respond to students’ needs and wants because the association isn’t there and isn’t channelling feedback to the institution.

And obviously students who are members of clubs—ethnic clubs, religious clubs, sporting clubs—they get some support from the association that’s going to be lost, as well as the ability of these clubs to hold—students’ associations help clubs and societies with funding or facilities or in some other ways to help run their events for their members, so students might see a diminished experience from that. University games—lots of students participate those and other sporting competitions and aspects, and students’ associations help fund a lot of tertiary sport in New Zealand. That’s likely to be lost if they’re not able to fund that.

So those tangible things in terms of clubs, sports, representation, quality of education—those are four key things for students. Orientation, of course, is always a very big thing too.

The other aspect of course is, if voluntary membership comes in, the university may want to try and continue some of the things the association does already for students. Obviously, that has financial cost, and up until now students have contributed to that student support and the current services. The real risk—and this has happened in Australia—is that institutions may have to divert core funding for their research and teaching budgets to help plug the gap that has occurred because of voluntary membership. And that means less money for tutorials, facilities, good teachers, that sort of thing. So that will also affect the quality of education.

Also, in Australia when voluntary membership was passed, the government there set up a special $120 million transition fund just for voluntary membership. So that extra government spending on a situation that was fine before, that’s going to cost more to government, cost more to taxpayers. We all understand the tight fiscal situation that the government and tertiary institutions do face. The problem is that this bill, if passed, will create a lot more financial costs, and it could create a crisis on campus.

Matthew: I’d like to just talk about the arguments that VSM advocates have put forward, to get your response on those. Specifically, I’d like to go back to some of the things you said before about accountability, members’ ability to opt out of associations, and the fact that students are automatically enrolled in associations when they start at university. Do you feel that accountability is an issue when students are automatically enrolled in an association?

David: Well, students’ associations do have several accountability mechanisms. Students can obviously vote for who they want to control the association at elections, they vote at general meetings on how much they pay as a levy—or whether to have a levy at all. There are also provisions in the constitution for students to call a general meeting, they can call a meeting to get rid of exec members at any time.

And also, if students didn’t want to maintain the existing membership structure they can do a petition and call for a referendum to be held by the institution to decide whether the membership should still be compulsory or voluntary. This has happened already in recent years—UniTech was voluntary but students wanted to change, so they changed back to compulsory in 2007; Waikato university was voluntary for a while, they changed back in 2000; and Auckland have stayed voluntary, students have voted to stay that way, their last referendum was in 2003.

So in terms of accountability, the students’ associations are, as incorporated associations, regularly audited. Their accounts have to be made available to members and satisfy their requirements. So a lot of the mechanisms are in place already.

Matthew: One of the criticisms that has been raised is that, because students’ associations have a guaranteed pool of money through membership levies, the level of accountability is lowered. What would be your comment on that?

David: I disagree, because there are many mechanisms already for students to hold students’ associations accountable on how they spend student money. One of those aspects is student media, maintained in part trough students automatically becoming members. They play an important watchdog role on VUWSA. In a voluntary environment, if student media is not able to survive or is in a very compressed role, there’d be much less accountability because you won’t have that watchdog role on the association itself.

Also, the association might not be able to sustain the systems that are already in place in terms of auditing and regular finance reporting that would already be in place when students are automatically members.

So actually under voluntary there would be less accountability because of the student media aspect, but also transparency because students currently decide how much they pay and where to spend it through the budget and the general meetings. Under voluntary, if the institutions decided to charge a fee and then negotiate some unspecified amount with the association, then all students are paying anyway and have no say at all on how much they are paying towards the association or how that money is being spent.

Matthew: Another argument that has been put forward by VSM advocates is that the services that are listed as being ‘essential’ to student unionism would still be provided under voluntary student membership—if they are so valuable, students will still want to join. What is your comment on that?

David: Currently there are some services that institutions already provide—healthcare, for example—that aren’t going to change. But the real risk is that many of these other services that associations provide—the fact is that they will have to be reduced and cut because they no longer will have the resources available from students to run the services that students want.

In terms of “if it’s so good students will join anyway”, we need to consider how it works at a voluntary campus. I was president at Auckland University two years ago, which is still the only voluntary campus. And it started every—orientation at most campuses have the fun, the events, all that kind of stuff for most students coming in at the moment—but at Auckland they also spend tens of thousands of dollars just to sign up members. And it is difficult if you’re a new student, you will not know the many ways in which an association will benefit you, you may not know when you will need the association’s help. So asking a fresh student just to pay an up-front fee, as would happen under a voluntary situation, the fact is that that just won’t happen. Most students won’t pay because they haven’t had a chance to consider all the benefits yet.

At Auckland we had to do huge membership drives to provide us legitimacy to represent students, and the amount of students we sign up doesn’t really affect how much funding we had. So it was really about providing legitimacy. But the fact that the association has had to focus money on signing up members rather than serving members, that was a real challenge that we had at AUSA.

Matthew: One of the major ideological viewpoints of pro-VSM advocates is that universal student membership is a breach of freedom of association, and that students, like all members of society, should have the right to choose which organisations they do or do not join. What would be your comment on that?

David: You’re right, freedom of association does ensure people the right to associate with whoever they choose. But automatically becoming a member of a students’ association doesn’t in any way affect someone’s ability to associate with anyone they choose. The argument they use for freedom of association is actually more related to dissociation. When the students automatically become members, they have the rights of members, they can use the benefits, they can participate in decision making. But it’s not forced upon them. It’s not an obligation to vote, there’s not an obligation to use any particular service.

So what proponents are saying with the freedom of association argument is actually more about dissociation. To essentially say that it breaches human rights is inaccurate, because the current situation doesn’t affect someone’s ability to associate with anyone else; in fact, it facilitates more ways to associate with all sorts of different associations through the clubs and societies that are supported.

The fact that students can opt out based on conscientious objections and financial hardship also covers those arguments—it’s not forced when people can opt out based on those grounds.

Matthew: And speaking of the opt-out clause, do you feel that, if universal student membership is retained, clauses like the opt out will need to be reviewed? For example, at VUWSA, opting out is quite a difficult process, the end result of which is that, if your application to dis-enrol from the association is accepted, your money is then donated to a charity of VUWSA’s choice. Do you feel that areas like that need reform?

David: Well, our current position is that the status quo should be supported, and that it doesn’t require change. One of the issues with opting out is that it does depend on each institution, so it is variable throughout the country in terms of what process they have. And it’s decided by each institution in consultation with the associations.

I think there may be scope for trying to ensure that there are minimum requirements that you need to have in an opt-out process. That would be worth looking at. But that aspect can be looked at, but you don’t need to throw the baby out with the bathwater as this bill is seeking to do.

Matthew: And just one final question. Do you see any particular services provided by students’ associations to be more essential than others? Specifically, some VSM advocates have drawn a line between core services like advocacy and welfare, and secondary services like clubs which are more tailored to specific interests rather than the entire student body.

David: I think there is often a danger in trying to define what is a core service, because often with a package of things, like a package of education which students—students enter a university because they are attracted by certain aspects of a degree program or experience—but often there are a lot of other things that tie into that and contribute to that particular aspect.

And the danger of trying to define core services, to put them in specific boxes as it were, is that that actually ignores the complexity of the relationships that often exist between different types of services that a students’ association offers. For example, separating representation from the services can be difficult because there are quite a lot of blurry lines. What is a representation? What is a service? A service is essentially affected by not having the connection to this representative structure. So it’s much more complex than that argument you represented has said.

Matthew: Okay. Well, thank you very much David.

David: Thank you very much.

See here for the main feature on VSM, or click here to go back to the bonus features.

What is the policy of the Australian Liberal Students’ Federation (ALSF) on the question of student membership?

The ALSF believes that membership of any organisation should be voluntary. No person should be forced to join an organisation that they do not want to join, nor should they be forced to pay the membership fees of an organisation but be told that they can ‘opt-out’ of official membership.

How has Voluntary Student Unionism (VSU) affected student unionism in Australia?

The introduction of voluntary student unionism has been good for good student unions and bad for bad student unions.

By allowing students the choice not to join, unions have been forced to make membership worthwhile. Student unions were previously mere political front groups for Left-wing political parties, but they have now cut their spending on obscure left-wing political causes and adapted to providing valuable services to students. Unions that still spend student money on politics rather than services have lost members or collapsed because they failed to provide a service that their peers were willing to pay for. Unions that have provided valuable services to students are doing better than ever.

How has Voluntary Student Unionism changed the organisational and funding models for student unions in Australia?

The change has basically been from a ‘tax and spend’ model to a ‘performance-based pay’ model. Where the previous funding model relied on receiving a guaranteed revenue every year and finding ways to spend it, the new model is about providing services that add value to membership, thereby increasing revenue.

Based on your own experiences in Australia, what do you think would be the effects on student unionism and the university experience in general if Voluntary Student Membership (VSM) were introduced in New Zealand?

Student unions would become more responsive to their members, get rid of activites that don’t provide value to students and put their entire energy into the services that actually matter to students. Fewer protests against the capitalist system, and more lobbying for cheaper student parking.

What are your counter arguments for the main arguments posited in favour of VSM (specifically, that student advocacy and services would suffer under VSM; that the university would adopt the services formerly offered by unions and charge more for them via the compulsory student levy; that having the university offer or fund these services presents a conflict of interest for students; and that it may be easier to reform the existing system instead)?

The arguments against a voluntary model are scare-tactics pushed by vested interests.

On student advocacy, the voluntary model forces unions to be responsive to their membership. That’s better for student advocacy. Instead of running obscure political campaigns based around changing ‘History’ to ‘Herstory’, unions are campaigning for cheaper car parking at university, or representing students who want to appeal marks. The voluntary model is better for student representaiton because it is more responsive.

On services, student unions have changed their focus from political activity to services. They realise that services are what get members, and with a voluntary fee they need their services to be worth paying for. Rather than cutting services, unions have cut funding to the political activity that doesn’t provide value to members. Universities have not generally taken over services that were previously run by student unions because the services that unions are cutting are the services that provide no value.

See here for the main feature on VSM, or click here to go back to the bonus features.