Tuesday 20 August 2013

Two-Party Politics & the "Motherland"


Australian politics is based upon a system of proportional representation whereby local electorates vote for representatives to speak on their behalf in the House of Representatives, one of the two houses which form the Government body. The other House is the Senate, which comprises legislative heads in charge of various political portfolios and their opposition or ‘shadow’ ministers. In charge of the Government is the Prime Minister; in charge of each Australian state is the Premier, both of whom are elected by the people. A silent partner in all of this is the Governor General, a representative of the Monarch of England and the Commonwealth, who ensures that the interests of the Crown are served at all times.

Over time, Australian politics have devolved upon the interests of two ideological groups: a right-wing largely upper-class party called the Liberal Party and a left wing, worker-focussed organisation known as Labor. Occasionally, there have been other parties or independent representatives, however, for the most part, Australian politics has always been a two-party race. In the 1920s and 1930s, the ideological divisions between the two factions reached fever-pitch proportions.

At this time, echoing trends in Europe, both Communism and Fascism enjoyed widespread interest among the peoples of the world as viable alternatives to current political and economic models. The Revolution in Russia stimulated Communist sympathies across the globe, while the National Socialist reforms being enacted by Hitler in Germany also struck chords with many individuals. Germany had suffered terribly after the First World War, at the hand of the League of Nations and the Versailles Treaty, and endured horrible privation in trying to repay War Reparations; the rise of Nazism was generally seen as a noble effort to lift Germany out of a crippling poverty. The Revolution of Russia and the Spanish Civil War actively demonstrated to many that old, stifling forms of dictatorial or monarchical leadership could be replaced with dynamic governments, by the people, for the people.
 
In Australia, the First World War had shown many that this country had the skills and wherewithal to hold its own on the page of World Government. The actions of the ANZACs in Gallipoli and on the Western Front in France had proved that we were a force with which to be reckoned. However, the victories gained and glories won on the fields of battle had swiftly turned to ash: soon after the Armistice, Britain had slapped its colony with a War Reparations bill – complete with a crippling interest rate - to cover the cost of feeding and outfitting Australian and New Zealand soldiers whilst fighting on their behalf and for ‘allowing’ them to participate. Vast sums were required and the amount was split across the six states and two territories, in proportion according to the average amount of income each region could generate: New South Wales, of course, got hit the hardest.

 
The timing couldn’t have been worse: times were hard; the world economy was fluctuating wildly; the gulf between the ‘haves’ and the ‘have nots’ was growing wider almost daily and the world was slowly coming to terms with returned soldiers stricken with shell-shock and missing limbs, as well as a new female workforce that had just started to find its feet before being relegated back to the kitchen. The ‘war to end all wars’ had not, in fact, quelled the lowering storms massing over Europe, nor could it halt the inevitable crash which saw a rain of bankers on Wall Street. Jack Lang, Labor premier of Australia’s oldest and richest colony, saw that his time had come.

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Jack Lang began his political career as a local representative in the west of Sydney. He worked with members of the lower classes: the blue-collar workers, the union men, the war widows and the homeless. He worked alongside Communist sympathisers who felt that Communism was the way forward for Australia and, while he listened to what they had to say, he never threw himself behind their cause. Uniquely, Lang had an unswerving insight into the realities of those poor and dispossessed Australians who struggled to survive in the between-Wars period.

Lang’s political career saw him attain the Premiership of New South Wales at just the right time. In those days, political debate and rhetoric was not broadcast to the masses as it happened via some intricate media network; rather, the candidates took to the hustings, crying out their policies and ideals from soapboxes at rallies in parks and community halls. Lang was a powerful and persuasive speaker: his delivery commanded respect; his every gesture conveyed sincerity; his every word, fellowship in the face of trying opposition. The local Liberals were afraid of him and they melted away in the face of his attack like snow.

Once in power, Lang bitterly attacked the British War Reparation Bill: he argued that such monies as were being commanded were better spent re-building much needed infrastructure to support local industry growth. Later, in a better economic climate, the repayments could begin or, better still, be waived entirely in favour of favourable trade treaties with a stronger, more productive Australia in a better time. This was shocking, mutinous talk, as far as the Liberal Government and the other State Premiers were concerned: Mother England had commanded and the political majority saw no other option but to heed the call.

 
Lang prevaricated: he organised secret talks in Melbourne with the other State leaders and sifted their feelings about the matter. Most of them (off the record) felt that Lang was right, but knew that their own legislatures were too powerless to resist the commands of the Australian Government. It was a fact that the Federal Government had political weapons which it could bring to bear against a recalcitrant State and only New South Wales had the economic clout to weather these. In disgust, Lang abandoned his fellow leaders and went back to Sydney to build a bridge.

Sydney Harbour had long been a barrier between the two halves of the city. The southern side of the Harbour, where the Settlement had originally sprung up, was noisy, dirty and full of crime; nevertheless, it was where the money was being made. The northern side became a place for elegant houses, where the nouveau riche built mansions in the new Federation Style and prided themselves on their expansive gardens and tennis courts. Still, the Harbour lay between both halves and only a ferry ride, or a long-distance car trip (for those fortunate enough to own one) could overcome the division. It was a micro-sized ‘Tyranny of Distance’ along the lines of the one that had separated the original Settlement from Mother England.

There had been a lot of talk about the possibility of a Harbour-spanning bridge. With unemployment rising dramatically, Lang decided that the time to build one had come. He launched a competition; the winning design was announced; plans were drawn up and work began. By the time it was finished in 1932, it had helped thousands of Sydneysiders weather the storm of economic disaster and had become a universal symbol of connexion between the two sides of Sydney’s coin. It had galvanised a population and a nation along with it, one people focussed upon a single goal.

Sadly, it was the end for Jack Lang. His achievement, perceived by other sides of the political spectrum as self-serving hubris, was the spur to motivate the Governor to dismiss him from office, in the Crown’s best interests. Jack, ‘The Big Fella’, faded into political obscurity and was heard of no more.

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