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Book Review
Ken Buckley and Ted Wheelwright, False Paradise: Australian
Capitalism Revisited, 1915-1955, Oxford University Press, Melbourne,
1998. pp. x + 278. $34.95 paper.
| This book is intended as a sequel to the
authors earlier No Paradise for Workers, which covered
the period in Australian history from 1788 to 1914. The authors
begin by suggesting that their study is not intended as comprehensive.
Rather it focuses on those periods and issues which constitute important
moments in the evolution of capitalism and its impact on the
common people (p. vii). At the same time, the authors do not
claim to be unbiased, and acknowledge their credentials not only
as left-wing academics but as radical activists as well. |
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| When this
study concentrates on economic history there is a sureness and conviction
about the argument. For example, the explanation as to why the Depression
of the thirties hit Australia with a particular venom is succinct
and persuasive. Similarly, the discussion of how Australia began
to improve its economic performance in the mid-1930s, ahead of countries
like the United States is also useful and informative. |
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But the argument is about more
than the history of capitalism and industry in Australia from
1915 to 1955. For it is a central argument of this book that what
developed in this period was a close relationship between state
and capital, with the former both providing the resources and
the legislative support to reinforce and boost the latter. At
the same time the state used its police and intelligence agencies
to repress dissent, to disempower those who challenged the capitalist
orthodoxy. Even Labor Governments were implicated in the capitalist
agenda, with Scullin and his ministers both weak and culpable.
Through their welfare policies and their proposals to regulate
capitalism, Curtin and Chifley sought to make capitalism more
humane and less exploitative, but even they were guilty of betraying
their working class constituency by passing up a real chance to
improve workers conditions in the 1940s (chapter 11). Its
a pretty straightforward argument, not one bothered too much by
complexities and it carries with it more than a hint that the
relationship between the state and capitalism added up to a conspiracy.
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| At the beginning
the authors insist that their focus is on capitalism and class relations
and so they have not sought to deal with cultural history, religion,
sport, or other leisure activities (p. 2). I found this to be an
odd statement, in fact an extraordinarily odd statement. Since the
seventies in the United Kingdom and the United States and more recently
in Australia labour historians have produced a multitude of studies
showing the relations between religion, sport, entertainments, and
popular culture as a whole on the one hand and the nature and role
of class on the other. What these studies have revealed, amongst
other things, is the changing role and meaning of class. And it
is precisely because Buckley and Wheelwright ignore this historiography
that they treat class and its relationships as a constant. But what
about the processes of cultural resolution that were taking place
after World War I as the working classes increasingly embraced both
suburbia and respectability while the middle class abandoned wowserism
for the hedonism of drinking and gambling? To maintain
a simple worker capitalist /dichotomy, albeit with a conservative
middle class aligned with the capitalists, is just too simplistic
and ignores Australian culture and history as complex and contradictory
processes. |
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| Sometimes
the authors, despite the limitations they place on themselves, do
write about culture, always with unfortunate consequences. We are
told that the Anzac Legend is based on a lie because
Australian soldiers were no more brave than those of other nations
(p. 26). My understanding is that this legend is built on more than
just the alleged bravery of Australian troops. The authors cite
George Johnstons My Brother Jack to inform readers
that between the wars the lives of young workers and their womenfolk
consisted of dancing the Charleston and challenging accepted
mores (p. 53). The work of several historians has shown that inter-war
urban popular culture was a great deal more complex than this. Similarly,
we are twice told that the Americanization of Australia
in cultural terms largely dates from World War II and the presence
of so many American servicemen in this country (pp. 9, 156-157).
But of course, Americanisation dates from the mid-nineteenth century
and became pervasive in the early twentieth century via the popular
stage, the gramophone, cinema and radio. It was already firmly entrenched
before the arrival of septic soldiers. There is a considerable
literature on this subject, a literature that goes unacknowledged
in this book. |
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| Some may find
the economic history in this book useful. I would not set it as
a book for undergraduate reading both because of the reductionist
nature of many of the arguments and because it ignores so much of
the important historiography and so many of the issues in recent
labour history. It reads like a book belonging to an earlier era
of scholarship. |
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| And one final
quibble. In the conclusion the authors acknowledge that, despite
periods of considerable hardship, the living standards of Australian
workers rose appreciably in the period examined, more especially
in the period from the late thirties. I know that didnt mean
this country had finally become the long promised workers
paradise, but on the authors own evidence it wasnt
exactly a False Paradise either. |
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| University of Sydney |
RICHARD WATERHOUSE
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