PILLAGING: IT’S NOT A SIMPLE PROBLEM

Press, Volume LXXXIV, Issue 25679, 16 December 1948, Page 6

PILLAGING: IT’S NOT A SIMPLE PROBLEM

JOURNALIST TURNS LABOURER

(Specially Written for “The Press.”) [By WALTER BROOKES.]

When one works where there are large quantities of goods, as on the wharf or in railway goods sheds, it is easy to see how the habit of pilfering begins and spreads. In a Wellington Harbour Board shed I picked up some raisins from a heap lying on top of the cases. “You shouldn’t eat those,” said a storeman. "Rats walk all over them.” It seemed natural then, when a case from the stack broke open, to eat some of these raisins, because rats could not-have got at them. But my mate was more fastidious. He waited till we came to a broken case of packeted raisins, extracted a packet, and hid it away for his future refreshment. It must be admitted that the man who would not eat a handful of raisins or peanuts or an apple or two when they are lying about would be regarded as morally squeamish by most people. The offence is too trifling to be an offence at all. Other circumstances may obscure the issue too, often perhaps the humorous ingenuity displayed. A watersider told me how the grab brought up from the hold of a collier at Wellington a piece of coal about the size of a carcase of mutton. When it was landed in the railway truck, he removed it, wrapped it in his overcoat, and laid it on the wharf. At knocking-off time he unwrapped his prize, placed it on top of one of the trucks moving out, hurried outside himself, past the policeman at the gate, retrieved it from the truck, wrapped it up again, and took it home on the tram. And it had burned better than any coal he had ever had. It would have been difficult not to have taken a friendly interest in the success of this strategy; yet here again we have the beginning of something that has become a very serious problem. Mora! Standards Poverty does not excuse pilfering in New Zealand to-day. Actually, the man who got away with the coal said that he would draw more than £3O next pay day, including his overtime and bonus. In older countries, where the workers’ standard of living has been very low and often still is, it is understandable that they have sometimes developed a code of their own. which makes it a crime to rob a mate but not to raid the property of the employers, against whom any action is looked on as an act of war against a common enemy. Such an attitude is an anachronism in New Zealand at the present time; yet it persists. My intention, however, is to defend the workers, not to blame them. They are the least economically secure class, the least privileged in education and in the opportunity to form standards. The fault lies rather in the moral standards of the community generally. Is it an exaggeration, or any great exaggeration, to say that it has become something like an oddity, a sign cf decadence, to refrain from anything simply because it is wrong, to have and obey a conscience? A man may refrain from petty dishonesty, to be sure, so long as he explains that he

is doing so because he might be found out or because it is not worth his while. He may even extend this morality a little further and show an interest in the welfare of his immediate fellows. But he is likely to be looked on as a fool if he goes much further. Let anyone think whether this is not the normal view of any ordinary group of men. If one is constrained by a moral feeling, he will endeavour, so as not to appear soft, to explain his compunction as his shrewdness. The everyday New Zealand worker, of course, is a man of the utmost decency and kindliness. But his best qualities are often confined to situations where personal contacts bring them out. Many who would not dream of touching another man’s property are ready enough to raid the vast aggregation of property owned by some big impersonal business concern, a public body, or—who’ld worry about that?—the Government. And this way of looking at it is easiest of all when goods are in transit and seem almost to belong to nobody. Appeals to the worker do very little good while these ethics prevail, ana it is probably wiser to devote more attention to practical methods of prevention. Supervision Workers could be much better supervised.’ Those in charge are often slack and will wait till something serious is reported before stirring themselves to aption. I have seen a worker pull three magazines out of a case, just to get some reading for himself and his mates, right under the eyes of authority. The difficulty here is that same sense of shame for having an openly moral attitude. Foremen feel they are being unduly officious if they watch for pilfering, or reprimand minor offences or take stronger action. That is a job for the police, who are paid to do it. But the police cannot do much without helpTo advocate more severe penalties always seems retrograde; but they are better justified when detection is difficult. Those handling large quantities of goods where they cannot be watched all the time are in a position of trust. Any lapse, even a slight lapse, has the significance of a breach of trust. The best safeguard against small thefts is strong packing of goods. A wharf detective told me once that it was the only real solution of the problem that he could see, where it is so hard to supervise the work and detect the offence. Cases in use at present are too often easily broken open. The use of casual labour multiplies offences and makes them harder to detect in time. Greater security and the fear of losing it through misdemeanour will deter men from crime. There is a lot to be said for the system of paying workers in seasonal industry all the year round on the basis of an annual salary and there is as much to be said for it in the employer’s interest as in the worker’s. (To be completed.)