PASSING NOTES

Otago Daily Times, Issue 25866, 9 June 1945, Page 2

PASSING NOTES

Winter Show week reminds us all that in a world where millions are threatened with starvation the farmer is the essential and indispensable man. So, metaphorically speaking, we all take off our hats very politely to the farmers even in priority to the coal miners. For if the farmers go on strike not even the conferences at San Francisco, Hot Springs, or elsewhere can save us from starvation. The fishermen, who are the farmers of the sea, are already on strike. At such a time as this we realise the truth of the old saying that “the farmer is the backbone of the country,” even though his backbone has to be occasionally stiffened up by subsidies and guarantees. Wise old John Ruskin said:

Nearly every problem of State policy and economy consists in some device for persuading your labourers to go and dig up dinner for us. . . . So that we find the inhabitants of this earth broadly divided into two great masses—the peasant paymasters, spade in hand, original and imperial producers of turnips; and waiting on them all round a crowd of polite persons modestly expectant of turnips for some—often tco theoretical—service.

Ruskin goes on to describe the clergy expecting turnips for giving the peasant moral advice; the lawyer for telling him his house is his own; the courtier for presenting a celestial appearance to him; the literary man for talking daintily to him; and the military man for standing in a cocked hat exercising a moral influence on the neighbours. “Nor is the peasant to be pitied,” he says, “if these arrangements are all faithfully carried out.” At present the New Zealand farmer is not satisfied that they are being faithfully carried out. At least he seems determined to organise on a scale that will help him to get a fair deal.

The pre-eminence of the farmer is borne witness to by the fact that we call his occupation a primary industry as compared with the secondary or manufacturing industries. No doubt as manufactures develop and we attain to a more balanced economy we may modify these terms to accord with the comparative equality of both types of industry in national importance. But as Gibbon said long ago, “Agriculture is the foundation of manufactures, since productions of Nature are the materials of all art.” He also held that all taxes must in the last resort fall upon agriculture. So in these days of rationing, let us pay homage to the farmers as they frequent our streets and greet each other with hearty handshakes at the Winter Show. They t ing with them the healthy air of the country as they lean over, the sheep and cattle pens exchanging views on breeds of stock and market prices. At the same time their sons gaZe with shrewd eyes at the latest marvels of agricultural machinery, for the modern farmer must know Almost as much about mechanics as an engineer.

This annual visit of the farmers and their wives and families to our midst constitutes their fashionable “season in the city. It is curious to recall that during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries June was the fashionable month in London for everyone to promenade about the parks. and gardens.' Of course, with them it was a summer month —with our farmers it is mid-winter, when they can most easily leave their farms. But in spite of the difference in the seasons there is much in common between the old practice of parading in the Mall and parks and the modern custom of country folk promenading our streets or the Winter Show or the races. Just as in old England people accosted each other without hesitation, so the farmers do not require the formality of an introduction while gazing at the fine displays of farm products. If they pause to reflect, they must feel that they are the aristocrats of the world at present, and that they alone can solve its gravest problem, which is the need of more foodstuffs.

As the search for security at San Francisco stretches into its sixth week the path becomes more thorny. Formula after formula is rejected or postponed, and more and more frequently the head-notes record another rebuff or another hitch or another deadlock. The differences between the Big Five themselves and between the combined Big Five and the smaller nations seem, so far, incapable of solution. Probably one speaker was near the truth when he said that the Big Five are seeking all means to gain security from war, as the main burden o$ any war must fall on them. On the other hand the small nations seem mainly concerned with their own prestige and their natural desire to be consulted, before being committed to any course. But, as has often been pointed out, events may happen so suddenly that there is no time for conferences. Could Britain have intervened so successfully in Syria if, before acting, she had been compelled to await the approval of New Zealand and all the other dominions? The sudden crisis in Syria must have come like an icy blast into the San Francisco conference, and showed the delegates the dangers of delay. Recent events in the Argentine must also make the conference feel foolish for having accepted delegates from that chaotic and capricious State. On that question Mr Fraser can join with Russia in saying “We told you so,” for he opposed the claim of the Argentine to be represented.

The San Franciscans will be sorely disappointed if the conference is not a success. For they have visions of their city becoming a world centre. As one enthusiastic writer put it in grandiloquent terms:

If it were to become the world’s new Geneva it would occupy on America’s Orient-facing threshold a geographically central position in the global picture besides having a cosmopolitan tradition congenial to the Russian, the Asiatic, and the European viewpoint, and it would be looked upon everywhere as a symbol of pioneering by reason of its place in the American West.

San Francisco has more hotel accommodation than any city in the United States, except New York. Strange as it may seem when in January last 30 cities were asked what accommodation they could provide, San Francisco was the only one to show no enthusiasm in replying. But without seeking so signal an honour, she was in less than a month “ the one marked for a role that in all reasonable likelihood is going to prove dramatic with destiny.” At least so said an ecstatic reporter.

It is easy to realise why the conference makes such slow progress when we are told that there are about 2000 delegates. The city has an average transient population of 20,000, and as soon as it was decided upon as the site of the conference the Mayor requested all hotels to make no reservations until the State Department had secured priority for delegates to the conference. In view of the fact that so many parts of the world are suffering from food shortage the State Housekeeping Department decreed that delegates to the conference “ will not be fed sumptuous meals but will get an adequate diet.” One writer tells us that “ the San Franciscans have instantly seen that their Golden Gate, heroic in its natural proportions and long symbolic of quest and opportunity, now may become the symbol of the world’s entrance on a golden era of constructive world neace” Another correspondent says: “It will be a great thing for future generations to hail San Francisco as the cradle of a new understanding in international relations, the queen city of world peace.” It is clear that the conference has aroused high hopes in the hearts of the San Franciscans. Let us trust that they will not be disappointed.