NORTE ISLAND RURAL LETTER.

Otago Witness, Issue 3016, 3 January 1912, Page 18

NORTE ISLAND RURAL LETTER.

By John Spkns.

THE FARMER’S WIFE WITH THE CARVING KNIFE. There are some supremely interesting phases of our northern elections away under the surface, which you in the south ought to be made conversant with in some of their details. I am looking at, them from a countryman’s viewpoint. The two features I propose touching upon are the labour ebullitions with their punctures and perforations of the party in power, and the remarkable outbursts of passion and mudspattering-. It seems singular that the working man, or the wages man, as he defines himself, should be up in arms against a Labour Government. On the face of it, we must come to the conclusion that the original leader of the present party in power initiated a movement which his successors have neither the genus to control, the intellectual capacity to instruct, nor the ability to lead. Mr Ballance had enthusiasm and teaching ability. Mr Soddon had a personal or magnetic enthusiasm allied to that of arrogance, but he was entirely * without teaching ability, and so the whole trend of his reign led towards a centralised dictatorship. The present leader is devoid of the inherent qualities of his two predecessors, and the sequence is despotism with its train of abuse and infringement. I w'ill single out the constituency of the late Mr Ballance as an illustration in point of the growth and development of this mutinous spirit of insurrection which has spread over the labour class towards the Government. _ The inspirational thoughts and imaginative and constructive teaching of Mr Ballance ceased when he was laid in the grave._ ®No party can continue long in power in those days of progressive and irresponsible democracy, which merely trades upon the memorials of a departed leader. Then, to the labour man, democracy in power’ began to take on an upper caste reflection. Labour has its ideals* in shirt-sleeves more than in bell-toppers, broadcloth, and garden parties. The trappings of society, good in themselves, are a poor substitute for the scattered fruits of pictured fancy and inspiration in thoughts that breathe and words that burn. A young man, out of the local railway workshops, stepped on to the Wangamii political platform a little over six years ago, and the shirt-sleeves and shop-girl of the town hailed him as a possible dunlicate in embryo of their departed hero. He was not afraid to lash out at. and to pick up the gauntlet of, Richard Seddon. Thus, in defiance of the Prime Minister and his following, in the face of the hostility of the late Mr Ballance’s newspaper, and at drawn daggers with the orthodox Liberal party, this railway workshop lad was hoisted into Parliament by an emphatic majority. He was a young man of some elocutionary gifts, ami was in demand for readings and recitations. He had a fair education of the ordinary primary and evening technical school type. Having entered politics so young, and with such slender equipment—being unmarried and having an assured income of £3OO a year,—ho ought to have set about tlie systematic education of himself. Instead of so doing, he entered into business as a commission and Laud agent. 1 wonder if he was under the impression that, lie-cause ho could recite and address public meetings, that his brain-box would Ik- filled with ideas by some superhuman means? When the political goddess whispered in John Ballancc’s ear, he ouitfced his business and took to writing to educate and prepare hims-df for the seats of the mighty. There is no bettor method of finding out one’s ignorance, mental limitation. poverty of brain, donkevism, and fatbeadism, than by getting the run of a newsoarer inkpot; ahso- it is the finest school for a young politician in which to air bis fool’s paradise of ideas, fads, and infatuations. That is the nlnce where the starch is taken out of our linen, and where our warps and twists are verv soon exposed to view. There is no teaching like that of the self-reflex. If van have a message for humanity, you’ll find it in a newspaper, and with the message there will come the inspiration. Of all places on earth to be avoided by a fledgeling political Democrat it is the conip-omisi rig. atmosphere of a land agency office I do not suggest anything morally ob’ioue. Certainly not! But. the champion of shirt-sleeves, shop-gi'-lr- labourers, and th j ' landless must, avoid eon W-t wth broadcloth and be’ltoppei.e. ITo must forever keep toeing the mark with the club of Hercules in bis band. To become the champion or leader of any special cause or pady you must adopt a form of manner and madness Inwards your opponents arid adversaries. Taking fo buxine s. then, was like pntiing en his coat as a staid and commoneenso. ordinary. sensible, and siiecessful man of (he world, and not a sliirt-sloover. After (lie young man got settled down to parliamentary life, these who had formerly kiclrad and cuffed him evidently began to pat him op the back, for he was appointed chairman of Railway Committees, I think. That, was his mistake of compromise number two. Tie began to gently lose somewhat of bis fire and force —the rasp of his file and the ring of his anvil were not

quite too clear and defined. He gradually took to practising on Apollo’s flute —a wise thing for a statesman, but a dangerous move for a youthful politician. Meantime, below the surface, concealed and not as yet openly expressed in plain words, Labour was cogitating, and wanted to b© guided and directed as to its ideals and aspirations. Our young M.P. had become a staid, mat-ter-cf-faet and orthodox Liberal, and he found his guidance from the whip and call of his leader above, instead of from an inspiration around and below him. If he refused to study the movements of the incoming tide, can you greatly wonder if it may not rise in its strength and sweep him away. He forgot that the forces that put him there were classed as unorthodox and heretical, yet, strange to say, he turns round and classifies the newer Labourism as being both unorthodox and heretical. Here, then, in the late John Ballahce’s town of Wanganui, you have a picture in miniature of what is taking place all over tb© country. If you conjure up the east wind you must bo prepared to face tho whirlwind. I hope no one thinks that I am decry ing Democracy. I recognise it as an entity in our national life—as a factor eternally co-existent in an Anglo-Saxon community, I simply point out that, to be consistent, Democracy must bo true to its own ideals and aspirations. It must ever centre round the crust of bread and the cold water of the brook. When it takes to adorning itself in purple and fine linen and fares sumptuously every day, it need not_ cry aloud about its adversaries, for it is certainly not they who have placed til© impassable gulf between its former and present condition —it’s itself, and itself alone which has brought about its being cast into outer darkness. On the night before the second ballot Mr Hogan—for such is the name of the young man I ani writing about, —in addressing a meeting, said that he saw before him quite a number of labour men who formerly supported him. In cfllact ho told them that they did not now represent orthodox labour, and that they had become insurgents to tho Liberal party proper. These were not his exact words, but they convey their exact meaning and import. I only wish to point out that from the daybreak of authentic human records history keeps continually repeating itself. Away back, long ages ago, a people by popular vote and enthusiastic acclamation placed a man in a position of trust and responsibility. His duty was to look after the interests of the people. He greatly neglected his plain duty, and all sorts of abuses and violations were allowed to run their course. He greatly ministered to hia own and his family’s aggrandisement. An obscure shepherd lad of tender heart and open eyes was driven from house and home, because he dared to criticise and comment upon the putridity, corruption, and deterioration of moral principles of those in place and power. To preserve his own life he had to take to the defensive, and from that it was but a step to tho offensive and aggressive. Those in place aind power spoke of him as an outlaw and an anarchist, and that he was surrounded by a company of thieves, bankrupts, and runaway slaves. Whatever the company may have been, they certainly had truth, honour, and righteousness and zeal and ambition for the public good and its general welfare, and so «e read that the cause of the shepherd boy grew stronger and stronger, and the cause of tho dictator and tyrant became weaker and weaker, and finally the shepherd boy was placed on the seat of tho autocrat who had so greatly misused his office and position. All through human history the story is tho same. When those in place and power, whether in Church or State, become ossiferous in heart and brain, they immediately cry out against those who wish to clear away th© clouds and mists which obscure the vision as being dissenters and anarchists, and a« generally belonging to, the genius of the unorthodox and disloyal. Your Socrates, your Christ, your Cromwell, your Washington, and your Garibaldi arc all denounced in time and turn, but what they stand for triumphs eventually. Some of our clergy up hero are inclined to severely criticise and even denounce the outburst of mud-spattering which has characterised our elections; c.a if you could conduct an election involving great issues with the decorum of a church service or o. prayer meeting. In one sense I greatly rejoice in it all, because wherever you have flutter and feeling and thrills and fluster you have a people rising on tho tide and waves of some j>assionato enthusiasm, and maybe even inspiration as to the public weal and welfare. When a man takes to the public platform ho must not object to having something of his private life brought under review. I for one hope tho day is far distant when a man, or oven woman, who desires public position can be allowed to entertain the idea that their private life can be divorced from public scrutiny or even from public censure.