NEGLECTED HERITAGE

Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 58, Issue 4191, 31 May 1939, Page 9

NEGLECTED HERITAGE

NEW ZEALAND'S OPPORTUNITIES. CAUSES FOR DESPAIR AND HOPE. The following article appeared recently in the magazine “New Zealand Outdoor,” and is from the pen of an occasional contributor to the columns of the “Courier.” The writer is a keen student of New Zealand conditions, and during his residence in this part of the Dominion he closely and diligently investigated several matters pertaining to early history and future development. His comments are distinctly interesting. We quote:— Of present-day thinkers who have taken a prominent part in moulding the opinions of the general reader perhaps half a score of names stand apart from the rest. Bertrand Russell is undoubtedly one of the most lucid writers of the age though the problems he deals with are most profound. C. E- M. Joad is provocative but reveals the power of a large intellect. And L. P. Jacks is refreshing, for he sees through the distractions of the moment the vision of a possible world above chaos. Dwelling for a space on the deliberations of such minds never fails to enrich a hope for the future. By relentless opposition to a decadence which threatens old civilisations, they have attacked problems, curiously in the Pacific. A chance conversation with a friendly accoster suggested that an element of mysticism had unconsciously crept into series of essays entitled aptly enough “Spirit if the Morning.” “Yes,” he said, “I seem to have followed these thoughts dutifully enough from the beginning. I have contemplated the Leaderless Legion. I seem to have been led through a maze of disconnected ideas and finished up (excuse my saying so) on an uncharted island out at sea. Is there anything more concrete hidden from my view than the lingering doubt that perhaps I, myself, might have seen more of my own country? Should I have learned more of its story? The comment was justified and natural. A writer does not always make a pattern clear. Words are troublesome substitutes for action. “There must be reality in the life we are reading. ...” had, too, been a foundation on which the scheme rested! However, an endeavour to portray some thing that has not yet come to 'pass is fraught with difficulties. Cameo pictures of a plan in finality, those glimpses in the burning wood, are seen only now and then. The ultimate vision was a protest (dangerous hope!), a revolt against the unnatural, the artificial, this thin veneer of cant and falsity. At times the ideal appeared clear and bright though the translation and expression may have left much to be desired. The instrument, then, and not the purpose, was hesitant and doubtful. But the unquenchable fire still burns. A belief that somehow the contagious truth might be recognised and burn more fiercely like fires in the dry bracken fern. ... For everywhere the shallow deceit flaunts itself and makes merry: “Just for the hour, for the day,” it says, “let me prevail!” And an unwelcome force behind, deep and austere is thrust back to be a visitant for some future generation. When Oswald Spengler wrote his tremendous book “Decline of the West,” the future of Europe had not been clouded by the unhappy events of recent years. The Great War, it is true, marked the period of a century, but it was not interpreted as Spengler read it, the agohy of a vitality dying out in the Great Autumn of Decline. “End of the Age”—the lowconditioned multitudes spell the ruin of civilisation,” he said. So other thinkers are at work finding a message to superimpose on on the fatal inscription on the sands. “All is not lost,” they cry. But when Jacks regarded a popular crowd it was not without pessimism. “When I am faced with a problem of grafting mental culture on to physical conditions such as these my heart sinks within me,” he exclaimed. “One can see at a glance that the greater part of the crowd is positively inhibited by the disorderly condition of their bodies from taking any interest :n

■the orderly things of the spirit.” The intelligence of humanity as a whole, however, is firmly seeking a solution though individuals may appear to confound the result. The instinct of civilisation is towards security and justice, and the goal can be reached only through co-operation. Here is a picture that Spengler did not paint and the victory may not be noticed in the West. “Hardly ever,” said a writer in 1938, “was the congenital infirmity of man more evident than to-day—and the politicial supineness of thinking men, the intellectual indigence of political men, and the divorce between intelligence and action more profound.” H. G. Wells makes a slightly different approach to reach the same final question. He brings a mind to bear on the subject that has encompassed the vast range of human history, and the time before; a mind that has surveyed the story of man and studied

his triumphs and disasters. Quoting from his conclusions he states that there has been a curious discontinuity hitherto between education institutions and the realities of life: the former have not led to the latter, but have rather shrunk from them and away into elegant by-paths. The vague scrambling, accidental sort of living that makes up the world of men at the present time is not a necessary or permanent condition, he says, the human intelligence resents it and will finally prevail against it. “In this present twilight of human division and insecurity, amidst oppression and strikes, shortage in goods and slumps in welfare, irreconciliable hatreds and the rumour of fresh wars, it is still possible for those who have faith and vision to foretell a new release of humane needs to a common life of generous activities and kindliness and lively interests and enterprise and hope.” Mankind in trying to adapt itself to the pace and scope of modern development has not proved very successful- Machines can do the work but a man still being human has crumpled on emotions. Bertrand Russell in an essay on this subject traces evils to the monotony inherent in modern life and he counsels “Make use of every opportunity which gives encouragement to high adventure during intervals from toil.” “Many men would cease to desire war,” he continued, “if they had opportunities to risk their lives in alpine climbing; one of the ablest and most vigorous workers for peace, it has been my good fortune to know, habitually spent his summers climbing the most dangerous peaks of the Alps. Engage in some dangerous and exiting personal initiative. ... Russell’s study of “Machines and Emotions” opened significantly with a quotation from Samuel Butler’s brilliant satire “Erewhon.” It fulfills a curious prophecy that problems have been dealt with seventy years ago in an allegorical tale, the setting of it having been so cunningly concealed from the first readers who remarked the book’s genius. “A man’s expression is his sacrament; iij is the outward and visible sign of his inward and spiritual grace,” runs another passage. Butler was remorseless with the anomalies in business and professional life. As I looked at the majority of these men I could not help feeling that there must be something in their lives which had stunted their development. They had the misfortune to have been betrayed into a false position at an age for the most part when their judgement was not matured, and after having been kept in studied ignorance of the system. The less thoughtful of them did not seem particularly unhappy, but many were plainly sick at heart, though, perhaps they hardly knew it, and would not have owned to being so. Few indeed were those who had the courage to insist on seeing both sides of the question before they committed themselves to what was practically a leap in the dark. One would have thought that caution in this respect was an elementary principle—one of the first things that an honourable man would teach his boy to understand; but in practice it was not so. Thousands of people are in the grip of this vice. Chained to a fashion to follow an acceptable code sometimes quite contrary to healthy living—and instinct rebels. What is the prospect in store, when, as in New Zealand, the cities continue to grow, and the country is not proportionally developed? The impetus behind the outdoor movement is a natural desire to re-assert the slow, beautiful rhythm o c earth-life. The balance has been rudely upset and must be restore . Professor Jacks believes that a system of physical culture training the whole body as an instrument of seltexpression and self-control can be introduced, and correct the evil. H would teach the dignity harmony o f normal movement both singly and in concerted operations of great beauty, and make them fundamental to higher activities, a growing point for many arts, of which the art of thinking” (“thinking with the whole body”) is not the least important. “The human body is natura y s “ hungry,” he writes, “and ft at hunger is satisfied it wil ease craving for something not got and seeking its satl^ act *" n in external excitements which ex haust its vitality and dimmish its capacity for joy. Short of skill, the perfect health, even of the boy, in The S problem is not one only of occupation Leisure assumes an impor ance. The struggle between passive indolence and which "goes'" on in a man’s soul with the white angels in competition with the black. Russell would direct W leisure be spent in devotion to ait, nature and love. P’' ofe f SSOT J^ S lays the foundation of sensible ph. - '“Appoints control is ranked above effort, economy of effort geHws

in eteonomy rather than expense, in balance than in strain, in versatility than violence —a different thing from the strength needed for a boat-race or a prize-fight with the danger of relapse into low conditions afterwards.” One of the heartening promises for success in this crusade is the fact that balanced thinkers, and not propagandists, should be leading the way. C. E. M. Joad has been agitating for National Parks in England. He writes that the most pressing argument for them is that the physical health and the psychological happiness of the people are conditional on the existence and the accessibility of unspoilt nature. “It is useless to urge young people to keep fit if you deprive them of a countryside in which, by walking and camping, climbing and riding, they can achieve fitness; useless to complain of the neuroses and hysteria of the modern generation, if by depriving them of unspoilt nature you deny satisfaction to the instinctive need for country sights and sounds, which is part of our national heritage.’’ The heritage he quotes, though apparently underestimated in the case of New Zealand, provides a striking illustration of the possibilities at hand. United States, area of national parks, (square miles), 20,0(10; square miles of parks per million of population, 165. Canada, 12,000 and 1,200. New Zealand, 4,500 and 3,000. Can New Zealand show that with this asset there is a complete absence of the troubles that Joad would eradicate with so fine a heritage? A distinguished visitor recently said that the youth he came in contact with in New Zealand impressed him as of fine physique but that young people, and particularly youths, appeared to lack certain purpose or pride. Most of them could indolently waste their time in artificial pleasures which soon undermined their priceless original health. The inductive purpose of these contributions was that they should paint a picture of virile, wholesome activity, with a New Zealand horizon. And there is need for haste for the gates are closing one by one, the notice on them reading “APATHY.” • The words of an American writer set down a good many years ago appear most appropriate at this stage of development. In them may be seen not only a utilisation of the outdoors as a corrective for social dangers of the age, but also an echo of the individuality New Zealand set out to attain but for some obscure reason rejected about 25 years ago. “A young fellow, born of good stock, in one of the more civilised portions of these United States of America, bred in good principles, inheriting a social position which makes him at his ease everywhere, means sufficient to educate him without taking away the stimulus to vigorous exertion, and with a good opening in some honorable path of labour, is the finest sight our private satellite has had the opportunity of inspecting on the planet to which she belongs. So long as young people choose to live shallow ineffectual lives the vision of a future will be dimmed by inevitable discontent. When, however, the spirit to live is harnessed fully and completely the surge'and throb of vitality will be felt far beyond New Zealand shores. For the present, there are too many refuges and they do not build a young nation’s strength. > How long mists about the mount-ain-tops will shroud from lowland eyes the magnificence of the white snow above remains to be seen but whether kings or emperors passed away, dictators disappeared, or governments were eclipsed there would never be subjection for a population which (slightly altering a biological estimate of a famous reformer) would set itself up over against the tyrannies and oppressions and the forces of evil that have no light be; establishing a new order of nobility with a pride loftier that that of the old—not of a registered ancestry of fifteen generations but one absolutely spotless in its escutcheon: preordained in the council chambers of eternity (so the passage runs). Restless youth with a surprise and a clear ideal may either lead or foice a way. Their ambitions soaring above the immediate technical prospect, and not shackled too closely to the schemes of deceitful Chance, might well achieve the goal over-night though that would be a reckless, stormy path. But meanwhile Age keeps talking on for ever. It is strange that with all our conceit and lack of candour we still stoutly claim to be making the world a better place to live in for those that come after. And it is rather a sad and haunting thought that the most promising and intelligent children should be the first to be disillusioned by the presence of what amounts.to a dual code for conduct. The way in which the “conspiracy” appears to them is well portrayed in Christopher Morley’s unusual book “Thunder on the Left.” “For an instant the boy seemed to tremble in the edge cf uttering the whole secret of infamy of childhood: the pitiable of earth’s slaveries; perhaps the only one that can never be dissolved. His- eager face clearly lit by two candles in tall silver sticks was suddenly charmingly grave. “Able to think what you want to; not to have to—to do things you know are wrong,” (he nearly said).

The present “direction-post” on the road being followed in New Zealand is well described by Dr. J. C. Beaglehole. “Not enough men have died in th,is country” he writes. “Not in letters, nor in art has life crystallised and ennobled itself. But where lakes and torrents rise, where in the far gullies and on the unscorched hills the bush perpetually and in silence renews its inviolate life, it may be that the spirit of man will also find renewal—not as a thing sought, not with travail nor born from an old despair, but quietly and unconsciously, as the spring seeps from the moss, oi- the rimu roots itself in the mould or the fragile clematis appears starred over unattainable slopes.” “Not as a thing sought but quietly and unconsciously.” The words are prescient. The Chancellor of the Senate of the University of New Zealand carried the conviction a stage nearer fulfillment when he made an address to the University body a short time since. It is now time, he affirms, that a fresh lead was given by youth for youth.—particularly is the lead desired from Rhodes Scholars who have been selected by the Colleges as of excellent moral, sporting and academic distinction but, who rarely play a prominent part in the life of the community simply because, it would appear, the organisation which they could serve does not exist. To the lack of any kind of unified lead in this direction may be laid the blame for the curiously paradoxial conditions ruling in towns and cities where there are syptoras of “industrial leisure” problems in a country known the world over for its freedom of hills and fields, its climate of frequent sun and refreshing shower, and above all widely respected for the genuineness of the true New Zealand character. The solution not being forthcoming it seems certain that the opportunity will be capitalised in a literary way still further. This book might be assured of immortal notice since it would in reality be concerned with immortality. The contrasts are painful to clear eyes. There is all this beauty and promise frustrated by deceitful expedient and selfish power. Is there not a theme loved by the melodrama reading public whose recollections and whose lives are -one long regret? Would it not touch them as having |within it the seeds of a sort of sadistic cruelty that they themselves had experienced? But that is not the approach. The tribute to the age when does appear will be found to be contained in a story of girls and boys (and men and women too) not starved in conscience and in heart, and not tied to pagan “laws”—intellectual, emotional and practical—the legacy of a traditional hypocrisy.