“Without Defeat”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 79, Issue 167, 19 July 1935, Page 10

“Without Defeat”

1 A New Serial

fby

Oliver Black)

A Story with a Call to a Nation

Prelude to Adventure. Oliver awoke cutly. 11c wa.s <ur('iisC’l uh, i pleased to liud that Ins muud ul exultation ul Luu previous evening hud not evaporated and that liis enthusiasm remained undimini.-.hml. l-.veii the prospect ul’ white-washed walls and drams that spread befcrc his eyes as he shaved at the window in the half light did not depress his spirits. Yesterday had been the prelude to adventure; to-day the adventure would begin. He wondered idly what, manner of place Palmerston North might be and whether there was a Palmerston youth. Anyway, there would bo new places and new people —and so much had happened yesterday that it was reasonable to suppose that things would go ou happening to-day. Uiiver finished dressing and went downstairs to breakfast. On the stroke of eight, Alf drove up in a largo van. Oliver greeted hiln and clainbeied up to the seat, hauling his bag after him. “Hope you're not in a hurry to get to Palmerston,” remarked Alt as taey moved off. “I've some jobs tu du on the way." Oliver said that he did not mind when he arrived anywhere. ‘ ‘ Good-o.” Oliver wrapped his coat around him, for though it was only March the sun was still hiding behind the mountains and the morning air had a keen bite. He marvelled anew at the incredible clearness of the atmosphere as his eyes caught the great white gash in the trees of the hillside made by the road across to the Maungaroa Valley. Let’s Make Money. Alf lit a cigarette and looked at Oliver out of tho corner of his eye. “ 'Bout last night," he begun. "Yes?" “VVliat we were talking about 1 mean. I’ve been thinking. Why shouldn’t the Government print more money so there'd be more about and we could all have a bit more?” “Because," replied Oliver, “the results would be to reduce it’s value and prices would go up. That ■wouldn't help anyone. It has been tried you know, aud the results have been disastrous. In other countries, 1 mean." Alf scratched his head. don’t see that. When there’s lots of money about prices ought to go down.”

"Well, you sec Alf, money as money is worthless. Jt’s only a token ot credit —the credit of whoever issues it. You can’t, eat money. It's just a symbol you get in exchange for goods because bartei —exchanging things—would be so inconvenient as to be quite impracticable in these days. If the problems of this country, which are the problems of the world to-day, could be solved by setting up a fac lory and turning out masses of money, don’t you suppoes everyone would be working overtime manufacturing it?" "Suppose so,’’ said Alf gloomily, and relapsed into silence.

As they drove along the bay Oliver waichej the sea shimmering in the sunshine. He hated the sad sight of stout little ships lying pathetically at anchor in their drab dress of red lead, anxiously awaiting the trade revival that would send them steaming to sea again. "You’re a member of the Labour Party, aren’t you, Alf?” he asked suddenly. “That’s right." Capitai and Labour. Alt’s foot came automatically off the accelerator us a policeman on a motoroicyclu approached. “Well, I’m a working man—jvhen 1 can get work. And I’m against capitalism. It hasn't done much for me, capitalism hasn’t." “Hasn’t it?" said Oliver. “What about 1927? It was paying you a good enough, wage then, wasn't it?" “Ah, that was the boom ume." "Well, but you can’t have it both ways. And wny say ’against’ capitalism? It always seems to me such a pity to talk like that. Capital and Labour cannot get ou witnout each other. You can t dig unless you have a spade and a spade is useless if there’s no one to use it.” "it’s not capital we’re against; it's the system of private capitalism. When Labour takes control of all capital mere won’t be any more trouble between Capital and Labour." “I’m glad you think so," said Oliver, "but 1 think the trouble will increase, if the state nationalises capital which is what you seem to be saying. The men in the street would find tliat the promised millennium of short hours and high wages had not materialised and would feel he had been let down by bis leaders. Yes, 1 rather fancy there would be worse trouble than evnr between Labour and a ‘state capitalist’." "Of course we’ve had our troubles here, strikes and the like, but we don’t seem to have it as bad as other countries. ’ ’ “And for that you should be duly thankful, ft’s nut by any means the least indication of the soundness of neart of New Zealand. Of all interests in the world 1 should have thought that capital and Labour had most in common and more to lose by quarrelling. And yet they light and scrap more thany anycne else.” Oliver was watching the sun glinting through the turning leaves of the giant willows by the side of the road. “Aud your Labour Party?" he asked. “I suppose it’s going to raise wages?’ "It is so.” "And increase the relief payments?” ‘‘And where is the money coming from? ” Bank Credits. "Alaybe they’ll borrow it,’’ Naid Alf. "And pile up an ever increasing loud of debt at increasingly high rales of .interest lor your ciiildreu and your ebildien’s children Io bear.' I,o\<- un ch pita] and hf*rwwud at. ‘hat, eh?” tun talk.’ ’’ cxchinied AH'. “Tho thing is, ca n the Labour party provide work? I don’t, lake no notice of increa&ed relief: payments. It’s work wo want, and this Government can’t provide it. P’raps a Labour Government can.” "I might mention in passing that unemployment has been reduced by a third since 1933. Now, a Government can only liud employment dirccilv hy creating w»rk. 'Io do ibis thev have

j io Hi I money. The country at p.csvn , r ..-i iiasii l. got tile money lur bij. I sc.irnirs of work, so if mey are to ut ciiioaiKcd upon it must be borrowed. Do you want a Government to buirruw inviivy which your children will have io pay for in order to create work which unnecessary except for the purpose of making jobs?" ••They say they can use the banks’ ci edits. ’ ’ Oliver looked at Alf in astonishment. “What on earth does that mean?” “Well," said Alf uncomfortably, “1 don’t rightly know. Anyway, f do say that this Government is a farmers’ Government elected by the farmers to help tuem, aud I’m for a Labour Government elected by labour to help labour." ‘Oh, so this is a farmers’ Govern- , meat, is it? 1 rather thought it was a national Government elected by the nation to help the nation." “Well,” replied Alf, “it hasn’t done “That is one of the things I shall no doubt discover as I go about the country,” said Oliver. Paraparaumu. They climbed the Paekakariki Hill and were beginning the long descent down towards Paraparaumu. In the distance, as a background to the sea, rose the mountains of the South Island, their peaks shrouded in mist. “Got to exchange a load of books down there," remarked Alf. “Books?" “Yes, the boss rung a lending library with shops all over the country. 1 go round taking books from one place to another—dumping a load in the village there and taking up what they have in stock to leave them at the next place. See?’’ ‘That’s rather a good idea," said Oliver. Alf stopped at a small shop near the station and Oliver strolled about. It appeared to be a popular resort for week-ending, and he observed every shape of hideous shack disfiguring the landscape. He made his way to the beach contemplating the black sand with considerable disfavour. Alf was locking the doors of the van when he returned and they set off again at, once. After two more Stops |o < hango books they reached Levin. Lunch Interval. •‘Dinner time," announced Alf drawing up m the main street. He deciinvd Oliver’s invitation to lunch and disappeared, after warning him to be ready to start again at two o’colck. Oliver entered the hotel. New Zealand a Fann? “Muy 1 trouble you for the mustard ?’ ’ Oliver started, pushed the cruet across the table aud took stock of his table companion. He saw a small, round man whose gold-rimmed spectacles surmounted by a completely bald, pate gave him a slightly bland air. The ice was broken by the mustard, they fell into casual conversation, and Oliver learned that he was a contributor on agricultural and farming topics to periodicals in England and Canada. He appeared to have travelled widely. Oliver explained that he was wandering around the country in an endeavour to learn something of its people and problems. “You should have an interesting time,” remarked the little man. “But if you want to get to the bottom of things you must start at the right place—the land. Do you know anything about the farming situation here?” Oliver admitted complete ignorance. “You must learn. For the land and its problems are at the root of the whole business. You see, New Zealand is really one big farm —some 93 per cent, of the country’s exports are farm produce. We've always been an agricultural country, and in my view we always will be. Our geographical pOsitiona alone makes it impossible for us to ever become industrialised. By far the greater proportion of our population is engaged directly or indirectly w-ith farming afid farm produce. When farming is in a good way so is th 6 country, and everyone has money to spend, but when farming is in the dumps as it is just now, then the whole country is in the dumps, too. There you have our position in a nutshell. 50 Per Cent. Farmers Bankrupt? "I’ve seen a statement in the press somewhere to the effect that 5u per cent of the farmers in the country are bankrupt. Is that anywhere near right?" “Ah!” replied the little man with a smile. “There’s been a lot of talk about that. I’ll tell you what 1 think, and 1 am in touch with many farmers and pretty famiiar wdth their circumstances. it all depends on what you mean by the word •‘bankrupt.’ If you mean legally bankrupt in the sense that receiving orders have been made against them ur bankruptcy proceedings taken, the statement you refer to is, of course, rubbish. But it is true that if all the farmers were called upon to meet their obligations to-day including obligations under their mortgages, 30 per cent, of them would be unable tu 'Io so." “And v.hat uf the other lifty per cent! !! “ They are all right. Uf those who are not, 1 oelicvc that 20 per cent, aie so hopelessly involved that nothing ou earth will ever save them. The icmaiuing JO per cent, are struggling along, and can carry on so long as they arc not required to pay too much in mortgage interest." “And I suppose the reason for that it because they bought land at a puce which was reasonable so long us Giey could get 2s fur their butter-fat, but how that they can only get 9d. the land cannot carry the purchase price?" “That is so. I myself believe that we arc at a normal level of prices. I think that the Gov eiuiiic‘nl., t licrel'oi v, is I ack ling the pi <> bl cm in th.- righ vmi.v, not b) a 11 eiijpt ing any <>! gimr.ii>Iced prices but »v dealing "illi The uiirconuniic load of debt with which so much of the laud is saddled." “Il’s a bit hard on the mortgagee, isu ’I il .’’’ asked Oliver. “Not really. The mortgagee has ma le a bad bargain. He has in many vases lost some of his money, for he lent, more than the land was worth to a man who. as he knew at the time, could only repay him out of the land itself—who had uo other means at all. h’s just a case of the Government

helping- both, parties to make the best of a bad bargain." All Farmers Efficient? "I see,” said Oliver. “And 1 suppose that it goes without saying that at all events in this country all the farmers are hard working and able, and getting the best out of the laud?” His companion roared with laughter. "My dear sir," he cried, “for heaven’s sake don’t run away with that idea. We are all of us much too' prone lo speak of farmers as a class as though they were all, as you say, both hard working and efficient. But they aren’t; dear me, no*. They’re just like any other class of people, good, bad and indifferent; hard working and idle; efficient and inefficient.” "Then 1 suppose the Government will assist only the efficient?’’ "The difficulty is to distinguished the good from the bad. I think 'the Government’s suggestion is about as good as one as could be devised. You know the farmer who is in difficulties is 1c- have a sort of five-year plan during which, among other things, an eye will be hept on him. At, the end of that time the duds should be weeded out. ” "You surprise me," said Uiiver. "Should have thought that this country would hav.(» had no room for bad or lazy farmers.” Tho little man smiled again. “Most optimistic,’’ he remarked. "Tho idea that anyone who can milk a cow is a farmer dies very hard. Tt is only very graduallv becoming realised that farming is first and foremost a business. Why. the majority of farmers don’t keep any kind of books at "But that’s incredible ” exclninied 01 i ver. "J. thought, that might startle you. But; you'll see I ’m right if you go over a few farms.” Uiiver sour fore in"iv cheese. It was very gr.-od cheese and it occurred to him that; the people responsible for it certainly knew their business. "Well.” he said. “T’d sooner bv a farmer than work in the slums of a city any day in tho week.” “There’s a, lot, in that. And even the. worst farmers are coming to see that at any rate they have a roof over I heir heads and enough food lo ent, and that their work is in the fresh air. I agree that’s something io be thankful for.” “Were they gambling in land during' Ihe boom period ’ “Si.-nie of I hem were, <»f rource. Aml some <>l ihrm h.i\e o:i|>. their gambling to thank for the po.-it inn in which thev liud I i;eni>clve> to day. I know of one farm thin had eleven niortgages <;-n it — everyone buying for a rise. Tlyj last poor gentleman who bought was too late, the boom burst, and he couldn’t, resell at a proiit so he had to get busy and farm it himself. Naturally he’s in trouble to-day, for he has a load of interest to carry that ho couldn't meet even if the price of buttvr-fat rose to a couple of bc-b. Of course, that only applies to a few of them.” ■I can always sympathise with a

farmer for the long hours he has to work,” said Uiiver. “ Yes, if be Joes work. But watching the boy milk and complaining m Hie local club—or |»ub —isn’t very hard work, you know. \V-c do suffer a bit liom talking fanners—they make all the noise and it isn’t fair on I lie ones who du- work; and there are lots <’l them who do." What of Our Sons? ' lit- folded his napkin and looked niedilat iv elv at Uhver. ‘•When you’re on your travels re member this; the farmer, like every body else, had his eye un the future. The questions he is asking himself arv these; “What of my children.' What dors tlir land hold for them? \m | to condemn them lo a lifetime of hard woik when at the end of it ail they "ill have achieved nuthing except a roof over their heads ami food lo eat. •Show me that my children will be able lo laim lhe land and gel noire I hau u ni'i-e ] dhiiiif our of ii, anj T inv sell will work on < out.m| with the pit lance.” \nd the .salvation of the country lie- in the answer lo those questions .... Good-day to you. I’m deligiiicd to have met you.” (To be continued.)