The News In New Zealand Newspapers During World War One

Turnbull Library Record, Volume 46, 1 January 2014, Page 25

The News In New Zealand Newspapers During World War One

IAN F. GRANT

Although newspapers, sometimes reduced in size, provided vital war news - and dollops of pro-Empire and anti-German propaganda - on occasion well after the event, there was also a reassuring semblance of normality during World War One. War coverage, with lengthening casualty lists, filled a page or more each issue, but it did not push out news of a local tennis club's AGM, last weekend's hockey results or the Trinity College music examination passes. Advertising occupied half of most issues in many papers, mainly classifieds but also larger display advertisements for Lane's Emulsion ('lt's Famous Because It's Good'), Yates' Seeds and scores of other brands, some surviving today and others long forgotten.

When war was declared on 4 August 1914, most New Zealand newspapers supported either William Massey's conservative Reform government or Sir Joseph Ward's Liberal opposition. The conservative papers outnumbered those of more liberal persuasion like the Lyttelton Times and New Zealand Times, but the daily press en masse favoured the 'just' war and gave unquestioning and unequivocal support to Britain and the Empire. In fact, newspapers regularly reinforced the idea of the 'essential Britishness of the settler colonies'. 1

Typically, the Poverty Bay Herald editorialised: 'Victory will not be won without much self sacrifice and suffering but we feel sure that every loyal British subject will give this cheerfully in defence of all that is vital to his hearth and home. It is gratifying to know that New Zealand is doing its part speedily to assist the Empire'. 2 Even the Grey River Argus, which gave space to Labour views prior to its 1919 purchase by West Coast trade unions, was unequivocal in its editorial the day after war was declared: 'Germany will find that she has not only to face England, for the whole Empire is standing alert and watchful, like a grim old lioness with her cubs'. 3

As well as the broadsheet dailies there were a plethora of other New Zealand newspapers in 1914 - those coming out twice or more a week - and nearly 70 weeklies, not all of them committed war advocates. Substantial, smaller format weeklies like the New Zealand Observer and New Zealand Free Lance, with their town

and country readership, were often colourful and outspoken in their views and not dependent on United Press Agency (UPA) daily news summaries, although they generally supported the war effort. Two maverick weeklies - NZ Truth and the Maoriland Worker - did not. Truth was, in its distinctively colourful manner, strongly opposed to militarism generally and conscription in particular, twin hatreds of John Norton, the newspaper's Australian founder, and took an increasingly radical stance in the years prior to the war, 'openly endorsing the FoL [Federation of Labour] and its platform of revolutionary socialism'. 4 Both Truth and the Maoriland Worker had, unlike the country's dailies, supported the workers in a succession of strikes from 1912 onwards.

In its editorial on 15 August 1914, Truth asked whether 'there is another enemy deserving of more attention than even the braggart, bouncing German'. Sacrifices might need to be made but if this meant 'the people of New Zealand, particularly the poorer and working classes, are to stand still and submit to highway robbery, by merchant trusts, tricky traders, the rich, bloated, greedy, mercenary middle-man, then the sacrifice will not be made, because then it will be seen what class loyalty and patriotism really means.' 5 Predictably, the Maoriland Worker (official organ of the United Federation of Labour and Social Democratic Party), saw no glory in participation. True to its pacifist roots, just before it received news of the outbreak of war, the weekly editorialised: 'Britain may ... be dragged into the human maelstrom. The direct results ... will then stretch to this country. Then will be utilised all the force and ingenuity of the capitalist class to arouse us into a state of frenzy, dubbed by them patriotism.' 6

While New Zealand's independent status was theoritacally guaranteed by the Dominion Act of 1907, with military matters, before and during World War One, London and British commanders made the crucial decisions. New Zealand was entirely dependent on its newspapers for the Northern Hemisphere news so crucial to its daily life and future. There was nothing else - radio was still at the experimental stage, television was not yet an idea forming in Logie Baird's mind.

For mainly economic reasons, New Zealand newspapers had been drawn into what Simon Potter has called 'an imperial press system'. 7 The network of undersea telegraph cables that by 1876 linked Britain with its colonial outposts, was for decades very expensive to use, prices dictated by private cable companies. Consequently, the organisations set up in Australia and New Zealand to distribute overseas news to each country's newspapers had reached agreements to spread and thereby reduce cable transmission costs. As Potter writes: 'By the turn of the century almost all the cable news published

in Australia and New Zealand was being filtered through one source, the Argus London office. There, staff drew directly and exclusively on news gathered by British concerns such as Reuters, the Central News Agency and various London papers - the cheapest means of gathering news.' 8 New Zealand received Reutersgathered news by this backdoor method. Direct ties with the agency were cut in 1887, but restored in 1916. It is now known that Reuters, which touted its independence, was, particularly after March 1917, producing a 'Supplementary Imperial Service, which was specifically designed to meet propaganda objectives', the uniting of Empire behind the war effort. 9

In New Zealand in 1914 there were 63 daily newspapers 10 which invariably carried columns of the same overseas news, as well as reports from other parts of the country, sent down the wire to them by the United Press Agency. A newspaper cooperative with 74, largely daily, members in 1917," the UPA operated an efficient system for the sifting and distributing of overseas and New Zealand news around the country. Only in this way could newspaper proprietors, who had little direct competition in their small, relatively isolated markets, provide a comprehensive and affordable news service to their readers. The UPA had, as well as its London arrangement, an office in Sydney to organise the despatch of copy to New Zealand, its volume increasing significantly during the war. Very aware of newspapers' critical communications role, governments in Britain and New Zealand were quick to censor what appeared in their pages. There was a genuine fear, with telegraphic cables now criss-crossing the oceans, of intelligence of military importance being telegraphed to the enemy as well as concern about public morale if military setbacks were published immediately or without a degree of positive nuancing. There was also the potential to harness the press as the government's propaganda agent - as a 'booster' for the war effort generally and for recruitment in particular.

Empire censorship had been pondered by the Committee of Imperial Defence during the first decade of the new century without any decisions reached. Within days of war being declared in 1914 an official Press Bureau was set up with military and civilian censors vetting all cables and telegrams. Newspapers were instructed not to publish news about the movement of warships, troops, aircraft or war material without specific permission. It was less easy to deal with the contents of letters, in part because of various international agreements and the British post office's bitter opposition to the military's dominant censorship role. The Defence of the Realm Act passed on 8 August was strongly regulatory although it was to be administered lightly.

The system was mirrored in New Zealand. Later in the year, censorship was placed under the direction of the Chief of General Staff, assisted by a naval adviser, a deputy chief censor at the General Post Office (primarily concerned with letters),

assistant censors with foreign language skills in the four main centres, and censors at the two cable company terminals. There was also the extra frustration of an additional layering of censorship. Cables to the UPA were censored in Britain and, because it was a lay-station in a cable's journey, again in Australia before a third censorial scrutiny in New Zealand. In war, as in peace, newspapers saw their primary role as providing their readers with news of importance and interest as soon as possible; high-minded though this was, it was inextricably coupled with the commercial imperative of maintaining the circulations which brought in the advertising essential to profitability. Restrictions on delivering the news was anathema to the press; at the same time a war, particularly one directly involving New Zealand, was a guaranteed circulation booster.

Initially, on 7 August 1914 a circular was sent to all New Zealand newspapers and periodicals requesting editors to make no mention of British naval vessels in the Pacific, coaling arrangements, shipping routes, and the destination of the Expeditionary Force then being hastily assembled. Most newspapers accepted a certain level of censorship. For example, the Feilding Star editorised: 'every loyal journalist must, and does, consider his country first, second, and all the time'. 12 Commenting on the ban about mentioning the departure of the country's first troops, the paper noted: This is the first time in the Empire's history that her [New Zealand's] military men have recognised the value of the übiquitous spy, and the precaution is to be commended rather than censured.' Nevertheless, this did not stop the newspaper carrying, five days later, a detailed Press Association report of the Basin Reserve farewell, with politicians outdoing each other's rhetoric, before the first advanced contribution 'to the British Empire's forces in the war of 1914' boarded ships in Wellington Harbour. 15

Yet the Feilding Star, and other newspapers, bridled at the degree of censorship. Tt is not enough that the news is censored in London and Australia before it reaches us, but yet another board of censors must sieve it in New Zealand. Of course, England is wise in censoring messages. That should end it. What New Zealand needs to be wise in is censoring outgoing messages.' 14

Of course, any military intelligence trumped local news, and in cities where there were morning and evening dailies fighting their own circulation wars, pragmatism sometimes won over patriotism. The Sun, in Christchurch, provided its readers, and doubtless many Press regulars, with considerable detail about the expedition to capture the wireless station at Apia, German Samoa. It announced on 10 August that about 600 troops would leave from Wellington the next day. The details and composition of the force are a state secret, but as Samoa is not fortified its capture should present no difficulties.' 15 The report went on to identify the two Royal Navy cruisers that were to accompany the troopships.

The despatch of the main Expeditionary Force in October 1914 gave particular concern to the censors as there was still some confusion about what could and could not be published. The Chief Censor circularised newspapers and the PostmasterGeneral telegraphed editors saying, in part, 'You are requested ... to exclude from your columns any reference to movements or contemplated movements of the Expeditionary Force ashore or afloat, any movements of troopships and any steps taken in connection with these subjects'. 16 The temptation was too much for the Auckland Star, the feisty evening competitor of the more stately New Zealand Herald. On 5 October, and three days later, the paper mentioned, first, that naval ships were in the harbour and, in the second article, the names and ranks of officers on the two ships and the number of troops and horses aboard them. 17 Although the information was tucked away on page 6 it provided exactly the sort of intelligence the censors were trying to keep from potentially prying eyes. The Herald complained bitterly to the Chief Censor about the Auckland Star, but the only response from the Minister of Defence to the offending newspaper was a warning carrying little real weight. 18

Clearly, the embarkation of the main Expeditionary Force was the numberone news story in October 1914. The authorities decided that the departure of the troops could be announced, on or after the 25th, with photos of soldiers but not their ships, and sent telegrams to newspapers explaining all this. It had not occurred to them that a paper - the Timaru Herald - would publish the telegram the next day, buried as the eighth item in a Town and Country column including weather reports, parish pump items and even classified advertisements for foot powder and pickled egg preservative. Ingeniously, it was, though, a clear indication, without actually saying so, that the troops had already left, as they had on the 16th. 19 Many thousands had, of course, seen the troops sail, but it was thought unwise for the actual departure date to appear in a newspaper that might be read by the enemy.

It was not until the passing of the War Regulations Act on 2 November, and in subsequent regulations, that there was much more clarity about what could be published and when. The censors also struggled with news of varying degrees of embarrassment that filtered back from the front, mainly in soldiers' letters, and subsequently appeared in newspapers. In an attempt to stifle publication a new regulation prohibited the printing of any news on military or naval matters not passed by the telegraphic censor, already published in English newspapers or expressly sanctioned by New Zealand military authorities. With so little information about how New Zealand soldiers were actually faring at the Front, editors welcomed letters, offered by relatives, that provided colour and insights. Much of the 'Diary of a Young Feildingite', in camp near Cairo, and published by the Feilding Star, was harmless enough: T was at church parade this morning. Captain Clarkson

preached about ploughshares and reaping hooks being turned into swords and spears. No good to us! Even the officers have to carry rifle and bayonet and pack now, so there's nothing doing in the sword line.' But it also contained: 'My, but ain't we glad we've got General Birdwood to keep our very own General Godley in hand! Things have been looking up ever since "Birdseed" took control.' 20 A stern rebuke from the Chief Censor to the editor of the Feilding Star expressed concern about the 'disrespectful remarks' and noted that 'a large part of the Diary is contrary to Regulation 3 ... being likely to prejudice recruiting, training and discipline'. In response, the editor claimed 'every paper in New Zealand has printed worse matter than I have yet published.' 21

Censorship regulations were tightened again in April 1916 - forbidding mention of a soldier's unit, summaries of casualties, and publication of uncensored soldiers' letters. The Auckland Star raised censorial blood pressures by printing the new 1916 regulations in full, adding: Tt is just as well that our readers should understand, in some degrees at all events, the difficulties under which the Press labour in this time of war.' 22 Later, 'sedition' for criticising conscription and the military was written into legislation. Invariably, individual newspapers and the censors disputed the permissibility of stories. The UPA and the Newspaper Proprietors' Association (NPA) refused to be drawn into arguments, particularly when rival newspapers, affiliated to both organisations, were claiming unfair advantage of one sort or another. When the Minister of Defence, James Allen, wrote to the NPA in early 1915 requesting that stories about New Zealand soldiers at overseas bases not be published, he was informed by the president that his was a purely business organisation, and did not interfere with editorial matters. 23

Privately, though, the UPA was less sanguine. The flow of cable news from the world's great news centres was complicated enough, passing through a number of filtering hands, without the added complications and frustrations of wartime censorship. General manager William Atack, now possibly better known as the first referee to use a whistle on a sports field anywhere than for his newspapering roles, was direct and specific to UPA directors about his difficulties in getting detailed news out to his member newspapers. 'One would have thought', he reported, 'that reasonable beings would have been satisfied with the censorship in London and that items passed by the bureau there could have been admitted without question into New Zealand and elsewhere.' 24 Often news was seriously delayed, severely truncated, or distorted to the point of confusion.

Gallipoli was a case in point. There were delays in releasing accurate information about the events on 25 April 1915 and following days. For no apparent good reason, news of 'the landing of New Zealand troops at Gallipoli was held

up until Sydney newspapers containing the story had reached New Zealand'. 25 There were similar problems when the New Zealand troops were evacuated from the peninsula in early 1916. Atack was blunt in his communications with Prime Minister William Massey: 'at the present moment harmless cables about the evacuation are still being held up and the papers entitled to them deprived of publication without rhyme or reason. These cables are from such authorities as Reuter and others and have actually been passed by the Imperial Government's own censors.' 26

These were not isolated cases or confined to the early days of the war. According to R. B. O'Neill, the 'censorship was just as clumsy, just as arbitrary, at the end.' ft reached the height of absurdity, he wrote, with the signing of the Armistice. When an official, but erroneous, report of the signing was issued and published several days prematurely, the government's response was to forbid any mention of the subject. So when cable messages reported the actual signing early on the evening of f f November, they were suppressed until the next day. 'Records of the New Zealand Press Association state that "New Zealand was about the last place in the whole world to hear the news".' 27 ft was quickly obvious, with almost all UPA copy coming from British

and Australian sources, that an authentic New Zealand voice was lacking, and reports sometimes simply ignored the roles played by New Zealand soldiers. Local newspapers regularly ran stories by English war correspondent Ellis AshmeadBartlett, who, writing about the 'storming' of the Dardanelles from the safety of a distant naval vessel, seemed unaware of the involvement of New Zealand troops alongside the Australians. 'Major-General Alexander Godley wrote to [Defence Minister] Allen noting that Ashmead-Bartlett never once used the words "New Zealand" or "New Zealanders" and that fortunately he had been able to see them inserted whenever necessary.' 28

There was, in fact, another source of international news, aside from the UPA, for four New Zealand metropolitan dailies. The New Zealand Associated Press (NZAP), funded by the New Zealand Herald, Evening Post, Press and Otago Daily Times, had provided additional coverage for its member newspapers from a London office since the late 1890 s. Guy Scholefield, previously a journalist on North and South Island newspapers and in the Parliamentary Press Gallery, was the NZAP's London correspondent at the outbreak of war. The NZAP sought and gained War Office approval for Scholefield to be accredited as a war correspondent on the Western Front, but objected to the New Zealand government's requirement that he supply copy to all local papers. As a consequence, the government withdrew its support and the NZAP supplemented Scholefield's occasional frontline coverage with despatches from A. B. 'Banjo' Paterson.

'The failure of the four newspapers which employed Scholefield to allow him to write for all, and the noticeable lack of interest by any other newspapers, or group of newspapers, to send a reporter to the war, led almost inevitably to the Government making the appointment itself.' 29 Under political pressure, the New Zealand government appointed Malcolm Ross, a long-time parliamentary reporter, as official war correspondent. Ross's war reporting was widely criticised at the time. Several newspapers refused to use his messages and others often preferred to run stories written by Ellis AshmeadBartlett and Australian Charles Bean. The New Zealand perspective he was expected to add to the war coverage in local newspapers was largely unfulfilled.

There was suspicion of Ross's closeness to Massey government ministers, and he was possibly too old, at 52, to do the job energetically enough, which may have contributed to his limited output. It was said that his despatches were remote, detached and pedestrian. 'His most descriptive adjective appears to have been "interesting"!' 30 More practically, there was the length of his despatches - one early one was 5,500 words long. With the war stretching into a third year there were newsprint shortages and a 'modified pooling arrangement was made, but in 1917 the [Newspaper Proprietors' Association] had to approach the government for

special ships to bring paper to New Zealand'. 31 As Allison Oosterman wrote: 'Ross's despatches were far too long for most New Zealand papers, even the biggest, the NZ Herald ,' 32

The most persistent criticism levelled at Ross was the irrelevance of many of his despatches by the time newspapers in New Zealand finally received them. Not only did he arrive at Anzac Cove two months after the landings, but there was a similar delay between his subsequent despatches and their publication. This crippling difficulty was not of Ross's making. Bizarrely, he was forbidden for many months, on the grounds of excessive cost, to cable his despatches. The UPA supported the government's decision with the result that the cables of other war correspondents and soldiers' letters invariably arrived, and were published, before Ross's despatches. 'lt was the Government's (and the UPA's) parsimonious attitude, which saw the despatches mailed rather than cabled and therefore published many weeks after the events they described.' 33 Later, in France, his cables were necessarily short; the more expansive pieces he preferred to write were still mailed.

As Ron Palenski wrote: There was much that Ross and other correspondents could not write. And what they could not write, their readers could not comprehend. They could not convey aspects of the war such as the meagre amount of land over which the battles on Gallipoli were fought and the consequential proximity of their foes. Not even the finest of pens could adequately convey the heat of summer, the bone chill of the brief taste of winter toward the end of 1915; the unvaried, indifferent quality of food; the lack of water; the perpetual threat of sniper, machinegun or shellfire; and worst of all, the unrelieved presence and smell of the rotting flesh of their comrades and enemies and the resultant flies and debilitating disease. 34

Criticism was not only levelled at Ross. There was more high-flown rhetoric about battlefield heroics than simple reporting of the grim death tolls. An MP described the war cable news generally as 'nauseating piffle'. 35 Censorship also included anything on the 'home front' or overseas that reflected on the reputation of the country's military and weaken the fervour of patriotic commitment. There were strenuous efforts to keep news about Miss Ettie Rout, and the information she provided New Zealand soldiers about certified clean brothels in Paris, from the eyes of local newspaper readers, and she had to place advertisements in Australia's Bulletin, which circulated widely in New Zealand, when seeking contributions to help fund her work. 36

While international news in New Zealand newspapers continued to come very largely from Britain via the UPA, often with a governmental bias, it was another matter with cartoons. Tn contrast, cartoons represent an inherently local and especial reaction to national and international trends and developments.' 37 In the popular weeklies, particularly the New Zealand Free Lance and New Zealand Observer, cartoons reflected majority sentiment in their promotion of national and imperial unity, encouragement of recruitment, the branding of 'shirkers', support for conscription, and portrayal of the enemy's evil and venality. Patriotism, its encouragement and measurement, had become a key government policy, and 'newspapers and weekly journals helped shape a new national spirit'. 38

The press was quick to give extensive coverage to the enthusiastic rallies at the outbreak of war and the numbers of young men signing up for the initial Expeditionary Force; yet the censors ensured it was six weeks after 25 April that a shocked nation read about the nearly 1,000 New Zealand deaths during the first three days at Gallipoli.

It seems strange today that the tempo of volunteering actually increased after the initial news from the Dardanelles. As Keith Sinclair wrote: 'Knowledge, far

from depressing, stimulated a widespread passion for victory.' 39 Steven Loveridge has written: 'Some joined out of feelings of duty, others for excitement and want of adventure, but the overall atmosphere seems to have been a near frenzied desire to participate.' 40

In 1916, though, voluntary recruitment rates began to decline sharply and the newspapers argued for conscription, as much in the belief that all young, fit males should share in the sacrifices being made than as a respponse to the reality of daily and lengthening casualty lists.

On the other hand, NZ Truth ('Largest circulation throughout the Dominion'), the government's most strident anti-conscription critic, continued to attack, in editorials and cartoons, 'Mr. Fat', the bloated symbol of the capitalism that had caused the war and was profiting most from it. While calling for wealth to be conscripted before people, the newspaper 'found a way to keep patriotic readers and retain its anti-war principles' and 'became a tireless advocate of the average "boy in the trenches" ' 4I by reporting on soldiers' pay, pensions, appeal procedures and a number of other issues. The Maoriland Worker had this to say: 'we venture to prophesy that the workers of New Zealand will meet any attempt to apply European Conscription here in a way that will do honour to every best tradition of British freedom and to every principle of human liberty.' 42

There was a crude measure of loyalty and disloyalty. 'Shirkers' were a particular target of newspapers and cartoonists. The Bay of Plenty Times wanted the death penalty for 'shirkers'; if this was meted out to soldiers who disobeyed it should also apply on the 'home front'. 43 Conscientious objectors were 'shirkers' and there was no attempt to understand why some Maori, socialists, Irish and Christians refused to take up arms: 'propaganda was used to lionise those who served and demonise those who did not.' 44 Not surprisingly, there were very few newspaper stories, particularly when conscription legislation in New Zealand had an unruffled parliamentary passage in November 1916, about its rejection in two Australian referenda.

The press also stirred up anti-German feeling. As Andrew Francis has pointed out: The invasion of neutral Belgium gave newspaper editors, political commentators, cartoonists, and patriotic citizens at large, free rein to denounce all Germans as "Hunnish barbarians", regardless of where they were domiciled.' 45

Most celebrated was the case of Professor George von Zedlitz, the Victoria University College modern languages academic who grew up in England and had been resident in Wellington for 14 years. The dailies, and weeklies like the New Zealand Observer and New Zealand Free Lance, increasingly focused their antiGerman campaign on von Zedlitz, who retained his position when other Germans were interned.

It was largely the ongoing press campaign that pressured the government, in August 1915, to introduce the Alien Enemy Teachers Act which led to von Zedlitz being dismissed. As a result of anti-German hysteria, companies and families changed their names and councils renamed streets. Franz Joseph Glacier was in danger of disappearing from maps - for xenophobic rather than climatic reasons. 46

German defeats and atrocities, real and imagined, committed by them were reported regularly - and were grist to the cartoonist's mill - but any suggestion of British or Empire setbacks exercised the censors. The Thames Star , for example, ran details of the losses of British ships and seamen, which exceeded German ones, at the Battle of Jutland. 47 Subsequent histories suggest there was no clear-cut winner in the last great high seas battle, but at the time the report was labelled 'almost treasonable' in Parliament. 48

As well as constantly affirming patriotism and loyalty to the British Empire, endorsing conscription, and pouring verbal and pictorial scorn on the 'Hun' and 'shirkers', both spontaneously and at the government's bidding, newspapers continued to complain about, and sometimes ignore, censorship restrictions.

After the Reform and Liberal parties had formed a National government in August 1915, criticism of press censorship came mainly from opposition Labour parliamentarians. John Payne, MP for Grey Lynn, did not mince words in a 1917 speech: 'We are living in times of tyranny ... The Press today dare not insert in their columns the complaint of a soldier with regard to his pension or any other matter, because if they do they are liable, under the war regulations, to be prosecuted for sedition, for criticising the government, for interfering with recruiting.' 49

It was stirring rhetoric but the reality was a little different. For a start, there was no systematic monitoring of newspapers by the censors and they generally responded, ineffectually and after the event, to complaints from rival newspapers. There was also a considerable legal and practical distance between the threat of prosecution and it actually happening. Editors and publishers were threatened with substantial fines and months in prison, but when prosecutions were taken the resulting fines were invariably very small. No editors or publishers went to prison.

As the war continued, levels of enthusiasm and support may not have been as high as popularly believed and even New Zealand's dailies, exercised by the rising death toll among the country's young men and concerned by increasing commodity prices, were not totally blinded by patriotic fervour. Even in 1914, as Graham Hucker has written: The announcement [declaration of war] generated excitement according to newspaper reports, but there is evidence to suggest that not everyone was enthusiastic about the news.' 50

However, although there were obviously dissenters, there was also general and genuine community support for the war and the immense sacrifices that flowed from it - difficult to appreciate in today's world with its very different values. The country's newspapers, and the dailies in particular, both reflected and encouraged this widespread commitment to a war most New Zealanders believed to be worth fighting. As Steven Loveridge has written: 'A war effort ... could not ignore mass opinion as it might have in an earlier age.' 51

ENDNOTES 1 Simon J. Potter, News and the British World: The Emergence of an Imperial Press System, 1876-1922 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), p. 2. 2 Poverty Bay Herald, 6 August 1914. All of the New Zealand newspapers cited can be accessed at the Papers Past website, http://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz. 3 Grey River Argus, 5 August 1914. 4 Redmer Yska, Truth: The Rise and Fall of the People's Paper (Nelson: Craig Potton, 2010), p. 46. 5 NZ Truth, 15 August 1914. 6 Maoriland Worker, 5 August 1914. 7 Simon J. Potter, 'Communication and Integration: The British and Dominions Press and the British World, c. 1876-1914', in The British World: Diaspora, Culture and Identity, ed. by Carl Bridge and Kent Fedorowich (London: F. Cass, 2003), p. 197.

8 Ibid. 9 Peter Putnis and Kerry McCallum, 'Reuters, Propaganda-inspired News, and the Australian Press during the First World War', Media History 19, no. 3 (2013): 285. 10 [O'Neill, R. B.], The Press, 1861-1961: The Story of a Newspaper (Christchurch: Christchurch Press, 1963), p. 149. 11 James Sanders, Dateline NZPA: The New Zealand Press Association, 1880-1980 (Auckland: Wilson & Horton, 1979), p. 193. 12 Feilding Star, 10 August 1914. 13 Feilding Star, 15 August 1914. 14 Ibid. 15 Sun, 10 August 1914.

16 John Anderson, 'Military Censorship in World War 1: Its Use and Abuse in New Zealand' (unpublished MA thesis, Victoria University College, Wellington, 1952), p. 175. 17 Auckland Star, 8 October 1914. 18 Anderson, pp. 175-76. 19 Timaru Herald, 20 October 1914. 20 Feilding Star, 4 March 1915. 21 Anderson, p. 194. 22 Auckland Star, 4 April 1916. 23 Anderson, p. 193. 24 Sanders, p. 46. 25 O'Neill, p. 152. 26 Anderson, pp. 145-46. 27 O'Neill, p. 154. 28 Steven Loveridge, '"Sentimental Equipment": New Zealand, the Great War and Cultural Mobilisation' (unpublished PhD thesis, Victoria University of Wellington, 2013), p. 120. 29 Ron Palenski, 'Malcolm Ross: A forgotten casualty of the Great War' (unpublished MA thesis, University of Otago, 2008), p. 117.

30 Allison Oosterman, 'Covering Gallipoli: A New Zealand war correspondent in the age of empires', in Politics, Media, History: Australian Media Traditions conference (University of Canberra, 2005), p. 18. 31 Guy H. Scholefield, Newspapers in New Zealand (Wellington: Reed, 1958), p. 261. 32 Oosterman, p. 8. 33 Oosterman, p. 19. 34 Palenski, pp. 119-20. 3 5 Grey River Argus, 3Ju ly 1916. 36 Anderson, pp. 213-14.

37 Sarah Murray, A Cartoon War: The Cartoons of the New Zealand Free Lance and New Zealand Observer as Historical Sources, August 1914 - November 1918, New Zealand Cartoon Archive Monograph Series no. 1 (Wellington: New Zealand Cartoon Archive, 2012), p. 3. 38 Andrew Francis, 'Anti-Alienism in New Zealand during the Great War: The von Zedlitz Affair, 1915', Immigrants & Minorities 24, no. 3 (November 2006), p. 255. 39 Keith Sinclair, A Destiny Apart: New Zealand's Search for National Identity (Wellington: Allen & Unwin in association with the Port Nicholson Press, 1986), p. 164. 40 Steven Loveridge, 'Soldiers and Shirkers: An Analysis of the Dominant Ideas of Service and Conscientious Objection in New Zealand during the Great War' (unpublished MA thesis, University of Waikato, 2009), p. 25. 41 Yska, p. 55.

42 Maoriland Worker, 1 September 1915. 43 New Zealand Observer, 14 August 1915. 44 Stephen Loveridge, 'Soldiers and Shirkers', p. 71. 45 Francis, p. 255. 46 New Zealand Free Lance, 22 October 1915. 47 Thames Star, 9 June 1916. 48 Anderson, p. 200. 49 Graham Hucker, '"The Great Wave of Enthusiasm": New Zealand Reactions to the First World War in August 1914 -a Reassessment', New Zealand Journal of History 43, no. 1 (2009), p. 61. 50 Loveridge, 'Sentimental Equipment', p. 287. 51 T. W. Rhodes, in New Zealand Parliamentary Debates 175 (1916), pp. 710-11.