Where and, more
importantly, what is this place I call New England? The where is easy enough,
the what more difficult. Writing of the work of fellow poet Judith Wright, A D
Hope said that New England was an ideal in the heart and mind. Hope was
referring to the New England, the Tablelands, but it applies to the broader New
England as well. As we travel, we shall see the nature of that ideal has been
the subject of much dispute.
In geographical terms, the area covered is Australia’s New England
Tablelands and the river valleys that extend from the Tablelands to the north,
south, east and west. Defined in this way, we have a natural geographic unit
that exists independent of political or administrative boundaries.
This is a large and geographically diverse area. From Lake Macquarie
in the south to Tweed Heads on the Queensland border is over 700 km (434 miles)
by road, from Grafton in the Northern Rivers to Brewarrina on the Barwon River
is 716 km (445 miles). From the old gold mining town of
Nundle at the southern edge of the Tablelands, it is some 400 km (249
miles), almost five hours drive time, to the to the orchard and wine center of
Stanthorpe in Queensland’s Granite Belt.
To provide an international comparison, by road London to Edinburgh is
around 666 km (414 miles), New York to Washington a mere 364km (226 miles). To
put this another way, depending upon the precise boundaries adopted, New
England at 166,000 plus square kilometres (64,000 square miles) is 25 per cent
larger than England.
If that’s where
New England is, what is it? This question is not so easy to answer. You see,
there is great disagreement about the boundaries, with some going so far as to
deny that New England as I have defined it
even exists. Certainly, Australian governments with their ever-changing
geographic descriptors and administrate boundaries do not recognise the place.
Reflecting this, there is disagreement about naming conventions to the point
that no-one can agree on a name or even names.
Initially, the
area that I call New England was known as the Northern Provinces, the Northern Districts
or just the North, Sydney centric terms defined by their relationship to the
colonial capital. As European occupation extended north, the use of the terms
expanded to fill the occupied space.
The separation of
Queensland in 1859 put a new hard border in place. Now Queensland
had its own North defined by relationship to Brisbane, the new colonial capital. This
created all sorts of perceptual and naming difficulties.
I coined the term
border myopia some years ago to describe the way borders affect our thinking,
blinding us. Queensland promotes the Granite Belt around Stanthorpe in Southern
Queensland as a special, even unique, area with its granite boulders, fruit and
cold country wines. This promotion has been a considerable success, for it is a
wonderful area. Few realise that the Granite Belt is in fact part of the New
England Tablelands. Tenterfield is about 44 minutes by road south of
Stanthorpe. Had the border been shifted south just a little bit, Tenterfield
would now be the southern part of the Granite Belt and part of Queensland’s
successful tourism promotion.
This type of
perception problem is reflected in naming conventions. The words “Northern” and
“New England” Tablelands are increasingly used as synonyms. In fact, they are
different. The Northern Tablelands are defined in relation to Sydney
and stop at the Queensland
border. The New England Tablelands as a geographical area extends into Queensland to include
the Granite Belt.
The 2018 Commonwealth
Games provide a second example of the effect of border myopia. Held on
Queensland’s Gold Coast, the opening ceremony featured the Yugambeh Aboriginal
nation because of its Gold Coast linkages. Less well recognised is that Yugambeh-Bundjalung,
also known as Bandjalangic, is the Aboriginal language group that stretched
from the north bank of the Clarence into South East Queensland including what
is now the Gold Coast. When the Queensland border was created, the hard
political line created not only divided Aboriginal groups placing related
people under different legal jurisdictions, but also affected the way we see
relationships. You cannot write a history of the Aboriginal peoples within
Northern New South Wales without addressing cross-border linkages.
Following the
creation of Queensland with its own North, the coverage of the terms Northern
Districts, Northern Provinces or just the North shrank in New South Wales to
the area up to the new political border, setting up its own inconsistencies
that have grown with time. You can see this easily if you look at terms in use
today.
To begin with,
what does the term the North mean? It doesn’t mean all of Northern New South
Wales, but actually the north-east of NSW, the territory I call New England.
The term Northern New South Wales itself has become very confused.
"Northern New
South Wales is a big, fat, subtropical, coconut - and turmeric - laced cliché
of heavenliness”, Valerie Morton wrote
in her 2018 book Blame it on the Rain:
Life around Byron Bay . Lavishly illustrated with photos, the book is a
series of vignettes about beach, bush but mainly locals - with a dash of cane
toads, ticks and gold top mushrooms. Did you know that some people lick cane
toads because the poison contains a powerful hallucinogenic? That was certainly
news to me, although I don’t think that I am going to rush off to find the
nearest cane toad!. They are, after all, a poisonous introduced pest that
authorities across many parts of Australia are fighting to control.
While Valerie’s book references Northern New
South Wales, it is actually about the Northern Rivers, more precisely still
that part of it covered by the Byron Shire, even more precisely the town of
Mullumbimby and surrounds. This is counter-culture territory. where hippies rub
shoulders with wealthy celebrities and socialites attracted by the allure of
climate, beaches and fashion. I enjoyed the book, but was struck by the
particular and very narrow use of the term Northern New South Wales. This dates
to a decision by the Sydney Government for administrative reasons to attach the
name Northern NSW to what used to be called the Northern Rivers, a distinct
geographic unit made up of the Clarence, Richmond and Tweed river valleys. The
end result has been confusion.
This type of naming confusion can be found
throughout New England. I have already referred to the Northern as compared to
the New England Tablelands. The name North Coast is
another example.
Originally the
name was attached to the coastal strip from the border to the Hunter Valley.
Then came a short gap to the Central Coast, followed by another gap around
Sydney and then the South Coast. This at least made a certain sense. Today we
have the term Mid North Coast used to describe the area from the Northern
Rivers to the Hunter. But where is the South North
Coast? Or, indeed, the
North Coast itself? It is now hard to say.
But why, in all
this, do I use the name New England for the whole area? This name was first
attached to the Tablelands by European settlers who saw similarities between
the New England Tablelands and home. Some of those settlers with Scottish
connections preferred the name New Caledonia, but New England was quickly
adopted. Still, the Scottish focus survives today in Glen Innes’s promotion of
its past and all things Celtic.
Glen Innes is not
alone in celebrating and seeking to capitalise on its Celtic or Scottish
connection. Maclean down on the Clarence River is another.
Two quite
different groups of Scottish settlers came to the North. One group were
relatively wealthy people whose independent means allowed them to build
pastoral empires. The homesteads they built remain a feature of New England’s
built landscape. The second were Highland people disposed by the troubles and
the enclosures, many of whom were brought to Australia by that irascible
Presbyterian clergyman John Dunmore Lang, a significant figure in the history
of Colonial New England. These Gaelic speakers settled first in the Hunter, but
then spread north to the Clarence Valley. For a period, Gaelic was a common
language on the streets of the inland Clarence River port of Grafton, along
with English, German and the local Aboriginal languages. Grafton had its own
Gaelic newspaper. Many Highland settlers also settled at Maclean, just
downstream from Grafton. Maclean’s Highland Gathering was founded in 1904 and
continues to this day.
I said that John
Dunmore Lang was a significant figure in New England Colonial history. He is,
in fact, the indirect cause of my use of the name New England, although as a
Scot he may have preferred other choices.
Lang was born at
Greenock in Scotland on 25 August 1799, the eldest child of small landowner
William Lang and his wife Mary Dunmore. Mary was a strong minded woman who had,
in the words of Lang’s biographer Don Baker, formidable powers of moral
indignation and such capacity for vituperation that in comparison her son's
most savage strictures seemed but a mild remonstrance!
Lang trained for
the Presbyterian ministry, early displaying that power for work, study and
sheer energy that would mark his life. At Glasgow, he came under the influence
of the Evangelicals who were beginning to challenge the prevailing order within
the Church of Scotland. Dissatisfied with the prevailing system of lay
patronage that was anathema to many Evangelicals, Lang looked for new pastures.
His younger brother was already in the colony and suggested that it might
provide fertile ground for Lang’s preaching. In 1822 Lang sailed for Sydney, arriving
in May 1823 as Sydney’s first Presbyterian minister.
Over coming
decades, Lang would play a major role in the life of the evolving colony across
multiple fields. He was, Don Baker notes, a Presbyterian clergyman, politician,
educationist, immigration organizer, historian, anthropologist, journalist,
gaol-bird and, in his wife's words engraved on his Sydney statue, 'Patriot and
Statesman”.
From our immediate
viewpoint, Lang developed the idea of Australia as a federation of multiple
colonies. He played an active role in the moves to separate Victoria from New
South Wales. That was achieved in 1851. He then turned his attention north,
arguing for the separation of the Moreton Bay colony, now Queensland, from New
South Wales. That was achieved in 1859. He then turned his attention to the
separation of Northern New South Wales. That move failed, although there would
be outbreaks of separatist pressure through to the end of the century.
By 1900, the idea
that self-government might provide a solution for Northern problems was well
established. There was disagreement over boundaries and means, but separation
had become a vehicle for channelling Northern resentments.
In the
constitutional discussions leading up to Federation, delegates accepted that
new states might be created within the new Commonwealth. Separatist agitation
was especially strong in Queensland, seeking to subdivide the colony into three
states covering the north, centre and south. The new Australian Constitution therefore
contained a specific chapter (VI) dealing with the admission of new states,
including subdivision of existing states. Those seeking subdivision were to
find these constitutional provisions problematic in the extreme because they
effectively required existing state governments to agree to subdivision of
their territory with consequent loss of power and prestige.
While Queensland
was the centre of subdivision agitation at the time of Federation, new state
agitation was about to re-emerge in New England, coming in three main waves.
Each failed, but left its imprint on Northern history and life.
The first wave
began in 1915 in a dispute over the cancelation by the New South Wales
Government of the steam ferry (the Helen)
linking South Grafton and Grafton across the Clarence River. A large protest
meeting convened by the Mayor of South Grafton, Dr Earle Page, quickly turned
from the ferry dispute to calls for a new state in Northern New South Wales.
We will come
across Earle Page many times in our New England travels. Born at Grafton on 8
August 1880, Page was a brilliant surgeon with a solid business head. He was
also energetic, mercurial, sometimes disorganised, overflowing with ideas that
could sometimes cross-over each other. The Helen
episode marked the start of a public career that in seven years would take Page
to the second highest office in the land, Leader of the Country (now National)
Party in the Commonwealth Parliament and Deputy Prime Minister.
Driven by Page, agitation
spread quickly, but then died down because of the war. In 1919, Page
re-launched the separation campaign. Again, agitation spread quickly. The cause
was picked up by Victor Thompson, editor of the Tamworth Daily Observer, now the Northern
Daily Leader. Thompson launched a press propaganda league to campaign for
separation from New South Wales that soon had 120 member newspapers from the
Upper Hunter to the border.
In 1924, political pressures forced the NSW Fuller
Government to appoint a Royal Commission (The Cohen Commission) to inquire into
the feasibility of new states in New South Wales. The proposed states were a
Northern, Riverina and Monaro new state. Premier Sir George Fuller had no
intention of acceding to political pressure that might lead to the break-up of
New South Wales. The terms of reference were carefully written in such a way as
to reduce chances of success by creating a series of barriers that the new
state proponents had to pass to obtain a positive result.
The Cohen
Commission reported in 1925. It accepted that the country had been disadvantaged,
but believed that had now been addressed. It concluded that new states would
not be financially viable and that the same objectives could be more
effectively achieved through a system of regional councils with decentralised
administration. It was a crippling blow, and agitation declined.
The second wave of agitation began in February
1931, again launched by Page. These were turbulent times. The very fabric of
Australian life was fraying under the impact of the Great Depression. Civil war
seemed possible. Again, the agitation spread like wildfire, with another
movement springing up in the Riverina under the leadership of Charles Hardy.
For the first
time, the name New England came to be attached to the broader new state area
when, at its 1932 Maitland Convention, the Northern Separation Movement adopted
the name New England for the whole area seeking self government. The move made
a certain sense. New England was the name of the North’s central geographic
feature. It was also a name locationally independent of Sydney. There were now
two New Englands: the first the name attached to the area seeking
self-government; the second the New England Tablelands, more commonly known
just as the New England.
In August 1933, the
New South Wales Government appointed a second Royal Commission into new states,
the Nicholas Commission. This time the terms of reference were carefully
crafted by David Drummond, the member for Armidale and Minister for Education.
Drummond had drafted the 1924 motion setting up the Cohen Royal Commission.
However, the wording of the motion had given the freedom required to allow
Premier Sir George Fuller to slant the terms of reference towards a negative
result. Drummond was mortified and was determined that this would not happen
again.
I must to pause
here to declare a special interest, for David Drummond was my grandfather and
helped form my political views. In 1938, Drummond played a key role in the
formation of the New England University College. The first lecturer to arrive
at the new College was New Zealand born James Belshaw who was to teach
economics and history. There he met the first librarian, Drummond’s eldest
daughter Edna. They married in 1944. Drummond, cynics remarked, had founded a
university to find a husband for his daughter.
Drummond carefully
orchestrated the creation of the new Royal Commission. The focus was on the
definition of areas in New South Wales suitable for self-government as states
within the Commonwealth of Australia . There would be a single commissioner. The
terms of reference were discussed with Nicholas to clarify his role.
After an extended
series of public hearings that exhausted all involved, Nicholas finally
reported in 1935. He found that two areas would be suitable for self-government
as States within the Commonwealth of Australia, a northern region, and a
central, western and southern region, with descriptions of the boundaries of
each region listed. The mother state was consequently significantly reduced in
size. A referendum was recommended in each of the proposed areas, with electors
informed of the questions at issue, and of facts relating to the advantages and
disadvantages of subdivision.
The movement had
what it wanted, but not quite. The recommended boundaries of the Northern state
included Newcastle and the Lower Hunter. This made sense in many ways. The
boundaries were based on watersheds. They included Maitland, the rail head
between the Northern and Southern lines, and a functioning port at Newcastle.
They reflected economic and historical linkages and added to economic
viability. But they also brought into the proposed state the coal and
industrial interests in Newcastle and the Lower Hunter whose political
affiliations, culture and interests were very different from those in the more
agricultural north.
Following the
report, Premier Bertram Stevens offered the movement leadership their
referendum based on the proposed boundaries. They were in a quandary. Support
for separation had declined as the Depression eased. The movement itself was
exhausted after the long grind of the Nicholas Commission hearings where,
lacking full time staff, they had had to coordinate witnesses and prepare
submissions using volunteer labour.
They knew that
there would be strong resentment further north at the inclusion of Newcastle,
but could see the logic. The previously adopted boundaries had put a line south
of Maitland to include the important railhead and the separatist areas in the
Upper Hunter, but this cut the Hunter Valley in two. Apart from some
campaigning by Drummond in Newcastle in 1931 where he explored the degree of
support, there had been no education of Lower Hunter or Newcastle voters. Could
they educate them in time? In the end, the leadership decided that the time was
not right for a referendum, a decision that they would come greatly to regret. Separatist agitation now rested.
The third new
state wave came from a somewhat unexpected source, David Drummond’s son-in-law.
As the Second World War began to wind down in 1944, attention turned to
post-war reconstruction. There was a creative bubble of new ideas. Belshaw,
then normally called Doc and later Prof, did not agree with his father-in-law
that new states were an answer, but was committed to decentralisation and
Northern development. To his mind, the answer lay in effective regional
councils of the type proposed by the Cohen Commission. Along with geology
lecturer Alan Voisey, also from the New England University College, Belshaw
launched a regional councils’ movement.
As it became clear
that the Sydney Government would never give real powers to the proposed
regional councils, this movement turned into a revived New England New State
Movement. A somewhat bemused Belshaw found himself as secretary of a movement that
had gone in a different direction from that planned. Disillusioned with the
idea of regional councils as a vehicle for decentralisation, Belshaw now turned
to the idea of selective decentralisation, something that would later be picked
up at the Australian National University and become the central point of the
Whitlam Government’s growth centres strategy.
The revived new
state movement re-adopted the name New England and also accepted the Nicholas
boundaries, including Newcastle. It had also learned from the past. It knew that
with fluctuating popular support, you must have staff to maintain pressure over
time. This was done.
Over the 1950s,
campaigning was maintained even though the end point still seemed far away. In
1961 a new campaign, Operation Seventh State, was launched culminating in a
decision by the newly elected New South Wales Askin Liberal/Country Party Government
to grant a plebiscite based on the Nicholas boundaries. The movement was now in
the position that it had been in just over twenty years before.
The 1967
plebiscite campaign was a difficult one. The Labor Party was strongly opposed,
the Liberal Party officially neutral, while only the Country Party was strongly
in support. There was support in Newcastle and the coal fields, but polling
showed that people were reluctant to go against Labor Party opposition. Asked
if Newcastle should be included if there were a New England new state, a
majority said yes. Rephrasing the question to say that Labor opposed
separation, are you in favour, the yes vote dropped to 32 per cent.
In the end, the
plebiscite was lost 53 per cent to 47 per cent. Newcastle and the coal fields
voted solidly no, as did the dairy farming areas of the Hunter and Manning
Valleys who were fearful of losing their preferential access to the Sydney milk
market. These no votes just offset the high yes vote elsewhere in New England.
There was bitter
disappointment. It had been a long and expensive campaign. The movement redrew
the boundaries to exclude the Hunter and decided to run new state candidates at
the next state election. Many Country Party new state supporters saw this as a
betrayal. In the end, the movement collapsed, exhausted, amidst recriminations.
In the years since
the 1967 plebiscite, the ideal of New England or the North has declined, lost
in the turbulence of continuing social, economic, political and administrative
change. And yet, and as we shall see, despite the constant change the basic
identity survives, if sometimes like the shadows of the past upon paddocks
revealed only by modern archaeological techniques.