AWA: Academic Writing at Auckland

It is a peculiarity that in a country ranked as one of the 20 most urbanised in the world, the archetypal Australian is considered to be a ‘Bushman’.[1]  The culture, iconography and values of the Bush have shaped both local and international perceptions of Australia’s national identity to the extent that they appear entrenched in the national psyche.  By tracing the historical development of the ‘Australian Bush’ Legend however, it becomes clear how misleading this notion is. Rather than Bushmen themselves, it was the urban writers of the nineteenth century who initiated the idealisation of outback Australia and the values associated with rural life. Responsibility cannot be placed solely with this group however. Once its roots were established, the Australian Bush Legend was later adopted as indicative of a broader national identity by historians who, through poor historical method, accentuated the myth and contributed to its broad acceptance. It is only in relatively recent times that revisionist historians have pointed out why the urban intelligentsia did not reflect the views of all Australians and should not have been charged with the task of determining an enduring, universal set of national values. While this conclusion indicates that a reconsideration of what it means to be an Australian in 2011 is necessary, to do so would be to mistake the role a national identity serves within a country. While the Bush Legend is limited in scope and accuracy, so are all national myths. Given the unifying role they play, the substance of its imagery is ultimately of secondary importance to whether the identity is representative of ‘real Australia’.

Russel Ward’s magnus opus, The Australian Legend, remains the classic account of the creation and development of ‘the Australian mystique’. He argues that a specifically Australian outlook grew up ‘first and most clearly among the bush workers of the Australian pastoral industry’[2] Ward lists the values of egalitarianism, ‘mateship’, a disregard for authority, pragmatism and a corresponding anti-intellectualism as being foundational and explains how they were shaped by the country’s convict beginnings as well as a harsh geographic climate.[3] Once communication and transport barriers were overcome, these values slowly spread to the entire population by a process of ‘apotheosis’ - ‘working upwards from the lowest strata of society and outwards from the interior’.[4] As evidence to support his conclusions, Ward relies heavily on the literature of late-nineteenth century writers to ‘help illustrate the pastoral workers ethos’.[5] In Clancy of the Overflow, celebrated poet Banjo Patterson glorifies the life of a drover. The narrator is filled with ‘wild erratic fancy visions’ as he basks in beautiful scenery.[6] By contrast, he says of townsfolk that they ‘have no time to grow, they have no time to waste’, subtly suggesting that the stresses of city life are futile compared to a rural life full of joy and simple pleasures.[7] ‘Over the Ranges and into the West’ by Henry Lawson evokes a similar longing for the bush – “we’ll ride and we’ll ride from the city afar, To the plains where the cattle and sheep stations are’.[8]  While acknowledging that modern bushmen ‘drive to work in wireless-equipped motor-cars’, Ward maintains that the Bush Legend remains at the core of Australia’s identity and can be used to explain familiar features of Australian culture which conform to this image.[9]

While the Bush Legend thesis was once widely accepted by academics and laymen alike, revisionist historians in recent decades have questioned Ward’s underlying assumption that it is possible to extrapolate the views of literary figures as being indicative of the views held by ‘everyday’ Australians. Through examining the lives of late-nineteenth century writers and the context in which they wrote, it becomes clear that the values referred to by Ward as foundational were not created in the Bush, but rather were a ‘projection onto the outback of values revered by an alienated urban intelligentsia.’[10] Graeme Davison writes heavily on this subject, asserting that it is poor historical practice to accept the views of such a small segment of the population as representing the ‘the conscience collective’.[11] His argument is collaborated by Sean Glynn, who compares Ward’s method to writing a history of 1960s based solely on the Beetles’ songs.[12] Although there is no doubt that literature can be a useful primary source, it is prone to bias and exaggeration and should not be relied upon heavily – a basic fact which appears to be ignored by Ward.

In analysing the work of late-nineteenth century writers, consideration must be made to both their radical tendencies and the economic environment in which they wrote. Davison argues that most writers were ‘lone, impressionable, ambitious young men’ frustrated by their lowly status and meagre incomes yet desperate to have society adopt their contrarian policies and bohemian lifestyle.[13] Although very few writers had ever experienced the outback, they appreciated the unorthodox, anti-establishment values it appeared to represent, hence their desire to romanticize a rural lifestyle.[14] It is not possible however to assume that all Australians held this outlook. Although journalists are often charged with voicing the attitudes of society, in this case the views of writers examined by Ward cannot be said to represent a consensus. Throughout Australia, the 1890s were largely defined by economic depression, drought and unemployment - a fact which is reflected in the work of Bernard O’Dowd.[15]  In The Bush, he writes of ‘old sin in full malignant flower’ - a reference to the growing similarity between Sydney and the poverty and overpopulation observable in London.[16] It was in this environment, one of crisis, that the Bush first came to take on special meaning for Australians. With its ‘sunlit landscape of faded blue hills, cloudless skies and noble gum trees,’ the Bush seemed alluring – a source of relief from Australians’ lives of suffering.[17]  Glynn makes a connection between this urban escapism and an emerging nationalism, theorising that Australians combined their disillusionment by the notion of urban progress with their search for distinction from England.[18] While Glynn’s argument may be plausible, historians must refer to evidence provided not only by writers but by other groups of Australians when attempting to gauge the consensus of the time, especially when dealing with such abstract issues as national identity. It also cannot be assumed that this view remained as the status quo in the proceeding decade, but rather, at best, a snapshot of a particularly deprived period of time. Whatever the case, available evidence suggests that it was the urban intelligentsia who made the important initial link between the Bush and Australian nationalism, and thus they can be considered responsible for the Bush Legend’s creation to a significant extent.

Biologist Richard Dawkin’s explains how cultural ideas, symbols and practices, also known as ‘memes’, behave in a similar way to genes.[19] Once created, a meme is transmitted from human to human, mutating only very slowly over time.[20]  Such an analogy is useful in explaining how the Bush Legend developed from being a convenient myth which represented the discontent of a small group of contrarians during a tumultuous time period, to a widely recognised explanation of Australia’s national identity.  Following the bravery exhibited by Australian soldiers in Gallipoli during World War One, there was a resurgent attempt to identify the Australian ethos – this time by historians rather than literary figures.[21] Rather than creating a new explanation, they found in politically radical publications such as The Bulletin pre-existing, easily accessible, distinctive answers. While the temptation that must have existed on the part of historians to use these sources is obvious, reliance upon them as a foundation for generalisations constitutes poor historical practice. At its peak in 1900, The Bulletin, was circulated to 80,000 Australians – a significant number but by no means enough to influence the entire population.[22] Kingston notes that while numerous historians have studied The Bulletin, the content of less radical journals such as The Australian were considered ‘too eclectic or urbane’ to warrant inclusion in the creation of the Australian Legend.[23] With this in mind, Richard White refers to these historians as ‘the many other hands’ who were responsible for the continued popularisation of the Australian Legend.[24] It is symptomatic of the power held by historians that once the Bush Legend could be justified by scholarly authority it became understood as an authoritative historical account.[25] Just like a gene, the Bush Legend’s form quickly became so ingrained in the public’s imagination that attempts by revisionists to change it have been slow to take effect.

The findings of revisionist historians present a strong argument in favour of a reconsideration of the Australian Bush Legend. Richard Waterhouse comments that despite being one of the most multicultural countries in the world, ethnic diversity is not featured. Likewise, women are not represented by the image of the Bushman. On the contrary, the Bushman’s values are ‘explicitly defined in opposition to a feminine domesticity’.[26] Grimshaw traces these ‘feminine’ values back to the writers of the nineteenth century initially responsible for the creation of the Bush Legend, asserting that women represented conservatism and respectability ‘which the young bohemians condemned.’[27] Aborigines too were excluded from the concept of Australian nationalism. Jeannie Gunn’s autobiography, We of the Never Never, a recommended school text until the 1960s, portrayed aborigines as loveable and entertaining, ‘but outside the real story of Australia – the romance of pioneering.’[28]  Thus despite the contribution of various groups to the development of Australia’s history, the Bush Legend is characterized by a single human image which reflects a narrow strand of white, rural men. Such an image is undeniably incomprehensive and out of touch with any contemporary understanding of egalitarianism.

The influence of the Bush Legend still exists in subtle forms today. Banjo Patterson’s image appears on the $10 note – an honour reserved for those significant in the formation of a nation’s identity, while fictional film character Crocodile Dundee reinforces the view that only Bushmen are ‘real’ Australians. Even politicians have attempted to adhere to this image. After being criticised as overly intellectual, Former Australian Prime Minister Kevin Rudd notoriously began using ‘ocker soundbites’ such as ‘fair dinkum’ during interviews.[29]  In light of the findings of revisionist historians, these modern manifestations of the Bush Legend appear contrived to the point of being comical. This idea is recognised by Benedict Anderson, a prominent theorist on the subject of nationalism, who describes a nation as an ‘imagined community’.[30] Even though a nation’s citizens do not interact on a face-to-face basis, they are ‘imagined’ to have similar traits and ways of defining collective identity.[31] It is in this way that national symbols come to attain emotional legitimacy. Thus while the Bush Legend is of little significance to the daily lives of most Australians, it has formed an essential part of how Australians define themselves collectively. When Anderson’s theory is applied to other countries, it is striking to find that the same urban-rural binary is a key component of other heavily urbanised ‘imagined communities’ and features widely in their popular culture. As a response to the rapidly increasing urbanisation in the early twentieth century New Zealand, and following concerns of ‘urban corruption and decay’ raised by several newspapers, educationalist James Shelley was commissioned to investigate ways of ensuring New Zealanders maintained their ‘hardy pioneering spirit’.[32] He advocated measures such as compulsory outdoor education and rugby to ‘toughen young men’, thereby mitigating the effects of urban living.[33] In the twenty-first century this belief is observable in popular culture - Fred Dagg and the Speight’s ‘Southern Man’ effectively perform the same function as Crocodile Dundee in that they personify the ‘national ethos’. Despite being over a hundred years outdated, a similar ‘frontier settler image still arouses nationalist sentiment in the United States. A powerful factor in the election of George W. Bush as President in 2000 was his ability to maintain a ‘cowboy’ persona despite his affluent upbringing and Ivy League education, as it implied an association with ‘heartland’ American voters.[34] Even in Ancient Rome, authors such are Virgil romanticized rustic life - ‘The sturdy yeoman, rather than unstable urban rabble, had made Rome great’.[35] As has been the case throughout the world, Australia’s distinctive landscape served as a way by which Australians could distinguish themselves from Britain and forge their own identity. All national identities are ‘imagined’ to some degree. While this is obvious, they remain a source of great pride and emotional attachment.

An easily identifiable national identity is central to the process of unifying citizens of diverse cultural, economic and geographic backgrounds. Anderson stresses that in an ‘imagined community,’ every citizen is regarded as a member of the fraternity regardless of class divisions.[36] It is this that makes national identity such a powerful ‘cultural artefact’.[37] In all secular Western countries, and especially so in an increasingly individualistic and frantic world, Nationalism satisfies basic human needs once met by religion – ‘a sense of continuity, belonging, identity, comfort, history and purpose.’[38] While various historians correctly recognise that the image of the Bushman is simplistic and exclusive of many groups of Australians, the substance of the identity is of little real importance. Consequentially, it does not follow as an implication of inaccuracy that a national identity should be disregarded.

It is a fundamental role of writers, be they poets, journalists or historians, to make readers aware of important events and to assist in the interpretation of them. It is therefore inevitable that writers have a disproportionate influence over the public discourse, both in terms of what is read and how it is comprehended. This idea is clearly demonstrated by examining the development of the Australian national identity, as it was to a large extent the urban writers of the late-nineteenth century who were responsible for presenting the Bush Legend as a consensus, rather than a representation of their own minority outlook. Historians however can be seen as responsible insofar as they helped entrench the myth as common knowledge by failing to recognise the bias and context of literary figures’ work. Although I can recognise the limitations of the ‘Bushman’ as a general representation of Australian identity, I do not believe as an implication that it should be rejected. In the twenty-first century, the Bush Legend has become a component of Australian nationalism, and as such, it is a source of fraternity rather than division. While the Australian Bush may not strictly represent fact, a simple, alluring myth often serves its purpose better than a complex reality. As Kingston so aptly puts it: ‘an imagined past was better than none at all’.[39]

Word Count: 2747

[1] Central Intelligence Agency, ‘The World Factbook: Australia’, 25^th April 2011. Accessed 28^th April 2011 from https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world factbook/geos/as.html.

[2] Russel Ward, The Australian Legend, Sydney, 1958, p.3.

[3] Richard Waterhouse, ‘Cultural transmissions’, in Hsu-Ming Teo and  Richard White, eds, Cultural History in Australia, Sydney, 2003, pp.14-17.

[4] Ward, p.13.

[5] ibid., p.2.

[6] A.B. Patterson, ‘Clancy of the Overflow’, in The Collected Verse of A.B. Patterson, London, 1976, p.10.

[7] ibid., p.11.

[8] John Carroll, ed., Intruders in the bush: the Australian quest for identity, Melbourne, 1982, p.182.

[9] Ward., p.13.

[10] Graeme Davison, ‘Sydney and the Bush: an Urban Context for the Australian Legend’, Historical Studies, 18, 1978, p.208.

[11] ibid., p.192.

[12] Sean Glynn, Urbanisation in Australia History: 1788 – 1900, Melbourne, 1970, p.174.

[13] Davison, p.192.

[14] ibid., p.196.

[15] Richard White, Inventing Australia: Images and Identity 1688-1980, Sydney, 1981, p.85.

[16] Carroll, p.196.

[17] White, p.85.

[18] Glynn, pp.174-180.

[19] Richard Dawkins, The Selfish Gene, New York City, 1976, pp.12-15.

[20] ibid.

[21] White, p.124.

[22] Francis Clarke, The history of Australia, Westport, 2002, p.96.

[23] Beverley Kingston, The Oxford History of Australia Volume 3, 1860-1900:  Glad Confident Morning, Melbourne, 1988, p.216.

[24] White, p.122.

[25] ibid.

[26] Marilyn Lake, ‘Introduction’, in Patricia Grimshaw et al, eds, Creating a Nation, Ringwood, p.2.

[27] Patricia Grimshaw, ‘Gendered Settlements’, in Patricia Grimshaw , eds, Creating a Nation, Ringwood, 1994, p. 281.

[28] Marilyn Lake, ‘The State as Father’, in Patricia Grimshaw, Ann McGrath and Marian Quartly, eds, Creating a Nation, Ringwood, 1994, pp. 279-280.

[29] ABC News, ‘Rudd says ocker sound bites fair dinkum’, 11^th June 2009. Accessed 25^th April from http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2009/06/11/2595358.htm.

[30] Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, London, 1991, pp.5-6.

[31] ibid., p.6.

[32] Brian Pink, ‘New Zealand: An Urban/Rural Profile’, 2002. Accessed 28^th April 2011 from http://www.stats.govt.nz/browse_for_stats/people_and_communities/geographic-areas/urban rural-profile.aspx, p.7

[33] ibid.

[34] Nadine Dolby, ‘Encountering an American Self: Study Abroad and National Identity’, Comparative Education Review, 48, 2, 2004, pp.166-167.

[35] David Frye, ‘Aristocratic Responses to Late Roman Urban Change: The Examples of Ausonius and Sidonius in Gaul’, The Classical World, 96, 2, 2003, p.187.

[36] Anderson, p.7

[37] ibid, p.4.

[38] Anthony Hubbard, ‘Nationalism a force for progress’, Sunday Star-Times, 24^th April 2011. Accessed 25th April 2011 from http://www.stuff.co.nz/sunday-star times/opinion/4921408/Nationalism-a-force-for-progress.

[39] Kingston, p.218.