It has been contended by very respectable authorities that there should be representation of Australia at Westminster. And it has been contended, just as ably, that there should be preferential trade. Both contentions can be strongly supported on a logical basis. It is unreasonable to expect educated and civilised people to submit to interference from bodies whom they have no share in calling into existence. It is unreasonable—and yet the submission takes place. No doubt there are advantages by way of compensation. But the broad, and self-evident, and theoretically objectionable circumstance is that the people who have left England to build up Greater Britain agree to be governed without representation on their part by the people who have stayed at home. Then, again, the fact has been rediscovered that competing tariffs make the commercial relationships of the United Kingdom and Australia increasingly difficult, and tend to drive the two countries further apart. The brilliant idea has occurred to one statesman that it is possible to unite Britain and Greater Britain more closely together, and to keep the foreign gentleman at a more respectful distance, by the simple process of manipulating the customs duties. From one point of view—in fact, from many points of view—he is quite correct. Preferential trade implies a bond of mutual self-interest. And there is no reasoner in the world who would not say unhesitatingly that nations and individuals are more likely to hang together when there exists a tie of self-interest between them.
Every man or woman possessed of rudimentary intelligence would say this. But he or she would almost certainly be in error in applying the abstract principle to the union between England and Australia. Let it be said again that the bond is not one that has grown strong by reason of political adjustments, or of commercial necessities. Its virtue consists in the fact that it has not been manufactured in the mills of diplomacy. The more it is tampered with, the weaker it becomes. It is made of impalpable materials—of such materials as memory, sentiment, self-abnegation, heredity, pride. To attempt to trim it in one place or to buttress it in another is to attempt to alter its character, and thus bring about its decay. The Imperialist, if he is a genuine Imperialist, requires only to be let alone. He should not be irritated and thwarted, but he does not need to be artificially fed and pampered. Whether he will last for many more generations is an open question. But for the present he must be considered as a survival of a splendid age—the age of unreason and of chivalry and of people wisely unwise.
XIV
THE LITTLE AUSTRALIAN
Masters of the Seven Seas,
Oh, love and understand!
The little Australian, despite his name, is not a product of the soil. He is manufactured abroad. In the main, he is the outcome of English criticism and of English public opinion. He is the result of influences at work outside Australia. Very often he is born with an Imperialistic, or it may be a jingoistic, temperament. But circumstances tend to drive him in upon himself; to dwarf his incipient ideas of Imperial greatness and of pan-Britannic confederation; to limit his vision and his sympathies to the country in which he lives; to substitute for his racial affinities a narrower feeling of kinship and a more local point of view.
“Forgive them,” exclaimed the first Christian martyr, “lay not this sin to their charge.” The tragedy of Stephen, though terrible and heart-breaking, was yet a tragedy in purple. The victim was, and is, a sublime figure. It is comparatively easy to ask forgiveness for those who, in putting a period to your material existence, lift you at once to a pinnacle of undying fame. But it is not easy to forgive a series of acts, or even an attitude of mind, that is a continual source of belittlement, annoyance, and exasperation. This task is difficult, whether for the nation or for the individual. It may be unwillingly undertaken for a while, but in the long run it is usually abandoned.
There is much in England’s attitude to Australia that is calculated either to put a strain on sympathy, or to sow the seeds of active discontent. This attitude cannot be brought within the four corners of one generalisation. And anything said about it in a comprehensive way must be subject to numerous exceptions. It is necessary to be fair to the people in England who know Australia personally; to those who, without knowing it personally, have taken the trouble to learn about it; and to those rare souls who appear to have an instinctive, undefinable sympathy with all efforts and achievements of their countrymen either at home or beyond the seas. Yet the fact remains, after all the circumstances have been considered, and after the last exception has been allowed for, that the Englishman’s conscious or unconscious bearing towards the man who lives outside of England is the best reason and excuse for the growth of the product that has come to be dubbed “little Australian.”
In the political relationships of the two countries a certain amount of aloofness, a certain spirit of alienation, has always been noticeable. It is about half a century, or more, since a British Prime Minister was in the habit of making allusions to “these wretched Colonies.” This member of the privileged classes was candid enough to think aloud. Other statesmen have thought as much, but have said less. The House of Commons represents Great Britain and misrepresents Ireland. It has no wish to add to its aims of representation and misrepresentation the maladministration of the affairs of Australia. It does not desire closer union with that country. Colonial politicians are not wanted at Westminster. Downing Street does not love them, although it tolerates them, and on great occasions invites them to call. It sends them an occasional Governor-General, and a more frequent State Governor. It sometimes leaves the impression that the choice has been hastily made, and that the people responsible regarded the matter as of no great importance. Such an opinion, it may be said in passing, is the greatest mistake possible. An era of perfect Vice-regal representatives might mean an era of universal Imperialism. Owing to the large amount of indifference that prevails in British political circles, it has come about that a feeling of strangeness has been accentuated. Even the fervid Imperialism of a Chamberlain, if it abide alone, will not alter the trend of events.