Nation-building in the antipodes, 1901 & 2001
Throughout the past year Australians have been marking the centenary of their nation-state. The program of commemorative events has included a re-enactment of the proclamation of the Commonwealth in Sydney on the first of January, and a return of the national parliament to the Exhibition Building in Melbourne where it first met in May 1901. These and other historical ceremonies have managed to skirt the sensitivities that were inflamed during the Bicentennial celebration of white settlement in 1988. Some of the associations evoked with the past have been far-fetched. Two Australian-rules football teams of ancient rivalry, which had played each other in 1901, competed on the Melbourne Cricket Ground this year for the Federation Cup. The best player was awarded the Deakin Medal, in honour of that champion of federation who had avoided any contact with a football while a schoolboy and retained a lifelong horror of his fellow Victorians' passion for the game.
It is in the nature of national anniversaries to remake the past for present purposes. The Centenary of Federation, however, has coincided with a concern for the condition of history in the country's schools and universities. The two most populous states of New South Wales and Victoria have recently reinstated Australian history as an essential element in the school curriculum and a national inquiry has produced a series of initiatives to revive the teaching of history. The National Council for the Centenary of Federation made this anxiety the centre-piece of its public awareness program. "What sort of a country", it asked, "does not know the name of its first prime minister?" There was survey evidence before the centenary to suggest that very few Australians could Sir Edmund Barton, though a gratifyingly larger minority could do so as the result of the Council's efforts.
They were helped in this by a fine new biography of Barton, written by Geoffrey Bolton and published with assistance from the Council so that every school received a copy. The same arrangement was made for John Hirst's new history of federation and a centenary history of the Federal Parliamentary Labor Party, which I edited with John Faulkner. Helen Irving complemented her cultural history of the Commonwealth Constitution with a reference work, the Centenary Companion to Australian Federation.
These and other works go some way to rescue the subject from the slough of despond in which it had long been mired. For after the self-congratulatory accounts left by federal fathers, few Australians celebrated the birth of the Commonwealth. Radical nationalists believed it to be insufficiently independent and too conciliatory of conservative localism. Advanced social democrats regarded it as little more than a customs union arranged so as to thwart the emergent labour movement. Feminists noted the exclusion of women from the process of federation; multiculturalists deplored the discriminatory immigration regime it brought about, while the specific exclusion of Indigenous Australians from the operation of key clauses in the Commonwealth Constitution caused increasing affront.1
While these disfiguring birthmarks are now more visible in the centennial accounts of federation, they do not cloud its kindly countenance. For the citizens of the Commonwealth, the forms of self-government it created proved both remarkably durable. Like an old coat, they have become familiar with usage, accommodating the changing shape of the wearer so that the threadbare cloth and strained seams are scarcely noticed. If Australians have low expectations of their politicians and political system, they have come to assume the amenities of citizenship.
What about New Zealand? For the Australian Bicentenary, Keith Sinclair edited a volume of essays on Tasman Relations, which was endorsed by the Bicentennial Authority as part of the celebrations.2 Keith Sinclair was never more pugnacious than in his dealings with Australians: his autobiography expresses a marked disrespect for those patricians of the Australian historical profession, Keith Hancock and Max Crawford. I got to know him during his regular visits to his sister and my colleague, Patricia Grimshaw, and it was at one of our first lunches that he informed me of his prowess as a boxer. Sinclair's contribution to the collection on Tasman Relations bore the uncompromising title, "Why New Zealanders are not Australians", and set out compelling reasons for New Zealand dropping out of the federal movement. In it he quoted Sir John Hall, a New Zealand delegate to the 1890 conference in Melbourne that began the process, who said that the 1200 miles of the Tasman Sea were 1200 arguments against New Zealand joining the federal Commonwealth.
Yet the colony of Western Australia was separated from the eastern seaboard by more than 1200 miles of the Southern Ocean and they did not prevent its belated entry into the federal union. All of the Australian colonies relied at this time on maritime transport for the intercolonial movement of goods and people; ships plied more quickly and more often between Sydney and Auckland than between Sydney and Perth.3
The movement for federation arose in the south-eastern corner of the continent, among the colonists of New South Wales and Victoria who constituted more than 70 per cent of the white population of Australia and nearly 60 per cent of the combined population of Australia and New Zealand. Their pastoralists and miners had expanded into the rest of the country; their banks and merchant houses operated across the south-west Pacific; their manufacturers sought wider markets; their ideas circulated in books, newspapers and periodicals; and their imagination extended to ideas of national destiny. Their shared ambitions stimulated the federal movement while their fierce rivalry delayed its achievement. After the premier of New South Wales called in 1889 for a federal convention and the premier of Victoria suggested a preliminary conference, it was therefore to be expected that representatives of all seven colonies of Australia and New Zealand should assemble in Melbourne in 1890.
Tasmania and South Australia could scarcely stay out of a compact between their dominant neighbours. In the course of the debate over the composition of the federal legislature, a New South Wales barrister objected to the equal representation in the Senate of Tasmania and hastened to assure his audience he it bore no hostility. "On the contrary, I'm very fond of Tasmania. I spent my last vacation there and liked it so much that I made up my mind that, if I had a good year at the Bar, I'd buy the island."4
The outlying colonies of Queensland and Western Australia, on the other hand, were wary of absorption. They attended the first Federal Convention in 1891 and Western Australia persisted at the second Convention in 1897-8 to press its objections before pulling out of the subsequent referendum. Yet when it became clear that the other four Australian colonies were committed to form a Commonwealth, the two laggards decided they must join it.
New Zealand's response discloses some similarities. It was present at the preliminary Melbourne conference in 1890 and present again at the first Convention in Sydney in 1891. That gathering was officially the National Australasian Convention, and the same designation was retained by the Australasian Federal League, formed in 1893 to conduct the popular campaign. The term now seems an artificial construct, though it originated in the eighteenth century and was in common use at this time. Brookes and Wilding won the Davis Cup for Australasia in 1907 and held it until 1912; the two countries competed Australasia in the Olympic Games of 1908 and 1912. A number of trade unions styled themselves as Australasian, in keeping with the linked character of the labour market and the significant movements across the Tasman. Churches and professional associations maintained similar connections. Several of the school textbooks produced by publishers operating on both sides of the Tasman were called histories of Australasia. Pember Reeves preferred the title State Experiments in Australia and New Zealand for his 1902 survey, which emphasised the common impulses of their social reforms.
Already, however, the term Australasian had unwelcome connotations. At the request of W.R. Russell, the principal resolution of the Melbourne conference in 1890 was amended to read that the best interest of the Australian colonies would be served by their union.5 New Zealand sent just three delegates to the 1891 Convention and while they participated fully in the proceedings, they were forbidden by resolution of their parliament from committing the colony to the scheme devised there.6 Like Queensland, New Zealand took no part in the second Convention, but like Western Australia, it responded to the success of the federal referenda in 1899 with renewed interest. The prospect of a common market (for under the draft constitution of the Commonwealth, all trade and commerce between its constituent states was to be absolutely free while customs duties were to be its chief source of revenue) threatened those who stayed out with the loss of access to the largest proximate market. Hence the revival of the federal cause in New Zealand, and the investigation of the royal commission into the implications of the arrangement.
Seddon did not want to join the Commonwealth but he did want trading rights and he requested access to its High Court and defence arrangements, as well as the right to join later. Joseph Chamberlain, the British colonial secretary, pressed these requests (along with those of Western Australia) on the Australian delegates when they went to London in 1900 to secure the passage of their constitution. Two of the five federating colonies favoured acceptance of them, three resisted. The Western Australians then came in, the New Zealanders stayed out, though section 6 of the Constitution names New Zealand as a possible state of the Commonwealth.
Why? For Keith Sinclair, the outcome scarcely requires explanation: "There was at no time any chance that New Zealand would federate."7 Let me therefore turn the question around and ask why not? Sinclair first of all uses the submissions to the royal commission to suggest that those New Zealanders with an economic stake in federation - notably farmers and other exporters - were hopelessly outnumbered by those who stood to lose from free trade. (He also cites an early article by Miles Fairburn arguing that New Zealand's trade links with the Australian colonies were weaker than those that bound them to each other - though John Hirst has observed that this was in fact not so.8) Sinclair's treatment of the non-economic aspects is susceptible to similar comparisons. He points to the absence of a popular movement for federation - though that came late in Western Australia. He observes that arguments for unified defence arrangements and a common voice on regional issues were balanced by a reluctance to give up autonomy or accept the taint of convict stock - but those attitudes applied equally to the Wakefieldian province of South Australia, while Victoria baited its rival by referring to it as Convictoria. By far the most striking aspect of Sinclair's explanation is the role of nascent nationalism, the feeling that a distinct people were destined to become a separate nation. Hence the title of his essay, "Why New Zealanders are not Australians", and of his book on the history of the New Zealand national identity, A Destiny Apart.9
Sinclair was writing in the 1980s across the grain of the Australian literature on federation. For a time the participants had held the ring with celebratory accounts of their achievement. That "cheerful romance" had long since yielded to critics who chafed at the restrictions the federal system imposed on an expansive social democracy. For Fin Crisp the federal fathers were conservative men of property bent on expanding its sphere of operation while at the same time safeguarding their prerogatives from an emergent labour movement. For R.S. Parker the popular endorsement of their scheme was determined not by feelings of patriotic ardour but calculations of personal advantage. For Manning Clark, federation was a lost opportunity to redeem the tribulations of the 1890s - depression, class discord and drought - in independent nationhood. The chapter titles of the fifth volume of his History of Australia (1981) suggest the failure: "A Time of Tumult"; "Federation or Revolution?", "The Tablet of the Law", "Embourgeoisement", "The 'Cooking' of Mr Deakin".10
The histories of federation written for the centenary operate in a different register. Helen Irving argues in her cultural history of the Australian constitution that it was the product of a utopian moment in which the national imagination was finally realised.11 John Hirst entitles his book The Sentimental Nation. He argues that the Australian people who agreed on Federation by popular referenda needed strong reasons to join their separate and self-governing colonies into a Commonwealth. Mere self-interest in national arrangements was not enough, for many of those arrangements already existed. Railways linked the eastern colonies; there was a national system of post and electronic communication; they had co-operative defence arrangements; they already controlled immigation. Admittedly they were divided by trade barriers but those could have been removed by a customs union. Instead they chose nationhood. They did so, he suggests, in the belief that a Commonwealth was divinely ordained. He draws on the fervent imagery of poets and politicians to show the compelling emotional force of the national project. He also treats New Zealand as the exception that proves the rule. Because federation was considered there primarily as a business arrangement, because the royal commissioners were so puzzled by the sentimental appeal of a national union, it fell flat.12
It turns out that Federation was concerned above all with giving expression to national sentiment. The states of mind that led the Australian colonists to form their federal Commonwealth arose from a powerful feeling of attachment that could not be denied. Historians of Australian nationalism invoke the painters of the Heidelberg school who embraced the bush landscape, the decorative artists who took up local flora and fauna as national motifs, the contributors to the Bulletin who explored demotic forms.13
"What's Australia?" Henry Lawson, the greatest of the Bulletin writers, sets one of his short stories of the 1890s in the South Island of New Zealand. The coach from Blenheim to Christchurch is descending from Taylor's Pass across a plain of tussock grass. A stout man with a grey beard remarks on the richness of the country, so unlike his native Australia, which he describes as a "a mongrel desert, except some bits round the coast". He has abandoned Australia for California and vowed never to return. When his companions suggest he will surely revisit his homeland, he is adamant. "What's Australia?" he asks.
A big, thirsty, hungry wilderness, with one or two cities for the convenience of foreign speculators, and a few collection of humpies, called towns - also for the convenience of foreign speculators; and populated mostly by mongrel sheep, and partly by fools who live like European slaves in the towns, and like dingoes in the bush - who drivel about "democracy", and yet haven't any more spunk than to graft for a few Cockney dudes that razzle-dazzle most of the time in Paris.
One of the other travellers quotes Robert Burns to suggest a man ought to stick up for his own country. The Australian condemns such patriotism as a false, ignorant and bellicose sentiment.
"Patriotism!" he exclaimed scornfully. "My country!" The darned fools; the country never belonged to them but to the speculators, the absentees, the land-boomers, swindlers, gangs of thieves - the men the patriotic fools starve and fights for - the masters.
Just then the coach passes a plantation of trees. It is a warm morning after rain and the exile is first to detect the distinctive tang of eucalyptus.
"Blanky (sniff) blanky old Australian gums!" Exclaimed the ex-Australian, with strange enthusiasm
An Englishman fails to notice the effect the trees are working on the greybeard and takes up the conversation:
"Well, for my part", said a tourist in the coach, presently in a condescending tone, "I can't see much in Australia. The bally colonies are -"
He is angrily rebuked by the original complainant, who forthwith announces his intention to return to his native land.14
This short sketch, entitled "His Country-After All", makes use of some convenient stock devices. It uses the triangular relationship of Australia, New Zealand and England to preserve the amity of the settler societies. It invokes the radical nationalist version of an Arcadian order thwarted by foreign investors. There are also some historical reference points. Its emphasis on the aridity of Australia registers the effects of a prolonged drought that culminated by the late 1890s in massive stock losses. It alludes to the recent triumph of the pastoralists in the strikes and lockouts of the early 1890s, the economic depression and widespread unemployment following the collapse of the land boom; and with those calamities it registers the abject failure of the millenarian schemes so recently advanced by Australian radicals. Lawson himself had been one of them. He had proclaimed the imminence of national liberation at the beginning of the decade in a "Song of the Republic":
Sons of the South, make choice between (Sons of the South, choose true) The Land of Morn and the Land of E'en, The Old Dead Tree and the Young Tree Green, The Land that belongs to the Lord and the Queen, And the land that belongs to you.
The story set on the Canterbury plain also illustrates the masculine character of this radical nationalism and its characteristic emotional reticence. When the hardbitten traveller announces at the end he will return to Australia, his explanation is that "There's an old mate of mine in business in Sydney, and I'd like to have a yarn with him". (In similar vein, a tee-shirt presently proclaims that "I am moderately fond of Australia".) Lawson's travellers are all men. Indeed, the only feminine reference comes when the Australian exile defends his country from the condescending Englishman: "What do you Britishers know about Australia? She's as good as England, anyway."
A national settlement? The federation of the Australian colonies was accomplished by men seized by a different kind of nationalism. They were urban professionals for whom Australian nationhood was entirely consistent with imperial loyalty. They were liberals for whom the nation was a force for progress and harmony. The dissident Labor Party was singularly unsuccessful in the 1897 elections for the Federal Convention; there was just one trade unionist among the delegates and he was a member of the Victorian liberal team. There were no women present, and although Catherine Helen Spence stood in South Australia she received no support from the liberals who had introduced the female franchise there three years earlier.
Federation succeeded because it was able to mobilise popular support for the liberal nationalist project and the national reconstruction it would make possible. With the end of an era of uninterrupted growth - between 1891 and 1895 the economy shrank - the belief in progress faltered. With the failure of the existing institutions to to maintain harmony, the liberal consensus fractured. An optimism grounded in common interests and shared values yielded to disillusionment and conflict. Hardship exacerbated the class antagonisms that had brought employers and workers into violent conflict. It impeded family formation, placed great strains on the role of the male breadwinner and created fears of social and moral degeneracy.
Socialism and feminism articulated these discontents into schemes of regeneration based on separate and distinctive identities. Nationalism provided an alternative creed that would bind up the divisions. The twentieth century would confirm it as the most powerfully constructive and destructive force in world history.
Nationalism succeeded in Australia at the beginning of the twentieth century because it absorbed its rivals. The labour movement was drawn into the Commonwealth through the early success of the Labor Party, which exercised an immediate influence on the legislative program of the Australian nation-state and by 1910 was governing in its own right. By 1912 it adopted the title of the Australian Labor Party, that national designation distinguishing it from nearly all its international counterparts. The feminist movement was accommodated by the extension of the franchise to women in 1902 and then a series of measures that gave effect to maternalist citizenship. Inequalities of class and gender did not disappear but rather were contained in the institutional arrangements of the new Commonwealth.
Some of these arrangements would be familiar to New Zealanders since both countries were operating within similar constraints. Both relied on similar export markets for their primary industries and both were dependent for growth upon British investment and British immigrants. Both raised loans for public works, state enterprises and development projects, both protected the manufacturing industries which employed the unionised workforce. Both replaced collective bargaining with compulsory industrial arbitration and set a floor under the labour market with binding industrial awards. Both developed a mix of state and voluntary agencies to discourage vice, protect women and ensure the welfare of children. The progressivist concern for social efficiency found application in town planning and national parks, community hygiene and public health, kindergartens and schools.
The liberal government in New Zealand anticipated much of the apparatus of the social laboratory in the Antipodes, and in any case the Australian federal system left the states with responsibility for most areas of social policy. This helps to explain the particular importance in Australia of the Harvester judgement of 1907 when the president of the Commonwealth Arbitration Court laid down a wage sufficient to maintain a family as a first charge on industry. Frank Castles sees this as the foundation of the "wage-earners' welfare state" which was enshrined in the system of state protection and on which all other welfare arrangements were based. There was an old-age pension for those too old to work, but no unemployment benefit, only a residual health system and meagre provision of public housing - on the grounds that the basic wage should provide for these needs. Feminist historians have noted that the "wage-earners' welfare state" should properly be called the male breadwinner's cartel since it formalised wage inequality and excluded women from competing for men's jobs. The arrangement drew particular force from a state of mind that regarded women as the mothers of the nation, as the introduction of a maternity benefit in 1912 recognised.
Other measures adopted by the new Commonwealth speak to the fearful state of mind of a colonial settler society as it embarked on nationhood. Among the first acts of the first parliament was a law to exclude non-European settlers. Strictly the Immigration Restriction Act did not create the White Australia Policy, for that had been secured already by the colonies. Nor was the race issue of major significance during the federal movement. White Australia was not the object of federation but rather an essential condition of the idealised nation the Commonwealth was meant to embody. Hence Alfred Deakin's insistence that
The unity of Australia is nothing, if that does not imply a united race. A united race means not only that its members can intermix, intermarry and associate without degradation on either side, but implies one inspired by the same ideas, an aspiration towards the same ideals, of a people possessing the same general cast of character, tone of thought ...15 All of the Anglophone settler societies of the Pacific basin moved during the early twentieth century to restrict non-European immigration. Australia was distinctive, however, in its declaration of racial purity as a national ideal. Even now, in a country that abandoned its White Australia Policy more than 30 years ago and prides itself on multiculturalism, a boatload of refugees can trigger a security crisis.
Above all, White Australia was a denial of the country's first people. They were absent from the ceremonies that marked the advent of the Commonwealth. They were eliminated from the art and literature that served the new national sentiment: while colonial landscape painters had frequently incorporated groups of natives to authenticate the natural wilderness, the Heidelberg school removed them to attach the white race its harsh and elemental patrimony. Aborigines were even deprived of their indigeneity by the members of the Australian Natives Association, who appropriated that term for locally born Europeans and campaigned vigorously for federation.
Aboriginal Australians were excluded from the ambit of central government (and removed from enumeration in the national census on which electoral representation was based). The same federal electoral act that enfranchised women disenfranchised the Indigenous people. The states, meanwhile, were strengthening their powers to confine Aboriginal communities on missions and settlements, while separating those deemed suitable for assimilation to expunge their traditional cultures. The contrast with New Zealand is marked and it is little wonder that some pakeha on this side of the Tasman recoiled from the inclusion of the Maori in such a federation.
These features of the national settlement have little place in the centennial commemoration of the Commonwealth for they have disturbing implications for the nostalgic view of national sentiment. White Australia was no mere epiphenomenon of federation; as Alfred Deakin insisted in 1903, it "is not a surface, but it is a reasoned policy which goes to the roots of national life, and by which the whole of our social, industrial and political organisation is governed".16
Unfinished business In the closing decades of the twentieth century Australia and New Zealand dismantled many of their social, industrial and political institutions. They opened up their economies, removed the protective devices, sold off public enterprises, abandoned industrial arbitration, deregulated the labour market, tolerated unemployment, reduced welfare provision. New Zealand went further since its political institutions presented fewer restrictions than the Australian federal system, and the celebrants of its neoliberal experiments exulted once more in the conceit that New Zealand was once more the laboratory of public policy. The most stringent critic of the recent experiments, Jane Kelsey, has remarked that the zealots "treated the country's colonial history and the contemporary reality of its social and political life as irrrelevant".17
That could not be said of Australia. As federal treasurer from 1983 to 1991, Paul Keating spearheaded the transformation of the Australian economy with a vitriolic contempt for the country's traditions. As prime minister from 1991 to 1996, with the assistance of his historical speechwriter, Don Watson, he employed a palette of bright and vivid historical colours to paint what he called his Big Picture. He told a story of a people who had triumphed over their tribulations and prejudices to embrace diversity and tolerance with an egalitarian generosity that would enable them to recognise the wrongs done to the Indigenous people, embrace affirmative action, adapt to the globalised economy and engage with their Asian neighbours.18
John Howard, his conservative successor, told a different story. So that Australians should feel relaxed and comfortable he abandoned the search for Reconciliation, celebrated family values, upheld the monarchy, trained mercenaries in the port of Dubai to break the maritime workers' union, criticised multiculturalism and turned away refugees. He drew on the phrase of another historian, Geoffrey Blainey, to lament the "endless and agonised navel-gazing", that he says has made Australian history "a basis for obsessive and consuming national guilt and shame". The assault on the so-called 'Black Armband' view of Australian history is still gathering force.
So too is the unfinished business of the Australian Commonwealth. As the result of the centenary program of the past twelve months more Australians know that Edmund Barton was the first prime minister. Some can even recognise him as the author of the catchphrase that registered New Zealand's absence: "a nation for a continent and a continent for a nation".19 The issues that press upon us one hundred years later arise from that claim of sovereignty over land and people. The state of mind on my side of the Tasman is divided, uncertain and fearful. It is a good time to be an historian.
Stuart Macintyre is Ernest Scott Professor of History at the University of Melbourne and a former member of the Evatt Foundation's Executive Committtee. This paper was originally presented to Victoria University of Wellington on 25 October 2001. Illustrations from Phil Somerville, I am moderately fond of Australia, Hardie Grant (Melbourne, 2001).
Notes 1. Stuart Macintyre, "The Fortunes of Federation", in David Headon and John Williams (eds), Makers of Miracles: The Cast of the Federation Story, Carlton South, Vic.: Melbourne University Press, 2000, pp. 3-17. 2. Keith Sinclair (ed.), Tasman Relations: New Zealand and Australia 1788-1988, Auckland: Auckland University Press, 1987. 3. John Hirst, The Sentimental Nation: The Making of the Australian Commonwealth, Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 2000, p. 221. 4. A.B. Piddington, Worshipful Masters, Sydney: Angus and Robertson, 1929, p. 204. 5. John Quick and Robert Randolph Garran, The Annotated Constitution of the Australian Commonwealth, Sydney: Angus and Robertson, 1901, p. 120. 6. Sinclair, "Why New Zealanders are not Australians", in Tasman Relations, p. 93. 7. Ibid., p. 102. 8. Hirst, The Sentimental Nation, p. 222. 9. Keith Sinclair, A Destiny Apart: New Zealand's Search for National Identity, Wellington: Allen and Unwin, 1986; see also F.L.W. Wood, "Why did New Zealand not join the Australian Commonwealth in 1900-1901?", New Zealand Journal of History, no. 2 (1968), pp. 115-29; Miles Fairburn, "New Zealand and Australian Federation, 1883-1901: Another View", New Zealand Journal of History, no. 4 (1970), pp. 138-59; and Ged Martin, Australia New Zealand and Federation 1883-1901, London: Menzies Centre for Australian Studies, 2001. 10. L.F. Crisp, Australian National Government, Melbourne: Longman, 1965., p. 14; C.M.H. Clark, A History of Australia, Volume V, The People Make Laws 1888-1915 (Melbourne: MUP, 1981), chs 4-8. 11. Helen Irving, To Constitute a Nation: A Cultural History of Australia's Constitution, Cambridge: University Press, 1997. 12. Hirst, The Sentimental Nation, p. 222. 13. Stephen Alomes, A Nation at Last? The Changing Character of Australian Nationalism 1880-1988, North Ryde, NSW: Angus and Robertson, 1988. 14. Henry Lawson, "His Country-After All", The Prose Works of Henry Lawson, Sydney: Home Entertainment Library, 1935, vol. 1, pp. 32-6. 15. Commonwealth Parliamentary Debates, vol. 4, p. 4807 (12 September 1901). 16. Quoted in Robert Birrell, A Nation of Our Own: Citizenship and Nation-Building in Federation Australia, Melbourne: Longman, 1995, p. 172. 17. Jane Kelsey, Reclaiming the Future: New Zealand and the Global Economy, Wellington: Bridget Williams Books, 1989, p. 8. 18. Mark Ryan (ed.), Advancing Australia: The Speeches of Paul Keating, Prime Minister, Sydney: Big Picture Publications, 1995. 19. Stephen Murray-Smith (ed.), The Dictionary of Australian Quotations, Richmond, Vic.: Heinemann, 1984, p. 12.
Macintyre, Stuart, 'States of mind: Australia & New Zealand', Evatt Journal, Vol. 1, No. 1, December 2001.<https://evatt.org.au/post/states-mind-australia-new-zealand>