To The Point

With Percy Chatterton

In the midst of the LMS Mission Station at Hanuabada, on the shores of Port Moresby Harbour, a round block of concrete, having the appearance of an outsize “silent cop” protrudes from the ground. It marks the spot where a flagstaff formerly stood—the flagstaff on which the British flag was raised when the south-eastern part of New Guinea was declared a British Protectorate in 1884, and again, four years later, when the same territory was annexed to the British Crown.

AS a matter of fact, it was I who wa§ responsible for putting the concrete block there in the early 1930’5, when it became clear that the rotting stump of the old flagstaff wouldn’t last much longer, and that the casuarina tree which had been planted beside it would have to give way to power lines.

Looking round for a cheap and easily installed “marker”, we came on a barrel of cement which had got damp and hardened in the barrel.

So we just knocked off the timber of the barrel, dug a hole, and dropped the barrel-shaped chunk of cement into it, with the top few inches protruding out of the ground.

With considerably more than the iceberg’s reputed six-sevenths submerged, it is not surprising that this lump of concrete remained undislodged by the alarums and excursions of war, and survived to witness the sunset of colonialism.

Some Thoughts On The Brave Words Of Mr. Romilly

The ceremonies of 1884 and 1888 were apparently only two of a num ber of occasions on which the British flag was raised on this flagstaff; and after the ceremony on September 4, 1888, Dr. Lawes, the pioneer LMS missionary, commented drily in a letter to his London headquarters: “There was not much display, and it was well that there was not, for flag-raising must seem to the natives to be a white man’s amusement. The function on September 4 was the tenth at which I have been present in New Guinea. It is getting monoto nous.”

In the same letter Dr. Lawes wrote: “British New Guinea is now a part of the Queen’s dominions, and the people of it are as much her subjects as you and I.”

Poor man; he could not be ex pected to foresee that Australian immigration laws would later make this statement look a bit silly.

In 1884 Dr. Lawes had already been established at Hanuabada for 10 years, and had acquired a know ledge of the Motu language. On the occasion of the proclamation of the protectorate, he acted as interpreter to explain to the people of Hanua bada the meaning of the acts per formed and the words used.

Among the words spoken and translated on the occasion were some which have not been forgotten over the years, and which, in recent times, have been quoted by Papuans in tones of increasing cynicism.

“Your lands,” said Mr. Special Commissioner Romilly, “will be secured to you. Your wives and children will be protected.”

There is no subject about which Papuans and New Guineans feel so deeply and so easily become angry as that of land. In early land trans-

The first time the British flag was raised in Port Moresby was on November 6, 1884, when Commodore J. E. Erskine (inset) of HMS "Nelson" did the job at Hanuabada.

Dr. Lawes.

Misunderstandings Over Transactions

actions there was probably almost total misunderstanding on the Papuan side as to the nature of the trans action, and on the European side almost total unawareness of that mis understanding. The two parties not only didn’t talk the same language; they weren’t even on the same wave length.

“I conceive,” said a Nigerian chief half-a-century ago, “that land belongs to a vast family, of which many are dead, few are living, and countless members are unborn.”

This concept is one which would have found ready acceptance by Papuans and New Guineans in the 1880 s and ’9os, and well on into the present century. But that land in which, it was believed, the spirits of the dead were still active, and to the use of which the unborn had rights, could be bartered away was an idea which just wasn’t understood.

Of course, Papuans did sometimes have their land alienated from them.

This happened when they were con quered or driven out by a more powerful tribe. If the all-powerful white man had taken their land from them by force they would have resented it fiercely, but they would have at least understood it. What did happen they didn’t even understand.

Not Ownership

1 feel quite sure that the Papuans who accepted a few knives, axes and laplaps from the newly arrived white men thought that they were thereby granting them the use of their land, not the ownership of it.

This is almost certainly true of the group of Koita people who, in the 1890 s, “sold” a vast area of land on the outskirts of Port Moresby, from the border of the present airport right out to the Laloki River, for a tally of trade goods which, while it looks impressive on paper, had to be shared by nearly 100 members of the group, and which anyway didn’t represent a great deal in cash at the prices of the nineties.

It was when the recent plan to establish a SlO million university on part of this land received publicity that descendants of this group of people began to ask questions, and came to me, as their “member”, look ing for answers. They didn’t like the only answer I could give them, and I am told that they are still looking for someone who will help them to re-

Feeling Of Having Been Diddled

gain possession of their forebears’ land. They haven’t a hope.

The now brittle but perfectly valid deed which I sighted at the Registrar- General’s office places it beyond doubt that their grandfathers did sell the land, and it is too late now to find out whether they understood what they were doing.

So this little group of Koita people joins the many, many groups of Papuans and New Guineans who harbour the feeling that somewhere along the line they’ve been diddled.

Add to this a widespread sense of dissatisfaction over “waste and vacant land”. This phrase is like a red rag to a bull among Papuans, The law provides that land adjudged to be “waste and vacant” can be declared to be Crown land.

The allegation made by one well known Papuan that early Govern ment officers declared as “waste and vacant” any land on which they couldn’t see any sign of houses or gardens from the decks of the vessels in which they coasted along off-shore may be a picturesque exaggeration; but it could be that the wish has sometimes been father to the thought.

Money Consciousness

Nowadays, of course, it would no longer be true to say that Papuans and New Guineans don’t understand what they are doing when they sell their land. They understand only too well. With the decline of communal sentiment and the growth of indi vidualism, consciousness of the con tribution of the dead and the rights of the unborn has failed. On a rising tide of money consciousness, “How much money is our land worth?” becomes the all-important question.

Yet here again the ways of the white man appear incomprehensible.

Why should this patch of stony, un productive ground in Port Moresby be worth $l,OOO, while that piece of much more fertile soil in the bush is not worth 1,000 cents? The simple villager who values his land by its ability to produce yams and bananas wonders if he is being diddled again.

The bright side of the picture is to ?e found in the work of the Land Pities Commission. The commis sioners not only show incredible salience in constructing genea ogical tables of villagers and delving nto tribal land tenure customs, but dso allow a healthy informality to :reep into their procedures.

“He can’t say them but he can sing them,” said the young man who had led the white-haired gaffer to a seat facing the commissioner.

The scene was a local government council chamber in which a dispute between seyeral village groups over the ownership of an offshore island was being heard. The room was filled with the contenders and their friends. Others peered interestedly through the windows.

Piquancy was added to the occasion by the fact that the Administration regarded the island as being “waste and vacant”.

The old man was the star witness of one of these village groups and his “evidence” consisted of the words of a traditional song of his village.

“He can’t say them, but he can sing them.” The commissioner didn’t turn a hair. “Let him sing them then,” he said.

The quavery old voice rose and fell in the rhythm of the chant. The commissioner and his assistants listened decorously. The interpreter murmured a translation of the words, This was one of the most touching scenes I have witnessed during many years in Papua, and a few incidents

ike this can cover a multitude of dangers. Nor does it really matter nuch whether the old chap’s song vas relevant to the issue or not. }ver long years I have had to school nyself to listen patiently to stories vhich couldn’t possibly affect the ssue, but which had to be listened o if their tellers were to go away atisfied.

Two of the major mistakes which ve Europeans make in this territory ire too much formality and too much laste. In his own way of life the *apuan is accustomed to transacting lis business at a personal level with •eople whom he knows personally, lie cold formality of the unknown ►fficial and the impersonally worded ptter or form daunt and defeat him. k> does impatience with a tardy esponse. Papuans must be given ime to think, and their little grey ells don’t work as furiously as those f Hercule Poirot.

Mineral Resources

Related to the problem of land is iat of mineral resources, over which storm is currently raging. At one xtreme the Administration, backed y the Minister, Mr. Barnes, is stand ig pat on what they proclaim to be le inviolable principle of the owner hip of minerals by the State.

At the other, the landowners of iougainville are standing pat on the ssertion that he who owns the land wns the minerals; while some of lem, it would appear, go further and laim the right to decide whether the linerals under their land shall be worked or left where they are.

Between these two camps, Mr. Paul

Lapun, member for Bougainville in the House of Assembly, tries to find a compromise with a plea that it would not be unreasonable for the landowners to receive a payment cal culated on the value of the minerals taken out of their land rather than, as the Administration proposes, on its unimproved value. Mr. Lapun’s sug gestion of 5 per cent, of royalties seems modest enough.

One can but hope that when the argument is resumed in the House in November there will be a little less standing-pat on principles of dubious validity and a little more

sweet reasonableness. For the “principles” on both sides are of dubious validity.

The Administration’s “principle” apparently is that what is good for Australia is ipso facto good for Papua and New Guinea. This assumption underlies much territory legislation, but it just isn’t true.

On the other hand some Papuans and New Guineans are inclined to assume that it is possible to carry over in toto the customary laws of the era of subsistence economy into the day of the almighty dollar, and this also isn’t true. They cannot have

Paul Lapun.

the advantages of both worlds and the drawbacks of neither.

The welfare of the territory calls for a solution which will enable Conzinc Riotinto to get the copper out (if it’s really there) with the co operation and goodwill of the people of Bougainville. It is as unrealistic to suppose that economic develop ment can go on behind a screen of police batons as it is to cherish the hope that the tide of “progress” can be halted.

Perhaps it’s a pity it can’t be. I sometimes wonder whether my Papuan friends who are rushing so eagerly out of a subsistence economy into a cash one realise the price they have got to pay in the loss of so much that made for happiness in the older way of life.

I think that it was Ogden Nash who said that “Progress was alright once, but it’s gone on too long”.

Many middle-aged Papuans would agree with him.

When I get tossed out of the House of Assembly in 1968, I think I shall turn my energies to founding and promoting “The Anti-Progress Asso ciation of Papua”. It will be a lost cause from the start, of course, but it will be great fun. I have already designed a badge—a Bandicoot Rampant over a Yam Couchant (one of those long thin ones which grow so well in a sandy soil and which are so delicious when baked in hot ashes).

Underneath there is a tasteful scroll carrying the legend “To Hell with Progress”.

Artist Rob Walsh's sketch for the badge of Percy Chatterton's "Anti-Progress" organisation.