history in Canberra

The many trials of writing PNG history in Canberra

lAN DOWNS, author of the work reviewed in the preceding article, here tells his own colourful story of how it came to be written. Mr Downs’ account, full of humour and heartbreak, will strike a chord in the hearts of all who have experience as outsiders trying to negotiate a path through the labyrinthine corridors of power in a major bureaucracy in this case, the one that has its home in Canberra, Australia.

In September 1972,1 was asked to write an official history: The Australian Trusteeship: Papua New Guinea, 1945-1975. My contact with Canberra orig inated with inquiries I had made to see government records because I intended to write a non-fiction book about Papua New Guinea. I found that the idea of an official history, based on the work of the Department of External Territories, had been in the air for some time.

With independence in the offing, the days of the depart ment were numbered and some officials wished to write their own panegyric. There was some concern that a professional his torian might get in first. How ever, there was also concern that a documentary about bu reaucrats by bureaucrats might not be well received and so it was decided to hire someone outside of government with some knowledge of the country and Australian policy to pro duce a suitable book. Andrew Peacock was the Minister for External Territories at that time and he authorised the project.

There were no real guide lines, but I was warned that the book must include important official events and express the view from Australia, and not be biased by Melanesian or ex patriate opinion in the then Trust Territory. An assistant secretary asked me if I was capable of writing ‘a big book: much longer than a paperback’ and how long that would take. I suggested 1975, the target date for independence. I was told 1 would have to finish the work within two years because the department was winding down.

At the time I had no real conception of how long it would take. I had recently had a novel published of roughly 80 000

words and that had taken me less than four months, but I was aware that as a guideline for this task, a work of fiction was misleading.

I approached the job with understandable humility. My qualifications did not include expertise as a historian nor the advantage of a suitable aca demic background. However, I had been close to the action and the personalities in most of the events leading up to self government in Papua New Guinea. Over a period of 33 years I had been in government, in opposition politics and in private enterprise. Most of the important people, both Aust ralians and Papua New Guin eans, had at one time or another been guests in my house. Many had been my friends. Ever since World War 11, I had been making notes for something more important than a novel.

An official history would have to depend mainly on official records. It would have to give an account of economic devel opment, public works, health education and welfare, and other things not usually found in good literature and seldom included in good history. This would have to be a book for ordinary people rather than academics, but still important enough for students to use as a guide for their own research. I would have to show what Aust ralians had accomplished be fore Papuans and New Guineans began their own his tory as a nation. New nations tend to remember only the bad things that metropolitan powers impose upon them and little of the good. In the beginning I wanted to tell it all and when I found that I had far too much to say within the confines of one book I was frustrated and sad to think that the work of so many

fine people might be overlooked and forgotten. I admit that I tried to report too many events, include too many places and the activities of too many people.

At one stage the manuscript reached over 800 000 words. It became a horror for any editor to contemplate. Problems of bias and subjectivity were always in my mind. No writer can totally avoid bias, but in a book of this kind subjectivity had to be put aside as far as humanly possible even if this meant that much of the book would just be dull.

In 1972 I was living part of the time in Sydney, but most of the time at Netherby, a small farm overlooking the beautiful Tweed Valley in Northern New South Wales where I breed gentle Brahman cattle. I had business interests in Sydney and it was decided that I should be attached to the Sydney office of the Department of External Territories. While in Canberra, I was promised the assistance of a qualified research officer with a degree in arts and the services of a manuscript typist. I should have known that this would never happen. In the public service no one can promise anything without disturbing someone else. The most easily disturbed persons belong to the Public Service Board.

A novelist can begin a book by getting out his portable typewriter and starting to write.

The framework and research if any research is required can come later and the book just develops. A novelist only has to be true to himself. Writing history is not like that, and writing an official history is something else again. My re search would have to be all embracing even if I did not use more than a fraction of what I collected. Along the road I

knew that research would lead to themes and links and provide a bank of information on which I could draw later. I was more aware than most people of the significant events in the history of the Trust Territory, but I was humbled when I discovered how much I did not know. Historical facts do not find their own way into any particular set of sources and any selection of sources must have an element of interpretation. What I eventu ally wrote was drawn mainly from official records, letters on files, statements by ministers and amplified by personal inter views. These had to be checked against contemporary articles, books, parliamentary debates, submissions by bureaucrats, law reports and the press.

I began with the press. By the end of December 1972, I had recorded and indexed every press reference to Papua New Guinea and what was once West New Guinea that had been reported in The Sydney Morning Herald, The Canberra Times and the Brisbane Courier-Mail from 1944 to

lan Downs, author of the newly published official history of the Australian trusteeship in New Guinea. In his own account of how the book was written Downs tells on these pages of the humour and handicaps of writing for a government com mittee.

1972. In January 1973, I was asked to transfer to Canberra and was promised an office and the staff that had been orig inally proposed if I would agree to go. There was no practicable alternative. All the official files were in Canberra along with the National Archives, and there was no substitute for the National Library. I accepted and was given a desk in a general office in which nine other people were working and many more seemed to be com ing and going. I had access to a typing pool, but no priority.

Pages of manuscript were often mislaid because my work was thought to be less important than any official letter. It was usually given to probationary ladies still learning to type.

They were not used to pages and pages of manuscript that lacked the protection and auth ority of an official file and were not addressed to anyone. It was beyond their public service ex perience. Delays were extra ordinary. During lunch hours, when the intimidating lady in charge of the pool was away, I used to go and look for my work so that I could submit it again.

Once I was flattered to find a person munching sandwiches and reading the manuscript to pass the time. I could not store records and so I did most of my research during office hours and wrote the book at night. I did most of my work in my flat. It was a crazy situation and but for the encouragement that 1 received from Hugh Clarke, then the director of information at the department, I would have given up and gone home to the farm. Instead, 1 paid for the manuscript to be typed in a private office.

I complained, and in June 1973 I was given an office of my own and a research assistant with a university degree who explained that she was about to apply for maternity leave. She departed after a few weeks and I never saw her again. I did hear that she had given birth to a son. I also got a typist who tried very hard and helped in many ways, but she could not keep up with the volume of work. Never theless, by August 1973 I had completed over 90 000 words together with source notes which covered the reconstruc

tion period after the war. This reference to number of words was born of my Canberra ex perience. The department wanted to get its money’s worth.

Volume of work done rather than quality was the yardstick by which my need for a typist could be justified. Work con tinued on a chronological basis because this seemed the best way to hold the book together until alternatives could be con sidered.

I was given authority to

‘When the intimidating lady in charge of the pool was away I would look for my work so I could submit it again. Once I was flattered to find a person munching sandwiches and reading the manuscript. ’

examine all departmental re cords by the then secretary of the department, D. O. (now Sir David) Hay. I was given intro ductions to other departments and everything possible was done to make material avail able. Unfortunately much time was wasted collecting material from distant offices or making photocopies in the National Library because I had no suit able assistance. I travelled widely to interview and discuss the book with eminent persons like Sir John Gunther, the late Sir Keith Murray and W. A.

Lalor. The staff at the Aust ralian School of Pacific Admin istration and many former Papua New Guinea residents living in Australia were most helpful. I had a need to discuss aspects of the book with other people, particularly those out side government. Discussion within the department tended to be cautious and guarded.

Outside of government the op posite was true. I received help and kindness from more than 100 people. Only two that I approached were unable to find the time, or else were reluctant, to discuss their place in the history of Papua New Guinea.

One was Sir Paul Hasluck and the other was E. G. Whitlam.

Fortunately, both of them had produced a mass of contempor ary material in parliamentary debates, official letters, public statements and speeches, signed articles and retrospective books.

Any absence from Canberra was always dangerous. Only public servants accustomed to

defending themselves against predators will understand the need for eternal vigilance. Most of our office moves were ordered while I was away. It was not unusual for chairs, tables or even telephones to be hijacked.

On one occasion when I came back from interstate I found I had no telephone.

In 1973 the Department of External Territories ceased to exist and I became a bureau cratic orphan attached to the Department of Foreign Affairs,

but accommodated by the Aust ralian Development Assistance Agency (ADAA) of which the first director-general was L. W.

Johnson who had been the last administrator of Papua New Guinea. At about this time I was fortunate to have Mrs Eileen Ryan join what was now called ‘A History Section’. Mrs Ryan took over much of the research and set about keeping our affairs in proper public service order. I no longer had to concern myself with anything except writing the book. This was just as well. ADAA was reduced to a bureau within Foreign Affairs and we lost our accommodation. We were moved about in shuttles be tween different office buildings and temporarily joined the households of several different departments, where space and services were sometimes only grudgingly given. Each time we moved all the records had to be packed and unpacked. Some times our new destinations were not ready to receive us. On one occasion we were left in limbo for nearly two weeks. Fortu nately 1 had taken the pre caution of paying for my own mail box in Canberra and so we were able to keep in touch with people answering our inquiries.

The closure of the PNG office, where John Greenwell and Alan Kerr had been work ing within the Department of Foreign Affairs, was followed by a decision to appoint an Editorial Committee in November 1974 to which I would be ultimately responsible

for the book. The committee appointed comprised: D. O.

Hay (Chairman), Professor Henry Mayer, Professor R. G.

Neale, Messrs L. W. Johnson, A. J. Kerr, J. Greenwell and myself.

The Editorial Committee suffered from too much talent and not enough time to attend to committee affairs. David Hay was the secretary for Aboriginal Affairs, Professor Mayer was Professor of Govern ment at Sydney University, Professor Neale was the Director-General of Archives, L. W. Johnson was soon to become the Australian Am bassador to Greece, while Alan Kerr and John Greenwell were moving on to higher duties in other departments. It was almost impossible for all these people to come together at the same time.

These were bad years. My mother died in 1973 while staying with me in Canberra.

And in November 1974 my wife Judith died after a long struggle against cancer. I began to neglect my own affairs to the point where a profitable busi ness in Sydney had to be closed down and my cattle stud went into a loss situation from which it has since barely recovered.

The person supposed to be looking after the farm departed, leaving his wife and children to handle the cattle. The cattle felt neglected and in justifiable dis gust the stud bull took the herd into the Mooball State Forest.

Meanwhile, I went on writing and churning out chapters which had become separate compartments rather than part of a coherent whole.

In February 1975 I submit ted a rough chronological narra tive to the Editorial Committee.

The committee had come to gether for the first time and it was necessary to lay out what had been done and to obtain (for the first time) their con sidered opinion before embark ing on particular themes within a framework. Papua New Guinea was still a Trust Terri tory and negotiations for the transfer of power had been more or less continuous from 1972. 1 not only had to write a book, but also keep up with current events as they occurred.

I had always wished to conclude

the book as at December 1972 (self-government). Contact with individual members of the com mittee had revealed some strong conflicting personal views and these had to be resolved before the book could be put together.

I formed the opinion that the Committee had anticipated an advanced construction and they were bogged down in the length and apparently formless nature of the work. On the other hand, I had not been given the direction that I had expected.

After all, this was to be an official history and not a matter for individual whim. I do not blame either the committee or myself. We were all in a difficult situation. Purely from an author’s point of view, trying to write for a committee is extra ordinarily difficult, particularly when some members are reluc tant to push their views while others are keen to have their opinions adopted.

The committee decided there should be an introduction to cover the period before 1945, and then a framework of four distinct chronological periods (post-war reconstruction, the Hasluck period 1951-1963, the

drive for economic development

1963-1970, and the final trans fer of power). It was decided that the history must cover the years right up to actual inde pendence (or beyond if necess ary). The committee also de eded that they needed the services of a professional ad viser in the form of a prominent established historian to advise hem, and the target date for completion was to be extended o 1976.

Unfortunately, the consult mt who accepted was not able o devote the time anticipated ind he also suffered some ill icalth. The consultancy pre ceded by correspondence. >ome 50 chapters were ap iroved by the consultant within he framework already agreed. was required to submit the chapter by chapter, to the onsultant. This piecemeal ar angemenl made it necessary or chapters to be cleared be ore work could continue, 'hemes and linking sections •etween chapters could not be

uccessfully developed and we

ad problems of communi

cation. By October 1976 the separate chapters had been individually cleared to the con sultant’s satisfaction. However, the consultant did not respond to further enquiries after the whole work had been submit ted, and did not communicate again. I had expected the manu script to be returned with con structive advice so that I would be able to finish the work to the satisfaction of the Committee.

Nearly five months were then wasted when the consultant was either unwell or not able to take calls.

Throughout 1974-75 I was often required to provide New Guinea material and respond to requests for information from the Department of Foreign Affairs. Among other things, I prepared some biographies for Sir Paul Hasluck’s book A Time for Building and also assisted with maps and photographs.

There is a world of difference between people schooled by separate experiences. Things that seemed important to me were not considered worth space by the consultant. For example: the national disaster of the Mount Lamington erup tion in which 4000 lives were lost seemed important to me. I had gone to Popondetta just after the event when returning from a holiday in Australia. I saw the aid Australians were giving and the high morale of those who took part, risking their own lives. The only help that came from outside the territory was the loan of one aircraft by the RAAF which

From an author s point of view, trying to write for a committee is extraordinarily difficult when some members are reluctant to push their views and others are keen to have their opinions adopted. ’

brought a load of medical stores. Blood plasma was de spatched by air from the government of Queensland.

Neither before nor since that time has there been a natural disaster in our hemisphere as bad as Lamington. The conduct of administration officers and Australian expatriates in this disaster was of considerable influence in improving relations with the people of Papua.

The chairman eventually ad vised me that he had received

an adverse report on the book from the consultant and a committee meeting was held in March 1977. I was not sur prised. The book still lacked a recognisable framework with links between chapters and was not ready for publication. The committee then took the risk of recommending that 1 should continue with the advice of a new consultant. Fearful of another bad experience, 1 reluc tantly agreed, mainly because I felt it to be important to publish. At this stage I should say that the first editorial con sultant made an important con tribution to the development of the book, particularly in the great importance he attached to editorial conventions.

Professor Francis West was approached to act as an edi torial adviser on behalf of the Editorial Committee, and a recommendation for his ap pointment was finally approved in September 1977. Meanwhile, I had acted on the committee’s suggestions and already devel oped an unofficial contact with Professor West. There then followed a vigorous and success ful consultation marked by frankness and mutual confid ence between the professor and myself. My office was trans ferred to Mining Industry House and I became administ ratively responsible to Director- General of Archives Professor Robert Neale. This was the first time that I had the feeling that anyone understood what I was trying to do. Good office accom modation was provided with

plenty of space for our records.

A first-class typist, Jacki Hodge, was seconded to us and I was able to finish a complete reconstruction of the book by June 19, 1978. Professor West advised the chairman of the now defunct committee that the book was suitable for publication and urged that it be published without delay.

There were some lighter if still distracting moments in my last years in Canberra. After my second marriage my wife

Robin lived at Netherby. I got a message around midnight one night that she would be on her way to the maternity ward at the Murwillumbah Hospital. I drove the 1600 km to Murwill umbah and arrived at 2 pm.

Michael was born at 8 am. Over the years I got used to the road and made 75 round trips. There were other ’phone calls with urgent queries like: ‘There’s a red-bellied black snake on the verandah’, or ‘One of the stud bulls is in Lindsay’s paddock disturbing his cattle’, or ‘The hot water system won’t work’.

However, Robin mostly man aged very well.

The manuscript, maps and photographs were handed over to the Australian Government Publishing Service (AGPS) at the end of June 1978 and I came home to stay with my family for the first time since my second marriage. During the next 12 months there were only occasional galley proofs to be checked. Then it seemed that the book was to suffer another review, this time by people without qualifications of any kind. New questions of security and confidentiality arose. No one was employed to provide an index and Medibank material and other government business pushed the manuscript into a low priority.

There was more urgency in 1980 but still some tense mo ments. I had recalled being bewildered by what Jacaranda Press had accepted (and re tained) for the dust-jacket of my book The Stolen Land. For the official history I favoured an unpretentious typographic de sign. When the proof of the AGPS dust-jacket design ar rived I was surprised to see that it featured a colour photograph of Sir John Kerr and HRH the Prince of Wales. The book now has a simple typographic design on the dust-jacket.

The final proofs became available in August 1980 and it was hoped the book would be publicly available in late September 1980. As I write this, it is now eight years since the first chapter was written and two years since the book was accepted by the government lan Downs. (The book was finally launched

in March 1981.

Pim