What a Letter from Australia Told Me.

Australia had sent 100,000 men to the front at a cost of £18,000,000, which was covered by a loan from Britain.

Though the decline in trade on account of the war caused widespread unemployment, the sending off of 75,000 men eased matters considerably. As these men were paid at almost the same rate as their ordinary wage, and as a big proportion of their pay was held in Australia, the war did not hit the Commonwealth so very hard in this respect.

So people did not trouble much. They went about their business almost as usual and enjoyed the many entertainments arranged by "society people" for any object, however remotely connected with the war—"Sheepskin Waistcoat Funds," "Comfort for Horses Fund," "Knitted Socks Fund," and others. It was all so much work and gave people opportunity to have a busy time, flavored with the knowledge that it was an act of patriotism.

Six months before the war had ended the manufacturers began to get busy. When public bodies begin to get busy in Australia, the first thing they say is: "Let's have a Dinner."

The manufacturers saw a chance of influencing High Protection by the use of a new gag: "Don't buy German-made goods." They, of course, wanted people to buy only the Australian made, but they were cute.

They put it this way:

"Only trade with the Empire and its Allies. Every pound," it was said, "that is spent with Germany means another gun to our future menace." So the public were exhorted to confine business to the Empire and its Allies—with Britain, Africa, India, Canada, France, Belgium, Russia, Servia and Japan, and to cut the rest of the world. That is to say, to trade with three quarters of the world!

Their decision practically meant free trade with nearly the whole world, and so their hands were tied so long as Britain was joined up with foreign allies!

A striking proof that this slogan, "Trade with the Allies," was only an after-dinner sentiment was given when, in May, 1915, the Australian Postmaster-General rejected a Japanese tender for electric insulators, although its price was £1000 cheaper than a local tender, the total amount of which was £3281/6/8—a thirty-three per cent. preference being given against the work of an allied nation.

In the meantime the N.S.W. Government found their system of State Socialism so expensive that the Treasury began to rapidly empty. The war, with its upsetting of the British money market, stopped the usual method of loan-raising, but some smart English capitalists, more experienced in finance than the average labor politician, offered to take over the public works of New South Wales if they were paid 10 per cent. on their expenditure.

They 'cutely pointed out that by the system of State Socialism, the N.S.W. Government had gathered an immense army of laborers. It had built up an enormous civil service, and if men were thrown on the market consequent on the State's lack of funds, they would make it uncomfortable for the Government. That action would bring home to the workers the utter fallacy of State control of industries. They also whispered, with their tongues in their cheeks, that "private enterprise" would then become prosperous and the Labor movement would be thrown back for "years and years and years."

The temptation proved too strong and the compact was signed.

"Of course," said the Government, "you will give preference to unionists, the maximum wage, and all that?"

"Oh, of course," said the Syndicate, rubbing its hands with glee.

It was getting 10 per cent. on all the expenditure!

What though the men loafed through the work, the percentage of the outlay went on just the same!

So the N.S.W. Government signed the compact, practically threw over State Socialism, so far as public works were concerned, thanked goodness for the riddance, and sat back for a while, stripped of responsibility, a Syndicate's collection of "rubber stamps."

Some of the Ministers, however, tired of the "nothin'-doin' policy," hankered after the tinpot glory they had when in charge of men, so they began to look for new fields of enterprise not touched by the Syndicate.

They saw an opportunity in Government bread-making.

The Government had heard a good deal about the profit possibilities of great American "combines." Why not introduce the thing into Australia as a great Government scheme, and combine all the small bakery establishments into one big concern, in which great automatic baking machinery would supplant the small ovens of the small employers?

This would not only knock out the "hated employers," but it would capture all their profits—and the Government wanted money rather badly.

So, immense bread-making factories were built. A standard price was put on wheat the Government wanted, which knocked the farmer rather hard and hundreds of employees were thrown out of the bakehouses.

It was an awkward situation for a Government pledged to Socialism. The unionists had shouted for Socialism, yet when Socialism brought in labor-saving machines, when, in fact, it hit the chap who shouted, he objected. Socialism seemed alright "for the other fellow." It was like the old story of the Irishman's pigs. He believed in sharing alike, except regarding pigs—he happened to have a few.

The Socialist Government was in a quandary with its mob of unemployed baker unionists, till the voice of the tempter came again.

The Syndicate quietly whispered, "Give us a little more power and we'll absorb them."

They got it, and got further power as the Government installed labor-saving machinery into other concerns; and for a while the Syndicate proved a fine "haven of rest" for the out-of-work unionists, so that the Government encouraged it even to the extent of absolving it from having to pay income tax.

"You see," whispered the Syndicate in the ear of a harassed Premier, "it would be unjust to have to pay you income tax on what you have to pay us."

The "syndicate" idea began to appeal to the Governments of the other States, which were now all Labor ruled. The fact that the British Government had taken over private factories and distributed all profits over 10 per cent., gave Socialism such an advertisement that before the war had ended, Queensland and Victoria had joined the other Australian States and declared for Labor.

The Syndicate idea appealed to Labor Governments.

It seemed an easy way to get rid of responsibility. Of course, the time would come when the bill would have to be paid—but that was a matter posterity would have to look at—and besides, as one Minister blatantly shouted: "What has posterity done for us?"