– 886 –

CHAPTER 19
Censorship

THE Censorship and Publicity Regulations passed on 1 September 1939 were not rushed up overnight. Since 1934, committees drawn from the Service departments, the Police, Internal Affairs, Post and Telegraph, and Prime Minister's departments had considered problems and precedents, deciding among much else that press censorship and publicity were inter-related and should be part of the Prime Minister's Department. Out of all these considerings, regulations were drafted during the Munich crisis of September 1938, revised under the further advice of concerned departments, and made ready by February 1939.¹

The supreme authority was to be the Censorship and Publicity Board² chaired by the Prime Minister, its members the Minister of Defence, the Postmaster-General, the chiefs of the three Service departments, the Director-General of Post and Telegraph, the permanent head of the Prime Minister's Department and any other persons whom the Prime Minister might appoint. The Controller of Censorship, appointed by the Governor-General, removable by the Board and paid as Parliament might decide, was at the head of postal and telegraph censorship; the Director of Publicity, appointed, paid and removable likewise, was in control of the press.³ Both were charged to prevent the spreading of prejudicial information and subversive reports.

‘Prejudicial information’ was any information on Service strengths, equipment, operations, defence measures, shipping, cargoes and any other matter whatsoever which would or might be directly or indirectly useful to the enemy. ‘Subversive reports’ as first defined included four categories which remained operative throughout the war: reports intended or likely to cause disaffection towards His Majesty, to interfere with the success of His Majesty's forces by land, sea or air, or with their recruiting, training, administration and discipline; or to disrupt their morale or the morale of civilians. Four

– 887 –

other sorts deemed subversive in September 1939 were dropped from a revised list in February 1940: a false report; one expressing seditious intention within the meaning of Section 118 of the Crimes Act 1908;⁴ one intended or likely to undermine confidence in the banking system or currency or any financial measures of the government taken in the interests of the war; one intended or likely to prejudice relations between His Majesty's subjects and any friendly foreign state, or the subjects thereof. This last clause, dropped in 1940, was restored in March 1942.

Three new sorts of statements were added to the subversive list in February 1940: those intended or likely to cause undue alarm to the public; to prejudice or interfere with the manufacture, production, supply or delivery of any goods or services required by the war; to cause unlawful resistance to any law relating to military service or to the administration of justice. Reasonable and temperate discussion in good faith of any existing laws or measures would not be subversive. No one should publish or communicate orally or otherwise a subversive report, or possess an article with a view to so doing; prosecutions could be instituted only with the written consent of the Attorney-General.

The 1939 regulations empowered the Director of Publicity to forbid any periodical to publish information which he considered prejudicial to the public safety; or to publish without his prior consent information on any topic he might specify. A publisher convicted of disobeying such instructions might, in addition to any other penalty imposed, be forbidden by the court to publish or be concerned with the publication, for a specified time, of any newspaper in New Zealand. No one should publish in a periodical any letterpress or graphic representation dealing with the war, unless it had previously been submitted to the Director of Publicity and approved in writing, though this would not check publication of material dealing with war topics in a general way, without describing or

– 888 –

purporting to describe any actual events. The Director of Publicity could forbid those in charge of a printing press (widely defined) to print on it any material of a specified kind which had not been submitted for censorship and approval. There could be no published indication that the censor had required to see any material, had altered or excised anything or refused publication. Finally, if charged with a breach of these regulations, the onus of proving that he had complied lay with the person charged.

Regulations could more readily define censorship powers than the processes of publicity, but during 1938 the formative committee had worked on this aspect of the duties of the Director of Publicity. He was to implement the policy of the Board of Censorship and Publicity; to prepare and issue information both as news and for propaganda, using and co-ordinating the press, broadcasting and films; to maintain continuity of policy and direction in publicity, and to be the sole authority through which all government departments would issue statements relating to the war, though where the armed forces were concerned he would be guided by them.⁵ Propaganda was to be prepared ‘to secure that the national cause is properly presented to the public both at home and abroad. Various aspects of the national activities will have to be analysed and explained; enemy activities must be examined and criticised; and means must be devised to disseminate the national point of view in a guise which will be attractive and through channels which will ensure that it reaches persons who are likely to be influenced by it.’⁶ The formative committee had also decreed that censorship of the press was to be carried out largely by the voluntary co-operation and self-imposed restrictions of newspapers themselves, and any control likely to appear unreasonably irksome to them was deprecated.⁷

On 22 June 1939 the Council of Defence⁸ approved the appointment, in the event of war, of George McNamara,⁹ recently retired Director-General of Post and Telegraph, as Controller of Censorship,

– 889 –

and on 28 August Cabinet appointed J. T. Paul as Director of Publicity, with J. H. Hall¹⁰ as Deputy Director.¹¹ These three appointments were announced on 2 September 1939.

Paul, who in the next five years was by far the most prominent figure in the censorship field, was 65 years old when the war began. Born and educated in Victoria, he had come to New Zealand in 1899 to work for 20 years as a linotype operator on the Otago Daily Times. He then moved to the literary side of his trade, working on the Dunedin Evening Star, the Otago Daily Times and the Otago Witness, which last he edited from 1924 till it ceased publication in 1932. From the start he had been active in trade unionism, had been president of several unions and in 1903 president of the Otago Trades and Labour Council. He was also prominent in the formation of the Parliamentary Labour party, from as early as 1904, and was its president from 1917 to 1920. The Liberals in 1907 had appointed him to the Legislative Council, where he stayed till 1919, resigning to stand unsuccessfully for Dunedin South. He had written a number of pamphlets, including Our Majority: some shadows and high lights of industrial history (1910), The Tailoress's Birthday (1911), Labour's First Plank (1917) and Labour Landmarks (1938). He had a thorough knowledge of newspaper routines, and he was a dedicated Labour man whose moderation and persuasiveness had been of high value in the party's formative years.¹²

Connections between the Prime Minister and both branches of censorship were soon strengthened. A regulation (1939/215) in October, decreed that the salaries of both the Controller of Censorship and the Director of Publicity should be fixed by the Prime Minister, not Parliament. The Censorship and Publicity Board met about twice, the last time in April 1940; effective control of censorship throughout the war was exercised by the Prime Minister.¹³ Postal censorship had its headquarters in the State Fire Buildings, Wellington, but the office of the Director of Publicity was in Parliament Buildings and his letter-head proclaimed that he was of the Prime Minister's Department.

In the first months of the war the public was less aware of press censorship, which was of course invisible, than of the postal sort,

– 890 –

which cut holes in letters.¹⁴ The Director of Publicity however was soon instructing editors on lines to be followed and areas to be avoided.

Most of the war news came by overseas cable, terminating at Auckland, where it was received by the telegraph office. After the first few days, when many cables were referred to the Director of Publicity, telegraph censors at both Auckland and Wellington were made his representatives, empowered to release cables that seemed in order. The Auckland Telegraph Censor released them to northern papers, including Hamilton and Gisborne, after a half hour's delay. During this delay cables were read by the Telegraph Censor at Wellington, who if he found anything doubtful would refer it to the Director of Publicity; otherwise he would release the cables to the Press Association for the rest of the country.

By far the most inward cables passed without alteration or deletion. Those read most carefully and in which most deletions were made came from the United States before it entered the war, or from neutral countries. These, not being censored at source, often contained reports or conjectures that were unfounded or extremely alarming.¹⁵ Within Britain much censorship was left to the discretion of editors, but news going overseas by cable was censored more tightly, and often information uttered by the BBC was not cabled out of Britain.¹⁶ When cables reached the Dominions they were censored again and some information withheld by the local censor. Repeatedly New Zealanders who read overseas papers were to wonder why news that could appear in Britain, so close to the firing line, could not be printed at the world's edge. After March 1942, news already published in British newspapers, which hitherto had left London uncensored, was at the request of the Dominions' governments subject to the same treatment as news going overseas directly by cable.¹⁷

From the start, the Director of Publicity did not accept that publication of a news item in Britain or in any Dominion was a passport to its publication in New Zealand. When Australia, in May 1941, decided to rely on British screening and cease censoring cables from the United Kingdom, the Press wondered why New Zealand did not follow suit, why news which had passed the exacting requirements of British censors on its way from Britain should be improper

– 891 –

for New Zealanders. ‘The results are fantastic and irritating. Half the world knew that New Zealand forces were in Greece weeks before it was considered expedient to release this information in the one country in the world most interested in it.’¹⁸ Paul, in the same week, wrote:

In order to retain absolute control of what should be published in New Zealand in relation to the war I have refused to accept censorship restrictions in any part of His Majesty's Dominions ‘as sufficient’. Cablegrams from the United Kingdom sometimes contain items that would not only be destructive to public morale but would be seriously disturbing to those people who have direct representatives engaged on the battle front.¹⁹

Letters sent into and out of New Zealand containing material for publication were, with some clearly harmless exceptions in the late stages of the war, referred by Post Office censors to the Director of Publicity for approval.²⁰ Outward news cables if they were obviously in order could be passed by the telegraph censors who were alert for more than security errors: for instance, on 17 April 1940 they were instructed by the Director of Publicity to ‘suppress all outward press news which is likely to convey a prejudicial view to overseas countries concerning the National War Effort in New Zealand. This will include comment implying disunity on the part of political parties as affecting the Government's war measures, and in addition information concerning anti-war and communist organisations.’²¹

In the first weeks of press censorship, directives warned against accepting undesirable advertisements concerning the war, against printing letters from New Zealand servicemen overseas or photographs of military camps, without approval. Others deprecated publishing material likely to inflame public opinion against inoffensive enemy aliens, and urged the use of the term ‘Nazi’ rather than ‘German’, as the Allies had no hostility to the German people.²² Reprint matter or comment which might in any way reflect on Japan or Italy should be avoided in order not still more to prejudice friendly relations with these countries.²³

As the war went on, directives not only imposed or lifted prohibitions on items of news but advised how news should be treated.

– 892 –

For instance, on 19 June 1940, when the ship Niagara was sunk by a mine off Bream Head, causing a spurt of suspicion about sabotage, spies and aliens, the Director of Publicity telegraphed to editors: ‘Speculation inadvisable regarding time, vessel or means by which mines laid off New Zealand coast. Please keep closely to Prime Minister's statement in House tonight.’²⁴ Another example of advice on presentation occurred at the end of June 1942, when British forces were driven back to Egypt and Paul telegraphed: ‘War Cabinet requests co-operative assistance of press in avoiding overemphasis of Middle East news in headlines.’²⁵ Again, on 8 April 1942, as the Japanese threat loomed, Paul warned editors to avoid placing undue emphasis on the return of the Australian Imperial Force to Australia, as ‘it would be doubly unfortunate if an agitation took place in New Zealand for the return of the NZEF and the military situation made it impossible to favourably consider any such demand.’²⁶

Sometimes editors were ordered to submit all items on certain subjects for censorship before publication. For example, when the New Zealand Herald on 17 April 1941 printed a story about New Zealand making Service biscuits for Britain, stating that shipments would begin before the end of June, the Director telegraphed: ‘Arising out of publication of an unauthorised statement by one newspaper regarding British War Office Orders any future reference to war material or war production must be referred to this office prior to publication.’ He later explained that the defence authorities held that enemy attention would be directed at New Zealand in proportion to food supplies known to be shipped to Britain, while manufacturers had already been told that the British government desired secrecy concerning food contracts.²⁷ Manufacturers, of course, wanted the public to appreciate why local biscuit supplies were reduced, and the papers were keen to give news of such contributions to the war effort.

By February 1940 the initial definition of subversive reports had been found wanting. The elimination of ‘false reports’ would have placed an impossibly heavy burden on censors, especially postal censors, who inevitably encountered much harmless inaccuracy, and it would have infuriated the public. It was likewise impracticable to eliminate reports likely to undermine confidence in the government's

– 893 –

financial measures, unless the Opposition were to be silenced, and it had been far from silent during October 1939. Seditious intention under Section 118 of the 1908 Crimes Act was complicated by precedent cases, when no friendly foreign states were being impugned.

Subversive statements were being uttered plentifully at pacifist and communist meetings and in communist pamphlets, against which the censorship regulations were ineffective through lack of activating machinery: there was no provision for on-the-spot arrests and prosecutions required the assent of the Attorney-General. Meetings were more readily broken up on charges of obstructing traffic or by the police, under the Police Offences Act 1927, when they believed a breach of the peace was about to occur, ordering the speaker to desist and arresting him for obstruction if he did not.²⁸

To meet the situation as it existed, Section 14 of the Censorship and Publicity Regulations dealing with subversive reports was revoked on 21 February 1940 and replaced by Public Safety Emergency Regulations. These gave the police immediate powers to prohibit meetings or processions, to arrest speakers or distributors of leaflets, and to search without warrants. The definitions of subversive statements now included four from the original list, dropped four,²⁹ and brought in three new ones.

As described elsewhere,³⁰ 1940 saw a number of prosecutions of Communists for subversive statements. The first of these was heard at Auckland on 12 April, on charges relating to the People's Voice of 9 and 16 February and to certain pamphlets; all accused were convicted, as were most of those later prosecuted in various parts of the country. A few got off for speeches made in a by-election campaign. Meanwhile the People's Voice showed no repentance or caution and on 29 May 1940 Censorship and Publicity Regulations were extended (1940/93).³¹ On 30 May the police seized the press of the People's Voice.

That paper was not the only one that troubled the censors. On 7 October 1939 the Director of Publicity had written to Fraser: The Paper Tomorrow, which pretends to be a New Zealand independent review, has been publishing some matter calculated to detract from our national effort. Tomorrow approaches the present crisis in much the same insidious manner as it deals with local problems or politics—and the Government. For instance, it quotes approvingly the words of yourself as Acting-Prime Minister—‘I do not think that even in this black hour anybody should be

– 894 –

expected to sink his conscientious opinions’—as ‘A fine statement’, and devotes much of the same issue to a mixture of candid friend advice and semi-subversive criticisms of national policy.³²

Very soon after the amendment of 29 May 1940, the police warned the printer of Tomorrow that his press might be seized. The editor, Kennaway Henderson,³³ on 17 June wrote to subscribers that for this reason publication had ceased:

under the Emergency legislation ‘Subversion’ is very vaguely defined, so that almost any critical writing might be regarded as subversive. Consequently no printer is prepared to print Tomorrow, and, in effect, we have been suppressed under legislation passed by the first N.Z. Labour Government. New Zealand now has no independent critical journal.

At the moment a wave of hysteria is sweeping the country. It may be that an opportunity to commence publication again will occur in a few months.³⁴

The opportunity did not come, and Tomorrow, a vigorous intellectual sprout of the 1930s, disappeared without a court charge staining its character.

The Co-operative Press of Christchurch, which had printed leaflets for the local anti-conscription campaign and also pacifist literature, notably A. M. Richards's trenchantly critical booklet, What are we Fighting for?, was seized like the People's Voice but without any publication having been challenged in court as subversive.³⁵

The press in general had no sympathy with anti-war voices, pacifist or leftist, and often urged the government to stiffen measures against them. Papers also made statements about the necessity for censorship. Later, these were usually followed by complaints that New Zealand's censorship went too far, but in the early days a graceful acceptance of sacrifice was advocated. Thus, the Christchurch Star–Sun on 3 October 1939: ‘in wartime even the democracies recognise the necessity of restricting freedom in order not to lose it, and a Press censorship is conformed to by the Press with the best

– 895 –

of grace. The censorship is full of difficulties, anomalies and inconsistencies, but it must go on.’

The Listener, which did not regard itself as a governmental tool, declared on 1 March 1940:

If there is any Government in the world reluctant to curtail liberty it is the Government at present in office in New Zealand. It is a bitter experience for it and for everybody that it must now control liberty or betray it.

It hoped, of course, and kept on hoping, that citizens of all shades of opinion would control themselves…. Liberty is precious. It is the goal, whatever comes in the way, of our struggle. Freedom of speech is precious since it is the sign and expression, normally, of freedom of thought. But freedom of speech is not precious in itself. Far less is it sacred. It is precious when it preserves other freedoms, a dangerous superstition when it destroys them. There is no freedom of speech in No Man's Land; none outside a hostile listening post, none in the presence of spies and traitors.

To pretend that there is no risk in curtailing free speech is, of course, blindness; but to argue that it must never be curtailed is madness. War is a balancing of risk against risk, of evil against evil. It is a state of emergency in which standards of liberty as well as standards of living must be related to the necessities of the hour. To claim that our tongues must be free, everywhere and at any time, is a fanatical loss of touch with reality.

The Outlook, official voice of the Presbyterian Church with its tradition of free speech, was in October 1939 in equally docile mood: restrictions of one kind and another were inevitable and would be borne in the knowledge that they were necessary. In censorship, the Church would submit to the law of the land, rendering unto Caesar what was Caesar's, and knowing that the government would not interfere with its fundamental doctrines. The Wanganui Chronicle on 9 February 1940 wrote that some people looked on censorship as something too grievous to be borne, but this attitude was entirely wrong, for the censor was a friend, knowing better than anyone else what was likely to be harmful and what not; seemingly innocent remarks might give an important clue to an interested person.

Early criticism was directed not at the local press censor, for whom there was some actual praise, but at the feebleness of overseas news and the silence of the Services. The peace so far from peaceful had been replaced by the war that was not warlike; much seemed dubious

– 896 –

and the news media were doubted. The New Zealand Observer on 11 October 1939 commented that though censorship and propaganda were an essential part of modern war, the current wearisome repetition in the cable news was like playing football without knowing the score. The fault was not with the newspapers or censorship in New Zealand: ‘These Boys' Own Paper stories are apparently deemed suitable for Empire consumption by the British Ministry of Information … and the Daventry broadcasts have the same flavour.’ After five weeks, it was obvious that the surest way to make people lose interest in the war was to deprive them of authentic and credible information about it. The Southland Times on 28 February 1940 attributed the smooth functioning of newspaper censorship to the Director and Deputy Director of Publicity both being trained journalists and to the government's obvious sympathy for civil rather than military control. The Thames Star on 11 March 1940 said that the Director of Publicity did his best to assist newspapers, but was hampered and restricted by instructions from London. The Press on 8 March explained that the British Ministry of Information withheld from the Dominions some news published in Britain, an illogical restraint; British newspapers went by air to neutral countries such as Sweden, and thence to Germany, so that in German broadcasts New Zealanders might hear English news denied to them. Admittedly the suppressions were more irritating than important. In New Zealand, relations between the press and the local censorship had been happier than in other Dominions: the muddled announcement of the Anzac troops' arrival in Egypt, for which the Australian press had violently denounced its censors, created no stir in New Zealand. It could not be said, however, that the administrative problems of local censorship had yet been satisfactorily solved, or that decisions were always reasonable. Nor was it easy to understand the steps taken by some State departments to prevent information being divulged on such topics as the expansion of industry to meet war needs, which in Australia was set forth in detail. The Press also pointed out that there were in fact two local censors: the Director of Publicity and the military authorities. Between them, newspapers at times had difficulty in obtaining clear and authoritative rulings with a minimum of delay.

Halfway through 1940 the Auckland Star complained of the probably inevitable chafing between the Services and newsmen keen to tell what was going on in the war. Control was necessary and was accepted, said the Star, but some was not serving its purpose.

– 897 –

For instance, damaging rumours about the Niagara were published in Australia³⁶ because official news in New Zealand was:

dammed both at source and outlet. At the outlet stands the censor, who is reasonable, courteous and helpful. He is there to ensure that information which the newspapers obtain is not published if publication would be harmful…. If newspapers obtain the news, he will, if necessary, censor it. If they do not obtain the news— well, it isn't published unless some one, some time, chooses to make a statement. At the source of the news stand the Service Departments, which have little understanding of—and, in some instances, not the slightest regard for—what the public requires in the way of a full, fair and safe presentation of affairs. Their general policy is to say nothing, to discourage publication, and, if they can, prevent it. This negative policy is by some mistaken for strength.

Churchill had put the issue of official news in the real, not nominal, charge of a civilian authority, consulting with but not dominated by the Services, and similar charge was needed here.³⁷

Truth, as usual, scolded everyone, especially the government. On 8 May 1940 it had complained that through timidity, lack of enterprise and government repression the press gave a ‘milk and watery acquiescence’ to every government defence measure, good, bad or indifferent; increasingly it was assumed that the war effort, the concern of every thinking person, was wholly the concern of the government and the defence machine, but if these authorities took the people more into their confidence there would be a more vigorous spirit. On 18 December, claiming that in Britain during the raids a ‘soporific censorship’ had persuaded many, including Americans, that Britain was doing very nicely and there was no need to worry, Truth urged again that the people of New Zealand should be taken into the government's confidence; like the British, they could take hard facts, and they needed wakening to effort. Further complaints against ‘schoolmarmish war censorship’ appeared on 30 December.³⁸

Till the end of 1940 it could be said that the press and the Director of Publicity, helped by the novelty of the war, got along

– 898 –

fairly amicably, restiveness being mainly against the British Ministry of Information and, even more, against the silence of the Services. But as time passed with warning restrictions gradually mounting, irritation was predictable. Events early in 1941 led the Director of Publicity into censoring not for direct security reasons, but from belief that criticism of the government would hurt the war effort by endangering public morale. This caused newspapers to remember actively their allegiance to the National party. Sidney Holland strongly supported by F. W. Doidge entered the scene as champions of free speech and freedom of the press.

The first incident in which it was held that the censor exceeded his proper powers in order to shield members of the government from embarrassment came out of a communist subversion trial in the much-venerated Supreme Court. On Thursday 13 February 1941, H. A. Ostler and T. B. Christie were on trial in Christchurch for publishing or attempting to publish a subversive statement, the underground People's Voice. Ostler, son of Sir Hubert Ostler, Judge of the Supreme Court, declared that while the prosecution was pending, the Solicitor-General, H. H. Cornish,³⁹ had taken him to dinner and suggested that it could be arranged for him to enter the Army, and that if he did so the Prime Minister and the Attorney-General were willing to drop the prosecution, though this would not be easy; no such accommodation was offered for Christie, his partner in crime.

The Director of Publicity, as he later explained, when faced at 2 pm with this disturbing revelation ‘decided within three minutes’ to postpone publication of that part of the proceedings until an ‘explanation and refutation’ could be published with it. Immediately instructions were given: ‘Ostler's statement in Supreme Court concerning Solicitor-General's alleged interview must not be published. Will release Ostler's statement together with Solicitor-General's reply when case resumed on Monday’. Paul added: ‘No other person had either a direct or indirect voice in the postponement of publication, and my first discussion with the Prime Minister regarding that decision did not take place till some hours after it had been made.’⁴⁰

The two men were convicted but not sentenced on 13 February, reappearing in court on Monday 17th, when a statement from the Solicitor-General was read. Cornish explained that as a family friend

– 899 –

and a former headmaster of the school where young Ostler had made a promising start, he had, entirely on his own responsibility, met him for ‘a friendly talk’, hoping to induce him to break from subversive associations. He had advised that it would be both right and wise to join the Army, which would show repudiation of any disloyal intention, and which the Court might properly take into consideration. He firmly denied that he had or had claimed any authority from the Prime Minister or the Attorney-General to offer privileged treatment. This was published in the papers of 17–18 February, alongside Ostler's statement, without any explanation of the delay.⁴¹

The Otago Daily Times on 18 February was the first paper to make critical comment. Apart from the Solicitor-General's indiscretion, there was another circumstance in this deplorable episode to which public attention must be directed. Ostler's statement was made in court on Thursday; a telegraphic report was circulated by the Press Association during Thursday evening and in the ordinary course would have appeared in the press next morning.

It did not appear because at a late hour the Director of Publicity communicated with the newspapers prohibiting publication until Monday when Mr Cornish's explanation of his interview with Ostler would be available. In view of the extraordinary powers vested in the government, and in this officer, whose communications emanate from the Prime Minister's office, publication of the message was withheld by us on Thursday evening. We do not, however, admit that any obligation rested on us to comply with the demand of the Director of Publicity. This official is empowered under the Censorship and Publicity Regulations 1939 to administer these regulations to the extent of controlling the publication of statements that may be broadly defined as tending to imperil the public safety during this time of war. Only through an excess of zeal could he extend his authority to a supervision over the publication of reports of proceedings in the Supreme Court, even though the names of the Prime Minister and the Attorney-General might be mentioned in them.⁴²

At Napier on 20 February, W. J. Broadfoot MP was the next to draw attention to the postponement. ‘A full account of the prosecution of Ostler was given in the Press but not of the defence, and that I say is wrong…. Ostler's defence was suppressed, and that is

– 900 –

wrong. I am sure that the Press did not do it but that it was suppressed by someone else.’⁴³

The Standard of 27 February, under the heading ‘Censorship— But Not Suppression’ called this an ‘unfair inference’, and printed Paul's statement, already cited, on how the postponement came to be made. In this Paul said:

One of my responsibilities is to prevent the impairment of public morale, to discourage the publication of anything calculated to destroy confidence in the integrity of responsible officers or those charged with the effective prosecution of the war effort in New Zealand. But above all, it is imperative that public confidence should not without cause be shaken in the administration of justice as affecting the war effort, and the War Regulations are designed to maintain that confidence. If it could be proved that a Judge's son could obtain any sort of preferential treatment in comparison with the son of any other citizen then that would be detrimental to the nation's war effort; but a statement by any person, especially when not made on oath, is not proof.

In my position of grave responsibility I am not concerned with persons, politics or parties, but I must endeavour to preserve the public morale….

There was never any intention or desire to suppress one word of the Press reports regarding the proceedings and no suppression was made. I believed that it was fair to the people of this country that with the publication of Ostler's allegations, a statement from the Solicitor-General should appear.

Speaking generally, added Paul, if both sides of any question could be given simultaneously, there would be no excuse for unsound judgment. He stressed that the postponement was his decision alone, and threw in that it was part of Hitler's technique to divide nations under attack, while part of his own responsibility was to prevent division.⁴⁴

The day before the Standard appeared, papers had published a letter from the Prime Minister to the Solicitor-General, inquiring sharply whether Ostler's statements were correct, in whole or in part; he wanted a ‘full and explicit statement regarding anything and everything that may have transpired between you and Mr Ostler having bearing on the case’; this matter, affecting the administration of law and the integrity of the government and its officers, was most serious, calling for ‘most searching and urgent examination’. Cornishs reply, published alongside, was dated 20 February, and merely

– 901 –

enclosed the statement already uttered in court, adding that he now realised it had been indiscreet of him to interview Ostler at all, and his chief regret was that ‘as a result of what I did Ostler was able to make a statement that I had the authority of yourself and the Attorney-General to discuss the matter with him.’⁴⁵

During the next week, both Christchurch papers said that the suspension of Supreme Court reporting had provoked much comment and criticism. The Star–Sun was relieved that Paul had acted on his own, though he had established a very dangerous precedent, which should never be followed.⁴⁶ The Press said that Paul's action was legal but queried whether it was just and wise. His statements showed a dangerous view of his functions. Over a long period a censor could do little to ‘prevent the impairment of the public morale’, though he could damage it by weakening faith in the full ness and reliability of available news and, by the suppression of accurate information, encouraging rumours. The public did not need a censor to shield it from disagreeable truth or bolster up confidence in administration and political leaders. Confidence would be better maintained by knowing that evidence of muddling and incompet ence was not being withheld, while faith in the administration of justice was not strengthened by awareness that the censor had inter fered with the publication of judicial proceedings.⁴⁷

While the Ostler case was simmering, newspaper men met at Rotorua in annual conference from which emerged varying opinions on current censorship. Paul claimed that the ‘overwhelming opinion’ of the New Zealand Newspaper Proprietors' Association was that his action over Ostler was justified in the circumstances.⁴⁸ Of Paul's regime in general, the president of the Association later said, ‘It would be expecting too much to suggest that there was complete agreement on all the issues raised, but it was freely conceded that Mr Paul was carrying out a difficult task with the minimum of inconvenience to the newspapers and that his practical knowledge of newspaper production and his helpful attitude at all times had assisted to promote an admirable spirit of co-operation between the Censorship Department and the newspapers.’⁴⁹

– 902 –

Sir Henry Horton,⁵⁰ chairman of the New Zealand branch of the Empire Association, voiced criticisms that were to be repeated during the next few years. Mistakes and inconsistencies, he said, were certain to occur, as censors were necessarily inexperienced, but they should therefore be responsive to improving suggestions. Though there had been no formal proposal to restrict further the independence of news papers, there was within the official censorship ‘an increasing tend ency to suppress information which cannot have any military importance’. More serious was the unofficial censorship, the with holding of information by persons and institutions on the excuse that its publication might affect the conduct of the war or disturb the public mind. Such withholding to prevent criticism of the administration in any area could not be defended, and newspapers should protest strongly ‘whenever they find that the powers vested in the official censorship are being usurped by persons or services having no authority to restrict the freedom of the Press.’⁵¹

More censorship tension was soon produced by a strike in the Hutt Valley at the Woburn railway workshops, which were now doing some munitions work. They required four extra hours from some workers on Saturday mornings. This was on a voluntary basis and at ordinary pay rates, as it was established Railways practice that the first four hours of such work was at normal rates, whereas since 1936 in private industry all work beyond 40 hours was at time-and-a-half, or more.

The Wellington branch of the Railway Tradesmen's Association, seeking to have this anomaly adjusted, interviewed the Minister of Railways, Sullivan, on 14 November 1940. On 14 February 1941 a letter signed by Semple, Minister of Railways since 21 January, refused extra pay for Saturday morning work while promising to require as little of it as possible, consistent with the war effort.⁵² At Woburn, where 1600 men were employed, a meeting on Thursday 6 March decided that unless overtime payments were granted forth with, Saturday morning work would be declined. Management on Friday afternoon told nearly 300 men to report next morning or face suspension. They refused, and Semple ordered their suspension, declaring that he would not tolerate direct action; these men, who had not acted through the national executive of the railway unions, were disloyal both to their unions and to the government; there

– 903 –

could be only one government in the country.⁵³ On Monday 10 March, when 280 men were turned away from their machines, their fellow workers left the shops, saying that the Minister had taken an uncompromising attitude and that they had no alternative to accepting his challenge.⁵⁴ When police and management stopped union officials from addressing the night shift, the night men also joined the strike.⁵⁵

Newspapers greeted the affair with detailed reports and disapproving editorials. In general, they were not concerned with the rights or wrongs of the strike; these were outweighed by the wartime needs of a vital industry where a new spirit and discipline must keep work moving while anomalies and grievances were ‘left in the hands of those appointed for that purpose.’⁵⁶ The denunciations of the New Zealand Herald, for instance, were not half-hearted:

This appalling dereliction of duty in face of the supreme crisis⁵⁷ leaves the whole country aghast….Whatever the point at issue at Woburn… it pales into insignificance beside the country's plain need…. The dispute can be settled while the work goes on…. The Minister and the Government can do no other than take up this challenge to their authority and this Mr Semple intends to do. Meanwhile the shops stand idle and munitions output has ceased because of the precipitate, irresponsible and undisciplined action of workers who subordinate all else to their demand to profit out of the war emergency.⁵⁸

The Auckland Star held that people should appreciate the real nature and importance of the matters involved. Condemnation of direct action, the natural and justifiable reaction of many, should not obscure the larger issues. On various occasions since the start of the war, workers had been led to expect continuance of the 40-hour week. The war effort demanded Saturday work, and if normal rates were paid for it war production would undoubtedly benefit, but the change must apply to all workers, not just a section of them. Immediate redress of all grievances was the democratic right of workers, and assured of that they should go on working while their case was being heard, in a sense of co-operation and liberty; but, in war,

– 904 –

discipline was even more necessary than liberty, and if self-discipline were lacking it must be imposed. ‘The united, disciplined and solid nation is the one that wins wars.’⁵⁹

The Otago Daily Times reminded that in Germany and Britain 10 to 12 hours were worked daily, six days a week, but in New Zealand a series of stoppages over hours and wages had climaxed in the refusal of railway workers to exceed 40 hours a week on war equipment. Government had refused to be cajoled into paying overtime rates on Saturday; the men, defying previous agreements and the advice of union executives, had struck, and Semple, roused by their flagrant refusal, had declared there could be but one government. ‘If the new Minister of Railways is as good as his word, the public may expect that he will seize the opportunity to indicate… once and for all that his mandates are to be obeyed.’ The men must go back to work immediately on the previous conditions. The government had the power to deal decisively with this challenge, a challenge to the basis of democracy, by asserting its authority with compromise or loss of time.⁶⁰

However, besides the lofty editorials, the papers were printing statements from Ministers and the men about past negotiations.⁶¹ Other railway branches and other unions were beginning to consider the strike, Wellington carpenters for instance sending fraternal greetings and a donation.⁶² On 12 March, on the instructions of the Prime Minister, the Director of Publicity telegraphed his editors: ‘From this date the publication of all resolutions, reports of meetings, statements in support, or any information relating to the railway strike cannot be published [sic] without permission.’⁶³

Editorials, however, could continue, and on 13 March both the Press and the Dominion took similar lines, dwelling on the 40-hour week anomaly. The Press said that the government had so far dealt wisely and firmly with the dispute, refusing to discuss the men's grievances while they were on strike.⁶⁴ The government must make clear its determination to prevent strikes and lockouts. But the Woburn men in hours of work and payment for overtime were substantially worse off than employees in private industry, where since 1936 legislation had established a 40-hour week. The government should rationalise its position. By requiring the workshops to exceed 40 hours, the government was admitting that the 40-hour

– 905 –

week was a bar to industrial efficiency. How could it justify maintaining it in private industry?⁶⁵ The Dominion pointed to the embarrassing contradiction of the Labour Department having recently refused to allow volunteers in a private firm to work for ordinary rates on Saturday,⁶⁶ and on the same day the Newspapers Proprietors' Association warned the Prime Minister that many complaints were coming in; Holland said that he would move for discussion in the House; Fraser replied that this would be off the air and out of the press. On the argument that discussion in Parliament might prejudice settlement of the strike, Holland agreed to postpone the debate,⁶⁷ which took place a week later on 19 March.

Behind the scenes, the national executives of both railway unions— the Associated Society of Railway Servants and the Railway Tradesmens Association—passed resolutions regretting any unconstitutional action by unionists and asking for the reinstatement of all suspended men and others on the basis prior to the stoppages, ‘with the assurance of the Minister that negotiations re overtime rate for Saturday work be instituted immediately.’⁶⁸ The government accepted the regrets and agreed that the men should be reinstated on pre-strike conditions, provided that they were back on duty on or before Monday 17 March. On the 14th, at a mass meeting of 1200 to which the press was not admitted though the results were published, this was accepted with only eight dissenting. The combined Hutt Committee later put out a leaflet condemning the executives for working against the Hutt men's interests.⁶⁹ The national executives opposed the Hutt's striking on a national issue without their advice, fearing that it would prejudice negotiations. The result was total victory for the government: not till 30 August 1943 did railway workers obtain time-and-a-half rates for Saturday work after 40 hours during the preceding five days.⁷⁰

City editors forbore immediate comment, save for the Otago Daily Times, Paul's former employer and somewhat restive under his new authority, which on 15 March worked in the first hint that censorship had been exercised: ‘Brief as, from a circumstance over which we have no control, the information is that we are now, and have, in the past day or two, been able to give the public concerning this unfortunate incident, it is sufficient to indicate, that the men concerned have retired with the best grace possible from a position that

– 906 –

was wholly untenable.’ Important questions were still to be clarified, primarily the 40-hour week, the government's own creation, to which it was now showing inconsistency. Three days later this paper led firmly into the censorship issue, quoting Roosevelt's dictum that without freedom of the press democracy could not be maintained, and the recent statement of a British Home Security official that free speech and criticism were, in democratic government, a spur to action. The free press of New Zealand had never been seriously challenged, and no such challenge, however tentative, could be allowed without remark. ‘In recent months, almost unknown to the public, which is the real custodian of democratic rights, the press of this Dominion has submitted to certain restriction upon its publication of news’, most accepted willingly, some self-imposed. As Churchill said, in war some ancient liberties must be placed in pawn, news or views which might assist the enemy could not be printed. But in a democracy censorship must be applied with scrupulous respect for the rights of the press and the public; several edicts from the Prime Minister's office had arbitrarily delayed or forbidden news of merely domestic affairs, and though so far the restraints had been minor, the principle infringed was of the highest consequence.⁷¹

On 19 March Holland, who was renewing his party's demand for a national government, read out the order which had silenced the strikers' side of the news and deprived the public of its right to be fully informed on all public questions, not least the vital question of the 40-hour week. Although the country was at war, it was necessary to ensure that New Zealand's government, in its desire for efficiency, did not fall into Nazi ways. He asked for assurance that the regulations would not be so used again.⁷²

This Fraser stoutly refused. He had saved a vital industry from communist subversion and the newspapers from being, unwittingly, the vehicle of communist propaganda, and he was ‘unrepentant’. ‘I think I did the right thing and I will do it again on every occasion when the necessity arises’; but the regulations would, he stated, be dispensed with as soon as possible after the war.⁷³

– 907 –

The debate was widely and fully reported, being continued next day by Doidge, who declared that while the Woburn men were wrong to strike they were entitled, right or wrong, to be heard, and that if this case, plus that of Ostler, were established as precedents, the newspapers of New Zealand were in the grip of a political Gestapo.⁷⁴

The debate was the signal for a salvo of city editorials. Leading in mildness, the Dunedin Evening Star accepted that the ‘drastic’ instruction had been induced by the need to settle the dispute as quickly as possible, and if it had been ‘differently worded to refer only to motions encouraging the strikers, which we understand to have been the sole object of prohibition, there would have been no need of criticism.’⁷⁵ The Evening Post merely noted with satisfaction that the censorship regulations, unlike other State-socialistic changes, would be withdrawn at the end of the war.⁷⁶ The Dominion said that the public now had a better idea of the government's policy of extending censorship to domestic affairs not directly related to the war, reserving the right to stop any information which in the opinion of the censor would ‘endanger public safety through condonation, approval or anything that would tend to cause a spread of difficulties.’ This description from the Prime Minister's speech covered a very wide field. The real issue was the definition, in particular cases, of what constituted subversive propaganda, on which the regulations gave the censor overriding authority. The press must bow to his decree if he decided that it would be better for the public's morale to withhold disturbing domestic information than to give that information and encourage morale to take strength from adversity.⁷⁷

The Otago Daily Times was pleased that, thanks to Holland, censorship had come into open discussion. What had the government to fear from submitting the facts of an illegal strike to the public? The answer that the government was not going to have a word published that might be a danger to the war effort was specious pleading. The strike doubtless did affect the war effort, but it was not a strike against the war effort in any deliberate sense; it was a protest against the government's abandonment of the ‘precious 40- hour week’, in essence a domestic and party issue. The public would be wise to exercise the closest surveillance of censorship, as much for its methods as for its intentions.⁷⁸

The Otago Daily Times also printed, on 22 March, an article derived from a circular put out by Harold Silverstone, editor of the Industrial Worker, which he called an independent and objective weekly newspaper devoted to trade unionism. He was, wrote Silverstone, not allowed to publish one word of a day-by-day account of 10–13 March which he had submitted to Paul. Later, a report of the meeting at which the dispute was settled ‘was slashed until

– 908 –

it was not only unrecognisable but actually false.’ Silverstone resigned from his editorship to produce this cydostyled letter, which by indicating the extent of censorship itself contravened the regulations, and declared that he would welcome prosecution.⁷⁹ There was none.

Under the heading ‘Muzzling the Press’ the Auckland Star listed the Prime Minister's offences: he had invoked the regulations to censor news of the strike, he had threatened to prevent the reporting and broadcasting of Opposition comment until the strike was settled, and he was ‘quite unrepentant’, though democratic people must feel grave disquiet at their Prime Minister ‘referring derisively to the “specious plea of the freedom of the Press”.’ Fraser's case, said the Star, was that Communists were intent on prolonging and spreading the strike, and that communist-inspired resolutions were being published in the newspapers; he therefore imposed the censorship, the strike ended and, therefore again, the censorship was justified. He had claimed that 99 per cent of the strikers were normally patriotic men, misled by a malign subversive communist element. But all were back at work, including the Communists, the war regulations having been used not against Communists but against the press. Labour supporters should note that trade unions were prevented from explaining their grievances to the public. Censorship was exerted not merely on communist-inspired resolutions but also on any information about the strike. In practice, the news permitted was government propaganda. Such an abuse of power was consistently applied in Germany, Russia and Italy; ‘It has not happened consistently in New Zealand; there have been one or two minor abuses, and this major one.’⁸⁰

The Press stressed that newspapers were forbidden to indicate that any censorship had been exercised and was disturbed that the Prime Minister seemed jocularly unaware that he should explain riding roughshod over the freedom of the press, the privileges of Parliament and the elementary right of citizens in a democracy to be kept reliably informed on the policy and actions of their government. The forgoing of small items of news, Fraser had said, was a small matter compared with the possibility of newspapers being used unwittingly to foment trouble and turmoil in the country. Newspapers, said the Press, did not mind forgoing important items of news for diplomatic

– 909 –

and military reasons; they minded being deprived of the right to be fair and impartial.⁸¹

The New Zealand Herald, which at the outset had so vigorously rebuked the strikers, repeated that the press fully accepted military censorship, proving its discretion by the absence of any serious breach in 18 months of war. ‘It is the abuse of the censorship for party political ends that is condemned.’ The previous week the workers had been gagged, yet the point at issue, the 40-hour week, was of the widest public interest, and how should the public decide unless both sides were stated? Incitements such as reports of meetings or statements supporting the strike were justifiably silenced, but that no information was to be published without permission was an ‘unconscionable proceeding’, plain suppression, more likely to breed suspicion than unity. The Herald added that there had been other cases of political censorship, ‘the most glaring’ being the four-day suppression of Ostler's statement in the Supreme Court where only the Judge should have such power. ‘The Prime Minister should recognise an error that is, in fact, an offence’, and give the assurance for which the Opposition asked—that there would be no repetition, no further falling into Nazi methods.⁸²

Two days later the Herald considered the legal freedom of the press in British countries. Unlike in America, where by the 1789 Bill of Rights freedom of speech and of the press could not be abridged by Congress, in Britain Parliament was supreme, restrained only by public opinion, drawing on tradition. Lord Justice Mansfield⁸³ had said in 1784: ‘The liberty of the press consists in publishing without licence, subject to the consequences of the law’, and this reference to licence stemmed back to the system attacked by Milton in Areopagitica. While there was no legal barrier to censorship, the whole idea was repugnant to British law. In war it was accepted concerning anything that might aid the enemy or injure the nation's war effort, but it was vitally important that these should not be so generously interpreted as to ban what would be merely inconvenient for the authorities to have known. War in defence of liberty should not become the vehicle for needlessly suppressing liberty: eternal vigilance was still the price; all should be alert to guard against unnecessary inroads.⁸⁴

Cartoonist Minhinnick with the caption ‘Simple Blackout Hints’, showed Fraser tying a ‘press censorship’ blindfold over the eyes of

– 910 –

a groping little man;⁸⁵ the Auckland Star's ‘J. C. H.’, with the caption ‘Unrepentant’ showed Public Opinion as a large and savage schoolmaster glaring down at a small smarting Fraser who thumbs his nose, saying ‘I'll do it again’.⁸⁶

Several papers linked this episode with the Ostler case. The Star– Sun recalled the latter as an utterly unwarranted interference with domestic news, an error of judgment by the Director of Publicity which had precisely the opposite effect to that intended. The Prime Minister had used the regulations to prevent the strike spreading; no one who knew anything of labour organisations imagined for a moment that such use had any influence on the course of the dispute, but Fraser had prevented public discussion of some aspects of the strike and stifled public criticism.⁸⁷ A few days later the Star–Sun observed, fairly enough, that in the past week or two a good deal of nonsense had been talked about censorship and the liberty of the press but the important principle, stated over and over again, was that the total freedom enjoyed by a country was measured by the freedom of its press. It was radically unsound to apply censorship to domestic matters; its recent such use was unnecessary, showed

– 911 –

official ignorance of elementary principles and created a dangerous precedent.⁸⁸

Censorship in the Woburn strike was a political football. Possibly because the Opposition and the press were usually so much against strikes and the 40-hour week, and as the papers had opened fire so hotly, Fraser felt that in the heightening war tension quick and salutary smothering of the dispute could be achieved through censorship, hoping for tolerance, even approval, from the strikers' traditional foes. A note in J. H. Hall's handwriting, dated 29 March 1941, pointed out that in this totalitarian war, where every phase of the nation's life, social, economic and moral, was subject to attack, the term ‘military’ must have much wider application than it had had in 1914–18.⁸⁹

But censorship provided Holland, in the flush of new leadership, with an opportunity to attack the government in the name of democracy, freedom of the press and the right of trade unionists to be heard. Political warfare, especially to a politician in opposition, was an entrenched habit, while the other war, however many words were spent on it, was not yet a reality. The newspapers, already slightly chafed by Paul's cautions, were happy to chastise the old enemy, Labour, for a new offence.

The opportunism of the press and the National party was proved by later events. When unrepentant Fraser applied similar press strictures in later strikes, there was no such outcry. There was no protest when on 17 March 1942 an order forbad publication without prior approval of news of the Westfield freezing workers' strike.⁹⁰ Similarly, on 15 October 1942 Sullivan, justifying the use of censorship to maintain essential supplies, read out to the House as an example of proper censorship an order issued on 15 September early in the Waikato coal strike: ‘To assist in localizing the serious coal dislocation and ensure speediest possible return to full production assistance of press is necessary to prevent extension of trouble. There must be no publication of reports of meetings resolutions or statements in support of the unlawful strike or of any statement supporting or condemning the strikers without reference to the Director of Publicity.’⁹¹ Though more tactful, less peremptory, this order was not in substance much different from that which had caused such furore

– 912 –

18 months earlier.⁹² No member of Parliament or editor was concerned about trade unionists' right to be heard, or the public's right to full information.

This acceptance of strike-silencing in 1942 might well seem a measure of the deepening force of the war, and doubtless this was part of it. But in 1951, in the waterfront strike, Holland was to apply censorship quite as firmly as had Fraser in war time.

Ironically, German propagandists were able to make prompt use of Holland's censures, broadcast in Parliament. Breslau, on 22 March, in English for England, announced:

Mr. Sydney Holland, Leader of the Opposition in the New Zealand Parliament, stated on Friday that the Government had introduced a very strict censorship. The Censor had been instructed to ban all news concerning strikes in New Zealand armament works and to prevent newspapers from criticising the Government. Mr. Fraser, the New Zealand Prime Minister, said that if he had known Mr. Holland had meant to allude to the strike in armament works he would have prevented this debate in Parliament. Great Britains alleged struggle for liberty and freedom has throughout the Empire become the sepulchre of tradition, right and privilege of Britons.

On the same day Germans were told: ‘A New Zealand member of Parliament tried to criticise the British War Censorship. He objected to the press being forbidden to criticise members of New Zealand Government. This imprudent M.P. was told by Prime Minister Fraser that it was not for Parliament to formulate policy: that was the business of the Government which was appointed by the London Government.’⁹³

The Labour government was with reason long and deeply aware of the antagonism and power of the press. ‘We never had a fair go from the papers’, was a plaint uttered often by Savage. Labour had come to office against all the weight of press influence, which continually dragged against most of its actions, for instance in 1941 strenuously supporting doctors in their hostility to the medical benefits of Social Security. The war had killed plans for a Labour daily, and the government's use of the new medium, radio, to explain its purposes and tell of its achievements was not an over-happy substitute, its national service talks being too often unskilful, dull and too obviously propaganda. Parliamentary broadcasts were Labour's main line to the minds of people and here, from time to time,

– 913 –

Labour men revealed their exasperation and anxiety over the persistent opposition of the press.

Thus A. F. Moncur, in the crisis of June 1940, asked the city newspapers, ‘the greatest controlling factor in making for the calmness of the people today’, to cancel for the moment their political inclinations. Labour, he said, had known for years that the metropolitan press ‘stands first, last, and all the time for vested interests’, whereas Labour stood for the masses; he complained that ministerial statements handed to the press had portions left out or were printed in obscure places.⁹⁴

Another member, J. W. Munro,⁹⁵ on 29 July 1941, claimed that Labour had passed its highly Christian Social Security Act with the dogs of vested interest yapping at its heels. ‘Never forget that the newspapers are owned by vested interests, and are their watchdogs.’⁹⁶ At about the same time H. G. R. Mason complained that the Oppositions friends in the press concealed and suppressed Labour statements: a ‘splendid speech’ by the Minister of Agriculture was buried under a small heading in the middle of a page.⁹⁷ Chief Whip James O'Brien, irked by the space given to Opposition utterances, carried resentment further, advocating that every newspaper should be licensed, and when one worked against the interests of the country and the people, or criticised the government unfairly, the licence should be cancelled. He evaded saying who should judge the issue, adding that Seddon⁹⁸ in his time had fought every newspaper in the country.⁹⁹ The Evening Post, linking O' Brien's proposal with vague warnings in the Standard against Labour-suppressing reportage, saw a serious threat of totalitarianism,¹⁰⁰ as did the Wanganui Herald on 4 August; but there was no widespread alarm.

In March 1944 James Thorn was to declare that freedom of the press meant that a few capitalists started a paper and their employees wrote to prop up their system, vilifying Labour and praising Tories; such freedom was licence to corrupt and poison the minds of the people and, despite the censorship complained of, newspapers had campaigned against the government throughout the war.¹⁰¹ Fraser himself in August 1944 said heatedly that the press was controlled

– 914 –

by landowners and the rich, who in effect told the leaderwriters what to write, ‘and, if they do not write it, out they go’; the real censorship was by editors, not by the government censor.¹⁰²

One of the clearest statements came from Paul commenting on criticism of his functions by the Press of 3 June 1941: ‘It is unfortunately necessary in almost every instance where criticism of a war activity occurs to remember that a definite bias—unconscious or otherwise—obtrudes against the Government. While the Press as a whole is favourable to the war effort, it holds in the main that the success of that effort depends in large measure on the destruction of the Government. If not that, then destruction of the principles on which the Government exists.’¹⁰³

The government, then, was resentful of newspapers, knowing that praise from them would be grudging, criticism prompt and plentiful; the newspapers' basic attitude was that the war required a British-style coalition, and that only with National party talents in Cabinet and Labour's domestic programme set aside for the duration would there be the unity needed for a real war effort. Newspapers were irked to have Paul, a life-long Labour man, holding final authority on what could and could not be published, in areas of public morale and welfare largely determined by himself. They were ready, as the months passed, to criticise his shortcomings both in censorship and publicity.

Reverses in Greece and Crete in April and May 1941 shook confidence in the conduct of the war. As mentioned elsewhere,¹⁰⁴ Fraser took steps through Freyberg to ensure that the New Zealand Division would not again be launched on adventures without due air and armour support, but this of course was not known by the public. In the House of Commons these campaigns were criticised openly, extracts reaching New Zealand; here, however, Parliament's talk on Greece and Crete was, as usual when military matters were discussed, in secret session.

Before that debate began, on 11 June 1941, Holland stated that 90 to 95 per cent of the information given in secret sessions could have been given openly.¹⁰⁵ Nash, as Acting Prime Minister, claimed that nothing had been withheld except what would have been advantageous to the enemy, that absence of wrangling in Parliament on the war situation did not mean that people were not informed. Such wrangling helped the enemy. Even things quite innocent in

– 915 –

themselves, said in the House, had been so used, twisted very cleverly by Dr Goebbels to create an impression in such places as Spain, Italy, Sweden, Holland and Denmark that the British Commonwealth was disintegrating, whereas an argument in the House of Commons would not give this impression.¹⁰⁶

Greece and Crete sharpened another censorship problem. Very early in the war, editors had been warned to take great care in publishing letters from servicemen overseas. The Director himself had been advised by the staff officer in charge of publicity with 2NZEF to be very cautious over interviews with returned men, as some were not in normal health and a few were not desirable citizens.¹⁰⁷ Accordingly, in September 1940 Paul asked newspapers to submit such interviews to him before publication.

On 10 July 1941, when a hospital ship brought a large number home from the fighting, Paul telegraphed editors tightening this instruction. Subsequently he deleted several references, for instance to prisoners and to the Greek Army, that would have been harmful to the Allied cause. Similar restrictions were placed on letters from prisoners-of-war.¹⁰⁸ In handling statements from disgruntled soldiers, as in other matters, Paul ‘endeavoured to induce editors to adopt the principle that together with every published charge made by soldier or civilian affecting the war effort there should appear an explanation, whether that explanation contained a complete rebuttal of the charge or an admission that it rested on a sound or reasonable foundation.’¹⁰⁹

As the war worsened, a growing question was whether criticisms of equipment, manpower, training, etc, should be published as a spur to greater effort and better administration, or should be silenced as damaging to the country's morale, let alone any help or encouragement they might give to the enemy. The government inclined to the latter view. New Zealand's war effort was the war effort of the New Zealand Labour government; it was only half a side-step in the mind for attacks on Labour's administration to become attacks damaging to the war effort itself, and therefore censorable.

‘Blanket’ prohibitions, which might cover wide topics indefinitely, kept precision well away from comments on defence. As an instance: on 9 May 1941 the Director of Publicity told editors that on 29 April some newspapers had reported, from military sources, a shortage of 2000 men in the Northern Territorial forces, and another

– 916 –

quoted the Dominion commander of the Home Guard telling Guardsmen at Waipawa that there were no rifles for them. Such news should not be given to the enemy, potential or otherwise; therefore, there should be no published reference, direct or indirect, to any shortage of manpower or war materials in New Zealand, without authority from his office.¹¹⁰ A similar restriction on news of war production had been imposed in April.¹¹¹

This covering type of prohibition drew complaint from Sir Cecil Leys,¹¹² chairman of New Zealand Newspapers Ltd.¹¹³ On 21 May he recalled saying at the last annual meeting that it was the duty of the press, besides stimulating effort and maintaining morale, to ventilate abuses and bring slackness to light. These purposes were hampered by a ‘timid censorship which has become unnecessarily restrictive. “Blanket” orders prohibiting the publication of this or that class of information, much of which should rightly be in the hands of the public, are being issued in increasing numbers until there is scarcely an item of war news which can be published without reference to the censor. No New Zealand newspaper would publish matter which would give information to the enemy not already in his possession or available to him from a dozen sources’,¹¹⁴ while keeping back essential facts was a grave disservice to New Zealanders. One result was an erroneous impression of preparedness. The people had no idea of the true state of home defences, or of the need for urgent preparation against an emergency that might arise at any moment. ‘The easy belief that all we need do is to carry on … as if conditions were normal is thus fostered, and the enthusiasm of the many thousands who were never foolish enough to hold this belief but were ready to do their utmost to put the country in a state of preparedness is … not being maintained. It could be rekindled by a vigorous campaign in which the real facts were stated, but these must not be told—they would be giving information to the enemy. Such a policy is utterly wrong.’ The Censorship system was basically at fault, giving to one man a monopoly of judgment, without any appeal. He should have the help of experts outside the forces, whose invariable reaction was that as little as possible on

– 917 –

anything should be published. ‘No man, however able, painstaking and industrious, should be expected to exercise such wide powers.’ The government should urgently recast its censorship policy, to require that before reference to a subject without prior approval was banned, a ‘limited body of men qualified to judge and advise upon the long-term results of such restrictions be consulted.’¹¹⁵

This speech was widely and prominently reported, but it was not followed by the approving general chorus that would salute later criticisms of censorship. The Otago Daily Times, however, commented on 24 May that the Director of Publicity had unquestionable control over all publication; his prohibitions extended much more widely than most people knew; there appeared to be no dividing line between military and political significance, and items of news more likely to stimulate than to retard the war effort had been suppressed. The Timaru Herald on 22 May said that for practical purposes the Director's powers were unlimited, and he had been set an impossible task which no other government had entrusted to one man. Unexpected endorsement came from the Labour-minded Grey River Argus, which stated bluntly that though Sir Cecil Leys was no friend of the workers he should be heard on this issue. Censorship had spread a mental blackout over New Zealand, rivalling the literal blackout of coastal towns and drawing protest from many quarters. Labour's censorship was harsher than that of Tory-dominated Britain, its operators refusing to ‘accept the commonsense principle that what is good enough, and safe enough, for the minds of the British people (… virtually in the firing line) should, without question, be considered good enough and safe enough for us.’ Did ‘these people’ really believe that New Zealanders could not be trusted with the truth, that national unity and effort would be jeopardised by frank, informed discussions on the war situation? Did they believe that all must be kept on a proper course by a carefully selected diet of sunshine items of news and sunshine expressions of views? The Argus agreed with Sir Cecil Leys that the existing censorship should be tempered by consultative experts; indeed it went further, suggesting that the present organisation should be replaced by a more democratic one, representative of the mentality and requirements of New Zealanders.¹¹⁶

At about the same time, on 29 May 1941, Nash himself, opening an RSA conference, evoked further criticism of government leadership and war publicity by saying that not five per cent of New Zealanders understood the seriousness of the war situation. The RSA

– 918 –

proposed a Ministry of Information and regretted that Ministers used the radio to make important defence policy statements.¹¹⁷ The Otago Daily Times pointed out that to keep people informed of events and their obligations the radio was no substitute for the press: within minutes the spoken word became hearsay, passed on inaccurately, facts distorted into error and statement into rumour. ‘Newspaper print provides the most reliable and assimilable medium for placing before the public, in the first instance, facts which have to be faced.’¹¹⁸

While some papers attributed national complacency to the government's carry-on-as-usual attitude,¹¹⁹ the Press said firmly that the responsibility for this lay with the Censorship and Publicity Branch of the Prime Mini