During the first four decades of the century, the four colleges of the University of New Zealand developed a strong tradition of academic freedom, a tradition often coloured ‘ramping red’ by successive generations of students attracted to Marxism in its various forms. Victoria College in particular was widely regarded as a refuge for radicals and revolutionaries, with students frequently suspected of shirking their duties, subversion, and worse. From its founding in 1938 the student newspaper Salient was increasingly cited as evidence of this, dominated as it was by members of the college’s left wing, including A. H. (Bonk) Scotney, Morrie Boyd, Derek Freeman, Vesta Emmanuel, Ronald Meek, Dorian Saker, Jim Winchester, Mary Brisco, and Peter and Moyra Mitchell. Many of these same young men and women were also prominent on the Students’ Association’s executive.

Following the outbreak of war, Salient and hence the Association as publisher became vulnerable to the restrictions imposed by the wartime Emergency Regulations. These placed New Zealand writers, publishers and printers in an highly invidious position, prohibited from publishing any works which might be deemed seditious or detrimental to the war effort on pain of possible imprisonment, fines, and confiscation of both the works concerned and the plant and equipment used to produce them. What was to be deemed seditious was largely left to the police officers concerned, but in the minds of many New Zealanders communism, pacifism and sedition were synonymous terms.

After several disputes over copy with the paper’s increasingly nervous printer, in 1940 it was decided to revert to a cyclostyled format, to be published monthly under the editorship of Morrie Boyd assisted by many of the same staff members mentioned above. The issue of academic freedom was broached in the first number for the year, when O. A. E. Hughan gave an account of the dismissal of the college’s Professor of Modern Languages, Professor von Zedlitz, in the First World War and of the events of 1933 when the radical newspaper Student was banned, Spike was censored and the discussion of controversial topics proscribed. In his opinion, the newly imposed regulations constituted a definite threat to academic freedom and, moreover, they seemed particularly directed against the free and open discussion of left-wing ideas (Hughan 2-3).

Hughan need not have worried. In spite of the prevailing political atmosphere, the left-wing at Victoria remained as vocal as ever, determined to ensure that the college’s tradition of political engagement should continue un-stifled. Over the next few months Salient repeatedly addressed issues which might have been avoided by a more circumspect publication. It supported the establishment of a college Peace Society, initially opposed by the students’ executive, for fear ‘the College would be brought into disrepute’ by such a society, (see Meek), and advocated (in Salient 27 May 1940) the formation of ‘soviet style’ committees to deal with such matters as physical education, compulsory medical examinations for freshers and greater student involvement in curriculum development.² However, by May the Labour Government had strengthened the Emergency Regulations to the extent that printers in particular were becoming extremely nervous.

In early June the Superintendent of Police in Christchurch visited H. W. Bullivant, printer of the fortnightly newspaper Tomorrow, warning him that ‘the Police have power to seize any printing press and they would not hesitate to use this power if any subversive articles were printed.’ The editor and publisher of Tomorrow, Kennaway Henderson, quoted these words in a letter to his subscribers dated 17 June (subsequently reproduced in Salient 27 June 1940), and further pointed out that ‘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’. First published in 1934 and by far the most significant political and literary journal of its day, Tomorrow had long proved itself a thorn in the side of both government and big business, devoted as it was to providing an outlet for ideas which the mainstream press refused to entertain. It provided the editors and staff of Salient with a model to aspire to. Its dramatic closure proved portentous for the more junior paper.

Around the time that H. W. Bullivant was being interviewed by the police in Christchurch, an issue of Salient appeared (13 June 1940) devoted to the topic of censorship, which carried the following short sketch entitled ‘There’s a war on’, ‘There’s a war on’ had in fact already been published earlier in the year, in the March issue of the literary magazine Oriflamme: a Literary journal of youth and the fine arts (Vol. 1. no. 2, March 1940), which was itself edited by Salient staff members Dorian Saker and Tony Murray-Oliver. Here, in a magazine with something approximating the same circulation as Salient (four hundred hand stencilled and mimeographed copies), it had prompted little or no comment, despite effectively being published from the nascent National Library, the Alexander Turnbull Library, just down the hill from the Victoria College in Wellington. However, in June, amid what Henderson called ‘a wave of hysteria . . . sweeping the country’, (Salient, 27 June 1940), the story was clearly liable to be judged detrimental to the war effort.³

‘There’s A War On…’

Michael du Fresne

Written with an obvious debt to Frank Sargeson, then approaching the height of his influence among younger writers, the story was attributed to one Michael du Fresne. It was in fact written by Dorian Saker: Saker’s middle name was Michael and his mother’s maiden name was Frain.⁴ Though it lacks Sargeson’s subtle touch, its jaundiced view of the army recruitment process would have made it suitable for the pages of Tomorrow itself. As it was, its second publication prompted a concerned citizen to pass a copy of the paper to the police. About a month after publication, Saker, editor Morrie Boyd and Association president Ron Corkill were interviewed by Detective Murray of the Wellington Police acting under the Emergency Regulations. They were asked to make a joint statement on the matter and after admitting that ‘publication of such an article might be indiscreet’, were assured that ‘the case was not serious enough to warrant a prosecution’ and advised ‘not to worry about the matter’ any further. With obvious relief, a statement in defence of ‘freedom of utterance’ was prepared by Corkhill for the next number of Salient, due to appear on 18 July, but before the issue could be distributed Prime Minister Peter Fraser contacted the college principal Sir Thomas Hunter about the matter (see ‘Report on Salient’). With the possiblity of prosecution once again in the offing, Hunter instructed that Salient cease publication forthwith. An executive sub-committee was convened and in its report to the Professorial Board it argued eloquently for the continued existence of the paper. A set of editorial guidelines were prepared and, with the Board reassured, the issue of 18 July eventually appeared on 10 September, although without Corkill’s statement. Salient had survived, but only just.