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to Labour History
In two further wide-ranging chapters, Oxley placed her female convict subjects
in a comparative statistical context - with the vast majority of their peers,
contemporary Irish and English working women, who did not offend against the
law. This analysis illuminated transformations of women' s work in this critical
phase of industrialisation, as it also displayed more fully the convict women's
background. They emerged not only as competent indeed compared to their sisters,
but the very women whose skills were most in demand in the colony, if we can take
as evidence for this the workers named as desirable in advertisements for free women
migrants.
If I raise one question about Convict Maids, it is one directed not only at Oxley7 s
book, but at many others in the field of nineteenth-century Australian history. At
the very same time that Oxley addresses one 'creative tension' in colonial history,
she in fact presages another, one that she does not resolve. At the beginning of her
introduction Oxley alludes to 'areas of blindness relating to the nature of the invasion
and the ongoing process of dispossessing the original inhabitants' of Australia. By
contrast, the title of her final chapter runs: 'Britain's Loss, Australia's Gain?'
Undoubtedly it could only be a white Australia that Oxley is thinking of when she
considers 'gain', but this is not acknowledged. Convicts, male and female, came to
New South Wales under duress to face initially harsh and oppressive conditions.
Inasmuch as any of them survived to sustain decent lives, theirs is a colonial success
story. But where do we place the colonised in this narrative? Female convicts may
be absolved from the cruelty with which some of their male counterparts dealt with
Aborigines. But can we also rejoice unambiguously that these women represented
a fine foundation for a new society? Somehow in our reconsiderations of colonial
history, even when dealing as Oxley does with convicts, we need to acknowledge
the imperial nature of the process. Maintaining the complexity of the meaning of
'colonial', while attending to the specificities of the particular subject under review,
constitutes an ongoing challenge for historians in the field.
Meanwhile Deborah Oxle/s scholarly achievement in Convict Maids is admirable.
It will be of very considerable interest to labour historians and women's historians
of Britain and early Australia particularly, as well as to economic historians of both
countries. She has produced a fine book which should be widely read .
Terry Irving (ed.), Challenges to Labour History. University of New South Wales
Press, Sydney, 1994. pp. ix+217. $24.95 paper.
Historians have always been divided along political lines but have we ever been so
divided about the future of the discipline? Keith Windschuttle feels decidedly gloomy
about the future, identifying history7s problems as the disruption of its method by
alien epistemologies. On the other hand Terry Irving feels positively optimistic about
apparent fragmentation, challenges to its ruling intellectual models, and its supposed
loss of political purpose. Irving discusses then dismisses these in turn, albeit
sometimes in a slippery way and sometimes inconsistently. He denies, for instance,
that the apparent fragmentation is a problem; yet presumably the fragmentation of
history is one of the reasons why labour history is (he tells us) sometimes regarded
as 'white bloke's history7, a point he obviously feels strongly about. He then shows
that labour history is under attack by postmodernists; indeed the blurb on the back
cover refers to the postmodernist denial of labour history's claims to grasp social
reality as a whole. But labour history has never claimed to represent social reality as
a whole and Irving acknowledges that its two dominant models, Marxism and
Liberalism, have been exposed as either incomplete or tainted by inappropriate
assumptions. Yet he returns to these to provide the defence against labour history's
enemies. Thus he labels postmodernism as a conservative ideology, as if recent
history had not shown us how problematic such labels are. Postmodernism is not
necessarily conservative; so for labour historians to declare it an enemy, as Irving
does, seems unwise. Certainly many postmodern assumptions are antagonistic to
working-class politics and indeed too many postmodernist icons and luminaries
have had questionable politics (Heidegger, de Man, even Foucault himself). But
does anybody outside academic postmodernism take the postmodernist denial of a
material world seriously? The ever-increasing denial of social explanations for
poverty, unemployment and other kinds of material disadvantage is surely much
more important. There is, however, enough progressive and useful poststructuralist
analysis in fields such as feminism, education and ethnicity to suggest at least a
possibility of dialogue with labour history. After all Foucault, in his earlier work,
did not deny that social class meant oppression and resistance, nor did he deny that
the factory was a site where, to use his jargon, disciplined bodies were produced,
although I've never seen a Foucaultian pursue this. And while postmodern politics
proposes a multiplicity of such sites and resistances its less blinkered opponents do
not deny collective identity.
So, given the phenomenal growth of postmodernism in Academia, it is evident
that labour historians need to approach it strategically. And given the growth of the
new social movements which at present distrust organised labour I think we are
going to have to accept that social class, the lynch pin of labour history's own history,
is just one of those collective identities that not only make progressive politics but
can also make regressive politics. Such an assertion does not fail to recognise the
sharpening of class tensions in the 1980s and 1990s. Denying the existence of social
class or the relevance of class analysis is classical class politics. However, as
conservative mutterings about equal opportunity and anti-discrimination acts get
louder, other kinds of social tensions and struggles will also sharpen. Labour and
labour history have not always been good at linking up with these struggles. They
need to be.
Keith Windschuttle's book Is wonderfully titled. Everybody likes a murder
mystery, although there isn7t much mystery about who Windschuttle thinks is
murdering history. His argument proceeds from assertions regarding the state of
history in Australia to descriptions of various epistemologies (structuralism,
semiotics, cultural studies, and more) and authors7 oeuvres (Dening, Hadyn White,
Paul Carter, Foucault, Fukuyama, Habermas, Kuhn, Popper, Giddens) which
I still count myself fortunate to have been forced to read Gibbon, Macaulay,
Carlyle, Maitland and Tocqueville for an undergraduate course on
historical method at the University of Sydney in 1966. The students who
attend compulsory seminars on Foucault, Heidegger and post
structuralism are grossly underprivileged by comparison, [p.249]
describes his histories as philosophical inquiries into the nature of truth. The quite
ferocious debates about Madness and Civilisation, in Still and Velod/s 1992 collection
Rewriting the History of Madness, illustrate the point further.
This oversimplicity is also apparent in the way Windschuttle structures his
arguments. There is little real engagement with the debates about the work of some
of his authors. Dening's arguments are demolished by Obeyeskere's and so, therefore,
is structuralism. Foucaulfs study of the asylum is demolished by Gauchet and Swain
and by Scull, his study of the prison by Garland, and thaf s the end of it. Only
Fukuyama gets a chance to reply to his critics. And always, it is the critics of the
enemies of history whose work is above suspicion, above contradiction. If history is
the historical activity E.H. Carr described, then in Windschuttle's book history is
absent. It is frozen in time at the moment of rebuttal.
The person who holds the fort always seems likely to regard the slightest
transgression as treachery and this is Windschuttle's greatest failing. We are all used
to telling postmodernists, for instance, about the wonderful variety of philosophical
and epistemological positions from which historians write. However Windschuttle,
in his anxiety to defend his Fortress History, defends only the position that ignorant
postmodernists attack, that history is always empiricist: and that is a position which,
in the 1990s, is frankly unsustainable.
As a writer and teacher of labour history I'm not really bothered by the
intellectual/academic enemies of history, even though academic postmodernists
can be as ruthlessly totalitarian as anyone else, despite their professed respect for
'difference'. The decline of history in schools, of Australian history in universities,
the attack on higher education, the falling fortunes of labour, all present a much
greater threat to both history and labour history. Yet, need we be terminally
pessimistic? History 'outside' seems to be booming. The Victorian PRO attracts
researchers in record numbers; genealogists maybe, but what of that? Public history
is in good health. The heritage industry is booming. Even non-academic labour
history still struggles along. And there is nothing like struggle to re-charge
enthusiasms.
Mark Bray and Nigel Haworth (eds), Economic Restructuring and Industrial
Relations in Australia and New Zealand: A Comparative Analysis. ACCIRT
Mongraph No. 8, University of Sydney, 1993. pp. ii +155. $20.00 paper.
John Mathews, Catching The Wave: Workplace Reform in Australia. Allen and
Unwin, St Leonards, 1994. pp. xiv + 359. $34.95 paper.