At first glance—and maybe even second or third—this poem hardly seems the stuff of extremist, radical political propaganda. Look at the imagery just from the first stanza: Aussie slang like “humping bluey” and “on the wallaby” intermingled with the hardly anti-social sentiments of celebrating freedom and the knocking down of tyrants. How could a poem that opens with the almost impossibly banal observation that “Australia’s a big country” possibly lead to calls made from the floor of Parliament for the arrest of its author on charges of sedition?
The answer lies not in the opening lines, but the closing lines. “Freedom on the Wallaby” was originally published in the left-leaning magazine Worker in 1891 as a response by Lawson to a conflict pitting unionized sheep shearers versus non-unionized workers and the owners. Lawson’s poem was not the only creative work to spring froth from this pivotal moment in the history of Australian politics. The country’s beloved unofficial national anthem also was inspired by these events. “Waltzing Matilda” may be more famous now, but in the heat of crucible which forged both compositions, Lawson’s was by far more notorious. Infamy would precede fame. While today Lawson’s poem is justly famous as an example of aesthetic propaganda, midway through 1891 it was considered by some very powerful politicians and businessmen as not just pure propaganda, but an inflammatory incitement to violence.
On July 15, 1891 on the floor of the Queensland Legislative Council, Member of Parliament Frederick Brentnall stood up to read into the official record of the body’s “Vote of Thanks” to armed strike breakers the final two stanzas of Lawson’s poem. It was the final four lines, however, that sealed the deal:
“We’ll make the tyrants feel the sting
O’ those that they would throttle;
They needn’t say the fault is ours,
If blood should stain the wattle.”
Placed in juxtaposition to the event which was being honored by Parliament—the use of force to stop workers from striking—those concluding two lines were nothing less than political red meat for those standing in opposition to the demands being made by the strikers. Lawson’s poem essentially said to be saying that not only should those supporting the striking workers fight back against the strike breakers, but that all the blame for any violence which resulted from the conflict should be placed squarely upon the shoulders of the breakers. The very men that Brentnall and his minions were officially thanking as Australian heroes.
The result was as expected: immediate outrage with calls for Lawson to be arrested on charges of sedition. Lawson responded as best he knew how by putting pen to paper and composing a bitterly satirical poem titled “The Vote of Thanks Debate.” Addressing Brentnall by name and referencing his speech of the 15th, Lawson’s response represents one of the great lessons in the history of literary propaganda. The charge, after all, was that “Freedom on the Wallaby” was written with the express purpose of inciting violence while at the same time eschewing responsibility. Brentnall’s argument is that Lawson’s poem is no different than writing a threatening letter. He ends with what is essentially a warning: don’t blame us if your breakers get as good as they give next time.
Except, of course, a poem published in a magazine is no more like a threatening letter than a movie or a song or play or any other literary creation. If Lawson had really been trying to use his poetry to stir up violence, why not write a follow-up that directly targets Brentnall for violence as a response to the MP’s threat to charge Lawson. Lawson did respond by targeting Brentnall. The politician becomes a figure of ridicule at first, but gradually Lawson reveals him as something much more damaging:
“O Brentnall! Have you ever tramped the city streets within?
And felt the pavement wearing through the leather, sock, and skin;
And looked for work, and asked for work, and begged for work in vain,
Until you cared not though you ne’er might touch your tools again.”
By the end of the response, Brentnall has been successfully been transformed into the living embodiment of what was, after all, the real propagandistic purpose of “Freedom on the Wallaby.” The meat of that poem is one that draws a parallel between the out-of-touch members of the loafing British aristocracy and Australian leaders cracking down on workers’ rights by connecting the rebellious decision to leave England behind and found a new country with the decision to rebel in support of the striking wool workers. What is abstract and collective in “Freedom on the Wallaby” is made concrete and personal in “The Vote of Thanks Debate.” The irony of the outrage against a poem that starts out so benignly being twisted to seem like a radical call for anarchy is that Brentnall himself—the leader of the charge against Lawson—contributed so much to making the very case that motivated Lawson to write “Freedom on the Wallaby” in the first place.
Although he never wound up being charged and although the strike was eventually broken and although the owners and the politicians supporting them could be declared winners in the short term, the longer arm of history would eventually declare Lawson on the side of the winners. The long-term outcome of the strike which led to Lawson’s poem is still being felt today in the form of the Australian Labor Party which originated in response to the political strife caused by the 1891 strike.
