A Good Keen Man: An Argument on the
Roots of Anti-Intellectualism in New Zealand
My mate Max
wrote this. As he occasionally does, he
got me thinking. Anti-intellectualism is
a topic me and Max often talked about, especially during the numerous
times he encouraged me through my law degree, as well as the frequent occasions
I lambasted him about his lack of sporting prowess.
(Especially
after getting the Rhodes scholarship where my direct (and only analogy) of
comparing David Kirk’s sporting achievements of being a world cup winning All
Black Captain to Max’s “sporting” achievements on the Debating ‘field’ were
consistently raised, usually in jest.)
Without
really knowing it, intellectualism was something I often thought growing up. Like most small town
boys, at an early age, I loved rugby. However,
I can often recall my Dad telling me about his favourite book, especially after
a few beers, which directly discouraged my passion.
Dad went to
school in St Johns in Hastings. Like
most schools at the time, rugby was a huge component. Dad, like me was not athletically built to be
a rugby player and had no interest or time for rugby. He would tell me about his favourite book at
High School; Gordon Slatter’s ‘The Pagan Game’, a remarkable work which Dad
construed as a big “fuck you” to the rugby heads.
Recently I’ve
also finished reading Gordon (the favourite name of the time?) McLauchlan’s original
version ‘The Passionless People’ published in 1976. In ‘The Passionless People’ McLauchlan
famously christened New Zealanders as a country of ‘smiling zombies’,
forwarding this thesis through provocatively titled chapters; The Sterile
Society, The Passionless Pretence; The Passionless Sexes and Passionless Piss-Ups. More specifically McLauchlan directly addressed New Zealander’s typical anti-intellectualism
and lack of respect of academics.
Both of
these works, explore the roots of modern day anti-intellectualism in New
Zealand which Max discusses. More
powerful in their heyday, none the less, the commentary they provide on this
matter is useful, as these anti-intellectual influences, through the generation
remain hanging over.
As John
Kirwan bravely suggested All Blacks Don’t Cry;it
could also be proposed that ‘All Blacks’ aren’t intellectual or should be especially
academic (e.g. unless in a practical or keen/inventive no.8 wire way). In this sense I’m using ‘All Blacks’ as the
mythical New Zealand male, the ‘god’ if you will. Obviously we aren’t all All Blacks. However, as ‘The Pagan Game’ illustrates,
back in the 1960’s rugby WAS a huge deal having “the mystique of a religion.” As the jacket to the book says this novel “tell
how many people are influenced by the high priest of the cult. ”
This
influence is important in establishing the backdrop to the 1970’s ‘Good Keen
Man’ ideal of anti-intellectualism, which form the foundations of McLaughlin’s
more explicit anti-intellectual ideals.
‘The Pagan
Game’ is a simple tale. It tells the tale
of seven days leading up to a school derby rugby game between the locals,
Ruamahanga College and Wellington Grammar.
The match is seen by the headmaster critical in enhancing the school’s reputation:
- (which is currently dwindling; “There
was passive resentment, there was active obstruction. One boy told to say sir had replied when were
you knighted? – pg 74).
Slatter uses
this simple plot to explore the mystic of the game, the thoughts and motives of
its participants, observers and supporters and ultimately provides, using Coach Punch Southam as the vessel, provide a sharp, bitter and insightful reflection on our nation’s
then obsession.
Punch
Southam, first appears a good keen man, and a lover of rugby. Punch explains how he gets the best out of
his team, and his tactics at length. He
also often tells stories (as do others) about the regions, and more importantly
the school’s only ever All Black; Tank Tarrent.
Tank is the local hero:
“We could do with a few like Tank
Tarrant at the College today, said the Coach.
He could play anywhere. Lock,
prop, back row, on the side. I played
with him you know.
I know, said the Captain who had
heard it all before.
He was properly the best at number eight…A
dominating influence on the game.
The Captain knew that this was the
highest praise that Punch Southam could ever bestow. There was no greater honour than to be a
dominating influence on the game.”
p.g. 56
The myth of
Tank Tarrant continues, until the bitter ending. At the end Raamahunga lose the match, and
every narrator is disappointed. But none
more so than Punch, who reveals a sharp and painful truth to the mystique of
rugby through his famous old teammate Tank.
“Football made him”
“Football made me what I am too”
A man frightened by the processional
agony of time
Pg 231
“I know exactly what will happen, I
have been dreading it all through the week.
The Wellington Coach, proud of his victory, will call me by my original
nickname, the one that he game me at primary school. Hammered you again, Punchbag, he will say. I was always called Punchbag then, the little
joker, the hanger-on who was never really in the gang but was just tolerated as
somebody for the real members to bash about like a punchbag. Hammered you again, Punchbag, he will
say. And I’ll have to shake him by the
hand, look him in those mocking green eyes and say congratulations, Tank.”
Pg238
In a painful
twist, the enforcer of the agony, the loss of the game is none other than
former oldboy, loyal old Tank Tarrant!
“Yet I did all that I could. It is the game that has failed me. We make the game our life and it can be as
disappointed as life itself.”
Pg239.
With my
father in mind, Punch’s story is a cultural one for me. It’s a man trying to live through the New
Zealand ‘Good Keen Man’ ideal; pursuing the mystic of rugby and a religion
only to be let down. Perhaps even, a
tale of a figure trapped within a very repressed mind-set of what a man should
be; tough, practical, keen; not expressive, thoughtful or *shudder*
intellectual.
In a brief
sense, it is these period ideas of a New Zealand man which underpin McLauchlan’s
original thoughts on anti-intellectualism in New Zealand.
“What we specially don’t produce is
the deeply, broadly educated man. On the
one hand history has the Renaisssance Man, on the other the New Zealand
agricultural engineering Ph.D. And what
saddens me is that our society is so strongly anti-intellectual and
particularly anti-academic that no progress is being made towards excellence,
quality.”
Pg 139
“Intellectual in New Zealand are
generally equated with academics, and the most common condemnation of academics
is that they are aloof, too unworldly, lacking in commonsense.
pg 143-144
“This is where the New Zealander is
caught off balance. I think we’ve been
resting on our laurels a bit too much, relying on our sturdy commonsense and
pragmatism… A nuclear power station is not a hole in the fence. A Taranaki gate won’t do”
Pg 146
McLauchlan’s criticisms seem more legitimate in their time.
A tighter fit than 'The Pagan Game' would be to compare his views with other New Zealand male
stereotypes influenced through our colonial past, such as Barry Crump's good
keen bushmen, who might be gruff, lonely and rough figures, but intently
pragmatic. Faced with any problem his
know-how will make sure “She’ll be right’ faced with an academic debate, a
gentle “How’s your father” should suffice.
As a young nation, these primitive view of the
ideal New Zealander (strongly male focused) are relatively recent – from the
1960-70s. In discussing
anti-intellectual, it’s relevant also to discuss these. Even as largely historical backdrops, they
have varying influence on how we view intellectualisms. Especially as a young male from a smallish,
semi-rural background I can admit they been formative on views on academia.
Our pre-occupation
with rugby, the outdoors and being rugged is not a curse. It’s a historical reality. Being pragmatic, tough and gruff is not a
weakness. However, I think it’s a
relevant considerations and maybe a part explanation of the Wikipedia entry Max talks
about. As Max optimistically suggests,
New Zealand does have plenty of academics
that we can be, and I think are proud
of. Shit some are even former All Blacks.......
Alaister J
Moghan
