Literary Goliath ahead of his time
George Bernard Shaw’s comments on New Zealand still ring true today. Sensitivity to international criticism has long been a trait of Kiwis. No wonder, then, that Shaw’s impending visit to this country in early 1934 raked up a huge defensive reaction.
The Irish-British dramatist, at the time described as the world’s greatest living genius, was an outspoken critic of contemporary life. A world traveller, his sardonic analysis of society made many people question what they believed.
More than a few New Zealanders expressed the view that he should not even be allowed to enter the country, so crushing was the effect of his opinions. But, quietly, the Tourism Department went about arranging his monthlong itinerary.
There was no doubt the great man of letters had done his homework before he arrived on his celebrated visit, and he was not up to any nonsense. One dramatic society that contacted Shaw about putting on one of his plays while he was in the country received a curt telegram from him: ‘Please don’t!’’
It was sunny in Auckland when the Rangitane docked on March 15, 1934 with ‘‘G B S and Mrs Shaw’’ on board. Newspapermen swarmed aboard to get his first words on the sports deck of the liner: ‘‘All I want is to go about quietly like an old man who ought to be in bed. Really, you know, I ought to be dead.’’
The 77-year-old looked anything but, though. He spoke in a cultured Irish accent, and his long, flowing silver beard and thinning hair cut a most striking figure.
MP Peter Fraser was amongst the first dignitaries to welcome Shaw, immediately asking him for his opinion on the internal development of New Zealand. I can’t help but think the grand old man’s comments are perhaps more applicable today than ever.
‘‘The tendency of the world today is to become self-sufficient. The idea has been for New Zealand to produce nothing but butter, and for the rest of the world to eat it. At present, other people are saying, ‘We will not have you shoving your butter down our throats’. What you have to do in these islands is to eat your own butter and see that everyone in New Zealand has plenty of butter to his bread. When you have reached that point, stop producing butter and produce something else.’’
‘‘What then?’’ piped out a reporter in the small crowd. ‘‘Start producing brains, perhaps,’’ Shaw replied, quick as a flash.
At the official reception that night, Auckland Mayor W Downie Stewart welcomed Shaw with a witty speech that politely warned him to speak kindly of the country. Shaw replied, making known his distaste of the parliamentary system: ‘‘The municipal clan is a working clan that gets things done. The parliamentary clan is an obstructive one.’’
Shaw turned down most of the invitations to talk and meet groups, instead opting for a chauffeured car provided by the government to make his own way around, first taking in the scenic attractions of the North Island.
He was enthusiastic at seeing the Waitomo Caves, and at Rotorua he described his guide as the fastest walker ever in his guided experience, calling the district an ‘‘uncommonly pleasant place, although it smells of brimstone, like Hades’’.
Wanting to know what food supported Shaw’s great mind, Dr H T J Thacker of Christchurch sent the great man a reply-paid telegram to describe his diet in 12 words. Shaw replied immediately: ‘‘Dr Thacker, Christchurch. Vegetarian 50 years. Teetotal always. Milk, butter, eggs. Shaw.’’
The night before leaving Rotorua, the Shaws attended a Maori concert given by Guide Rangi in her home at Whakarewarewa. At first, Shaw had baulked at the invitation, saying he expected the content to be Westernised, but went on to accept on the condition that the first item be entirely in Maori, and that he have the right to leave after it. Guide Rangi went on to deliver a fabulous show, all in Maori, and the couple stayed right to then end, entranced by the performance.
It was at a gathering at the Chateau Tongariro that Shaw advised New Zealanders to not put too much reliance on tourism traffic – and that, once again, farming methods would have to change.
The couple travelled on to Wellington, where Shaw was full of praise for the city’s milk supply, suggesting it cost too much and should be distributed for free, and that this generosity should be extended to bread as well. Truby King’s Plunket strategy came in for great praise, being responsible, Shaw pointed out, for an infant mortality rate half that of England’s.
After crossing to Picton, the couple travelled down the Kaikoura coast to Christchurch, where they complied with a request for a civic reception, described as the greatest event the city had ever extended to anyone outside royalty.
He was introduced not so much a dramatist, essayist, novelist and politician, but as a prophet – defined in his case more as one who foretold the truth, rather than the future. Shaw responded with a stinging attack on the back-andforth adversarial tactics of our political party system.
Perhaps the climax of his visit came on April 12, almost on the eve of his departure, when the normally conservative and cautious national radio network broadcast a live talk by Shaw giving his overall impressions of New Zealand. It was aired not only throughout the country but also Australia, billed as the single biggest audience ever in the Southern Hemisphere up to that time.
Shaw did not disappoint, addressing himself not only to New Zealand ‘‘but the entire universe’’.
‘‘To begin with, you have a large number of unemployed. That is an absolutely nonsensical state of affairs. There is plenty of employment everywhere in New Zealand,’’ he said. He went on to mention the unfinished main trunk line along the Kaikoura coast, and cited the potential of geothermal power, saying he hated things going to waste.
But his overall judgment on the subject was that, organised properly, there was no need for anyone to work more than four hours a day maximum.
‘‘You are to some extent, thanks to your admirable communist institutions, now actually leading the world’s institutions. You are second only to Russia, and there is a curious joke about it that Russia, partly by following New Zealand’s example, has got a good lead.
‘‘The Russians are very proud of their communism. They know they are communists and are proud of it . . . while New Zealand, which leads the world in communism, does not know it is communist. It naturally thinks communism is a terrible thing. Let me ask you to put that idea out of your heads . . . I am a communist, I studied Karl Marx four years before Lenin did, and you see that I am a very sensible and well-meaning person.’’
Typical of the reaction to the 20-minute broadcast was that of members of the Wellington City Council, who arranged their supper break to hear the wise words. Peter Fraser, who was attending the meeting, said it was the best 20 minutes ever spent in the council chamber.
On the morning of April 14, Mr and Mrs Shaw embarked for home on the Rangitane. Asked by a photographer to smile his brightest at the thought of leaving New Zealand, Shaw remarked: ‘‘If I showed my true feelings, I would cry; It’s the best country I’ve been in.’’
‘‘If I showed my true feelings, I would cry; It’s the best country I’ve been in.’’ George Bernard Shaw