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The Malayan Emergency: A Last Hurray for Britain and Empire

British Malaya 1948 (Image: NZHistory)

THE Second World War and the occupation of British Malaya by the Japanese gave the Malayan Communist Party (MCP) an opportunity to take a more prominent political role in Malayan society. Britain’s feeble submission at the hands of the Japanese invaders put paid to any notions of invincibility felt about the British colonial regime. Into the British void stepped the MCP, it’s military wing, the Malayan People’s Anti-Japanese Army, mainly composed of ethnic Chinese guerrillas, bore the brunt of armed resistance against the Japanese. After the Japanese surrender the MCP were afforded a brief taste of governing before the British returned [Richardson, Thomas. “The Malayan Emergency.” In Fighting Australia’s Cold War: The Nexus of Strategy and Operations in a Multipolar Asia, 1945–1965, edited by PETER DEAN and TRISTAN MOSS, 1st ed., 115–36. ANU Press, 2021. http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctv25m8dqh.13]. The MCP was also active in Malayan labour circles, embroiling itself in the vanguard of strikes and disturbances against substandard labour conditions and wages.The MCP increasingly targeted British-controlled industry in the country, especially the production of rubber and tin, the mainstays of the Malayan economy, putting it on a collision course with the British Malaya authorities.

Advertisement: Guarding national assets against the “communist bandits” (Source: Pinterest)

Sungai Siput incident After three European planters were murdered by the komumis in Perak state in 1948, the MCP was proscribed as a political party and a state of national emergency declared in Malaya and Singapore. A protracted guerrilla war followed—for purposes of insurance it was not described as a war, hence the term “Malayan Emergency” (Darurat Malaya)a⃞—pitting Malayan Chinese communists against Britain, the Malay-dominated Federation and Commonwealth countries.

The combatants’ motives Britain’s motives for cracking down on the MCP radicals was transparent and twofold. First, it’s priority was to protect its economic and commercial imperial interests in Malaya…its prized reserves of tin and rubber representing “by far the most important source of dollars in the Colonial Empire”. In 1948 this was doubly important to the UK, having just lost its colonial possessions in India [‘British Imperial Revival In The Early Cold War: The Malayan’Emergency’ 1948-60’, Liam Raine, History Matters, 23-Nov-2020, www.historymatters.group.shef.ac.uk]. Secondly, in the bipolar context of the Cold War and as the US’ ally, Britain was doing its bit to keep South-East Asia in the capitalist camp by blocking an attempt to extend the communist imprint on the region. Conversely, the Chinese in Malaya, disaffected with British colonial rule and its monopoly of the country’s lucrative raw materials, were seeking to achieve Malayan independence and forge a socialist stateb⃞. The MCP’s military arm adopted a strategy of raiding mines and estates (industrial sabotage) and attacks on soldiers, police, colonial collaborators and high-ranking officials (even succeeding in assassinating the British high commissioner). When the British launched counter-raids, the communist guerrillas would retreat to jungle outskirts where they could be hidden within the Chinese community and receive crucial material support from a network of civilian supporters known as Min Yuen.

Jungle patrol (Photo: Imperial War Museums)

General Gerard Templer (Image: npg.si.edu)

Briggs Plan To counter the guerrillas’ stratagem the British devised the Briggs Plan (Rancangan Briggs) to try to isolate the insurgents from their rural support base. Half a million rural inhabitants (including the indigenous minority, the Orang Asil), labelled “squatters” by the British, were forcibly removed from their land and resettled in “New Villages” (Kampung baru)c⃞. As well as physically separating the guerrillas from the Chinese community—thus halting the vital flow of food, information and recruits from the peasants to the insurgents—the plan included a campaign to win the “hearts and minds” of the rural population and lure them away from the communists. Separating the “fish” from the “water”, British intelligence called it. Education and health services including better amenities were provided for some of the New Villages. This second British objective was less successful as a force for achieving cohesion among rural Malayans. The new British initiative, under the new high commissioner Gerard Templer, while effective militarily, was ruthlessly heavy-handed in its approach. The strategy’s rigorous population control and punitive measures alienated the Chinese inhabitants, at the same time many Malays, jealous of the infrastructure afforded the new settlements, were disaffected. [‘Briggs Plan’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wkipedia.org ].

Chin Peng, “enemy of the state”

Decolonisation and independence The British counter-insurgency’s effectiveness in whittling away the guerrillas’ support prompting the MCP’s leader Chin Peng to try to negotiate peace, however talks failed due to the insistence by Malayan leaders, especially Tunku Abdul Rahman, that the guerrillas surrender unconditionally. The granting of independence to Malaya in 1957 was a critical body blow to the MCP’s hopes as thereafter the struggle was no longer an anti-colonial cause. Inaugural prime minister Rahman was now able to characterise the conflict against the communists as a “People’s War” and unify the majority behind him. Bereft of its raison d’être the guerrilla movement quickly dissolved with the last significant group surrendering in 1958 at Perak. Most of the other insurgents still at large including Chin fled north across the Thai border [DVA (Department of Veterans’ Affairs) (2021), The Malayan Emergency 1948 to 1960, DVA Anzac Portal, accessed 14 April 2022, https://anzacportal.dva.gov.au/wars-and-missions/malayan-emergency-1948-1960 ]. MCP failings At the end of WWII the communists’ guerrilla resistance to the Japanese had won it a following among significant numbers of Malayan Chinese, however during the Emergency it failed to consolidate that hold. The MCP’s stated mission was to build a broad coalition uniting Malaya’s racial groups (Malays, Chinese, Indians), in practice it blundered but making no real appeal to non-Chinese segments, the party remained predominantly the domain of the ethnic Chinese community. Even more damning was its non-engagement with rural Chinese (>90% of the Chinese population), the party steadfastly maintained an urban focus, failing to take the concerns of Chinese peasants seriously. The British were able to exploit the MCP’s omission to lever significant grass-roots support away from the guerrillas.[Opper, Marc. “The Malayan Emergency, 1948–1960.” In People’s Wars in China, Malaya, and Vietnam, 173–204. University of Michigan Press, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.3998/mpub.11413902.12].

Chin Peng and Chairman Mao, 1965

Lurching into imperial irrelevance In the twilight of Britain’s once majestic global empire, the Malayan Emergency was its fleeting, final hurray. The 1956 Suez Crisis nakedly exposed the limitations of Britain, foreshadowing a status as a spent international force. With decolonisation in Asia, Africa, the Middle East and Oceania in full swing through the Fifties and Sixties, the Sun was setting on the British Empire after all.

Footnote: Peace delayed On 31 July 1960 the Yang di-Pertuan Agong (Head of the Malayan government) officially ended the Emergency. The communist guerrilla force, without their general secretary Chin Peng (by now a guest of the Chinese government in Peking) and shrunken to less than 2,000 men, continued the futile fight against the Malayan state from their border outpost. Armed resistance to the government in Kuala Lumpur from underground units resumed in the late Sixties, but the splintering of the MCP into three opposing factions and a series of internal purges further undermined the effectiveness of its cause. Finally, in December 1989 the Thais brokered the Hat Yai Peace Agreement between the Malaysian government and the MCP [‘Chin Peng, an obituary’, Anthony Reid, New Mandela, 05-Oct-2013, www.newmandela.org].

—————————————— a⃞ the MCP termed the conflict the “Anti-British National Liberation War”

b⃞ the MCP’s platform included progressive measures such as full equality for women

c⃞ in addition, 10,000 Malaysian Chinese suspected on being communist sympathisers were deported to mainland China

Manchurian “California” — the Zheltuga “Republic” of Adventurer-Bandit Prospectors

Amur/Heilong River basin (Photo: WWF–Russia/Y Darman)

In 1883 in a remote region of Northeast China gold was discovered near a tributary of a tributary of the great Amur River by hunters from the local Orochen (or Oroqen) tribe➀. Once word got out, aspiring prospectors flocked to the location on the Zheltuga stream from far and near. The bulk came from Russia, peasants and workers from Siberia and beyond. Many chancers came from Blagoveschensk, by boat to the Cossack station at Ignashino, just across the river from the gold strike spot. Many of these were miners who had deserted from the Amur goldmining district (of which Blagoveschensk was the centre). The gold discovery also became a magnet for all sorts of criminal elements including escaped convicts and deportees from the Far East including Sakhalin Island.

A multi-ethnic mix As more and more miners joined the hunt for gold, a community given the name of Zheltuga grew up, by 1885 there was around 10,000 miners in residence. Russians were the dominant group but the Chinese (mainly Manchus but also some coolies from Shandong province) made up possibly as much as 10% of the population. Others who joined the diggings included Koreans, Orochens, Frenchmen, Germans, Americans, Poles, Jews and Siberians. The population of the mining community was very fluid, the chancers would dig frenetically for the precious nuggets and if favoured by fortune, they wouldn’t hang around, no one stayed long at the goldmining caper in the Zheltuga camp, a couple of months being about the average➁…the mining community was in “a state of constant flux” [Gamsa, Mark. “California on the Amur, or the ‘Zheltuga Republic’ in Manchuria (1883-86).” The Slavonic and East European Review 81, no. 2 (2003): 236–66. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4213684].

Nine of the 10 headmen of Zheltuga (Photo: Earth Science Museum & Moscow State University)

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Administration and rough-hewn code of civic duties Despite (or because of) the wildness of the camp and the dubious morality of many of its residents, Zheltuga didn’t function in an ungoverned, anarchical manner. To maintain order and keep Zheltuga’s rampant violence, murder and mayhem in check, a political structure was established with an elected leader and an executive of ten headmen or foremen. A code was promulgated with harsh penalties for breaches of the community’s law – execution for murder, flogging and banishment for lesser crimes. Major decisions affecting the community as a whole were made democratically, meetings of miners (Orlinoe poe) were held in the central field (Orlovo pole/“Eagle Field”) with the entire assembly voting on the matter at hand.

Colours of the Zheltuga republic’s flag

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Leaders (rather grandly termed “presidents of the republic”) also tended to come and go in regular fashion…the first leader went by the name of Adolf Karlovich Fass, a man with a mysterious background, variously thought to be German, Italian (Karl Fassi?) or Jewish in origin. Fass’ short tenure in charge was terminated when he was arrested by Cossack forces and disappeared. Briefly filling the void apparently was an equally shady figure from the Cossack stations named Sakharov. One of the camp’s last leaders was the better known Russian lawyer Pavel Prokunin who led armed resistance against the Chinese assault on Zheltuga before being deposed as well (Gamsa).

Photo: Earth Science Museum & Moscow State University

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Commerce in a frontier proto-state As the camp’s population swelled, a rudimentary township grew rapidly. To service the burgeoning numbers on the goldfield there were 160 shops by 1885 including 18 hotels and taverns, bath houses, a theatre, a church, a hospital, a billiards saloon and even a circus. A sex industry for the miners (Zheltuga was decreed a male-only community) was set up on the Russian side at Ignashino. Also popular on the goldfield were the spiritonosy (“alcohol carriers”) merchants—mainly Jews and and “Old Believers” from Transbaikalia—who sold vodka to the miners. Businesses in the Zheltuga ’republic’ were required to pay tax [‘ Zheltuga Republic’, Wikipedia, https://en.m.wikipedia.org].

With the mining of gold Zheltuga’s raison d’être the camp was inevitably tagged with the nickname “California on the Amur” in reference to the more famous, earlier American gold rush. Another name it acquired was Novaia Kalifornia (“New California”). Similarly Ignashino’s proximity to the Manchurian prospecting epicentre earned it the sobriquet Ignashinskaiia Kalifornia.

Source: MAMM / MDF / russiainphoto.ru

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Heightening political instability on the border The Zheltuga gold mine was located within the northern frontier of imperial China. The Qing authorities’ slowness to act on this trespass on sovereign Chinese land was due to Peking’s ignorance of the goldmining activity. Russia conversely was well aware of the situation and the local region command tended to usually turn a blind eye to it. When the veil dropped from Chinese eyes, the governor (amban) of Aigun (Dongbei China) protested to the new Russian governor-general of Priamur region Baron AN Korff about the illegal gold mine on Chinese territory. Finally forced to take some action, Korff in 1885 moved to bring the community under rein…supplies were cut off and a Cossack cordon was imposed to block Russians passing to the Chinese side and the miners were compelled to sell their gold to the Cossack commander Prince Wittgenstein at a set price. (Gamsa).

Curtains for the “Amur California” The Chinese Qing government issued warnings to the Zheltuga community to disband its operations on Chinese soil. Initially the miners retreated to the surrounding taiga (boreal forest), pretending to have vacated the camp, only to return to their diggings afterwards. Peking eventually got jack of the miners‘ refusal to heed its demand they vacate the camp, finally taking decisive military action. In early 1886 a detachment of 1,600 Chinese soldiers attacked the mining camp, dispersing the Russian miners who were allowed to skedaddle back over the Amur➂…the Chinese miners were not so fortunate, those caught while fleeing were summarily massacred by the troops. The camp was subsequently razed to the ground. The following year an officially-run Chinese gold mine was established nearby in the village of Mohe (today China’s northernmost city).

Postscript: Hóng-húzi, an imagined “Red Beard” republic of proto-communist Chinese brigands A curious sidelight to the Zheltuga story is the mythical “Hóng-húzi republic”, the invention of two late 19th century French writers (Messieurs Ular and Mury) both of who travelled to the region and wrote separate accounts. Both concocted alternative versions of the Zheltuga episode as Chinese outlaw republics in northern Manchuria (Ular: ”Feltuga republic”| Mury: “Cheltuga republic”). The essentially “Russian enterprise with a proportionally limited, though nonetheless intriguing, Chinese participation” was recast as “an egalitarian republic of Chinese ‘red beards’” based on communist principles. The myth gained some traction at the time and persisted well into the 20th century. Mark Gamsa described the “Red Beard” saga as “a jumble of myth, rumour and unverified bits of factual information…(fuelled by) “an inventive spirit” [Gamsa, Mark. “How a Republic of Chinese Red Beards Was Invented in Paris.” Modern Asian Studies 36, no. 4 (2002): 993–1010. www.jstor.org/stable/3876481].

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ➀ a Manchu-Tungus linguistic ethnic minority of forest hunter-dwellers in Heilongjiang and Inner Mongolia

➁ some got no further than the local (Chita) casino, set up to relieve them of their hard-earned moolah (‘How Russians secretly set up their own ‘California’ in China’, Boris Egorov, Russia Beyond, 03-Feb-2021, www.rbth.com/history/333347-russians-secretly-set-up-california)

➂ leniency was shown to the Russian miners as Peking didn’t want to antagonise Moscow and worsen relations with the Russian Bear

Heihe and Blagoveshchensk, a “Twin Cities” Odd Couple on the Sino-Russian Border

Image: Moscow Times

The greater part of the boundary separating Russia from China comprises a 2,824-kilometre river – known as the Amur to the Russians on the northern side and Heilongjiang (meaning “Black Dragon River”) to the Chinese on the southern side. At the river’s confluence with the Zeya River is a curious juxtaposition of urban settlements on the border of the two great Asian powers – Heihe and Blagoveshchensk, facing each other across the river, two small cities similar in size and separated physically by less than 600 metres of water.

Image: russiatrek.org


Heihe, a prefecture-level city within the province of Heilongjiang, only came into existence as recently as 1980 (an earlier town called Aihui or Aigun was located in the vicinity, some 30 km south of contemporary Heihe). Blagoveshchensk«𝓪» is the capital of the Amur (Amurskaya) Oblast in Russia’s Far East with a controversial back story. Cossacks built the first Russian outposts here (then called “Ust-Zeysky”) in the 1850s, on land that under the terms of the 1689 Treaty of Nerchinsk between the Russian tsar and the Qing Dynasty that Russians had been evicted from. Blagoveshchensk (or ‘Blago’ as it is often shortened to) came into being after an opportunist Russia forced China to acquiesce to the inequitable Treaty of Aigun in 1858…the Qings lost over 600,000 sq km of territory in Manchuria including the Amur River site of the future city of Blagoveshchensk. The resentment felt by the Chinese at the unjust 1858 Treaty was magnified in 1900 during the Boxer Rebellion when the Russian authorities in Blagoveshchensk forcibly deported the city’s Chinese community resulting in around 5,000 of the fleeing refugees losing their lives in a mass killing. In modern times Heihe/Blagoveshchensk has been the scene of violent confrontation between Soviet and Chinese troops. In 1969 the two countries fought a battle close to the ”twin cities” over a disputed island in the Amur/Heilong river – at the cost of hundreds of casualties.

Amur/Heilong River (Source: worldatlas.com)


By 1989—the year in which the border between the USSR and China reopened after being closed for much of the century—Heihe was still a small village. During the following thirty years Heihe has witnessed the rapid growth and accelerated development associated with many Chinese cities (eg, Shenzhen), a flurry of commercial activity with mercantilist purpose, a flourishing of modern high-rise apartments and even some greening of the city. Conversely Blagoveshchensk, older and more settled, looks “sedate and almost stagnant” by comparison…seemingly resistant to the modernising example of its nearby neighbour. [Franck Billé, ‘Surface Modernities: Open-Air Markets, Containment and Vertilcality in Two Border Towns of Russia and China’, Economic Sociology, 15(2), March 2014, www.repository.cam.au.uk].

Blagoveshchensk tertiary institution

Spatial contrast in architectural styles ༄࿓༄
Heihe and Blagoveshchensk over contemporary times have evolved diametrically different urban landscapes. Blagoveshchensk’s taste in architecture tends toward a kind of “horizontal functionalism” (Franck Billé). It’s structures which includes some classical public buildings as well as surviving grey concrete remnants of the Soviet era adhere mostly to a flat, horizontal form«𝓫». Urban planning is faithful to a rigid grid format and retains a “Roman fort” quality. Heihe, on the other hand, in its modernisation projects the iconic vertical model of the Chinese mega cities to its south (high-rise on overdrive, modern shopping malls, etc). Structures like the large Heihe International Hotel sit jutting out prominently on the riverside promenade (Billé).

Heihe lightshow (Photo: Maxim Shemetov/Reuters)

Light and dark ༄࿓༄
Heihe’s vibrant exterior can be viewed as a pearl set against the beigeness of Blagoveshchensk’s static oyster. At night Heihe’s waterfront becomes a glittery cornucopia, a spectacular colour light show advertising itself to the other side. The stark contrast between the two towns is reminiscent of a similar chiaroscuroesque nocturnal effect observable with the northern Chinese city of Dandong and its barren ill-lit North Korean neighbour 500 metres across the Yalu, Sinuiju. While Heihe’s edge sparkles, Blagoveshchensk’s riverbank remains largely underdeveloped. Notwithstanding the drabness of Blagoveshchensk many of its citizens remain unimpressed by their showy twin’s persona. Blagoveshchensk skeptics describe Heihe as a “Potemkin village”, a flash exterior hiding a poor and dirty reality below the surface, and the evening light show a transparent bait to lure Russian visitors and their roubles from across the Amur [Joshua Kucera, ‘Don’t Call Call Them Twin cities’, Slate, 28-Dec-2009, www.slate.com].

Sculpture of a kiprichi (Source: Indian Defence Forum)

The “suitcase trade”
༄࿓༄ The proximity between the Russian and Chinese towns has led to patterns of interaction, especially after the 1989 border opening when Blagoveshchensk day-trippers began making shopping expeditions to Heihe to buy cheap consumer goods, clothing, the latest electronics, etc. Some Russians segued this into a nice little earner, commuting to the Chinese side, buying in bulk and transporting the goods back to Blagoveshchensk in suitcases to resell at a profit. They were known as kiprichi, also acquiring the less flattering nicknames of “suitcase traders” and ”bricks”. The bottom fell out of this two-way trade however in 2014 when the value of the Russian rouble disintegrated against the yuan. The suitcase trade was no longer profitable for Russians, finding their main source of trade with Heihe had disappeared down the gurgler. The devaluation also had a deleterious effect on many Chinese traders who had set up business in Blagoveshchensk (Kucera).

Russian dolls in Heihe (Photo: Zhang Wenfang/chinadaily.com.cn)

The kiprichi aside, the Russian side of the river has showed marginal if any interest in forming grass-roots connexions with Heihe…most of the running has fallen on the Chinese side to try to create a welcoming “Russian feel” of sorts in Heihe. Street signs in the Chinese city are written in Cyrillic as well as Chinese, but other attempts have been less convincing, eg, the erection of faux-Russian architecture and shop decor; the appearance of matryoshka doll garbage cans on the street (a counter-productive innovation as it caused offence with some Russians).

Mutual development?
༄࿓༄ The potential for larger scale cross-border exchange between the two cities has been slow to take root, not for lack of commitment or effort on the side of Heihe. Blagoveshchensk has repeatedly dragged its feet on initiates for joint commercial and industrial projects proposed by the Chinese, this is despite China being the Amur region’s largest trading partner! A case in point is the highway bridge connecting Heihe and Blagoveshchensk, essential to expand north Asian trade by integrating the two sides’ road networks. First mooted in 1988, the Russians procrastinated and procrastinated regarding committing to the project which it was envisaged would increase the flow of goods and people between the two towns exponentially…work only commenced in 2016 and construction finalised in late 2019 (still not opened in 2022 due to the ongoing pandemic). Heihe city became a free trade zone in 1992 and boosted by funding from Beijing as part of the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), has strived to forge local (Dongbei/RFE) economic integration with it’s Russian twin town (even tying it to Moscow’s Siberian gas pipeline plans) [Gaye Christoffersen, ‘Sino-Russian Local Relations: Heihe and Blagoveshchensk’, The Asian Forum, 10-Dec-2019, www.theasianforum.org ].

Russian Far East demographic vulnerability ༄࿓༄
Blagoveshchensk’s reluctance to wholly engage with Heihe as partners in joint developments tap into prevailing Russian fears and anxieties about its giant southern neighbour, with whom it shares a porous 4,200-km border. With the Russian Far East being population poor and resource rich, Russian concerns about the possibility of future Chinese future designs on the vast, sparsely-populated territory—including the perceived threat of ‘Sinicisation’«𝓬» (being culturally overwhelmed by the far more numerous Chinese), Chinese expansionism and the balkanisation of the RFE—are never far from the surface. Concerns which are made sharper by awareness of the persisting sense of injustice felt by China at the 1858 Treaty (Billé).

Image: http://gioffe.asp.radford.edu/

Postscript: Siberian exports, casino tourism ༄࿓༄
Over the last several years there have a few optimistic signs that Blagoveshchensk is tentatively opening itself up to more trade with Heihe. In the last decade Amur Oblast’s exports (mainly soy, timber, gold, coal and electricity) to China have risen by 16% , and in the same period Chinese visitors to Blagoveshchensk increased tenfold aided by the hosts putting more effort into creating a more attractive environment for tourists, eg, the introduction of casinos in Blagoveshchensk to cater for Chinese gambling aficiandos. Of course, as with the new cross-border bridge, COVID-19 has stopped all of these positive developments dead in their tracks for now [D Simes Jr & T Simes, ‘Russian gateway to China eyes ‘friendship’ dividends after COVID’, Nikkei Asia, www.asia.nikkei.com ].

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«𝓪» = “Annunciation”, literally meaning in Russian, “city of good news”. The traditional Chinese name for Blagoveshchensk is Hailanbao

«𝓫» with some exceptions such as the 65-metre tall, hyper-modern Asia Hotel

«𝓬» Kitaizatsia in Russian

The ‘Battle of Broken Hill’: The Curious Incident of the Afghan Cameleers’ Two-Man War on the Silver City

Image: britannica.com

On New Years Day 1915 two members of the small immigrant Afghan community of Broken Hill launched an unexpected and deadly attack on a passing convoy of open ore-trucks carrying 1,200 industry picnickers to Silverton. The incident itself did not escalate much further, the so-called ‘battle’ was over after a 90-minute shootout, with the perpetrators dealt with and summarily despatched by a contingent of police, soldiers and private riflemen from the town, however it’s ramifications were more lasting and widespread. What was on the surface a random, mindless and unprovoked attack on innocent picnic-goers, had a complicated lead-up.

The picnic train with overflowing “sardine tin” of passengers (Photo: Broken Hill City Lib)

The casualties: In the carnage two of the “sitting duck” picnic party were killed by the attackers’ gunfire and up to ten others wounded. The two gunmen then retreated from the scene towards the West Cameleers camp, killing another, unrelated civilian on the way. The police, troops and volunteer militia members of the ‘posse’ caught up with the two attackers at Cable Hill and engaged them in a shootout at a nearby rocky quartz outcrop known as “White Rocks”. During the shootout a fourth victim was killed by stray shots from the perpetrators’ gunsⓐ. A police constable was also wounded and both Muslim assailants were ultimately killed in the affray.

‘White Rocks’ (Source: The Conversation)

In the immediate aftermath of the incident the two perpetrators were wrongly identified as Turks—the Ottoman Turkish Empire has recently sided with the German Reich in the world war against Britain (and therefore against Australia)—due to a Turkish flag and a letter pledging allegiance to the Sultan of Turkey found among the possessions of one of the attackers. In fact the two Muslims originated from the northwest frontier of British India (within modern Pakistan or just over the border in Afghanistan).

A still from a 1981 film, ‘The Battle of Broken Hill

The assailants: Badsha Gool Mahomed (aged about 40) a Pashtu-speaking Afghan Afridi tribesman whose two stays in Australia were punctuated by periods of service in the Turkish Army. After a decline in work for cameleers he was employed in the Broken Hill area’s silver mines before being retrenched. At the time of the incident Mahomed was an ice cream vendor in the townⓑ. Mullah Abdullah (aged about 60) a Dari-speaking halal butcher and imam for the local cameleer community. Abdullah too tried camel-driving but finding it not feasible turned to working as a butcher in “The Hill”, supplementing it by presiding as spiritual leader for the Afghan community.

Barrier Miner’ 2 January 1915’

The influential local newspaper the Barrier Miner had a field day with the incident… “War in Broken Hill”, “The New Year’s Day Massacre“, (Attack) “under the Turkish flag”. Some modern writers have described the “Battle of Broken Hill” as a terrorist incident, “terrorist-suicide mission” (and Abdullah as a) “grey-bearded zealot, fiery when insulted” [Christine Stevens, ‘Abdullah, Mullah (c. 1855–1915)’, Australian Dictionary of Biography, National Centre of Biography, Australian National University, https://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/abdullah-mullah-12763/text23021, published first in hardcopy 2005, accessed online 10 February 2022], and inevitable parallels have been drawn with the contemporary landscape of international terrorism. Giving credence to the train ambush being considered a politically motivated act was the edict of Ottoman sultan Mehmet V that the faithful of the Islamic world take up the fight (jihad) against the enemy in the war, made just two months earlier in November 1914 (which undoubtedly struck a cord with the radicalised Mahomed) [‘History repeating: from the Battle of Broken Hill to the sands of Syria’, Panayiotis Diamadis, The Conversation, 03-Oct-2014, www.theconversation.com].

A union closed shop Imam Abdullah on the other hand had fresh personal grievances against the locals. He had for some time suffered racist harassment from the town’s youths. In addition, Abdullah had fallen foul of the local branch of the Butchers Trade Union which took a discriminatory approach to not-British butchers in the town…only a week or so earlier the non-unionised Afghan butcher had been convicted for the second time of selling meat without a licence by the chief sanitary inspector. Whether the two men were motivated by a sense of persecution or patriotism, relations between the Afghan community and the Europeans in Broken Hill had been disintegrating for some time with the ‘Ghan’ cameleers camp targeted for sabotage. [‘The Battle of Broken Hill and repercussions for the German Community’, The Enemy At Home, www.migrationheritage.nsw.gov.au].

Photo: brokenhill.nsw.gov.au

Economic downturn knee-jerk A heightening of inter-ethnic tension was a direct result of the grim economic climate of the day, mine closures in Broken Hill meant unemployed miners and the search for alternate work…it didn’t take long for resentments to surface about Muslim immigrants taking white jobs. Afghan immigrants were made to feel unwelcome in Broken Hill and other outback towns with the cameleers relegated to living on the edge of European society in ‘Ghantowns’. Tensions were particularly heated between the local unionised teamsters and the immigrants, largely due to the Afghans cameleers being simply more competitive labour options than the white teamsters…cheaper to hire and providing a quicker service than that of the teamsters’ wagons. This perceived threat to the position of European teamsters in the Broken Hill district led them to retaliate with violence against the Afghan community [‘The Battle of Broken Hill’, Mike Dash, Smithsonian Magazine, 20-Oct-2011, www.smithsonianmag.com].

Razed German Club house (Photo: Broken Hill City Archives)

A “lone wolf” attack Despite the assailants leaving a note indicating that they had acted alone, many citizens in Broken Hill connected the event to the Turkish enmity towards the British Empire in the warⓒ. An incensed mob, hell-bent on wreaking retribution against the Afghan cameleer camp, had to be prevented from launching reprisals against the outlier Afghan community. The focus then switched to Broken Hill’s German community who many believed had agitated the brace of Afghans into attacking the picnic train. The police and military this time were unable to stop the rampant mob from torching the German Club to the ground.

Wider ramifications A crackdown of the authorities was not long in coming. With newspapers like the Barrier Miner and the jingoistic Sydney Bulletin beating up the story for all it’s worth and with headlines trumpeting “Turk atrocity” and “Holy War”, “enemy aliens” from Austrian, German and Turkish working in the Hill’s mines were sacked, followed swiftly by Federal attorney-general Billy Hughes’s blanket internment of all foreign aliens in the country.

Photo: Destination NSW Media Centre

Footnote: In a bizarre coincidence Broken Hill’s “ice cream cart terrorism” had a resounding echo in the abhorrent 2016 Bastille Day “lone wolf” terrorist attack in Nice, France. The perpetrator who drove his lorry down a seafront promenade, killing 86 pedestrians (most of them mowed down by the speeding vehicle), told the police when questioned at the site prior to committing the atrocity that he was delivering ice cream.

↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝ ⓐ the four victims of the two cameleers’ localised “Holy War” were the only Australians killed on home soil as a result of enemy fire during the Great War

ⓑ Mahomed‘s ice-cream cart was used to transport the duo’s concealed weapons to the railroad ambush site

ⓒ some people in hindsight saw the incident as a prequel on Australian soil to the Gallipoli conflict later that same year

Glasgow’s Postwar Planning Wars: Utopian Visions of Dystopia, Slum Clearances, New Towns and Social Engineering – Part 3

At the conclusion of World War Two no one was seriously of the opinion that Glasgow didn’t need to urgent address the acute housing and quality of life dilemmas besetting the city’ inhabitants. For their part, the planners focusing on the city certainly had (or at least professed) good intentions in their efforts to ameliorate what was for tens of thousands of Glaswegians a polluted, congested and thoroughly unpleasant living environment. For all the planning and the vast sums of money poured into redevelopment however, the results were and continue to be more than disappointing. As discussed in the first two parts of this blog series, the uncoordinated approach of having two rival sets of planners trying to implement conflicting visions of a new Glasgow didn’t help matters at all.

Map credit: Glasgow City Council
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The Clyde Valley Regional Park Plan with the umpf of the UK government behind it got more of its planned restructure of Glasgow off the drawing board than the discredited Bruce Plan. The core of CVRP’s plan was the “overspill policy”, relocating the surplus population away from the slums of inter Glasgow to new, modern, sanitary, green and spacious accommodation far from the inner-city. There were two planks to the planners’ intended re-housing fix – the creation of five purpose-built “New Towns” outside of Glasgow, at East Kilbride, Glenrothes, Cumbernauld, Irvine and Livingston, and the establishment of four new housing ‘schemes’ (ie, estates)«A̴» on the outskirts of Glasgow — Castlemilk, Drumchapel, Easterhouse and Pollok.
Irvine new town (Image: earlyooters.blogspot.com)
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Avoiding the city slums only to find a brand new set of problems What looked good on paper (modern flats, heating, indoor toilets, more space, etc) transpired in reality for many of the relocated residents into a deeply dissatisfactory and frustrating experience. Flaws soon surfaced in many of the flats and houses, shoddy construction«B̴», poorly designed heating and ventilation, crumbling housing stock (eg, Castlemilk and Drumchapel).  For these residents, the initial hopes and optimism floundering on what Florian Urban calls “a sculpture park of failed modern utopias”. There were grounds for hopefulness at the beginning. After the poky, dirty, overcrowded tenements of Glasgow central, the former inner city residents you imagine would have welcomed living in the housing schemes, many of which were “the equivalent size of many towns in Scotland”, but their positivity were cut asunder by infrastructure realities – there was nothing like an equivalent level of facilities provided to cope with the large implants of population. In a catastrophic piece of non-planning the areas of the schemes had hardly any places for residents to shop or to meet new people and socialise (no pubs, no dance halls, no cinemas, etc) and the promised open spaces for leisure activities failed to materialise. Public transport to take estate residents to the city centre did not run frequently enough and was relatively expensive. The promised local employment opportunities for the new estates were not forthcoming, so unemployment became a major problem for the schemes’ residents (‘Overspill Policy and the Glasgow Slum Clearance Project in the Twentieth Century: From One Nightmare to Another?’, Lauren Paice, IATL Reinvention, Vol 1 Issue 1, May 2013, http://Warwick.ac.uk; ‘Billy Connolly classically described the new estates as “deserts wi’ windaes”’, The Herald, 07-Nov-1998, www.theheraldscotland.com).
Scheme in Easterhouse
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Scourge of Easterhouse Easterhouse has the unwanted distinction of embodying the most dire consequences of the failings of Glasgow scheme planning. Physically isolated on the eastern edge of Glasgow, the severity of Easterhouse’s housing estate social problems and their persistence in the 21st century, has drawn a lot of concerned celebrity attention…. Princess Diana, PM Tony Blair and French President Chirac et al all made special visits to its notorious “sink-estates” (‘What’s Happened To Easterhouse: the Most Notorious Housing Scheme in Glasgow’, Francisco Garcia, Vice, 14-Nov-2016, www.vice.com). So depleted was its basic amenities, so lacking in a sense of community spirit, its infrastructure and housing problems magnified by a unemployment rate calamitously high (31.9% cf. a national average of 13.7% Hansard, 3 May 1985), the suburb’s schemes became a case study for social planners on what not to do to create a successful housing development (Paice). Easterhouse’s continuing woes have been compounded seemingly by a corresponding lack of political will to effect meaningful change (Hansard). Rather than leaving their problems and worries behind in the toxic slum tenements of the city, the dispersed Glaswegians found in the peripheral, facilities-deficient housing estates and towns a raft of new social problems…spikes in incidences of drunkenness and family violence, suicide, etc. Alienated and bored youth reacted to the lack of things to do by engaging in vandalism and petty crime (with young gangs perhaps no where active in the late Sixties than in Easterhouse and it’s so-called “Ned culture”).
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Family dislocation Relocation to the edges from the city led to other unforeseen or unaddressed problems, including a major disruption to the extended family network…many residents in the new projects were now too far away from their past abodes and cut off from their extended families and friends, resulting in a heightening of a sense of isolation (Paice). This outcome was even more perturbing for those Glasgow citizens who had been forced into relocating to the schemes and New Towns.

Cumbernauld Town Centre: “the rabbit warren on stilts”
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Though the Glasgow schemes and the New Town project have been widely maligned as abject failures and disasters by both observers and residents, not everyone has come away with a negative perception: the people of Cumbernauld in a 1980s poll gave the program an 87% approval (of course some schemes and some New Towns did better than other). At the very least, the housing experiments did free thousands and thousands of Glaswegians from the abomination of slum life in the city and transported them into new and better if still far from perfect living conditions… certainly anywhere after the Glasgow slum tenements had to be a step up, although some would argue that after fifty or sixty years, the New Towns with their persisting ailments, no longer new, were showing the clear signs of the foundations  of new Glasgow slums«C̴» [‘Neighbourhoods New Towns’, (W Hamish Fraser), The Glasgow Story, www.theglasgowstory.com].
Craigshill 1960s (image: Livingston Devlt Corp)
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Divine right of technocrats Nonetheless, a deep sense of dissatisfaction was and continues to be the general feeling about the two housing programs. Both plans for Glasgow’s regeneration, both the Scottish Office and Glasgow Corporation, were guilty (unsurprisingly) of taking a technocratic, “top-down’ approach to the re-housing solution. Both groups of planners failed to consult the residents themselves on what they wanted, the very people whose futures were riding on the experiments’ success and would be most affected by the results…a blind “focus on processes and numbers rather than people and their lives” (‘Modernizing Glasgow – Tower Blocks, Motorways, and New Towns 1940-2010’, Florian Urban, Glasgow School of Arts, www.radar.gsa.ac.uk). In hindsight, had they done so, at least some of the chronic and systemic problems may have been averted.

Social engineering, the “Glasgow Effect” Glasgow’s 20th century standing as the British Empire’s “Second City” and an economic and industrial powerhouse in the region came at a cost. Studies have long revealed that Glaswegians have a proportionately higher early death-rate—and not accountable by poverty alone—than other comparable great cities«D̴». A 2016 report by the Glasgow Centre for Population Health (‘History, politics and vulnerability: explaining excess mortality’) concluded that the combined historic effects of overcrowding, poor city planning (1960s-’80s) and “a democratic deficit–a lack of an ability to control decisions that affect their lives”—were the causes of the city’s susceptibility to premature death (“Revealed: ‘Glasgow effect’ mortality rate blamed on Westminster social engineering”, Karin Goodwin, The Herald, 16-May-2016, www.heraldscotland.com). The SO took this tact, the GCPH asserted, knowing full-well that the policy would be damaging to the long-term health of Glaswegians (Goodwin).

Castlemilk ca.1965 (Source: Gordon Waddell (Pinterest))

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“Skimming the cream” The evidence points to a deliberate government policy of social engineering experiments in Glasgow…Scottish Office documents released under the 30-year rule reveal a calculated policy in determining which inner city residents were relocated where. ”Skimming the cream” (rehousing the best preferred preferred citizens in the choices parts of the new settlements) was practiced. Skilled workforce and young families were chosen to reside in East Kilbride and the other New Towns while the centre was left with “the old, the very poor and the almost unemployable”. This tactic and the steering of economic investment away from Glasgow resulted in a “serious population imbalance” (Goodwin) and putting the vulnerable ’stayers’ in a jeopardy.

Murray Drive (Photo: Stonehouse Heritage Group)

Postscript: Belatedly aborted Stonehouse – New Towns become surplus to needs There was meant to be a sixth New Town built to absorb overspill population from Glasgow…the small village of Stonehouse was slated to accommodate 22,000 new homes and 35,000 people, in fact local farmers had their land compulsorily purchased and the first 96 homes in Murray Drive were not only constructed«E̴» but in 1976 the first residents were already two days in occupancy before the Scottish Office suddenly got “cold feat” and pulled the plug on the development! Why was Stonehouse New Town axed and why did it occur so late in the process? Originally proposed in the early Sixties when planners had identified a continuing need for new houses on the periphery, by 1973 two developments had prompted a policy change — Glasgow city had depopulated dramatically as a result of the dispersals (1970-73: 58,000 Glaswegians left) and the authorities were concerned that too many young people were leaving the centre. The emphasis for the inner city refocused on renovating rather than demolishing and rebuilding and the SO began redeploying resources towards regenerating and rehabilitating the East End of Glasgow. Roger Smith’s answer to the obvious question of why the authorities still kept going with Stonehouse after it was apparent by 1973 that the project was a “no-goer” is that the government machine at both the centralised and local level was simply incapable of “respond(ing) quickly to changing events and new understandings of existing situations”…which seems to sum up many of the urban planning missteps made in postwar Glasgow (Roger Smith (1978) Stonehouse—an obituary for a new town, Local Government Studies, 4:2, 57-64, DOI: 10.1080/03003937808432733; ‘The Scottish town that never was’, Alison Campsie, The Scotsman, Upd. 04-Jun-2020, www.scotsman.com.au).

•••••••••••••••••••••• «A̴» which initially were unfortunately called “townships” until someone pointed out Apartheid South Africa’s use of the same term to delineate non-white homelands «B̴» the haste of the estate building program contributed to this «C̴» as a result of multiple factors including lack of investment, cost-cutting on building materials and techniques, poorly maintained estates, apathy and neglect, pollution, loss of community pride, etc. «D̴» 30% greater risk of dying before 65 than comparable deindustrialised cities like Liverpool and Manchester (Goodwin) «E̴» everything else planned remained unbuilt, schools, swimming pools, sports centre, factories, etc.

Glasgow’s Postwar Planning Wars: Utopian Visions of Dystopia, Slum Clearances, New Towns and Social Engineering – Part 2

Glasgow ca.1945 (Source: Glasgow Heritage)

In Part 1 of ‘Glasgow’s Postwar Planning Wars’ we saw how decades of neglect and torpor had resulted in a concentration of Victorian slums and a chronic housing crisis that Glasgow authorities coming out of World War 2 were forced to confront. This prompted the 1945 Bruce Report, proposing that what Glasgow needed to regenerate its overpopulated metropolis was a new approach which was in the words of its author Robert Bruce, ‘surgical’ and ‘bold’. While Bruce’s scheme emphasised slum clearance and a mega-sized re-building project within the city limits, other planners from outside Glasgow put forward a competing plan, one with a very different vision of Glasgow and its solution for the city’s problems.

Patrick Abercrombie (Source: alchetron.com)

The alternative model: ”New Towns” In 1949 the Scottish Office (in Edinburgh) presented the city of Glasgow with an alternate blueprint for improving living standards and renewing the city, the “Clyde Valley Regional Plan 1946” (CVRP), Advocacy of the CVRP model was spearheaded by English town planner Patrick Abercrombie𝔸, whose town planning CV included the City of London, Hong Kong and Addis Ababa. The Abercrombie Plan recommended rehousing much of the population outside the city largely in “New Towns” which would function as overspill areas for overcrowded central Glasgow…it proposed not Bruce’s skyscrapers but low-rise living, expanding out to spread the density beyond the city limits [‘Scotland from the Sky’, BBC One, Series 1, Episode 2, (TV documentary, 2018)]. Integral to the plan was the presence of green belts in unbuilt areas, establishing buffer zones between the city and the New Towns – an idea the CVRP got from the earlier Garden Cities Movement𝔹. The outcome of the authorities’ attempts to transform Glasgow’s urban landscape into New Towns and “Peripheral Housing Estates” will be outlined in detail in ‘Glasgow’s Postwar Planning Wars, Part 3’.

Scottish New Town (Source: Pinterest)

New Towns phenomena New Towns were not novel to Glasgow and Scotland, the new towns movement was an international one (from the 1950s on, spreading to developing and de-colonising countries in Africa, Middle East and Asia) [’New towns on the Cold War frontier’, (Michelle Provoost), Eurozone, 28-Jun-2006, www.eurozine.com]). Pioneered in Britain, the movement followed the passage of the 1946 New Towns Act—handing the UK government power to designate areas of land for new town development—kick-starting an ambitious program of new peripheral and outlying settlements across the Home Countries [‘New towns’, UK Parliament, www.parliament.uk].

Schism Over Glasgow: two distinct planning strategies Academic Florian Urban sees the contest to shape postwar Glasgow as one of national ’planners’ versus local ’housers’. The Scottish Office’s CVRP was national policy, Westminster’s optimal regional fix for the poverty, overcrowding and unsanitary nature of Glasgow’s urban inner core. Bruce’s plan was to be the intended local fix, the solution to Glasgow Corporation’s objective of eradicating the city’s slums and ghettos. The first group was advocating dispersal away from the centre and the other containment in newly configured but in some cases even denser concentrations within the metropolis. The schism between the planning philosophies of the planners and the housers tapped into other existing tensions at the time – Tory national government (1951-55) versus Labour Glasgow City Council; ’refined’ Edinburgh versus “gritty industrial” Glasgow [‘Modernizing Glasgow – Tower Blocks, Motorways, and New Towns 1940-2010’, (Florian Urban), Glasgow School of Arts, www.radar.gsa.ac.uk]. The Corporation’s opposition to the Scottish Office’s interference (as it saw it) was couched in existential terms…loss of population was equated with the Glasgow authority’s loss of political prestige [‘Building and Cityscape Council Housing’, (Ranald McInnes), The Glasgow Story, www.theglasgowstory.com].

Photo: the sun.co.uk

Regionalisation v Containment: the first as advocated by the Scottish Office and Abercrombie entailed first and foremost the creation of new towns (low-rise housing consisting of “detached, semi-detached or terraced houses surrounded by ample green space”)…contrasting with the containment approach of Bruce and the Glasgow City Council which sought to create “an architecture based on the principles of the existing city (3 to 4-storey modern tenements and corridor streets)” (Urban).

Image: Google Earth

Even after Glasgow Corporation withdrew its approval of Bruce’s proposals (too radical, too expensive), it never formally adopted the Clyde Valley Plan in its place…it did however accept many of the CVRP’s principles. In 1954 the Corporation made key concessions to the planners, agreeing to the creation of green belts around the city and accepting the inevitability of decentralisation (the need for 100,000 new flats outside the metropolis to alleviate the centralised overcrowding). The planners’ objectives were aided by the appointment of Archibald Jury as city architect𝔻 who was fully on board with the goals of (British) national planning (Urban).

Photo: Architectsjournal.co.uk

A mishmash of “divergent visions” In the end the Corporation sat on the fence and opted for “two bob each way”…cherry-picking from both rival schemes — so that both modernist tower blocks and low-rise buildings got erected concurrently and haphazardly, oodles of high-rise and low-rise housing all mingled in together. This confused juggling of opposing plans by the Glasgow authorities led to construction delays and made for erratic even schizophrenic urban planning in the three decades after the late 1940s, contributing to high levels of dissatisfaction felt by many Glaswegians with their reassigned housing arrangements𝔼.

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𝔸 together with co-author Robert Matthew 𝔹 the New Towns movement can trace its British lineage to the “Garden cities movement” of the turn-of-the-Twentieth-century – to the pioneering experiments with Welwyn (later the first of the British New Towns), Letchworth and Cadbury’s Bournville Glasgow Corporation, still trading on its earlier status as an economic powerhouse within the British Empire, was staunchly committed to resist any attempt by Westminster to curtail its municipal powers (Urban) 𝔻 replacing Robert Bruce as Glasgow chief planner after he resigned in pique in 1951 following the rejection of his plan 𝔼 many of the residents removed (some forcibly) from inner Glasgow and relocated in the New Towns and the peripheral estates were sufficiently disenchanted with their new lot that they requested to be transferred to alternate accommodation