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<30 September 1915,> |

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The Defence Acts contain provisions that | Parliamentarians and other sacred persons are not to | risk their limbs or lives within or without our | borders. Thus they can afford to heroically shed the | last drop of everybody else's blood without fatal | consequences to themselves.

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Not one in a hundred of the conscriptionists | intend to fight. They tell you how many dear | relations they have given to the furnace. It is a | noble sacrifice that palms the agony on to | others.

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Will somebody tell me why one section should give | its arms, its legs, its blood, its life, to the | service of the nation while another draws profits on | the requisites of war and another draws perpetual | interest from money invested in blood?

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That's the rule in Russia, Servia, Austria, | Germany, France and Great Britain. It is the rule in | Australia.

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But Russia is an autocracy; Germany, a Junkerdom: | Great Britain, a Tory Liberal Alliance. In Australia | six of the seven Governments are Governments of | "Labor."

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A LABEL OR A POLICY?

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What makes a Labor Government? Is it a label or a | policy? If it be a policy, will somebody tell me | wherein the policy of Labor on this continent in this | crisis is one whit ahead of the Governments of | Europe? In what does it compel equality of sacrifice | more than those other Governments that are not | "Labor"?

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When a man goes to the war he puts his life | - his living capital - | into the balance. He does not haggle on the rate of | interest to be paid for ever on a quart of blood or a | portion of his body. He takes his chance of losing | everything. But the Money Hog not only gets his money | returned. He gets, in addition, even under Labor | Governments, a perpetual lien upon the toil of the | survivors. To this hideous scheme - | this one-sided arrangement - Labor | Governments have no hostility, no counter policy.

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WHY NOT CONSCRIPT PROPERTY?

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Men die, limbs are torn off, eyes blown out, but | the burden of interest upon the survivors is daily | increased, and the profits of the windy patriots | remain intact. The multitude are impoverished, but | the moneyed interests wax fat. Conscript human lives! | - on that theme what rhapsodies. | Conscript profits, interest, factories, banks, | minerals - on that theme there is the | silence of the grave. These "National Service" men | want a confiscation of human lives - | not a confiscation of property.

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MEN AND WEALTH

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They say, "Nonsense." They declare that wealth is | compelled to pay its share. Is it? All that is done | is to skim off a slice of the annual increment, but | the principle remains untouched. A man may give his | arms, his legs, his sanity, and be so much the | poorer, but to take so much of a rich man's wealth | that he will be poorer at the end of the war than at | the beginning, that is beyond them; that is going too | far; that is too radical ~~ that is the kind of | conscription the "National Service" advocates do not | want, and won't enact.

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FLY-BLOWN CARCASSES

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On this war policy question the Parliamentary | leaders are not in advance of the most conservative. | They shout to the multitude, "Give your life!" yet | handle the profiteers with tender care. The workers | get reduced purchasing power and the Money Hogs | increasing interest. Leaders of Labor spread | themselves in fulsome eulogies of the "inspiring | patriotism" of bankers and the brokers. Yet these are | not in the firing line. Their fly-blown carcasses are | not to be found on the battlefield. They are on the | Stock Exchange or in the banking chambers, | calculating the profits on the next loan or on the | platforms of the National Service cheering others on | to die.

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If a Government commandeers life, let it | commandeer property. If it nationalises the manhood | of the country for slaughter, let it nationalise the | wealth of the country for a like purpose. If it | conscripts labor, let it conscript capital | not a fraction of the annual increase, but | the thing itself. But these conscriptionists | - these radicals, these advocates of Labor, | these enemies of trusts and moneyed spongers ~~ they | take one man's life and butter another with the fat | of interest.

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THE SLAUGHTER POT

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Ask these one-sided conscriptionists to go up | where blood is squirting and they provide a thousand | reasons for being a thousand miles away. They don’t | want to go where men groan and scream and laugh and | curse and die. Change the Defence Acts, remove the | exemptions, sweep out the clauses calling the | youthful first to the harvest of death. Put every fit | man into the barrel, irrespective of age. Ask the | conscriptionists to advocate these changes in the | Act, and then you will find where are the professors | and politicians and bankers and bishops and leaders | of Labor and captains of industry who now mount the | platform in unison. See whether they will advocate a | change in the Acts that may give them to the | slaughter pot. That’s the test of their heroism.

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The London | "Economist," in a recent issue, said:~~ |

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THE TRIUMPH OF REACTION

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But Conscription does not mean Revolution. If it | did, it would be militant Labor policy to advocate | it. But it does not. It means the organised | extermination of a large portion of the working | class, and the weakening of the remainder. It means | the triumph of the Reaction, the supremacy of the | Money Power, the tyranny of the interest monger. And | the war, whichever way it goes, means such abject | misery for the working class that, unless it is | prepared to revolt and shake Mammon from its throne | it might as well be dead.

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GO AND DIE

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The politicians offer to the workers no glimpse of | a happier day. Their only message is "Go and die." | The answer should be, "Go yourselves."

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The bloodthirsty interest mongers and profiteers | present in this crisis a lovely spectacle of | patriotism, but nobody puts them under arrest for | "stopping recruiting." Put up a poster. Ask these | parasites to lead the way to the trenches, and Labor | Governments will lead you to the gaol. That's the | world a-marching on for you in 1915.

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FRANK ANSTEY