inadequately studied, and why further research is difficult, is due to the lack of historical records:
a great deal of material has simply been lost due to the transitory characteristics of events. Those who were active in personal discussions and other forms of activism in their dynamic, often convulsing, and ever changing world often did not see the need or lacked the literacy to be able to document their ideas… what is left as source material are the thoughts only of those who were literate, who spoke loudly enough to be documented by others, or who wished to make themselves heard in a more durable way.8
Another factor that has limited some past anarchist historiography is the tendency to view its subject/s solely within national boundaries. Anarchism was a transnational movement—built upon global economic integration and both formal and informal networks crossing national lines.9 When framed within geographical limits, anarchism in New Zealand certainly appears submerged in a sea of ‘pink’ socialism, even insignificant. Yet a transnational lens allows New Zealand anarchists to be viewed as part of a wider, international movement, spurred on by transoceanic migration, doctrinal diffusion, financial flows, transmission of information and symbolic practices, and acts of solidarity.10 The role of New Zealand anarchism, both in the New Zealand labour movement and its own international movement, increases in scope when placed in such a context.
With that in mind, and by drawing on the work of Prebble and others, this contribution will explore early anarchism in New Zealand through a biography of one of its key players.11 The transnational nature of anarchism in the period between its emergence in the workers’ movement of the late 1860s and the interwar years can be seen in the migration and activity of Philip Josephs (1876–1946). His sustained activism, whether from the soapbox or through the mailbox, and his involvement in the class struggle that swept through the country, makes Josephs one of New Zealand’s most important and pioneering anarchists.
As well as providing previously unpublished biographical information on Josephs, I hope to convince the reader of three main claims. Firstly, before the arrival of Josephs in New Zealand, the “broad anarchist tradition”—defined by Michael Schmidt and Lucien van der Walt as a revolutionary form of libertarian socialism against social and economic hierarchy (specifically capitalism and the state), in favour of international class struggle and revolution from below, in order to create a socialist, stateless social order—had next to no organized presence.12 There were anarchists and various forms of anti-authoritarian ideas in New Zealand before Josephs, but it was his activity within the New Zealand Socialist Party and his formation of one of New Zealand’s first anarchist collectives, the Freedom Group, that ensured a level of organized anarchism previously lacking in the wider labour movement.
The second point is one of legitimacy. Anarchism was a valid part of the New Zealand labour movement and its working-class counter-culture—directly through the activity of Philip Josephs and other anarchists, or indirectly due to anarchist literature and ideas. Although often missing from the indices of New Zealand labour histories, Erik Olssen notes that anarchism was “more influential than most have realised.”13 Josephs’ anarchist communism reflects the rejection of violent individualism (known as propaganda by the deed) and the move back to collective action taken by the majority of anarchists in the late 1890s. His tireless distribution of anarchist literature, numerous public speeches and his tailor-shop-cum bookshop helped to create a radical counter-culture in New Zealand, while his support of syndicalist class struggle and the general strike, and his activity alongside the local branches of the Industrial Workers of the World highlights the relationship of anarchism with revolutionary syndicalism. Indeed, if one went so far as employing Schmidt and van der Walt’s definition of syndicalism being a variant and strategy of the broad anarchist tradition, the era of the New Zealand Federation of Labor of 1908–1913 could be seen in a whole new light.14
Finally, New Zealand anarchists, and Josephs in particular, were rooted in the international anarchist movement. Josephs’ birth in Latvia, his ongoing radicalisation in Glasgow, Scotland, and his almost two decades in New Zealand before he left for Australia, highlights the transient nature of labour. His distribution of international anarchist literature, and personal networking with overseas revolutionaries and groups such as Freedom Press (UK) and the Mother Earth Publishing Association (USA), illustrates the doctrinal diffusion and sharing of information so vital to informal, intercontinental anarchist networks. This sharing went both ways. Josephs’ activities, the perceived bankruptcy of the Liberal Government’s state-socialist legislation, and accounts of New Zealand strikes popped up on the pages of various anarchist journals abroad, lending weight to the notion that anarchism
was not a Western European doctrine that diffused outwards, perfectly formed, to a passive ‘periphery.’ Rather, the movement emerged simultaneously and transnationally, created by inter-linked activists on many continents—a pattern of interconnection, exchange and sharing, rooted in ‘informal internationalism.’15
Josephs played a key role in the establishment of a distinct anarchist identity and culture (in New Zealand and abroad), a culture that emerged around and enveloped the globe simultaneously. His New Zealand activity personifies the transnationalism of the day, and illustrates how interlinked (and often unrecognized) activists operating within small local scenes, but with an eye towards international developments, advanced the anarchist project worldwide. As a result, Josephs’ struggle for social change linked the South Pacific nation to the global movement, and furthered anarchism in New Zealand itself—the Freedom Group of 1913 being one of the first of many anarchist collectives to play a vibrant part in the history of the New Zealand left.
Chapter 1: rising expectations and dashed hopes
The casual observer could be forgiven for reading in Philip Josephs’ 1926 naturalisation papers nothing more than an Eastern European immigrant looking for the stability and closure of citizenship. Occupation: tailor; Height: 5’9”; Colour of Hair: grey; Colour of Eyes: brown; Any special Peculiarities: a bit round shoulders [sic]; Place of birth: Latvia; Children: eight. Do you swear to be faithful and bear true allegiance to His Majesty King George the Fifth and his heirs and successors, according to law? yes.1 The reader, and the bureaucrat wielding the stamp, could never know that from the very hand that supplied these details had come powerful and unrepentant denunciations of government in all its forms, calls to go beyond man-made laws that served one class above another, and the propagation of social revolution. Indeed, the photographs of an aged Josephs that have come to light portray an avuncular, friendly demeanour—his thick, wavy, white hair framing a kind and gentle face that, according to his grandchildren, would always greet them with a smile on visits to his Sydney tailor shop. Yet as an anarchist communist and co-founder of one of New Zealand’s first anarchist collectives, Josephs had forcefully agitated against all forms of authority and did not hesitate to meet ideological fire with fire. Between the lines of his naturalisation papers lies a tale of struggle for social change; a life lived through revolutionary times and bitter upheavals. Between the lines lies a biography of one of New Zealand’s most consistent, pioneering, and pivotal anarchists.
Philip Josephs (Feivel Ben Yacov in his native language) was born in the Latvian port city of Liepaja (Libau) on 25 November 1876. Apart from this, there is very little information about Josephs’ family, his upbringing, and what caused him to leave for Glasgow, Scotland at around twenty years of age. Some educated guesses can be employed however, for Liepaja was not free of the persecution inflicted on the wider Jewish population by the Russian government—persecution that produced violence, massive migrations, and the seeds of revolutionary thought.
Situated in southwest Latvia and straddling the Baltic Sea, the port city of Liepaja—known as ‘the city where the wind is born’ due to its trademark coastal breeze—was the third largest city in Latvia. Along its spacious but busy harbour were rows and rows of warehouses, bordered by unbroken white dunes and sandy shores. Unlike neighbouring ports of Riga and St. Petersburg, Liepaja remained ice-free during the winter months, making it a crucial site for the shipment of goods and capital. Its geographical importance was bolstered by the arrival of the railway in 1880, confirming the port as a significant economic centre for both Russian merchants and the Jewish community.