Dead Letters: Censorship and Subversion in New Zealand, 1914–1920 by Jared Davidson (review)

During these post-centenary years, it might be tempting to think there is no immediate need for any more books about New Zealand's involvement in the World War I. After all, the numerous volumes of the Centenary History Programme are hot off the press, alongside a glut of other publications, exhibitions and online media. Could it be prudent, at least in the short term, to give the conflict a bit of a rest? In Dead Letters, Jared Davidson demonstrates that studying World War I is as important now as it ever was, and provides a timely reminder that there are still many significant insights waiting to be gleaned.

The book examines New Zealand's implementation of postal censorship between 1914 and 1920. However, while it begins by analysing why and how such a measure came to be applied, this is not an administrative or organisational history. Instead, it is a predominantly biographical examination of a dozen individuals who, after being identified as a security risk by the authorities, bore the brunt of wartime surveillance. The primary sources are more than 50 letters written to and from these individuals; each of which was intercepted by the censors and then retained for use by the Defence Department and police during their inquiries.

In discovering these letters during his work at Archives New Zealand, Davidson has unearthed a veritable gold mine. Often humorous, occasionally harrowing, and always evocative, they provide a window into some quite remarkable lives. The reproduction of substantial extracts at the beginning of each chapter works superbly well, as it gives the reader a real sense of getting to know the protagonists–their backgrounds, fears, hopes and dreams.

Davidson's most impressive achievement is in building on these very idiosyncratic raw materials to produce a rich and multifaceted account of wartime New Zealand. Each protagonist is carefully situated within their own particular place and milieu, but their experiences also provide a starting point to investigate the war's effects on the major fault lines within society, particularly class, gender, nationality and ethnicity. The central argument is that "censorship was not just about protecting military information–it also protected the state and its interests" (24). With the targets of surveillance having included poets, novelists, agricultural labourers, spiritualist dairy farmers and a cross-dressing doctor, this is a compelling claim. If the civil and military authorities undoubtedly believed that New Zealand needed to do its upmost towards winning the war, they were also concerned to protect the capitalist economic system, preserve social and cultural norms, and curb the influence of radical groups.

That the narrative shifts so smoothly between the particular and the general owes a great deal to Davidson's skill as a writer. Despite the myriad details, this is a lively and engaging book; one that should be as accessible to the interested general reader as to the World War I scholar. Its readability is further enhanced by the fact Davidson so obviously cares about his protagonists, not merely as historical subjects, but as people. His joy at being able to recount and demonstrate the importance of their stories is infectious, and it would be an impassive reader indeed who did not come away feeling at least somewhat moved.

That being said, it is pleasing to see that Davidson does not adopt the fairly common tendency to, as I see it, overstate the extent of resistance within New Zealand. He quite rightly refers to a growing unrest over manifest inequalities of sacrifice during 1917 and 1918, but always with an acknowledgment that "the majority of the population consented to the wartime policies of the government" (50). Those instances of hyperbole that do slip through the net–describing the war as "one of history's most senseless spasms of carnage" is an awkward fit in a book that showcases the varied and emotive responses it generated–are few and far between (23).

I would heartily recommend Dead Letters...