In 1953, the Sydney Morning Herald published a series of three articles entitled
‘Broken Hill To-day’ (available here,
here,
and here).
Written during a period when the conservative state Opposition was making a fuss
about the Silver City’s culture of drinking and gambling, they provide an
interesting glimpse of how the city’s unique social system was viewed by
outsiders.
In the second article, it is noted that the
city had thirty-nine hotels and nine licensed clubs serving a population of 32
000. There were also twelve thousand motor vehicle registrations there (roughly
one per family), and Broken Hill reputedly had the highest bank savings per
capita of any Australian city. This highlights the level of prosperity among
ordinary people in Broken Hill. The city could also boast lower rates of
drunkenness, crime, and juvenile delinquency than the state at large.
The articles also add to the picture of the
BIC’s power: the writer labels the Council “the most remarkable feature of
Broken Hill, apart from the line of lode itself”. The Council owned a greyhound
racing track, which put on races “two Saturdays out of three” (and on the other
Saturday, punters could attend the horse racing track, owned by the mining
companies).
The third article describes in detail the
lead bonus, which dated from a 1924 round of wage negotiations and had first
kicked in when the price per ton of lead had hit £16 in 1934 – at the time of
writing, it was £111, giving mine employees a bonus of £12 per week, almost one-half
of which went into a superannuation account. The result of this was that miners
actually earned more than the government-appointed mine inspectors.
The little workers’ utopia on the Barrier
didn’t last, however. The bargaining power of workers in a mining town is very
much dependent on the continuing high export prices of its commodities (in this
case silver, lead, and zinc). Furthermore, the BIC’s conservative social
policies would eventually bring it unstuck: its bar on married women working in
unionised occupations eventually fell foul of anti-discrimination laws. After
the mining companies managed to wriggle out of the six-decade-old wage
negotiation arrangements in 1986, the mines’ workforce dropped to 1300 within
the decade, and the city now depends on fads like eco-tourism. Macquarie
Street’s nanny-statism also destroyed the city’s culture; its world-famous
two-up school was closed in 1984.
Broken Hill’s exceptional system of
industrial relations created an economic environment in which the city’s labour
force was virtually entirely unionised, wages were high, prices were kept at
reasonable levels, and BIC control of the labour market prevented capitalists
from using the threat of unemployment to discipline workers. The BIC could have
extended its power further: it could have established its planned network of
co-operatives, or it could have used the superannuation fund created by the
‘lead bonus’ to purchase shares in the mining companies (à la the Meidner Plan, proposed by left-wing Swedish social
democrats in the 1970s). Still, the working class of the Silver City achieved
more freedom from capitalism than any other people in Australian history.