Dominic George: Celebrating 150 years of Chinaphobia

A goldminer's hut in Arrowtown's restored Chinese settlement. Photo / File

Some of the more blunt pieces of correspondence we've received on the Farming Show over the past week have concerned the proposed 50 per cent sale of Silver Fern Farms to Chinese company Shanghai Maling.

One enterprising fellow proclaimed that "sweet and sour lamb" will become a culinary staple in this country. Another expressed the belief New Zealand is now on a "slippery slope", while yet another took the chance to vent his flag views, proclaiming it simply doesn't matter if we change the flag or not, because pretty soon we'll be flying the Chinese one, anyway!

Underpinning all this is thinly veiled xenophobia: some implied, some blatant but all apparent. This is nothing new for the Chinese in New Zealand. I recently had the chance to visit the partly restored Arrowtown Chinese settlement in Central Otago and discovered the story of the Chinese miners to be not only compelling but also a formative one in this nation's history. Yet for some, this race of people is still viewed with much the same suspicion and intolerance as it was in the mid-1800s.

Back then, many European miners ditched Otago for the promise of more lucrative gold fields on the West Coast and the provincial government of the day invited Chinese miners to come and work the abandoned mines and river beds, mainly because the exodus meant they were losing lucrative gold taxes. The miners arrived mainly from the poverty-stricken Guangdong province with the hope of returning to China as wealthy men. While this dream came true for a select few, the reality is the majority suffered a far less grand fate.

Despite their overwhelming propensity for law-abiding behaviour, unique yet productive mining methods, business acumen and introduction of new foods, they were still eyed with suspicion. An 1865 cartoon in the Dunedin Punch laments the arrival of the Chinese and the miners were effectively forced to create their own settlements.

By 1881 there were around 5000 Chinese in New Zealand, prompting the government of the day to introduce a poll tax of 10 pound per immigrant in an effort to deter immigration. That sum was raised to 100 pounds in 1896. It worked too -- by the early 1920s there were just over 50 Chinese left in the area. The tax was eventually abolished in 1944 and the Government apologised to the Chinese in 2002.

So what was - is - it about the Chinese that so raises the heckles of European New Zealanders? An 1871 petition which sought to ban Chinese immigration implored the government to act lest they invite "bloodshed and anarchy". A letter from around the same time calls into question virtually every aspect of Chinese life, including making the night "hideous with their exploding crackers" and corrupting all and sundry in their shops, described as dens of "indescribable vice and repulsive practices".

The Chinese were also accused of giving opium to little boys, while the writer was also perplexed to find some of his European brethren forgetting themselves and mingling freely with "almond-eyed, leprosy-tainted, filthy Chinamen". Charming.

The chief Chinese vices were gambling and opium, which snared many a European as well, but it was their appearance, dress and language that meant they could never really fit in. As a consequence, they stuck to themselves which caused further alienation. The other problem was their goldmining skills, hence competition in the race to the riches buried in the earth.

So, through a bit of suspicion and a great deal of fear, the Chinese story was largely ignored when New Zealand history was compiled. Thankfully, that's been rectified but there is a residual effect at play: a recent survey of New Zealand Asian leaders found the country is not always welcoming.

It's an odd thing when you consider the fact some of the oldest families in New Zealand are descendants of those Chinese goldminers who were invited to New Zealand and endured the harshest of physical and social challenges, their hopes of returning home rich fading with the passing of each harsh and brutal winter.

Perhaps the reaction of some to the Silver Fern Farms deal isn't surprising, nor is the Government's decision to block the sale of Lochinver Station to Chinese buyers. It's an attitude that's prevailed since the 1860s; we're quite happy to take your money, but it's probably best you don't live with us ...