RURAL REPORT: can the CWA be saved?
Most members agree the CWA needs to get beyond its reputation for tea and scones to remain relevant in the 21st century – but how? Ingrid Pyne meets radical townies, landed ladies and other forces at play in the battle for the heart of the Country Women’s Association.
When you are known for your baking, knitting, cross-stitching, preserving, crocheting, piping, patchwork and icing – as are the 20,000-plus members of the Country Women’s Association – you are not always taken seriously. For almost a century, this collective of women has been the beating heart of country Australia, transforming localities into communities, uniting for causes and improving the lot of rural families. Yet, to the outsider, the invariable impression is of a bunch of old ladies serving up tea and scones at country shows.
It is little wonder then that the
CWA leadership, battling falling membership, is keen to rebrand itself to the outside world. The only surprise, as I sit in the Sydney headquarters of the CWA of NSW, is how far they seem willing to go.
How, for example, would they feel about dropping the pledge of “Loyalty to the Throne” from their motto? Or diversifying the CWA’s ethnic and religious base? Nominating a president who doesn’t hail from the land? All these issues are on the table (along with scones) in CWA meetings around the country.
Far from preserving their image as the conservative guardians of traditional family values, some members seem intent on blowing it up. Radical motions are being put forward, proposing the CWA take a stance on gender-neutral school uniforms, legalised abortion, medicinal cannabis and coal seam gas mining on farming land. The once resolutely apolitical organisation is edging into the political fray. Last year, the CWA of Western Australia protested against government policy for the first time in its history, while the national president decried the state of Australian politics, calling for an end to misogyny.
“It’s outrageous to assume the
CWA has a culture and an image that needs changing,” opined News Corporation columnist Louise
Roberts, as newspapers dubbed the CWA of NSW the “Commie Women’s Association” and accused it of radicalism and political correctness gone mad. “Why do people feel the need to ‘fix’ an organisation like this?”
Why? Because in recent times, the near century-old CWA, like unions and other service clubs, has faced some distinctly 21st-century challenges – for starters, replenishing its ranks. In branches across the country, older members are dying, retiring, relocating or simply running out of puff.
“We are always portrayed as an old organisation,” admits Annette Turner, immediate past president of CWA NSW. “That, to me, helps the demise. People need to see the real CWA because that is how we will get our new members.”
So how does the CWA leadership walk the tightrope required to reinvigorate this beloved institution while maintaining its heritage? month’s meeting; ensure they have enough volunteers for the upcoming Bunnings Warehouse barbecue fundraiser; prepare a volunteer roster for the CWA tearooms at the annual Royal Easter Show; devise the criteria and logistics for a new educational scholarship; and judge the baked goods submitted for The Land Cookery Competition.
The women, who range in age from their mid-20s to their 70s, seem like the ordinary lawyers, public servants, school teachers, authors and retirees that they claim to be. But to some outsiders, they are radical city-based insurgents intent on hijacking the CWA and swinging it to the left.
Elizabeth Nash, a 35-year-old insurance lawyer, joined the CWA six years ago, when she moved to Sydney from Newcastle, primarily as a way to meet new people. She is
now President of the Mascot evening branch. “I didn’t know a whole lot of people and I wanted to make friends in Sydney,” she says, in a nod to the CWA’s longstanding reputation for fellowship. Instead, she and other metropolitan members have been accused of driving a wedge into the country’s biggest women’s organisation.
“Certainly people outside the association have made numerous comments that it’s the city taking over,” Elizabeth tells The Weekly.
“I vehemently disagree with that.
The metropolitan areas are members of the association because we care about women, children and families in rural NSW. We want to help make a difference.”
The city has always been critical to the CWA. Its prototype, the Bushwomen’s Conference, was held in Sydney in 1922 “to improve the conditions of the woman on the land” and from the outset, membership was mixed. Today, Sydney city branch is the second largest of almost 400 CWA branches across NSW, which in turn boasts the greatest membership in the country, with more than 8200 members.
“City members have always had more capacity to raise funds and they are closer to the seats of power,” says Tanya Cameron, the CWA of Australia President. “Right from the start, they could see a need and they wanted to help. The CWA couldn’t do half the stuff we do without them.”
Last year, Elizabeth spearheaded a move that would have allowed a ‘townie’ to run the CWA of NSW for the first time. Under current rules, nominees for state president must be living or have lived on the land, but Elizabeth argues that this excludes more than 10 per cent of the membership.
“Lots of ladies from the metro areas have the skills and education to hold the position,” she tells The Weekly. “Someone who is a lawyer or has a media background would be able to stand up there and effectively and passionately speak about the issues facing rural NSW.”
The majority of members at the state conference disagreed. The ensuing debate was heated and emotional. “How does a person from the city understand the isolation; a man who has just shot his dog; savage bushfires; 12 years of drought; or five men committing suicide in a small community in a month?” asked Jenny Chobdzynski of the Riverina branch. The manner in which Elizabeth had described the presidency, Jenny added, “reads like a corporate job advertisement, and we are not a corporation”.
Another motion put forward by Elizabeth – for CWA support of mandatory gender-neutral uniforms – met further consternation. “This shouldn’t even be on our agenda. We are a humanitarian organisation and we have won the respect and admiration of Australia and the world for that,” one member said. Another added: “This motion seeks conflict and is looking for a headline.”
It got one. In several newspapers, the passionate, young and articulate metropolitan members were suspected of using the mighty lobbying powers of the CWA to advance a clandestine progressive agenda.
Tanya admits there has been “some angst and a degree of uneasiness” at recent conferences, but she denies that rural traditionalists and metropolitan progressives are engaged in a battle for the heart of the CWA. So does Jenny. Both say country and city members continue to work effectively together, as they have for generations.
“We all just need to take a step back and calm down, and try to understand where people are coming from,” suggests Tanya. “There’s a place for everyone.”
The CWA has always been a broad church. Long before ‘sisterhood’ became a ’70s buzzword, the CWA was providing a tangible sisterhood in the Australian countryside. Among its ranks were progressives, idealists, radicals and visionaries whose pragmatic and persistent style of lobbying helped the CWA become a major agent for change. Many
“The CWA is a readymade grassroots network.”
improvements that we now take for granted – compulsory car seatbelts, white lines on the side of the roads, flashing speed signs in school zones, baby car-seats, low-alcohol beer and free mobile breast-screening units – can be credited to CWA advocacy.
Revolutionary nannas
Kelly Hudson is a 49-year-old natural resources management consultant, holds a master’s degree and is a mum to two teenage children. She is also the President of the CWA Perth Belles. Hudson joined the branch after reading about its work, which last year alone included support for women leaving domestic violence and drought-affected farmers; Christmas hampers for a homeless shelter; pregnancy-loss kits for women who had miscarried; scholarships for disadvantaged children; funds for Alzheimer’s research and CWA heritage work; bandana bags for Canteen camps and knitted blankets for disadvantaged mothers.
“I was so surprised because, like a lot of people, I thought the CWA was for nannas,” she says. “My nanna was in the CWA herself. I discovered it wasn’t and it never has been. The nannas in it now have been there working together and as a community for decades. They didn’t start out as nannas.”
Tanya laughs at this description. Many of the older members, she says, remain the social progressives they were in their youth. To them, it was unsurprising when the Victorian branch threw its weight behind marriage equality 18 months ahead of the national plebiscite. As one member wrote on the CWA of Victoria’s Facebook page: “Growing up in a regional community, I had friends who tried so hard to convince themselves and others that they weren’t gay. This was partly to do with the very real threat of assault. This had a huge toll on them mentally and emotionally. Thank you for taking a stand and making the world a little safer for young gay people in regional and rural communities.”
“To say the CWA is more than tea and scones is a huge understatement,” John Barilaro tells The Weekly. The Deputy Premier and Minister for Regional NSW regularly meets with the CWA over issues ranging from drought relief to gaps in weather radar services. “The CWA is made up of influential women who are doing incredible things,” he insists.
There is a certain ironic sting in the fact that, in order to do these things, the CWA is dependent on the tea and scones for which it is often ridiculed. Tea and scone drives have raised millions of dollars for vital community projects and emergency relief efforts over the decades, which is why the organisation is reluctant to cut its ties to the humble pastry.
“That is a really big part of our identity,” says Danica Leys, the 40-year-old CEO of the CWA of
NSW. “We just look at it as an opportunity to say, ‘Let us tell you about all the other things we do as well’.” To that end, the leadership team has introduced the concept of “scone-versations”, an opportunity to give potential members a deeper understanding of the CWA over a spread of scones, cakes and slices.
In Julia Creek, in Queensland’s drought and flood-ravaged northwest, the CWA tearoom operates as a front for a whole range of essential services that the organisation also provides, including financial assistance and counselling for local farmers. “It’s a covert way of offering what we do,” branch manager Lyn Clout told the ABC. “We’re very discreet.”
Out of the tearoom
Since its inception, the CWA has suffered from a prejudice against so-called women’s work. Society rarely pays attention to the people who keep communities going in quiet, necessary ways. Their work in fighting the good fight tends to be undervalued and overlooked.
“When women get together in an organisation like the CWA, which is a grassroots organisation that over the years has had hundreds of thousands of members, that is impressive,” says feminist writer Karen Pickering. “But it is minimised and made fun of.”
In the aftermath of second-wave feminism, as women entered the workforce in ever increasing numbers, who wanted to belong to an organisation renowned for its craft, baking and mothering skills? More pertinently, who had the time? CWA membership, which had peaked in 1956 at 32,000, began a seemingly inexorable decline.
In recent years, the organisation has made a concerted effort to attract younger women into the fold – opening early morning, evening, online and even high school branches. It is also offering a wider range of activities, from choir and drama to music and cultural studies, and using social media to tap into the urban resurgence in so-called “granny skills” such as crochet and knitting.
Yet CWA executives believe the real key to attracting new members is to find new causes and purposes. “I would like to see the CWA building upon its position as an advocacy and policy powerhouse,” says Elizabeth.
“Our approach in the past has been to quietly go about our work in the background, rather than tooting our own horn,” says Tanya. “People didn’t really know about the work we did. We are now trying to be more proactive … using social media and engaging a media relations team.”
At least in part as a result of that horn tooting, last year the
CWA of NSW’s membership numbers grew for the first time in a decade
– by 5 per cent to more than 8000 members (against a typical annual decline of 300-400 members). And so far this year, memberships have continued to rise.
Paradoxically, the CWA’s profile has also been boosted by rural tragedies that have become talking points all over Australia – mental health, drought, bushfires and the Murray Darling Basin crisis. Through its extensive regional network, the CWA of NSW has distributed about $12 million (and counting) in drought relief. Danica says it is this extensive network and unparalleled geographic spread that gives the CWA both its social effectiveness and its political clout.
Karen Pickering is surprised more women are not jumping on board the CWA in this #MeToo era. “The CWA is arguably a ready-made grassroots network for women to connect with one another,” she says.
To capitalise on that, Tanya says, the organisation must remain open to the enthusiasm, energy and new ideas of its younger members and accept that “intergenerational conflict happens everywhere”. However, she cautions against a radical overhaul. “When I was younger, I didn’t like how slowly things happened,” she says, “but once you have started working at state executive level and higher, you understand the respect and credibility that the organisation has. That has only come from our conservative, considered approach.”
As if heeding her advice, the NSW annual general meeting this year was considerably less fractious than the year prior (the interloper who egged the Prime Minister aside). Motions were debated with passion but without malice, and included more traditional concerns (the quality of drinking water and availability of cancer treatments in the bush) and fresh ideas (not just the national anthem and the CWA motto but also an Acknowledgement of Country will open CWA meetings in the future).
So is the leadership of this national treasure up to the challenge of retaining its old world values while servicing modern needs? Karen hopes so.
“The CWA has overcome huge challenges in the past, not just in terms of membership and viability. They got through the Depression, they got through wars, they got through drought,” she says. “Country women are special. They have a unique way of tackling problems – they have a no-nonsense, roll-your-sleeves-up-anddo-what-needs-to-be-done approach. Hopefully, that innovation and resilience will mean the CWA exists for another century.”