A rough cut of history

It's been stolen, sued, burnt, pulped, accused of treachery, sedition and anarchy. In the course of its 75 years it has also launched many careers as well as destroyed others. One thing On Dit cannot be accused of is being bland.

One of the oldest student newspapers in the country has stood the test of time, unlike many of its sister publications in Australia which have fallen victim to funding cuts and apathy.

To celebrate reaching its 75th birthday, former editors, contributors and supporters of the University of Adelaide's student-run publication, On Dit, gathered at the National Wine Centre in Adelaide in September to reminisce about the past as well as lobby for the paper's future.

Numerous milestones of On Dit's publishing history were recounted, from the early 1930's editions - which tackled issues of student governance, religion, culture, socialism, and the growing threat of fascism and war - through to the radical 1960's campaign against Vietnam and conscription, the feminist and apartheid battles in the 1970s and 1980s, the introduction of HECS in the 1990s and the effects of voluntary student unionism since 2006.

Sydney Daily Telegraph editor and former Adelaide Advertiser political journalist, David Penberthy, was guest speaker at the celebratory dinner. The University of Adelaide arts graduate said On Dit had provided the launching pad for his journalism career.

"On Dit was the biggest disruption imaginable to my academic career, but it was more stimulating than any lecture I attended. A vibrant student media gives young people a chance to hone new skills and On Dit has provided a rough cut of history, attacking a lot of sacred cows along the way."

General Manager of Student Services, Dr Judy Szekeres, said the University was proud to have such a long-running, independent student newspaper.

"Over the years the paper has allowed students to express their political views and engage in wider social and cultural issues," Dr Szekeres said. "Student life has always been about much more than academic studies and On Dit has played an important part in that wider student experience - in particular, the sense of community it promotes, the ideas it spreads and the debate it sparks."

Founded in 1932 at the end of the Great Depression, On Dit took its title from the French expression roughly translated as "we say". The name has remained unchanged, except for special issues and occasional protest variations, such as the change to Heresay in 1972 in protest at the French nuclear testing in the Pacific.

Throughout its history, On Dit has dealt with the "political and the provocative", according to the paper's former visual arts editor (2003-2005), Leo Greenfield.

Publication ceased from 1941 until 1944 following political controversy surrounding the support of Elliott Johnston, then President of the Students' Union, for workers' strikes which were seen as contrary to the national war effort.

On Dit's 1949 editor Gil Walquist remembers the University's North Terrace campus in the post-war years being "riddled with ASIO men, all spying on us".

The paper's 1962 editor Richard Broinowski - who went on to become a diplomat - said his tenure coincided with the anti-apartheid movement and Australia's decision to go "all the way with LBJ" into the Vietnam War.

Chris White recalls his 1971 editorship as "very radical and revolutionary". "We had 10,000 people rallying against the Vietnam War. It was amazing."

Fast forward to 2000 and the editor of that year, Dale Adams, said that when he discovered On Dit he thought it was "the coolest thing in the world". "I still do, so let's make sure we don't lose it".

The 2007 editors, Claire Wald and Ben Henschke, are the first in many years to produce On Dit without remuneration, an arrangement made necessary by the threat of closure due to the introduction of voluntary student unionism in 2006.

"We spend 60 hours a week putting this together without payment because we believe in it. It is important that On Dit does not die but continues to be an influential voice for students," Claire said. ■

STORY CANDY GIBSON