Britain at Bay - Spenser Wilkinson
BRITAIN AT BAY
BY
SPENSER WILKINSON
New York
1909
TO MY CHILDREN
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. THE NATION AND THE PARTIES
II. DEFEAT
III. FORCE AND RIGHT
IV. ARBITRATION AND DISARMAMENT
V. THE NATIONALISATION OF WAR
VI. THE BALANCE OF POWER
VII. THE RISE OF GERMANY
VIII. NATIONHOOD NEGLECTED
IX. NEW CONDITIONS
X. DYNAMICS--THE QUESTION OF MIGHT
XI. POLICY--THE QUESTION OF RIGHT
XII. THE NATION
XIII. THE EFFECT OF THE NATIONALISATION OF WAR UPON LEADERSHIP
XIV. THE NEEDS OF THE NAVY
XV. ENGLAND'S MILITARY PROBLEM
XVI. TWO SYSTEMS CONTRASTED
XVII. A NATIONAL ARMY
XVIII. THE COST
XIX. ONE ARMY NOT TWO
XX. THE TRANSITION
XXI. THE PRINCIPLES ON WHICH ARMIES ARE RAISED
XXII. THE CHAIN OF DUTY
Chapters XIV. to XX. have appeared as articles in the _Morning Post_
and are by kind permission reproduced without substantial change.
I.
THE NATION AND THE PARTIES
"I do not believe in the perfection of the British constitution as an
instrument of war ... it is evident that there is something in your
machinery that is wrong." These were the words of the late Marquis of
Salisbury, speaking as Prime Minister in his place in the House of Lords
on the 30th of January 1900. They amounted to a declaration by the
British Government that it could not govern, for the first business of a
Government is to be able to defend the State of which it has charge,
that is, to carry on war. Strange to say, the people of England were
undisturbed by so striking an admission of national failure.
On the 16th of March 1909 came a new declaration from another Prime
Minister. Mr. Asquith, on the introduction of the Navy Estimates,
explained to the House of Commons that the Government had been surprised
at the rate at which the new German navy was being constructed, and at
the rapid growth of Germany's power to build battleships. But it is the
first duty of a Government to provide for national security and to
provide means to foresee. A Government that is surprised in a matter
relating to war is already half defeated.
The creation of the German navy is the creation of means that could be
used to challenge Great Britain's sea power and all that depends upon
it. There has been no such challenge these hundred years, no challenge
so formidable as that represented by the new German fleet these three
hundred years. It brings with it a crisis in the national life of
England as great as has ever been known; yet this crisis finds the
British nation divided, unready and uncertain what leadership it is to
expect.
The dominant fact, the fact that controls all others, is that from now
onwards Great Britain has to face the stern reality of war, immediately
by way of preparation and possibly at any moment by way of actual
collision. England is drifting into a quarrel with Germany which, if it
cannot be settled, involves a struggle for the mastery with the
strongest nation that the world has yet seen--a nation that, under the
pressure of necessity, has learnt to organise itself for war as for
peace; that sets its best minds to direct its preparations for war;
that has an army of four million citizens, and that is of one mind in
the determination to make a navy that shall fear no antagonist. A
conflict of this kind is the test of nations, not only of their strength
but also of their righteousness or right to be. It has two aspects. It
is first of all a quarrel and then a fight, and if we are to enter into
it without fear of destruction we must fulfil two conditions: in the
quarrel we must be in the right, in the fight we must win. The two
conditions are inseparable. If there is a doubt about the justice of our
cause we shall be divided among ourselves, and it will be impossible for
us to put forth the strength of a united nation.
Have we really a quarrel with Germany? Is she doing us any wrong? Some
of our people seem to think so, though I find it hard to say in what the
wrong consists. Are we doing her any wrong? Some Germans seem to think
so, and it behoves us, if we can, to find out what the German grievance
is.
Suppose that there is a cause for quarrel, hidden at present but sooner
or later to be revealed. What likelihood is there that we shall be able
to make good our case in arms, and to satisfy the world and posterity
that we deserved to win?
Germany can build fleets as fast as we can, and although we have a start
the race will not be easy for us; she has the finest school of war that
ever existed, against which we have to set an Admiralty so much
mistrusted that at this moment a committee of the Cabinet is inquiring
into its efficiency.
Is it not time for us to find the answer to the question raised by Lord
Salisbury nine years ago, to ascertain what it is that interferes with
the perfection of the British constitution as an instrument of war, and
to set right what is wrong with our machinery?
The truth is that we have ceased to be a nation; we have forgotten
nationhood, and have become a conglomerate of classes, parties,
factions, and sects. That is the disease. The remedy consists in
reconstituting ourselves as a nation.
What is a nation? The inhabitants of a country constituted as one body
to secure their corporate being and well-being. The nation is all of us,
and its government is trusteeship for us all in order to give us peace
and security, and in order that in peace and security we may make each
other's lives worth living by doing each the best work he can. The
nature of a nation may be seen by distinguishing it from the other
nations outside and from the parties within. The mark of a nation is
sovereignty, which means, as regards other nations, the right and the
power to make peace with them or to carry on war against them, and
which means, as regards those within, the right and the power to command
them.
A nation is a people constituted as a State, maintaining and supporting
a Government which is at once the embodiment of right and the wielder of
force. If the right represented by the Government is challenged, either
without or within, the Government asserts it by force, and in either
case disposes, to any extent that may be required, of the property, the
persons, and the lives of its subjects.
A party, according to the classical theory of the British constitution,
is a body of men within the State who are agreed in regarding some
measure or some principle as so vital to the State that, in order to
secure the adoption of the measure or the acceptance of the principle,
they are willing to sink all differences of opinion on other matters,
and to work together for the one purpose which they are agreed in
regarding as fundamental.
The theory of party government is based on the assumption that there
must always be some measure or some principle in regard to which the
citizens of the same country will differ so strongly as to subordinate
their private convictions on other matters to their profound convictions
in regard to the one great question. It is a theory of permanent civil
war carried on through the forms of parliamentary debate and popular
election, and, indeed, the two traditional parties are the political
descendants of the two sides which in the seventeenth century were
actually engaged in civil war. For the ordinary purposes of the domestic
life of the country the system has its advantages, but they are coupled
with grave drawbacks. The party system destroys the sincerity of our
political life, and introduces a dangerous dilettantism into the
administration of public business.
A deliberative assembly like the House of Commons can reach a decision
only by there being put from the chair a question to which the answer
must be either Yes or No. It is evidently necessary to the sincerity of
such decisions that the answer given by each member shall in every case
be the expression of his conviction regarding the right answer to the
question put. If every member in every division were to vote according
to his own judgment and conscience upon the question put, there would be
a perpetual circulation of members between the Ayes to the right and the
Noes to the left. The party system prevents this. It obliges each member
on every important occasion to vote with his leaders and to follow the
instruction of the whips. In this way the division of opinion produced
by some particular question or measure is, as far as possible, made
permanent and dominant, and the freedom of thought and of deliberation
is confined within narrow limits.
Thus there creeps into the system an element of insincerity which has
been enormously increased since the extension of the franchise and the
consequent organisation of parties in the country. Thirty or forty years
ago the caucus was established in all the constituencies, in each of
which was formed a party club, association, or committee, for the
purpose of securing at parliamentary elections the success of the party
candidate. The association, club, or committee consists, as regards its
active or working portion, of a very small percentage of the voters even
of its own party, but it is affiliated to the central organisation and
in practice it controls the choice of candidates.
What is the result? That the affairs of the nation are entirely given
over to be disputed between the two organised parties, whose leaders are
compelled, in shaping their policy and in thinking about public affairs,
to consider first and foremost the probable effect of what they will do
and of what they will say upon the active members of the caucus of their
own party in the constituencies. The frame of mind of the members of the
caucus is that of men who regard the opposite caucus as the adversary.
But the adversary of a nation can only be another nation.
In this way the leaders of both parties, the men who fill the places
which, in a well-organised nation, would be assigned to statesmen, are
placed in it position in which statesmanship is almost impossible. A
statesman would be devoted solely to the nation. He would think first,
second, and third of the nation. Security would be his prime object, and
upon that basis he would aim at the elevation of the characters and of
the lives of the whole population. But our leaders cannot possibly think
first, second, and third of the nation. They have to think at least as
much of the next election and of the opinions of their supporters. In
this way their attention is diverted from that observation of other
nations which is essential for the maintenance of security. Moreover,
they are obliged to dwell on subjects directly intelligible to and
appreciable by the voters in the constituencies, and are thereby
hindered from giving either the time or the attention which they would
like to any of those problems of statesmanship which require close and
arduous study for their solution. The wonder is in these conditions that
they do their work so well, and maintain undiminished the reputation of
English public men for integrity and ability.
Yet what at the present moment is the principle about which parties are
divided? Is there any measure or any principle at issue which is really
vital to Great Britain? Is there anything in dispute between the parties
which would not be abandoned and forgotten at the first shot fired in a
war between England and a great continental nation? I am convinced that
that first shot must cause the scales to fall from men's eyes; that it
must make every one realise that our divisions are comparative trifles
and that for years we have been wasting time over them. But if we wait
for the shock of war to arouse us to a sense of reality and to estimate
our party differences at their true value, it will be too late. We shall
wring our hands in vain over our past blindness and the insight we shall
then have obtained will avail us nothing.
The party system has another consequence which will not stand scrutiny
in the light of reality; it is dilettantism in the conduct of the
nation's principal business. Some of the chief branches of the executive
work of government are the provinces of special arts and sciences, each
of which to master requires the work of a lifetime. Of such a kind are
the art of carrying on war, whether by sea or land, the art of
conducting foreign relations, which involves a knowledge of all the
other great States and their policies, and the direction of the
educational system, which cannot possibly be properly conducted except
by an experienced educator. But the system gives the direction of each
of these branches to one of the political leaders forming the Cabinet or
governing committee, and the practice is to consider as disqualified
from membership of that committee any man who has given his life either
to war, to foreign policy, or to education. Yet by its efficiency in
these matters the nation must stand or fall. By all means let us be
chary of lightly making changes in the constitution or in the
arrangements of government. But, if the security and continued existence
of the nation are in question, must we not scrutinise our methods of
government with a view to make sure that they accord with the necessary
conditions of success in a national struggle for existence?
I am well aware that the train of thought to which I have tried to give
expression is unpopular, and that most people think that any
modification of the traditional party system is impracticable. But the
question is not whether the system is popular; it is whether it will
enable the country to stand in the hour of trial. If the system is
inefficient and fails to enable the nation to carry on with success the
functions necessary for its preservation and if at the same time it is
impracticable to change it, then nothing can avert ruin from this
country. Yet I believe that a very large number of my countrymen are in
fact thinking each for himself the thoughts which I am trying to
express. They are perhaps not the active members of the caucus of either
party, but they are men who, if they see the need, will not shrink from
exertions or from sacrifices which they believe to be useful or
necessary to the country. It is to them that the following pages are an
appeal. I appeal with some confidence because what I shall try to show
to be necessary is not so much a change of institutions as a change of
spirit; not a new constitution but a return to a true way of looking at
public and private life. My contention is that the future of England
depends entirely upon the restoration of duty, of which the nation is
the symbol, to its proper place in our lives.
II.
DEFEAT
Great Britain is drifting unintentionally and half unconsciously into a
war with the German Empire, a State which has a population of sixty
millions and is better organised for war than any State has ever been in
modern times. For such a conflict, which may come about to-morrow, and
unless a great change takes place must come about in the near future,
Great Britain is not prepared.
The food of our people and the raw material of their industries come to
this country by sea, and the articles here produced go by sea to their
purchasers abroad. Every transaction carries with it a certain profit
which makes it possible. If the exporter and the manufacturer who
supplies him can make no profit they cannot continue their operations,
and the men who work for them must lose their employment.
Suppose Great Britain to be to-morrow at war with one or more of the
Great Powers of Europe. All the sailing vessels and slow steamers will
stop running lest they should be taken by hostile cruisers. The fast
steamers will have to pay war rates of insurance and to charge extra
freights. Steamers ready to leave foreign ports for this country will
wait for instructions and for news. On the outbreak of war, therefore,
this over-sea traffic must be greatly diminished in volume and carried
on with enormously increased difficulties. The supply of food would be
considerably reduced and the certainty of the arrival of any particular
cargo would have disappeared. The price of food must therefore rapidly
and greatly rise, and that alone would immediately impose very great
hardships on the whole of the working class, of which a considerable
part would be driven across the line which separates modern comfort from
the starvation margin. The diminution in the supply of the raw materials
of manufacture would be much greater and more immediate. Something like
half the manufacturers of Great Britain must close their works for want
of materials. But will the other half be able to carry on? Foreign
orders they cannot possibly execute, because there can be no certainty
of the delivery of the goods; and even if they could, the price at which
they could deliver them with a profit would be much higher than it is in
peace. For with a diminished supply the price of raw material must go
up, the cost of marine insurance must be added, together with the extra
wages necessary to enable the workmen to live with food at an enhanced
price.
Thus the effect of the greater difficulty of sea communication must be
to destroy the margin of profit which enables the British capitalist to
carry on his works, while the effect of all these causes taken together
on the credit system upon which our whole domestic economy reposes will
perhaps be understood by business men. Even if this state of things
should last only a few months, it certainly involves the transfer to
neutrals of all trade that is by possibility transferable. Foreign
countries will give their orders for cotton, woollen, and iron goods to
the United States, France, Switzerland, and Austro-Hungary, and at the
conclusion of peace the British firms that before supplied them, if they
have not in the meantime become bankrupt, will find that their customers
have formed new connections.
The shrinkage of credit would bring a multitude of commercial failures;
the diminution of trade and the cessation of manufactures a great many
more. The unemployed would be counted by the million, and would have to
be kept at the public expense or starve.
If in the midst of these misfortunes, caused by the mere fact of war,
should come the news of defeat at sea, still more serious consequences
must follow. After defeat at sea all regular and secure communication
between Great Britain, her Colonies, and India comes to an end. With the
terrible blow to Britain's reputation which defeat at sea must bring,
what will be the position of the 100,000 British in India who for a
century have governed a population of nearly 300,000,000? What can the
Colonies do to help Great Britain under such conditions? For the command
of the sea nothing, and even if each of them had a first-rate army, what
would be the use of those armies to this country in her hour of need?
They cannot be brought to Europe unless the British navy commands the
sea.
These are some of the material consequences of defeat. But what of its
spiritual consequences? We have brought up our children in the pride of
a great nation, and taught them of an Empire on which the sun never
sets. What shall we say to them in the hour of defeat and after the
treaty of peace imposed by the victor? They will say: "Find us work and
we will earn our bread and in due time win back the greatness that has
been lost." But how are they to earn their bread? In this country half
the employers will have been ruined by the war. The other half will have
lost heavily, and much of the wealth even of the very rich will have
gone to keep alive the innumerable multitude of starving unemployed.
These will be advised after the war to emigrate. To what country?
Englishmen, after defeat, will everywhere be at a discount. Words will
not describe, and the imagination cannot realise, the suffering of a
defeated nation living on an island which for fifty years has not
produced food enough for its population.
The material and spiritual results of defeat can easily be recognised by
any one who takes the trouble to think about the question, though only
experience either at first hand or supplied by history can enable a man
fully to grasp its terrible nature. But a word must be said on the
social and political consequences inseparable from the wreck of a State
whose Government has been unable to fulfil its prime function, that of
providing security for the national life. All experience shows that in
such cases men do not take their troubles calmly. They are filled with
passion. Their feelings find vent in the actions to which their previous
currents of thought tended. The working class, long accustomed by its
leaders to regard the capitalists as a class with interests and aims
opposed to its own, will hardly be able in the stress of unemployment
and of famine to change its way of thinking. The mass of the workmen,
following leaders whose judgment may not perhaps be of the soundest but
who will undoubtedly sincerely believe that the doctrines with which
they have grown up are true, may assail the existing social order and
lay the blame of their misfortunes upon the class which has hitherto had
the government of the country in its hands and has supplied the leaders
of both political parties. The indignation which would inspire this
movement would not be altogether without justification, for it cannot be
denied that both political parties have for many years regarded
preparation for war and all that belongs to it as a minor matter,
subordinate to the really far less important questions relying upon
which each side has sought to win sufficient votes to secure a party
majority.
Why do I discuss the hypothesis of British defeat rather than that of
British victory? Because it is the invariable practice of the masters of
war to consider first the disagreeable possibilities and to make
provision for them. But also because, according to every one of the
tests which can be applied, the probability of defeat for Great Britain
in the present state of Europe is exceedingly great. Rarely has a State
unready for conflict been able to stand against a nation organised for
war. The last of a long series of examples was the war between Russia
and Japan, in which the vast resources of a great Empire were exhausted
in the struggle with a State so small as to seem a pigmy in comparison
with her giant adversary. On the 10th of February 1904, the day when the
news reached England that the Russo-Japanese war had begun, I gave as
follows my reasons for thinking that Japan would win:--
"The hypothesis of a considerable Japanese success, at any rate at
first, is considered rather than its opposite, because Japan has at
present all the marks of a nation likely to do great things in war. It
is not merely that she has transformed her government and her education,
has introduced military institutions on the German model, especially
compulsory training and that vivifying institution, a general staff. The
present quarrel arises from the deliberate policy of Russia, pursuing
aims that are incompatible with every Japanese tradition and every
Japanese hope. The whole Japanese nation has for years been burning with
the sense of wrongs inflicted by Russia, and into this war, as into the
preparation for it, the whole people throws itself, mind, soul, and
body. This is the condition which produces great strategical plans and
extreme energy in their execution. The Japanese forces are well
organised, armed, and equipped. They are intelligently led and follow
with intelligence.
"Of Russia there is hardly evidence to show that the cause for which she
is fighting has touched the imaginations or the feelings of more than a
small fraction of the population. It is the war of a bureaucracy, and
Russia may easily fail to develop either great leading, though her
officers are instructed, or intelligent following of the leaders by the
rank and file. But the Russian troops are brave and have always needed a
good deal of beating."
Substitute Great Britain for Russia and Germany for Japan in this
forecast, which has been proved true, and every word holds good except
two. We now know that Russia's policy was not deliberate; that her
Government bungled into the war without knowing what it was doing. In
just the same way British Governments have drifted blindly into the
present difficult relations with Germany. Those in England who would
push the country into a war with Germany are indeed not a bureaucracy,
they are merely a fraction of one of the parties, and do not represent
the mass of our people, who have no desire for such a war, and are so
little aware of its possibility that they have never even taken the
trouble to find out why it may come. A larger section of the other party
is steeped in the belief that force, violence, and war are wicked in
themselves, and ought therefore not to be thought about. It is a
prejudice which, unless removed, may ruin this country, and there is no
way of dissipating it except that of patient argument based upon
observation of the world we live in. That way I shall attempt to follow
in the next chapter.