CHAPTER III POLICY AND ARMAMENTS

In the post-Victorian epoch, which we have been engaged in considering, the aim of British foreign policy may be summed up in one word—Security. It was not aggression; it was not revenge; it was not conquest, or even expansion of territories; it was simply Security.

It would be absurd, of course, to imagine that security is wholly, or even mainly, a question of military preparations. "All this is but a sheep in a lion's skin, where the people are of weak courage;" or where for any reason, the people are divided among themselves or disaffected towards their government.

The defences of every nation are of two kinds, the organised and the unorganised; the disciplined strength of the Navy and the Army on the one hand, the vigour and spirit of the people upon the other.

The vigour of the people will depend largely upon the conditions under which they live, upon sufficiency of food, the healthiness or otherwise of their employments and homes, the proper nourishment and upbringing of their children. It is not enough that rates of wages should be good, if those who earn them {224} have not the knowledge how to use them to the best advantage. It is not always where incomes are lowest that the conditions of life are worst. Measured by infant mortality, and by the health and general happiness of the community, the crofters of Scotland, who are very poor, seem to have learned the lesson how to live better than the highly paid workers in many of our great manufacturing towns.

Education—by which is meant not merely board-school instruction, but the influence of the home and the surrounding society—is not a less necessary condition of vigour than wages, sanitary regulations, and such like. The spiritual as well as the physical training of children, the nature of their amusements, the bent of their interests, the character of their aims and ideals, at that critical period when the boy or girl is growing into manhood or womanhood—all these are things which conduce directly, as well as indirectly, to the vigour of the race. They are every bit as much a part of our system of national defence as the manoeuvring of army corps and the gun-practice of dreadnoughts.

The spirit of the people, on the other hand, will depend for its strength upon their attachment to their own country; upon their affection for its customs, laws, and institutions; upon a belief in the general fairness and justice of its social arrangements; upon the good relations of the various classes of which society is composed. The spirit of national unity is indispensable even in the case of the most powerful autocracy. It is the very foundation of democracy. Lacking it, popular government is but a house of cards, which the first serious challenge from without, or the first strong outburst of {225} discontent from within will bring tumbling to the ground. Such a feeling of unity can only spring from the prevalence of an opinion among every class of the community, that their own system, with all its faults, is better suited to their needs, habits, and traditions than any other, and that it is worth preserving, even at the cost of the greatest sacrifices, from foreign conquest and interference.

A TWO-HEADED PRINCIPLE

While a people sapped by starvation and disease will be wanting in the vigour necessary for offering a prolonged and strenuous resistance, so will a people, seething with class hatred and a sense of tyranny and injustice, be wanting in the spirit. The problem, however, of these unorganised defences, fundamental though it is, stands outside the scope of the present chapter, which is concerned solely with those defences which are organised.


The beginning of wisdom with respect to all problems of defence is the recognition of the two-headed principle that Policy depends on Armaments just as certainly as Armaments depend on Policy.

The duty of the Admiralty and the War Office is to keep their armaments abreast of the national endeavour. It is folly to do more: it is madness to do less. The duty of the Foreign Minister is to restrain and hold back his policy, and to prevent it from ambitiously outrunning the capacity of the armaments which are at his disposal. If he does otherwise the end is likely to be humiliation and disaster.

When any nation is unable or unwilling to provide the armaments necessary for supporting the policy which it has been accustomed to pursue and would {226} like to maintain, it should have the sense to abandon that policy for something of a humbler sort before the bluff is discovered by the world.[1]

It may possibly appear absurd to dwell with so much insistence upon a pair of propositions which, when they are set down in black and white, will at once be accepted as self-evident by ninety-nine men out of a hundred. But plain and obvious as they are, none in the whole region of politics have been more frequently ignored. These two principles have been constantly presenting themselves to the eyes of statesmen in a variety of different shapes ever since history began.

It may very easily happen that the particular policy which the desire for security requires, is one which the strength of the national armaments at a given moment will not warrant the country in pursuing. Faced with this unpleasant quandary, what is Government to do, if it be convinced of the futility of trying to persuade the people to incur the sacrifices necessary for realising the national aspirations? Is it to give up the traditional policy, and face the various consequences which it is reasonable to anticipate? Or is it to persevere in the policy, and continue acting as if the forces at its disposal were sufficient for its purpose, when in fact they are nothing of the kind? To follow the former course {227} calls for a surrender which the spirit of the people will not easily endure, and which may even be fatal to the independent existence of the state. But to enter upon the latter is conduct worthy of a fraudulent bankrupt, since it trades upon an imposture, which, when it is found out by rival nations, will probably be visited by still severer penalties.

But surely Government has only to make it clear to the people that, unless they are willing to bring their armaments abreast of their policy, national aspirations must be baulked and even national safety itself may be endangered. When men are made to understand these things, will they not certainly agree to do what is necessary, though they may give their consent with reluctance?[2]

POLITICAL DIFFICULTIES

It is very certain, however, that this outside view of the case enormously underrates the difficulties which stare the politician out of countenance. In matters of this sort it is not so easy a thing to arrive at the truth; much less to state it with such force and clearness that mankind will at once recognise it for truth, and what is said to the contrary for falsehood. The intentions of foreign governments, and the dangers arising out of that quarter, are subjects which it is singularly difficult to discuss frankly, without incurring the very evils which every government seeks to avoid. And if these things are not easy to discuss, it is exceedingly easy for faction or fanatics to misrepresent them.[3] Moreover, the lamentations of the Hebrew prophets bear witness to the {228} deafness and blindness of generations into whom actual experience of the evils foretold had not already burnt the lesson which it was desired to teach. Evils which have never been suffered are hard things to clothe with reality until it is too late, and words, even the most eloquent and persuasive, are but a poor implement for the task.

The policy of a nation is determined upon, so as to accord with what it conceives to be its honour, safety, and material interests. In the natural course of events this policy may check, or be checked by, the policy of some other nation. The efforts of diplomacy may be successful in clearing away these obstructions. If so, well and good; but if not, there is nothing left to decide the issue between the two nations but the stern arbitrament of war.

Moreover, diplomacy itself is dependent upon armaments in somewhat the same sense as the prosperity of a merchant is dependent upon his credit with his bankers. The news system of the world has undergone a revolution since the days before steam and telegraphs. It is not merely more rapid, but much ampler. The various governments are kept far more fully informed of one another's affairs, and as a consequence the great issues between nations have become clear and sharp. The most crafty and smooth-tongued ambassador can rarely wheedle his opponents into concessions which are contrary to their interests, unless he has something more to rely upon than his own guile and plausibility. Army corps and battle fleets looming in the distance are better persuaders than the subtlest arguments and the deftest flattery.

What, then, is the position of a statesman who {229} finds himself confronted by a clash of policies, if, when the diplomatic deadlock occurs, he realises that his armaments are insufficient to support his aim? In such an event he is faced with the alternative of letting judgment go by default, or of adding almost certain military disaster to the loss of those political stakes for which his nation is contending with its rival. Such a position must be ignominious in the extreme; it might even be ruinous; and yet it would be the inevitable fate of any country whose ministers had neglected the maxim that policy in the last resort is dependent upon armaments.

EXAMPLE OF CHINA

If we are in search of an example we shall find it ready to our hand. The Empire of China is comparable to our own at least in numbers; for each of them contains, as nearly as may be, one quarter of the whole human race. And as China has hitherto failed utterly to make her armaments sufficient, under the stress of modern conditions, to support even that meek and passive policy of possession which she has endeavoured to pursue, so she has been compelled to watch in helplessness while her policy has been disregarded by every adventurer. She has been pressed by all the nations of the world and obliged to yield to their demands. Humiliating concessions have been wrung from her; favours even more onerous, in the shape of loans, have been forced upon her. The resources with which nature has endowed her have been exploited by foreigners against her will. Her lands have been shorn from her and parcelled out among those who were strong, and who hungered after them. This conquest and robbery has proceeded both by wholesale and retail. {230} Because she yielded this to one claimant, another, to keep the balance even, has insisted upon that. Safe and convenient harbours, fortified places, islands, vast stretches of territory, have been demanded and taken from her almost without a struggle; and all this time she has abstained with a timid caution from anything which can justly be termed provocation. For more than half a century, none the less, China has not been mistress in her own house.

The reason of this is plain enough—China had possessions which other nations coveted, and she failed to provide herself with the armaments which were necessary to maintain them.

The British people likewise had possessions which other nations coveted—lands to take their settlers, markets to buy their goods, plantations to yield them raw materials. If it were our set determination to hold what our forefathers won, two things were necessary: the first, that our policy should conform to this aim; the second, that our armaments should be sufficient to support our policy.

A nation which desired to extend its possessions, to round off its territories, to obtain access to the sea, would probably regard conquest, or at all events absorption, as its highest immediate interest. This would be the constant aim of its policy, and if its armaments did not conform to this policy, the aim would not be realised. Examples both of failure and success are to be found in the history of Russia from the time of Peter the Great, and in that of Prussia from the days of the Great Elector.

A nation—like England or Holland in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries—which {231} was seeking to secure against its commercial rivals, if necessary by force of arms, new markets among civilised but unmilitary races, would require a policy and armaments to correspond.

BRITISH CONTENTMENT

The British Empire in the stage of development which it had reached at the end of the Victorian era did not aim at acquisition of fresh territories or new markets, save such as might be won peacefully by the skill and enterprise of its merchants. It sought only to hold what it already possessed, to develop its internal resources, and to retain equal rights with its commercial rivals in neutral spheres. But in order that those unaggressive objects might be realised, there was need of a policy, different indeed from that of Elizabeth, of Cromwell, or of Chatham, but none the less clear and definite with regard to its own ends. And to support this policy there was need of armaments, suitable in scale and character.

It was frequently pointed out between the years 1901 and 1914 (and it lay at the very root of the matter), that while we were perfectly satisfied with things as they stood, and should have been more than content—regarding the subject from the standpoint of our own interests—to have left the map of the world for ever, as it then was drawn, another nation was by no means so well pleased with existing arrangements. To this envious rival it appeared that we had taken more than our fair share—as people are apt to do who come early. We had wider territories than we could yet fill with our own people; while our neighbour foresaw an early date at which his race would be overflowing its boundaries. We had limitless resources in the Dominions and Dependencies {232} overseas, which when developed would provide a united empire with markets of inestimable value. In these respects Germany was in a less favourable position. Indeed, with the exceptions of Russia and the United States, no other great Power was so fortunately placed as ourselves; and even these two nations, although they had an advantage over the British Empire by reason of their huge compact and coterminous territories, still did not equal it in the vastness and variety of their undeveloped resources.

Clearly, therefore, the policy which the needs of our Commonwealth required at this great turning-point in its history, was not only something different from that of any other great Power, but also something different from that which had served our own purposes in times gone by. Like China, our aim was peaceful possession. Unlike China, we ought to have kept in mind the conditions under which alone this aim was likely to be achieved. It might be irksome and contrary to our peaceful inclinations to maintain great armaments when we no longer dreamed of making conquests; but in the existing state of the world, armaments were unfortunately quite as necessary for the purpose of enabling us to hold what we possessed, as they ever were when our forefathers set out to win the Empire.

COMMITTEE OF IMPERIAL DEFENCE

In 1904, with the object of promoting harmony between the policy and armaments of the British Empire, Mr. Balfour created the Committee of Imperial Defence. This was undoubtedly a step of great importance. His purpose was to introduce a system, by means of which ministers and high officials responsible for the Navy and Army would {233} be kept in close touch with the trend of national policy, in so far as it might affect the relations of the Commonwealth with foreign Powers. In like manner those other ministers and high officials, whose business it was to conduct our diplomacy, maintain an understanding with the Dominions, administer our Dependencies, and govern India, would be made thoroughly conversant with the limitations to our naval and military strength. Having this knowledge, they would not severally embark on irreconcilable or impracticable projects or drift unknowingly into dangerous complications. The conception of the Committee of Imperial Defence, therefore, was due to a somewhat tardy recognition of the two-headed principle, that armaments are mere waste of money unless they conform to policy, and that policy in the last resort must depend on armaments.

The Committee was maintained by Mr. Balfour's successors, and was not allowed (as too often happens when there is a change of government) to fall into discredit and disuse.[4] But in order that this body of statesmen and experts might achieve the ends in view, it was essential for them to have realised clearly, not only the general object of British policy—which indeed was contained in the single word 'Security'—but also the special dangers which loomed in the near future. They had then to consider what reciprocal obligations had already been contracted with other nations, whose interests were to some extent the same as our own, and what further undertakings of a similar character it might be desirable to enter {234} into. Finally, there were the consequences which these obligations and undertakings would entail in certain contingencies. It was not enough merely to mumble the word 'Security' and leave it at that. What security implied in the then existing state of the world was a matter which required to be investigated in a concrete, practical, and business-like way.

Unfortunately, the greater part of these essential preliminaries was omitted, and as a consequence, the original idea of the Committee of Imperial Defence was never realised. Harmonious, flexible, and of considerable utility in certain directions, it did not work satisfactorily as a whole. The trend of policy was, no doubt, grasped in a general way; but, as subsequent events have proved, the conditions on which alone that line could be maintained, and the consequences which it involved, were not at any time clearly understood and boldly faced by this august body in its corporate capacity.

The general direction may have been settled; but certainly the course was not marked out; the rocks and shoals remained for the most part uncharted. The committee, no doubt, had agreed upon a certain number of vague propositions, as, for example, that France must not be crushed by Germany, or the neutrality of Belgium violated by any one. They knew that we were committed to certain obligations—or, as some people called them, 'entanglements'—and that these again, in certain circumstances, might commit us to others. But what the whole amounted to was not realised in barest outline, by the country, or by Parliament, or by the Government, or even, we may safely conjecture, by the Committee itself. {235} We have the right to say this, because, if British policy had been realised as a whole by the Committee of Imperial Defence, it would obviously have been communicated to the Cabinet, and in its broader aspects to the people; and this was never done. It is inconceivable that any Prime Minister, who believed, as Mr. Asquith does, in democratic principles, would have left the country uneducated, and his own colleagues unenlightened, on a matter of so great importance, had his own mind been clearly made up.

CONFUSION WHEN WAR OCCURRED

When the crisis occurred in July 1914, when Germany proceeded to action, when events took place which for years past had been foretold and discussed very fully on both sides of the North Sea, it was as if a bolt had fallen from the blue. Uncertainty was apparent in all quarters. The very thing which had been so often talked of had happened. Germany was collecting her armies and preparing to crush France. The neutrality of Belgium was threatened. Yet up to, and on, Sunday, August 2, there was doubt and hesitation in the Cabinet, and until some days later, also in Parliament and the country.[5]

When, finally, it was decided to declare war, the course of action which that step required still appears to have remained obscure to our rulers. Until the Thursday following it was not decided to send the Expeditionary Force abroad. Then, out of timidity, only two-thirds of it were sent.[6] Transport arrangements which were all ready for moving the whole force had to be hastily readjusted. The delay was {236} not less injurious than the parsimony; and the combination of the two nearly proved fatal.

If the minds of the people and their leaders were not prepared for what happened, if in the moral sense there was unreadiness; still more inadequate were all preparations of the material kind—not only the actual numbers of our Army, but also the whole system for providing expansion, training, equipment, and munitions. It is asking too much of us to believe that events could have happened as they did in England during the fortnight which followed the presentation of the Austrian Ultimatum to Servia, had the Committee of Imperial Defence and its distinguished president taken pains beforehand to envisage clearly the conditions and consequences involved in their policy of 'Security.'

As regards naval preparations, things were better indeed than might have been expected, considering the vagueness of ideas in the matter of policy. We were safeguarded here by tradition, and the general idea of direction had been nearly sufficient. There was always trouble, but not as a rule serious trouble, in establishing the case for increases necessary to keep ahead of German efforts. There had been pinchings and parings—especially in the matter of fast cruisers, for lack of which, when war broke out, we suffered heavy losses—but except in one instance—the abandonment of the Cawdor programme—these had not touched our security at any vital point.

Thanks largely to Mr. Stead, but also to statesmen of both parties, and to a succession of Naval Lords who did not hesitate, when occasion required it, to risk their careers (as faithful servants ever will) rather than certify safety where they saw danger—thanks, {237} perhaps, most of all to a popular instinct, deeply implanted in the British mind, which had grasped the need for supremacy at sea—our naval preparations, upon the whole, had kept abreast of our policy for nearly thirty years.

As regards the Army, however, it was entirely different. There had been no intelligent effort to keep our military strength abreast of our policy; and as, in many instances, it would have been too bitter a humiliation to keep our policy within the limits of our military strength, the course actually pursued can only be described fitly as a game of bluff.

There had never been anything approaching agreement with regard to the functions which the Army was expected to perform. Not only did political parties differ one from another upon this primary and fundamental question, but hardly two succeeding War Ministers had viewed it in the same light. There had been schemes of a bewildering variety; but as the final purpose for which soldiers existed had never yet been frankly laid down and accepted, each of these plans in turn had been discredited by attacks, which called in question the very basis of the proposed reformation.

THE NAVAL POSITION

While naval policy had been framed and carried out in accordance with certain acknowledged necessities of national existence, military policy had been alternately expanded and deflated in order to assuage the anxieties, while conforming to the prejudices—real or supposed—of the British public. In the case of the fleet, we had very fortunately arrived, more than a generation ago, at the point where it was a question of what the country needed; as regards the {238} Army, it was still a question of what the country would stand. But how could even a politician know what the country would stand until the full case had been laid before the country? How was it that while Ministers of both parties had the courage to put the issue more or less nakedly in the matter of ships, they grew timid as soon as the discussion turned on army corps? If the needs of the Commonwealth were to be the touchstone in the one case, why not also in the other? The country will stand a great deal more than the politicians think; and it will stand almost anything better than vacillation, evasion, and untruth. In army matters, unfortunately, it has had experience of little else since the battle of Waterloo.

Mathematicians, metaphysicians, and economists have a fondness for what is termed 'an assumption.' They take for granted something which it would be inconvenient or impossible to prove, and thereupon proceed to build upon it a fabric which compels admiration in a less or greater degree, by reason of its logical consistency. There is no great harm in this method so long as the conclusions, which are drawn from the airy calculations of the study, are confined to the peaceful region of their birth; but so soon as they begin to sally forth into the harsh world of men and affairs, they are apt to break at once into shivers. When the statesman makes an assumption he does so at his peril; or, perhaps, to speak more correctly, at the peril of his country. For if it be a false assumption the facts will speedily find it out, and disasters will inevitably ensue.

TWO INCORRECT ASSUMPTIONS

Our Governments, Tory and Radical alike, have {239} acted in recent times as if the British Army were what their policy required it to be—something, that is, entirely different from what it really was. Judging by its procedure, the Foreign Office would appear to have made the singularly bold assumption that, in a military comparison with other nations, Britain was still in much the same relative position as in the days of Napoleon. Sustained by this tenacious but fantastic tradition, Ministers have not infrequently engaged in policies which wiser men would have avoided. They have uttered protests, warnings, threats which have gone unheeded. They have presumed to say what would and would not be tolerated in certain spheres; but having nothing better behind their despatches than a mere assumption which did not correspond with the facts, they have been compelled to endure rebuffs and humiliations. As they had not the prudence to cut their coat according to their cloth, it was only natural that occasionally they should have had to appear before the world in a somewhat ridiculous guise.

British statesmen for nearly half a century had persisted in acting upon two most dangerous assumptions. They had assumed that one branch of the national armaments conformed to their policy, when in fact it did not. And they had assumed also, which is equally fatal, that policy, if only it be virtuous and unaggressive, is in some mysterious way self-supporting, and does not need to depend on armaments at all.

The military preparations of Britain were inadequate to maintain the policy of Security, which British Governments had nevertheless been engaged in pursuing for many years prior to the outbreak of {240} the present war.[7] On the other hand, the abandonment of this policy was incompatible with the continuance of the Empire. We could not hope to hold our scattered Dependencies and to keep our Dominions safe against encroachments unless we were prepared to incur the necessary sacrifices.


[1] American writers have urged criticism of this sort against the armaments of the U.S.A., which they allege are inadequate to uphold the policy of the 'Monroe Doctrine.' The German view of the matter has been stated by the Chancellor (April 7, 1913) when introducing the Army Bill:—"History knows of no people which came to disaster because it had exhausted itself in the making of its defences; but history knows of many peoples which have perished, because, living in prosperity and luxury, they neglected their defences. A people which thinks that it is not rich enough to maintain its armaments shows merely that it has played its part."

[2] So the argument runs, and the course of our naval policy since Mr. Stead's famous press campaign in 1884 will be cited as an encouragement.

[3] E.g. in the winter of 1908 and spring of 1909, when an influential section of the supporters of the present Cabinet chose to believe the false assurances of the German Admiralty, and freely accused their own Government of mendacity.

[4] Innovations of this particular sort have possibly a better chance of preserving their existence than some others. 'Boards are screens,' wrote John Stuart Mill, or some other profound thinker; and in politics screens are always useful.

[5] This is obvious from the White Paper without seeking further evidence in the ministerial press or elsewhere.

[6] Of the six infantry divisions included in the Expeditionary Force only four were sent in the first instance; a fifth arrived about August 24; a sixth about mid-September.

[7] "Our Army, as a belligerent factor in European politics, is almost a negligible quantity. This Empire is at all times practically defenceless beyond its first line. Such an Empire invites war. Its assumed security amid the armaments of Europe, and now of Asia, is insolent and provocative" (Lord Roberts, October 22, 1912). Nothing indeed is more insolent and provocative, or more likely to lead to a breach of the peace, than undefended riches among armed men.