The Future of Britain

Let us begin by asking how Britain rose to her present position of power. Insularity had a great deal to do with it. The sea gave us a certain security from invasion, and within that security the power of the Crown helped to establish unity earlier and more effectively than in many parts of Europe. Unity and security favoured commerce; commerce favoured science and industry; and presently Britain became what used to be called the workshop of the world.

Industry brought a great increase of population and supplied a large, cheap, and comparatively fluid labour force. Then came economic imperialism. We sold goods abroad, lent money abroad, and enforced the kind of order under which selling and lending could continue. The interest on foreign loans returned to stimulate trade at home. Meanwhile the workers wrested higher wages from the possessing class. Higher wages meant increased consumption. Thus there was a real rise in the general standard of living.

In short, Britain had a start in the capitalist race. We entered the race before the others, secured many of the best positions, and for a time enjoyed advantages which seemed almost natural and permanent, though in fact they were neither.

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But later other industrial states entered the field. They too had factories, machinery, science, capital and rapidly increasing populations. Competition for markets became severe. Commercial competition passed into imperial rivalry, and imperial rivalry into the general competition for power. Economic nationalism erected tariff walls. The so-called backward peoples were stimulated by Western industry and ideas, but at the same time repressed whenever their development threatened the interests of the imperial powers.

Today our old monopoly of trade is broken. We still have a population organised for a great industrial output, but the markets on which that population depended are declining or becoming more difficult to secure. Our privileged position is envied, and our force is no longer predominant. Even our old liberal reputation is waning.

And yet our rulers still cling to aims which belong to the period of British predominance. They continue to play power politics, and, I should say, play them badly. At home there is economic planlessness. There is also an increasing attack upon civil liberties, arising largely from the fear which property feels toward communism. Thus we try to preserve the fruits of our early start while refusing to face the changed conditions of the race. That, after all, is the central fact from which any discussion of Britain’s future must begin.

Consider our imperial position in detail. India is angry, and the prestige of the Sahib is plainly waning. Our prison record—the imprisonment of those who resist British rule—is not likely to restore that prestige. Egypt may already be lost to us in the old imperial sense. Italy challenges our position in the Mediterranean; Japan challenges it in the Far East. The Dominions no longer trust our strength as once they did, while in the Crown Colonies oppression continues.

There is, moreover, a psychological conflict within Britain herself. We retain the habit and interest of imperialism, but we also possess a genuine will for peace. The two cannot indefinitely be reconciled. An empire maintained by superior force involves readiness to use force; a sincere peace policy demands that privileged power should submit to international control.

Along with all this goes a declining population and a pervasive sense of decline.

There seem, broadly, to be two alternative policies before us. One is imperialism: an attempt to retain the Empire as the basis of trade and strength. The other may be called Little Englandism: acceptance of a lesser position, comparable in some respects with that of Sweden, and an attempt to build a decent society without imperial predominance.

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Let us first look squarely at imperialism. Its purpose would be to keep the Empire for trade and for national strength. Such a policy would demand extreme rearmament. Liberty would have to be subordinated to strength, and culture also would be subordinated. In fact, the movement would be toward Fascism.

The Empire would have to be insulated economically by tariffs and other restrictions. A firm hand would be used in India and Africa. Special trade bargains would be made with the Dominions. In Europe we should return to power politics. We should have to abandon the League of Nations, for collective security will not help us to keep our ill-gotten goods.

Such a course would also alienate the United States. We should therefore be driven toward bargains with the Fascist Powers—bargains for the partition of the world.

The second policy, which for convenience I call Little Englandism, begins by resolving to face the facts. The first fact is that we cannot keep the Empire. The second is that the Empire is morally indefensible. The third is that the attempt to preserve it by imperialist methods must mean reaction, war, and in the end disaster.

But we must admit that the alternative is grim. First, we should have to surrender the Empire—place imperial territories under an international commission, with a stipulation for free trade.

Secondly, Britain would have to accept a decline to the position of a second-class Power. Thirdly, we should have to rely upon collective security.

Fourthly, there would be a fall in our material standard of living.

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From this the fifth point follows. A fall in the standard of living would make thorough social reconstruction imperative. Sixthly, this would mean communal control of the means of production.

Seventhly, therefore, the present ruling class would have to be deposed from its controlling position. But how?

Eighthly, there would have to be the creation of a new patriotism. The new patriotism must be directed toward building, if I may use the old phrase, a New Jerusalem in Britain: a society aiming at a full life for all—not immediately, but after the transition. Its objects would be sanity and culture.

The alternative is despair, discord and, finally, chaos.

We are therefore brought to the awkward question: is the ideal possible? Christianity and socialism alike contain aims which are worthwhile. But to say that an ideal is worthwhile is not yet to show that it can be embodied in institutions.

There is the sheer immensity of the undertaking. What does a world-wide or even a very large communal order mean to one man, living his ordinary life at a great distance from the capital city? What effective relation can he have to that capital, to his representatives and to the successive grades of administration? These are not trivial mechanical questions. Unless they are answered, democracy may become merely a word.

A completely rational organisation of mankind might demand something almost superhuman. Perhaps, then, we must proceed piecemeal. Perhaps federation must be built by stages, beginning with practicable unions and with a common economic policy. The final ideal may be remote, but particular acts of federation and economic cooperation may still be possible now.

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We must also consider the actual alternatives which the great societies exhibit. In America, fascism is not due. At the opposite extreme there is anarchy, which may promise liberty.

Russia, on the other hand, has made economic security a central aim. But economic security is not enough. There must also be political freedom.

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