SOME ELECTIONEERING IMPRESSIONS
I
German political life is in the main a sealed book to the British
public. Many people take but a tepid interest in the politics of their
own country. To grapple with the intricacies of parties and programmes
in a foreign land is an effort quite beyond the will or the power of
the average citizen. Yet Germany plays, and is bound to play for years
to come, so dominant a part in every calculation and forecast made
by her neighbours, that it is of considerable importance to try and
realise what forces are at work among her own people.
Constitutional life in Germany has had many vicissitudes. When the
tragic history of our own times comes to be written, future historians
will probably regard the failure of the Frankfurt deputies in 1848
to solve the problem of German unity on a democratic basis as the
most fatal date in modern history. The unity which the “Professors’
Parliament” failed to achieve was welded together triumphantly by
Bismarck, twenty-three years later, through blood and iron. To the cult
of blood and iron Germany henceforth dedicated itself, and for many
years, with striking success. But even within the Empire the system had
its challengers, as the spread of Socialist doctrines and the successes
of the Social Democrats proved. When the military régime collapsed
in defeat and confusion in the autumn of 1918, it was to the despised
democratic elements that Germany owed her escape from utter ruin.
Little or no attention has ever been paid to the astonishing feat of
constitutional reorganisation which was carried through after the
flight of the Emperor. Complete military disaster had overtaken the
country; revolution and anarchy were abroad in the land. Yet on the
morrow of these events not only was a Republic proclaimed, but a German
Government came into being which worked out a democratic constitution
based on universal suffrage and full ministerial responsibility of the
cabinet to the elected representatives of the people. The history of
parliaments contains no more surprising page. Women were enfranchised,
lists of voters prepared, and within a few weeks of the Armistice,
elections were held which brought into existence a provisional National
Assembly whose business it was to carry on the hard task of government
till the first Reichstag of the new Republic could subsequently be
elected. How all this was done in the time is a mystery, especially
having in mind the endless delays to which our own last Franchise Bill
gave rise, and the difficulties pleaded as regards the revision of
voters’ lists. The temper of the hour and the mood of the conquering
Allies did not permit of one word of praise for a constitutional _tour
de force_ carried through under conditions of overwhelming difficulty.
But it would be unjust and ungenerous not to recognise to-day with
what dogged determination the German democrats, inexperienced and
untried as they were in government, handled the half-foundering ship
they were called upon to save. To make a success of the task was an
impossibility under the circumstances for them or for any set of men.
But that they kept the ship afloat, in view of the seas breaking over
it, is little short of a marvel.
The man who played a thoroughly creditable part in the hour of collapse
was Hindenburg. Unlike other distinguished members of the ruling class
he did not run away when the game was up, but stood by his country
through the grim business of defeat and surrender. Without a shred of
sympathy for the Republican Government, he gave that government loyal
assistance as regards the withdrawal of the armies. No man in Germany
to-day commands more universal respect than the old Field-Marshall.
Amid the flood of recriminations which German statesmen, generals, and
admirals have poured on each other, Hindenburg has displayed reticence
and generosity which do him entire credit. The inclusion of his name in
the list of War Criminals is of all Allied ineptitudes since the Peace
perhaps the greatest.
The National Assembly lasted for about fifteen months. In June 1920
Germany went to the polls to elect the first Reichstag of the Republic.
Not the faintest interest in the event was taken by the British public.
Yet whatever the result, it could only react on the whole future of
European reconstruction.
Current conceptions at home remain astonishingly crude as to the
position in Central Europe. The man in the street, brought up in the
true milk of the word as preached by the Yellow Press, is still of
opinion that Germany is as militant and as threatening as ever, and
that, should we be so foolish as to stop sitting on her head, she
would promptly overrun Europe again. Suggest that Germany with her
fleet sunk, her merchant shipping confiscated, her colonies lost, her
army disbanded, her war material surrendered, her railway system in
ruins, her food shortage considerable, is hardly in a position at the
moment to make an unprovoked attack on any one, and the said person
hints darkly in reply at hidden divisions on the Eastern Frontier;
at an alliance between the Bolshevists and the German Government;
at a military menace little less serious than what existed in 1914.
It is surprising that people of this type are not more in conceit
with themselves after the Allied victory, and fail so completely in
appreciation of what the conquering armies have done. The German
legions, perfectly trained and equipped after years of preparation,
and with the whole resources of the German Empire behind them, could
not achieve the preliminary pounce on Paris in 1914. Is the present
Republican Government in any better position to succeed where they
failed? A nation broken by hunger and defeat may become a centre of
disease, dangerous to its neighbours owing to the poison spread through
the whole international system. But any talk of external military
adventure, apart from sporadic insurrections, is absurd.
The old united Germany with its strong centralised military government
is a thing of the past. Instead of which we have a Germany, weak,
disorganised, distracted, split into various factions each at mortal
strife with the other. The position is full of danger and grave
internal crisis; it may menace the foundations of European society, but
the danger is disruptive and from within, not the menace of external
legions. Political parties in Germany are split up into numerous and
bewildering subdivisions. The Independent Socialists and Communists
form a group to the extreme left, with more or less Bolshevist ideals.
But, broadly speaking, there are two main sections, the democratically
minded people who desire the evolution of a peaceful and constitutional
republic, and the reactionaries who, while paying a certain lip-service
to democratic principles, at heart detest the whole business.
It will be the eternal reproach to Allied policy that it has done
nothing whatever to help the better elements in Germany to consolidate
their position. On the contrary, by the intolerable economic penalties
of the Peace it has pushed German democracy into a slough of despond
and handed over all the vantage points to its enemies. The measure
of the vast blunder committed in this respect is clear enough to any
one who, like myself, has had the opportunity of attending political
meetings held in Germany. To be living in a country torn by a fierce
election campaign and to be taking no part in the fray was a novel
experience for me. The placards with which Cologne was covered and
the heated articles in the German newspapers made me, like an old
war-horse, sniff battle from afar. At least I was anxious to try to
gather as a spectator how German men and women were really feeling and
thinking on this critical occasion. Political meetings have their own
atmosphere and tell their own tale, and the opportunity of hearing and
judging for myself was too good a one to miss.
I confess it was with a certain amount of trepidation that I made my
way for the first time into a German public meeting. Naturally I had no
desire to be recognised as an English woman, and, the conditions being
wholly novel, I was not clear beforehand how far I should be able to
lie low and conceal the fact of my nationality. However, seeing that
the Social Democrats advertised a meeting to which women were specially
invited, I plucked up my courage, reflected on the not infrequent and
slightly chastening occasions when I have been addressed by Germans in
German, bought a Socialist paper which I displayed conspicuously, and
walked into the gathering. Neither then nor on any subsequent occasion,
let me say, did I experience the smallest difficulty in slipping in
amongst the crowd and hearing the proceedings in entire comfort.
It was a warm evening, and the great hall of the Gürzenich, the
old banqueting-room of mediaeval Cologne, was only half full. The
audience--about equal numbers of men and women--were well-dressed,
entirely decorous folk. The long hair and red ties of orthodox
Socialism were absent. German meetings are detestably unpunctual.
Advertised generally for 8 P.M., they seldom start till twenty
minutes later, and the audience meekly accepts conditions of delay
which would rouse an English meeting to fury. The principal speaker
of the evening was Fräulein S., of Hamburg, a member of the National
Assembly. At 8.20 a procession of earnest-looking women slowly mounted
the platform. They wore coloured blouses and dark skirts, and their
hair was scratched back tightly off their heads--a true hall-mark of
feminine virtue in all climes and among all nations. The chairwoman had
fortified herself with a large dinner-bell, and rang a peal, apparently
to give herself courage, on opening the proceedings. Restoration of
order was unnecessary, for the audience sat in stolid silence on the
appearance of the speakers, not even extending to them the perfunctory
greeting with which an English audience heartens the platform victims
before the sacrifice. No encouraging cheers greeted the advent of a
pleasant-looking lady who, armed with a folio of MS., made her way to
the reading-desk. Fräulein S. spoke, or rather read, for an hour in a
clear, cultivated voice. She outlined the constructive policy of the
Social Democrats or Majority Socialists, whose platform approximates to
what was known as the Liberal-Labour position in English politics. The
party is, however, definitely pledged to nationalisation. The speaker
led off with the blockade, which is the King Charles’s Head of every
political meeting in Germany. Their enemies, she declared, accused
the Social Democrats of bringing Germany into her present desperate
straits. Not the revolution, however, but the dire consequences of the
blockade were responsible for the troubles of the people. Fräulein
S.’s chief interests lay obviously in the field of social reform. She
outlined a programme which was strangely familiar in many respects.
The unmarried mother and the question of religious education in the
schools were in the forefront of the battle. The temper of the meeting,
it must be owned, was very tepid, but the depressing silence was broken
by a few cheers when these subjects were handled. Another old friend
appeared with Fräulein S.’s emphatic assertion that no school teacher
should be compelled to resign her appointment on marriage. The lady
then dealt at some length with finance and the incidence of taxation. A
thoughtful, well-expressed speech--withal a trifle dull.
The reading of manuscript in a large hall has a curiously deadening
effect on an audience, and judging by what I have heard, the women
politicians of Germany--and be it also said many of the men--have not
as yet learnt to emancipate themselves from the tyranny of elaborately
prepared lectures. This was noticeable in the case of the speakers who
followed Fräulein S. She was succeeded at the reading-desk by a dark,
heavy-browed, energetic-looking girl, who infused a welcome note of
vigour, not to say violence, into the proceedings. This young woman
was a school teacher of obviously advanced views, and spoke well and
fluently. She made short shrift of religious education in schools.
Priests and catechisms vanished under her touch as she flourished the
Socialist banner and belaboured her political adversaries with a series
of witticisms which evoked rounds of applause. Yet she too had a folio
of notes, and now and again when a word failed, a sudden pause in the
flow of oratory, a hasty turning of sheets showed that the thunder,
effective as it was, had been carefully prepared.
These little difficulties were still more noticeable in the case of
the next speaker, an old lady wearing spectacles and a black bonnet,
whose witticisms (the drift of which I was quite unable to follow)
delighted the audience. Her notes had got mixed, and when she lost her
thread--which happened frequently--some moments were spent hunting it.
Quite undismayed, however, by these interruptions, the old lady held
to her task gallantly. She was clearly a favourite, and the carefully
prepared jokes resulted in loud laughter. I was sorry to miss the point
of these jests, but I was left with the impression that public meetings
in Germany, as in England, are ready to be amused with very small beer.
The ladies were succeeded by one or two men speakers, who all chanted
the praises of the Social Democrats and introduced variants of another
familiar theme--poll early and poll straight. After this the chairwoman
performed energetically again on the dinner-bell--did any member of
the audience desire to speak? Hardly had the sounds died away when
she declared the meeting over. I was waiting for the real fun of the
fair to begin with questions, but found myself, with the rest of the
company, in the street.
Encouraged by this first attempt, I made a round of the meetings
held by the leading parties, gatherings at which night after night I
listened to views as wide asunder as the poles. The proceedings were
considerably more lively than at the women’s meeting, and on more than
one occasion feeling ran high. Yet the proceedings were astonishingly
orderly as compared with the uproarious election meetings which are
common enough at home. Interruptions were not of a sustained character,
and during the campaign I saw no meeting broken up. I can only marvel,
however, at the easy lot of a German candidate, for questions and
heckling play a very small part in the campaign. The carefully prepared
conundrums which harass the existence of the British Parliamentary
candidate, the game of thrust and tierce, are unknown here. I was
disappointed by the absence of the familiar figure in the back row who
rises, waggling a minatory forefinger, and the words, “I want to ask
the candidate,” etc. The odds are against the heckler in Germany, for
what is called the “discussion” consists of objectors coming on to the
platform and making speeches of protest, surrounded by the candidate or
candidates and their supporters. As I have already remarked, meetings
begin late, speeches are very lengthy, and by the time the party
candidates sitting in a row on the platform have each said his say the
hour stands long after 10 P.M., and the audience begins to go home.
Naturally I was specially interested in the women speakers and the
general bearing of women at these gatherings. The impression made upon
me was that if German women attained full political emancipation at
a bound through the revolution in November 1918, they have already
laid a firm hand on their new rights. Large numbers of women were
present at every meeting I attended--a fact which made my own presence
possible. A fair proportion of women had sat in the National Assembly
(the first provisional Parliament elected after the revolution), and
were candidates for the new Reichstag. It is a satisfactory feature
that, though the progressive feminist spirits are naturally more
numerous among the Social Democrats and Minority Socialists, the
various Conservative parties also support women candidates. If the
British voters at the last General Election showed no mind of any kind
to return women to Parliament, German women have fared better. But the
difference in the electoral system probably tells in their favour.
II
German political organisation differs widely from anything with which
we are familiar. The small constituencies represented by one or two
members have no existence here. The country is divided into large
electoral areas, and each party has a list of candidates qualified for
the position by the votes of their respective supporters. On polling
day you are implored to vote, therefore, not for a person but for a
list, the list being headed by the name of the leading candidate. A
definite quota of votes given to a party elects a member automatically.
The personal element in elections which is so conspicuous a feature
of our own public life has practically no existence in Germany. The
struggle is one of principles far more than of personalities. This
state of affairs tells against a candidate of special gifts, but on the
other hand it neutralises the unfair influence of the purse, and gets
rid of much of the polite bribery which enters into political life at
home. There is no question here as at Eatonswill of kissing the babies
or shaking hands specially washed for the occasion. Further, areas are
too large to make handsome subscriptions to local charities a factor
in success. A millionaire could not stand the strain of subsidising
portions of a province.
Another curious feature of a General Election in Germany is the
inadequacy of the Press arrangements. The papers supporting the various
factions give the list of their own candidates, and these lists
appear on the electioneering placards which are in great evidence.
But I wholly failed to obtain any general list of the candidates in
the Cologne area, let alone a list for the whole country. Equally
difficult was it after the poll to get a detailed list of the losses
and gains. Totals appeared but no names. It was necessary to hunt
through a variety of party organs to find which of the candidates had
been qualified as members by the quota of votes given to the party.
Though I spent my time buying newspapers, I was never able to find a
list setting out the new Reichstag in tabular form, with parties and
localities attached to the various names. Electioneering literature
was poor stuff, and the occasional picture posters not inspiring.
The Deutschnationale had a dramatic placard of a drowning man sinking
beneath heavy seas, to whom a lifebuoy with D.N.P. is being thrown
as his one chance of salvation. But the subject of the placard could
hardly have thrilled the electors. Posters devoted to the general
turpitude of the other man’s views were common, and followed familiar
lines. But certainly neither Press nor posters could compare with the
organisation of the written and printed word which exists during a
General Election in the United Kingdom.
It was an interesting experience night after night to watch a country
groping its way along political paths but recently opened. The
multiplicity of parties into which Germany is split is very confusing
to a foreigner. The lines of demarcation in some cases are hard to
grasp, and the political life of the Republic would gain in vigour and
directness if certain of the groups were combined under one banner.
The two main groups, right and left, into which German political life
falls are split up into various factions. The Socialist Party is
divided into a constitutional right wing, the Social Democrats, and a
revolutionary left wing, the “Unabhängige” or Independent Socialists.
Since the revolution, various parties have been busily engaged changing
their names, a fact which does not simplify the situation, as the old
ones still survive in current conversation. The former Liberals--whose
views have nothing in common with Liberalism in the English sense--are
included to-day in a variety of Capitalist and Conservative groups from
the Demokraten (mildly Liberal in our sense of the word) on the left to
the Deutschnationale Partei on the right. This last-named tabernacle
shelters the Junker and Agrarian elements, and is reactionary to the
core. But it is less dangerous than the party which has risen into
power of late and bids fair to be thoroughly mischievous, namely, the
Deutsche Volkspartei. This is the party of Herr Stinnes and the “schwer
Industrie.” It includes the great manufacturers and capitalists,
as well as large sections of the Bourgeoisie, has ample funds at
its command, and despite some perfunctory patter about democracy,
is bitterly anti-democratic in feeling and outlook. These two main
divisions of the Socialists and the Bourgeoisie face each other with
uncompromising hostility. But the situation is further complicated by
a clerical element standing between them, with which happily our own
politics are untroubled.
The fervour and depth of Catholicism on the Rhineland has been one
of the many surprises of Germany to me. In the Rhineland, therefore,
questions affecting Church and State are much to the fore, especially
the burning question of religious education in the schools. But the
cross-correspondences between the Zentrum, the orthodox Catholic
party, and the other groups are most bewildering. There are Christian
Socialists and Socialists who are very much the reverse. The Zentrum
has cooperated for certain purposes with the Social Democrats, which
has resulted in a split in its own ranks and the formation of a new
party of clerical extremists known as the Christliche Volkspartei.
Amid the welter of parties two conclusions force themselves on the
observer. First, the orderly democratic elements in Germany are having
a hard struggle to survive; second, it is essential for the Allies to
have a responsible Government in Germany with principles approximating
to those of the democratic peoples. To such a Government alone can
they look for the execution of Germany’s Treaty obligations. Yet they
have taken no steps to secure this end. I often think that Europe will
make final shipwreck over the mistaken idea of German military unity
still so firmly screwed into popular imagination at home. Could we but
grasp the profound internal cleavage of ideas and ideals in Germany
itself, common-sense, if no higher consideration, might suggest the
importance of strengthening the hands of the only party from which we
have anything to hope.
The democratic Government which came into existence at the time of the
revolution has had an impossible task. It was confronted by hunger,
defeat, despair, and the miseries which resulted from the blockade.
It was not a strong Government--how could it be? Democracy is but a
plant of struggling growth in Germany. The nation has had no training
in self-government, and the efficient bureaucracy which still more or
less survives is steeped in the old bad traditions. That under these
circumstances the new Government was open to suspicion at every turn
is natural enough. A more far-sighted policy, however, inspired by
some faith and hope for the future would have realised that these
struggling democratic ideals, if feeble, were sincere and would not
have withheld all help from them. Also that the powerful internal
enemies, the revolutionaries on the one hand, the reactionaries on the
other, were waiting their opportunity to destroy them. Such a policy,
could it have illumined the councils of Versailles, might at least
have seen the folly of associating the first efforts in democratic
government in Germany with rebuffs and humiliations of all kinds. The
German working-man means to stand by the revolution, but hunger and
general demoralisation are openings on which the reactionaries and
revolutionaries are not slow to seize.
These reflections were driven home to me in a most emphatic way
at a meeting of the Deutsche Volkspartei which was addressed by a
distinguished professor from Berlin. The Deutsche Volkspartei excites
peculiar wrath in Socialist circles. The Junkers and the Right Wing
extremists, left to themselves, are not dangerous. But this great
Conservative capitalist block, fortified? by the funds of the big
business men and the “schwer Industrie,” is considered, and rightly, a
formidable adversary.
The Professor’s speech was in its own way first-rate. From premises
which personally I detested he developed his theme with extraordinary
ability, piling argument upon argument with a cumulative force which
swept everything before it. Personally I was very thankful it did not
fall to my lot to answer some of the points scored.
The Gürzenich Hall was crowded on this occasion, and the fashionable
ladies who sat on the platform belonged to a different world from
that of the Social Democratic women of an earlier meeting. As regards
the masculine supporters of the Volkspartei, I was reminded of Mr.
Keynes’s famous description of the present House of Commons, “a lot
of hard-faced men who looked as though they had done very well out of
the war.” This was particularly the case with the chairman, who had
“schwer Industrie” written all over him. The Professor’s personality
was more attractive than that of many of his supporters--a grey-haired,
grey-bearded man, with a fine head and full strong voice. He spoke
without a note of any kind, never once hesitating for a word. He
dealt skilfully with occasional interruptions, for the meeting was not
composed of unanimous supporters.
The speech began characteristically with a eulogy of Bismarck.
Bismarck had been reproached for a policy of blood and iron and force.
But blood and iron and force, not the pratings of the democratic
visionaries of the National Assembly at Frankfurt in 1848, had created
and sustained modern Germany. It was the absence of blood and iron
which was responsible for their present downfall. Not that the armies
in the field were ever defeated; Germany’s downfall sprang from the
blockade and the fanatical hatred of England. Yet not from the blockade
alone: all might have been saved but for the revolution which had
brought about their final undoing. It was the traitors from within,
not the enemies from without, who had finally wrecked and destroyed
Bismarck’s work. Social Democracy had been the ruin of the country.
It had delivered the nation tied and bound into the hands of their
enemies. Democracy, what was democracy? The firstfruits of German
democracy had been the Treaty of Versailles with its intolerable
burdens. Belief in democratic principles; trust in the professions of
democratic leaders? The speaker laughed bitterly. Had not President
Wilson proclaimed that America was fighting German militarism, not the
German people? Had not Lloyd George said the same thing, and that no
yard of German soil was desired by the Alliance? The Social Democrats
might believe these fables, on the strength of which they sold the pass
to the bitter enemies of the Fatherland. The result was the Treaty of
Versailles. The Socialists talked of a peace of reconciliation, of
international relations, of stretching out hands to the democracies
in other countries. What folly to trust to such shifting sands, which
had resulted in the German people being swallowed up in misery. The
Social Democrats had promised them freedom. “Freedom,” said the speaker
with bitter scorn; “are you free in the Rhineland?” No; there was only
one way by which a happier future could be reached--the re-creation
of Germany on strong nationalist lines; a Germany resting on force,
purged of democratic and international follies, with her eyes fixed
on herself and the principles of Bismarck well to the fore again. To
do this the defeat of Social Democracy and Socialism at the polls was
the first essential. A Government must be returned which would know
how to safeguard the welfare of the Fatherland. Unceasing work was an
essential of reconstruction; the eight hours’ day was another colossal
blunder recently made. Here and there the speaker threw an occasional
sop to the democratic Cerberus. Perhaps it was true that they had
relied a little too much on force alone in the past, and had forgotten
the old idealistic teaching of the poets and philosophers. And again
the rule of bayonets was over; government now rested on the will of the
people--a good old tag which appeared towards the end of the speech.
If the Volkspartei have their way, how much will shortly remain of the
will of the people in Germany?
Now for an English woman sitting unperceived and unrecognised among a
German audience this speech was not pleasant hearing. Naturally, the
speaker glided easily over the rotten ice of Germany’s responsibility
for the war. He had nothing to say as to the original crime of German
militarism, the real starting point of his tale of woe. For him
history began with the Peace, an indefensible position. Nevertheless
all he had to say on that subject drove home every doubt people like
myself have felt as to the scrapping by the Peace of the fundamental
principles for which we fought the war. The speech was a practical
illustration of how the Treaty itself has played straight into the
hands of the German reactionaries, how it has brought democratic
professions into utter contempt, how it has made the lot of a German
democratic Government practically impossible.
The speech of the evening was received with rapturous applause, though
elements of dissent were not unrepresented. But, as I have said before,
German political meetings are not arranged with a view to helping the
heckler. It is one thing to fire off questions from the body of the
hall, quite another to go upon the platform and make a reasoned speech
of protest surrounded by your enemies. Even so the “discussions” are
at times sufficiently lively. A nice old working-man, with clothes so
patched that the original pattern had almost disappeared, sat next
me in my corner. He was obviously full of protest at the speech, and
obviously anxious to explain his objections to me. But the necessities
of my incognito demanded strict silence, for my speech I knew would
betray me if I became involved in conversation however interesting. So
I was forced to assume an attitude of haughty aloofness, much though I
regretted the latter.
When the Berlin gentleman sat down, another prop of the Volkspartei,
an elderly and spectacled lady, advanced to the reading-desk fairly
staggering under a load of MS. “Lieber Gott!” said two young men
sitting in front of me when she had said half a dozen words. Seizing
their hats, they fled forthwith. I bore with the portentous dullness
of the lady for a few minutes and then fled in my turn. The evening
though interesting had not been agreeable. There had been too much
truth in many of the taunts hurled by the Professor at the democratic
professors of the Allies and their “faithful guardianship” of the
principles of liberty and justice. The miserable state of confusion to
which the pundits of the Peace Conference have reduced Europe is only
too apparent to any one living on the Continent. But to have the moral
enforced and adorned by a German is poor work for an English woman.
III
One outstanding impression which I have carried away from political
meetings in Germany is the easy life of a German parliamentary
candidate. So far as I could judge, these happy individuals saunter
through a campaign with relative ease and leisure. Instead of a hectic
evening spent in rushing from one meeting to another, candidates sit
for hours listening to one another’s oratory. The absence of heckling
and questions makes the delivery of long political treatises, which are
but mildly challenged, a simple task. There are of course exceptions,
and some meetings, notably Socialist ones, announce a “discussion,”
at which feeling runs high. But the average German audience is very
long-suffering, and tolerates bores and speeches of inordinate length
which would empty an English gathering. The whole spirit of a German
meeting is hostile to interruptions. I have heard a man who interjected
a harmless remark torn to pieces by the speaker, with the obvious
approval of the audience.
All of which is perhaps a mark of the political inexperience of the
people and that despairing German habit of taking for granted what
is told them. Nowhere more than in Germany does one thank heaven for
the intractability and argumentativeness of the British democracy.
Intellectual docility lies at the root of many German crimes, and along
the path of criticism probably lies the way of political regeneration.
Liberal and Conservative principles are much the same all the world
over, and the German political parties which embody them are easy to
recognize whatever their names. But the clerical element which cuts
across political life in Catholic Germany has no parallel in English
politics, and produces some curious eddies in the stream. The Zentrum,
the orthodox Catholic Party, cannot be reproached with clericalism
in the bad sense of the word. German Catholicism includes mildly
Socialistic elements, and the Zentrum joined with the Social Democrats
in forming the present Government. It is largely a working-class party,
and stands for what we should call moderate Liberal views. But at the
same time it is grounded in principles of religious education and that
religious view of the State to which modern democratic feeling is
increasingly hostile. Joint makers of the Coalition, no two parties
at the moment abuse each other more heartily than the Zentrum and the
Majority Socialists. Despite its present influence, it is difficult,
therefore, to judge what the future holds for the Zentrum. Meanwhile,
a certain section of zealots and intriguers have broken away from the
original Catholic Party to form the Christliche Volkspartei. The
seceders declare that by holding any traffic with the Social Democrats
the Zentrum has been faithless to the first principles of religious
education. It was incumbent on them, therefore, however heart-breaking
the task, to withdraw the hem of their garments from the accursed thing
and stand for Christian fundamentals in their original purity. Behind
all of which professions lurks a very pretty intrigue.
I was favourably impressed at a Zentrum meeting both by the audience
and the speakers. I came away feeling that they were decent people
holding moderate views with honesty and a certain liberality of view.
Unlike the Deutschnationale and the Volkspartei, they do not desire the
destruction of the Republic, while paying it perfunctory lip-service.
One speaker, a priest, declared emphatically against any restoration of
the monarchy, and his remarks were received with cheers. The capitalist
element was clearly unrepresented on the platform. The body of the hall
was filled with the same working-class element largely represented in
the crowds which flock on Sunday mornings to Cologne Cathedral. The
Zentrum is a strong party, and whatever electoral successes it may win
at the polls are not likely to be hostile to social reform on cautious
lines.
Very different is the position as regards the seceding body, that of
the Christliche Volkspartei. I attended a meeting of the new party, and
fell among proceedings which were refreshingly lively. It was a curious
audience, generally speaking on a plane just above working-class level,
but including more well-to-do and moneyed interests. They were not a
pleasant set of people. Some looked fanatics; others undiluted scamps.
A large number of women were present who cheered with great vigour.
Enthusiasm was boundless, but was countered at the back of the hall by
very definite opposition.
When the speakers and candidates took their place on the platform,
cheers greeted the appearance of a sinister-looking priest with
intrigue written all over him. This was the celebrated Father Kastert,
whose political activities of late have made no small stir in the
Rhineland. The various candidates got to work, and I have never heard
texts and Christian ideals hurled about a platform with such vigour,
and, according to English standards, with such entire lack of reserve.
Several of the speakers, judging by their appearance, might have
engaged in shady commerce, which made their declamations about the
supreme importance of religious education the more interesting.
Shortly after the meeting began, a blind gentleman, venerable
in appearance and with a large white beard, was shepherded with
ostentatious care on to the platform. I suspected a trophy, judging
by the exaggerated marks of respect with which he was received by
Father Kastert and his friends. He was, in fact, a leading supporter of
the Zentrum, who had seceded to the new party. The old gentleman was
propped up, and when he began to speak, despite his tottering steps and
shaking hands, proved a veritable Bull of Bashan. The Sermon on the
Mount and the Temptation in the Wilderness formed part of a political
pot-pourri mixed up with the misdeeds of the Social Democrats. I was
sitting by chance among a nest of zealots, who greeted these remarks
with hysterical applause. A youth, still wearing field grey, suddenly
jumped up in emphatic protest. General uproar resulted. “Aus mit
dem Kerl!” shouted several ladies round me. My spirits rose at the
prospect of seeing some one turned out with German thoroughness, but
the young man thought better of it, and sat down again hastily. The
chairman rang his bell, and after a time the meeting proceeded. Among
this curious company of hypocrites applauding principles clearly remote
from their practice I was struck by one working-man candidate, who
spoke with obvious sincerity as well as simplicity. No workman, he
said, could look for joy in his work unless that work were grounded in
Christ. Christ was the root, Christ was the foundation, Christ was the
workman’s stay and support. Happily in England we do not discuss the
Founder of Christianity on political platforms after the manner of this
meeting. But in this solitary case the note of sincerity rang true, and
I was grateful for it.
The candidates said their say, and then the real “turn” of the
evening began with a lengthy discourse from Father Kastert. Father
Kastert, despite all disclaimers to the contrary, is regarded as the
protagonist of the Rhineland Republic, a matter about which there are
many mutterings and murmurings in the Occupied Area. As such he is
an object of abhorrence to all patriotic Germans. Various elements
enter into the Rhineland Republic intrigue. The annexationist party
in France are naturally in favour of it; good Catholics are told that
self-determination for the Rhineland means getting rid of Prussian
Protestant officials; clericals are promised more power in a State
dominated by clerical influences; greedy financiers are heartened
by the prospect of escaping any way from the full burdens of the
indemnity. Every decent German looks on the movement as one of supreme
treachery to the Fatherland in its hour of defeat and overthrow, and on
Father Kastert as the arch-traitor.
That Father Kastert and his following are violently assailed is only
natural. His lengthy speech on this occasion took the form of an
apologia. His visit to General Mangin was only concerned with securing
a greater measure of liberty for the Rhineland during the Occupation,
and in hastening the close of the Occupation itself; away with the
abominable lie that he was in French pay and serving French ends; all
that he sought was to free the Rhineland from the Jewish influences
rampant both in Prussia and Berlin and to secure the fullest measure of
self-determination. On the whole the Father, though like all priests
a good speaker, proved less of a personality than I expected. I am
quite unable to judge how far the charges brought against him are just.
The Christliche Volkspartei is the political instrument formed by him
for carrying out his projects, whatever they may be. Father Kastert
would appear to draw his support from singularly unworthy elements in
German public life; people who are ready to traffic with the enemies of
yesterday for the sake of such bread-and-butter advantages as may be
obtained from the intercourse. A bad peace opens the door to intrigues
of many kinds. But the security of Europe or France is not to be
achieved by buffer states of the type contemplated by the supporters of
the Rhineland Republic.
The French Chauvinists who air schemes for the annexation of the
left bank of the Rhine are mischievous people. It is hard to believe
that one French person endowed with a grain of good sense could lend
an ear to so mad a proposal. Where Germany failed ignominiously
in Alsace-Lorraine, the French are hardly likely to succeed in the
Rhineland. But foolish talk of this character tends very appreciably
to exasperate and embitter German public opinion, and brings new
elements of hatred and unrest into a situation which was bad enough
already. Many Germans are convinced that France intends to spring some
annexationist coup upon them, and is only waiting for an opportunity
to strike again. Suspicions of this kind destroy any hope of improved
relations between the two countries. Goodwill can be at the best a
plant of very slow and painful growth between the nations. Intrigue
makes its existence impossible. The Rhine is German to the core in
race, language, and sentiment. Even a whisper as to the possibility
of detaching it from the rest of the country is a premium on a fresh
outbreak of anger and exasperation. The unhappy situation existing
in the Saar Basin may have its compensations if it provides an
anti-annexationist moral too strong to be disregarded.
IV
Polling day came and went. Despite a certain amount of nervous chatter
beforehand of disturbances and riots, the elections took place in
complete tranquillity. Not a dog barked through the length and breadth
of Germany. In Cologne, at least, no one would have suspected that
any event of importance was taking place. The ordinary Sunday crowds
promenaded peacefully, as is their habit, to and fro along the Rhine.
The Independent Socialists, with singular delicacy and nice feeling,
plastered the outer walls of the cathedral during the night with their
electioneering placards, and in gigantic red letters painted the
words “Wahlt Liste Fries” on the threshold of the west door. Otherwise
everything about the town was quiet and normal.
As for the result of the Election, it was very much what was to be
expected under the circumstances--a result in the highest degree
unsatisfactory, if they but knew it, to the British democracy. The
reactionaries and the extreme Socialists gained at the expense of the
moderate men. The Independent Socialists--the Unabhängige--negligible
at the last election, increased their strength four-fold, and instead
of twenty-two hold eighty-one seats in the new Reichstag. They swept
the great industrial districts of the west, an ironical commentary
on the hysterics of the English papers which insisted that the Ruhr
disturbances were a put-up job by the German Government destined to
veil a new attack on France. No less striking were the gains of the
Deutsche Volkspartei, who increased their numbers from twenty-one to
sixty-two seats. The Zentrum with sixty-eight instead of eighty-eight
seats lost substantially, but while yielding ground was not routed.
The Christliche Volkspartei was beaten off the field. The discomfiture
of Father Kastert and the upholders of the Rhineland Republic was
complete. The serious feature of the Elections was the downfall of the
Social Democrats, the largest and most influential of the three parties
forming the Müller Government. Their numbers fell from one hundred
and sixty-three to one hundred and twelve. No less complete was the
discomfiture of the Demokraten or Moderate Radicals--the left wing of
the Bourgeois parties--who at the best lived cramped and uncomfortable
lives between the Social Democrats on the one hand and the
Conservative groups on the other. Their numbers fell from seventy-five
to forty-five seats. Secrecy of the ballot does not in Germany prohibit
analysis of the totals polled, and the women’s vote taken as a whole
was clearly thrown on the reactionary side. Gratitude is not a factor
which counts in political life, and the Social Democrats to whom the
women owe their enfranchisement suffered severely at their hands.
On the morrow of the poll, therefore, the Müller Government then in
power found that its majority had disappeared, and that the Bourgeois
groups reckoned together were in a majority as compared with the two
Socialist parties. In the good old days for which many Germans sigh,
nothing would have happened in the seats of the mighty, whatever the
complexion of a Reichstag returned at a General Election. But under
the new constitution established by the revolution, a Government in
power must hold its authority from the elected representatives of the
people. Since, however, both the Zentrum and the Demokraten had been
associated with the Müller Government, a political deadlock of great
difficulty at once arose. For some days the hitherings and thitherings
between the various groups kept political Germany on the tiptoe of
excitement. The Independent Socialists held aloof and refused entirely
to be associated in any Government with the Majority Socialists. The
Majority Socialists refused with equal firmness to have anything to
do with a Cabinet in which their deadly enemies the Volkspartei would
necessarily play a leading part. The Zentrum with its sixty-eight
seats and Liberal leanings clearly held the balance of power between
the conflicting parties. The political crisis lasted for a fortnight,
during which period Germany was practically without a Government.
This state of affairs was considerably aggravated by the approach
of the Spa Conference and the necessity to have a German Cabinet in
existence with whom negotiations could be carried on. Finally, after
many days of uncertainty, a new Coalition Government emerged with Herr
Fehrenbach, the Zentrum leader, as Chancellor. The new Government is
largely Zentrum with a dash of Demokraten, but the sinister influence
of the Volkspartei is dominant in its counsels. The Government can
command no clear majority. It is confronted with a solid block of
Socialist opposition. The Social Democrats, whatever the attitude of
the Independents, are not likely to hamper the new Cabinet in vital
questions of external politics. But in daily life it will be forced to
lead the uneasy existence of playing off the various groups against
each other. It is a weak Government at a moment when strength is
essential, and such strength as it possesses is largely of the wrong
kind.
This upshot, as I see it, is wholly devoid of comfort to any one who
desires the rehabilitation of Germany on right lines. The election is
the writing on the wall which even at the eleventh hour should command
the attention of the little ring of politicians who control the Entente
policy. This shifting of German opinion to the right and to the left is
an ominous sign. The party standing for ordered democratic development
has been knocked out. The British public should try to realise it has
been killed by the Allied policy. That it was worth supporting is
proved by the fact that, despite heavy losses, the Social Democrats
still remain the largest individual group in the new Reichstag. We
have refused to discriminate between the good and bad elements in
political Germany. Our hand has rested as heavily on a democratic as
it would rightly have done on a Junker Government. The shackles forged
by the Allies have in the first place reduced the only administration
to impotence to which they could look for the fulfilment of the just
demands of a revised Treaty. Economic and political recovery has
been made an impossibility owing to the policy pursued. As a result,
hunger, despair, and general misery have driven large sections of the
working-classes into the arms of the Communists. They have lost faith
and hope in a constitutional party whose weakness has been so great.
They are out for the short cut of violent means in order to better
conditions which they regard as intolerable.
Meanwhile the Deutsche Volkspartei and all the wealthy and reactionary
elements in the country have been no less eager to stamp upon the
smoking flax of a democratic Germany. On the Friday and Saturday
before the poll I attended meetings respectively of the Volkspartei
and the Social Democrats. In each case speeches were made typical of
the two sets of ideas at war in Germany to-day. On this occasion the
Volkspartei speakers hardly took the trouble to camouflage their real
opinions, though one pastor spoke eloquently of the “Liberalisms”
of which they were the guardians--a claim which moved me to secret
mirth. The arguments were developed on the same lines as those I have
described above, only on this occasion the cloven hoof was still
more obvious. The revolution and the Republic were the root causes
of Germany’s present misery. The view of the Volkspartei that a
Constitutional Monarchy was the best form of government was unchanged,
though they “accepted” the Republic. Soon they hoped the old red and
white and black colours would wave over them again--a remark which
roused frantic applause from the large and enthusiastic audience.
Internationalism and the League of Nations were condemned in unsparing
terms. Who were the Allies to advance these principles? Let them cease
to boycott Germans in all parts of the world, and let France bring to
an end the scandal of her black troops in the Occupied Areas. Then they
might begin to talk about internationalism. As for England, no country
pursued its policy with more consistent and single-eyed devotion to its
own interests. Germany could only be remade on the basis of a strong
and efficient nationalism. A new spirit was abroad in the land and,
granted the defeat of the Socialists and Social Democrats, all that had
been lost might be regained.
Very different was the tone and temper of the meeting of the Social
Democrats on the following night. From first to last not one word was
said with which I, as an English Liberal, was out of harmony. Any
democratic audience in Great Britain would have found itself in entire
sympathy with the general views expressed. The audience was typically
working-class; quiet, orderly people, who made on me an unmistakable
impression of underfeeding and suffering. The shabby field-grey
uniforms converted to civilian use served to heighten the curious
earthen look noticeable on so many faces here. Food is plentiful now
in the Occupied Area, but the cost of living is so high, many families
remain ill-nourished. Fresh milk is unobtainable; during the many
months I have been in Cologne I have never seen a drop. Over and over
again the same question is driven home with overwhelming force: can
even the most volatile and opportunist of politicians imagine that the
unspecified millions of the indemnity, or, indeed, any indemnity at
all, can be collected from a nation which is not in a position to eat
or work?
Herr Meerfeld, the leader of the Social Democrats in Cologne, and Frau
Röhl were the principal speakers at this final gathering. Both were
members of the National Assembly; Frau Röhl unfortunately has not
survived the deluge which has overwhelmed many of her colleagues. A
capable-looking woman with golden hair, she reminded me a little of
Mary Macarthur, though lacking in the magnetism and stature, moral no
less than physical, of the English trade-union leader. Herr Meerfeld’s
speech was a merciless indictment of the former militarist Government
and its colossal blunders in connection with the war. In his first
words he struck the keynote of all that followed: “We will have no more
war. What we want in future is a ‘Peace-Kultur’”--that untranslatable
word which in so many varied forms finds its place in the political
utterances of all parties--“we seek a revision of the Treaty of
Versailles, but we seek it through a policy of reconciliation and
understanding with the democracies in other countries.” The failures
of the military party to make peace when an honourable peace was still
possible, the rejection of President Wilson’s offers of mediation,
the folly and crime of the unrestricted U-boat campaign--all these
subjects were handled in a spirit which astonished me. A pamphlet on
sale at the meeting, “Wer trägt die Schuld an unserem Elend?” (Who
bears the responsibility for our misery?), of which I bought a copy,
was packed with a damning array of facts, many of them unknown to me,
as to the part played by the Kaiser’s Government during the war. “The
German people have been lied to, and deceived, and betrayed,” cried the
speaker. “We were told that the U-boat campaign would bring England
to her knees in three months!” German mentality is a baffling thing,
but I hardly expected that this remark would be received with shouts
of good-natured laughter. The long arm of England’s sea-power has been
no laughing matter for Germany, but throughout this campaign I was
specially struck with the absence of hostility shown to England. Even
at the Volkspartei meetings I listened in vain for the note which shows
itself unmistakable when an audience is deeply roused. The justice and
fair dealing which have marked the British Occupation have contributed
primarily to this end.
A quaint little woman dressed in black came on to the platform to make
a few remarks during the discussion. At first she was almost inaudible,
but her voice gathered force and courage as she proceeded. She had
been a Red Cross nurse during the war, so she said. Nothing could have
been more scandalous than the pilfering by the officers in charge of
stores and comforts destined for wounded men. She had to stand by
helplessly and watch robbery and corruption of all kinds going on at
the expense of the sufferers. “These heroes who filled their pockets,”
she concluded naïvely, “always declared they were great patriots.
Please vote to-morrow for the patriotism of the Social Democrats, which
won’t rob sick men.” Even more pathetic was the appeal of a working-man
on whom disease had clearly laid a fatal hand. He addressed the meeting
as “dear brothers and sisters,” which raised a laugh. But there was
nothing comic about the few words spoken. He had starved, so he said,
during the war. Wars meant nothing but misery and starvation. Let them
support the Social Democrats and then there would be no more war. He
was followed by a Communist youth, who in languid and superior tones
struck the first note of dissent by adjuring those present at the
meeting not to vote at all. If, however, they felt irresistibly driven
to the polls, the only mitigation of a bad act would be to vote for
the Independent Socialists. General uproar resulted from this advice,
a fat man near me rising from his seat and shouting with fury, “I know
how you’ll vote. You’re the sort that votes Zentrum.” The Communist
highbrow did not stop to see the end of the storm he had provoked, but,
having said his say, discreetly fled before Herr Meerfeld could deliver
a highly chastening reply. He left the hall pursued by the execrations
of my neighbour, who showed signs of vaulting over the chairs and
continuing the argument in more forcible fashion in the street. The
general tone of the meeting, apart from this incident, was serious and
appreciative, but it lacked any of that electric quality which thrills
a party on the eve of victory. I came away uneasy as to the result--an
uneasiness more than justified by the issue.
As for the future, it lies, as I write, on the knees of dark and
doubtful gods. The British people found it hard to acquire the habit
of war and to make war thoroughly. To-day it seems as hard a task to
recover the habit of peace and make peace thoroughly. As I have said
before, so long as we persist in regarding Germany as a political
unit solidly inspired by the old military spirit, and of using a
sledge-hammer to it on all occasions, the resettlement of Europe
becomes an impossibility. The moral of the Kapp Putsch has been
completely ignored in Allied countries. Yet it was highly suggestive as
to the changed conditions which now rule. A militarist plot was nipped
in the bud by the German working-classes who retaliated with the weapon
of a general strike. I do not know what better proof of good faith the
German democrats could have given as to their determination to have no
more to do with the old régime. The cry of “give us back our Junkers”
will never arise unless democracy itself is wholly discredited. We can
take no risks with Germany, and there is no question of her escape
from the penalties of the war she provoked, and the burdens which in
consequence she must bear. Common-sense points, however, to the Allies
giving a fair chance to the democratic elements from whom, and from
whom alone, we have anything to hope as regards the future. We may make
Germany’s burden impossible, in which case, sooner or later, general
collapse and chaos must follow--chaos and collapse which will certainly
not be confined within the borders of this country. Or we may make the
burden possible, and not deny a place for repentance to the men and
women who are struggling against heavy odds to remake their country on
principles which are the basis of our own freedom.