METHODS OF RECRUITING
If Lord Kitchener is not to be held primarily responsible for the delay
in providing war material, just as little is he to be blamed for the
methods of recruiting. For he had to take what the politicians told
him. He had to accept their sagacious views of what the people would
stand; of 'what they would never stand'; of what 'from the House of
Commons' standpoint' was practicable or impracticable.
Lord Kitchener wanted men. During August and September he wanted them
at once--without a moment's delay. Obviously the right plan was to ask
in a loud voice who would volunteer; to take as many of these as it was
possible to house, clothe, feed, and train; then to sit down quietly
and consider how many more were likely to be wanted, at what dates, and
how best they could be got. But as regards the first quarter of a
million or so, which there were means for training at once, there was
only one way--to call loudly for volunteers. The case was one of
desperate urgency, and as things then stood, it would have been the
merest pedantry to delay matters until a system, for which not even a
scheme or skeleton existed before the emergency arose, had been
devised. The rough and ready {365} method of calling out loudly was
open to many objections on the score both of justice and efficiency,
but the all-important thing was to save time.
[Sidenote: NEED FOR A SYSTEM]
Presumably, by and by, when the first rush was over, the Cabinet did
sit down round a table to talk things over. We may surmise the
character of the conversation which was then poured into Lord
Kitchener's ears--how England would never stand this or that; how no
freeborn Englishman--especially north of the Humber and the Trent,[1]
whence the Liberal party drew its chief support--would tolerate being
tapped on the shoulder and told to his face by Government what his duty
was; how much less would he stand being coerced by Government into
doing it; how he must be tapped on the shoulder and told by other
people; how he must be coerced by other people; how pressure must be
put on by private persons--employers by threats of dismissal--young
females of good, bad, and indifferent character by blandishments and
disdain. The fear of starvation for the freeborn Englishman and his
family--at that time a real and present danger with many minds--or the
shame of receiving a white feather, were the forces by which England
and the Empire were to be saved at this time of trial. Moreover, would
it not lead to every kind of evil if, at this juncture, the country
were to become annoyed with the Government? Better surely that it
should become annoyed with any one rather than the Government, whose
patriotic duty, therefore, was to avoid unpopularity with more devoted
vigilance than heretofore, if such a thing were possible.
One can imagine Lord Kitchener--somewhat weary {366} of discussions in
this airy region, and sorely perplexed by all these cobwebs of the
party system--insisting doggedly that his business was to make a New
Army, and to come to the assistance of France, without a day's
unnecessary delay. He must have the men; how was he to get the men?
And one can imagine the response. "Put your trust in us, and we will
get you the men. We will go on shouting. We will shout louder and
louder. We will paste up larger and larger pictures on the hoardings.
We will fill whole pages of the newspapers with advertisements drawn up
by the 'livest publicity artists' of the day. We will enlist the
sympathies and support of the press--for this is not an Oriental
despotism, but a free country, where the power of the press is
absolute. And if the sympathies of the press are cool, or their
support hangs back, we will threaten them with the Press Bureau. We
will tell the country-gentlemen, and the men-of-business, that it is
their duty to put on the screw; and most of these, being easily
hypnotised by the word 'duty,' will never dream of refusing. If their
action is resented, and they become disliked it will be very
regrettable; but taking a broad view, this will not be injurious to the
Liberal party in the long run.
"Leave this little matter, Lord Kitchener, to experts. Lend your great
name. Allow us to show your effigies to the people. Consider what a
personal triumph for yourself if, at the end of this great war, we can
say on platforms that you and we together have won it on the Voluntary
System. Trust in us and our methods. We will boom your {367} New
Army, and we will see to it at the same time that the Government does
not become unpopular, and also, if possible, that the Empire is saved."
[Sidenote: THE ADVERTISEMENT CAMPAIGN]
So they boomed the Voluntary System and the New Army in Periclean
passages; touched with awe the solemn chords; shouted as if it had been
Jericho.
Two specimens, out of a large number of a similar sort--the joint
handiwork apparently of the 'publicity artists,' bettering the moving
appeals of the late Mr. Barnum, and of the party managers, inspired by
the traditions of that incomparable ex-whip, Lord Murray of
Elibank--are given below.[2] It is of course impossible to do justice
here to the splendour of headlines and leaded capitals; but the nature
of the appeal will be gathered clearly enough. Briefly, the motive of
it was to avoid direct compulsion by Government--which would have
fallen equally and fairly upon all--and to substitute for this,
indirect compulsion and pressure by private individuals--which must of
necessity operate unequally, unfairly, and invidiously. To say that
this sort of thing is not compulsion, is to say what is untrue. If, as
appears to be the case, the voluntary system has broken down, and we
are to have compulsion, most honest men and women will prefer that the
compulsion should be fair rather than unfair, direct rather than
indirect, and that it should be exercised by those responsible for the
government of the country, rather than by private persons who cannot
compel, but can only penalise.
{368}
By these means, during the past six months, a great army has been got
together--an army great in numbers,[3] still greater in spirit;
probably one of the noblest armies ever recruited in an cause. And
Lord Kitchener has done his part by training this army with
incomparable energy, and by infusing into officers and men alike his
own indomitable resolution.
The high quality of the New Army is due to the fact that the bulk of it
consists of two kinds of men, who of all others are the best material
for soldiers. It consists of men who love fighting for its own sake--a
small class. It also consists of men who hate fighting, but whose
sense of duty is their guiding principle--fortunately a very large
class. It consists of many others as well, driven on by divers
motives. But the spirit of the New Army--according to the {369}
accounts of those who are in the best position to judge--is the spirit
of the first two classes--of the fighters and the sense-of-duty men.
It is these who have leavened it throughout.
[Sidenote: ITS EFFECT ON PUBLIC OPINION]
This magnificent result--for it is magnificent, whatever may be thought
of the methods which achieved it--has been claimed in many
quarters--Liberal, Unionist, and non-party--as a triumph for the
voluntary system. But if we proceed to question it, how voluntary was
it really? Also how just? Did the New Army include all, or anything
like all, those whose clear duty it was to join? And did it not
include many people who ought never to have been asked to join, or even
allowed to join, until others--whose ages, occupations, and
responsibilities marked them out for the first levies--had all been
called up?
There is also a further question--did the country, reading these
various advertisements and placards--heroic, melodramatic, pathetic,
and facetious--did the country form a true conception of the gravity of
the position? Was it not in many cases confused and perplexed by the
nature of the appeal? Did not many people conclude, that things could
not really be so very serious, if those in authority resorted to such
flamboyant and sensational methods--methods so conspicuously lacking in
dignity, so inconsistent with all previous ideas of the majesty of
Government in times of national peril?
The method itself, no doubt, was only unfamiliar in so far as it used
the King's name. It was familiar and common enough in other
connections. But a method which might have been unexceptionable for
calling attention to the virtues of a shop, a soap, a {370} circus, or
a pill, seemed inappropriate in the case of a great nation struggling
at the crisis of its fate.[4]
Each of us must judge from his own experience of the effect produced.
The writer has heard harsher things said of these appeals by the poor,
than by the well-to-do. The simplest and least sophisticated minds are
often the severest critics in matters of taste as well as morals. And
this was a matter of both. Among townspeople as well as countryfolk
there were many who--whether they believed or disbelieved in the urgent
need, whether they responded to the appeal or did not respond to
it--regarded the whole of this 'publicity' campaign with distrust and
dislike, as a thing which demoralised the country, which was revolting
to its honour and conscience, and in which the King's name ought never
to have been used.[5]
{371}
[Sidenote: ON THE WORKING CLASSES]
On the part of the working-classes there were other objections to the
methods employed. They resented the hints and instructions which were
so obligingly given by the 'publicity artists' and the 'party managers'
to the well-to-do classes--to employers of all sorts--as to how they
should bring pressure to bear upon their dependents. And they
resented--especially the older men and those with family
responsibilities--the manner in which they were invited by means of
circulars to signify their willingness to serve--as they imagined in
the last dire necessity--and when they had agreed patriotically to do
so, found themselves shortly afterwards called upon to fulfil their
contract. For they knew that in the neighbouring village--or in the
very next house--there were men much more eligible for military {372}
service in point of age and freedom from family responsibilities, who,
not having either volunteered, or filled up the circular, were
accordingly left undisturbed to go about their daily business.[6]
The attitude of the country generally at the outbreak of war was
admirable. It was what it should have been--as on a ship after a
collision, where crew and passengers, all under self-command, and
without panic, await orders patiently. So the country waited--waited
for clear orders--waited to be told, in tones free from all ambiguity
and hesitation, what they were to do as classes and as individuals.
There was very little fuss or confusion. People were somewhat dazed
for a short while by the financial crisis; but the worst of that was
soon over. They then said to themselves, "Let us get on with our
ordinary work as hard as usual (or even harder), until we receive
orders from those responsible for the ship's safety, telling us what we
are to do."
[Sidenote: BUSINESS AS USUAL]
There was a certain amount of sparring, then and subsequently, between
high-minded journalists, who {373} were engaged in carrying on their
own _business as usual_, and hard-headed traders and manufacturers who
desired to do likewise. The former were perhaps a trifle too
self-righteous, while the latter took more credit than they deserved
for patriotism, seeing that their chief merit was common sense. To
have stopped the business of the country would have done nobody but the
Germans any good, and would have added greatly to our national
embarrassment.
At times of national crisis, there will always be a tendency, among
most men and women, to misgivings, lest they may not be doing the full
measure of their duty. Their consciences become morbidly active; it is
inevitable that they should; indeed it would be regrettable if they did
not. People are uncomfortable, unless they are doing something they
have never done before, which they dislike doing, and which they do
less well than their ordinary work. In many cases what they are
inspired to do is less useful than would have been their ordinary work,
well and thoughtfully done. At such times as these the _Society for
Setting Everybody Right_ always increases its activities, and enrols a
large number of new members. But very soon, if there is leadership of
the nation, things fall into their proper places and proportions.
Neither business nor pleasure can be carried on as usual, and everybody
knows it. There must be great changes; but not merely for the sake of
change. There must be great sacrifices in many cases; and those who
are doing well must give a helping hand to those others who are doing
ill. But all--whether they are doing well or ill from the standpoint
of their own private interests--must be prepared to do what the leader
of the nation orders them to do. {374} This was fully recognised in
August, September, October, and November last. The country expected
orders--clear and unmistakable orders--and it was prepared to obey
whatever orders it received.
But no orders came. Instead of orders there were appeals, warnings,
suggestions, assurances. The panic-monger was let loose with his
paint-box of horrors. The diffident parliamentarian fell to his usual
methods of soothing, and coaxing, and shaming people into doing a very
vague and much-qualified thing, which he termed their duty. But there
was no clearness, no firmness. An ordinary man will realise his duty
so soon as he receives a definite command, and not before. He received
no such command; he was lauded, lectured, and exhorted; and then was
left to decide upon his course of action by the light of his own reason
and conscience.[7]
He was not even given a plain statement of the {375} true facts of the
situation, and then left at peace to determine what he would do. He
was disturbed in his meditations by shouting--more shouting--ever
louder and louder shouting--through some thousands of megaphones. The
nature of the appeal was emotional, confusing, frenzied, and at times
degrading. Naturally the results were in many directions most
unsatisfactory, unbusinesslike, and disorderly. The drain of
recruiting affected industries and individuals not only unequally and
unfairly, but in a way contrary to the public interest. If Government
will not exercise guidance and control in unprecedented circumstances,
it is inevitable that the country must suffer.
[Sidenote: AN ORGIE OF SENSATIONALISM]
To judge from the placards and the posters, the pictures and the
language, a casual stranger would not have judged that the British
Empire stood at the crisis of its fate; but rather that some World's
Fair was arriving shortly, and that these were the preliminary
flourishes. Lord Kitchener cannot have enjoyed the pre-eminence which
was allotted to him in our mural decorations, and which suggested that
he was some kind of co-equal with the famous Barnum or Lord George
Sanger. Probably no one alive hated the whole of this orgie of vulgar
sensationalism, which the timidity of the politicians had forced upon
the country, more than he did.[8]
{376}
Having stirred up good and true men to join the New Army, whether it
was rightly their turn or not; having got at others in whom the
voluntary spirit burned less brightly, by urging their employers to
dismiss them and their sweethearts to throw them over if they refused
the call of duty, the 'publicity artists' and the 'party managers'
between them undoubtedly collected for Lord Kitchener a very fine army,
possibly the finest raw material for an army which has ever been got
together. And Lord Kitchener, thereupon, set to work, and trained this
army as no one but Lord Kitchener could have trained it.
These results were a source of great pride and self-congratulation
among the politicians. The voluntary principle--you see how it works!
What a triumph! What other nation could have done the same?
Other nations certainly could not have done the same, for the reason
that there are some things which one cannot do twice over, some things
which one cannot give a second time--one's life for example, or the
flower of the manhood of a nation to be made into soldiers.
Other nations could not have done what we were doing, because they had
done it already. They had their men prepared when the need
arose--which we had not. Other nations were engaged in holding the
common enemy at enormous sacrifices until we made ourselves ready;
until we--triumphing in our {377} voluntary system, covering ourselves
in self-praise, and declaring to the world, through the mouths of Sir
John Simon and other statesmen, that each of our men was worth at least
three of their 'pressed men' or conscripts--until we came up leisurely
with reinforcements--six, nine, or twelve months hence--supposing that
by such time, there was anything still left to come up for. If the
Germans were then in Paris, Bordeaux, Brest, and Marseilles, there
would be--temporarily at least--a great saving of mortality among the
British race. If, on the other hand, the Allies had already arrived at
Berlin without us, what greater triumph for the voluntary principle
could possibly be imagined?
[Sidenote: A FRENCH VIEW]
Putting these views and considerations--which have so much impressed us
all in our own recent discussions--before a French officer, I found him
obstinate in viewing the matter at a different angle. He was inclined
to lay stress on the case of Northern France, and even more on that of
Belgium, whose resistance to the German invasion we had wished for and
encouraged, and who was engaged in fighting our battles quite as much
as her own. The voluntary principle, in spite of its triumphs at
home--which he was not concerned to dispute--had not, he thought, as
yet been remarkably triumphant abroad; and nine months had gone by
since war began.
He insisted, moreover, that for years before war was declared, our
great British statesmen could not have been ignorant of the European
situation, either in its political or its military aspects. Such
ignorance was inconceivable. They must have suspected the intentions
of Germany, and they must have known the numbers of her army. England
had common {378} interests with France. Common interests, if there be
a loyal understanding, involve equal sacrifices--equality of sacrifice
not merely when the push comes, but in advance of the crisis, in
preparation for it--a much more difficult matter. Why then had not our
Government told the British people long ago what sacrifice its safety,
no less than its honour, required of it to give?
I felt, after talking to my friend for some time, that although he
rated our nation in some ways very highly indeed, although he was
grateful for our assistance, hopeful of the future, confident that in
Lord Kitchener we had found our man, nothing--nothing--not even
selections from Mr. Spender's articles in the _Westminster Gazette_, or
from Sir John Simon's speeches, or Sir John Brunner's assurances about
the protection afforded by international law--could induce him to share
our own enthusiasm for the voluntary system.... _The triumph of the
voluntary system_, he cried bitterly, _is a German triumph: it is the
ruin of Belgium and the devastation of France_.
And looking at the matter from a Frenchman's point of view, there is
something to be said for his contention.
Apart from any objections which may exist to British methods of
recruiting since war broke out--to their injustice, want of dignity,
and generally to their demoralising effect on public opinion--there are
several still more urgent questions to be considered. Have those
methods been adequate? And if so, are they going to continue adequate
to the end? Is there, in short, any practical need for conscription?
{379}
We do not answer these questions by insisting that, if there had been
conscription in the past, we should have been in a much stronger
position when war broke out; or by proving to our own satisfaction,
that if we had possessed a national army, war would never have
occurred. Such considerations as these are by no means done with; they
are indeed still very important; but they lie rather aside from the
immediate question with which we are now faced, and which, for lack of
any clear guidance from those in authority, many of us have been
endeavouring of late to solve by the light of our own judgment.
[Sidenote: NEED FOR NATIONAL SERVICE]
The answer which the facts supply does not seem to be in any doubt. We
need conscription to bring this war to a victorious conclusion. We
need conscription no less in order that we may impose terms of lasting
peace. Conscription is essential to the proper organisation not only
of our manhood, but also of our national resources.[9] Judging by the
increasing size, frequency, and shrillness of recent recruiting
advertisements, conscription would seem to be equally essential in
order to secure the number of recruits necessary for making good the
wastage of war, even in the present preliminary stage of the war. And
morally, conscription is essential in order that the whole nation may
realise, before it is too late, the life-or-death nature of the present
struggle; in order also that other nations--our Allies as well as our
enemies--may understand--what they certainly do not understand at
present--that our spirit is as firm and self-sacrificing as their own.
The voluntary system has broken down long ago. {380} It broke down on
the day when the King of England declared war upon the Emperor of
Germany. From that moment it was obvious that, in a prolonged war, the
voluntary system could not be relied upon to give us, in an orderly and
businesslike way, the numbers which we should certainly require. It
was also obvious that it was just as inadequate for the purpose of
introducing speed, order, and efficiency into the industrial world, as
strength into our military affairs.
So far, however, most of the accredited oracles of Government have
either denounced national military service as un-English, and a sin
against freedom; or else they have evaded the issue, consoling their
various audiences with the reflection, that it will be time enough to
talk of compulsion, when it is clearly demonstrated that the voluntary
system can no longer give us what we need. It seems improvident to
wait until the need has been proved by the painful process of failure.
The curses of many dead nations lie upon the procrastination of
statesmen, who waited for breakdown to prove the necessity of
sacrifice. Compulsion, like other great changes, cannot be
systematised and put through in a day. It needs preparation. If the
shoe begins to pinch severely in August, and we only then determine to
adopt conscription, what relief can we hope to experience before the
following midsummer? And in what condition of lameness may the British
Empire be by then?
"But what," it may be asked, "of all the official and semi-official
statements which have been uttered in a contrary sense? Surely the
nation is bound to trust its own Government, even although no {381}
facts and figures are offered in support of their assurances."
[Sidenote: VALUE OF OFFICIAL ASSURANCES]
Unfortunately it is impossible to place an implicit faith in official
and semi-official statements, unless we have certain knowledge that
they are confirmed by the facts. There has been an abundance of such
statements in recent years--with regard to the innocence of Germany's
intentions--with regard to the adequacy of our own preparations--while
only a few weeks ago Mr. Asquith himself was assuring us that neither
the operations of our own army, nor those of our Allies' armies, had
ever been crippled, or even hampered, by any want of munitions.
When, therefore, assurances flow from the same source--assurances that
there is no need for compulsory military service--that the voluntary
system has given, is giving, and will continue to give us all we
require--we may be forgiven for expressing our incredulity. Such
official and semi-official statements are not supported by any clear
proofs. They are contradicted by much that we have heard from persons
who are both honest, and in a position to know. They are discredited
by our own eyes when we read the recruiting advertisements and posters.
It seems safer, therefore, to dismiss these official and semi-official
assurances, and trust for once to our instinct and the evidence of our
own senses. It seems safer also not to wait for complete breakdown in
war, or mortifying failure in negotiations for peace, in order to have
the need for national service established beyond a doubt.
[1] Cf. Mr. Runciman, _ante_, p. 344.
[2] (A) Four questions to the women of England.
1. You have read what the Germans have done in Belgium. Have you
thought what they would do if they invaded England?
2. Do you realise that the safety of your Home and Children depends on
our getting more men now?
3. Do you realise that the one word "Go" from _you_ may send another
man to fight for our King and Country?
4. When the War is over and your husband or your son is asked 'What did
you do in the great War?'--is he to hang his head because you would not
let him go?
Women of England do your duty! Send your men _to-day_ to join our
glorious Army.
GOD SAVE THE KING.
(B) Five questions to those who employ male servants.
1. Have you a butler, groom, chauffeur, gardener, or gamekeeper serving
_you_ who, at this moment should be serving your King and Country?
2. Have you a man serving at your table who should be serving a gun?
3. Have you a man digging your garden who should be digging trenches?
4. Have you a man driving your car who should be driving a transport
wagon?
5. Have you a man preserving your game who should be helping to
preserve your Country?
A great responsibility rests on you. Will you sacrifice your personal
convenience for your Country's need?
Ask your men to enlist _to-day_.
The address of the nearest Recruiting Office can be obtained at any
Post Office.
GOD SAVE THE KING.
[3] How many we have not been told; but that the numbers whatever they
may be do not yet reach nearly what is still required we know from the
frantic character of the most recent advertisements.
[4] With apologies for the dialect, in which I am not an expert, I
venture to set out the gist of a reply given to a friend who set
himself to find out why recruiting was going badly in a Devonshire
village.... "We do-ant think nought, Zur, o' them advertaizements and
noospaper talk about going soldgering. When Guv'ment needs soldgers
really sore, Guv'ment'll say so clear enough, like it does when it
wants taxes--'_Come 'long, Frank Halls, you're wanted._' ... And when
Guv'ment taps Frank Halls on showlder, and sez this, I'll go right
enough; but I'll not stir foot till Guv'ment does; nor'll any man of
sense this zide Exeter."
[5] The following letter which appeared in the _Westminster Gazette_
(January 20, 1915), states the case so admirably that I have taken the
liberty of quoting it in full:
"DEAR SIR--Every day you tell your readers that we are collecting
troops by means of voluntary enlistment, yet it is self-evident that
our recruiting campaign from the first has been a very noisy and a very
vulgar compulsion, which in a time of immense crisis has lowered the
dignity of our country and provoked much anxiety among our Allies. Our
national habit of doing the right thing in the wrong way has never been
exercised in a more slovenly and unjust manner. It is a crime against
morals not to use the equitable principles of national service when our
country is fighting for her life; and this obvious truth should be
recognised as a matter of course by every true democrat. A genuinely
democratic people, proud of their past history, and determined to hold
their own against Germany's blood-lust, would have divided her male
population into classes, and would have summoned each class to the
colours at a given date. Those who were essential to the leading
trades of the country would have been exempted from war service in the
field, as they are in Germany; the younger classes would have been
called up first, and no class would have been withdrawn from its civil
work until the military authorities were ready to train it. Instead of
this quiet and dignified justice, this admirable and quiet unity of a
free people inspired by a fine patriotism, we have dazed ourselves with
shrieking posters and a journalistic clamour against 'shirkers,' and
loud abuse of professional footballers; and now an advertisement in the
newspapers assures the women of England that _they_ must do what the
State declines to achieve, that they must send their men and boys into
the field since their country is fighting for her life. What
cowardice! Why impose this voluntary duty on women when the State is
too ignoble to look upon her own duty in this matter as a moral
obligation?
"The one virtue of voluntary enlistment is that it should be
voluntary--a free choice between a soldier's life and a civilian's
life. To use moral pressure, with the outcries of public indignation,
in order to drive civilians from their work into the army--what is this
but a most undignified compulsion? And it is also a compulsion that
presses unequally upon the people, for its methods are without system.
Many families send their all into the fighting line; many decline to be
patriotic. A woman said to me yesterday: 'My husband has gone, and I
am left with his business. Why should he go? Other women in my
neighbourhood have their husbands still, and it's rubbish to say that
the country is in danger when the Government allows and encourages this
injustice in recruiting. If the country is in danger all the men
should fight--if their trade work is unnecessary to the armies."
"This point of view is right; the wrong one is advocated by you and by
other Radicals who dislike the justice of democratic equality.--Yours
truly, WALTER SHAW SPARROW."
[6] There have been bitter complaints of this artful way of getting
recruits, as a boy 'sniggles' trout. The following letter to the Times
(April 21, 1915) voices a very widely spread sense of injustice:
"SIR--Will you give me the opportunity to ask a question, which I think
you will agree is important? When the Circular to Householders was
issued, many heads of families gave in their names on the assumption
that they would be called up on the last resort, and under
circumstances in which no patriotic man could refuse his help. Married
men with large families are now being called up apparently without the
slightest regard to their home circumstances. Many of the best of them
are surprised and uneasy at leaving their families, but feel bound in
honour to keep their word, some even thinking they have no choice. The
separation allowances for these families will be an immense burden on
the State, and, if the breadwinner falls, a permanent burden. Is the
need for men still so serious and urgent as to justify this? If it is,
then I for one, who have up to now hoped that the war might be put
through without compulsion, feel that the time has come to 'fetch' the
unmarried shirkers, and I believe there is a wide-spread and growing
feeling to that effect.--I am, Sir, etc., CHARLES G. E. WELBY."
[7] An example of the apparent inability of the Government to do
anything thoroughly or courageously is found in a circular letter to
shopkeepers and wholesale firms, which was lately sent out by the Home
Secretary and the President of the Board of Trade. The object of this
enquiry--undertaken at leisure, nine months after the outbreak of
war--is to obtain information as to the number of men of military age,
who are still employed in these particular trades, and as to the
willingness of their employers to spare them if required, and to
reinstate them at the end of the war, etc., etc.
The timid futility of this attempt at organising the resources of the
country is shown _first_ by the fact that it left to the option of each
employer whether he will reply or not. Businesses which do not wish to
have their employees taken away need not give an answer. It is
compulsory for individuals to disclose all particulars of their income;
why, therefore, need Government shrink from making it compulsory upon
firms to disclose all particulars of their staffs? ... The _second_
vice of this application is that the information asked for is quite
inadequate for the object. Even if the enquiry were answered
faithfully by every employer and householder in the country, it would
not give the Government what they require for the purposes of
organising industry or recruiting the army.... In the _third_ place, a
certain group of trades is singled out at haphazard. If it is desired
to organise the resources of the country what is needed is a general
census of all males between 16 and 60.
One does not know whether to marvel most at the belated timorousness of
this enquiry, or at the slatternly way in which it has been framed.
[8] One who is no longer alive--Queen Victoria--would possibly have
hated it even more. Imagine her late Majesty's feelings on seeing the
walls of Windsor plastered with the legend--'_Be a sport: Join
to-day_'--and with other appeals of the same elevating character! ...
But perhaps the poster which is more remarkable than any
other--considering the source from which it springs--is one showing a
garish but recognisable portrait of Lord Roberts, with the motto, '_He
did his duty. Will you do yours?_' If the timidity of politicians is
apparent in certain directions, their courage is no less noteworthy in
others. The courage of a Government (containing as it does Mr.
Asquith, Lord Haldane, Mr. Runciman, Sir John Simon, Mr. Harcourt, and
Mr. Acland--not to mention others) which can issue such a poster must
be of a very high order indeed. One wonders, however, if this placard
would not be more convincing, and its effect even greater, were the
motto amplified, so as to tell the whole story: "_He did his duty; we
denounced him for doing it. We failed to do ours; will you, however,
do yours?_"
[9] This aspect is very cogently stated in Mr. Shaw Sparrow's letter to
the _Westminster Gazette_ quoted on pp. 370-371.
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