From the Roy Milne Memorial Lecture
given at Adelaide on 26 June 1950
In considering whether our sincere support for
the United Nations, its Charter and its agencies, renders the British
Commonwealth association less significant, it is as well to look back for
a moment.
At the end of the First World War the League
of Nations was devised as a means for keeping the peace. It failed. There
were many reasons for this; one deserves special mention. Whenever the strain
came on, as in the case of Abyssinia, the League of Nations failed because, though its paper obligations were
vast, its real resources were practically non-existent. It was established
upon the basis of contract between independent sovereignties. But the truth
is that the only effectiveness which an international contract possesses
is either that which arises from the goodwill or sense of honest obligation
of the contracting parties, or that which can be physically enforced. And
the means of physical enforcement are to be found only in the strength of
those parties against whose will the contract has been broken.
I believe that it is clear that in the few years
before the second war an almost fatal illusion about the strength of the League
of Nations was permeating the democratic mind. At the same time the so-called
intellectuals of the world began to insert into the heads of too many people
an utterly false dichotomy. 'Are you for power politics?' they said, 'or
are you for collective security?' When some realistic person spoke up for
armaments behind the Covenant he was promptly told that the talk must be
of disarmament, and that those who spoke otherwise were mere war-mongers. Yet
the truth was that an unarmed League of Nations was
not only impotent against but also in invitation to an armed aggressor.
Once
again, at the end of the Second World War, there was and is a powerful
world feeling against its repetition and an earnest desire to find some
effective instrument of peace. An attempt to forge such
an instrument was made at San Francisco. Remembering
the powerlessness of the League of Nations in grave affairs, the draftsmen
at San Francisco determined that in the new Charter the United Nations
should, as one advocate said, be given 'teeth'. Accordingly they inserted
Article 43 of the Charter, under which all member of the United Nations undertake
to make available to the Security Council, on its call and in accordance
with a special agreement or agreements, armed forces and other facilities
for the purpose of maintaining international peace and security. This, it
will be seen, amounts to no more than a 'contract to make a contract', and
in fact no steps have yet been taken under it.* It
remains to be seen whether member nations will in fact stand up to this potential
obligation if the circumstances at any given moment render it politically
unpalatable. The real difficulty about a provision of this kind, to give
armed force to the United Nations, is that the membership is so extensive,
and the obligations which may be incurred can therefore vary so greatly in
both time and place, that it will be in very many instances difficult or
even impossible to arouse effective national support for the international
action planned. It is quite true that, with a clear realization of this
defect, the Western European powers and the United States of America have
more recently shown both imagination and realism by formulating the Atlantic
Pact and arranging defensive co-operation in Western Europe.**
* This must now be
read subject to the action taken in Korea
** More recently, we have the South East Asia Treaty Organization
But,
though such arrangements are usually described as 'regional arrangements within the structure of the Charter',
they can be much more accurately described as groupings of power by a limited
number of nations for mutual defensive purposes.
In brief, they are a
recognition of the inadequacy of the machinery provided by the Charter.
Let me turn to another aspect of this vitally
important problem.
It
is conceded, even by those who are most willing to claim that the Security
Council has great achievements to its credit, that it has been heavily
crippled by the existence and misuse of the veto; that is, the provision
in Article 27 of the Charter which says that decisions of the Security
Council on non-procedural matters shall be made by an affirmative vote
of seven members, including the concurring votes of the permanent members - one
of which is, of course, the Soviet Union. But I feel strongly that, while
there is not doubt that this veto power has been abused, it is a blunder
to think of this abuse as something which is merely related to an Article
in the Charter or which could be simply remedied by an alteration in the
language of the Charter. If there were no veto provision in the Charter
at all, there would still be one in fact.
Let
us suppose that the Security Council met, with a plain provision for a
majority decision, whatever the subject might be. And let us suppose that, upon a matter of grave
international importance which might lead to war, most of the members of
the Security Council were inclined to make a decision and to authorize
or institute measures of enforcement in support of it. Would they be disposed
to carry the matter to a vote and therefore to action if, say, the Soviet Union were in opposition?
If
the answer to this question is in the affirmative, then it represents a
notable advance. But
at the same time it must be pointed out that under such circumstances the
forces to be employed would be the national forces of the great powers
concerned, and not the international force of the United Nations, for no
such force is yet available - or even
in distant sight.
I find it very difficult to believe that the
great powers (and, after all, the small ones have little to say to this question
of enforcement) are as yet within measurable distance of entering into an
arrangement under which any one of them may be declared at fault by the others
and forced into a course of action contrary to its own will.*
*The
withdrawal of Great Britain and France from Egypt in
1956 may be regarded as qualifying this proposition to some extent.
This of course is basically the reason why the
great powers insisted upon the veto provisions as a condition of their participating
in the Charter.
We will do better to think of the veto problem
as evidence of the continued existence of a strong nationalist state of mind
than as some defect in a written document.
It
may be that the day will come when all the nations of the world, meeting
in a General Assembly of the United Nations, will elect and control a Security
Council as an executive; will act upon the decisions of that Council; will accept
a body of International Law with that substantial obedience which we now
accord to the law in our own lands; will have alleged breaches of that law
adjudicated upon the permanent Court; and will treat as commonplace the enforcement
of the Court's decision by the international policeman.
In that state of the world, aggressive and independent
nationalism will have come to an end; national sovereignties will have subsided
into world citizenships; and national groupings of whatever kind will be
both antiquated and irrelevant.
But that day is not yet, nor, if we are able
to be frank with ourselves, can we pretend that we even see it approaching.
It can be said with confidence that in the last
few years we have seen powerful nationalistic movements in many countries
which were previously content to be dependent or controlled.
Thus,
in the brief period that has elapsed since the cessation of fighting we
have seen India and Pakistan come into an independent existence, with a
great and at times violent upsurge of national and racial feeling; we have
seen a similar development in Burma; we in Australia have been the witnesses
of a similar movement conducted for the formation of an Indonesian Republic. All
over the world there is a stirring among races and peoples.
So
far from that stirring representing an agitation to create an international
state, to reduce national sovereignty, and to accept the authority of international
bodies, it has represented nothing so much as an old-fashioned - though newly expressed - determination
to insist upon the prerogative of each race and community to govern its
own affairs and, where necessary, to throw off the yoke of the foreigner.
Let us now turn to consider whether the United
Nations, representing a lofty idealism on the part of many of its creators,
but handicapped and limited as it is by the other matters to which I have
referred, reduces in any way the urgent importance of the British Commonwealth to British people.
Perhaps it will aid clarity of thought and expression
on this urgent matter if I set out what appear to me to be two convincing
reasons why the British Commonwealth must remain our
first preoccupation:
(1) I have already discussed the vexed question
of the veto on the Security Council and of the striking limitation which
it imposes upon either the need or the capacity of the United Nations to
maintain substantial international military forces.
The stark result of these considerations can
be set down in a few sentences.
History
has shown that great wars which threaten mankind are wars which involve
great powers. If
a great power is once again to assume the role of aggressor, an international
law-breaker, resistance to that power must be provided by the strength
of some other great power or powers.
As that resistance cannot, by reason of the
Charter, be organized or controlled by the Security Council, it must be organized
or controlled outside the Council. In other words, the matter must
go as though there were no United Nations at all. This being so, a strong,
well-knit, and well-armed British Commonwealth is just as essential today
as far-seeing men believed it was in 1938.
(2) The
San Francisco Conference deliberately separated the United Nations from
the Peace Settlements necessary to liquidate the world war.
If
I may quote Dr Evatt's
words:
The Charter was designed to create an international
organization which could maintain peace in the future; not an organization
to finish off the war or to make the Peace Settlements.
This
enormously important consideration has been overlooked, not only by some
extravagant critics of the United Nations, but also by most of its more
extravagant champions. There
has been a widespread disposition to say that the United Nations has failed
because, for example, in Europe the just settlement of the problems of Germany has not yet really been approached.
I
point out that while there are grave defects in the United Nations' conception
and structure, the blame for the state of affairs in Europe and in East Asia cannot properly
be attached to it.
The extravagant friends of the United Nations
have themselves contributed to this misapprehension by their single-minded
attempts to concentrate public interest upon the doings of the United Nations
as if it were the one instrument for the pacification of the world and as
if we therefore owed to it our first thought and presumably our first loyalty.
The simple truth is that if the Peace Settlements
are not the function of the United Nations, those Settlements must be negotiated
and achieved outside the United Nations. This in turn means that
the Settlement of Europe must be a matter between the victorious belligerents
on the one hand (all of them, not some of them!) and the defeated
powers on the other.
Once we rid our minds of the rather confused
notion that the Security Council or the General Assembly of the United Nations
has something to do with the resettlement of Europe, we will see much more
vividly the elementary truth that such settlement cannot be achieved with
the speed or justice which it merits unless both the United States and the
British Commonwealth are able to go into negotiations with the maximum of
strength and authority.
It
is useless to think that we solve problems by ignoring them. If the British
Commonwealth is to be regarded merely as a series of separate even if respectable
fragments, then inevitably the settlement of Europe will tend to become
a contest between the Soviet Union on the one hand and the United States
on the other, with the European powers little more than pawns in the game,
and with Great Britain acting more or less precariously as an intermediary.
But if the Commonwealth countries co-operate,
then they can not only alter the character of the contest, but can make an
immense contribution to European peace.
It is, I believe, essential to the welfare of Europe
and therefore of mankind that the British voice in the European Settlement
should be both strong and clear. For if the United Kingdom is to speak only
for itself, if it is to go to the conference table weakened to that extent,
absorbed by the domestic problems of its own economic crisis, it will suffer
inevitably from what Kipling called 'the webbed and inward-turning eye',
and what should be a settlement will tend to become an old-fashioned bilateral
contest between the Communist autocracy of Russia and the democratic Capitalism
of the United States.
I would not be thought to deprecate in any way
the immense interest and the crucial importance of the United States in these matters. That
amazing country has twice in our lifetimes come to the rescue of freedom
in Europe and therefore has, in relation to Europe,
a vital interest and a noble mission. But she is not a European country
in the sense that France is,
or in the sense that the United
Kingdom is. Britain,
steeped in European history and politics, wise and experienced over the centuries,
can contribute, as perhaps no other power can, to a just settlement.
Indeed,
it seems unlikely that there will be a good and lasting European settlement
without a vital and powerful contribution from her. If that contribution
is to be made, it is quite clear that there must be the maximum integration
of Commonwealth effort, so that not only may her internal economic problems
be relieved but her strength in the Council Chamber undoubted.
But it is still clear that a closely-knit st1:place w:st="on">British
Commonwealth, though it will have great strength, cannot for very long stand
alone. This simple but cogent truth has been demonstrated in both of the
great wars in this century. We must therefore consider what is our greatest
practical international problem, that of our relations with the United States. We do badly
to think this problem is a simple one. There are those who seem to feel
that America's colossal
unitary strength makes British Commonwealth corporate
strength less important.
'The centre of gravity of democracy', they say, 'has
moved West. Let us accordingly rearrange not only
our policies but our point of view. Great Britain is vulnerable
and economically hard-pressed. Canada is
in the American orbit. South Africa is troubled
and internally uneasy. The new nations of the Indian sub-continent are moving
away from us. We are on the defensive in South-East
Asia. Australia and New Zealand are isolated and not rich in numbers. Let
us be realistic, think less of our old associations and move as far as possible
into the American hemisphere.' That is one view, not without some currency. It
is in my opinion a pessimistic and distorted, and, therefore, unreal view.
To
me is seems fantastic to suppose that a British Commonwealth which has
performed such prodigies twice in the last two generations should be so
casually discarded as worn-out or purposeless. It is perhaps
not an inappropriate occasion to say that, in the two great testing periods
of this century, the British family of nations has demonstrated its strength
and its vitality, not its weakness or its decadence.
A
second view goes to the other extreme. It
has been unconsciously influenced by the subtle and pervasive Communist propaganda
about 'American Imperialism'. It says in effect that we should avoid American
involvement and retain our character as a third power, independently placed,
taking no sides hastily, acting as the honest broker in the disputes between
the totalitarian East and the democratic West. This
view, which I have encountered in some places, is a form of isolationism
which has no relation to modern international life. The truth, as I see
it, can be put into a few sentences. We, the British peoples of the world,
need the Americans. The Americans need us. America has on two historic occasions learned
that the peace of the world is not divisible. On two occasions, in a war
which many of her people thought no business of theirs, she has become a
belligerent and has in the final result weighed down the scales in favour
of freedom. It is, therefore, idle to say to any
enlightened American that what happens in Europe is no concern of his, or
that what happens to Australia or New
Zealand is no concern of his. He knows that predominant
power means predominant responsibility. He knows that the overthrow of Great Britain would mean domination of Europe by the common enemy and would lead to an American isolation,
not merely ominous, but disastrous for the American people. He therefore
knows that Great Britain is a bastion of liberty, and Western Europe the frontier in any crucial fight. I do not for one
moment believe that any responsible American leader wants to have a weak Great
Britain or a weak British Commonwealth. The
best support for this view is to be found in the magnificent post-war battle
by the United States through Marshall
Aid and other means, for the restoration of the other Western democracies
and for the drawing of a clear line against Imperialist aggression.
Correspondingly, it is impossible to believe
that there is among our own people any jealousy or resentment of America's activities. After
all, America has not become our
friend and defender simply for love of the countries we inhabit. On the
contrary, she knows that, in the most real sense, we are the same kind of
people, with the same ideas, with the same ideals, with the same high faith,
with the same basic belief that governments exist for the people, that they
are the servants and not the masters. It is a tragedy that the world should
be divided at all; but if it is, we may at least be comforted by the recollection
that it is divided between those who believe in the spirit and significance
of man and those who believe in power for its own sake.
It
follows from all this that the American and the British people have strong
bonds not only of common interest but of common spiritual values. The case for our co-operation
is therefore complete. That
there is much work to be done before we arrive at a complete mutual understanding
nobody can doubt. The special arrangement between the British peoples which
found their expression in the Ottawa Agreements may sometimes seem to the
American citizen to represent a policy of exclusion and almost of superiority. Yet
we know that such arrangements were designed merely to develop our internal
strength and give expression to our belief that prosperity within the British
family must tend to reflect itself in prosperity for the rest of the world. We,
in our turn, must recognize that our British Commonwealth policies should
not be pursued in such a fashion as to give rise to a feeling that we regard America as a potential enemy, either economic
or military. Enmity between the British Commonwealth and the United States would indeed be disastrous to the
freedom of man. While we preserve our British character, therefore, we must
be assiduous in the task of establishing not only understanding but co-operation
with the United States. We need each
other.
This may all be well illustrated by reference
to the current movement for Western European unity, in which Great Britain must obviously
play so great a part.
When I was last in the United States a little more than eighteen months
ago, I encountered a disposition in some quarters to think that Great Britain must make her
choice between her own Commonwealth and Western European union. This seemed
and seems to me to be a false choice. It seems to assume that the British
Dominions have no vital concern with Europe, and that Great Britain herself,
therefore, is in the classical position of saying, 'How happy could I be
with either, were t'other fair charmer away.' But
once it is understood that we of the King's Dominions have an interest in Europe,
out of which the two great wars of our history have come, it becomes clear
that the real task is not to make a choice but to make reconciliation. That Great
Britain, now that the old days of keeping the balance
of power in Europe have gone, should accept direct and
primary European responsibilities is inevitable. The
practical task of statesmanship is to see that whatever she does in that
sphere should be done not only in consultation with the other British countries
but with their co-operation. Provided consultation exists not only on the
highest level but with the most complete permanent means of mutual exchange
on facts and view, there is no reason why British participation in Western
European stability should not be in the widest and best sense of the term 'British' and
not merely that of the United Kingdom.
The
wider the interest, the wider should be the co-operation; the more vital
the interest, the more vital should be the participation of all concerned. I
for one am confident that with sensible and sensitive statesmanship the
United States, the United Kingdom, and all the British Commonwealth countries
will find themselves working together and, if necessary, fighting together
to preserve freedom in a world which knows so much about it in theory and
in so many places practises it so little.
Let me return, in conclusion, to the nature of
the British Commonwealth. It is more than a group of
friendly powers. It is more than a series of concerted economic interests. It
is and must be a living thing - not a corpse under the knives of constitutional
dissectors.
It
would be the tragedy of our history if what began as a splendid adventure
and grew into a proud brotherhood should end up as a lawyer's exercise. When
the Commonwealth ceases to be an inner feeling as well as an external association,
virtue will have gone out of it.
In
every war the fires of patriotism burn high. After
every victory they seem to dwindle and smoulder. Sometimes they seem dead. True
sentiment becomes condemned as mere sentimentality, and we become the victims
of a curious reluctance to show abroad our love for and our pride in the
land of our birth and those other lands to which our fathers of old went
with light and liberty. Yet we have much matter for honest pride. When
we suddenly realize that a great country like India has
at a stroke achieved Parliamentary self-government as a Republic, let us
waste no time in melancholy yearnings after the past.
Let us, on the contrary, remember that Parliamentary
government, democratic public administration, the rule of law, the justice
of right and not of privilege, were our peculiar British gifts to India. That
the people of India should have proved apt pupils is no matter
for regret; it was, on the contrary, the end purpose of our presence. I
would like to be able to say to all the British people of the world, if they
cared to listen to so small a voice, that our true brotherhood must be a
matter of feeling and not merely a matter of thought; no vain
glory, no arrogant sense of power, no jingoism, but an unquenchable sense
of common destiny and common duty and common instinct. To many people the British
Commonwealth is a curious machine that has worked; looking to the outsider
rather like a Heath Robinson invention; but relied upon by mankind twice
during this century, to their great deliverance. But
what does it mean to you? I think I know what it means to me. May I break
through our usual polite reticences and tell you?
To me it means (and here you will find a curious
jumble in both time and place) a cottage in the wheat lands of the North-West
of the State of Victoria, with the Bible and Henry Drummond and Jerome K.
Jerome and The Scottish Chiefs and Burns on the shelves. It means
the cool green waters of the Coln as they glide
past the church at Fairford; the long sweep of
the Wye Valley above Tintern, with a Wordsworth
in my pocket; looking north across the dim Northumbrian moors from the Roman
Wall, with the rowan trees on the slope before me, and two thousand years
of history behind; old colour and light and soaring stone in York Minster. It
means King George and Queen Mary coming to their Jubilee in Westminster Hall
as Big Ben chimed out and Lords and Commons bowed, and, as they bowed, saw
beyond the form of things to a man and a woman greatly loved. It means Chequers,
and, from the crest beyond, that microcosm of history in which you may, with
one sweeping glance, see the marks of British trenches, the 'Roman Road to
Wendover', the broad Oxford plains, and (by the merest twist)
the plumed figure of John Hampden walking through the fields to the church
whose spire is just to be seen, at Great Kimble, to address the gentlemen
of Buckinghamshire on Shipmoney. It means, at
Chequers, Winston Churchill, courage and confidence radiating from him, the
authentic note of the British lion in his voice, the listening world marvelling
at how such triumph could be built upon such disaster. It means the Royal
Mile at Edinburgh, and a toast from kilted clansmen in
the Valley of the Tay, and a sudden cold wind as I came one day up from a Yorkshire dale. It means laughter in Lancashire, Jack Hulburt
and Cicely Courtneidge. It means Australian boys in
tired but triumphant groups at Tobruk and Benghazi;
Cunningham at Alexandria, with his flashing blue eyes,
talking to me of the Australian, Waller; Australian airmen in Canada, in Great Britain, all over the world. It means,
at Canberra, at Wellington, at Ottawa,
at Cape Town, the men of Parliament meeting as those
met at Westminster seven hundred years ago; at Melbourne the lawyers practising the Common Law first forged at Westminster. It
means Hammond at Sydney, and Bradman at
Lords, and McCabe at Trent Bridge, with the ghosts of Grace and
Trumble looking
on. It means a tang in the air; a touch of salt on the lips; a little pulse
that beats and shall beat; a decent pride; the sense of a continuing city. It
means the past ever rising in its strength to forge the future.
Is
all this madness? Should
I have said, as clever, modern men are wont to do, that the British
Commonwealth means an integral association of free and equal nations, whose
mutual rights and obligations you will find set out in the Balfour Formula,
and the Statute of Westminster and later documents? Or should I have watered
it down, as some would have us do and define it in terms of friendship, or
alliance, or pact, as if we were discussing an Anglo-Portuguese treaty?
A
plague take such notions. Unless
the Commonwealth is to British people all over the world a spirit, a proud
memory, a confident prayer, courage for the future, it is nothing.
It may be that the gulfs
will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles
And see the great Achilles, whom we know.
Tho' much is taken, much
abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength
which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic
hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.