Island Stories: Britain and Its History in the Age of Brexit

Empire, power and greatness

Britain would never have risen so high but for the ‘multiplier’ effect of empire. It was the empire which made Britain great. At the start of the twentieth century Britain and Ireland had only 42 million people, whereas the population of the USA was 76 million and of Tsarist Russia 133 million. When the inhabitants of Britain’s overseas territories were included, however, the arithmetic looked different. At its peak after the Great War, the British Empire covered nearly a quarter of the earth’s land surface and encompassed a similar proportion of its population, over 500 million in all. France accounted for only 9 per cent of the earth’s land surface and 108 million of its people.[55] At times of crisis the empire could serve as a vast resource of material and manpower. During the Great War the British government mobilised 6.7 million men from Britain and Ireland, but 3 million more came from the empire – nearly half of these from India.[56] In 1939–45 the imperial contribution was yet more pronounced: while the UK mobilised 5.9 million, the so-called ‘white dominions’ – Canada, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa – raised nearly 2.5 million and India over 2 million.[57]

Mindful of such statistics, some historians have castigated British leaders for ‘losing’ the empire, because that diminished the country’s ability to compete with the continent-sized superpowers. Correlli Barnett, for instance, argued that if the British had not lost their nerve, they could have held on to India by ‘resolute autocracy’.[58] Yet it was not willpower but hard power that mattered. And, to quote again the German commentator Constantin Frantz in 1882, Britain was really ‘an artificial worldpower’ (eine künstliche Weltmacht) because ‘the territorial base of this power was just a European country’ and its resources came from colonies spread out across the oceans which were tied to Britain only ‘through the threads of the fleet’ and ‘these threads could all be broken or cut’.[59] This was not a vast continental empire commanding adjacent terrain, unlike the United States and the Soviet Union after each had surmounted its crisis of civil war – in 1861–5 and 1917–22 respectively.

This lack of a contiguous continental empire was Britain’s basic weakness as a world power. But almost as significant was the diversity of its colonial territories. The empire emerged haphazardly, with little coordination from London. There were leftovers in Canada and the Caribbean from the pre-1776 American colonies; spoils from the wars against France, of which India was the most important; the fruits of creeping imperialism in West Africa as weak tribal governments caved in before the advance of European commerce, conquest and culture; pre-emptive strikes in South and East Africa in the late nineteenth century to block European rivals; and the carve-up of the decaying Ottoman Empire before and after the Great War, including territories such as Egypt astride the Suez Canal, oil-rich Iraq and the poisoned chalice of Palestine.

Nor did Britain truly ‘own’ these diverse ‘possessions’. British control was usually superficial. In colonies settled by white emigrants from the UK, who dominated the indigenous population, successive London governments gradually followed the path of increasing devolution. This pattern began in Canada in the 1840s and was extended to the other white-settler colonies in Australasia and southern Africa during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. By 1931, when the London Parliament’s residual authority was abrogated, the Dominions – as the white-settler colonies were known – were effectively independent in all domestic affairs. Although still dependent on Britain for defence, the main bond linking them with Britain was that of loyalty to the country from which many of them, or their parents, had only recently emigrated in the early decades of the twentieth century. This ‘Britannic nationalism’ was a potent force in mobilising support for the ‘mother country’ in the two world wars. In the 1930s, for instance, over 95 per cent of Australians and nearly 50 per cent of Canadians were of British stock.[60]

This policy of measured devolution was adopted in colonies where there was a large British settler community and also the capacity for fiscal independence. ‘Non-white’ colonies were treated differently because, until well after 1945, they were generally thought incapable of self-government. In these cases the British employed more autocratic and paternalistic methods, with an unelected government headed by a British Governor exercising certain devolved powers under supervision from London. Much of the dependent empire was run in this way as Crown Colonies. Even where there seemed little benefit to Britain – as in West Africa, the West Indies or the Falklands – London clung on for fear that a rival power might acquire the territories or because these lacked a natural ethnic or political viability. At the same time the British tried to minimise the costs of continued rule, thereby turning a blind eye to the problems of poverty and underdevelopment unless, as in the 1930s Caribbean, these colonies exploded in serious disorder. This was empire on the cheap: Britain was getting little out but putting little in.

Between the Dominions and the Crown Colonies stands the special case of India. There Britain supplanted the Mughal emperors as the paramount power. In what was called British India they ruled directly through the Indian Civil Service, headed by a European elite of only 1,300. In some six hundred princely states, covering a third of the sub-continent, they ruled indirectly through hereditary lords who handled all but defence and foreign policy under the eye of a British ‘Resident’. British influence over a population numbering over 300 million in 1900 essentially depended on alliances with local landed and commercial leaders and on the Western-educated Indians who filled the clerical grades of British administration. Despite early Victorian waves of evangelical and reforming zeal, Indians – as elsewhere in the empire – were largely left to their own religious, social and cultural practices, except when order was threatened or British interests jeopardised.

In India, those interests were substantial. Around 1900 Britain provided 60 per cent of India’s imports – particularly textiles, machinery and iron and steel products – and used the surplus generated to balance its deficits on trade with continental Europe and North America. Even more important was the Indian army. In 1914, its strength of 160,000 fighting troops – one-third of them British – represented half of Britain’s peacetime military strength: vital manpower for a country with no tradition of military conscription. And this was also a cut-price army: India, in Lord Salisbury’s phrase, was ‘an English barrack in the Oriental seas from which we may draw any number of troops without paying for them’.[61] More precisely, the Government of India paid out of its own tax revenues for the peacetime army in India and for the basic costs of troops serving overseas. During the Great War, 1.3 million Indian troops were sent abroad – from France to Gallipoli to East Africa – and they played a particularly significant role in the defeat of the Ottoman Turks, bringing Palestine and Iraq under British control.

Looking back now, the great British Empire seems like a bit of a con. How could so many be ruled for so long by so few? Admittedly, there were positive forces promoting acceptance of British imperial rule: the ties of ‘Britishness’ in the settler colonies, for instance, and the networks of clientage in India and elsewhere. But ultimately empire rests on force, or the threat of force, and for much of the Victorian era this could be exerted through superior British military technology. The Royal Navy may have faced growing European challengers, but it needed only a few steam-driven gunboats to overwhelm the Chinese junks and open up that country to European trade in the mid-nineteenth century. The British army may have been comical as far as Bismarck’s Europe was concerned, but it was quite sufficient to handle most threats on the imperial periphery. At the battle of Omdurman in 1898, General Horatio Kitchener’s army – including the young Winston Churchill – won control of the Sudan at the cost of only 368 men. His adversary, the Khalifa, lost 11,000: massacred by 3,500 shells and half a million bullets. In the pithy couplet of Hilaire Belloc:

Whatever happens we have got

The Maxim Gun, and they have not.[62]

Underpinning superior force was the potency of racial prestige – a point underlined by the colonial administrator Frederick Lugard. In Africa and India, he said in 1890, ‘the native looks on it as a sacrilege to touch a Sahib, and also expects little short of death from the Sahib if he should try conclusions. To this prestige the white man owes his ascendancy, and it must at any price be maintained, just as one would with a brute beast.’[63] Acute awareness of these ‘intangibles’ of prestige and credibility was voiced by Sir Alexander Cadogan of the Foreign Office during the Czech crisis with Germany in September 1938. ‘I know’, he wrote in his diary, ‘we are in no position to fight: but I’d rather be beat than dishonoured. How can we look a foreigner in the face after this? How can we hold Egypt, India and the rest?’[64]

In the nineteenth century, Britain struck out. In the twentieth century the empire struck back, especially in the era of the two world wars which opened up extensive opportunities for anti-colonial nationalists. In many British dependencies, new political organisations took shape, extracting concessions from the colonial authorities, which in turn gradually reduced their control over local policy and resources. The pattern of Dominion devolution was replicated, reluctantly, elsewhere – with the Indian case being especially important. Fiscal autonomy, conceded after serious disturbances in 1919, allowed the Indians to construct a tariff wall against British goods; this helped to ruin the Lancashire textile industry. When war began again in 1939, London agreed to pay for the extraordinary costs of using Indian troops; this resulted in a £1.3 billion British debt to India, equivalent to roughly one-fifth of Britain’s GDP.[65] All this changed the cost-benefit analysis of holding on to India. At the same time the diffusion of military technology evened up the military imbalance between rulers and ruled. In 1946, for instance, less than half a century after Omdurman, a bunch of Jewish insurgents, using seven milk churns filled with TNT, blew up the King David Hotel in Jerusalem – the nerve-centre of British power in Palestine. Ninety-one perished, and with them much of Britain’s determination to hang on to its troubled Mandate. Ties with the white Dominions also weakened after 1945, as British migration tailed off; other ethnicities flowed in, and a keener sense of national identity was created. Australia led the way, but this was true even in New Zealand, previously the most ‘loyal’ of Dominions. In South Africa the bonds had always been weaker because of the dominance of the ex-Dutch Afrikaners, while in Canada the Francophone community and the neighbouring USA had long exerted their own countervailing pulls.

For Tories such as Margaret Thatcher and Jacob Rees-Mogg, Suez in 1956 was a crucial moment in Britain’s ‘decline’ – sapping the will to power – and also an episode that (in ways that that neither chose to specify) could have turned out differently. In reality, however, Suez – though making a big splash politically, especially within the Tory party – was ‘little more than an eddy in the fast-flowing stream of history’.[66] Prime Minister Anthony Eden’s military operation to regain control of the Suez Canal was an act of desperation by a sick man, who was often running a temperature of 105 because of a botched operation on his gall bladder. He deliberately excluded most of Whitehall, including the Foreign Office, Treasury and Joint Intelligence Committee. It was also at odds with underlying post-war verities of British foreign policy. Collusion with Israel – supposedly covert but in fact embarrassingly transparent – ran against traditional British cooperation with the Arab states, while the failure to consult the United States, leading to a Washington-induced run on sterling, breached the basic post-war axiom of keeping in step with the Americans.

By the 1950s, ministers and officials recognised that defence commitments had outstripped national income and also that, in the thermonuclear era, British security depended on its role as junior partner in a ‘special relationship’ with the United States. Suez was therefore an aberration from the pattern of post-war British foreign policy – a contingent moment reflecting the personality of a particular leader, rather than a fundamental turning point in British history. At most, it dramatised to the world – and to the British public – the limitations on British power that were already common knowledge in Westminster and Whitehall.

If one is looking for a moment that was both psychologically traumatic and geopolitically significant, it is necessary to go back to the Second World War. Not, however, to 1940 – that ‘finest hour’ enshrined in national myth and movies – but to early 1942 when Britain’s Southeast Asian Empire crumbled in the face of a Japanese blitzkrieg. The attack on Pearl Harbor formed the curtain-raiser to an audacious series of combined operations by Japan’s land, naval and air forces that not only evicted the British from Hong Kong, Malaya and Singapore in a few weeks, but did so in a way that dramatically undermined key fundamentals of Britain’s global position. The supremacy of modern airpower over traditional seapower was demonstrated in December 1941 when Britain’s only two capital ships guarding its Asian Empire, Prince of Wales and Repulse, were sunk in a couple of hours by Japanese torpedo-bombers. ‘In all the war I never received a more direct shock,’ wrote Churchill in his memoirs. ‘As I turned over and twisted in bed the full horror of the news sunk in upon me.’ Across the Pacific and Indian Oceans ‘Japan was supreme, and we everywhere were weak and naked.’ That nakedness was then totally exposed by the fall of Singapore in February 1942 to inferior Japanese forces. Some 80,000 British and empire soldiers marched off into captivity in what Churchill called ‘the worst disaster and largest capitulation in British history’.[67] For some weeks India and Australia seemed in danger.

Churchill himself admitted the extent of Britain’s global overstretch in 1941–2, telling the Commons: ‘There never has been a moment, there never could have been a moment, when Great Britain or the British Empire, single-handed, could fight Germany and Italy, could wage the Battle of Britain, the Battle of the Atlantic and the Battle of the Middle East and at the same time stand thoroughly prepared in Burma, the Malay Peninsula, and generally in the Far East against the impact of a vast military empire like Japan.’[68]

Although the Japanese tide was eventually turned – largely by the US Navy – and Britain regained most of its Asian Empire, the damage done in 1942 proved lasting. Newsreel film and press photos of British officers in their baggy shorts signing the articles of surrender in Singapore and then marching off into Japanese prisoner-of-war camps were beamed around the world, shattering the image of racial superiority that, as Lugard had rightly asserted, was so essential to British power. No longer could imperial loyalty be assumed. And the panic offer of independence to India in the crisis of 1942, though not enacted then, had to be honoured after the war – beginning the domino-like process of decolonisation.

In short, 1940–2 – from the fall of France to the fall of Singapore – was nothing less than a ‘strategic catastrophe’ for Britain’s global position. It constituted the ‘real turning point’,[69] forcing the British into the expedient of peacetime conscription that was not sustainable in the long term, and into dependence on a force-multiplier alliance with the American superpower. The standard national narrative emphasises 1940 – heroic evacuation from Dunkirk and victory in the battle of Britain – while ‘the import of the imperial disasters of 1941–2 has been obscured’.[70] In the country’s global history, however, Singapore matters far more than Suez.

Affluence, heritage and history

Britain’s current position in the world rankings of wealth and power does not compare with what it was 150 years ago. As has been suggested, this is hardly surprising: the country’s rise was remarkable but not the diminution in its standing when more populous and resource-rich states caught up and global decolonisation took hold. Yet this is not the whole story.

‘The British Empire declined; the condition of the people improved’: that was A. J. P. Taylor’s verdict on 1914 to 1945.[71] Taking the twentieth century as a whole, observes David Cannadine, the ‘age of decline’ was also ‘the age of affluence.’[72] Notwithstanding periodic hand-wringing about British economic performance, the country remains one of the richest in the world. At the end of the twentieth century, in income per head, Britain was ‘right in the middle of the range among big Western European countries (a little higher than Germany and Italy, a little lower than France), but on a world scale plainly very rich’.[73] Whatever the country’s changing place in world rankings, since the Industrial Revolution the British have been ‘beneficiaries of developments which in every generation’ have left them ‘richer than their predecessors’.[74]

The problem is: which British? The fruits of affluence have not been evenly shared across the population. Over the last century, the British economy has undergone radical restructuring. Just as Britain was in the vanguard of industrialisation – the shift of labour from the primary sector (farming, mining) to the secondary (the manufacturing industry) – so it also led a further shift to service industries (the tertiary sector) which today accounts for around 80 per cent of GDP. Even though there remains in some quarters an assumption that ‘manufacturing’ in more traditional forms such as steel, ships and motor vehicles is the mark of a great nation, this process of ‘tertiarisation’ is the norm for most developed Western countries. The USA, Germany and France are all around the 80 per cent level, but ‘in Britain the process of deindustrialisation has gone further and faster than just about anywhere else.’[75]

And the human cost has been considerable, especially at two points during the twentieth century. First, in the 1920s and 1930s, a whole generation of workers in staple industries such as coal, steel, textiles and shipbuilding experienced long-term structural unemployment. Their iconic protest was the Jarrow March from Tyneside to London in October 1936. And then the even more precipitous slump from the 1970s in what was left of those sectors and across heavy industry as a whole. Between 1971 and 1999 the proportion of workers in manufacturing halved, from 34 per cent to under 16 per cent, while employment in the service sector rose from 54 per cent to 72 per cent – with most of that growth coming in financial and business services: up from 6 per cent to over 18 per cent of the workforce.[76] In both phases, deindustrialisation was mainly the result of sharp foreign competition from lower-wage developing economies, but it has been accentuated by the policy decisions of various British governments – privileging the gold standard in the 1920s, sticking to monetary targets and breaking union power in the Thatcher era. The consequence in each case was high levels of unemployment and enduring social deprivation in regions that had been heavily dependent on a single economic activity or enterprise – a coal mine, steel mill or car factory, with the old industrial heartlands of northern England, South Wales and Clydeside hardest hit. This process has tended to exacerbate the sense of a North–South divide – with prosperity most evident in London, the Home Counties and parts of the Midlands. This fed into the pro-Brexit vote in June 2016.