TOPICS OF THE DAY.
THE TRAGICAL FOOD FARCE.
TF the matter were not one of such vital import, it would 1 be difficult to forbear smiling at the position assumed by Ministers on the issue of Food v. Drink. The situation as it stands to-day can only be described as tragically farcical. An old and well-tried convention of the comic stage is con- cerned with a name or word which everybody is under a solemn pledge not to mention. The laughter of the audience is evoked by the way in which the persons of the farce are always either half betraying their secret, or else very skilfully skating over and around the thin ice. The leading lady and the first walking gentleman keep us on tenter-hooks that they will let it out in the first scene, while the comic man actually shouts the word and the situation is only saved by his confi- dant being stone-deaf. If we remember rightly, Charles Lamb's one excursion into the dramatic world was entitled Mr. H.—the play which he was compelled himself to hiss on the first night. The plot turned upon the fact that the hero's real name was Hogsflesh, though no one of course was allowed to mention it, or even to appear to know it, till the " curtain." In the Government farce the word which nobody must mention is "Intoxicants." The Prime Minister has given us a first-rate example this week. In his letter to the President of the Free Church Council he says : " We have to combat in every corner of the land the enemy of waste." Now, we say to ourselves, we have got it. The word is coming. It will be in the next sentence. Not a bit of it ! Oft skates the Premier, and we laugh at our own discomfiture. " Sold again ! " It is full-blown farce. Again we are forced to admire the skilful way in which Ministers adjure the nation to give up all its luxuries, to practise thrift, to adopt self-sacrifice, and to ask for nothing which will increase the burden on our merchant shipping—and yet avoid even the suggestion that any- body has or ever could have anything to give up in the way of intoxicants. We have a ration of honour, for beef and mutton, for chickens and rabbits, and for wheat and sugar—unless of course the sugar should appear in the form of intoxicants. Then obviously no idea of rationing is applicable. One is reminded, indeed, of the railway porter in Charles Keene's immortal picture :—" Cats is dogs, and parrots is dogs, and so is rabbits, but this 'ere tortoise is a inseck, and so there's no charge for he." "Bacon and rabbits are meat, and so are small birds, and chocolates are sugar, but this 'ere beer and whisky's intoxicants, and so there ain't no rations for them."
What Mr. Lloyd George is going to say in his speech we do not know, for we write on Thursday. If he adheres to the Ministerial policy as practised up fill now, and loyally plays his part in the roaring tragical food farce, the substance of his speech can easily be guessed. He will implore us in impassioned tones to waste nothing. He will put us on our honour to avoid every kind of extravagance. He will announce that till the war is over a long list of unnecessary imports are to be cut off in order to free shipping—a most wise course. But though he will go very near to letting out the fatal word that would end the farce, he will leave it unspoken.
Should this prove to be the policy which he adopts, he may save himself some momentary Ministerial difficulties, but we are confident, though we say it with deep regret, that he will have doomed his Administration to disaster. Ministries from many points of view are like newspapers. They fail or succeed by prestige. They are regarded by the nation as good or bad, great or little, successful or unsuccessful, not by tho way in which they evade but by the way in which they meet and overcome difficulties and dangers. Public agreement with Government policy is no doubt an important matter, but it is not nearly so important as the establishment of the belief that Ministers mean business, that they know their own minds, and that they are determined, while they are in office, to be masters and to carry things, if need be, with a high hand. The present writer was once told a luciferous " story of Disraeli which shows his unfailing gift for politics, and his instinctive recognition of the facts that what maintains a Ministry is prestige, and that prestige is to be gained by victory and not merely by avoiding defeat. Disraeli was instructing his Parliamentary draughtsman upon the clauses of the Reform Bill of 1867, " the leap in the dark " Bill, which he, as Conservative Premier supported by only a minority in the Commons, was passing over the heads of the Liberals. Instead of trying to evade or conceal his difficulties, he insisted, whether logical or not, that the most contentious and aggresiva part of the measure should appear in the first three clauses. He wanted, he said, at all risks a victory on the first night in Committee. If he won, the prestige thus acquired would carry him triumphantly through the rest of his difficulties. If he lost, it only proved that he was doomed to failure. If Mr. Lloyd George is wise, he will follow this example. Sooner or later he has got to tackle the question whether beer is or is not to be preferred to bread, and the sooner he comes to grips with it the better. By evading the issue he may placate the Trade and keep his Cabinet together, but he is going to lose the confidence of the best part of the country, the confi- dence of those who demand firmness in .government. For the vast majority of Englishmen the strongest condemnation that can be applied to any course of action is contained in the words, " It isn't business." Who can possibly say that it is business to implore the country to be thrifty in all its habits and expenditure—except where intoxicants are concerned ? How can any Government possibly retain the respect of a common-sense nation if they dare not mention such words as " alcohol " and " intoxicants " ?
If Mr. Lloyd George frees himself from the trammels of party and Parliamentary prudence and tells the country what we are sure is in his heart, and insists that we are not to fight this war with a glass in one hand and a sword in the other, he will carry the whole nation with him. If he has not the courage to do that, then there can be only one end, though it may be postponed for several months—the end which always meets the usurper who hesitates. We apply the word " usurper " to Mr. Lloyd George in no offensive sense but in its original meaning—that of one who " assumes " power. All history teaches that the usurper can only retain the power he has assumed if he uses it greatly and fearlessly. He must play the part of a Cromwell, not of a Taper or a Tadpole. Mr. Lloyd George's star has reached the zenith. It is he and no one else who must now decide whether it shall immediately decline or remain in the ascendant.
Before we leave the subject of this article we must ask our readers' indulgence to say a word or two as to our own position. As will be inferred from a letter signed " G. L." in our corre- spondence columns and from other indications, an effort is being made on the part of our opponents—i.e., those who hold that in the last resort beer must be preferred to bread, or at any rate put on an equality with it—to represent us as fanatical teetotalers, persons whose opinion upon the whole of this question must be discounted, or rather ignored, because of want of sanity and moderation where the question of drink is involved. We are described as belonging to that class of foolish people who think that all alcohol is deadly poison, and that a man is to be put out of court if he dares to drink his glass of beer or wine or his moderate portion of whisky. There is of course no ground whatever for this version of the opinions and policy of the Spectator. We do not hold that the consumption of alcohol in moderation is a crime—though we of course agree with the universal opinion of mankind that excess in alcohol, like excess in the taking of drugs, is a terrible evil. Therefore wo do not desire or advocate Prohibition after the war. We have, however, come to the conclusion that after the war the element of private profit ought to be eliminated from the sale and manufacture of intoxicants. Tho trade in alcohol is not one which it is safe, for social and political reasons, to leave in private hands.
So much for our Peace policy. Our War policy is simple enough. We have come to the conclusion, and we believe it is a conclusion which must be reached by any man who looks the matter squarely in the face, that the nation simply cannot afford to go on manufacturing and drinking intoxicants whiks it is engaged in the effort to beat the Germans. The prime fact that forbids us winning the war without Prohibition is that intoxicants are made out of food, and we must use every ounce of food for nourishment. Next we want our ships and our railways for war purposes. Therefore they must not be used to carry intoxicants. Lastly, we want every available man for war purposes or for growing food. Therefore we must not employ them in manufacturing, transporting, and selling intoxicants. Here is the Spectator policy. in a sentence: Prohibition during the war ; the elimi- nation of private profit after the war. No one who is both sane and honest can describe that as the policy of the teetotal fanatic. In peace we shall no more grudge the moderate drinker his glass than the moderate smoker his pipe or his cigar.
Previous page
