MARGINAL COMMENT
By HAROLD NICOLSON
/F I were asked to define the characteristics which differentiate the average Englishman from men of other breeds, I should place in the forefront of my analysis (t) mental indolence and (2) inability to remain angry for long. The other races who share with the English the privilege of inhabiting this congested but agreeable island do not possess these defects and qualities to the same extent. The Scots are not mentally indolent ; the Welsh are capable of nursing resentment. It is possible to contend that the mental indolence of the English is a virtue rather than a defect. M. Jean Bailhache among others has given to it the courteous euphemism of "conservation of nervous energy " ; and it is certainly true that the English tendency to keep calm about ideas produces that tolerant scepticism which renders them so easy to govern. The French,-by contrast, being intellectually vivacious, are apt to persuade themselves that they are wholly in the right and that those who differ from them are wholly wrong ; which explains the complexity of the tasks which have recently assailed M. Schuman, M. Andre Marie and M. Queuille. I should not say that it is a defect in a race (if one can so describe anything so com- posite as the English) to prefer the comforts of recognition to the delights of surprise, to prefer the familiar to the unexpected, the old to the new. And I am quite positive that the English inability to remain angry for long is an excellent virtue of which they have every right to be proud. A recent manifestation of this virtue has been the widespread reaction among the English to the continued trials of war criminals. Such sentiments of anger, such desires for revenge, as may have existed immediately after the war have now been for- gotten. The English do not enjoy reading in the newspapers that elderly German generals are to be tried so long after the event. Being admirably illogical, they are not in the least affected by the argument that what was a crime in 1946 is still a crime in 1948, or that it is unfair upon those already executed if others who may be equally guilty are subsequently allowed to escape. It is simply that they are temperamentally incapable of remaining angry for very long ; and I for one regard this inability as a charming characteristic.
* * * * , The sense of fair play which the English can rightly claim to be among their more distinctive virtues became a notable feature of their character towards the end of the eighteenth century. It is one of the gentler attributes of overwhelming security and power. Now that our security is no longer absolute and our power no longer overwhelming there is a danger that this lovely quality may decline. In the nineteenth century, for instance, the love of fairness rendered the English peculiarly sensitive to any breach of the right of asylum.
p It flattered their self-esteem to feel that any foreign refugee who was once able to set foot on English soil should at once acquire the protection of our laws and customs. They were flattered when they were hailed by foreign liberals as the protectors of the oppressed. Warmly did they support their Government in resisting the com- plaints of foreign Governments that these refugees were in fact dangerous revolutionaries exploiting the security accorded to them in England to hatch their nefarious plots. All manner of gifted and subversive men were thus granted asylum in this country, and the streets of Bloomsbury or Soho were gay with the chatter of escaped Carlists, Piedmontese, French Communists and Polish rebels. In later years the sanctity of the principle of asylum became blurred by the suspicion felt by the trades unions that foreign refugees might diminish the stock of employment available to British workers. And after the last war the principle of asylum was almost negatived by the commitments entered into regarding the surrender of "war criminals."
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A most intricate problem was thereby created. Men who had been captured by our forces, or taken refuge within our zones of occupa- tion, were accused by their own Governments of having collaborated with the enemy or of having committed atrocities during the course of the war. It was extremely difficult to obtain evidence inculpating these individuals, nor was it possible to suppose that, if handed over to their own authorities, they would be accorded trials such as we should regard as in conformity with the rules of evidence or the principles of justice. It was most unpleasant to be obliged by some vague general undertaking to surrender people who had taken asylum with us, and of whose ultimate fate, if once surrendered, there could be but little doubt. All manner of " screening" methods were adopted to ensure that only those against whom a prima facie case could be established would be handed over to their own authorities ; many individuals were saved by these methods from what would have meant certain liquidation. As always happens in this free country, unofficial committees immediately sprang up with the purpose of providing these stateless people with at least some organisation which could render them advice and assistance. There was the Refugees Defence Committee under the chairmanship of Lord Beveridge and the British League for European Freedom under the chairmanship of the Duchess of Atholl. These Committees have been able, by interviewing responsible Ministers, and by exerting a certain amount of parliamentary pressure, to induce a not unwilling Government to limit the number of those handed over to cases in which a real prima facie indictment could be established. The Yugoslav Govern- ment, for instance, were demanding the surrender of many hun4reds of their citizens who were in our custody ; by careful screening the list of those to be handed over was reduced to nineteen persons, against whom there was real evidence. On June 23rd Lord Hender- son, for the Government, reaffirmed the principle of asylum: on July 26th Mr. Mayhew in the House of Commons gave an assurance that no further Yugoslays would be surrendered.
An almost perfect example of the working of free institutions, unofficial committees and the ordinary British sense of fairness is provided by the case of Dr. Dering. The charge against him was that, when employed as a surgeon in the camp at Auschwitz, he had performed under German orders experimental operations upon his fellow prisoners. The Polish Government demanded his extradition as a war criminal, and Dr. Dering was placed in Brixton prison pending investigation. His friends in this country induced the Duchess of Atholl's committee to take up his case. It was found that all the charges against him, with one exception, were based upon hearsay evidence ; at the same time as many as forty-seven of his fellow prisoners at Auschwitz sent written testimony in his favour. It was evident that, if Dr. Dering were extradited to Poland, all the evidence against him would be taken as valid and none of the wit- nesses for his defence would be admitted. Mr. Chuter Ede, faced with this predicament, took an unprecedented step. He asked the Chief Metropolitan Magistrate to conduct a private investigation in strictly legal form. All those methods which with us are customary when a denial of justice is threatened were then employed ; the Duchess of Atholl started to make herself a nuisance ; questions were asked in Parliament ; Dr. Gilbert Murray wrote a letter to The Times. The single witness who had contended that he himself had been operated upon by Dr. Dering was brought over from France. An identification parade was held in the courtyard of Brixton prison. The witness failed to identify Dr. Dering, and in fact stated that the man who had operated upon him at -Auschwitz was older than any of those present at the identification parade. Dr. Dering was released and the Polish Government informed that extradition could not be granted.
The main credit for this agreeable story falls to Mr. Chuter Ede. Had he not insisted upon a formal inquiry, Dr. Dering would have been sent back to Poland with inevitable results. But the saving of this man's life does show us that our institutions, illogical and tiresome though they may appear, do prevent the denial of justice. And that such methods as unofficial committees, parliamentary questions, and letters to The Times (which we are apt to take for granted) do in fact constitute the foundations of our own liberty and the safeguard of the sacred right of asylum.
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