BOOKS
Suicidal Gesture
BY G. M. CARSTAIRS
41 Do not know,' said Edmund Burke, 'the j method of drawing up an indictment. against an whole people.' History has shown that few indeed have been able to emulate his self- restraint. The pleasure of condemning other nations is only rivalled by that of denouncing the failings of one's own. In recent times, as Henry Fairlie petulantly complains in his open- ing contributions to Encounter's current special number,* there have been all too many 'State of England' pieces. (As an arch-offender, I am inclined to agree.) His 'antipathy to the genre is so intense that one marvels at his willingness to contribute to the symposium at all, and yet it would be much duller without his particular brand of conservative nonconformity.
In his preface, Arthur Koestler depicts the average Englishman as a hybrid between the lion and the ostrich—a lion when at bay, an ostrich most of the rest of the time. At first sight, Fairlie seems intent on living up to the second part of this description: he is doubtful whether we have anything to learn from the Fifth Republic in France or the Federal Re- public in West Germany about the manner of ordering or sustaining a free society—or from them as peoples. It is true that we are being left behind in many ways; perhaps we are inefficient, but we shall get there in the end, somehow. 'I am convinced that the strength of our society lies in the spontaneity of its social decisions. . . . 1 do not expect the Continentals to understand this.'
Fairlie contends that 'the English people are working their way, far more clearly and calmly than those who preach at them, to a quite realistic estimate of their changed position in the world,' and recognises as a basic national characteristic 'an insistence that consideration for the weak should never too littld inform public policy.' A candid social historian might find it difficult to substantiate this claim, but it does credit to this angry writer's heart, as does his concern that we should widen the areas of humanity and compassion in our society.
His piece is followed by a peculiarly dis- gruntled diatribe against the times he has lived through, by Malcolm Muggeridgc. There is a remarkable contrast of temper between this piece and a later one, equally personal and reminiscent, contributed by Cyril Connolly : he, too, has few illusions, but less resentment against his time. On form, Muggeridge can make almost everyone laugh, except his victim of the moment; but here he seems overwhelmed by such a mass of petty tribulations that his tone becomes * Encounter special number, 'Suicide of a Nation,' July, 1963, edited by Arthur Koestler.
querulous and impotent, like an ageing Evelyn Waugh.
These, however, are only the advance guard. The main body of the contributors take their task very seriously, probing, palpating, auscul- tating and finding grave ailments in every organ : at times their seriousness becomes oppressive, so that one recalls Herzen's protest: 'These are not the physicians, they are the disease.'
This is, however, to incur the risk of exhibit- ing ostrichism. There is no getting away from the evidences of our national decline in pro- ductivity, and in our share of the world's export markets, relative to other countries. Several articles touch on common themes: the cultiva- tion of gentlemanly amateurishness in business and in administration, the obsolescence of indus- trial plant, the 'Taboo on Expertise' which is particularly well described by Austcn Albu.
At this point Aidan Crawley introduces some unintentional light relief, in a short article which states in rapidly alternating clauses that Com- munism is of no political significance in Britain and that it is insidiously gaining ground, is on the verge of capturing the AEU, the NUM, the T & GWU and the Labour Party Conference itself. A much more serious critique of the trade union movement comes from John Cole, who shows that traditionalism and the per- sistence of fossilised ideas and obsolete union rules present serious obstacles to the effective participation of labour in the transformations of industrial organisation which are now coming about.
No one could accuse Hugh Seton-Watson of being an ostrich. His article 'Commonwealth, Common Market, Common Sense' is refresh- ingly blunt: 'Morally and materially. Britain in 1945 was a Great Power: in 1963 she is neither.' He goes on to demolish the 'myth of the Commonwealth,' which had a firm reality basis when it referred to the old Dominions, but which becomes increasingly unreal vith the addition of each new ex-colonial nation, whose interests are often only nominally allied to those of the other Commonwealth countries. The underdeveloped countries, says Seton-Watson, are a world problem and a Western problem, not just a British problem. For him, clearly, it is in Britain's interest to discard completely the responsibilities of a non-existent Empire and to concentrate on our participation in the newly self-conscious Atlantic Community: 'The people of these islands, especially the young people who are growing up without any consciousness of empire, have still plenty to contribute to Europe. That the British have plenty to learn from Europe is also true.' (Puce Henry Fairlie.) John Mander, assistant editor of Encounter, also believes that the British are creating a surrogate, a fantasy empire to' console for the loss of the real one. Like other writers, he notes ruefully that the countries which were devastated in the war have outstripped us in their recovery, although he does not, like Koestler, dwell on the psychologically invigorating effect of being in- vaded and ruled by alien soldiery. His prescrip- tion for greatness is possession of the hydrogen bomb, so much of his contribution is devoted to attacking CND. It is accompanied by an account (based on a telephone conversation with the director of Sweden's civil defence) of the shelters 'about 100 feet below the rock surface' in which nearly a million Swedes can take rufuge 'for SCA eral weeks if necessary,' and which will be extended until 'a considerable proportion of Sweden's population will be able to breathe the purified air of these modern hecatombs.' Ostriches will swallow anything.
Lord Altrincham vigorously denounces both Houses of Parliament, as survivals of the Middle Ages. In Britain, he insists, the people are not sovereign, but are subjects—and today they are the subjects of Prime Ministerial rule. 'The two Houses of our Parliament, are now, in reality, not the Commons and the Lords, but the Par- liamentary Labour Party and the 1922 Com- mittee--both meeting in camera.' He offers a number of practical remedies, which include more frequent general elections, a lowering of the voting age to eighteen, if not to sixteen, more professional training for politicians, and a proper working day at Westminster; 'and, finally, he argues that Parliament should not only do well but should literally be seen to do well: 'The arrival of the TV camera at Westminster would be as momentous an event as the adoption of universal suffrage.'
The three last contributions deal with 'Sex on these Islands,' with education, and with class- consciousness. They are concerned, in fact, with the need to develop new, more flexible institu- tions in order to cope with a rapidly changing society. Elizabeth Young condemns the public- school stem not only because it perpetuates social inequality, but also because it assumes a belief in the changelessness of the kind of society we live in. John Vaizey. also inveighs against the snob values, as well as the real inequality in standards, and contrasts recent French ex- pansion in higher education with 'the unim- portance of education' in English social history. Unfortunately, his indignation is not sustained enough; his article, and with it the symposium, ends not with a bang but a whimper.
In a summing-up; the editor refers to the recent self-portrait of the middle-class readers of New 'Society drawn from their answers to a questionnaire. They appear to share with every contributor to this number an acceptance of Britain's more modest stature in the world, and to be concerned above all with improving our educational system. Koestler does not harp on the question implied in the sub-title of this special number; but it serves to remind this reviewer of a recent analysis, by two American research workers, of -the contents of some hun- dreds of suicide notes. They found that the notes of really determined suicides could be distinguished from those written by unhappy people before making a suicidal gesture: the latter, but not the former, were always couched in terms which presupposed that the writer would still be alive, and still be reproachful, when the note was read. A similar spirit clearly pervade every item in Koestler's lively farrago.
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