Elite and popular culture: ‘Patriotism and the British intellectuals’ C 1886–1945

0191-6599/89$3 Ml + 0 00 Pergamo” Press

History of EuropeanIdeas, Vol I I. pp 449-466, 1989 Printed in Great Britam

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ELITE AND POPULAR CULTURE: ‘PATRIOTISM AND THE BRITISH INTELLECTUALS’ C 1886-1945 PAUL RICH*

The rise of scholarly interest in the theme of patriotism in British history is, at one level, a matter of some curiosity. British history has, even when written from a radical perspective, exhibited a strong tendency towards a Whiggish perspective that has emphasised the centrality of parliamentary institutions and the operation of ‘good government’ spreading out from the WestminsterWhitehall centre to the cities, towns and villages of the provincial periphery.’ The general feature of this historiography has been the continuous thread of British political and social history which has been seen as escaping any general societal breakdown or revolutionary transformation since the civil war of the middle seventeenth century. As a consequence, the role of political ideologies has often been seen as minimised, while the mobilisation of nationalism has generally been considered a matter for the ‘Celtic fringe’, especially Ireland. Britain, or more particularly England, has as a consequence been considered to have a relatively insular history which escaped the main thrust of nineteenth century nationalism. This estimation of the main theme of British history from at least the early nineteenth century has Ied to a heightened emphasis upon the roie of liberal political values within the thinking of ‘intellectual aristocracy’ of the governing class in London, Oxbridge and the civil service. The political centre has thus been seen as treating doctrines of autocratic state power and hero worship as preached by Carlyle with some disdain, preferring to incorporate, albeit on a somewhat tardy and protracted scale, expanding notions of citizenship imported second hand from the country’s Gallic revolutionary neighbour.z Such citizenship notions, though, did not lead to the full scale incorporation of a doctrine of popular sovereignty into the working of the unwritten constitution but rather to their being added in a somewhat unsystematised manner to a ‘traditional’ and hierarchic political structure anchored upon the notion of gentlemanly status and the idea of the civic obligation of the political classes, engaged in politics at the centre, to the unenfranchised masses in the periphery.3 Given this general estimation of the importance and longevity of the Whig tradition in British history, it has been possible for scholars, until at least the post second world war period, to dismiss the impact of nationalism on British politics as being of comparatively minimal importance. ‘ . . . in England patriotism takes the place of nationalism’, wrote H. Munro Chadwick in 1945, *and English people frequently find it difficult to understand the feeling for nationality shown by other peoples’.4 There was in some degree an element of smug self-satisfaction

*Department

of Politics, University of Warwick, Coventry CV4 7AL, U.K. 449

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involved in this low estimation of nationalism’s impact. It appeared to reflect to some observers, such as the American political scientist Samuel Beer, the centrality of political consensus within the country’s two party political system determined as they were around class and economic issues. In his classic study Modern British Politics in 1965 Beer was struck by the success with which older political doctrines of Toryism and socialism had been attenuated by this operation of consensus and how, overall, the British political system appeared a model of stability in the Western European setting.5 Two decades later the thinking of a number of observers, including Beer, had changed as the British political system appeared to be exhibiting pronounced features of both governmental ‘overload’ and the incapacity of institutions to meet rising economic demands.6 Furthermore, the apparent stability of the 1960s had been shaken by the emergence of devolutionary movements within peripheral areas such as Scotland and Wales as well as the resurfacing of political ideology in party politics and a ‘romantic revolt’ against deferential structurers of class power after a considerable period when it was thought effectively dead.’ This apparent lack of direction, however, appeared to some analysts to have been at least temporarily solved with the emergence of the Thatcher government after 1979 and the resurgance of a ‘new populism’ concerned to mobilise nationalist political symbols, especially in the wake of the Falklands War of 1982. In a manner, therefore, that was unforseen two decades previously, the theme of patriotism has resurfaced within British politics and led a number of scholars to investigate both its historical sources and ideological makeup after a long period when it was treated as a matter of only minimal political importance. This paper will be concerned with examining both these aspects of British patriotism in the twentieth century and will argue that, while there were historical sources of the contemporary patriotism which were under-emphasised by older historians, much of the contemporary nationalism has been a more recent invention by the political elite of the governing centre. In particular the debate on patriotic values in British politics needs to be seen in the context of a decline in an imperial mythology in the 1930s and the emergence of a popular patriotism by the time of the second world war which has served as the central pivot of modern British nationalism.

THE SOURCES

OF BRITISH

NATIONALISM

While it has been argued by some historians of nationalism,’ such as Hans Kohn, that the roots of British nationalism lie in the Puritan revolution of the seventeenth century,’ the emergence of modern nationalism in Britain can be seen as a more recent affair. In many respects, British-or more specifically English-nationalism can be dated to the responses to the rise of revolutionary French republican power in the early nineteenth century and the forging of a common British national identity in the wake of the Act of Union in 1800 incorporating Ireland.9 In the following three to four decades the notion of patriotism progressively entered the language of the political elite at the centre, though at the same time there was a radical tradition of patriotism, identified

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with figures such as William Cobbett and William Hazlitt, that was inherited from the eighteenth century. This was identified with attacks OR aristocratic corruption and linked with popular claims to the control ofthe state. It was often invoked an historical myth of free Anglo Saxons who had been forced since the Norman conquest to endure the Norman Yoke. lo Such ideas survived well into the 1870s when they were given a new lease of life with the rise of republicanism within some sections of the Victorian middle class at a time of the monarchy’s growing unpopularity in the wake of Albert’s death in 1861 and Victoria’s seclusion from public life. *i However, by the 1870s and 1880s there was a progressive incorporation of patriotic notions into mainstream political debate as part of a response by informed opinion at the centre to a perceived threat posed by this radical patriotism to its political and ideological hegemony over the periphery. The reactive nationalism that thus began to be cultivated by the centre in the last quarter of the nineteenth century owed much to the mobilisation of communal feeling against apparent threats that were either geographical (such as Irish and Fenian agitation) or cultural (such as the perception that alien immigration, especially by Jews from Eastern Europe, threatened the nation’s cultural identity). Sometimes the same figures became identified with both causes and some of the most articulate statements of this kind of nationalist assertion came from sections of the liberal intelligentsia who in the 1860s had been associated with the cause of electoral reform. One such figure who articulated this ideal of reactive British nationalism was the liberal scholar Goldwin Smith, who by the 1880s had settled in North America as part of the external British diaspora. In 1881 Goldwin Smith wrote on ‘the Jewish question’ in terms that made it clear that he saw a Jewish presence in British society as threatening to its national homogeneity as defined in a classically nineteenth century liberal manner. ‘. . . if it (patriotism) means undivided devotion to the national interest’, Goldwin Smith wrote: there is difficulty in seeing how it can be possessed without abatement by the members of a cosmopolitan and wandering race’, with a tribal bond, tribal aspirations and tribal feelings of its own. Far be it for liberals to set up a narrow patriotism as the highest of virtues, or to make an ideal of the nation. There is something higher than nationality, something which nations at present ought to serve, and in which it will be ultimately merged. Mazzini taught us how to think upon this subject. But tribalism is not higher or more liberal; it is lower and less liberal; it is the primeval germ of which nationality is the more civilised development. Nor does the narrowest patriot make such a religious idol of his nation as the jew makes of his tribe.12 This search for the nature of the British nation absorbed an increasing proportion of the energies of the late Victorian intelligentsia, especially as its enthusiasm for liberal values started to decline in the wake of the Liberal split over Ireland in 1886.i3 While never a fully fledged nationalist intelligentsia in the continental sense, the appeal of nationalist ideas in a truncated form acted as a consoling and stabilising factor at a time of growing pressures from below for democratisation of British society from the nascent labour and trade union

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movement. The issue of Ireland especially acted as a convenient card for the Conservative government of Lord Salisbury to play in the years after 1886, fortified as it was by a small band of Liberal Unionists who had defected from Gladstone in pursuit of the defence of the Union of Britain and Ireland against Home rule. Goldwin Smith was one of their number, invoking the racial argument that the ‘Celts’ of Ireland were ‘unfit for parliamentary government’ since ‘left to themselves, without what they call English misrule, they would almost certainly be like the Neopolitans under the bourbons, the willing slaves of some hereditary despot, the representative of their old costering chiefs, with a priesthood as absolute and as obscurantist as the Druids’.i4 A similar position was taken by Edmund Dicey who had originally been in favour of Home Rule, but felt by the mid 1880s that it threatened the stability of British politics and undermined imperial prestige internationally. Dicey warned, though, that there had to be the mobilisation of an ethical basis to this Unionist nationalism of the centre. ‘ . . . we have on our side the instincts of a ruling race’, he wrote in 1886: the religious sympathies which unite the men of Ulster with the protestants of Great Britain; the anti Irish prejudice which prevails so largely m our working classes. But all these influences cannot be relied on with any confidence unless we can convince the masses that the question at issue is one of life and death to England, one in comparison with which all political and party issues sink into insignificance. In order to bring home this conviction we must practice what we preach, we must teach by example as well as precept.”

These calls for a strongly ideological mobilisation of British national symbols were unheeded by the patrician Tory leadership under Salisbury who, for the most part, were not especially influenced by the power of ideas. The British landed elite failed to develop any sizeable group of intellectual apologists, despite its recognition in the early 1880s following the party’s defeat in 1880, that it had to modernise the machinery of the Conservative party nationally somewhat on the lines of the American party caucus. I6 The landed gentry Wing led by Salisbury were significantly successful in keeping control of the party and fending off the campaign for a radical overhaul of the party on populist lines, as advocated by Randolph Churchill, or incorporating the full radical programme of Joseph Chamberlain once he had defected to the Unionist camp.” The ideas on the state of England by some of the members of the landed class by the 1880s had become strongly nostalgic and mystical and the writings of the naturalist, Richard Jefferies, on the countryside and landscape were received with special I* There was, though, no full scale rejection of the ideas and culture of approval. the liberal intelligentsia by this landed class, despite the scorn manifested towards it by some of its followers such as W.H. Mallock in his novel The Net+, Republic (1877). Mallock’s warnings in the 1880s on the political potential of radicalism and the socialism of the Social Democratic Federation of H.M. Hyndman met only a mixed response from the Conservative establishment, though he struck a more responsive chord with the idea of developing a popular imperialism as a means of appeasing radical pressures domestically.‘9 In general the landed gentry were too weak politically to put up a strong fight against the advancing middle class and maintained their authority on sufferance at the local

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level, frequently through their identification with local and regional patriotism.20 In the years after the Treaty of Berlin in 1885 and the expansion of the European powers into Africa, imperialism took on an increasingly popular mantle in British politics along with opposition to Irish Home Rule. It served in effect as the surrogate nationalism which had not been fully formulated for domestic British politics. The notion of a ‘Greater Britain’ of Anglo Saxon nations had been championed since the 1860s by a broad spectrum of opinion including the radical liberal, Charles Dilke and grew in its appeal to sections of the Oxford intelligentsia during the 1880s and early 1890s as it temporarily displaced the Christianity of Newman and Pusey as an ideal of a more secular mission civilisatrice.21 It could appear to replace the more inward looking notion of ‘little Englandism’ which had always been a term of political abuse against the liberal opponents of imperial expansion. It could acquire, too, many of the trappings of a political mission, though in general the actual pressure came from local influences and ‘men on the spot’.22 Taken to its logical conclusion, however, the idea of a pan-national Anglo Saxon federation transcended the boundaries of the individual nation state and reflected a movement of thought comparable in the late nineteenth century to Pan Slavist or Pan African ideas. The effect of these ideas was to emphasise the comparable racial background of Britain and the United States and the colonies of white settlement such as Australia and Canada. For the liberal scholar and politician, James Bryce, who favoured a limited form of Home Rule for Ireland, it was opportunity to play down the ‘Celt-Saxon’ distinction which had dominated so much Victorian discussion on ‘the Irish problem’ and instead emphasise the common ‘Celtic’ and ‘Teutonic’ origins of both Britain and the U.S.A. Bryce in particular felt that it was both a ‘community of ideas and feelings’ and a ‘similarity of instictive judgements’ that best defined this unity of the two states rather than ‘the pride of Anglo Saxon ancestry and the spirit of defiance to other races’.23 Imperialism, however, was never so popular and wide-ranging within English culture as completely to supplant the more indigenous tradition of nativist nationalism. The propaganda of the imperial cause had, as John Mackenzie has shown, a considerable impact on some facets of popular culture by the 1890s and the early years of the twentieth century. 24 Gareth Stedman Jones too has also suggested that the imperial music hall and its jingo tradition did much to ‘remake’ the working class in London into a conservative and patriotic force that eschewed more radical modes of political action.25 On a national basis though additional explanations are needed for the relative failure of marxism to make any headway within the English working class, taking into account the small scale nature of many industrial concerns and the survival of paternal modes of employer-employee relations well into the twentieth century.26 Moreover, there is the additional feature of the monarchy within the British political system which, as Tom Nairn has recently suggested, was itself the focus of an unarticulated mode of British nationalism which, given its strongly symbolic quality, defied any penetrating mode of intellectual analysis. It was the revival of the monarchy by the 1887 and 1897 gold and diamond jubilees which did much to marginalise the republican movement within British politics and, moreover, reassert the culture of a pre-industrial and early modern political elite which was able successfully to contain the entry of the popular majority of Britain into true

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nationhood.

The monarchy

indeed can be seen as imposing its own form of culture, and so modernising archaic structures of status and deference from the end of the nineteenth century onwards at a time when many other monarchical states in Europe faced a serious crisis of political legitimacy.27 Nairn’s subtle and wide-ranging analysis, however, has tended to overstate the pivotal significance of the monarchy which has only comparatively recently enjoyed the widespread media popularity from first radio and later television in the wake of the 1953 coronation. During the period from 1914 to 1955 the monarchy was able to embody national consensusz8 but to focus upon it alone would tend to detract from a wider debate on the cultural and social definition of British nationalism which succeeded during the first half of the twentieth century in drawing to itself a considerable body of intellectual debate on the nature and direction of British society. In this context, the monarchy was less an active agenr in the ‘revolution in social thought’ in English society than a reflection of a more widespread traditionalism prevalent within intellectual and informed political circles. It is thus to this latter dimension of British nationalism that the second part of this paper turns in order to explore how nationalist ideas became embedded within an ethos of elite political debate between the down turn in imperial enthusiasms in the period before the First World War and the rise of a popular patriotism linked to a strategy of social reform and modernisation during World War Two.

gemeinschuft on the political

PATRIOTISM

AND

SOCIAL

THOUGHT

IN ENGLAND

The imperial ideal in its late nineteenth century offered some conception of linking overseas expansion to domestic social reform, particularly through the removal of the ‘dangerous classes’ in British cities to clean wholesome rural terrains in overseas colonial territories where ‘merrie Englands’ could be created afresh replacing the older mythology of colonies as terrains for the adventurer.z9 This was the hope of Charles Booth in the 1880s and the idea persisted in a truncated form well into the 1920s with soldier settler schemes in East and Central African colonies. The experience of the First World War though undoubtedly dented such hopes of using the colonies as terrains for any largescale British Lebenrraum, though some colonial or dominion leaders, such as J.C. Smuts, kept up the idea as late as 1929-30.3O It was felt by many anti-imperial critics, even before the First World War, that imperialism could not meet many of the social problems within the domestic British towns and cities or alleviate the poverty and hardship of the working class. In the wake of the Anglo-Boer War some sections of the liberal intelligentsia moved increasingly against imperial ideals which now appeared associated with what the Liberal leader, Campbell Bannerman, had called ‘methods of barbarism’ in regard to the conduct of the war against the Boers. There was some attraction too in the underconsumptionist theory of J.A. Hobson in his influentiai book, Imperialism (1900), which attacked the imperial ideal for diverting capital to overseas colonies in search of super profits at the expense of domestic investment in the infrastructure of British towns and cities.3’

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Combined with the economic critique by the Edwardian New Liberalism of the imperialist reaction of the 1890s was a search for a moral affirmation of the English nation. To many of the Edwardian liberals imperialism had been presented by its advocates as a form of Tory historicism which had denied the electorate the chance to make moral choices. The Liberal, Charles Masterman, for instance, published a collection of essays in 1905 In Peril of Change. This was seen by some of the younger generation of public school educated socialists, such as Hugh Dalton, as an intellectual rallying point of the socialist wing of the Liberal Party which some felt to be on the brink of a split over the imperialism issue.32 For Masterman, the imperial era had been symbolised by the writings of Kipling and W.E. Henley which he felt ‘neglected and despised the ancient pieties of an older England’ the little isle set in its silver sea. Greatness became bigness; specific national feeling parochial. Imperial destiny replaced national well being; and men were no longer asked to pursue the “just” course, but to approve the The book reflected a new mood within liberal circles of inevitable’.33 championing the identity of the English nation state against the bigness and grossness of empire. It looked back towards specifically English historic roots at a time when there was a wider movement within European national movements for a rediscovery of folk origins and the rural in contrast to the alienating cosmopolitanism of industrial towns and cities.34 In many respects this search for a genteel pre-industrial past was a continuation of the late nineteenth century moral reaction within some sections of the English intelligentsia against the consequences of industrialism. It was partly aided by the destruction in the course of the nineteenth century of what was left of a genuine rural folk culture and thus it tended to draw on and popularise the ideas of middle class thinkers such as John Ruskin, William Morris and Richard Jefferies3’ into a more politicised vision of an England that had retrieved its rural identity from the ravages of a Tory imperialism which was now accused of having betrayed the true course of English history. This involved challenging the Seeleyite conception of history that had been developed since Seeley’s The Expansion of England in 1883 and which depicted imperialism as the logical historical development of the internal dynamics of English history since the period of the Elizabethan discoveries. 36This was no mean task and, despite the importance of the pastoral movement within English social thought in the early years of the twentieth century, it proved impossible to reverse the commitment within established political circles at the level of high politics to a continuation of the imperial ideal, even if it became progressively known by the blander term of ‘Commonwealth’. The search for English Pastoral origins, indeed, became one of identifying certain key moral anchorage points at a time of rapid social and economic change rather than building the essential blocs for a full-scale nativist movement as was to occur around Volkish doctrines in Central Europe. By the turn of the century the lament for the loss of village life in the face of advancing suburbanisation became fairly widespread in the informed press, though there were few coherent attempts to reverse what appeared the irreversible. Critics continued to fulminate against the pernicious effects of city living which it was felt would lead to the biological deterioration of the population, especially the urban working class, as it failed to be replenished by an apparently more healthy rural yeomany. Such

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degeneration would, one critic considered, lead ‘not so much in decrease of stature, as in scrofulous blood, profusion of the dental structure, slenderness of the lower limbs, inability to life weights and carry burdent’. In the case of the ‘class removed from want’, he continued, ‘the signs in the male will be increased in the length of neck, narrowing of chest and shoulders, sharpening of features, premature baldness-in the female anaemia-in both prevalence of sexual hysteria, bad eyesight, and especially imperfect teeth, lack of earnestness, lack of grip, inability of self-restraint, will be the beacons of moral decay’.37 Sentiments such as these fed into an upsurge of political interest in the idea of ‘national efficiency’ in the period after the Anglo Boer in 1902. The Report of the Inter-departmental Committee on Physical Deterioration in 1905, though, tended to take the view that the reasons for the poor health of many working class volunteeers for the army to fight in South Africa were not so much hereditary, but environmental due to the poor housing and medical facilities in the cities.38 Eugenics continued to be an area of continuing professional interest among social workers and medical practitioners both on the left and right until well after the first World War, but the Eugenics Society had only a marginal impact on governmental policy, and failed in the 1920s to get even a Conservative Government to agree to sterilisation of the mentally unfit.39 The British right, therefore, for the most part, tended to avoid a cohesive racial doctrine emphasising the need for national reassertion through extensive biological social engineering. There were only a few hints of this in some of the rhetoric of the Tory right before and after the First World War which was nostalgic for a return to the apparently more stable social order of the nineteenth century, Lord Willoughby de Broke, for example, as one of the former ‘diehards’ opposing House of Lords reform, envisioned a ‘national Toryism’ rooted in eugenics and hoped for a reconstruction of national thought from the very foundations’.40 His Tory compatriot, Dean Inge, spoke, too, of the identity of the Anglo Saxon stock at the heart of the British race and was an impassioned eugenist who favoured the resettlement on the land and the emigration of the urban working class to overseas British colonies.4’ But the impact of the First World War was one that considerably attenuated the verve and passion of this Toryism that hankered after a return to a pre-industrial golden age and a general softening of the political discourse occurred as a resort was made to a more amorphous set of concepts rooted in the notion of the English ‘national character’ with its distinguishing features of tolerance and acceptance of the rule of law and the rights of the individual. In its original formulation, the notion of ‘national character’ had been championed by many Victorian liberals as a convenient fans et origo of British political diversity and idiosyncrasy. AS a term it would doubtless be called ‘political culture’ by contemporary political scientists. By the end of the nineteenth century, however, it became a convenient means of pointing out how limited an explanation the study of race could be to outline the British national makeup, despite the efforts of some ethnologists to employ European classifications based on the threefold distinction of Nordic, Alpine and Mediterranean that the American race theorist, W.Z. Ripley, had developed in his classic book, The Races of Europe, in 1899.42 Already by this time, a widespread distrust of racial categories had begun to occur in British political

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discourse, especially as the Teutonic racism that had been employed against the ‘Celtic’ lrish began to slowly decline by the late 1890s as interest in the Irish issue temporarily fell with the splits in the Irish nationalist movement following the O’Shea divorce case and death of Parnell in 189 1.43 In his Romanes lecture for 1896 the Anglican Archbishop, Mandell Creighton, spoke of ‘the English national character’ based upon earlier races or tribes which ‘came into history with certain characteristics which were doubtless the result of their previous conditions; we can see these races mixing with other races, and entering into new surroundings. The result of this process is that populations become nations, which are dictated rather by common experiences than by common conditions’.44 A racial explanation thus did not have any especial appeal to informed opinion by the Edwardian era, especially as the makeup of Britain seemed so ‘mongrel’ in character. A small book, The British Race, published in 1909 by John Munro for ‘The Useful Knowledge Library’ attacked the older Saxon-Celt distinctions so favoured by many Victorian race theorists, arguing that ‘Celtic’ elements pervaded the entire British nation and attacking Ripley’s notion of their irreconcilability.45 The notion of ‘national character’ furthermore gained increasing popularity by the time of the First World War, when it became employed in propaganda tracts defining the ideals at the heart of the war effort. It reinforced the notion that English society had avoided the wave of European nationalism for, as Walter Raleigh declared in 1918, ‘we are too deeply experienced in politics to avoid that trap.‘46 Even when some writers felt it necessary to admit the phenomenon of nationalist consciousness in British society, there was a certain element of apology for, as Charles Gore confessed, ‘while the war has intensified patriotism, it has also made us feel afresh what an ultimately dangerous virtue patriotism is. It becomes so easily selfishness and lust of domination’.47 For the most part, the Teutonic racism that had been prevalent in the thinking of many Victorian and Edwardian liberal intellectuals before the war disappeared in the course of the hostilities, and space was provided for strong attacks to be made on the racial mythology which had underlain the theory of the origins of English parliamentary government. J.M. Robertson, in particular, was able to continue his attack on this racism which he had begun in somewhat lonely circumstances in the 1890s with his book, The Celt and the Saxon (1897).48 In The Germans in 1916 Robertson ridiculed the pretensions of racial ethnology and the lingering theories of polygenism which maintained, contrary to Darwinian evolutionary theory, that there were separate origins for different racial types. Furthermore, it was necessary to realise that ‘Teutonism is to be superseded not by Keltomania or any other race gospel, but by a sociology which sees in all races the varying products and antecedents and environment, conditions and institutions.‘49 While such a vision for a developing sociology was not immediately realised in post war Britain, the advance of social anthropology during the inter war years did much to attenuate the cruder racism of the pre 1914 era.5o Some of the most outwardly spoken race theorists within establishment circles felt it necessary to tone down their opinions by the late 192Os, as the post war obsession with Jewish immigration declined, and even Dean Inge felt somewhat embarrassed in New York by the racial ‘obsessions’ of Madison Grant.51 Indeed, despite Inge’s private consideration that he was not a real Conservative,sz Stanley Baldwin

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began to imprint his character on the inter war era and guide the society towards a gentler. if somewhat complacent, ideal of merrie England. The nationwide social mobilisation necessitated by the war effort between 1914-18 did not prevent a continuation of the nostalgia for the survival of rural and provincial traditions. As Paul Fussell has pointed out, the symbolic power of modern mechanised warfare depended in its literary impact upon a contrast with the peaceful and idyllic backdrop of the pastoral.53 In wartime propaganda this often reinforced more traditional and gentlemanly codes of social conduct which by no means disappeared in the trenches of the Somme.54 P.E. Matheson in an address to University College Nottingham in May 1915 on ‘National Ideals’ poured scorn on Arnoldian notions of ‘culture’ and ‘civilisation’ for ‘when the testy moment comes we show that our ideals have somewhat worked into our character.. . and that through every class has penetrated that sense of humour. fair play, and gentleness to women and children while the Germans, who make have failed to embody this in any order, such large protestations of “Kultur”, and which individual Germans have grossly violated in this war’.55 It was this notion of ‘character’ which was the key for ‘the English character is rooted in history and tradition; it is rooted also in local associations-the beauty of English fields, the glories of sea and sky, and the charm of ancient buildings’.56 Thus in some more mystical sense English ‘character’ grew out of the landscape of the country itself-a notion that was to receive considerable development as the Baldwinite age progressed. The significance of the Baldwinite ideal of national unity that was developed in the 1920s lay in its emphasis upon political consensus and the halting of ideological polarisation in British political debate. Since before the First World War, there had been a pessimistic mood in some sections of right wing opinion such as The NationalReturn over the future of patriotism in England, which was linked to the signs of decline in British imperial power.57 This was heightened by the early 1920s by a feeling that the rise of the Labour Party and trade union power threatened the survival of the entire British ruling class. Some class warriors, such as Dean Inge, felt themselves involved in an ideological struggle, for, as Inge wrote in The Zdea of Progress (delivered as the Romanes Lecture in 1920), ‘there is much to support the belief that there is a struggle for existence among ideas, and that those tend to prevail which correspond with the changing needs of humanity’.5” Such a Darwinian ideological struggle encouraged a certain fortification of intellectual responses within the English middle class at a time of pronounced nationalisation of provincial culture. Though in 1921 there were still 41 provincial newspapers in England, Scotland and Wales (this declined to 20 by 1970). an erosion of many provincial identities had already started to occur with the increase in popular mobility and the nationalisation of culture through the new media influences of radio and cinema.5y For some liberal and radical writers in the 1920s however, the First World War appeared as a major cultural shock from which it appeared English society looked incapable of making any early recovery. Charles Masterman wrote in England After The War (1920) that the country seemed so ‘stunned’ by the war that ‘so far as I can estimate, it is neither able to rejoice in the literature of the past or to produce any new spirit in literature which can voice its own miseries or aspirations in the present’. Even the existence of the empire seemed to

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Masterman proof of the estrangement of the people of England from their own landscape for it ‘may be said to be in some way a product of the Briton’s lack of passion for his own particular town or village’.60 It was precisely this sense of estrangement which the Baldwinite appeal back to the English past was designed to tackle, whilst in the process developing a myth of English national cohesion which could withstand the rival appeal to class solidarity from the trade union movement. For Tory historians such as Arthur Bryant, Baldwin’s importance thus lay in the fact that he ‘rescued Conservatism from the hands of those who wished to make it the instrument of privilege and recreated it as a great national creed’.6’ Baldwin thus de-emphasised the importance of empire in many of his political speeches and looked instead to the English past and the virtues of the English ‘national character’. He was able to appeal to a sense of rural tradition in England during a period when some critics were lamenting the decline of the gentleman farmer6* and reassure his supporters that all was well in the towns and villages of the shires. ‘To me England is the country and the country England’, he said in a famous speech delivered to the Royal Society of Saint George: The sources of England, the tinkle ofthe hammer on the anvil in the country smithy, the corncrake on a dewy morning, the sound of the scythe against the whetstone, and the sight of a plough team coming over the brow of a hill, the sight that has been seen in England long after the Empire has perished and every worker in England has ceased to function, for centuries the one eternal sight of England.6’

Such sentiments struck a strong chord during the period of the 1926 General Strike and The Spectator, as the house organ of Conservative opinion in the country, concluded that ‘the British people have taken him upon their shoulders and lofted him into a position such as no Prime Minister has occupied since the days of William Pitt’.64 By the early 193Os, however, a certain nervousness began to ensue as it became clear that the Little Englandism at the heart of the Baldwinite vision had failed to capture the imagination of all sections of the English intelligentsia. In 1927 Ernest Barker Published National Character based on a series of lectures on Citizenship at the University of Glasgow. This had dealt with the theme of national development in a Burkean manner and had carefully avoided employing any systematic racial theory of group behaviour that had been championed by the psychological theorist, William McDougall. Barker favoured a more traditional emphasis on legal and institutional factors and the development of a ‘national spirit’ for a nation was, he argued, ‘a spiritual superstructure upon a material basis’.6s There was thus some ideological space for the Baldwinite vision to be developed in terms of the notion of a ‘national spirit’, though it began to run out of favour with the radical intelligentsia by the early 1930s who looked for more systematic explanation for the apparent failure of capitalism after the Depression of 1929-31. Wickham Steed indeed attacked Baldwin’s speeches in 1930 for being ‘devoid of vision’ and considered that there was ‘something lacking, some magnetic spark to kindle men’s faith and draw them to him’.66 He went on to argue that ‘never since capitalist industry and modern political democracy began to develop, side by side, has social balance been so unstable as it is today.‘67

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In practice, the period of the late 1920s were crucial for the institutionalisation of a neo-corporatist consensus between labour and capital which was to be consolidated during the years of the wartime Churchill government and the post war Labour government of Clement Attlee. 68 But, as Bill Schwartz has pointed out, Baldwin’s pastoral vision was too limited to gain complete ideological hegemony in inter-war Britain and ran into increasing political difficulties during the course of the 1930~.~~Even The Specratorconfessed by 1933 in the wake of the Oxford Union’s refusal to fight for king and country, to a certain doubt about the appeal to ‘national character’ for ‘this is the first period in our history when we have had serious doubts about the virtues of nationalism and have been inclined to ask whether the characteristics that ought to be cultivated should be international, and not national at all’. It went on to urge ‘the nation’ to possess ‘certain moral reserves of strength which will enable it to act in an English way in the future as in the past’.” Politically, however, the liberal and radical opposition to Baldwin in the 1930s was too divided after the MacDonald defection in 1931 to represent any serious political challenge. The Baldwinite view in some ways survived effectively by default, despite haphazard efforts by some liberal and radical activists at the local level to take up issues involving provincial and historical identity. In 1927 the Liberal peer, Lord Olivier, campaigned for the restoration of Stonehenge and the removal of unsightly advertisement hordings that marred the surrounding landscape.71 The New Statestnon even ventured to hope in the 1929 election that some form of inroad could be made on the deferential allegiance of farmworkers to Tory landowners in the rural areas, but admitted that the majority feeling was that no party could do much to improve their quality of life.” The 1931 election, however, proved a disaster for Labour fortunes as 250 Labour M.P.s were defeated leaving only 52 in the House of Commons. During the early 1930s party membership started to increase, but mostly in industrial areas, and in the 1935 election the party managed to regain some 94 seats, leaving the Baldwin administration with a continuing majority of 255. In some cities like Birmingham the Conservatives still held all 12 seats and were overwhelmingly successful in projecting its image as both a national and moderate party. The National Government used 14 film vans in the campaign to Labour’s 2 and Baldwin proved an effective figure on film as well as on radio with an appeal to working class audiences. At Wood Green one working man was heard to say ‘What I likes about Baldwin ‘e don’t sling no mud’.73 The problem facing the left in Britain in the 1930s lay in the failure to link its main objectives of socialist reconstruction and the building of a welfare state with that of patriotism and national identity. It would not be indeed until the advent of the Second World War that it would be possible for the left to develop a more radical patriotism that had briefly surfaced in the Edwardian years in the reaction to the Anglo-Boer War and then declined with the advent of World War One. It was this enigma which had especially struck one of the main intellectual figures associated with this search for a radical patriotism in the 194Os, George Orwell, and it was this shift in thought on rhe left which did much to bring the Baldwinite era to an end as the provincial Conservatism of the shires went underground in the 1940s and retreated before the advance of the welfare state and post war consensus.

461

Elite and Popular Culture ORWELL

AND THE DEBATE

ON RADICAL

PATRIOTISM

The significance of Orwell’s patriotism lay in his emphasis upon the role of the ‘common man’ such as George Bowling in Coming Up For Air rather than the intellectuals whom he distrusted and felt might well in the event sell England out to its enemies. He accused the mainstream English intelligentsia, represented by such figures as Bertrand Russell, H.G. Wells and J.B. Priestley, of a sentimental provincialism based on a liberal belief that power could be subordinated to intellect and that everything would come right in the end.74 Rather than believing that the liberal spirit would remain constant throughout history, Orwell urged a trust of the common people born especially of his experiences fighting in the Spanish Civil War. In some respects, this identification with the underdogs fitted him into the Victorian radical tradition, 75 but it also led him into a popular nationalism which he felt was essential to defeat Hitler who would always be worse than anything represented by Churchill. Thus he berated the Communist Party’s initial support for neutrality before the Nazi invasion of Soviet Russia for to stand aside would mean that ‘we shall have failed to use the lever which the patriotism of the common man has put into our hands. The “politically unreliable” will have elbowed out of positions of power, the Blimps will settle themselves tighter in the saddle, the governing classes will continue the war in their own way. And their way can only lead to ultimate defeat.‘76 By championing a popular patriotism, Orwell believed in the early 194Os, there would occur a social revolutionary movement which would prove irresistable. By 1945, however, Orwell’s initial hopes were already somewhat shattered as he felt he had over-estimated the anti-fascist character of the war.” Moreover, his hopes expressed in the key essay, The Lion and the Unicorn: Socialism and the English Genius in 1941 that it would be possible to humanise socialism and that there were inherent features within English society which would limit the powers of the state, became tarnished. Increasingly he drew upon the social thought of outsiders to the mainstream intellectual heritage in England such as Arthur Koestler’s Darkness at Noon and Yevgeny Zamyatin’s We, to emphasise the inherently totalitarian tendencies within socialism, though he remained a figure on the left until the end of his life. From this point onwards, however, a gloomy pessimism with socialism took over, leading eventually to 1984 in 1948. While of central significance for the left’s relationship with British patriotism, Orwell’s ideas were mistaken for two major reasons. He was, firstly, not alone in thinking English intellectuals provincial and there were other writers who were concerned to wake up the intellectual mood in England in the early 1940s. J.B. Priestley, indeed, wrote in the magazine Horizon founded by Cyril Connally that ‘clearly there must be an alternative prospect, another way of living, an England that has not yet been seen. It cannot be anything like the country gentleman’s England. Unless more of the population is to be exterminated, it will obviously have to be a truly urban civilisation, which is something at present we have not achieved’.78 This in some ways engaged more directly with the mythology of provincial English pastoralism than a lot of Orwell’s own writings, which were often vaguely sentimental over the rural past to which Bowling retreats on the brink of war and even Winston Smith sought refuge from the nightmare totalitarian world of a future urban Britain where the working class have been

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defeated but not totally subdued. Furthermore, it was by no means clear how the ‘English genius’ was to humanise socialism, and the thinking of other socialist intellectuals at the time such as Richard Crossman were concerned to emphasize the importance of democratic structures rather than the more amorphous concept of political culture. ‘It is the supreme triumph of Democracy’, Crossman wrote in May 1940, ‘to have disarmed and humanized those whose interests conflicted with it: it is the supreme dilemma of western civilisation that, havmg driven the “warrior” out of politics, it is now fighting for its life’.” This emphasis upon the centrality of democracy was probably a wiser course since it did not build up such a pile of expectations regarding inevitable social revolution which could not be fulfilled, so producing a more negative political pessimism in the late 1940s. This weakness in Orwell’s thought is compounded, however. by a second mistaken assumption regarding the nature of the common people with whom he sought close solidarity. Orwell especially assumed that the emerging white collar and middle class, represented by a character such as Bowling, would be firmly patriotic but also politically radical in seeking the creation of a socialist society and the jettisoning of much of the class culture of the Baldwinite era. While this perception could be facilitated by the experience of wartime mobilisation, It coloured thinkmg on the left in Britain well into the 1940s before it became clear that what came to be called the ‘new model bourgeoisie’“” was moving increasingly rightwards in its distrust of state power, dislike of high taxation and support for freemarket pohcies: precisely the group indeed who were won over to Thatcherite policies in the late 1970s and a strong nationalism. It was this miscalculation of Orwell’s which probably did so much to help estabiish a climate on the left in post-war Britain around the idea of the permanence of the welfare state and an inherent tendency towards collectivist social and economic policies. To this extent, though the 1940s were significant for the development of an intellectual

which

challenged

war years,

they also facilitated

climate

a myopia

seen with

modern

the Baldwinite on longer-term

consensus trends

which

of the intercan still be

British politics. Paul Rich

NOTES 1. For a discusslon on the nature of this whlg historical tradition see Herbert Butterfield. The Englishman and His Hisrot-)* (Cambridge: C.U.P.. 1944). For a crmcal review on this perspective consult Adrian Wilson and T.G. Ashplant, ‘Whig hlstory and present-centred history’, The Hisrorlcal Journal. 31, 1 (1988). I-16. 2. Leshe Stephen considered for example. that Carlyle as a ‘prophet’ was ‘fulmmatmg outrageous denunclatlons against things m general and yet offering no tangible alternative’ and that his theology was 'COO vague for practical purposes’, Some Earl), Impressions. London. Leonard and Virginia Woalf (The Hogarth Press, 1924), p?. 63. 69. 3. See Asa Brlggs, ‘The language of “class *’ in Nineteenth Cenlury England’ and ‘The language of “Mass” and “Masses” in Nineteenth Century England’. in The CoNecred

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ESSU~Sof Asa Briggs, Vol. 1 (Sussex: Harvester Press, 1985), pp. 3-33 and 34-54. 4. H. Munro Chadwick, The Nationalism of Europe and the Growth of National Ideology (Cambridge: C.U.P., 1945), p. 3. 5. Samuel Beer, Modern British Politics (London: Faber, 1965). 6. S. Brittan, ‘The economic contradictions of democracy’, The Brrtish Journal of Political Science, 5,2 (April 1975), pp. 129-159; Samuel H. Beer, Britain Against Itself (London: Faber, 1982). 7. Britain Against Itself. 8. Hans Kahn, ‘The genesis and character of English nationalism’, Journalof the History of Ideas, 1, 1 (January 1940). 9. Gerald Newman, ‘Anti-French propaganda and British liberal nationalism in the early nineteenth century: Suggestions toward a general appreciation’, Victorian Studies, 18, 4, (June 1975), pp. 385-435. 10. Richard T. Vann, ‘The free Anglo Saxons: A historical view’, Journalof the History of Ideas, 19, (1958), pp. 259-72; Hugh A. MacDougall, Racial Myth in English History (Montreal and Hanover: Harvest House and University Press of New Press of New England, 1982). 11. David Cannadine, ‘The context, performance and meaning of ritual: The British monarchy and the “Invention of Tradition” ‘, in Eric Hobsbawn and Terence Ranger (eds), The Invention of Tradition (Cambridge: C.U.P., 1983), pp. 101-164. 12. Goldwin Smith, ‘The Jewish question’, The Nineteenth Century, X (October 1881) p. 495; see also Colin Holmes, Anti Semitism in British Society, 1876-1919 (London: E. Arnold, 1979). 13. John Roach, ‘Liberalism and the Victorian intelligentsia’, The Cambridge Historical Journal, XIII, 1 (1957), pp. 58-81; ‘Victorian universities and the national intelligentsia’, Victorian Studies, 11, 2 (December 1959), pp. 131-50. 14. Goldwin Smith, ‘The Home Rule Fallacy’, The Nineteenth Century, LXV (July 1882), p. 6. 15. E. Dicey, ‘The Unionist vote’, The Nineteenth Century, XX (July 1886) p. 9; see also Trowbridge H. Ford, ‘Dicey as a political journalist’, Political Studies, XVIII, 2 (1970), pp. 220-235. 16. Spencer Hogg, ‘Landed society and the Conservative Party in the late nineteenth century and early twentieth century’, Ph.D Thesis, University of Oxford (1972), p. 134. See also Martin Pugh, The Tories and the People (Oxford: Blackwell, 1985), for a discussion on the growth of the Primrose League during this period. 17. Peter Marsh, The Discipline of Popular Government: Lord Salisbury’s Domestic Statecraft, 1818-1902 (Sussex: Harvester Press, 1976), pp. 49-54, 106-7 and passim. 18. Viscount Lymington, ‘Richard Jefferies and the Open Air’, The National Review, X (1887-8), pp. 242-50; Hogg, op. cit., p. 135. and revolution in the 188Os’, in John Lucas (ed.), 19. John Lucas, ‘Conservatism Literature and Politics in the Nineteenth Century (London: Methuen, 1970). pp. 173-219. 20. Hogg, op. cit., p. 163. 21. Richard Symonds, Oxfordand the Empire (London and Basingstoke: The Macmillan Press, 1986), p. 25. 22. C.C. Eldridge, England’s Mission: The Imperial Idea in the Age of GIadstone and Disraeli (London and Basingstoke: The Macmillan Press, 1973), pp. 140-l. 23. James Bryce, ‘The Essential unity of England and America’, Atlantic Monthly, Lxxii (1898), p. 27. There was perhaps an element of conscious left delusion about this for, as Leslie Stephen recalled, ‘One did not want to be reminded every week that Charlemagne was not a Frenchman, and that there was no such thing as an “Anglo Saxon” nation’, Stephen, op. cit., p. 122.

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24. John Mackenzie, Propaganda and Empire (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1984). 25. Gareth Stedman Jones. ‘Working class culture and working class politics in London, 1870-1900: Notes on the remaking of a working class’, Journalof SocialHistory, 7,4 (1974), pp. 460-508. 26. R. McKibbin, ‘Why was there no Marxism in Great Britain?‘, English Historical Review, 99 (April 1984), pp. 297-33 1. 27. Tom Nairn, The Enchanted Glass: Britatn and its Monarchy (London: Radius, 1988). 28. Cannadine, op. cit., esp. pp. 139-155. 29. Jonathan Mendilow, ‘Merrie England and the Brave New World: Two Myths of the Idea of Empire’, History of European Ideas, 6, 1 (1985), pp. 41-58. 30. J.C. Smuts, Africa and Some World Problems (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1930). 3 1. J.A. Hobson, Imperialism (London, 1902); see also Paul B. Rich, Race and Empire in Brttish Politics (Cambridge: C.U.P., 1986), p. 34. 32. Hugh Dalton, Call Back Yesterday (London: F. Muller, 1953), pp. 40-l. 33. Charles Masterman, In Peril of Change (London, 1905), p. 7; see also Samuel Hynes, The Edwardian Turn of Mind(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1971), pp. 54-72, for a study of Masterman’s ambivalent social thought which was both radical as well as nostalgically harkening back towards a past golden age. 34. For a survey of this wider European mood see George Mosse, The Cultureof Western Europe (London: Murray, 1983); Michael Biddiss, The Age of the Masses (Sussex: Harvester Press, 1977); and Victor Kiernan, ‘Working class and nation in nmeteenth century Britain’, in Maurice Cornforth (ed.) Rebels and Their Causes (London: Lawrence and Wtshart, 1978). pp. 123-39. 35. Jan Marsh, Back To The Land: The Pastoral Impulse in Victorian England from 1880-1914 (London: Quartet Books, 1982). 36. Thomas P. Peardon, ‘Sir John Seeley, pragmatic historian in a nationalistic age’, m Edward Meade Earle (ed.), Nationalism and Internationalism (New York: Columbia University Press, 1950), pp. 285-302. 37. George Bertram, ‘The Old English Peasantry’, Macmillans Magazine, XCXI (August 1905), p. 267. Though some radical critics poured scorn on middle class patronising of country people, cf. ‘George Bourne’ (George Stuart) ‘Some Peasant Women’, The Cornhill Magazine. 13 (October 1902), pp. 507-19. 38. G.R. Searle, The Quest for National Efficiency in EngIand(Oxford: Blackwell, 1971). 39. Donald Mackenzie, ‘Eugenics in Britain’, Social Studies in Science, 6 (1976), pp. 499-532. 40. Willoughby de Broke, ‘National Toryism’, The National Review, 59 (1912), p. 415. 41. See for example Dean Inge, Lay Thoughts ofa Dean (New York and London: Putnam, 1921); A Rustic Moralist (London: Putnam, 1937). 42. W.Z. Ripley, The Races of Europe (London: Kegan Paul, 1900); See also John Higham, Strangers in the Land (New York: Athenaum, 1963). for the impact of Ripley’s ideas on U.S. nativism. 43. L.P. Curtis, Anglo Saxons and Celts: A Study of Anti-Irish Prejudice in Victorian England, University of Bridgport (Conn.) Conference of British Studies (1968), pp. 105-7. 44. Mandell Creighton, The English National Character (London: Henry Froude, 1896). pp. 8-9. 45. John Munro, The British Race (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1909), p. 193. 46. Walter Raleigh, England and the War (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1918), p. 64. 47. Charles Gore, Dominant Ideas and Creative Principles (London: Mowbray, 1918). 48. J.M. Robertson, The Celt and the Saxon (London: 1987); Curtis, op. cit., pp. 104-5. 49. J.M. Robertson, The Germans (London: Williams and Nogate, 1916) p. 73.

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50. P.B. Rich, Race and Empire, pp. 100-l 19. 51. W.R. Inge, Diary of A Dean (London: Hutchinson, 1949), entry for 3 May 1925, p. 103. 52. Ibid., entry for 8 February 1924, p. 91. 53. Paul Fussell, The Great War and Modern Memory (New York: O.U.P., 1975). 54. Mark Girouard, The Return of Camelot: Chivalry and the English Gentleman (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1981). 55. P.E. Matheson, National Ideals, The University, Nottingham (1915), p. 15; cf. Edith Lyttelton, ‘An Englishman Away From Home’, The Nineteenth Century, DXIII (April 1922), p. 578. 56. Ibid., p. 27. 57. ‘Ignotius’, ‘The Decay of Patriotism in England’, The National Review, 61 (1912), pp. 255-66; Arnold Hamilton, ‘England’s plight’, The Nineteenth Century (August 1911). 58. Dean Inge, The Idea of Progress (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1920), pp. 30-l. 59. Krishnan Kumar, ‘The nationalization of British culture’, in S. Hoffmann and P. Kitromilides (eds), Culture and Society in ContemporaryEurope(Harvard University, Center for European Studies, and G. Allen and Unwin, 1981), p. 123. 60. C. Masterman, England After the War (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1922). 61. A. Bryant, Stanley Baldwin (London: H. Hamilton, 1937), p. 179. 62. C. Hussey, ‘The decay of English country life’, The Quarterly Review, 241,479 (April 1924), p. 341. 63. S. Baldwin, On England (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1926), p. 20. Some critics though considered that the ‘bluff pre-Victorian middle-aged farmer’, John Bull needed revising as a symbol of national character for ‘there should be something of vision in the eyes, an added spirituality, and such a mirth and cheerfulness, with added feeling behind it, as caused the ordinary British private soldier to sing the snatch of a familiar music-hall song as he sprang “over the top” to charge with such certainty of death as was proclaimed by the thrash and rattle of machine guns’, ‘The British Spirit’, The Quarterly Review, 247, 489 (July 1926), pp. 186-7. 64. The Spectator, 22 May 1926. 65. E. Barker, National Character (London: Methuen, 1927), p. 132. 66. W. Steed, The Real Stanley Baldwin (London: Nisbet, 1930), p. 12. 67. Ibid., p. 154. 68. K. Middlemas, Politics inZndustrialSociety(London: A. Deutsch, 1979), pp. 174-213. 69. Bill Schwartz, ‘The language of constitutionalism, Baldwinite conservatism’, in Bill Schwartz (ed.), Formations ofNation andPeople(London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1984), p. 2. 70. The Spectator (29 September 1933). 71. S. Olivier, ‘Restore Stonehenge’, New Statesman 13 August, 1927. 72. New Statesman (18 May 1929). 73. Tom Stanage, Baldwin Thwarts The Opposition: The British General EIection of 1935 (London: Croom Helm, 1980), p. 177. 74, Patrick Reilly, George Orwell: The Age’s Adversary (London and Basingstoke: The Macmillan Press, 1986), p. 47. 75. Gordon B. Beadle, ‘George Orwell and the Victorian radical tradition’, Albion, 7 (1985), pp. 287-99. 76. George Orwell, ‘Patriots and revolutionaries’, in Victor Gollancz (ed.), The Betrayal of the Left (London: V. Gollancz, 1941), p.243. 77. Stephen Lutman, ‘Orwell’s patriotism’, Journal of Contemporary History, 22 (April 1981), p. 158; Gregory Claeys, ‘The Lion and the Unicorn patriotism and Orwell’s politics’, The Review of Politics, 47, 2 (April 1985), pp. 186-211.

466 78. 79. 80.

Paul Rich J.B. Priestley, ‘Labour leaders and the Ivy’, Horizon, i, 6 (June 1940), p.405. R.H.S. Crossman, ‘Freedom and the will to power’, Horizon, I, 5 (May 1940), pp.326-7. Charles Curran, ‘The new model bourgeoisie’, Crossbow, (October-December 1962), pp. 19-24.