After the Election
A favourite story of the First World War concerns two high born young officers in the thick of a desperate battle. All around them the shells scream and roar, the soldiers claw their way through the lethal mud. One of the officers turns to the other: “I say, Fanshawe, won’t you be awfully glad when this horrid war is over and we can get back to some proper soldiering?”
Now that the election battle has subsided, now that the politicians’s roars have been stilled, now that the smokescreens of promises have cleared, a certain fact can be discerned. All the while, capitalism has been waiting for the nonsense to stop. Now it can get back to some proper soldiering.
What does that mean? Even while the battle was raging, calm voices could be heard indicating that capitalism would be largely unaffected by the result. Here, for example, is the City Editor of the Evening Standard, writing on September 24th about the similarities of both Labour and Conservative policy on the capital gains tax:
“It now seems certain that a new Capital gains tax will be introduced next year—whoever wins the Election. . . .”
“The Stock Exchange, the Institute of Directors, and the top brass of the Labour Party have all said that they want changes. . . . “
“From what I hear . . . a re-elected Tory Government would tackle the subject pretty soon.”
Other voices could also be heard, some of them not so calm. Mr. Khrushchev forgot that elections are times when everybody should be studying how good capitalist society is for us, and announced that Russia had a “monstrous new terrible weapon” which could destroy humanity. Of course, the Russian Ex Premier said afterwards that he had not meant that, that he had never said it and even if he had he had been misreported. Everyone had misunderstood him. Russia has only a “terrible weapon”—non nuclear.
The shock waves from this announcement duly arrived at Washington, where the military have for some time been worried about the offensive potential of bomb carrying space-satellites. President Johnson felt it part of his duty as President—and perhaps part of his election campaign—to claim that the United States has new defensive installations, in place, operational and on the alert, which could destroy hostile satellites. These installations—if they exist—are there because the other side has developed the means of penetrating the old defences. Presumably, the latest defence installations will cause the other side to work out new, more penetrative, more powerful weapons. This is a two-way process—the Americans are also working on missiles to get through the latest Russian defences. This all goes under the name of the policy of the deterrent and it is supposed to make us happy and secure.
It is reasonable to suppose that the up-bidding by Johnson and Khrushchev in the game of international nuclear poker did not influence many voters in the British election. How many voters were appalled at the fact that capitalist society spends so much of its time and talents on trying to blow itself up? How many asked themselves why the richest nations in the world are so anxious to have the world’s most fearsome weapons?
The answer to that question is easy enough to come by. Consider this example, so normal to capitalism that it passed almost unnoticed.
Not very long ago, nobody bothered very much about the North Sea. You could sail across it, fly over it, you could fish in it. And then a funny thing happened. The Dutch discovered a rich field of natural gas, which is now thought to be the second largest of its kind in the world, and capable of supplying Europe’s needs for many years. It did not take a lot of elaborate detective work to connect this discovery with the small British oilfields in the Midlands and to surmise’ that oil and gas bearing rocks might stretch right under the North Sea.
Then everyone became interested in ending the arrangement which allowed the North Sea to be a free area. Ah international conference parcelled out the seabed between the interested powers. By this solemnly legal method the British government stoic 100,000 square miles of seabed and they shared this out, in the shape of licences to drill for oil and gas, to firms like Shell, Esso, British Petroleum and the Gas Council. All the capitalist parties were agreed that this was a fit and proper way of settling the affair:
“Mr. Erroll said the Bill under which the licences were issued had been thoroughly discussed in the House of Commons this year and nobody had suggested matters should be handled differently.”(The Guardian, 18/9/64.)
It is obvious that there will be some changes, now, in the North Sea. A rich supply of oil or gas, or both, will be especially interesting to British industry, which at present is so precariously dependent upon oil from abroad. But there could be other effects, equally interesting. The British interest in the oilfields of the Middle East has been responsible for many clashes of arms there. The Suez invasion, the refusal to get out of Cyprus, were only two recent examples of this. In the same way, the French hung on in Algeria, and prolonged the bloodshed there, because of the discovery of oil and gas in the Sahara.
It is obvious that British capitalism would be equally determined to protect its investments in the North Sea. At the moment the area is all allocated. But what if some other capitalist group, which was not in on the original carve-up, decides that it also needs to get hold of some of the North Sea resources?
This is not a fanciful question. At the end of the last century the expanding capitalism of Germany was faced with a similar situation. They had arrived too late to get their share of the colonial and commercial loot from the ruthless scramble of a little earlier. They tried to catch up by diplomatic and trading bargains. They tried threats and military adventures. But the end was inevitable and we saw what it was in 1914 and 1939.
If the same sort of dispute arises over the North Sea, the capitalist powers will probably try to bargain it out of existence. They may even succeed, for a time. But in the end, if the conferences fail, the good old final solution of a head on, armed clash will follow. No holds will be barred and the side with the biggest bangers will win.
And that, to return to our original point, is why the Russian ruling class have their monstrous weapons, why the Americans have theirs and why both sides—indeed all sides—are in the arms race. Capitalism is a world divided by conflicting economic interests, which are asserted by the armed forces of the rival nations. These forces must always be ready, must always have the most up-to-date weapons—even if this means that they have the means of destroying the human race.
This is all quite normal to capitalism. It goes on during elections, and when the dust of battle has cleared it is still there. Proper soldiering, in fact.
On the home front it is the same story. Both Labour and Conservative parties were clear that a major preoccupation of the next government would be their “incomes policy”—more accurately known as their method of controlling wages. “Labour,” said The Guardian, “would demand from the unions cooperation in an incomes policy.” The Tory manifesto put it: “an effective and fair incomes policy is crucial to the achievement of sustained growth without inflation.”
What this means is that the struggle between the employers and the workers, over wages and working conditions, will continue. The working class will continue to depend upon their wages for their life. They will continue trying to improve those wages and conditions and the government will continue trying to hold the improvements in some sort of check.
The working class freely voted for capitalism in the election and in doing that they freely voted for the system which compels them to struggle and which so often reduces any temporary advantage they may gain.
These sombre facts do not prevent the politicians promising that some day, in some mysterious way, things are going to get better. The politicians’ airy promise is an established part of proper soldiering. Some have been foolish enough to have passed into political history, to stand as monumental warnings against verbal extravagance. (One old time Labour minister was so famous for the generosity of his promises that be was called “the greatest blatherer alive.”)
Consider these two statements:
“. . . the long, dark night is over and . . . a better day is dawning for Great Britain and the world. The wonderful recovery of trade and finance in the last seven years is the most marvellous miracle in the history of the world.”
And the other:
“It is a time for action, for decision, for exciting changes It is a time for opportunity, opportunity for all our people, all our children, to break through man-made barriers of privilege and snobbery, and be free to give their talents and energies in service to their country.”
The authors of those two statements were Phillip Snowden, in 1926, and Harold Wilson in 1964 (neither of whom were ever called “the greatest blatherer alive”). There is no reason to reveal who said which, because both statements are equally meaningless. The point is that the blathering of capitalism is an enduring as the system itself.
Proper soldiering. Massively destructive machines, the deadly rivalry between opposing capitalist blocs, poverty and strife, all covered by an enormous blanket of politicians’ nonsense. The working class may vote for all of this, although they are the people who suffer most acutely under it. But a few of us will have no part of the soldiering. We have our eyes and thoughts on the better world and you will not find us on parade in the morning.
IVAN