One hundred years ago, or even less, the British paper-making industry was a staple. The paper was British made from British materials. In the light of this knowledge one may well ask why, and how, we allowed this profitable trade to slip through our fingers? The cause was not far to seek. Our old pugnacious friend the wasp was primarily responsible for the passing of this British industry. He, from his paper-making prowess in the fabrication of his wonderful nest, set certain imaginative men thinking hard. If this humble insect could contrive such a remarkably tough and stout paper for home-building purposes from wood surely it was not beyond the wit of men, with the bewildering array of mechanical and chemical handmaids at his elbow, to do likewise!
Accordingly the observant, fertile, and patient minds went to work. Within a short time they not only succeeded in imitating the wasp, but evolved such a simple process in the doing of it as to make an irresistible appeal to commerce. Incidentally while this one line of investigation, the purely mechanical, was being pursued other equally brilliant minds were perfecting a second means of achieving a similar end by mechanical-chemical agency. In this manner commerce became equipped with two efficient means for the reduction of trees into paper, and at such a low figure as to render the conventional competitive methods impossible, at least for the cheapest grades of paper, such as are employed for our newspapers, popular periodicals, and low-priced books.
To reap the rich rewards which invention dangled before commerce only two fundamental requirements had to be fulfilled. The one was ample cheap power in close proximity to virtually inexhaustible supplies of the essential material, namely soft woods, which constituted the second factor. Scandinavia held unrivalled attractions in this respect. Accordingly the princes of the paper-making industry trekked to Norway and Sweden, to convenient points amid the endless reaches of forest, and there planted huge mills beside waterfalls and swiftly running rivers, which were harnessed to provide the cheap power which hydro-electric energy offered. The outlook was additionally alluring from the circumstance that these mills, metaphorically speaking, could be established within the proverbial stone’s throw of the biggest and most promising markets of the world.
So Scandinavia succeeded in building up a rich monopoly which experienced continuous prosperity until a few years ago. Then similar activity became manifest in certain corners of Farther Britain, notably in Newfoundland, Eastern Canada, and British Columbia, where, owing to the prevailing climatic conditions favouring huge reserves of suitable forests, ribbed with abundant water power, a bold bid was made, not only for the European but the American markets as well. For the first time in its history the Scandinavian interests were brought full tilt against powerful competition.
With the advent of the halfpenny newspaper, the popular periodical, and the cheap edition of a favourite author, all of which depend upon mammoth circulations for their financial successes, the wood-pulp industry received a tremendous boom. In 1913 British imports from Scandinavia aggregated 756,252 tons valued at £3,533,509—$17,667,545. Germany, attracted by the glamour of the commercial possibilities held out in this direction, essayed to participate in the boom, her exports of pulp to these islands during the above-mentioned year reaching 40,972 tons worth £330,456—$1,697,280. In comparison with the figure for Scandinavia the Teuton contribution may appear small, but it must not be forgotten that this represented a 50 per cent. increase in Germany’s favour within two years. During the year in question Canada and Newfoundland also swelled the home market, the aggregate of pulp and paper accepted from their mills by Britain being 119,742 tons valued at £279,374—$1,396,870.
Then came the war, and this upset the upward tendency of the foreign manufacturers to an alarming degree, as well as causing distinct stringency among ourselves. Germany was knocked out of the market in one blow, while the demand for shipping likewise extinguished the Canadian contributions. Then came the appointment of a Controller to adjust the Scandinavian situation, and official action in regard to restrictions, which were admittedly severe, threw the Scandinavian industry all sixes and sevens. Some idea of the degree to which the imports of paper and pulp from Scandinavia were hit may be gathered from the figures for 1918—390,000 tons as compared with the pre-war supply of 2,000,000 tons, representing a fall of 82 per cent.
The situation at home assumed an ominous aspect. Cutting off imports reduced supplies to a figure hopelessly below demand. The issue was further aggravated from the circumstance that the domestic industry had not been advanced to the position where it could take up the producing reins to make up the deficiency. The output from British mills during 1918 only approximately equalled the importation for the year, and was less than double the figure at which it stood five years before, which was about 200,000 tons.
In these circumstances the Controller was called upon to make a round 700,000 tons of paper go as far as had 2,000,000 in pre-war days. As a matter of fact the last-named figure was short of the mark, for the simple reason that sources of consumption, and heavy ones at that, which had been non-existent five years previously had sprung up and were in the full blaze of activity. I refer to the various Government departments created as a direct result of the war.
Where does all the paper go? To the lay mind this question appears impossible of a comprehensive answer. He concedes that the publishing and commercial worlds, from the magnitude of their operations, must absorb colossal quantities, but this reflection does not bring complete comfort. During the war period it was not so difficult to reduce the apparent enigma to simple explanation. The Stationery Office devoured paper to the extent of 57,000 tons a year. The Ministry of Munitions absorbed 1,000 tons a week in the actual manufacture of missiles, one use being the substitution of aluminium by paper for filling the tips of bullets, while fuse cylinders were also contrived from paper instead of from tin. The Ministry of Food called for 400 to 500 tons of paper to provide the cards for sugar, meat and butter rations, while the issuance of the subsequent ration books ran away with another 750 tons. The War Office was probably the heaviest consumer, from the simple fact that all jams and preserves issued to the army, and packed in one-pound consignments, were served in paper cartons instead of tins. Seeing that the quantities of jams issued in this manner ran into millions, the consumption of paper for the containers was stupendous. Such zealous and ingenious recourse to paper instead of metals for such purposes was readily explicable. For instance, at the time, tin was costing about £320—$1,600—per ton as compared with brown paper at £35—$175—and cardboard at £50—$250—per ton respectively. It was to the advantage of the nation to abandon costly metals whenever and wherever a paper substitute was equally serviceable.
To counteract the shortage in supplies from abroad every effort was made to extend and to develop the domestic manufacturing facilities. This was not such a simple task as it appeared, inasmuch as we are sadly lacking in the reserves of the necessary material. We possess no soft-wood forests waiting to be turned into paper. In these circumstances the alternative was to embark upon a voyage of discovery and experiment in the hope that an efficient inexpensive range of substitutes might be unearthed to take the place of the imported wood-pulp, either exclusively, which was scarcely to be expected, or to a very pronounced degree.