And yet amid this confusion we were aware—even at the time—and can see much more clearly now the interlude is ended—that there were three great ideas running through it all, struggling to emerge, to make themselves understood, and to get themselves realised. But unfortunately what were realities to ordinary men were only counters according to the reckoning of the party mechanicians. The first aim and the second—the improvement of the organisation of society and the conditions of the poor—the freeing of local aspirations and the knitting together of the empire—were held in common by the great mass of the British people, although they were viewed by one section and another from different angles of vision. The third aim, however—the adequate defence of the empire—was not regarded warmly, or even with much active interest, by any organised section. The people who considered it most earnestly were not engaged in party politics. The manipulators of the machines looked upon the first and the second as means whereby power might be gained or retained, but they looked askance upon the third as a perilous problem which it was wiser and safer to leave alone. The great principles with which the names—among others—of Mr. Chamberlain, Lord Roberts, and Mr. Lloyd George are associated, were at no point opposed one to another. Each indeed was dependent upon the other two for its full realisation. And yet, under the artificial entanglements of the Party System, the vigorous pursuit of any one of the three seemed to imperil the success of both its competitors.
CHAPTER III
POLICY AND ARMAMENTS
In the post-Victorian epoch, which we have been engaged in considering, the aim of British foreign policy may be summed up in one word—Security. It was not aggression; it was not revenge; it was not conquest, or even expansion of territories; it was simply Security.
It would be absurd, of course, to imagine that security is wholly, or even mainly, a question of military preparations. "All this is but a sheep in a lion's skin, where the people are of weak courage;" or where for any reason, the people are divided among themselves or disaffected towards their government.
The defences of every nation are of two kinds, the organised and the unorganised; the disciplined strength of the Navy and the Army on the one hand, the vigour and spirit of the people upon the other.
The vigour of the people will depend largely upon the conditions under which they live, upon sufficiency of food, the healthiness or otherwise of their employments and homes, the proper nourishment and upbringing of their children. It is not enough that rates of wages should be good, if those who earn them have not the knowledge how to use them to the best advantage. It is not always where incomes are lowest that the conditions of life are worst. Measured by infant mortality, and by the health and general happiness of the community, the crofters of Scotland, who are very poor, seem to have learned the lesson how to live better than the highly paid workers in many of our great manufacturing towns.
Education—by which is meant not merely board-school instruction, but the influence of the home and the surrounding society—is not a less necessary condition of vigour than wages, sanitary regulations, and such like. The spiritual as well as the physical training of children, the nature of their amusements, the bent of their interests, the character of their aims and ideals, at that critical period when the boy or girl is growing into manhood or womanhood—all these are things which conduce directly, as well as indirectly, to the vigour of the race. They are every bit as much a part of our system of national defence as the manoeuvring of army corps and the gun-practice of dreadnoughts.
The spirit of the people, on the other hand, will depend for its strength upon their attachment to their own country; upon their affection for its customs, laws, and institutions; upon a belief in the general fairness and justice of its social arrangements; upon the good relations of the various classes of which society is composed. The spirit of national unity is indispensable even in the case of the most powerful autocracy. It is the very foundation of democracy. Lacking it, popular government is but a house of cards, which the first serious challenge from without, or the first strong outburst of discontent from within will bring tumbling to the ground. Such a feeling of unity can only spring from the prevalence of an opinion among every class of the community, that their own system, with all its faults, is better suited to their needs, habits, and traditions than any other, and that it is worth preserving, even at the cost of the greatest sacrifices, from foreign conquest and interference.