I suppose what we might call the Blackadder Goes Forth version of the First World War is pretty standard by now. It might be summarised as “Both sides as bad as each other, engaged in slaughter out of commercial ambition and stupid jingoism, until one side happened to win” (it’s not only materialist historians who speak like this, incidentally; a recent article of John Rao’s seemed to take the same view.) Yet even such a version of history seems preferable to the Daily Telegraph attitude of solemnly commemorating the heroic sacrifice of our forefathers while simultaneously promoting abominations that would have caused those same forefathers to say that the country they defended had simply ceased to exist.
There was a painful juxtaposition of headlines on the front page of the Telegraph at the time of the 100th anniversary of the start of the war last year. One of them said: ‘We will never forget’. The other one said, ‘What’s wrong with {excuse me} sperm banks for lesbians?’, the columnist arguing that nothing was. Never forget, forsooth. When it comes to the civilisation we were fighting for, or rather that those young men were fighting for, whose names we read on the war memorials, often several from the same family in even the smallest English village: they forgot long, long ago.
I’ve been reading recently some of the articles that Chesterton wrote in his weekly newspaper column during the War. While the style is recognisably his, they have an elevation of tone that sets them apart from his peacetime works. He has no doubt that the cause of the Allies is not only just, but that the fight is essentially spiritual: a war for the what remained of Christendom, for natural law, justice, the traditions of chivalry and honour and civilisation, against that mixture of brutality, totalitarianism, and mystical self-worship which is evoked by the word Prussia (I wonder if he had any inkling that the young emperor of Austria was a saint?) In one sense, namely as a defence of Belgium, the justice of the war is obvious, and can be judged by posterity as easily as by contemporaries. With regard to the spiritual essence of the combat, insisted on by Chesterton, things are less easy. It is not one or two obvious facts but a multitude that can justify one in speaking as he does. Spiritual things, though supremely real, are subtle, and it is hard for those who have not directly experienced them to speak of them. Yet Chesterton’s words carry conviction. Here are a few variations on a constant theme:-
Prussia was not a nationalist democracy which chose evil; it was not a nation, or even, in the proper sense, a people. It was simply such accidental crowds of colourless, lumpish, outlying northern men as certain chiefs could hammer and harden into mere regiments conscious of no flag. It is necessary to be ruthless because we must reach the centre of the machine in order to break the spring – or, perhaps, the spell. But it is not necessary to be hopeless, because in a sense the men living under it have never yet lived at all. There is nothing in their native and somewhat mild character to prevent their ripening under a better civilisation into very happy and humane Europeans. In that sense this is quite strictly to be called a religious war – in that it is waged to save souls by hypothesis capable of salvation (March 17th, 1917).
We hear this conflict called, not unreasonably, the most horrible war of history. But the most horrible part of it is that it would not be the most horrible war. Wars more and more horrible would follow the failure to vindicate and restore Christian equity and chivalry in this one. This does not make the fight less ghastly to the feelings; but it does make it more inevitable to the mind. It is, even in its most intense agony, still a problem of the reason, and even of the senses – of the sense of external things (29th September, 1917).
There is one fatal blunder in [the] whole picture of the war between England and Germany, and that is that it is a war between England and Germany. There is no war betweeen England and Germany. What happened, as a simple historical fact, in A.D. 1914 was not a war between England and Germany, either in origin or occasion, or motive, or proportions, or excuse. What happened was a war between Prussian and the remains of the older civilisation which Prussia had not yet subdued, and with which England only threw in her lot at the last moment, by a belated implulse mainly noble, but almost entirely new. It is profoundly true that now the very existence of England is bound up with beating Prussia; but that is a result of her largely unexpected act and its many unexpected consequences (December 1st, 1917).
What we have been fighting is the half-finished design of a sort of inverted Roman Empire. It is one in which the least civilised instead of the most civilise power is on top; and one which originally radiated not from an old republican city, but from a new royal court. Bavaria is part of it only as Bulgaria is also a part of it. They both belong to it, in the sense that the Bavarian King would say to the Kaiser what the Bulgarian King also said to the Kaiser: Ave Caesar (August 24th, 1918).
Suppose we were at war, like the Children of Israel, with a Phoenician State vowed to the worship of Moloch, and practising infanticide by flinging babies into the fire. If we used strong words about smiting such enemies hip and thigh, I think it would be unreasonable in essence, though it might sound reasonable in form, for some sage to say to us: “Are there no good Phoenicians? Do not Phoenician widows mourn for their warriors? Is it probable that even Phoenician mothers are born without any motherly instincts?” The answer is that all this misses the main fact; which is a very extraordinary fact. The wonder is not that some Phoenician mothers love their babies, but that most Phoenician mothers burn their babies. That some mothers revolt against it is most probable; that many mothers have so many feelings urging them to revolt against it is almost certain. But Moloch is stronger than the mothers – that is the prodigious fact for the spectator, and the practical menace for the world. When Moloch’s image is fallen, and his fane laid waste; when his worship has passed into history and remains only as a riddle of humanity – then indeed it may be well worth while to analyse the mixed motives, to reconstruct in romance or criticism the inconsistencies of cruelty and kindness. But Moloch is not fallen; Moloch is in his high place, and his furnaces consume mankind; his armies overrun the earth, and his ships threaten our own island. The question on the lips of any living man is not whether some who burn their children may nevertheless love their children, it is whether those who burn children shall conquer those who don’t. The parallel is practically quite justifiable; what we are fighting has all the regularity of a horrible religion. We are not at war with regrettable incidents or sad exceptions, but with a system like the system of sacrificing babies, a system of drowning neutrals, a system of enslaving civilians, a system of attacking hospital services, a system of exterminating chivalry. We do ot say that there are no exceptions; on the conrary, we say that there are exceptions; it is our whole point that they are exceptions. But it is an almost creepy kind of frivolity that we should be speculating on the good exceptions at a moment when we ourselves are in peril of falling under the evil rule (July 20th, 1918).
And just after the Armistice:-
There is another form of the same materialist fallacy which fools have sown broadcast for the last four years. Its most fashionable form may be summed up in the phrase, “It will all be the same a hundred years hence.” I have read pacifist poems and essays in which the old rhetorical flourish to the effect that the corn will grow on the battlefield, or the ivy on the ruined fortress, is seriously used to suggest that it makes not difference whether the battle was fought or whether the fortress fell. We should not be here at all, to moralise about the ivy on castles and the corn on battlefields, if some of the great conflicts of history had gone the other way. If certain barbarian invasions had finally swept certain civilised districts, men would very probably have forgotten how to grow corn, and would certainly have forgotten how to write poems about ivy.
Of some such Eastern Imperialist it was said, as a sort of proverb, that the grass would not grow where he had set his foot. Europe has been saved from turning gradually into such a desert by a series of heroic and historic wars of defence, such as that of the Greeks against the Persians, of the Romans against the Carthaginians, of the Gauls against the Huns, of Alfred against the Danes, or Charles Martel agains the Moors. In each one of these cases the importance of the result does not decrease, but does definitely increase with time. It increases with every new generation that is saved from that destruction, with ever new civilised work that is built on that security, with every baby that might never have been baptised or reared, with every blade of grass that might never have grown where it grows today (November 23rd, 1918).
Though the darkness has returned and Moloch is again in his high place, yet what was gained by their sacrifice will at least always have been gained. Whether or not there can still be continuity for our civilisation, those young men have at least left us an example. So in those words of Tolkien that so moved his friend Lewis, both of whom fought on the Western Front, I say that these were “great deeds, not wholly vain”.
May 19, 2015 at 4:27 pm
Characteristically brilliantly perceptive.
May 19, 2015 at 5:22 pm
But what was it that Prussia did that was equivalent to the infanticide which was part of the worship of Moloch?
May 20, 2015 at 5:46 am
May 20, 2015 at 7:53 pm
Thanks, Aeliane, fascinating. I wonder if Chesterton knew of that.
May 22, 2015 at 12:55 pm
War makes people stupid. The idea that a German victory in WWI would have swept Western civilization away seems wildly improbable to me. In fact, I think if the Germans had won a quick victory the decline would ver likely have been much slower. Moreover the idea that the Germans wanted to conquer England is pure war propaganda. They only wanted to shift the balance of power away from England to Germany. The Germans saw it as a defensive war. Yes, they invaded first, but this was a “preemtive” strike to avoid a double invasion from France and Russia. The German Catholic bishops saw the war as a defense of strict German morality and authority against the degenerate pornographers of France and the Godless liberals of England.
May 22, 2015 at 4:40 pm
There would have been no need for a ‘preemptive strike’ if the Prussians hadn’t been hell-bent on a general European war in the first place. The Prussians were a uniquely amoral state. They were founded in apostasy and rose to greatness through opportunism and duplicity. The difference between Prussia and your average latrocinium was the pride with which they did it. They did not believe what they were doing was wrong. They believed the Prussian state had an absolute value. Stir Darwin and Hegel into that mix and what comes out is pure horror.
May 24, 2015 at 6:15 pm
I never thought I would have to defend dreary Piefkes. Certainly, the Prussian state in its origins and in many of its actions was evil. But there was also a conservative strain in Prussia, a fear of God and a reverence for authority. It was Prussian conservatives who prevented the liberals from founding a liberal German nation-state in 1848. And back in 1815 the “Holy Alliance” was formed precisely because the Prussians, Austrians, and Russians wanted to defend Europe from the secular liberalism recently on display in France.
May 24, 2015 at 7:40 pm
All of which goes to show how very different and ultimately opposed are orthodoxy and conservatism.
May 26, 2015 at 10:55 am
So, what do you think would have happened if the Mittelmächte had one a swift victory in 1914? Do you seriously think things would have gone worse for the world than they actually did?
May 26, 2015 at 11:58 am
Tsardom would have collapsed anyway and something like the USSR emerged. Germany would have deprived France of her African colonies and done for them what she had already done for Namibia. The prestige of Germany would have grown vastly greater. Teutonic supremacist racial theories would have abounded and grown much stronger as justification for European colonialism. Britain (or rather England) would have been utterly corrupted by such theories and by admiration for the victorious Germanic cousins. The resistance to German hegemony would have been radicalised and genuinely popular Marxist movements would have taken significant root in Western Europe. Unrest among the nations of Austria-Hungary would have been used a pretext by Prussia for annexing German-Austria and reducing the non-German peoples of the Greater German Reich to a Dhimmitude based on ‘scientific racism’. The Kaiser’s instability would have worsened as he became more and more confident of his unparalleled historic greatness. A revived form of Germanic Paganism fused with idealist pantheism would become widely fashionable as the Greater German Reich came to resemble a mixture of pre-WWII Germany and Japan. The Church would be riven by those who surrendered to the allurements of German Christianity and those who embraced Marxist reinterpretations of the Gospel. The latter would present themselves as the authentic preservers of the evangelical spirit in the face of Conservative racial mysticism. Few would be willing to listen to the pre-war magisterium as the Thomistic revival faltered. The terrorism of the Marxist resistance would justify more and more Totalitarian measures on the part of the Shogunate in Berlin until in the face of a world wide financial crisis and several failed Communist coups a new philosophy of National Socialism is officially embraced by the Reich…
May 28, 2015 at 9:58 am
That does actually sound kind of plausible. But even if some form of National Socialism were to be embraced by the Second Reich it would have been much different from the form that we actually got. Without the bitterness and resentment of the humiliation of WWI, and without the exasperation at ordinary legality brought by the chaos of Weimar politics, and without the example of Nietschean Fascism in Italy, the ideology that would have emerged in Germany would have lacked the weird demonic and vindictive intensity of Hitler’s version of National Socialism. I so it also wouldn’t have provoked the reaction of extreme liberalism that we have seen in the decades since WWII. So I still think it is reasonable to guess that I quick victory for the Mittelmächte in 1914 would not have brought us evils as great as the ones we actually got.
May 28, 2015 at 1:15 pm
But remember the Antichrist when he comes will be seductive and almost convincing to orthodox Catholics. A triumphant second Reich would have been far more destructive on that basis precisely because of its credentials as vindicator of a reconfigured Vienna settlement. “All these will I give thee, if falling down thou wilt adore me.” It would be so much easier to see the external enemy of Marxist revolutionary terrorism as the ‘real’ enemy. This would be all the easier if the Third Republic had collapsed in the wake of the capture of Paris in 1914. The heritage of 1789 would be easily claimed by Marxism with the heritage of 1814-15 seized by Prussia and the neo-Ancien Regime now supported by racist pantheism with Christianity performing an ever diminishing (but utterly compromising) decorative function. A basic contempt for the rule of law (international or domestic) when it obstructs the desires of the state as embodied in its leader is far more fundamental to the Prussian historical narrative than its ascription to the post WWI chaos implies. A triumphant Prussian Reich is even more plausible a settling for the emergence of the lawless one than a Prussia crushed by the free peoples it sought to enslave.
May 28, 2015 at 3:46 pm
Yeah, you might be right.
June 3, 2015 at 6:36 pm
Thank you for the post, and the discussion. I confess to previously holding notions similar to Pater Edmund, though you have convinced me as well.
A few years ago, I read Chesterton’s “The Crimes of England”, and although it contained a great deal of wit and truth (“In Montenegro there are no millionaires—and therefore next to no Socialists. As to why there are no millionaires, it is a mystery, and best studied among the mysteries of the Middle Ages. By some of the dark ingenuities of that age of priestcraft a curious thing was discovered—that if you kill every usurer, every forestaller, every adulterater, every user of false weights, every fixer of false boundaries, every land-thief, every water-thief, you afterwards discover by a strange indirect miracle, or disconnected truth from heaven, that you have no millionaires. Without dwelling further on this dark matter, we may say that this great gap in the Montenegrin experience explains the other great gap—the lack of Socialists. The Class-conscious Proletarian of All Lands is curiously absent from this land.”), I couldn’t shake the feeling that from our vantage point he would have regarded the Great War differently, and that he was caught up by currents of the times and his romantic ideas about war (the ending of The Man Who Knew Too Much” encouraged me in this understanding).
I should have known better than to doubt him. Chesterton’s feel for the particularity of people and history is uncanny, and your alternate history does indeed seem depressingly plausible. Interesting to note that Germany seems to have the whip hand in EU politics, and is currently the main stronghold of “conservatism” (of the status quo for the EU), so your vision has come to pass to some degree, though with less danger of taking in the orthodox, as you note.
December 28, 2016 at 9:02 pm
[…] H.Q. in vain for an answer. Unlike his friends Belloc and Chesterton, who not only wrote appalling war-propaganda but also seemed to believe it, Baring doesn’t seem to have had any illusions about the evils […]