At times the many-sided interplay of World Affairs presents a confused and complex character that does not permit of ready and facile interpretation. To admit that often we are only wise after the event is not necessarily a confession of a lack of one’s powers of perception or a deficiency in native intelligence.
It may also be that in this process of becoming wise after the event there are some who take longer than most. It may even be that there are others who never become wise about events at all.
Which brings us to
Mr. Clynes’ article, “When Crisis comes to the Cabinet.” (
News of the World, l4/9//47.) Mr. Clynes also sketches there what, for him, were apparently the essential features of the 1931 economic crisis. That crisis happened sixteen years ago, a fair period you will agree for cogitation and reflection on what it was all about. After reading Mr. Clynes’ article we can only conclude that sixteen years has not been long enough for him to have become really wise after the event.
Mr. Clynes, who was Home Secretary in the 1929-31 Labour Government, says that during crises he has been behind “closed doors.” He means 10, Downing Street, of course. With such qualifications he offers the newspaper’s readers “a picture of what happens.”
Perhaps the ”negative” of the picture has remained in “the dark-room” of Mr. Clynes’ memory too long. For, to use a slightly technical term, the picture is sadly lacking in definition and detail. Instead of a clear-cut impression of the real political significance of the events produced by and associated with, the 1931 crisis there is merely a confused blur of disconnected incidents and trivial political minutiae. Thus we get a presentation of “day by day Cabinet meetings, of men with white strained faces, going painfully over one scheme after another to meet a frightening situation.” Of strained nerves and tempers. The sudden bitter enmity of life-long friends. A broken-hearted and bewildered Cabinet deserted by their leader, Ramsey MacDonald, and so on. Touching, no doubt, but scarcely enlightening as a piece of political history.
Neither does any word issue from the lips of the chief characters in the picture to indicate in the slightest what the real nature of the Cabinet Crisis was. Indeed, so far as the understanding of events being gathered from what at the time was said, its significance apparently is to be found in what was not said. For Mr. Clynes’ tells us that not only was MacDonald reticent to the Cabinet concerning a visit to him in the early crisis days by the private secretary of King-George V, but, moreover, he refused to disclose to them what had passed between the King and himself at a Buckingham Palace interview. One could comment that MacDonald’s preference for a silent part in “the picture ” was indeed a rare choice for perhaps the most garrulous politician of the age.
In spite of the apparently crucial importance which Mr. Clynes rather obscurely attaches to MacDonald’s silence in the matter of the crisis, we could assure him—if that were needed—that whatever passed between King and Premier in the crisis talk would not have materially affected the nature of the 1931 economic crisis or the main trend of events which resulted from it.
The fact that MacDonald refused to spill the beans on what was said is open to the more charitable suggestion that so far as any concrete proposals about the handling of the crisis was concerned he had no beans to spill. It may even be that he didn’t discuss the crisis with the King at all. After all it is Secret History and our guess might be as good as anybody’s in the matter.
Mr. Clynes does, however, inform us that MacDonald and the Cabinet had agreed on matters which it seemed were regarded as unalterable; although about the question of what these matters were, Mr. Clynes himself is highly reticent. Albeit MacDonald altered the unalterable by the simple device of continuing his Premiership with the aid of the Tories instead of that of the Labour Party.
Mr. Clynes, anxious perhaps to cushion any criticism of his party’s failure to effectively deal with the problems of Capitalism in so far as they affect the workers’ interests, assures us that Ministers are fallible human beings. We, of course, have never said anything to the contrary. To which he further adds a somewhat tearful, spare a kind thought for the poor politician plea, by exhorting us “in our own worry and uncertainty to have Pity on them.”
It would seem that only at Election Times does the cloak of Papal infallibility fall upon the shoulders of political spokesmen. Only then, with much fingering of their political rosaries, do they proclaim with almost divine assurance to the electorate that “They are the Way, the Truth and the Light.” Only then does isome leader take on the role of a political Moses whose mission it is to lead the workers into “The Promised Land.”
It is only when political parties have become the Government of the country that they discover they are liable to be the prey of the mysterious and malignant economic visitations popularly known as “Blizzards,” “Catastrophes” and “Disasters” and for whose coming they assume no responsibility or claim any real control. It is these things which it seems set to nought their good intentions and bring to dust their political programmes and promises. In this manner do “our statesmen” translate the economic contradictions of Capitalism into librettos for the eternal political theme of the struggle between the Forces of Good and The Powers of Darkness.
Mr. Clynes tells us that Ministers “are, perhaps, family men each with domestic worries and as deeply involved as the rest of us in the common disaster which threatens our common citizenship.” No doubt this touching spectacle of the domestic worries of Ministers, such as paying the rent, meeting the milk bill or the uncertainty of the next meal, getting all mixed up with the affairs of State, is a sombre reminder of the price that has to be paid for “Democracy.” Whether the Fascist Dictatorship can be explained by the fact that Hitler was a bachelor up to the last few days of life and presumably had no family responsibilities, might engage the attention of those “psychological gentry” who are always trying to explain social and economic events by processes which have nothing to do with them. Nevertheless both Goebbels and Goering were family men and for that matter, so was Mussolini.
Doubtless, the raising of families by our Ministers is a worthy and human concession to the democratic notions of our age, but what precisely its connection is with the objective cause of the economic crises of Capitalism, Mr. Clynes fails to explain.
Mr. Clynes then tells us that “as the result of an half-an hour’s angry disagreement we were going out into the desert deprived of four-figure salaries, secure positions, the confidence of bewildered supporters and indeed of any political future for which we had painfully given our working lives.” This, indeed, must have been the supreme moment “When Crisis comes to the Cabinet.” In view of all this it will not perhaps come as a surprise when he informs us that among the varying emotions experienced by some of his colleagues, avarice was one of them.
And if the gentle reader impatiently asks what has all this to do with the political and economic events of the 1931 period, we can only say that it is Mr. Clynes’ article on the crisis and not ours.
Nevertheless Mr. Clynes does make some attempt to more realistically portray how the crisis came to Britain. For instance we are informed that foreign countries’ confidence in Great Britain was shaken—a not altogether unknown phenomenon in this country’s history. As a result of this lack of confidence “shipload after shipload of gold was loaded at the docks and passed overseas.” “At every bank queues of people tried to draw out silver and notes. Business almost stopped.” Again, £10,000,000 in gold was withdrawn and the Bank of England was by an emergency Act relieved of the necessity to pay out gold on demand. To remove any possible misapprehension these shiploads, of gold were not the nest-eggs of the working class becoming an article of export. Neither were the bank queues those of workers trying to draw out their “savings” as a preliminary to departing to sunny climes. The “going off the Gold Standard” in this country was of no vital concern to the workers because they had never been on it. Indeed the only standard the working class have ever been on in the present system is, a “Copper” one and that will remain their money evaluation as a class, whatever financial arrangements the capitalist class come to in times of crisis.
For Mr. Clynes, however, the cessation of the normal functions of The Bank of England indicated that “Britain shivered on the verge of catastrophe”.
To cap it all that other great working class institution, The Stock Exchange, closed down temporarily. However, those other working class institutions, the Labour Exchange and the Public Assistance Committee, were very much open and marked by a continuous and feverish activity.
“Then,” says Mr. Clynes, continuing his crisis theme, “for no apparent reason confidence returned.” “At mid-day Treasury officials felt a degree of terror. By the afternoon speculators were buying instead of selling . . . the tide had turned … a great crisis was weathered.” Such a description of the nature of the crisis strongly suggests a marked affinity with that vague and unaccountable phenomenon called an Act of God.
At a less sensational level we could offer the somewhat more accountable explanation, that the year 1931 was witnessing one of those familiar trade cycles which Capitalism is periodically subject to. Also the fact of going off the Gold Standard was merely an effect—not a cause of the crisis. Capitalists all over the world, faced with glutted markets and unsaleable stocks, were not only anxious to cut their commitments but were demanding gold as the means of payment in any transaction that occurred. Other Capitalists and their financial institutions were busily trying to call in loans, in view of the slump. Faced then, with the catastrophic decline of international trade it was inevit able that the creditors of British Capitalism should seek bullion as the only means for liquidating debts incurred. Thus a heavy drain on the Bank of England’s gold reserves was an automatic consequence of the conditions brought about by general and chronic “overproduction.”
To explain a capitalist crisis of “overproduction” in terms of financial panics and stringency is like attempting to explain Delirium Tremens by the patient’s shudders and shivers. Although Mr. Clynes tells us “that the crisis in money was passed” a few incidental features of the crisis, like nearly 3,000,000 unemployed, economy cuts, falling wages, distressed and devastated areas and the general intensification of poverty, remained for some years. Such crisis events, however, are not the best kind of reminiscences to keep for one’s political old age. Neither perhaps do they constitute the best form of Sunday afternoon reading for the working-class readers of the News of the World.
We have, of course, on other occasions dealt with some of Mr. Clynes economic fallacies,
as far back as 1919 and as recently as the
June Socialist Standard of this year. Undoubtedly Mr. Clynes’ consistent propaganda in “more production” campaigns has revealed him as an untiring advocate of harder work for other people.
But Capitalism is a profit-motive economy and it is profit anticipation which not only determines how wealth is produced but in the final analysis how much is to be produced. Thus with every increase in wealth-producing efficiency a greater quantity of goods are enabled to be thrown on to the market. Workers’ wages constituting but a fraction of the wealth they produce, it is insufficient to absorb the ever greater amount of the goods turned out by them. In the case of the Capitalists their effective ability to consume the products of labour is fixed by the limits of their personal and physical capacities. Hence a greater portion of their “surpluses” tend to go into greater investments of those industries which turn out productive goods,. The contradiction between the expanding forces of production and the limited class income distribution inherent in Capitalism is thus intensified. It is this which finally leads to glutted markets. Effective demand ceases, or to put it another way, a condition is reached where no purchasers can be found. Profit anticipation then declines or disappears. Production is, then curtailed; plants close down; workers are dismissed and all the familiar conditions of a slump make their appearance.
Thus Mr. Clynes’ sovereign remedies—greater productive output on the part of the worker—for dealing with unemployment and low wages, provide the very means for bringing about in a shorter time those very conditions which he seeks to obviate.
It would appear that Mr. Clynes has been so busy during his life, assisting or seeking to assist in the administration of Capitalism that he has never had time to acquaint himself with a few simple facts about the system he has, helped to run. Thus do “Practical Politics” keep our statesmen, so far as the understanding of this present system is concerned, in a perpetual economic “Egyptian Darkness.”
Should we then include Mr. Clynes among those politicians he asks us “to have pity on?”
Ted Wilmott
