Fall of Giants

Ethel knew the arguments for peace better than the philosopher did, and as he spoke she studied the two men on the platform who were wooing her. Fitz was the product of hundreds of years of wealth and culture. As always, he was beautifully dressed, his hair well-cut, his hands white, and his fingernails clean. Bernie came from a tribe of persecuted nomads who survived by being cleverer than those who tormented them. He was wearing his only suit, the heavy dark gray serge. Ethel had never seen him in anything else: when the weather was warm he simply took off the jacket.

The audience listened quietly. The Labour movement was divided over peace. Ramsay MacDonald, who had spoken against the war in Parliament on August 3, 1914, had resigned as Labour Party leader when war was declared two days later, and since then the party’s M.P.s had supported the war, as did most of their voters. But Labour supporters tended to be the most skeptical of working-class people, and there was a strong minority in favor of peace.

Fitz began by speaking of Britain’s proud traditions. For hundreds of years, he said, Britain had maintained the balance of power in Europe, generally by siding with weaker nations to make sure no one country dominated. “The German chancellor has not said anything about the terms of a peace settlement, but any discussion would have to start from the status quo,” he said. “Peace now means that France is humiliated and robbed of territory and Belgium becomes a satellite. Germany would dominate the continent by sheer military force. We cannot allow that to happen. We must fight for victory.”

When the discussion opened, Bernie said: “Earl Fitzherbert is here in a purely personal capacity, not as an army officer, and he has given me his word of honor that serving soldiers in the audience will not be disciplined for anything they say. Indeed, we would not have invited the earl to attend the meeting on any other basis.”

Bernie himself asked the first question. As usual, it was a good one. “If France is humiliated and loses territory, then that will destabilize Europe, according to your analysis, Lord Fitzherbert.”

Fitz nodded.

“Whereas if Germany is humiliated and loses the territories of Alsace and Lorraine-as she undoubtedly would-then that will stabilize Europe.”

Fitz was momentarily stumped, Ethel could see. He had not expected to have to deal with such sharp opposition here in the East End. Intellectually he was no match for Bernie. She felt a bit sorry for him.

“Why the difference?” Bernie finished, and there was a murmur of approval from the peace faction in the audience.

Fitz recovered rapidly. “The difference,” he said, “is that Germany is the aggressor, brutal, militaristic, and cruel, and if we make peace now we will be rewarding that behavior-and encouraging it in the future!”

That brought a cheer from the other section of the audience, and Fitz’s face was saved, but it was a poor argument, Ethel thought, and Maud stood up to say so. “The outbreak of war was not the fault of any single nation!” she said. “It has become the conventional wisdom to blame Germany, and our militaristic newspapers encourage this fairy tale. We remember Germany’s invasion of Belgium and talk as if it was completely unprovoked. We have forgotten the mobilization of six million Russian soldiers on Germany’s border. We have forgotten the French refusal to declare neutrality.” A few men booed her. You never get cheered for telling people the situation is not as simple as they think, Ethel reflected wryly. “I don’t say Germany is innocent!” Maud protested. “I say no country is innocent. I say we are not fighting for the stability of Europe, or for justice for the Belgians, or to punish German militarism. We are fighting because we are too proud to admit we made a mistake!”

A soldier in uniform stood up to speak, and Ethel saw with pride that it was Billy. “I fought at the Somme,” he began, and the audience went quiet. “I want to tell you why we lost so many men there.” Ethel heard their father’s strong voice and quiet conviction, and she realized Billy would have made a great preacher. “We were told by our officers”-here he stretched out his arm and pointed an accusing finger at Fitz-“that the assault would be a walk in the park.”

Ethel saw Fitz shift uncomfortably in his chair on the platform.

Billy went on: “We were told that our artillery had destroyed the enemy positions, wrecked their trenches and demolished their dugouts, and when we got to the other side we would see nothing but dead Germans.”

He was not addressing the people on the platform, Ethel observed, but looking all around him, sweeping the audience with an intense gaze, making sure all eyes were on him.

“Why did they tell us those things?” Billy said, and now he looked straight at Fitz and spoke with deliberate emphasis. “Things that were not true.” There was a mutter of agreement from the audience.