In 1916, Britain (and France) went through the toughest time of World War I. It was a year of ever-increasing strain, catastrophe and disappointment. While the French were bled white at Verdun, the Easter Rising in Dublin changed the assumption that the Irish would wholeheartedly support the Allies. The disaster at Kut in April, where 13,000 troops were marched into captivity, altered the perceptions about the “side-shows”, just as Gallipoli had in 1915. On 1 June, the Royal Navy’s losses at Jutland shocked the Government and four days later the country went into mourning when the Secretary of State for War, Lord Kitchener, was drowned en route to Russia.
The second half of the year was even worse for Prime Minister Herbert Asquith. The Battle of the Somme, which began on 1 July, became synonymous with the waste of life that embodied the war in France. The Arab Revolt launched in June fell flat and the rate of British merchant vessels sunk by submarines increased dramatically (41 ships and 176,248 tonnes in October).
Against this background, Lord Lansdowne wrote a memorandum about peace terms with Germany. Asquith hesitated for too long and was evicted from Downing Street, to be replaced by the dynamic David Lloyd George. In response, John Buchan (one of my favourite authors at school) wrote: “If politicians make mistakes, it isn’t from lack of good instruction to guide their steps.” He might have added that the failure to articulate clear objectives and clear policy is a political death trap.
On both sides of the Atlantic, we are currently seeing political leaders who are hesitating in their decision-making just when they need to offer clarity to their followers and the wider public. My advice to both of them is don’t make the same mistake as Herbert Asquith and listen to your best advisors, not the loudest voices.
Rupert Wieloch 