ENGLISH FREEDOM
By E. M. FORSTER
ENGLISH freedom is one of the most precious of man's creations on this earth. Its quality is supreme. But its bulk, alas ! is very small. Viewed with the spiritual eye from another planet it would appear as a little jewel set in a sullen sea. And before we glorify its radiance we must admit its limitations. Alas ! Two heaVy shadows fall across the entrance of this demi- paradise.
The first shadow : here is neither world freedom nor even Empire freedom. Here is merely a habit of life confined to people living in England or under English conditions. Ask an Englishman Whether he is ready to share his liberty with the natives of Kenya or of India, and he will answer " Never ! " or " Not until I consider them worthy." A hundred years ago he would have cried " Yes ! Yes ! My freedom is for all." More enthusiastic and more ignorant than he is today, he believed that our freak of an island is an example for continents, and that the lamp of democracy, flickering in the Westminster marsh-lands, not only descended from heaven but is the parent of a universal fire. Our constitution and jury system were soon to be copied by the delighted nations of Europe. Our queer tricks of thought and speech, and our still queerer sense of humour, were to dictate the human norm, every dwelling-place from Chinn to Peru was to turn into a home and every home into a castle, and though the Englishman would remain freer than anyone else because of his natural superiority, he would easily start all the other inhabitants of the World following him. There was much that was childish and unscientifw in this nineteenth-century attitude, but there was also a great generosity. Con- trast it with the reservations of today. No one expects English freedom to be adopted by other races, nor do we allow it to be adopted by such races as we control. When General Smuts interpreted it so nobly and so sincerely last month 1w did not suggest that it was suitable for the coloured peoples of South Africa.
In the second place it can only be enjoyed by those who live above a certain economic level. For the down-and-out—unless he is .-cry exceptional—English freedom does not signify a plate of fish and chips. What is there to interest him► in it ? He regards it as a fad of the selfish upper classes, which they take up because they have enough to eat and enjoy breaking regulations. Anyone who, like the present writer, has praised freedom but tried to keep his ears open, will catch at moments an irritable snarl, proceeding not only from Communists but from people who are simply hungry and homeless. Such people cannot notice the high ideals of our civiliza- tion. And while they exist, our liberty is maimed, even inside the limits of England.
These shadows once past, oh what a paradise opens ! There are rocks and winds in it as well as flowers, it is no hallos Melon's, strength and manliness arc found there as well as pleasure. The rocks and the winds of Cumberland ? It is natural to think of them first, and perhaps the Lake District is the best outward symbol of our freedom. So small. so grand, so lovely ! The district whose scenery has been underlined by poetry 'and enhaloed by the spirits of the dead. Or turn south, stand. on the Wansdyke, on the mysterious ridge which runs along the Marlborough downs and overlooks Wessex. Here the contours are softer, rock only pro- trudes as an occasional Grey Wether, but it is still the country that has never been claimed, never standardized. .Or turn to the England that has been ruined outwardly to Kent—through Kent the first procession of English freedom passed from the Tabard at Southwark to the hill of Harbledown. That, rather than the shrine of St. Thomas, was their goal. And all. critics have seen in the variety of that procession, in its vigour, in its clash • of opinions harmonized by good temper, in its moments of sentimentality and of gay indecency, the scope of the English character. The Pilgrims' Way now runs through banalities, but the pilgrimage still continues.
. And turning from poetry and scenery, what a solid heritage we still possess in common life. We believe in - free speech and an uncensored Press, and religious tolera- tion, we don't get fussed about the Jews, we believe in the right of minorities to exist, we believe that every man is innocent until he is proved guilty, and that no man's home shall be searched. We don't like plain-clothes detectives, agents-provocateurs, shock-tactics or spies, and we would rather risk a certain amount of lawlessness than have it suppressed by sneaks. Laws, we think, should be made by Parliaments, not by dictatorial decrees, and should . be administered by magistrates and not by policemen or soldiers or custom-house officials. We don't like private armies nor their uniforms. And when we greet our friends we shake hands. Whether this faith of ours is outworn time will prove, and shortly . prove. But there it is ; a faith which can be followed far back into history. " Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the waves "—that is a foolish line, but the line that follows is, despite its jingling, profound, and may it never be forgotten !
. Except in our own country, in the Scandinavian coun- tries, and in Switzerland, belief in liberty has almost been abandoned since the War, and belief in servitude to the State has taken its place. The English no longer appear as guides sheltering a sacred flame, but as freaks, who have kept out of realities, thanks to their geographical position. " Do I salute democracy ? Do I salute the sun in heaven ? " cried Thiers politely. It is not as simple as that in 1934, and few Continental statesmen would venture to echo him. We ourselves are full of difficulty and doubt.. Besides the defection of Europe, there is the bewildering advance of science—an advance far more rapid than any moral development in man—and this tends both to specialization and to centralization 'and thus to restraint of the individual. It seems indeed' likely that in the immediate future Englishmen will have to put up with less liberty of action. But all the more reason that they should jealously guard their liberty or thought and speech and while enduring the power of the State should never adore it. The State is like death. It has to be. And some civilizations have worshipped death. Others have turned their faces to the sun, and so may the individual in this difficult hour turn to the only source of his good, and even if his body be bound refuse to merge his soul in totalitarian emotions. Thus • alone will he keep ready for a better day, when the body as well as the soul may be free.
At this moment the England I love is a fortress. Our freedom has never been so fiercely attacked. We have three enemies. Two of them—Fascism and Corn- munism—are obvious enough, and, for the purposes of this article, there is no need to distinguish between them. One of them looks to Rome and Berlin, the other to Moscow, both of them believe in dictators and drill and monkeying about with mass-psychology. The third enemy has not yet been defined. Its victory -would be far less catastrophic, but in a sense it is the most dangerous of the three because it has the best chance of success. Dare I christen it "Fabio-Fascism"?—the Mussolini-spirit working quietly away behind the facade of constitutional - forms, passing a little law here, .en- dorsing a departmental tyranny there,' emphasizing the national need of official secrecy elsewhere until- " It is not 'to be thought of that the Flood
Of British freedom . . ."
But it is to be, has to be, thought of, and men who genuinely love our country may dissipate the sacral waters if they have no value for what is most precious in her past : variety of opinion. Our freedom today has more to fear from enlightened authoritarians like Lord Hailsham or Lord Lloyd or Lord Trenchard than from Sir Oswald Mosley or Sir Stafford Cripps. Men of their type work in a method that seems traditional, they are gentlemanly, and a gentleman can be a real danger here—witness Charles I. Foreign imports - will probably cancel each other out. It is the home product which may need sympathetic watching. And if liberty . fails here one sees no hope for her elsewhere in the world. She certainly cannot fly westward, as Shelley imagined, nor eastward, as Browning fancied, nor beyond the north pole nor the south, nor can she found a republic in the stratosphere or a paradise in the depths of the sea.
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