Arthur Bryant Quotes

[L]ike most of my countrymen I loathe injustice and cruelty, and unlike them I happen to have had some recent experience in Spain. And after reading the pages that follow, it is hard to escape the conclusion that the people of this country have been misled by those who form its public opinion into condoning, in the name of an abstract theory, cruelty and injustice of a particularly horrible kind. There doubtless have been many harsh acts committed by the Spanish Nationalists: men do not wage civil war with gloved hands. But they do not include the wholesale rape, murder, and mutilation of non-combatant women and children, such as the Communist leaders in Spain will have to answer for... Over here the intellectuals—our foolish wise—have mislead us into thinking of such men as democrats, and of the Spanish Civil War as a fight between a properly constituted Liberal-cum-Socialist government and a gang of Fascist saboteurs. But no university lecturer or anonymous BBC commentator has told the just and compassionate people of England about the women of San Martin de Valdeiglesias.

I believe that the British unilateral guarantee of Poland's independence—though not necessarily, as you wisely point out, the integrity of her present Versailles frontiers in perpetuity—constitutes the first real chance for the Prime Minister's policy of appeasement to obtain the unanimous support of his countrymen. The latter are so constituted that they will never accede permanently to what is demanded of them by force. Something stubborn and undefeatable has always risen in the English consciousness at the sound of a threat. And the Germans, like ourselves a strong race, are so constituted that they can never respect arguments that seem based on fear or weakness. The Prime Minister has now placed our relationships on a new and realist footing. A realization in both countries of what will inevitability produce war, coupled with a readiness to seek an adjustment of existing differences by every other means, is now attainable. It offers a fresh possibility of an Anglo-German understanding—not now, perhaps, but in the future. It is worth trying, for the alternative is the almost certain destruction of our common civilization.

The English were what they were because they had long wished to be. Their tradition derived from the Catholic past of Europe. Its purpose was to make Christian men—gentle, generous, humble, valiant and chivalrous. Its ideals were justice, mercy and charity.

Mr. Strauss's subsequent statement in a supplementary question that my Fascist sympathies were "well known." They may be well known to Mr. Strauss, but they are certainly not known to me. It has, however, for some time been a practice of the Communist Party to attribute "Fascist" views to those of its opponents whom it regards as in any way dangerous to itself and whose reputation it is therefore desired to blacken. These would now appear to include any writer who has the temerity to express his support of Mr. Chamberlain's foreign policy.

Entry to the Common Market involves, for certain, an end to the untrammelled sovereignty of the Parliament of the day which for centuries has been the governing principle of our constitution and a main source of our political greatness and stability.

During the last four centuries, the most important things that had happened were the extension of the Anglo-Saxon race into every corner of the world and the growth of the American Republic and the view of life it stood for... That ideal was born four centuries ago when a few bold persons believed it would be possible to find on the other side of the Atlantic a land in which they could make for themselves a new home, with a freer and better life than they had hitherto enjoyed. Hence gradually developed the founding of small English colonies on the eastern seaboard of North America.

It is hard to see how any assured peace can exist in Europe so long as Herr Hitler—that incalculable man of temperament—continues to direct the external policy of a nation as powerful as Germany, though it must not be forgotten that the advance of the Russian frontiers has already put a check to German capacity for future aggression. But we ought to make it plain that by "Hitlerism" we mean Hitler's fatal method of conducting foreign affairs, and not the right of the German people to choose their own governors.

The ability to deny to the enemy the use of the sea for the movement of armies and supplies, while enjoying it for your own, would continue to be the most vital factor until the distant day when troops and supplies could be carried over its surface without interference. Like Napoleon, Hitler was thwarted by a few miles of salt water.

Even more striking than England's unity has been the freedom of individual choice on which it has been based. Because the Channel lay between her and the continent, her people were able to develop a form of government in which power, instead of being centralised in a few hands, was distributed in many. Not being threatened across a land frontier, they had no need to entrust their rulers with standing military forces or despotic rights over private liberties. Authority normally was exercised only after those subject to it had had an opportunity to make their views known. From the Saxon Witenagemot to the twentieth century Parliament, from the village hustings and manor court to the trade union lodge and parish council, there was nearly always some working machinery in England by which those in authority could test the opinion of those over whom authority had to be exercised. Government was conducted subject to the right of the governed to criticise and, within lawful limits, to oppose. "His Majesty's Opposition" is the most characteristic and certainly the most original of English contributions to politics.

Compromise, give-and-take, live-and-let-live, became a national habit. The freedom of the Press—a forebearance unnatural in any Government—was an English invention; so was the secret ballot which enabled a man to record an unpopular vote without danger to himself. The English, as self-opinionated as any people, mastered the lesson that they could only possess liberty by allowing it to others, enjoy the propagation of their own views by listening patiently to their neighbours'.

Loving private liberty, yet finding that it could not exist without public order, the English devoted themselves to making the two compatible. Freedom within a framework of discipline became their ideal. They achieved it through the sovereignty of the law. "All our struggles for liberty," wrote Disraeli, "smack of law." And by law the English meant an enforceable compact between themselves and their rulers, deriving not from unilaterally imposed force, but from assent freely given. Both they and their American descendants constituted such law, rather than the Executive, their ultimate sovereign.

What any elector who feels that this is fundamental has, therefore, to decide is whether he or she has sufficient confidence in our present rulers of all parties to resist the declared intention of those who, out of however sincere and high-minded motives, hope to make our continued membership of the European Economic Community a first and irreversible step in the creation of a supra-national political union in which our nationhood—the most important of all the political assets we inherit from the past—would be submerged for ever.
If that were the sole issue of the Referendum—the sacrifice of a national society evolved over 1,500 years of Christian history—the answer would be undoubtedly No.

Weapons change; it is the ability to command the sea that matters. The Battle of Britain, like the defeat of the Armada, was fought for command of the sea. The work of Bomber Command, like the invasion of Europe, was an exercise of offensive power from our inviolable sea-base.

In weaning pagan man from his primitive and bloodstained creeds of terror and human sacrifice the Church's supreme achievement was to domesticate and humanise the conception of Eternity. Everywhere he was confronted, in church and wayside shrine, with homely and familiar reminders of the Heaven he was enjoined to earn through the virtues of love, faith, compassion, humility, truthfulness, chastity, courtesy—virtues that came so hard and were so much needed by a passionate, hot-tempered, primitive people.

The key to a nation's future is in her past. A nation that loses it has no future. For men's deepest desires—the instrument by which a continuing society moulds its destiny—spring from their own inherited experience. We cannot recreate the past, but we cannot escape it. It is in our blood and bone. To understand the temperament of a people, a statesman has first to know its history.