Cabinet's Finest Hour: The Hidden Agenda of May 1940

2009.

Preface

I first sat around the Cabinet table as a junior minister for the Royal Navy at the age of 31, deputising for Denis Healey, the Secretary of State for Defence. The subject under discussion at the Defence and Overseas Policy Committee of the Cabinet was the source of much amusement in the country. A somewhat bizarre decision to authorise ‘Operation Sheepskin’ had been taken the previous week, on Friday 14 March 1969, by DOPC which had resulted – five days later, on 19 March at 5.30 am – in 331 paratroopers and marines wading ashore at two sites with guns at the ready only to be greeted on the sand of the island of Anguilla in the West Indies by sixty television crews and reporters. It was too early for the tourists asleep in their hotel rooms to be present.

The farcical nature of what was in Whitehall terms a successful operation to restore the authority of the British Government over local politicians was lampooned by the press who dubbed it as the ‘Bay of Piglets’ after President Kennedy’s ill-fated and somewhat more serious invasion of Cuba in 1961.

After a Cabinet conversation accompanied by frequent references to SNOWI, the Chancellor of the Exchequer Roy Jenkins leant back somewhat languidly in his chair and, with a smile, asked Harold Wilson, the Prime Minister sitting opposite him, Who and what is SNOWI? The answer, to our baffled amusement, was Commodore Lacey the Senior Naval Officer West Indies!

Periodic attendances as Health Minister from 1974 to 1976, again under Harold Wilson, was followed by full Cabinet membership as Foreign Secretary under Prime Minister James Callaghan from 1977 to 1979. This period was marked by seemingly endless armed conflicts in Southern Rhodesia, the Horn of Africa, Mozambique and Angola. There was a very real danger of the Cold War between the Western democracies and the Soviet Union spilling over from Europe into the African continent. There was also an important economic agenda in the context of our membership of what was then the European Economic Community.

I do not think this book would have been possible without this Cabinet experience. As the years pass I grow evermore convinced that collective decision-making is the hallmark of a true democracy, however differently it might be organised. Also that there is nothing old-fashioned about its mechanisms that are proven to work. The worst possible form of democratic governance in my view is that which tries to make an ad hoc amalgamation of the strong powers of a US President with the UK tradition of a Prime Minister and seeks to do so without the complex separation of powers that exists in the US with checks from Congress and the Supreme Court, while retaining the fusion of power between Parliament and the Executive. The UK has suffered, with varying degrees of intensity, from that combination under three Prime Ministers and successive Cabinet Secretaries from 2001 to 2016. It is time to not just dismantle such appalling governance but to put constitutional safeguards in place that make it virtually impossible for it to re-emerge.

As with my 2014 book with Haus Publishing, The Hidden Perspective: The Military Conversations of 1906–1914, I attach much importance to making available to the reader original documents from the time. I have tried to select sufficient quotes so that the narrative is not dependent on reading the documents in full but is rather a matter of individual preference as to whether one chooses to do so. I have long been fascinated as to whether there was the basis for a negotiation with Mussolini in 1940 and am deeply indebted to John Lukacs’ ground-breaking book Five Days in London, May 1940.¹ When I first read the War Cabinet minutes in full covering nine meetings of six ministers from Martin Gilbert’s brilliantly edited work of scholarship and revelation, The Churchill War Papers: Never Surrender,² I wanted to make them available as an easy and continuous read. This is done in Chapter 4. What they bring alive is a genuine debate and clash of views mainly, but by no means exclusively, between Halifax, the Foreign Secretary, and Churchill as Prime Minister. The outcome of the debate had a profound impact on world history.

1 John Lukacs, Five Days in London, May 1940 (Yale University Press, 2001).

2 Martin Gilbert, The Churchill War Papers, Volume II: Never Surrender May 1940-December 1940 (Heinemann, 1994).

1

Speak for England

On Saturday 2 September 1939, after rushing through the Military Service Bill, followed by a long wait until nearly eight o’clock in the evening, the Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain made a short statement to a House of Commons expectant of a declaration of war on Germany. Instead, according to the Conservative MP, Leo Amery, he came to tell us in a flat, embarrassed voice, first of all that Mussolini’s project for a conference could not be entertained while Poland was subject to invasion; secondly that we were discussing with the French.¹ There was a deep sense of frustration in the Commons when Chamberlain sat down. In part, such feeling stemmed from the assumption that we were already at war. And yet here was Chamberlain ready only to speak about a delayed reply from Hitler to the British message delivered a day before to his Foreign Secretary, Ribbentrop.

Few, if any, MPs were even the slightest bit interested to hear about a proposal from the Italian Government for a conference, believing, correctly, that even Chamberlain would find it impossible to take part. It was a House of Commons seething with frustration; Poland was being subjected to invasion, her towns under bombardment and Danzig made the subject of a unilateral settlement by force. The House of Commons very rarely sits on a Saturday; the only recent precedents have been 3 November 1956 during the Suez Crisis, and 3 April 1982 when Margaret Thatcher announced that in response to an Argentinian landing on the Falkland Islands, a task force would sail for the South Atlantic on the Monday.²

Suddenly, though unrecorded in Hansard – the supposedly verbatim report of what is said in the Commons – Leo Amery, one of Chamberlain’s foremost critics, First Lord of the Admiralty from 1922 to 1924 and a very successful Colonial Secretary from 1924 to 1929, called out to Arthur Greenwood on the opposite bench as he rose to reply to the Prime Minister, Speak for England, Arthur! Amery dreaded a purely partisan speech and afterwards felt that no one could have done it better.³

Greenwood was deputising for the Labour leader, Clement Attlee, who was away from Parliament recovering from an operation on his prostate. Attlee’s total trust and confidence in Greenwood is revealed through his determination to keep to his doctor’s orders and not cut short his convalescence. So he was sitting on the beach with his children on 23 August 1939 when the German-Soviet Nonaggression Pact was signed; he was playing golf on 1 September when Hitler sent his forces into Poland; and was back on the beach on this day, 2 September, when Chamberlain made his statement to Parliament and Greenwood made his speech. Attlee had told Greenwood to protest furiously that Britain had not yet fulfilled its obligations to Poland. The two communicated constantly by telegram while Attlee was absent, though one rather important telegram was torn up by the Attlee family dog, Ting, and only when pieced together read War imminent. Arthur. ⁴

Amery’s words carried the clear implication to everyone in the House that Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain had not spoken for England – the effect was electric. Greenwood at the despatch box was a tall and, on this occasion, a commanding figure, who only a few years later would still be able to beat off a knife attack from an assailant outside the Commons late at night. On such occasions as these the House becomes a cockpit, with a theatrical atmosphere that cannot be reproduced when it is half empty. It is a moment when reputations are made as well as broken.

Speaking with a new authority to a crammed chamber, Greenwood began, "This is indeed a grave moment. (Cheers) I believe the whole House is perturbed by the right hon. gentleman’s statement. There is a growing feeling, I believe, in all quarters of the House that this incessant strain must end sooner or later – and, in a sense, the sooner the better (Cries of Now). But if we are to march, I hope we shall march in complete unity and march with France. A maverick backbench MP, John McGovern, then interjected with a sneer: You people do not intend to march – not one of you."⁵ Greenwood wisely did not deal with the charge, intent on maximising unity amongst all MPs and appealing to the better nature of everyone. John McGovern had sat as an independent MP for the Scottish seat, Glasgow Shettleston, while retaining membership of the Independent Labour Party [ILP] since a by-election in 1922. He was a combative figure who maintained his passionate commitment to peace throughout the war, and was described as someone capable of causing hackles to rise on the left as well as the right.

Greenwood continued, "I am speaking under very difficult circumstances – (Cheers) with no opportunity to think about what I should say; and I speak what is in my heart at this moment. I am gravely disturbed. An act of aggression took place 38 hours ago. The moment that act of aggression took place, one of the most important treaties of modern times automatically came into operation (Opposition Cheers)". He ended by saying, I believe that the die is cast, and we want to know in time.⁶

In a revealing letter to his sister Ida seven days later on 20 September 1939, Chamberlain explained that the long drawn out agonies that preceded the actual declaration of war were due to three complications.⁷ Firstly, secret communications that a neutral intermediary conducted between Hitler and Göring and himself and his Foreign Secretary Halifax which he had found rather promising. Though they gave the impression, probably with intention, that it was possible to persuade Hitler to accept a peaceful and reasonable solution of the Polish question in order to get an Anglo-German agreement. Once again, Chamberlain was not ready to accept the reality that Hitler was intent on war. What Chamberlain wrote was that until Hitler disappears and his system collapses there can be no peace … What I hope for is not a military victory – I very much doubt the possibility of that – but a collapse of the German home front. Still in November Chamberlain thought the war would be over by the Spring with the German realisation they can’t win.⁸

Many MPs were surprised by the effectiveness of Greenwood’s speech, but he was a far more significant figure in the Labour Party than many Conservative MPs and right-wing political commentators had hitherto recognised. From his position as Head of Economics at Huddersfield Technical College and the economics department at Leeds University he had written in the Economic Journal, the Journal of the Royal Statistical Society and Political Quarterly. Greenwood, besides a long-standing expertise in education, left Leeds to become Secretary to the Council for the Study of International Relations for which he contributed to a book The War and Democracy,⁹ published in 1914, writing at the end: Today is seed-time. But the harvest will not be gathered without sweat and toil. The times are pregnant with great possibilities, but their realisation depends upon the united wisdom of the people. He became a civil servant in the Ministry of Reconstruction where he worked with Christopher Addison and Arthur Henderson. Besides all this, he produced a report on adult education with R H Tawney. This gave him well-rounded experience and sufficient knowledge to deal with international crises as well as domestic issues.

In September 1916 he spoke at a conference which was written up in The Athenaeum, a monthly journal he was closely associated with. He spoke about the news of partially disabled soldiers and the important question of women, all in consideration to the question of Reconstruction after the war. The Athenaeum in January and February 1917 was critical of the five-man War Cabinet that the new Prime Minister Lloyd George had established, fearing that either way they must bring in other members of the Government to unify general policy or they must seek the advice of people less responsible, which would certainly lead to dissension and confusion. Greenwood was secretary of the Labour Party’s research department from 1920, before being elected as MP for Nelson and Colne in Lancashire at the general election on 15 November 1922. This was precipitated by the disowning of Prime Minister David Lloyd George by his Conservative coalition partners at the earlier ‘Carlton Club meeting’. That was also the same election in which Attlee became the MP for Limehouse. The two men were destined to be key partners from 1935–40 in bringing the Labour Party back to being a major political force, a force which deserved to serve again in government. They would both be ready to participate in and weld together a cross-party grouping in May 1940, among the first to remove Chamberlain as Prime Minister and then to be Labour’s two members of the five-member War Cabinet formed by Churchill on 10 May 1940.

As his biographer Beckett has written, Attlee came to socialism slowly and reluctantly, by painstakingly eliminating all possible alternatives, through his heart first and his head afterwards, mentioning (but only privately, never publicly) the ‘burning anger which I felt at the wrongs which I could see around me’.¹⁰ Attlee quietly dropped the Christianity that had played a major role in his family life growing up, and became a social worker. But Attlee wanted political action, not talk of theory. He became a member of the Independent Labour Party and joined the only union for which he was eligible – the National Union of Clerks. When he joined it had 887 branches, 22,000 members and 30 MPs. It was not Marxist but linked to the Social Democratic Federation, and it did not talk the language of class war.

Attlee started to build a reputation in the ILP in London as a whole. Then in 1914 Britain was at war with Germany. The ILP was divided; it had previously declared that in the event of war as socialists they should refuse to fight. Ramsay MacDonald, the Labour leader, was in favour of refusing yet Arthur Henderson supported the war. Attlee enlisted in the army two days after war was declared.

By September, Attlee was a lieutenant in the 6th South Lancashire Regiment in Tidworth. He became in temporary command of a company of seven officers and 250 men from Liverpool, Wigan and Warrington. He was made a Captain early in 1915 and, in June, he and his company of men set sail for Turkey stopping off en route in Valletta in Malta and in Alexandria in Egypt. After arriving at the port of embarkations, Mudros Harbour, he, as part of a battalion, went up the peninsular to find themselves in trenches stinking from Turkish corpses, and water which tasted of sand in the dreadful heat and flies. Soon the main enemy was dysentery which Attlee eventually caught; he ended up on a stretcher, unconscious, on a hospital ship where he was dropped off to recover in Malta. In his absence, the South Lancashires fought in the battle of Sari Bair and 500 of them were killed. He rejoined his men on 16 November and they held the final lines, embarking on HMS Princess Irene on 19 December. Attlee was the last but one to leave Gallipoli, the last being Major General FS Maude.

The fascinating and important historical consequence of Attlee’s fight against the Turks and the strategy of the Eastern Front, with which First Sea Lord Winston Churchill will always be identified, was that he fully supported the concept of taking the pressure off the Western Front in France. It was a bold strategy and controversy still rages about whether it was a good one, but Attlee never had any doubt. It gave him his lifelong admiration for Churchill as a military strategist, an admiration which contributed enormously to their working relationship in the Second World War.¹¹

Attlee came back to England and was promoted to Major Attlee in February 1917. From then on many people continued to call him Major Attlee and, more affectionately, in Limehouse ‘the Major’.

In June 1918 Attlee was sent to France and discharged from the army on 16 January 1919. In the ‘coupon’ general election called by Lloyd George, sometimes referred to as the ‘khaki election’, the Government list of MPs numbered 473. Three hundred and twenty two were conservative; Labour had 57. Attlee became Mayor of Stepney, appointed by the new Labour Council after the local elections in November 1919.

In October 1922 Attlee, as the prospective candidate for Limehouse for the ILP, fought the sitting Conservative MP whose majority was 6,000. On 15 November 1922, the day after the election, it was announced Attlee had 9,688 votes – a majority of 1,899. Labour now had 142 MPs, a majority of which came from the ILP.

In 1923 there was another general election, surprisingly called by the new Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin. Attlee won his Limehouse constituency with a large majority of 6,185 and Greenwood was also successful. While the Conservatives had the largest number of MPs, at 258, it no longer had the largest overall majority. Labour, who had 191, united with the Liberals and Ramsay MacDonald became Prime Minister in January 1924 when the king asked him to form the first Labour Government, albeit a minority one. It was destined to only last for a short time.

At this point Arthur Greenwood was made parliamentary secretary to the Ministry of Health and Clement Attlee became Under Secretary of State at the War Office. Forty-nine new Labour MPs were elected and there was a considerable increase in the number of ILP members, both being part of the Labour Representation Committee first convened on 27 November 1900. It was inevitably a short-lived government but a significant milestone had been passed in that a number of Labour MPs had gained experience of government for the first time.

Four days before polling day Labour was hit by the publication of what turned out to be a forged letter in the Daily Mail. The various headlines were:

CIVIL WAR PLOT BY SOCIALIST MASTERS

MOSCOW ORDERS OUR REDS

GREAT PLOT DISCLOSED YESTERDAY

‘PARALYSE THE ARMY AND NAVY’

and

MR MACDONALD WOULD LEND RUSSIA OUR MONEY!

DOCUMENT ISSUED BY FOREIGN OFFICE AFTER DAILY MAIL

HAD SPREAD THE NEWS.

Publication of the so-called ‘Zinoviev Letter’ became an issue especially for women voters troubled by the portrayal of Labour in the press as ‘bloody Bolsheviks’. MacDonald, who besides being Prime Minister was Foreign Secretary as well, did not repudiate the Foreign Office when they took the letter at face value but protested angrily to the Russian Government about Zinoviev, whose real name was Apfelbaum, Chairman of Communist International. He was allegedly writing to the British Communist Party on ways of controlling the Labour movement. Attlee’s disillusionment with MacDonald began over his handling of the alleged Zinoviev letter.

When the general election took place on 29 October 1924, both Greenwood and Attlee were re-elected and Hugh Dalton was elected for the first time for Peckham. Labour lost 40 seats and Baldwin became Prime Minister again with 412 Conservative MPs.

Herbert Morrison, after a surprise victory in the 1923 election, lost his seat in Hackney South to a Liberal, the Conservatives having withdrawn. Morrison was the architect of the proposals the London Labour Party put to the Royal Commission on London Government in 1922. During this first spell as an MP, Morrison clashed with Ernest Bevin, the General Secretary of the Transport and General Workers’ Union, and Harry Gosling, the new Minister of Transport. MacDonald, urged on by Bevin, had supported the London Traffic Bill as a stop gap measure but Morrison voted against it. Bevin and Lord Ashfield, formerly Sir Albert Stanley, President of the Board of Trade in Lloyd George’s coalition wartime government, and who was chairman of the London General Omnibus Company, were in cahoots and both Ashfield and Bevin were depicted as tycoons. The nub of it all was that Bevin thought his Transport Workers would get a better deal from Ashfield than from Morrison and the London County Council, LCC; after all, Ashfield’s bus workers were paid more than LCC train workers.¹² Morrison, for his part, saw Ashfield as wanting a monopoly, arguing, I would prefer local government any day to Whitehall government.¹³ There was the democratic dilemma of who should wield power – central or local government? Bevin wanted a member of his union and one member from Ashfield’s to represent their interests while Morrison wanted only representatives of local authorities. Bevin won out. Morrison’s official biographers wrote By standing up to Bevin, Morrison earned his everlasting hatred. Bevin was a spiteful man who looked on opposition in very personal terms. For the rest of his life Bevin was to pursue Morrison with venom.¹⁴ Whilst Bevin’s biographer wrote of the 1924 clash there was another reason for Bevin’s impatience with the politicians in the Labour Party. He lived in a world dominated by industrial conflict, a world in which he had all the time to deal with hard, often unpalatable facts and take real decisions. The politicians lived in a different world where parliamentary manoeuvres, party resolutions and conference speeches were neither taken nor meant to be taken literally, a world in Bevin’s of make-believe, of shadow politics and sham decisions … the first task of the party was propaganda; it had to appeal and win over the unconverted. After the defeat of 1931 Bevin saw this clearly enough, but in 1924–5 he was too close to the immediate industrial conflict to take a long view of the Labour Party’s problems.¹⁵

In October 1926 Greenwood wrote an article in The Pilgrim: A Review of Christian Politics and Religion. It was edited by William Temple, the then Archbishop of Canterbury and a man sympathetic to Labour. The edition looked back on the General Strike and Temple, in an editorial, claimed that Prime Minister Baldwin had acted rightly throughout – right to refuse all arrangements that might give rise to the hope of subsidy, then yielding rightfully to the policy of the blank cheque. To Greenwood ‘the new spirit of Industry’ was the expression of a hope; the term ‘class war’ the expression of a fact. Describing the atmosphere in industry as more hostile today than before, he went on to argue using Christian terms Nevertheless a ‘new spirit’ in industry is essential on spiritual as well as material grounds. He warned that The escape from the ‘class war’ does not lie along a broad and easy road. The way from the class war to community of interest is the road from Capitalism to Socialism and that the spirit of co-operation cannot be born of the spirit of competition and private gain. It was felt that it was still very difficult to evaluate the full effect of the General Strike but far from helping the miners it had damaged their cause. Overall, the General Strike was another blow to Labour’s claim to be able to govern. Years later Attlee told Kenneth Harris, one of his biographers, I’d heard a General Strike discussed for fifteen years. When it came it collapsed because no one knew what to do with it, and most of them discovered they didn’t really want it. In the wake of the strike, Scammell and Nephew factory owners had taken action against him and fellow Labour members because of Attlee’s chairmanship of the electricity committee of Stepney Council for pulling the fuse of their factory, though they had their own generating plant. Action was not taken against Conservatives on the committee so it was a flagrantly political action. And yet the High Court ordered Attlee to pay £300; fortunately he won on appeal. Had he lost, and on an MP’s salary of only £400, Attlee would have been financially embarrassed as he had been drawing down his family legacy and was from 1925–1940 always anxious about his lack of money.

In the new Parliament Attlee was appointed a member of the Indian Statutory Commission in November 1927 having been given an assurance from MacDonald that this should not give rise to any misgivings as it would not affect his inclusion in any future Labour Government. Attlee spent some months in India in early 1928 and then from October 1928 until April 1929 visiting every province. India was the occasion for Attlee’s one very serious row with Churchill during the time of the War Cabinet. His real knowledge of India meant that as Prime Minister he was the driving force behind the granting of Independence in 1947 – one of the greatest acts of statesmanship in the 20th Century.

The election in May 1929 gave Labour 289 MPs, 19 short of an absolute majority. MacDonald became Prime Minister but he did not offer or even see Attlee to explain why he was not in a government job. The other Labour MP on the Indian Commission, Vernon Hartshorn, was also excluded, whereas MacDonald gave Arthur Greenwood a big career boost and made him Minister of Health with a seat in the Cabinet. Greenwood improved widows’ pensions in 1929. His Housing Act of 1930 permitted slum clearance and rebuilding. In January 1931 he warned against cuts in social services as a means for balancing the budget, an argument which he held to throughout the summer financial crisis. The only MP clearly on the left at this time was the 70-year-old George Lansbury as the Minister of