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I never read AARs like this, but I have to admit yours has me enthralled.
Excellent work, I don't suppose you'd mind giving me a bit of your writing talent? You seem to have an excess.
Excellent work, I don't suppose you'd mind giving me a bit of your writing talent? You seem to have an excess.
You definitely did him justice - just the right mixture of authority, insight, & condescension.
@KaiserMuffin - as a nail in a door. Eagle-eyed readers will have noticed that I subtly killed off Eden a few days ago. I don't have time for keeping minor and unsuccessful Royalist politicians alive, I really don't.
@Volksmarschall - on the contrary! The tyranny of monarchy determined who would die in the tower based on the whim of a fat, corrupt king in those days. Today it is the will of the people! All death sentences are annually brought before the CTU to be voted on en masse. Justice, not vengeance or petty murder! (thanks for reading, stick around)
@ColonelIronboot - thank you. I hope I can make the less dramatic chapters of the Union's history (for instance, the 10 years of relative isolationism it's about to undergo - stay tuned) as exciting as the last one.
@Kurt_Steiner - oh, I see what you did there.
@C'est Moi - I know what you mean! I must confess I generally don't read non-gameplay history book AARs and felt a tad hypocritical when I started writing one, so it's wonderful to hear I'm attracting new fans to the genre. Other particularly good history book AARs include the Legacy of Gustav Stresemann and the ongoing Byzantium one, 'Tempus Fugit', if you fancy some more of this kind.
@Johnny Canuck - what can I say? I hope he'd consider it the sincerest form of flattery!
New update coming tonight or tomorrow - a new writer this time. A political analyst and descendant of great trade union leader Harry Pollitt, no less. Stay tuned for the shaping of the Union.
@Volksmarschall - on the contrary! The tyranny of monarchy determined who would die in the tower based on the whim of a fat, corrupt king in those days. Today it is the will of the people! All death sentences are annually brought before the CTU to be voted on en masse. Justice, not vengeance or petty murder! (thanks for reading, stick around)
@ColonelIronboot - thank you. I hope I can make the less dramatic chapters of the Union's history (for instance, the 10 years of relative isolationism it's about to undergo - stay tuned) as exciting as the last one.
@Kurt_Steiner - oh, I see what you did there.
@C'est Moi - I know what you mean! I must confess I generally don't read non-gameplay history book AARs and felt a tad hypocritical when I started writing one, so it's wonderful to hear I'm attracting new fans to the genre. Other particularly good history book AARs include the Legacy of Gustav Stresemann and the ongoing Byzantium one, 'Tempus Fugit', if you fancy some more of this kind.
@Johnny Canuck - what can I say? I hope he'd consider it the sincerest form of flattery!
New update coming tonight or tomorrow - a new writer this time. A political analyst and descendant of great trade union leader Harry Pollitt, no less. Stay tuned for the shaping of the Union.
Now this is good! UoB has been crying out for a good historybook AAR. Your ideas about the revolution are intriguing, cant wait for more. Keep it up Brother!
Update unfortunately delayed til tomorrow, I left it too late today and it's only half-way done. As a teaser, though, here's a little quote from a certain barrel-chested West Country docker to get you interested in what on earth might be going on:
'My purpose is something far greater than anything you will achieve in your officious, bourgeois little lives – to secure peace and freedom for my people. Now, take me to your Kaiser!'
'My purpose is something far greater than anything you will achieve in your officious, bourgeois little lives – to secure peace and freedom for my people. Now, take me to your Kaiser!'
‘I don’t know quite what they’ve created over there, but I think I like it.’ – Jim Larkin, before his departure for the Union of Britain, 12 February 1926
Carving out a place in the world: Public decisions and diplomatic undertones in the foreign policy of the Congress of 1926
Terry Pollitt
Ernest Bevin addressing the CTU upon his return from Germany, 11 February 1926
It is apparently too great a task for the common historian to worry his or her self with the complexities of political theory. It is therefore the duty of myself, your humble political analyst, to recount the hum-drums of the processes that have shaped our Union throughout the last nine decades. The first of my articles in this book will focus on the real meaning behind the opening plays of Union foreign policy, particularly the decisions made at the Inaugural Congress.
The second week of the congress had been set aside for foreign affairs. Faith in Britain's military strength was still faltering at this point, so the first item on the agenda was the importance of securing the Union's independent status. There was fear on all sides – some panicking elements of the congress feared that the Royalist ‘Exodus fleet’ was simply going to refuel and rearm then turn right back round again to reconquer the British Isles[1]. Others expected Germany to take military action against yet another emerging Socialist state. The priority was therefore to establish diplomatic relations with all necessary parties, while maintaining an element of isolationism. Germany was deemed the biggest and most immediate threat, and Ernest Bevin was dispatched to the coast with a delegation of negotiators and a CTU-granted overseas travel permit. So what did the dispatch of this physically huge former Baptist minister mean politically? The message that Britain was sending to Germany was ‘we’re here and we’re not going anywhere, but we don’t mean any trouble’. Bevin captured the essence of this mentality perfectly in his stoic attitude and presence, grand speaking style (he sounded like a statesman even in casual conversation) and peaceful demeanour. Arriving at Kiel on board a Republican Navy frigate on 9 February 1926, it took the German coast guard four hours to permit him to land. Once there, he was met not by diplomats or ministers, but by the Kaiser’s police, who threatened to lock him up if he did not state exactly what his purpose was. Never a man to mince his words, the West Country docker stated that ‘my purpose is something far greater than anything you will achieve in your officious, bourgeois little lives – to secure peace and freedom for my people. Now, take me to your Kaiser!’. Within minutes he was on a train to Hamburg, where he was met by an undersecretary to ‘Chancellor’ Tirpitz. The diplomatic wranglings and niceties that ensued are not, to be blunt, particularly interesting – unlike some modern writers I take no interest in what vintage of wine was offered by either party or whether any symbolism of intent can be drawn from the colour of Bevin’s handkerchief that day[2]. The outcome is what interests us.
And what an outcome it was! Both countries stopped short of mutual diplomatic recognition[3], but Tirpitz (who personally arrived at the meeting as it came to a close) gave Bevin an assurance that Germany ‘held no interests regarding the British Isles provided those ruling it acted within the boundaries of the Peace with Honour’. Bevin, in return, assured Tirpitz that the Union was content to build socialism for its people, and had no interest in any overseas affairs. Bevin returned to the Congress on 11 February to a hero’s welcome, but the celebrations were cut short by troubling news from the West – at midnight, Irish troops under military dictator ‘President’ Michael Collins had flooded over the border into the ‘six counties of Ulster’ that had made up Northern Ireland after the Irish War of Independence. As the Union had claimed sovereignty over all areas in ‘northwest Europe’ controlled by previously by the United Kingdom, this was technically the first incursion by foreign military forces into Union territory. So how should Britain respond?
The answers came from all sides. Arthur James Cook and his Maximists called for immediate war with Ireland, in the name of ‘preserving territorial unity’. This claim was ridiculed by Niclas y Glais’ Autonomists, who argued that the Irish were doing just that by subsuming a missing part of their nation into the whole. More to the point, said Victor Gollancz on behalf of the Congregationalists, the Union was in no way ready for war, not even against a ‘priest-infested backwater like Ireland’. But the calm-seeking John Maclean who appealed for pragmatic realism to be brought to the forefront of the discussion. Pointing out the total lack of representatives from Ulster at the CTU itself, and indeed the extremely lukewarm reception that socialism had always received there (even in the previous few explosive months), Maclean asked the assembled delegates whether letting the Ulstermen go would be such a bad thing. The ‘Irish question’ had plagued imperialists for generations, and to hold on to a people who simply did not wish to be one with the Socialist British – many of the rabidly pro-British leaders in Northern Ireland found their extreme Protestantism incompatible with Socialist support, and instead, in one documentable case even at this early stage, had turned to Canada’s exiles for support – would surely be reactionary and counter-revolutionary. Nevertheless, Maclean was quick to assure the delegates that he was not taking the matter of an unauthorised military incursion lightly. To demonstrate his seriousness, he turned to Bevin – whose place at the lectern he had taken just minutes before – and asked him on behalf of the Congress to travel immediately to Dublin to meet with ‘President’ Collins and make clear where the Union stood.
The above is one of the finest political performances John Maclean ever gave. While privately a fiery ideologue, he had always been respected for being able to put pragmatism first in his leadership of the Union. In this case he did just that. His diaries indicate that every fibre of his being wanted to hang on to Ulster so that socialism could be properly spread there, but it was really the vast military superiority of Collins’ forces over those in the area, and the disarray the Republican Navy, that made him think twice. One thing that he truly meant when he said it, though, was the belief that the Ulstermen did not really wish to be one with a Socialist Britain. That much was clear. The final act of his performance came when he asked Bevin – minutes ago proclaimed a hero of the Revolution for seeing off the German threat with such dignity – to deal with the situation personally. There was no way that any hard-line proponent of maintaining a grip on Ulster could have questioned this, and when Maclean so ‘humbly’ offered to sit on a Extraordinary Steering Committee that Bevin himself would chair about the matter that evening, no-one suspected that it was his intention to ‘steer’ the committee towards his exact way of thinking. Therefore it is no surprise that Bevin’s meeting with Collins at the Four Courts (after first visiting the Dublin Post Office to pay his respects to James Connolly[4]) culminated in exactly what Maclean proposed – Collins agreed to an apology for not informing the Union of his intentions, and issued a full and frank assurance that no further territorial incursions onto Union soil would take place. This point was somewhat moot, as what else were the Irish going to want? Cornwall? In exchange, Bevin, on behalf of the workers of the Congress of the Trade Unions of the Union of Britain, formally recognised the Irish Republic’s sovereignty over the entirety of Ulster. Collins also requested the right to an Irish representative in London, putting forward Jim Larkin as his candidate for this ‘sub-ambassadorship’[5]. Diplomatic recognition was still a long way off, but both Collins and Bevin recognised the value of such representatives. From this, the idea of a ‘Special Representative’ was born, and Larkin was granted permission to travel back to London with the Bevin delegation (the eccentric William Joyce remained in Ireland to take up the equivalent post in Dublin[6]).
Maclean had played a masterstroke. Domestically, his reputation was secure and a war had been averted. Internationally, the Union had come across as reasonable and true to its principles of self-determination by abandoning imperialist holdings. While relations with Ireland were destined to always be somewhat frosty on ideological grounds, there was genuine respect for the integrity of Maclean and Bevin in the eyes of Collins and the Irish people. Popular at home and tolerated abroad, it was on this high that Maclean began the most controversial stage of the Week For Discussion And Votes Regarding International Policy – whether Britain should seek friends as well as assurances of neutrality.
Pietro Nenni photographed by Eric Blair as he addressed the Congress, 14 February 1926
The most obvious candidates for friendship were the Commune of France and Republic of the Sicilies. Already maintaining close relations with each other, the two countries were in dire need of friends. Maclean, wary of getting entangled in some sort of alliance, proposed to invite representatives from both republics to speak on the final day of the ‘International Week’. The motion was cautiously carried, and telegrams were sent to both Naples and Paris. Pietro Nenni and Pierre Brossolette (of the Sicilies and France respectively) were apparently only too happy to attend and welcome another socialist state to Europe, for they both arrived with speeches already written. Nenni spoke in passable English but with a fiery Italian passion behind his words. Comparing ‘the righteous anger of the British people against their reactionary masters’ with the struggles his own people had undergone against the ‘Papists and Germans’ in the North, he extended a hearty offer of friendship from the central government in Naples, with full diplomatic recognition very much on the table. Brossolette offered much the same thing, while praising the speed with which the British had achieved socialism (in perfect English, he joked that ‘my people went through three republics before they saw the light – you managed it with one’). Both men were given a standing ovation as they left the chamber.
As soon as they had left the building, however, the debate began in earnest. Annie Kenney, speaking for the first time at length before her comrades, argued fiercely against any kind of formal link with either state, saying they were both likely to drag Britain into a war, as France had done in 1914. Oswald Mosley, speaking on behalf of Cook’s Maximists, argued instead that the links should be nurtured and improved, and that all three nations should work together to improve their military strength. GDH Cole put forward the idea that Britain needed friends, but not allies, so perhaps a compromise could be reached. Maclean seized upon this idea and argued that their offers of diplomatic recognition should be accepted, not least for the trading relationships they would bring. Cleverly turning the extreme isolationists’ arguments against them, he ‘agreed’ that war and alliance was not what the Union needed, but pointed out that Britain lacked many resources of its own, particularly foodstuffs that did not grow naturally upon our island. ‘Is a mineworker not entitled to a glass of Sicilian orange juice upon his return home?’ he asked, ‘May our Syndicates not toast their success with a fine Bordeaux? Are we, as a people, not entitled to the money, grain and vital oil that such a trading system would allow?’ Thanks to Maclean’s public speaking skills, the day had been won. The motion to open up full diplomatic relations with Sicily and France was passed.
And so ended the so-called ‘International Week’. Its public statements had been of co-operation, joy and fierce defense of Britain and her socialist principles. Its undertones had been those of continuity in British politics – the stoical, ‘love me or hate me, I’m here to stay’ attitude of Elizabeth I, Oliver Cromwell and Queen Victoria lived on in the practices of John Maclean and Ernest Bevin. I am pleased to note that their reactionary beliefs did not.
[1] A ludicrous idea, for the ‘Exodus fleet’ was little more than a fleet of under-fuelled and armed warships and a string of dilapidated ocean liners. See Comrade Hobsbawm’s article earlier in this book for more details.
[2] It was white. Unlike a certain AJP Taylor, I don’t consider that a sign that he sought to ‘surrender Britain’s integrity’.
[3] Germany continued to recognise the exiled King as rightful ruler of Britain until the fall of the Second Reich.
[4] According to an Irish observer, Bevin directly addressed the name engraved into the stone when he said ‘Had you lived, Comrade, my mission would be a far happier one.’
[5] The decision to send Larkin was largely a selfish one. Collins hated the man for his radical socialist beliefs and had wanted to put him somewhere where he could not influence Irish politics anymore, but could not afford to arrest or execute him because of his populist support.
[6] Joyce, despite his appearances and ‘posh voice’, had been a die-hard leftist ever since his attempt to address a group of Labour Party members in 1924 had ended with him being mobbed by a gang of ‘Honourists’ (reactionary ex-Tommies who took it upon themselves to break up what they saw as ‘revolutionary’ meetings), who slashed his face with a razor. Calling those responsible ‘reactionary heathen’, he became involved with leftist militia groups and played an active role in overcoming the Royalist barricades in West London during the Revolution. Nevertheless, his somewhat wild temperament made him unsuitable for serious public service in Britain, so Bevin recommended him as their Special Representative for many of the same reasons that Collins recommended Larkin.
What of the problem of Germans holding British noble titles and probably also some estates?
A very good point. I imagine Tirpitz thought that unfit for discussion with a
Revolutionary like Bevin, and instead worked everything out with the Canadian Exiles' representative - the German Empire, as above, chose to recognise the status quo of pre-1926 as everlasting, probably partly because recognising the Union's aristocrat-less existence would mean making some German nobles significantly less important. As for the wealth generated by their estates... well, I imagine the fear of war in Europe while the Heer was occupied in China outweighed any serious desire to prop up the incomes of a few German nobles. But their claims, on paper, remain as long as there is someone out there claiming to be King of the United Kingdom.
Revolutionary like Bevin, and instead worked everything out with the Canadian Exiles' representative - the German Empire, as above, chose to recognise the status quo of pre-1926 as everlasting, probably partly because recognising the Union's aristocrat-less existence would mean making some German nobles significantly less important. As for the wealth generated by their estates... well, I imagine the fear of war in Europe while the Heer was occupied in China outweighed any serious desire to prop up the incomes of a few German nobles. But their claims, on paper, remain as long as there is someone out there claiming to be King of the United Kingdom.
but knowing the political importance of German aristocracy, there ought to have been some serious problems with the estates passing to English.
What a Junker wants, a Junker shall get.
After the Titles Deprivation Act 1917, I don't think that this was a problem...
Well... as above, it was completely untenable for money to still be getting from British estates (which no longer exist, having been collectivised) to German nobles. War would be the only option, something Tirpitz is not prepared to do while the intervention in China is underway. I imagine the moment had passed and the Union was too strong by the time Germany's military was anything like ready to go to war with them - and for that matter, the Junkers may have been powerful, but given that it is the 1920s and 30s by now, can the Kaiser's government really justify yet another war over the incomes of a tiny sector of the population? The last thing Tirpitz or Von Papen's governments want to do is create civil unrest through an unpopular and unjustified war. Perhaps Tirpitz calmed the Junkers down by telling them when the inevitable war against Syndicalism came, they would be handsomely compensated from the spoils. There really isn't any other option - even a demand of payments from Britain would simply be met with a 'no' on grounds of principle, and the Germans, as mentioned above, had no military capability to back it up.
EDIT: And, as Kurt said, I was already somewhat skeptical that there'd be many German claimants still with land in Britain, particularly given the unpopularity of Germans post-Weltkrieg... I'd imagine that Our Timeline's Deprivation Act is taken a step further after the war.
EDIT: And, as Kurt said, I was already somewhat skeptical that there'd be many German claimants still with land in Britain, particularly given the unpopularity of Germans post-Weltkrieg... I'd imagine that Our Timeline's Deprivation Act is taken a step further after the war.
Again splendid job, chap! I especially liked the way you solved the Irish problem. I always thought that Ulster was lost during the Easter Uprising, not after the revolution, but your version seems plausible as well. Especially the Cornwall joke
I especially liked the way you solved the Irish problem. I always thought that Ulster was lost during the Easter Uprising, not after the revolution, but your version seems plausible as well. Especially the Cornwall joke 
