A Change of Government is as good a time as any other for a national stocktaking-especially when, as now, the change takes place after 13 years of leadership by one party. The new Ministers are busy learning the facts of life which for all that time they have been ignoring in opposition. After a preliminary bout of Paradise Lost, Book One, the fallen Ministers are stiffly climbing out of the strait jackets imposed by collective responsibility and beginning to air personal opinions, so far as they can do so without breaking their Privy Councillor's oath.
A Change of Government is as good a time as any other for a national stocktaking-especially when, as now, the change takes place after 13 years of leadership by one party. The new Ministers are busy learning the facts of life which for all that time they have been ignoring in opposition. After a preliminary bout of Paradise Lost, Book One, the fallen Ministers are stiffly climbing out of the strait jackets imposed by collective responsibility and beginning to air personal opinions, so far as they can do so without breaking their Privy Councillor's oath.
In the meantime Britannia, that exquisite Queen Anne figure, still rules the waves on one side of our pennies-serene, confident, aloof and utterly alone. About two years ago, Time guyed this masterpiece, portraying the new Britain as a bothered and painted matron with a middle-aged spread, clearly worried about her housekeeping, unable to employ domestic staff and harassed by her grown-up children. A witty and unkind but penetrating criticism of our present situation.
It is possible, however, and even tempting, to overstate the contrast between pre-1914 Britannia and the perplexed Mrs. Britain of the 'sixties, proud of her past but eager to keep up with the present.
Our gold currency is paper. Our empire is no more. No more are we the leading-in some continental markets almost the only-industrial nation. The two-power navy which sailed to Jutland belching smoke from her coal-or, latest innovation, oil-fired boiler rooms-is as remote as the fleets of Nelson or of Drake, one, in under half a century, "with Nineveh and Tyre." Our aristocratic class system is a memory, the middle class basemented, and now flat-converted houses of Belgravia and South Kensington its only visible memorial, apart from a few noble families perched precariously on the bachelor wings of stately castles which, open to the public, remain stuffed with the hoarded treasures of the past.
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For five years between 1925 and 1929, a certain portion of mankind, like those parched travelers in the desert who think they have glimpsed the oasis which will save them, believed the gate to lasting peace was at hand. This, as we now know, was only a mirage. But such a mirage had never before existed. People had never believed so fervently in the blessings of peace, or hoped so passionately that peace would be perpetual. Optimism rose to new heights. "Away with cannon and machineguns: instead, conciliation, arbitration, and peace!" At the meeting of the League of Nations on September 10, 1926, when Germany, recently defeated, was received as a member, the French Foreign Minister Aristide Briand touched a new intensity of emotion with these celebrated words.
Mr. Harold Wilson has been leader of the Labor Party for nearly a year; in 1964 he may well become Britain's first Socialist Prime Minister in 13 years. Around his aims and methods, and in particular his expressed belief in the possibility of a new society created by technological as much as by political change, have gathered much speculation and comment. However, he is by nature cautious, anxious to nourish growing party aspirations rather than initiate controversial debate, and therefore unlikely to be hasty in making innovations in either domestic or foreign policies. It is the latter which will be considered here.
The devaluation of the pound sterling on November 18, 1967, and the announcement on January 16, 1968, of a firm timetable for Britain's withdrawal east of Suez have been widely lamented as marking the "end of an era." Along with such spectacular domestic reversals as the imposition of charges for medical care and the promise of still heavier taxation, the events of the past several months may at least justify the clichés, so often repeated, that Britain is at a "turning point" or has reached a "crossroads." But does all of this necessarily mean continuing deterioration or indicate that Britain's economic base can no longer support her as a major power? Or can those of us looking on from outside reasonably hope that what Labor Ministers have called the "second Battle of Britain,"1 will result in new patterns of economic expansion?

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