"It's Never Too Late"

Robert Miller

[Reprinted from Land & Liberty]

I was born in Aldershot fifty years ago. My father, a regular soldier, died in 1917, and left his widow the unenviable task of bringing up her two sons, and, through no fault of his own, previous little with which to carry it out.

There was no welfare state upon which my mother could shift the burden, so I need not dwell upon the sacrifices which she had to make. Sparing herself nothing in all the years of struggle which followed, I never once heard her complain of her lot, and I welcome this opportunity of recording the fact as a humble tribute to her devotion. She belonged to a generation, now almost passed away, which bore the unkind cuts of adversity with. a spirit and pride which ought to put to shame the type, all too frequently met with today, which abuses an over-beneficent state.

During World War I, and being set by fate in a military environment, I was of such tender years that, seeing so much coming and going of soldiers and all the paraphernalia of military affairs, I regarded a state of war almost as I now regard life itself; in fact, the war had been over for quite a long time before I realised that playing "Germans and English" with my friends was out of date.

Even my schoolmasters wore uniform; all my school books, including the Bible, were stamped with the official Crown, and I was occasionally punished with a "cane, boys, junior, for the correction of, Mark I." (Incidentally, the girls were also caned, and everyone concerned took it all for granted.) It would have been natural, I suppose, if I had followed many of my companions into the army on leaving. school, and this proposition was carefully considered, but was finally abandoned in favour of a slightly more lucrative but far less adventurous career.

As a result of my early baptism into army life, I may perhaps be forgiven for a tint of what is sometimes referred to as "jingoism"; but I have always felt that provided this attitude springs from a genuine love of liberty and respect for law and order, it is not to be too harshly condemned.

I first made the acquaintance of Henry George as recently as 1959, and it will be to my everlasting regret that I never did so before. Since reading Progress and Poverty, and taking in the School's activities, I have seen how, time after time in the past, my mind in more or less confused and hurried thinking, has touched upon the truths which that great book expounds, but which I had never taken sufficient trouble to pursue. I recall, for instance, when a very small boy spending a day by the sea with my mother, being told that we were sitting next to a private beach. This was explained to me, and I then wanted to know who owned the sea. My mother replied that God owned the sea, but that we were allowed to bathe in it, fish in it, and sail our ships on it. I then wanted to know if He owned the land as well, but I cannot remember my mother's answer. Perhaps she found the question too difficult and changed the subject, and who can blame her? Many other people, much more important people, highly educated and responsible people whose trust is the liberty and welfare of nations, have likewise declined, but for other reasons, to commit themselves on that question. Is it not written that "out of the mouths of babes shall come forth wisdom"? Equally truly I submit that from the same source issues the occasional "snorter."

In my early twenties, the unequal distribution of wealth intrigued me to a limited extent, and I tried my hand at thinking out my own remedies. I knew, of course, that something was wrong somewhere. I could not understand for the life of me why, for instance, machines capable of turning out vast quantities of necessities at the mere flick of a switch had to stop doing so just when the goods were needed most. The machines had not broken down, neither had the men working them, but something had. That is about as far as I got, and as it is about as far as a great many economists get, I am not very ashamed of my effort. These enquiries, if they can be flattered with the name, led to many fatuous articles which I inflicted upon various long-suffering editors, who quite rightly bounced them back to their misguided author.

I next remember attending some political meetings, but decided that merely applauding the speeches with which I agreed and muttering rude remarks about those with which I did not was getting me nowhere at all. However, I went on loyally voting Conservative at every election, believing that in the end the "educated class" would pull us through and make all things right again.

After World War II, during which I served in the Police, in munitions, the Royal Artillery and Intelligence, I was faced once again with the responsibility of casting a vote in the General Election of 1945. For some time I was torn between a deep respect for Winston Churchill and an utter loathing for the "brass" who continued to push us around like so many numbered bits of machinery for weeks after the war had ended in Europe, as though we had lost it for them instead of having won it. I was by no means alone in my sentiments, and, as the final count showed, this failure to realise that they were dealing with people and not machines brought its own reward. In the end my true-blue background prevailed and once more I voted Conservative.

The failure of the Labour Government, during their period of office 1945 to 1951, to give us a land fit for heroes to live in strengthened my faith in the Conservatives, and there my allegiance lay until comparatively recently, when I realised at last that the policy of neither of these two parties could ever achieve real economic freedom for our people while each is tied by its own peculiar ideology to a particular interested section of the community. As for the Liberal Party, while I am not satisfied that it obtains sufficient consistency and cohesion in what I now know to be fundamentals, I nevertheless perceive in many of its members me essential attribute of a genuine desire to further the welfare of mankind in general.

My conception of liberalism, strengthened enormously as a result of my acquaintanceship with the writings of Henry George, and my close association with the ideals and work of our movement, transcends a mere political party which, after all, should be but a means to a desired end, not, as one might often assume, after contemplating some of the strange customs observed and activities which take place from time to time in Westminster, an end in itself.

As you well know, this liberalism has many enemies, who are often found fighting under banners which bear strange devices. It is widely maintained, for instance, that war, poverty, persecution and most diseases are caused simply by a deliberate disregard of the natural law which insists that man shall love his neighbour as himself, and that until he learns to obey it, all 'isms' are in vain.

Unhappily, this sweeping condemnation of all political and economic theories would seem to include liberalism -- mainly, I think, because it is associated with a popular interpretation of laissez-faire, which may be anything from "mind your own business" to "I'm all right, Jack." If this is the kind of philosophy upon which the liberal case rests, it is rightly condemned. But it is not, and for this reason: to love your neighbour as yourself, you must first love yourself, the essence of the command lying in the word "as." Thus it means, do only those things which merit self-respect; you cannot expect others to respect you if you do not respect yourself, and you can only achieve this desirable state of mind by loving your neighbour and insisting that he enjoy the liberty and justice that you desire for yourself. "To thine own self be true," says Polonius, "... thou canst not then be false to any man." A pure self-Jove involves and motivates this burning desire to love one's neighbour, and this is the cornerstone of my conception of liberalism.

I believe in a positive approach to life; love, kindness, tolerance, and so on are the attributes of positive living, the vital ingredients of happiness; whereas selfishness, greed, hate, cruelty, poverty, injustice, are all negative. They are unnatural, they represent the absence of something, as darkness represents the absence of light, and ignorance the absence of knowledge. To deny your neighbour love is to die spiritually.

Several times the author of Progress and Poverty uses the teaching of Jesus to support and endorse his arguments. These may be seen quite plainly by those who wish to see, or cleverly concealed from those who do not, for it must be admitted that to some people any mention of religion is an embarrassment -- but they are there just the same. I would even say that Henry George not only supports but proves Christian teaching; by providing practical ways in which all men might be the happier for it. I am not referring, of course; to that narrow and fear-ridden misrepresentation which in the past committed, in the name, of its Founder, so many crimes upon persons and property, but its original message of love, reconciliation, tolerance, and the individual's obligation to bow the knee to no one but his Creator. It is as well to bear in mind also that in explaining neighbourliness with the story of the Good Samaritan, Jesus by no means condoned robbery, with or without violence.

In short, I am satisfied that the philosophy of Henry George is consistent in every way with Christian ethics; in fact, the one is no less than the practical and economic application of the other as regards the efficient maintenance of law, order, liberty and justice in a group of individuals with a like nature.

It has taken nearly half a century for me to see the light -- I believe it takes some people even longer -- but at last the dead wood of inaction, and the tangled undergrowth of confused thinking, have been cut away for ever. The path is now clear, and I hope I shall be granted many more years in which to play my humble part in this noble 'enterprise. Nor shall I be dismayed by the odds. The final verse of the well-known hymn by Arthur Hugh Clough shall be my constant inspiration:

"If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
It may be, in yon smoke concealed,
Your comrades chase, e'en now the fliers
And, but for you, possess the field."

That is sound enough logic for me.