Lost Imperium: Far Right Visions of the British Empire, c.1920-1980 2020013366, 2020013367, 9780815392569, 9780367536923, 9780429468520

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LOST IMPERIUM

This book examines, for the first time, the role of Britain's Empire in far right thought between 1920 and 1980. Throughout these turbulent decades, upheaval in the Empire, combined with declining British world power, was frequently discussed and reflected upon in far right publications, as were radical policies designed to revitalise British imperialism. Drawing on the case studies of Ireland, India, Palestine, Kenya and Rhodesia, Lost Imperium argues that imperialism provided a frame through which ideas at the core of far right thinking could be advocated: nationalism, racism, conspiracy theory, antisemitism and anti-communism. The far right’s opposition to imperial decline ultimately reflected more than just a desire to reverse the fortunes of the British Empire, it was also a crucial means of promoting central ideological values. By analysing far right imperial thought, we are able to understand how they interacted with mainstream ideas of British imperialism during the twentieth century, while also promoting their own uniquely racist, violent and authoritarian vision of Empire. This book will be of interest to students and scholars of British fascism, empire, imperialism, racial and ethnic studies, and political history. Paul Stocker is a Visiting Fellow in Political History at the University of Northampton, UK, and a Senior Fellow at the Centre for Analysis of the Radical Right.

ROUTLEDGE STUDIES IN FASCISM AND THE FAR RIGHT Series editors Nigel Copsey, Teesside University, UK and Graham Macklin, Center for Research on Extremism (C-REX), University of Oslo, Norway. This new book series focuses upon fascist, far right and right-wing politics primarily within a historical context but also drawing on insights from other disciplinary perspectives. Its scope also includes radical-right populism, cultural manifestations of the far right and points of convergence and exchange with the mainstream and traditional right. Titles include: American Antifa The Tactics, Culture, and Practice of Militant Antifascism Stanislav Vysotsky Lost Imperium Far Right Visions of the British Empire, c.1920–1980 Paul Stocker Hitler Redux The Incredible History of Hitler’s So-Called Table Talks Mikael Nilsson Researching the Far Right Theory, Method and Practice Edited by Stephen D. Ashe, Joel Busher, Graham Macklin and Aaron Winter The Rise of the Dutch New Right An Intellectual History of the Rightward Shift in Dutch Politics Merijn Oudenampsen Anti-fascism in a Global Perspective Transnational Networks, Exile Communities and Radical Internationalism Edited by Kasper Braskén, Nigel Copsey and David Featherstone British Fascism After the Holocaust From the Birth of Denial to the Notting Hill Riots 1939–1958 Joe Mulhall For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com/RoutledgeStudies-in-Fascism-and-the-Far-Right/book-series/FFR

LOST IMPERIUM Far Right Visions of the British Empire, c.1920–1980

Paul Stocker

First published 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2021 Paul Stocker The right of Paul Stocker to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Stocker, Paul (Historian), author. Title: Lost imperium : far right visions of the British empire, c.1920-1980 / Paul Stocker. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2021. | Series: Routledge studies in fascism and the far right | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2020013366 (print) | LCCN 2020013367 (ebook) | ISBN 9780815392569 (hardback) | ISBN 9780367536923 (paperback) | ISBN 9780429468520 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Great Britain–Colonies–History–20th century. | Right and left (Political science)–Great Britain–History–20th century. | Political culture– Great Britain–History–20th century. Classification: LCC DA16 .S858 2021 (print) | LCC DA16 (ebook) | DDC 909/.0971241082–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020013366 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020013367 ISBN: 978-0-8153-9256-9 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-367-53692-3 (pbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-46852-0 (ebk) Typeset in Bembo by Taylor & Francis Books

For Riina

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements List of abbreviations Introduction

viii x 1

1

The far right and the British Empire

20

2

Ireland

61

3

India

92

4

Palestine

124

5

Kenya

157

6

Rhodesia

190

Conclusion

224

Select bibliography Index

229 236

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Research for this book started in 2013 when I began my doctoral studies at Teesside University. Many have assisted in the process of researching and writing since then, yet none more so than my former Director of Studies, Professor Matthew Feldman. Matthew has been hugely supportive of me and this project from the moment I offered my research proposal. Throughout, he has provided first-class support, guidance as well as expert advice. To learn from such a well-established but approachable scholar has been an absolute pleasure. In addition, Matthew, as well as his wife Claire, have been great friends, which has made my time working with him all the more enjoyable. I would also like to express my gratitude to others who have assisted me. Craig Fowlie at Routledge has always been very supportive of my work and most understanding of my frustratingly ‘liberal’ approach to deadlines. Professor Nigel Copsey provided me with some highly useful feedback and advice during my doctoral studies and Dr Graham Macklin likewise has always been happy to help, in particular when sharing his mammoth knowledge of far right archives. I would also like to thank Dr Charlie McGuire and Dr Neil Fleming for offering their expertise and feedback on individual chapters. Thanks also go out to the wonderful archivists and librarians who have made this research possible. This includes Lizzie Richmond at the University of Bath and Daniel Jones at the University of Northampton’s Searchlight Archives, as well as staff at the British Library and the National Archives. I must also thank the lecturers and mentors who most positively influenced my academic research and inspired me to progress to doctoral level in the first place. These can be found at West Virginia University, where I had the privilege of undertaking an MA in History between 2012 and 2013. Dr Joshua Arthurs, in particular, offered great advice on my doctoral thesis as well as sparking my interest in the study of fascism originally. Thanks also go to Professor Robert Blobaum,

Acknowledgements ix

whose wealth of experience, support, and kindness made my stay in Morgantown such a rich experience. Also, I would like to express my gratitude to Dr Joseph Hodge, whose highly stimulating class on the British Empire ignited my interest in examining fascism and imperialism together. In terms of those outside the academic world, I would like to thank all my friends, both North and South, for their help and companionship as well as for helpful nuggets of advice. I would also like to thank my parents, Keith and Corinne, and my sister Jill, who have supported and encouraged me throughout my life. My biggest thanks are reserved for my fiancée Riina, to whom this book is dedicated, who has been at the coalface putting up with me for nearly nine years now, offering her wisdom and advice – but more importantly her loving support. February 2020

ABBREVIATIONS

ARS BF BLXS BNP BUF CAF CAS CPGB CTL FIP GBM GID IDL IES IFL INC IRA KADU KANU LEL MC NDP NF NLP NSM OAS PF

Anglo-Rhodesian Society British Fascisti British League of Ex-Servicemen British National Party British Union of Fascists Central African Federation Capricorn Africa Society Communist Party of Great Britain Cotton Trade League Federal Independence Party Greater Britain Movement Government Information Dept India Defence League Indian Empire Society Imperial Fascist League Indian National Congress Irish Republican Army Kenyan African Democratic Union Kenyan African National Union League of Empire Loyalists Monday Club National Democratic Party National Front National Labour Party National Socialist Movement Organisation Armée Secrète Patriotic Front

Abbreviations xi

RF RIC UDI UFM UFP UM ZANLA ZAPU ZIPRA

Rhodesian Front Royal Irish Constabulary unilateral declaration of independence Ulster Fascist Movement United Federal Party Union Movement Zimbabwe African National Liberation Army Zimbabwe African People’s Union Zimbabwe People’s Revolutionary Army

INTRODUCTION

The spectre of Britain’s imperial past haunted the referendum on its European Union membership. The 2016 leave campaign successfully framed Britain’s membership of the European Union as a 43-year aberration in British history misguidedly constructed after the trauma of British imperial oblivion. A vote to leave was presented as a chance to return to the buccaneering Britain which once conquered the world and ‘take back control’ of its destiny, reconnecting with those whom Nigel Farage referred to as ‘our real friends’ in the Commonwealth.1 The campaign to leave was saturated with ideas and slogans reminiscent of far right politics, past and present. Marauding hordes from uncivilised, alien lands descending on Britain, enemies within destroying the national will to greatness, decadent and corrupt liberal elites more interested in appeasing foreigners than addressing the issues faced by ‘ordinary’ Britons. All were caricatured to successful effect, leading Britain to sever its ties with the European Union and wrench it into the unknown. Brexit, despite being framed by the victors merely as the long overdue return of British sovereignty, demonstrated the continuing salience of Empire, particularly on the right of British politics, many of whom never accepted Britain’s post-imperial shift to Europe and ultimately, the notion of a post-imperial Britain itself. Since the vote, debates on the relationship between British imperial history and the vote to leave the EU have burgeoned. For many commentators, majority support for the tub-thumping leave campaign’s promises to restore Britain to a position of global power demonstrated the endurance of imperial myths in British political discourse.2 Others drew a more careful distinction between imperial nostalgia and amnesia, claiming that the selectively plucked historical narratives from the leave side were more reflective of the latter, rather than necessarily desiring a return to imperial glory.3 Yet, it is impossible to disentangle ideas surrounding ‘global Britain’ – the favoured strapline of leave campaigners and words spoken by Boris Johnson in his first speech as Prime Minister in July 2019 – from the

2 Introduction

intellectual baggage of its imperial context.4 What is clear is that the victorious campaign – dominated by figures from both the mainstream and fringes – reflected a tradition within right-wing politics of championing Britain’s special right to world power and influence. Talk in Whitehall of ‘Empire 2.0’ following Brexit – likely mischievously – nevertheless hints that such an idea transcends beyond naked electoral jingoism. Put more bluntly by one member of the public, who told a Sky News camera at a pro-Brexit rally in October 2018: ‘Let’s get back to being the British Empire again. That’s what it’s all about, you know? It’s about being the British Empire.’5 While such anachronistic declarations can often be found uncomfortably close to the mainstream of British politics in the twenty-first century, they have been traditionally restricted to the far right fringes – which this study concerns itself with. This study examines a feature of British politics both past and present – the utilisation of Empire by the far right – those whose political raison d’être is a claim to an authentic and unshakable patriotism. Beginning in the 1920s, when Britain’s Empire was at its height, and finishing in the early 1980s, when Britain’s Empire had disappeared, barring a few scattered outposts, it aims to map the far right’s response to imperial decline and failed attempts to revitalise Britain’s Empire. Encompassing organisations and influencers broadly situated within the far right – fascist and non-fascist – it will be the first major examination of the multiplicity of voices on the right-wing fringes who sought to champion the British Empire during the entire period of twentieth-century decolonisation, beginning in the tumultuous ‘fascist epoch’ which followed the First World War. Stanley Payne offers this succinct overview of the interwar British Union of Fascists (BUF) in his seminal A History of Fascism, 1914–1945: ‘like other fascist movements in satisfied imperial powers, the BUF never preached war and expansion, but peace and prosperity’.6 According to Payne, Britain had arrived from the First World War victorious and ‘sated’, with its vast Empire intact (and even expanded). Thus, fascism in Britain was effectively dismissed as ‘a sort of political oxymoron’.7 As this study will demonstrate, fascists, as well as the broader far right, were indeed content with Britain’s vast imperial possessions following the First World War and were mostly uninterested in adding more pink to the map. In contrast to a European continent rampant with instability and upheaval, the political climate in Britain was tepid in comparison and provided little breathing space for a genuine extremist threat to democracy. Yet, this did not render the idea of a political ideology seeking national regeneration an ‘oxymoron’ nor redundant. Britain’s victory in the First World War and the consolidation of its Empire meant it had more to lose than most. The impetus behind British fascism therefore always revolved around protecting national and imperial power rather than constructing it and even more so, highlighting the dangers which were allegedly undermining it. From its birth in the early 1920s until the modern day, the far right saw threats, subversiveness and conspiracy everywhere. Communist infiltration was deemed to be rampant in left, liberal and mainstream right-wing political circles. Malicious Jewish power was plunging its tentacles in hostile states – both capitalist and

Introduction 3

communist – and increasingly pulling the strings of most political, economic and media institutions of significance in Britain and her Empire. The national will to greatness was being undermined and indeed destroyed by a weak-minded, compromising and decadent elite who were either ignorant of the plots which festered within powerful institutions or wholly complicit. Britain’s historic role as a global imperial power, on which the sun would never set, was being wilfully and intentionally unravelled by those seeking the end of the nation state as the principal political order of nations and a complicit establishment. According to the far right, Britain would not be sated until the malevolent forces seeking its destruction were rooted out and themselves, destroyed. The far right – and only they – possessed the knowledge, strength and ruthlessness to carry it out. This study, therefore, concerns itself with how the far right in Britain constructed narratives of imperial decline from the Empire’s height until its end and their attempts to portray themselves as the saviours of the British imperial tradition. Far right literature and publications were saturated with notions of British imperial glory. Commentary on affairs within the British Empire were ubiquitous from the end of the First World War until Britain’s Empire was all but gone in 1980. Yet, this study will demonstrate that while the desire to uphold a strong and revitalised British Empire was a crucial theme in British far right narratives, the quest for an invigorated British imperialism was largely secondary to other aims. Anti-communism, antisemitism, anti-liberalism and the pursuit of domestic objectives, rather than any imperial reawakening lay at the heart of far right ideology. The significance of Empire in far right and fascist ideology is therefore found not in its centrality, but in its ability to be used as a frame through which ideological pursuits of a greater importance could be conducted. This study will predominantly explore the far right’s approach to imperial issues through a series of case studies which focus on crucial events during the time period under examination. First, Chapter 1 will provide an overview of the imperial ideologies of key far right organisations between c.1920 and 1980, including the Britons and Nesta Webster, the British Fascisti (BF), the Imperial Fascist League (IFL), BUF, the Union Movement (UM), the League of Empire Loyalists (LEL) and the National Front (NF). Chapter 2 investigates the trauma which resulted from Ireland being wrenched out of the United Kingdom following the Anglo-Irish Treaty, while Chapter 3 analyses the far right’s response to debates around Indian independence in the interwar period and shortly after. Chapter 4 assesses Palestine and anti-Zionism as an important factor in the far right’s conception of a global Jewish conspiracy. Chapter 5 investigates the role played by Kenya and the Mau Mau uprising during the 1950s in far right imperial thought and finally, Chapter 6 considers the far right’s interaction with Rhodesia before and after its unilateral declaration of independence (UDI) in 1965. These events have been selected due to their significance for the far right, identified through researching party literature and activist writings, in terms of what they saw as the most important issues. Often, these reflect the most critical imperial issues of the day – such as debates around Indian autonomy in the 1930s

4 Introduction

and the Kenyan Emergency in the 1950s. However, often, debates surround issues which were of more ‘specialist’ interest to the far right specifically, such as the Palestine question and Zionism, as well as Rhodesia. Such an approach, while to a large extent chronological, therefore, enables the possibility of demonstrating how the far right debated and campaigned on issues which were of concern to the public and politicians more generally as well as how they sought to promote issues they themselves deemed significant. A perhaps surprising amount of time and column inches were spent detailing in some depth the alleged problems afflicting Britain’s Empire at different times in different places and the proposed far right solutions for dealing with them in the unlikely event they obtained power. While power to enact such policies was always unlikely, we cannot dismiss ideas written as genuine attempts to solve important issues of the day purely as malicious fantasies. Rather, the far right’s commentary on imperial issues is analysed in light of mainstream debates on the subject as a means of understanding their role in British imperial debates more broadly. As will be shown, far right organisations during both the interwar and postwar periods, principally reacted to imperial events – first, in Ireland – and then most significantly in India, Palestine, Kenya and, finally, Rhodesia. In all cases, they sought to use these events of imperial upheaval both as a means of connecting with mainstream policies and promoting the political ideas which formed their raison d’être. Ultimately, while the far right swathed themselves in imperial grandeur, their obsession with anti-Jewish conspiracy theory and communist subversion meant that attempts to have a voice in the mainstream arena of imperial politics – where there were plenty of opportunities – were doomed to failure. Another key argument here is that conspiracy theories were essential to far right imperialism and ideology more generally, despite being largely neglected by historians as a central mode of far right thought and communication throughout their entire existence. ‘Conspiracism’ pervaded far right discussions of Empire from the outset, acting as a discursive lens through which other important ideological components – such as race, nationalism, anti-communism, anti-liberalism and antisemitism – could be expressed. Some scholars have noted the importance of conspiracy theory to the far right previously, yet few have truly fleshed out its centrality.8 A particularly apt quote, which this study will demonstrate, comes from David Edgar, who argued that ‘conspiracy theory runs through contemporary British fascist ideology like Blackpool runs through rock’.9 The same can be said for the far right more broadly, where a widespread belief in a global Jewish conspiracy – either manifested through Bolshevism or an allegedly Jewish dominated world banking system – can be witnessed. The chronology under scrutiny in this study – c.1920–1980 reflects the far right over the longue durée. It therefore places itself among an increasing number of works which have sought to de-ghettoise the British far right from the interwar period and provide similar attention to its longer postwar variants. Rather than viewing the Second World War as the key break in the life of the twentieth century for the far right, this study fully brings out the constantly changing organisational structure of the

Introduction 5

far right, the ever in flux significance of key activists and publications as well as the shifting political issues which they sought to address. Yet, for all the change that can be witnessed in over half a century of far right activism, significant continuity also demonstrates the resilience of core aspects of far right ideology. Conspiracy theory, racism, anti-left and liberal attacks and rampant criticism of mainstream elites all stand the test of time and are exhibited constantly throughout the period under question. Thus, through a long-term examination of the far right vis-à-vis its attitude to Empire, it is possible to gain a greater understanding of the far right’s development over time and how it adapted to new challenges. Why is understanding the obscure and quixotic far right visions of Empire so important? Its key significance lies in how imperial issues were used and manipulated to attract attention to wider ideological goals – notably, conspiracy theory, and thus this offers important insight into far right communication. Yet the far right has never operated in a vacuum, nor are their views and ideas as ‘fringe’ as their political behaviour would suggest. In fact, many on the far right were products of establishment institutions: parliament, public schools, the civil service, and the military. Understanding far right responses to imperial affairs therefore provides important insight into British imperial political culture which they both operated in and responded to. Furthermore, they reflect a marginal and often forgotten, but important strand in British twentieth-century politics: those who hopelessly sought to turn the tide on British imperial decline and processes of decolonisation. While this study predominantly situates itself with other examinations of the far right and fascism in Britain, it also holds significance for British imperial history. The study of Britain’s Empire is a vast field of enquiry encompassing hundreds, if not thousands of active scholars globally researching centuries of material across a range of disciplines. Yet, no one has attempted to examine Empire’s greatest defenders in Britain nor how they responded to repeated ‘defeats’ as the British imperial project crumbled. This is a surprising omission, the absence of which is worth pondering. One explanation is the relative parochiality of the far right which has rendered them irrelevant to scholars examining the late British Empire who have preferred to focus on instrumental elite actors. Furthermore, it is possible that a cursory glance at the literature of far right groups – blaming imperial decline on Jews and Communists – has led to the assumption that their contribution to the history of imperial ideas is as relevant as flat-earthers to the field of astronomy. Yet, the eccentricity of the far right should not be overstated. Conspiracy theories, for example, as recent studies have shown, are far more popularly believed than is perhaps widely appreciated.10 The ideas of the far right interrogated in this study are shown to be more mainstream than may appear obvious when taken at face value. Violence, racism, paranoia and draconian solutions pervaded far right discussions of Empire throughout the period. While these exceeded mainstream narratives in their severity and cynicism, they are all themes which are familiar to scholars of British imperialism. Also, while historians should generally avoid the realm of the counter-factual, it remains true that the trajectory of history must always be scrutinised. Few would have believed after the German Federal Election

6 Introduction

of 1928, where the Nazi Party achieved 2.6 per cent of the vote, that Hitler would be appointed Chancellor less than five years later. It is surely therefore prudent for historians to examine the potential for historical events to embark on different courses. There was never a crisis of the British state which enabled the far right to seize power, meaning their solutions to the emergencies of the British Empire were thankfully never enacted. Yet, far right imperial plans offer a glimpse into a dystopian alternative reality which may enable us to ponder and reassess what actually happened. Ultimately, the study of fascism remains more important than ever, especially during an age of increased ‘mainstreaming’ of far right views in Europe.11 Events in Britain over the past half-century have demonstrated that nationalistic, racist and xenophobic views have continued to spread far beyond the right-wing fringes. The archivally informed history of ideas approach undertaken in this study stresses the importance of ideas rather than solely their literal impact in politics or society. Furthermore, quantifying and fully apprehending the impact of fascist hate speech and violent rhetoric are practically impossible, and nobody really knows its potential implications. As German-Jewish diarist Victor Klemperer, a survivor of the Nazi era in Germany put it, ‘Words can be like tiny doses of arsenic: they are swallowed unnoticed, appear to have no effect, and then after a little time the toxic reaction sets in after all.’12 Thus, while we cannot know the true impact of these far right ‘doses’, we must strive to contextualise them within the wider setting of imperial history, viewing them as a fringe but nonetheless integral part of wider political culture in twentieth-century Britain.

Defining fascism and the far right When George Orwell wrote in 1946 that the word fascism’s meaning had been debased to little more than ‘something not desirable’, it may not have appeared evident to him that this would remain a theme within public discourse for decades.13 Whether it is the West’s bêtes noirs such as Saddam Hussein, Vladimir Putin or the ideology of Islamism – fascism is regularly deployed by commentators and the media as a description of any political phenomenon or act that is brutal, dictatorial or inhumane.14 More recently, discourse surrounding the elections of demagogic US reality TV star and entrepreneur Donald Trump as President of the United States and ultra-conservative populist Jair Bolsonaro in Brazil have prompted the widespread (mis)use of the term fascism to describe their hard-line, reactionary and xenophobic pronouncements.15 Such misplaced uses of the word tend to exasperate academic scholars of fascism outside of Marxist circles, particularly as, over the past two decades, a basic consensus has been reached on the nature of fascism’s ‘ineliminable core’.16 In addition, ‘fascist studies’ has broken new ground in distinguishing the relationship between fascism and those non-fascist regimes which bore many of the hallmarks of fascism but which clearly fall short of fully-fledged fascist regimes. Thus, while Roger Griffin spoke of a ‘new consensus’ in 1998, there is little that is new about it

Introduction 7

any longer. Griffin himself has recently argued that the ‘new consensus’ is now ‘old hat’.17 For him, it is now more appropriate to speak of a ‘new wave’ of fascist studies, which has moved beyond attempting to understand the core ideology of fascism. These include studies on political religion; totalitarianism as both a regime and movement; ‘biopolitics’; and the relationship between fascism and modernity. Furthermore, building on Griffin’s core definition, Aristotle Kallis’ work on ‘fascistization’ has fruitfully examined the relationship between fascist regimes and non-fascist far right movements and regimes. Notwithstanding this ‘new wave’ of fascist studies, it is important to go back to Griffin’s one-sentence definition from 1991 to determine exactly what is meant by ‘fascism’. The ‘new consensus’ is the phrase coined by Roger Griffin to describe scholarship on fascism arriving since the early 1990s, which broadly agreed on the characteristics of fascist ideology.18 In International Fascism: Theories, Causes and New Consensus (1998), utilising the cultural understanding of fascism first advanced by George Mosse, Griffin asserted that fascism could be defined as an ‘ideal-type’ ideological phenomenon by identifying several core aspects, much like liberalism, conservatism or communism.19 ‘Palingenetic’ ultra-nationalism is at the centre of the ‘new consensus’ definition of fascism.20 A revolutionary agenda which targets socialism, liberalism and conservatism as the enemy – with the explicit intention of bringing the country under a single-party hyper-nationalist state – is what separates fascism from seemingly similar authoritarian or totalitarian regimes. A populist, class-transcending rhetoric is undertaken in order to fully mobilise the masses. The social changes brought about by fascism are thus a mass revolution, and not, as many have claimed, a ‘petty-bourgeoisie’, middle-class or ‘top-down’ reaction.21 Griffin notes that this palingenetic, modernising, aggressively nationalist agenda is often executed through a charismatic leader who rejects conservative dogmas and liberal pragmatism, governing through aesthetic displays of power, ritualistic politics and charismatic leadership of an ‘organic’ nation. In addition to this, the fascist aesthetic often displays militaristic themes while glorifying the use of violence. While the internal political and geo-political context would differ for fascism following the Second World War, ‘neo-fascism’ would maintain the same fundamental ideas as during the interwar period with the exception of an added panEuropeanism or ‘supranationalism’. The difficulty remains that, given the diversity of fascist and right-wing organisations in Britain and across Europe during the period in question, many groups do not fit comfortably within the above definition. During the ‘fascist epoch’, the BUF and the IFL come closest to Griffin’s ‘ideal-type’ definition of fascism, while the first self-proclaimed ‘fascist’ organisation – the BF – does not and reflects more a hybrid of conservative and imported fascist ideas.22 It was ultimately a period where many ‘fellow travellers’ – uncovered in all their diversity in Richard Griffiths’ timeless Fellow Travellers of the Right (1980) – right-wing conservatives, reactionaries and antisemites saw common cause with fascist and Nazi movements and regimes, despite never advocating the implementation of such policies themselves.23

8 Introduction

The trajectory of fascism following the Second World War further complicates matters. Given the genocidal destruction wrought by fascism during the Second World War, no one seeking political support in Britain or elsewhere publicly referred to themselves as fascist. This has led to a tendency by scholars, particularly in political science, to eschew the term ‘fascist’ when describing postwar movements of a similar hue. This practice has been questioned by historians such as Andrea Mammone and Nigel Copsey, who have argued that movements such as the Front National in France or the Austrian Freedom Party do not represent a complete break with ‘traditional’ fascist movements, but have merely adapted to a post-fascist age. Thus, as Copsey puts it, rather than dying out, following its genocidal failure during the Second World War, ‘Fascist ideological morphology is protean and adapts itself to specific and historical and cultural contexts.’24 While this is accepted, it remains misleading to refer to the range of movements under discussion in this study as ‘fascist’ with a blanket description. Rather, we will attempt to understand how the far right, as a loosely defined political category with much in common, argued for the revitalisation of Britain’s Empire. Fascists and other right-wing activists are united by much in terms of ideology: nationalism; anti-communism; anti-liberalism and often, political antisemitism and recourse to conspiracy theories. This allows the expansive term ‘far right’ to characterise a cross-section of illiberal and xenophobic movements. While overlapping, the two nevertheless differ on one crucial issue – the matter of constitutionalism, as Cas Mudde has highlighted. Fascists and the ‘extreme right’ seek to destroy the existing constitution as part of a total overhaul of government and society (even if they are often prepared to work within the system in order to achieve power, such as the Nazi Party in Weimar Germany). The reactionary right (and more recently, the populist far right), while often demonstrating significant scepticism of the constitutional order and liberal democracy, nevertheless seeks to maintain the status quo: ‘put simply, the difference between radicalism and extremism is that the former is verfassungswidrig [opposed to the constitution], whereas the latter is verfassungsfeindlich [hostile towards the constitution]’.25 Yet as the umbrella term ‘far right’ indicates, much more united fascists and the non-fascists on the right-wing fringes, meaning that it is possible to examine them as part of the same, overall phenomenon. Both Roger Griffin and Spanish theorist of totalitarianism Juan Linz were fond of arboreal metaphors. To take this up, it might be said that the constitutional, reactionary ultra-right and the extra-constitutional revolutionary right were less branches from the same tree; rather, they are the same type of tree in a forest with all manner of flora and fauna.

The British far right and Empire Scholarship on the British far right has been prolific over the last 20 years, no doubt influenced by the pioneering work on generic fascism in the 1990s and early 2000s, which saw a series of monographs on interwar British fascism published. There has also been a more recent boom in studies examining the far right in

Introduction 9

Britain led by Routledge’s Fascism and the Far Right series, but even more so the greater salience of the subject matter in contemporary British and European politics. Yet, a significant examination of the relationship between the far right and Empire has been left wanting. Despite a plethora of works on British fascism this century, there remains a significant and important gap in the literature that has failed to address the ‘imperial question’ within far right ideology adequately. Three of the major volumes published this century have all alluded to the imperialist origins of the far right. Thomas Linehan for example, looking at ‘origins and progenitors’, argues that British fascism’s origins lie in the social imperialists and tariff reform advocates of the late-nineteenth century and Edwardian years before the Great War.26 Stephen Dorril follows a similar line of enquiry, focusing upon the imperialist precursors to Mosley and the BUF. Like Linehan, he looks at social imperialists, tariff reformers and proponents of ‘national efficiency’.27 Martin Pugh, in turn, while also considering similar themes as Dorril and Linehan,28 includes a chapter entitled ‘Fascism and the Defence of Empire’. Yet it largely amounts to a discussion of Conservative ‘diehard’ responses to the Government of India Act in the mid-1930s.29 Not only does this blur the boundaries between Conservative diehards and the non-Tory far right, his chapter leaves the impression that the so-called ‘Indian Question’, and indeed the British Empire more generally, were of little concern to interwar fascist groups.30 Tellingly, these three volumes all allude to the imperialist origins and importance of the British Empire in fascist praxis; however, none really interrogates the role of Empire within fascist and far right thinking. Setting the record straight on this neglected issue is a key feature of this study. Julie Gottlieb’s gender-focused study of British fascism, Feminine Fascism (2002), broke new ground in terms of its innovation. She was also the first to suggest in 2004 that imperial historians might have much to learn from studying fascism and its relationship to imperial politics. She rightly argued that fascists were ‘preoccupied by imperial policy, spun fantasies of racial purity and the hierarchies of nations, … obsessed by visions of British imperial decline and its alleged attendant cultural decadence’.31 Similarly, several scholars have noted the tendency of far right organisations to champion the British Empire. For example, the BF were, according to Barbara Farr, ‘successors to the missionaries of Empire’.32 Thomas Linehan, discussing the IFL, notes the strong impact of Empire and race on IFL ideology, arguing that its ‘attachment to Empire was underwritten by a belief in the inherent natural propensity of the European Aryan race to supervise and lead the non-white peoples’.33 More recent studies have examined Empire and the far right from different but somewhat limited perspectives. Liam Liburd has analysed the imperial attitudes of the BUF in an article in the Journal of Comparative Fascist Studies, providing valuable insight into how the far right build on mainstream ideas of Empire by drawing ‘heavily on earlier constructions of racialized imperial masculinity in building their “new fascist man”’.34 He also notes how the BUF ‘looked to a masculine ideal based on the conviction that the best of British manhood could be found on

10 Introduction

Britain’s imperial frontiers’, a trend this study will demonstrate was not limited to the interwar party alone but can be witnessed among a range of groups. Luke LeCras’ recent biography of A. K. Chesterton, like David Baker, notes the significance of Empire for Chesterton, arguably the most important individual in the twentieth-century far right whose political career would span almost the length of this study. LeCras notes, ‘from an early age Chesterton was imbued with a sense of “imperial nationalism” – an ideal in which every colony and dominion was representative of the English people’s achievement in spreading civilization to the wider world’.35 Evan Smith’s article has also plausibly demonstrated the positive attachment the BUF had for Australia, notably in terms of its ‘White Australia Policy’ and (mis)treatment of indigenous peoples.36 The link between British nationalists and imperialism has therefore often been pointed to and looked at in specific contexts, but rarely fleshed out. Considering that British politics between the 1920s and 1980s, where Britain’s Empire was swept out of existence, was dominated at times by anxiety over Britain’s role as a world power, it seems curious that few scholars of the far right have sought to situate them within this context. Perhaps based on the misplaced notion that far right attitudes towards a nuanced subject such as this are likely to be single-minded and lacking refinement, this study will deconstruct a wide range of varying attitudes to the British Empire within this relatively small constituency. This will be achieved via analysis of fascists’ ideas as expressed by writings, policies, statements and speeches, deriving from print materials, archival papers and a few online references. With respect to sources, many studies of British fascism have made good use of the substantial surveillance files held at the National Archives in Kew, particularly those assessing fascism’s relationship to public order and political violence. In fact, state surveillance documents comprise the largest unpublished source material on British fascism. However, these archival sources take on less importance for this study, which is primarily interested in the ideas of the far right as they themselves presented them in their own words. This approach affords the groups in question the requisite ‘methodological empathy’ needed to take their ideas seriously and as a wider whole. Furthermore, as Richard Thurlow has argued, ‘State attitudes towards British fascism viewed it with condescension as an exotic foreign import which created difficulties for the authorities with regard to the maintenance of civil liberties and public order.’37 Thus, documentary evidence which sees British fascism as little more than an imported nuisance, or that primarily focuses on threats to public order, is of less relevance to this study. Indeed, scholars who have focused on fascism’s revolutionary ideology and its socio-political ideas, such as Thomas Linehan, have found far more purchase in the original literature published by the far right themselves.

History of fascism and Empire This study, which aims to understand the interplay between far right and imperial ideas, finds itself situated within a rich tradition of studies examining the link between the two, often manifesting in Marxist and anti-colonial polemics. Marxists

Introduction 11

were in fact the first scholars to attempt a serious examination of fascism as a unique political movement. The first to identify the relationship between the two were interwar Marxists, who drew heavily upon Vladimir Lenin’s Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism (1917). Written before the first fascist movements, Lenin’s text argued that imperialism and colonialism reflected ‘monopoly capitalism’ in its final stage. Drawing significantly upon the work of British economist J. A. Hobson, colonial exploitation, Lenin argued, was a cartel of financiers and industrialists seeking to make vast profits on underdeveloped economies in collaboration with the state – making wars between states competing for investment and land inevitable. To quote Lenin, under a system of ‘modern monopolist capital on a world-wide scale … imperialist wars are absolutely inevitable under such an economic system, as long as private property in the means of production exists’.38 If imperialism represented the final stage of capitalism before the inevitable proletarian uprising, according to the interwar Marxist theorist R. Palme Dutt, fascism ‘represents an extreme phenomenon of this process of capitalism in decay’.39 Dutt, following Trotsky, argued that ‘the principal aim of Fascism is to destroy the revolutionary labour vanguard’ through a ‘combination of social demagogy, corruption and [referring to the Russian Civil War] active White terror, in conjunction with extreme imperialist aggression in the sphere of foreign politics’.40 Thus, fascism and imperialism were intrinsically linked as features of late-capitalism in the minds of (often Marxist) anti-fascists – codified in the Dimitroff definition for communists – with fascists using imperialist aggression in order to prolong capitalist rule and destroy any potential for a working-class uprising. The subtler Italian Marxist, Antonio Gramsci, saw an inevitable link between fascism and the need for imperial expansion. From prison in 1926, Gramsci wrote prophetically that Mussolini’s fascist regime would: attempt to resolve the crisis of Italian society outside the national field. In this are the germs of a war which will ostensibly be fought for Italian expansion but in which reality fascist Italy will be an instrument in the hands of one of the imperialism groups struggling for domination of the world.41 Another influential Marxist, Paul Sweezy, asserted in 1942 that fascism had germinated from the First World War – itself an inter-imperialist war. Thus fascism, while being intrinsically linked to the capitalist system, was made possible in the aftermath of war: A nation, the economic and social structure of which is seriously disrupted as the result of an imperialist war of re-division, may, failing a successful socialist revolution, enter upon a period of class equilibrium on the basis of capitalist relations of production. Under such conditions, the intensification of the contradictions of capitalism leads to a severe internal crisis which cannot be “solved” by resort to the normal methods of imperialist expansion. This is, so to speak, the soil in which fascism takes root and grows.42

12 Introduction

The Marxist understanding of the relationship between fascism and imperialism was revived at the turn of this century in Dave Renton’s Fascism: Theory and Practice (2000), the most comprehensive survey of Marxist views of fascism to date. Renton, like interwar Marxists, is heavily influenced by Lenin’s Imperialism, which, he argues ‘addressed the question of why it was that capitalism could appear in different forms’.43 He further explains that, for Marxists, ‘why it was that the capitalist economic system could live so easily alongside fascist political rule’.44 Although differing from scholars like Vinay Lal, who argues that the British Empire was essentially fascist in nature, Renton argues that British imperialism was not the same as Italian Fascism; indeed (citing the British Empire) ‘the most imperialist regimes have not actually been fascist’.45 However, Renton’s belief in the nexus between imperialism and fascism is a constant theme in his work. Ultimately, Renton argues that ‘fascism was made possible by the experience of colonialism’.46 The most problematic aspect of the Marxist understanding of fascism and imperialism, surely, lies in the understanding of fascism as little more than militant form of monopoly capitalism. Fascist ideology and aims are largely ignored by Marxists, who see any fascist vision of a ‘reborn state’ as a smokescreen that merely diverts attention from the main function of fascism: to smash the working class in the interests of capital. Following the Second World War, many examining the relationship between fascism and Empire moved away from the materialism of Marxism into the realm of ideas, largely surrounding race. As the catalogue of fascist atrocities began to emerge, many anti-imperialist scholars and intellectuals were quick to point out that European civilisation had been engaging in similar acts outside Europe for decades. In 1948, African-American intellectual W. E. Du Bois sought to highlight similarities between Nazi atrocities and European imperialism: There was no Nazi atrocity – concentration camps, wholesale maiming and murder, defilement of women or ghastly blasphemy of childhood – which the Christian civilization of Europe had not long been practising against colored folk in all parts of the world in the name of and for the defense of a Superior Race born to the world.47 Influenced by the growth of colonial nationalist movements and postwar European decolonisation, other polemical works further sought to explain fascism and the atrocities of the Second World War through the lens of a European imperialist tradition after 1945.48 One of these was the Martiniquan poet and writer Aimé Césaire. In his essay, ‘Discourse on Colonialism’, first published in 1950, Césaire first argued that imperialism, under the guise of ‘civilising’ the native, had decivilised the coloniser, meaning ‘to brutalize him in the true sense of the word, to degrade him, to awaken him to buried instincts, to covetousness, to violence, race hatred and moral relativism’.49 Nazism, according to Césaire, was the boomerang effect from a European colonialism based upon racial superiority and unrestrained violence. The shock and indignation expressed by Europeans following Nazi atrocities struck Césaire as ironic, given that

Introduction 13

before they were its victims, they were its accomplices; that they tolerated that Nazism before it was inflicted on them, that they absolved it, shut their eyes to it, legitimized it, because, until then, it had been applied only to non-European peoples.50 Hitler had ‘applied to Europe colonialist procedures which until then had been reserved exclusively for the Arabs of Algeria, the “coolies” of India and the “niggers” of Africa’.51 Hannah Arendt, more sophisticatedly concerned with ‘origins’ rather than ‘causes’, similarly saw the germs of fascism in late-nineteenth-century European colonialism, arguing that ‘some of the fundamental aspects of this time appear so close to totalitarian phenomena of the twentieth century that it may be justifiable to consider the whole period [1884–1914] a preparatory stage for coming catastrophes’.52 Critical in Arendt’s linking of fascism and imperialism is the role played by the middle class, or petit bourgeoisie. Distancing herself from Marxist scholars (despite being influenced by familiar figures such as J. A. Hobson), imperialism ‘must be considered the first stage in political rule of the bourgeoisie rather than the last stage of capitalism’.53 Fascism, like imperialism, reflected a ‘political emancipation of the bourgeoisie’ which began in the late nineteenth century. This, for her, was a crucial factor in the rise of fascism – what Seymour Lipset referred to as ‘the extremism of the centre’.54 Arendt argues that the atrocities committed by National Socialism were less to do with German history than the European tradition of colonialism, racism and antisemitism. The main thread Arendt sees in imperialism and Nazi totalitarianism, above all, is a shared emphasis upon racial doctrine. Drawing on Hobson, she argues that European imperialism, particularly in the ‘scramble for Africa’, was driven by economic greed and ‘expansion for expansion’s sake’; furthermore, racism was used to justify this conquest.55 The above views, for all their genuine nuances, do share some similar themes. Most importantly, they stress the contextual importance of European racism and violence in the development of fascism. These arguments must be seen within the historical context following the Second World War, which revealed racist violence, murder and genocide on a scale never before witnessed. Violence and racism are certainly important features of fascism. Rightly, these works have been influential within their respective fields; Marxist theories of imperialism were reborn in the late 1970s and 1980s, and have continued to be influential in explaining the ‘new imperialisms’ of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries (such as multinational corporations or ‘neoliberal’ globalisation).56 The work of Césaire, Du Bois and Frantz Fanon in the anti-colonial movements in Africa and elsewhere, no less than the Civil Rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s, were hugely influential in their time. Hannah Arendt remains one of the most eminent intellectuals of the postwar world.57 Yet all these works, written over half a century ago, reflect older conceptions of fascism and imperialism that merit reconsideration. Marxist and postwar understandings of the relationship between fascism and Empire demonstrate the importance of not taking the imperial rhetoric of the far

14 Introduction

right at face value and critically analysing its relevance to a wider political programme. Yet the most problematic aspects centre upon the way in which they conceptualise fascism and far right political movements. As noted above, Marxist scholarship tends to boil right-wing political movements down to nothing more than über-capitalist dictatorship, with no other purpose than to crush socialism. Renton cites examples of how fascists in Germany and Italy could only come to power with the assistance of conservative elites. This may be true, but it is surely just a fraction of the bigger picture of fascism – which as Emilio Gentile has argued, ‘was the first instance of a modern political religion’ which (in the Italian case) sought to transform the ‘mentality, the character and the customs of Italians’.58 Nor do these approaches explain working-class support for fascist movements across Europe, or the complexity of fascist ideology too – summarily dismissed as ‘propaganda’ by Marxist scholars. The understanding of fascism by postwar intellectuals is similarly incomplete. Fascism is seen as largely economic – the ‘extremism of the middle classes’ argument examined by Lipset. In addition, to focus on fascism merely as racist and violent is again, surely, only part of the picture. Fascism during the Cold War was seen largely as reactionary in nature, and the link with only colonial violence further perpetuates this misplaced notion. Yet fascism was as much, if not more, a cultural movement than it was a political or economic one, as is the focus of much ‘new consensus’ scholarship on fascism. According to the latter, fascism sought to create an ‘alternative modernity’ based on revolutionary ultranationalism. Scholars are now much more willing to grant that fascist movements tended to have a plan for every facet of human life; moreover, their vision was not dystopian but utopian. By way of contribution, imperialism must be similarly viewed within this wider understanding of fascism – both culturally and politically. This study will therefore examine the ideas which underpinned imperialism and their weaponisation by the far right, as they sought to achieve legitimacy as the saviours of Britain’s Empire.

The British Empire in context Over the past two decades, research into imperialism and fascism has developed significantly. However, research into the relationship between far right movements in western European imperial countries that bears comparison with the British (e.g., France, the Netherlands, Belgium) is thin. One exception is Jennifer Foray, who convincingly demonstrates the importance of imperial ideology and the Dutch overseas empire to the Dutch Nazi Party.59 In the case of France, there has been a notable lack of attention. One of the reasons for this is may be that France’s overseas empire was traditionally, throughout the nineteenth century, ‘championed most enthusiastically by liberal or even left-wing voices’.60 The French right tended to be more concerned with continental foes such as Germany, and were often critical of money spent on far-flung colonies instead of being used to defend the domestic national interest. However, in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the French right gradually rallied around the cause of Empire as it became more aligned

Introduction 15

with the military establishment (especially following the Dreyfus Affair). There was a certain amount of Romanticism now attached to France’s Empire, which became viewed among the right as ‘the natural playground of the masculine hero, whether soldier, explorer or even priest’.61 In France during the twentieth century, there was increasingly a growing notion of ‘the colonial frontier as a spiritually, morally and physically redemptive environment’.62 However, as Michael Heffernan has argued, during the interwar period, far right organisations such as Action Française ‘had remarkably little of interest or originality to say on the colonial question’.63 In contrast, as Samuel Kalman has demonstrated in his recent monograph, French Colonial Fascism, in French Algeria, fascism and imperialism were deeply intertwined. Accordingly, European settlers eschewed metropolitan fascist branches in favour of a ‘uniquely colonial variant of fascism’.64 The association of the far right in France and Empire becomes more striking after the Second World War, particularly during the Algerian War of Independence, where many members of the volunteerist Organisation Armée Secrète (OAS), such as Jean-Marie le Pen, went on to become important figures in the neo-fascist party, the Front National.65 In addition, more recent studies have, to some extent examined the imperial ambitions of regimes such as Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy. In the case of Nazi Germany, they have predominantly focused upon the Second World War expansion and occupation under the short-lived Axis ‘New Order’.66 Shelley Baranowski’s Nazi Empire: German Colonialism and Imperialism from Bismarck to Hitler assesses this nuanced parallel which speaks to the Sonderweg [‘special path’] debate that captivated German historical scholarship for several decades from the 1960s. Baranowski, distancing herself from those identifying Nazism’s roots solely within a German tradition, instead argued that there are significant continuities between the German Empire’s imperial plans and those of Nazi Germany.67 Indeed, such a stance has become increasingly common, with Birthe Kundrus similarly arguing that ‘Nazi imperial ambitions can indeed be labelled imperialistic’, with the caveat that National Socialism was unable to create an Empire, but rather established a ‘new system of “foreign rule” that broke with core elements of imperial hegemony’.68 Scholarship on the relationship between Italian fascism and imperialism has been less fully explored, particularly in terms of its role in Italian fascist ideology. Over a decade ago, Nicola Labanca lamented the lack of exploration into the relationship between Italian Fascism to colonialism, a fact he found puzzling, given the ‘centrality of the imperial myth in the fascist regime, and not only after 1935’.69 Labanca stresses that, during il ventennio, both at a regime and movement level, ‘the dimension of the overseas, of the empire and the colonies, was of central relevance at multiple levels: foreign politics, military preparation, organization of consent in the motherland, and administration of power in the conquered African lands’.70 Since then, other studies examining the relationship between Italian fascism at both an ideological and practical levels have originated.71 This has most recently been explored by Ruth Ben-Ghiat in relation to cinema.72

16 Introduction

While this study builds upon these recent works on fascist imperialism, it differs in the key sense that Britain, unlike Germany and Italy, already had a vast, established Empire and small fascist movements who were never close to achieving power. Furthermore, noting this contrast, this study examines how imperialism was used by abortive far right movements in Britain to further their political agenda, a subject generally overlooked in other national contexts. This limits the scope for comparative study, not least given the massive output of British far right groups concerned with the British Empire. Yet by examining the British case, it is still possible to establish ‘native’ and ‘continental’ threads within far right imperial thinking and draw conclusions relevant to both continental far right politics and British imperial history. Of course, neither fascists nor the far right were anywhere near achieving power and imposing their policies for a revitalised Empire, but they contributed to a wide-ranging debate on the future of the British Empire and associated themes such as race and conspiracy theory which were not limited to the UK.

Notes 1 ‘Nigel Farage’s Speech at UKIP Conference’, The Spectator, 20 September 2013. Available at: https://blogs.spectator.co.uk/2013/09/nigel-farages-speech-full-text-and-audio/. 2 A. von Tunzelmann, ‘The Imperial Myths Driving Brexit’, The Atlantic, 12 August 2019. Available at: www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2019/08/imperial-myths-be hind-brexit/595813/. 3 R. Saunders, ‘The Myth of Brexit as Imperial Nostalgia’, Prospect, 7 January 2019. Available at: www.prospectmagazine.co.uk/world/the-myth-of-brexit-as-imperial-nostalgia. 4 ‘Boris Johnson: First Speech as PM in Full’, BBC News, 24 July 2019. Available at: www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-49102495. 5 D. Olusoga, ‘It’s Time to Be Honest about Britain’s Story – and Come to Terms with the Reality of Empire’, Prospect, 10 December 2019. Available at: www.prospectmaga zine.co.uk/magazine/its-time-to-be-honest-about-britains-story-and-come-to-term s-with-the-reality-of-empire. 6 S. Payne, A History of Fascism, 1914–1945 (Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 1995), p. 305. 7 Ibid., p. 304. 8 R. Thurlow, ‘The Powers of Darkness: Conspiracy Belief and Political Strategy’, Patterns of Prejudice 12:6 (1978), pp. 1–23. 9 D. Edgar, ‘Racism, Fascism and the Politics of the National Front’, Race and Class 19 (1977), p. 116. 10 ‘Brexit and Trump Voters Are More Likely to Believe in Conspiracy Theories’, YouGov, 14 December 2018. Available at: www.yougov.co.uk/topics/international/articles-rep orts/2018/12/14/brexit-and-trump-voters-are-more-likely-believe-co. 11 P. Stocker, English Uprising: Brexit and the Mainstreaming of the Far Right (London: Melville House, 2017); A. Kallis, ‘Breaking Taboos and Mainstreaming the Extreme: The Debates on Restricting Islamic Symbols in Contemporary Europe’, in R. Wodak, M. Khosravinik and B. Mal (eds), Right-Wing Populism in Europe: Politics and Discourse (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), pp. 55–71. 12 V. Klemperer, The Language of the Third Reich (London: Bloomsbury, 2006), p. 3. 13 G. Orwell, ‘Politics and the English Language’, Horizon, April 1946. Available at: www. orwell.ru/library/essays/politics/english/e_polit/. 14 See N. Cohen, ‘Cowards of the Left’, The Guardian, 8 January 2005. Available at: www. theguardian.com/politics/2005/jan/09/iraq.iraq; A. Motl, ‘Is Vladimir Putin a Fascist?’

Introduction 17

15 16 17 18

19 20

21 22 23 24 25 26

27 28 29 30

31 32 33 34

Newsweek, 27 April 2015; The Daily Mirror, ‘Islamists Aren’t Islamic – They’re Just 21st Century Fascists’, 16 January 2015. Available at: www.mirror.co.uk/news/world-news/ islamists-arent-islamic—theyre-4990035. For an overview of the ‘Trump/Fascism’ debate by scholars of fascism, see: D. Matthews, ‘Is Donald Trump a Fascist?’, Vox, 10 December 2015. Available at: www.vox. com/policy-and-politics/2015/12/10/9886152/donald-trump-fascism. M. Freeden, ‘Political Concepts and Ideological Morphology’, Journal of Political Philosophy 2:2 (1994), p. 146. R. Griffin, ‘Studying Fascism in a Postfascist Age: From New Consensus to New Wave?’, Journal of Comparative Fascism Studies 1:1 (2012), p. 13. Zeev Sternhell also contributed significantly to the study of fascist ideology prior to Griffin, see Z. Sternhell, The Birth of Fascist Ideology (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1995); Z. Sternhell, Neither Right Nor Left: Fascist Ideology in France (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1986). R. Griffin, ‘The Primacy of Culture: The Current Growth (Or Manufacture) of Consensus within Fascist Studies’, Journal of Contemporary History 37:1 (2002), pp. 21–43. R. Griffin, International Fascism: Theories, Causes and the New Consensus (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998); Many, even those Griffin would consider part of the ‘new consensus’, would distance themselves from the label. For sceptical responses to Griffin’s claim of a consensus, see D. Roberts et al., ‘Comments on Roger Griffin, “The Primacy of Culture: The Current Growth (Or Manufacture) of Consensus within Fascist Studies”’, Journal of Contemporary History 37:2 (2002), pp. 259–274; see also T. Abse, ‘Review of Fascism and the Right in Europe, 1919–1945 by Martin Blinkhorn’, Reviews in History, October 2001. Available at: www.history.ac.uk/reviews/review/208. See S. Lipset, ‘Fascism – Left, Right and Centre’, in S. Lipset, Political Man: The Social Basis of Politics (New York: Heinemann, 1960). P. Stocker, ‘Importing Fascism: Reappraising the British Fascisti, 1923–1926’, Contemporary British History 30:3 (2016), pp. 326–348. R. Griffiths, Fellow Travellers of the Right: British Enthusiasts for Nazi Germany, 1933–1939 (London: Faber and Faber, 1980). N. Copsey, Contemporary British Fascism: The British National Party and the Quest for Legitimacy, 2nd edn (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008), p. 79. C. Mudde, The Ideology of the Extreme Right (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2000), p. 12; The distinction between these two is recognised in German Basic Law. T. Linehan, British Fascism, 1918–1939: Parties, Ideology and Culture (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2000), pp. 17–24. For an overview of the tariff reform movement in Britain, see A. Thompson, ‘Tariff Reform: An Imperial Strategy, 1903–1913’, The Historical Journal 40:3 (1997), pp. 1033–1054. S. Dorril, Blackshirt: Sir Oswald Mosley and British Fascism (London: Penguin, 2007), pp. 36–40. M. Pugh, ‘Hurrah for the Blackshirts!’ Fascists and Fascism in Britain Between the Wars (London: Pimlico, 2006), pp. 9–15. Ibid., pp. 177–193. For the relationship between the conservative right and fascism, see M. Blinkhorn, Fascism and the Right in Europe (Harlow: Longman, 2000) and M. Blinkhorn (ed.), Fascists and Conservatives: The Radical Right and the Establishment in Twentieth-Century Europe (London: Unwin Hyman, 1990). J. Gottlieb, ‘Women and British Fascism Revisited: Gender, the Far Right and Resistance’, Journal of Women’s History 16:3 (2004), p. 113. B. S. Farr, The Development and Impact of Right-Wing Politics in Britain, 1903–32 (London: Garland, 1987), p. 184. Linehan, British Fascism, p. 76. L. Liburd, ‘Beyond the Pale: Whiteness, Masculinity and Empire in the British Union of Fascists, 1932–40’, The Journal of Comparative Fascist Studies 7 (2018), p. 276.

18 Introduction

35 L. LeCras, A.K. Chesterton and the Evolution of Britain’s Extreme Right, 1933–73 (Abingdon: Routledge, 2020) [E-book]. 36 E. Smith, ‘The Pivot of Empire: Australia and the Imperial Fascism of the British Union of Fascists’, History Australia 14:3 (2017), pp. 378–394. 37 R. Thurlow, Fascism in Modern Britain (Stroud: Sutton, 2000), p. 26. 38 V. I. Lenin, Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism (1917), p. 28. Italics in original. Available at: www.readingfromtheleft.com/Books/Classics/LeninImperialism.pdf. Lenin was greatly influenced by J. A. Hobson, who outlines his ‘underconsumptionist’ thesis in Imperialism: A Study (New York: James Nisbet & Co., 1902). 39 R. Palme Dutt, ‘The Communist International, Vol. XII, No. 14’, Marxists Internet Archive, 20 July 1935. Available at: www.marxists.org/archive/dutt/articles/1935/ques tion_of_fascism.htm. 40 R. Palme Dutt, Fascism and Social Revolution: A Study of the Economics and Politics of the Extreme Stages of Capitalism in Decay (Rockville, MD: Proletarian Publishers, 1935), p. 109; see also L. Trotsky, ‘Fascism: What It Is and How to Fight It’, Marxists Online Archive, 15 November 1931. Available at: www.marxists.org/archive/trotsky/works/ 1944/1944-fas.htm. 41 A. Gramsci, Tesi sulla situazione italiana e sui compiti del PCI, approvate dal III Congresso nazionale nel gennaio [Thesis on the Italian situation and the tasks of the PCI, approved by the III National Congress in January] (1926), cited in J. Cammett, ‘Communist Theories of Fascism, 1920–1935’, Science and Society 31:2 (1967), pp. 157–158. 42 P. Sweezy, The Theory of Capitalist Development (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1962), p. 332. 43 D. Renton, Fascism: Theory and Practice (London: Pluto Press, 1999), p. 52. 44 Ibid., p. 53. 45 V. Lal, ‘Good Nazis and Just Scholars: Much Ado About the British Empire’, Race and Class 38:4 (1997), pp. 89–101; Renton, Fascism, p. 109. 46 Ibid., p. 86. 47 W. E. B. Du Bois, The World and Africa: An Inquiry into the Part which Africa Has Played in World History (New York: Kraus Reprint Co., 1965), p. 23. 48 See F. Fanon, The Wretched of the Earth, trans. C. Farrington (London: Penguin, 2001). 49 A. Césaire, Discourse on Colonialism, trans. J. Pinkham (New York: Monthly Review Press, 2000), p. 35. 50 Ibid., p. 36. 51 Ibid. 52 H. Arendt, Imperialism: Part Two of The Origins of Totalitarianism (New York: Meridian Books, 1968), p. 3. 53 Ibid., p. 18. 54 See Lipset, ‘Fascism – Left, Right and Centre’. 55 G. Kateb, Hannah Arendt: Politics, Conscience, Evil (Oxford: M. Robertson, 1984), p. 62; Dirk Moses has summarised the historiographical debate within genocide studies eruditely over the question of how European imperialism impacted genocides such as the Holocaust; A. D. Moses, ‘Conceptual Blockages and Definitional Dilemmas in the “Racial Century”: Genocides of Indigenous Peoples and the Holocaust’, Patterns of Prejudice, 36:4 (2010), pp. 7–36. 56 See M. Hardt and A. Negri, Empire (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2000); A. Callinicos, Imperialism and Global Political Economy (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2009). 57 For an examination of Hannah Arendt’s writings on fascism, imperialism and genocide, see R. King and D. Stone (eds), Hannah Arendt and the Uses of History: Imperialism, Nation, Race and Genocide (New York: Berghahn Books, 2007). 58 E. Gentile, The Sacralization of Politics in Fascist Italy, trans. K. Botsford (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1996), p. ix. 59 J. Foray, ‘An Old Empire in a New Order: The Global Designs of the Dutch Nazi Party, 1931–1942’, European History Quarterly 43:1 (2013), pp. 27–52.

Introduction 19

60 M. Heffernan, ‘The French Right and the Overseas Empire’, in N. Atkin and F. Tallett (eds), The Right in France, 1789–1997 (London: Taurus Academic Studies, 1997), p. 101. 61 Ibid., p. 99. 62 Ibid., p. 100. 63 Ibid., p. 101. 64 S. Kalman, French Colonial Fascism: The Extreme Right in Algeria, 1919–1939 (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013), p. 2. 65 C. Flood and H. Frey, ‘Questions of Decolonization and Post-Colonialism in the Ideology of the French Extreme Right’, European Studies 28:1 (1998), pp. 69–88; A. Harrison, Challenging De Gaulle: The O.A.S. and the Counter-Revolution in Algeria, 1954– 1962 (New York: Praeger, 1989). 66 M. Mazower, Hitler’s Empire: Nazi Rule in Occupied Europe (London: Penguin, 2008). 67 S. Baranowski, Nazi Empire: German Colonialism and Imperialism from Bismarck to Hitler (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), p. 6; see also W. D. Smith, The Ideological Origins of Nazi Imperialism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986). 68 B. Kundrus, ‘Colonialism, Imperialism, National Socialism: How Imperial Was the Third Reich?’, in B. Naranch and G. Eley (eds), German Colonialism in a Global Age (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2014), p. 331. 69 N. Labanca, ‘Studies and Research on Fascist Colonialism, 1922–1935: Reflections on the State of the Art’, in P. Palumbo (ed.), A Place in the Sun: Africa in Italian Colonial Culture from Post-Unification to the Present (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2003), p. 39. 70 Ibid., p. 37. 71 See R. Ben-Ghiat, ‘Modernity Is Just Over There’, Interventions 8:3 (2007), p. 382; L. Quartermaine, ‘“Slouching Towards Rome”: Mussolini’s Imperial Vision’, in T. J. Cornell and K. Lomas (eds), Urban Society in Roman Italy (London: Routledge, 1995), pp. 203–216; R. Visser, ‘Fascist Doctrine and the Cult of Romanita’, The Journal of Contemporary History 27:1 (1992), p. 13; and J. Arthurs, Excavating Modernity: The Roman Past in Fascist Italy (Ithaca: NY: Cornell University Press, 2012), pp. 126–129. 72 R. Ben-Ghiat, Italian Fascism’s Empire Cinema (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2015).

1 THE FAR RIGHT AND THE BRITISH EMPIRE

Despite Allied victory in 1918 on the continent, the British establishment was in a state of panic over the Empire, even if spatially it was larger than ever. The bloody Anglo-Irish War had begun in 1919, while India was rocked by civil disobedience and protest against British rule. Widespread nationalist disruption could also be found in Egypt. These events, coupled with chaos in the former Tsarist Empire brought about by the Bolshevik revolution in October 1917, were indicative of a new age in world and imperial affairs – one where British rule was believed to be under attack on a number of fronts. Yet the enemy was faceless. Vague accusations of subversive behaviour and agitation were made, yet it was not immediately clear just who exactly was seeking the destruction of the British Empire. The sense of a Britain under attack is encapsulated in a quote by Foreign Secretary Arthur Balfour, who described this new global trend as a: World movement which takes different forms in different places, but is plainly discernible on every continent and in every country. We are only at the beginning of our troubles and it is doubtful whether, and how far, the forces of an orderly civilisation are going to deal effectively with those of social and international disintegration.1 Belief in a global conspiracy was to form the core of far right ideology, from the aftermath of the First World War to the present day. The British Empire in the twentieth century was deemed to be under constant threat by the very forces Balfour conjured. Britain’s glorious imperial achievement, which was championed by the far right as the height of civilisation and defining feature of Britain’s global strength, was under a concerted assault from Jews, Bolsheviks and their accomplices within the British establishment. The notion of such a conspiracy would be continuously put forward by the far right over the entire period under examination in

The far right and the British Empire 21

this study. It was often argued that only they were the true imperialists in the tradition of Britain’s historic Empire builders, who would fight those who sought the Empire’s destruction more forcefully than those in positions of power who were either ambivalent to it or wholly complicit. In short, the far right, at different phases during Britain’s imperial decline, always aimed to bring forth a new, revitalised British Empire which would continue to act as a military, economic and political force in the world. In examining far right visions of the British Empire between c.1920 and 1980, this chapter highlights the leading role played by conspiracism in shaping far right imperial ideology, clearly distinguishing the latter from other imperialist ideologies present within British political culture. Accordingly, far right policies seeking to reestablish Britain as a dominant imperial power will be assessed. The notion, identified by scholars of the far right including Linehan, Dorril and Pugh, of far right groups being merely ‘imperialistic’ and simply nostalgic for the Edwardian diehard tradition does not do justice to either the range of imperial conceptions within the far right, nor the singular importance many attached to it. As will be demonstrated, the far right, while maintaining several continuities with conservative imperialism, differed considerably in its approach to Empire. Conspiratorial thinking pervaded far right imperialism in every corner. Among most groups, there was an inherent hatred for colonial nationalist movements, which called into question the supremacy of British rule. This, more often than not, expressed itself in a racism that doubted the capacity of non-whites to self-govern. There was also an attempt to reformulate the Empire on a more unified basis, which would enable it – at a minimum – to reverse the decline it had faced for decades and at best, return Britain to her rightful role as a global power. Put another way, this chapter will present the relatively consistent far right conception of Empire that existed and analyse the nuances within it. Despite marked differences between different far right groups’ understandings and portrayals of the British Empire, this should not overshadow the strikingly unswerving themes exhibited by those assessed here. All professed a strong attachment to the British Empire, and all pledged to uphold imperial possessions vigorously. There was an unquestionable belief held by all far right organisations that the Empire was ‘the highest form of civilisation’; one which should be championed, and its detractors attacked. These beliefs were informed by wider ideological goals generically common to all far right organisations; staunch ultra-nationalism, anti-communism and anti-liberalism (both liberals and communists were attacked for being ‘anti-imperialist’). Ultimately, by surveying the overall conceptions of Empire by far right parties, it is possible to apply their imperial visions to the country-specific studies undertaken in later chapters.

The Britons and Nesta Webster Thomas Linehan rightly highlights The Britons as ‘one of the most extreme’ organisations to form in the immediate aftermath of the First World War,

22 The far right and the British Empire

describing the group as ‘obsessive anti-semites who believed that Jews were conspiring to Judaise the world’.2 Founded by Henry Hamilton Beamish, The Britons were not an electorally orientated political party but a small, middle-class publishing organisation which aimed to ‘raise awareness’ of the subversive activity of Jews through its monthly journals. The Britons’ self-proclaimed aim was to ‘secure the purity of the British race and recover its rule from Alien influences’.3 With this goal in mind, The Britons disseminated conspiratorial and antisemitic texts which almost singularly decried the activities of Jews. They heavily criticised Jewish influence in government and promoted theories of an alleged global Jewish conspiracy seeking to crush western civilisation. Mostly active between 1919 and 1925, the significance of The Britons lies not in its membership or impact on wider British society, both of which were miniscule, but in their contribution to linking upheaval and chaos in the British Empire following the First World War with the activities of Jews. The linking of imperial strife with Jewish activity would be a mainstay of far right thought for the entirely of the twentieth century. The Britons revered the British Empire, seeing it as the highest form of civilisation and the chief source of British global power. Yet they spared little time promoting the values and virtues of Empire. Rather, their output reveals a significant anxiety over Britain’s imperial future. First and foremost, The Britons saw Jews as a threat to the British Empire, repeatedly asserting: ‘we cannot have a British Empire at all if Jews of any description are allowed to control it’.4 By the mid-1920s, The Britons saw imperial decay as stemming from the top; from a collusion between British government officials, other conspirators described as ‘usurers’ and the Jewish diaspora. Alongside their conspiratorial, antisemitic viewpoint, The Britons also alleged racial degeneration to be at the heart of Britain’s imperial decline. Centuries of war and conquest had ‘inevitably exacted a heavy toll upon the Nordic blood of our people’.5 In response, the British ‘race’ required ‘regeneration’. The Britons exhibited a Social Darwinist viewpoint of the world, which saw the imperialist European nations as the most racially developed: There are many indications that unless England heeds the warnings of the past and the teachings of race, she may follow a less pitied descent to a greater fall, and her glorious civilisation pass away for good, or else be transmitted as a torch through an interval of darkness, to the virile sons and daughters of her Empire.6 As this passage suggests, The Britons’ sense of anxiety over British imperial decline arose from concerns over racial degeneration, created by racial mixing and alien influences – especially Jews. While they did not provide more detail beyond heeding ‘the warnings of the past and the teachings of race’, in many ways, this raises an irreconcilable contradiction between promoting the ‘British race’ while championing a global, multi-ethnic Empire. The concern over ‘racial mixing’ led

The far right and the British Empire 23

to a highly autocratic and segregationist stance on Empire, whereby the ‘white race’ stood above natives, with their only interaction being to enforce laws and discipline upon the ‘lower races’. Given the diversity of the British Empire, it thus provided an apt avenue for discussions of race – an issue of more central importance to The Britons. Much of this thinking grew out of Edwardian eugenic notions of British superiority and paranoia over racial degeneration. As Dan Stone has highlighted, eugenic movements in Edwardian Britain which preceded fascism were indicative of a native ‘proto-fascist’ tradition and ‘the beginning of the twentieth century undoubtedly saw a rise in pessimistic theories, theories of social decline, of degeneration, of the survival of the unfittest’.7 Indeed, prominent Edwardian eugenicist Arnold White, who wrote the influential Efficiency and Empire in 1901, can be directly linked with The Britons. White was a regular subscriber to The Britons’ journals The Hidden Hand and The British Guardian until his death in 1925 and had letters published in both, demonstrating his support for the organisation.8 White’s deeply antisemitic and anti-German tract The Hidden Hand (the same name as The Britons’ journal), published in 1917, was also influential on conspiratorial and antisemitic organisations such as The Britons during the early interwar period. The assumed superiority of Christian civilisation was central to The Britons’ worldview, and occasional articles by church officials sought to add a religious dimension to their antisemitism. A representative article on this theme by the Bishop of Gloucester highlights the putative threat of racial degeneration to the British Empire. Turning to imperial histories, the Bishop claimed that ‘Probably all the setbacks in civilisation which have occurred have been through the gradual dying out of the superior races like the Greek and Roman.’9 He saw the British as being firmly within this tradition of dominating ‘imperial races’: I venture to believe that the English race, judging by its history and its performances, is one of the superior races of the world: at any rate, as an Englishman, I am concerned with the English race and the well-being of the British Empire, and so far as I can judge the failure of the English race and Empire would be a grave disaster.10 As this passage suggests, The Britons’ conception of Empire was narrow. They failed to formulate a grand viewpoint on Britain’s imperial past, nor did they advocate any specific policies to combat this perceived decline. Instead, their predominant aim was to highlight British cases of Jewish subversion and promote ‘scientific’ racialist ideology.11 While The Britons cannot be considered fascist in ideology or operation in light of ‘new consensus’ readings within fascist studies, their attachment to conspiracism and ultra-nationalist views easily places them within the far right more broadly. Their view of a British Empire in peril from Judaeo-Bolshevism was a first for Britain’s nascent far right. The Britons’ ideology contained many of the features of far right parties to come: obsession with decadence; a racist, exclusionary ultra-nationalism; scepticism

24 The far right and the British Empire

of democracy; anti-communism; and anti-liberalism. However, The Britons lacked a revolutionary or ‘palingenetic’ intent which would see the old order replaced by a new ruling class of ‘new men’. They doubted the need for a firm, para-military government led by a charismatic leader; the hallmarks of other fascist parties. Their solution was, rather, that Britain required a return to fundamentalist Protestantism if they wanted to save the Empire, claiming that the salvation of India, the salvation of Egypt, the salvation of Ireland does not depend upon the renewal of a strong, firm government backed by military forces in those lands nearly so much as on the spiritual revitalising of England.12 Thus, for The Britons, discussions of Empire were used to further wider ideological aims – namely, a racialist, antisemitic and conspiratorial agenda. Although The Britons were the first organisation to bear many of the features of the antisemitic far right organisations to come, the most important conspiracy theorist of this period was undoubtedly Nesta Webster. Webster was born in Hertfordshire, in 1876. She was born into a staunchly Christian family, with her parents members of the Plymouth Brethren Movement (a conservative, evangelical Protestant group). Described by Richard Thurlow as the ‘grand dame of British conspiracy theory’, Webster would emerge as a sizeable influence on the intellectual development of the British far right.13 Her conspiracies turned upon the alleged threat to civilisation from subversive secret societies. Webster’s ideology would be later used as an intellectual basis by more extreme British fascists for their anti-communist and antisemitic content, as well as their overall desire for an authoritarian state, one best equipped to deal with just such ‘subversive movements’. Webster’s conspiracism adapted traditional antisemitic conspiracy theories, best identified by the infamous Russian forgery The Protocols of the Elders of Zion (1903) – which was first published in English in 1920 – to an allegedly vulnerable post-First World War Britain, arguing that the Jewish ‘hidden hand’ was threatening traditional institutions and values.14 She further argued that different types of ‘revolutionary’ movements such as communism, trade unions, Sinn Fein and even the Labour Party, were backed by secret societies such as the Illuminati, often with financial backing by Jews, who were planning the destruction of key pillars of British life, such as the church, the monarchy and the Empire. World Revolution: The Plot Against Civilisation (1921) was Webster’s first major contribution to conspiracy theory literature. There, she makes a direct historical link between what she held as the predominant revolutionary threats to post-First World War Britain – socialism and anarchism – and the French Revolution. Her main thesis was that a conspiracy between ‘Grand Orient’ Freemasonry and the Illuminati first transpired in the late eighteenth century, bringing about the French Revolution. Ever since, this group had conspired to smash traditional conventions of human and social interaction, especially religion and firm governance. In this vein, Webster relates the ensuing historical events, from the 1848 revolutions across

The far right and the British Empire 25

Europe, the Paris Commune, the origins of anarchism and syndicalism to finally and most menacingly, the Bolshevik revolution of 1917. Her argument remains the same throughout: since the eighteenth century, all revolutionary activity has been directed by these two secret societies working in tandem. Behind these subversive movements, in turn, were Jews working secretly toward a global revolution: Until the middle of the nineteenth century the part played by the Jews is more or less obscure. We have seen their mole-like working below ground during the first French Revolution, suspected by Prudhomme, we have seen them insinuating themselves into Masonic Lodges and secret societies.15 The role of the Jews becomes more overt as Webster moves toward the interwar years, arguing that Jews became increasingly prominent as the backers of the Freemasons and Illuminati from the late nineteenth century: Behind Freemasonry, behind even the secret societies that made of Freemasons their adepts, another power was making itself felt, a power that ever since the Congress of Wilhelmsbad in 1782 had been slowly gaining ground – the power of the Jews.16 It is obvious that Webster’s book, despite being presented as a work of history, has no basis in recognised scholarship, despite influencing important figures such as Winston Churchill. It is instead an attempt to come to terms with what the far right considered to be Britain’s modern ailments: the threat to traditional Christian values – predominantly through communism, Jews and secularisation. As Martha Lee puts it, Webster’s work ‘provided a framework for political action’,17 which saw dictatorship as the logical method for crushing subversion. The conclusion of World Revolution reads like a call to arms, with Webster detailing the risk of secret societies to Britain and its empire, ranging from the Fabian Society to feminist movements. Webster’s second work of conspiracy history is Secret Societies and Subversive Movements (1924). The book attempts to provide a wider underpinning for World Revolution, detailing how secret societies have operated since the time of Christ. What is notable about Secret Societies is the marked increase in Webster’s antisemitic tone – with entire chapters now dedicated to ‘The Real Jewish Peril’ and ‘The Jewish Cabalists’. Downplaying her antisemitism early on, Webster argues that she merely seeks to indicate ‘the role of the Jews only where it is to be clearly detected, but not seeking to implicate them where good evidence is not forthcoming’.18 She also claims that the word ‘antisemitism’ itself is ‘a misnomer coined by Jews in order to create a false impression’.19 Webster aimed to present an academic and respectable view of Jewish influence, largely in an intellectual attempt to rally those in positions of power behind the cause. Jews were identified with practically every secret society throughout history, including now the Conservative Party. Much like World Revolution, her 1924 book obsessively details the threats to Britain from international Bolshevism; however, it is far more explicit in terms of its targeting of

26 The far right and the British Empire

Jews as the ultimate force behind all subversive movements: ‘The influence of the Jews in all the five great powers at work in the world – Grand Orient Masonry, Theosophy, Pan-Germanism, International Finance, and Social Revolution – is not a matter of surmise but of fact’.20 The themes Webster addresses, namely, the notion of Bolshevik and/or Jewish ‘subversion’, would be central to the formation of the first self-proclaimed fascist organisation in 1923, the BF.

The British Fascisti (BF) The BF was founded by Rotha Lintorn Orman in 1923. Deriving inspiration from Mussolini’s perceived success in rooting out the red menace in Italy, it was Britain’s first self-proclaimed fascist organisation. Yet, the BF was just as influenced by a native conservative tradition as it was Italian fascism, thus rendering it a hybrid movement which fell short of the revolutionary aims of other fascist organisations.21 While the party existed from 1923 to 1934, it was at its most active between 1923 and 1926. The party’s hard-line stance to militant trade unionism and claims of Communist conspiracy saw it achieve some notoriety and success in their early years. However, after the General Strike of 1926 demonstrated the limitations of the threat posed by organised labour, the BF struggled to stay relevant. Following a split over the extent to which the party should ally itself with the government during the General Strike, its membership collapsed. BF publications were deeply imbued with imperial patriotism. Yet, upon their founding, imperial issues were not high on the political agenda nationally. The chaos in some of Britain’s imperial possessions which had followed the First World War, most notably in India and Ireland, had mostly subsided. While they regularly claimed that the Empire was being fatally undermined by weakness at the heart of government and a global Bolshevik conspiracy, there was no tangible imperial issue which they could point to as a credible demonstration. While their warnings of communist conspiracy may have struck a chord during the time of the General Strike, this was at home rather than abroad. Thus, discussion of Empire was largely abstract and related to Britain’s imperial role more generally. Importantly, the BF were the first far right organisation in Britain to explicitly relate imperialism to their cause. Similar to The Britons and Nesta Webster, the BF advanced a deeply conspiratorial worldview, holding that global Bolshevism was seeking to overthrow the British Empire. Subversion was located practically everywhere across the Empire, on a number of fronts. While antisemitism was more veiled in the early years of the BF, their conspiracism gradually became more explicitly antisemitic during the 1920s. While conspiracy theory was crucial to both The Britons and the BF, the latter provided a more nuanced argument and set of imperial policies. The BF conceived of fascism as a form of authoritarian governance based on discipline and racial unity, to be applied at home and throughout the Empire in order, above all, to smash the creeping threat of communism. The BF therefore had a narrow conception of fascism, largely seeing it as a counterweight to

The far right and the British Empire 27

communism and a tool for the suppression of perceived subversives. The Empire was portrayed by the BF as the anchor of British strength in the world, past and present, and integral to their future vision of Britain. It was portrayed as a beacon of civilisation in contrast to communist and colonial nationalist subversion, as well as an ongoing ‘project’, in which it was: [The] undoubted duty of every British fascist to “pull his weight” in the effort to keep our wonderful empire in the position of importance and world prestige to which it has been brought by scores of Empire builders in the past – Raleigh, Drake, Cook, Wellington, Nelson and others whose names are revered around the world.22 The veneration of heroes from British history, which was also implicit in discussions of the monarchy, was used to conjure up stirring images of an imperial past that would be rejuvenated under fascism. This mythologised narrative of the British Empire was a common feature of fascist organisations to come in Britain – particularly the BUF – and more so on the continent, who also used heroic tales of national history in an attempt to bestow legitimacy upon themselves. The ‘sacralisation’ of politics has been described by Emilio Gentile as ‘a system of beliefs, myths, rituals, and symbols that interpret and define the meaning and end of human existence by subordinating the destiny of individuals and the collectivity to a supreme entity’.23 That ‘supreme entity’ for fascists in Britain was the British Empire of days gone by. It is a testament to how the BF tended to look backwards – to an idealised vision of the past in an attempt to restore, not overhaul, its perceived virtues and values. It was also deployed to legitimise the BF as a patriotic force determined to uphold British traditions. This was a project that transcended class in the name of ultra-nationalism which meant for the BF that ‘each fascist can be an Empire builder’.24 The working class would benefit from preferential tariffs and the exclusion of ‘sweated foreign labour’, while women were encouraged to join the League of Empire Housewives – a small BF sub-group who wore distinctive badges in order to demonstrate to shopkeepers that they wished to buy only domestic or Empire-produced goods.25 For the BF, the Empire was presented as ‘the greatest power for good the world has ever known’, and ‘the strongest bulwark of civilisation against the rising tide of Bolshevism’.26 It therefore required a mobilisation of all British patriots determined to lead Britain and its Empire to glory once more, this time in the name of global stability and ‘civilisation’ in the face of confrontation by atheistic Bolshevists. Reflecting the unwillingness of the BF to openly endorse dictatorship, BF propaganda also argued that the British Empire ‘stands for liberty and freedom, and we have been acknowledged as the best colonisers of all nations’.27 It is somewhat ironic, then, that the BF describes the Empire both in terms of its importance to the new and revolutionary political creed of fascism, while also taking the traditional Whiggish view of Empire as a Christian civilising mission – in terms of Christianity as well as a force for progress. In this way, the BF attempted to bridge

28 The far right and the British Empire

the past and the present, championing fascism as a ‘revolution of the past’ designed to address modern ills, with traditional methods. The BF both romanticised and championed the Empire, and saw it as integral to British identity. Yet they also portrayed the Empire as a fragile entity, under constant threat from subversive forces. The chief force seeking the demise of the British Empire was international communism. It is somewhat paradoxical that the BF alleged that the British Empire was in grave danger despite it being, geographically, at its height, following the post-First World War acquisitions in the Middle East. Furthermore, the Empire is constantly depicted as the very source of British world power and an unshakeable entity. Thus, fear of decline was emphasised, not actual decline. The threat of communism was seen to originate from one source: the Soviet Union. It was alleged that Soviet propaganda was peddled in three main areas across the world in an attempt to destroy the Empire: in Britain itself; in British colonial possessions; and by states typically seen as geopolitical rivals with the British Empire (Japan and China). Given that, in the early 1920s, the British Empire encompassed nearly a fifth of the world’s population, hotbeds of subversion and potential communist activity were thought to be located practically everywhere. BF propaganda frequently alleged that the Soviet Union viewed the British Empire as the major bulwark in their conquest for global hegemony. As such, it was the duty of every British Fascist to combat Bolshevist subversion both at home and abroad. In an appeal for party donations in 1925, this struggle was plainly set out: Communists are paying 1/- per month for the purpose of wrecking the British Empire, in addition to which they are subsidised to a large extent by Russia. What are you willing to pay to help an organisation whose sole object is the preservation of the British Empire?28 In Britain, the main threat to the Empire allegedly came from the political left, most of whom were assumed to be under the influence of the USSR, whether Labour MPs, trade union officials or ‘fellow travellers’. In the Empire, it was again the political left who were assumed to be preaching disloyalty with Soviet backing. For example, left-wing activists in British Dominions such as Australia were demonised for placing the Empire in peril. Similarly, the BF accused communists of working in tandem with Australian trade unions to disrupt Australian industry and threaten imperial trade links.29 However, non-white colonial subjects – especially members of the Indian National Congress (INC) or more generally, black South Africans – were subjected to the most criticism. In June 1925, it was alleged that the Bolsheviks were ‘instigating a colour war’ in Egypt and Sudan, asking ‘men of colour to unite against whites’ in order to foment a global war against the British Empire.30 Furthermore, the indigenous peoples of the British Dominions were suspected by the BF of being the most susceptible to a communist insurgency and thus, in this way, the threat of communism was racialised into a potential race war. There were particular fears that black South Africans were becoming increasingly malleable to Bolshevik

The far right and the British Empire 29

propaganda, potentially threatening British interests on the entire African continent: ‘for all our labour for a white Africa, for such it has been, would be lost’.31 These and many cognate statements spoke to long-held fears over allegedly disloyal native peoples, whose potential for subversive behaviour was supposedly embedded in their ethnic character. Thus, as with The Britons, the Empire presented an ideal context through which issues of race and ethnicity could be discussed. Clearly, the BF expressed a profoundly racist conception of the British Empire. They defined British strength over colonial natives in racist terms, stressing the superiority of British culture and traditions. They were not as extreme as other ‘biological racists’ between the wars, especially The Britons, the IFL and the BUF. Nonetheless, attacks on the perceived incapacity and fecklessness of Indians and Africans were frequent. In 1926, the BF ran an article entitled ‘Anti-British Coloured Students in London’, decrying the presence of various groups of students, identified as ‘Egyptians, Asiatics and Negroes’. It was alleged that these students – ‘drunk on Socialist anti-British rhetoric’ – were a dangerous, subversive threat.32 The writer was disgusted at the sight of non-whites mixing with white women, who were apparently ‘too ignorant to feel that healthy sense of shame at being seen with a coloured man which is the usual protection of white women’.33 While racist language in Britain at this time was common in imperial discourse and beyond, the BF’s linking of alleged ‘coloured’ backwardness with the new and immediate threat of communism reflects an added, more radical dimension, stoking fear of a potentially revolutionary racial threat as opposed to merely a class one. However, perhaps the gravest predictions of communist subversion espoused by the BF were in Britain’s white-controlled Dominions. Britain, it was argued, had a duty to protect Australia, South Africa and New Zealand from communism, as these colonies were utterly reliant on them: It needs only a visit to any of the Colonies to see how much and in every way they depend on the Mother Country. Just as without their material wealth England would be crippled, so, without her protection, they would be helpless at the mercy of any marauding power.34 This would, in theory, mandate a stronger British hand in the affairs of increasingly autonomous Dominions, since they were allegedly too weak to protect themselves. The aim of imperial unity with the Dominions would be achieved economically through imperial protection and through increased migration to the Dominions. One writer, F.H. Mayers, even suggested the idea of an ‘Imperial Senate’ to replace the House of Lords, which would represent ‘every shade of opinion’ from the Empire in London.35 One fascist, writing in The British Lion, believed that threequarters of Britain’s domestic unemployed could be absorbed by the colonies. He argued that British unemployment was a result of domestic overpopulation, which could be eased by migration to the Empire. The writer argued that this would also have positive effects on the wider fascist goal of imperial unity. This meant that an increase in ‘British stock’ in the Dominions would foster trade relations, as ‘it is

30 The far right and the British Empire

only natural that a nation wishes to keep in touch with its kith and kin’ and ‘the blood tie would then bind them closer, not only imperially but industrially, and imperial preference would become an accomplished fact’.36 Although the BF’s publications were dominated by frenzied accusations of communist agitators allegedly seeking the destruction of the British Empire, the BF did present a positive picture of what the British Empire could become under fascism. Among the most prominent and radical restructurings of the British Empire that the BF pledged to undertake concerned economic matters. Unemployment was seen as one of the most prominent ills of modern Britain, one which was perceived to be insufficiently addressed by Baldwin’s Conservative government. The BF’s response to the unemployment problem was to revolutionise the trade and industry strategy by means of protectionist policies, corporatism and imperial free-trade. The BF’s flagship journal, The British Lion advocated in ‘Policy and Practice’, ‘the rapid economic development of the Overseas Empire to source greater freedom of inter-Empire trade, and to secure reciprocity of commercial treatment for the protection of British workers against unfair competition of sweated foreign labour’.37 Along with policies associated with the traditional Tory right, more distinctly fascist economic ideas were also promoted. The BF called for the implementation of industrial guilds or ‘corporations’. Corporatism was a central feature of the ‘organic’ Fascist state in Italy. A corporatist economy was to be re-organised under state direction, meaning that employers, trade unions and other interest groups would work together in the running of their respective industries. It was ultimately a means of yoking both private business and trade unions to state power. As such, the BF would outlaw autonomous trade unions, as ‘strikes and lockouts should be deemed a challenge to the sovereignty of the state and as such shall be made illegal in any circumstances’.38 This draconian response to trade unionism represented a tendency by the BF to view any kind of left-wing activity as a precursor to a Bolshevik uprising. Labour representatives would be allowed into industrial corporations, which would undertake wage conciliations and attend arbitration boards. However, it was left vague as to just what powers they would hold, or whether they would be significantly outnumbered by employers and government representatives. The merging of imperial preference and corporatism aptly demonstrates the way in which continental fascist ideas were taken and adapted to their national context. Corporatism was advocated as able to both unify various interest groups within Britain while ensuring against communism. Yet it was also adapted to a broader goal, one more specific to Britain than unifying different classes; that is, uniting the British Empire. In doing so, the BF sought to protect it from world competition as well as overcoming competing class interests at home. The BF viewed the principles of fascism as universal and, more reluctantly, directly applicable to those they perceived to be ethnic Britons living in colonies. Alongside proposing policies that would see the British Empire move towards federation, the BF actively looked to recruit potential members in Dominions, who were frequently described as Britons’ kith and kin, in a manner reminiscent of

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the Nazi Volksdeutsche (the German diaspora living outside Germany) or Italian Fasci Italiani all’Estero (The ‘Fascist Abroad’ organisation). The BF received donations from Britons living in South Africa, and received requests from activists abroad to send political literature to be distributed.39 In 1925, in fact, a branch was set up in Durban, South Africa, due to ‘increasing Communist activities’.40 The most active branch of the BF was in Belfast, termed ‘Ulster Command’. There was also a branch based outside England in the Irish Free State, known as ‘Southern’ or ‘Dublin’ Command. The BF also promoted other fascist parties in Dominions such as the Praetorian League of Canada (also known as the Canadian Fascisti, founded in 1928), which, it was argued, ‘exist[s] for the purposes of doing its utmost to maintain Canada as a nation within the British Empire’.41 The BF also set up branches in Australia around April 1925 in Sydney, Adelaide, Hobart and Melbourne – collectively known as ‘Australia Command’. One fascist activist based in Sydney announced in September 1925 that he had formed a Fascist General Council for the Commonwealth, which would discuss Empire integration. He asked for the names of friends and family of British Fascist members living in Australia in an attempt to recruit them. Nevertheless, the ambitions of ‘Australia Command’ remained modest.42 In November 1925, Captain James Older Hatcher of Melbourne elaborated on the activities of the BF in Australia. He appears to be just as influenced by the apparent success of Mussolini in Italy at destroying communism as with the activities of the BF in Britain: In Italy … this spirit is a patriotism amounting almost in a religion, and rising above considerations of party and creed. We are unwaveringly loyal to His Majesty the King and his Government. We all believe that the stronger the British Empire the better for the world.43 The BF in Australia was identical to the British-based one, both in terms of a resolute opposition to communism and an ambiguous notion of ‘alienism’. Their stated aims were to do the following: Assist patriotic organisations and individuals. In awakening Australians to the danger threatening, and to plant groups of fascists in every town and village, this was not only to assist in countering Communist poison and class-hatred, but to help in the promotion of self-sacrifice and brotherhood, regardless of class.44 Australia Command appears to have lasted no longer than a year, and fell by the wayside even before the General Strike of 1926. Yet it was significant in showing that BF activism went beyond the British Isles.

The Imperial Fascist League (IFL) The IFL was founded by Arnold Leese in 1929. Scholarly output on the IFL tends to focus on their violent antisemitism, biological racism and wholesale rejection of

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democracy. Linehan, for one, argues that the IFL possessed a much more coherent and doctrinaire ideology than the BF, and tended to be more in keeping with Hitler’s National Socialists than Mussolini’s Fascists – an analysis which remains unwise to dispute. Pugh, likewise, argues that the IFL was ‘highly anti-Semitic and adopted a more explicit fascist ideology’ than the BF, of whom Arnold Leese had been a member (and indeed served as a councillor in Stamford). The IFL’s obsessive antisemitism was derivative of The Britons and indeed the two maintained close links. Thurlow notes that despite the origins of the IFL as a ‘patriotic socialist’ organisation, it acquired its fanatical antisemitism when Arnold Leese took over in 1930. Leese was responsible for the IFL editorial The Fascist, which was riddled with biological racism, fanatical (and eliminationist antisemitism) and pro-Nazi content.45 Given the obscurity of its ideology, its membership was low and it achieved practically no success of any significance during its ten years of existence. At the time of its founding, much like the BF, there was no apparent imperial crisis for the IFL to latch on to, however, it did use protest against British rule and increasing demands for autonomy in India as well as inter-ethnic violence in Palestine to promote a hard-line and totalitarian stance on imperial issues. Similar to The Britons and BF, the IFL sought to portray the British Empire under attack from various fronts. The main threat to the Empire, it was argued, came from an all-pervasive, global Jewish conspiracy – one which masqueraded in the form of finance capitalism as well as communism. The IFL also used the Empire to legitimise their fascist ideology which was more closely allied to German National Socialism than Italian Fascism.46 Thomas Linehan points out the strong impact of Empire and race on IFL ideology and that its ‘attachment to Empire was underwritten by a belief in the inherent natural propensity of the European Aryan race to supervise and lead the non-white peoples’.47 However, the belief in white supremacy over non-whites was hardly specific to the IFL or indeed fascism, but a relatively mainstream view during the interwar period. Linehan is correct to point out that biological racism was inherent to the IFL’s imperial ideology. However, it is the merging of conspiracy theory with racist discourse which typifies their approach to Empire. Jews were seen not just as a financial or subversive threat to the Empire: Jews posed an existential threat to the white British race and the biological principles upon which the Empire was founded. Thus, Arnold Leese and the IFL engaged in deeply de-humanising rhetoric, at times even predicting the necessity of genocide against the Jews. Thus, imperialism can be seen as a frame through which the IFL sought to promote ideas of a ‘Jew-free world’. For Leese and the IFL, the Empire was definitive proof of the innate superiority of the ‘Aryan’ British race, deriving from Edwardian social Darwinism ideas about the subjugation of weak races by stronger ones. Any threat to this natural order was seen as treachery. Democracy in Britain, they argued, was moving away from this fundamental tenet, espousing unnatural egalitarian aims. These needed to give way to a totalitarian state. The latter would then govern the Empire upon strict racial lines. Despite the view that ‘coloured’ peoples – especially African natives – were incapable of governing themselves being relatively common in interwar Britain,

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IFL rhetoric cannot be seen entirely as part of mainstream discussions about colonial self-rule. First, more traditional imperialists, while believing that autonomy or independence for non-whites was not immediately forthcoming, nevertheless believed in a ‘civilising mission’ where, one day, natives would be able to control their own destiny. As Mark Mazower has demonstrated in regard to Nazi empirebuilding in Eastern Europe, a crucial difference between Hitler’s imperial ambitions and the ‘liberal’ imperialisms of the nineteenth century was the ‘decisive’ rejection of ‘promise[s] of eventual (if always tenuous) political redemption’.48 The IFL similarly made no such promises; British rule was to be indefinite. In addition, violence against natives, instead of being seen as a necessary evil, was glorified in the name of social Darwinian struggle. Further separating themselves from more mainstream imperialists – as with The Britons before them – the IFL was obsessed with an alleged Jewish conspiracy. The IFL’s antisemitic conspiracism was allied to their belief that democracy was decadent and corrupt, dismissing it as ‘mass bribery’, whether applied in Kenya, India or Britain. The Empire was presented as a fragile entity, being consistently weakened by a democratic pluralism, that lacked discipline and unity – ultimately making the Empire more susceptible to Jewish and communist influence.49 The IFL argued that ‘the country is of more importance than democracy’, meaning that democracy had ‘wantonly given us over to the rule of women with the result that Socialism and Pacifism backed by Jews, have made defeatism the policy of a “British” government’.50 In the context of the British Empire, they averred somewhat ambiguously: Democracy does not distinguish between the man of superior character and the weakling. Therefore, Democracy does not meet the case and must result in chaos and war. Fascism on the other hand, can easily adapt itself to the circumstances of a mixed population of white and black, but … of the best type of white.51 The IFL dismissed democracy on the grounds that it was an inadequate method of modern governance – even more so for an ‘imperial race’ – for this form of government failed to recognise the inherent superiority of a certain race or individual over another. A disciplined fascist regime with a strict racial hierarchy was thus required to restore martial order. Democracy was frequently described by the IFL as ‘Jewish controlled democracy’, identifying Jewish influence with the political status quo.52 Jewish conspiracy theories pervaded every aspect of the IFL’s approach to the British Empire. Leese was convinced that imperial policy was beholden to Jewish financial interests following the Second Boer War (1899–1902). One area where this was particularly apparent to him was in Palestine, and British support for Zionism as evidenced by the 1917 Balfour Declaration was proof of ‘Jewish financial influence over British politicians’.53 The IFL would frequently endorse the Arab cause in Palestine, seeing Zionism as a dangerous development and proof

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of the paramountcy of Jewish ‘money power’ secretly controlling the British Empire. The recently founded League of Nations was likewise seen as a Jewishdominated threat to the British Empire. It was subject to frequent criticism in the IFL press, as ‘anti-British, anti-Imperial and destructive of patriotism’.54 The conspiracy theories of Nesta Webster were influential, and readers of The Fascist were encouraged to purchase The Surrender of an Empire. Leese did have one quibble with Webster’s work, however – that she was not explicit enough in her antisemitism, preferring to use euphemisms such as the ‘hidden hand’ and ‘international financier’ as opposed to Leese and the IFL, who argued that ‘the word “Jew” is more concise’.55 Leese differentiated himself from other fascist parties with his vehement biological antisemitism, decrying others on the far right as not tough enough on ‘the Jewish question’. While the work of Webster, which permeated mainstream circles, was welcomed, Leese nevertheless distanced himself from the ‘word-mincing’ which watered down an unalloyed hatred of Jews. The IFL’s view of the British Empire is further elucidated when analysing their criticism of other political parties and individuals – and especially as above – other fascist groups. The IFL believed the Conservative Party were beholden to Jewish financial interests. Accordingly, its imperial policy was not dictated by what was best for Britain, but what was best for Jewish international finance. A similar claim was made against the Labour Party, who, it was claimed, were backed by a JudaeoBolshevik alliance seeking revolution in Britain and her colonies. The IFL criticised the BF as a weak and effeminate party dominated by women (referring to its founder Rotha Lintorn-Orman and active women’s units), who were beholden to ‘veiled’ financial interests, much like the Conservative Party. Nevertheless, the IFL did praise the BF as a ‘patriotic body’, calling on their members to ditch the BF and join the tiny IFL. In an open letter to the Duke of Northumberland, Arnold Leese both praised him and his conspiracist newspaper, The Patriot. He declared that Northumberland and the IFL share an affinity over imperial matters (likely due to their understanding of the Jewish threat to the Empire) and argued somewhat abstrusely: ‘you know, as well as we do, that the Empire cannot exist without the Imperial spirit’.56 The IFL frequently commented on other fascist parties in the Dominions, predominantly South Africa. Their goal was to highlight what they saw as positive features that Britons could both identify with and look to replicate at home. South Africa was seen as a crucial place for the IFL, given the strict racial hierarchy. They commended the South African government’s decision to curb Jewish immigration via the 1930 Quota Act, arguing that it had dealt a blow to Jewish influence in the British Empire.57 They applauded antisemitism in South Africa, where the IFL believed people were more ‘Jew wise’ than in Britain.58 The IFL also praised South Africa’s indigenous racial fascist movement: The South African Gentile National Socialists or ‘The Greyshirts’. The Greyshirts were a fiercely antisemitic but electorally unsuccessful movement active throughout the 1930s. The IFL pledged to do all it could to promote the Greyshirts’ activities in Britain, as long as they remained loyal to their British connection.59 However, as the Greyshirts began to

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splinter into various factions, the IFL hypocritically became increasingly irritated by the pro-German nature of many Afrikaner fascists, who harboured a dislike for the British after the resolution of the Boer War in 1902.60

The British Union of Fascists (BUF) Following his resignation as a Labour MP (1926–1931), and the failure of his New Party (1931–1932) to gain any traction, Sir Oswald Mosley founded the BUF in 1932. The BUF hit the ground running and reached its peak in 1934, when they were endorsed by media magnate, Lord Rothermere, and the Daily Mail. At that time, the party had reached a membership of around 30,000–40,000. Following this, however, BUF membership fell rapidly. The dominant scholarly view attributes this decline to the scenes of violence at its 1934 Olympia rally, when fascist paramilitaries violently ejected (anti-fascist) protestors. This rally resulted in bad publicity for Mosley and the BUF, causing a haemorrhage of middle-class support. Rothermere withdrew his backing shortly after, following pressure from advertisers, and the party soon turned to more doctrinal antisemitism. Many of the BUF’s policies were first laid out in Mosley’s The Greater Britain, published in 1932. The book preaches a wide range of ideas – some of which generally follow on from the Mosley Memorandum during his time as a Labour MP (which also formed much of the policy of the New Party). The implementation of a corporatist economic structure based upon imperial preference – a longstanding doctrine of the British right – was Mosley’s mechanism for the rejuvenation of Britain’s economy. He wanted to remove Britain’s democratic system and replace it with a powerful executive and a cabinet of less than a handful of ministers. A significant development in BUF ideology at this time was the endorsement of conspiratorial antisemitism, in part, through the increasing influence of William Joyce (also known as ‘Lord Haw Haw’, who was hanged for treason in 1946), A. K. Chesterton, and John Beckett. At the time of the BUF’s founding, Britain was ravaged by economic depression. While Mosley, like the IFL, put forward draconian proposals to solve pressing issues in India and Palestine, his main interest in Empire was ultimately economic. At the heart of the BUF’s attachment to imperial rejuvenation was its potential to economically revitalise the country and motor an industrial recovery. The BUF did demonstrate an imperial rhetoric designed to promote the political and spiritual reawakening of the British Empire as a global power as well as use the Empire to promote anti-Jewish conspiracy theory. However, it was ultimately through the economic sphere that Mosley believed the public would develop an attachment to the imperial project. As the largest and most ‘programmatic’ fascist party during the interwar period, the BUF accordingly developed the most coherent conception of Empire and imperial policies out of all far right parties examined in this study.61 The BUF eagerly sought to cloak themselves in imperial rhetoric and patriotic associations. They also portrayed themselves as the only true defenders of Empire able to bring about a unified

36 The far right and the British Empire

imperial unit to defend its white peoples from subversive activity. This was clearly designed to appeal, on one hand, to conservatives disturbed by the prospect of Indian reform in the 1930s which promised to lead to increasing self-government and potentially mark the end of British imperial dominance; and on the other, to fascist revolutionaries. While the BUF primarily reacted to imperial political events and discussions, they nevertheless saw imperialism as a means of breaching the mainstream and gaining publicity for their more integral political ideas. Accordingly, the BUF looked to tap into traditional links between patriotism and Empire, portraying it in terms similar to the earlier BF: as Britain’s greatest achievement, needing to be maintained at all cost. The blame for the supposed decline of the British Empire lay firmly at the feet of the ‘old gang’ of Westminster, who were deemed responsible for all the nation’s ills and decadences. The BUF also sought to make the Empire relevant to their substantial working-class membership and potential supporters, by emphasising that the Empire promised tangible benefits for everyone. There were two distinct phases of the BUF’s approach to the Empire. During their initial three years to 1935, the BUF’s imperialism was highly derivative of the Edwardian diehard tradition, not dissimilar from contemporaneous right-wing imperialists. Following the withdrawal of support by Lord Rothermere, and as the BUF moved more explicitly towards antisemitic conspiracism, a more distinctive view of imperialism can be discerned. The threat to the Empire from (Jewish) ‘international finance’ became more common in party propaganda, and a more distinctly fascist conception of imperialism can be witnessed, in the years leading to the group’s proscription in May 1940. Mosley’s BUF’s vision for a revitalised British Empire would be primarily achieved through economic means. The BUF advocated a planned economy, corporatism, protectionism and Empire free trade. As Robert Skidelsky has argued, Mosley sought to reconcile a typically conservative policy, economic imperialism, with socialist ideas.62 Both sought to challenge free trade dogma, and to exert a degree of government control on trade policy. Mosley had championed Empire free trade and imperial autarky as a Labour MP, particularly after the Great Depression hit. In his ‘Mosley Memorandum’, Mosley was tasked by Ramsey McDonald to devise a plan to reduce unemployment; he subsequently advocated economic planning and a vast public works programme financed by loans and protectionism. His plan was swiftly rejected by the Labour Party and he resigned to found the New Party soon after. As part of his memorandum, Mosley had initially advocated imperial protectionism but was forced to quickly drop it as irreconcilable with the Labour Party’s internationalist principles.63 He argued in a 1930 debate in the House of Commons that Britain ‘should strive to insulate these islands from the electric shocks of new world conditions’.64 This would be achieved by imposing tariffs on primary imports. Mosley also argued that Britain should extend the ‘area of insulation to embrace the whole commonwealth of nations within whose borders can be found nearly every resource, human and material, which industry requires’.65 Mosley, importantly then, did not opportunistically embrace the idea of Empire

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free trade upon becoming a fascist, and much of the BUF’s economic policy reveals a continuity with Mosley’s ideas when an MP and then briefly, as leader of the New Party. His was undoubtedly a policy which would appeal to potential conservative support, a key aim in the BUF’s first two years, when they benefitted from positive coverage by media magnate Lord Rothermere. However, Mosley’s economic ideas would also be used to justify socialist-style economic planning for the betterment of the working class. Mosley was alarmed by what he saw as the rapid reduction of Britain’s exports to traditional imperial markets, which were predominantly developing economies. These economies were increasingly deploying protectionism to foster an industrialisation and protection of infant industries that saw British exports excluded. Furthermore, many of these traditional export markets were Dominions within the British Empire, including Canada, Australia and also the Raj in India, who were purposefully erecting trade barriers to prevent manufactured goods coming from the ‘imperial motherland’.66 Furthermore, the rise of industrialised economies such as Japan and the United States was leading to stronger competition, the like of which had never been seen before – meaning that Britain’s ability to export was further diminished by up-and-coming powers.67 The solution was therefore to reduce the country’s exposure to foreign competition, which had overseen declining domestic wages, while leaving Britain vulnerable to the actions of more competitive nations. Accepting that Britain, on its own, lacked the resources to wholly operate outside a global economy, Mosley advocated a system of ‘Empire autarky’ given the vast and diverse resources of the British Empire. Given that Britain was a fully industrialised, manufacturing economy and the majority of the Empire were producers of primary goods, he believed their industrial capability and natural resources together were sufficient for a well-functioning, isolated economic bloc. Britain would therefore transfer her ‘purchases of foodstuffs and our raw materials from countries which at present afford us little or no market in return, to Empire countries which afford us a large market in return’.68 Trying to carve a niche for himself with high-profile and mainstream proponents of imperial preference like Lord Beaverbrook and Leo Amery, Mosley objected that their proposals still did not go far enough. He argued that conservatives only wished to tax foreign goods in order to line their own pockets, whereas the BUF would seek to exclude foreign goods altogether.69 Furthermore, Empire autarky was couched in ambitious, and at times revolutionary, terms in the BUF press in the mid-1930s, insisting that their version of Empire free trade was modern and forward-looking, not reactionary. In an article for The Blackshirt detailing the potential benefits of the BUF’s economic plan for the Empire, Henry Gibbs maintained: To absolve our destiny being linked with that of our enemies we must set about the task of solving the puzzle of our imperial destiny, re-fashioning the sword of British progress in the fires of Fascist Imperial Autarky. The Empire has always been a symbol – it is our task to add to that symbol a greater radiance.70

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Mosley was fully aware that in order to sell his Empire free trade policy, he would need powerful allies in the Dominions. In July 1933, Mosley announced a ‘New Empire Union’, which he claimed ‘achieved a great step forward towards Empire fascism’.71 This was likely an initiative prompted by Lord Rothermere: the announcement of the New Empire Union was made in Rothermere’s Daily Mail as well as The Blackshirt. 72 The Union was with Australia’s ‘fascist’ party, The New Guard, founded in 1931 by Lieutenant Eric Campbell. The New Guard has usually been depicted as fascist by scholars based on its militarism and anti-communism.73 The New Guard certainly shared much in common ideologically with European fascist organisations, aped fascism’s style, and was highly supportive of fascist regimes in Europe. Matthew Cunningham has convincingly argued, however, that it was not a fully-fledged fascist organisation. Campbell and the New Guard were ultimately guided by British notions of individual liberty rather than a more fascist organic, nationalist collectivism. Furthermore, the New Guard were proponents of free market capitalism as opposed to economic nationalism (before moving to a more corporatist outlook), something that sharply distinguished them from European fascist movements, especially the BUF.74 For these reasons, Mosley and Campbell’s unity was always built on shaky foundations and was, perhaps inevitably, short-lived. Following outrage from New Guard members over the pact and the obvious ideological differences between the two movements, the partnership was wound up after only a month.75 The somewhat farcical merger and subsequent divorce between the New Guard and the BUF implies the emptiness of Mosley’s early claims regarding any possibility of imperial fascist unity. The New Empire Union was significant in terms of the BUF’s conception of Empire and notions of ‘imperial unity’ during its first two years. Yet it underscores the difficulty faced by fascist organisations throughout the British Empire, in the sense that professing both an Australian or British and imperial nationalism was often incompatible. Moreover, at heart, Mosley was a committed isolationist who did not want to commit Britain to any conflict with a foreign power. Campbell, in an April 1933 speech in London to BUF members, had even argued that imperial unity was required in order to confront an imperialist Japan.76 Australian and British fascism were thus, at a practical level, irreconcilable. Australia still relied upon Britain for its military security, which all recognised simply could not be guaranteed in the event of a fascist government. The very impetus for the creation of the New Empire Union was guided by the party’s initially nostalgic conservative attachment to Empire, as in seeking to cultivate the support of conservative elites. The New Empire Union was largely a vacuous entity, then, devoid of genuine attempts to co-ordinate fascist activity throughout the Empire. It was clear that, for all their championing of imperial unity, it was metropolitan Britons who were held paramount by the movement. This attitude is encapsulated in a summary of the BUF’s Empire free trade policy, in which Mosley stated: ‘British Farmer first, the Dominions Farmer second; the foreigner nowhere.’77 This ultimately demonstrates the shallowness of the BUF’s calls for imperial unity – they spoke of it in as much as it provided a palatable

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means of calling for imperial protection – which was designed exclusively to benefit Britons in Britain. This obvious contradiction in the BUF’s call for ‘imperial unity’ also precluded their allying with fascist movements in other British Empire territories. Some movements were only too ready to demonstrate their ultra-nationalist credentials in rejecting British dominance over their affairs. One example from among many is provided by the South African fascist leader, L. T. Weichardt, who calls into question the plausibility of the BUF’s imperial policies in an article entitled ‘National Socialism in South Africa’. Moreover, this was undertaken in the BUF’s house journal, The Fascist Quarterly, Weichardt notes that ‘South Africa can no longer be regarded as a mere colony or dependency of England. On the contrary, she is an independent nation with an increasingly distinctive national consciousness and an increasingly distinctive national culture’.78 Weichardt then highlighted the antipathy of many Afrikaans-speaking South Africans to the goals of British imperialism; and ‘even among English-speaking sections imperialistic feeling is often lukewarm’.79 Finally, Weichardt asserted: ‘the vast majority of South Africans now think of the [South African] Union as an entirely independent state, sovereign in all matters both internal and external, whose connexion to the British Crown and Empire is purely voluntary’.80 Mosley was surely aware of the direction in which Dominion governance and nationalism had been travelling over the past few decades, as enshrined into law in the 1931 Statute of Westminster. Imperial themes suggesting that Britain still ‘controlled’ Dominions nevertheless persisted in BUF propaganda. Imperial rhetoric, without any coherent strategy detailing how significant obstacles could be overcome, was a continual theme throughout the life of the BUF. Ronald Hyam once claimed of Churchill that he ‘was not all that interested in the Empire, apart from its rhetorical potentialities’ – and much the same can be said of Mosley’s attitude towards a ‘fascist Empire’.81 Following Rothermere’s withdrawal of support and the collapse of BUF membership in mid-1934, the BUF moved away from an essentially conservative understanding of Empire and, as was noted at the outset of this chapter, towards a more distinctively ‘fascist’ view. For one, William Joyce presented a sophisticated fascist conception of Empire, which detailed how fascism and the British Empire were intertwined. Joyce, a passionate imperialist, viewed the British Empire in the same manner as Britain itself – an easily definable, organic entity in need of ‘rebirth’: ‘an Empire is great when this common organisation becomes a vital and impregnable system. Such is the Fascist and organic conception of Imperialism.’82 Seeing the Empire as an organic unit, made up of component parts working in tandem – much like the human body – was his key to future strength. Joyce therefore saw totalitarianism as the best method of fostering imperial unity: Synthesis is the only alternative to disintegration; and synthesis is the fundamental character of fascist policy. By the fascist, every Imperial value is assessed on the criterion of its power to increase synthesis towards unity and to stop disintegration towards chaos.83

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Joyce decried what he saw as the mainstream conception of Empire, which he castigated as a ‘fortuitous conglomeration of various territorial or racial entities which somehow came into association closer to that which prevails between independent sovereign states’.84 Instead, the British Empire testified to Britain’s greatness as a civilisation. Yet a revolutionary renewal of imperial dynamism was urgently needed to reassert these values.85 Joyce laid the blame for the alleged decline in imperial values at the feet of democracy. Playing a vital role in the British Empire’s ‘degeneration’ were mainstream political corruption and parasitical forces, such as Jews, subverting the Empire from within. He argued that democracy has brought economic and political chaos, and – even in the case of Southern Ireland – dismemberment. Status quo political parties such as the Conservative Party had let free trade doctrine override the value of the Empire, while socialists were accused of disdaining anything imperial. The activities of ‘alien money lenders’, namely, Jews, had further unbalanced the Empire – something that would be ‘stamped out’ with finance brought under national control.86 As this signalled, conspiracism would become an increasingly prominent feature of the BUF’s imperialism. A. K. Chesterton, the BUF’s Director of Propaganda, also advanced a distinctly fascist vision of Empire, with a deeply conspiratorial view of the world in which Jewish ‘decadence’, both internal and external, threatened Britain’s Empire. Chesterton was himself a product of Empire. Born in Krugersdorp in 1899 to white settler parents, he grew up witnessing South Africa’s distinct racial hierarchies firsthand. After enlisting in East Africa during the First World War aged just 16, Chesterton worked as a theatre critic before joining the BUF in 1933. He left in 1938 and was one of only a handful of prominent fascists who were not interned during the Second World War. Testifying to his long-term importance to British fascism, Chesterton later founded the League of Empire Loyalists in 1954, and was a founding member and Chairman of the National Front in 1967. Throughout this time, he blamed Britain’s decadent socio-political elite for imperial decline, arguing that a liberal-conservative alliance with doctrinaire free traders had left the Empire in peril. As such, it was increasingly in the hands of ‘Yiddish finance’. Accusing the current government – awash with ‘little Englanders’ – doing all they could to auction off the Empire to private finance, Chesterton believed that a fascist Empire could ‘safeguard itself and every sterling British value from the reeking corruption of the Jew’.87 Like Joyce at the time, Chesterton argued that Britain required Mosley’s leadership to fully realise the benefits of Empire, and lead Britain to imperial glory once again: The era of the Imperial leadership of Fascism is at hand to make good their [liberals’] ravages and to rebuild an Empire that shall serve the greatness of the British people instead of the profits in usury of the jackal race without the law.88

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Like the earlier BF, the BUF looked back to swashbuckling imperial heroes who, it was alleged, would be ashamed of the disinterest shown towards the Empire by a self-interested political class. There were frequent mini-biographies of ‘British heroes’ in BUF publications – often focusing on the imperial arena – which sought to demonstrate affinity between fascist ideology and British tradition. E.D. Hart asserted, for example, that the colonies were ‘a sacred trust’.89 He looked to imperial heroes whose values should be embraced by fascists. These values were adventurism, self-reliance, and an indefatigable stoicism in the face of (foreign) confrontation. Hart’s revealing proponents were imperial stalwarts, ranging from Walter Raleigh, Cecil Rhodes, Warren Hastings, and Clive of India to the contemporaneous T.E. Lawrence.90 As Thomas Linehan notes, these ‘reverential eulogies’ were little more than ‘mythic inventions’ created by the BUF, as part of their wider sacralisation of politics.91 BUF ideologues re-imagined the past through a fascist lens, making martyrs of major figures in British imperial history. This had the effect of presenting Oswald Mosley as the twentieth century’s leading imperial crusader, able to reverse its putative decline and take the British Empire to new heights.

The Union Movement (UM) Following his imprisonment for most of the Second World War, Oswald Mosley attempted an audacious political comeback in 1948 with the Union Movement (UM). Despite evidence of the attempted extermination of European Jewry, the Holocaust did not dim Mosley’s belief in a global Jewish conspiracy. For Mosley, the real tragedy of the Second World War was Britain’s involvement and the loss of Empire soon after. Despite his continued fierce anti-communism and anti-liberalism, which would form the core of the party’s ideology in the later 1940s, the UM differed in significant ways from its predecessor. For example, although antisemitism was certainly not absent from UM publications – still attacking Jewish individuals, organisations and a nebulous ‘international finance’ – it was toned down after 1945. This represents the wider tendency for many postwar far right organisations, in the aftermath of Nazi barbarity in WWII, to be less openly antisemitic, despite maintaining anti-Jewish views. The most notable difference from the interwar BUF, however, was Mosley’s embrace of European unity, which he hoped would lead to a federal Europe, large enough to fight off subversive threats from both the United States and the Soviet Union. Thus, the UM cast itself as a significant revamp of the BUF, now adapted to the new Cold War environment, an epoch which Mosley believed to be unrelentingly hostile to the British Empire: ‘Russia hates our Empire and seeks every means to raise sedition and revolt against us everywhere in the world. America has traditionally little sympathy with an imperial spirit she does not share.’92 It was Mosley’s Europeanism, however, which – regarded as madness by the vast bulk of the far right – would mean the UM would be on the fringes of the far right scene. Mosley was tainted by his wartime imprisonment as well as by association with Nazi Germany. He was never able to achieve significant support and emigrated to

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Ireland in 1951, only to return to British politics sporadically and opportunistically, such as in 1958 when he stood for election in Kensington North, following the Notting Hill Race Riots. Graham Macklin provides the most accurate and damning picture of Mosley’s UM which reflected a subdued end to his political career: ‘stillborn, the UM was the final panel in a triptych of failed political endeavour which, having begun in 1931, ended in obloquy and oblivion’.93 The question of Empire was far more prescient upon the UM’s founding than the BUF’s in 1932. The Second World War had put the Empire’s future in grave peril and the rise to dominance of the US and the Soviet Union squeezed its ability to maintain control. Its possessions in South East Asia which had suffered under Japanese occupation, such as Singapore, Burma and Malaysia, were not as willing to re-accommodate a British return to power. Britain had already lost its ‘Jewel in the Crown’ India, which achieved independence in 1947. Violence and Zionist insurgency in Palestine continued. Calls for independence in Britain’s African colonies similarly grew, as it appeared Britain, blighted by debt and focusing on domestic regeneration through the welfare state, had reached the twilight of its days as an imperial power. Under Mosley, the UM’s rhetorical championing of the British Empire remained a consistent feature after the war. However, Mosley believed that Britain’s Empire had effectively ceased to exist following the loss of India: The position today is that there is no Empire, with the exception of certain African Colonies. India has been abandoned by democratic enlightenment to self-rule, self-massacre and, along with Malaysia and Burma, to the general advance of the Coloured Revolution.94 Reverting to his 1930s type, he blamed the ‘old gang’ of Conservative and Labour politicians for taking Britain into what he believed to be a senseless war, one leaving Britain dependent upon US financial loans. In the process, it had led to the dissolution of the British Empire. The war had ‘reduced Britain from being a proud Empire to its present lamentable role as the leading economic appendage of America’.95 A new vision for British imperialism was presented by the UM in the 1950s: Britain and other European colonial powers would pool their resources in Africa, which would be exploited for its vast natural resources and cheap labour. For Mosley, there was no contradiction between his new-found Europeanism and old imperialism. As in the interwar period, the British Empire was used as a means of entering mainstream debates and utilising imperial issues to suit more central ideological aims. Despite Mosley’s lament at the loss of imperial prestige and the parlous state of Britain’s postwar finances, he nevertheless believed that Britain persisted as an imperial power: ‘Britain still has an Empire; that fact seems forgotten. We are bankrupt, yet we possess the greatest heritage on Earth: that is a paradox.’96 Much of the UM’s propaganda on Empire, in turn, was designed to show that Mosley’s interwar predictions had been right and thus legitimising him as a figure

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of importance as opposed to a political pariah. His proclamations of doom in the 1930s, especially that Indian reform was ‘throwing the Empire away’ had, in his gaggle of supporters’ mind, been proved correct by independence and partition. War with Nazi Germany, always strenuously opposed by the BUF, had bankrupted Britain – to the point where maintaining its vast Empire was simply impossible. Sensing an opportunity, Mosley tried to portray himself once more as a true ‘imperialist’, who would stop at nothing to protect the British Empire. Accordingly, Tory imperialism was frequently criticised in the UM press, with one pointed article charging: ‘they still hanker after that concept of Empire which they of all people have done the most to destroy’.97 The (as is usual) anonymous author of ‘Europe or Empire’ goes on to ask: Why did you not support British Union in those critical pre-war years, when we warned you that the vultures of International Finance, Russian Communism and Japanese Militarism were gathering to pick the bones of your Empire, when you had become involved in a European war for no conceivable British interest?98 Notwithstanding the despair expressed in UM propaganda about the end of the British Empire, there remained a distinctly nostalgic thread to the UM’s imperial rhetoric. On 22 May 1950, for instance, ‘Empire Day Forgotten by Old Gang’ lamented that postwar Britain was no longer interested in matters of Empire, and that Britain was ‘a country which would seem to be so sunk in post-war degeneration that it has forgotten the heroism of the early pioneers which built up Britain into a mighty imperial power’.99 The UM nevertheless recognised that there was still a future for the British Empire: ‘all is not entirely lost, provided we join with our fellow Europeans in the creation of a new and greater civilisation in our own Continent’.100 This ‘new and greater civilisation’ would not be based upon nostalgia, but rather a vigorous new form of imperialism; a ‘third British Empire’.101 In another article, Mosley similarly declared: ‘it was no use dwelling on the past glories of Empire; we must find within us the spirit of our early pioneers, and in Union undertake the greatest mission of our history – the task of saving Western Civilisation’.102 Mosley retained a fervent belief in economic protectionism, but now wanted to see all of Europe protected from world markets. He argued that Empire free trade policies, which he had advocated throughout the interwar period, were now dead ideas. The Dominions had industrialised so rapidly during the Second World War that their economies no longer complemented Britain’s. Mosley indeed correctly summarised that the economic tides were shifting Britain away from their traditional imperial base (though this had been happening for several decades before) towards European integration.103 Yet, much like Mosley’s support for imperial protectionism, economic policy was part of a broader ideological goal – European unity and integration. During the interwar period, Mosley saw the Dominions (and India) as producers of primary goods which could then be exported to British factories. He argued that this was no longer possible in the postwar period, as it would not be in

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the interests of the Dominions who were now industrialised, export-manufacturing competitors with Britain.104 Nevertheless, Mosley remained staunch on the matter of imperial unity, even if it was not to be achieved through economic means: ‘It is in the sphere of mutual security, and cultural development, that the blood relationship will draw Britain and the Dominions ever closer together in the future.’105 Now that imperial protection was no longer feasible, Britain should develop another area of its remaining Empire, to become producers of primary goods in exchange for British manufacturing. Covered in greater detail in Chapter 5, Mosley’s envisioned ‘Eurafrica’ policy meant exploiting under-developed nations in Africa. Imperial unity would now focus on Britain and the Dominions extracting primary goods in Africa together: ‘the general effect of our policy would be intentionally and inevitably to strengthen greatly our tie with the dominions, and to sustain the Empire position in the world’.106 Although antisemitism formed a pivotal part of post-Rothermere BUF ideology – and was still deployed after 1945 to criticise ‘international financiers’ who supposedly exploited the British Empire – UM anti-Jewish attacks were both less frequent and milder than in the 1930s. Nevertheless, antisemitic rhetoric permeated the UM at every level. In particular, Jews were frequently attacked following the Zionist insurgency in Palestine, events which will be explored in greater depth in Chapter 4. Furthermore, Mosley questioned the existence of the attempted Nazi genocide of Jews. At the same time, antisemitism was also used, in BUF fashion, to accuse Jews and ‘international financiers’ of seeking to degrade the Empire for financial gain. For example, Mosley claimed he wanted to develop the resources of the British Empire ‘as a means of freeing the British people from enslavement to International Finance’.107 Another example comes from a 1949 article entitled ‘Estate of the European’ by former BUF ideologue Alexander Raven Thomson, which blames a Jewish conspiracy for the collapse of the British Empire. This alleged conspiracy dated back to Benjamin Disraeli, Britain’s Jewish-born Prime Minister (1868, 1874–1880): This slick, fantastically exotic, Sicilian Jew, so fascinated by both the Queen and the Tory Party, that he was able to transform the Conservatives from the champions of the countryside to the lackeys of international finance … This change over in the latter half of the Nineteenth Century can be dated to the time of his purchase of the Suez Canal Shares with Rothschild money, by which, Tories, with primroses in their button-holes, still tell us their semitic hero laid the foundation of our Empire. The truth is very different. From that time the Empire was handed over to the exploitation of greedy financiers eager only for quick profits without the prolonged toil of settlement and arduous development.108

The League of Empire Loyalists (LEL) The 1950s would see opposition to European colonialism sweep across the African continent. While opposition to foreign rule was mostly non-violent in the British sphere, one exception was the Mau Mau uprising in Kenya. Beginning in 1952

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and lasting until 1958, the insurgency demonstrated the ongoing brutality of imperial occupation and resistance to the notion that Britain planned a peaceful scuttle from Empire. However, any realistic belief that Britain maintained an imperial future was shattered by the Suez Crisis of 1956. The failed attempt to reestablish control of the Suez Canal from Egypt under the leadership of the charismatic Nasser, which drew staunch rebuke from Soviet Union and United States alike, demonstrated the futility of continued imperial adventure within the confines of the Cold War. As Britain slowly began to come to terms with its diminished status, the far right were all but alone in rejecting any notion that the Empire was at an end, continuing to hold the torch for the country’s alleged birth right to global power. While the League of Empire Loyalists (LEL) upheld the British fascist tradition of revering and defending the Empire at any cost, by the 1950s, A.K. Chesterton would emerge as the most prominent interwar fascist to break with the Mosleyite tradition. David Baker has accurately described Chesterton’s postwar creed as ‘a mixture of right-Tory Empire loyalism and conspiratorial anti-Semitism’ in addition to ‘“anti-coloured” biological racism’ which would remain mostly unchanged until his death in 1973.109 Chesterton, like Arnold Leese and others before him, was a man steeped in Empire. He was not interned along with other leading BUF activists during the Second World War, due to a belief by the government that he had already begun to move away from fascism as war with Germany loomed. Chesterton therefore reappeared on the far right scene after the war – following a brief stint working as Lord Beaverbrook’s biographer and for the Conservative newspaper Truth – untainted by the experience of internship, both in terms of publicity and any impact it may have had in hardening his political beliefs.110 A.K. Chesterton’s LEL differed in several key ways from Mosley’s postwar UM. Chesterton argued, prior to the foundation of the LEL, that the aims of any new organisation should be ‘not to create a new political party, but to organise public opinion so as to force upon existing parties policies favourable to national and imperial survival in place of the present policies of national and imperial eclipse’.111 As such, the LEL was not a conventional political party and eschewed building a mass movement; instead, Chesterton argued that 20,000 activists would be sufficient to force change upon the government of the day. The LEL is therefore better viewed as a far right pressure group. Chesterton broke with interwar fascist tradition in ideological terms, unlike Mosley, and upon the founding of the LEL immediately sought to distinguish his new movement from the 1930s BUF: I give them [members and activists] my solemn word of honour that neither through Candour or the League, have I, or will I at any future time, espouse openly or covertly any Fascist or other authoritarian doctrine … I have renounced those beliefs which, honourably held though they were, have been outdated by events.112

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Chesterton stands in stark contrast to Mosley, with the former admitting that the horrors of the Second World War revealed fascism to be a genocidal failure. Referring to the attempted extermination of European Jewry and Nazi Germany’s unforgivable bombing of Britain, he stated: ‘The regimes which espoused [fascist ideas], turning criminally insane in their final amok-run, left as their memorials the foulness of Ravensbruck, the gas-ovens, and the vile doing to death of gallant British airmen.’113 On the other hand, Mosley frequently sought to excuse, question or relativise Nazi crimes. Yet Chesterton identified other failures as well. Namely, during the interwar period, the BUF had failed in one of its self-proclaimed chief aims; to reverse British imperial decline and create a new, revived fascist Empire. Chesterton blamed this on the fact that the Empire was no longer united by the 1930s: Had there been in the British world an adroitly managed League of Loyalists, it could have acted in the default of the Government of India by organising against Congress the profound anti-British sentiments, not only of the princes whom we betrayed, but of almost the entire population.114 This encapsulates much of the LEL’s thinking. They did not seek a new, utopian vision of British imperialism. Rather, they sought a return to the (perceived) harmony of the British Empire before the First World War, when few were able to meaningfully challenge Britain’s imperial role in the world, and they could rely on brute force to quell native discontent. Their principal propaganda source, Candour, targeted all English-speaking peoples across the Empire, again assuming a close, historical bond between the white settlers in Africa, the Dominions and Britain itself. It should thus be borne in mind that the LEL’s attempts to unite white Britons across the world around the cause of empire means that the organisation should not be seen simply as a domestic ultra-right pressure group. Indeed, their relatively conservative solutions perhaps obscure their extreme understanding of global affairs. Chesterton’s LEL maintained a deeply conspiratorial world-view which held Jews in positions of power in both the US and the Soviet Union accountable for unrest in Britain’s Empire and their rhetoric demonstrates an attempt to simultaneously decry the Empire’s decline as well as promote a wider conspiratorial and racialised world-view. Throughout their publications and activism, they sought to spread this antisemitic conspiracism across the English-speaking world. Rosine de Bounvialle, a prominent LEL activist, claimed that Chesterton had repudiated his earlier antisemitic writings from the 1930s, such as his deeply racist article, The Apotheosis of the Jew (which was also produced as a BUF pamphlet). She stated that ‘he regretted very much what he’d written about Jews because, he said, that was such a juvenile view, people, in fact, can’t help the way they’re born or the way they look’.115 But conspiratorial antisemitism, not included in de Bounvialle’s narrow definition, would remain a central feature of the LEL’s output: ‘I don’t think he was an Anti-Semite at all. He was definitely anti-money power.’116

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As noted above, the LEL’s chief aim was to ‘work for the preservation, and where necessary the restoration, of the distinctive national sovereignties of the British nation’.117 Their patrician view on Empire aimed ‘to encourage preparedness in the British nations to resume their imperial responsibilities, as and when feasible, towards former colonial peoples who have been abandoned to tyranny, barbarism and chaos’, and ‘to give unremitting support to our own kinsmen and to Europeans generally in their efforts to maintain civilisation in lands threatened by relapse to savagery’.118 The LEL generally affected a reactionary, paternalistic nostalgia for the British Empire of the nineteenth century – a tranquil period before the advent of ostensibly communist-led colonial nationalist movements. Naturally, their captive market was ultra-conservatives and no doubt, remnants of interwar fascist supporters who had not joined Oswald Mosley’s UM. Dismissively, Roger Eatwell describes ‘most of their two thousand to three thousand members’ as ‘Colonel Blimpish rather than fascist’.119 The LEL’s self-proclaimed objectives were, above all, to lead a ‘reunification’ of the British world and, still more vaguely, a ‘resurgence at home and abroad of the British spirit’.120 This was undertaken in order to defend Britons from internationalist fronts and to counteract Jewish financial power. As this suggests, the LEL relied heavily upon anti-Jewish conspiracism, a paranoid world-view promoted by Chesterton and the LEL which would have a huge impact on future far right organisations such as the NF and British National Party (see the discussion of John Tyndall and the NF on pp. 50–55). Chesterton would map out this grand conspiracy theory in the LEL’s main journal, Candour. It quickly became the official organ of the LEL, with key points later summarised in his book The New Unhappy Lords (1965), which, as Nigel Copsey has noted, was an ‘adaptation of classic conspiracy theory to modern times’.121 Chesterton asserted that Jews in elite positions in the Soviet Union and the USA were actively collaborating in the final destruction of the British Empire. This was apparently undertaken through the financing of and support for clandestine colonial nationalist movements and by using financial clout to pressure governments, including Britain, to plot against the British Empire. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Chesterton drew heavily upon the work of Nesta Webster, particularly The Surrender of an Empire (1931), which similarly identified Jews as part of ‘the hidden hand’ behind attempts to crush the British Empire. Stressing that there was, in fact, an anti-colonial alliance between the postwar Soviet Union and the USA, Chesterton was pursuing two main aims. One was to offer a ‘third way’ to traditional Cold War political discussions, which focused on a bipolar world system. Chesterton argued that, instead, the two antagonists were in fact in cahoots with each other. The other, and most important aim, was to encourage a highly antisemitic world-view in the post-Holocaust age. Unlike in the 1930s, attacks on Jews now were heavily encoded. In an extremely apt summary of The New Unhappy Lords, Macklin describes the book as ‘an eloquently written antisemitic tirade on the subversive and occult conspiracy against the British Empire, and Western Civilisation in general, that he [Chesterton] believed was striving behind the scenes to create a “One World” Jewish state’.122

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For Chesterton, furthermore, a British Empire protected from subversion would require ‘the maintenance, and where necessary, the recovery, of the Sovereign independence of the British peoples throughout the world’ as well as ‘The strengthening of the spiritual and material bonds between the British peoples throughout the World’.123 Such bonds would first be achieved economically, through ‘the conscientious development of the British colonial Empire under British direction and under local British leadership’.124 There is considerable ambiguity in what the LEL wanted to achieve here, perhaps symptomatic of a far right political ideology that was heavily dependent on populist conspiracism. Still, their views may be broadly summarised as an attempt to promote a vigorous imperialism aimed at the white peoples of the new Commonwealth. Above all else, their key target was to halt British decolonisation. This meant appealing to those in Australia, New Zealand, Canada and South Africa – as well as white settlers in African colonies like Rhodesia and Kenya. Only a strong, unified, rejuvenated Empire, they maintained, would be able to fight off threats from ‘internationalist’ organisations such as the UN, on one hand, and the power of the Soviet Union and the USA on the other. Should this happen, Britain would be economically insulated, and would eventually become independent of Jewish money power. In a similar vein to the BUF and other interwar far right organisations, the LEL advocated an ever-increasing imperial unity, and a united Empire economic system: The Dominions, if offered second call on the British market, could not afford to withhold their co-operation. The Colonies would be only too thankful to be incorporated into a system which aimed at their conscientious development and fair distribution of the immense wealth contained in the Imperial heritage.125 The championing of the ‘English-speaking peoples’ within the Commonwealth was not particularly ‘radical’, even if the LEL’s racist notions of the forces seeking to undermine it were extreme. The LEL railed against what Chesterton saw as the two most insidious trends in post-war politics: the power of ‘international finance’ and ‘internationalism’. Jewish plotting was allegedly behind both forces. This economically-unified Empire, alongside new awareness of the dark forces seeking to destroy the British Empire, led Chesterton to aver that a united Empire could lead to a revival in ‘the hearts of men and women of British blood all over the world’.126 The white peoples of the British Empire would subsequently force their governments ‘to drop what often seems to be their present policy of jettisoning British associations and traditions in return for toothy internationalist smiles’.127 Moreover, Chesterton argued, the British Empire would then continue its historical role of acting as ‘the most effective bulwark against the spread of the insidious disease of world domination by the cosmopolitan gang of Money Lords operating from Wall Street who use the hapless American nation as their tool’.128

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Attempting to distance himself from mainstream conservatism, Chesterton made a series of stinging attacks on the man seen by many British people at the time as the ultimate defender of British interests: Winston Churchill. The LEL spent much time criticising those in mainstream parties, particularly the Conservative Party, for falsely claiming to be the champions of Empire. In this respect, Churchill was no exception: Were any man other than Winston Churchill the Prime Minister of Great Britain, there would be widespread alarm at the present obliteration of British interests all over the world. As it is, many people hold that our imperial dissolution is more apparent than real: so staunch a hero, they persuade themselves, would never allow final disaster to overtake us.129 Churchill was, at this point, a global statesman who had been re-elected Prime Minister in 1951. Chesterton was clearly aware of Churchill’s popularity and myth. There was also a more general need to discredit Tory imperialists, or at least, discredit the Conservative Party as an ‘imperialist party’ (a strategy which seemed viable following the 1956 Suez Crisis), for the ultra-right to gain any traction among conservatives. He mocked Churchill for reneging upon his now famous claim that he had ‘not become the King’s First Minister in order to preside over the liquidation of the British Empire’.130 In response, Chesterton pointed out: ‘the nation unquestionably accepted his assurance. Its trust was misplaced. That is precisely what he is doing.’131 Churchill was an important target for the LEL, describing him as an ‘imperialist in reverse’; reminiscent of both Britain’s grand imperial past and representative of its decline: We need waste no ink in comment upon “the greatest imperialist of them all”, except to say that the description may have been true when the young Churchill charged at Omdurman, but is certainly not true of the old Churchill who has galloped out of the Sudan.132 Criticism of Churchill for his role in the dissolution of the British Empire and alleged Jewish favouritism would become a staple for the far right for decades after the Second World War. A similar quote from 1947 by Admiral Sir Barry Domvile – founder of the interwar pro-Nazi organisation The Link, and an 18B detainee and LEL member – provides a further flavour of this position: ‘Churchill is a great salesman: he has sold himself to the British Empire: that he has shaken the Empire to its foundations in the process won’t lose him a moment’s sleep.’133 Perhaps the most significant impact Chesterton would have would be on future far right leaders. Highlighting the lasting influence of A.K. Chesterton’s conspiratorial approach to politics, in a 1978 interview with Chesterton biographer David Baker, future leader of the National Front John Tyndall recalled: The biggest contribution Chesterton made to my thinking was in the development of an understanding of the conspiracy theory of history. Before

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reading the writings of Chesterton, or any writings on a similar subject, I had a vague kind of suspicion that all kinds of plotting was going on in the world and events were occurring that were not explained in terms of normal political reporting; news, newspapers and so on. There seemed to be a hidden factor in world politics that was bringing about, among other things, the destruction of this country.134

The National Front (NF) The limitations of the LEL were apparent to many on the far right as early as 1957. Dismayed by the party’s strategy of acting as a right-wing pressure group for the Tory Party and their deployment of juvenile publicity stunts, John Bean and Colin Jordan both left to set up the National Labour Party (NLP; it would be referred to as the British National Party after 1960 [BNP]) and White Defence League (WDL) respectively. By the 1960s, the LEL’s membership had declined significantly, while the far right landscape more broadly was scattered. In 1967, the National Front (NF) was founded – comprising of the BNP, the LEL and the anti-immigrant Racial Preservation Society. John Tyndall’s Greater Britain Movement (GBM) would shortly follow. The NF was thus founded upon factionalism, comprising of tendencies ranging from anti-immigrant conservatism to neo-Nazism. The party was very quickly buoyed by the fiery anti-immigrant rhetoric of Enoch Powell’s 1968 ‘Rivers of blood’ speech. Furthermore, Edward Heath’s admittance of the Ugandan Asians in 1972 saw their support rise significantly. While they were able to achieve – relatively speaking – the far right’s highest ever levels of electoral support and gain significant national attention, the party was prone to infighting and never able to turn this into tangible success. Following failure in the 1979 General Election, the party suffered a major split and never recovered, despite still existing today. The NF were the first far right party to be founded in era which was, in effect, a post-imperial Britain. Following Harold Macmillan’s ‘Winds of change’ speech to the South African Parliament in 1960, where he accepted the inevitability of decolonisation and the futility of opposing it, British colonial retreat sped up, particularly in Africa. Kenya achieved independence in 1963 with Jomo Kenyatta as its first President, less than a year after he was released from prison on trumped-up charges for stoking rebellion in the colony previously. One colony still nominally controlled by Britain which stood against the tide was the whitedominated Rhodesia. While their rejection of African majority rule was lionised by the far right at the time and convinced them that total retreat from the racist values of Empire could be reversed, it can be seen in hindsight as a unique example and mere delay of the inevitable. Furthermore, Britain’s shift towards European integration during the 1960s – while a divisive issue on both left and right – demonstrated an attempted economic realignment away from the Commonwealth towards its neighbours.135

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Michael Billig’s social-psychological study of the party from 1978 argues that the National Front was effectively Nazi in nature and intent, and while its outward rhetoric claimed to be within the British democratic tradition, it masked an authoritarian core.136 This is to some extent accurate, and the National Front did reflect a coalition of Nazis, fascists and racial populists, yet Billig overemphasises the significance and influence of Nazism within the leadership of the NF, which did not wield the power it claimed. Yet, it would be John Tyndall who would emerge as the leading figure on the far right for over three decades, spanning a number of organisations and parties – most notably the NF. Initially joining the LEL in his early twenties, Tyndall quickly developed a reputation as an extreme racist and neo-Nazi – heavily influenced by both Chesterton and the Arnold Leese-inspired section of the far right. While his activism during the 1960s often bordered on the absurd in terms of his mimicry of Hitler-style national socialism, he nevertheless proved capable of changing his style to suit different audiences, and became a key ideologue and tireless campaigner who would receive national attention. Tyndall was at the helm of the far right during its most successful period since the 1930s, perhaps ever, during the 1970s. Importantly for this study, Tyndall was the last major figure on the twentieth-century far right to advocate for Britain’s imperial renewal. Writing in his 1988 memoirs, Tyndall lamented that ‘the British Empire in which our grandfathers grew up is now no more’.137 He was, as during a relatively more successful period previously as leader of the NF, incensed by the unseen forces of conspiracy which had brought about its destruction, which represented nothing less than ‘the greatest catastrophe in British history’. 138Acknowledging that, by the 1960s, the Empire was all but gone, Tyndall placed the blame fully on the shoulders of the British government’s capitulation to the plot against the country and the ‘total collapse of political will by those officiating at its centre: a total collapse which had no precedent in the long history of the rise and fall of great states’.139 Yet, he remained optimistic that Britain’s imperial destiny was not at an end. His call for a politically and unified Commonwealth – a cornerstone of far right imperial ideology since the 1920s – was not a hopeless dream, but the supreme mission, of our generation: to sound across the oceans and the airwaves the clarion call of racial kinship, bringing together the scattered elements of our wandering tribes in a mighty movement of regeneration through which we may combine as one to develop the great heritage handed down to us by our seafaring ancestors.140 The lack of realism in Tyndall’s pronouncement was as unrealistic in 1988 as it was in the early 1960s when his political career on the far right began to take shape. The rejuvenation of Britain’s imperial spirit was a major theme of Tyndall’s proposed resumption of British global power throughout his career until his death in 2005.

52 The far right and the British Empire

Shortly after he founded the newspaper Spearhead, the official organ of his Greater Britain Movement (1964–1967) and then the NF, Tyndall argued, much like Chesterton, that Britain could not survive in the bipolar world system alone: ‘In a world of giant blocs, small island Britain has no future on her own. She can only survive as part of a larger bloc’, which he would find in a revitalised Commonwealth.141 Confronted by Britain’s ongoing application to join the European Community, Tyndall continually framed a united Commonwealth as an alternative to the European Community. Tyndall’s rejection of the EC laid bare his desire for a racially homogeneous British state in a manner similar to Hitler’s German Reich. Accordingly, he argued that the EC ‘lacks racial unity. It lacks raw materials. It lacks living space. In it we would cease to be a nation, but would become just a state.’142 The racial solidarity felt by Tyndall towards the old Dominions was therefore key to his vision and provided the main logic and impetus for a unified Commonwealth system. ‘As Russia is a union; as America is a union; we must be. And there is only one real basis for union – that of RACE. This means for us of course the White, predominantly British, race.’143 Grandly, and fantastically, Tyndall claimed that imperial union could build nothing less than ‘the most powerful civilisation in the history of man’.144 Inconvenient facts – such as the significant outnumbering of whites by Africans in South Africa and Rhodesia, let alone the presence of aboriginal Australians or Maori peoples in New Zealand (among many other minorities across the Empire generally) – were excluded from this utopian vision of a racially pure Commonwealth. Tyndall did express a desire to present his policy as both realistic and fraught with potential difficulties – doubts often absent from far right imperial designs as expressed in propaganda. He argued that the UK could not return to a dictatorial role within the Commonwealth and that the term ‘Greater Britain’ did not simply mean ‘a reconstruction of the old imperium based on a hegemony of the UK, but an equal partnership co-ordinated by a federal body with powers in certain limited fields’.145 Tyndall accepted that most former territories wanted only purely symbolic ties with Britain and did not wish for any kind of ‘reconquest’. Yet, this was not due to any sincere acceptance of the self-determination of former colonies forced to wrest power away from Britain. Rather, he only sought to unify Britain with white-led colonies: ‘In short, our proposal is: scrap the Coloured Commonwealth; unite the White Commonwealth.’146 He was even prepared to accept that this would be difficult, given the growth of national identity and independence of white dominions such as Australia, New Zealand and Canada as well as the hostility towards Britain felt by Rhodesia and South Africa following their ostracism by British governments due to internal racial policies. Yet, Tyndall argued, referring to Britain’s ongoing EC application: If the task took as long as fifty years, which of course it would not, it would still be an easier thing to accomplish than that of lumping together in one state three-hundred million peoples of the extraordinary diversity of race and language that exists in Europe.147

The far right and the British Empire 53

Around the time of the foundation of the NF, Tyndall recognised he needed to (at least appear) to make a decisive break with the past and aimed to demonstrate a newly-held moderation in his pamphlet Six Principles of British Nationalism. The short document has been described as ‘suitably patriotic and rational’ in contrast to previous writings by Richard Thurlow, and was warmly received by Chesterton, enabling his entry into the NF.148 In Six Principles, the unification of the Commonwealth is a key theme and laid out in more detail than previously. He reasserted his belief that in ‘the boundless lands of Empire and Commonwealth lie all the ingredients of modern power, wanting only for a determined national policy aiming at their full coordination and development in the service of the British future’.149 Setting out a practical plan of how this could be achieved, Tyndall reiterated his belief that Britain must treat former dominions ‘not as subordinate colonies but as free and equal partners, with firmly established traditions of sovereignty in the handling of their own affairs’. He argued that the eventual aim should be a central coordinating body chosen from the main Commonwealth lands. This could be operated on a mobile basis siting alternatively in the various countries represented, or it could function from a newly appointed Commonwealth federal capital, preferably situated outside Britain.150 This, he argued, would have been impossible in the past (the BF advocated a similar policy in the 1920s) but due to advances in telecommunications and transport, was now realistic. At the head of the Commonwealth would be a ‘ruling Commonwealth council’ which would be ‘responsible for the formulation of policy in major fields such as foreign relations, economic development, trade, defence, scientific and industrial research and migration’. Unusually for Tyndall, he even advocated that its powers not be absolute and ‘limited by the right of selfgoverning members to accept or reject its policies’.151 Who would be part of Tyndall’s new Commonwealth bloc? It would be divided largely on racial lines and limited to places where ‘people of British stock are in control’ (Tyndall included Canada despite the powerful French minority): the UK, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa and Rhodesia. These countries alone, Tyndall argued, would have comparable populations to the Soviet Union and the United States, similar land mass and resources. In terms of what Tyndall referred to as the ‘Coloured Commonwealth’, they would not be included: ‘there can be no question of South Africa or Rhodesia, or for that matter Britain, adjusting racial policies to suit them’, nor, he argued, should white-ruled countries subsidise their own weak and backward economies: ‘Coloured states that demand recognition of their freedom must be free in effect as well as name.’152 The consolidation of white-British populations in the Commonwealth would be achieved through ‘a massive programme of migration under’ where ‘millions would be resettled from crowded Britain into the great spaces of the Dominions, thus establishing better and healthier living conditions, free from congestion and excessive

54 The far right and the British Empire

urbanism’.153 This fantasy would soon become official NF policy, as Tyndall became Chairman in 1972. The NF blamed Britain’s demise as an imperial power succinctly on: The result of two calamitous World Wars, the growth to political consciousness of many colonised peoples, the subversive influence of International Finance and International Communism, and the poor – not to say treasonable – qualities of Britain’s political leadership for some decades past.154 Rejecting the notion that Britain was forced into a significantly lesser global role by its own relative decline in power, one article is indicative of the conspiratorial origins of far right understandings of imperial decline. Decline was never inevitable, least of all was it the work of providence; it has been contrived by her enemies. Nor is it merely a sentimental loss; it is a catastrophe of the first magnitude that jeopardises our freedom, our standard of life, our entire existence as a people.155 The NF pointed the finger at the party from which they aimed to gain most voters – the Conservatives. Seeking to use Empire as an issue to divide the Conservative Party, a strategy employed by the LEL which had achieved limited success even during periods of more intense imperial crisis, the NF claimed that the Tories were not genuine imperial patriots and were, in fact, responsible for imperial collapse. Tyndall poured particular scorn on Winston Churchill as the man who draped himself in the imperial flag, but was allegedly responsible for the Empire’s collapse due to his reckless warmongering. It is likely that Churchill’s greatest crime in the eyes of Tyndall was taking on his own political idol: Adolf Hitler. One letter to Spearhead suggests that some readers agreed that Churchill was responsible more than anyone else for Britain’s imperial demise. One, entitled ‘Churchill – The Jews’ Bricklayer’, mirrored Tyndall’s stance, summarising that ‘Britain, warped by Alien influence, driven out by short sightedness hypocrisy and folly, fought on the wrong side and in victory secured for herself decades of defeat, financial and moral bankruptcy.’156 Accordingly, the NF advocated effectively the same policy as Tyndall had laid down in Six Principles in 1967: the re-construction of Britain’s imperial ties ‘not with guns and warships, but by political vision’.157 The most significant element remained severing ties with non-white Commonwealth countries and building a federal Commonwealth unit made up of white-controlled former Dominions: Australia, New Zealand, Canada, South Africa and (although not a former dominion) Rhodesia. ‘Such a union would represent’, according to Tyndall, ‘a world force of invincible proportions – THE GREATER BRITAIN’.158 While similar in intent to Chesterton’s vision of imperial unity while at the helm of the LEL, Tyndall went much further to accept that Britain’s days of domination over

The far right and the British Empire 55

its imperial allies was over: ‘Greater Britain’, he argued, described merely a ‘racial and cultural community’. He emphasised that Britain ‘could not, if she wished, dominate the other countries of the British World. We seek a partnership of equals, conferring and acting together in major fields of politics.’159 Tyndall also spelled out the economic dimension of his vision of Greater Britain in a 1975 pamphlet The Case for Economic Nationalism. In this, policies of protectionism as part of a self-contained imperial economic unit as an alternative to global free trade were advocated in a similar vein to Oswald Mosley in the 1930s. Tyndall argued that Britain should restrict imports, particularly of food, and argued that ‘industry should be organised to cater predominantly for the home market – with export trade an agreeable bonus rather than the sole means of survival’.160 Writing in the aftermath of Britain’s accession to the European Community, Tyndall appeared to be influenced by the successful structure of the EC, which had demonstrated that a large trading bloc could work. He argued that the NF would ‘seek, in effect, something very similar to the Common Market structure now being sought with Europe, that is to say a market with the minimum tariff barriers between its members but with tariff barriers against goods from outside’.161 Yet, Commonwealth protectionism was advocated as a future-orientated rather than nostalgic policy, arguing that in 50 years’ time, the nations of the Old Commonwealth will be three, four or more times their present size and indeed Australia and Canada, with their vast territories and resources, can expand almost indefinitely. On the other hand, it is clear that most of the European nations are near to the limit of their size and development.162 Acknowledging Britain’s decline as an industrial power and the difficulties it was facing in terms of international competitiveness during the 1970s, another benefit of a Commonwealth bloc was Britain’s potential partners’ relative weakness in terms of industrial development., which Britain could exploit. Effectively admitting that Europe’s dynamic manufacturing economies posed a risk to UK manufacturing as part of the EC, he argued that a Commonwealth trading bloc would mean ‘British industry would be able to operate in this size of market without the corresponding inroads by other manufacturers into the U.K. market that would result from our entering Europe’.163 The NF’s acknowledgement of the weakness of Britain’s global position and inability to regain an imperial role remotely similar to the British Empire of the past demonstrates a rare acceptance of political reality. While an economically united Empire and pro-imperial sentiment would remain part of far right rhetoric after the National Front split in 1980, ultimately, it would be Euroscepticism which would overtake pro-Empire discussion thereafter. Trading with the Commonwealth as an alternative to European Union membership would continue to be a mainstay of far right policy until the modern day.

56 The far right and the British Empire

Notes 1 A. Balfour, quoted in L. James, The Rise and Fall of the British Empire (London: Abacus, 1994), p. 371. 2 T. Linehan, British Fascism, 1918–1939: Parties, Ideology and Culture (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2000), p. 50. 3 ‘“The British Guardian”’, The Hidden Hand, April 1924, n.p. 4 ‘A Voice for England at Last’, Jewry Ueber Alles, February 1920, p. 1. 5 ‘Pride of Race’, The British Guardian, May 1924, p. 70. 6 Ibid. 7 D. Stone, Breeding Superman: Nietzsche, Race and Eugenics in Interwar Britain (Liverpool: Liverpol University Press, 2002), p. 7. 8 N. Toczek, Haters, Baiters and Would-Be Dictators: Anti-Semitism and the UK Far Right (Abingdon; Routledge, 2016), p. 79. 9 ‘Maintaining British Stock’, January –The British Guardian, February 1925, p. 1. 10 Ibid. 11 For a discussion of the tradition of eugenics in Britain, see D. Stone, Breeding Superman: Nietzsche, Race and Eugenics in Edwardian and Interwar Britain (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2002). 12 ‘Mrs. Webster’s Book’, The Hidden Hand, September 1924, p. 128. 13 R. Thurlow, Fascism in Britain: From Oswald Mosley’s Blackshirts to the National Front (London: I.B. Tauris, 1987), p. 38. 14 Also see K. Wilson, ‘“Hail and Farewell?”: The reception in the British press of the first publication of the Protocols of Zion in English, 1920–1922’, Immigrants and Minorities 11:2 (1992), pp. 171–186; and ‘The Protocols of Zion and The Morning Post, 1919–1920’, Patterns of Prejudice 19:3 (1985), pp. 5–14. 15 N. Webster, World Revolution: The Plot Against Civilisation (London: Constable & Co., 1921), p. 161. 16 Ibid. 17 M. Lee, ‘Nesta Webster: The Voice of Conspiracy’, Journal of Women’s History 17:3 (2005), p. 81. 18 N. Webster, Secret Societies and Subversive Movements (London: Boswell Publishing Co., 1924), p. 7. 19 Ibid., p. 8. 20 Ibid., pp. 391–392. 21 Paul Stocker, ‘Importing Fascism: Reappraising the British Fascisti, 1923–1926’, Contemporary British History 30:3 (2016), pp. 326–348. 22 R. E. N. Braden, ‘Fascists as Empire Builders’, The British Lion, January 1928, p. 12. 23 E. Gentile, Politics as Religion (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2006), p. xiv. 24 Ibid. 25 ‘The League of Empire Housewives’, The British Lion, January 1928, p. 2. 26 ‘British Fascists Appeal’, The Fascist Bulletin, 19 December 1925, p. 4. 27 ‘Fascism and Empire’, The Fascist Bulletin, 12 December 1925, p. 2. 28 ‘British Fascists Appeal’, The Fascist Bulletin, p. 4. 29 S. C. Warner, ‘Communism in Australia’, The British Lion, February 1928, p. 15. 30 ‘Communists Instigate a Colour War’, The Fascist Bulletin, 20 June 1925, p. 3. 31 Ibid. 32 R. H. G., ‘Anti-British Coloured Students in London’, The Fascist Bulletin, 18 July 1925, p. 2. 33 Ibid. 34 R. M. S., ‘The Danger to Our Colonies in the Red Menace’, The Fascist Bulletin, 29 August 1925, p. 3. 35 F. H. Mayers, ‘An Imperial Second Chamber’, The British Lion, 7 January 1927, p. 4. 36 ‘The Case for Emigration’, The British Lion, March 1928, p. 10; This article was compiled from a speech by C. Kirby.

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37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56

57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72

‘Policy and Practice’, The British Lion, June 1926, pp. 6–7. Ibid. ‘Donation from South Africa’, The British Lion, March 1928, p. 11. ‘British Fascisti’, The Daily News, 3 October 1925, p. 2. ‘Manifesto of the Praetorian League of Canada’, The British Lion, April 1928, p. 9. ‘Letter from Fascists in Australia’, The Fascist Bulletin, 12 September 1925, n.p. British Fascists: Organising in Australia’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 4 November 1925, p. 15. Ibid. Thurlow, Fascism in Britain, p. 47. Signifying a transition from Italian Fascist to Nazi doctrine, the IFL changed their emblem from a fasces to a swastika in 1933. Linehan, British Fascism, p.76. M. Mazower, Hitler’s Empire: Nazi Rule in Occupied Europe (London: Penguin, 2008), p. 586. ‘The Road Back: Politicians Prattle while the Empire Crumbles’, The Fascist, October 1931, p. 1. ‘“The Patriot”’, The Fascist, June 1930, p. 2. Ibid. ‘The Road Back’, p. 1. ‘This Palestine Business’, The Fascist, December–January 1930, p. 2. ‘The League of Nations Union’, The Fascist, June 1929, p. 4. ‘The Surrender of an Empire’, The Fascist, May 1931, p. 2. A. Leese, ‘An Open Letter to His Grace the Duke of Northumberland’, The Fascist, October 1929, p. 1; The BUF and Oswald Mosley were also attacked by the IFL as not being not fully imperialist. Leese saw Mosley as an opportunist who did not understand fascist ideology. Moreover, the IFL also claimed that the BUF was not properly anti-Jewish, as they were allegedly funded by Jews – Leese referred to the BUF as ‘The British Jewnion of Fascists’ or ‘Kosher Fascists’ – a quite absurd allegation. See G. Lebzelter, Political Antisemitism in England, 1918–1939 (London: Macmillan, 1978) p. 75. C. Pownall, ‘The Immigration Restriction Bill of South Africa’, The Fascist, February 1932, p. 3. A. Leese, ‘The South African Anti-Jewish Situation’, The Fascist, September 1935, p. 3. ‘The South African National Socialists’, The Fascist, February 1934, p. 2; It was also claimed that The Fascist was a popular publication among white settler fascists in South Africa and the Rhodesias. Leese, ‘The South African Anti-Jewish Situation’. S. Payne, A History of Fascism, 1914–1945 (Madison, WI, University of Wisconsin Press, 1995), p. 305. R. Skidelsky, Oswald Mosley (London: Macmillan, 1981), p. 48. R. Toye, The Labour Party and the Planned Economy, 1931–1951 (Suffolk: Boydell and Brewer, 2003), pp. 37–38. House of Commons Debate, Hansard, 16 July 1930, vol. 241, c1348. Ibid. O. Mosley, The Greater Britain (London: B.U.F. Publications, 1932), pp. 55–62. Ibid., pp. 62–67. Ibid., p. 134. ‘The New Empire Union’, The Blackshirt, 8–14 July 1933, p. 3. H. Gibbs, ‘The Empire Was Not Built by Men in Arm-Chairs’, The Blackshirt, 21 December 1934, p. 4. ‘The New Empire Union’, The Blackshirt, 8–14 July 1933, p. 1. ‘Empire Fascists: British Union in New Federation’, 14 The Mercury, August 1933, p. 3.

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73 For example, see A. Moore, ‘Discredited Fascism: The New Guard after 1932’, Australian Journal of Politics and History, 57:2 (2011), pp. 188–206. 74 M. Cunningham, ‘Australian Fascism? A Revisionist Analysis of the Ideology of the New Guard’, Politics, Religion and Ideology 13:3 (2012), pp. 375–393. 75 New Guard President D. J. Walker stated: ‘This council remains possessed of the gravest doubts whether the B.U.F., with its high-sounding catch-phrases, is anything more than a camouflage for the insidious establishment of a regime of the type to which this organisation is diametrically opposed’; ‘New Guard: Liaisons with British Fascists Cancelled’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 3 May 1934, p. 4. Another New Guard Member was less diplomatic: ‘we are not going to tolerate Hitlerism or any German junkerism. We’ve fought that kind of thing before— and we’ll do it again’; ‘New Guard Outfit: Row in the Camp’, The Australian Worker, 22 November 1933, p. 14. 76 ‘Col. Campbell in London: Addresses British Fascists’, The Central Queensland Herald, 13 April 1933, p. 46. 77 O. Mosley, Fascism: 100 Questions Asked and Answered (London: B.U.F. Publications, 1936), q. 57. 78 L. T. Weichardt, ‘National Socialism in South Africa’, The Fascist Quarterly, October 1936, p. 565. 79 Ibid., p. 566. 80 Ibid., p. 567. 81 R. Hyam, Britain’s Declining Empire: The Road to Decolonisation, 1918–1968 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), p. 172. 82 W. Joyce, ‘Britain’s Empire Shall Live’, The Fascist Quarterly, January 1935, p. 91. 83 Ibid., p. 97. 84 Ibid., p. 91. 85 Ibid., p. 92. 86 Ibid., p. 105. 87 A. K. Chesterton, ‘The Best of His Spirit Shall Live’, The Blackshirt, 24 January 1936, p. 3. 88 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Empire Day Tragedy’, Action, 21 May 1936, p. 6. 89 E. D. Hart, ‘Men Who Built the British Empire’, Action, 15 May 1937, p. 8. 90 Ibid., pp. 8–9. 91 T. Linehan, ‘The British Union of Fascists as a Totalitarian Movement and Political Religion’, Totalitarian Movements and Political Religions 5:3 (2004), p. 409. 92 ‘Europe or Empire’, Union, 16 October 1948, p. 2. 93 G. Macklin, Very Deeply Dyed in Black: Sir Oswald Mosley and the Resurrection of British Fascism after 1945 (London: I.B. Tauris, 2007), p. 49. 94 ‘Empire Lost’, Union, 6 November 1948, p. 3. 95 Ibid. 96 O. Mosley, ‘Think, Plan, Act as an EMPIRE’, Union, 13 March 1948, p. 2. 97 ‘Europe or Empire’. 98 Ibid. 99 ‘Empire Day Forgotten by Old Gang’, Union, 27 May 1950, p. 1. 100 ‘Europe or Empire’. 101 ‘Union Alone Celebrates Empire Day’, Union, 3 June 1950, p. 4; The first British Empire was alleged to have finished in 1776 following the loss of the American colonies, the second was marked by Indian independence in 1948. 102 ‘Empire Day Rally’, Union, 29 May 1948, p. 4. 103 M. W. Kirby, The Decline of British Economic Power since 1870 (London: Allen and Unwin, 1981), pp. 132–133. 104 O. Mosley, The Alternative (Ramsbury: Mosley Publications, 1947), pp. 162–163. 105 Ibid., p.164. 106 Mosley, ‘Think, Plan, Act as an EMPIRE’, p. 2. 107 ‘Union Alone Celebrates Empire Day’, Union, p. 4.

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108 A. Raven Thomson, ‘Estate of the European’, Union, 20 August 1949, p. 2. 109 D. Baker, Ideology of Obsession: A. K. Chesterton and British Fascism (London: Taurus Academic Studies, 1996), p. 198. 110 Graham Macklin argues that the experience of internment, if anything, led to fascist internees becoming more resolute in their belief in the ‘fascist struggle’; G. Macklin, ‘“Hail Mosley and F’ Em All”: Martyrdom, Transcendence and the “Myth” of Internment’, Totalitarian Movements and Political Religions 7:1 (2006), pp. 1–23. 111 ‘Empire Loyalists’, Candour, 30 April 1954, p. 4. 112 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Laying the Fascist Ghost’, Candour, 26 November 1954, pp. 6–7. 113 Ibid. 114 ‘Empire Loyalists’, Candour. 115 De Bounvialle was most likely referring to possibly Chesterton’s most visceral denunciation of Jews in ‘The Apotheosis of a Jew’, British Union Quarterly, April–June 1937, pp. 45–54. 116 A. K. Chesterton Collection, Bath University A.16; transcript of interview with Rosine de Bounvialle conducted by David Baker, c.1978. 117 League of Empire Loyalists pamphlet, n.d. 118 Ibid. 119 R. Eatwell, Fascism: A History (London: Vintage, 2003), p. 334. 120 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Letter from A. K. Chesterton’, Candour, 9 January 1959, p. 3. 121 N. Copsey, Contemporary British Fascism: The British National Party and the Quest for Legitimacy (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan: 2008), p. 8. 122 G. Macklin, ‘Transatlantic Connections and Conspiracies: A.K. Chesterton and The New Unhappy Lords’, Journal of Contemporary History 47:2 (2012), pp. 270–290, p. 273. 123 Chesterton, ‘Letter from A. K. Chesterton’, p. 3. 124 Ibid. 125 A. K. Chesterton, Stand by the Empire (London: League of Empire Loyalists, 2004), p. 21. 126 Ibid., p. 22. 127 Ibid., p. 21. 128 A. Mackay, ‘Empire Trade Demands an Empire’, Candour, 17 December 1954, p. 7. 129 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Cavalcade Towards the Abyss’, Candour, 25 June 1954, p. 2. 130 W. Churchill, ‘The End of the Beginning’, speech at the Lord Mayor’s Luncheon, Mansion House, 10 November 1942. Available at: www.churchill-society-london.org. uk/EndoBegn.html. 131 Chesteron, ‘Cavalcade Towards the Abyss’. 132 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Imperialist in Reverse’, Candour, 2 July 1954, p. 2. 133 B. Domvile, From Admiral to Cabin Boy (London: Hutchinson, 1947), p. 94. 134 A. K. Chesterton Collection, Bath University Archive; A.11; Transcript of interview with John Tyndall conducted by David Baker, 4 April 1978. 135 Baker, Ideology of Obsession, p.198. 136 M. Billig, Fascists: A Social Psychological Survey of the National Front (London: Harcourt Brace, 1978). 137 J. Tyndall, The Eleventh Hour: A Call for British Rebirth (London: Albion Press, 1988), p. 457. 138 Ibid., p. 459. 139 Ibid., p. 457. 140 Ibid., p. 499. 141 J. Tyndall, ‘The Commonwealth – a Time for Realism and Action’, Spearhead, April 1965, p. 2. 142 Ibid. 143 Ibid. 144 Ibid. 145 J. Tyndall, ‘Alternative to the Commonwealth’, Spearhead, June 1967, p. 4. 146 Ibid. 147 Ibid.

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148 Thurlow, Fascism in Britain, p. 249. 149 J. Tyndall, Six Principles of British Nationalism (London: The Nationalist Centre, 2012), p. 16. 150 Ibid. 151 Ibid., pp. 16–17. 152 Ibid., p. 17. 153 Ibid., p. 18. 154 M. Webster, ‘The Spirit of Nationalism’, Spearhead, July 1971, p. 8. 155 ‘Why We Must Again Be a Great Power’, Spearhead - Special Issue, January–February 1972, p. 13. 156 ‘Churchill – The Jews’ Bricklayer’, Spearhead, March 1965, p. 7. 157 ‘Greater Britain’, Spearhead, October 1969, p. 8. 158 Ibid. 159 ‘Union of Free Partners’, Spearhead, October 1969, p. 8. 160 J. Tyndall, The Case for Economic Nationalism (London: A.K. Chesterton Trust, 1975), p. 6. 161 Ibid., p. 12. 162 Ibid., p. 11. 163 Ibid., p. 12.

2 IRELAND

Irish independence in 1921 reflected the end of Britain’s imperial mission in the majority of Ireland.1 The event can be reasonably described as a moment when the myth of a British Empire upon which the sun would never set was shown to be demonstrably fraudulent. For the Empire’s strongest proponents, self-government for Ireland would represent a moment of profound trauma. Chief of the Imperial General Staff and Tory Diehard, Henry Wilson saw Ireland as the beginning of the end for the British Empire upon hearing of Lloyd George’s decision to invite representatives of Sinn Fein for peace talks: ‘It really is all over … Ireland is gone, to be followed by Egypt and India. And then the U.S.A will take over the salt water, and our Empire is gone.’2 Irish independence, however, was not just the bitter end of a long squabble between the British and Irish, it represented for many the growing trend of subversion which was spreading like a virus around the world. The far right under examination throughout this study were born out of the instability which the Anglo-Irish War and subsequent Irish independence seemed to represent. The Irish question reflected a problematic issue to navigate for the far right during the twentieth century. Throughout the period, there was a conviction that the Irish Free State and subsequent Republic was hostile to Britain and being used as a base by global elites – Marxists and Jews – to undermine Ulster and Britain. Yet, calls to reconquer Ireland were rare, suggesting that while Irish independence from Britain was a tragedy, it was accepted and its reversal was not seen as realistic. Mosley and the British Union of Fascists (BUF) reflected a major divergence within the far right due to their ambiguous stance on Ulster’s status and friendly attitude to Irish Catholics, whose support they sought to garner in Britain. The Union Movement’s embrace of a united Ireland – anathema to much of the far right – similarly demonstrates that there was no single uniform stance on the Irish question. For groups who took a hard-line approach to sectarian conflict in

62 Ireland

Northern Ireland, such as the British Fascisti (BF) and the National Front (NF), the Protestant community were lionised as model British patriots. Yet, sectarian conflict between two white groups reflected an awkward narrative within far right ideology, which aimed to unify the ‘white race’ which was under siege from alleged racial degenerates. Therefore, tension between Catholics and Protestants was continually highlighted as proof of a global conspiracy seeking to stoke division and unrest in Britain. In sum, despite the far right being initially traumatised by the independence of Ireland as the first nail in the coffin of the British Empire, the Irish question would follow several trajectories until the Troubles rallied support behind Ulster loyalists.

The Irish conspiracy The constitutional status of Ireland, ‘Britain’s oldest colony’ was subject to febrile political debate from the second half of the nineteenth century as demands for home rule grew exponentially. Nationalist mobilisation would bear little fruit until a crucial turning point - Liberal Prime Minister William Gladstone’s dramatic conversion to Irish home rule in the winter of 1885.3 Two Home Rule Bills would fail in 1886 and 1893, before a third, introduced in 1912, marked the beginning of extreme turmoil in Ireland that would not settle for over a decade. While nationalists envisaged home rule for the whole of Ireland, chief among the disagreements within Ireland and Britain was the future of Protestant-dominated Ulster. Following the Home Rule Bill, introduced in 1912, Ulster leaders and their Conservative allies made their feelings explicit via the Ulster Covenant which pledged to resist home rule at any cost. The third Home Rule Bill would pass in 1914, but was immediately suspended due to the outbreak of war on the continent. The Irish question would explode following the 1916 Easter Rising – a botched attempt by Republicans to seize control by force, declaring ‘the right of the people of Ireland to the ownership of Ireland, and to the unfettered control of Irish destinies, to be sovereign and indefeasible’.4 The rebellion lasted approximately one week, before it was crushed by the British Army. Despite the failure of the rising, the British government’s brutal and disproportionate suppression of its ringleaders (15 leaders executed and thousands interned), support for Irish republicanism grew significantly.5 Following a Sinn Fein landslide in the first postwar General Election in December 1918, the Easter Rising declaration was reinstated and the Dail Eireann (Assembly of Ireland) was established in Dublin illegally. When two Royal Irish Constabulary (RIC) officers in County Tipperary were killed on the same day – war between Irish Republicans and the British was triggered.6 The British Cabinet, far from seeing the crisis in Ireland as a local development, feared that it could lead to widespread insurrection across the Empire, and responded fiercely.7 British Prime Minister David Lloyd George sought to quell Irish Republican Army (IRA) military activity through the RIC and military support. The RIC was supplemented by demobilised First World War veterans who were employed in their thousands. These auxiliary forces were to become

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infamous as the notoriously brutal ‘Black and Tans’, referring to their peculiar khaki uniforms. Despite bitter fighting, the conflict reached a stalemate by the Spring of 1921, leading the British government to controversially invite the leadership of the Irish nationalists to London to negotiate. Eventually reaching an agreement, a truce was enshrined in the 1921 Anglo-Irish Treaty, marking the end of military conflict between Britain and Ireland. Ireland would finally achieve effective independence as a dominion within the British Empire, equal to the status of Australia or Canada. A key component of the treaty revolved around the status of Ulster, which was afforded an ‘opt-out’ from the Irish Free State, which it duly exercised.8 The treaty did not satisfy hard-line republicans in Southern Ireland, including Sinn Fein leader Eamon de Valera, who rejected continuing attachment to the Crown. A civil war between pro-treaty forces led by Michael Collins (who was assassinated in August 1922) and anti-treaty fighters would ensue in June 1922, lasting until May 1923. Pro-treaty forces would ultimately be victorious, but uncertainty remained over the future of the country, chiefly the boundary between the new Irish Free State (Saorstát) and the loyalist six counties of Ulster. The Boundary Commission promised and enshrined in the Anglo-Irish Treaty would disappoint many Irish Republicans, who expected land from Northern Ireland with large nationalist majorities, but the border remained as it was.9 The future of Ireland would be far from settled, least of all the Irish Free State’s constitutional arrangement with the United Kingdom as a dominion. Nevertheless, the treaty and boundary commission brought some stability to the dramatic upheavals which had occurred continually since the first Home Rule crisis in 1912. The response to dramatic events in Ireland by the British far right was nothing short of hysterical. It reflected the dismay and trauma felt by many Britons in relation to the loss of Ireland, particularly within the political establishment, in an extreme and amplified form. The single most notable aspect of far right responses to events in Ireland was that it came in the form of conspiracy theory, both antiJewish and anti-Communist. Many of the earliest far right observers of the conflict in Ireland were propagators of conspiracy theory, including Nesta Webster, The Britons and The Patriot newspaper. They looked to tap into the fear of elites and present a picture of powerlessness in the face of historical domination by elite, subversive powers. For the far right in the early 1920s, upheavals in Ireland, coupled with mass instability in Europe, was definitive proof of a creeping global Jewish conspiracy to smash the British Empire, and, with it, Western civilisation. It must be noted that the despite the far right’s outlandish claims, they were not the only ones to both fear a Bolshevik uprising in Ireland or dramatically over-exaggerate its threat. Paul MacMahon has demonstrated that British secret services were largely successful in locating revolutionary socialist activity in Ireland both during the Anglo-Irish War and during the Irish Civil War. However, intelligence offers usually over-exaggerated the danger posed by leftwing activity. As MacMahon states: ‘There was a tendency to exaggerate the role of the Soviet Union, the influence of Irish Communists and the propensity

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for Bolshevik revolt in Ireland.’10 During the Anglo-Irish War, it seemed unthinkable that the victorious forces who would form the Irish Free State would mould a relatively conservative state as opposed to a Bolshevik haven neighbouring mainland Britain. As Minister for Home Affairs in the Free State, Kevin O’Higgins put it in a 1923 Dáil Éireann speech: ‘I think that we were probably the most conservative-minded revolutionaries that ever put through a successful revolution.’11 As events unfolded during the civil war, there was only marginal support for Communism even within the republican movement, and revolutionary socialists such as Roddy Connolly were relatively obscure figures. During this period, far right figures linked their own personal experiences in pre-independence Ireland to cast doubt on the legitimacy of Irish nationalism and its new constitutional status. Nesta Webster’s belief in a world-wide conspiracy manifesting itself in Ireland was driven by her own experiences in the country. She had travelled there frequently in her youth and was convinced that the Irish ‘had no animus against the English’.12 Webster was in fact so sure of Irish contentedness, based on her own experiences, she saw conspiracy behind future Irish troubles. Exhibiting the patronising attitude held by many towards the Irish, she argued: ‘I cannot believe that these simple kindly people were ever really inflamed by the hatred of England attributed to them by their self-appointed representatives.’13 Ultimately, the fact that events did not square with her own view on Ireland compounded her sense of the influence of subversive forces seeking to stoke unrest: ‘Rebellion in Ireland has always seemed to me an engineered movement, worked from abroad as part of the great conspiracy against the British Empire.’14 It would be the conspiracy against the British Empire, and indeed all Christian civilisation driven by secret societies, which would drive Webster’s conversion from mainstream conservatism to fascism. Following the Anglo-Irish Treaty in 1921, figures in the far right anti-Communist journal The Patriot, founded and led by the 8th Duke of Northumberland, devoted significant attention to the alleged Bolshevik plot in Ireland. The civil war which followed the signing of the Anglo-Irish Treaty, it was argued, was less about disputes between pro- and anti-treaty factions, but more to do with Soviet meddling. This included what amounted to a rejection of Irish nationalism as a meaningful phenomenon in Ireland’s secession from Britain: There might be some hope for Ireland if the movement for independence was a bona fide National or Patriotic movement, confined to the shores of Ireland. But it is nothing of the sort. Those who control the illegal armed forces in the country are the direct and paid agents of those dark and sinister powers which during the war with Germany, and ever since the war, have been waging a secret campaign against British civilisation in general and the British Empire in particular.15 The Patriot continually made parallels with events in Russia in October 1917. A passage in one article encapsulates the fear within far right circles that Ireland was turning red:

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Here, then, is the great scheme of the International revolutionaries who desire the downfall of Great Britain. They have assisted the Irish Rebellion, professing national and patriotic ideals, merely for the purpose of compelling the British Government to evacuate; they have assisted in the setting up of what may be described as a Kerinsky [sic] Government of the Roman Catholic peasants and shopkeepers of Ireland, but are now planning the final destruction of the Provisional Government, as in Russia, by Soviets recruited from the landless and the lowest dregs of the population, who will gradually compel every working-man to join them, and the proletariats will appropriate themselves the whole industrial capital – land and wealth – of the country.16 As the prospect of civil war loomed, The Patriot sought to make it less of a battle within Irish politics but a proxy war between Communism and the British Empire. Ireland, now independent from benevolent British rule, was weak and facing destruction: ‘It would seem inevitable that the fate of Russia awaits Ireland if left to herself. The Republicans can, and no doubt will, declare a Soviet Republic, and ally that Republic with Russia.’17 The Patriot continually claimed that the ultimate threat of civil war and an alleged Communist revolution in Ireland were part of a wider assault on the British Empire: ‘Lenin hopes by the establishment of Worker Soviets in Ireland to extend the Soviet system to Great Britain and the heart of the Empire.’18 While The Patriot was far less openly antisemitic than publications arising from The Britons, there was nevertheless an underlying belief (elaborated in Nesta Webster’s recently published World Revolution) that Bolshevism was financed by German Jews and dictated by New York and Moscow. This is subtle but implicit when one article argued that the Irish Communist Party, founded in 1921, was ‘financed from America and Russia by the Red International’.19 Less subtle was the allegation that gangs of Irish-Americans, and ruffians who speak a strange language with a German dialect, have been swarming into the country in the hope of plunder. Who are these people? Can it be that they are in the pay of German Jews and Internationalists?20

The Jewish peril in Ireland During the final stages of the Anglo-Irish War and as Southern Ireland descended into civil war, the ‘Irish question’ was given significant attention by The Britons, who saw Jewish treachery at the heart of Britain’s centuries-old domination of Ireland. The Britons totally rejected the legitimacy of Irish claims to self-governance, believing that the ‘Jew Messiah of Socialism and Bolshevism’,21 Karl Marx, had instigated the Irish into revolution by proclaiming it the ideal place from which to destroy the British Empire. Subsequently, the Elders of Zion had ‘kept the Bolshevik fires burning in Irish hearts, the bulk of their dupes believing they were serving their distressful country when they were only serving Jewry’.22 The

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first sign of the destruction of the British Empire for prominent Britons writer Arthur Lane,23 was the ‘Irish revolution’ between 1919–1921, which was ‘aided and abetted by the Socialists and Communists of Britain’.24 Lane alleged that Marx had laid down his plan for a Communist revolution in Britain at the First International in 1870, stating the important role Ireland was to play: ‘The point to strike at first is Ireland, and in Ireland they are ready to begin their work.’25 The dominant theme in The Britons’ publications relating to the Irish question was the overarching Judaeo-Bolshevik conspiracy which was seeking the destruction of the British Empire. Given that the 1917 Revolution in Russia was still fresh in the minds of many, particularly elites, parallels were drawn between the two events: ‘The connection of the Jew with Sinn Fein is becoming daily more evident. Soviets are starting all over Ireland, to be run first by the Irish and later by the Jew, as in Russia.’26 Ireland was described as ‘the Western Front of Bolshevism’ and the Irish War of Independence as a Jewish attempt to smash the British Empire, and a battle for world dominance: If Sinn Fein wins, the Jew will conquer not only the British Empire, but also France and the United States, and then the rest of the world. On the other hand, if Britain defeats Sinn Fein as decisively as the Northern States defeated the Southern Confederacy in 1865, the world is saved from the Jew.27 Much of the output from the Britons differs from other far right organs in terms of its defeatism in terms of trying to prevent Judaeo-Bolshevik control over Ireland. At one point, before the Anglo-Irish War was even finished, they claimed that Ireland was already under direct Soviet and Jewish control: Ireland to-day is divided into eight districts, each ruled by a Soviet Commissar responsible to Lenin. Great Britain is divided into three more. These eleven Commissars elect four more, and the fifteen are running the whole Revolutionary movement in the British isles. The Collins gang act as a terrorist bodyguard. The present day relations between this controlling element and the Maynooth Jesuit crowd are a little difficult to make out. Apparently the bulk of the Irish priests, shocked by the anti-Christian attitude of the Jew element, the desecration of churches, etc., would like to be out of Sinn Fein, but they are, however, afraid.28 The Irish question was the topic of several speeches and debates at The Britons’ meetings. At a gathering at Caxton Hall, Westminster, speaker H. F. Wyatt sought to demonstrate that Ireland was a small, but hugely significant aspect of the global Judaeo-Bolshevik conspiracy and evidence of the British government’s and other ‘Gentile fronts’ complicity in it. Ireland ‘clearly showed that our Jew-led Government had, by its Judas-treasons accomplished all the evils that our enemies set out to wreck upon our Empire – in India, in Egypt, in Ireland and at home.’29 Wyatt went on to bellow that ‘Messrs. Lenin and Trotsky’ had ‘instituted a reign of

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murder throughout Ireland’ and that he could not ‘recall any instance or parallel in the whole of English history which is equal to the attitude of Mr. Lloyd George towards De Valera’.30 Another meeting of The Britons rejected the idea that the Irish had any legitimate grievances towards the English, and believed that Jews were responsible for the stoking up of tensions which led to the conflict. It was agreed among those present, that ‘there was no quarrel between England and Ireland and once the Jew element was excluded, there would be no quarrel between North and South’.31 The Britons held a distinctly racialised ideology which was biologically deterministic and claimed to be ‘scientific’. Anti-Irish prejudice during the interwar period took on a distinctly racial tone and the Irish were now seen as a threat to the British race by many scientists and intellectuals following the establishment of the Irish Free State, when assertions of the racial incompatibility of the two peoples now served both to provide an explanation for Britain’s failure to assimilate the Irish to AngloSaxon norms, and to assuage the wounded amour-propre of the nation whose identity Ireland had so brusquely repudiated.32 This trend can also be witnessed in the House of Parliament, when Diehard Tory Lord Hugh Cecil called into question the Irish’s ability to govern themselves on racial grounds: You will never solve it [the Irish Question] by re-adjusting the political machinery, by making it an Irish Free State, or this, or that. It is not true that all the races of the world are capable of self-government. The vast majority are quite incapable of it. It is but misplaced optimism to say that the Irish are in the minority.33. Ultimately therefore, The Britons cannot simply be dismissed as a small and isolated clique of cranks, rather, they were responding to currents already in existence within British political culture. The Britons would draw comparisons with the Jews and the Irish in terms of their racial inferiority, claiming; ‘A Jew cannot be an Englishman, an Irishman, or a Ulsterman.’34 Arthur Lane also outlines in his book, The Alien Menace, the huge threat posed by Irish immigrants, bearing similarities with criticisms of Jewish ‘aliens’, which he claims have dramatically risen since Irish independence. Lane, in a manner reminiscent of prejudice which followed large waves of Irish immigration in Victorian Britain, describes Irish immigrants variously as ‘poverty-stricken’, ‘destitute’ and ‘unemployable’.35 He argues that a significant proportion of Irish immigrants are disabled and mentally unstable, seeking to take advantage of the generous British welfare system. Irish immigrants, like Jews, are also predisposed to revolutionary political ideas, and Lane alleges that the Irish immigrants are working in tandem with the Free State and the Soviet Union, seeking to destabilise the

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British Empire. The threat from Irish immigration and Communism is all part of a global-Jewish conspiracy, according to Lane, who takes a distinctly Websterian view that Jews and Freemasons have been colluding for centuries, seeking the destruction of Western civilisation in order to establish world hegemony.36 Despite The Britons’ publications exhibiting a decidedly pro-Christian agenda, there are indications that anti-Catholic sectarianism melded with antisemitism in their analysis of Ireland. In one article, the southern Irish were dismissed as ‘German Catholics absolutely controlled by Lenin’.37 There was also a lengthy criticism of the Irish-born Australian Archbishop of Melbourne, Daniel Mannix. Mannix was seen as a dangerous subversive, given his support for Irish independence: ‘The British Empire has no bitterer enemy than Archbishop Mannix’ alleging him to be ‘one of the principal leaders of Sinn Fein, which we have shown to be the Irish branch of the Jew Revolutionary conspiracy’.38 This is particularly telling, as it was an indication of the wider collaboration between Catholics and Jews in a combined attempt to destroy the Empire; Mannix was therefore ‘a representative of the Roman Catholic Hierarchy who are confederates of the Elders of Zion’.39 Following the creation of the Irish Free State and Ulster’s rejection of joining it, The Britons’ publications turned its attention to Northern Ireland. Ulster was now shown to be the bulwark of the Empire, who could decide the fate of civilisation, should they rise to the challenge of Judaeo-Communism. The following extract from an article demonstrates, in length, the vicious manner in which Jews were attacked by the Britons: If Ulster will wake up to the fact that a Jew cannot be an Irishman and that no Jew has any right to dictate to Ireland, Ulster may yet save the Empire from the accursed hypocritical rule of pretence which is poisoning every channel of its activities. Let Ulster demand that all the Monds, Rothschilds, Sassoons, Samuel Montagus, Isaacses, Meyers, Nathans, etc., be eliminated from the Government which falsely pretends to be Britain’s, with all their tribe and all the tribe’s Gentile supporters and then Ulster may get her “rights.” The Jews have cringed to, begged of, and bullied England until England has parted with her rights to Jews. And when the Jew has the “rights” of the Englishman, the rights are no longer England’s but the Jew’s. Let Ulster see that no Jew has any place in her concerns – social, municipal, or parliamentary – and refuse to accept any order from England’s be-Jewed Parliament until every Jew and every Jew’s tool has been eliminated therefrom.40 Shortly after this call to arms for the people of Ulster, an article from The Britons’ Northern Irish correspondent claimed that, since the Anglo-Irish armistice, Jewish control had increased in Southern Ireland and expressed concern that Loyalists were more concerned by Sinn Fein than any Jewish threat.41 Discussion ominously moved on to the possibility of Ireland becoming a ‘Jew Free State’. In Southern Ireland, it is alleged that Jews have maintained their control and the correspondent

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alleges to have heard ‘Russian Jews’ claiming to be ‘Bolshevik agents’ operating in Ireland. In what appears to be an extraordinarily swift change of tack, the writer then calls on Michael Collins to ‘go for the power that has always been the real enemy both of Ireland and England. In that case, Ireland will not only be a Free State but, what is much more important, a Jew-Free State.’42 This statement appears to concede the legitimacy of the Irish Free State, quite remarkable when one considers the ‘ultra-patriotic’ context, so long as the Jewish enemy of both Britain and Ireland is rooted out in the process.

Fascists in Ireland The BF were heavily influenced by Conservative traditions of Ulster loyalism. Their rhetoric in terms of a Bolshevik conspiracy aiming to take over Ireland was barely distinguishable from their predecessors, such as The Patriot, though it would not be until the late-1920s when the party openly embraced the anti-Jewish conspiracy. Yet, as a fully-fledged political party, they sought to directly engage in Irish politics in both North and South. Accordingly, they represent the first far right political party seeking to mobilise and gain support in a British dominion or colony. They inaugurated their ‘Ulster Command’ branch in November 1926 – a seemingly strange time given the relative stability in both the Irish Free State and Northern Ireland. The BF also formed a loyalist branch in Southern Ireland, known as Southern (or Dublin) Command shortly after. The reasons for the BF’s adoption of the unionist cause was not purely ideological. There were two splits in the party in 1924 and 1926 which had significantly depleted their membership. The failure of the General Strike to lead to any kind of socialist revolution also significantly damaged their support. They needed to look further afield for muchneeded new members and towards a fresh new campaign. Thus, their embrace of Irish loyalism can be seen as a desperate attempt to gain new members and keep the party afloat. As James Loughlin argues, Northern Ireland seemed an ideal place for the BF in comparison with other areas of the United Kingdom, given that it was ‘a politically volatile frontier region, the only part of the state sharing a land border with a perceptibly hostile neighbour, and a likely location for constitutional upheaval’.43 Yet, the BF’s claims of a need to awaken Ulster were not credible.44 The twothirds Protestant majority already ‘remained obsessively conscious of the need to proclaim their British connection’,45 rendering outside help largely superfluous. Ultimately, given the pre-existing conditions among the majority of Northern Irish society and politicians when the BF arrived, the likelihood of loyalists turning to such an extreme option was slim. As another scholar has put it, ‘Fascism [in Ulster] was simply “crowded out” by the more familiar brands of resentment which comfortably retained their market share of human frailty.’46 Much of the BF’s invective was directed towards Ulster’s south. The BF expressed a desire to reconquer the fledgling Irish Free State, which was represented in BF propaganda as a danger to the British Empire, containing large groups

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of subversive forces ranging from Socialists to Sinn Fein, who were biding their time before launching an attack on Britain. BF propaganda did not attempt to address any legitimate political issues within Ireland, but rather portrayed it as a hostile state controlled by Republican terrorists. One article in 1927 claimed to reveal a secret Sinn Fein Oath (of doubtful authenticity), which led to the conclusion that ‘Sinn Fein activities have as their objectives the complete overthrow and conquest of England.’ The oath, or rather, the danger it represented, furthermore demonstrated the need for a BF branch in Dublin: The Oath makes perfectly clear how necessary it is to have fascism in Ireland, and it is very gratifying to see the loyal and right-thinking people are rallying around the Banner of Fascism, and incessantly combating the progress of Sinn Fein activities.47 Irish Republicanism, it is claimed, also had its agents working in the UK, aiming to spread propaganda, and they merged this concern with a wider hatred of immigrants in Britain. One article highlighted concern over Irish immigrants in London who are ‘almost in every case republican in sentiment’ and it must be remembered that ‘the country [Irish Free State] is full of organisations whose aim is to do all in their power to pull down the British Empire’.48 The BF’s claim that the Irish Free State was some kind of Bolshevik haven seeking the destruction of Britain was simply not credible. The Irish ‘revolution’ transcended class and cannot be described as a workers’ revolt. Furthermore, the make-up of Irish nationalism was broadly representative of Irish Catholic society.49 In fact, revolutionary socialist intellectuals, such as Peadar O’Donnell denounced the Irish Free State as a betrayal of the Irish working class, and a continuation of Irish subjugation to British imperialism and capitalist forces.50 The link that was frequently alleged between Sinn Fein and the Soviet Union was also a fantasy. While there were strains between radical left and more right-wing elements within Sinn Fein, the party sought to avoid class conflict and maintain unity. It was fundamentally a nationalist and republican party and these goals outweighed those of organised labour.51 In terms of a more explicitly Bolshevist party, this could be found in the Communist Party of Ireland (CPI), founded in 1921 (the successor to the Socialist Party of Ireland). While the CPI was prepared to work with the Soviet Union and envisaged a Bolshevik-style uprising in Ireland which could lead to the downfall of the British Empire, its influence was minimal outside of the Irish Republican Army, and was dissolved in 1924, following the defeat of the Republicans in the Civil War between 1921–1923.52 Naturally, those who claimed an affinity between Communism and Irish nationalism were not interested in the facts or nuances, but rather sought to caricature all Irish nationalists as enemies of the state. Despite the BF’s contempt for the Irish Free State, they nevertheless set up a local branch in the dominion. The purpose of the branch was portrayed as a modest attempt to reach out to disenfranchised British loyalists. Yet, it can only be plausibly explained as an attempted base upon which to gather pro-British support

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in the Free State which could be used in the unlikely event of an attempted retakeover of the South. Southern Command was founded in 1926 with H.R. Leadbeater its organising commander. The BF’s main objectives in the Irish Free State were to maintain a provocative loyalist presence and to promote the BF’s policies and propaganda. From its inception, the group recognised the difficulties it faced operating in a different country, and one often perceived as deeply hostile to the British Empire. Therefore, it was never the strategy of Southern Command to try and build a mass movement in the Irish Free State, but rather to develop a core group of activists who could distribute propaganda, attend and heckle rival meetings and gain intelligence on subversive forces working against Britain, particularly Communists. Surprisingly, the BF claimed to ‘support the existing Government of the Irish Free State’.53 This represents a significant disconnect from the party’s headquarters in London, where propaganda frequently claimed that Britain should reclaim Ireland. Instead of explicitly proclaiming the desire to take control of Ireland once again, most of the division’s predominantly middle-class members seemed to see the central Dublin HQ as a social club where propaganda and political speeches were disseminated. Southern Command also claimed that they would work with police in order to maintain law and order, mirroring the preGeneral Strike tactics of the BF in the UK.54 Southern Command also demonstrated examples of antisemitism, chiefly through Frank McDonald who, along with Leadbeater, formed the elite of the division of the branch. At one meeting in June 1933, McDonald claimed during a speech that activists should devote explicit attention to Jews, who were more likely to be Communists, and that Jews in both England and Ireland would be sent a copy of a threatening antisemitic pamphlet which emanated from Nazi Germany on behalf of the party.55 Unsurprisingly, Southern Command was a tiny organisation of no significance in the broader debate in Irish politics. It received some coverage in BF propaganda at first, but soon began to get less attention as the movement declined. At one point in 1931, Leadbeater had to write a letter to British Fascism to quash rumours that the branch had been wound up.56 Orders from London headquarters became more erratic as the BF reached its end, in July 1933 ordering any members who did not regularly attend meetings to be expelled. Many members expressed a desire to join the National Guard or ‘Blueshirts’, an Irish far right and anti-Communist group,57 but were barred from doing so by Linton Orman.58 The fact that members would wish to move from a British extreme right group to an Irish one suggests that the BF in the Irish Free State was less about British patriotism and more about antiCommunism. Shortly after July 1933, the BF disbanded. Membership was estimated by Loughlin at approximately 100 shortly after the division was founded. By 1933, official membership had shrunk to just 25 individuals. However, this is likely to be 25 core activists, as Southern Command had a membership roll of approximately 1,000 names.59 A breakdown of membership is not possible, however the division’s main proponents were British army officers and middle-class loyalists.

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The BF’s activities in the Irish Free State have only been mentioned in passing by scholars (see Loughlin 1995; 2014; Douglas 1997). They have both rightly concluded that Southern Command was of scant significance. Nevertheless, both have perhaps underestimated the extent to which the authorities were concerned about the BF’s presence in Dublin, particularly after January 1933 and Hitler’s seizure of power in Germany. The secretary of Sean O’Kelly, MP for Dublin North and Minister for Local Government (also Deputy Prime Minister who would go on to become President of the Irish Republic from 1945–1959) sent a letter to the Department of Justice, stating that a resolution had passed on 8 March 1933, which called for the BF to be banned in the Irish Free State.60 The Minister for Justice, Patrick Ruttledge’s private secretary forwarded the concern to the office of Eamon de Valera.61 An investigation was subsequently launched into the activities of the BF by the Garda Siochana (Ireland’s National Police Service). The President also received a letter from Gerald Loughrey of Clann na nGaedheal, highlighting local concerns over the ‘Imperialistic celebrations of the “disloyal” BF’.62 It is not clear whether de Valera expressed personal concern over the issue, though this is unlikely as the BF were never banned nor treated with any hostility other than secret service investigations. Nevertheless, many at a local level seemed concerned by the BF’s presence and sought to have the movement closely monitored or banned.

Ireland’s fascist supporters It is ironic to say the least that a principal objector to British conduct during the 1919–1921 Anglo-Irish War in the first postwar imperial crisis would be the young and ambitious Conservative MP, future BUF leader Oswald Mosley. In the House of Commons, Mosley was fiercely critical of Lloyd George’s ‘scorched earth’ policy in Ireland, which included atrocities committed by the Black and Tans (as well as the RIC) on Irish civilians, in response to guerrilla-style assaults on British servicemen and policeman. 63 In later life, Mosley claimed that he ‘felt the name of Britain was being disgraced, every rule of good soldierly conduct disregarded, and every decent instinct of humanity outraged’.64 During a debate in November 1920, which began with Liberal Party leader Herbert Asquith condemning all atrocities committed in Ireland, Mosley made the argument that the brutal reprisals by the Black and Tans were counterproductive in that they merely inflamed Irish insurgents to commit counter-reprisals on British troops and police and also provided propaganda value to opponents. Mosley drew the ire of Conservative MPs who heckled and booed him, leading Mosley to cross the aisle to sit with the Liberals. Mosley drew the scorn and ire of arch-Conservative MPs, such as Henry Page Croft, who bellowed to Mosley in the chamber: ‘You have made a disgraceful insinuation against British soldiers’ and doubted his loyalty to the British Empire for questioning government policy during the conflict.65 Mosley’s fall-out with the Conservative Party over Irish policy would see him retain his Harrow seat in 1922 as an Independent, before moving to the Labour Party in 1924. The importance of Mosley’s views on the Irish question arise due to

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it being his first major interaction with Irish, and indeed imperial, policy. It also separates him from the vast majority of future fascists and extreme right ‘Die Hards’ in the 1920s who backed Irish loyalists, saw Ireland as British territory, over which Britain should maintain full control. In fact, Mosley’s initial intervention into the Irish question debate as well as his move towards socialism in the 1920s would see him castigated by early British fascists and the extreme right as being a subversive.66 Mosley’s disingenuity on imperial matters was confirmed long before he was a fascist, according to Imperial Fascist League leader Arnold Leese, who criticised Mosley as an opportunist who was soft on the Jewish question. He would use Mosley’s record on Ireland as an MP as evidence of this, criticising his calling for the withdrawal of the Black and Tans in Ireland during the Anglo-Irish War, ‘when they were defeating the rebels at their own game of terrorism’.67 R.M. Douglas has claimed that the BUF ‘remained for the most part indifferent to Ireland’.68 This is somewhat misleading, as the Irish question clearly was important enough to be commented on by a number of activists and featured consistently in propaganda. Ireland was a less prominent issue for the BUF than the economy and other imperial issues, such as India; this is due to the waning salience of Ireland as an issue of critical importance during the 1930s, rather than indicating indifference to the Irish question. The BUF’s approach to the Irish issue nevertheless differed markedly from all other far right groups in that they failed to provide unequivocal support for Ulster and exhibit unreserved hostility for the Irish Free State. Mosley never erred in his belief that he had been correct to call into question British conduct during the Anglo-Irish War,69 despite the offence it caused to the very conservatives whose support he would later have to rely on if the BUF were to make a breakthrough. Mosley would look to use his record on Ireland to his advantage and appeal to the Catholic voting bloc, especially in working-class areas such as Manchester, Liverpool, Leeds, the North East and East London. Yet, Mosley sought to avoid being seeing as the champion of Irish insurgents against the British Crown. Thus, BUF policy on Ireland was built into a wider frame of British imperial patriotism which sought to sanitise the historically brutal relationship between Britain and Ireland and focus on the Irish Free State and Britain working together as equals within the Empire. A. K. Chesterton sought to revise Mosley’s past stance on Ireland as a Conservative MP in the early 1920s. In 1937, Chesterton wrote a glowing biography of Mosley, entitled, Oswald Mosley: Portrait of a Leader (1937) shortly before he left the BUF. It has been described as ‘a work of straightforward propaganda’ which Chesterton would eventually deeply regret writing. In Portrait of a Leader he argued that Mosley was fighting against ‘the Government’s policy of betrayal as a whole’ and had proposed a peace settlement which would give Ireland dominion status as early as the summer of 1920.70 This attempt by Chesterton to cover up Mosley’s apparently ‘liberal’ and altruistic stance on government reprisals demonstrates that not all high-ranking BUF officials believed it wise for Mosley to take credit for his stance on reprisals during the war. To state that Mosley was principally arguing

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against the abandonment of British rule in Ireland was simply false. Instead, Chesterton looked to use the incident as a rare example ‘of a Member of Parliament standing by his principles’.71 Thus, Chesterton highlights the fierce rebuke this brought him by the ‘old gang’ of parliamentarians. Nevertheless, Robert Skidelsky argues that Mosley did use his background on Ireland in an attempt to win Catholic support, both in the BUF and the UM, particularly Irish dockers in the East End angry about Jewish immigration.72 Evidence of BUF attempts to sidestep the issue of Ireland’s constitutional status by appealing directly to Anglo-Irish voters can largely be found in Blackshirt. One June 1933 article presented a positively Marxist analysis of the ‘troubles’ in Ulster between unionists and nationalists, which were at this point hotting up following de Valera’s ascension to power and a more aggressively republican stance from the Executive Council. The article presented the quarrel as being predominantly between two capitalist interests; ‘warfare between the Unionist Party (commerce and property) and the Irish Nationalist Party (property and insurance)’.73 In a reference to a workers strike in October 1932 as a result of a pay dispute, the writer saw this as proof that sectarian strife was ‘not about religion, but about bread’.74 Blackshirt also failed to offer anything other than mild criticism of de Valera during the 1933 Anglo-Irish Trade War. One article went to the extent of expressing admiration for de Valera’s ‘economic nationalism’. The trade war could even be seen as an opportunity for the BUF to prove their pro-Irish and antigovernment credentials by expressing support for the Irish. Indeed, in private correspondence, Director of Policy, Alexander Raven Thomson informed Liam Walsh, confidant of Eoin O’Duffy, who was at this point leader of the National Corporate Party (or ‘Greenshirts), that a fascist government in Britain would not demand the payment of land annuities which dated back to pre-Irish independence – a disagreement which had sparked the beginning of the Anglo-Irish Trade War which lasted from 1932–1938. Raven Thomson added that ‘a bitter hatred of usury is a vital part of our policy’.75 However, the fact that they were relatively silent on the issue demonstrates that their adherence to a strong Empire was more important than their need for Irish support. Mosley would have surely felt that it would be political suicide for a British ultranationalist to be seen as in thrall to an Irish Republican. De Valera’s moves, which sought to take Ireland outside the Empire, were nevertheless criticised as not being in the interests of either Britain or the Irish, given the two countries’ interdependence.76 The fact that the BUF were prepared to accept the Irish Free State as a dominion represents a striking difference to the BF and the IFL, who were at this point calling for a violent reconquest of Ireland. Rather than being completely opposed to Irish nationalism per se, the BUF were fully prepared to accept Irish self-government so long as it remained within the Commonwealth. There is evidence of this during correspondence between Raven Thomson and Walsh, however the impracticality of a closer relationship between the Greenshirts and Blackshirts became apparent very quickly. The BUF saw the Commonwealth as an avenue for keeping Ireland within Britain’s close sphere of

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influence as well as the way in which Irish unity could be achieved.77 Walsh was palpably angry at the arrogance of Raven Thomson’s suggestions: We do not and will not accept the Empire or Commonwealth idea, that idea only appeals to those who regard themselves as British Colonists. We are not a colony, we never were a Colony and we never will be a Colony. We are a mother country with a proud tradition, greater and nobler than Britain.78 During their early years, the BUF did not avoid issues relating to Ulster completely. In late 1933, when conservative and middle-class support in the BUF was at its most prominent, the ‘Ulster Fascist Movement’ (UFM) was set up as a sister party of the BUF. Tellingly, the new party was considered part of the disastrous New Empire Union, along with South Africa and Australia, suggesting that Mosley saw Ulster as the equivalent of a dominion and separate from metropolitan Britain. The move to set up the UFM was designed to split Conservative and Unionist support in Ulster, which is alleged to have led to increased divisions within the six counties; ‘Ulster fascism plays the only alternative to the present system in the hands of the people of Ulster, who have truly given the Family Party Government there, a long and fair trial.’79 Fascism, it was argued, would lead to unity and an end to ‘Party Bitterness, Strife and Religious Insults’. Furthermore, the ‘flag of Empire’ would no longer be allowed ‘to be turned into a Party or Religious Banner’80 with Catholics and Protestants united under one system and one leader. For all their anti-sectarian rhetoric, the BUF were unable to gain a foothold in Ulster among either the Protestant or Catholic community. Loughlin summarises aptly how Mosley had tied himself in knots trying to appeal to all classes as well as Irish nationalists and unionists: ‘AntiSocialism alienated the Labour movement, anti-loyalism the unionists, while defending the border was an effective deterrent for nationalists.’81 During a July 1936 meeting in Middlesbrough, Mosley was questioned about the BUF’s attitude to the Irish. Mosley stated that the BUF have always welcomed ‘all Irishmen who are loyal to the Empire and desire to be British citizens’, however, those ‘who desire an Irish Republic treat themselves as foreigners and will be so treated by fascism’.82 Mosley’s speech in Middlesbrough, tougher on the Irish and in terms of its rhetoric, is mirrored in a speech given in Ipswich in July 1934: Come into the Empire and play the game. If you will, you will have the advantages of the Empire. If you will not play the game, we will exclude all your productions from this country. That would mean a lot to them and very little to us.83 Attempting to appeal to Irish emigrants, nationalists and unionists reflects a rather complex dilemma faced by Mosley and the BUF, and one not faced by earlier fascist groups who made no attempt to court Irish support. Furthermore, Mosley was under pressure from the conservative elements within the BUF and in particular from Lord Rothermere (a staunch unionist who threatened to withdraw his

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support for the BUF if Mosley continued his attacks on Stormont) and the unionists to present a tougher stance on de Valera – many of which saw support for Ulster as an absolute necessity.84 This would perhaps explain why the Irish question was handled with kid gloves by the BUF, given much less coverage than other fascist parties, who were, in the case of the BF, steadfastly in support of Ulster or in the case of the IFL, so imbued with antisemitism that sectarian division in Ireland was seen as a minor issue. As conservative support whittled away after 1934, the BUF felt less of a need to demonstrate any support for Ulster whatsoever. Even in the 1937, when Southern Ireland left the British Empire and essentially formed an Irish republic, despite earlier criticisms of the idea, BUF publications were completely silent on the issue. In a January 1938 article, one small article focused on de Valera’s visit to London to discuss Anglo-Irish relations. The article merely emphasised Irish-British interdependence and claimed that in the event of war, the Irish and British could work together once more.85 The final article on Ireland in a BUF publication expressed how far the party had moved in its position on the Irish question. An article by John O’Brien stated that a ‘United Ireland’ would be a good thing. However, he rejected the suggestion by W. E. D. Allen (a former Mosleyite in the New Party and contributor to BUF propaganda under the pseudonym ‘James Drennan’) that Ulster should be made a dominion in the interests of Anglo-Irish unity. His argument, however, was not based on support for Ulster, but out of fear of the treatment of Catholics in an autonomous Ulster: Once freed by Dominion status from the trammels of the Irish Treaty, the Northern Ireland legislature could at once pass legislation depriving the Nationalists of all civic rights and proscribing the Catholic religion in the best traditions of the 18th century.86 The loyalties of the BUF ultimately, lay firmly with the Irish Catholic support they wished to cultivate rather than with mainstream conservative opinion, which was arguably far more important to them as a movement. Finally, pro-Irish sentiment could also be found in the BUF’s ‘blood and soil’ or ‘back-to-the-land’ wing. An article by Frances McEvoy argued the case for Anglo-Irish reconciliation through a ‘cultural renaissance’. McEvoy lamented the materialistic nature of modern British culture, which was having its traditional folk culture debased by Communists and mainstream conservatives. Criticising the attempted ‘anglicization’ of Gaelic Irish culture in the past, McEvoy argued that the British could learn a lot from the rural Irish: ‘An intelligent and patriotic British Government would encourage the renaissance of Celtic folk culture as a contribution to the store of British cultural richness as a whole.’87 He goes on to reflect on the possibility of a spiritual realignment of the British and Irish based on a rediscovery of their folk roots: ‘Cannot England seek again the things of the spirit – restore again the rich culture of the past, and in doing take the hand of a resurgent Ireland in mutual aid and understanding?’88 It is

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this type of romanticisation of Irishness and Anglo-Irish friendship which distinguishes them from the BF and IFL. The latter two were hard-line unionists – staunchly supporting the right of Ulster to remain under British rule and hugely sceptical of the Irish Free State’s independence.

National Socialism and Ireland The BUF’s seemingly friendly attitude to Ireland was not without its criticism within the party; expressed most importantly in the form of William Joyce. Joyce witnessed the brutality of the Anglo-Irish War first-hand and it was Joyce’s first foray into politics. As J. A. Cole highlights in his biography of Joyce; ‘in his brief life political controversy had been carried on by means of guns, grenades and drums of petrol’.89 While it would be reductive to say that Joyce’s fascist and extreme antisemitic views were directly influenced by his youth in Ireland, it would be fair to state that he acquired an intense ultra-patriotism and ‘loyalism’ which was impacted by the political situation in Ireland. Joyce’s father was a victim of the war, and had much of his property burned down. Two further incidents, the memory of which ‘haunted him [Joyce] all his life’ included seeing a dead policeman with a single bullet wound to the head and the gunning down of an Irish republican by a policeman.90 Joyce worked briefly as an informer for the notoriously violent ‘Black ‘n Tans’, though the extent to which is unclear, despite Joyce’s boastful claims of ‘serving with the irregular forces of the crown in an intelligence capacity’.91 While his role in the war may have been minor at best, Joyce was nevertheless a target for assassination by the IRA, but moved himself and his family in order to avoid being killed.92 Shortly after the war, Joyce would move to England and he would go on to join the BF, marking the beginning of his 20 years as a committed fascist. Given Joyce’s unambiguously loyalist attitude to the Irish question, he did not speak on Irish issues, nor did he write in working-class propaganda outlet Blackshirt on the subject. Joyce nevertheless made his feelings known in a 1936 article in The Fascist Quarterly in an obituary and tribute to Lord Carson. Joyce showered Carson, the founder of the Ulster Volunteer Force and in many ways the embodiment of Ulster loyalism, with praise,93 describing him as ‘the only man who, in this century of British politics, has ever been regarded as a hero and openly proclaimed as such by his followers’, making an exception only for Oswald Mosley. He drew further comparisons with Mosley, stating that ‘Carson knew how to spurn with majestic scorn the office of Cabinet Minister rather than deviate by a hair’s breadth from the path which conscience bade him tread’. 94 Interestingly, Joyce goes on to state that Carson and the UVF were the first ‘fascist’ movements in Europe; ‘The Ulster Volunteer Movement, Carson’s own, was something more than a precursor of Fascism in Europe. It was the first real and tangible resistance that Liberal Plutocracy had to encounter in Britain’ and ‘In bearing, will, act and thought, Carson was a Fascist.’95

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Joyce’s anti-Irish stance was mirrored in Britain’s largest National Socialistinspired party, the IFL. Despite being founded nearly a decade after The Britons, the IFL’s antisemitic conception of the ‘Irish Question’ was practically identical to that of The Britons. It also begins with their view that events between 1916–1921 were the culmination of a vast Jewish conspiracy to destroy the British Empire and take control of Ireland. The 1916 Easter Rising was allegedly caused by an alliance between German Jews and Irish Republicans, backed by Jewish financial interests in New York. The Irish Free State is claimed to be a construction by Jews who opportunistically played the Irishmen as ‘pawns’ and placed Ireland ‘in the hands of the enemies of the British Empire’.96 The British government also played a role in this conspiracy, and it was prominent Jewish officials in Britain who plotted to give power away to Ireland. The IFL, therefore, sought to reassert British power over Ireland in accordance with their wider goal of eradicating Jewish influence: Jewish influence has been maintained in the principal key-positions on both sides, and the ultimate effect has been that Britain has not only temporarily lost the greater part of Ireland, but also has at her back an enemy ready to stab when the time is ripe.97 Foreshadowing the eliminationist antisemitism of the Third Reich, the IFL argued that ‘Ireland and England will settle their affairs amicably when the Jew has been expelled to Madagascar; until that is done, there can be no peace.’98 Without doubt, central to the IFL’s understanding of the ‘Irish question’ was their hard-line antisemitism and biological racism. The IFL, influenced by The Britons, believed a Bolshevik uprising would be imminent in Ireland, asserting that Marx believed if a workers’ uprising was to occur in Britain, it would begin in Ireland.99 The IFL, however, spent less time highlighting the Bolshevik threat in Ireland and mostly pointed out the subservience the Irish Free State, and indeed Ulster, to Jewish control. It, therefore, was not just the Irish Free State which was deemed powerless in the face of Jewish control, the mechanisms of which were never fully outlined other than references to Jewish finance capitalists, alleged communists and the Elders of Zion. The Six Counties of Ulster were also dominated by Jews in the form of shady societies such as The Honourable Irish Society (also known as just ‘The Irish Society’). The IFL were sceptical of the authenticity of sectarian divisions in Northern Ireland, claiming that it was Jews who were benefitting and encouraging conflict in order to divide and rule: While Ulsterman, divided into Orange and Catholic factions, are set brother against brother, the Judaised City of London sits like a leech upon the land, taking advantage of the internal “quarrels” of Ulster to suck the life blood from it.100 The IFL made little attempt to engage with mainstream discourse over Anglo-Irish relations. While they evinced a strong desire to re-assert British power over Ireland,

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the dismissal of Ulster as ‘Jewish-dominated’ demonstrates how far removed they were from conservative circles of the time. They were also more openly and violently antisemitic than other fascist parties such as the BF. The Government of Ireland in 1932 was referred to as a ‘pseudo-Irish Government, led by the Jewish De Valera and Briscoe’.101 Robert Briscoe, the son of Lithuanian-Jewish parents, was seen as having a powerful influence on the Eamon de Valera’s government from the side-lines and was allegedly in hock with ‘Jewish run American Banks’, presumably just because he was of Jewish origin.102 In addition to Jews supposedly in elite positions in Ireland, it was also claimed that more and more Jews were emigrating to Ireland and taking control: ‘Nearly all the big shops, cinemas, theatres and hotels in Dublin are controlled by Jews’ and ‘Bray, once a pretty watering-place, is now a Jewish Colony’.103 This was, clearly, dramatically overstating the Jewish demographic in Ireland. In 1929, less than 3,700 Jews lived in the Irish Free State.104 IFL policy towards the Irish Free State was ambiguous but incessantly hostile. In response to the Irish government’s non-payment of land annuities, the IFL argued that, in the unlikely event of a trade war occurring under a tough fascist government in Britain, an ultimatum would be issued to Ireland to meet British demands within 48 hours, or all Irish ports would be seized and forced to reimburse Britain in customs duties.105 In reality, the response of the British government had been fierce, imposing harsh tariffs on Irish agricultural exports, which hit the Irish economy hard.106 When the dispute was resolved in 1938, following the Anglo-Irish Trade Agreement, the IFL dismissed the outcome as ‘nonsense’ and believed only Britain assuming control of the Jewish-dominated Irish Free State would prevent further disputes.107 In 1934, in response to de Valera’s determination to see an Irish Republic, the IFL stated that should he do so, any ‘Southern Irishmen’ should be declared aliens and stripped of their citizenship and any Irish officials should be absolved of their post. It was also suggested that these new Irish aliens should be deported back to Ireland.108 Irish migrants in Britain were criticised by the IFL and they were at pains to paint the Irish as the ‘other’, describing immigrants as a ‘menace’ in Scotland; the IFL referred to the Irishman as ‘a type alien to the culture of the native Scot’.109 The man who would receive the brunt of attacks on the basis of his perceived ethnicity was the leader of Sinn Fein, Eamon de Valera. Despite stating in 1934 that he had ‘not a single drop of Jewish blood in my veins’,110 De Valera was frequently referred to as ‘the Spanish Jew’ by fascist groups in Britain and Ireland. The IFL based their accusation on the fact that de Valera had grown up in New York and was of Spanish origin, dismissing de Valera’s claim to the contrary and arguing ‘anyone who knows the history of Spain and the proportion of Jews in New York will take that statement with a pinch of salt’.111 The IFL also believed that de Valera’s ‘Jewish appearance’ alone put the issue beyond reasonable doubt: If Mr De Valera is not Jewish, all we can say is that the Fates have been unkind to him; we use our eyes, and we see in him the Armenoid characteristics native to Asia, not to Ireland. Are we fools to believe our eyes?’112

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The Britons’ view of de Valera was also that he was Jewish, though they varied slightly from the IFL in believing him to be of Portuguese-Jewish descent. In one article written in The Britons’ publication Jewry Ueber Alles, one writer was amused at observing a ‘Mr Abraham, son of a Nationalist member’ at a Cambridge Union debate, proclaiming: ‘de Valera is not a Jew, like myself he is a Roman Catholic!’113 The IFL’s position on Ireland reflected their own status within the British right-wing community – highly extreme, eccentric and relatively insignificant.

Ireland’s right to unite President Eamon de Valera’s relentless pursuit of total Irish sovereignty from the British state and Crown led to the 1937 Constitution of Ireland which proclaimed Ireland to be an independent state. It removed practically all references to the Crown which existed in the 1922 Constitution devised by the pro-treaty government. The abdication crisis sparked by Edward VIII’s desire to marry his mistress Wallis Simpson brought the monarchy and its role into disrepute, meaning that changes made in the new constitution were not disputed by Britain, given the delicate situation. Nevertheless, Britain accepted the changing nature of the Empire and Commonwealth as the Dominions moved further towards complete independence, meaning that they were in no position to reject further moves by Ireland to consolidate on the ambiguities of the 1921 Anglo-Irish Treaty.114 Ireland was not yet officially a Republic but, in essence, had become one. Its role within the Commonwealth remained deeply ambiguous. This ambiguity was destroyed in 1948 following the Republic of Ireland Act. The last remaining functions of the British monarch were transferred to the Irish President. Britain’s response was to pass the Ireland Act in 1949, which acknowledged that Ireland (minus Northern Ireland) was a republic and no longer in the Commonwealth. It could easily be seen as a peculiar development that Mosley, as a fascist and ultranationalist, would even consider supporting a united Ireland, as he unambiguously did following the Second World War. However, it is actually quite logical. Mosley’s postwar politics would not focus on the details of the British constitution but push for a united Europe to counter the Soviet and US superpowers. This, in his eyes, rendered the traditional republican/loyalist dispute as obsolete as all the countries of Europe integrated into one unit. He argued: ‘[The] Union Movement affirms the right of Ireland to unite and then, as a united people, to enter the wider Union of Europe.’115 Furthermore, Mosley had never been a passionate embracer of Irish loyalism, bucking the trend on the interwar far right. He had argued with the BUF that Ireland should merely stay within the orbit of the British Empire, and when Ireland officially became a republic, it was not a subject which the BUF sought to exploit. It was even floated in BUF publications the potential benefits of a united Ireland. Perhaps most importantly to Mosley, his actions as a young Conservative MP in criticising David Lloyd George’s ‘scorched earth’ policy during the Irish Civil War and the deployment of the brutal Black and Tans, were perhaps one of his greatest political achievements. Therefore, by

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calling for a united Ireland, he was attempting to resurrect his political career by focusing on an issue where he had some credibility. Mosley’s grand vision was: [To] bring reality to the emblem of the Irish flag by bringing together the “green” and the “orange” in a final peaceful settlement, which will give a United Ireland to the service of a United Europe. Only a man who has demonstrated the courage of his convictions can undertake such a task, which is only part of the great work yet to be undertaken to Unite the peoples of Europe … Mosley is that man.116 Upon announcing his uptake of the Irish nationalist cause in Union in May 1948, Mosley immediately reminded readers of his past on the issue. He claimed to have helped in ‘bringing the Black and Tan inquiry to an end’ but was ‘only partially successful in winning peace for Ireland, because the Government of the day dismembered Ireland’.117 He went on to heap criticism upon the politics of Ulster, describing it as ‘the first police state in Europe’ and arguing that ‘Soviet Russia and Ulster share the same distinction of having been the only two Police States in Europe to last for some 30 years’.118 Mosley compared his own plight with that of the oppressed Irish Catholics of Northern Ireland, claiming that the government imprisoned both without them having broken any laws. He claimed that the ‘Orangemen’ of Northern Ireland, along with democratic governments in Dublin and London, were the main obstacle to a united Ireland: ‘The incalcitrant Orangemen of Ulster are already breathing fire and brimstone at the mere thought of government of Dublin. The Irish question requires an immediate revision of the democratic system on modern lines.’119 Mosley expressed a loathing for Protestant loyalists in Northern Ireland quite different from anything seen previously in his writings or speeches as an MP or with the BUF. Northern Ireland, ‘possessing six counties, it only has a majority in three and dominates the others by an Orangeman despotism which is a disgrace to these islands’.120 Mosley’s intentions in pushing for a united Ireland were partly based upon his belief that it would win the support of working-class Irish immigrants in Britain. Leading UM figure and former BUF activist Tommy Moran would play a large role in this and gave a speech in London where he argued that ‘a United Ireland would join enthusiastically in building up the Union of Europe against the Communist menace’.121 Mosley criticised – somewhat contradictorily - the Republic of Ireland Act in 1948 which severed Ireland’s final ties with the British Monarchy on the grounds that it meant ‘Irish residents all over the Empire will become aliens’.122 Furthermore, the Empire owed a great debt ‘to the soldiers and pioneers from Ireland who played such a prominent part in creating and conquering that Empire’.123 Despite this criticism of the Irish government, Mosley nevertheless held a reverence for former Irish Taoiseach, Eamon de Valera upon a visit to London. During a rally at Earls Court, de Valera was described as a ‘veteran fighter for Irish freedom’.124 The UM also sent de Valera a telegram saying: ‘WELCOME TO KENSINGTON - UNION MOVEMENT SALUTES A GREAT IRISHMAN - TRUE PATRIOT - FIGHT ON AS WE DO FOR UNION AND FREEDOM.’125

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From September 1950, a series of articles appeared in Union written under the pseudonym of ‘Shamrock’ which presented an Irish nationalist version of recent Irish history. ‘Shamrock’ argued that the Irish partition was ‘conceived of the unholy spirit of compromise and born of political expediency. It was forced upon Ireland, bringing division and internal strife. As long as it continues true friendship between Ireland and England is impossible.’126 It goes on to say, ‘let a free and united Ireland take her lawful place beside the other powers of Europe in defence of European civilization and culture against the menace of Asiatic Communism’.127 ‘Shamrock’ disagreed with the notion that Protestants in Northern Ireland were different from Irish Catholics on the grounds of race: The majority of Six County people who are not Irish are descendants of Scottish immigrants and therefore come largely from the same Gaelic stock as our Irish nation. The ending of partition will unite the Gaels of Ireland, who may then enter the wider European Union on terms of equality and brotherhood.128 Mosley would leave Britain, referred to as his ‘Island Prison’ for Ireland in 1951, something he initially considered in 1946. The, Irish authorities had shown discomfort at the idea of Mosley emigrating to Ireland and Daniel Leach has argued that while de Valera was ‘embarrassed’ by the BUF’s pro-Irish attitude, the state did little to intervene, perhaps due to Mosley being ‘well regarded by many’ in Ireland for his actions during the Anglo-Irish War. When Mosley did eventually emigrate, the authorities again decided not to intervene and believed Mosley was purely attracted to Ireland for tax reasons, visited infrequently and in fact preferred France, where he would move to permanently in the late 1960s.129 Mosley claimed that he was moving to a country ‘which in his youth he did so much to aid in achieving its freedom’130. Interestingly, he expressed a certain amount of bitterness at having gambled his political career as a young MP on the issue of Irish Nationalism, perhaps as a counter to those in Ireland who might be appalled at the idea of Mosley domiciling in Ireland: ‘The Irish people will not be slow to remember what at the time seemed to most of his contemporaries an act of Quixotic idealism to which he had mistakenly sacrificed a most promising career in the Conservative Party.’131 He was quick to state that he would ‘take no part in the politics of Ireland nor in the internal affairs of any country where I am a guest’.132 Mosley’s retreat to Ireland would not be last of his involvement in British politics, however, it reflected the beginning of the end.

The Troubles The next major upheaval in Ireland would begin in 1969. The outbreak of intercommunal violence between Protestant and Catholics in Northern Ireland would lead to The Troubles – a sustained period of violence for nearly 30 years which would claim the lives of over 3,500 individuals. Fighting was mostly between

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paramilitary groups such as the Irish Republican Army (IRA), who sought an end to British rule and Loyalist groups aiming to maintain it, including the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF). The British Army, who were deployed in their longest ever operation in 1969, spanning five decades, struggled to maintain order, while the British government desperately sought a political solution which would satisfy two seemingly irreconcilable sides. The Troubles thus had a profound impact on British politics, particularly in the 1970s and 1980s. A military conflict with armed terror units on British soil presented significant opportunities for the far right. It enabled them to promote a hard-line stance proposing to crush Britain’s enemies which had the potential to appeal to an anxious public. Yet, despite a flurry of interest in The Troubles between 1969–1972, interest dissipated as the NF zoned in on its key target issue: immigration. John Tyndall spoke proudly of his Irish unionist roots in his memoirs. He drew parallels between his family history and his current stance on Irish politics. Tyndall described his grandfather – a Royal Irish Constabulary Officer in County Waterford – as a ‘strong unionist’ who, drawing exaggerated comparisons with himself, was ‘much occupied in the fight against terrorism in both the South and the North of Ireland’ during the late-nineteenth and early twentieth century. Tyndall lamented how in his grandfather’s retirement, during the Anglo-Irish War, he would experience ‘disgust and disillusionment as he saw the British Government, on whose behalf he had served, wine and dine the rebel leaders in Westminster while giving them their “Free State”’.133He recalled staying with his father’s family in Ireland for several months, aged 10 years old, an experience which appeared to harden the boy-Tyndall’s sense of British nationalism. Remembering a live show he went to, he recalled: ‘Throughout the whole performance the fellow spewed forth non-stop anti-British hate. Little 10-year old Tyndall sat livid for the duration of the act, anger mounting with every fresh denigration of his country.’ Tyndall claimed to be so infuriated by the incident that he ‘did not stop storming about the matter for at least a week!’134 While it would be an exaggeration to extrapolate from this (possibly misremembered) anecdote that Irish issues were close to Tyndall’s heart, it does nevertheless demonstrate a personal connection to the subject, much like far right figures of the past such as Nesta Webster. Tyndall’s stance on Ireland originated from the notion that Ireland and Britain were racially united: stand in a street in Dublin, and you would observe nothing in the passers by to indicate that you were not looking at British people walking about in a British city. There is no such thing as an “Irish race”.135 Yet, such a view was grounded in the rejection of the legitimacy of Irish independence and ethno-national identity. Tyndall desired a united Ireland but only a ‘British Ireland’, thus ‘not by Ulster leaving the Kingdom and joining the Republic, but by that part of Ireland now known as the Republic abandoning her separate existence and rejoining the United Kingdom’.136 He thus never accepted the

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settlement of the 1921 Anglo-Irish Treaty. Linking this to his own family history, for Tyndall, Ireland ‘is my ancestral homeland; I can never regard it as foreign.’137 Tyndall’s own views would mirror those of the NF when sectarian violence broke out in the summer of 1969. The NF claimed – correctly – that the origins of The Troubles went back decades. However, they located the causes, not in British imperialism or sectarian rivalry but in a Marxist conspiracy. Much like the far right of the early 1920s, communists, particularly Karl Marx, were highlighted as having an express desire to stir up trouble in Ireland as a means of attacking the British state. Martin Webster, for example, argued that ‘Long before the Russian Revolution the Communists had been interested in promoting trouble in Ireland’ and that Karl Marx supported ‘the Irish demand for independence from Britain in order to prepare the way for revolution in Britain itself’.138 Blame for the 1969 disturbances could be similarly placed upon the left, who had been ‘quietly studying the Ulster situation for many years with a view to exploiting it when the opportune time came’. The civil rights campaign which gained strength in the late-1960s was bogus, merely a front for the ‘extreme left’.139 Furthermore, the cause of The Troubles was not even located in Ulster but overseas: ‘Sinister international forces, extremely well organised and financed, and employing trained terrorist gangs, are deliberately fomenting a revolutionary situation in a region of the United Kingdom with the clear object of separating that region from the United Kingdom’.140 The mistake of the British government, according to the NF, was to view The Troubles as a sectarian dispute over whether Ulster should belong to the Republic of Ireland or the United Kingdom. Neither Protestants nor Catholics, ‘who in the most part want to live in peace with each other’ should be blamed. Rather, ‘it is international red revolution which is at the centre of the whole affair – not a religious squabble’.141 The Troubles was compared with other events during the British retreat from Empire – a mixture of weakness and complicity from the British government was selling out British loyalists: ‘It happened with the Whites in Kenya, then in Rhodesia. Now it’s happening to the Loyalists in Northern Ireland.’ Privately, ministers were ‘conducting shady deals with alien powers – yet another one of the Queen’s territories, yet another part of the Queen’s loyal subjects are up for mortgage!’142 Even Unionists in Northern Ireland – those nominally on the same side as the NF – were criticised for their ignorance of the powerful forces guiding events in the region: ‘among the loyalist leadership so far no individual has revealed himself who showed little capacity to see their local problems within the broader context of the international power-game’.143 In line with the overarching belief that Irish Republicanism was a front for international finance, the NF positioned themselves strongly against it. This often veered into anti-Catholic sentiment and the belief that the Catholic population of Northern Ireland had no legitimate grievances, and were being used. Referring to the Civil Rights movement, which preceded The Troubles and sought equal rights for Catholics in political representation, housing, treatment by police and access to employment, Tyndall argued that ‘More power for the Catholic community is not

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being sought in the service just of “equal rights”, “justice”, “democracy” or any other such concept.’ Rather, it was ‘being sought as a means of weakening the whole foundation of Unionism’.144 Tyndall claimed to understand to Irish nationalism as a British nationalist himself, stating that it would be ‘wrong to condemn nationalism when it provides the motive spirit for the actions of others. Irishmen who fight the status-quo in Ulster are acting rightly according to their own conscience so long as their loyalty is to Irish nationalism.’ Yet, it is clear that Tyndall believed it could be overcome simply through a stauncher promotion of British nationalism. His dismissal of the grievances of Irish Catholics is laid bare by his belief that Irish Catholics could be won over, not by equal civil rights or more control over the governance of Northern Ireland. Instead, they should be appeased by offering them ‘a counter-spirit more powerful in its appeal than Irish nationalism … it can only be done through the force of British nationalism’.145 Contempt for the nationalist and Catholic community drips throughout NF discourse on The Troubles, no more so than in their response to atrocities committed by British troops such as ‘Bloody Sunday’. On 30 January 1972, British forces shot 30 unarmed civilians in a heavily nationalist area of Derry known as the Bogside, killing 14, during a peaceful protest organised by the Northern Ireland Civil Rights Association. The NF argued that the massacre was ‘the answer to the revolutionary leftists’ prayer’ and claimed it was a false flag operation. Grief and anger displayed by the Catholic community over Bloody Sunday was thus rejected: ‘behind all the weepings and wailings, behind all the signs of the cross, behind all the panoply of martyrdom, lies the reality of a cunningly conceived revolutionary gambit’. Drawing comparisons with massacres at Sharpeville, South Africa (1960) and during the protests which contributed to the 1905 revolution in Russia (similarly referred to as Bloody Sunday), the orchestrated event was ‘as old as the hills and yet can today be as brilliantly effective as ever provided that there is available a well controlled mass media to follow it up’.146 Indeed, Spearhead often appeared to revel in the violence meted out to nationalists and encouraged more of it. An extract from a speech by Captain R. Mitchell (possibly referring to Robert Mitchell, a staunch unionist politician in Northern Ireland) was printed without comment, but suggesting approval: The army should be free to use the maximum rather than the minimum, the lead bullet instead of the rubber bullet, the flame thrower instead of the water thrower. Age and sex should be disregarded. Consideration should be given to replacing civil courts for dealing with riotous behaviour by military courts and the firing squad. There must be no hesitation.147 While the NF claimed not to support a particular community within the conflict, it was clear that they did overwhelmingly ally themselves with Protestant loyalists. They argued, ‘we support those who stand for the preservation of Ulster as a part of Great Britain. We oppose those who aim at the separation of Ulster from Great Britain.’148 Support for Ulster loyalists came with a qualification, however, that

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they put aside petty sectarian differences and ‘come to grips with the meaning of the New Papacy. Its Capital is not Rome, and its purposes are not Christian, but it is today the most potent contender for a world monopoly of power.’ Again demonstrating the persistence of Chesterton’s antisemitic ‘money power’ conspiracy theory, the ‘new papacy’ had its financial centre is New York; its forum is the United Nations; it is strangely friendly to the Soviet Bloc; its enemy is the survival of national sovereignty, and most of all of British national sovereignty. That is why it is attacking Ulster.149 The UK government’s actions in seeking an end to violence were frequently denounced as misguided and weak. In terms of a solution to The Troubles, the NF proposed a raft of hard-line policies targeting the IRA, Irish Catholics and the Republic of Ireland. In the case of the latter, it was argued implausibly and without evidence that the Irish Republic was actively encouraging terrorism in Ulster and enabling the IRA to use it as a base. The UK government, it was argued, ‘must make it perfectly clear to the Republic that it regards the encouragement of terrorism in Ulster and the harbouring of terrorist elements from Ulster as an act of war against Britain’.150 While it was charitably acknowledged that the ‘occupation of the Republic would be an extreme step and a last resort’, the UK should at least impose trade sanctions on the Irish Republic which would ‘quickly wreck the Republic’s economy’.151 Despite clearly aiming to be seen as a hard-line alternative to the British government, the potential impact of such policies on the conflict in energising Irish nationalists on both sides of the border as well as angering moderate Brits does not seem thought through. The NF argued that ‘no-go’ areas controlled by the IRA (such as ‘Free Derry’) should be eradicated (which they were, during Operation Motorman in July 1972). The army should be empowered by ending the ‘petty restrictions on firepower’ and rules designed to lower civilian casualties, such as ‘that soldiers must not shoot until they actually see weapons in the enemy’s hands, and the rule that ammunition above a certain calibre must not be used – which hopelessly handicaps the Army in combating terrorists firing from behind cover.’152 It was implied that security forces should be allowed to torture suspects, arguing that they should be given ‘the necessary powers of interrogation in dealing with IRA detainees’. The IRA, it was argued, was ‘a ruthless and cruel enemy. It has no cause to complain when uncomfortable conditions of questioning (although not conditions which impose any real injury) are used against its members.’153 Irish citizens living in mainland should also be targeted. Ambiguously, it was argued that, ‘There are other pressures which can be applied in connection with the huge numbers of Irish citizens living and working in the UK and who at the moment enjoy ridiculous rights.’154 Furthermore, ‘there should be a total ban on ALL operations of the IRA in the United Kingdom, peaceful or non-peaceful. These should include fundraising meetings, press interviews, marches and, in fact, any political activities’.155

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Discourse on The Troubles began to dissipate following Idi Amin’s expulsion of its Asian population from Uganda and the subsequent emigration of over 27,000 Asian Ugandans to the UK. This became a central issue for the NF which enabled them to gain a significant number of new members and votes. Spearhead continued to sporadically discuss The Troubles, advocating support for loyalists and an everincreasingly draconian response to the IRA. For example, one anonymous article called for ‘all out war’ against the IRA alongside ‘sealing of the border with barbed wire, gun turrets and minefields, and the patrol of the coast with gunboats’.156 The NF continued to reject attempts by the British government to reach a political solution, which would eventually be achieved in the 1998 Good Friday Agreement. ‘Peace’, it was argued in one article, ‘will only come through the total and final victory of one and the total and final defeat of the other. We in the National Front make no bones about which of these we wish to see.’157 The Troubles ultimately proved a difficult issue for the NF to engage in meaningfully. While it allowed them to promote a narrative which claimed that Britain was being destroyed by an armed and dangerous ‘enemy within’, The Troubles had little influence on levels of support for British parties generally – given that there was a broad consensus on restoring control in Ulster through the military with the ultimate aim of a political solution. The NF’s hard-line stance was likely to ring hollow, given both its brutality and impracticality, as well as the fact that the British government’s own stance was difficult to frame as weak, given the deployment of armed troops prepared to act ruthlessly against insurgents when need be (such as the Loughgall Ambush in 1987, which killed eight IRA attackers in the space of minutes). As with other far right groups, following the independence of Ireland in 1921, issues surrounding Britain’s involvement in Ireland inflamed the patriotic senses of the NF without ever being fully weaponised in an attempt to win support.

Notes 1 Ireland was in fact not fully independent, but a dominion on a par with Canada and Australia. This meant complete self-governance, but it was still within the British Empire until a republican treaty was ratified in 1937. 2 Sir Henry Wilson, quoted in B. Collier, Brasshat: A Biography of Field-Marshal Sir Henry Wilson, 1864–1922 (London: Secker and Warburg, 1961), p. 332. 3 G. R. Searle, The Liberal Party: Triumph and Disintegration, 1886–1929 (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2001), p. 24. 4 ‘Proclamation of the Irish Republic, issued 24 April 1916’ in A. O’Day and J. Stevenson (eds) Irish Historical Documents since 1800 (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan, 1992), p. 160. 5 T. P. Coogan, The Troubles: Ireland’s Ordeal 1966–1996 and the Search for Peace (London: Arrow Books, 1995), p. 23. 6 For further reading on the Anglo-Irish War, see M. Hopkinson, The Irish War of Independence (New York: Gill Books, 2002); C. Townshend, The Republic: The Fight for Irish Independence, 1918–1923 (London: Penguin, 2013). 7 L. James, Churchill and Empire: Portrait of an Imperialist (London: Phoenix, 2013), p. 147. 8 L. James, The Rise and Fall of the British Empire (London: Abacus, 1994), p. 382.

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9 R. Foster, Modern Ireland, 1600–1972 (London: Penguin, 1990), p.527. 10 P. MacMahon, British Spies and Irish Rebels: British Intelligence and Ireland, 1916–1945 (Suffolk: Boydell Press, 2008), p. 125. 11 Kevin O’Higgins, Dáil Éireann debate, 1 March 1923, p. 1909. Available at: www. oireachtas.ie/en/debates/debate/dail/1923-03-01/16/?highlight%5B0%5D=o% 27higgins. 12 N. Webster, Spacious Days: An Autobiography (London: Hutchinson & Co., 1949), p. 95. 13 Ibid., p. 95. 14 Ibid., p. 96. 15 ‘Ireland’, The Patriot (Supplement), 9 February 1922, p. iii. 16 Ibid., p. iv. 17 ‘The Patriot’, The Patriot (Supplement), 9 February 1922, p. i. 18 ‘Ireland’, The Patriot (Supplement), 9 February 1922, pp. iii. 19 ‘The Irish Cauldron’, The Patriot, 9 February 1922, p. 8. 20 ‘Southern Ireland Condition’, The Patriot, 23 February 1922, p. 11. 21 ‘Red Ireland’, The Hidden Hand, October 1922, pp. 1–2. 22 Ibid. 23 Arthur Henry Lane was prominent in The Britons Publishing Society, the short-lived fascist party Unity Band, as well as in IFL publications. 24 A. H. Lane, The Alien Menace (London: Boswell Publishing Co., 1934), p. 128. 25 Ibid., p. 129 26 ‘The Jew and Sinn Fein’, Jewry Ueber Alles, June 1920, p. 8. 27 ‘Ireland, the “Western Front” of Bolshevism’, Jewry Ueber Alles, December 1920, p. 9. 28 Ibid. 29 “The Britons” at Caxton Hall’, The Hidden Hand, November 1921, p. 1. 30 Ibid., p. 5. 31 ‘“The Britons”’, The Hidden Hand, December 1921, p. 7. 32 R. M. Douglas, ‘Anglo Saxons and Attacotti: The Racialization of Irishness in Britain between the World Wars’, Ethnic and Racial Studies 25:1 (2002), p. 43. 33 House of Commons Debate, Hansard, 3 August 1922, vol. 157, c1853. 34 ‘Ulster and the Jew’, The Hidden Hand, January 1922, p. 2. 35 Lane, The Alien Menace, p. 16. 36 Ibid., p.2 10. 37 ‘Ireland, the “Western Front” of Bolshevism’, Jewry Ueber Alles, December 1920, p. 9. 38 ‘Archbishop Mannix’, Jewry Ueber Alles, September 1920, p. 5. 39 Ibid. 40 ‘Ulster and the Jew’, The Hidden Hand, January 1922, pp. 1–2. 41 ‘Jewish Invasion of Ireland’, The Hidden Hand, January 1922, p. 4. 42 ‘Ireland a Jew Free State?’, The Hidden Hand, March 1922, p. 3. 43 J. Loughlin, ‘Rotha Lintorn-Orman, Ulster and the British Fascists Movement’, Immigrants and Minorities 32:1 (2014), p. 5. 44 Ibid., p. 7. 45 Foster, Modern Ireland, p. 528. 46 J. J. Lee, Ireland 1912–1985 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), p. 254. 47 ‘Sinn Fein Oath’, The British Lion, December 1927, pp. 8–9. 48 ‘Irish Republicans in London’, The British Lion, April 1928, pp. 15–16. 49 R. English, ‘Socialism: Socialist Intellectuals and the Irish Revolution’, in J. Augustein (ed.), The Irish Revolution, 1913–1923 (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2002), p. 206. 50 Ibid., p. 205. 51 M. Laffan, The Resurrection of Ireland: The Sinn Féin Party, 1916–1923 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), pp. 252–259. 52 A. Grant, Irish Socialist Republicanism, 1909–36 (Dublin: Four Courts Press, Ltd, 2012), pp. 135–140. 53 Ibid.

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54 Ibid. 55 Garda Siochana Detective Branch Report on British Fascisti (Irish Section), 27 June 1933 (JUS/8/719), National Archives of Ireland, Dublin, Republic of Ireland. 56 ‘Irish Free State Command Headquarters’, British Fascism, February 1931, p. 3. 57 For further reading on the Blueshirts, see M. Cronin, The Blueshirts and Irish Politics (Dublin: Four Courts Press, Ltd, 1997). 58 Garda Siochana Detective Branch Report on British Fascisti (Irish Section), 31 July 1933 (JUS/8/719). 59 Ibid. 60 Letter from D. Lawless to the Minister of Justice, 13 March 1933 (JUS/8/719). 61 Letter from Private Secretary of the Minister of Justice to the Private Secretary to the President, 30 March 1933 (JUS/8/719). 62 Letter from Gerald Loughrey to President Eamon de Valera, 3 May 1933 (JUS/8/ 719). 63 For further reading on the Black and Tans, see D. Leeson, The Black and Tans: British Police and Auxiliaries in the Irish War of Independence, 1920–1921 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011). 64 O. Mosley, My Life (London: Brockingday Publications, 1968), p. 150. 65 House of Commons Debate, Hansard, 24 November 1920, vol. 135, c.521. 66 S. Woodbridge, ‘Fraudulent Fascism: The Attitude of Early British Fascists Towards Mosley and the New Party’, Journal of Contemporary British History, 23:4 (2009), p. 495. 67 ‘Oil Where We Want It!’, The Fascist, May 1936, n.p. 68 R. M. Douglas, ‘The Swastika and the Shamrock’, Albion, 29(1) (1997), pp. 57–75, p. 71. 69 Mosley, My Life, pp. 126–137. 70 D. Baker, Ideology of Obsession (London: Taurus Academic Studies, 1996), p. 130; A. K. Chesterton, Oswald Mosley: Portrait of a Leader (London: Action Press, 1937), pp. 31–32. 71 Ibid., p. 32. 72 Skidelsky, Oswald Mosley (London: Macmillan Press, 1980), p. 395; Ironically, Skidelsky also states that the BUF’s membership also contained many former Black and Tans, p. 106. 73 ‘Ulster’s Wage War’, The Blackshirt, 18 March 1933, p. 3. 74 Ibid. 75 F. McGarry, Eoin O’Duffy: A Self-Made Hero (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), p. 282; The Greenshirts were the successor to O’Duffy’s ‘Blueshirts’ following the latter’s merger with Fine Gael in 1934. Mike Cronin is doubtful of the Blueshirts’ fascist credentials, describing them as ‘potential para-fascists’ who assumed a great deal of the liturgical elements of fascism, including political uniforms, marches, rallies and speeches but nevertheless eschewed the revolutionary politics of Hitler and Mussolini; M. Cronin, ‘The Blueshirt Movement: 1932–5: Ireland’s Fascists?’, Journal of Contemporary History 30:2 (1995), pp. 311–332. 76 ‘Mr De Valera and Ireland’, The Blackshirt, 18 November–24 November 1933, p. 4. 77 McGarry, Eoin O’Duffy, p. 282. 78 Ibid. 79 ‘Fascism Comes to Ireland’, The Blackshirt, 7 October–13 October 1933, p. 6. 80 Ibid. 81 J. Loughlin, ‘Northern Ireland and British Fascism in the Interwar Years’, Irish Historical Studies 29:116 (1995), p. 546. 82 ‘What about the Irish?’, The Blackshirt, 4 July 1936, p. 3. 83 Mosley speech in Ipswich, 5 July 1934, Reported in Irish News, 6 July 1934. See also see Londonderry Sentinel, 7 July 1934. 84 Loughlin, ‘Northern Ireland and British Fascism’, p. 549. 85 ‘Eire in London’, Action, 20 January 1938, p. 6. 86 ‘More Ulster Nonsense’, Action, 4 February 1939, p. 4.

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87 F. McEvoy, ‘Anglo-Irish Reconciliation Through Cultural Renaissance’, The British Union Quarterly, April–July 1937, p. 80. 88 Ibid., p .82. 89 J. Cole, Lord Haw Haw: The Full Story of William Joyce (London: Faber, 1964), p. 23. 90 Ibid., pp. 22–23. 91 Ibid., p. 23. 92 M. Kenny, Germany Calling: A Personal Biography of William Joyce (Dublin: New Island, 2003), p. 59. 93 Representing a divergence from an early 1933 article in The Blackshirt, which criticised Carson for being part of the ‘old gang’; ;Northern Irony’, The Blackshirt, 30 September–6 October 1933, p. 4. 94 W. Joyce, ‘Quis Separabit?', The Fascist Quarterly, January 1936, p. 28. 95 Ibid. 96 ‘The Division of Ireland: The Part of the Jews’, The Fascist, October 1937, p. 3. 97 Ibid. 98 ‘Ireland: A Catspaw’, The Fascist, October 1934. 99 ‘Ireland: A Dream Comes True’, The Fascist, April 1932, p. 2. 100 ‘The Real Rulers of Ulster’, The Fascist, November 1935, n.p. 101 ‘The Power Behind De Valera’, The Fascist, August 1932, p. 2. 102 Ibid. 103 ‘Jews in Ireland’, The Fascist, June 1933, n.p. 104 H. S. Linfield, ‘Statistics of Jews – 1929’, American Jewish Yearbook 32, p. 230, available at: www.jstor.org/stable/24230972?seq=1. 105 ‘Ireland’, The Fascist, August 1932, p. 2. 106 K. O’Rourke, ‘Burn Everything British but Their Coal: The Anglo-Irish Economic War of the 1930s’, Journal of Economic History 51:2 (1991), p. 358. 107 ‘Ireland’, The Fascist, June 1938, p. 2. 108 ‘If De Valera Declares a Republic’, The Fascist, February 1934, p. 3. 109 ‘The Irish Menace in Scotland’, The Fascist, October 1930, n.p. 110 ‘Vile Propaganda: Mr. de Valera Hits Out’, The Courier-Mail, 3 March 1934, p. 17. 111 ‘The Division of Ireland’, The Fascist, p. 3. 112 ‘Ireland’, The Fascist, June 1938, p. 2. 113 ‘The Jew and Sinn Fein’, Jewry Ueber Alles, June 1920, p. 8. 114 A. Jackson, Ireland, 1798–1998 (Oxford: Blackwell, 1999), p. 295. 115 ‘Ireland’s Right to Unite’, Union, 15 May 1948, p. 2. 116 ‘De Valera at Earls Court’, Union, 7 May 1949, p. 4. 117 ‘Ireland’s Right to Unite’, Union, 15 May 1948, p. 2. 118 Ibid. 119 ‘Irish Reunion’, Union, 14 August 1948, p. 2. 120 ‘Ireland’s Right to Unite’, Union. 121 ‘“43 Group” Visits Derby’, Union, 22 May 1948, p. 4. 122 ‘Ireland’s Right to Unite’, Union, 30 October 1948, p. 2. 123 Ibid. 124 ‘De Valera at Earls Court’, Union, 7 May 1949, p. 4. 125 Ibid. 126 ‘Shamrock’, ‘The Origins of Partition’, Union, 23 September 1950, p. 3. 127 Ibid. 128 ‘Shamrock’, ‘No Religious Discrimination’, Union, 14 October 1950, p. 3. 129 D. Leach, Fugitive Ireland: European Minority Nationalists and Irish Political Asylum, 1937– 2008 (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2009), pp. 73,.183. 130 ‘Mosley Moves to Ireland’, Union, 10 March 1951, p. 1. 131 Ibid. 132 Ibid. 133 J. Tyndall, The Eleventh Hour (London: Albion Press, 1988, p. 7). 134 Ibid., p. 11.

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135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157

Ibid., p .439. Ibid., p. 456. Ibid. ‘The Communist Role in Ireland’s Tragedy’, Spearhead, May 1972, p. 8. ‘Ulster: How Did It Start?’, Spearhead, September 1969, pp. 1–2. Ibid. ‘Ulster: Conciliation Not Enough’, Spearhead, April 1970, p. 1. ‘End Ulster Anarchy!’, Spearhead, August 1972, p. 10. ‘Loyalists Being Used?’, Spearhead, November 1972, p. 1. ‘Ulster: Time for Action, Not Just Talk’, Spearhead, September 1971, pp. 1–2. Ibid. ‘Red-Spectre over Northern Ireland’, Spearhead, March 1972, p. 7. ‘Pick of the Month’, Spearhead, March 1971, p. 4. ‘Ulster: How Did It Start?’, Spearhead, September 1969, pp. 1–2. J. Tyndall, ‘Open Letter to Ulster Loyalists’, May 1972, pp. 8–9. ‘Ulster: Time for Action’. Ibid. ‘IRA Terror – What Should Be Done?’, Spearhead, May 1972, p. 4. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. ‘Solution to Ulster’, Spearhead, October 1973, p. 12. ‘Ulster: Why the Strikers Were Right’, Spearhead, July 1974, pp. 9–12.

3 INDIA

The secession of Ireland from the United Kingdom and its new constitutional status as a Dominion – an independent country in all but name – reflected a huge trauma for the far right, who thought it spelled doom for the British Empire. The next major imperial crisis, located over 4,000 miles away in the Indian subcontinent, if further from home, was nevertheless seen as equally dangerous to the future of the Empire. Parallels were drawn at the time between the upheavals in Ireland and India. Nesta Webster saw both as weakened due to declining British dominance (in the case of the former, the loss of British control). This was ideal breeding grounds for subversion: In both the population consists of mainly an unlettered peasantry, content to till the soil in peace and roused to discontent only by circumstances that interfere with this pursuit, such as drought or disease among their crops, but capable also of sporadic outbursts of violence as the result of religious fanaticism or of a sense of grievance exploited by cunning agitators. In both this religious fanaticism has been kept alive by the existence of warring creeds: in Ireland, the antagonism between Protestants and Catholics and in India – to take only the broadest division – the ancient feud between Hindus and Moslems. In both countries again, secret societies flourished under the cover of which the instigators of crime could escape detection, and the wretched tool be made to pay the penalty for the deed assigned to him.1 Drawing upon Chapter 2’s overview, this chapter will analyse the specific role India played in far right conceptions of Empire after the critical year 1919 – when the debate over India’s imperial future intensified following the Montagu-Chelmsford Reforms – until Indian independence in 1947. It will first examine far right perceptions of Indians as a race, which demonstrates both the

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importance of reductive conceptions of ethnicity in the overall framing of the India question, as well as different attitudes towards non-whites within the far right. It will then show how these racial conceptions, aided by anti-communist and antisemitic conspiracy theories, helped shape perceptions of Indian nationalism – arguably the most significant issue in Britain’s Empire during the interwar period. Thereafter, the chapter will analyse different fascist movements’ vision for India following a fascist takeover. Given the gap in scholarly studies of the British far right and India, this is something that furthers our understanding of far right contributions to Indian reform in the 1930s. A brief look at far right discussions of India following the Government of India Act and post-independence will be undertaken, in conclusion. This chapter will argue that India reflected an important avenue through which the far right sought to influence mainstream debates over Indian governance – particularly between 1933 and 1935 – as well as frame political priorities of greater importance, such as anti-communist and antisemitic conspiracy theories and a thoroughly racialised world-view. India was considered the ‘Jewel in the Crown’ of the British Empire by the far right, and apparent testament to the inherent superiority of the British race. Unsurprisingly, far right discourse on India was, for the most part, racialised. Yet it will be shown that far right conceptions of India also shared much with Tory diehard debates on the issue. Notions of Indians as an inferior race were frequently used to defend British rule and the recourse to violence in maintaining control. Both groups believed in the need for continued British rule in the Indian subcontinent, meaning that many fascist policies reflected merely more extreme versions of British governance already witnessed in the Raj. Nonetheless, the sizeable difference between far right and conservative approaches to the Indian question is indicated by, once again, the former’s recourse to conspiracy theories to explain Indian nationalism. When an opportunity arose for unity between diehard conservatives and fascists in 1934–1935, the political weakness of the BUF and its inability to work with more mainstream political opposition became obvious.

Perceptions of India and Indians India, rather than being simply a distant territory under British control, had long been perceived by British imperialists as the ultimate testament to the success and strength of the British nation. The imperialist narrative argued that Britain had, since the late eighteenth century, spearheaded a ‘mission’ in India to bring British ‘civilisation’ which would improve the lives of those colonised. The original logic of British rule was based on economic advantages – the initial impulse for imperialism in India – as it steadily expanded throughout the nineteenth century. Christian missionaries brought the message of God, along with other Western ideas, to native Indians. Liberals, such as James Mill, writing in his The History of British India (1817), criticised the moral and cultural degradation of Indian life, believing it was Britain’s duty to alleviate Indians from their squalor.2 Following the Indian Mutiny

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in 1857, British rule in India narrowly avoided disaster. In 1858, power was transferred from the British East India Company to the Crown, marking the beginning of the British Raj. In an ideological sense, the rebellion furthered the notion of Indians as a ‘disloyal’ and ‘subversive’ race. Kim Wagner has demonstrated that after the Mutiny, ‘the ruling class were surrounded by constant reminders of the potential dangers of “native rebellion”’, thus providing crucial context for acts of colonial violence such as the massacre in Amritsar.3 Such ideas repeatedly came to the fore in debates surrounding Indian nationalism during the early twentieth century. Thomas Metcalfe has noted that two divergent tendencies were used by the British in order to justify colonial rule in India. One was to recognise similarities between Britons and Indians, while the other was to exacerbate differences. Liberal attitudes, inspired by Enlightenment universalism, tended to argue that Indians were, or could become, a democratic and a ‘civilised’ nation alongside Britain. Yet such ideas fell out of favour in the mid-nineteenth century, and more reactionary notions of the Indians as a different race and culture with no recognisable ‘nation’ became increasingly commonplace after the 1857 Sepoy revolt.4 It is important to place far right visions within this wider context. First and foremost, their view of Indians was profoundly influenced by notions of difference and inferiority. Not only were Indians not a nation, they were a backward, immature people who could not be civilised. British rule was defended for maintaining peace between antagonistic castes and ethno-religious groups. Furthermore, it was justified on the grounds that rule in India was decisive for British power in Asia; not least as well as a kind of trophy which demonstrated British global strength. The far right was clearly uninterested in the development of Indian society unless British interests were strengthened or at worst, unaffected. General perceptions of Indians were important in shaping subsequent policies on India, such as the rejection of Indian self-rule or the extension of British power in India. Anachronistic visions of Indian society and development were frequently melded with paternalistic concerns for the well-being of Indians, who could only succeed under the guiding hand of Western rule. Again, this must be placed within its historical context: it was all too common for Indians to be described as hopeless and unable to govern themselves in Britain before 1947 (and indeed after). What is most striking and different about far right attitudes to India is their extremist nature, and, as will be explored later on, the drastic solutions proposed to deal with the ‘problem’ of Indian nationalism. One example from the most extreme far right party, the Imperial Fascist League, but nonetheless typical of the far right in general stated: ‘They [Hindus] have established no claim to nationality; they are happy under just Aryan rule, which should be absolute over them.’5 It is worth restating that chauvinistic and backward ideas relating to Indian culture and society were by no means limited to the far right fringes. The notion of Indians as racially inferior permeated much of Britain. The notion that Indians were ready to control their own affairs like ‘white’ Dominions would have ‘required a revolution in basic attitudes which some members of the imperial

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governing class were unable to make’.6 One prominent Conservative opponent of Indian reform, Sir Henry Page Croft MP, enumerated several reasons why he believed that more autonomy for Indians was foolish. His argument, that Indians must be protected from each other by strong British rule, is essentially the same as that found on the far right. Pointing to Secretary of State, Samuel Hoare during a Commons debate, Page Croft asked: Is there a right hon. Gentleman sitting on that Bench who in his heart of hearts believes that the Indian ryot will be rescued from the extortion of the moneylender, the children from the practices of the temple, the widows from suttee, Moslem and Hindu from internecine bloodshed, and the Untouchables from the tyranny of the Brahmin if the British abdicate in India? Everyone knows that if you go out, it will not be progression but reaction. All that you have done will be thrown away, and you will see everything which British influence has done in this direction wiped out in a night. I cannot help asking: Are we weary of the white man’s burden?7 One well-known critique of Indian culture during the period in question was US author Katherine Mayo’s 1928 book, Mother India. In it, Mayo suggested that various cultural transgressions in India – such as a disreputable treatment of women, squalid living conditions, the caste system and mistreatment of animals – derived from the sexualised nature of Indian society: The whole pyramid of the Hindu’s woes, material and spiritual – poverty, sickness, ignorance, political minority, melancholy, ineffectiveness, not to mention the subconscious conviction of inferiority which he forever bares and advertises by his gnawing and imaginative alertness for social affronts – rests upon a rock-bottom physical base. This base, simply, his manner of getting into the world and his sex-life thenceforward.8 Mayo’s work, controversial even at the time, was championed by far right imperialists and diehards alike, who embraced it as an accurate reflection of India and proof of the need for continued British rule.9 The more immediate origins of far right discourse on India began in the aftermath of the Amritsar Massacre (which occurred in April 1919) and the subsequent enquiry into the actions of General Reginald Dyer. Dyer had ordered Indian Army troops to fire on a large group of peaceful protestors, killing around 400 and maiming over 1,000 people. It would be a seminal event for the British Raj, and one which would rally Indian nationalists against British rule. A. J. P. Taylor described the massacre as ‘the decisive moment when Indians were alienated from British rule’.10 To be sure, many elite figures, including Churchill and much of the British press, were outraged by the actions of Dyer, it was nevertheless a polarising event for imperialists. In the end, Dyer received support from those claiming he had merely attempted to restore order in the face of subversion from Indian

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nationalists. The Anglo-Irish War later impacted those who supported Dyer. For example, Lord Carson and other Ulster Unionists backed his methods. To put it another way, for Ulster Unionists, ‘the Dyer controversy was a thinly coded discussion of Ireland, then in open revolt’.11 The massacre at Amritsar also occurred during a period in which Bolshevik conspiracies were rife and many on the diehard right, such as Lord Sydenham of Combe and the 8th Duke of Northumberland, subscribed whole-heartedly to the notion of a controlling Judaeo-Bolshevik power. One organ promoting this view, was the diehard newspaper The Morning Post – which went so far as to raise £18,000 from readers to present to Dyer for ‘services to the British Empire’ upon his return to England. Ultimately, common threads linking support for General Dyer to feature in future far right discussions of India included notions of the British Raj’s ‘duty’ to maintain law and order, violently if need be, in the face of Indian nationalist subversion. Also revealing is the way this is connected to alleged subversion with global Jewish and Bolshevik cabals. Interestingly, one of Dyer’s strongest critics was a young Oswald Mosley MP in late 1920, condemning his actions as ‘Prussian frightfulness inspired by racism’.12 By the mid-1930s, Mosley and his BUF would be calling for similar reprisals against Gandhi and the Indian National Congress (INC). The earliest far right views on India were formulated in the early 1920s, via The Patriot journal and related publications produced by The Britons. Lord Sydenham of Combe was a frequent contributor to The Patriot; he would use his experience as Governor of Bombay (1907–1913) to attempt to legitimate the far right on Indian – and indeed all imperial – issues. Sydenham believed that the LiberalConservative coalition government put British rule in India in grave danger through the passage of the 1919 Government of India Act, which increased Indian participation in the Raj. His unwavering belief that Britain should resist all calls for autonomy from nationalist movements was, it seems, relatively typical in conservative circles. Unlike the 8th Duke of Northumberland however, Sydenham did not resort to conspiracy theories to explain events, but instead used patrician conceptions of Empire to explain why Indians needed firm British rule. He proclaimed that ‘94 per cent of the people are illiterate, excitable and credulous to the highest degree’, suggesting that Indians were incapable of increased self-government.13 Sydenham constantly referred to his experience in India to lend his own views a respectability which, in turn, is reflected in The Patriot’s initial attempts to be a mainstream outlet for Conservatives and diehards. Less radical and more reactionary ultra-right, Britain’s first self-proclaimed fascist party, the British Fascisti (BF), endorsed what imperialism had brought to India as ‘the British peace’ and an end to sectarian violence between ‘warring savage Moslems and Hindus’.14 Nesta Webster praised Britain’s record for ending religious conflict in India while maintaining equality of all religions, describing the British role in India to ‘prevent the rival bands of devotees from cutting each other’s throats’.15 Webster goes further and noted that, were it not for the British, barbaric cultural practices – such as the burning of widows and female infanticide – would still be carried out. Describing the role of Britain in India, Webster concluded:

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British rule and British influence in India have thus largely consisted in efforts to protect the native population from each other, - Hindus from Moslems and Moslems from Hindus, children from their parents, and zemindars, or farmers from the rapacity of bannias, or money-lenders, who exploited their labours … The truth is that, on the part of the great mass of the population, there was no spontaneous desire to throw off British rule.16 Accordingly, Indians were described by the far right variously as backward, animallike, savage, lazy, stupid and totally unfit for self-government. Pejorative racial slurs such as ‘coolie’ and ‘baboo’ were frequently used in far right propaganda to describe Indians, further suggesting the contempt and inherent prejudice many felt towards Indians. Oswald Mosley claimed his views of Indian nationalism and the British Raj were shaped by a trip to India in 1924. His first major interaction with Indian politics was through his father-in-law, Lord Curzon (father of Mosley’s first wife, Cynthia). Curzon was the Viceroy of India between 1899 and 1905, and later Foreign Secretary from 1919 to 1924. Mosley was shocked by the contradictions of imperial splendour and rampant destitution when he visited India in 1924, describing it as the ‘extremes of beauty and of ugliness, of flaunting wealth and abysmal poverty’.17 During his trip, taken shortly before Mosley’s defection from the Conservative Party to Labour, he was particularly disgusted by the slums of Calcutta, describing the conditions as ‘no monument either to the humanity or to the intelligence of the British Raj’.18 Writing in his memoirs, Mosley remembered being introduced to Mahatma Gandhi, whom he seemed to respect. He subsequently observed a meeting between Hindu and Muslim representatives chaired by Gandhi, an affair which quickly turned into chaos between both sides. From then on, Mosley was apparently convinced that Hindus and Muslims were incapable of working together. He concluded that British rule was essential to prevent war and division, a position he felt was vindicated following the bloody partition of India in 1947, a view he held right up until his death in 1980.19 This neat narrative explaining his lack of support for Indian independence should be taken with especial caution, however, given that it was written in 1972 by Mosley himself, over 50 years after the events he self-servingly recounts. One frequent claim by the BUF, based on a cultural determinism akin to Rudyard Kipling’s dictum ‘East is East and West is West, and never the twain shall meet’, was that imperialism had failed to ‘Westernise’ the Indian races. India thus provided an opportunity for the far right to discuss racial theories and ideas which emphasised the superiority of whites. Oswald Mosley claimed that Indians were not suitable for Western culture and education. Instead, their priority should be to maintain their own culture and customs. They could never be British, and by implication, civilised, and therefore all attempts to do so were pointless. In the 1930s, Mosley claimed that ‘imitation’ of Western practices by Indians was not only artificial, but brought about nationalist unrest and destruction, leading to the bastardisation of a culture wholly alien to them. Despite having a clear view of

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their innate inferiority, for Mosley, the future of Indian life under fascism remained ambiguous: ‘under fascism, Indian leaders will arise to carry forward their own traditions and culture within the framework of the modern world of science’.20 One article tellingly entitled ‘What is wrong with India?’ in an earlier BF publication from 1932 supports Mosley’s theory that Indians were incompatible with Western culture, arguing that educating Indians along Western lines was ‘merely turning the better class Indians into a race of semi-educated clerks’.21 The anonymous author continues in this vein: The Indian has been so entirely altered by Occidentalism that, mentally and physically speaking, he is scarcely an Indian any longer. He was formerly an Asiatic with an Asiatic mentality and outlook, but centuries of wholesome British administration and missionary effort have gradually made him a semiEuropean, and have endowed him with all the faults and failings of the European psychology; of their virtues he has imbibed very little.22 Jawaharlal Nehru, a principal leader in the Indian nationalist movement, who would later become India’s first Prime Minister, was scorned in far right publications as the typical example of the decadent westernised Indian (Nehru studied law at Trinity College, Cambridge, and went on to train as a barrister). A 1936 article in the BUF publication Action used him as an example of why a western education was unsuitable for Indians. In a book review of Nehru’s autobiography by John Beckett, the reviewer marginalises him through a cultural generalisation of which Nehru is the embodiment: The difficulty with the educated Indian is that he has usually lost the manliness of his more Asiatic brothers and acquired a superficial Western cunning, which allied to his native hysteria, makes him well-nigh impossible to deal with on any recognised lines.23 The most racist perceptions of Indians assuredly came from the closest entity to a biologically racist ‘Nazi’ party in Britain – the Imperial Fascist League (IFL). During their short time before Leese became leader, the IFL held the relatively mainstream conservative view that rising Indian nationalism was a dangerous precedent for British rule. Apocalyptic visions of an India without firm British security was often highlighted, for without it ‘within twelve months the population of India would be decimated and not a virgin will be found in Bengal’.24 As the decade anniversary of the Amritsar massacre approached, The Fascist was full of praise for the polarising General Dyer and his army of ‘native fighting men’, whose actions on April 13, 1919 saved India ‘by firing on the mob’.25 Given the support offered to General Dyer by those on the mainstream right, Leese’s approval of violent measures to suppress colonial nationalism is not in the least surprising. However, it must be noted that Leese and the IFL actively glorified and encouraged racialised political violence throughout the 1930s:

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The fight is on; and the Nordic peoples will win it … This mental poisoning of two thousand years must be brought to an end, and a stern retribution meted out to those men and women of our own blood whatever their rank and status may be, by whose actions, and teachings not only has our Nation been brought to the verge of Race Suicide in the name of Equality, but by which also, men of the noblest Race on earth find themselves ranged alongside the Bolshevik Jew against their own brethren of Northern Europe, that Race which in past history has always borne the brunt of the attacks from Asia and defeated them, Huns, Arabs, Mongols or Turks, that the light of civilisation might shine undimmed.26 As the IFL’s driving force, Leese’s views on India were shaped during his time working as a veterinarian in the Indian Civil Veterinary Department between 1906 and 1912. Leese was consumed by his work and cared little for leisure time, rendering his experiences and interactions with Indian culture largely circumstantial and self-centred. He embraced the ruggedness of life on the colonial frontier, but in his autobiography, also described his time in India as ‘filled with real physical hardship’.27 One hardship experienced by Leese on the trip was the death of his beloved companion, Bill the dog. Recalling Bill’s death, Leese said mournfully: ‘He took a bit of me with him, I think.’28 It is important not to underestimate the importance of Bill to Leese – as a man who spared little time for personal relations with other humans and spent the vast majority of his working life with animals. One of Leese’s closest human relationships during his time at India was with two graduates from the Lahore Veterinary College, Ata Mahommed and Kahan Singh. Mohammed was Muslim, while Singh was a Sikh. Leese was particularly attached to Mohammed, ‘who stuck to me throughout my six years in the country’.29 His experiences with Mohammed and Singh were influential on Leese’s later political views as espoused via the IFL. It may be said that India led to the political radicalisation of Leese, who was otherwise uninterested in politics prior to his travels. His aforementioned autobiography, The Two Lives of an Anti-Jewish Camel Doctor, implies a double life, half of which was spent as a veterinarian followed by his ‘Jew-wise’ years as a political activist. His experiences in India would lead to a politicisation that was rooted firmly in sectarian conflict, but also in an innate sense of racial superiority: ‘I suppose I was vaguely Conservative, just as I had been vaguely Liberal before I went out to India and found that one man was not half as good as another.’30 Leese would leave India in 1912, exasperated by both his work and the reforms being made there. One of the key drivers for his decision to leave, he recalled, was the impending ‘Indianisation of the services’ – something he doubtless detested, given his hatred for Hindus. Leese spent the majority of his time in India in the Punjab and Lahore – areas with either large or exclusively Muslim populations – and he developed an extreme prejudice against Hindus. He would later use his experiences to construct a racial categorisation of Indians, along with an idea for an elaborate fascist reformation of the British Raj.

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Leese expressed his racial view of Indians biologically and deterministically, as if Indian behaviour was hard-wired: They belong to several different races: there is a faint Aryan strain in some of the aristocratic families and in the upper castes of Hinduism, but it is swamped by “native” blood of other races, and India is now a land of brown-skinned people representing a mixture of the ancient black Dravidian aboriginal with Asiatic invaders of Armenoid, Oriental and Mongoloid origin.31 Leese presented Indian society as a social Darwinist battle between the various races, which he crudely reduced simply to ‘fighting’ and ‘non-fighting’; ‘fighting’ races being those largely found in north-eastern India, comprising the majority of the Indian Army, and ‘non-fighting’ being the majority Hindu population. Leese’s vision for India was rooted in Spencerian conceptions of the subjugation of the weak by the strong and Edwardian eugenic ideas applied to an imperial context. In his opinion, this would see Muslims and Sikhs dominate the majority Hindu population of the subcontinent, as nature had intended. A striking feature of his writings is that despite a general hatred for all Indians, there is a strong element of favouritism towards Muslims and Sikhs. Despite these views originating from his time working in India, anti-Hindu prejudice and the championing of Muslims and Sikhs were common among all far right groups. As will be demonstrated in Chapter 4, early far right organisations such as The Britons as well as the IFL and the BUF all demonstrated degrees of support for Arab Muslims in Palestine.32 The term ‘martial race’ dates back to 1857 following the Indian Uprising. Thereafter, the Indian Army designated two separate categories of people in the British Raj; ‘martial’ and ‘non-martial’. ‘Martial races’ were considered tough and well-built for military combat while non-martial groups were deemed unsuitable for fighting due to their temperament and culture. It subsequently became Indian Army policy to only recruit from this relatively small pool of ‘fighting races’. ‘Martial races’ made up no more than 10 per cent of the total population of British India and were disproportionately found in the north-west provinces such as Punjab, Rajput and Baluchistan. One prominent writer on the ‘martial races’ was British General Sir George MacMunn, who wrote several books on the Indian Army, including The Martial Races of India (1931). MacMunn described the fighting races variously as ‘the jaunty swaggering hillman from the frontier’ and ‘the square shouldered, athletic Mussulman of the Punjab’.33 His book described the nonfighting majority of the subcontinent in less than favourable terms: ‘unwarlike people whose hand has never kept the head’.34 These were some of the tributaries for Leese’s views on India, coupled with his experiences. It is also perfectly likely that Leese had read MacMunn’s The Martial Races, published in 1931, and drew more extreme conclusions from his arguments. Where Leese’s views depart from conventional wisdom was his idea that, under British fascist rule, martial races should become a ruling elite, justly dominating the majority through force.

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While Leese and the IFL were distinctive in their extreme view of Indians – in the sense that they viewed Indians within a strict, biologically racial framework – other far right parties and individuals also naturally held the view that the Indian character was inherently inferior to that of Britons. The fundamental rationale for British rule in India, according to the far right, and indeed to many parliamentary conservative figures (such as diehards), was that Britain had brought peace to a land in which diverse cultural, religious and ethnic groups were perpetually at war. A well-summarised perspective offered in the BUF press was that British authoritarianism was the only appropriate method of governance for India. This was a common thread running through far right discussion on India: It cannot be emphasized too often that the Indian does not understand democracy. There is only one form of government that he understands and that is a ruler who knows his mind and gets his way. As long as such a ruler remains strong and autocratic, is reasonably just, however hard and ruthless may be his justice, and offers him reasonable security within which to pursue his traditional occupation, the Indian will accept and support that ruler without question, and be contented.35 The writer, using the pseudonym ‘Lictor’ (most likely William Joyce), ominously goes on to state that repressive violence would be inevitable in any future governance of India: ‘Opposition and bloodshed have had to be faced, and will have to be faced, at every step of India’s development; regardless of who makes the step or where it leads.’36 What is most striking about far right perceptions of India and Indians is how little they diverged from conservative attitudes. The notion of Indians an inferior race of people who were wholly incapable of governing themselves, found widespread acceptance on the British right and beyond. The main difference within far right thought in this regard tended towards whether they described the Indian’s inferiority in terms of culture or biology. More National Socialist-minded fascists such like Arnold Leese viewed Indian incapacity for governance as genetically inescapable. A. K. Chesterton, during his time with the BUF, however, cast the differences between Britain and India as more of a ‘civilisational’ clash, albeit with Indians naturally being completely subservient to the British.

Communist conspiracy The rise of Indian nationalism in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, typified by the establishment of the INC in 1885, reached record levels shortly after the First World War. Demands for Swaraj [self-government] increased following a global war in which over 40,000 Indian soldiers had died serving the British Empire. The Amritsar Massacre saw many flock to the nationalists who were attempting to force Britain to concede self-government to Indians. The Government of India Act of 1919 which, among other rearrangements, increased

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the proportion of Indians who could vote in elections, also introduced the principle of ‘dyarchy’ or ‘dual government’, thereby increasing the role of Indians in government. The INC, led by the towering figure of Mahatma Gandhi, refused to cease protesting against the injustices of British rule in India, or to halt their campaign for self-governance, through Satyagraha [non-violent resistance]. Fascist rhetoric on India during the interwar period must be viewed within the above context: rising nationalism and civil disobedience in India, on one hand; and an apparent cross-party consensus on the need for more Indian self-governance, with the eventual goal of Dominion status on the other. The far right as a whole wanted an end to the discussion over India’s future – unless it involved the cessation of further autonomy, or a return to stronger British rule. As will be demonstrated below, fascists proposed various theories as to how India had arrived at such a state, which typically formed one part of their larger world-view. Given the far right’s disdain for the majority of Indians and their belief that India would descend into chaos should Britain withdraw – not to mention the prestige attached to Britain’s ‘Jewel in the Crown’ – it is unsurprising that the majority of fascist writings on India were directed at attacking Indian nationalism. As will be demonstrated, a range of propaganda themes were levelled at Gandhi and Indian nationalists, predominantly between 1927 and 1935. The most common reason for the rejection of the goals of Indian nationalism, one held by all far right organisations, was the belief that if British rule left India, a civil war between perpetually quarrelling communities (identified at its simplest as Hindus and Muslims) would ensue. This was partly ascribed to various divisions within Indian society, but also due to the frequent assertion that the Indian character (discussed in either biological or cultural terms) was unfit for governing effectively. Yet the far right’s contention that India reflected one of many crumbling frontiers in the fight against an internationalist conspiracy guided their more immediate discussions of contemporary Indian politics and the rise of Indian nationalism. Set out more fully below, various subversive groups were believed to be plotting unrest in India, forming the most immediate threat to British rule in India. This exemplifies how the far right differed from mainstream conservatives also opposed to Indian nationalism. Far right conspiracy theories, as previously noted, were often contradictory: the BF claimed the INC were seeking a communist revolution, whereas the BUF argued they represented both communist and capitalist interests. Antisemitism was consistently deployed in order to discredit the INC as ‘puppets’ – with some attributing this to Jewish financiers, displaying a more anti-capitalist theme, whereas others related Indian nationalism to ‘Judaeo-Bolshevism’. These often incoherent positions provide no similar pattern encompassing all far right organisations, who formulated criticisms based on their respective party platforms. However, they were unified in their total rejection of the goals and aims of Indian nationalism and what was perceived as its more sinister guiding force. Communist influence was frequently identified – not to mention grossly overemphasised – by many on the far right in Britain after the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution in Russia. The threat of international communism in India was no exception

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and, in conjunction, Indian nationalism in the 1920s was often cast as a Bolshevist front. The BF simply linked the growing nationalist movement, which was decades in the making, to the rising trend of global Bolshevik activity. Communist propaganda was allegedly being spread in India to sow the seeds of unrest, while the Soviet government was ‘openly continuing its campaign for the organisation of revolution in India’.37 Evidence for this was, not surprisingly, omitted, other than a citation from a recently published book by Jhanghiz Magheiff, India under the British Yoke, which argued that Russian communists were fomenting ‘the impending Indian rising’.38 The putative Soviet threat to India was a consistent theme in BF literature, and was frequently used to explain the rise in nationalist movements against British rule elsewhere. According to the BF, Indians were being manipulated by a Soviet-backed INC. The BF blamed the British government for trying to ‘placate the unrest of an implacable Indian minority’.39 The BF wanted to declare the INC an illegal organisation and invoke a permanent banning of public demonstrations in the name of ‘rescuing the feeble folk’.40 What is implied in the BF’s proposed treatment of India is fairly unambiguous: Indians were an inferior race of people who should be grateful for the benefits of British rule. The INC was little more than an agent of the Communist International and, as such, should be treated as the enemy. The British government was accused of jeopardising British rule in India by offering too many concessions. In particular, the antipathy to Gandhi expressed in BF publications was somewhat ironic, given his very public criticisms of materialistic communism. Nevertheless, this does represent the BF’s conspiratorial tendency to see any kind of subversive movement under the umbrella of world communism. In contributing to this view, Nesta Webster placed communist influence on Indian nationalism within her grand conspiracy of the subversive threat to Western civilisation. She argued that, ever since the Bolshevik revolution, the INC had become ever firmer under Moscow’s control, ‘watching and maturing its plans for the overthrow of British rule in India’.41 Webster even accused the Labour Party of collaborating with communists in the INC, who were seeking to take revolutionary control of India. Like the BF, BUF publications occasionally argued that the force behind Indian nationalism, in particular the INC, was communism. In August 1934, should the White Paper proposals be implemented, The Blackshirt warned that India would no longer be under British control, but at the mercy of the Soviet Union. The INC was described as ‘powerfully impregnated with Communist beliefs’, with many activists allegedly feigning nationalism as a method for installing socialism.42 A later article in Action described Jawaharlal Nehru as the ‘wealthy leader of the Indian Communists’.43 A similar article by Henry Gibbs in The Blackshirt argued that the Communist International was aiming to weaken British rule in India in order to pave the way for a Bolshevik-style revolution there. Allegedly, the Communist International had recently ‘turned its attention to India and [is] determined to cause a revolution’; it had only ‘formed a conspiracy with persons and bodies in Europe and India and elsewhere to excite the Indian workers and peasants to revolution’.44

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Gibbs also suggested that Gandhi was influenced by communism, since his ‘most cherished political theories have at least a cousinship with Bolshevism’.45 Notwithstanding far right claims of Soviet agitation in India, communism was always a marginal, perpetually fragmented force in India during the interwar period.46 The Communist Party of India was founded in 1920 and many prominent Indian communists such as M. N. Roy travelled to the USSR to discuss the Communist International’s colonial policy. In the 1920s, communists were generally encouraged to join trade unions and the INC to form a united front against imperialism. However, the alliance between communists and the INC was not an easy one, least of all because its spiritual leader, Gandhi, was highly sceptical of Western forms of communism and socialist materialism, viewing class struggle as incompatible with non-violence. The INC were periodically depicted as the bourgeois enablers of imperialism by communists, who alleged that Indian nationalists were seeking a compromise with the British in order to safeguard their own interests. In addition, colonial authorities significantly cracked down on communism in India between the wars, having leading members imprisoned. The Communist Party of India was banned in 1934. In 1935, communists once again joined forces with the INC in a united front against British imperialism. Regardless of the actual activities of communists in India, the far right sought to dismiss any genuine convictions held by Indian nationalists in an attempt to label them simply as ‘subversive’ and anti-British. As this suggests, understanding the realities of the situation was not as important to the far right as using Indian nationalists as a target for their wider anti-communist, ultra-nationalist ideology.

Liberalism and capitalism Despite occasionally attacking communist subversion within Indian nationalism, the root cause for the interwar far right was Britain’s overly liberal Empire, which had enabled powerful forces of destruction to take advantage of weakness. In a 1935 BUF text, A. K. Chesterton identified liberal democracy as the underlying forms of decadence causing exploitative capitalism. This tendency can be found widely in the BUF’s conception of the ‘Indian problem’. Chesterton, as one of the chief ideologues and philosophers of the BUF, constantly attacked ‘Bloomsbury’ intellectuals as part of his wider assault on liberalism. In his ‘India and British Intellectual Decay’, Chesterton adds that editorials in The New Statesman and The Nation on the Indian question failed to comprehend the inferiority of Indians, their disunity and ability to self-govern. Chesterton was offended by the very notion of India obtaining Dominion status, contending that the idea was born of a naïve, pseudo-enlightened liberal perspective.47 Nevertheless, in BUF propaganda, these examples of Indian nationalism being ascribed to either international communism or domestic liberalism were eclipsed by an anti-capitalist rhetoric that was closely linked to notions of Jewish-controlled ‘international finance’. Indeed, it was no accident that India was depicted as one of the evils of global capitalism. As will be shown, a key part of the BUF’s strategy vis-à-vis India was to demonstrate the

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benefits of a re-assertion of British control over the Indian economy to workingclass voters in Lancashire – a region they believed to be decimated by free trade and globalisation. Above all, those behind free market capitalism were blamed for the rise of Indian nationalism, particularly by the BUF. Global capitalism was criticised on grounds similar to their anti-communism: both were materialistic, international systems acting against Britain’s national interest and allegedly dominated by Jews. High profile ‘financiers’ were portrayed as unpatriotic and only interested in personal enrichment. Indian nationalism was often dismissed as a capitalist ploy, designed to give more autonomy to wealthy individuals in the INC and their donors at the expense of the British working class. In a speech at Preston Public Hall in December 1934, Mosley proclaimed that the government’s ‘policy of surrender and betrayal of the British Empire and the Lancashire worker is the corrupt practice of the international financier reaping bigger profits and higher rates of interest’.48 Yet, the BUF were far from alone in criticising Indian nationalism as a capitalist ploy. The BF, despite its essentially middle-class make-up, also criticised the INC as a bourgeois phenomenon. Indian nationalism and ‘Ghandists’ were dismissed as the ‘noisy few’ of a certain higher caste, with Hindus of a lower social status having no ‘informed hostility’ to the British Raj. The BF likewise associated capitalist interests with Indian nationalism in an attempt to gain working-class support: ‘the rescue of the Indian peasant and the overthrow of the usurer-politician [are] a duty’.49 In a June 1933 BUF publication, capitalism was alleged to be at the heart of the ‘Indian problem’. The Blackshirt argued that liberal democracy and free market capitalism led to Britain losing control of India, since both are inappropriate for controlling a vast Empire. The INC was held to be under the influence of a ‘bourgeois class’ of money lenders and capitalists, driven purely by the desire for more wealth – rather than the British national interest, represented as the workers who were impacted by India’s economy, most notably in Lancashire. The INC was described as ‘a fake movement calculated to gain political and economic power for the bourgeois capitalist class of India, for the big baboo millionaires of Bombay and Calcutta’. A fascist government would ‘take by the throat the foul cobra of Indian sedition’.50 The BUF attack on an Indian nationalism beholden to capitalist interests represents a novel attempt to link what they saw as sedition in India with the interests of the rich. This was done in order to appeal to more working-class voters, and to differentiate themselves from conservative critique of Indian nationalism. Again, these tended to focus on the unfitness of Indians to govern their own affairs, or the need for Britain to maintain control over its imperial possessions. Indian nationalist demands for more democracy in India were instead linked to BUF criticisms of democracy as inefficient and chaotic as a whole. The 1934 ‘“No Surrender” of India’ argued that following a withdrawal of the British Raj, ‘India would crumble up like a pricked balloon’.51 The BUF aimed to make Indian politics relevant to domestic issues in Britain and project their core ideology onto it, rather than treating it as a separate issue of imperial policy. Frequent attacks on

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international finance capitalism therefore reflected multiple agendas: one was to discredit capitalism as a system in favour of economic nationalism and protectionism. Another was to blame the Jews for exploiting Britain’s ‘corrupt’ system. Often linked to both anti-communist and anti-capitalist discourse, antisemitic conspiracism was a consistent feature within interwar far right propaganda, albeit varying in degrees of intensity. Nor was Indian nationalism exempt from portrayal as a Jewish false-flag operation, designed to damage the prestige of the British Empire. The Britons, for instance, as early as 1921, promoted the view that Jewish influence sought the destruction of the British Raj. Articles in The Hidden Hand argued that a bourgeois class of usurers was exploiting Indian peasants by colluding with Jews in the British government (such as Edwin Samuel Montagu). Gandhi was merely a puppet figure deployed to cover up the conspiracy.52 The conspiracism advocated by The Britons was later echoed by future fascist parties: that vulnerable Indians were being exploited by Jewish capitalists, but were too enfeebled and naïve to realise it. One letter to The Britons’ publication, The British Guardian, decried moves towards Indian self-government as a betrayal of Britain’s imperial duty: ‘We, as a people’, are responsible for The betrayal of the Indian people at the hands of the Jew Montagu, then Secretary for India, who proclaimed that they must be roused from their pathetic contentment, and proceeded to do this. Hitherto the poor Indian peasant has relied on and received the protection of the British Magistrate and the British Soldier from the extortioner and usurer, but this protection is being removed.53 This strain of antisemitic thought in the far right press relating to India would continue well into the 1930s. The IFL most vociferously alleged that Jewish sedition was behind Indian nationalism. Arnold Leese made it perfectly clear who he held accountable for both Indian nationalist movements and general unrest in India: The British have brought to India what the Aryan brought in the days of old: —civilisation in place of chaos; honesty in place of wholesale corruption; security in place of persecution. But the whole process has of late been spoiled, contaminated and partly neutralised by the British power itself succumbing to the destructive influence of Judah.54 Antisemitic rhetoric over India was not only found among the small, fringe fascist organisations, but common in BUF propaganda after 1934 too. William Joyce used coded antisemitism to explain the problems of India: ‘Conditions which have prevailed for some years include a system of terrorism, the callous murder of British officials, and the exploitation of Indian labour by international finance.’55 Oswald Mosley also ended a speech at Manchester Free Trade Hall in November 1934 on the importance of India to Lancashire by making reference to ‘organised Jewish

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interests’ which were allegedly behind tariffs that benefited them but not the British worker. This demonstrated that ‘they owed allegiance to others of their race in foreign countries instead of to Britain. That would stop under fascism.’56 Later that same year, Mosley criticised the ‘alien force’ which ‘dominates Britain and the world’, exploiting cheap Indian labour in order to acquire personal wealth: ‘We challenge that force of internationalism that has dominated every single party since the war, ruling in secret behind every Government, no matter who sits as puppet in Downing Street or Whitehall.’57 Following the withdrawal of support from Lord Rothermere in that year, who found the BUF’s thinly veiled antisemitism unacceptable, the party moved towards more explicit verbal attacks on Jews. India thereafter tended to be portrayed as a victim of a world Jewish conspiracy, with one article in Fascist Quarterly claiming that further autonomy for India would result in their economic interests subjugated ‘under the domination of World Jewry’.58 In another article, in less-than-subtle antisemitic undertones, Joyce fumed at the government’s India Bill: ‘The achievement of three centuries will have been destroyed, the work of our greatest pioneers demolished’ all in order to ‘swell the Sassoon coffers’.59 Mosley was still more explicit in a speech during his Lancashire tour in January 1935, decrying ‘the forces of international Jewish finance used to sweat the working classes’ when referring to government inaction over Indian tariffs.60 The fact that extremely tenuous links were made between Jews and India is highly indicative of attempts to use imperial issues to promote more core ideological values.

The India question and totalitarian solutions Following the First World War, the combination of Indian nationalist pressure and the desire of Britain’s political establishment to create a sustainable form of governance for India which would maintain British control while satisfying native reformers, led to several key reforms. The Government of India Act of 1919, which extended Indian participation in the Raj administration, contained a clause stating that a commission would be appointed after ten years to assess the progress of the new system. Accordingly, the Indian Statutory Commission (also known as the ‘Simon Commission’, as it was led by Liberal MP John Simon) was appointed in 1928 by Stanley Baldwin. In 1930, the Commission recommended full provincial autonomy in India, governed by a federalist system that maintained British control over foreign and defence policy. It was also agreed, before the Simon Commission findings were published – much to the chagrin of those on the Commission – that India’s constitutional goal was to be Dominion status, on a par with Australia, Canada and South Africa. The Commission’s results, despite being boycotted by Indian nationalists for not going far enough, and condemned by some British conservatives for going too far, ultimately led to the 1935 Government of India Act, albeit with dissent from extra-parliamentary groups. The Act was another milestone on India’s path to independence, eventually achieved in 1947.61 It abolished the system of dyarchy, paved the way for an Indian

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federation, and introduced direct local elections – thereby enfranchising over 28 million Indians. While the Government of India Act was voted through the Commons with relatively little trouble, importantly, trenchant dissent came from Conservative diehards. Opposition to the India Bill in the House of Commons was expressed by a rump of Conservative MPs (84 voted against their party). Right-wing dissent was also expressed through extra-parliamentary organisations such as the India Defence League (IDL) and Indian Empire Society (IES). It was this rather small constituency of opinion – that Indian self-government should be resisted at all costs – that many fascists attempted to latch on to.62 The IES, founded in 1930 and made up predominantly of ex-Indian civil servants, provides a powerful example of the occasional overlap between the parliamentary diehards and the far right. Within its ranks could be found MPs Reginald Craddock and Winston Churchill, as well as far right activists who contributed to fascist publications such as George Sydenham Clarke (former Governor of Bombay), Viscount Lymington of the English Mistery and retired Indian Police Officer, O.C.G. Hayter. That the far right and more mainstream conservatives operated in the same circles is unsurprising but significant. It demonstrates that while there was much ideological overlap between the ultra-right and fascists, often, these common goals often expanded to the mainstream right as well. Drilling down still further, the IES’s publication Indian Empire Review provides a good example of how both right-wing conservatives and the far right overlapped on the issue of Indian self-governance between the wars. Viscount Lymington’s ‘Our Duty to India’ in December 1934 draws parallels between the failure of democracy in Britain and correspondingly, its supposed folly of imposition in India: ‘We can only judge Democracy by the fact that all experience has proved it to be the negation of responsibility … Democracy, as always in history, is bleeding to death the accumulated capital of character among Western peoples’.63 Lymington deploys the kind of crude language typical of fascist publications: ‘under the White Paper, the vote would rely on the instinct of self-interest among foreign-educated Babus and money lenders’.64 In a similar manner, the writings of O. C. G. Hayter in the same publication match the blunt and shrill tone of his fascist publications. The key difference between fascist discussions of India and those of the IES is, yet again, the underlying conspiracy lurking behind Indian reform expressed by fascists – as well as their racist criticism of Indians as a people and culture – which led to often repressive proposals for Indian governance. Indian Empire Review amounts to a far more expert-level and technocratic critique of Indian reform, albeit sharing the view held by fascists that Indians were a hopelessly uncivilised race. Unsurprisingly, the far right criticised government policy on India at every turn, caricaturing them as Empire-haters who wished to see the back of British imperial greatness. Rather than just criticise the government, however, both the IFL and the BUF promoted fascist alternatives to the Government of India Act of 1935.65 These policies demanded a complete reassertion of British control in India and the devastation of Indian nationalism. Yet they differed in both how they were

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presented and who their propaganda was targeted at. The BUF attempted to make their Indian policy seem relevant to working-class voters, as noted above, particularly in Lancashire. The IFL, on the other hand, were clear in advocating total military dominance over Indians and rooting out alleged Jewish influence. Given the extreme antisemitism of the IFL’s policy, it was only ever likely to appeal to extreme antisemites and others fully versed in the Protocols of the Elders of Zion. Needless to say, the IFL provided the most extreme criticism of the British government’s India policy. Arnold Leese believed that Jewish influence had wholly dominated British imperial policy since at least the Boer War, arguing that all ‘liberal’ reforms seen since were just playing into the hands of Jewish international finance.66 Robert Blakeney, formerly of the BF Grand Council, similarly argued in the IFL organ The Fascist that Jewish influence was behind the 1933 Indian White Paper, which represented Jewish hostility toward Muslims.67 The ‘Jewish rule of India’ was no recent development, however, for Blakeney, as Jewish British officials such as Montagu and Lord Reading had long sought to give more power and democracy to India, in turn, putting more control in the hands of International Jewry.68 Leese also alleged that the Freemasons controlled India, and, similar to the conspiracism of Nesta Webster – were inevitably tied up with a global Jewish plot to smash the British Empire.69 The IFL produced a policy pamphlet on Indian policy, written by Leese, entitled The Destruction of India, its Causes and Prevention, in response to the 1934 government White Paper. The policy, as usual, lacks any substance whatsoever on specific areas, and is wholly removed from conventional debates on the future of Indian governance. Furthermore, it is a document riddled with paranoia over alleged Jewish influence in India. In the first place, the IFL sought to implement a totalitarian dictatorship in place of the current British Raj: It is absolutely necessary that British domination be maintained over all vital affairs of British India. These include the Army, Navy, Air-Force, Currency Management, Justice, Police, Public Debt, Customs, Post Office, Telegraphs, Wireless, Control of Arms and Explosives, and Public Health.70 The IFL described the 1933 White Paper proposals as ‘the abandonment of India to internal strife, corruption, anarchy and massacre; they mean the betrayal of all those great Aryan Britons from Clive onward who have built up our great heritage in India’.71 Yet the real forces behind the White Paper allegedly amounted to ‘one of the last trump-cards of the Jew Money Power in the age-long struggle between Non-Aryan and Aryan, Destruction and Construction, Asia and Europe’.72 India represented the perfect opportunity for the IFL to espouse their wider anti-democratic views, describing any ‘fascist solution’ to the Indian question as ‘realist and undemocratic’.73 They went far further than conventional diehard criticisms of India’s capacity for democracy, arguing that democracy was not fit for anyone, Indians or British. But the dividing line is equally clear: Leese’s antisemitism was the driving force of the IFL’s Indian policy. Unsurprisingly, he saw the ‘hidden

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hand’ at work in India, and believed that a fascist government’s first duty was to root out Jewish influence. A fascist India, it was claimed ominously, would be ‘Jew free’.74 Racism was at the heart of their critique of British rule in India, including the assumption that Indians were not biologically fit to govern themselves – a more democratic system would lead to chaos, murder and civil war. The Indians formed merely a lower layer in the IFL’s global racial hierarchy, which held ‘Nordic races’ in the highest esteem. The IFL had ‘no faith in the alleged capability of the brown, black and red races of mankind to contribute much of importance to the world’s real progress’.75 Superficially, the IFL placed Indians into two racial categories, termed ‘the fighting races’ and ‘non-fighting races’; as outlined previously, fighting races included ‘the punjabi mahomedan [Muslims], the pathan [Pashtuns], the sikh, the rajput, gurkha, dogra and baluch’, while the ‘non-fighting races’ were the Hindu majority and ‘practically all the rest of India’.76 The IFL’s main policy on India was to divide the country between these ‘fighting’ and ‘non-fighting’ races: A Fighting Race is not different from a non-fighting Race simply because of a mischievous or irresponsible predilection for violence, such as some Irish seem to possess; that would not explain the average travelled Briton’s experience that the Fighting Races of the world are always the noblest. No; a fighting race gets its reputation as such from the fact that its members possess to a high degree the noble instinct and tradition which makes them, as individuals, when occasion arises, willing to suffer death, if need be, in a cause which is greater than themselves; such a cause as defence of a territory, a religion, a principle, a race or a respected ruler, against an enemy from without. The non-fighting or slave races acquire notoriety as such because they are not capable as a whole of attaining this level of self-sacrificing nobility. They remain ignoble; they are despised, and rightly so. That is why the intellectual Bengali commands less respect among white men than the comparatively slow-witted Baluch or the crude Pathan.77 ‘Non-fighting races’ would face ‘absolute rule’ under the IFL and would be essentially relegated to a slave-like status. British ‘domination’ would be then extended over the entire country, including the ‘fighting races’ (who would be given a certain amount of control via agricultural corporations). The IFL’s diagnosis of the forces behind Indian reform and their prescription for future Indian policy, to be sure, existed far beyond anything mainstream, and were likely shared only by a minute number of extreme antisemites and fascists. However, as has been demonstrated earlier in this chapter, Leese’s crude designation of Indians as ‘fighting’ and ‘non-fighting’ was not too far removed from conventional wisdom at the time. Ultimately, the IFL’s Indian policy reflects an inelegant and crude attempt to marry their National Socialist ideology with Indian reform. Another aspect of the IFL’s Indian policy that stands out is their ‘siding’ with the Muslim and Sikh minorities of British India.78 An article written in The Fascist by

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R. B. D. Blakeney argued that the 1933 Indian White Paper would irresponsibly subject Muslims to Hindu majority rule, since ‘Hindus practise, in over 90% of cases, a low and debased form of idolatry which is revolting to pious Moslems.’79 The personal experiences of Arnold Leese in India were influential here. As stressed above, Leese had two loyal Muslim and Sikh companions, to whom he professed a certain degree of respect, in contrast to what he saw as the Hindu-driven ‘Indianisation’ of the British Raj which, in an act of understatement, he ‘had no time for’.80 The latter he doubtless detested. Mohammed’s love for Leese’s adored dog Bill cannot be ruled out as a factor in Leese’s championing of Muslims. Leese’s admiration for Muslims can also be witnessed in his support for the Arab natives of Palestine in the 1930s – although this was also due to an intense hatred of Zionism based on his anti-Jewish prejudice, rather than simply support for the Arab cause.

The BUF, India and Lancashire The BUF, far from seeing India purely as a matter of prestige, cast India as economically crucial to Britain. When the prospect of the subcontinent attaining Dominion status loomed, a leading article in The Blackshirt warned that it could spell the end of Britain’s imperial dominance, and with it ‘all hopes of ever building up that Empire Hegemony that is an integral part of the conception of fascism, as we understand it in this country, is at an end.’81 In this vein, the BUF portrayed the British government’s India policy as weak, enfeebled and subject to the vagaries of establishment politics. This relates to their wider determination to contrast themselves as a party of ‘action’, as against the Westminster ‘old gang’ of politicians who engaged in nothing but talk: ‘we believe that nettles which are grasped, sting less than a nettle in fumbling hands’.82 In a 1933 article in The Blackshirt entitled ‘The Indian Infamy’, the Indian White Paper is ferociously criticised as a crossparty failure. Following the release of the document, the anonymous writer claimed that ‘the worst fears of the blackest pessimist, have been realised’.83 The National Government’s intentions were tersely summarised: ‘The maintenance of law and order is to be in the charge of Indian politicians; some thirty four million illiterates are to be enfranchised; and Congress is to be placed in a position to dominate the affairs of the Great Indian Peninsula.’84 A detailed solution to the problem of Indian nationalism was naturally left out; however, it was suggested that the 1919 Government of India Act should have represented the end of concessions to the INC. BUF policy in India more broadly advocated that Britain re-assume complete control over Indian affairs. This would see, ominously, a ‘liquidation of bourgeois nationalism in India’. In particular, Gandhi and the INC would be immediately repressed.85 India would subsequently be organised on a cooperative basis, and its trade re-orientated towards Britain within a closed Empire economy. As seen above, much of the BUF’s discussion of India was framed in terms of its importance to Lancashire’s textile industry in an attempt to win working-class support in the region. Mosley maintained in a speech at Manchester Free Trade Hall that

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locals would be ‘committing suicide’ by supporting a government that failed to remove Indian tariffs on Lancashire textile products, or that was in favour of Indian self-government – the effect of which would further weaken Lancashire’s textile exporting capabilities.86 The protectionism behind the BUF’s Lancashire campaign captured the sentiments of many locally who were dismayed by government inaction over Indian tariffs. Indeed, the imposition of tariffs by the Indian government in 1917 led to Lancashire Conservatives gravitating towards imperial preference – a policy they had traditionally shunned in favour of free trade.87 Yet it would be wrong to cast the BUF’s policies simply as a protectionism that was largely in line with mainstream debates. The BUF sought to outflank more moderate and local right-wing organisations, such as the Cotton Trade League (CTL), by presenting a dire picture of foreign and government conspiracy against Lancashire. They also proposed notably more extreme solutions. In the mid-1930s, the BUF saw the ‘India problem’ as an opportunity to regenerate the textile manufacturing industry in northern England, securing what Mosley estimated to be 65,000 jobs.88 The largest beneficiary would be Lancashire, as was proudly outlined during their Lancashire Cotton Campaign, launched in July 1934.89 First, all non-Empire textiles would be banned from India, forcing Indians to buy products made in Britain or the Empire. Second, all Indian tariff barriers on British goods would be abolished. Third, all Japanese goods would be banned from India in order to further protect the Lancashire cotton industry from foreign competition. Finally, and somewhat ambiguously, cotton mill owners in India would be compelled to pay Indians ‘a decent wage’; which would reduce the possibility of undercutting Lancashire producers (and also purportedly mean an increase in Indian imports of British goods due to the higher disposable income of Indian workers). Despite this last policy clearly being designed to appease those who saw their policies as unfair on Indians, Mosley made it clear that his fascists saw any Indian competition as unnecessary and detrimental to Britain, explicitly responding in Fascism: 100 Questions Asked and Answered, that the BUF ‘would not shrink from closing down every cotton mill in India’ and that ‘it would be no matter for regret if the Indian spinning industry eventually ceased to exist’.90 Countering obvious criticisms that BUF policies were draconian and unrealistic, the BUF acknowledged that their policy did mean an even more autocratic system than was already in place. But ‘the strong hand must not be negative, but positive’ because these reforms were not to be a ‘crack-down’, but an attempt to increase prosperity in both Britain and India.91 Furthermore, many arguments were made in the BUF press casting the movement as the protectors of Indians as well as the workers of Lancashire, who were equal victims of ‘international finance’. The BUF pamphlet, Is Lancashire Doomed? claimed that they ‘would certainly not permit International Finance to take advantage of backward conditions in India’.92 It was foreseen there that India’s economic destiny ‘lay not in competition with Lancashire, but in a reinvigoration of its agricultural trade’. In this way, ‘British Union would free the Indian peasant from the curse of the Bunya or moneylender, who today holds agricultural India in bondage.’93

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BUF policy in India was therefore mainly couched to appeal to working-class voters. It also had the effect of distancing themselves from conservative rhetoric on India, which professed similar notions of Indian inferiority. Another goal of ‘domesticating’ imperial policy was to make matters of Empire seem relevant to ordinary British people. Indian nationalists were attacked as ‘capitalists’ who were supposedly anti-working class. This represents a change from traditional conservative rhetoric arguments, holding that nationalists were seeking to destabilise India for personal political gain. This further differentiates the BUF from earlier BF propaganda, perceiving Indian nationalism as nothing more than communist subversion. Phillip Coupland has noted the tendency of the BUF to deploy populist left-wing rhetoric, even after a purge of former socialist activists in 1933–1934 which saw organisational control handed over to middle- and upper-class members.94 Perhaps given this demography, the latter group’s attempts to win over the Lancashire working class were unlikely to succeed. It is likewise difficult to disagree with Neil Barrett’s conclusion, finding that the BUF’s cotton campaigns in Lancashire never attracted the support of either the ‘cottonocracy’ or the workers in Lancashire’s cotton industry. In fact, BUF propaganda exhibited a profound ignorance of the challenges faced by the sector. The campaign, which was at times openly antisemitic, fell upon deaf ears in the region and, by focusing only on an industry widely recognised at the time as declining, also failed to appeal to the industrial diversity of Lancashire.95 Furthermore, the BUF were in competition with the more moderate CTL, overwhelmingly affiliated with local Conservative MPs. The CTL was founded to argue against responsible government for India, and to help boost Lancashire’s ailing textile exports. Unlike the IDL and IES, however, the CTL was not a diehard organisation despite having many cognate aims.96 Nevertheless, the BUF’s hawkish approach to Indian imperial affairs was able to attract middle- and upper-class support, to whom India was ‘the Jewel in the Crown’ of the British Empire. The BUF’s fierce rhetoric about taking ‘by the throat the foul cobra of Indian sedition’ was intended to appeal to diehard conservative types on issues like law and order. Accordingly, the BUF tried to root their India policy within British culture and heritage, frequently in an attempt to place themselves as heirs to past Empire builders in India and elsewhere. In an article about the eighteenth-century military figure Robert Clive, often referred to as ‘Clive of India’, E. D. Hart claimed in The Blackshirt that: Clive’s success was due to the possession of those virtues that fascism inculcates – courage, both physical and moral: leadership, with the power to identify himself with his men and inspire their loyalty: and a willingness at all times to accept responsibility.97 A similar article was anonymously penned the same month, September 1936, about Warren Hastings, the first Governor-General of Bengal: ‘an Empire Builder ruined by the government’; he was portrayed in heroic terms as having ‘saved

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India’ – undoubtedly in an attempt to put Mosley as next in line to do the same.98 As this suggests, the BUF’s writings on India were not entirely framed in terms of economic value to the Britain. Rather, it was seen as part of the ‘myth’ of the British Empire, to which fascists attempted to present themselves as heirs. Quoting Clive of India, Hart wrote: At this period, when Pacifists are eager to disarm and abandon responsibility, his words have a special force:– “Peace is the most valuable of all blessings: but it must be sword in hand in this country, if we mean to preserve our possessions”.99 The BUF’s policy response to the Government of India Act, first and foremost, aimed to crush any hope of Indian autonomy, let alone put it on a path towards Dominion status, in favour of ‘the retention of absolute power by the British Crown’.100 The BUF alternative to the India Bill mirrored its domestic policies, offering a few vague promises that included improved industrial conditions in Indian factories and agricultural corporatism. O. C. G. Hayter suggested in the January 1936 Fascist Quarterly that the caste system in India made it a wholly suitable laboratory for establishing a corporatist state: From the identity of caste with the real India, and from the general coincidence of caste with vocation, it follows that a corporative system could attract, encourage and sympathetically develop the life, customary law, culture and aspirations of the peoples of India, while an alien importation of territorial franchise [democracy] cannot do so.101 Corporatism, Hayter argues, ‘would be something as familiar as sunrise and sunset’.102 The merging of corporatism with pressure to reassert control of British India demonstrates a fusion of traditional right-wing (ultra-right) conservative rhetoric on India with continental fascist ideas. By and large, the BUF tried to disassociate themselves from conservative rhetoric on India, seeking to portray Tory diehards as insincere political manoeuvrers representing the ‘old gang’. BUF officials advocated the most strident policy for a resumption of British power in India, led by a leader whom people of all classes could trust. O. C. G. Hayter, a former British Raj police chief, attempted to woo former Raj officials such as those of the IES, with his: ‘sincere belief that Sir Oswald Mosley is the only political leader in Britain to have spoken straightforward truth about India’.103 Yet the BUF’s failure to attract individuals with experience in India to act as spokesmen – let alone the ability to formulate extra-parliamentary coalitions or anti-Bill organisations – underscores their marginality to the wider debate. It is also a good explanation for their failure to impact events. In distancing the BUF from the diehards, Mosley claimed that corporatism would see a dramatic improvement in India’s economy, exceeding any liberal or socialist plans for imperial development.104 BUF rhetoric was also more aggressive than that of

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the diehards, with William Joyce asserting: ‘The Fascist, in fighting for the welfare of Britain and of India, must be prepared to smash the financier to pulp.’105 During 1933–1934, when the BUF had the backing of Rothermere, they initially indicated support for Conservatives seeking to kill the India Bill. One article in The Blackshirt criticised the Indian Joint Select Committee for having only one representative of diehard opinion, Sir Reginald Craddock.106 Following strident opposition to the India Bill led by no less than Winston Churchill, the BUF recognised that they could position themselves as the only party defending British interests in India. To do so, they needed to discredit Conservative diehards and the IDL. At a Portsmouth speech in 1935, John Beckett accordingly criticised the double standards of Conservative diehards, asking ‘if democracy is as good as Mr Churchill professes to believe, how can he refuse its logical extension to India?’107 Shortly after Beckett’s fiery speech, the local IDL Branch Chairman claimed that the speech had moved him to join the BUF (in what was most likely a stage-managed act). With the prospect of a parliamentary vote on the Government of India bill looming in late 1934, the BUF presented an apocalyptic vision of India, should it attain Dominion status: ‘India will soon be a seething mass strife between its many antagonistic peoples. Development will at once be brought to a standstill; the country will soon reek of stagnation; trade with Great Britain will diminish.’ Governance by the INC will lead India, The Blackshirt claimed in November 1934, ‘to fall an easy prey to anarchy and internal strife’.108 Parallels were drawn with the Irish Free State, stressing that, once afforded Dominion status, the country would be under no obligation to retain British rule. Such was the totality of the fascist Weltanschauung, that despair over concessions given to Indian nationalists and talk of increased autonomy entered into the cultural sphere. In a film review of the US production, The Lives of a Bengal Lancer (1935), the author initialled M.B. marvelled at the ‘intense pity, breath-taking admiration, pride of race, all combined to thrill’.109 There was a distinctly nostalgic thread running through the review, no doubt impacted by what fascists perceived as the decline of Britain’s imperial role in India: ‘The people gasped: could it be true? Dare anyone eulogise the soldier, dare anyone remember the North-West Frontier during these days of India Bills?’110 Following the eventual passing of the 1935 Government of India Act – which was supported by Labour, the Liberals, and a majority of Conservatives – discussions of Indian affairs largely ceased. The most obvious flaw in the BUF’s India policy was its apparent misunderstanding of both Indians and the dynamics of existing British rule in India. The former was highlighted in an angry letter by the fascist writer James Strachey Barnes, an AngloIndian, who wrote to Mosley in 1934. Strachey Barnes was incensed by the pamphlet Fascism and India, written by William Joyce, describing it as ‘superficial, pretentious and priggish’.111 He complained that the ‘distribution of this pamphlet, in this country even, will do us great harm’ alienating Britons, Anglo-Indians and Indians in equal measure. He continued: ‘the pamphlet is a deplorable manifestation of a lack of even elementary insight into psychology (especially Asiatic)’ while ‘the references to Indian customs are tactless and irrelevant to an enunciation of policy’.112

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This criticism from another British fascist reflects a genuine weakness of the BUF: they were unable to provide a spokesman on India who had the knowledge and authority to discuss Indian matters. Hayter, a former Raj police chief, was prepared to write in the intellectual journal The Fascist Quarterly, but this amounted to little in terms of providing the BUF with a public platform to oppose the India Bill. Fascist policy proposals ultimately reflected a minor component of the BUF’s strategy in regards to the Indian question. Their goal was to latch onto mainstream debates surrounding Indian governance as a means of highlighting the threat of Jewish conspiracy and economic decline in Lancashire. Their lack of expertise is indicative of the fact that creating a genuine fascist plan for India which would be seen as credible by elites was not as high a priority as denouncing Jewish and communist influence, as well as wider political priorities such as criticising the ‘old gang’ who had ruined British imperial prestige. BUF publications on India reflect this deep ignorance of the nature of Indian politics and British rule on the subcontinent. As Martin Pugh notes, ‘Although the Raj was ostensibly a military autocracy, it never possessed sufficient force to control such a vast country without a large measure of consent.’113 Furthermore, as Kim Wagner has shown, ‘the confidence and self-assertion of the British in India’ exhibited since the Mutiny in 1858 ‘was in truth illusory’.114 Mosley believed that resorting to repressive actions would pummel the INC into respecting British rule. Such as it was, BUF policy essentially looked to turn India into a feudal state serving the economic purposes of the metropole, with a few vague promises of higher wages for Indian workers and slum clearances thrown in. If Mosley genuinely believed that this would be acceptable to the majority of Indians – or even workable in practical terms – he was either arrogantly invested in imperialist myths of British supremacy, or simply naïve to the realities of colonial rule. This view was roundly dismissed by the Secretary of State for India, Wedgwood Benn. He was responding to Winston Churchill’s criticism of Indian reform, and his naïve wish that future Indian governance should be based on ‘partly British decisions, and Indian loyalty and good will’: British decisions and Indian loyalty and good will. What does that mean? The lathi, the stick, and after the lathi the rifle, and after the rifle the machine gun. You must either base government on the assent of the people or govern by force. The logical consequence of the right hon. Gentleman’s policy, if put into operation, is government by force without the assent of the people. The alternative is government by the people for the people. That is the reason why people of all parties have grasped that principle almost with unanimity.115

After the Government of India Act Following the passage of the Government of India Act, which received Royal Assent in August 1935, Indian affairs were no longer debated in any great detail, demonstrating that the subject was only of importance as a means of entering a

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more popular debate over the Indian question. Instead, much fascist propaganda turned to other more mainstream issues, such as covering the Italo-Abyssinian war which broke out in October 1935. Despite the ‘Mind Britain’s Business’ appeasement campaign in the late 1930s, the BUF’s India policy did not change much. For example, Mosley continued to base his Lancashire cotton campaigns on the complete reassertion of British power in India.116 The only events in India that were covered were those aimed at discrediting the British government’s India Act. This included articles highlighting increases in rioting between warring Muslims and Hindus: ‘communal feeling has never been so pronounced as now. There is an ever increasing suspicion of the motives of the Hindu majority in the minds of the Muslim minority of seventy million.’117 BUF propaganda also sought to draw attention to a growing communist influence and general disquiet with increased autonomy.118 India, it was argued on 23 October 1937 in Action, was regressing towards the barbarity in which Britain first discovered it, with sensationalist reporting of an Indian being ‘sacrificed’ in a pagan-like ritual.119 A later article on 14 January 1939 decried Indian elections under the new Act in 1937 as a sham.120 But these were infrequent commentaries, and India would only become a topic of major significance for the far right once again following its independence in 1947. India fought in the Second World War and contributed over 2 million soldiers to the Allied cause. Alongside continued demands for Indian self-government, pressure was now being applied by Britain’s most important wartime ally – the United States – with President Roosevelt insisting that the Atlantic Charter issued in August 1941 meant India, and indeed all non-European colonial states, were entitled to selfdetermination. In an attempt to gain the full cooperation of Indian nationalists, Labour grandee Sir Stafford Cripps was sent by Churchill to India to negotiate support for the war effort in exchange for further devolution of power to Indians. The talks failed, however. Following the Cripps mission, the INC increasingly sought to make use of the war effort in an attempt to gain independence. It founded the ‘Quit India’ movement in 1942 and resumed civil disobedience campaigns until Britain committed fully to Indian self-government. Actions by Indian nationalists were brutally suppressed, with Gandhi and Nehru both imprisoned for the majority of the war. Following the Allied victory, Churchill was determined to resist Indian nationalism, despite the opinion of a significant number of Raj and government administrators. His unceremonious dumping as Prime Minister in July 1945 swept Britain’s first majority Labour government to power, committed to enabling India’s path to independence in 1947. The goal of the Labour government in the second half of 1946 was to ensure India’s peaceful steps towards self-government. This meant negotiating between the various Indian groups, notably the All-India Muslim League and the INC, on an independent India’s Constitution.121 The main issue threatening a peaceful transition of power was partition, namely, Muslim leader Muhammad Jinnah’s intransigence over a Muslim state, soon to become Pakistan. Despite the wishes of Gandhi and Nehru as well as new Viceroy, Lord Mountbatten, partition became inevitable as it became clear that violence would ensue if it were not granted.

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Following independence in August 1947, population transfers between the new ‘Union of India’ and the ‘Dominion of Pakistan’ saw one of the biggest mass migrations of peoples witnessed in history. Hundreds of thousands were killed during riots and fighting, particularly in the bordering Punjab, Bengal and Sindh provinces. It was a bloody end to more than 300 years of British rule in the Indian subcontinent. India, now that it was an independent republic, clearly played less of a role in far right rhetoric on Empire but was nevertheless used to pursue wider priorities in the postwar world – proving Mosley was ‘right’ in the 1930s, criticising the Labour government which was presiding over Indian independence, and in particular, the government’s capitulation to the ‘global conspiracy’. Mosley took the opportunity to criticise the British government for allowing India to become independent. In seeking to give India independence at all costs, the British government was responsible for both the mass violence created by partition and the end of Britain’s noble ‘mission’ in India: Almost immediately after the present Government’s “great act of Statesmanship” which was claimed to preserve India within the Empire, the pending Republic was announced by leading politicians of India from their giant funeral pyre of half a million corpses as it blazed with the flame of racial hatred to consume the last vestige of 150 years of constructive work by British people in India. So the East reclaims its own, as the West abdicates a mission which was once great.122 The recently formed UM claimed that Britain had been sold a lie over Indian independence: ‘They were clearly informed that India would remain a Dominion. In two stages India is now becoming an independent Republic, and the British people have been fooled.’123 Mosley predicted that Nehru would now plot against the British. The new ‘Indian menace’ in this way was no longer Gandhi and the INC but an independent, anti-imperial state that was stoking unrest within the British Empire. Mosley naturally suspected communist influence in India. In his article of 17 April 1948 ‘Europe and India: Cultural Traditions’, he repeated his earlier warning from 1939 (and one of his many justifications for appeasing Nazi Germany) that the Soviet Union had an eye on an India weakened by British rule: ‘It is the greatest tragedy in our history that this warning went unheeded.’124 The blame was laid firmly at the door of Attlee’s Labour government, who ‘in the name of liberty left India to her own devices’ which ‘promptly became a scene of bloodshed and violence almost without precedent even in her turbulent history’. Mosley’s article in Union then asked: ‘Would it be unreasonable to suspect Communist tacticians at work in that vast sub-continent?’125 Regardless of India’s new role in the world, Mosley remained strangely confident that British imperial rule in India was not yet ended: ‘The British must one-day return to India, not as conqueror, but as friend and protector.’126

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A. K. Chesterton was similarly critical of the British government’s handling of Indian independence. In particular, he was highly critical of the partition plan: ‘Mountbatten rushed through all the necessary measures with almost incredible light-heartedness, which amounted at times to irresponsible facetiousness.’127 Dramatically inflating the death figures, Chesterton lamented in Candour on 8 January 1954: As Hindu fell upon Muslim and Muslim upon Hindu nobody knows how many lives were lost in the immediate aftermath. A conservative estimate places the number at 1,000,000 but other observers, well placed to judge, believe that over 3,000,000 innocent people lost their lives. This was in addition to innumerable rapings and maimings.128 Chesterton’s conspiratorial world-view dominated his perceptions of India, and he blamed the United States for independence, describing it as ‘the surrender of India to its babus and their Transatlantic sponsors’.129 Chesterton also remarked in The New Unhappy Lords: ‘while the war was still being waged, strong United States pressure was put on the British government to effect a settlement in India, where there had been continuous Transatlantic support for dissident elements to undermine British rule’.130 What the end of British rule in India represented to Chesterton was ‘handing over the Indian peasantry to the ruthless will of unscrupulous Indian landlords and money-lenders, without any benevolent and impartial British District Commissioner to see fair play’.131 Despite his obvious hatred of Hindus, Chesterton still believed Indians would be better off under British control: Had Gandhi really loved his people he would have kept them within the protection of their only true friends, the completely honest and disinterested Britons of the Indian Civil Service and of the Indian Army. Instead, he handed them over to a noisome bunch of babus who will land them in eventual anarchy.132 Gandhi remained something of a bogeyman for Chesterton even several years after his assassination in 1948. The latter referred to what he saw as a secret, cosy relationship between the United States and India as ‘the Gandhi-Nixon line’ and was highly critical of a proposed Gandhi memorial in Washington, DC.133 Looking back, Chesterton wrote a long diatribe against Gandhi. It is worth quoting at length, as it exemplifies how both his racialist and conspiratorial world-view impacted his view of Indian nationalism, even after the Second World War. Gandhi was described as ‘the tricky lawyer and the unscrupulous politician combined with the vapid visionary to make of Gandhi a colossal clown – a clown whose folly cost at least half a million lives’.134 He was: The preacher of non-violence who lacked the mother-wit to perceive that violence on a prodigious scale could be the only end of his doctrine. The

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advocate of handicrafts and the simple life, he had not the gumption to understand that by creating modern nationalism in India, which had never been a nation, he was paving the way for all the distempers of Western industrialism and financial tyranny that the World Bank and the Fourth Point Programme boys are now foisting upon a helpless Indian people.135 Chesterton and the LEL treated independent India with suspicion, particularly with respect to India’s influence in other colonial nationalist movements, above all in Africa: ‘This Asian game should be carefully watched, especially the sly attempts made by India to subvert the peoples of Africa.’136 Nehru had opted to ‘dispense with all camouflage and wage an official cold war against Great Britain and the British overseas’.137 In Kenya, the Indian community was deemed by Candour to be firmly under the control of Nehru seeking to destroy British rule (as Chapter 5 discusses in detail).

Notes 1 N. Webster, The Surrender of an Empire, 3rd edn (London: Boswell Publishing Co., 1933), p. 143; Webster documented her trip to India in Spacious Days (London: Hutchinson & Co,, 1949), pp. 100–103; see also “A. R. T.”, ‘India and Ireland: Why Democracy Disrupts Both’, Action, 3 July 1937, p. 6. 2 G. Bearce, British Attitudes Towards India, 1784–1858 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1961), pp. 60–78. 3 K. Wagner, Amritsar 1919: An Empire of Fear and the Making of a Massacre (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2019), p. 16. 4 T. Metcalfe, Ideologies of the Raj (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), p. x. 5 A. Leese, The Destruction of India: Its Cause and Prevention (London: Imperial Fascist League, 1934). 6 B. Porter, The Lion’s Share: A Short History of British Imperialism, 1850–2004, 3rd edn (London: Longman, 1996), p. 296. 7 House of Commons Debate, Hansard, 22 February 1933, vol. 241, c.1753. 8 K. Mayo and M. Sinha, Mother India (Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press, 2000), p. 83. 9 Another of its themes, noted by Richard Toye, which can also be witnessed throughout far right propaganda is Mother India’s anti-Hindu bias; see R. Toye, Churchill’s Empire: The World That Made Him and the World He Made (London: Macmillan, 2010), p. 173. 10 A. J. P. Taylor, quoted in H. Fein, Imperial Crime and Punishment: The Massacre at Jallianwala Bagh and British Judgement, 1919–1920 (Honolulu, HI: University of Hawaii Press, 1977), p. xii. 11 D. Sayer, ‘British Reactions to the Amritsar Massacre, 1919–1920’, Past and Present 131 (1991), p. 153. 12 M. Walsh, ‘Mosley in Ireland’, The Dublin Review 26 (2007), p. 2. 13 G. Clarke [Lord Sydenham of Combe], ‘The Indian Danger’, The Patriot, 9 February 1922, p. 3. 14 O. C. G. Hayter, ‘The Truth about India’, British Fascism, June 1930, p. 3. 15 Webster, The Surrender of an Empire, p. 145. 16 Ibid., p. 147. 17 Oswald Mosley, My Life (London: Brockingday Publications, 2006), p. 101. 18 Ibid.

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19 Ibid., p. 105. 20 Oswald Mosley, Fascism: 100 Questions Asked and Answered (London: B.U.F. Publications, 1936), q.86. 21 “I. A. S.”, ‘What Is Wrong with India’, British Fascism, October 1932, p. 3. 22 Ibid. 23 J. Beckett, ‘An Imperial Tragedy: Jawaharlal Nehru, An Autobiography’, Action, 23 July 1936, p. 12. 24 ‘The British Raj in India’, The Fascist, May 1929, p. 1. 25 ‘General Dyer’, The Fascist, June 1930, p. 1. 26 ‘“Forward! The Fight is On”’, The Fascist, September 1933, p. 2. 27 A. Leese, Out of Step: Events in the Two Lives of an Anti-Jewish Camel Doctor (Guildford: self-published, 1951), p. 5. 28 Ibid., p. 14. 29 Ibid., p. 17. 30 Ibid., p. 46. 31 Leese, The Destruction of India, n.p. 32 This admiration for Muslims, a consistent theme in the discourse of the interwar far right is deeply ironic in hindsight, given the modern-day prejudices against Muslims and intense Islamophobia espoused by the far right. 33 G. MacMunn, The Martial Races of India (London: Sampson Low, Marston and Co., 1931), p. 1. 34 Ibid., p. v. 35 ‘Lictor’, ‘India and the Future’, The Fascist Quarterly, October 1935, p. 449. 36 Ibid., p. 451. 37 ‘Communism in India: Continuous Propaganda against British Rule’, The Fascist Bulletin, 7 June 1925, p. 3. 38 Ibid. 39 R. M. S., ‘The Danger to Our Colonies in the Red Menace’, The Fascist Bulletin, 29 August 1925, p. 3. 40 Ibid. 41 Webster, The Surrender of an Empire, p. 296. 42 ‘Stage Set for India Betrayal’, The Blackshirt, 31 August 1934, p. 1. 43 ‘India and Ireland’, Action, August 1934, p. 6. 44 H. Gibbs, ‘The Gateway of India Is Opening to Communism!’, The Blackshirt, 7 December 1934, p. 8. 45 Ibid. 46 See R. Chandavarkar, Imperial Power and Popular Politics: Class Resistance and the State in India, c.1850–1950 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998); J. P. Haithcox, Communism and Nationalism in India: M.N. Roy and Comintern Policy, 1920–1939 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1971). 47 A. K. Chesterton, ‘India and British Intellectual Decay’, The Blackshirt, 15 February 1935, p. 5. 48 ‘Financiers who Exploit India at the Expense of Britain’, The Blackshirt, 14 December 1934, p. 2. 49 Hayter, ‘The Truth about India’, p.3. 50 ‘A Betrayal of the Nation: Indian Illusions’, The Blackshirt, 16 June, 1933, p. 1. 51 ‘“No Surrender” of India’, The Blackshirt, 23 November 1934, p. 1. 52 J. Banister, ‘India Under the Jews’, The Hidden Hand, April 1921, p. 5; also see ‘Who Rules India?’, The Hidden Hand, June 1921, p. 2. 53 ‘Correspondence’, The British Guardian, 16 January 1925, p. 16; A similar viewpoint was expressed at a meeting of The Britons, see ‘“The Britons” at Caxton Hall’, The Hidden Hand, November 1921, p. 4. 54 Leese, The Destruction of India, n.p. 55 W. Joyce, ‘India: A Contemptible Deed of Needles and Harmful Betrayal’, The Blackshirt, 30 November 1934, p. 2.

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56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100

‘Govern India or Get Out’, The Blackshirt, 30 November 1934, p. 4. ‘Financiers who Exploit India’, p. 2. ‘The India Bill’, The Fascist Quarterly, April 1935, p. 120. W. Joyce, ‘A Dastardly Betrayal: Fascism Will Undo the Wrong Done to India’, The Blackshirt, 24 May 1935, p. 1. ‘Throw Off Those Who Have Betrayed You’, The Blackshirt, 18 January 1935, p. 4. See A. Muldoon, Empire, Politics and the Creation of the 1935 India Act: Last Act of the Raj (Abingdon: Routledge, 2009). See N. Fleming, ‘Diehard Conservatism, Mass Democracy and Indian Constitutional Reform, c.1918–35’, Parliamentary History 32:2 (2013), pp. 337–360. Viscount Lymington, ‘Our Duty to India’, Indian Empire Review, December 1934, p. 494. Ibid., p. 496. Given that the BF were wound up as an organisation by 1934, they did not promote a direct policy relating to India. G. N. Andrews, ‘The Indian Surrender’, The Fascist, September 1933, p. 1. R. B. D. Blakeney, ‘The White Paper Conspiracy’, The Fascist, November 1934, p. 1. A. Leese, ‘The Jewish Rule of India: Phases of Destruction’, The Fascist, August 1934, p. 1. ‘Freemasonry in India’, The Fascist, July 1935, p. 3. Leese, The Destruction of India, n.p. Ibid., p. 5. Ibid., p. 6. ‘India’s Crisis: The Fascist Solution’, The Fascist, February 1931, p. 1. Leese, The Destruction of India, n.p. Ibid. Ibid.; A. Leese, ‘The Future Government of India’, The Fascist, March 1934, p. 4. Leese, The Destruction of India, n.p. ‘The Star of India’, The Fascist, September 1934, p. 3. Blakeney, ‘The White Paper Conspiracy’, p. 1. Leese, Out of Step, p. 19. ‘“No Surrender” of India’, p. 1. Mosley, Fascism: 100 Questions, q.85. ‘The Indian Infamy’, The Blackshirt, 1 April 1933, p. 4. Ibid. ‘A Betrayal of the Nation’, pp. 1, 4. ‘Govern India or Get Out’, p. 1. N. Fleming, ‘Lancashire Conservatives, Tariff Reform and Indian Responsible Government’, Contemporary British History 30:2 (2016), p. 158. ‘Lancashire’s Welcome for Mosley’, The Blackshirt, 27 July 1934, p. 7. Ibid. Mosley, Fascism: 100 Questions, q.62. Ibid. British Union of Fascists, Is Lancashire Doomed? (London: B.U.F. Publication, n.d.), p. 6. Ibid. P. Coupland, ‘“Left-Wing Fascism” in Theory and Practice: The Case of the British Union of Fascists’, Twentieth Century British History 13:1 (2002), pp. 38–61. N. Barrett, ‘Organised Responses to British Union of Fascists Mobilisation in South Lancashire, 1932–1940’, PhD thesis, Manchester University, 1998. Fleming, ‘Lancashire Conservatives’, p. 160. E. D. Hart, ‘Clive of India: Built an Empire’, The Blackshirt, 5 September 1936, p. 4. E. D. Hart, ‘Warren Hastings: An Empire Builder Ruined by the Government’, The Blackshirt, 19 September 1936, p. 4. Hart, ‘Clive of India’, p. 4. Mosley, Fascism: 100 Questions, q.84.

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101 O. C. G Hayter, ‘India a Corporative State’, The Fascist Quarterly, January 1936, pp. 129–130. 102 Ibid. 103 Ibid., p. 130. 104 Ibid. 105 W. Joyce, ‘Britain’s Empire Shall Live’, The Fascist Quarterly, January 1935, p. 105. 106 ‘The Indian White Paper’, The Blackshirt, 17 April, 1933, p. 2. 107 ‘India Defence League Officer Joins Fascists’, The Blackshirt, 4 January 1935, p. 10. 108 ‘“No Surrender” of India’, p. 1. 109 M. B., ‘“The Bengal Lancer”: Hollywood Produces a Great British Film’, The Blackshirt, 1 March 1935, p. 3. 110 Ibid. 111 W. Joyce, Fascism and India (London: B.U.F. Publications, 1933). 112 Letter from James Strachey Barnes to Oswald Mosley, July 24 1934 (OMN/B/7/2), Oswald Mosley papers, Nicholas Mosley deposit. Cadbury Library, University of Birmingham. 113 M. Pugh, Hurrah for the Blackshirts! (London: Pimlico, 2006), p. 178. 114 Wagner, Amritsar 1919, p. 16. 115 House of Commons Debate, Hansard, 26 January 1931, vol. 247, c.755, c.756. 116 O. Mosley, ‘Labour Sells Lancashire’, The Blackshirt, 18 April 1936, p. 1. 117 ‘The Muslim Minority in India’, The British Union Quarterly, July–September 1939, p. 65; ‘Increase of Riots in India’, The Blackshirt, 3 January 1936, p. 2. 118 ‘The Indian Scene: Heading for Communism’, Action, 20 August 1936; also see R. Gordon-Canning, ‘India Bewitched: A Great Betrayal of the Natives’, Action, 20 March 1937, p. 3; ‘Red Ruin Over India’, Action, 5 February 1938, p. 11; ‘Soviet Russia and Indian Congress’, Action, 5 October 1939, p. 2. 119 W. Risdon., ‘Democratic India’, Action, 23 October 1937, p. 14. 120 J. O’Brien, ‘Democracy for Export: How It Has Failed in India’, Action, 14 January 1939, p. 4. 121 R. Hyam, Britain’s Declining Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006). p. 109. 122 O. Mosley, ‘New Movement in Dominions’, Union, 20 March 1948, p. 2. 123 ‘Labour/Tory Swindle’, Union, 19 March 1949, p. 1. 124 ‘Europe and India: Cultural Traditions’, Union, 17 April 1948, p. 3. 125 Ibid. 126 Ibid. 127 A. K. Chesterton, The New Unhappy Lords: An Exposure of Power Politics, 5th edn (London: The A.K. Chesterton Trust, 2013), p. 48. 128 Ibid. 129 Ibid. 130 Ibid., p. 47. 131 Ibid., p. 47. 132 A. K. Chesterton, ‘The Gandhi-Nixon Line’, Candour, 8 January 1954, pp. 1–2. 133 Ibid. 134 Ibid. 135 Ibid. 136 ‘The Humbug of Nehru’, Candour, 14 May 1954, p. 3. 137 ‘India’s Own Cold War’, Candour, 4 December 1953, p. 3.

4 PALESTINE

Labour and Liberal MP Christopher Mayhew, an ardent anti-Zionist who served as Ernest Bevin’s Under-Secretary of State from 1945, described the efforts of British activists in promoting the Palestinian position prior to the foundation of the State of Israel as the ‘spontaneous initiatives of a few courageous men’.1 Mayhew was referring to the handful of Labour MPs who had spoken against their own party’s support for Zionism in the early 1920s. He was correct in his assessment of anti-Zionism as a fringe movement at the time. Yet what he neglected to mention was that antiZionism, especially during the years when Britain held control of the Palestine Mandate, was typically the domain of the far right. The Conservative Party, in power for much of the 1920s – and despite being their official policy to maintain a commitment to the Balfour Declaration, in fact contained many opposed to a Jewish national home in Palestine.2 However, most of the historiography on anti-Zionism focuses upon the political left, and predominantly looks at the post-1948 years. This chapter will demonstrate that the fiercest criticism of Zionism, at least when the Palestine Mandate was governed within the British Empire, came from the far right, from the inception of British rule until the birth of the State of Israel in 1948. This chapter will examine how the interwar far right, beginning in the 1920s, approached the issue of Palestine and Zionism as a matter of conspiracy – which formed the basis of their ideological understanding of the issue. Policies proposed by the interwar far right as alternatives to Zionism and in favour of the Arab cause will then be assessed. Finally, the above three themes will be set against the new postwar context by analysing far right responses to the upheavals in Palestine, which led to the foundation of the world’s first Jewish state in 1948. The Palestine question maintained an important function in far right ideology for decades. Zionism was viewed as part of a sinister Jewish conspiracy seeking the destruction of the British Empire from within. The Balfour Declaration of 1917, which committed the British government to the foundation of a home for the Jews

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in Palestine, was proof to the far right that the government were mere puppets of international Jewry. Zionism thus aroused in the far right not simply discourse on a colonial issue, but opened onto the whole issue of the role of Jewish influence in British politics and society. Following the Second World War, the Palestine question took on a new meaning for the far right. By equating postwar Zionist violence with Nazi atrocities during the Second World War, the Union Movement (UM) was not simply seeking to discredit or provoke the Zionist movement. For his part, Mosley also sought to rehabilitate his political reputation in the light of his interwar support for Nazi Germany. One path he took, it will be argued here, was maintaining that Zionism and Israeli policy towards Palestinians after 1948 demonstrated that Hitler had been right to take on the ‘Jewish problem’, and even that Britain was wrong to go to war with Germany. Thus, the Palestine question was frequently used to further an integral feature of far right ideology from the early 1920s until the modern day – conspiratorial antisemitism.

The Zionist conspiracy Britain’s presence in Palestine was a direct consequence of the First World War, during which General George Allenby’s advance drove the Ottoman Empire out of Palestine. The 1917 Balfour Declaration established the foundations for British policy in Palestine and towards a ‘national home for the Jewish people’.3 Despite this, contradictory assurances had already been given to Arabs in 1915 that, in exchange for revolting against the Ottomans, Arab independence would be granted. These assurances to Arab leaders were in effect disingenuous, given that Britain and France had already agreed secretly in the May 1916 Sykes-Picot Agreement to carve up the Middle East into French and British spheres of influence. The British affirmed in the Balfour Declaration that ‘nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine’,4 Even so, conflicting promises had been given to Zionists and Arabs, even before civil control had taken effect, over how Palestine would be governed. What emerged between the wars was effectively two rival factions vying for political autonomy within the British Mandate: Arabs and Jews. To this day, the strategic importance of Palestine to the British Empire is disputed. Ilan Pappé argues that Palestine was ‘an integral part of the British Empire in the Middle East’,5 mirroring comments made in a cabinet meeting decades earlier by Lord Curzon, who believed Palestine to be the ‘strategic buffer’ of Egypt and the Suez Canal.6 Tom Segev has more recently argued that Palestine offered little or no economic or strategic benefit to the British Empire. Contentiously, Segev also argues that the British policy of pro-Zionism was guided by the notion of Jews being a powerful global interest group, particularly in the United States, an idea that was misguided: ‘In fact, the Jewish people were helpless; they had nothing to offer, no influence other than this myth of clandestine power.’7 The idea of ‘world Jewry’ as a global force of influence would be an important component in the far right’s understanding of British government policy in relation to Palestine.

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At the heart of far right conceptions of Palestine was the belief that Zionism was the most tangible vehicle for a global Jewish conspiracy. While conspiracism was essential to far right ideology more generally, no imperial issue reflects this more acutely than that of Palestine. The emergence of Zionism as a salient political issue in Britain came at a time when Jewish conspiracy theories were rife among the conservative right. The Bolshevik revolution in 1917 had led many, including Winston Churchill, to overplay the role of Jews in global affairs. Churchill also made conspiratorial connection between the Russian Revolution, Zionism and Jews by drawing a comparison between Bolshevism and Zionism, positing that it represented an internal struggle within international Jewish politics. Britain thus took up the Palestine Mandate in 1922 during a time when anti-Jewish hysteria dominated the conservative right and this was always likely to be amplified among right-wing extremists. The two most active ultra-right organs for debating the Palestinian question at this point were The Britons’ publications, as well as The Patriot. The Patriot was a conspiratorial far right newspaper first published in February 1922. It was founded by a group of diehard Tories who believed the British government and press to be under the thumb of ‘alien influences’ and purposefully misleading the public.8 Both groups were highly critical of British involvement in Palestine, and were highly conspiratorial in their outlook. The major difference was The Britons’ use of antisemitic conspiracy theories derived from the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, on one hand, and The Patriot tending towards anti-communist conspiracism on the other. Despite the imperialist nature of The Britons, they clearly saw British entanglement in Palestine and subsequently, Zionism, as a dangerous threat to the Empire. Furthermore, it demonstrated to the highly antisemitic Britons proof of a Jewish conspiracy. Referring to the expected influx of Jews into the Mandate and therefore, the British Empire, a December 1922 article in The Hidden Hand stated: ‘This Palestine Mandate is to give to the British Empire twenty to forty millions of new “Britons” of the pure Yiddish breed to stir up trouble for old England in all parts of the habitable globe’.9 This amounted to Jewish colonisation, the like of which was unprecedented in modern global history declared Jewry Ueber Alles a year earlier: ‘No attempt has ever been made by people to colonise, at their own or any other nation’s expense, any country which was already fully populated, or possessed of a population not morally, intellectually, and physically inferior to themselves.’10 As this passage suggests, this meant that support was offered to the native Arab population of Palestine, which was understandable, the anonymous author continued given their opposition to ‘the subjugation of their country to the tribesman of Trotsky, Kerensky, and Bela Cohen’.11 Much like far right parties to come, The Britons allied themselves with the embattled Muslim Arabs of Palestine: ‘Slowly but surely the Arabs feel that their land is passing out of their possession.’12 Nevertheless, as will be demonstrated in this chapter, much pro-Arab discourse was merely a mask for their wider, conspiratorial view of Zionism. The Britons believed that the Palestine Mandate was proof of the behind-thescenes power of Jews over the British government. This was apparently typified by

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the appointment of the Jew, Herbert Samuel, as the First High Commissioner of Palestine (1920–1925).13 Zionism was evinced as proof of all Jews’ goals to dominate, first, the British Empire and then the world. Another 1922 article in Jewry Ueber Alles warned that Jews were attempting stealth colonisation by obtaining British citizenship, in order to flood the Empire: The Jew has made himself a “national home” in all countries, but the Jewish World and Zionists are not content with that. They want to have it both ways – be “nationals” of all countries and have an exclusively Jewish country of their own as well. Nothing but Palestine will content them for this, and we doubt if that will content them if they ever get it.14 The Britons therefore rejected the idea that Palestine had any genuine cultural or theological attraction for Jews. Rather, the latter desired citizenship in Palestine to enable them to become subjects of the British Empire. This was part of a JudaeoBolshevik attempt to destroy the British Empire: All the Bolshevics [sic] and Communists who “naturalise” as “Palestinians” will become ipso facto “British Subjects”! In a very short time the entire tribe, some 30,000,000 strong, (their own figures and purposefully and ridiculously understated) will be “British” and will be ready to treat the British Empire as those good patriotic “Russian” Jews have treated their “Fatherland”, and now parade themselves as “Russia”.15 While the ultra-right diehard publication The Patriot would be similarly scathing of Britain’s role in Palestine – and equally conspiratorial – their perspective nevertheless differed from The Britons. The Patriot is better characterised by anti-Bolshevism than antisemitism, even if discussions of Zionism were highly anti-Jewish. Buying into the contemporaneous myth of ‘global’ Jewish power, ‘The Palestine Mandate’ of 3 August 1922 complained: Of all mandates that for Palestine is the worst. It is stamped throughout with gross injustice to the people, and it is directed to deprive them of the exercise of free will, to break solemn pledges, and to hand them over to the tender mercies of international Jewry.16 Emphasising the notion of Britain ‘under the heel of the Jew’, the Palestine Mandate meant that the ‘British nation is made responsible to the League of Nations, and if we do not discharge our bond, Jewry will find the means of arraigning us before the nondescript tribunal’.17 Yet the most prominent claim in The Patriot was the alleged link between Zionism and Bolshevism; as seen in one example of many, ‘a very active part of the [Zionist] movement has been taken by the section of the Jews in all countries who are in sympathy with Bolshevism and responsible for its introduction and firm

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establishment in Russia’.18 Jews emigrating to Palestine were portrayed as Bolshevik entryists attempting to destroy the British Empire from within. One correspondent for The Patriot, based in Jaffa, claimed that ‘Bolshevist Zionists have several times demonstrated in the streets of Jerusalem, Haifa, and Jaffa, displaying red flags, and crying and shouting against the British Empire, against its King and Emperor, and against the Entente.’19 Furthermore, Palestine was being ‘vigorously exploited by Jewish capital, collected in Europe and America and applied to oust the owners of the soil for the benefit of imported Jews with Bolshevik tendencies’.20 The Patriot offered dire warnings of Britain’s continued backing of Zionism: ‘Since we constituted ourselves the champions of the Zionist sect, set up a predominantly Jewish government and enforced the entry of Bolsheviks, there has been nothing but unrest, and we are only at the beginning of the troubles.’21 Despite far right rhetoric, the threat of communism in Palestine was minimal. Police tasked with monitoring communist parties in Palestine found that there were no significant threats posed by revolutionary socialist movements.22 Another issue inflaming the ‘anti-Zionist’ far right (as well as those not on the fringes, such as MP and future Home Secretary William Joynson Hicks and Sir John Butcher MP) was the Rutenberg concession. This provided the Jewish businessman Pinhas Rutenberg an effective monopoly over electricity production in Palestine in 1921. Objecting in The Patriot, Lord Sydenham noted in the context of the Rutenberg arrangement that ‘The deal with Zionism follows in logical sequence the betrayal of our pledges to the Palestinians.’23 Lord Sydenham doubted the suitability of Rutenberg’s appointment, seemingly on the grounds that he was Jewish. Speaking in the House of Lords, he stated: ‘Surely, some British or Palestinian citizen could have been found to tender. It could not have been necessary to give this contract to a revolutionary Russian Jew, who really, of course, hails from Germany.’24 Perhaps in an attempt to disguise his prejudice towards Jews, Sydenham, as was so typical of the far right at this time, couched his argument in terms of Arab rights: ‘If we arbitrarily dismiss and go against their wishes, we are not maintaining the civil rights of the people of Palestine, which the noble Earl himself has promised to guarantee.’25 What truly guided Sydenham’s stance on Zionism was the belief that it represented a global Jewish conspiracy. Nor was he afraid to point to this in the House of Lords: The Mandate as it stands will undoubtedly, in time, transfer the control of the Holy Land to New York, Berlin, London, Frankfurt and other places. The strings will not be pulled from Palestine; they will be pulled from foreign capitals; and for everything that happens while this transference of power is going on we shall be responsible.26 As suggested above, the most striking shift in far right discourse on Palestine over the interwar period is its move towards pro-Arab policies and rhetoric. The Britons and The Patriot both expressed support for the Arabs in the early 1920s. Yet this was merely superficial. Neither genuinely sought to act as Arab representatives in

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Britain, nor did they care much for what the Arabs themselves wanted. For example, in the preface to the third edition of Harold Spencer’s antisemitic tract from 1922 Democracy or Shylocracy?, published by The Britons, John Henry Clarke asserted: ‘all Christian nations should favour the Zionist aspirations and rid themselves of the power which is deluding and destroying them’.27 This was best demonstrated by calls for ‘compulsory Zionism’. The earliest far right parties in Britain scarcely had anything that could be considered ‘policy’ in regard to Palestine – let alone much else in the early 1920s. Indeed, the Mandate had only recently begun in 1922, and the problems between rival communities within Palestine – which dominated government policy towards the territory for years – were yet to surface. The Britons’ major ‘policy’ on Palestine at the time, in fact, dealt with Jewish emigration. What The Britons termed ‘compulsory Zionism’ would be the first far right forced repatriation scheme. It was described in Jewry Uber Alles as ‘the only solution to the Jewish problem’, and ‘the only possible salvation for Jew and Gentile alike’.28 The rationale was that it met both British and Zionist aims: ‘The Jews will be free from Gentiles, and the Gentiles will be free from Jews.’29 In terms of a Jewish state, the Britons were ‘at one with the Zionists. We are Zionists without reserve. Indeed, we are for COMPULSORY ZIONISM, which, as England has accepted the Mandate, she is now in duty bound to enforce on all Jews.’30 This extreme solution is indicative of the antisemitism at the heart of The Britons’ stance on Zionism. As Lebzelter argues, ‘from the beginning, anti-Semitism was the focal point in the Britons’ propaganda. It was the key element in their ideology and functioned as an all-embracing framework for the articulation of diffuse criticism and discontent.’31 The Britons recognised that, given the vast majority of the Jews in Europe spread across the continent, ‘Compulsory Zionism’ would therefore have to be an international policy, requiring co-operation between the ‘white races’ of Europe. As soon as this were to happen, ‘the Jew will be compelled to find the National Home which he has asked for outside of Europe’.32 Accordingly, The Britons boasted that their ‘compulsory Zionism’ policy was receiving acclaim in both Britain and abroad, if revealingly neglecting to mention by whom. Readers of Jewry Uber Alles even suggested other places where Jews could be forcibly repatriated, with some others ‘favouring East Africa’ or ‘the Valley of the Amazon’. Mirroring future IFL leader Arnold Leese, Madagascar was also suggested.33 Some, described as ‘extremists’, even suggested Alaska.34 The Britons nonetheless resolved to ‘adhere to our Palestine policy as, apart from Biblical authority, it keenly appeals to the Jews themselves’.35 Regardless of whether or not it appealed to Jews, they would not have a say on the matter. In any case policy was based on ethnic grounds: Zionism must be compulsory on every son and daughter of Abraham, whatever “religious belief” they may profess. Then will the world have rest and genuine peace, and the fear of pogroms will no longer obsess the soul of the Jew.36

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Considering that increased Jewish immigration was the very thing Arab leaders did not want and rejected throughout the life of the Mandate, these early far right policies cannot be considered in any genuine sense ‘pro-Arab’.

Palestine in the shadow of Nazism Moving into the 1930s, Britain’s most antisemitic far right party, the National Socialist-influenced IFL, similarly identified a conspiracy at the heart of British policy towards Palestine. Arnold Leese saw Jewish plotting in every aspect of political life, and Palestine was certainly no exception. Quoting a passage directly from the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, he argued that Palestine represented part of Jewish plans for world domination: ‘It is indispensable for our own purpose that wars, so far as possible, should not result in territorial gains.’37 Leese used the Protocols as a definitive text on Jewish plans for world government, and was unperturbed by claims of its forgery. He applied the statement to the First World War settlement, claiming that Britain’s conquest of Palestine and submission of it to the League of Nations (which, he argued, was a Jewish organisation), were proof that the Entente ‘were not conquering it for Britain, but for the Jews’.38 Zionism was deemed to be no more than a naked embodiment of ‘the organised power of Jewish money’.39 Given that Zionists’ attachment to Palestine was based on ‘false sentimentality’,40 the IFL believed that the real reason Jews wanted control was ‘to make Jerusalem the Centre of the future Jewish World Government’.41 Leese believed that Palestine ended up in British hands following the First World War due to the peace settlement being ‘largely in the hands of Jew finance’. Indeed, he claimed in October 1929, ‘one of the results of this was to impose upon the British politicians the job of making a National Home for the Jewish Race’.42 Also in the IFL’s organ, The Fascist, Leese wrote: [T]he glaring injustice of our Jewish policy to the Mahomedan and Christian inhabitants of the conquered land is being debited to the innocent British nation, instead of to the Jew-controlled party politicians who have let us in for this crisis.43 The implications were huge for the Empire, according to Leese, who argued that on a ‘just settlement of the Palestine affair depends the future of the British Empire’.44 ‘This Palestine Business’ argued that the mandate reflected a test of whether or not Britain would submit to Jewish financial power: This is no dispute between Arabs and Jews, but the result of Jewish financial influence over British politicians. It is perfectly clear to any blessed individual that the only peace between Jews and Arabs that is possible in Palestine is that maintained by British force.45

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Whether in Palestine or England, in any case, for Leese, the ‘Jew Money-Power must be fought and broken if injustice is not to be bracketed with Britain’s name throughout the Mahomedan world’.46 The BUF also saw British policy in Palestine as proof of a global Jewish conspiracy. The BUF’s principal thinker on Palestine was Captain Robert GordonCanning. Gordon-Canning had an illustrious family history and upbringing, joining the BUF in 1934.47 He soon became their Foreign Affairs Spokesman. Gordon-Canning believed that the Arab population was experiencing the full weight of Jewish power and would soon react, leading to violence within the British Empire. Gordon-Canning sought to draw parallels between an Arab sense of injustice over Palestine and his fantasy that the British were engaged in a similar struggle against world Jewry. In an article for The Blackshirt, entitled ‘II – Jewish Question in Palestine’: ‘Once again a people, feeling the chain of Jewry about to close round its neck, rises in wrath, exaggerated by fear, to take vengeance upon its oppressors.’48 Gordon-Canning emphasised the importance of Islam within the British Empire, in May 1936, arguing that it was essential to maintain the support of Muslims across the Empire to avoid a: ‘hatred for the Zionist will, if it has not already become the hatred for Great Britain’.49 Gordon-Canning summarised his Palestine policy in a 1938 BUF pamphlet entitled The Holy Land: Arab or Jew? (1938). The document was infused with conspiracism centred upon the alleged influence Jews had on government policy, and the way in which Jewish money power was stifling debate on the Palestine question. Alongside what he perceived to be a British government under the thumb of British and international Jewry, Gordon-Canning also highlighted ‘the ability of Jewry to present specious arguments in support of false facts’ (such as the historical Zionist claim to Palestine), due to the fact that ‘the means of propaganda controlled by Jewry are so wide as to ensure the success of these arguments’.50 In another example of BUF anti-Zionist conspiracism, from an article positively charged with antisemitism, entitled ‘Jews Threaten the British Empire’, the BUF Director of Propaganda, A. K. Chesterton specifically linked Zionism with plots to destroy the British Empire, describing the former as ‘the greasiest and most unscrupulous dictatorship that ever afflicted mankind’.51 He continued: ‘Because of the filthy power of their gold the Jews dare to threaten with destruction the imperial destiny of the British people.’52 Moreover British soldiers, in putting down the Arab revolts, had become ‘the mercenaries of Jewry’, while the British government were ‘the slaves dedicated to execute the commands of this satanic clique’.53 A later article in Action saw American influence and support for Zionism as proof of an Anglo-American alliance under the control of Jews. Allegedly, it was ‘a well-established fact that Roosevelt is dominated by Jewry’, evidenced by American support for Zionism: ‘once again Jewry is illuminated as a world force, overriding the boundaries of nations; all aspirations of the heart; all dictates of humanity’.54 By way of comparison, German Nazism’s stance on Zionism is important in terms of its similarities and differences to the British far right. The Nazi Party developed a

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framework for Zionism early in the 1920s, shortly after its foundation in 1921. Key thinkers on the issue were early party ideologues Alfred Rosenberg and der Führer Adolf Hitler. In his 1922 short book, Der staatsfeindliche Zionismus [Zionism: The Enemy of the State], Rosenberg argued that Zionism was a plot by world Jewry, and German Jews who supported it were merely undermining German interests. This was the ‘stab in the back myth’ which alleged that Jews (among others) were responsible for Germany’s defeat in the First World War. Zionism was cast by Rosenberg as a matter of biological citizenship, founded upon his belief that ‘loyalty to Zionist and other Jewish interests precluded loyalty to the German fatherland’.55 More dominant than matters of citizenship, however, mirroring the British far right, was the role of conspiracism in National Socialist conceptions of Zionism. For instance, Rosenberg held an ‘unshakeable conviction that the alleged Jewish world conspiracy theory was a monolithic phenomenon, uniting Zionists and assimilationists alike in common effort’.56 Adolf Hitler, writing in his 1925 Mein Kampf [My Struggle], similarly identified Zionism as the manifestation of a world Jewish conspiracy. Hitler rejected the aims of Zionism on the grounds of what Dan Stone calls ‘Nazi race mysticism’, holding that Jews were biologically unfit to form their own state.57 In keeping with their nature, Jews were fooling people: ‘while the Zionists try to make the rest of the world believe that the national consciousness of the Jew finds its satisfaction in the creation of a State’.58 They, in fact, really desire ‘a central organisation for their international world swindle, endowed with its own sovereign rights and removed from the intervention of other states: a haven for convicted scoundrels and a university for budding crooks’.59 Despite their belief that Zionism was part of a malicious global conspiracy, once National Socialism achieved power in Germany, they initially supported Jewish emigration to Palestine. This fulfilled their policy of eradicating ‘Jewish influence’ in Germany. The 1933 Haavara Agreement, which saw German authorities and the Jewish Agency in Palestine agree to the transfer of approximately 50,000 German Jews, provides a good example of this. Francis Nicosia has highlighted this contradiction between the Nazi ideological approach to Zionism and the reality when in power: ‘the duality of the National Socialist approach was clearly established by Hitler and Rosenberg during the 1920s and conditioned by policies eventually pursued after 1933’.60 The same type of contradiction afflicted the British far right, who demonstrated much the same conspiratorial anti-Zionism – also based upon the Protocols myths as the Nazis did in Germany. They also called for all Jews to leave Britain, with Palestine being the obvious destination. There is a further, third dimension in Britain which further complicates the issue. The British far right proposed policies for the British Mandate favouring the Arab cause, which generally sought to restrict Jewish immigration. This represented a complete conflict of interests: an ideological opposition to Zionism in Palestine; the desire for Jews to leave Britain (with Palestine the obvious choice of destination); and the simultaneous desire to restrict Jewish immigration into Palestine in line with Arab demands. The following section will demonstrate how the far right would, in particular move towards a more pro-Arab stance.

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Devilry in the Holy Land By 1928, it had become apparent to British authorities that both Arab and Jewish leaderships were pursuing fundamentally divergent goals within Palestine. Accordingly, the development of a modern state able to eventually become autonomous from British rule was effectively out of the question. Acting through the League of Nations Mandate, the government subsequently sought to contain growing conflict between Arabs and Jews, which arose primarily from increased Jewish immigration to Palestine.61 The somewhat naïve strategy of trying to build the Mandate into a more cohesive unit was thrown into the air in 1929, when violence between Jewish and Arab communities surged, following religious disturbances, Arab anger at increased Jewish immigration and the policy of Jews refusing to employ nonJews.62 The violence, which lasted nearly a week, led to the deaths of dozens of Jews and Arabs, and led to a rethink in policy by the British government. In response to the violence, a commission of inquiry was appointed known as the Shaw Commission. The Shaw Commission acknowledged that Arab discontent with Britain’s pro-Zionist policy laid down in the Balfour Declaration and the 1922 White Paper had led to a decline in Arab living standards. The 1930 White Paper by Lord Passfield, which arose from the Shaw Commission, implied a brief pro-Arab turn in British policy – promising to restrict Jewish immigration and align it with the absorptive capacity of both Jewish and Arab economies. It also promised millions of pounds of investment to develop archaic Palestinian agricultural methods and bring Arab living standards up to those of the local Jewish population. Zionists, both within Palestine and outside in the United States, were outraged at the White Paper. It was struck down, but perhaps even more importantly, it failed to gain the support of important British politicians for different reasons. For example, Pro-Zionists such as Leo Amery, Austen Chamberlain and David Lloyd George argued against it, while Chancellor Philip Snowden, another influential figure sympathetic to Zionism, was reluctant to part with the millions of pounds of investment at a time of acute financial crisis. Prime Minister Ramsey MacDonald’s effective rejection of the White Paper reflected a remarkable U-turn from the British government, and one, as Tom Segev notes, ‘there is no rational explanation for’ other than for fear of angering the purportedly powerful ‘world Jewry’ during a period of economic crisis.63 Following the failure to ease tensions between Jewish and Arab communities, Jews became economically independent in the Yishuv within the Mandate. Following increased overseas investment into the more dynamic Jewish economy as well as Jewish immigration from Europe – which was swelling in the wake of Nazism and fascism – Jews prospered. In contrast, the Arab population of Palestine, divided by a lack of centralised leadership, witnessed a continued erosion of living standards. Arab landowners, particularly absentee landlords, sold Arab land for personal profit to Zionists at the expense of Arab rural workers, leading to increased unemployment.64 The need for investment in the Palestinian economy was obvious. However, following the rejection of funds suggested in the Passfield

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White Paper, the British authorities were indifferent to the urgent modernisation required by Palestinian agriculture. Tensions between the British authorities, Arab, and Jewish communities within Palestine would erupt again in 1936 after a general strike was called by the highest Arab authority, the Arab Higher Committee. It marked three years of upheaval that would be violently suppressed by the British authorities. The Peel Commission, appointed in 1936 at the start of the violence, advocated a major change in British policy, suggesting that Palestine should be partitioned between Jewish and Arab territories. The Zionist leadership accepted the plans suggested in the Peel Commission’s report, seeing it as the first step to a Jewish national home. However, the Arab Higher Committee rejected the plans outright, fearing that a Jewish state would be ‘a springboard for future expansion’.65 This was not an irrational fear, given that Zionist leader David Ben-Gurion saw the proposals as just that. Partition was finally rejected following the appointment of the Woodhead Commission in 1938, which sought to investigate the matter’s practicalities. The Commission concluded that the mass population transfer set out in the Peel Commission Report (225,000 Arabs from Jewish territory and 1,250 Jews from Arab territory) made any scheme completely unworkable. Following the crackdown by British forces, violence in Palestine was largely quelled by the outbreak of the Second World War. The final British plan for Palestine that time was the 1939 White Paper. This proposed that a binational state be formed within ten years, with Jewish immigration restricted to 75,000 over five years – so Jews were no more than a third of the total population – and restrictions would be placed on Jewish purchases of Arab land. The Zionist leadership reacted furiously, Ben-Gurion arguing that the Balfour Declaration had effectively been annulled.66 The restriction of Jewish immigration was particularly devastating, given Nazi expansion in Europe, which had prompted the exodus of Jews in the first place. Following this, much Zionist activity in Palestine moved underground – illegal immigration was arranged as well as land takeovers. The Zionist paramilitary force Haganah rose to prominence, as well as several radical terrorist organisations including the Stern Gang. Arabs also rejected the 1939 White Paper, claiming that a binational state was impractical; the Zionist leadership could simply withdraw its support and bring down a government. They also rejected the proposed immigration levels, claiming that no guarantees were given beyond the initial five-year period. Moreover, Britain’s ‘pro-Arab’ turn in policy had come simply too late. Revolts had been violently suppressed by the British authorities, whose rule had been completely discredited in the eyes of the Arabs. Despite these vicissitudes in government policy during the 1930s, overwhelmingly, British far right groups considered the government’s stance to be unrelentingly pro-Zionist and anti-Arab. The IFL held expectedly strong convictions on the Palestine question during the 1930s, rejecting outright any Jewish claims to settlement in Palestine, let alone a Jewish state. In a 1938 IFL pamphlet entitled Devilry in the Holy Land, Leese argued: ‘they actually have no historical claim to the country at all. They have generally been an absolute nuisance in it’,

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adding ‘by means of constant propaganda, the Jews have induced the Gentile peoples to believe that Jews have some moral right to occupy Palestine. No such moral right exists.’67 IFL policy on Palestine more broadly was to annul the League of Nations Mandate and proclaim Palestine a British colony: Tell the League of Nations to go to the devil and administer Palestine as a British Crown Colony until such time as the inhabitants can be prepared for something more responsible. The country was conquered by British arms with Arab assistance, and belongs to us; its inhabitants are mainly Mahomedan, and their interests should be our chief concern.68 Leese acknowledged that ‘a national home for the Jews must be found, [although] the best place is Madagascar’.69 France, which governed Madagascar, would be compensated with ‘Jewish money’, yet once Jews have been given this ‘national home’, ‘no Jew should be allowed outside it on pain of death’.70 Leese even promoted the ethnic cleansing of Jews from Palestine. He argued that Britain should govern it indefinitely until the Arabs are suitable for self-government and ‘every Jew should be cleared out of the country’.71 This was little different from the Nazi approach to Jews, set out above. The IFL critique of Zionism on the grounds of biology, e.g., that one cannot be both a Zionist Jew and a British citizen – was similar to The Britons: ‘the Jewish Zionists domiciled in Britain have, by accepting Zionism, deliberately decided to remain National Jews with the interests of the Jewish Race coming first’.72 Leese therefore rejected the possibility of an ‘English Zionist’; a British Jew claiming to be a Zionist should ‘be deprived of any political power he may possess, and, in the same way, Zionist “noblemen” should be deprived of their rank and titles, their possession of which makes British aristocracy a laughing stock’.73 Put simply, for Leese, ‘a Zionist has no more right to British citizenship than a Chinaman’.74

Robert Gordon-Canning and the BUF The BUF’s criticism of the British government’s seeming support for Zionism reached back to the 1917 Balfour Declaration. Framed similarly to the ‘stab in the back’ legend popularised on the extreme right in Weimar Germany which linked Jews and elites with the signing of the Treaty of Versailles, the Declaration, it was alleged, was signed during the heat of the First World War at ‘our darkest hour’, since ‘Jewry would not assist us unless it was bribed’.75 Moreover, Britain was neglecting the part of the Balfour Declaration pledging to safeguard the interests of the Arab population. By taking advantage, the Jews were ‘endeavouring by all means in their power to turn Palestine into a Jewish State, or at best, a State where Jewish ideas will prevail’.76 The riots in the mid-1930s were seen as the logical result of contradictory promises given by the British to Arabs and Jews:

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The bloody riots and unrest in Palestine have proved the impracticability, and even the insanity, of the Balfour Declaration, which promised to establish in Palestine a national home for the Jews. How can the country be handed over to the Jews when it is already inhabited by the Arabs – a people of extreme, and even fanatical, racial and religious consciousness?77 Jewish emigration to Palestine was fiercely criticised on a number of grounds. According to BUF propaganda, the principal grievance of the Arab population causing three years of violence was simply ‘the ever-increasing influx of Jews into Palestine’.78 They argued that Jews arriving from Europe, particularly Nazi Germany, were not wanted in Palestine – even by many Jews. In John Beckett’s ‘Shot and Shell’ feature in The Blackshirt, he alleges that a BUF ‘source’ in Palestine, was ‘informed by several people that if the influx of Jews from Germany was typical of those whom Hitler had turned out, then they had a very great deal of sympathy with Hitler’.79 The immigration of German Jews to Palestine was scorned as ‘the dumping upon it of undesirables who have left Germany for Germany’s good’.80 Gordon-Canning further suggested that immigration from central and eastern Europe introduced communism to Palestine, which was supposedly spreading among the Arab population.81 The notion of Jews disseminating Bolshevik ideas in Palestine was also highlighted in an article by E.A. Ghory, Secretary of the Palestinian Arab Party, appearing in Action: It is sufficient to say that the greater number of Jews come from Russia and Central European countries. They are imbued with Communist ideas and principles: they apply them most radically in Palestine. Theirs is an alien and ruinous civilisation. The British Government is creating in Palestine a Communist spear-point in the heart of the British Empire. Some day, in the unavoidable future conflict with Communism, Great Britain will discover that Jews will help Russia and not Great Britain.82 Like the IFL, antisemitism was at the heart of the BUF’s Palestine policies. Within the context of Palestine – but not only of course – Jews were described as a ‘parasitic and undesirable race’.83 Gordon-Canning, who ‘pities the Jew for the universal dislike he inspires throughout his history’, noted darkly that Palestine was the mere manifestation of a global problem: ‘The Jewish problem cannot be settled in Palestine: it will be but another outbreak of the universal disease’.84 GordonCanning and the BUF thus wanted to keep Jews out of Palestine in addition to calling for Jews to leave Britain (and indeed Europe) due to ‘their unsuitability to Occidental habits and customs’.85 Thus, the idea of sending Jews to areas outside both Palestine and Europe – similar to the ‘compulsory Zionism’ policies of The Britons – grew in salience. Gordon-Canning suggested that the BUF should, with the cooperation of other European colonial powers, ‘place an area of the world in the hands of the Jews which would be capable of receiving at least 10,000,000 and of sustaining this 10,000,000’.86 He revealingly added that ‘British Union is not antagonistic to the creation of a Jewish state, only not in Palestine.’87

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Another article by Gordon-Canning in May 1936 marks the beginning of official BUF policy on Palestine. He warned that continued Jewish immigration to Palestine should be stopped, and that an insatiable Jewish appetite for control over Palestine was the principal cause of tension there. The British government had been rendered powerless to affect the situation by their dependence upon ‘Jewish finance’: Once again Jewry, pressing home its advantage gained by the power of intrigue and finance on a Government, stirs up to active rage those whom its object is to crush out of existence or, to say the least, into a position of subservience and slavery.88 Fascist policy by May 1936 therefore was firmly on the side of the Arabs. Palestine was ‘an Arab country and cannot be alienated to the Jews any more than Spain to the Arabs’.89 While the BUF sympathise[d] with the ideal of a cultural home for Jewry in Palestine, and as a centre to which British Jews might resort if not wishing to live under a Fascist regime in Great Britain … in no way would it accept the demand of Zionism for the political and economic domination of Palestine.90 Jewish immigration from foreign countries should be immediately halted, while ‘the rich concessions now in the hands of Jewish finance would be placed under government control with strong Arab participation, for the benefit of the Arabs’.91 The greater goal in their Palestine policy was to maintain the support of Muslims within the British Empire: ‘The British Empire contains millions of followers of Islam and must defend the rights and sacred places of these loyal citizens.’ Although Palestine was of ‘immense strategic importance to the British Empire’, policy in Palestine was predominantly discussed in terms of keeping the Muslim population of the Empire.92 In stark contrast to present-day anti-Muslim rhetoric by the far right, the BUF praised Arabs as an ‘intensely virile, patriotic race with a great history and a renowned culture’:93 The policy of the British Government must be one of close co-operation and friendly assistance to these people, not one which will alienate and embitter our relations … The loyalty of these Muslim citizens and the friendship of the Arab race cannot be weighed against all the gold of Jewry. The former will buttress our Empire, the latter will disintegrate it.94 To be sure, anti-Jewish stereotyping was frequently used by the BUF when discussing Palestine, not least as the issue was nevertheless seen as a matter of profound importance for the British Empire. The prospect of a Jewish state within the Empire acted as the embodiment of fascist claims that British imperialism was being surrendered to Jewish interests: ‘The supposition that a Jewish State in Palestine

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will strengthen the Empire would be ludicrous were it not so pregnant with tragedy for the British Empire.’95 Gordon-Canning presented Britain’s imperial interests as ‘Empire communications in the air and the port of Haifa’.96 He also wanted to see Palestine remain in the British Empire as part of a wider incorporation with Transjordan and the ‘Arab littoral states of Syria’, where ‘Jewish minorities which will be given an Anglo-French guarantee’.97 This plan suggests nuance in BUF policy and a genuine imperial vision for Palestine, yet little column space is offered in the BUF press advancing it. Rather, the predominant aim of writings on Palestine was to use anti-Zionism as a proxy for attacking Jews and the British governing class – in both Britain and Palestine. Despite the obvious desire of Gordon-Canning to maintain a British presence in Palestine, as violence erupted in 1936, the notion of Palestine as an ungovernable mess was also present within BUF publications. There was clearly an element within the BUF advocating that Britain should withdraw from the Mandate altogether. This could suggest that Mosley was already beginning to flirt with the idea that Britain should withdraw in 1936, over a decade before he would formally advocate that position as the postwar leader of the UM. In light of Gordon-Canning’s prominence on the subject and his high rank within the BUF, however, it equally may be the case that Mosley did not see it as a worthwhile issue to fall out over. One BUF article on 26 September 1936 suggested that British troops should play less of a role in Palestine, and that British Jews should be forcibly conscripted to police Palestine – all funded by ‘Jewish financiers’.98 If Britain were to fulfil the Balfour Declaration – a promise which ‘the Jews extorted from us’: We should assess the strength of available troops, find out the necessary additional force and conscript it from the thousands of young Jews thronging the streets of London, Manchester, Leeds and other cities. The monthly cost of the war should be assessed and levied upon the Jewish community.99 Notably, however, The Blackshirt article ‘Conscript the Jews’ questioned: ‘Is it not time we called a halt to the waste of British manhood in wars that are not Britain’s concern? … If Palestine is the Jew’s home, let him fight for it.’100 In the next year, another article by W. Risdon argued that the Palestine Mandate was too expensive, had cost too many British lives, and was consuming resources that would be of better use elsewhere. The Blackshirt article then provocatively suggested ‘giving’ control of the Mandate to Germany – though this was not an idea that would be floated again in BUF publications.101 Gordon-Canning presented a more draconian Palestine policy for the BUF in October 1936, which, again, was broadly along the lines of Arab demands. He called for an immediate halt to Jewish immigration until a deal could be reached with Arab representatives. Given Zionist support for the 1936 White Paper, Gordon-Canning was convinced that the end-game for Zionists was an entirely Jewish state, rather than simply a national home in Palestine. Therefore, GordonCanning sought to give ‘an assurance to the Arab world that the Zionists would

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never be given an opportunity to dominate, politically or economically, in Palestine’. He rejected partition, advocating the only possibility to be a semi-independent state, similar to Iraq, in which Jews had full minority rights. Gordon-Canning was even open to the idea of Syria, Transjordan and Palestine unifying into one state.102 He called not just for an end to immigration but for ‘the deportation of all Zionist immigrants from foreign countries who were either economically unstable or had been convicted of political or civil crimes’. He demanded the ‘restitution of certain fertile lands to the Arabs’ and the ‘closing down of the Jewish Agency in London’.103 As the latter suggests, antisemitism was always lurking in the background of the BUF’s Palestine policy. The White Paper of 1939, while undoubtedly marking a pro-Arab turn in British policy – and seen as a betrayal of the Balfour Declaration by the Zionist leadership – was also rejected by Arabs. The BUF followed suit. First and foremost, however, the angry Jewish response to the White Paper was criticised by the latter: ‘The Jewish answer has been to riot, as the Zionists claim complete domination over their “national home”.’104 The government was also criticised for changing its Palestine policy, and for outsourcing the issue to ineffective commissions: ‘Now, in an attempt to display a vestige of independence [from Jewish control], the Government issues a compromise policy that satisfies no-one. The Arabs reject it. The Jews revolt against it.’105 This was at the very heart of BUF rejection of democracy as weak and incapable of governing a vast Empire where difficult decisions have to be made. Britain’s ‘record in Palestine is one of the blackest pages of our history; the epitome of decaying democracy’s pitiful ineptitude’.106 Speaking for the BUF, Gordon-Canning called once again for ‘justice’ on behalf of the Arab population, to ensure the restoration of ‘British prestige among the Moslems so essential for this country, in view of our great possessions in the East’.107 Based on many of Gordon-Canning’s previous antisemitic statements, this smacks of opportunism, however.

From compulsory Zionism to pro-Arabism In contrast to the compulsory Zionism of the 1920s, there was in the 1930s a decisive shift towards an approach that was more Arab-friendly and, in some cases, stridently supportive. Interestingly, a key facet of the contemporary far right is their Islamophobia, yet the far right prior to large-scale immigration to Britain from the Indian subcontinent evinced significant pro-Muslim and pro-Arab tendencies. This has already been shown here in Chapter 3, albeit on a smaller scale, in relation to qualified far right support for India’s Muslim population. A significant theme in far right propaganda between the wars is the expression of support for Arab demands in Palestine, rhetoric about forging a loose, unofficial, anti-Zionist coalition. Rather than simply reflecting an admiration for Arabs or ‘Islamophilia’, from an imperial perspective, Arabs were embraced by the far right – and indeed many other imperialists – as an important body of opinion both within and outside the British Empire.

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Following the acquisition of League of Nations mandates, over half of the world’s Muslim population existed within the British Empire, principally in North Africa, the Near and Middle East, the Indian subcontinent and South-East Asia.108 British establishment figures who were not fully-fledged Zionists recognised the danger that unflagging British support for Zionism posed to British power in the Middle East. The far right also recognised the importance of maintaining Arab goodwill and, unfettered by any required compromises or leanings towards Zionism, became cheerleaders for the British Empire’s Arabs. Untainted by any desire to extend good will towards Jews, support for Arabs may have appeared patently obvious to far right imperialists. Jews represented a fractional proportion of the British Empire, whereas Arabs were a giant voice within it. The moral case for Zionism, even following the Holocaust, was completely rejected by Britain’s far right. As Rory Miller has noted, many pro-Arabs in Britain, such as Lord Sydenham and Baron Ampthill, were placed in high positions in the House of Lords.109 In 1922, there was a vote in the House of Lords, led by Sydenham, that sought to postpone the Palestine Mandate on the grounds that it ‘violates the pledges of the Government’ toward Arabs (the vote was lost 60–29).110 The Britons, again, suggested something untoward about the vote result, stating ‘it was a matter of sinister omen that not more than thirty “Die Hards” were found to muster courage enough to vote against Jewry’ while few were willing to ‘support the cause of justice to the Arabs in the House of Commons’.111 Support from House of Commons Conservatives was actually larger than The Patriot reported. In 1923, for example, a Pro-Arab memorial was signed by 111 Tory MPs. It called for the government to ‘reconsider the Palestine question in light of Arab demands’.112 Thus, much as in the case of India, there was significant potential support within more mainstream conservative circles for action against the government position, which far right groups would have been better attempted to cultivate. In the event, few attempts were made to branch out by either Conservatives or ultra-right organisations. Palestine occupied a unique place in BUF propaganda. In contrast to India, where the BUF reacted furiously to native demands for political autonomy from colonial authorities, the principal goal in regard to Palestine was to highlight the plight of the native Arab population. While the BUF would look more favourably on Muslim ‘fighting races’ in India than the Hindus – who were seen as backward and irrational – the Arabs of Palestine were lionised as defenders at the frontier of an international Jewish conspiracy centred upon Palestine, seeking to destroy the local Arab population in a quest for dominance: ‘race after race has conquered Palestine and tried to force new civilisations on the country, but the Arab is still there, unchanged and unchangeable, and nothing will move him’.113 The discussion of the Palestine question was thus only partially used to highlight affairs within the British Empire. Predominantly, Palestine was a tool used to evoke the presence of global Jewish dominance; the imperialist nature of Jews themselves; as well as the morally and politically redundant ‘old gang’ of politicians in Westminster,

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struggling to maintain control over a failing Mandate. The BUF would act as a champion of the Arab cause, but even more so, attach to it features of their domestic agenda, notably antisemitism. The aforementioned Robert Gordon-Canning’s particular interest for Arab affairs arose from his experience in the Rif War in the early 1920s, a conflict in Morocco between Berber insurgents and French and Spanish colonial authorities. He campaigned on behalf of the North African tribesman, and was fascinated by Islam. Indeed, as Graham Macklin recounts, his admiration for both Islam and National Socialism saw the fusion of the two in advancing a quasi-religious sense of devotion to fascism.114 Gordon-Canning was a fierce antisemite and concomitant anti-Zionist, and was well connected with Arab leaders in Palestine. He journeyed to Palestine after the eruption of violence in 1929 and met Hajj Muhammad Amin al-Husseini, Grand Mufti of Jerusalem on a number of occasions. The Grand Mufti has received significant attention from historians for his pro-Hitler wartime sympathies and fanatical antisemitism, though Gordon-Canning argued that he was not dangerous or extreme, but ‘simply out to defend the interests of his countrymen against the inroads of Jewry’. The Grand Mufti was ‘in no way anti-British except when it came to the Mandate, and most reasonable’, in that view.115 Macklin argues that Gordon-Canning acted as ‘a mouthpiece’ for the Mufti, although his influence on wider government policy was, at best, negligible.116 Among Britain’s far right ideologues, Gordon-Canning produced by far the most literature on the Palestine question during the 1930s, principally for the BUF magazine Action. Oswald Mosley does not appear to have expressed any view on the matter until the short 1938 book Tomorrow We Live, which is a mimicry of Gordon-Canning’s writings. Mosley’s seeming indifference is puzzling, given that he would seek maximum political benefit from the Palestine question after the Second World War. This does suggest a certain level of ambivalence from the BUF leader during this period, when appeasement and the Spanish Civil War were seen as larger issues. What can be deduced from this, however, is that Robert GordonCanning was the major driver of BUF policy on Palestine. During the UM’s antiZionist campaign, Mosley happily used the issue as a means to attack British Jews, and this practice is evident within the BUF literature. But the BUF’s detailed discussions of the Palestine issue and accompanying earlier pro-Arab sentiment are undoubtedly the work of Gordon-Canning, who was emotionally invested in the issue and touted himself as an expert on this subject. The incessant attacks on Jews in Palestine by the BUF press portrayed Jews as colonisers rather than victims of persecution. This was a challenging task, particularly after the rise of Nazi Germany and passage of the 1935 Nuremberg Laws: The present disturbances in Palestine are due entirely to Jewish efforts. The Arabs embarked on a strike against the increasing Jewish immigration and Jewish bias of the Government. There was no rioting or violence until the Administration issued 4,500 immigration certificates. This was like throwing a lighted match into a keg of gunpowder.117

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R. Fairley’s ‘The Jews in Palestine’ continued, The root trouble of Palestine does not lie in partition or even in a National Home. It lies in the Jew. He is responsible because he cannot live at peace with his neighbours. He must steal from them. He must burden himself on them.118 In a later article in Action, Arabs were presented as the victims of discrimination in a Palestine dominated by Jews and enabling colonial authorities. Arabs had been given heavy sentences for crimes relating to riots, whereas ‘Jews have escaped more or less lightly, and Jewish bus drivers are allowed to carry revolvers.’119 Jewish actions in Palestine were then used to excuse antisemitism and repression in Nazi Germany, since Jews were worse to Arabs in Palestine than Germans to Jews in the Third Reich: ‘Germany in punishing the [Jewish] community for the individual misdeeds is but following out a time-honoured policy of Great Britain … Today in Palestine Arab communities are punished for individual Arab “atrocities”.’120 Jewish conspiracy theories, advanced on practically every page of BUF propaganda from 1935 onwards, are consistently alleged to be the chief force behind both international Zionism and the troubles in Palestine. At the same time that the BUF were calling for fierce repressions of Gandhi and the INC, when it came to Palestine, British forces were accused of being too repressive towards the local Arab population: ‘For 20 years British bayonets have been prodding the Arab into a subservient acceptance of an alien influx and the imposition of a future alien domination.’121 In another Action article, Gordon-Canning recalled the reprisals policy of British auxiliaries during the Anglo-Irish War, describing British actions as ‘methods of pure terrorism and barbarism which disgraced the name of Britain, the Twentieth Century, and Western Civilisation’.122 In his ‘Police Terror Methods in Palestine’ of 8 October 1938, he put matters bluntly: It comes down to the point that on behalf of Zionism in Palestine, or to put it more crudely, on behalf of Jewish world interests, the British Army is being ordered to act as Mongol or Hun centuries ago, and in consequence the good name of this Army has been imperilled, if not irretrievably damaged.123 He also criticised the internment and expulsion of Arab leaders who, alongside dead Arabs resulting from the troubles, were described as ‘the victims and the martyrs of the greatest injustice ever perpetrated under the British flag. Meanwhile the good name of Great Britain has been soiled and dishonoured among 100,000,000 Islamic citizens of the Empire’.124 But the evidence shows it was less Britain’s ‘good name’ than targeting Jews that motivated the BUF’s views on Palestine. Even the eugenically racist IFL’s hatred for Zionism went beyond antisemitism, exhibiting features of pro-Muslim and pro-Arab sentiment:

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Our best friends in India are the Muslims; the British Empire has the greatest Muslim population of any other Power in the world. There always used to be mutual respect between Briton and Muslim, and if there is one thing the Muslim admires, it is justice. We shall lose nothing in prestige if we admit to the Muslim world that under Democracy, Britain has been the prey of the Jew, and has been entrapped into using her power to enforce Jewish injustice upon the Arabs of Palestine. Unless we admit the error, and repair it to the full, the Muslims of the world will look elsewhere for justice. Let us be big enough to do it.125 The Balfour Declaration had long been criticised by Arnold Leese for breaking promises made to Arabs in the MacMahon Agreement of 1915 (which had offered Arab control over land in exchange for support in the war effort). Again seeing a conspiracy, the fact that Sir Henry MacMahon (who later claimed that Palestine was exempt from the agreement) had turned his back on the 1915 deal was no surprise, for he was on ‘the Supreme Council of the international brand of Masonry known as “the Scottish Rite”’.126 The pledge had ‘recognised and supported the independence of the Arabs in Palestine (and elsewhere) and that we would assist them to “establish” what may appear to be the most suitable form of “Government” therein’.127 Leese believed it was essential that, in order to retain Arab and Muslim support across the Empire, Britain should ‘carry out our pledged word to our Mohamedan allies’.128 His ‘Zionism’, also published in The Fascist, continued this theme: The Jews had no right whatever to claim a domicile in the Holy Land, the population of which was chiefly Arab, was ignored, and so the British Empire, the greatest Mahommedan Power in the world, foolishly advertised itself sponsor for the interests of the Jew against those of the Arab.129 The IFL maintained they were ‘pro-British rather than pro-Arab’ but were happy to emphasise that the ‘IFL was in full sympathy with the Muslim aims, and that the sympathy was of the active variety’.130 Any Arab response to the British was fully justified, added Leese in Devilry in the Holy Land, since ‘the injustices done to the Arab population have aroused them to oppose any further Judaisation of their country by force’.131 Leese also highlighted the cultural difference between Arabs and Jews there, speculating that ‘the Jewish system is particularly repugnant to the Muslim, whose religion prohibits usury altogether’.132 Leese was also critical, at the time of the pamphlet’s publication, of Britain’s ‘shameful war on the Arabs’,133 the latter’s only crime being to ‘not submit to the spiritual and material degradation involved by Jewish immigration’.134 This final point encapsulates the fact that despite witnessing a pro-Arab turn, support for Arabs was couched in antisemitic terms, demonstrating that the main thrust behind the far right’s anti-Zionism was anti-Jewish hatred.

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Zionist insurgency Following the Second World War, in terms of settling the Palestine question, the Labour government was placed in an untenable position. It remained pincered between the need to maintain Arab good-will in order to keep Britain’s position in the Middle East, and the need to satisfy Zionists pointing to the Balfour Declaration. Crucially also, Britain was now more closely tied to the policy of the Truman Administration in the United States, which wavered between neutrality over Palestine and towards a generally pro-Zionist stance.135 In the wake of the Holocaust, international support for Zionism, particularly in the United States, had grown significantly. In addition, in order to finance their postwar economic reforms, Britain was dependent on US money as never before. Nevertheless, the Arab position had not changed for decades and Arab leadership remained staunchly opposed to partition. The view of the Foreign Secretary, Ernest Bevin, was generally pro-Arab – despite the policy of the Labour Party being pro-Zionist – however, little movement in this direction was achieved in the three years before the evacuation from the Mandate in 1948. There were essentially two possibilities on the table for Palestine: either a binational state, or a partition into Arab and Jewish states. A binational state, as favoured by Prime Minister Clement Attlee and Ernest Bevin, would see Jews and Arabs living together in a single state. Although more acceptable to Arabs (depending on the constitution of the state), it was unacceptable to most Zionists (unless it included plans for an eventual Jewish state). Partition was favoured by Zionists, including the important figure of British Chancellor Hugh Dalton, as the quickest way to a Jewish state, even if still unacceptable to Arabs, who had rejected similar plans in the 1930s. Notwithstanding much high-political wrangling over the future of Palestine, it would ultimately be events on the ground that determined Britain’s decision to withdraw. The military situation had deteriorated significantly, with Zionist terror attacks conducted by the Stern Gang and Irgun a constant menace to British troops stationed in Palestine. Britain now had approximately one-tenth of its armed forces stationed in Palestine – an unsustainable amount with rationing still in operation in Britain. Furthermore, following an effectively anti-colonial alliance between the Soviet Union and the United States, in September 1947, the United Nations Special Committee on Palestine voted for partition. This was the reason offered for Britain’s decision shortly after to withdraw completely. In November 1947, the United Nations voted for partition following the end of the Mandate. As historians have often shown, the UN partition plan was never implemented as civil war broke out between Zionists and Arabs almost immediately – a battle won by the Zionists, resulting in the foundation of the State of Israel in May 1948. The Holocaust, despite having little immediate impact on events in Palestine beyond leading to increased Jewish immigration, inevitably impacted Zionism following the end of the Second World War. As the atrocities committed against European Jewry became apparent following the liberation of concentration and death camps, support for Zionism increased dramatically. This was typified in a

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speech by President Truman in October 1946, which pledged US support for Zionist demands in Palestine.136 Despite thousands of uprooted and stateless Jews in Europe, many of whom were Holocaust survivors attempting to emigrate to Palestine from Europe, the British authorities were still committed to the immigration controls laid down in the 1939 White Paper. Either ships carrying Jews to Palestine were turned back by British authorities, or the refugees were placed in internment camps in coastal areas of Palestine and Cyprus. One infamous example was the refusal to admit around 4,500 Jewish refugees aboard the 1947 Exodus, which docked in Palestine but was eventually sent back to Germany, of all places. The seemingly callous treatment of the victims of Nazi genocide was ultimately a ‘huge propaganda victory for the Zionists and a major blow to British prestige in international opinion’.137 The end of the Second World War also saw the resumption of hostilities against British rule in Palestine by the Zionist extremist groups Irgun and the Haganah. Terrorists targeted British soldiers, administrators and policeman; with the deadliest attack occurring in July 1946, when the Irgun bombed the King David Hotel in Jerusalem, killing 91 people and injuring scores more. Another case of Zionist violence against British soldiers was the Sergeants Affair in July 1947, in which two British soldiers were murdered and publicly hanged, the area surrounding their corpses booby-trapped. This caused international outrage and, in particular, in Britain, unleashed a wave of antisemitic attacks. Anti-Jewish riots were recorded in Liverpool, Manchester and Glasgow. Despite David Cesarani’s claim that Jewish terrorism killing British soldiers was ‘a gift to Sir Oswald Mosley’, Tony Kushner has persuasively contended that events in Palestine acted as a minor cause of the 1947 riots, while the role of fascists in the riots was small (though they naturally looked to exploit them).138 Kushner argues that this brief bout of antisemitic violence reflected the continuation of antisemitism in Britain, heightened during a period of economic hardship after 1945.139 Before Mosley founded the UM in 1948, the most important far right organisation after the Second World War was the British League of Ex-Servicemen (BLXS). The group was led by the former BUF activist and internee, Jeffrey Hamm. The BLXS were quick to use Zionist terror organisations’ violence against British soldiers in order to promote domestic antisemitism – clearly seeing violence against British soldiers from terrorists as a potential springboard. Speakers at BLXS events implicated Jews in Britain with the violence by Zionist extremists in Palestine. A speech by Ronald Hargrave asserted that ‘these terrorists are being aided and abetted by people at home’, that is, British Jews: ‘murder organisations, financing Jewish terrorists in Palestine, to murder our boys and girls in cold flesh and blood’.140 At the same meeting, Duke Pile called for the ‘re-imposition of martial law in Palestine’, the ‘carrying-out of court martial in Palestine’ and for the government to ‘clear out every Member of Parliament who adheres to and subscribes to Zionism’.141 Pile, in another BLXS meeting, had made the link between foreign and domestic ‘Zionists’ – a term that was already becoming in many ways indistinguishable from ‘Jews’ – insisting that there was ‘only one way to stop the

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murder of our lads in Palestine and that way is to arrest and charge with treason those people in this country who are aiding or abetting these murderers’.142 Harking back to the antisemitic conspiracism of the interwar BUF, Hargraves added that it was disproportionate Jewish power allowing such a situation to arise: ‘the Jews have no right to Palestine and the Jews have no right to the power which they hold in this country of ours’.143 Thus, a tradition of using Zionism in an attempt to fulfil a wider, domestic antisemitic stance was continued and enhanced. The BLXS rejected Jewish claims to Palestine in a similar manner to the interwar far right, but were less interested in promoting the Arab view, as Robert Gordon-Canning had done at the BUF. In May 1946, Hamm offered connections with Arab leaders in Palestine in order to collaborate. Hamm was introduced to the Secretary of the Arab League, Musa Alami, by a mutual friend in the hope of convincing Alami that he had thousands of followers. Hamm wanted to persuade Alami to start ‘generalised pogroms’ in Palestine to direct public attention in Britain where, Hamm calculated, the Arabs would ‘win the sympathy of a large but inarticulate portion of the English population’.144 Perhaps fancifully, Hamm predicted: ‘thousands of Englishmen favoured the Arabs but were prevented from saying so by the Jewish control of the media’.145 Special Branch, who were monitoring Hamm’s activities closely, recognised Hamm’s clear antisemitic intent trumping any pro-Arab leanings. One report argued that he was ‘out to stir up trouble’: [Hamm] Thinks that he is a big noise enough to stir up “merry hell” in the Arab world, the fact that not only Jews will be killed is apparently a very minor point in his calculations … Hamm has always said that he will do anything to smash Jewry … and Jewry covers a very wide field.146 His apparent lack of enthusiasm for the Arab cause followed from the fact that Hamm firmly believed British control should remain in Palestine – not least that it was the Communist Party of Great Britain (CPGB) line at the time that Britain should leave. He described Palestine as the ‘last stronghold in the Middle East’ and ‘should not be given up to make a home for the Jews’.147 While Ronald Hargraves naturally rejected Jewish claims to Palestine as well, he never suggested that it should be handed back to the Arabs, noting that it was General Allenby and Lawrence of Arabia who ‘organised the Arab legions, fought the Turks, beat the Turks and thereby freed Palestine … Now then, Jews claim Palestine as a historical right. Well, I laugh at any Jew in the face who makes that claim.’148 The Sergeants Affair also led to a very brief period of localised popularity for the BLXS in East London. Over 500 people attended a meeting on 31 July in Hackney; and over 600 on Hereford Street three days later. Attendances were less than half beforehand. It would be wrong to infer that the very public murder of British soldiers radicalised their view on the Palestine situation. Some of the strongest rhetoric can actually be seen before the event. For example, in late May 1947, Jeffrey Hamm bellowed that mass executions of Jews should take place in Palestine: ‘there is one way to safeguard the lives of British troops in Palestine – martial law,

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execution, the bullet and the hangman’s rope. That is the way to deal with Jewish thugs.’149 Hamm merely identified the Sergeants Affair as ‘the latest Jewish outrage in Palestine. The hanging of two British boys. The hanging in cold blood of two British soldiers.’150 The BLXS continued to associate British Jews with Zionist violence in Palestine. In another highly inflammatory speech, John Spicer alleged: ‘It is high time we put our own house in order. The thing goes further back than Palestine.’ Spicer called for ‘a cleansing campaign, we want to cleanse the British country and the British Empire for good and all time of the alien filth and the scum and the traitors that reside here in this country’.151 It seemed to the BLXS, following the anti-Jewish riots, that perhaps the British public was finally turning to political antisemitism. The activist Harold Robinson proclaimed in his BLXS speech a delight that ‘at long last the people of Britain themselves are waking up’.152 He went on: I know the Communist Party and all the other left wing elements in this country are bound to denounce as Fascists those people during the past week or so who have decided to take the law into their own hands in certain cities in this country, but I can assure you that no-one was more surprised and I dare not say delighted than I was last week-end to read in the papers and hear over the radio that spontaneous uprising had taken place in several of our largest cities in reprisal for the recent events in Palestine … It is very comforting to me because it means we have far more supporters than I ever hoped that we had.153 The BLXS lacked the resources, organisational skills or ambition to create a national movement able to challenge conventional political parties. Despite riding on the coat -ails of a brief surge in antisemitism following events in Palestine in 1946–1947, they were never able to build upon this success, nor able to extend their reach much beyond East London.

Israel By contrast, the UM was founded towards the end of the Zionist Insurgency and shortly before Britain left Palestine. Oswald Mosley sought to extract as much political capital as possible from Zionist violence against British forces. He denounced Jews as violent, anti-British terrorists – something which had also been present during his time as BUF leader in the 1930s. Moreover, antisemitic conspiracism remained at the heart of the UM’s thinking on Palestine. The most striking element of the UM’s approach to Palestine was their continuous comparisons between the violent actions of Zionists and the crimes of Nazi Germany against Jews. This was not an insignificant rhetorical flourish, but an attempted vindication of Mosley’s interwar isolationist stance, by minimising the crimes of Nazi Germany while increasing his continued anti-Jewish rhetoric: ‘What daemonic fate compels these Jews to perpetrate every crime against humanity which they formerly attributed to the German people?’154

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The first comparison between Zionist actions and Nazism in the UM organ Union linked the Jewish goal of a national home in Palestine to the Nazi quest for ‘Lebensraum’. Zionism was thus Jewish Lebensraum which would come at the expense of Arab communities.155 Later comparisons in May 1948 referenced Nazi organisations and specific Nazi crimes, going so far as to suggest in ‘Palestine Today’ that Jews sought the genocide of Palestinian Arabs: The Jews have created an S.A. in their “Defence Force”, Haganah, and an S.S. in their “Storm Troopers”, Irgun and the Stern Gang. They have even perpetrated their own “Lidice” by slaughtering the women and children of an Arab village near Jerusalem. Only British authority, it would seem, has prevented, so far, the institution of concentration camps on the Belsen and Buchenwald models.156 The Jews, ‘filled with a ferocious, racial fanaticism, which makes the “Nordic Myth” seem pale’, had ‘entered Palestine with all the arrogance of a “Master Race” prepared to subject any number of native Arabs to their sway’.157 Further connections in this anonymous article were made regarding the justification for violent Zionist actions, which were ‘the same as those with which Hitler made us familiar’: ‘The need to restore a sovereign Jewish state (like Germany after Versailles), the right to bring all subject Jews freedom to live under their own government, living room for these Jews in lands already occupied by other races.’158 What the UM portrayed was a ‘miniature and grotesque caricature, a repetition of World War II, threatening to precipitate World War III’.159 Shortly after Mosley’s founding of the movement, then, the UM condemned both Jews and the wider public as hypocritical for criticising Nazi Germany but not applying the same standards to Zionists. Why, the UM argued, were these alleged parallels between Zionism and Nazi Germany ‘accepted when advanced by Jews and subject to world condemnation and a war of extermination when put forward by Germans?’160 UM publications also sought to link wartime Jewish persecution in Europe and the Jewish actions towards Arabs in Palestine: ‘the Jews seem to have learned nothing from their treatment in Germany, except to apply the very methods they have most condemned in the Germans to the unfortunate Arabs’.161 On 7 August 1948, an anonymous article in Union continued, ‘if the Germans were wrong to demand “Lebensraum” at the expense of the neighbouring peoples in Eastern Europe, then it is equally wrong for the Jews to demand a state of their own at the expense of the Arabs’.162 Jews, it was argued in a Union article on 15 January 1949, who were promoting the ‘aggressive self-assertion of a race’, had ‘learned nothing from recent tragic events’.163 Taking this line, the UM justified their antisemitic stance by portraying Jews as a powerful, bullying force: Extreme anti-Semites have always held that the Jews maintained a law unto themselves, and enforced a special position of favouritism among the nations

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of the world, until the German explosion against them took place. The Jews seem determined to prove that such extreme views were only too justified, as they claim racial discrimination on their behalf against the Arabs of Palestine and even of further territories in the Middle East.164 Mosley and the UM paid lip service to the plight of the Arab refugees, since what distinguished his view was largely based on antisemitism rather than pro-Arabism. Drawing comparisons with Jewish refugees in Europe, the same article argued: Whatever may be said for finding new homes for Jews, who for some inexplicable reason want to leave ‘liberated’ Europe, there can be no sort of justice in displacing twice as many Arabs from their homes in Palestine to make room for them.165 Union’s ‘Arab Refugees: Victims of Jewish Aggression’ added: We have heard so much of the suffering of Jewish refugees, that it is more than time that a word should be heard of Arab refugees who are suffering in direct consequence of Jewish aggression. Britain has always stood for fair play and here is an opportunity of exercising it, and giving a lead to world opinion, too long paralysed by Jewish propaganda.166 Mosley’s UM continued to advocate conspiracy theories attributing British government policy in Palestine to Jewish influence. He argued, as he had during the 1930s, that the British government: Never had a policy beyond an opportunist service of those Jewish interests to which they have long sacrificed so many British interests. The International money power now desires the constitution of a Jewish State in Palestine almost as ardently as it previously wanted the destruction of the German State.167 Already by May 1948, the UM’s policy on Palestine was relatively simple. They supported a complete evacuation of British troops from Palestine: ‘Englishmen should not be exposed to murder by Jewish assassins.’168 That month, ‘Britain and Israel’ declared: ‘let them make haste to be gone from a scene which is of no concern to Englishmen’.169 The rationale for this policy was less to protect troops from Zionist terrorism, but apparently more to maintain good relations with the Arab world: ‘our longstanding friendship with the Arab world is a matter of our own concern vitally connected with our imperial communications’.170 Jews had ruined their chance of British assistance for a national home, according to the UM, by their unreasonable demands and use of violence: ‘Their policy was unfair and unworkable, and it wrecked a solution in Palestine.’171

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Even earlier that year, the newly-founded UM had argued that Palestine should once again submit to international authority: ‘Let that Authority carry through a fair partition, which would give the Jews territory appropriate to their size and number and would not subject Arabs to Jews in an area too large to be justified by the Jewish population.’172 From the start, the UM had looked upon the creation of a Jewish state with great foreboding, believing that ‘the establishment of a powerful Jewish State in Palestine constitutes a grave menace’.173 Union’s ‘Jewish-Soviet Outrage in Palestine’ (falsely) maintained: We have always supported a National Home for the Jews but not the establishment of a militarist Jewish State in alliance with the deadly enemies of European survival. If there is any case at all for the disarmament of Germany, there is a much stronger case for the disarmament of the Jews in Palestine and the creation of a Protectorate by Western powers within which Jews and Arabs can live with equal rights.174 Following the foundation of Israel and moving into the 1950s, far right focus on Zionism persisted. Now that Britain was no longer in control, the attacks on Israel made during this period were similar to contemporary far right criticisms of Israel and yet also exhibited the same old themes of antisemitic conspiracism. A. K. Chesterton saw Israel as a puppet state of international finance dictated by Jewish agents in the United States and the Soviet Union. Israel was portrayed by his League of Empire Loyalists (LEL) as the hub of a global Jewish conspiracy, described by Chesterton as a ‘little, ungainly, unsavoury Asiatic State created by international corruption and fraud’.175 In a short poem written in Candour, possibly by Chesterton, this racist view was exemplified: The moneylending master race Seeks power to say how men shall live So let it start to make the pace In Palestine and Tel-Aviv.176 Another poem entitled ‘Foreign Members’ also sought to play on the idea of heavy Jewish influence on Britain: The Parliament of Britain No Semite will refuse The key posts in our ministries Are often held by Jews. The Parliament of Israel No Briton will admit In all key posts of Palestine ‘Tis only Jews may sit.177

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Purported Jewish power and pro-Israeli attitudes were not just to be found in Parliament, but also in the media. For example, Chesterton targeted the pro-Israeli stance of The Daily Telegraph: When a newspaper in so many ways decently conducted, as the Telegraph undoubtedly is, slants its comments in this disgraceful fashion, the sinister ubiquitousness of Jewish power becomes much more manifest than it does when some cheap, sensational rag takes a hand in the game.178 The LEL were deeply critical of the State of Israel on the grounds of its foundation via the use of terror against British forces. Following the 1954 Ma’ale Akrabim massacre, also known as the ‘Scorpions Pass’ massacre – where 11 Israelis were shot dead on a passenger bus by Arab gunmen – an article in Candour claimed Israel had no right to be outraged. For the LEL, in Candour’s 2 April 1954 ‘Israeli Imprudence’, it was yet another example of Jewish-Israeli hypocrisy: ‘as terrorists, they have mighty little ground to complain of terrorism’.179 Jews had ‘stole[n] the country from the Arabs and then turned upon their benefactor all the terrorist weapons and methods that satanic minds could concoct’.180 The audacity of Israeli criticisms of British colonialism angered Chesterton, whose antisemitism was fully unbound in any discussion of Israel: ‘If there has been through the ages a psychological constant, it is undoubtedly the brazen effrontery of the Jewish race.’181 Furthermore, following the suggestion from James de Rothschild that Israel should join the Commonwealth, (an idea to which Winston Churchill was favourable), the Candour article ‘No Israel for the Commonwealth’, written by Chesterton, argued that the behaviour of Zionists during the Mandate made such an arrangement totally impossible. It went on to remark: ‘it would throw us into association with a people whose treatment of us, in return for the real services we rendered them, has been one of vile ingratitude and murderous disservice’.182 As with other far right groups, the LEL evinced support for the Arab population on the grounds of ‘my enemy’s enemy’. In one Candour article, reprinted from American Nationalist, a view expressed in a similar fashion to Oswald Mosley and the BUF/UM was that Jews were preaching for tolerance in Britain and Europe but not in Israel: ‘Although [Jews] preach “tolerance” to others, Jews do not practise it themselves. In Israel, where Jews are in the majority, non-Jews are treated as second-class citizens.’183 Another Candour article by Derek Tozer on 5 April 1957 bemoaned the treatment of Arabs in Israel: ‘the setting up of a Jewish State in what has been an Arab country for centuries, and the savage, inhuman and vindictive treatment by the Israelis of those Arabs now remaining in the country’.184 Also like Mosley, comparisons were drawn between the Jewish treatment of Arabs and the crimes of Nazi Germany: Arabs, like the Jews in Nazi Germany, are officially “Class B” citizens, a fact which is recorded on their identity cards … This is Israel at work. What a

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vast contrast between this and the claim made in some quarters that Israel represents the most democratic, equitable and progressive area in the Middle East!185 The 1956 Suez Crisis then sent the LEL’s conspiratorial antisemitism into overdrive. The collaboration between Britain, France and, crucially, Israel to retake the Suez Canal following its nationalisation by Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser was ultimate ‘proof’ of a global Jewish conspiracy. The crisis was a ploy instigated by ‘World Zionism’ in order to destroy British interests in the Middle East, and surrendering ‘the whole region into the hands of those Zionist power-addicts whose horizon extends so very far beyond the frontiers of Israel that the State appears to them as no bigger than a speck’.186 As this demonstrates, the LEL were paranoid about a nascent Jewish world government under the guise of Israeli expansionism: Everybody who knows anything about the Jewish mentality and the Zionist dream is well aware that the Israelis are only marking time within their present frontiers; that when they feel strong enough they are determined to grab Jordan, Syria and whatever else they may be able to seize.187 Until their disbanding in 1967 and merger with other far right groups to form the National Front, the LEL did not change their stance on Israel being a rogue state dominated by global Jewish power to highlight the influence of Jews in Britain. Yet the issue waned in importance. Instead, they focused more heavily on decolonisation in Africa – particularly in Kenya and Rhodesia. In addition, following British attempts to join the European Common Market, Euroscepticism became one of the dominant themes in Candour.

Notes 1 C. Mayhew and M. Adams, Publish It Not: The Middle East Cover-up (London: Longman, 1975), p. 43. 2 H. Defries, Conservative Party Attitudes to Jews, 1900–1950 (London: Frank Cass & Co.; 2001), pp. 98–118. 3 A. Balfour, ‘Letter to Lord Rothschild (Balfour Declaration)’, Jewish Virtual Library, 2 November 1917. Available at: www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/History/balfour. html. 4 Ibid. 5 I. Pappé, A History of Palestine: One Land, Two Peoples (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), p. 72. 6 D. Lloyd George, The Truth about Peace Treaties, vol. II (London: Victor Gollancz, 1938), p. 147. 7 T. Segev, One Palestine Complete: Jews and Arabs Under the British Mandate (London: Abacus, 2001), p. 5. 8 M. Ruotsila, ‘The Anti-Semitism of the 8th Duke of Northumberland and the Patriot, 1922–1930’, Journal of Contemporary History 39:1 (2000), p. 71. 9 ‘The Real Aim of the Zionist Movement’, The Hidden Hand, December 1922, p. 4.

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10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57

‘The “Friction” in Palestine’, Jewry Ueber Alles, September 1921, p. 4. Ibid. ‘The New Proconsuls for Palestine and Egypt’, The British Guardian, 12 June 1925, p. 7. Ibid. ‘What Is the Jews’ National Home?’, Jewry Ueber Alles, August 1922, pp. 3–4. ‘Ultimate Aims of Zionists’, Jewry Ueber Alles, March 1922, p. 2. ‘The Palestine Mandate’, The Patriot, 3 August 1922, p. 7. Ibid. ‘Bolshevist Jews in Palestine’, The Patriot, 25 September 1924, p. 125. ‘Items from Palestine’, The Patriot, 2 March 1922, p. 9. ‘Mr Ramsay MacDonald in Palestine’, The Patriot, 6 April 1922, p. 2. ‘The Palestine Mandate’. L. James, The Rise and Fall of the British Empire (London: Abacus, 1994), p. 373. ‘Palestine in Danger’, The Patriot, 13 July 1922, p. 5. House of Lords Debate (21 June 1922), vol. 241, c.1023. Ibid., c.1024. Ibid., c.1025. H. Spencer, Democracy or Shylocracy?, 3rd edn (London: Britons Publishing Co., 1922), p. vii. ‘Compulsory Zionism Abroad’, Jewry Ueber Alles, March 1923, p. 1; ‘The Second and Greater Exodus’, Jewry Ueber Alles, April 1923, p. 1. ‘The Second Coming of Israel’, Jewry Ueber Alles, February 1923, p. 1. Ibid. Lebzelter, Political Anti-Semitism in England, 1918–1939 (London: Macmillan, 1978), p. 54. ‘The Second and Greater Exodus’, p. 1. Ibid. ‘Compulsory Zionism Abroad’, p. 1. Ibid. Ibid., p. 1. A. Leese, Devilry in the Holy Land (London: Imperial Fascist League, 1938), p. 3. Ibid. Ibid., p. 4. Ibid., p. 6. Ibid. A. Leese, ‘Zionism’, The Fascist, October 1929, p. 4. ‘This Palestine Business’, pp. 2–3. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Robert Gordon-Canning, educated at Eton, was a descendant of Lord Byron, and was the great-grandson of British Prime Minister George Canning. R. Gordon-Canning, ‘II - Jewish Question in Palestine’, The Blackshirt, 28 May 1936, p. 3. Ibid. R. Gordon-Canning, The Holy Land: Arab or Jew? (London: B.U.F. Publications, 1938), p. 25. Chesterton, ‘Jews Threaten the British Empire’, p. 5. Ibid. R. Gordon-Canning, ‘The Tragedy of Palestine’, Action, 9 October 1937, p. 6. ‘Power of the Purse’, Action, 22 October 1938, p. 4. F. Nicosia, The Third Reich and the Palestine Question (Austin, TX: I.B. Tauris, 1985), p. 24. Ibid. D. Stone, Histories of the Holocaust (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), p. 195.

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58 A. Hitler, Mein Kampf [My Struggle] (trans. R. Manheim), (London: Pimlico, 1992), p. 294. 59 Ibid. 60 Nicosia, The Third Reich, p. 28. 61 Pappé, A History of Palestine, pp. 90–91. 62 Palestine. Report on Immigration, Land Settlement and Development, Cmnd. 3686, Jewish Virtual Library, October 1930, p. 128. Available at: www.jewishvirtuallibrary. org/jsource/History/hope.html. 63 Segev, One Palestine, Complete, p. 337. 64 Pappé, A History of Palestine, p. 98. 65 B. Morris, Righteous Victims: A History of the Zionist-Arab Conflict, 1881–1999 (New York: Random House, 2001), p. 138. 66 Segev, One Palestine, Complete, p. 440. 67 Leese, Devilry in the Holy Land, p. 2. 68 ‘This Palestine Business’, pp. 2–3. 69 Leese, Devilry in the Holy Land, p. 15. 70 Ibid., p. 16. 71 Ibid. 72 Leese, ‘Zionism’, p. 4. 73 Ibid. 74 Ibid. 75 A. Cutmore, ‘Conscript the Jews’, The Blackshirt, 26 September 1936, p. 1. 76 R. Fairley, ‘The Jews in Palestine’, Action, 6 August 1936, p. 3. 77 ‘Palestine’, Action, 27 August 1936, p. 8. 78 ‘Arabs vs. Jews in Palestine’, Action, 4 June 1936, p. 3. 79 J. Beckett, ‘Palestinian Trade with Germany’, The Blackshirt, 22 February 1935, p. 3. 80 J. Beckett, ‘Palestinian Government Stands No Nonsense’, The Blackshirt, 22 March 1935, p. 3. 81 R. Gordon-Canning, ‘Palestine’, The Blackshirt, 9 April 1936, p. 3. 82 E. A. Ghory, ‘The Palestine Situation’, Action, 16 July 1936, p. 3. 83 “Pax”, ‘Trouble in Palestine’, The Blackshirt, 6 June 1936, p. 5. 84 Gordon-Canning, Arab or Jew?, p. 26. 85 Beckett, ‘Palestinian Trade with Germany’, p. 3. 86 Gordon-Canning, The Holy Land: Arab or Jew?, p. 26. 87 Ibid. 88 Gordon-Canning, ‘II - Jewish Question in Palestine’, p. 3. 89 Ibid. 90 Ibid. 91 Ibid. 92 Ibid. 93 Ibid. 94 Ibid. 95 Gordon-Canning, The Holy Land: Arab or Jew?, p. 23. 96 R. Gordon-Canning, ‘Settlement in Palestine’, Action, 15 October 1938, p. 4. 97 Gordon-Canning, The Holy Land: Arab or Jew?, p. 26. 98 Cutmore, ‘Conscript the Jews’, p. 1. 99 Ibid. 100 Ibid. 101 W. Risdon, ‘Give the Germans the Palestine Mandate’, The Blackshirt, 28 August 1937, p. 1. 102 Gordon-Canning, ‘Settlement in Palestine’, p. 4. 103 R. Gordon-Canning, ‘Who Are the Persecuted? Constructive Suggestions on Palestine’, Action, 17 October 1936, n.p. 104 ‘Palestine Rioting: Jews Insist on Domination’, Action, 27 May 1939, p. 4. 105 Ibid.

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106 Ibid. 107 Ibid. 108 See F. Robinson, ‘The British Empire and the Muslim World’, in J. Brown and W. R. Louis (eds), Oxford History of the British Empire, vol. VI (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), pp. 398–421. 109 R. Miller and E. Karsh (eds), Israel at Sixty: Rethinking the Birth of the Jewish State (London: Routledge, 2009), p. 142. 110 ‘Palestine in Danger’, The Patriot, 3 July 1922, p. 5. 111 ‘The Desertion of the Duke by the Die-Hards’, Jewry Ueber Alles, August 1922, pp. 2–3. 112 Miller and Karsh, Israel at Sixty, p. 142. 113 Fairley, ‘The Jews in Palestine’, p. 3. 114 G. Macklin, ‘A Fascist “Jihad?”’, Holocaust Studies, 15:1 (2009), pp. 78–100, p. 86. 115 R. Gordon-Canning, ‘Settlement in Palestine’, p. 4. 116 Macklin, ‘A Fascist “Jihad?”’, p. 82. 117 Fairley, ‘The Jews in Palestine’, p. 3. 118 M. Goulding, ‘Commons Debate on Palestine Partition’, Action, 31 July 1937, p. 5. 119 ‘Palestine – Rule by Force’, Action, 20 August 1938, p. 4. 120 ‘When Jews Backed Reprisals’, Action, 19 November 1938, p. 3. 121 R. Gordon-Canning, ‘Justice for Palestine’, Action, 30 July 1938, p. 4. 122 R. Gordon-Canning, ‘Police Terror Methods in Palestine’, Action, 8 October 1938, p. 4. 123 Ibid. 124 Gordon-Canning, ‘The Tragedy of Palestine’, p. 6. 125 Leese, Devilry in the Holy Land, p. 16. 126 Ibid., p. 5. 127 ‘This Palestine Business’, p. 3. 128 Ibid. 129 Leese, ‘Zionism’, p. 4. 130 ‘Islam and Britain’, The Fascist, December 1931, p. 2. 131 Leese, Devilry in the Holy Land, p. 14. 132 Ibid. 133 Ibid., p. 15. 134 Ibid. 135 W. R. Louis, The British Empire in the Middle East, 1945–1951: Arab Nationalism, the United States and Postwar Imperialism (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998), p. 420. 136 R. Ovendale, ‘The Palestine Policy of the British Labour Government 1947: The Decision to Withdraw’, International Affairs 56:1 (1980), p. 73. 137 E. J. Ravndal, ‘Exit Britain: British Withdrawal from the Palestine Mandate in the Early Cold War, 1947–1948’, Diplomacy and Statecraft 21:3 (2010), p. 424. 138 D. Cesarani, ‘Foreword’, in M. Beckman, The 43 Group: Battling with Mosley’s Blackshirts (New York: The History Press, 2013), p. 14. 139 T. Kushner, ‘Anti-Semitism and Austerity: The August 1947 Riots in Britain’, in P. Panayi (ed.), Racial Violence in Britain in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries (Leicester: Leicester University Press, 1996), pp. 150–171. 140 Metropolitan Police Report, 25 May 1947, p.4 (HO 45/24469/Part 2), National Archives, Kew, London. 141 Ibid., p. 5. 142 Ibid., p. 2. 143 Ibid. 144 KV6/4 22 May 1946. 145 Ibid. 146 KV6/4 3 June 1946 F3 18/6. 147 Metropolitan Police Special Branch Report, 8 August 1947, p. 2 (HO 45/24469/Part 2). 148 Ibid., p. 4. 149 Ibid., p. 3. 150 Ibid., p. 2.

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151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187

Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. ‘Palestine Today’, Union, 22 May 1948, p. 2. ‘“Jews Lose British Friendship” - says Archbishop’, Union, 8 May 1948, p. 3. ‘Palestine Today’, p. 2. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. ‘Arab Refugees: Victims of Jewish Aggression’, Union, 7 August 1948, p. 3. Ibid. ‘Jewish-Soviet Outrage in Palestine’, Union, 15 January 1949, p. 1. ‘Arab Refugees: Victims’, p. 3. Ibid. Ibid. O. Mosley, ‘Britain and Israel’, Union, 29 May 1948, p. 1. Ibid. ‘Jews Kill British Rescuers Following Bomb Attack’, Union, 28 February 1948, p. 3. ‘Propaganda War Against Britain’, Union, 31 July 1948, p. 2. Mosley, ‘Britain and Israel’, p. 1. ‘Jews Kill British Rescuers’, p. 3. ‘Jewish-Soviet Outrage in Palestine’, p. 1. Ibid. ‘Champion of Israel’, Candour, 1 January 1954, p. 2. ‘Palestine Hash’, Candour, 14 January 1955, p. 6. ‘Foreign Members’, Candour, 11 February 1955, p. 7. A. K. Chesterton, ‘More Support for Israel’, Candour, 23 and 30 December 1955, p. 7. ‘Israeli Impudence’, Candour, 2 April 1954, p. 3. ‘Impudent Israel’, Candour, 10 September 1954, p. 4. Ibid. A. K. Chesterton, ‘No Israel for the Commonwealth’, Candour, 11 November 1955, pp. 4–5. ‘Jewish “Tolerance” in Israel’, Candour, 27 May and 3 June 1955, pp. 13–14. D. Tozer, ‘How Israel Treats Her Arabs’, Candour, 5 April 1957, pp. 109–110. Ibid. A. K. Chesterton, ‘Light on Suez’, Candour, 1 March 1957, p. 68. ‘Views at a Glance’, Candour, 25 November 1955, p. 3.

5 KENYA

David Cannadine memorably argued that the British Empire, regardless of the impact it had upon metropolitan Britain throughout the centuries, ‘was given away in a fit of collective indifference’. Although Britain’s far right was most certainly not ‘indifferent’ to impending imperial doom, it could be argued that their reaction to decolonisation was something of a damp squib, particularly when compared with their counterparts in other colonial powers at the time, such as in France. Events in Kenya during the 1950s surely represented an opportunity for the far right to prove they had been right about the inherent ‘beastliness’ and inferiority of Africa. The behaviour of the Mau Mau in many ways reinforced widely held British conceptions of Africans as savage, violent, untrustworthy indulgers in witchcraft. As with the other imperial issues under examination in this study which have provided opportunities for the far right to discuss issues of a wider ideological importance, Kenya represented an arena for a number of concerns relating to imperial decline, race and conspiracy theory. While colonial violence was frequently excused and relativised, there was no suggestion that it was the duty of the far right to take up arms against them, like the French Organisation Armée Secrète (OAS) in Algeria. Nevertheless, Kenya played an important role in justifying British imperialism at a time when few believed it had a future at all. The Mau Mau insurrection was seized upon as proof of the inherent difference between Africans and white Europeans, and was used to show just cause for the continuation of racial prejudice. Racial prejudice, however, was no longer only relevant to the colonial frontier. The arrival of the first West Indian immigrants in 1948 – a feature that would persist in ensuing decades – meant that the ‘race problem’ (which included anything from Mau Mau to black immigrants from the Caribbean), was to become more acute and, perhaps more importantly, domesticated. Accordingly, this chapter examines the British far right’s attitude towards colonial Kenya, specifically between the mid-1930s and the early 1960s. Understanding

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the far right’s evolving views on Kenya is important in a number of ways. For one, it represents the first analysis of this particular expression of far right propaganda and policy. It also provides a case-study that encapsulates many of the far right’s attitudes towards both Africa and the British Empire in general. Additionally, it deepens understandings of far right reactions to postwar decolonisation. To this end, it will particularly focus on the years between 1953 and 1963. During much of this period, Britain was engaged in a bloody operation against the Mau Mau in Kenya, and, towards the end of the decade, the country moved swiftly towards independence. Following an overview of these political events, the chapter will then turn to Mosleyite politics in Kenya, initially through an examination of the interwar BUF’s attempt to create a branch there. This will then be contrasted with the role played by Kenya in Mosley’s postwar imperial vision. The chapter will then move on to analyse the League of Empire Loyalists (LEL), for whom Kenya was a matter of political urgency. The role played by conspiracy theory – so characteristic of far right rhetoric on the British Empire – in the LEL’s understanding of the military emergency will be highlighted as well, alongside their foray into Kenyan constitutional politics. Finally, the chapter will highlight the importance of race discussions of Kenya more broadly. Despite white supremacy in Kenya remaining an important goal of the far right, in particular, for A. K. Chesterton and the LEL, attempts to influence Kenyan politics both in Kenya and from the imperial metropole were to prove unsuccessful. Thus, Kenya’s significance lay in its ability to be used as a frame by far right theorists for wider ideological goals. In the case of the Union Movement (UM), Kenya was deemed to be a model for a new apartheid system, forming a key part of Mosley’s grand vision of ‘Eurafrica’ – one where a united Europe could pool their resources and economically exploit a racially segregated continent. For the LEL, Kenya represented both a vehicle for imperial nostalgia and an opportunity to highlight postwar trends they vehemently opposed. Particularly to the African-born Chesterton, Kenya was the embodiment of Britain’s imperial dream: hardy white settlers taming the unruly environment and rightly dominating hapless natives. Yet characteristically for Britain’s far right, Kenyan unrest was allegedly being stoked by Jews manipulating the world’s two superpowers to destroy the remnants of Britain’s Empire. For both the LEL and UM, the race issue in Kenya was exploited to address growing postwar immigration to Britain from non-white parts of the nowCommonwealth. The purportedly subversive black population of Kenya was therefore echoed in non-white migrants arriving in Britain, demonstrating the merging of imperial discourse with a profoundly racist, anti-immigrant rhetoric that has remained a feature of far right propaganda for decades, continuing to this day.

Fascism in Happy Valley British governance of Kenya formally began with the establishment of the East Africa Protectorate in 1895. European missionaries had been settling in the region for decades, and white settlement was encouraged from 1905 – predominantly in

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the ‘White Highlands’, which offered the most arable land. The Kenya Crown Colony was established in 1920 and, by the 1930s, some 30,000 white settlers were living in Kenya (which grew to as many as 60,000 by the early 1950s). The 1920s witnessed an increase in Kenyan nationalism through groups such as the Kikuyu Central Association and Young Kikuyu Association, led by the predominantly native ethnic group, the Kikuyu people. Young activists included future Kenyan President Jomo Kenyatta and Harry Thuku, the inaugural President of the East African Association. Between the wars, British government policy regarding Kenya is best characterised as a ‘dual policy’. Despite a certain ambiguity, this entailed recognition by European settlers and colonial authorities that ‘the interests of the two communities, European and native, were not antagonistic but complementary’.1 Thus, the 1923 White Paper encouraged the development of native Kenyans in order to allow them to grow and sell crops from the native reserves, or to assist with European production. Notwithstanding this change, European settler permanency was guaranteed, and their superior political rights and legal status were never in doubt before the Second World War. A subsequent White Paper in 1927 endorsed closer ‘association’ between the Legislative Council in Kenya and the imperial authorities in London, though not a lot changed in terms of the governance of the colony, with the Colonial Office maintaining ultimate control.2 Advocacy for native political control at this point was practically non-existent; indeed, the 1930 Hilton-Young Commission was the first to argue that native policy superseded that of the European and Indian settlers. These were the origins of native ‘paramountcy’; that is, the notion that the political development of natives should be the primary aim of colonial policy. Naturally, the move towards native paramountcy by colonial authorities angered European settler representatives at the Joint Select Committee. The principle of paramountcy gained teeth in 1940 with the Colonial Development and Welfare Act, which diverted money from Britain towards indigenous development. Despite simmering discontent in the 1930s at the government’s move towards a more pro-native stance, fascist politics in Kenya extended beyond ‘the native question’ and colonial self-government. A more immediate concern held by white settlers that the BUF sought to tap into was the necessity of boosting agricultural production through their ‘imperial autarky’ policy. The Great Depression had significantly affected the Kenyan economy, leading to the near collapse of Kenya’s export trade and decreasing land values. The government’s seemingly sluggish response to the needs of white settlers formed a large impetus for the introduction of fascist politics into the colony in the mid-1930s by Josslyn Hay, the 22nd Earl of Erroll and Lord High Constable of Scotland. Erroll founded the BUF’s first non-British branch in Kenya.3 Following a brief but largely unsuccessful career in the diplomatic service, his family settled in Kenya in the ‘White Highlands’ in 1924, home to the ‘Happy Valley Set’ – a famously decadent congregation of British social elites who ‘drank champagne and pink gin for breakfast, played cards, danced through the night, and generally woke up with someone else’s spouse in the morning’.4 Erroll had met Mosley in Britain shortly

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before he founded the Kenyan BUF branch, and it is clear that they had much in common. Both were born into aristocratic privilege and similarly youthful, and both placed a high value upon sartorial elegance combined with being ‘men of action’. Yet the two also differed sharply. Mosley was, by the time he founded the BUF in 1932, a seasoned politician with an intellectual outlook. He also had made his political name as a socialist. By contrast, Erroll, whose politics were ‘violent and reactionary, was ‘mentally undisciplined and physically restless’. Furthermore, he pursued ‘a raffish life of adulteries, binge drinking, cocaine, card sharping, bilked tradesmen, spasmodic violence, and insanity’.5 Thus, the political alliance between the two – based largely upon shared ideals of British imperial greatness and the need to create an isolated imperial economy – was always prone to strife. Erroll’s announced conversion to fascism and intention to set up a BUF branch in Kenya, however, could not have come at a worse time for the fascist ‘brand’. The ‘Night of the Long Knives’, in which Hitler violently purged a number of senior politicians and Nazi officials, had occurred a matter of weeks before Erroll’s announcement. Not only did it contribute significantly to a sharp decline in support for fascism in Britain, but violence in the Third Reich (as well as the assassination of Austrian Chancellor Dollfuss by Austrian Nazis that summer) was reported frequently in the European newspaper for Kenya, the East African Standard. Unfortunately for Erroll, news of his political initiative in Kenya was presented in the East African Standard just opposite the page where fall-out from Hitler’s ‘Night of the Long Knives’ was documented.6 In July 1934, the East African Standard announced that the Earl of Erroll had been appointed the BUF’s head delegate in Kenya. Erroll was said to be ‘returning to Kenya with a constructive and energetic plan to convert the Colony to the Blackshirt policy’.7 In explaining his support for the movement, Erroll justified it by stating of the BUF: ‘it believes in action rather than talk. It is obvious that the present system tends to prevent rather than expedite action being taken to put right the affairs of this nation.’8 Erroll felt that Kenya needed a strong Government at Home willing to help us in every way; and I believe that a Fascist government with its imperial ideas and its anxiety to stick up for their own people would be the best possible Government for us out here.9 He began with a pragmatic approach, seeking to use his elite connections to make common cause with those who were ‘favourably inclined’ towards Mosley and the BUF. This would ‘form a nucleus with which to work’, leading to a series of public meetings on BUF policy. Throughout, he sought to ‘point out how this policy, when applied, will be of enormous value to the future development of the British Empire generally and Kenya in particular. I am certain that it will prove popular in Nairobi.’10 The particular programmes that Erroll believed would suit colonial Kenya included the BUF’s autarkic Empire plan, which would clearly benefit Kenyan farmers as non-Empire imports would be banned in favour of those from within the Empire. Erroll argued that economic self-containment meant

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‘England could purchase sisal from Kenya rather than manila from Mexico, Kenya coffee rather than Brazil coffee, Kenya butter rather than Danish butter.’11 It was obvious that the appeal of fascism for Erroll lay in the potential benefits of its agricultural policy for European settlers in Kenya. Still, he did make the case for fascist ideology more generally, bending its meaning in the process. Fascism, he averred, was ‘the true reflection of British Ideals, standing as it does for teamwork, service to the nation and self-sacrifice’. 12 Erroll rejected the notion that British fascism was a foreign import, arguing that rival ideological concepts such as socialism and conservatism had foreign roots. Fascism reflected the ‘creed of the century’, and yet: ‘One never heard that Socialism was a foreign importation and yet it was in fact far more foreign in its policy than Fascism; for Socialism stood for Internationalism and Fascism for imperialism.’13 As this suggests, Erroll advocated a particularly imperial face of fascism, one standing for ‘Leadership, Loyalty, discipline and decision’.14 Indeed, ‘in British Fascism lay the only hope of putting the British Empire on a pedestal’.15 So desperate was Erroll to promote fascism in Kenya that he in many ways debased its meaning. In his hands, fascist ideology became little more than a heightened sense of patriotism, at one point arguing (in a manner similar to the conservative-minded BF in the 1920s) that the fundamental principles of British fascism are: 1. Loyalty to the King and Empire 2. National interests have preference over personal interests 3. The Empire must become self-contained 4. Great Britain will exclude all foreign imports which can be produced in the Empire.16 Accepting that the promotion of dictatorship would put off free-thinking elites in the White Highlands – many of whom had moved to Kenya to rid themselves of government interference – Erroll argued that fascism was not a dictatorship ‘in the old sense of the word of Dictatorship against the will of the people’, but in the new sense of the word of by the will of the people. We mean in short, Leadership, not tyranny. You have an example of dictatorship at its very worst in this country – the tyrannical dictatorship which the Colonial Office exercises over our fortunes.17 In another meeting, he proposed that ‘British fascism means simply super-loyalty to the Crown, no dictatorship, complete religious and social freedom.’18 One attendee noted in response: ‘Whenever Joss [Erroll] said British Fascism stands for complete freedom, you could hear Mary Countess at the other end of the room saying that within five years Joss will be dictator of Kenya.’19 It appears that Erroll desired exactly this, and would not let fascist ideology get in the way. In addition to this extensive reduction of fascist ideology to suit the case of colonial Kenya, Erroll characterised fascism as stronger in Britain than it in fact was. Quite absurdly, he claimed that there was a membership of ‘1 million and an active membership equal to that of the Labour Party’.20

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The Italian Fascist invasion of Abyssinia changed everything for the BUF’s Kenya branch and for fascism in Kenya more generally. The invasion, which commenced illegally in October 1935, was justified by Mussolini’s regime on the grounds of more living space for Italians but also for traditional purposes of ‘civilising’ a backward people. This position was fiercely condemned by the East African Standard: The Abyssinian war is being made neither for civilising the Abyssinian nor for colonising Abyssinia with Italian settlers. It is made because the fascist Government lives on prestige and needs the glamorous triumphs this war will bring, to impress Italian minds and divert their thoughts to other things than taxes and repression.21 Oswald Mosley and the BUF supported the Italian conquest of Abyssinia on the grounds that the Italians were bringing order to a barbaric land, which maintained medieval practices such as slavery. Yet the fact that they were being funded by the fascist Italian state was a decisive factor in their support. As Claudia Baldoli has noted, this was an ‘incoherent’ position ‘for a movement that claimed to hold as its main principle “Britain First’”.22 Richard Thurlow has similarly indicated how the ‘BUF’s beliefs appeared to derive from ideological sympathy with Italian fascism’.23 Regarding his ‘fascist Kenya’ vision, Mosley’s support for Italy’s invasion of an adjoining country to Kenya must have been perplexing for a movement claiming to protect Britain’s imperial interests from foreigners. Without doubt, the chief attraction of fascism to Erroll was its benefits for white Kenyans. Once the BUF leadership appeared ambivalent over the potential threat posed to white Kenyans by the Italian invasion of Kenya’s neighbour, it instantly lost its appeal to Erroll. Fascism’s ‘fatherland’ in Italy was selected by Mosley ahead of the British imperial interest – which told Erroll all he needed to know about the importance of Kenya in Mosley’s grand plans. Indeed, one can see the trajectory of Erroll’s politics after he left the BUF, whereby he took up his seat in the House of Lords briefly and criticised the government’s Congo Basin Treaties as damaging for Kenyan agriculture; for this was someone who was ‘Kenya first, Empire second’, while the BUF were unambiguously ‘Britain First, Empire Second’. British fascism in Kenya, which had received some media attention but never really got off the ground, thus ended abruptly – lasting barely a year.

Eurafrica Despite the failure of the BUF in Kenya, compounded by seemingly little personal enthusiasm by Mosley for the colony, it would later form an important part of Mosley’s postwar UM programme, in particular, the ‘Eurafrica’ policy. The UM, which argued for Britain being eventually amalgamated into ‘Europe-a-Nation’, advocated an ‘organised and organic State under dynamic direction’ to dominate Africa.24 Mosley acknowledged that his radical ‘Eurafrica’ idea involved a

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‘complete change in the principles by which an Empire is conducted’.25 Yet his concept essentially entailed old-fashioned economic exploitation: ‘Africa should be regarded as an Estate of the European, and should be vigorously developed as the chief enterprise of our continent.’26 Separating himself firmly from Conservative and Labour policies advocating increased self-government in Africa, Mosley viewed the government’s policy of ‘trusteeship’ – ostensibly the protection of African interests – as palpably absurd. His justification was typically racist: This principle of “Trusteeship” has often been perverted into a principle of idleness, because, as already observed, it has been translated in practice into the principle of keeping jungles fit for negroes to live in … Deliberately I postulate a new and very different principle of Trusteeship in Africa. The Trusteeship is on behalf of White civilisation. The duty is not to preserve jungles for natives, but to develop rich lands for Europeans.27 The UM would continue the interwar Mosleyite tradition of eschewing democracy in favour of a technocratic state, headed by a dynamic man of action (Mosley, of course). This extended to African policies, aiming to remove the vagaries of parliamentary politics in favour of energetic executives – one more fit to follow in the footsteps of past Empire builders: The practical measures for the development of Africa will not be the subject for windy rhetoric by six hundred busy-bodies, but will be discussed and decided by the small number of informed men and women who really know their Africa. Nor will executive power then be handed to polite intellectuals who tiptoe across a continent lest they disturb some unwashed wizard squatting in the dust. Rather will that power be given to men with the energy and vision of Clive and Cecil Rhodes, to a re-born generation of Elizabethans who will devote their brilliant fire of the reintegration of Europe, and after that of Africa, in the company of the other Men of Europe.28 Robert Skidelsky sympathetically portrays Mosley’s Eurafrica policy as a way of ‘grappling with the problem of satisfying black African aspirations while retaining Africa within the framework of a European political economy’.29 He then claims, somewhat ambiguously: At least it can be said that he started to tackle the real problems of colonial Africa’s future sooner than either the orthodox right who looked forward to years more of the “old colonialism” or the orthodox left for whom “one man, one vote” and constitutions of Westminster model were the complete panacea.30 Skidelsky’s suggestion that Mosley was seeking a ‘middle road’ between traditional colonialism and a newer form of economic imperialism is puzzling. First, there was

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much more of the ‘old’ about Mosley’s Eurafrica policy than the ‘new’. He clearly advocated the continued economic, political, military subjugation and racial discrimination of African natives by white Europeans. The only thing ‘new’ was a proposed co-ordination between imperial powers. Furthermore, Mosley’s concern for Africans did not centre upon their material development but represented an intended coercion into a system clearly benefitting the advanced industrial economies of Europe. What Mosley’s policy thus amounted to was a redoubled form of ‘old colonialism’, one whereby European countries would take a more proactive role in the affairs of African colonies, which were to be governed solely in the interests of European countries and white settlers. At the heart of the UM’s view of Kenya, therefore, was racial prejudice, imperial chauvinism and a desire for continued colonial domination. Yet there is evidence to suggest that Mosley harboured some sympathy for Mau Mau grievances and the need for colonial development. Kenya, it was argued, had been ‘criminally neglected and undeveloped’, meaning that, ‘if Africa is not developed, and the native peoples are not raised from their present deplorably backward level, then revolt is inevitable’.31 He understood that Kenyans could not be simply pummelled into colonial submission, as seemed likely at the height of military operations between 1952 and 1954. Union argued in October 1953 that the Mau Mau problem ‘cannot be remedied by military action’.32 Although ‘utmost strength must be shown in the restoration of law and order, including the arming of all Europeans and their organisation for their own defence as in Malaya’,33 a military solution to the conflict was not enough alone. Mosley affected sympathy with the underlying issue of Kikuyu land hunger, with another article in Union arguing that the UM would ‘see that the white and coloured peoples of our Colonial territories get equal justice, and both will be assisted to develop to the full the vast estates which our venturesome forefathers built into a glorious Empire’.34 In order to quell the hostilities, however: It must be made clear both to Europeans and Africans that drastic measures of reform will be introduced for the development, irrigation and better use of the land for the benefit of both races, and not solely to make this fertile colonial area the happy hunting-ground for the British classes, as it has notoriously been of recent years.35 Mosley correspondingly sought to distance himself from imperialists such as the LEL, who argued for a ‘crack-down’: ‘Suppression of genuine grievances by force is the inevitable final resort of reactionaries, who are without constructive idea or vigorous policy.’36 For the UM, in contrast, the roots of the Mau Mau revolt derived not from a global conspiracy, nor merely from an African return to barbarity, but largely on account of colonial mismanagement. This originated from the Second World War, which had crippled Britain’s ability to fund colonial development. Mosley also argued that the myth of British imperial dominance had been shattered by the successful Japanese invasion of Singapore. Before the Second

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World War, he stated, ‘one European could command the unquestioned allegiance of a hundred natives’, but ‘that prestige suffered a severe blow at Singapore in 1942 and has finally been destroyed by subversive Leftist propaganda’. For Mosley, ‘the blame for all this rests fairly and squarely on those democratic governments since the 1914–18 war, which have neglected to develop this, the most promising of all African territories for European settlement’.37 Fault rested with interwar British governments, who ‘bear responsibility for Kenya’s undeveloped condition’: Union has ever pointed out that Mau Mau is the product of social evils: the old gang politicians are responsible for these evils. To wipe out Mau Mau, local overcrowding and general under-development must be eradicated. The Mau Mau cult is the product of bad conditions. It will vanish when British Government gets on with the job of giving the Black Man land and food.38 Following the winding down of hostilities, UM criticised both the British and the Kenyan governments for suppressing the Mau Mau too violently, which caused the movement to go underground. This error led to the movement emerging in a ‘new political form’.39 While the LEL portrayed upheavals in Kenya during the 1950s as proof of a global Jewish conspiracy, on the one hand, the UM significantly differed in their approach, on the other. As set out above, the UM were interested in Africa for principally economic purposes. They believed that Europe should hold onto their African colonies, pool their resources and, above all, exploit the raw materials of Africa so as to make Europe competitive between the globally dominant Soviet and American blocs during the Cold War. Kenya played a central role in this scheme as Britain’s most economically valuable African possession; one already containing a sizeable white settler minority. Mosley, viewing the loss of India as the end of a ‘Second British Empire’, was determined not to allow Africa to go the same way five years later: ‘Two British Empires, in America and in Asia, have been lost by the politicians. We are determined they shall not lose the new Empire of Europe in Africa.’40 The UM did make some references to the Mau Mau uprising as part of a broader ‘conspiracy’, but fell well short of LEL claims that Kenya was a key battleground in the fight against New York and Soviet ‘money power’. The Mau Mau uprising was described as a conspiracy only in the sense that the Mau Mau was an underground organisation fighting the colonial authorities.41 Its relationship with communism was implied, since ‘Mau Mau terror is the tactics of Stalinism and Communism.’42 In several Union articles, the Soviet Union was blamed for stoking unrest in Kenya, as they were doing across Africa as part of a broader ‘Moscow-led coloured revolution’.43 ‘White Africa in Dire Peril’ argued that ‘Communist agitation is behind the activities of the native secret societies, as it has become the universal policy of the Soviet to encourage coloured nationalism throughout the world against white “imperialism”.’44 Conspiracism nevertheless featured little in UM propaganda on Kenya – at least in relation to criticising the British government, calling for economic development in Kenya, and arguing against native self-rule.

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The Mau Mau conspiracy Kenya undertook an important role during the Second World War, especially in terms of food production. To meet the growing demand for food, thousands of natives were conscripted in labour camps.45 Unlike in India, however, Kenyan participation during the Second World War did not lead to greater political power. The Kikuyu Central Association, Kenya’s main anticolonial nationalist organisation, was proscribed during the Second World War, with its leaders detained. This ban was not lifted following the end of the war.46 In fact, the war led to an increased dominance by white settlers, who had profited handsomely from the domestic war effort.47 Between 1947 and 1954, the Kenyan economy grew at a vast 13 per cent per year, for instance, and at 6 per cent for the period 1940–1960. The benefits were mainly felt in European areas, while increases in technology led to native unemployment and displacement. This was particularly the case with ‘squatters’ working in the Highlands, who had no property rights.48 The eviction of natives from white lands led to overcrowding on the already sparse farmland, as well as increasing urban slums where indigenous destitution was rife. The 1945 Labour government, alongside promises of further colonial development, looked promising from the perspective of Kenyan nationalists. Yet ultimately, little was achieved. The perceived indifference of British authorities to set out further rights for natives – particularly in terms of Legislative Council representation – significantly contributed to bringing about the Mau Mau rebellion in late 1952.49 Contemporary scholars largely agree that the Mau Mau uprising resulted from ‘land hunger’, forcing the native population into an anti-colonial uprising. Still, events can also be interpreted as a civil war, whereby Kenyans were ‘forced by the curse of violence into one of two camps: loyalist or Mau Mau’.50 The latter sense is redoubled given that the majority of deaths were caused by the Mau Mau killing loyalist Kikuyu, rather than white settlers or colonial soldiers. The demands of Kikuyu leaders did not disappear with the military defeat of the Mau Mau, but ultimately led to independence in 1963 during the years described by Prime Minister Harold MacMillan as ‘the winds of change’. Describing the Mau Mau in light of an ignorance of African culture at the time meant that nuanced understandings were difficult. Dane Kennedy has argued that the very word Mau Mau ‘lay open to whatever meaning anyone wished to attach to it’, therefore, ‘various parties sought to appropriate this double monosyllable for their own purposes’.51 A large constituency of European opinion viewed the Mau Mau rebellion as essentially a race war between black and white. Derivatively, the Mau Mau had no legitimate concerns, at least none that overshadowed the principle of white supremacy, and their actions were ‘the efforts of a small group of politically ambitious and morally debased Gikuyu agitators – aided and abetted by Indian or Soviet communists to tap into the latent savage core of the African character in a cynical play for power’.52 The solution for this was similarly rudimentary in the minds of many: ‘European authority’ had to firmly restrain the ‘brutal anarchic instincts of the African masses’.53 As this suggests, the significance

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of the Mau Mau revolt for this study is its role as ‘the great horror story of Britain’s Empire in the 1950s’ and its ability to be presented ‘as a war between savagery and civilization’.54 The Mau Mau uprising and the British colonial authorities’ brutal response marked a critical juncture in Britain’s postwar imperial retreat. The British military operation to suppress the revolt marked, by far, the greatest attempt to quell an anti-colonial uprising. The rebellion was met with extreme force by British and colonial authorities. A State of Emergency was declared following a spate of murders of loyalist Kikuyu, which had been gathering pace since 1951. Above all, it was the assassination of notable loyalist, Senior Chief Waruhiu, on 7 October 1952, which led to Governor Evelyn Baring requesting that a State of Emergency be announced, which was signed on 20 October 1952. Hundreds of suspected Kikuyu leaders were arrested, while many fled into the forested interior. A military campaign led by General George Erskine sought to crush the uprising, a campaign lasting approximately four years. Operation Anvil attempted to weed out Mau Mau activists from Nairobi, leading to thousands being deported into reserves where they were interrogated and re-settled. This marked the beginning of a mass forced villagisation programme, in which over a million Kikuyu were resettled in what was effectively ‘Britain’s gulag’.55 Interrogations, torture and even summary executions of suspected Mau Mau were prevalent throughout this period. Throughout the emergency, which officially ended in 1960, 1,090 Kikuyu were hanged. As David Anderson states, ‘In no other place, and at no other time in the history of British imperialism, was state execution used on such a scale as this.’56 The Hola Camp massacre in 1959 was the epitome of colonial violence during the conflict, when prison guards battered to death 11 Mau Mau suspects. Violence was also meted out in significant measure by Mau Mau insurgents, who brutally murdered hundreds of loyalist Kikuyu, as well as civilians, white settlers and Kenyan Asians. Despite dramatic and violent upheaval in Kenya, there is little evidence to suggest that the British public were inflamed by events in the colony specifically, or indeed by decolonisation in Africa more generally. Opinion poll data provides a somewhat limited but insightful assessment. Following the announcement of a State of Emergency in October 1952, a Gallup poll found that the public was highly aware of the situation in Kenya with only 10 per cent polled claiming not to have read or heard about the troubles in Kenya. Yet, in terms of government action, the poll indicates division and uncertainty over what should be done: 29 per cent approved of the government’s handling of the emergency, 27 per cent disapproved, while 34 per cent did not know.57 A year later it appeared that public support for the military campaign in Kenya had increased, with 41 per cent approving.58 Crucially, however, other issues such as housing, economic affairs, pensions, education and health were all seen as much more significant issues in regular polling. A month ahead of the 1959 General Election, for example, just 3 per cent believed ‘colonial affairs’ was the most important issue of the election.59 In December 1963, one poll asked respondents what they would like to see the party

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of [their] choice doing prioritising more. Colonial affairs was an option provided but achieved 0 per cent of the total. 60 By devoting significant column space and activist resources to Kenya, the LEL could only hope to preach to the converted. The Mau Mau uprising was undoubtedly the key driver of far right propaganda on Kenya. In the case of the LEL, it was an important battleground in the Cold War arena; which, again, Chesterton viewed simply as a vast global conspiracy. One of the defining features of the LEL is the use of conspiracy theory, both as a method of understanding the past and as a mode of analysis for current political events. Conspiracy theories pervaded every aspect of the LEL’s thinking on decolonisation and Kenya. Conventional understanding of colonial nationalist movements and their quest for national self-determination were summarily rejected. This reveals a significant continuity with the interwar far right, who similarly dismissed Indian nationalism, often on the grounds that it was either a communist, or Jewishcontrolled movement. Although the notion of colonial nationalism as a conspiracy manipulated by global power brokers was a cornerstone of LEL thinking on Kenya – and indeed other settings, as shown in previous chapters – this was folded into ideas of race. Of course, the benefits of British rule were certainly not unique to the far right. As Richard Toye demonstrates in terms of racial issues, Churchill, the Prime Minister for much of this period, ‘made no effort to adjust to modern times’. Harold Macmillan argued at the time that Churchill liked the slogan ‘Keep Britain White’.61 Although Chesterton’s nostalgic ideas on the Empire were relatively mainstream in Britain, at least in conservative circles, his diagnosis of how the British Empire had come to be in such a parlous state, alongside the antidote needed to re-assert its greatness, differed quite radically from the mainstream. Simply put, Chesterton ascribed the root cause of Britain’s rapid imperial decline to the pernicious influence of international Jewry. It is important to note that the Kenyan Emergency was viewed within the wider context of Britain’s retreat from Empire. As Chesterton put it in The New Unhappy Lords: ‘the elimination of Great Britain’s world power was one of Wall Street’s main post-war objectives’.62 Chesterton identified a ‘guided hand’, particularly in Africa, that could be witnessed in recent times: What has happened in Africa since the war might have been planned and executed by a criminal lunatic of genius – some diabolist, perhaps, whose derangement took the obsessional form, in one territory after another, of reproducing a pattern in which Western European institutions were perverted with a fiendish delight in sheer mockery.63 Accordingly, Chesterton saw the significance of the Mau Mau revolt as ‘transcending Kenya and indeed transcending the whole of Africa’.64 He argued that the ‘takeover bidders’ – unmistakably a euphemism for Jews – were determined to ‘strangle Christendom’ and ‘run the western European countries out of Africa’.65 Chesterton’s guiding belief that Kenyan nationalism was part of a larger conspiracy was heavily shaped by his parochial outlook on race. He felt it must be a

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conspiracy, as he did not believe (or did not want to believe) that Africans were psychologically or intellectually able to create a political movement – especially not a successful one. Thus, in terms of the Mau Mau uprising, Chesterton believed that the ‘Red Mau Mau’ were ‘essentially a Communist device’ masquerading as an African nationalist movement.66 This belief was founded upon his long-standing view of non-white natives in the British Empire, for whom national consciousness was ultimately impossible. He argued that colonial nationalism was a red herring, entirely ‘without roots in the soil or soul of the people’.67 Any kind of African, or indeed Asian, claims to statehood based on shared nationality was ‘almost entirely spurious, being for the most part a political weapon in the service of ruthless imperial powers anxious to destroy and supplant the British Empire’.68 This was much the same argument deployed by far right organisations during the interwar period. The obvious attempt was to portray any kind of criticism of colonial government, let alone claims for independence, as illegitimate and powered by malevolent power brokers – by which he meant Jews. The principal agents of the new global world order in Kenya were not simply Mau Mau. Chesterton also believed that Kenya’s Indian minority, powerfully imbibed with Indian nationalism and allegedly directed by another Soviet agent, now Indian Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru, were stoking trouble in Kenya in an attempt to win power for themselves.69 In 1953, Candour alleged that Indian immigration was being encouraged by Nehru in a covert attempt to obtain Indian control of Kenya.70 Chesterton continued: The head of the serpent is to be found, not in the Aberdares, but in Nairobi – perhaps in the Asian quarter of Nairobi. Why is the Government so very reticent about Mau Mau affiliations? Is it because one train might conceivably be found to lead to New Delhi?71 Criticism of independent India went hand in hand with criticism of the Mau Mau, with Indian nationalists alleged to be funding rebelling Kenyans.72 Furthermore, India was used to demonstrate the failure of colonial nationalism and was alleged to be even more impoverished, more corrupt, and more divided than at any point in its history.73 Chesterton also alleged that Indians who ‘deplore the morass of corruption and bad government into which their country has sunk since the British handed it over to the little babu clique who are now its overlords’ wanted British rule to return.74 What is more, India was now purportedly a puppet state of USSoviet Jewry.75 Whether through the influence of Soviet-backed India on the Asian community of Kenya; the alleged communist, Jomo Kenyatta; or the grand plot by global Jews to destabilise British rule in Kenya, conspiracism pervaded the LEL’s views on Kenya. Their political activism was entirely conducted upon this premise. The attempt to uphold white dominion in Kenya would emerge as one of the LEL’s most active campaigns following their foundation in 1954. Chesterton retained a personal fondness for Kenya, having served in East Africa during the Second World

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War, where he ‘went through all the hardships of the great push up from Kenya across the wilds of Jubaland through the desert of the Ogaden and into the remotest part of Somalia’.76 For Chesterton, Kenya was a microcosm of Britain’s imperial struggle, as it was for many fellow activists on the far right: a clash of races, supported and encouraged by a global Jewish conspiracy that aimed at dissolving the British Empire. Chesterton believed in everything the British Empire claimed to stand for: civilising the native ‘savages’; preventing sectarian war; and imposing Western values, science and culture upon Kenya. He also romanticised the life of white settlers in Africa, a fantasy that seemed melancholically distant from his own upbringing in South Africa. The LEL’s activity in Kenya cannot therefore be separated from Chesterton’s love for the ‘colonial frontier’, nor from the movement’s desire to recreate the life of colonial explorers, a cornerstone of his conception of ‘Britishness’.

The LEL in Kenya Amidst the backdrop of Mau Mau revolts, the 1950s saw several attempts to reach a political settlement that could satisfy the British colonial government, Kenyan nationalists and native minorities. In 1954, Colonial Secretary Oliver Lyttelton’s ‘multiracial’ constitution increased African representation in the Legislative Council and sought to improve cooperation between ethnic groups within Kenya. Nevertheless, Europeans still held more seats in the Legislative Council – despite representing a tiny minority. Direct elections for Africans were introduced in 1957, although further demands for increased African representation were made. Later that year, Colonial Secretary Alan Lennox-Boyd implemented a new Constitution, which made African representation equal to European. Kenyan nationalists nevertheless rejected this, as it offered little hope for independence in the near future. Harold Macmillan’s ascension to Prime Minister on 10 January 1957 gave impetus to the processes of decolonisation. Two years later, the appointment of Iain Macleod as Colonial Secretary further accelerated the pace moving Kenya towards independence.77 The 1960 Macleod Constitution maintained the principle of multiracialism laid down in the Lyttelton and Lennox-Boyd Constitutions but, crucially, gave Africans a numerical majority of seats on the Legislative Council, with voting changed from a community basis to a common roll. This was a radical departure from previous Constitutions in Kenya, which angered the right of the Conservative Party. The first majority-African government in Kenya was formed in April 1961 following legislative elections. Six months later, Jomo Kenyatta, de facto leader of the independence movement, was finally released from internment. However, before Kenya could achieve full independence, a constitutional framework had to be drawn up that was agreeable to the two largest African political factions within Kenya; the Kenyan African National Union (KANU) and the Kenyan African Democratic Union (KADU). KANU was predominantly a Kikuyu party and also popular with the Luo tribe, whereas KADU generally represented smaller tribes of the ‘KAMATUSA’ – an acronym for Kalenjin, Maasai, Turkana and Samburu.

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The final nature of Kenya’s constitution was discussed at the lengthy Lancaster House conference in London between February and April 1962, chaired by Colonial Secretary Reginald Maudling. The main stumbling block was the issue of majimbo [regionalism] but also the extent to which Kenya would be federally organised. KADU favoured a federalised Kenya so as to avoid what they perceived to be domination by the largest ethnic group, the Kikuyu, whereas KANU wanted a more centralised government. Despite the Constitution being regionalised in keeping with KADU’s demands, KANU nevertheless accepted the outcome as the quickest way to independence. The May 1963 legislative election was the last under British rule: self-government was reached in June 1963; that is, before full independence was achieved in December 1963. KANU, led by Jomo Kenyatta, won the first election in a landslide. Kenyatta, who had been imprisoned by the British throughout much of the 1950s, would be inaugurated as the first Prime Minister of Kenya in June 1963 and the country’s first President in 1964. The LEL began actively engaging in Kenyan politics in 1957. Beforehand, discussions on Kenya were principally related to the need to crush the Mau Mau uprising, and to restore law and order. In a few short years, the LEL had grown as an organisation, thriving on the post-Suez disillusionment among imperialist conservatives in Britain to create a powerful anti-decolonisation pressure group. In addition, it was clear that the British government’s opinion was softening towards Kenyan nationalism following the Lyttleton Constitution of 1954. A new Constitution, which would enshrine more African representation in the Legislative Council, was clearly on the horizon. The LEL consequently attempted to launch themselves into Kenyan domestic politics. On 2 July 1957, for instance, Derek Erskine of the United Kenya Club (Erskine would be elected as one of only a few white KANU Members of the Legislative Council in 1961) wrote to the Minister for Internal Security and Defence to inform him that Chesterton and prominent LEL activist Leslie Greene were planning a visit to Kenya. Erskine had been receiving pamphlets from the LEL, which he described as ‘extremely provocative and offensive’, but had not been unduly worried until the prospect of Chesterton and Greene’s arrival. In light of earlier crackdowns on nationalist political activity in Kenya, Erskine asked the Secretary to apply the same rules to the LEL who, he argued, were only there to stir up trouble.78 To be sure, there had already been some minor LEL activity in Kenya prior to Chesterton and Greene’s arrival. Initially, led by the Federal Independence Party (FIP) leader, Major B.P. Roberts, this comprised little more than correspondence with Chesterton and the distribution of Candour. Following a similar pro-colonial campaign in Rhodesia, Chesterton and Greene arrived on 11 July 1957 to address private meetings, which were accessible by invitation only. Chesterton tried to create allies among the hard-line, white settler community in Kenya, above all, with Major B.P. ‘Pip’ Roberts of the FIP (which was a merger of the White Highlands Party and the Kenya Empire Party). The FIP represented a minority of the European population in Kenya supporting provincial federalisation, which would see the White Highlands remain under European control while

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natives remained in their ‘reserves’. The FIP’s literature was shot through with racist attitudes similar to those of the LEL: ‘the cultural gap between the two races is so great as to make integration impossible and undesirable for many generations to come’.79 They favoured an apartheid-style policy based upon white supremacy; they were also distinctly anti-Asian. The FIP believed in ‘absolute and undivided allegiance to the British Crown and in loyalty to Kenya’ and rejected ‘any form of inter-racial partnership Government that allows for removal of control from Europeans or interference in the affairs of White Areas from other races’.80 The LEL’s goals for Kenya were quite similar to the FIP’s, albeit lower in importance. Kenya, for the LEL, was used in addition as a means to promote a revolt against British imperial decline at home and promote Chesterton’s antiJewish conspiracy theories. Chesterton believed that Kenya should remain in British hands, governed firmly under European settler rule. He felt that the colour bar should be maintained – and even increased to encompass every facet of life in a South Africa-style system. In 1958, Chesterton set policies he believed the Kenyan government needed to follow. Kenya should be ‘based on a natural pattern of race relations’, entailing whites remaining superior to blacks both politically and socially. Chesterton further held that the Kenyan government should ‘wipe out all legislative enactments which pervert this pattern by giving Africans power over Europeans’.81 Such a policy would ultimately be enforced, if need be, through the use of violence, since ‘the problem of white survival is no more one of polling booths than it is one of weapons’.82 Despite this alliance appearing to be a match made in heaven, the FIP and European federalists were always a marginal force in Kenyan politics. At the 1956 Legislative Council Election, for instance, they took no seats, despite receiving a respectable 21 per cent of the vote. Chesterton had allied himself with an unsuccessful party at a time of massive constitutional upheaval. Instead, towards the late 1950s and until independence, European politics in Kenya were dominated by more liberal Europeans supporting multiracialism. Chesterton was bullish upon arrival in Kenya, telling the local European newspaper, the East African Standard: ‘We believe that if a white leadership is to continue in Africa the time has come to adopt an attitude of no further compromise in any circumstances.’ He went on to say, ‘We have come to Kenya to rally the British people. Unless the British world coheres, it will be broken between the American and Soviet blocs.’83 The Director of Intelligence and Security, J. V. Prendergast, was pushed by Erskine to deny the LEL a presence in Kenya, though the former stated that there were not sufficient grounds for denying Chesterton and Greene transit passes.84 Nevertheless, the LEL’s visit certainly brought their activities in Kenya to the attention of security officials there, and they were closely monitored. The LEL’s first meeting on 12 July 1957, at the New Stanley Hotel in Nairobi, was attended by approximately 50 people. Major B. P. Roberts began with a speech condemning British decolonisation. He then praised the LEL for their attempts to resist ‘a further scuttling of British prestige’. Chesterton spoke next, discussing his tour in Southern Africa and launching a scathing attack on the

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American government, which he blamed for stirring up nationalism in order to see the British Empire liquidated.85 It is unlikely that Chesterton was openly antisemitic while in Kenya, in the sense that he cloaked his attacks on Jews in coded rhetoric. As noted above, his postwar writings frequently deployed euphemisms to describe Jews, such as ‘international financiers’ or ‘New York money power’. Greene spoke next, using the similarly loaded phrase ‘dollar power’ to criticise Jewish interests in the United States, which he believed had contributed to Britain’s economic instability. Following a question from an audience member about what the LEL could do in territories ‘not strictly within the British Empire’, Chesterton’s response was fantastical. He used the example of Tanganyika, stating that if Britain were to lose control of the territory, he hoped to see ‘loyalist columns marching from Northern Rhodesia, seizing the Tanganyika railway, linking up with columns from Kenya and marching on to Dar-es-Salaam’. The security official present during the meeting noted that there was ‘considerable enthusiasm’ within the audience ‘most of whom indicated a desire to join the League’.86 The LEL’s inaugural Kenyan meeting witnessed the formation of a Nairobi branch, whose representative would sit on the party’s National Executive Committee. Roberts also announced that, as a result of the meeting, eight sub-branches of the LEL were formed across different regions of Kenya.87 Between the 13th and the 18th of July, Chesterton and Greene spoke at private meetings in South Kinangop, Kitale, Nakuru, Thomson’s Falls, Nanyuki and Limuru. These gatherings were similar in nature to the inaugural meeting at the New Stanley Hotel; they were designed to introduce the LEL’s views and rally white settlers to the cause of anti-decolonisation.88 Chesterton and Greene, it seems, captivated the vast majority of their audiences, leading to many expressing a desire to join the movement. Their trip can be therefore be seen as successful in achieving the intended ends. Yet the real test would be the LEL’s longer-term impact on Kenyan politics after this initial surge of activity. Writing in Candour, Chesterton was confident that the LEL would thrive in Kenya, believing the white settler community to be highly responsive to their arguments. He further claimed that audience members at meetings were ‘tumbling over themselves to get hold of League application forms’.89 Chesterton continued: ‘Accustomed as we are to public apathy, mixed here and there with the hatred of those whose idols we denounce, we were amazed in Kenya to find our arguments instantly understood.’90 Chesterton seemed convinced that the LEL would soon make a breakthrough in Kenya: At our great meeting in Nairobi the enthusiasm was so tremendous, and the opposition so feeble, that it was evident to me that the LEL, given the energetic local leadership, could legitimately aspire to become the dominant force in the Colony.91 Despite his rhetoric, Chesterton’s grand vision was not to be achieved, even slightly.

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By November 1957, it was obvious that there was little support for the LEL in Kenya. Tellingly, only 13 people attended a meeting convened by B. P. Roberts that month. Nearly all branches set up during Chesterton’s visit were swiftly disbanded, leaving LEL activity to be conducted on a more informal basis. Donations by the European community would be diverted to Britain’s parent branch, where it could be more effectively used to further the LEL’s ideals.92 Chesterton wanted Roberts to mimic the organisation’s methods in Britain, particularly in using civil disobedience to get their message across. This included organising stunts, such as marching on the Legislative Council, as well as ominously requesting that elected African members should be ‘dealt with’. Roberts refused to engage in these methods, preferring to focus on a more conventional approach with the FIP. This led to a break between Chesterton and Roberts, and LEL activity in Kenya declined rapidly soon thereafter.93 The LEL’s branches in Kenya were practically defunct by 1958. The party failed to get any concentrated support upon which to form either a political base or activist movement. Roberts and Chesterton evidently disagreed strongly over tactics – with Roberts preferring to engage with party politics, and Chesterton favouring the adoption of the LEL’s ‘sabotage’ and ‘stunt’ methods used in Britain. This political failure should not be seen as surprising, however, given the small scale of the LEL and their Kenyan allies – not to mention their decided eccentricities and political extremism. Rather, the LEL’s failure in Kenya can be at least partly attributed to Chesterton’s unwillingness to engage in conventional local politics. Still more importantly, external factors – above all, the calming of tensions in Kenya – gradually de-radicalised the attitudes of white settlers, rendering the LEL’s role thereafter largely superfluous. Chesterton returned to Kenya over a year later, on 7th December 1958. Security services were not unduly concerned this time, as it was understood that Chesterton would not engage in any public speaking.94 His trip was brief and marked the beginning of his disillusionment with attempts to garner support among the European population of Africa. He did meet with a European Kenyan from the Agricultural Ministry, and came to the conclusion soon after that ‘whites in Kenya have lost their way’ in terms of maintaining dominance over Kenya and were acting as ‘back-room boys to African politicians’.95 Chesterton was alarmed that Europeans in the Legislative Council were not disgusted at Colonial Secretary Alan Lennox-Boyd’s new Constitution, which placed African representation on an equal par with European. It is possible that, at this point, he observed the direction the wind was blowing, even among hard-line European opinion in Kenya. He thus turned on his former allies in the white settler community. Referring to the banning of an extreme settler publication, Independent: Had those who led the League of Empire Loyalists in Kenya not resigned when they found its standards too exacting – or more accurately, had the League there started off with the right kind of leaders – White settlers would have been summoned from every part of the Colony to stage a mammoth protest at Government House against the iniquitous banning of the only organ of the Right in the whole of East Africa.96

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Fighting a lost cause Following the Hola massacre in March 1959, in which 11 Kenyan prisoners were battered to death and dozens more permanently crippled, the British public – and indeed world opinion – became increasingly sceptical of Britain’s role in Kenya, and, more broadly, the empire.97 Chesterton was wholly unsympathetic to the outpouring of anger against the atrocities, which had encapsulated the excesses of colonial violence, claiming: I neither excuse this action nor wallow in sympathy with the ruthless jungle beasts whose own approach had meant the slaughter of so many innocent men, women and children and who met the same doom at the hands of their fellow-Africans.98 Bizarrely, Chesterton also suggested that the Hola Camp was actually a luxurious destination for suspected criminals: ‘Hola killed eleven Africans, certainly, but it seems to have made pampered fools out of very many more.’99 As 1960 approached, Kenya was moving quickly towards self-government. A continuing issue was African representation on the Legislative Council, which was at this point equal with European Kenyans, despite the latter population being tiny in comparison. Kenyan nationalist leaders were pushing for a constitutional majority. Despite a failure to gain a foothold in domestic Kenyan politics, Chesterton and the LEL were not deterred from maintaining a firm stance on Kenya back in Britain; in fact, they would fight the British Empire’s case until the bitter end, notwithstanding a tide of governmental policy and public opinion against them. With government policy looking like it was speeding towards Kenyan independence, the LEL declared that ‘Kenya has become, almost overnight, the key to the African future’.100 The speed with which Kenya moved towards independence alarmed Chesterton, who, unsurprisingly, could ‘think of no explanation other than the influence of hidden powers’ in the Colonial Office.101 Kenya was now the last bulwark against Jewish power in Africa: ‘The sooner the White communities liquidate themselves, the sooner will Wall Street be able to bring into being the United States of Africa.’102 He advocated that LEL activity in regards to Kenya be directed at the nefarious source – London – the home of the Colonial Office and the setting of a series of talks between representatives from Kenya and the British government. The majority of LEL activity would now resort to disrupting meetings between nationalist and government representatives, alongside holding publicity stunts. Accordingly, the LEL protested outside the first Lancaster House meeting in 1960. Two activists were dressed as witch doctors, with placards reading: ‘Witchdoctors Demand Home Rule for Mau Mau’, and ‘What Next? Banda for Privy Council?’ These placards were accompanied by activists holding signs stating: ‘Empire Loyalists Say Stand by the White Settlers in Africa’.103 Although cosmetically a change of strategy, in reality, Chesterton had no choice but to focus his activity around London and the LEL’s domestic base in light of his failed attempts to organise in Kenya (and indeed the rest of the UK).

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By the early 1960s, Chesterton was directing his anger at both right-wing and liberal European settlers in Kenya, as well as the British government and Kenyan nationalists. In response to a plan devised for multiracial land use by Colonial Secretary Alan Lennox-Boyd and Governor Evelyn Baring, Chesterton criticised white settlers who left the LEL, claiming that there was no one else to blame for moves towards majority African rule but themselves. He attacked those who joined the LEL in Kenya ‘and abandoned it because of a lack of the necessary guts to continue in association with a movement frowned upon in high places’.104 Chesterton even refused to distinguish between the more liberal-minded white settlers, such as Michael Blundell, and hard-liners sympathetic to the LEL: ‘the British Government would not be able to impose such policies as the opening of the White Highlands to all races had it not been for Blundellite fifth-columnists in the first place’.105 As a result, there was a ‘fifth column comprising pretty well the entire White Community’.106 Chesterton was clearly alienating the one important constituency he had a chance of influencing. His turning on the white settler community inevitably led to the LEL’s complete isolation. From 1962 onwards, Chesterton persisted in holding to account Europeans in Kenya as well as their representatives, including his old friend and former LEL leader in Kenya, Pip Roberts. In a June 1963 Candour article, Chesterton criticised Roberts for ‘taking tea with Jomo’, thus betraying the cause of the white settlers in moderating his position.107 In September of that year, Chesterton lashed out at the ‘toadies’ of the Kenya Farmers Union of Nakuru, who had warmed to Kenyatta and the KANU, as ‘dripping wet specimens of a decayed British manhood’. He then castigated their apparent willingness to co-operate in the construction of an independent Kenya.108 Chesterton lambasted Europeans for allegedly conceding to the demands of Kenyatta and other nationalist leaders, and for ultimately failing to defend the Empire and their fellow whites. His hectoring was also coupled with a supposed fear of ‘defenceless’ Britons, who would soon be subject to the tyranny of Kenya’s native majority. Chesterton’s comments were clearly not only seeking relevance in the Kenyan context. His portrayal of threatened Britons in Kenya was closely associated with rising immigration in Britain, and a domestic way of life putatively under assault both abroad and at home. Indeed, as early as 1954, discussing Commonwealth immigration, Chesterton had written: ‘the colour question has arrived on our doorstep. It may loom large.’109 Matching Chesterton’s frenzied views over the Kenya issue as independence loomed was the LEL’s political activism. On 27 July 1962, for instance, a woman attacked Kenyatta outside the Victoria Hotel in London, shouting: ‘Take that from the League of Empire Loyalists … You’re a bloody butcher Kenyatta!’ Outside the building, tellingly, copies of Chesterton’s article on Mau Mau rituals had been handed out. Kenyatta’s response to the LEL’s presence was fairly relaxed, stating ‘there are madmen all over the world and I don’t mind what they do. It will not deter us from pursuing our mission.’110 Five months later, during another visit to London, Kenyatta was the subject of an attempted attack by the LEL once more, with Austen Brooks confirming that his throwing of the ‘definitely not fresh eggs’

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was a protest against British negotiations with Kenyatta. 111 One of the rotten eggs struck Kenyatta on the arm. One of Brooks’ fellow egg throwers, Paul Davidson, a welder from Laxton, Northamptonshire, was apprehended and fined £4. The affair was remarked upon with humour in South Africa’s Cape Argus Newspaper, which noted that Davidson had travelled the best part of 100 miles for the sake of throwing an egg.112 Kenyatta, once again, did not seem unduly perturbed. A more serious attack occurred in 1964, when LEL activist Martin Webster – a future leading figure in the NF113 – knocked the elderly Kenyatta to the ground. This led to Webster’s imprisonment. The incident provoked a swift reaction in Kenya, with fears of reprisal attacks on Europeans. There were demonstrations by crowds of youths outside the British High Commission in Nairobi and in Bomet, Kipsigis tribesmen ‘blew war horns and yelled hatred of the League of Empire Loyalists’.114 Provocatively, at a meeting held by Daniel Moi MP, the future President of Kenya, his group passed a resolution ‘calling on the Government to check on all Europeans in Kenya to uncover any supporters of the League’. Until these LEL fifth columnists were exposed, ‘every white skin would be assumed to be a supporter of the league and thus an enemy of the country’.115 Moi was either unaware, or chose not to claim, that the LEL had been a wholly insignificant force in Kenya for years. Later, Kenyatta appeared on the radio – reassuring Kenyans that he was not injured and that the assailant had been severely beaten by the police – which seemed to calm the situation. Encouraged by the LEL leadership, these relatively minor attacks represented more than just the eccentric nature of the party. Importantly, such stunts laid bare the marginality of their movement, and their inability to make any impact whatsoever upon the wider political debate around decolonisation. The Times, growing tired of the LEL’s behaviour following the rotten egg incident, described their action as ‘what has now become their customary melodramatic interjection into the proceedings’.116 In 1964, the LEL embarked on a slightly more mainstream General Election campaign. The two most noteworthy candidates were the aforementioned Deputy Chairman, Austen Brooks, who stood against Colonial Secretary Duncan Sandys in Streatham; and Rosine de Bounevialle, who stood in Petersfield. Perhaps surprisingly, they both registered as ‘Independent Loyalist’ candidates, possibly as a way of disassociating themselves from the much-castigated LEL. The General Election results would prove to be a further disaster, with Brooks losing his deposit. He never came close to achieving the LEL’s electoral goal, namely, splitting the conservative vote in order to cause Sandys to lose his seat. Following Kenyan independence, the LEL increasingly viewed Kenya as something of a lost cause. The Independence Day celebrations were marked by a defiant LEL protest outside the Commonwealth Reception in London, where they handed out the by-now de rigeur Mau Mau oathing ceremony pamphlets. They also sent a telegram to the Duke of Edinburgh and a petition to the Queen, begging her not to attend the handover ceremony – in the name of all the people who fought in two world wars for the British Empire.117 Apart from the odd comment, discussion of Kenya would effectively cease following independence, as the LEL

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turned their propaganda to Rhodesia. Their rhetoric on the latter was similar to that of Kenya, focusing in particular on the purported impossibility of white settlers and Africans living alongside one another: ‘The danger to Rhodesia of mixing Whites and Blacks in one society cannot be exaggerated. It betokens a hell for everybody concerned.’118

The persistence of race One of the most striking features of the far right’s views on Kenya is just how greatly the UM and LEL differed. The LEL sought to engage, albeit half-heartedly, with Kenyan constitutional politics, whereas the UM did not. The latter were also less openly conspiratorial in their view of events and, ultimately, attached less importance to the colony than did the LEL. On the role of race in the Kenya debate, however, they were very similar. The issue of race in Britain gradually grew in importance, especially as migrants from the Commonwealth began to arrive in Britain from the late 1940s and thus, the far right sought to use the Kenyan situation in order to heighten anti-immigration sentiment at home. Immigration to Britain had been enabled by the 1948 British Nationality Act, which created a new ‘Citizen of the United Kingdom and Colonies’ status, allowing the latter the right to settle in the UK. The Labour government encouraged immigration in order to meet the domestic demand for labour. Immigration – still composed overwhelmingly of largely white immigrants from the Republic of Ireland, Europe and ‘white’ Commonwealth countries – was becoming increasingly racialised. Indeed, the 1958 Notting Hill race riots have often been viewed by scholars as the start of attempts to control migration on the grounds of race. In the wake of the riots, the Marquess of Salisbury (who was the former Minister for Colonial Relations) stated that he was ‘extremely apprehensive about the economic and social results, for Europeans and Africans alike, that were likely to flow following an unrestricted immigration of men and women of African race into Britain’.119 While the Third Reich’s atrocities demonstrated the inherent danger in mixing racial politics and science, the postwar far right continued to extol similar ideas.120 A decade on from the Second World War, racial science was not taken seriously by the vast majority of scholars on Commonwealth immigration, who ‘saw fit to dismiss from the outset the possibility of black racial inferiority and the notion that racial feeling was rooted in any kind of natural phenomenon’.121 Those continuing to credit racial science in this period, such as the Eugenics Society, were clearly in the minority. Nevertheless, the far right’s use of race was intended to tap into the fears of Britons about a ‘coloured invasion’. Events in Kenya – and, in particular, the bloody Mau Mau uprising during the 1950s – presented an opportunity for the far right to stoke fears over the ‘black man’, who was increasingly visible in British towns and cities. Similarly, rhetoric over the alleged inferiority of Africans was frequently deployed by the far right to justify continued European rule over Africans. Although British colonial policy during the late 1950s pushed Britain’s

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African colonies towards self-government, the far right clung to a nineteenth-century conception of a white supremacism that sought to hold back the tide of colonial nationalism. The UM’s arguments that native Kenyans were unfit for self-rule, for one, represented a continuation of racial prejudice into the postwar era. The Mau Mau uprising had shown Kenyans, and indeed all blacks, ‘to be far from fit to be given self-government. The ease with which an underground murder gang has been able to dominate no less than a million tribespeople shows the latter to be anything but clear-thinking, free-speaking, stalwart-hearted democrats.’122 Referring to former Labour Colonial Secretary Jim Griffiths and Foreign Secretary Herbert Morrison, the UM activist Robert Row argued: ‘Goat eyeballs and entrails draped about sacrificial groves are still a long way from the ideals of Mr. Morrison and Mr. Griffiths.’123 Like the LEL, the UM made much of Mau Mau oathing ceremonies as a way of demonstrating the backwardness of Africans, and thereby, their unsuitability for self-government: ‘Mau Mau sermons are outright incitements to bestial outrage. A parody of the Apostles’ Creed is being circulated, urging devotees to acts of violence.’124 In similar vein, Africans were described as nymphomaniacal lunatics: ‘Lust and vice are canalised into the Mau Mau oaths, which are bestial beyond belief.’125 The racism espoused by the far right was, at times, expressed biologically and deterministically. In one Union article entitled ‘Africa and Anthropology’, the anonymous writer posited that Africans were hereditarily unfit for self-rule. This was disregarded by colonial authorities, who ‘neglected any serious study of African political and social laws and organisation’.126 Allegedly, ‘progressive Africans’ were merely imitating Europeans ‘under the protection of Whitehall’.127 Yet Africans did not think logically like Europeans, this 10 October 1953 article alleged, but in a ‘paralogical’ manner similar to the Japanese. Moreover, ‘Africans live in eternity, so to speak like Spanish peasants or Scottish highlander, whereas we city-dwellers are clock-bound.’128 The aforementioned Robert Row, quite absurdly, argued that it had taken Europe 1,000 years to reach their present state of enlightenment, whereas Africans were being hastily prepared for self-rule, to which they had only had 20 years to adjust: ‘In short, they [the Labour Party] assume that the African negro is fifty times as capable as the European of becoming civilised. They anticipate that Hottentots and pygmies of the Congo will dwarf the achievements of Voltaire, Rousseau, Proudhon!’129 Given that Africans were held to be unable to govern themselves, the UM proposed that more European settlement be encouraged: Finally, all suggestion must be withdrawn that East Africa is going to be handed over to a band of backward savages … On the contrary, it must be made clear that a much larger number of Europeans are going to be brought to Kenya and Tanganyika to develop the great resources of the fertile highlands for the benefit of both the native peoples and the European homeland.130

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Increased white emigration to Kenya was to be accompanied by an apartheid system. Racial segregation between the black and white populations of South Africa and some form of ‘apartheid’ had been present since the first Dutch explorers arrived in the seventeenth century. Rather than being simply racial segregation, apartheid took on a new meaning in postwar South Africa, in the sense that it became a ‘philosophy of life rather than a mere conservative emotion’; even a ‘doctrine of national self-preservation’.131 After 1948, apartheid grew in scale and consistency, becoming a cornerstone of the South African state. It meant native Africans were prohibited from purchasing land in ‘white’ areas; white people lived in white towns and villages; and non-whites lived in residential areas demarcated for natives. It also prohibited black and white people from working alongside each other.132 Mosley argued that the African and European populations should be given ‘separate parts of Africa in which to develop their own way of life – in a system of mutually beneficial trade and understanding’.133 One Union article from February 1955 claimed white settler support for such a system that was ‘being proved to be more and more in touch with African facts’.134 Robert Skidelsky points out that Mosley distanced his own proposals for apartheid from that in South Africa, claiming that his would be ‘a genuine apartheid, a real separation of the two peoples into two nations which enjoy equal opportunity and status’. He contrasted this with South Africa; a ‘bogus apartheid which seeks to keep the negro within white territory but segregated into black ghettoes which are reserves of sweated labour living in wretched conditions’.135 The question of whether Mosley’s form of apartheid was less barbaric than that of South Africa is therefore doubtful, not least given the iniquity in land and capital within Kenya, for one, which was overwhelmingly under white control. Unless Mosley proposed a substantial redistribution of land and wealth to Africans to address this – which he had no intention of doing – then claims at offering Africans ‘equal opportunity’ were without foundation. Equally, it is preposterous to not critique the notion that Mosley truly sought to afford Africans ‘equal status’. His view of Africans remained rooted in the nineteenth century, viewing them as lazy, untrustworthy, sexually promiscuous and totally inferior. Ultimately, white supremacy coursed through every aspect of Mosley’s Eurafrica policy. His support for African apartheid reflects this. There were other impetuses to the UM’s encouragement of white settlement. Mosley’s Churchillian dislike of Indians meant that the UM viewed the Indian minority of Kenya as subversive and damaging to both European settlers and native Africans. Mosley’s suspicions of Kenyan Asians were broadly in line with his stereotypical portrayals of Hindus as a similarly backward and over-sexed people. His description of Indians is also in keeping with his portrayal of Jews. Mosley argued that Indians were becoming a vexing menace, arriving in greater numbers and acting as exploitative capitalists, but at the same time as agents of communism. Mosley feared that ‘unless mass emigration schemes for white settlement of East Africa are soon instituted’, there would be ‘gradual domination by immigrant Indians who continue to cross in increasing numbers from the Malabar Coast’.136

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Rather confusingly, Mosley also alleged that Indian ‘capitalists’ were seeking to flood Kenya in order to exploit the local black population under the direction of the Soviet-backed Nehru. The African would be handed ‘over to a horde of Indian clerks and traders, against whom he will probably revolt in a welter of Communism’.137

‘These animals could well be living amongst us now’ A. K. Chesterton was similarly critical of Kenyan Asians. During an LEL meeting at Thomson Falls in Kenya, Chesterton asserted that Asians were a serious ‘menace’ and suggested that Kenya follow the example of South Africa by repatriating members of the Asian community.138 Chesterton claimed that the benefits of British rule in Kenya were the same as in every other colonial territory Britain held at one time or another. The superiority of the European intellect had brought economic benefits to Kenyans, who would have otherwise been toiling in the fields using medieval methods. The white settlers had, ‘by the exercise of the high European skills … turned a land previously ravaged by warring tribes, by sickness, by malnutrition, by the practice of evil cults, into a prosperous country run on a civilised basis’.139 Without European farming, he argued, ‘Kenya would be a slum’.140 A Candour article by the Kenyan settler Christopher Wilson viewed any prospect of African selfgovernment as a recipe for the wrecking of all the benefits of white rule: While the African is not yet fit even to manage parochial affairs in his own territories according to generally accepted civilised standards, without close supervision, it is dangerous folly to pretend to let him imagine that he can share responsibility for such products of Western enterprise such as the City of Nairobi, the Port of Kilindini, the East African Railways, and the White Highlands.141 The Mau Mau crisis highlighted the innate savagery and barbarity of Africans, another Candour article averred. Therefore, continued British rule was required not only to protect European settlers, but to protect Africans from themselves: ‘Imagine Mau Mau unchecked. That is what Africa was like until the white man came. That is what it will again be should he go.’142 It was Chesterton’s deeply reactionary view of Africans that guided much of his thinking on the apocalyptic prospects of selfgovernment, as summarised in this article in Candour: The African, especially the Bantu, who inhabits East, Central and South Africa, is a most improvident person. He values leisure above money, and tends to work only to purchase leisure … After long years of faithful, dependable service, a Bantu often goes completely hay-wire and does the most fantastically stupid – or vicious-things … When – if ever – the African has learned to wean himself from his own indolence and irresponsibility, the colour bar will become much more of a reproach than it is to-day.143

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The LEL’s most sustained attempt to link the Mau Mau crisis to ‘black savagery’ came after the Kenyan Emergency had concluded. The LEL portrayed those set to take charge in Kenya as dangerous animals threatening the white settlers’ very existence. In order to demonstrate the extent of Kikuyu backwardness, for example, the LEL emphasised the nature of Mau Mau oathing rituals. Yet the LEL were not the only ones having a fascination with these bizarre ceremonies. Berman argues that ‘Colonial officials, white settlers and the British and international press were obsessed with the deviant weirdness and bestiality of the oaths as proving that Mau Mau was atavistic, savage, and evil.’144 The LEL sought to exploit exactly these practices in order to claim that they represented the innate inability of Africans to rule their own country. In this vein, a revealing pamphlet was produced in 1960 detailing these oathing rituals in graphic detail. Activists were told to ‘place these into the hands of responsible people of standing in their localities, giving warning of their contents and asking for support for the League’s protest against the proposal for a “phased” release of Jomo Kenyatta’.145 The pamphlet’s introduction, written by Chesterton, was indeed dramatic: ‘WARNING! What is published here is a terrifying document, a horrifying document, an obscene document, but an official document.’146 The pamphlet then argued that the official document, ‘Memorandum on Mau Mau Atrocities and Rituals’, produced by Kenya’s Chief Secretary in 1954, was made up of ‘confessions’ by detained Kikuyus. They included standard oaths, used by the vast majority of Kikuyu to demonstrate their loyalty: ‘If I ever reveal the secrets of this organisation, may this oath kill me.’147 Yet the LEL focused upon the much more extreme ‘platoon oaths’, such as: ‘If I am told to kill or maim a farmer’s cattle or sheep I will do so, or lose my head.’148 At their most extreme, these oaths represented ritualistic ceremonies, tailored by rank. The ‘sixth grade’ ritual (presumably for a high-ranking combatant) is as follows: Three naked women are present at the meeting. She makes attempts to have intercourse with a dog. The dog is then killed and its penis cut off. The oather then inserts the dog’s penis seven times into the women’s vagina. The penis is then dipped in a vessel of blood and handed round to all the initiates to be licked seven times by each person.149 Chesterton’s introduction is, in many ways, even more revealing than the oathing ceremonies themselves. He pleads that ‘what follows should not be judged by the first half of it’, thus nudging the reader to take greater notice of the more extreme ‘platoon oaths’. He also linked these oathing ceremonies with Kenyan, and indeed all, independence movements in Africa containing European settlers: If independence is to be given to Kenya, Nyasaland and perhaps Northern Rhodesia, then at least let the British people know what the British Government is doing and the kind of mentality to which their kith and kin in those territories may be sacrificed.

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Chesterton further emphasised that ‘about 90% of the Kikuyu – the largest tribe in Kenya – became in greater or less degree infected by Mau Mau’.150 The implications were clear: Kikuyu and Kenyans were all militant ‘Mau Mau’, complicit in bestiality, necrophilia, cannibalism, witchcraft and any number of abhorrent practices. This was designed to remove any potential European empathy with Kikuyu demands, scaring them into regressing into white ‘civilised’ rule. It is likely that readers would have been shocked by the pamphlet’s content, albeit probably less so once made aware of the biased, far right, source for these claims. All the same, the pamphlet’s distribution is likely to have been small, and did not lead to any notable resurgence in support for the LEL. During the LEL’s ill-fated by-elections in Britain, race-baiting was attempted in order to win votes. In de Bounevialle’s 1964 election material, for instance, she used the example of the newly-independent Kenya to attack mainstream political parties: How is it possible to vote for supporters of an administration which handed over a beautiful country like Kenya, pioneered by British courage and made prosperous by British brains, to the managers of the obscene Mau Mau cult? … Why has it become fashionable for the Party politicians, almost as a matter of course, to prefer foreign interests to British interests, to back the Black man against the White man, to force civilised governments over vast tracts of the earth’s surface to make way for government by savages?151 Another pamphlet described the actions of the Conservative government as ‘betraying Britain’s heritage’. It used the slogan: ‘THE TORIES HAVE ENFRANCHISED MAU MAU. WHY NOT MONKEYS?’152 De Bounevialle went on to argue that ‘you just cannot expect Africans to run a modern state on European lines. You just can’t take people from the stone age to self-government in no time at all.’153 As might be expected, like Brookes, de Bounevialle also lost her deposit. The unreconstructed view of colonial peoples represents just how outdated the LEL’s views were in terms of mainstream British opinion. Nevertheless, these racially inflammatory comments came at a time when growing immigration from the West Indies and the Indian subcontinent was becoming a hot political issue, leading to what Bill Schwarz calls a ‘re-racialisation’ of Britain.154 The LEL’s discussion of Kenya, imbued with the racist rhetoric of conservative imperialists from the nineteenth century, thus could be completely separated from the wider anxieties of postwar immigration that the far right sought to exploit. The plight of white settlers in Kenya was frequently juxtaposed with Britain itself, creating a vision of race war. Likewise, warnings of impending doom were no longer limited to an overseas colony, but predicted for British towns and cities. Rhetoric about the savage Mau Mau became euphemistically associated with widespread prejudice towards the black ‘Other’ in Britain, while the alleged threat to British culture from immigration was presented in tandem with Britain’s imperial decline.

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Founded in 1958, the National Labour Party (NLP) were the most forthright in linking ‘black’ immigration to events in Kenya and, indeed, to upheaval on the African continent.155 The NLP was largely defined by its anti-immigration stance, which, in one article entitled ‘The White Man in Africa’ called for ‘the termination of all coloured and non-European immigration and the return of those already here to their independent countries of origin’.156 The party was founded by the LEL activist John Bean, who grew tired of the latter’s inherent Tory parochialism and, in particular, their juvenile stunts. Bean’s decision to leave was triggered by Chesterton’s request that he go to TV personality Malcolm Muggeridge’s house and throw a bag of soot over him after he had made derogatory remarks about the Queen. Bean also saw a gap in the market for a new British far right party given the limitations of both Mosley’s Pan-Europeanist UM, on the one hand, and the obsolete ‘little Englandism’ of the LEL, on the other: Our nationalism must transcend the narrow and outdated nineteenth century nationalism that says “Wogs begin at Calais” … But our Nationalism must halt at Mosley’s utopian European Nationalism of “Europe a Nation” … By political, economic and military pacts and treaties between sovereign states, Western Europe must present a unified front to our common enemies: Asiatic Communism and American finance capitalism.157 Like the LEL, the NLP viewed events in Kenya as a Jewish conspiracy; they also saw black immigrants as a racial threat in Britain. The NLP pledged to ‘fight to free Britain from Jewish dominance and the coloured influx, and to establish a Britain for the British wherein permanent residence and nationality are restricted to our Northern European folk’.158 The NLP painted a picture of the British government negotiating with ‘subversive’ African nationalist leaders like Kwame Nkrumah, ‘and other leaders of the Black Commonwealth [rather] than looking after our own children’s future, [so] ensuring that racial strife comes to Britain’.159 The putatively threatened white European populations of Africa were compared with domestic Britons and a doomsday scenario was painted for the latter. In Kenya, ‘thousands of our White kinsmen are being left to face the same fate as the Whites of the Congo’, while ‘in Britain many people living in areas with a large and rapidly increasing coloured population are now wondering how long it will be before we see examples of Congo antics enacted here’.160 Mau Mau atrocities (which they failed to mention had been predominantly aimed at loyalist Kikuyu rather than the White European population) were conflated with Africans at large. In turn, this ‘threat’ was linked to coloured immigration – even though the majority of ‘black’ immigration came from the West Indies rather than Africa itself. It was ‘not even a decade since the obscene spectre of Mau-Mau cast its hideous shadow athwart the Protectorate of Kenya, and it will take very little to conjure it into being once again’. Correspondingly, ‘the pattern of future struggle is not one of Nation against Nation but ultimately one of Race against Race. The very existence of Europe is every day more threatened by the

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rising tide of Colour’.161 Bean’s NLP confidently predicted a race war in Britain’s future. Jomo Kenyatta was decried by John Bean as a ‘monster’ and his release ‘an insult to civilisation’.162 One article in the NLP house journal Combat, in a manner similar to Candour, linked graphic descriptions of Mau Mau oathing ceremonies to Kenyatta, arguing that not only are ‘60,000 Europeans about to be handed over to such creatures who carried this out’, but that there was also a purely domestic threat: ‘Under Britain’s immigration laws these animals could well be living amongst us now.’163 The significance of the NLP lies not in its visibility, membership or electoral success – which were all miniscule. Instead, the NLP reflects a transition of the far right in the late 1950s, in which the British far right began to look less like imitations of the interwar fascist movements, and more like more contemporary organisations, such as the National Front (NF) and the British National Party (BNP). Most importantly, domestic and local matters – particularly immigration – became the biggest issue the party sought to address. It must be stressed that this transition was more one of style, rather than reflecting a substantial ideological shift. As John Richardson highlights, while the NLP ‘remained rooted in the fascist ideology of Jewish conspiracy, racial myth, anti-egalitarianism and antidemocratic authoritarianism’, their newspaper Combat ‘reflects the development of British fascist discourse from an explicit articulation of antisemitic conspiracy theories to a strategy in which such ideological commitments were subsumed behind a veneer of racial populism’. This strategy would be taken up by the more successful NF and BNP in later years.164 In terms of imperialism, the NLP also began to appear more ‘post-colonial’. Instead of championing the greatness of the British Empire and establishing reasons for its continuation, they argued that there should be a British ‘withdrawal from the Coloured Commonwealth’, and a ‘union of Britain and the White Dominions as the cornerstone of a European Confederation’.165 Thus, imperialism was no longer about recalling tales of imperial greatness in the past, or the need to crush subversion in the dark corners of the Empire. Instead, with decolonisation an increasing reality, the NLP advanced the vague notion of a ‘white commonwealth’. Race ceased to be an issue to be framed within a distant colonial context, as postwar immigration enabled a far more potent message at home – the threat of ‘blacks’ in the towns and cities of the white working class. This would form the backbone of far right discussions of race to the present day.

Notes 1 M. Dilley, British Policy in Kenya Colony, 2nd edn (London: Frank Cass & Co., 1966), p. 186. 2 Ibid., p. 191. 3 Lord High Constable of Scotland was a ceremonial position which had been conferred upon Erroll’s ancestors by Robert the Bruce in 1314. 4 C. Elkins, Imperial Reckoning: The Untold Story of Britain’s Gulag in Kenya (New York: H. Holt, 2005), p. 11.

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5 R. Davenport-Hines, ‘Hay, Josslyn Victor, Twenty-Second Earl of Erroll (1901– 1941)’, Oxford National Bibliography, May 2011. Available at: www.oxforddnb.com/ view/article/39437. 6 ‘Blackshirts in Kenya’, The East African Standard, 21 July 1934, p. 5. 7 Ibid., p. 17. 8 Ibid., p. 5. 9 ‘The Earl of Erroll on Fascism’, The East African Standard, 13 December 1934, p. 32. 10 ‘Blackshirts in Kenya’, p. 5. 11 ‘The Earl of Erroll on Fascism’, p.32. 12 Ibid. 13 Ibid. 14 Ibid. 15 Ibid. 16 Ibid. 17 Ibid. 18 N. Grant and E. Huxley, Nellie: Letters from Africa (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1980), p. 105. 19 Ibid. 20 ‘The Earl of Erroll on Fascism’, The East African Standard, 13 December 1934, p. 32. 21 ‘Expansion Problem of Italy’, East African Standard, 11 October 1935, p. 27. 22 C. Baldoli, ‘Anglo-Italian Fascist Solidarity? The Shift from Italophilia to Naziphilia in the BUF’, in J. Gottlieb and T. Linehan (eds), The Culture of Fascism: Visions of the Far Right in Britain (London: I.B. Tauris, 2003), p. 157. 23 R. Thurlow, Fascism in Britain (London: I.B. Tauris, 1987), p. 76. 24 O. Mosley, The Alternative (Ramsbury: Mosley Publications, 1947), p. 51. 25 Ibid., p. 52. 26 Ibid., p. 145. 27 Ibid., p. 182. 28 R. Row, ‘Surveying What is Left’, Union, 7 August 1948, p .3. 29 R. Skidelsky, Oswald Mosley (London: Macmillan Press, 1981), p. 487. 30 Ibid. 31 ‘Mau Mau a Religion’, Union, 3 July 1954, p. 3; ‘Mau Mau: Penalty of Neglect’, Union, 1 November 1952, no, 238, p. 1. 32 ‘Kenya Problem is Political’, Union, 31 October 1953, p. 3. 33 ‘Kenya Near Civil War’, Union, 10 January 1953, p. 1. 34 ‘Injustice Breeds Revolt’, Union, 20 December 1952, p. 3. 35 ‘Kenya Near Civil War’, p. 1. 36 ‘Mau Mau: Penalty of Neglect’, p. 1. 37 Ibid. 38 ‘Mau Mau a Religion’, p. 3. 39 ‘Mau-Mau Coming Back?’, Union, 15 June 1957, no. 457, p. 1. 40 R. Row, ‘Mau Mau: Lesson for Africa’, Union, 8 November 1952, p. 3. 41 ‘Kenya Near Civil War’, Union, 10 January 1953, p. 1; It was also alleged that ‘secret societies threaten revolt in Kenya’, referring to Mau Mau: ‘White Africa in Dire Peril’, Union, 6 September 1952, p. 1. 42 Row, ‘Mau Mau: Lesson for Africa’, p. 3. 43 R. Row, ‘Nehru & Mau Mau’, Union, 2 May 1953, p. 2. 44 ‘White Africa in Dire Peril’, p. 1. 45 A. Jackson, The British Empire and the Second World War (London: Hambledon Continuum, 2006), p. 198. 46 Ibid., p. 36. 47 Ibid., p. 200. 48 K. Kyle, The Politics of the Independence of Kenya (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 1999), pp. 36–37. 49 Ibid., p. 44.

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50 D. Branch, Defeating Mau Mau, Creating Kenya: Counterinsurgency, Civil War and Decolonization (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), p. 1. 51 D. Kennedy, ‘Constructing the Colonial Myth of Mau Mau’, The International Journal of African Historical Studies 25:2 (1992), p. 241. 52 Ibid., p. 245. 53 Ibid. 54 D. Anderson, Histories of the Hanged: Britain’s Dirty War in Kenya and the End of Empire (London: W.W. Norton, 2006), p. 1. 55 See Elkins, Imperial Reckoning. 56 Anderson, Histories of the Hanged, p. 7. 57 ‘Kenya’, in G. Gallup (ed.), The Gallup International Public Opinion Polls: Great Britain, 1937–1975, vol. I (New York: Random House, 1976), p. 286. 58 Ibid., p. 311. 59 ‘General Election’, in Gallup (ed.), The Gallup International Public Opinion Polls, p. 530. 60 ‘Party Priorities’, in Gallup (ed.), The Gallup International Public Opinion Polls, p. 720. 61 R. Toye, Churchill’s Empire (London: Macmillan, 2010), p. 290. 62 A. K. Chesterton, The New Unhappy Lords, 5th edn (London: The A. K. Chesterton Trust, 2013), p. 88. 63 Ibid., p. 84; One specific example comes from Sudan, where Chesterton alleges: ‘“American” agents were busy … working up the anti-British agitation’. 64 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Call for Counter Revolution’, Candour Interim Report, November 1962, p. 4. 65 Ibid. 66 ‘Red Mau Mau’, Candour, 15 January 1954, p. 3. 67 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Imperialism or Death’, Candour, 24 February 1956, p. 62. 68 Ibid. 69 ‘India’s Own Cold War’, Candour, 4 December 1953, p. 3. 70 ‘Asiatics in Africa’, Candour, 27 November 1953, p. 2. 71 ‘Mau Mau’s Affiliations’, Candour, 30 October 1953, p. 2; ‘Where Mau Mau Breeds’, Candour, 7 May 1954, p. 3. 72 ‘The Humbug of Nehru’, Candour, 14 May 1954, p. 3. 73 A. R., ‘Unhappy Mother India’, Candour, 6 November 1953, p. 3. 74 Ibid. 75 A. K. Chesterton, ‘The Gandhi-Nixon Line’, Candour, 8 January 1954, p. 1. 76 A. K. Chesterton, Leopard Valley: A Play in Three Acts (London: The A. K. Chesterton Trust, 1943), p. 119. 77 Kyle, The Politics of the Independence of Kenya, pp. 99–100. 78 D. Erskine, letter to the Minister for Internal Security and Defence, 2 July 1957 (FCO 141/6622/1), National Archives, Kew, London. 79 Federal Independence Party, The Federal Independence Party: Policy and Constitutional Proposals (Nairobi, 1955), p. 2. 80 Federal Independence Party, Kenya: The Emergency and The Future (Nairobi, 1954), pp. 4, 5. 81 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Danger Ahead in Kenya’, Candour, 17 January 1958, pp. 1–2. 82 Ibid. 83 ‘Kenya Visit by Empire Loyalists’, East African Standard, 13 July 1957, n.p. 84 J. V. Prendergast, letter to the Secretary of Defence, 13 July 1957 (FCO 141/6622/7). 85 J. V. Prendergast, letter to the Chief Secretary, 22 July 1957 (FCO 141/6622/8). 86 Ibid. 87 Ibid. 88 J. V. Prendergast, letter to the Secretary for Defence, 23 July 1957 (FCO 141/6622/9) 89 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Land of Loyalists’, Candour, 20 September 1957, pp. 85–86. 90 Ibid. 91 Ibid. 92 J. V. Prendergast, letter to the Chief Secretary, 22 November 1957 (FCO 141/6622/10).

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93 Ibid. 94 H. D. Dent, letter to the Director of Intelligence and Security, 29 November 1958 (FCO 141/6622/11). 95 A. K. Chesterton., ‘Africa in Peril’, Candour, 9 January 1959, p. 2. 96 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Bolshevising Africa’, Candour, 13 March 1959, pp. 1–2. 97 N. White, Decolonisation: The British Experience Since 1945 (New York: Longman, 1999), p. 32; and P. Brendon, The Decline and Fall of the British Empire, 1781–1997 (New York: Alfred Knopf, 2008), p. 563. 98 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Hush-A-Bye for Mau Mau!’, Candour, 13 November 1959, p. 129. 99 Ibid. 100 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Kenya in Peril’, Candour, 15 and 22 May 1959, pp. 145–146. 101 Ibid. 102 Ibid. 103 ‘Witchdoctors at Lancaster House’, Candour, 22 January 1960, p. 24. 104 A. K. Chesterton, ‘The Doom of Kenya’, Candour, 23 October 1959, pp. 1–3. 105 Michael Blundell was a prominent European Kenyan politician who founded the New Kenya Group in 1959, which went on to become the first multiracial political party in Kenya – the New Kenya Party. 106 A. K. Chesterton, ‘How Many Pieces of Silver?’, Candour, 27 November 1959, pp. 134–135. 107 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Behind the News’, Candour, June 1963, p. 5. 108 A. K. Chesterton, ‘United with Jomo the Devil’, Candour, September 1963, p. 4. 109 ‘Black Invasion’, Candour, 15 January 1954, p. 4. 110 ‘I Was Going to Slosh Jomo’, Daily Mail, 9 November 1961, n.p. 111 ‘Kenyatta Abused by Loyalists’, New Zealand Herald, 10 November 1961, n.p; ‘Rotten Eggs and Insults for Kenyatta’, Mombasa Times, 9 November 1961, n.p. 112 ‘100 Miles to Throw an Egg at Kenyatta’, Cape Argus, 9 November 1961, n.p. 113 Webster was not the only future neo-Nazi leader to involve himself in the LEL’s stunts. In 1956, Colin Jordan attacked a meeting held by the Movement for Colonial Freedom (and was subsequently attacked himself with a shoe). 114 ‘Kenya Protests About Attack Continue’, The Times, 21 July 1964, p.8 . 115 Ibid. 116 ‘Progress at Mr. Kenyatta’s Talks in London’, The Times, 11 November 1961, p. 7. 117 A. K. Chesterton, ‘League’s Mau Mau Reminder’, Candour, January 1964, p. 11. 118 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Rhodesian Race Relations’, Candour, 13 February 1959, p. 45. 119 ‘Impetus to Call for Immigration Limit’, 3 September 1958, p. 12. 120 R. Schaffer, Racial Science and British Society (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008), p. 114. 121 Ibid., p. 154. 122 Row, ‘Mau Mau: Lesson for Africa’, p. 3. 123 Ibid. 124 ‘Mau Mau a Religion’, p. 3. 125 Ibid. 126 ‘Africa and Anthropology’, Union, 10 October 1953, p. 3. 127 Ibid. 128 Ibid. 129 R. Row, ‘Labour Faces Facts in the Colonies’, Union, 26 March 1955, p. 2. 130 ‘Kenya Near Civil War’, Union, 10 January 1953, p. 1. 131 E. Brooks, Apartheid: A Documentary Study of Modern South Africa (London: Routledge, 1968), pp. xxvii–xxviii. 132 Ibid., p. 8. 133 ‘Kenya Problem Is Political’, Union, 31 October 1953, p. 3. 134 ‘Kenya Whites Back Apartheid’, Union, 26 February 1955, p. 1. 135 O. Mosley, quoted in R. Skidelsky, Oswald Mosley, p. 486. 136 ‘White Africa in Dire Peril’, p. 1.

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137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165

Row, ‘Nehru & Mau Mau’, p. 2. J. V. Prendergast, letter to the Secretary for Defence, 23 July 1957. Chesterton, The New Unhappy Lords, p. 87. ‘India’s Own Cold War’, p. 3. C. Wilson, ‘Political Crisis in Kenya’, Candour, 3 December 1954, pp. 7–8. ‘Retreat to Barbarism’, Candour, 19 February 1954, p. 1. C., ‘Colour Bar’, Candour, 1 January 1954, p. 4. B. Berman, ‘Nationalism, Ethnicity and Modernity: The Paradox of Mau Mau’, The Canadian Journal of African Studies 25:2 (1991), pp. 181–206. The League of Empire Loyalists, Bulletin No. 107A, 1961. A. K. Chesterton, ‘Mau Mau Oath Ceremonies’, Candour Supplement, 22 July 1960, p. 1. Ibid., p. 2. Ibid., p. 3. Ibid., p. 4. Ibid., p. 1. ‘Empire Loyalist Enters Election Fray’, Hampshire Herald, 3 September 1964, n.p. Independent Loyalist Leaflet, 1964 General Election. Ibid., p. 2. B. Schwarz, ‘“The Only White Man in There”: The Re-Racialisation of England, 1956–1968’, Race and Class 38 (1996), pp. 65–78. Following their merger with John Tyndall’s White Defence League in 1960, the NLP changed their name to the British National Party. To avoid confusion with the modern day BNP, the party will be referred to as the NLP. H. T. Mills, ‘The White Man in Africa’, Combat, August–October 1964, p. 6. J. Bean, Many Shades of Black: Inside Britain’s Far Right (Burlington, IA: Ostara, 2011), p. 118. ‘The British National Party – For Race and Nation’, Combat, May–June 1960, p. 5. ‘The Black Invasion’, Combat, May–June 1960, p. 1. ‘Whites Under Attack’, Combat, July–August 1960, p. 1. ‘Race War: The Hour of Decision’, July–August 1960, p. 4. J. Bean, ‘Kenyatta’, Combat, May–July 1961, p. 4. Ibid. J. Richardson, ‘Racial Populism in British Fascist Discourse: The Case of COMBAT and the British National Party’, in R. Wodak and J. Richardson (eds), Analysing Fascist Discourse: European Fascism in Talk and Text (Abingdon: Routledge, 2013), p. 186. ‘The White Man in Africa’, p. 6.

6 RHODESIA

The constitutional crisis in Rhodesia was in many respects an ideal situation for the far right to capitalise upon. Their support for continued white minority rule enabled them to present a narrative of a white race under existential threat from black Africans with the government taking the side of the latter. Unlike Kenya whose white population were largely materially well-off with their own notorious reputation for decadence, the whites of Rhodesia could further be portrayed as ordinary, patriotic Brits living overseas and in grave danger. Such threats were also amplified during a time of rising anxiety and anger over immigration in Britain during the 1960s, typified by Enoch Powell’s apocalyptic ‘Rivers of blood’ speech in 1968. Indeed, in the speech, Powell’s references to the ‘black man’ having ‘the whip hand over the white man’ possessed a colonial symbolism which could have stoked fears and sympathy for the plight of white Britons’ racial brethren in Africa. The Rhodesia crisis arrived at a time when the far right was in disarray. The LEL were, in the 1960s, a small rump in contrast to their height in the mid-1950s, with many of their younger activists leaving to form smaller, competing parties such as the BNP, the White Defence League (WDL) and the Greater Britain Movement (GBM). A.K. Chesterton was, however, able to benefit from contacts within the Rhodesian Front (RF) government around the time of the colony’s unilateral declaration of independence (UDI) which masked the small and insignificant activist base of the movement. Chesterton had access to Rhodesia’s Prime Minister Ian Smith, initially lionised by the far right as the saviour of the white race and, possibly, the British Empire, as well as other elites in the Rhodesian government. This provided the LEL with a significant platform for influence, which they had not had in Kenya and certainly not in terms of the British government. While there are parallels in the advice put forward by Chesterton in Candour and the direction eventually employed by Smith, whether or not it was Chesterton who convinced him to do so is a matter of speculation.

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Yet, Rhodesia – not for the first time – was an imperial issue which exposed the substantial weaknesses of far right strategy. Their hard-line stance, which failed to accept any increase in African involvement in the electoral system or government of Rhodesia (even cosmetically, as other supporters did, as well as the RF itself), was simply incredible given the demographic reality of the colony and weight of international support against white minority rule. Alliances which could have been built at home with the not insubstantial numbers of Ian Smith supporters, which could have been used to pressure both Labour and Conservative governments, were treated with suspicion and caution and ultimately, barely attempted. Even Ian Smith was attacked as a failure and traitor shortly after UDI. They ultimately maintained a firmly pessimistic approach, which appeared to hold that treachery and sell-out were always around the corner from allies and enemies alike. It projected weakness and was self-evident of their lack of belief in any success. Rhodesia thus perhaps reflects the far right at their most demoralised – broken by what they perceived as imperial defeat after imperial defeat. By the early 1970s, the National Front (NF) were largely alone in a purist crusade against any form of black involvement in government until the bitter end, long after other supporters of white minority rule had accepted the inevitable.

Race and Rhodesia From Southern Rhodesia’s very foundation as a British colony, racial conflict and tension had defined it. During its brutal colonisation by Cecil Rhodes’ British South African Company in the late 1880s, white supremacy was aggressively imposed on the native population. Two bloody attempts to drive British settlers out by the Ndebele and Shona tribes – the second in 1896 being mythologised by Africans in Rhodesia as Chimurenga or the ‘first revolutionary struggle’ – both failed. This strife in the late nineteenth century, however, would remain a significant reminder to Europeans in the colony of their own minority status and need to rule with an iron fist to contain the wrath of the native population whom they exploited. An 1896 Rhodesian Herald article is indicative of racial ideas which pervaded the ruling class during Rhodesia’s initial colonisation and indeed beyond. Demonstrating pessimism that Africans could fulfil even functions of basic human civility, it argued: ‘the natives are children in everything but vice and therefore ought to be treated accordingly … always impressing upon them the wholesome fact that they are our inferiors, morally, socially and mentally, and can never hope to be otherwise’.1 While such frank rhetoric would be diluted and be subject to change, the fundamental essence at this statement’s core would hardly alter among the white leadership in Rhodesia. Racial attitudes were heavily bound up with the colony’s power structure and the determination to maintain absolute white rule in a colony which had been violently seized and where whites were greatly outnumbered. As Bonello notes, it was the ‘chronic insecurity about maintaining power, heightened by the perceived threat of revolt’ which ‘served to augment their view of race as an essential and

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inflexible point of social delineation’.2 The Land Apportionment Act of 1930 deprived Africans in Rhodesia of much of their land and crystallised ‘white supremacy on the South African model of separate but unequal development’.3 Southern Rhodesia would be parcelled out into districts based on race, providing whites (who, at this point, numbered around 50,000) with 48 million acres and the native population (of around 1 million) with 28 million. This encouraged exhaustive farming which exhausted the soil as well as the creation of a vast network of suburban slums. African labour mobility and habitation rights were restricted, black farmers and would-be civil servants were targeted through discriminatory laws while skilled workers were prohibited from competing with Europeans. The colour bar which prevented racial mixing in hospitals, schools, public walkways and pubs attempted to ensure white and black never met on equal terms, while ‘seditious’ literature which dared to criticise racial injustice and colonial rule was banned in 1936.4 During the Second World War, Rhodesia contributed more (in proportion to its white population) than any constituent unit of the British Empire (including Britain itself). Yet the total numbers of Africans from Southern Rhodesia serving outnumbered that of white. Much like in Kenya, African soldiers were incensed by continued discrimination and lack of reward following their sacrifices during the war. There was also a significant influx of unskilled white immigrants from Britain. Many of the new arrivals treated the natives with contempt, quickly bought into the racist laws and institutions of the colony, viewing them as competition for work in a system which was nevertheless rigged in their favour. A parallel growth in migration from Southern Rhodesia’s southern border with South Africa meant that the white population of Rhodesia was increasing fast. By 1941, there were 69,370 whites and 1,425,000 Africans and by 1977, 277,000 whites to just short of 5 million Africans.5 Although, as this shows, the African population was similarly rising. Relations between the colony and the metropole were to some extent contradictory: fraught and mistrustful but also based upon romanticised conceptions of one another. Settler feeling towards Britain from the late nineteenth century was typified by ‘strong patriotism but an opposing feeling of neglect that created another layer of insecurity’.6 Fiercely independent, Rhodesia would exercise an unusually high amount of self-government, particularly since 1922 when white voters in the colony rejected the chance to join the Union of South Africa in a referendum. The colony’s subsequent autonomy only entrenched disdainful attitudes to orders from London. Governors of Rhodesia, ostensibly the Crown’s representative in the colony, tended to act upon the advice of the Rhodesian legislature (House of Assembly) in Salisbury rather than the Colonial Office in London.7 Schwarz has argued that Rhodesia’s neighbour South Africa functioned for the English public as ‘both the fantasised frontier of the nation and as the utopian image of what actually-existing England, destroyed by the mundane forces of an unforgiving modernity, is not’.8 Rhodesia fulfilled a similar, albeit less prominent role to this in the imagination of the British public. Yet conceptions over the meaning of Rhodesia became an increasingly divisive force during the rapid decolonisation

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which followed the Second World War. For some, Rhodesia was an ugly relic of a bygone age which needed to be wound up, a view which generally found expression on the political left. For others, Rhodesia embodied traditional British values, which the country had disastrously steered away from. Andrew Gamble of the rightwing Conservative ginger group The Monday Club (MC) argued that Rhodesia was reminiscent of Victorian middle-class Britain, exemplifying the values of ’hard work, responsibility, initiative, independence’.9 As Harold Soref, MP for Ormskirk (1970– 1974) and Chairman of the MC (as well as former BUF activist) argued: ‘Rhodesia represents Britain in its halcyon days: patriotic, self-reliant, self-supporting, with law and order and a healthy society. Rhodesia is Britain at its best.’10 While the positive values associated with Rhodesians were framed as part of their mentality, race was clearly also a central issue. Rhodesians were ’were kith and kin not just by descent, but ideologically as well’.11 In both the colony and the metropole, Rhodesia took on a significant importance as the British Empire disappeared from the map. Yet, its significance was not centred solely on Britain’s imperial fall or Cold War geopolitics but on the social changes which swept through Britain after the Second World War brought about by both immigration and cultural revolution in the 1960s. Many Brits agreed with Rhodesians, the latter seeing their own way of life as ‘an advertisement and a fortress for the values which other Western societies had forsaken or neglected. The British exemplified the moral decline of the West.’12 The far right reflected the staunchest defenders of such attitudes in Britain. The case of Rhodesia, whose small but patriotic white population were purportedly under siege by blacks – aided and abetted by a global conspiracy – provided a perfect opportunity to project their own ideas of white supremacy to their followers and beyond. Race formed the fundamental basis of the far right’s unequivocal championing of the white settlers in Rhodesia. A. K. Chesterton’s support for whites in the colony was, according to the A. K. Chesterton Trust (writing in 2014) simply due to the innate destiny of Europeans to rule over non-whites. Chesterton believed that political ideas meant as much to Africans ‘as little to their minds as does Quantum Theory to the minds of monkeys’.13 While this crude articulation of Chesterton’s white racial supremacist views is accurate, it offers only a partial aspect of his conception of race. Chesterton believed that whites had brought civilisation to Africa, a continent whose natives were incapable of statecraft or self-governance. Racial stereotypes of stupid, lazy, untrustworthy, seditious and violent Africans formed a core belief which influenced his and the LEL’s belief that African nationalism should be stymied at all costs. In 1957, during his trip to Southern Rhodesia, Chesterton debated with David Stirling, founder of the Special Air Service (SAS) and Capricorn Africa Society – the latter a pressure group in favour of a multiracial settlement, in Rhodesia’s capital, Salisbury. During the debate, Chesterton argued for the motion ‘the ideas of the Capricorn Africa Society, if adopted, would mean the ruination of British Africa’. Africans, Chesterton argued ‘have followed totally different lines of development because of inherently different psychological patterns’ to Europeans. He,

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and many other white supremacists emphasised racial ‘difference’ as a means of obscuring white supremacy. Yet, alleged negative and degenerative traits of Africans were emphasised. Those in favour of multiracialism in Southern Rhodesia were ignorant of the realities of race, Chesterton argued. He claimed that colonialism in Africa had prevented tribal warfare and the real outcome of the CAS’s policy, intended or not, would see the country ‘revert to barbarism’.14 Sarcastically mocking the very notion of African intelligence and scientific advancement, Chesterton argued: Let him [Stirling] gather together African research-workers and African scientists and African mathematicians and African engineers, if any of them exist, to build African atomic power plants … Give Africans the formulae and let them produce an all-African turbo-jet plane.15 Chesterton came out on top in the debate where he won by 278 to 179 votes among the ‘500 strong’ audience, described as being ‘of all races’. While victory in this debate was one of Chesterton’s few successes during his political career, it is highly doubtful that the make-up of the audience was genuinely representative of all races in Southern Rhodesia. It is, however, demonstrative of the retrograde nature of mainstream views on race in the colony and why the far right saw Rhodesia as an opportunity to promote a society with racial views aligned to their own.16 Similar attitudes could be found in smaller far right parties, such as the National Labour Party. Andrew Fountaine – a future leading member of the NF – spoke in one article for Combat of the ‘static negro’ in reference to Rhodesia. While white civilisation had developed over 6,000 years, he argued, blacks had ‘never ventured or experimented; he has never discovered the wheel, developed a plough or evolved a written language … he has instinct without organisation and superstition without culture’. The best hope for an African therefore was to be ‘trained to perform certain everyday civilised tasks’ under white supervision. Expressing a biological racism usually found on the extreme reaches of the right, Fountaine argued that this lack of civilisation was innate: ‘on any civilised comparison the negro is strictly limited by his own organic structure’.17 Spearhead exhibited a similar view to Chesterton on the importance of white leadership in Rhodesia – which had been ordained by nature. In the first article for the inaugural edition of the publication, while leading the National Socialistinspired GBM, it was argued: under the guiding hand of the European the great resources of [Africa] were developed and put to the service of Western civilisation. The Black was content with his place, and his condition steadily improved under the leadership of his White superiors.18 He blamed the decline in belief of white supremacy not on black nationalism, but on whites themselves and degenerate new ideas: ‘now the White man has gone

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soft, and lost the will to rule. In the name of “democracy”, he spinelessly hands over the fruits of his ancestors.’19 Despite disbelief in African advancement and the inherent impossibility of them governing themselves, the main argument put forward by Spearhead and the NF was an extreme and far-fetched one completely outside the mainstream. For key NF figures, Tyndall and Martin Webster, Rhodesia reflected the frontiers of a global race war which, it was predicted, would have apocalyptic consequences. They were thus less interested in old-fashioned colonial ideas of the need to ‘protect’ Africans and their hatred and suspicion for them shone through when discussing the physical threat posed by liberated Africans. ‘Race war runs rampant throughout the continent of Africa. Rape, Robbery, and murder manifest themselves everywhere’, argued Spearhead’s inaugural article.20 Spearhead also sought to draw links between events in Africa and the social upheaval being witnessed in western democracies. Spearhead argued that black nationalism in Rhodesia and Africa was part of a global trend, demonstrating a violent and apocalyptic tone. The white race, wherever it could be found, was increasingly threatened by blacks during a period when, as quoted above, ‘the white man has become soft’. ‘The war is not confined to Africa. It threatens to spread everywhere in the world where the once supreme white man relaxes his grip and embraces the modern myths of “racial equality” and the “brotherhood of man”.’21 Events in Rhodesia could not be separated from the influx of immigration from the West Indies to Britain or the Civil Rights movement in the United States. This reflects a crucial aspect of Spearhead’s imperial rhetoric. No longer were imperial issues discussed in isolation as ‘Empire issues’ nor were criticisms of imperial retreat merely signs of unpatriotic British governments: the ‘black peril’ was threatening all whites. Their arrival into the towns and streets of Britain was part of the same process which menaced her racial brethren in America and imperial issues acted as rhetorical devices through which racial conflict in Britain could be stirred: Flushed with the feeling of his new-found power, the Black man arrogantly seeks to impose the rule of the jungle on Britain and America. More of his sub-human brothers pour into Britain every year, bringing with them the same crime, disease, and filth by which their society is stamped in Africa.22

Fighting the winds of change The constitutional future of Rhodesia was deeply uncertain when Harold Macmillan arrived on Rhodesian soil in 1960 as part of the African tour which would culminate in his ‘Winds of Change’ speech to the South African Parliament. At that point, ‘Southern Rhodesia’ was part of the recently created Central African Federation (CAF) which had seen Northern and Southern Rhodesia as well as Nyasaland manacled together into a doomed federation in 1953. The British government had been calling for majority rule to be introduced since 1959 – but were

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in a weak position. First, and most importantly, Southern Rhodesia had experienced a high degree of independence compared to other colonies and had been almost entirely self-governing since the 1920s. Second, the fear and intransigence of white politicians towards reform in the context of an Africa transformed into independent, black majority-rule states (occasionally with violent outcomes, such as in the former Belgian Congo) meant negotiating was tough, if not impossible. White politicians in the colony had been toying with the idea of full independence from Britain in an attempt to resist majority rule being imposed, yet the British government had been unequivocal that it would not recognise a minority government without clear advances towards majority African rule.23 Extremely tentative steps were made with a new Constitution in 1961 which, although theoretically non-racially discriminatory, left governmental control and voting power firmly in the hands of whites. According to this new system, the previously common electoral roll was divided in two. Over 95 per cent of voters on the ‘A roll’ list were white and elected 50 representatives, whereas the ‘B roll’ list which operated on a more accessible franchise and with a majority African electorate, could only elect 15 legislative members. While nationalist leader Joshua Nkomo initially accepted the Constitution (before later rejecting it), more militant African nationalists such as Robert Mugabe were incensed, splitting the African opposition. The Salisbury government – led by Sir Edgar Whitehead – exhibited significant repression towards African opposition. Whitehead cracked down upon nationalist groups with draconian ‘security’ legislation such as the Unlawful Organisations Act (1959) leading to the imprisonment of hundreds. The Southern Rhodesia African National Congress had already been outlawed in 1959, followed by the promajority rule National Democratic Party (NDP) in 1961. The more militant Zimbabwe African People’s Union (ZAPU), founded by Joshua Nkomo, was banned in 1962. The actions of the government demonstrated that the white establishment was more interested in clamping down on African nationalists than on making the serious progress towards majority rule required to gain the British government’s acceptance of independence. They, along with much of world (particularly the Commonwealth) opinion, were becoming incensed by their inaction over advances to a multiracial constitution and the repression of political opponents. The 1961 Constitution reflected dismal failure on two accounts. It was ‘too outdated for African nationalist opposition and too reckless for many European voters who feared that African nationalism was sweeping violently down the continent and threatened to overwhelm them’.24 Whitehead had become deeply unpopular among the white electorate. The governing United Federal Party’s (UFP) rhetoric, which had introduced black voting through the Constitution, gave the impression that they did seek some form of multiracial government in the near future, alarming the 220,000-strong European population of Southern Rhodesia. When a new party – the Rhodesian Front (RF) – comprised of hard-liners on their right flank, was set up in 1962, the end of UFP control was imminent. The RF had a clear message and was unequivocally opposed to ‘partnership’ in the short,

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medium and long term. Furthermore, it was clear from their founding that they would seek independence for Rhodesia – legal or not, affirming that the party was ‘[loyal] to the person of the Queen, but rejects the principle of subordination to any external government’.25 The RF’s hard-line white supremacist stance favoured continued and strengthened racial segregation and rejected the possibility of African involvement in government, pledging to ‘ensure that the Government of Southern Rhodesia will remain in responsible hands’.26 Euphemistically (and in a similar manner to the South African apartheidist mantra of ‘separate development’), the party opposed ‘compulsory integration’, recognising ‘the right of government at all levels to provide separate facilities and amenities for the various groups to enable them to preserve their customs and way of life’.27 The RF claimed to believe in ‘the right of each community in Southern Rhodesia to preserve its own identity, traditions and customs’, yet this was clearly meant to imply preserving the superior social, political and economic rights over blacks rather than any form of genuine equality.28 Future Prime Minister Ian Smith described the RF’s approach to extending democratic participation to Africans as one of ‘gradualism’ based on merit, whereas in reality this enabled the postponement of majority rule indefinitely.29 As Smith told a crowd of followers in September 1964, to rapturous applause: The era of civilised control in Southern Rhodesia, isn’t estimated in a period of two years as some people have tried to. We don’t even stretch the era of civilisation in Southern Rhodesia to a hundred years. As far as we are concerned, it has got to be for all time.30 The RF was initially led by Winston Field and was swept to power in the December 1962 legislative election – much to the shock and indignation of the British government. The impending independence of Malawi (Nyasaland) and Zambia (Northern Rhodesia) meant that the CAF was finished and the British government worked to end it peacefully. By the end of 1963, however, the British and Rhodesian governments were no closer to agreeing a deal over its own constitutional future and had, if anything, drifted further apart following the intransigent stance of the RF government.31 Newly independent African countries in the Commonwealth demanded Britain take a tougher line with them, while the British government increasingly began to recognise that international opinion would not accept anything less than immediate steps to majority rule. In contrast, white Rhodesian voters were becoming dissatisfied with Winston Field’s government who had appeared to have achieved little in terms of safeguarding white rule since being swept to power on a platform of big promises. The League of Empire Loyalists (LEL) began to turn their attention more sharply to Rhodesia in the early 1960s as the final bastion of British imperial pride and white civilisation in Africa (along with South Africa), purportedly under threat from a degenerate liberal class in Britain and a global financial conspiracy.

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Chesterton had embarked on a tour of Africa in June 1957 (which included his doomed mission to found LEL branches in Kenya). He and Leslie Greene also went to Southern Rhodesia to promote the LEL’s message and, it has been claimed by modern-day admirers of Chesterton, almost certainly exaggeratingly, that he was ‘greeted like a VIP’. Allegedly being provided access to high-ranking politicians such as Governor of Southern Rhodesia, Sir Peveril William-Powlett and the Mayor of Salisbury, who he warned of ‘sinister American influences’, Chesterton also set up an LEL branch in Salisbury.32 Chesterton and the LEL campaigned heavily for an illegal UDI from British rule in order to maintain white minority rule in Rhodesia. Chesterton was unimpressed by RF leader and Prime Minister Winston Field, whom he pressured in the pages of Candour not to diverge from the RF’s policy of maintaining white rule. The enemies, for Chesterton, of Rhodesia’s destiny were ‘negrophilists’ in the colony itself and the British government, who would be committing ‘treason’ to ‘use its reserve powers and various pressures at its disposal to force the Southern Rhodesians to hand over their country to Black rule’.33 Chesterton saw the role of the British monarchy as crucial. He argued that the Rhodesian government should declare independence from control of the British government, while ‘affirming its allegiance to the British Crown and petitioning the Queen to extend her gracious protection to a Realm which has bravely cut adrift from Westminster and Whitehall’.34 While Chesterton was convinced that UDI was the only policy that the Rhodesian government should countenance, he accepted it was not a long-term strategy. During a speech at Meikle’s Hotel in Salisbury, made during one of several trips to Rhodesia in March 1964, he argued that ‘isolated and besieged White communities in Africa and elsewhere could hold their own as part of a short-term policy’, yet given the likelihood of economic sanctions and worldwide hostility, ‘for the middle and long terms it was unrealistic to imagine that there would be no need for relief to reach them – relief which could only come from the Mother Countries’. Therefore, UDI was a bargaining position to force the British government as well as the wider world to accept the continuation of white minority rule rather than a permanent dislocation. There was also a militant streak to Chesterton’s stance. He argued that the ‘menace of the North’ (referring to Zambia and Malawi) ‘would have to be met and overcome’, implying that a bloody war with Rhodesia’s black majority government neighbours was somewhat inevitable.35 Chesterton dismissed a key concern of the British government which influenced their pressure on Rhodesia to commit to majority rule – the attitudes of the Commonwealth. It was dismissed as a meaningless organisation which wrongly gave a voice to newly independent African states, whom he believed to be puppets controlled by powers hostile to Britain. Chesterton also calculated – in the end, correctly – that the British government would not use force to implement majority rule, therefore, making UDI an option with little risk attached. The significance of UDI was hyped up by Chesterton, who claimed that it could mark a turning point in Africa’s move towards black rule: ‘By a bold stand now Southern Rhodesia has in its power to reverse the entire trend in Africa and restore honour to the British world’.36

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Chesterton clearly understood the politics of UDI well and was also attuned to the mood in Rhodesia which was rapidly turning in favour of it. Yet two blatantly anachronistic stances clouded any realism in his advice to the Rhodesian government. The idea of the monarchy – particularly under the relatively inexperienced Queen Elizabeth II – overriding the advice of the British government over such a sensitive issue and supporting white minority rule in Rhodesia was a fantasy and would likely have led to any government’s collapse. Similarly, Chesterton’s racially motivated view that the Commonwealth was an irrelevant organisation in the matter and could be ignored was not practical. Following the Second World War and the Suez Crisis, the loosely organised Commonwealth reflected Britain’s diminished world status as an imperial world power and British interests in its (former) imperial sphere could not simply be dictated by London. Indeed, this had not been the case for several decades now, demonstrating Chesterton’s increasing distance from the reality of global politics and Britain’s power.

Ian Smith and UDI As soon as Smith became Prime Minister, he sought to pressurise the British government by preparing the country for independence in an attempt to force compromise favourable to continued white Rhodesian domination. He benefited from an increasingly weak opposition from domestic liberals who were failing to come up with a popular alternative to the RF’s increasingly jingoistic rhetoric. Furthermore, African opposition had also been crippled by Whitehead’s prohibitive legislation and Joshua Nkomo came under attack by many on his own side for his absenteeism (Nkomo spent much of his time abroad, trying to garner international support). Angered by Nkomo and the militant approach of ZAPU leaders, the party subsequently split – with the breakaway Zimbabwe African National Union led by Ndabaningi Sithole. By pure coincidence, Chesterton and LEL activist Monya Traill-Smith arrived in Salisbury on the day Smith became RF leader. Chesterton claimed to have had, ‘intensive discussion with him and several Cabinet ministers’, including Minister for Law and Order Clifford Dupont, where he is likely to have provided him with the same advice he had written in Candour on the need for UDI with a declaration of loyalty to the Queen. It is not clear whether Smith’s meeting with Chesterton was out of genuine respect for his opinion (Chesterton claimed that Smith was an avid reader of his work on conspiracy theory and Candour) or misapprehensions in the RF leadership over Chesterton’s influence within right-wing circles in Britain which, by 1964, were miniscule. Meetings were likely set up by Ivor Benson, Director of the Government Information Department, a powerful government agency responsible for official propaganda, who will be discussed in the next section. In addition to meetings with Smith, Chesterton was also interviewed on television where he gave an explicitly pro-white diatribe. He argued that ‘the White man everywhere in the world and especially in Africa had been far too long in retreat: the time had come for him to counter-attack’.37 However, it is clear from

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the interview that his LEL did not have a good reputation in Rhodesia. Chesterton insisted that he was only in Salisbury to try and promote ‘the idea of support’ for the LEL as opposed to ‘support itself’. When the interviewer questioned why the RF government would support the LEL, given that it is ‘over-militant’ and ‘has a bad name’, Chesterton responded by saying he did not expect government support. He nevertheless defended the LEL’s tactics, stating that ‘any movement which in the present situation lacked a militant approach altogether was futile’.38 It is for this reason, the LEL branch in Salisbury rebranded itself as The Candour League of Rhodesia, which, according to Chesterton, ‘almost everybody present, other than civil servants, expressed the desire to join’.39 Yet, upon his return, Chesterton was clearly irked by what he had experienced in Rhodesia and was sceptical of Smith’s desire for UDI. The reason for this is open to speculation but could be due to the negative perception of his LEL movement in the colony or possibly even due to only being given cursory meetings with Winston Field and Ian Smith, who in all likelihood dismissed his advice and conspiratorial view of politics which centred on malicious Jewish power. In Candour, he argued that support for white Rhodesians and advice given by LEL activists was not being fully appreciated with a thinly veiled dig at the white population: while Empire Loyalists in Great Britain and elsewhere in the British world are doing their utmost to rally support for their kinsman in Southern Rhodesia, it cannot be said that the Southern Rhodesians themselves are showing any marked clarity of thought or consistency of purpose.40 In Rhodesia, public support among whites for independence at all costs was, however, becoming increasingly obvious by Autumn 1964. Roy Welensky – former President of the CAF (1956–1963) and political grandee – was easily defeated in a by-election by Deputy Prime Minister Clifford DuPont in October, who had resigned his incumbent seat in order to stand against Welensky and demonstrate public support for the RF and independence. The campaign was an ugly one during a period described by Donal Lowry as one of increased ‘vulgarising of White Rhodesian politics’ – Welensky was heckled by a RF supporter as a ‘bloody Jew, a Communist, a traitor and a coward’.41 It is therefore clear that there was a market for LEL-style politics in the colony. The government also orchestrated two referendums for independence in October and November 1964 – one for the white electorate and one for tribal chiefs (known as an indaba). Both of which resulted in a majority for independence, but were clearly not representative of the population at large given that the vast majority of Africans were barred from voting. By September 1965, it became clear that it was purely a matter of when, rather than if, the Smith government would invoke UDI. Chesterton was clearly buoyed by its likelihood, but nevertheless continued to quibble with Smith’s style. He ultimately viewed Smith’s approach as insular and neglectful of the British world as a whole, continuing to insist that Smith should pledge loyalty to the Crown.

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Chesterton believed Rhodesia was an issue of global importance and could set an example to whites everywhere, rejecting the narrow-minded ‘Rhodesian nationalist’ view of Smith: People who cannot see that Europeans everywhere are under attack, both as national entities and as members of the White race, belong to the political kindergarten … nothing would delight [the enemies of white rule in Rhodesia] more than that the Rhodesians should cut their last spiritual bonds with Great Britain.42 Chesterton’s grand vision is further elucidated when he expressed his hope that there were in Rhodesia: Maturer minds to perceive the necessity of helping to re-light that flame of the British spirit which could enable us indeed to go it alone, and enable our friends and allies to go it alone, by re-establishing a shared vision of the values of the Christendom, of the common aims and duties imposed by Western civilisation and of the special responsibility that must lie with the White race once it has emerged from the liberal slime in which for the most part it now wallows.43 In October 1965, Chesterton visited South Africa in an attempt to galvanise support for Rhodesia and visited Rhodesia itself, meeting with Ian Smith and being interviewed on TV once again. Therefore, despite Chesterton’s veiled criticisms, Smith evidently still valued his counsel. A lack of documentation of their meetings nevertheless makes it difficult to gauge the true nature of their relationship and the extent to which Smith took his advice on board.44 On 11 November 1965, Smith formally declared UDI. Less than a month after Harold Wilson’s Labour Party won a slim majority in the October general election, Wilson’s insistence that he would not use military force to bring Rhodesia to heel in the event of UDI during a TV broadcast on 30 October provided a significant motivation for Smith to act. Wilson’s announcement was, in later years, described as ‘insane’ by cabinet minister Denis Healey.45 Wilson, while never being able to please neither those who were sympathetic to white Rhodesians or those in favour of majority rule, did respond with economic sanctions designed to cripple the Rhodesian economy. Shortly after UDI, embargoes were announced on 95 per cent of the country’s exports to Britain, particularly hitting Rhodesia‘s lucrative tobacco and sugar markets. An oil embargo was also announced in December. Yet, the latter in particular proved frustratingly ineffective. Governments sympathetic to Rhodesia in Portuguese Mozambique and South Africa – who controlled the ports where oil was imported – helped Rhodesia circumvent it. Chesterton and Candour were enthralled by Smith’s decision and saw it as a rallying call for the fightback against decolonisation. The LEL were buoyed by UDI, seeing it as vindication of their previous stance and evidence of influence over

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Smith. The A. K. Chesterton Trust, writing in 2014, argued that it saw the LEL receive ‘a boost to its fortunes’ and that ‘Chesterton was proud that Smith had taken up and acted upon the advice he had been given on becoming the Prime Minister’.46 There is no evidence, however, that support for the LEL grew after UDI nor that Smith’s action had been influenced by Chesterton. Candour sought to ride upon the wave of UDI, lionising white Rhodesians as the heroes of a fightback against the end of white rule in Africa and the global conspiracy. Candour rapturously reported: For the first time since the helter-skelter retreat of Europeans before the onrush of barbarism, backed by alien finance, began, a British community has dared to stand fast, declare unswerving allegiance to the Crown and defy, not only a British Government but the entire finance-regimented world, determined to prize it out of the land which it tamed, civilized and made prosperous.47 Rhodesia and Ian Smith, it was proclaimed, had restored faith in the ability of Britain’s colonies to reverse the trend towards native rule by performing ‘what seemed at one time a deed which no British nation retained the nerve to carry through’, they had ‘rescued from the abyss of cancerous political degeneracy the heroic thing which is the soul of the British peoples’.48 Chesterton dared to dream that ‘the fortitude of Rhodesia in resisting abominable pressures, external and internal, will not only stop the dry-rot, but lead to a general British and European counter-attack against the rampant subversive financial and political interests’. As this suggests, he ultimately saw UDI as a fightback against ‘international finance’ and the global conspiracy, noting that ‘jackal administrations elsewhere have already aligned themselves with London, which itself is only a front for the dominant Wall-st finance-houses’. Nevertheless, impassioned rhetoric ultimately celebrated UDI as a rallying call for the resurgence of the British Empire, hoping that it would ‘serve as a beacon to reawaken Britons everywhere on earth their historic will to greatness.’49 Chesterton revelled in his claim to have influenced Smith’s expression of loyalty to the British Crown in the text of the independence declaration, which ended with ‘God Save the Queen’. He had been anxious to ensure that Rhodesia did not declare itself a republic and it appeared that his advice to Smith – that loyalty to the Queen was an essential prerequisite for support in Britain – had been heeded. Indeed, Smith had made his support for the British monarchy explicit in his TV address announcing UDI: Let there be no doubt that we in this country stand second to none in our loyalty to the Queen, and whatever other countries may have done or yet to do, it is our intention that the Union Jack will continue to fly in Rhodesia and the National Anthem continue to be sung.50

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Yet this masked the tepid nature of the RF’s purely rhetorical support for the monarchy’s continued de jure rule in Rhodesia. While there was an explicit pledge of loyalty within the UDI, the Queen’s representative in Rhodesia – Sir Humphrey Gibbs – was dismissed from his role by Smith and his office was replaced by the post of ‘Officer Administering the Government’, which in practice meant that the monarchy’s role had ended. Dupont recounted: It was quite obvious that in spite of the burning loyalty of all Rhodesians to the Queen, she could not, as a Constitutional Monarch, be permitted to associate in any way with a country which her Government regarded, rightly or wrongly as illegal.51 Chesterton did turn his tough rhetoric on Rhodesia into direct action when he organised and took part in several sanctions-busting petrol convoys in 1966. He and other activists (mostly those based in South Africa) drove hundreds of miles from South Africa to Rhodesia with fuel and were met by Ian Smith as they arrived in Salisbury. The convoys appear to have revitalised the League’s reputation in Rhodesia and, it was claimed by Chesterton, that membership of the Candour League had reached 3,000.52 Being at the front line clearly energised Chesterton, and he described the convoys as ‘one of the most stimulating experiences of my life’. Again, Chesterton depicted Rhodesia as the Britain of old, where one could live the life of a nineteenth-century imperial adventurer: Rhodesia is the only country in the world today where a Briton can find reflected in a community largely of British descent the strength of mind and the unrelenting tenacity which through the ages were among the chief characteristics of our race.53 Spearhead took a similar approach in lionising Ian Smith’s decision to declare UDI and criticising the response of the British government. John Tyndall stated that unequivocally: ‘We are passionately and unequivocally for Ian Smith. The present establishment in Britain is, in varying degrees of passion and equivocation, against him. We are utterly convinced of the moral rightness of our own viewpoint’.54 Tyndall drew somewhat far-fetched comparisons between UDI and American history: ‘What will history view of the Rhodesian crisis? Will it ultimately be the same as is now the case with the American Declaration of Independence two centuries before …?’55 For Tyndall, the symbolic value of Rhodesia as the front line of the white fightback against black rule in Africa in addition to its mineral wealth meant it was ‘a monumental national asset – more precious than all our nuclear power stations, all our jet aircraft, all our car factories, all our motorways, canals and harbours’.56 Similarly, the British National Party (BNP), while generally concerning themselves with domestic issues, highlighted the global significance of UDI. John Bean argued that Rhodesia’s stand reflected ‘the most crucial issue that has faced the British people during the past five years’ existence of the British National Party’,

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which had ‘far greater implications than merely the survival of European civilisation in Rhodesia’.57 Ian Smith was similarly lionised as the saviour of white civilisation and ’Western man everywhere may have found the man by whose actions the selfinflicted decline of Western power may be brought to a halt’.58

Conspiracy theory While a patronising, pessimistic and hostile attitude to blacks in Rhodesia laid the foundation for the far right’s support for white rule and UDI in Rhodesia, conspiracy theory was another key element and in keeping with far right imperial ideology since the 1920s. Both Chesterton and Tyndall saw events in Rhodesia entirely through a conspiratorial lens, which argued that ‘international money power’, as has been established consistently throughout this study, meaning code for Jewish world conspiracy, was behind them. This often intersected with their white racial supremacist understanding of events in Rhodesia. African nationalism was not an organic or natural phenomenon, they argued but directed purposefully by elite international interests. African nationalism must be being controlled from outside forces, it was argued, because Africans are not capable of political organisation. Such a view, as will be demonstrated, found much currency in Rhodesia itself and the conspiratorial ideas of the British far right were influential in the higher reaches of the RF state. Writing in The New Unhappy Lords in 1964, Chesterton described Southern Rhodesia as ‘one of the two remaining bastions of White civilization in Africa wherein the White communities are large enough, for the present at least, to manage their own affairs without the support of metropolitan countries.’59 Therefore, he theorised that international ‘money power’ had designs on the colony in order to isolate South Africa – a bastion of mineral wealth to be exploited for their own ends. A name that regularly appears as being an influential representative of money power was Harry Oppenheimer, a Jewish-South African businessman who chaired the Anglo-American Corporation and De Beers – both mining companies. While his significant wealth cannot be disputed, Chesterton vastly exaggerated the political power this bestowed upon him, describing him as ’head of the vast complex of interests which holds most of Rhodesia’s bonds and which dominates the gold, diamond and newspaper industries in the Republic.’60 Chesterton argued that events in 1964 and Ian Smith’s increasingly transparent attempts to invoke UDI in Rhodesia had motivated ‘money power’ to intervene in Rhodesia and attempt to destroy white minority rule. The Indaba conference (a meeting of tribal chiefs) which purportedly gave approval for UDI from the African leaders alarmed ‘international finance’ and drove them to exert considerable influence over Smith. Following the Indaba, Chesterton argues, it was at this point that ‘the local branch, as it were, of the International Money Power intervened’. Then, shortly before a referendum among the white electorate over independence was held, Chesterton argued that whites were threatened and pressured to vote against: ‘these interests, which held nearly all the Rhodesian bonds, brought out a

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statement, only a few days before the referendum, in which was set out every possible economic disadvantage which could attend unilateral action’.61 The result was hardly fatal to the cause of independence – over 90 per cent voted for independence, albeit on a low turnout of 62 per cent. Yet, Chesterton saw the government’s decision to drop a mandatory requirement to vote as the result of it being influenced by ‘money power’ in an attempt to delegitimise the result (through low turnout), and subsequently weaken support for independence and continued white rule. The RF, it was claimed, were being held back by elite interests from implementing the will of the people. Given that The New Unhappy Lords was published shortly before Ian Smith did in fact declare UDI, Chesterton’s theory is significantly weakened. His argument that Smith was being blocked was proved to be demonstrably false a matter of months later – though much to Chesterton’s delight. When UDI was achieved in November 1965, it only strengthened Chesterton’s view that international money power was out to destroy an independent Rhodesia. Writing in January 1966, Chesterton argued that ‘Wall Street’ was ‘well advanced’ in its attempts to subdue Rhodesia to its interests, due to it being one of the last remaining territories in Africa where American Communist subversion – that is to say, in effect, the New York Money Power – has still to replace a responsible White government with an irresponsible and infinitely more malleable Black government.62 Wilson’s strategy of economic sanctions was further evidence of international designs by Jewish financiers seeking to control Rhodesia and he ‘could not possible have created a better impression on the money-lenders than he did by his uttering of menaces to Rhodesia. His action is explicable in no other terms.’63 Chesterton initially saw Ian Smith – who replaced an exasperated Winston Field in April 1964 – as someone who would be willing to take on the malicious power interests highlighted in The New Unhappy Lords and Candour. On the surface, there was much that the far right and Smith had in common. Both were unabashed white supremacists and conspiratorially-minded. Smith, according to Bill Schwarz, viewed blacks as ‘close to a primitive state of nature; and in that consequence they would not be “ready” to take control of their own affairs until long into the future.’64 Smith and the far right also both insisted on the need for continued white domination of Rhodesia and were prepared to use illegal means to maintain it. Smith also viewed Rhodesia’s enemies through the lens of a communist conspiracy, failing to appreciate or acknowledge that majority rule was anything other than a front for communist rule. While Smith’s vision of an anti-white communist conspiracy sweeping across Africa lacked the antisemitism of Chesterton’s, he nevertheless promoted a similarly extreme view to Chesterton, that the desire for majority rule was not a sincerely held position by Africans and their supporters but the product of manipulation and subversive activity by the enemies of Rhodesia. Furthermore, Smith’s tenure as

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Prime Minister saw conspiracy theory become official government policy and a crucial part of state-controlled propaganda. There was thus a distinct collaboration of ideas between the far right in Britain and the RF government under Smith, even if it is unclear the extent to which one influenced the other. The RF government from 1964 ‘set about an unprecedented attempt to gain control of the broadcasting media’ and Smith appointed South African P.K. van der Byl as Minister of Information, Immigration and Tourism, who ‘established effective monopoly control over both radio and television’.65 Van der Byl has been described by Elaine Windrich as a ‘fanatical right-wing extremist’.66 The RF believed the press – which they could only control via censorship – was deeply hostile to their aims and therefore sought to dominate television and radio, which ’put out little except RF propaganda’.67 Windrich has drawn (qualified) comparisons between the RF’s use of state-controlled media under Ian Smith and Nazi Germany, both in terms of its devotion to the governing party, and the ‘fabrication of scapegoats’ which were ‘held responsible for a worldwide conspiracy against Rhodesia’. These included ‘the United Nations, the Organization of African Unity, the World Council of Churches, the BBC, the State Department, the communists, the “seedy liberals” [and] “the left-wing press”’.68 Ivor Benson provides the most significant link between the conspiratorial politics of the RF government and the British far right when he was appointed Director of the Government Information Department (GID) in 1964. Benson had been born to Swedish parents in South Africa and worked as a journalist before moving to Britain, where he wrote for the Daily Express and Daily Telegraph. Benson moved back to South Africa after serving in the Second World War and was sacked by The Rand Daily Mail for writing an editorial supportive of Oswald Mosley while Mosley was staying at his house during a visit to South Africa. The appointment of Benson – a virulent conspiracy theorist who often contributed to Spearhead and RF supporter – to what had previously been a civil service role, demonstrates the influence Smith was prepared to afford the far right in key roles in his administration. British intelligence noted Benson’s ‘Mosleyite’ sympathies and role in directing official government propaganda, which they accurately described as ‘vitriolic’ towards Harold Wilson and the British government, designed to discredit ‘the British Government to such a degree that all (European) Rhodesians would fall in solidly behind the [RF] regime’.69 Benson’s personal involvement was significant, and he changed the structure of the GID and created a new overseas unit. Propaganda in support of the RF became more sophisticated, evolving from ‘simple information to interpretive articles, speeches, lectures and direct counter-propaganda’70 Benson himself was responsible for much of the content, and set about delegitimising the free press and promoting a Rhodesia under siege from an international communist conspiracy. His writings were clearly influenced by Chesterton and has been described as ‘genuinely obsessed by the conspiracy theories dear to the Rhodesian Front mentality. He preached the doctrine that an alliance of Moscow, Peking, Wall Street, the BBC and the World Council of Churches was plotting to overthrow the Smith regime.’71

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Benson’s own writings bear all the hallmarks of Chesterton’s. Know Your Enemy (1963) is an alarmist anti-Communist tract which attacks both liberals and communists as stooges of a global conspiracy. While it is less obviously antisemitic than Chesterton’s work, it nevertheless similarly views world events as a manipulated conspiracy controlled by financiers: ‘All shades of the Left from the pale pink of the Liberal to the deep-red of the Communist, are to be found in the forces which money-power directs against a local patriotism that threatens its political power’.72 The Opinion Makers (1967) is similar in tone and content and is praised in Spearhead as ‘one of the most important books of our times’.73 Described as a study into ‘information, propaganda and psychological warfare’, Benson uses his experience in the GID to demonstrate how media is dominated by socialists and liberals bent on Marxist indoctrination.74 Benson would be more explicitly antisemitic in later life, notably his book, The Zionist Factor: A Study of the Jewish Presence in 20th Century History (1986), writings for the Holocaust-denying Journal of Historical Review and his own newsletter Behind the News. Benson ultimately lasted two years in his post. his paranoid, conspiratorial and hard-line approach was deeply controversial among more moderate and liberal members of the white community. Furthermore, he failed in attempts to win international support for the RF government and only succeeded in winning over other conspiracy theorists and extremists, such as the NF and the John Birch Society in the United States – themselves discredited and unlikely to have any success in influencing their government’s approach to Rhodesia.75 Benson founded the Candour League of Rhodesia with the like-minded Harvey Ward, who would become Director of the Rhodesian Broadcasting Corporation (Rhodesia’s state-controlled broadcaster). The Candour League’s founders (which included Van der Byl) aimed to pressure the RF from the right against any compromises towards majority rule and sought to inject a siege mentality into Rhodesian politics which focused on a global conspiracy seeking to destroy the country. Their magazine, Rhodesia and World Report, was similar to Candour, yet took on an increasingly anti-British tone towards the late 1960s, which helps explain Chesterton’s increasing disenchantment with the group.76

The Monday Club and the Anglo-Rhodesian Society The far right was not alone in their support for continued white minority rule in Rhodesia and were part of a larger ‘Rhodesia lobby’ on the right of British politics. The broader Rhodesia lobby sought to promote support for the Ian Smith and the RF government, campaign against the sanctions imposed by Harold Wilson and in favour of a constitutional settlement which maintained ‘responsible government’ in the colony as laid down in the 1961 Constitution. The two main organisations in Britain promoting the cause of whites in Rhodesia originated from the Tory right: the Monday Club (MC) and the AngloRhodesian Society (ARS). Both groups contained the same key figures, such as Lord Salisbury and Patrick Wall, and had overlapping membership. The far right –

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after 1965 represented predominantly by the NF – represented the most extreme supporters of continued white rule, openly supporting the illegal action of UDI which many others within the lobby were publicly opposed to or uncomfortable with. They were also less afraid to openly (and often crudely) state the racial dimension of their attitude to Rhodesia, while many in the more moderate Rhodesia lobby (implausibly) argued that their support for Smith had nothing to do with race. The Rhodesian lobby, as a whole, was ineffective and ultimately failed to rally the public in support of Ian Smith and Rhodesia. The presence of other supporters of white rule in Rhodesia presented both opportunities and threats to the far right. The fact that the majority of supporters of Smith were well-connected Conservative MPs and Peers meant that campaigning on the issue was more likely to be effective in changing government policy than if they were on their own. This was noted by John Tyndall, who argued that the MC had [a] distinct advantage over any other: it does not lie outside the mainstream of politics in this country but firmly within it. Advocates for the principle of action within the Conservative Party, rather than through ‘fringe parties’, have this powerful argument to support them – that precedent in Britain is on their side.77 The MC and ARS therefore could have provided the far right with access to the levers of power and the potential to have more influence over government policy should they cannily ally themselves with them. Indeed, prior to the NF’s foundation, many pro-Rhodesia members of the LEL had started to drift to the MC and ARS after UDI, recognising the futility of fringe politics.78 There thus was far more to gain from any alliance for the far right than more moderate supporters of Rhodesia. The NF were viewed as extreme by a majority even within the MC and thus any links could have serious political and electoral implications for MPs and Peers. Tyndall himself accepted that MC members were likely to be unwilling to support the NF in public even if they agreed: ‘We know very well that the MC has to play a careful game. The many good friends we have among its rank-and-file members and junior officials are continually pointing out to us this fact.’79 While there was therefore at least an understanding of the challenges faced by Tory groups, little was done to bridge the divide. Furthermore, the broad ‘Rhodesia lobby’ was divided over attitudes and policies relating to Rhodesia which meant a cohesive opposition to the Labour and Conservative’s bipartisan policy was impossible. The far right criticised Tory pro-Rhodesia groups as being weak and soft, while the MC and ARS sought to distance themselves from the extreme views of Chesterton and Tyndall. The latter fundamentally viewed the issue of Rhodesia through the lens of race and conspiracy theory. They argued that Rhodesia was fighting against ‘international money power’ represented by elite Jews in the US and the Soviet Union and African nationalists were little more than degenerate puppets of a grand masterplan

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designed to wipe out the white race. While softer versions of racism and conspiracy theory can be found in the Rhodesia lobby more broadly, they were far more interested in promoting a patrician view of Empire which called for ‘eventual’ responsible government, never publicly ruling out majority rule as an ideal (though, it must be said that ‘some Monday Club members made comments that suggested “eventual” was synonymous with “never”’).80 It was this ‘moderation’ both in rhetoric and ideals, that angered the far right and saw them attack what could have been useful allies. The MC and ARS were ultimately promoting a stance more in line with the RF government, rather than the far right, who used the issue to highlight a wider ideological world-view. The MC were the most vocal supporters of Ian Smith’s regime within the Conservative Party. They supported continued and indefinite white rule in Rhodesia, which made them out of step with much of the rest of a party divided ‘in three pieces’ between opponents and supporters of Smith, as well as those who sought a middle road.81 The right-wing Tory Ginger Group was founded in 1961 in order to promote what they saw as traditional conservative issues. However, the impetus for the group’s founding was recent developments: criticism of Commonwealth immigration and Harold Macmillan’s administration’s acceptance of decolonisation typified by his 1960 ‘Winds of Change’ speech (the name of the club commemorating the day the speech was made: ‘black Monday’).82 Support for white rule in Rhodesia became one of the central planks of the MC’s criticism of decolonisation which was seen as both a tragic abdication of responsibility by the British government and evidence of the growth of subversive communist movements worldwide. The MC’s position on Rhodesia was ultimately based on support for the status quo and continued white minority rule. They did not openly support UDI, but regularly excused it and tacitly endorsed Smith’s actions. A febrile event at Central Hall, Westminster, in February 1966 saw the key figures in the MC outline their stance on Rhodesia. John Biggs-Davison MP claimed that the MC ‘deplore U.D. I., but we understand at least their reasons for it’ and expressed firm opposition to Wilson’s policy of economic sanctions.82 Wilson was, according to Biggs-Davison, ‘pursuing a terrible vendetta against Mr Smith’ which was damaging Britain’s economy and global reputation. His solution was a negotiated settlement based on legally recognised independence under the 1961 Constitution (entertaining the possibility of added safeguards for Africans).83 Patrick Wall MP also expressed opposition to sanctions as well as somewhat implausibly adding that Africans were perfectly happy under the 1961 Constitution. Speakers, including Lord Salisbury and Julian Amery, all expressed concern at the potential use of force against Rhodesia. Enoch Powell, not a member of the MC but someone very much associated with the Tory right, similar criticised Britain’s response to UDI as part of a wider critique of the Commonwealth. He argued that Rhodesia’s UDI was merely the expression of political reality and Britain had no legal grounds for its refusal.84 As can be seen, their stance of support both in style and substance differed greatly from the far right.

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As Mark Pitchford has noted, the MC ultimately engaged in ‘doublespeak’ on Rhodesia – not supporting UDI but rejecting any form of punishment for it such as sanctions; and claiming to want majority rule but not specifying when.85 While the 1961 Constitution which they supported was not in theory racially discriminatory and could in theory lead to more black than white voters eventually joining the electoral roll, it was a fantasy to believe that this could satisfy African political aspirations and disingenuous to argue otherwise. They were at pains to argue that continued white minority rule was not a racially-motivated policy but that ‘responsible’ government would be beneficial for Africans and whites. The extent to which these were sincerely held views or merely for public consumption to mask a more naked white supremacism can only be speculation. However, what is clear is the far right’s public position differed significantly. They revelled in ideas of white domination and made it abundantly clear that African opinion was irrelevant to them. Tyndall attacked the MC as being weak on the issue of Rhodesia, principally for failing to understand the role of race and anti-white conspiracy. While he praised Harold Soref and Ian Grieg for their conspiratorial book The Puppeteers, he noted correctly that it was not a mainstream view in the MC and was not advertised by the group as a recommended publication. He argued that while the club had ‘condemned sanctions’, it had made ‘no firm defence of whites in Southern Africa in their fight for survival’.86 Tyndall poured particular scorn on figures within the MC leadership, such as Lord Salisbury, who, it was alleged, ‘is on record as favouring “majority rule”’. Salisbury, and MC and ARS leading figure Patrick Wall, ‘have not been distinguished by any resolute fight against internationalism and the betrayal of Britain over the past two decades.’87 Tyndall was more sympathetic to the rank and file MC members. After controversially addressing a local club meeting in Chelmsford, Essex, he argued that ‘an altogether better impression of the Monday Club is gained by meeting its members at grass roots level than by examining the words and actions of its hierarchy’.88 For Tyndall, support for Ian Smith was not adequate. One had to promote the global conspiracy which underpinned the Rhodesia crisis and emphasise the racial menace which majority rule represented to all whites. The ARS’s attitude to Rhodesia was barely distinguishable from the MC’s and many of the same figures dominated. It was claimed by its President Lord Salisbury that the society existed merely ‘to promote good relations between Great Britain and Rhodesia’.89 Andrew Skeen, Rhodesia’s last High Commissioner to London, outlined the principles which guided the ARS in a 1966 pamphlet entitled, ‘The Case for Independence’, which was published by the ARS. Skeen’s argument ultimately revolved around Rhodesia being a stable and successful colony for both whites and blacks. He argued that the 1961 Constitution enabled the possibility of gradual African involvement in politics and would eventually lead to majority rule anyway and thus did not need to be altered. UDI, he argued, was the only reasonable response when under such hostile pressure to impose majority rule from Britain and the Commonwealth, who failed to understand the realities of Rhodesia. Britain, he

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argued, had no right to intervene in Rhodesia’s affairs and impose majority rule in Rhodesia due to its unique status as a self-governing colony.90 Spearhead argued that the ARS could become an ally of the far right, however, much like the MC, they believed them to be weak and soft. One rally in November 1966 organised by the ARS outside the Royal Albert Hall was attended by far right followers from the BNP, the GBM and the LEL. The ARS was praised in Spearhead for attracting ‘many of the best patriotically minded spirits in the country, particularly among its rank-and-file followers’ and its ‘excellent work in demonstrating how much public opinion is against present Labour policy on Rhodesia’. However, scorn was poured over the group’s leadership. The anonymous writer in Spearhead was ‘appalled at the chicken-hearted spirit of compromise shown by almost all the speakers’ including Reginald Paget and Duncan Sandys. In particular, Paget was criticised for ‘condemning “racialism”’: ‘what is the Rhodesian issue if not a racial issue?’ and all speakers were castigated for apparent criticism of Ian Smith. The ultimate crime, however, was the failure to totally oppose majority rule: ‘the idea of a Black-dominated Rhodesia was accepted; it was merely suggested that it be postponed’.91 Ultimately, failure to abide totally with the far right’s hard-line stance on Rhodesia resulted in the condemnation of the ARS. The ARS was at pains to distance themselves from far right infiltration, which many members complained about. One activist wrote to leading figure, Patrick Wall MP, speaking of her worry over ‘the number of racialists using our Society merely for furthering their own ends, and who care nothing for Rhodesia’.92 Yet, other members clearly disagreed. One argued that while he did not agree with the BNP or LEL, ‘there are several people in the National Front who have respectable opinions which could be put to some use in the Conservative movement’. He went on: Inevitably in this type of organisation I think one is bound to meet up with people in extremist parties: on the particular issue of Rhodesia I find myself more in agreement with John Bean and A.K. Chesterton than I do with Ted Heath and it seems to me that the divided opinion on a number of issues in the parliamentary Conservative Party is cause for greater concern than the presence of so-called fascist elements in the Anglo-Rhodesian Society.93

Smith the traitor Despite the joy and sense of triumph brought to the far right by UDI, it did not take long for both Chesterton and Tyndall to turn on Ian Smith and denounce him as a failure. After his initial lionising as a hero, he was quickly castigated as a weak sell-out and criticised for being all-too-willing to compromise on permanent white minority rule. While both Candour and Spearhead would continue to support white minority rule, they denounced Rhodesia’s political leadership – seeing their compromises and failures as evidence of a lack of will as well as proof of a global

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conspiracy. Despite Smith’s obvious intransigence when it came to negotiations with the British government, it would be his perceived lack of it which saw the far right withdraw support for him. Suspicions of imminent betrayal began when Smith went to the negotiating table with Harold Wilson in December 1966. Given that sanctions had not had the desired effect of crippling Rhodesia’s economy, Smith was in the possession of a strong hand when he met with Wilson for a summit aboard HMS Tiger. Wilson presented Smith with a number of concessions – most notably delaying majority rule – and was himself subjected to criticism from many in his own party as well as the Commonwealth for ‘appeasement’. Yet Smith rejected Wilson’s terms and no agreement was reached. It is possible that he was holding out for a General Election in Britain which would return a Conservative government more favourable to white aspirations.94 More importantly, however, he was under intense pressure by the RF’s right-wing, including William Harper and Lord Graham who were not interested in a negotiated settlement and wanted to move Rhodesia towards ‘full scale apartheid’.95 Smith later described his battle against the right of his party, whom he accused of believing ‘that the answer was to produce a racially divisive constitution and break off all contact with the British government.’96 It would be Smith’s desire for a settlement, which ultimately put him at odds with both the right in his own party and the British far right, who saw compromise as defeat. Chesterton claimed that Smith’s reputation for stubbornness and hard-line position was not entirely deserved and was being used merely as a bargaining tool. Implying that his tough stance was being forced upon him by more stalwart colleagues in government: Despite the fact that Mr. Ian Smith receives a monopoly of applause, Rhodesia owes its temporary salvation very much less to him than it does to his Government colleagues, and to them perhaps very much less than to the Rhodesian Front.97 The very fact that Smith met with Wilson aboard the Tiger was to ‘condition Rhodesian public opinion for the acceptance of some sort of climb-down’ and that ‘Rhodesia has had a very, very narrow escape’.98 To some extent, Chesterton was right in that Smith was prepared to accept many of the constitutional proposals discussed, such as the acceptance of steps towards majority rule. Yet, Chesterton was unable or unwilling to accept the pressures Smith was under. It is not clear whether he sincerely held the belief that Smith held all the cards and Rhodesia could exist indefinitely with minority rule against British, Commonwealth and UN opinion. However, it was simply not credible. Chesterton now claimed that while he had Great liking and respect for the man Smith … I would be untrue to my readers and myself if I allowed that admiration in any way to colour my assessment of Smith the politician and prevent a cool appraisal of his policies in relation to what I conceived to be the final objective.99

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In the article sarcastically entitled ‘Old Smithy Will See Us Through’, Chesterton criticised white Rhodesians’ blind following of the Prime Minister, expressing alarm at the ‘willingness of their leader to give a single moment’s thought’ to the ‘deadly compromise proposals’ he had seemed prepared to accept during the Wilson talks.100 Demonstrating an increasingly paranoid attitude, he questioned Smith’s trustworthiness, pondering whether he knew what Smith’s attitude towards the future of Rhodesia was at all: I want to know who Smith is. The man who has implied that there will be no black rule in his lifetime? The man who foresees Black rule within twenty years? The man who, at a more recent press conference, foreshortened that period to about eight years or less?101 Chesterton appeared either oblivious to or unwilling to accept or understand Smith’s strategy of standing firm while appeasing opponents rhetorically by suggesting he was open to majority rule eventually. Chesterton’s fears were reconfirmed when Smith met Wilson for another summit aboard HMS Fearless. Similar terms were offered to Smith as in 1966, who, again under pressure from hard-liners within his own party, refused to accept (though given opposition within the Labour Party outraged by their leader’s ‘appeasement’ of Smith, it is unlikely Wilson would have been able to sell anything that was agreed at home). To Chesterton’s despair, after Fearless, Smith defeated the threat from the right of his party – narrowly winning a vote in support of ‘ultimate racial parity of political representation’ – a move which meant little in practice but symbolically appeared to confirm his acceptance of eventual majority rule.102 Die-hard William Harper had been ousted from the Cabinet (after it was discovered he had had an affair with a British spy) and James Graham, Seventh Duke of Montrose, had resigned, yet negotiations with Wilson had failed and would not be reopened. Chesterton’s sniping at Smith clearly irked many of his supporters in Rhodesia which ironically mirrored a growing distance between Rhodesians’ own attachment to Britain. In a manner reminiscent of the LEL branch in Kenya, he fell out with the head of ‘a movement there [Rhodesia] with which we have been associated’, possibly referring to the Candour League. The leader (if it was the Candour League, Ian Anderson) had written to Chesterton stating: ‘Candour and Loyalist policy has no relevance to the Rhodesian situation and has therefore been thrown overboard’. Criticism from the unnamed individual argued that they could not support the LEL’s old-fashioned policy of loyalty to the Crown, in addition: We in Rhodesia … find little in common with Britain these days nor with some of the White Dominions. It is a matter of geography which separates us. Just as we consider that Canada’s destiny lies with the U.S.A., so does our future lie in Southern Africa and we have common interests, common problems of economics and defense with the Republic of South Africa and Portuguese colonies.103

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Regardless of who wrote the letter, it was not a new problem for far right imperialists seeking to influence the affairs of a Crown Colony, as Chesterton was. Much like the failure of the BUF’s Imperial Fascist Union could be put down to growing dominion nationalism in the 1930s, it appears that while Chesterton and many white supremacists in Rhodesia agreed on major issues such as race and the need for white rule, they differed over the question of Rhodesia’s constitutional future. The dispute ultimately revolved around Rhodesia’s relationship with the Crown, with Chesterton believing that colonies should remain united under the British monarchy. It would ultimately be Smith’s decision to eschew the Crown and move towards a republic which would fatally destroy his reputation among the far right in Britain. Rhodesia’s ties to the monarchy had been crucial in the run-up and immediate aftermath of UDI in terms of maintaining the support of white settlers – deeply loyal to the Crown – for such a draconian action. The RF took pains to ensure all the trappings of the colony’s connection to the monarchy, such as Army and Air Force Royal prefixes and insignia, visibly remained.104 Thus, initially, they had sought to present UDI as a ‘loyal rebellion’ – illegal but in the spirit of obedience to the British Crown, rather than the government of the day.105 A paradox was therefore always inherent in the RF’s decision to act illegally but pledge loyalty to the Queen. Shortly before UDI in 1965, Smith told the Rhodesian Parliament that they accepted Elizabeth as ‘the Queen of Rhodesia and we are loyal to her in that category, in that definition’, yet [She] is a figurehead and she has to act on the advice of her Ministers … We have said, and I wish to repeat, we will never be bound by decisions made by governments in Britain, governments which might change from time to time.106 While Smith had therefore always sought to frame UDI as an act firmly within the British tradition, the door was always open to dislocation from the monarchy. The reality of Smith’s attachment to monarchy became increasingly obvious in the years immediately after UDI. Rhodesia could not simultaneously function as an independent state and abide by legal royal powers. For example, the Privy Council held the highest legal authority for the carrying out of death sentences. Yet, in 1967, it was ignored by four out of five high court judges in Rhodesia (including the Chief Justice) and gave approval for the execution of three Africans found guilty of murder.107 By 1969, Lowry argues that ‘unrequited monarchism had worn thinner’ among the white population in Rhodesia.108 The continued failure of talks with Britain which made a settlement unlikely, coupled with increased anti-British sentiment in the colony ramped up by RF propaganda, meant its movement towards a republican constitution was somewhat inevitable. Smith rationalised the move towards a republic in his memoirs by accepting that it was a difficult decision for him as someone who ‘from birth had been ingrained with the ideals of the British Empire’, yet it had become ‘increasingly difficult for us to

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separate monarch and Empire from the deviousness of politicians’. There is also a patronising and slightly misogynistic tone to Smith’s critique of Queen Elizabeth II whom he did not seem to believe to be capable of political decision-making: ‘Some remarked that if only her father or grandfather had been alive, Wilson would have been put in his place, but it was no easy task for the young Queen’.109 A constitutional referendum in 1969 saw eligible voters opt overwhelmingly to sever their ties with the British monarchy with 81 per cent voting for a republic. It was over the issue of monarchy which saw Spearhead also become more openly critical of Smith. One article argued that the question of monarchy was being used by plotters to create a rift between Britain and Rhodesia and Smith was falling for it: Those of us who are wise to the techniques of the destroyers of the British World know full well that, once having fomented a rift between two British communities, they will do all possible to exploit that rift so as to make it wider. They are now doing just this over the Rhodesian republic issue.110 Smith, it was argued, was ultimately playing into the hands of the international conspiracy, leading to questions over whether his understanding of events was truly aligned to that of the far right: Ian Smith is an honest and courageous man of the kind that is all too much lacking in British politics today, but one is sometimes left wondering whether he fully understands the real nature and purposes of those who seek his and Rhodesia’s downfall.111 Chesterton continued to criticise Smith in both Spearhead and Candour. Smith’s willingness to compromise and failure to grasp the conspiratorial designs which were pressuring him ultimately meant he would fail, according to Chesterton. Laying out his critique in Spearhead in an interview, he argued: I think that the image of Ian Smith as a hero of the Right Wing is completely false. He stands, if anything, to the left of centre and I know as an absolute fact that, had it not been for one or two objectors in his own Cabinet, he would have fallen in with the wishes of the British Government as outlined in the joint memoranda which he issued with Harold Wilson after the talks on Tiger. He has accepted multi-racialism – as in fact was proved by the last referendum, and now he talks about eventual ‘parity’ of representation between white and black, although he knows that all such talk in the settlements reached with the British Government by countries north of the Zambesi have only meant eventual black political domination.112 ‘Candour,’ Chesterton argued, ‘since the year 1957 – and even before that – made clear to Rhodesians where our joint dangers lay, and after several speaking tours

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we had gathered together a corpus of opinion which could have saved Rhodesia.’113 Bitterly, Chesterton complained that ‘We have shown those who listened to us the facts of which they were ignorant, the pin-pointing of the perils and the strength to form their own organization.’ Yet, he argues ‘local leadership’ failed to implement their advice. Now Rhodesia was a republic, and had a President, ‘as foreigners owning no allegiance to President Dupont there is nothing for us to do now but to sign off with as good grace as possible’. Following this article entitled, ‘Farewell, strange foreigners, farewell’, Rhodesia was discussed far less and Candour began to focus more directly on campaigning against Britain’s imminent entry into the European Economic Community.114

Explaining white retreat Edward Heath’s Conservative government, elected in 1970, did reach an agreement with Ian Smith. Bitterly dubbed the ‘Salisbury sell-out’ by its many critics, particularly in the Labour Party, who were completely opposed, the deal was seen largely as a concession to Smith. While some discrimination against Africans was to be ended and Foreign Secretary Alec Douglas Home was able to convince Smith to accept a transition to majority rule, the timetable for majority rule was left firmly in the hands of the Rhodesian government, meaning progress was unlikely. As Labour MP Andrew Faulds, well known for speaking candidly put it, ‘Is the Foreign Secretary really so stupid, as his bland smile would sometimes suggest, as to believe that the present and any future settler Government in Southern Rhodesia will ever allow African majority rule?’115 Despite the deal being one which was quite clearly favourable to the Smith regime in Rhodesia, Chesterton was horrified: ‘What the agreement means is that Ian Smith … must know all too well in his secret heart that the foundations have been laid for yet another Black-ruled State in Africa.’ He went on, foreseeing Smith’s ‘handing over the reins of office with a forced smile to Joshua Nkomo’.116 Yet, the deal never went ahead. Douglas Home had insisted on an important caveat to the agreement: there must be consent among Africans and this would be examined through a Royal Commission led by Baron Edward Pearce. When the findings of the Pearce Commission reported that the deal was completely rejected by representatives of the African population, who rallied behind opponent Bishop Abel Muzorewa, Heath’s government swiftly abandoned the deal. Chesterton, now Chairman of the NF, sarcastically proclaimed ‘three cheers for the Africans’ who had ‘saved Rhodesia from a relapse into barbarism’ by rejecting the Douglas Home proposals.117 Following this latest failure, it became clear that a political settlement was unlikely to happen and African nationalists in Rhodesia took up arms more vigorously against the Salisbury government. Nationalist groups, who were divided between Robert Mugabe’s Chinesebacked ZANLA (Zimbabwean African National Liberation Army) and the Sovietbacked ZIPRA, were politically divided but militarily comprised the Patriotic Front (PF). Both conducted a campaign of guerrilla warfare operating from bases in

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neighbouring countries: ZANLA from Mozambique (areas of Portuguese Mozambique controlled by African nationalist Mozambique Liberation Front, themselves engaged in a fight against the Portuguese colonial state) and ZIPRA from Zambia. The Carnation Revolution in Mozambique in 1974, which saw the Mozambique Liberation Front seize power from the Portuguese authorities was a crucial phase in the Bush War as well as the constitutional settlement of Rhodesia. Rhodesia had lost a crucial ally which enabled it to bypass economic sanctions and was now surrounded by hundreds of miles of border belonging to a hostile neighbour which provided support and shelter for the PF. South African support for Rhodesia was also on the decline and they were increasingly encouraging Smith to re-open constitutional talks with nationalist leaders. Rhodesia was finding itself increasingly diplomatically and economically isolated. Spearhead grew increasingly critical of Smith in a manner similar to Chesterton (who died in 1973). They began to claim that the publication had never supported Smith in the first place and had in fact prophetically predicted him selling out the white Rhodesian cause: ‘This journal like its esteemed ally Candour has more than once made itself unpopular with some of its readers by refusing to defer to the reputation of Mr Ian Smith as a “strong man of the right”’. Smith was ‘at heart a liberal who would capitulate to the powerful international forces demanding the abdication of the White Man in Rhodesia but for the pressure of stronger spirited members of his ruling party behind him’.118 Spearhead did, however, continue to fervently support the white Rhodesian cause more generally by glorifying the violence of the conflict between African nationalist insurgents and the Rhodesian Security Forces, framing it as a ‘race war’. One article in Spearhead called for the British people to give more support to Rhodesians who were facing a similar threat of ‘black peril’ to those impacted by immigration at home: ‘While our kith and kin stand fast in Rhodesia we must give them our every support … It is the focal point of a global conflict, a conflict not only of ideologies but of race.’ It was ‘our fight as much as it is the fight of the Rhodesians themselves’. Responsibility lay at the door of ordinary Brits given the hostility of the British government, and they were called to go to Rhodesia and fight: It should be considered the duty of every honest British patriot in this country who is physically able to do so to step forward and be willing to fight in Rhodesia along with Rhodesians for a continuation of white rule there … To do anything else would be to betray our heritage and our race.119 It is not clear – and indeed highly unlikely – if even a single person, least of all Tyndall himself, followed such advice. By 1976, it was clear that Smith’s position had softened when he very reluctantly accepted Henry Kissinger’s prescriptions to impose what he called ‘responsible majority rule’.120 The decision, according to Rhodesian security chief Ken Flower, ‘turned the world upside down for most Rhodesians’ and had been the

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result of ‘South African political, economic and military arm-twisting, which had been growing steadily more painful’.121 The fact that Smith had negotiated with Kissinger, an elite member of the US administration with a Jewish background who had gained notoriety for shady activity during US operations in Vietnam, was like a red rag to a bull for the antisemites at the NF. Martin Webster, for example, accused Kissinger of being no less than the ‘world usury’s Satanic reptile’.122 Tyndall argued that Smith was being put under pressure: In the realm of economics, guerrilla warfare and international power diplomacy, in which latter field Dr Henry Kissinger has been the most conspicuous operator … The story of these pressures at work is the story of the International Global Conspiracy operating in its most naked and ruthless form.123 Smith’s acceptance of the proposals reflected [the] tragic betrayal of white Rhodesia by Mr. Ian Smith. The fact that Smith and his government have accepted the Kissinger proposals for a transfer to black majority rule in two years represents a sad lesson for those in Rhodesia.124 While Smith subsequently negotiated with moderate nationalist leaders, he ramped up military efforts against ZANLA and ZIPRA, culminating in the bloodiest phase of the war. Now, in the face of Smith’s compromises and climb-downs, Spearhead looked to explain Smith’s capitulation and why Rhodesia’s great stand had failed. A number of theories were posited, all of which fit neatly with the NF’s wider ideological world-view. First, they blamed his adherence to ‘liberal democracy’ (it is worth stating that Rhodesia was nothing of the sort) and the fact that ‘Rhodesia never was a racist society or a racist state’ which was ‘precisely one of the things that contributed to its weakness’.125 Such a view, which is clearly indefensible, is based on the idea that the Rhodesian state was not violent or authoritarian enough against its African population. Tyndall described Smith’s policy as one of ‘white surrender’ and Rhodesian had surrendered to ‘the familiar alliance of Colour, Communism and Cash’.126 He had allowed international money power to act as an ‘immensely potent “State within a State”’ which had ‘come to own and dominate most of the opinion media in both countries’. Jewish control of the media in combination with democracy, therefore, was particularly to blame for Rhodesia’s ‘defeat’. The press had put itself at ‘the forefront of every movement away from traditional principles of white leadership and into the murky grey fog of half-way politics, with their “dialogue” with national enemies and their fantasies about “power-sharing” and other such idiotic concepts’.127 It appeared lost on Tyndall that the RF had exercised unprecedented control and censorship over the media. The global implications of Rhodesia were obvious to Tyndall, foreseeing Britain as a future victim:

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The war that has destroyed Rhodesia will not spare us; it is on our doorsteps and in our streets; the enemy is the same, the issues the same, the spoils of battle the same. Will we learn the lesson at this eleventh hour that there is no middle way between total victory and total annihilation?128 Tyndall viewed the media as an important method of control exhibited by international conspiracy. Smith’s downfall can be largely explained by the fact that he had ‘failed to crack down on the free press’ (controlled by Harry Oppenheimer) and had refused ‘to take the measures necessary to ensure that Rhodesia’s press served as an instrument and voice of the White Man’s will to remain in control’129. Public opinion, which had moved towards the idea of majority rule by the late 1970s had been swayed, it was argued, by media power ‘which was permitted to work in the case of anti-national, anti-White interests’. Liberal media had slowly whittled away at white Rhodesians, whose Strength of will had been systematically rotted over the years by the propaganda of the liberal news media, which daily fed him the lie that surrender was inevitable, that White Rhodesia could not survive economically or win the war against terrorism unless the country was looked favourably upon by ‘world opinion’ i.e. by international liberalism.130 ‘Rhodesia’, it was claimed, ‘could have carried on. It did not do so because Ian Smith himself set Rhodesia deliberately on the course of surrender, and to that end the news and broadcasting media were mobilised to sell the policy to the people.’131 Laying out his own strategy of how to save white Rhodesia in its death throes, Tyndall suggested out a predictably authoritarian solution, calling for a military coup by hard-liners. He believed that politicians should appeal to an ‘enlightened and dedicated minority’ in Rhodesia and empower the institution which ‘embodies the virile race-instinct and patriotic spirit of the Rhodesian people: the Armed Forces’. He believed that the military should mount a coup but didn’t believe it would be necessary should they effectively keep Smith as hostage by issuing an ‘ultimatum to Smith that they will not under any circumstances permit him to hand the country over to the Blacks’. ‘Rhodesia’, Tyndall warned, ‘has run out of options’.132 As Smith negotiated with nationalist leaders, Tyndall claimed that he had always held concerns over Smith’s commitment to the cause, stating that ever since UDI ‘we had doubts that this man was the great White leader he was cracked up to be. Over the years we hoped, against our inner judgement, that our doubts would be proved wrong. They weren’t.’ This statement stands in contrast to Tyndall’s statement in 1966 that ‘We are passionately and unequivocally for Ian Smith’.133 Yet, writing in 1978, it was stated that Smith had: Slowly, and almost imperceptibly … undermined and dismantled the foundations of White rule, on the one hand by purging his party leadership of White

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hard-liners and on the other hand by regular conferences with Rhodesia’s enemies in which he discussed “terms” of a hand-over to the Blacks.134 It had, apparently, always been the position by Spearhead ‘that Smith’s mission in politics from the outset has been to sell his fellow Whites down the river’.135

Notes 1 Article in The Rhodesian Herald on 2 December 1896, cited in J. Bonello, ‘The Development of Early Settler Identity in Southern Rhodesia’, The International Journal of African Historical Studies 43:2 (2010), p. 349. 2 Ibid., p. 351 3 P. Brendon, The Decline and Fall of the British Empire (New York: Alfred Knopf, 2008), p. 576. 4 Ibid., pp. 576–577. 5 D. Lowry, ‘Rhodesia 1890–1980: “The Lost Dominion”’, in R. Bickers (ed.), Settlers and Expatriates (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), p. 122. 6 Bonello, ‘The Development of Early Identity’, p.351. 7 Lowry, ‘Rhodesia 1890–1980’, p. 121. 8 B. Schwarz, ‘The Romance of the Veld’, in A. Bosco and A. May (eds), The Round Table, the Empire/Commonwealth and British Foreign Policy (London: Lothian Foundation Press, 1997), p .65. 9 Andrew Gamble, quoted in L. Mason, ‘The Development of the Monday Club and its Contribution to the Conservative Party and the Modern British Right, 1961–1990’ (PhD thesis, University of Wolverhampton, 2004), p. 122. 10 Harold Soref, quoted in D. Lowry, ‘The Impact of Anti-Communism on White Rhodesian Political Culture, c.1920s–1980’, in S. Onslow (ed.), Cold War in Southern Africa: White Power, Black Liberation (Abingdon: Routledge, 2009), p. 96. 11 Andrew Gamble, quoted in Mason, ‘The Development of the Monday Club’, p. 122. 12 P. Godwin and I. Hancock, Rhodesians Never Die: The Impact of War and Political Change on White Rhodesia, c.1970–80 (Harare: Baobab Books, 2005), p. 36. 13 R. Black and H. Mcneile, The History of the League of Empire Loyalists and Candour (London: The A. K. Chesterton Trust, 2014), p. 13. 14 Ibid., p. 59. 15 Ibid. 16 Ibid. 17 A. Fountaine, ‘Rhodesia: Prelude to the Age of Terror’, Combat, November– December 1965, p. 5. 18 ‘Global Race War Looms Nearer’, Spearhead, August–September 1964, p. 1. 19 Ibid. 20 Ibid. 21 Ibid. 22 Ibid. 23 A policy often referred to as NIBMAR – no independence before majority African rule. 24 D. Lowry, ‘“Shame upon ‘Little England’ While Greater England Stands!” Southern Rhodesia and the Imperial Idea’, in A. Bosco and A. May (eds) The Round Table, the Empire/Commonwealth and British Foreign Policy (London: The Lothian Press, 1997), p. 329. 25 Rhodesian Front, Rhodesian Front: Principles and Policies (Salisbury: The Rhodesian Front, 1962), p. 2. 26 Ibid. 27 Ibid.

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28 Ibid. 29 I. Smith, Bitter Harvest: The Great Betrayal (London: Blake, 2001), p. 108. 30 Ian Smith, speech in End of Empire episode 14 (1985 Documentary Series, Granada Television). Available at: www.youtube.com/watch?v=0DuNhsLR9y0, 1 minute 48 seconds. 31 After the CAF was wound up in 1963, Southern Rhodesia became known simply as Rhodesia. 32 Black and Mcneile, The History of the League, p. 60. 33 Ibid. 34 Ibid. 35 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Serving the Cause in Southern Africa’, Candour, April/May 1964, pp. 5–6. 36 Ibid. 37 Ibid., pp. 5–6. 38 Ibid. 39 Ibid. 40 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Behind the News’, Candour Interim Report, June/July 1964, pp. 1–2. 41 Lowry, ‘The Impact of Anti-Communism on White Rhodesian Political Culture’, p. 95; L. Bowman, Politics in Rhodesia: White Power in an African State (Cambridge: MA: Harvard University Press, 1973), p. 71. 42 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Not That Way, Rhodesia’, Candour, September 1965, pp. 1–2. 43 Ibid. 44 Black and Mcneile, The History of the League, p. 103. 45 Interview with Denis Healey in End of Empire episode 14 (1985 Documentary Series, Granada Television). Available at: www.youtube.com/watch?v=0DuNhsLR9y0, 4 minutes 23 seconds. 46 Black and Mcneile, The History of the League, p. 100. 47 A .K. Chesterton, ‘Right Royal, Heroic Rhodesia’, Candour, November 1965, pp. 1–2. 48 Ibid. 49 Ibid. 50 Television address delivered by Ian Smith on 11 November 1965. Quoted in J.R.T. Wood, So Far and No Further!: Rhodesia’s Bid for Independence During the Retreat from Empire, 1959–1965 (Bloomington, IN: Trafford, 2012), p. 474. 51 C. Dupont, The Reluctant President: The Memoirs of the Hon. Clifford Dupont (Bulawayo: Books of Rhodesia, 1978), p. 163. 52 Black and Mcneile, The History of the League, p. 103. 53 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Report on Rhodesia’, Candour, April 1966, pp. 1–2. 54 J. Tyndall, ‘Rhodesia - History Will Know Only One Right’, Spearhead, November– December 1966, p. 5. 55 Ibid. 56 Ibid. 57 J. Bean, ‘Rhodesia: White World Survival at Stake’, Combat, November–December 1965, p. 1. 58 Ibid. 59 A. K. Chesterton, The New Unhappy Lords, 5th edn (London: A. K. Chesterton Trust, 2013), p. 118. 60 Ibid., p. 108. 61 Ibid., p. 121. 62 A. K. Chesterton, ‘The Twentieth Century Plague’, Candour, January 1966, p. 1. 63 Ibid. 64 B. Schwarz, The White Man’s World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), p. 421. 65 Lowry, ‘The Impact of Anti-Communism on White Rhodesian Political Culture’, p.94; R. Blake, A History of Rhodesia (London: Eyre Methuen, 1977), p. 367. 66 E. Windrich, ‘Rhodesian Censorship: The Role of the Media in the Making of a One-Party State’, African Affairs 78:313 (1979), p. 525.

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67 Blake, A History of Rhodesia, p.367. 68 Windrich, ‘Rhodesian Censorship’, p. 526. 69 ‘Rhodesia: The Regime’s Propaganda Machine and its Operations’, Rhodesia Political Department Commonwealth Relations Office, 16 March 1966 (DO 207/220), National Archives, Kew, London. 70 E. Msindo, ‘Winning Hearts and Minds: Crisis and Propaganda in Colonial Zimbabwe, 1962–1970’, Journal of Southern African Studies, 35:3 (2009), p. 666. 71 Blake, A History of Rhodesia, p. 367. 72 I. Benson, Know Your Enemy (Johannesburg: SAUK, 1963), p. 26. 73 ‘More Books to Read’, Spearhead, Feb./March 1968, p. 15. 74 I. Benson, The Opinion Makers (Pretoria: Dolphin Press, 1967), p. 3. 75 Msindo, ‘Winning Hearts and Minds’, p. 676. 76 Ibid. 77 ‘The Monday Club’, Spearhead, March 1970, p. 6. 78 J. Bean, Many Shades of Black (Burlington, IA: Ostara, 2011), p. 183. 79 ‘Subversion – Half the Facts’, Spearhead, February 1970, p. 16. 80 M. Pitchford, The Conservative Party and the Extreme Right (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2011), p. 152. 81 M. Stuart, ‘A Party in Three Pieces: The Conservative Split over Rhodesian Oil Sanctions, 1965’, Journal of Contemporary British History 16:1 (2002), pp. 51–88. 82 The Monday Club, Rhodesia: A Minority View? (London, 1966), p. 4. 83 Ibid., pp. 5–6. 84 C. Schofield, Enoch Powell and the Making of Postcolonial Britain (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), p. 194. 85 Ibid., p. 154. 86 ‘The Monday Club’, Spearhead. 87 Ibid. 88 ‘John Tyndall Speaks to Monday Club’, Spearhead, March 1973, p. 18. 89 House of Lords Debate, Hansard, 21 June 1967, vol. 283, c.1388. 90 A. Skeen, The Case for Rhodesian Independence (London: Anglo-Rhodesian Society, 1966). 91 ‘Chicken-Hearted Compromise’, Spearhead, Nov.–Dec. 1966, p. 5. 92 Letter from Miss G. Richardson to Patrick Wall, 20 September 1966 (DPW/48/62), Records of Patrick Wall MP, Hull University Archives, Kingston-upon-Hull. 93 Letter from S.M. Swerling to Patrick Wall, 8 November 1967 (DPW/48/65), Records of Patrick Wall MP, Hull University Archives, Kingston-upon-Hull. 94 P. Murphy, Monarchy and the End of Empire: The House of Windsor, the British Government and the Post-War Commonwealth (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), p. 101. 95 Wood, So Far and No Further!, p. 356. 96 Smith, Bitter Harvest, p. 70. 97 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Down the Zambezi in Eight Years’, Candour, December 1966, pp. 1–2. 98 Ibid. 99 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Old Smithy Will See Us Through’, Candour, January 1967, pp. 1–2. 100 Ibid. 101 Ibid. 102 Godwin and Hancock, Rhodesians Never Die, p. 64. 103 Chesterton, ‘Cut and Thrust’, p. 13. 104 Lowry, ‘Rhodesia 1890–1980’, p. 113. 105 D. Lowry, ‘Ulster Resistance and Loyalist Rebellion in the Empire’, in K. Jeffery (ed.), ‘An Irish Empire’? Aspects of Ireland and the British Empire (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1996), pp. 191–215.

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106 Ian Smith, speech in the Rhodesian Parliament, Rhodesia Parliamentary Debates, 62, 1965, 991, cited in D. Kendrick, ‘Pioneers and Progress: White Rhodesian Nation Building, c.1964–1979’ (PhD thesis, University of Oxford, 2016), p. 108. 107 Murphy, Monarchy and the End of Empire, p. 103. 108 Lowry, ‘Rhodesia 1890–1980’, pp. 114–115. 109 Smith, Bitter Harvest, p. 152. 110 ‘Careful, Rhodesia!’, Spearhead, June 1967, pp. 1–2. 111 Ibid. 112 ‘A.K.: National Front Leader A.K. Chesterton Talks to Spearhead’, Spearhead, September 1969, p. 5. 113 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Farewell Strange Foreigners’, Candour, March 1970, pp. 1–2. 114 Ibid. 115 House of Commons Debate, Hansard, 1 December 1971, vol. 827, c.554. 116 A. K. Chesterton, ‘Sold Down the Zambezi’, Candour, December 1971, p. 95. 117 ‘Three Cheers for the Africans!’, Spearhead, September 1971, p. 12. 118 ‘Will Smith Sell Out?’, Spearhead, no. 80, January 1975, p. 3. 119 D. Riley, ‘Why We Must Stand by Rhodesia’, Spearhead, October 1975, pp. 14–15. 120 Godwin and Hancock, Rhodesians Never Die, p. 155. 121 K. Flower, Serving Secretly: An Intelligence Chief on Record: Rhodesia into Zimbabwe, 1964 to 1981 (London: John Murray, 1987), p. 153. 122 M. Webster, ‘Kissinger’s “World Community” Murdered Rhodesia’, Spearhead, October 1976, p. 8. 123 J. Tyndall, ‘Rhodesia: The Anatomy of White Surrender’, Spearhead, no. 99, November 1976, p. 6. 124 ‘The Folly of Compromise’, Spearhead, October 1976, p. 2. 125 Tyndall, ‘Rhodesia: The Anatomy of White Surrender’. 126 Ibid. 127 Ibid. 128 Ibid., p. 15. 129 ‘Another Smith Retreat’, Spearhead, September 1978, p. 2. 130 ‘What We Think’, Spearhead, February 1979, pp. 2–3. 131 Ibid. 132 J. Tyndall, ‘White Rhodesia: What Now?’, Spearhead, February 1978, p. 9. 133 Tyndall, ‘Rhodesia – History Will Know Only One Right’, p. 5. 134 ‘Another Smith Retreat’. 135 ‘Smith Blows the Gaff’, Spearhead, October 1978.

CONCLUSION

Writing in 1965, A. K. Chesterton summed up the decline and fall of British power in the world over the previous half-century: ‘The British Empire, the greatest and most beneficent of all, was liquidated stage by stage, with relentless thoroughness and continuity of purpose.’1 Chesterton’s statement represents the continuation of a belief that crystallised after the departure of southern Ireland from British control in 1921. It has formed the backbone of British far right thought on imperial affairs ever since. The Empire, and indeed British power, to the far right, were hampered by a deliberate dismantling by malign global forces, on one hand, and a decadent political elite too weak to stand up to the ‘power-brokers’, on the other. They attacked Britain as either too blind to witness what was happening or working in direct collaboration with those seeking an end to the British Empire. This study has aimed to fill an important gap in the literature on the British far right – their response to arguably the most important feature of twentieth-century British history – the collapse of the British Empire. In doing so, it has sought to shed light not just on reactions, but on modes of communication, activism and ideology more broadly, which will be of use to future research on different aspects of the far right. It has also sought to fill an important gap within the vast field of British imperial history. While the axiom ‘history is written by the victors’ may not always ring true, in the case of the British Empire, there remains a startling lack of research into those who resisted the Empire’s collapse in Britain itself with both ferocity and futility. While this study has admitted from the very beginning that far right resistance demonstrates a miniscule portion of the wider story of twentiethcentury imperial decline, it must nevertheless be heard, most importantly to check convenient myths of a peaceful and consensual transition from imperial power beloved by Whig historians. The purpose of this study has not been the fool’s errand of ‘debunking’ the far right narrative of imperial decline, but to shed light on the significance of imperial

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thought within the movement more broadly. It has been argued that the significance of the British Empire for the far right, from the interwar period until decolonisation, lay not so much in its importance in any future political vision, but in its ability to be used as a frame through which crucial elements of far right ideology could be discussed. While imperial oblivion was greeted with anger, criticism and was rhetorically resisted at all times, this study has not sought to challenge the existing consensus in studies of British fascism by arguing that the far right were more concerned with imperial conquest than they were with domestic cultural, social and economic policies. It has, however, offered important insight into how Empire was used by the far right to draw attention to narratives of greater importance. Empire was used by the far right to present a staunchly nationalist narrative of events, both in terms of contemporary imperial affairs and history. Their claim that the Empire had been built up by hardy, patriotic pioneers, who cared little for procedure and only about the nation’s destiny and power, consciously sought to present themselves as heirs to that very tradition. Compromises and concessions made by elite politicians, either to colonial nationalist movements or resulting from an unwillingness to confront powerful nation states, were used as evidence not of waning British global power, but of a lack of patriotism on the part of mainstream politicians. Only the far right, according to them, lacked the corruption, squeamishness and weakness continually exhibited by those Mosley referred to as the ‘Old Gang’ to successfully manage a global Empire and prevent its downfall. Their argument that the British government did not act with sufficient vigour in the name of the national interest during the twentieth century, despite it ultimately being a period of imperial collapse, was difficult to market as plausible. The case studies exhibited in this study are littered with the bodies of dissenters subjected to ruthless action by the British colonial state. Mass shootings in Amritsar and Derry. Brutal military operations in Palestine and Kenya. Imprisonment for questioning British rule meted out to future national leaders such as Gandhi and Kenyatta. All were designed to maintain ‘order’ and continued British rule and certainly not the actions of a lily-livered elite working hand in glove to undermine British power. The far right’s key claim that the Empire could only be saved by those with the sufficient ability to make brutal and violent decisions in the patriotic interest was therefore undermined by the very fact that it was exactly what the British state attempted time and time again, only to fail. Empire provided a highly useful arena for the far right to promote another key aspect of their ideology – racism. Racialised outsiders – the Irish, Indians, Jews, black Africans in Kenya and Rhodesia – were all scapegoated for the failure of the British government to maintain British imperial control. White supremacy remained a crucial feature of far right thought throughout the twentieth century as it enabled them to highlight threats to the British nation through tangible and physical ‘difference’. It also allowed them to promote a rhetorical and exclusive community of white Britons, encouraged to fear those allegedly attacking their heritage and destiny. Furthermore, Empire enabled the white British community to be presented as a global rather than national force – with descendants in the

226 Conclusion

Antipodes, Africa and North America. There was thus an attempt to promote an inspiring narrative of Britons encircling the world with the only barrier to global domination an elite unwilling to maximise its potential and root out the subversive threats which could be found in every corner. Following the Second World War, the far right had a significant opportunity to bring racial hatred into the mainstream of politics following the emergence of public anger towards Commonwealth immigration. However, they proved themselves remarkably slow to shift the notion of racial threat from the imperial sphere to the domestic. Obsessed with delusional and quixotic visions such as Mosley’s federal, autocratic Europe and Chesterton’s eccentric and antiquated imperialism, only the National Front in the 1970s would achieve any success in exploiting anti-immigrant racism. Yet, by then, the election of Peter Griffiths on a racist ticket in Smethwick and significant support for Enoch Powell had demonstrated that politicians from mainstream parties were able to galvanise anti-immigrant sentiment. Even the increasingly restrictive immigration policies of the Conservative and Labour governments in the 1960s and 1970s exhibited to the public that there was no need for an extra-parliamentary or fringe force to highlight public concerns over migration. Such an outcome was not inevitable and had the far right been quicker to more forcefully shift their notion of a racial threat from the veld to Birmingham, their marginality on British life after the Second World War might not have been as complete. Conspiracy reflected a crucial mode of communication for the far right when examining imperial decline. It should not automatically be dismissed as an absurd and inherently eccentric exertion. High imperial politics was elitist and secretive, and decisions were made by relatively tiny numbers of individuals in Britain and beyond, with little transparency or accountability. The unravelling of British imperial world power – which for many living in the period under question was seen as absolute, perhaps even never-ending – would have likely led to shock, trauma and the grasping of obscure explanations. The reasons for the British collapse, while now exhaustively detailed by historians, would have been less easy to come by living in real time, which may have led many to reach far-fetched and often absurd conclusions. It cannot be known whether or not the far right genuinely believed in their own conspiracy theories or if they were merely stories cynically and maliciously constructed. Conspiracy theories nevertheless enabled the far right to ignore and avoid a serious discussion of complex political issues. Offering simple and vague solutions – curbing Judaeo-Bolshevik power – they gave the initiated and gullible an easy pill to swallow. Their failure to excite the public in large numbers is fairly simple – they appeared too unlikely and, to most, probably just plain mad. They may have converted a small number of cranks, yet were never able to gain wider traction for the same reason as other obscure and unlikely theories, such as the alleged faking of the 1969 moon landings. However, the main purpose of conspiracy theory was not simply to provide a lazy explanation of events. They represented another avenue for the scapegoating of those outside the far right community deemed the enemy – largely (but by no means limited to) Jews, liberals and socialists.

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While imperial narratives would shift between 1920 and 1980, antisemitism remained constant. The fact that antisemitism, usually conspiratorial in form, was applied to such far-fetched contexts as Ireland and India demonstrates just how incessant the need to scapegoat Jews for the ailments of the British Empire was felt. Following the rise in anti-Jewish hatred continentally following the Russian Revolution and rise to power of Adolf Hitler, the interwar far right enabled antisemitism to bed itself into the collective DNA of the movement. Thus, even after the public was well aware of the scale and size of the genocide of European Jewry during the Second World War, antisemitism continued to act oblivious to its new connotations. The idea that elite Jews were behind colonial nationalist movements in Kenya and Rhodesia in the 1950s and 1960s – a ridiculous notion that even the most ignorant observer could scorn – is evidence of the integrality of anti-Jewish sentiment to far right commentary, regardless of its plausibility. The fact that Empire was used to further attacks on Jews should therefore not be seen as surprising or unique, as nearly all issues were twisted to serve this crucial purpose. All far right conspiracy theories were either explicitly or implicitly anti-Jewish in intent and purpose, yet they also acted as a means of highlighting threats posed by other enemies. Anti-Bolshevik ‘reds under the bed’ conspiracy theories were particularly potent in the 1920s following the Russian Revolution and re-emerged after the Second World War during the Cold War. Their use within context of the Empire served two purposes. First was to mark those in Britain’s colonies and neighbouring countries hostile to British imperial rule as a danger. The far right sought to remove the genuine legitimacy and grievances highlighted by colonial nationalist movements by arguing they were fronts for revolutionary communism – seeking to instil fear and scepticism of such movements in the mind of the British public. Second, the other goal of anti-communist conspiracy theories was to taint the left in Britain. Left-wing internationalism, while rarely fully realised by Labour governments before or after the war, was anathema to the far right. They thus aimed to present the left in Britain as anti-British and thus, anti-Empire. Given that such sentiment was rarely forthcoming from the left itself, conspiracy theory aimed to demonstrate that what they said openly could not be trusted and they were secretly working hand in glove with Britain’s enemies. Socialism was not the only political ideology on which the far right sought to pin the blame for imperial decline. Liberalism was also attacked as the source of British weakness. Liberal politicians were framed as weak, flabby, decadent and, ultimately, ignorant of the forces encircling the Empire. Liberalism was portrayed pathologically as a disease or as a parasite burrowing in its host with ever increasing degenerative vigour. Synonymous with ‘weakness’, liberalism was presented as the main obstacle to Britain achieving its imperial destiny. This was because imperial domination could never occur while notions of the individual dignity of all peoples were prevalent. According to the far right, democratic ideas could not co-exist with colonial rule, while a government restrained by checks and balances could never rule absolutely. Thus, many of the far right’s attacks on liberalism as destroying the Empire in many ways highlighted the contradictions of British

228 Conclusion

colonial rule during the twentieth century – proclaiming the virtues of democracy and a liberal tradition while denying it to large swathes of subjugated peoples. This study has aimed to show that despite their own marginality, far right politics was to a significant extent embedded in mainstream politics and far right imperial ideas were not always unique to them. The uncomfortable truth is that the racism of the far right and ideas of native incapacity for self-rule were in some ways their least controversial aspects when one considers the remarks of contemporary political grandees, such as Winston Churchill. The idea of a continued British imperial destiny and maintained British rule, similarly, was felt by many. Perhaps the strongest link between far right imperial ideas and those of mainstream Britain at the time was the belief that the Empire had been and continued to be a noble project motivated by good intentions and a desire to export British virtues, even when they were being resisted. Yet, it would be glib to claim that far right ideas of Empire were barely distinguishable from those of mainstream imperialists. First, their linking of the Jewish peril and conspiracy theory more widely to imperial decline is far removed from conventional debates. More importantly, as can be seen when far right movements achieve power, as they did in Germany and Italy, they use the imperial sphere as a means both of galvanising the population through conquest and realising horrific ideological fantasies. The far right in Britain saw Empire as a laboratory where they could explore some of their darkest and brutal fantasies, as the fascist plans for India and Palestine in the 1930s show. Ultimately, while the far right never came close to achieving power, the dystopian hallucinatory nightmare of what might have happened if they had is hopefully laid bare in this book.

Note 1 A. K. Chesterton, The New Unhappy Lords, 5th edn (London: The A. K. Chesterton Trust, 2013), pp. 214–215.

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A. K. Chesterton, Leopard Valley: A Play in Three Acts. The A. K. Chesterton Trust: London, 1943. A. K. Chesterton, The New Unhappy Lords: An Exposure of Power Politics, 5th edn. The A. K. Chesterton Trust: London, 2013. B. Domvile, From Admiral to Cabin Boy. Boswell Publishing Co.: London, 1947. R. Hilton, Imperial Obituary: The Strange Death of the British Empire. Britons Publishing Co.: London, 1968. A. Hitler, Mein Kampf [My Struggle], trans. R. Manheim. Pimlico: London, 1992. A. H. Lane, The Alien Menace. Boswell Publishing Co.: London, 1934. A. Leese, Out of Step: Events in the Two Lives of an Anti-Jewish Camel Doctor. Self-published: Guildford, 1951. O. Mosley, The Greater Britain. B.U.F. Publications: London, 1932. O. Mosley, Fascism: 100 Questions Asked and Answered. B.U.F. Publications: London, 1936. O. Mosley, The Alternative. Mosley Publications: Ramsbury, 1947. O. Mosley, My Life. Brockingday Publications: London, 2006. H. Spencer, Democracy or Shylocracy?3rd edn. Britons Publishing Co.: London, 1922. J. Tyndall, The Eleventh Hour: A Call for British Rebirth. Albion Press: London, 1988. N. Webster, World Revolution: The Plot Against Civilisation. Constable and Co.: London, 1921. N. Webster, Secret Societies and Subversive Movements. Boswell Publishing Co.: London, 1924. N. Webster, The Surrender of an Empire, 3rd edn. Boswell Publishing Co.: London, 1931. N. Webster, Spacious Days: An Autobiography. Hutchinson and Co.: London, 1949. Far right pamphlets British Union of Fascists, Cotton, India and You. B.U.F. Publications: London, 1936. British Union of Fascists, Is Lancashire Doomed?B.U.F. Publications: London, n.d. A. K. Chesterton, Candour Supplement: Mau Mau Oath Ceremonies. League of Empire Loyalists: Croydon, 1960. A. K. Chesterton, Stand by the Empire!League of Empire Loyalists: London, 2004. R. Gordon-Canning. The Holy Land: Arab or Jew?B.U.F. Publications: London, 1938a. R. Gordon-Canning. Mind Britain’s Business, 2nd edn. B.U.F. Publications:London, 1938b. R. Gordon-Canning. The Inward Strength of a National Socialist. B.U.F. Publications: London, 1938c. W. Joyce, Fascism and India. B.U.F. Publications: London, 1933. A. Leese, The Destruction of India: Its Cause and Prevention. Imperial Fascist League: London, 1934. A. Leese, Devilry in the Holy Land. Imperial Fascist League: London, 1938.

INDEX

1920s, threats 2–3 1947 Exodus 145 abdication crisis 80 Abyssinia, Italian invasion of 162 Action 98, 103, 117, 131, 136, 141, 142 Action Française 15 African nationalism 204 A. K. Chesterton Trust 193, 202 Alami, Musa 146 Algeria 15 Algerian War 15, 157 al-Husseini, Hajj Muhammad Amin, Grand Mufti of Jerusalem 141 Allen, W. E. D. 76 Amery, Julian 209 Amery, Leo 37 Amin, Idi 87 Ampthill, Baron 140 Amritsar Massacre 94, 95–96, 98, 101, 225 anachronistic declarations 2 Anderson, David 167 Anglo-Irish Trade Agreement, 1938 79 Anglo-Irish Trade War 74 Anglo-Irish Treaty, 1921 63, 64, 84 Anglo-Irish War 20, 61, 62–63, 64, 66, 72, 73, 77, 82, 96 Anglo-Rhodesian Society 207–208, 210–211 anti-Catholic sectarianism 68 anti-communism 3, 71, 205–207, 227 Anti-Irish prejudice 67 anti-liberalism 3

antisemitism 3, 22, 24–26, 26, 32, 34, 35, 40, 41, 44, 68, 78–80, 106–107, 126–127, 136, 147, 148–149, 207, 227 anti-Zionism 124, 127–129, 131, 132, 135–139 apartheid 158, 180 Arab Higher Committee 134 Arab League 146 Arab rights 128–130 Arendt, Hannah 13 Asquith, Herbert 72 Atlantic Charter 117 Attlee, Clement 144 Australia 28, 29, 31, 37; the New Guard 38 Austria, Freedom Party 8 Baker, David 10, 45, 49–50 Baldoli, Claudia 162 Baldwin, Stanley 30, 107 Balfour, Arthur 20 Balfour Declaration 33–34, 124–125, 133, 134, 135–136, 138, 139, 143, 144 Baranowski, Shelley 15 Baring, Evelyn 167, 176 Barrett, Neil 113 Beamish, Henry Hamilton 22 Bean, John 50, 184–185 Beaverbrook, Lord 37 Beckett, John 35, 115, 136 Belgium 14 Ben-Ghiat, Ruth 15 Ben-Gurion, David 134 Benson, Ivor 206–207

Index 237

Bevin, Ernest 144 Biggs-Davison, John 209 Billig, Michael 51 Black and Tans 63, 73, 80 black nationalism 195 Blackshirt, The 37, 38, 74, 77, 103, 105, 111, 113–114, 115, 131, 136, 138 Blakeney, R. B. D. 111 Blakeney, Robert 109 Blundell, Michael 176 Bolshevism 26; and Zionism 127–129 Bolsonaro, Jair 6 Brazil 6 Brexit, leave campaign 1–2 Briscoe, Robert 79 British Empire: context 14–16; final destruction of 47; given away in a fit of collective indifference 157; Muslim population 140; sense of being under attack 20–21; significance of 10 British Fascism 71 British Fascisti 7, 9, 26–31, 53; Australian branches 31; conception of Empire 27–31; conception of fascism 26–27; and India 96–97, 102–103; and Ireland 62; and ireland 69–72; policies 30; publications 26, 29–30, 103; racism 29; Southern (or Dublin) Command 69, 71–72; Ulster Command 69 British Guardian, The 23, 106 British identity 28 British League of Ex-Servicemen 145–147 British Lion, The 29–30, 30 British loyalists, selling out of 84 British Nationality Act, 1948 178 British National Party 47, 50, 185, 190, 203–204 British Union of Fascists 2, 7, 9–10, 35–41, 46; antisemitism 35, 40, 136; anti-Zionism 135–139; blood and soil wing 76–77; Britain First 162; and capitalism 104–106; conception of Empire 27, 35–36, 38–41; conspiracism 131; economic policy 36–38; foundation 35; The Holy Land: Arab or Jew? 131; IFL attack on 57n56; and India 93, 96, 97–98, 101, 103–104, 104–106, 106–107, 108–109, 111–116, 117; and Ireland 61, 72–77, 80, 82; Is Lancashire Doomed? 112; and Kenya 159–162; Lancashire Cotton Campaign 111–113, 117; and liberal democracy 104–105; membership 35; Olympia rally, 1934 35; and Palestine 131, 135–139, 140–142; policies 35; political weakness 93;

pro-Arabism 140–142; publications 76, 103, 116; racism 29; White Australia Policy 10 Britons, The 21–26, 32, 33; and Arab rights 128–130; conception of Empire 22, 23, 29; conspiracism 106; ideology 23–24; and India 106; and the Irish question 65–69; and Palestine 126–127, 128–130; publications 66, 68; racialised ideology 67; racism 29; view of de Valera 80; worldview 23; and Zionism 135 Brooks, Austin 176–177, 177 Butcher, John 128 Campbell, Lieutenant Eric 38 Canada 31, 37, 53 Candour 119, 120, 150, 151, 169, 173, 181, 190, 198, 199, 201, 202, 211, 215, 215–216, 217 Candour League of Rhodesia, The 200, 207, 213 Cannadine 157 capitalism 12, 104–106; and imperialism 11 Capricorn Africa Society 193–194 Carson, Lord 77, 96 case studies 3–4 Cecil, Lord Hugh 67 Central African Federation 195, 197 Césaire, Aimé 12–13, 13 Cesarani, David 145 Chamberlain, Austen 133 Chesterton, A. K. 10, 35, 40, 51, 131, 224, 226; antisemitism 207; attacks on Churchill 49; and Commonwealth immigration 176; and India 101, 104–105, 119–120; influence 49–50; and Israel 150–151; and Kenya 158, 168–170, 171–174, 175–177, 181–183; Know Your Enemy 207; LEL 45–50; The New Unhappy Lords 204–205; Oswald Mosley: Portrait of a Leader 73–74; and Rhodesia 190, 193–194, 198–199, 199–203, 204–206, 211–216, 216 Christian civilisation, assumed superiority of 23 Christianity 27 chronology 4–5 Churchill, Winston 39, 49, 54, 95, 108, 115, 116, 117, 126, 151, 228 Clarke, John Henry 129 Cold War 14, 41, 45, 47, 165, 227 Cole, J. A. 77 Collins, Michael 63 Colonial Development and Welfare Act, 1940 159 colonialism 11, 12

238 Index

colonial nationalism 168 colonial nationalist movements 12 colonial rule, justification of 94 colour bar 192 Coloured Commonwealth, the 52, 53, 185 colour war 28 Combat 185, 194 Commonwealth, the 1, 48, 50, 51, 74–75, 199; immigration from 176, 178, 209, 226; and Ireland 80; Israel and 151; protectionism 55; unification of 53–54 Communist conspiracy 4, 26, 28–29; India 101–104; Ireland 63–65; Kenya 169–170; Rhodesia 205–207 Communist Party of Great Britain 146 Communist Party of India 104 Communist Party of Ireland 70 Congo Basin Treaties 162 Connolly, Roddy 64 Conservative Party 34, 49, 54; Mosley’s fall-out with 72–73; and Palestine 124; and Rhodesia 209 conspiracism and conspiracy theories 4, 5, 20–21, 102, 126, 131, 226–227; India 96, 101–104, 104–107, 109–110, 116; Ireland 63–64, 65–69, 78–80; Kenya 158, 168–170; Rhodesia 204–207, 210, 215; Webster 24–26; Zionist conspiracy 125–130; see also Communist conspiracy; Jewish conspiracy constitutionalism 3 Copsey, Nigel 8, 47 corporatism 30, 114–115 Cotton Trade League 112, 113 Coupland, Phillip 113 Craddock, Reginald 108, 115 Cripps, Stafford 117 Cunningham, Matthew 38 Curzon, Lord 97, 125 Daily Mail 38 Daily Telegraph, The 150 Dalton, Hugh 144 Davidson, fined 177 de Bounvialle, Rosine 46, 183 decolonisation 12, 48, 50, 185 de-humanising rhetoric 32 democracy 33, 40 de Valera, Eamon 72, 74, 79, 79–80, 81 Disraeli, Benjamin 44 Dominions 39, 43–44, 52; duty to protect 29–30; exports to 37; fascist parties 34–35 Domvile, Admiral Sir Barry 49 Dorril, Stephen 9, 21 Douglas Home, Alec 216

Douglas, R.M. 73 Dublin 70, 72 Du Bois, W. E. 12, 13 DuPont, Clifford 199, 200 Dutt, R. Palme 11 Dyer, General Reginald 95–96, 98 East African Standard 160, 162, 172 Easter Rising, 1916 62, 78 East India Company 94 Eatwell, Roger 47 economic development 30 economic protectionism 43–44 Edgar, David 4 Egypt 20, 28 Elizabeth II, Queen, Smith’s critique of 214–215 Empire 2.0 2 Empire autarky 37 Empire, significance of 3 Erroll, Josslyn Hay, Earl of 159–162 Erskine, Derek 171, 172 Erskine, General George 167 ethnicity 93 eugenics 23, 100 Eugenics Society 178 Eurafrica 44, 158, 162–164 European Economic Community 52, 55, 216 European integration 50 Europeanism 41–42 European Union 1, 55 Euroscepticism 55 exports 37 extreme right, the 3 Fairley, R. 142 Fanon, Frantz 13 Farage, Nigel 1 Farr, Barbara 9 far right: definition 6–8; mainstreaming 6; organisational structure 4–5 far right communication 5 far right ideology 3 far right literature and publication 3 far right narratives, crucial theme 3 fascism: appeal of 161; definition 6–8; dismissed in Britain 2; diversity 7; and empire 10–14; and imperialism 12, 13; importance of study 6; ineliminable core 6; targets 7 Fascism and the Far Right series 9 fascist epoch, the 7 Fascist Quarterly, The 39, 77, 107, 114 Fascist, The 32, 98–99, 109, 110–111, 130, 143

Index 239

Faulds, Andrew 216 Field, Winston 197, 198, 200, 205 First International 66 First World War 2, 11, 22, 101, 125, 132 Foray, Jennifer 14 Fountaine, Andrew 194 France 14–15, 157; Front National 8, 15 Freedom Party, Austria 8 Freemasons 24, 25, 68 free trade 36–38, 38–39, 105 Front National, France 8, 15 Gamble, Andrew 193 Gandhi, Mahatma 96, 97, 102, 103, 104, 106, 111, 117, 118, 119–120, 225 General Election, 1959 167 General Election, 1964 177, 183 General Election, 1970 216 General Election, 1979 50 General Strike, 1926 26, 31 genocide studies 18n55 Gentile, Emilio 14, 27 German Federal Election, 1928 5–6 Germany 14 Ghory, E.A. 136 Gibbs, Henry 37, 103–104 Gibbs, Sir Humphrey 203 Ginger Group, the 209 Gladstone, William 62 global Britain 1–2 global conspiracy, belief in 20–21, 22 globalisation 105 global position, weakness of Britain’s 55 Good Friday Agreement 87 Gordon-Canning, Captain Robert 131, 136–139, 141–142, 142, 153n47 Gottlieb, Julie 9 Government of India Act, 1919 9, 96, 101–102, 107, 111 Government of India Act, 1935 107–108, 113–114, 115, 116–117 Graham, Lord 212 Gramsci, Antonio 11 Great Depression, the 159 Greater Britain 52, 54 Greater Britain Movement 50, 52, 190 Greene, Leslie 171, 173 Greyshirts, the 34–35 Grieg, Ian 210 Griffin, Roger 3, 6–7 Griffiths, Jim 179 Griffiths, Richard 7 Haavara Agreement, 1933 132 Haganah 134

Hagana, the 145 Hamm, Jeffrey 145, 146, 147 Hargrave, Ronald 145, 146 Harper, William 212, 213 Hart, E. D. 41, 113–114 Hastings, Warren 113–114 Hatcher, Captain James Older 31 Hayter, O. C. G. 108, 114, 116 Healey, Denis 201 Heath, Edward 50, 216 Heffernan, Michael 15 Hicks, William Joynson 128 Hidden Hand, The 23, 106, 126 Hilton-Young Commission 159 Hitler, Adolf 6, 13, 54, 132, 160, 227 Hoare, Samuel 95 Hobson, J. A. 13 Hola Camp massacre 167, 175 Holocaust, the. 41, 46, 144–145 Honourable Irish Society, The 78 Hyam, Ronald 39 identity 28 ideology 3, 8 Illuminati 24, 25 immigration 176, 178, 184–185, 209, 226 imperial achievement 20 imperial decline 2, 22–23, 28, 40, 54, 224–228; blame 5; narratives of 3 imperial dream 158 Imperial Fascist League 7, 9, 31–35; antisemitism 32, 78–80; attack on BUF 57n56; conception of Empire 32–33, 34; conspiracism 32, 33–34, 78–80; ideology 32; and India 94, 98–101, 108–111; and Ireland 73, 76, 77, 77–80; and Palestine 130–131, 134–135, 142–143; racism 29, 98–101; view of de Valera 79; and Zionism 142–143 imperial glory 1, 3 imperial heroes 41 imperialism 3, 10, 185; and capitalism 11; and fascism 12, 13 imperial political culture 5 imperial preference 30, 37, 43–44 imperial reawakening 3 imperial unity 48 imports 55 India 4, 9, 26, 32, 35, 36, 42, 92–120, 169; Amritsar Massacre 94, 95–96, 98, 101, 225; anti-Hindu prejudice 100; British Fascisti and 96–97, 102–103; The Britons and 106; BUF and 93, 96, 97–98, 101, 103–104, 104–106, 106–107, 108–109, 111–116, 117; caste system 114; civil

240 Index

disobedience 102; communism in 104; Communist conspiracy 101–104; conspiracism 96, 101–104, 104–107, 109–110, 116; end of British rule 117–120; exports to 37; fears of native rebellion 94; government policy on 107–109, 111; Hindu population 100; IFL and 94, 98–101, 108–111; imperialist narrative 93–94; independence 92, 97, 117–120; Jewish conspiracy 109–110, 116; LEL and 120; martial races 100; Montagu-Chelmsford Reforms 92; Muslim population 97, 99–100, 102, 109, 110–111, 117–118, 139; nationalism 94, 97, 101–104, 104, 105, 113; partition 117–118; perceptions of 93–101; racist perceptions 97–98; role of British rule 96–97, 97; Second World War contribution 117; totalitarian solutions 107–111; UM and 118 India Defence League 108 Indian Empire Review 108 Indian Empire Society 108 Indian Joint Select Committee 115 Indian Mutiny, 1857 93–94, 94 Indian National Congress 28, 96, 102–104, 111, 116, 117 Indian nationalism 94, 97, 101–104, 104, 105, 113 Indian Statutory Commission 107 indigenous peoples 10 international finance 112; Jewish-controlled 104–107 Iraq 139 Ireland 4, 26, 31, 61–87, 69–72; anti-Catholic sectarianism 68; anti-communism 71; Boundary Commission 63; British Fascisti and 62, 69–72; The Britons and 65–69; BUF and 61, 72–77, 80, 82; civil war 63, 70; and the Commonwealth 80; Communist conspiracy 63–65; Constitution 80; crisis 62–63; Easter Rising 62, 78; economic nationalism 74; far right responses 63–65; fascist supporters 72–77; Good Friday Agreement 87; hard-line approach 61–62; Home Rule Bills 62; IFL and 73, 76, 77, 77–80; independence 61; Jewish conspiracy 63, 65–69, 78–80; Jewish demographic 79; Mosley and 72–74, 75–76, 80–82; nationalist mobilisation 62; NF and 62, 83–87; partition 63, 68, 82; right to unite 80–82; Soviet Union and 67–68, 70; status 87n1, 92; tension

between Catholics and Protestants 62; The Troubles 82–87; UM and 61, 80–82 Irgun 144, 145 Irish Civil War 63, 70 Irish Communist Party 65 Irish Free State 63, 64, 68, 69–72, 73, 78, 79 Irish question 61, 62, 65–69, 72–73, 77, 78 Irish Republican Army (IRA) 62–63, 77, 83, 86 Irish War of Independence 66 Islam 131, 137, 141 Islamophobia 139 Is Lancashire Doomed? (BUF) 112 Israel: foundation 144, 150 Italo-Abyssinian war 117, 162 Italy and Italian fascism 11, 12, 15, 26, 162 Japan 37 Jewish Agency 139 Jewish conspiracy 22, 24–26, 32, 33–34, 41, 44, 46, 124–125, 227, 228; hidden hand 24–25, 34, 109–110; India 109–110, 116; international finance 104–107; Ireland 63, 65–69, 78–80; Kenya 165, 173, 184, 227; Palestine 130–131; Rhodesia 204–205, 227; and Zionism 125–130 Jewish problem, the 125 Jewish question, the 34 Jewry Ueber Alles 126, 127, 129 Jinnah, Muhammad 117 Johnson, Boris 1–2 Jordan, Colin 50 Journal of Comparative Fascist Studies 9–10 Joyce, William 35, 39–40, 77–78, 101, 106, 107, 115 Judaeo-Communism 65–69 Kallis, Aristotle 7 Kalman, Samuel 15 Kennedy, Dane 166 Kenya 4, 120, 157–185, 225; Asian population 167, 180–181, 181; British governance 158–159; BUF and 159–162; Communist conspiracy 169–170; conspiracism 158, 168–170, 184; Federal Independence Party 171–172, 174; Hola Camp massacre 167, 175; independence 50, 170–171, 175; Indian minority 169; Jewish conspiracy 165, 173, 184, 227; Legislative Council 159, 166, 170, 174, 175; LEL and 158, 164, 168–170, 171–174, 175–178, 178, 181–183; liberal-minded white settlers 176; Mau Mau uprising 44–45, 157, 158, 164–165,

Index 241

166–170, 178, 179, 181–183, 184–185; Mosley and 158; nationalism 159; and race 158; the role of race 178–181; State of Emergency 167; UM and 158, 162–165, 178, 179; white supremacy 158 Kenyatta, Jomo 50, 159, 169, 170, 176–177, 182, 225 Kipling, Rudyard 97 Kissinger, Henry 217–218 Klemperer, Victor 6 Kundrus, Birthe 15 Kushner, Tony 145 Labour Party 34, 36, 144, 201 Lal, Vinay 12 Lancashire 105, 107, 109, 111–113, 116, 117 Lane, Arthur 66, 67–68 Leadbeater, H.R 71 League of Empire Housewives 27 League of Empire Loyalists 40, 44–50; aims 45, 47; conception of Empire 47–48; conspiracism 46, 165; decline 190; disbandment 152; and India 120; and Kenya 158, 164, 165, 168–170, 171–174, 175–178, 178, 181–183; limitations 50; and Mau Mau uprising 164, 165, 168–170; membership 47; and Palestine 151–152; pro-Arabism 151; and Rhodesia 190, 197–199, 199–203, 213 League of Nations 34, 133 LeCras, Luke 10 Lee, Martha 25 Leese, Arnold 31, 32, 33, 34, 45, 51, 57n56, 73, 98–101, 109–111, 130–131, 135, 143 left-wing internationalism 227 left-wing rhetoric, use of 113 Lenin, Vladimir 65; Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism 11, 12 Lennox-Boyd, Alan 170, 174, 176 le Pen, Jean-Marie 15 liberal democracy 104–105 liberalism 227–228 Liburd, Liam 9–10 Linehan, Thomas 9, 10, 21, 32, 41 Link, The 49 Lintorn-Orman, Rotha 34 Linz, Juan 8 Lipset, Seymour 13, 14 literature review 8–14, 15 Lloyd George, David 62–63, 72, 80, 133 longue durée, the 4–5 Loughlin, James 69, 75 Loughrey, Gerald 72 Lowry, Donal 200, 214

Lymington, Viscount 108 Lyttelton, Oliver 170 Ma’ale Akrabim massacre 151 McDonald, Frank 71 MacDonald, Ramsey 36, 133 McEvoy, Frances 76 Macklin, Graham 42, 47, 141 Macleod, Iain 170 MacMahon Agreement 143 MacMahon, Sir Henry 143 MacMahon, Paul 63–64 Macmillan, Harold 168, 170; Winds of change speech 50, 195, 209 MacMunn, Sir George 100 Magheiff, Jhanghiz 103 Mammone, Andrea 8 Mannix, Daniel, Archbishop of Melbourne 68 Marx, Karl 65–66, 84 Marxism 10–12, 13, 14 masculine ideal 9–10 Maudling, Reginald 171 Mau Mau uprising 44–45, 157, 158, 164–165, 166–170, 178, 179, 181–183, 184–185 Mayers, F.H. 29 Mayhew, Christopher 124 Mayo, Katherine 95 Mazower, Mark 33 Metcalfe, Thomas 94 Middlesbrough 75 Miller, Rory 140 Mill, James 93 missionaries 93, 158–159 Mitchell, Captain R. 85 Monday Club, The 193, 207–210 Montagu, Edwin Samuel 106 Montagu-Chelmsford Reforms 92 Moran, Tommy 81 Morning Post, The 96 Morrison, Herbert 179 Moses, Dirk 18n55 Mosley Memorandum, the 35, 36 Mosley, Oswald 35, 38–39, 41, 46, 77, 162, 206, 225, 226; and capitalism 105; conspiracism 41; and Erroll 159–160; Eurafrica policy 44, 162–164; Europeanism 41–42; fall-out with the Conservative Party 72–73; Fascism: 100 Questions Asked and Answered 112; The Greater Britain 35; IFL attack on 57n56; and India 96, 97–98, 106–107, 112, 114, 116, 117, 118; and Ireland 61, 72–74, 75–76, 80–82; on Jewish conspiracy 106–107; and Kenya 158, 162–164, 180–181; and Mau Mau uprising

242 Index

164–165; and Palestine 125, 138, 141, 149; postwar imperial vision 158, 162–164; and racial segregation 180; Tomorrow We Live 141; Union Movement 41–44, 47; vision 36–38; and Zionism 147–148 Mosse, George 7 Mountbatten, Lord 117 Mozambique 217 Mudde, Cas 3 Mugabe, Robert 196, 216 Mussolini, Benito 11, 26, 31 Nasser, Gamal Abdel 152 National Corporate Party 74 National Front 40, 47, 50–55, 185, 208, 226; authoritarian core 51; conception of Empire 51–55; factionalism 50; foundation 50; and Ireland 62, 83–87; and Rhodesia 191, 195, 203, 216–220; split 55 nationalism 8, 39, 184; African 204; black 195; colonial 168; Indian 94, 97, 101–104, 105, 113; Irish 85; Kenyan 159 nationalist movements 21 National Labour Party 50, 184–185 national will 3 Nation, The 104 native paramountcy 159 Nazi Germany 3, 6, 15, 78–80, 131–132, 136, 141, 142, 147–148, 151–152, 160 Nazism 12–13, 13, 15, 51, 147–148; and Palestine 130–132, 151–152 Nehru, Jawaharlal 98, 103, 117, 118, 120, 169 neo-fascism 7 Netherlands, The 14 new consensus, the 6–7, 14 New Empire Union 38, 75 New Guard, the 38 new papacy, the 86 New Statesman, The 104 New Zealand 29 Nkomo, Joshua 196, 199 Northern Ireland 63, 69, 81; Bloody Sunday 85; Catholic population 84–85; civil rights campaign 84; Good Friday Agreement 87; NF and 83–87; The Troubles 82–87 Northumberland, 8th Duke of 34, 64, 96 nostalgia 21 Notting Hill Race Riots 42, 178 Nuremberg Laws 141 O’Brien, Joh 76 O’Donnell, Peadar 70 O’Higgins, Kevin 64 O’Kelly, Sean 72

Operation Anvil 167 Oppenheimer, Harry 204, 219 Organisation Armée Secrète 15, 157 Orman, Linton 71 Orman, Rotha Lintorn 26 Orwell, George 6 Page Croft, Henry 72, 95 Paget, Reginald 211 Palestine 4, 33–34, 35, 42, 124–152, 225; Arab rights 128–130; British presence in 125, 126; The Britons and 126–127, 128–130; BUF and 131, 135–139, 140–142; government policy 133–134, 137, 140, 144, 149; IFL and 130–131, 134–135, 142–143; Jewish conspiracy 130–131; Jewish immigration 130, 133, 134, 136–137, 141–142; LEL and 151–152; and Nazism 130–132, 151–152; pro-Arabism 139–143, 151; religious disturbances 133; Sergeants Affair, 1947 145, 146–147; strategic importance 125; UM and 147–150; UN partition plan 144; USA and 144; White Paper of 1922 134; White Paper of 1930 134; White Paper of 1939 134, 138–139; Zionist conspiracy 125–130; Zionist insurgency 144–147 Pappé, Ilan 125 paranoia 5 parochiality 5 Passfield, Lord 133 paternalism 94 patriotism 2, 36, 71, 225 Patriot, The 34, 63, 64–65, 69, 96, 126, 127–129, 140 Payne, Stanley 2 Pearce Commission 216 Peel Commission 134 Pile, Duke 145 Pitchford, Mark 210 populist far right 3 Powell, Enoch 209, 226; Rivers of blood speech 50, 190 Praetorian League of Canada 31 Prendergast, J. V. 172 pro-Arabism 139–143, 151 progress 27 protectionism 55, 111–113 Protocols of the Elders of Zion, The 24, 109, 126, 130 Pugh, Martin 9, 21, 32, 116 race and racism 5, 13, 29, 178–181, 225–226; India 97, 97–98, 98–101; Kenya 158; Rhodesia 191–195

Index 243

race war 166 racial degeneration 22–23 racialised ideology 67 racialism 211 racial prejudice 157, 164 Racial Preservation Society 50 racial purity 22, 29 racial science 178 racial segregation 180 racial solidarity 52 Raven Thomson, Alexander 44, 74, 75 reactionary right 3 Renton, Dave 12 Republic of Ireland Act, 1948 80, 81 re-racialisation 183 Rhodes, Cecil 191 Rhodesia 4, 178, 190–220; black nationalism 195; BNP and 203–204; colour bar 192; Communist conspiracy 205–207; conspiracism 204–207, 210, 215; Constitution, 1961 196, 210; constitutional crisis 190–191; economic sanctions 205, 207; foundation 191; independence debate 195–197; Jewish conspiracy 204–205, 227; Land Apportionment Act, 1030 192; legislative election, 1962 197; LEL and 190, 197–199, 199–203, 213; NF and 191, 195, 203, 216–220; racial attitudes 191–195; Rhodesia lobby support 207–211; Smith as traitor 211–216; symbolic value 203; ties to the monarchy 214–215; unilateral declaration of independence 190, 191, 198–199, 199–204, 204–205, 209, 210; United Federal Party 196; Unlawful Organisations Act, 1959 196; white population 190; white retreat 216–220 Rhodesia and World Report 207 Rhodesia lobby, the 207–211 Rhodesian Front 190, 196–197, 199, 204–206, 207, 214, 218 Rhodesian Herald 191 Roberts, Major B.P. 171–172, 172, 173, 174, 176 Robinson, Harold 147 Romanticism 15 Roosevelt, Franklin D. 117, 131 Rosenberg, Alfred 132 Rothermere, Lord 35, 36, 38, 39, 75–76, 107, 115 Row, Robert 179 Roy, M. N. 104 Russian Revolution 20, 25, 66, 102, 126, 227

Rutenberg, Pinhas 128 Ruttledge, Patrick 72 sacralisation 27 Salisbury, Lord 209, 210, 216 Samuel, Herbert 127 Sandys, Duncan 211 Schwarz, Bill 183, 192 Scorpions Pass massacre 151 Second Boer War 33 Second World War 4, 8, 12, 13, 15, 40, 42, 43, 45, 117, 134, 144, 164–165, 166, 192, 226 Segev, Tom 125, 133 Sergeants Affair, 1947 145, 146–147 Shaw Commission 133 Singapore 164–165 Sinn Fein 62, 66, 70 Sithole, Ndabaningi 199 Skeen, Andrew 210–211 Skidelsky, Robert 163–164, 180 Smith, Ian 190, 191, 197, 199–204, 204–206, 209, 211–216, 217–218, 219–220 Social Darwinism 22, 32–33, 100 Soref, Harold 193, 210 sources 10 South Africa 28, 29, 31, 39, 180, 192, 201, 203; fascist parties 34–35; the Greyshirts 34–35; Macmillan’s ‘Winds of change’ speech 50; Quota Act 34 South African Gentile National Socialists 34–35 Southern Rhodesia African National Congress 196 Soviet Union 28, 45, 47, 48, 165; and Ireland 63–64, 67–68, 70 Spanish Civil War 141 Spearhead 52, 54, 85, 194–195, 203, 206, 211, 215, 217, 220 Spencer, Harold 129 Stern Gang 144 Stirling, David 193–194 Stone, Dan 23, 132 Strachey Barnes, James 115 Sudan 28 Suez Crisis 45, 152 supranationalism 7 Sweezy, Paul 11 Sydenham, Lord 96, 128, 140 Sykes-Picot Agreement 125 Tanganyika 173 Taylor, A. J. P. 95 Third Reich 78–80

244 Index

Thuku, Harry 159 Thurlow, Richard 10, 24, 53, 162 The Times 177 Toye, Richard 168 Tozer, Derek 151–152 trade 30 trade unionism 26, 30 Traill-Smith, Monya 199 Truman, Harry S. 144, 145 Trump, Donald 6 trusteeship 163 Truth 45 Tyndall, John 49–50, 50, 51–55, 83–84, 84–85, 203, 204, 208, 210, 211, 217–220; The Case for Economic Nationalism 55; conception of Empire 51–53; and Rhodesia 195; Six Principles of British Nationalism 53, 54 Ugandan Asians 50 Ulster 62, 63, 68, 73, 74, 75, 76; IFL and 78, 79; loyalism 69; Mosley and 81; Protestant majority 69 Ulster Fascist Movement 75 Ulster Volunteer Force 83 Ulster Volunteer Movement 77 unemployment 30, 36 Union 81, 82, 118, 148–149, 164, 165, 179 Union Movement 41–44, 47; antisemitism 148–149; anti-Zionist campaign 141; conception of Empire 42–43; conspiracism 41, 44; Europeanism 41–42; and India 118; and Ireland 61, 80–82; and Kenya 158, 162–165, 178, 179; and Mau Mau uprising 164–165; and Palestine 147–150; publications 42–43; and Zionism 125 United Kenya Club 171 United Nations 48 United Nations Special Committee on Palestine 144 United States of America 6, 37, 47, 48, 119, 125; Civil Rights movement 195; loans 42; and Palestine 144; and Rhodesia 217–218; and Suez Crisis 45; and Zionism 144, 145 universalism 94

Van der Byl, P.K. 206, 207 violence 5, 157; Amritsar Massacre 94, 95–96, 225; excess 175; racist 13; repressive 101 Wagner, Kim 94, 116 Wall, Patrick 209, 211 Walsh, Liam 74, 75 Ward, Harvey 207 Webster, Martin 84, 177, 195, 218 Webster, Nesta 24–26, 34, 47; and India 92, 96–97, 103, 109; and Ireland 63, 64, 65 Weichardt, L. T. 39 Weimar Germany 3 Welensky, Roy 200 White, Arnold 23 White Australia Policy 10 White Defence League 50, 190 Whitehead, Sir Edgar 196 white retreat 216–220 white supremacy 32, 97–98, 158, 181, 193, 197 William-Powlett, Sir Peveril 198 Wilson, Christopher 181 Wilson, Harold 201, 205, 206, 207, 212, 213 Wilson, Henry 61 Windrich, Elaine 206 women 27, 34 working-class voters, appeal to 105, 113 world Jewry 125, 131, 133 world power, special right to 2 Wyatt, H. F. 66–67 Zimbabwe African National Union 199 Zimbabwe African People’s Union 196, 199 Zionism 124–125; aspirations 129; and Bolshevism 127–129; The Britons and 135; BUF and 135–139; comparison with Nazism 147–148; compulsory 129, 136; emergence of 126; IFL and 134–135, 142–143; LEL and 151–152; and Nazism 132; Palestine conspiracy 125–130; Palestine insurgency 144–147; threat of 126–127, 131; UM and 125, 141; USA and 144, 145