Category Archives: History

Britain, Business, Government, History, Politics, Society

A Royal Mail sell off makes business sense but there are risks…

ROYAL MAIL PRIVATISATION

In a world that is fundamentally different to that of the 1980s, the announcement by the Government this week that it will proceed with a £3 billion sale of Royal Mail, is the right way forward for the business if it is to survive. Margaret Thatcher baulked at the prospect and was, famously, a privatisation too far. Mrs Thatcher remarked in the Eighties that she was ‘not prepared to have the Queen’s head privatised’. Later, Michael Heseltine, and more recently, Peter Mandelson, had their privatisation plans for Royal Mail scuppered by dissenting MPs in the House of Commons.

Vince Cable, the Business Secretary, however, notified the Stock Exchange this week of the Government’s intention to float the company, which will probably take place in November. The announcement represents a further expression of economic confidence as the economy slowly recovers from a deep and difficult 5-year recession. The privatisations of British Gas and British Airways, some three decades ago, coincided with a rising tide of opportunism. The parallels are noticeable as that is beginning to be felt once more.

The sale of Royal Mail affords something similar, too, to those earlier flotations: the spread of share ownership. More than 15,000 employees are to receive 10 per cent of the shares, with the rest being offered to institutional investors and ordinary members of the public.

While not without risks, the Government’s plan does have much to recommend it. Royal Mail has suffered from both chronic under-investment and deep-rooted inflexibility as the world around it has radically changed. Royal Mail is heavily unionised and has lumbered on, but the effect has been missed opportunities on a vast scale as rivals have been able to compete on the more lucrative parcel-delivery markets, even as the digital revolution and e-mail decimated traditional letter deliveries.

Moya Green, who took over in 2010, has brought Royal Mail back into the black, which was largely helped by the Government’s takeover of its £5 billion pension deficit. Following the flotation and barring unforeseen disasters, the first dividends, totalling £133 million, will be paid in July.

Despite the Government’s plan and opportunity, the Communication Workers Union has responded in time-honoured fashion by threatening to strike. How it envisages industrial action will help its members or Royal Mail is not wholly clear. The CWU will be holding a strike ballot early next month to protest against potential changes in pay and conditions.

Some of the union’s wider concerns will be shared by many, such as the protection of minimal universal services, guaranteeing a six days-a-week service at a uniform and affordable tariff. This has after all been the hallmark of Royal Mail since its inception and is much prized. But the legislation underpinning the privatisation, which passed through Parliament two years ago, protects the universal service and will remain enshrined in law. That guarantee has been reaffirmed by the Government following its announcement to privatise.

The digital and communication revolution has hit Royal Mail hard, with a fall of 10 million in the volume of letters sent daily. That decline has been arrested to some extent because of the huge increase in goods that are ordered online and need to be delivered.

The benefits of privatisation should not be underplayed. A fleeter-footed business, no longer restricted by government investment rules and with access to private capital, will be better placed to undertake the sweeping modernisation and rationalisation the organisation still needs to go through if it is to compete and vie for business successfully. Upon being privatised, Royal Mail would then not have to compete for scarce government funding which it currently does against other government departments and budgets, such as schools, hospitals, and the police.

But there are risks. The most immediate is that the shares are sold too cheaply, repeating the mistakes of previous flotations and leaving taxpayers cheated and resentful. Over the longer term, the challenge will be a regulatory one. Though it is almost certain that the Royal Mail will continue to be bound by the universal service obligation mandating a six-day nationwide postal delivery – bar senior management tinkering with a system that could loosen some of those ties – what is unclear is how such a costly service will be funded in the future. There may be hope that booming business elsewhere, such as through online shopping, will enable cross-subsidy funding. Critics have warned of unaffordable hikes in stamp prices or even state bailouts.

Mrs Thatcher’s unwillingness to sell off Royal Mail was not only a sentimental attachment to tradition, but sprang from a hard-headed assessment of the political pitfalls of tampering with a venerable national institution. While such hazards remain, a flotation of the Royal Mail is the right decision for the Treasury, and arguably the right decision for the organisation.

In predictable style, Labour has denounced the sale – yet, it was the last government that ended the Royal Mail monopoly and opened up the postal market to competition, thereby making the eventual privatisation inevitable.

Royal Mail can be categorised as one of the foundation stones of the modern British state, one that can trace its origins to 1516, when Henry VIII established the office of Master of the Posts. For it to remain an important part of the national story, it now needs to be a commercially viable venture that is ready and willing to compete in a market with far different demands and pressures.

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Arts, Books, First World War, History

Books/History: ‘Meeting the Enemy: The Human Face of the Great War’…

HISTORICAL REFERENCE WITH A DIFFERENCE

As the centenary of the Great War approaches, a tide of new books about it is due for publication. It must be the most written-about war in history.

Richard van Emden’s ‘Meeting the Enemy: The Human Face of the Great War’, though, is a World War I historical reference with a difference. Emden is a specialist who has found a literary niche, little explored, charting the personal contacts between Britons and Germans and their feelings about each other as the war progressed.

It began on both sides in a blaze of patriotic bluster. Crowds poured into Berlin’s main thoroughfare, Unter den Linden, as they did in London’s Piccadilly and Pall Mall. In Berlin they bellowed, ‘Deutschland, Deutschland, Über Alles’; in London, ‘Rule Britannia!’

The phrases of the hour in Britain were: ‘We must stand by France’ (German troops were already in Belgium) and ‘It will be over in three months’. Why three months, nobody precisely knew.

There were many more German immigrants in Britain than Britons in Germany. They faced internment, with dire consequences for their families, who were eventually supported by meagre grants from their government.

There was fury in Germany at Britain’s declaration of war, along with widespread feelings of betrayal. Only the previous year, George V visited his cousin the Kaiser, and was pictured wearing a ‘pickelhaube’ – a spiked, plumed German helmet matching the German leader’s. Now King George was pictured on a postcard as ‘der Judas von England’.

The Kaiser was honorary colonel of a regiment of British dragoons and an Admiral of the Fleet to boot. His British orders and decorations were packed in brown paper and delivered to the British Embassy with a message that he had no further use for them.

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NEVERTHELESS, he ordered that the English Church in Berlin, built as a present to his English mother, was to be kept open, and its pastor, the Rev Henry Williams, left at liberty for the duration.

The diaries of Rev William’s are much quoted, describing how life in Germany deteriorated when the Allied blockade began to bite.

Anti-German feelings ran high in Britain at the war’s opening and flared again with the sinking of the Lusitania off Southern Ireland in 1915, drowning more people than the Titanic had.

A remarkable book reveals how warring troops bonded in the trenches.

A remarkable book reveals how warring troops bonded in the trenches.

There were riots in the Lusitania’s home port of Liverpool, with the shops of German immigrants being looted and burnt. This rancour was markedly absent from the front line in Flanders, where the famous Christmas truce took place in 1914. Everyone knows that it started with men in both trenches singing Christmas carols and shouting ‘Merry Christmas’ to each other, then climbing out of their trenches to exchange gifts and friendly talk in no man’s land.

In some places the truce lasted into January, until orders came from above that war must be resumed. Officers on both sides synchronised their watches, agreeing to start again in an hour, saluted each other and went back to their respective trenches.

Those in the higher echelons of the British Army were furious at the spontaneous fraternising – pictures of which appeared in the newspapers. When Christmas approached in 1915, they threatened dire punishment if it should happen again.

But it did – at least in the Scots’ Guards section of the front. Their company commander, Sir Iain Colquhoun, agreed to a German suggestion of a truce to bury the dead lying in no man’s land. This developed into full-scale fraternising. The Germans danced to a mouth organ.

Captain Colquhoun was court-martialled and reprimanded. All leave was cancelled for six months as punishment.

Some other friendly contacts were surprising. When the British took over part of the French sector in 1915, they were met with a message left on the barbed wire, fixing a rendezvous for the exchange of newspapers.

One British officer was told that German officers had been in the habit of crossing over in the evenings for a game of bridge with their French opponents. That stopped when they found the British waiting for them.

Many deserters crossed the line at night to surrender and escape further fighting. A Sergeant Dawson, bogged down in the mud of no man’s land, could only wait to be captured. When he surrendered to the five Germans who pulled him out, they assured him: ‘No, we are your prisoners. Take us to your headquarters.’ He was helplessly lost, but they knew the way.

Prisoners were remarkably well-treated. Captain Wilfred Birt, who died in Cologne hospital after a stoic struggle with painful wounds, was given a slap-up military funeral in the cathedral by Germans. Serving British officers were invited to attend, and were allowed free passage back to their side afterwards.

Another imprisoned British captain was allowed three weeks’ leave to go home to see his dying mother. He gave his promise to return, kept his word … then set about trying to escape as usual.

The highest display of mutual esteem occurred between the fighter pilots who were in combat above the lines. They carried no parachutes, as they were too bulky for narrow cockpits. So when a machine caught fire, the pilot was faced with the choice of burning or jumping.

German pilots made a habit of finding their victims, alive or dead. If dead, they dropped details of their names and burial sites over the British lines. If alive, they would invite them to a slap-up meal in their mess.

Both sides were ruthless to each other in the air but observed the rules of chivalry on the ground. When the German ace Max Immelmann was killed, a British pilot dropped a wreath and message of condolence on his airfield.

When fellow ace Werner Voss was shot down doing battle against seven opponents at once, the victorious pilot said: ‘If only I could have brought him down alive.’

This illustrated the difference between personal combat and the industrialised warfare of machine guns and artillery barrages on the ground. When it was possible to know your enemy individually, hatred was seldom shown.

A brigadier, Hubert Rees, who was captured during the Germans’ last offensive in March 1918, was ordered to a car that took him to the top of a plateau. Here he was ushered forward to meet the Kaiser, who questioned him then said: ‘Your country and mine ought not to be fighting each other. We should be fighting together. I had no idea that you would fight me.’

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HE ASKED: ‘Does England wish for peace?’ Rees replied: ‘Everyone wishes for peace.’

After the Kaiser had gone into exile and Rees had been released from captivity and was wandering about Berlin, he witnessed the return of the Prussian Guards to the city, often described as a ‘triumph’.

Rees had a different word for it – pathetic. ‘Companies of boys and over-age men. Officers without swords. Rusty weapons, broken-down horses drawing limbers. As a military spectacle it was lamentable.’

As British troops occupied the Rhineland, a British guardsman wrote: ‘The people welcomed us as rescuers from anarchy.’ Also from starvation. Their British ‘guests’ were a vital source of food from the Army’s well-stocked canteens.

The ban on fraternisation had to be lifted. ‘Our fellows would open their tunics to show their scars. The German boys would do the same,’ wrote a private soldier. Only weeks after they had been doing their best to kill each other, they behaved like comrades in arms.

– ‘Meeting the Enemy: The Human Face of the Great War’ written by Richard van Emden is published by Bloomburg at £20.

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First World War, History, Second World War, United States, Warfare

History is littered with examples of chemical and biological attacks…

…Damascus suffered an appalling gas attack in which hundreds died, but other incidents in history have been much worse.

IT was a singularly evil chemical weapons attack, but tragically the hundreds killed in Damascus just two weeks ago were the latest victims in a long history of the use of poison gas to kill soldiers and civilians. This entry is an examination of past atrocities where many exacted an even greater toll:

IRAQ AGAINST THE KURDS… Saddam Hussein’s regime used chemical weapons to remove Kurds from around 40 villages in northern Iraq. On March 16, 1988, he carried out the most deadly attack, dropping poisons including mustard gas, sarin and VX on the town of Halabja. Men, women and children choked to death in the indiscriminate attack.

The atrocity prompted the United Nations Chemical Weapons Convention in 1997, an international pact banning production, stockpiling or use of chemical weapons. Only seven nations (including Syria) are not signatories. The death toll in Halabja was reported as being up to 5,000.

IRAN-IRAQ WAR, 1980-88… Hussein used sarin and mustard gas against Iran to tip the war in Iraq’s favour and forced Tehran to negotiate. But newly declassified CIA documents revealed recently the US knew about the use of chemical weapons but refused to act because Washington feared an Iranian victory. Up to 20,000 people were killed in the 8-year war.

VIETNAM… Between 1965 and 1975, in the bitter war against North Vietnam, the US dropped millions of tons of incendiary napalm to defoliate dense forests in which enemy fighters were hiding. The jelly-like substance ignited and stuck to skin, burning through muscle and bone, causing hideous injury and often death. America also dropped 50 million tons of Agent Orange, a super-strength chemical herbicide, to destroy all plants. But poisonous dioxins seeped into the soil and water supply, entering into the food chain and leading to severe health problems and disabilities for generations. More than a million people perished, as well as 400,000 Vietnamese children born with birth defects were recorded due to exposure to Agent Orange.

HITLER… Hitler refrained from using chemical weapons in battle but millions of Jews were transported to extermination camps, notably Auschwitz in Poland, and were suffocated in gas chambers using cyanide-based Zyklon B. Some six million Jews died in the Holocaust, plus gypsies, homosexuals, the disabled, and Soviet prisoners.

WORLD WAR TWO… Between 1937 and 1945, Japan launched both chemical and biological attacks while invading China. Emperor Hirohito authorised use of toxic gas on more than 2,000 occasions. In 1941, members of a secretive Japanese research and development facility (Unit 731) airdropped fleas contaminated with the bubonic plague on the Chinese city of Changde. Tens of thousands were reported killed.

ITALO-ABNYSSINIAN WAR… Ignoring the 1925 Geneva Protocol banning chemical or biological agents in war, Mussolini’s Italy unleashed mustard gas during its invasion of Ethiopia in 1935. Retaliating for the killing of one of its pilots, the air force dropped up to 500 tonnes of poison. An estimated 15,000 perished.

FIRST WORLD WAR… Known as the ‘chemists’ war’ for introducing deadly poison to combat. In 1915, at Ypres, Belgium, Germany opened thousands of canisters of chlorine upwind of Allied troops, condemning many to an agonising death. By 1918 chemical weapons had proliferated on both sides – including phosgene, cyanide and mustard gas. Horrified by the effects, 15 countries signed the Geneva Protocol. Around 90,000 were killed and more than one million people were injured.

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