The Pity of War and the Lusitania

Illustration by Norman Wilkinson (public domain)

"The first casualty of war is truth." --Senator Hiram Johnson, 1917

This is a follow-up to my blog post earlier this month on the sinking of the Lusitania.

While The Pity of War is primarily about the larger strategic and political failures that produced World War I, Niall Ferguson does make mention of the sinking of the RMS Lusitania within the broader context of wartime propaganda and Britain’s effort to bring the United States into the conflict. This prompted me to want to add to what I wrote last Thursday.

The Lusitania episode became one of the defining propaganda triumphs of the Allied war effort. The ship was not simply an innocent passenger liner in the purest sense presented to the public at the time. The vessel was carrying war-related materiel, including rifle cartridges and shell components, a fact long minimized or obscured in wartime narratives.

Though Germany was not morally blameless, the event was immediately transformed into a powerful emotional symbol through British and Allied media. Images of drowned civilians, women, and children were used to shape public opinion—especially in America—toward viewing Germany as uniquely barbaric. Ferguson sees this as part of the modern evolution of mass persuasion during industrial warfare.

At the same time, we should all consider these uncomfortable questions:
--Why was ammunition placed aboard a civilian liner traveling through contested waters.
--Why were passengers insufficiently informed of the risks?
--To what degree did governments exploit tragedy to mobilize public sentiment?

Propaganda usually simplifies complex realities into moral absolutes, and WWI was no different. Ferguson is especially skeptical of the idea that Britain entered the war purely for noble reasons or that Allied information campaigns were straightforwardly truthful. 

Importantly, once the sinking occurred, it became highly effective as a political and psychological weapon. The incident helped prepare American opinion for eventual intervention, even though the U.S. did not formally enter the war until 1917, nearly two years later.

One of Ferguson’s recurring themes is that modern states during this war learned how to harness media, atrocity stories, emotional imagery, and selective truths to sustain large-scale conflict. In that sense, the Lusitania became not merely a maritime disaster, but an early case study in twentieth-century information warfare.

The Failure of Compassion: Gaza and the Irish Potato Famine

I remember when I first read about the British response to the Irish Potato Famine, which occurred between 1845 and 1852. It still remains a subject of historical debate and controversy. 

The thing that shocked me, or struck me as sad, was that there were Christian members of Parliament who argued that Britain should not intervene or help the Irish because the famine was God's judgement on Ireland.

As I investigated this, I learned that there were other factors that contributed to Britain's inaction. Some leaders argued in favor of laissez-faire economics, emphasizing minimal government intervention into markets. Market forces would fix everything, they believed.

Another factor had to do with the power balance between Britain and Ireland. That is, Ireland was a colonial entity. At that time, to the late 20th century, there was significant political tension between the nation and the colony. Some leaders welcomed the famine as a means of weakening Irish nationalist sentiment.

Couple this with the prevalence of prejudice toward the Irish. To many they were unworthy of assistance. 

There were also government policies that worsened the impact of the famine.

The net result: widespread suffering and death, and mass emigration.

* * * 

These things come to mind as I follow the news about Gaza. It isn't a stretch to say we're watching a repeat of history. Replace the Irish with Palestinians and you see the samenmassive suffering, while the world watches and does very little. 

Oh, wait. The U.S. has been actively doing something. We keep making more bombs. 

 

Shooting An Elephant

“As for the job I was doing, I hated it more bitterly than I can perhaps make clear. In a job like that you see the dirty work of Empire at close quarters. The wretched prisoners huddling in the stinking cages of the lock-ups, the grey, cowed faces of the long-term convicts, the scarred buttocks of the men who had been flogged with bamboos – all these oppressed me with an intolerable sense of guilt.” ~ George Orwell

The past few weeks I’ve been reading Simon Schama’s A History of Britain, Volume 3: The Fate of Empire 1776 – 2000. It has been quite fascinating. To some extent our nation’s history is inextricably bound to that of Britain, from conception to destiny, much like a child reflects its parent. While unique, we are still offspring.

It was once said “the sun never sets on the British Empire.” Indeed, at one time the power of Britain ruled the high seas and its territories spanned the globe. How long ago this was.

Schama’s book is a three part epic. I’ve only tackled Volume 3. The breaking away of the New World to form first the Colonies, then these United States, is but the beginning. The moral challenges, the dark justifications of maintaining power over unwilling subjects, the internal erosion of confidence in its own national mandate… so many fragments of this story resonate with aspects of our own national experience.

Descartes did not trust history as a basis for truth because no historical situation is identical. This does not mean, however, that nothing can be gained from studying history.

George Orwell’s essay “Shooting an Elephant” is not only first rate writing, it is a deeply moving account of the problems Britain had to wrestle with while controlling foreign territories with strangely different peoples and cultures. It is Orwell’s first job away from home, a police officer in Burma. The story describes an incident that occurs during that period abroad as a young man. More than just what happens, the young Eric Blair (Orwell was his chosen pen name) reveals the personal angst he experiences.

The essay begins thus: “In Moulmein, in lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people – the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me.”

Essentially, there is an elephant that has broken loose and is causing trouble. The elephant’s owner, due to misinformation, is hours away and the damage has been escalating. Orwell, as a representative of the law, must deal with it.

“The Burmese sub-inspector and some Indian constables were waiting for me in the quarter where the elephant had been seen. It was a very poor quarter, a labyrinth of squalid bamboo huts, thatched with palmleaf, winding all over a steep hillside,” Orwell writes. Anyone who has seen Third World squalor can picture the scene. Orwell is a stranger in a strange land.

It turns out the elephant now has killed a man. It’s a hideous sight for the young officer. Worse, it starts to become inevitable that he will have to do something about it. The following crowd has been growing, and there is an escalating anticipation.

“But I did not want to shoot the elephant. I watched him beating his bunch of grass against his knees, with that preoccupied grandmotherly air that elephants have. It seemed to me that it would be murder to shoot him. At that age I was not squeamish about killing animals, but I had never shot an elephant and never wanted to. (Somehow it always seems worse to kill a large animal.)”

As Orwell reveals his deepest motivations, we understand that on the pedestal of world opinion, it is not always "right" and "wisdom" that is the driving force behind nations' behaviors. Too often, they simply don't want to play the fool.

“For at that moment, with the crowd watching me, I was not afraid in the ordinary sense, as I would have been if I had been alone. A white man mustn't be frightened in front of "natives"; and so, in general, he isn't frightened. The sole thought in my mind was that if anything went wrong those two thousand Burmans would see me pursued, caught, trampled on and reduced to a grinning corpse like that Indian up the hill. And if that happened it was quite probable that some of them would laugh. That would never do.”

These were the kinds of motivations that led to France invading Mexico during our American Civil War. And perhaps the real motivations behind the nations who engaged in that bitter, futile blood bath called World War I. Perhaps, to some extent, it was a driver for the Pentagon's escalation in Viet Nam? And what was that Somalia maneuver all about? And then, even if you win, what do we get? Orwell seems to be saying that you get forced into shooting elephants that you really don't want, or need, to shoot.