Agony & Apathy

While Stalingrad's agony was reaching its height, Winston Churchill rose in Parliament to review the war and his trip to Moscow. When he finally got to what was on everyone's mind, the second front, he said only what had been said before: Britain and the U.S. were coming "as quickly as possible."

Even his personal impressions of Joseph Stalin were made up of cliches, though he apparently was trying his old technique of extravagantly praising his international friends: "It is very fortunate for Russia to have this great, rugged war chief . . . massive and strong personality . . . inexhaustible courage . . , direct and even blunt in speech . . . saving sense of humor . . . deep, cool wisdom and complete absence of illusion."

Russia was in no mood to be flattered. Russian newspapers did not print these particular remarks.

Criticism Wanted. Winston Churchill had an excuse for not shining. Within a week he had to make two other speeches, on the Duke of Kent's death and on India. But he was so dull that many M.P.s walked out on him. What followed his dullness was even more surprising. After his speech it had been planned to give the Prime Minister's critics their first full-dress chance in nine weeks to hold a two-day debate on the war. But when Churchill finished and left the House, all but half a dozen members followed him out. Three of the remainder talked for a while to the empty benches, then the House recessed.

There were various explanations for Parliament's apathy. Some held that it showed a growing confidence that the Churchill policies would eventually prove themselves. But from very sober quarters came the simpler suggestion that, as a governing body, the coalition House of Commons had pooped out.

Said the Manchester Guardian: "There was no desire . . . to comment on the many stirring things that have happened in the last four weeks, or to make critical suggestions."

Said the Economist: "The present superannuated House of Commons is much too tired and too light in weight to do its job properly, constructively and responsibly through all weathers."

Next day glib, robust Aneurin Bevan, Welsh Laborite and cofounder (with Sir Stafford Cripps) of the leftist weekly Tribune, rose in Parliament to attack Churchill. Said he: "Mr. Churchill is no longer able to summon the spirit of the British people because he represents policies they deeply distrust." Laborite Bevan was so biliously personal that even London's most liberal columnist, A. J. Cummings of the News Chronicle, called him "an arch-exhibitionist . . . who gave a deplorable exhibition of bad manners, bad temper and bad criticism."

Proof Wanted. If solemn, considered questioning of British and U.S. policy was lacking in Parliament, it was not lacking in Russia. Prime Minister Churchill admitted as much in his speech. Said he: "The Russians did not think that we or America had done enough to take the weight off them. . . . It was difficult to make the Russians comprehend the difficulties of ocean transport. . . . It was difficult to explain fully the different characteristics of the war effort of the various countries."

There were other things the Russians did not comprehend. Russians-on-the-street were finding it difficult to understand why Russia had not sat with Britain and the U.S. in the London conferences in July, at which, said Prime Minister Churchill, Britain and the U.S. reached "complete agreement on war policy and war plans." The defense of Stalingrad was living, agonized proof that the Russians were doing as much as possible. The Russians would feel critical until Britain and the U.S. furnished similar proof.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.