The Canadian Forum/Editorial/1921-04

The Canadian Forum/Editorial 1921-04 written by [[|]]

To Our Readers

This is the seventh issue of The Canadian Forum. In this number we have availed ourselves of one of the few privileges we enjoy over the professional journalist, that of taking our readers into our complete confidence. The piece of autobiography entitled "To Our Readers" makes a frank statement of the position and prospects of The Canadian Forum. We hope that it will be given a careful perusal. It is clear from what we say that we, like many other periodicals at present, are in the trough of the commercial wave, but we are nevertheless not unsanguine as to our future. Our prime reason for hopefulness lies in the fact that, in the worst year for newspaper men in living memory, we have met with a steady growth of support that was never artificially stimulated by provocative writing or publicity drives. We feel that this growth of support must have real elements of health and spontaneity in it and that it is not likely to fail us suddenly. Furthermore, we can take courage from the thought that our editorial committee is held together by a very impersonal ideal; the great bulk of what we have printed has come from other pens than ours. The paper belongs, indeed, not to us alone but to any who recognize in our early numbers, faulty as they are, an attempt to maintain an impersonal way of looking at things. And now please read our fuller confession.

Recurring periods of unemployment furnish the most serious indictment against the economic system of to-day. That in a province like British Columbia, teeming with potential wealth, tens of thousands of workers should be denied an opportunity to support themselves by honest toil is a situation which rightly apalls thoughtful men. It is little wonder that a student like Mr. J. S. Woodsworth, who has directed his attention to social questions in Canada through a quarter of a century and whose interest in humanity has never been diverted by the pursuit of wealth or ease, should feel and write strongly as he does in this issue. The enforced idleness of ten thousand at Vancouver in 1921, as the enforced idleness of ten thousand at Winnipeg in 1913, is translated by him into terms of human misery and loss of manhood. He knows that few characters are rugged enough to endure long periods of unemployment without violence to that sense of self-esteem which raises man above the brute. He has lived long enough with the 'under-dog' to realize the tragedy of a system which sets a fence about natural resources, and which delivers into the hands of a few the machinery of production, thus making workmen less than masters of their fate. Some serious and thoughtful students will fail to go all the way with Mr. Woodsworth. We believe that they will question his definitions more than they will differ from his conclusions. Of the latter the claim that the state should itself provide work is especially controversial. But at any rate none will deny that sweeping reforms in the organization of industry are demanded by the periodical recurrence of such conditions as now prevail in Canadian cities from Montreal to Vancouver.

Mr. Crerar was, on the whole, something of a disappointment to the very large audience that recently welcomed him to the Canadian Club in Toronto. It is true that the audience could not but be impressed by his evident honesty as well as by the record of the business success he has achieved as president of the great co-operative organization of farmers in the Canadian West. All this, no doubt made for confidence in view of the possibility that he, may shortly guide the political destinies of Canada. But there was something lacking in his speech, whether or not it was due to the limitations imposed by a Canadian Club audience in a commercially-minded and protectionist city. In his account of co-operation in the West one missed that note of enthusiasm for the ideal which inspired the Rochdale pioneers, in his passing reference to free trade that zeal which carried home the message of Cobden and Bright. To the appeal for economy in public expenditures his hearers said a reminiscent amen, while at the same time wondering how an apostle of progressive policies should have so far forgotten himself as to include school expenditures in the list awaiting the pruning knife.

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Ontario for long years boasted of her educational system. Then an icy crust of regulations settled upon its schools. A committee of educationists has been attacking the pivotal point of the system, namely the secondary schools. We hope later to analyze their interim report. For the present it is sufficient to say that the committee opens up a fair vista when it enunciates the three principles of greater freedom for the local authorities, concentration of the pupil's mind on fewer studies, and the making of the work of the school an end in itself rather than a means of stamping a fraction of its pupils with certificates. If teachers, and especially principals, have not permanently accommodated their gait to shackles, Ontario may once more rejoice in her schools — we had almost said her school system.

Canadians at home suffered many inconveniences in respect of public services during the war. Gradually we have recovered a good deal of what was then lost. In one department, however, what we endured from temporary necessity we appear to be accepting as inevitable. We refer to the postal service. Early in the war the rate of postage was increased. There was some little complaint, but we endured it remembering only as a distant joy the triumph of penny postage. And we should not even now object to the increase in postage, although the United States some time ago resumed their old rates, if it had not been attended by a decrease in service rendered. In the city of Toronto, for instance, a midnight collection which permitted letters written at home in the evening to be speeding on their way by the early morning trains has now long been abandoned: the business man is not particularly affected, and who are others that they should object? Then the Saturday afternoon delivery has been cancelled, so that mail arriving in the city by the morning trains of Saturday is not likely to be delivered before the following Monday. But such marvels of complacency have we become that we even tolerate at times an interval of three days between deliveries. If a legal holiday comes on Monday, as it increasingly tends to do, we received no mail between Saturday morning and Tuesday morning. It is quite time that the postal authorities were reminded that communication by letter is not less important, even if it is less expensive, than communication by rail or wire, and that if postmen feel aggrieved at losing a holiday enjoyed by other workers they may better receive a recompense of two or three days added to their regular holidays than that the public should suffer serious inconvenience.

Last month's inaugural ceremony at Washington provided the moralizers with a rare opportunity; but not all the blasts of unctuous sentiment and pseudo-classical dissertation that it inspired have dispelled, or can ever dispel, the veritable atmosphere of tragedy that overhangs that scene. An inaugural should, one supposes, be a celebration of fresh hopes: this one served only to conjure up the ghosts of dead illusions. For the central figure in the pagent was not the new president with his immense majority and his cautious, shallow optimism, but the broken man whose feet, the reporters were careful to tell us, had to be guided by the hands of attendants as he descended the steps of the White House for the last time. Too much has been written during the last few months of Mr. Wilson's failure. It is the custom now to talk as if his weakness and his faults of temper had alone been responsible for the destruction of hopes cherished by all mankind. Those who profess this point of view should reflect for a moment upon the result of the khaki election in England; and many of them should try, too, honestly to recall their own feelings of two years ago. What was their attitude during those momentous months when the President was engaged in his lonely struggle at Paris? Was it ever more than lukewarm? Was it not often actually contemptuous? The truth is that Mr. Wilson did not have the support of mankind, or anything like it; all he had was the support of large numbers of liberal-minded men in every country; and to-day it is not those men, in spite of their disillusionment, who are his most vehement detractors. Let there be an end to the hypocritical lamentations of his opponents. Mr. Wilson's failure is the failure of every one of us, and its magnitude is, in a sense, the measure of his greatness.

The choice of Mr. Austen Chamberlain to lead the Conservative Party in the British House of Commons has met with widespread approval. Unless the Coalition lasts for ever (a prospect which few men can cheerfully contemplate) he may within a few years be Prime Minister of England. Mr. Chamberlain is plainly lacking in many of the qualities which have exalted political adventurers in England, from Disraeli to Lord Birkenhead. He takes the credit for no great legislative measure. For the most part he has been identified with lost causes. He does not deal in epigrams or perorations. He never makes rudeness a substitute for reason. He peddles no rare and refreshing fruit for the thirsty voter. Like all proper Englishmen, he respects the House of Lords. In a word, he is not clever. More than once has he weakened a case and embarrassed his colleagues by making the most ingenuous admissions. Twelve months ago he barely survived an attack by the Northcliffe Press. The next he may not survive, for his new position does not bring immunity. With Mr. Worldly Wiseman — or even Sir Edward Carson — at the helm, dwellers in the Town of Carnal Policy would feel much safer. But in success or failure there are some things which the new conservative leader will not do. We know no better description of a gentlemen than this: that he willingly does hurt to no man, [p. 197] either by word or deed. There are few party chiefs who could let themselves be judged by such a standard: but Mr. Chamberlain is one of them. He represents a tradition of plain dealing, which we had nearly lost.

No satisfactory explanation of the result of the London conference on reparations has yet been forthcoming — satisfactory, that is, in the sense of revealing the forces that impelled Mr. Lloyd George, in face of a strong public opinion and his own better judgment, to support the fantastic claims of the French. The opening of the conference found him in the now familiar role of the reasonable compromiser, supported, of course, by the thoroughly disillusioned Italians; yet after the first few meetings he seems to have abruptly abandoned the position of moderation that he has been preparing for himself during the past year, and to have accepted unconditionally the suicidal policy of the French government; even going so far as to revive in two by-elections — both of which it may be noted have since resulted in stinging defeats for the coalition — the once popular election cry of "make the Germans pay."

To explain this unexpected turn in the proceedings of the conference - the first justification for many months of the recurring formula of complete unanimity — by suggesting that Mr. Lloyd George and M. Briand are again playing the old game of 'scratch my back and I'll scratch yours' is obviously inadequate; for it is difficult to believe that there are any concessions to be sought in the East or elsewhere that could compensate Mr. Lloyd George for adopting such a course at the present time. Nor can we credit the suggestion that Mr. Lloyd George, fully aware of the difficulties and dangers of the reparation problem as his recent speeches have shown him to be, has thrown aside his scruples simply to save the face of his French colleagues. He has his own public to consider, and the mass of English opinion is clearly opposed to the decision that has been taken. Even the earliest and most plausible explanation, assigning the failure simply to the obduracy and tactlessness of the German delegates, no longer holds water; for it is now clear that the Germans not only submitted two alternatives unsatisfactory to the Allies, but, when these were refused, offered, if a week's delay were granted, to prepare yet another proposal. But if the forces that determined the decision are obscure the effects of that decision are already fairly obvious. The enforcement of the so-called sanctions — the occupation of the Ruhr coal ports, the customs barrier on the Rhine, and the 50% export duty — for none of which, it should be noted, can we find any justification either in the treaty or elsewhere, have not brought the Allies one step nearer to the collection of an indemnity. In fact the indemnity is further away than ever, and Germany is appreciably closer to Bolshevism; for the display of force and the threat to the Rhineland was the signal for an outbreak of communistic activity. No doubt Germany will stand still more prodding, before she is willing to abandon herself to revolution; but the experiment of trying to determine the breaking point is a perilous one, even if the final crash is avoided.

During the first two weeks of August 1921 some of those who still hold by the faith which we all professed during the war will have the opportunity of studying together problems of internationalism. The place of this summer school is not in any of the countries which fought "the war to end war" but at Salzburg, in Austria. Women have organized it and a woman. Miss Jane Addams, will give the inaugural lecture. But the school is for men and women of all nationalities. The general subject is "education for internationalism" and the discussions are to be grouped under two main headings: Psychological, and Political and Historical. Such topics as "Possessive and creative impulses art," "Inhibition of impulses as a source of conflict," "Study of Newspapers and contemporary history. Development of the critical faculty in this connection" are on the programme. Probably most of those who attend will already be convinced internationalists. But even those already sure of the urgent necessity for mutual sympathy and knowledge between the nations need not only encouragement but also instruction and definite guidance. And the sources of misunderstanding are so insidious as to catch most of us at times unawares. The only pity is that Salzburg is so far away. Perhaps when the papers read at the conference are published they will afford matter for discussion in Canada.

We hear this month of a novel theatre in Naramata, B.C., which has been constructed by Mr. Carroll Aikins, dramatist and fruit-grower. The theatre is situated on the third floor of a fruit-packing house in the midst of lake and mountain scenery. Its purpose is stated on the opening programme, dated Nov. 3rd, 1920: "We feel that we have reached that point in our history where we may look for a Canadian literature to record Canadian achievement; and it is in that faith that we have built this theatre for the giving of Canadian plays by Canadian actors. We hope that it will be used by the young actor as a training-ground for his abilities, and by the young poet as a testing-ground for his work; and we have great pleasure in offering it to them, for the service of beauty and for a true expression of the Canadian spirit." Mr. Aikins wishes to get in touch with established or would-be actors and dramatists in any part of Canada and to assemble them during the summer months, housing them rent-free in his fruit-pickers' quarters and boarding them at cost. It is [p.198] hoped that from such beginnings a Canadian company might grow which would tour the land with its repertory of native plays. There are always incredulous smilers and head-shakers to act as a foil to a venture like this. For ourselves we neither smile nor shake the head but we say in good Canadian: "It sounds fine; go to it."

The exhibition of Swiss Art that was opened in March at the Brooklyn Museum is the first to visit America. It will travel to various galleries and there seems no reason why it should not be brought to Canada. We understand that efforts are being made to that end and we wish them success. It is peculiarly desirable that the art of modern Switzerland should be seen in Canada. For one thing, the Swiss have succeeded in doing what Canada hopes to do. With their small population they have preserved their spiritual integrity among the larger kindred nations, so that in Segantini and Hodler they have produced two of the really satisfying artists of modern times. And, for another thing, the Swiss climate has the clarity of Norway and Canada. The Canadian artist will have more affinity, therefore, with the Swiss artist than with the English. Indeed, we wonder whether the work of any modern painter could be more appropriately seen by the Canadian artist and the Canadian public than that of Segantini, whose great "Alpine Pastures" shares the honours of the collection with Hodler's large allegory, "The Life-weary." By all means then let us see this work. We recall with misgivings that a collection of the work of that great eccentric, Van Gogh, which is lying about in New York, has not been deemed interesting enough by our local art authorities. It could be had without difficulty. It would serve a different purpose from the Swiss collection, pointing a contrast rather than an affinity, but the two together would do far more to 'place' our native art than the English and American exhibitions that have recently visited Canada. We still hope to see both Van Gogh and the Swiss.