the loss of their most valuable power. In the debate which took place in March, the House of Commons' view of the matter was expressed by Mr. Austin Chamberlain, and a better spokesman could not have been chosen. By his straightforward action in connection with the report upon Mesopotamia, Mr. Chamberlain demonstrated that he takes a higher view of the honorable obligations of political life than is taken by the average politician. Consequently, in criticizing the relations of the Prime Minister to the press, he had the advantage of being free even from the suspicion of acting from any personal motive. That is no small matter when political issues are under discussion. In the course of his speech Mr. Chamberlain frankly admitted that the House of Commons no longer exercises the same authority, or commands the same confidence from the country, as previous parliaments have done. He went on to argue that the decline in the reputation of the House of Commons did not justify Mr. Lloyd George's subservience to the press, for the country had no more confidence in the press than it had in parliament. That is possibly true, but it does not affect the real issues involved in the relationship between the present Prime Minister and a section of the press.

It has been generally overlooked that the setting up of a non-party system of government for the purpose of carrying on the war has necessarily altered the relationship of the press to the ministry of the day. In the relatively happy years which now seem so far remote, when we had peace abroad and party warfare at home, the influential newspapers were divided on party lines. Each party had its own press, and where party issues were concerned the party press

had exactly the same standard of honor and veracity as the party politician. Everybody understood the system; few people complained; it seemed a law of nature. But the press had far less power over the ministry than that which the Northcliffe press is alleged in the main justly to exercise over Mr. Lloyd George's ministry. And the reason is very simple. In the first place, the opposition press in those bygone days had no direct influence at all over the government. It was the business of the opposition press, as of opposition politicians, to represent everything that the government did in the worst possible light, and therefore ministers clearly could not take their policy from that section of the press. Had they done so, the leader writers in the opposition press would quickly have discovered that some detail in the government scheme was wrong, and on the strength of that detail would have proceeded to a fresh demonstration of the absolute incapacity of the party in power. But if, for these fairly obvious reasons, the opposition press could not control the government, surely, it may be argued, the ministerial press must have had an overwhelming influence. On the contrary, the influence of the ministerial press on the policy of the government was little if at all greater than that of the opposition press, the reason being that the government did not exist by favor of the press, but by favor of the caucus.

That is the real distinction between present and past times which most of the participants in the recent controversy have tacitly ignored. They have ignored it because caucus control of the government is at least as ugly in its moral aspects, and probably more injurious to the interests of the nation, than the newspaper

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control which the politicians denounce. Governments in those good old days were kept in power by an elaborate piece of living mechanism with its brain in the Whips' Office in Westminster and its tentacles stretching out to every constituency in the kingdom. The life blood of the mechanism was money, to a large extent corruptly obtained by selling titles of honor, while the tentacles were kept in a constant state of activity by a frequent distribution of 'J.P.'-ships, factory inspectorships, and minor government jobs. machine was in daily touch with the Cabinet. Its business was to ascertain whether any suggested policy would be likely to pay from the electoral point of view, and especially whether it would command the enthusiasm of the party zealots, and at the same time attract wavering voters. Provided the machine reported that the policy meant good electoral business, the government could safely ignore any casual criticism that came from its own party organs. Indeed, such criticism would not be long maintained, for any party leader writer who had momentarily been rash enough to examine a proposed policy on its merits from the point of view of the interest of the nation would quickly be told that the matter had been fully considered and that the party must speak with one voice. Thus, in pre-war days, neither the opposition press nor the ministerial press had any effective power of control over the government of the day. As regards those newspapers which kept themselves free from party entanglements it can only be said that they possibly helped to form neutral opinion, and so served a useful public purpose, but they certainly did not control the policy of the government. Any ministry that

felt confident of maintaining its party majority in the House of Commons could snap its fingers at any section of the press, however widely read. In the final resort it was the efficiency of the caucus, not the circulation of the press, that counted.

But the whole situation was altered by the outbreak of war. The Unionists, who were then in opposition, patriotically unlike the Whig opposition in the Napoleonic wars offered to support the government in any measures necessary for the effective waging of war against the country's enemies. Party warfare was entirely suspended, and the government could count upon a united parliament. Later came a definite fusion of the parties for the formation of a coalition ministry. Throughout the country the Liberal and Tory caucuses declared a truce, and joined forces for the purposes of helping in war propaganda, or for other objects of national importance. The old issues had disappeared. Even the question of Home Rule, which had nearly involved the country in civil war, was postponed by agreement. The Labor Party also joined in the truce: it contributed representatives to the coalition ministry, and for a time suspended its own special activities. These fundamental changes in the attitude of political parties to one another necessarily involved a change in the functions of the press. The old business of attacking or defending this party or that on purely party lines had ceased; the only business left to the press was to criticize the government of the day from the point of view of national policy. Naturally, newspapers have differed in their interpretation of this point of view. Their criticism, indeed, would have been of little value if they had all chanted the same tune in the

same key. But, in fairness to the Northcliffe press, it must be stated that it has never failed to advocate a vigorous prosecution of the war till victory is achieved, and that it has frequently been in advance of average opinion in urging definite measures that subsequent experience has proved to be desirable. Its influence with the nation is probably due to these facts at least as much as to tricks of style intended to catch the pop ular taste, and to extremely clever business methods of promoting circulation.

When, therefore, the country began to feel that the coalition ministry was moving too slowly, the Northcliffe press was on strong ground in advocating a change of government. Other newspapers outside the Northcliffe group, and even opposed to it, took the same view; but the newspapers controlled by Lord Northcliffe were most skilful in beating the big drum, and in suggesting that they were the authors of a change which a large part of the nation, and also of the House of Commons, had come to desire. It is also reasonable to assume that Lord Northcliffe, in his individual capacity, counted for a good deal in the negotiations behind the scenes which led to the displacement of Mr. Asquith. At any rate, it is notorious that Mr. Lloyd George and Lord Northcliffe have long been in close coöperation, and it may safely be said. that without the aid of the latter the former would never have become Prime Minister.

Having reached the pinnacle with the aid of the Northcliffe press, Mr. Lloyd George dare not dispense with that aid. For he has nothing else to depend upon. He has no party caucus behind him as previous Prime Ministers have always had. The Liberal caucus remains under the control of

Mr. Asquith, with those leading members of the Liberal Party who have joined their fortunes to his; the Tory caucus is apparently still under the control of Mr. Bonar Law. For the moment both machines are giving their support somewhat halfheartedly to the Lloyd George Ministry; but he cannot count on either. He has, it is rumored, been making desperate efforts to get together a party machine of his own, and the enormous multiplication of titles of honor is probably in part due to this ambition. But though money can be raked in by the sale of titles, it is impossible to build up within a few months an efficient political machine with its necessary coteries of wire-pullers and canvassers in all the principal constituencies. Except for the support of the press Mr. Lloyd George would be standing on air. That is the final explanation of the control which the Northcliffe press exercises over the Lloyd George Cabinet.

It is natural enough, as pointed out above, that members of parliament should resent this situation, and should regard as blacklegs the people who have taken their job. But from the national point of view it cannot be said that there is any obvious loss. The House of Commons in the past has kept in power ministers who were palpably working against the nation's interest. For example, not many years ago it permitted Mr. Lloyd George and Mr. Winston Churchill to intrigue together to cut down the navy, even in opposition to the policy of the Cabinet of which they were members. Nor ought it now to be forgotten that the present House of Commons forced into law a Home Rule Act which could only have been put into operation at the cost of civil war, and which probably no single

individual on either side of St. George's Channel now wants. If we looked further back we should without difficulty find multitudes of instances where measures have been passed solely to please a political faction, and it is certain that if the House of Commons again comes under the alternating control of rival caucuses both legislation and administration will become even more partisan in character, and the general well-being of the nation will be even more frankly disregarded. The most hopeful chance of avoiding this outcome of parliamentary government dependent upon a gigantic popular electorate lies in the adoption of such measures as proportional representation and the referendum. Yet Mr. Chamberlain, who took the lead in attacking the influence of the press upon the government, is the bitterest opponent of proportional representation, and was equally violent a few years ago in opposing the introduction of the referendum. His ideal, apparently, is the unchecked tyranny of the caucus. Even the tyranny of the press is better than that.

But it is relevant to ask whether there is any necessity that the country should reconcile itself to either form of tyranny. That we must in time of war submit to the loss of a great many of our accustomed liberties is obvious; but the extent of this necessity has been exaggerated, and the press has suffered not a little from the censorship which has been established. Even the members of the Press Bureau themselves would hardly claim that their office has been a brilliant example of successful state control. Frequently the Bureau, acting on superior orders, has suppressed news of importance for no other reason than the fear that the public might be discouraged because the news was

bad. On other occasions it has suppressed, or attempted to suppress, public criticism because the criticism was disagreeable to members of the government.

The most notable illustration of this latter type of tyranny was the prosecution of Colonel Repington, the well-known military critic, and Mr. Gwynne, the editor of the Morning Post, for writing and publishing an article attacking the proposal to send British troops from the western front to Palestine. That a technical offense was committed is indisputable, for the Defense of the Realm Regulations are so widely drawn that they can be made to cover any reference whatever to the movement of troops. But the only legitimate purpose of these regulations is to prevent newspapers from publishing information which might be useful to the enemy. If the case had been decided on this ground the prosecution would have failed, for all the facts alluded to in the Morning Post article had already been published in German as well as French and Italian newspapers. But the magistrate, whose tone throughout the trial was painfully inconsistent with the best traditions of the English bench, took the narrow, bureaucratic view that any breach of a bureaucratic order is a serious offense which must be punished. There would be few English liberties to-day if that had been the attitude adopted by English judges in the past. The prosecution was obviously undertaken for no other purpose than to punish a critic who dared to oppose a policy dear to the Prime Minister. Had a similar article appeared from another pen in one of the newspapers which supports Mr. Lloyd George there would have been no prosecution.

The case is important because it shows that the destruction of the

liberty of the press may proceed pari passu with a growth in the power of the press.

If a British government can, with impunity, disregard that English tradition of liberty which is the ultimate bond uniting the whole British Empire, it will not hesitate to shower favors on one section of the press, while straining the law in order to suppress the criticisms of another section. To-day the Northcliffe press receives the favors, and the Morning Post the cuffs; a year hence the positions may be reversed.

A word may be said about the plea that 'the law must be enforced.' Where that plea is honestly used it is unanswerable. Where the law is in substance broken, the men who break it must be substantially punished if the oncoming of anarchy is to be prevented. But a ministry which allows Irish Sinn Feiners and English and Scottish trade unionists openly to defy laws essential to the peace and good government of the country cannot honestly claim that mere technical breaches of bureaucratic regulations should be punished as if they were serious offenses. Yet it is in this spirit that the law is being administered to-day by magistrates who appear to have lost all sense of proportion. Analogous to the Morning Post case is the case of Lady Ela Russell, who was ordered by the Hertfordshire War Agricultural Committee to plough up certain land which was being used by her for keeping cows. The chairman and the vice-chairman of the Local Food Control Committee and the chairman of the Urban District Council all gave evidence that in their opinion the existing use of the land was the best use to which it could be put, and that Lady Ela Russell was doing a real public service by supplying milk to the district. The local magistrates, taking

exactly the same line as Sir John Dickinson in the Morning Post case, refused to go into the merits of the matter. For them, as for him, an order must be obeyed, however foolish it might be, and they imposed the maximum penalty of £100 and costs. It may safely be said that if cases similar to these had been brought into court before the war they would either have been dismissed or a nominal fine of one farthing would have been imposed.

The real root of the trouble is the extravagant extension of the functions of the government. A government can only act through officials, and it is inherent in the nature of officialdom to arrogate to itself arbitrary powers. At the same time the average capacity of officials must necessarily decline as their numbers are increased, and as the range of their operations is extended. When the functions of government are limited to what is strictly necessary for the well-being of the nation, the civil service can consist of a few picked men, and their judgment on the limited range of questions entrusted to them is probably the best obtainable. As a rule, moreover, men of this calibre, from the very fact that they are competent, are also modest; they are willing to seek advice and proceed by agreement instead of attempting to impose by force hastily formed opinions. But when a vast army of new officials is created, many of them with a very limited general education, and most of them with no technical knowledge of the subjects with which they are called upon to deal, it is certain that their arrogance will be in almost direct proportion to their ignorance. The country which accepts such a form of government will be subjected as Great Britain is to-day multitude of regulations which

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