'Peace For Our Time' Voices Echo In New Age Of Anxiety
 
    I promised to lay off topic A--Iraq--until the Security Council makes a judgment on the inspectors' report, and I shall keep that promise.
 
    But I must tell you that throughout the past fortnight I've listened to everybody involved in or looking on to a monotonous din of words, like a tide crashing and receding on a beach--making a great noise and saying the same thing over and over.
 
    And this ordeal triggered a nightmare--a daymare, if you like.
 
    Through the ceaseless tide I heard a voice, a very English voice of an old man--Prime Minister Chamberlain saying: "I believe it is peace for our time"--a sentence that prompted a huge cheer, first from a listening street crowd and then from the House of Commons and, next day, from every newspaper in the land.
 
    There was a move to urge that Mr. Chamberlain should receive the Nobel Peace Prize.
 
    In Parliament, there was one unfamiliar old grumbler to growl out: "I believe we have suffered a total and unmitigated defeat." He was, in view of the general sentiment, very properly booed down.
 
    This scene concluded, in the autumn of 1938, the British prime minister's effectual signing away of most of Czechoslovakia to Hitler. The rest of it, within months, Hitler walked in and conquered.
 
    "Oh dear," said Mr. Chamberlain, thunderstruck. "He has betrayed my trust."
 
    During the last fortnight, a simple but startling thought occurred to me--every single official, diplomat, president, prime minister involved in the Iraq debate was, in 1938, (either) a toddler (or) unborn. So the dreadful scene I've just drawn will not have been remembered by most listeners. Hitler had started betraying our trust not 12 years but only two years before, when he broke the First World War peace treaty by occupying the demilitarized zone of the Rhineland.
 
    Only half his troops carried one reload of ammunition, because Hitler knew that French morale was too low to confront any war just then and 10 million of 11 million British voters had signed a so-called peace ballot.
 
    It stated no conditions, elaborated no terms, it simply counted the numbers of Britons who were "for peace."
 
    The slogan of this movement was "Against war and fascism"--changed at the time by every Labor man and Liberal and many moderate Conservatives--a slogan that now sounds as imbecilic as "against hospitals and disease."
 

    In blunter words, a majority of Britons would do anything, absolutely anything, to get rid of Hitler except fight him. At that time the word pre-emptive had not been invented, though today it's a catchword.
 
    After all, the Rhineland was what it said it was--part of Germany. So to march in and throw Hitler out would have been pre-emptive, wouldn't it?
 
    Nobody did anything, and Hitler looked forward with confidence to gobbling up the rest of Western Europe country by country--"course by course," as Growler Churchill put it.
 
    I bring up Munich and the mid-'30s because I was fully grown on the verge of 30, and knew we were indeed living in the age of anxiety.
 
    And so many of the arguments mounted against each other today, in the last fortnight, are exactly what we heard in the House of Commons debates and read in the French press.
 
    The French especially urged, after every Hitler invasion, "negotiation, negotiation." They negotiated so successfully as to have their whole country defeated and occupied.
 
    But as one famous French leftist said: "We did, anyway, manage to make them declare Paris an open city--no bombs on us!"
 
    In Britian, the general response to every Hitler advance was disarmament and collective secrurity. Collective security meant to leave every crisis to the League of Nations. It would put down aggressors even though, like the United Nations, it had no army, navy or air force.
 
    The League of Nations had its chance to prove itself when Mussolini invaded and conquereed Ethiopia (Abyssinia). The League didn't have any shot to fire. But still the cry was chanted in the House of Commons--the League and collective security are the only true guarantee of peace.
 
    But after the Rhineland, the maverick Churchill decidecd there was no collectivity in collective security and started a highly unpopular campaign for rearmament by Britian warning against the general belief that Hitler had already built an enormous mechanized army and superior air force.
 
    But he's not used them, he's not used them--people protested.
 
    Still, for two years before the outbreak of the Second War you could could read the debates in the House of Commons and now shiver at the famous Labor men--Major Attlee was one of them--who voted against rearmament and still went on pointing to the League of Nations as the saviour.
 
    Now this memory of mine may be totally irrelevant to the present crisis. It haunts me.
 
    I have to say I have written elsewhere with much conviction that most historical analogies are false because however strikingly similar a new situation may be to an old one, there's usually one element that is different and it turns out to be the crucial one.
 
    It may well be so here. All I know is that all the voices of the '30s are echoing through 2003.
 
The above excerpt is from a commentary by Alistair Cooke that aired recently on the BBC. Cooke is a British-born American journalist and radio/TV personality who has spent much of his life explaining Britian to Americans and vice versa. Taken from Investor's Business Daily, March 6, 2003.