THE "BREYLSFORD" NOTEBOOK
Contents
Breylsford, p. 95, cf. excerpts from p. 164
Breylsford II
BREYLSFORD. "WAR OF STEEL AND GOLD"
Henry Noel Breylsford. "War of Steel and Gold"
An Inquiry into the Armed World. London, 1914. (The book is dated March 1914) (p. 317)
"It is quite probable that in the Balkans Austria, backed by the dominant influence of the Triple Alliance, took advantage of one of the crises following the Young Turk revolution to carve out a route to Salonica and annex at least part of Macedonia...
Europe has had extensive experience of German "hegemony" over a quarter-century, spanning from the fall of the French Empire to the conclusion of the Franco-Russian alliance. Nothing catastrophic occurred. No small state was invaded, no neighboring border was shifted, no throne was overthrown, and no national or religious freedoms were threatened" (p. 34).
"The era of conquests in Europe has come to an end; and if we exclude the Balkans and perhaps the peripheries of the Austrian and Russian empires, it can be said—with the greatest possible political accuracy—that the borders of our modern nation-states have been definitively established. Personally, I believe there will be no further wars among the six great powers" (p. 35).
"The existing territorial arrangement of Europe follows, with few exceptions, national boundaries" (p. 35).
"Should Germany mine iron ore on the slopes of the Atlas Mountains and ship it as steel rails to Baghdad? This is a typical question of contemporary diplomacy, and, upon sober reflection, it is far more significant than the old-world issue of who should be king of Spain—Bourbon or Habsburg. To resolve this and other similar questions, Europe's youth undergo military drill, warships are built, and taxes are squandered. Nothing at stake affects the fate or ownership of even a single acre of European soil. Nothing would change in the politics, religion, or public life of any European state if these issues were resolved differently—or not resolved at all" (p. 36).
"But who in England would care that Moroccan iron ore ends up being used to cast German cannons in Essen rather than French guns in Creusot?" (p. 36).
"The cordial understanding between England and France, which marked the beginning of strained relations with Germany, was based—as far as the world public knows—solely on a single document, nothing more than a business settlement of French and English interests in Egypt and Morocco" (p. 37).
"The German firm 'Mannesmann Brothers' may justifiably boast that it obtained an exclusive concession to develop all the mines of Morocco in compensation for funds it lent during civil wars to a sultan in dire straits. The very nature of this dispute is evidenced by the terms repeatedly discussed in negotiations between Paris and Berlin aimed at resolving the conflict. A 'resolution,' or temporary settlement, of the conflict was reached in 1910 through an agreement consisting of only one article: that German financial circles, alongside their French counterparts, would participate in various...

NOTEBOOK “BREYLESFORD”
in enterprises and companies whose aim was to “develop” Morocco through the construction of ports, railways, mines, and other public works. This agreement yielded no tangible results, and the growing irritation in Germany over the delays caused by French diplomacy and French financial circles culminated in the dispatch of the gunboat “Panther” to Agadir as a prelude to further “negotiations.” We know from subsequent investigations conducted by a Senate commission what those negotiations would have ended with had Mr. Caillaux remained in power. He would not only have reconciled French and German colonial interests but also implemented a comprehensive accord encompassing the entirety of Franco-German relations. All the issues he initiated during these talks were economic in nature, chief among them being the proposal to end the boycott of the Baghdad Railway by French financial circles and to allow German securities to be listed on the Paris stock exchange. The alarm provoked by this bold move—both among French patriots and British imperialists—has yet to be forgotten; echoes of it could still be heard in London and Paris when, toward the end of 1913, Mr. Caillaux returned to government. In these unofficial negotiations, he set in motion a reassessment of Franco-German relations that would have reshaped not only French but also European politics—if only Mr. Caillaux had remained prime minister for a few more months. French patriots raised alarms, fearing he intended to snatch away their dream of revenge for 1870. British imperialists attacked him in our conservative press, apprehensive that if France settled its dispute with Germany, Britain would find itself isolated. In a single remark during the debates (November 27, 1911) following the Agadir crisis, Sir Edward Grey employed language revealing that our diplomacy shared the fears of the conservative press. According to him, there was a risk that France might be drawn into the orbit of German diplomacy. It was precisely for this reason—not because we were genuinely concerned about the size of the compensation France was offering Germany in the Congo for the seizure of Morocco—that we were prepared to support a less conciliatory diplomatic stance.

the successors of Mr. Caillaux, even resorting to force if necessary. This was perhaps the most instructive episode in the recent history of European diplomacy” (pp. 38–40).
“The French bank Perier recently lent one million pounds to the Turkish government, which used the funds as an initial down payment toward the purchase of a dreadnought cruiser built in Newcastle. A few days later, it was announced that the same bank, apparently in return for a commission, had obtained a concession for the Smyrna–Dardanelles railway. While acknowledging that capital export cannot occur without some movement of goods, from the standpoint of class sociology we must nevertheless draw a sharp distinction between a financial transaction and simple commodity exchange. Trade conducted on the basis of advanced credit is more advantageous to investing classes than straightforward barter between nations at comparable levels of economic development. If we send Welsh coal to France and receive artificial flowers in return, capital earns double profit—the profits of English coal-mining owners and the profits of French laborers. But if we lend money to Argentina, which uses it to buy rails from us so that, later, to service interest payments on the loan, it can export meat back to us, then capital reaps triple profit—the profits of the British steel industry, the profits of Argentine meat traders, and the profits of British bankers and investors. It is this third kind of profit that the class living off unearned income values most highly, and the expansion of such trade—requiring a credit base of this sort, that is, trade with weaker debtor nations—is precisely the goal of imperialism” (pp. 73–74).
“Mr. Malholle calculated for the ‘Dictionary of Political Economy’ that our foreign and colonial investments grew between 1882 and 1893 at an astonishing rate—by 74% annually. Yet the decisive evidence was provided by Sir Robert Giffen. He determined that in 1899 the total profit from all our foreign trade in goods with foreign states and colonies amounted to only 18 million pounds sterling, whereas the profit derived from foreign and colonial investments for the same year he put at 90–100 million pounds sterling” (p. 77).

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“Ten years later, as Sir George Paish asserted in a report delivered to the Royal Statistical Society, our profits from foreign and colonial investments amounted to 140 million” (pp. 77–78).
“Behind them stand embassies, and behind the embassies lie the navies of all Europe, which, upon receiving an order, would set sail toward Turkish waters within hours if there were any delay or hesitation in paying the revenues guaranteed to European railway companies or holders of Turkish bonds. In short, diplomacy and armaments are brought into play to support unscrupulous, usurious deals brokered through bribes by Baron Hirsch and his imitators with Turkish ministers—deals that no honest person would deign to shake hands with” (p. 85).
“For a long time, army and civil service posts were so abundant that they became accessible to the sons of affluent bourgeoisie. For these individuals, India and Egypt ultimately acquired real significance—as places where “life is good” for a son, a brother, or at least a cousin” (pp. 86–87).
“The ‘Exposed Military Trust’ by J. T. Walton Newbold, M.Sc. (“National Labour Publishing,” Manchester, 1 penny), primarily discusses the relationships among British arms firms. P. W. U.’s “Armaments and Patriotism” (“The Daily News,” 1 penny) is entirely devoted to Mr. Mulliner’s role in fomenting the naval panic of 1909. J. G. Perry’s “War Merchants” (“National Peace Council,” No. 167, St. Stephen’s House, Westminster, 2 pence) contains most of the facts presented in the other two pamphlets, supplemented by additional material. All are based on official, irrefutable documents” (p. 89, note).
“This is a thriving concern. Throughout the current century, Armstrong has never paid less than 10%, and its dividends have often reached 15%. Large French factories in Creusot (Schneider) have sometimes paid as much as 20%. The construction and outfitting of a dreadnought should yield at least a quarter-million in profit for the firm receiving the order. Such

holders of Turkish bonds. Rare.

the stakes are worth the effort, and these firms are fully capable of exerting political and public pressure. Among the shareholders of Armstrong’s factory alone are the names of 60 members of the nobility or their wives, sons, and daughters; fifteen baronets; twenty knights; eight members of Parliament; five bishops; twenty military and naval officers; and eight journalists. Among those interested in these firms last summer were two liberal ministers, one high-ranking judicial official, and two leaders of the parliamentary opposition. There is an amusing correspondence between these shareholder lists and the registers of members of the Naval League and the National Military Service League” (p. 90).
“The true facts were at the time laid out by Admiral von Tirpitz in the Reichstag, as well as by the head of the Krupp firm. Parliament chose instead to believe Mr. Mulliner. As a result, Mr. McKenna calculated that Germany would possess seventeen dreadnoughts by the “critical moment”—that is, March 1912—and accordingly revised his own program. Mr. Balfour even predicted that Germany would have 21 or 25 battleships. Subsequent events showed that Admiral von Tirpitz was telling the truth: when that moment arrived, Germany had only nine. This fear cost us four “contingent” dreadnoughts—a figure modest in itself, yet one that intensified irritation and distrust across Europe to an extent beyond any quantitative measure” (p. 91).
“The international relations of arms-trading firms constitute a tempting subject for satire. Comments inevitably and clearly follow from the facts, and here they will be presented without embellishment. Capital is devoid of patriotism. A prominent German firm finds itself under the leadership of French directors. German firms are rebuilding the Russian navy, which rivals the German one. British firms maintain branches in Italy, constructing those very Italian dreadnoughts said to rival our own. Within the Nobel Trust—and until recently, within the Harvey Company—were included all the leading arms-producing firms: English,

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French, German, and American. At one time, the French firm Schneider and the German firm Krupp joined forces in a syndicate to develop the iron ore mines of Ouenza in Algeria” (p. 92).
“Throughout the world, these concentrated, decisive, and well-informed forces steadily suppress the more fragmented and less centrally controlled forces advocating disarmament and peace. The number of individuals profiting from armaments and war is relatively small compared to the entire population of the civilized world. Yet their individual influence is far greater; they operate in alliance with “society,” which views empire as a career path for its sons, and with financial circles that regard it as an investment sphere” (p. 93).
“Mr. Gladstone came to power after the Midlothian Campaign with a program of resolute opposition to imperialism; the principal act of his government’s foreign policy was the occupation of Egypt. Since then, falsehood has taken root in the soul of liberalism” (pp. 103–104).
“Under such influence, liberalism became an imperialist party, with Lord Rosebery, and later Sir Edward Grey, as its sole possible leaders in foreign policy. Lord Rosebery was by marriage connected to the Rothschild family, and it was precisely Rothschild influence that led to the occupation of Egypt” (p. 105).
“There would have been no rupture with France, and the Entente Cordiale could have been established twenty years earlier. European armaments would not have been so overwhelming, and Bismarck’s diplomacy would have enjoyed less triumph. Most importantly, there never would have been an alliance that filled the coffers of the Russian autocrat with French gold, thereby perpetuating the most ruthless of European despotisms” (p. 108).
“During 1907, the following public works were either initiated or completed in Kumasi: a post office, a women’s prison, a hospital and dispensary, a European hospital, a laundry for washing Europeans’ linen, and several buildings for the regiments of the Gold Coast.”
Turning the page, one learns that “a 13-hole golf course had been constructed.” Gold mines, prisons, barracks, a laundry for Europeans built with public funds, and a golf course—such is our civilizing work. But not a single school” (p. 127).
“In other words, whichever party happens to be in power, the Foreign Secretary will always be an imperialist—a figure whom ‘The Times,’ the City, and the Conservative Party can unconditionally trust. A Radical has no greater chance of becoming Foreign Secretary than a Roman Catholic of becoming Lord Chancellor. The doctrine of ‘continuity’ means that foreign affairs have effectively been removed from the purview of party governments and are now subject solely to the influence of the ruling class—that is, to the opinions of those who move within courtly and social circles, who view the army and civil service as occupations reserved for their families, and who regard the world beyond the British Isles primarily as a sphere for investing their surplus wealth” (p. 132).
“Even more significant is the House of Commons’ impotence regarding treaties. If they contain no financial provisions, there is no obligation to present them to Parliament, and no discussion can take place until they have been fully signed, ratified, and published. As a consequence, incidentally, a secret treaty binds us just as much as a published one. A secret treaty duly signed and ratified by one British government binds its successors. In theory, the king and his Foreign Secretary, acting with the consent of their cabinet colleagues, possess the authority to assume the most important and substantial obligations on behalf of the forty-million-strong population of these islands, without consulting their elected representatives” (pp. 137–138).

* — a state coup. Ed.
“In these letters, it is openly acknowledged that Lord John Russell, the Prime Minister, was utterly unable to control Palmerston, who persistently handled crucial matters without the authorization of the Cabinet as a whole, or even its head. He went so far as to declare Louis Napoleon, following the coup d’état*, entirely responsible for his own actions, against the wishes of…”

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not only public opinion, but even the queen and her own colleagues. When advised to remove Palmerston, Lord John Russell always replied that if he were ousted, he would retaliate by joining the opposition and overthrowing the government. How well-founded this fear was became evident in subsequent events. Ultimately, Palmerston was forced to resign at the end of December 1851. Yet as early as February 1852, he had already outmaneuvered his former allies. “A cabinet that cannot dismiss a minister must be prepared to grant him freedom of action” (pp. 143–144).
“On the other hand, the world in which she * moved was one of monarchs and governments. She knew nothing of nations, nor did she recognize them. Amid the great upheavals between 1848 and 1860 that forged the Italian nation, she saw nothing but a series of Sardinian attacks on Austria” (pp. 148–149).
“When Palmerston and Louis Napoleon negotiated in 1848 over a plebiscite to decide Lombardy’s fate, she declared that ‘it would be a calamity for centuries’ if peoples were allowed to change their allegiance through universal suffrage” (p. 149).
“Before we can rely on the stability of democracies during times of national crisis, it is necessary to strengthen educational propaganda and make more deliberate efforts to uphold fundamental principles” (p. 160).
“It is essential to instill widespread and profound skepticism, so that well-intentioned abstractions and impassioned speeches are instinctively met with the question: ‘Which loan, concession, or sphere of economic interest are you actually referring to?’ Such a task lies beyond the competence—and sometimes even the comprehension—of our specialized peace propagandists” (p. 160).

* — the queen. Ed.
“Speaking today about disarmament and arbitration, he will tomorrow work for a party that, scarcely less than its rival, depends on major contractors and bankers who sustain the modern nexus of diplomacy and finance. Efforts to educate and organize in the interests of peace are carried out adequately only

by socialist parties, and only they constitute a force that will consistently and unanimously oppose militarism and imperialism” (p. 161).
“…war is an anachronism, almost an impossible phenomenon in a society founded on respect for private property and accustomed to conducting its affairs according to a system of cosmopolitan credit” (p. 162).
“Suppose war is madness from the standpoint of national interests; nevertheless, it may still seem perfectly rational from the perspective of a small but powerful ruling class” (p. 163).
“The modern imperialist does not set his sights on ‘places under the sun.’ Instead, he seeks new countries ‘for exploitation’—promising regions with untouched mines, unworked fields, cities without banks, roads without rails. These are the opportunities he craves. He gladly acquires them without conquest; he has no desire for war. His ideal is to enclose these territories as spheres of economic interest, within which he can invest his capital under conditions of national monopoly.”
This is a process we must visualize clearly if we wish to grasp the resilience of armaments. Yet this process receives far too little attention in Mr. Norman Angell’s doctrine” (p. 164). “When the Triple Entente prevails, it seizes Morocco and divides Persia. When the Triple Alliance gains the upper hand, it captures Tripoli, consolidates its authority over Bosnia, and successfully achieves economic penetration into Asian Turkey” (p. 167).
“For our civilization, it is characteristic to obscure the connection between diplomacy and armaments on the one hand, and finance on the other, behind a mask of sophisticated codes of politeness and hypocrisy” (p. 168).
“If all the great powers, suddenly enlightened by common sense, were to decide tomorrow to cut their armaments in half, this would not free us from the moral consequences of the irreconcilable conflict between prestige and power that arises when attempting to balance the two” (p. 169),

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“A well‑composed committee would serve as a certain guarantee that the Foreign Office’s policies truly reflect the will of the nation” (p. 213).
“Only by focusing attention on such proposals, and especially on establishing a permanent committee on foreign policy, can democracy hope to exert decisive influence over the factors that determine peace and war, drive the arms race, and limit our capacity to advance the cause of humanity worldwide” (p. 217).
“From 1854 to 1906, the City boycotted Russia. The loan of 1906 followed hints contained in the speeches of Sir Edward Grey and was clearly inspired by articles in The Times predicting the conclusion of a political agreement then under negotiation. Finance and diplomacy mutually serve one another, and in the modern world they have become indispensable to each other. A tremendous support for diplomacy dealing with a debtor state is the awareness that it effectively has behind it the export capital of a wealthy country, which it can either release or withhold. If any power or group of powers were to hold a monopoly over the global money market—even for just a few years—and deliberately use it for political ends, it would ultimately dictate its will to Russia, China, Turkey, and the republics of Latin America” (p. 221).
“Russia is vulnerable because it depends on its reputation in Western markets just as much as any of the Latin American republics. It must place most of its loans abroad. From its own resources, it cannot even sustain the municipal enterprises of its cities. Its undeveloped coal and iron mines, along with its oil fields, await fertilization by foreign capital. If we could momentarily imagine what Germany’s opinion would mean for us—should we be forced to issue our bonds through Deutsche Bank; should Manchester have to turn to Berlin for funds to build its trams; should a coal mine in South Wales have to seek favorable endorsement from some Hamburg financier—we would broadly understand why and how highly the British public’s opinion matters to the Russian government. Credit is a delicate matter. As long as English investors viewed Russia either as a hostile empire dangerous to ourselves or as an unstable autocracy threatened by revolution, Russian financiers vainly presented their proposals to the City. Caution, patriotism, and humanitarianism—all worked against them. Views among the propertied classes began to shift when the conservative press championed rapprochement, when The Times ceased giving prominent coverage to information discrediting the autocracy, and when it became known that an agreement concerning Persia was being negotiated. The reason for this change in stance was no secret. Sir Edward Grey declared that Russia needed to be restored to its status as a great power in order to re‑establish balance in Europe. In plain language, this meant that our diplomacy sought Russian support against Germany, while France pursued and engineered reconciliation. The first months of 1906 represented a critical juncture for Russian finance, coinciding with a crucial moment in the development of its constitution. At the very time it was striving to secure a hundred‑million‑rouble loan in Western Europe, elections to the First Duma were scheduled. The constitution remained little more than a scrap of paper. Everything depended on the Duma’s ability to assert itself, bring bureaucracy under its control, and establish itself as the supreme authority in Russia. For this, it had one obvious means: it had to seize control of the treasury—which at that moment meant gaining control over that foreign loan. Had the loan been concluded before the Duma convened, the bureaucracy would have greeted it with a fully militarized treasury. Over the course of several months or weeks, European public opinion potentially held sway over Russia’s fate. It openly expressed sympathy for the constitutional movement and possessed the means to make that sympathy effective. Russian liberals (the Kadets), together with socialists, insisted that the granting of the loan be conditional upon the Duma’s consent. This would have resulted in a delay of two or three…”

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months, but it would have allowed the parliamentary majority to dictate its terms to the Tsar, who was already regretting the concessions he had made. Having just won a crushing victory in the elections, the liberals and socialists could have told the Tsar’s ministers: “We have Russia behind us, and we have Europe behind us. Your treasury is empty, your credit exhausted. If you recognize our full rights as a responsible government, we will approve your taxes and sanction your loan. If you deny us these rights, we are convinced that neither in London nor in Paris will you find funds to finance your oppressions.” Yet the large loan was already arranged in Paris and London by March 1906, and by May, when the Duma convened, it found itself face to face with a government that had nothing to fear from Russia and nothing more to expect from Europe. Europe had enabled it to pay its Cossacks. Over two generations, we had closed the money market to the tsars and opened it three months earlier than necessary. Had we waited those three months, as the Russian liberal press urged us to do, the progressive parties would most likely have triumphed. The Cossacks can accomplish little if they lack financial backing. But no parliament can effectively wield the traditional weapon of the budget if foreign banks have already preemptively satisfied the despot’s needs. In this case, the decision rested with London. Parisian banks, burdened by supporting an unstable Russian chaos, made their support for this loan conditional upon English banks sharing in this profitable burden. It fell to the English banks to insist on the short postponement required to secure the Duma’s approval. One might say, “business is business”; one cannot expect a banker, offered a hefty commission for placing a loan, to weigh all the consequences his actions might have for another people’s freedom (pp. 225–228).
“Despite all our bribes, we still failed to buy Russian loyalty or prevent Russia from flirting with our German rival. And yet all the cards were in our hands. Germany could do much for Russia, but it could not lend her money. If we had set conditions before granting the loan, and even suspended the inflow of gold, we might have gained some control over Russian policy. If France had supported us—having earned her favor during the Moroccan crisis—we could have told Russia: ‘Until Persia is evacuated, there will be no money.’ After all, Persia is a luxury for Russia; money, however, is a necessity” (p. 229).
“Europe either demonstrated—or pretended to demonstrate—certain efforts that proved largely futile in preventing the outbreak of the Balkan wars. These efforts failed because they lacked sincerity. As we now know, Russia not only did not seek to avert war, but actively orchestrated it by orchestrating the formation of the Balkan League. At the very moment it joined the concert of powers, declaring that none of the allies would be permitted to retain conquered territory, it affixed its seal to the partition treaty and assumed the role of arbiter in dividing up the spoils. Such duplicity renders any concert of powers invalid. All these wars could have been prevented if French banks had been forbidden to finance the belligerents. But they were not prohibited, because Russia wanted things differently” (pp. 230–231).

* — provisions regarding payment of wages in kind, Ed.
“On the other hand, the system known as peonage is widespread throughout Latin America, and the capital that sustains it is often foreign, sometimes even British. This is standard practice in Mexico and Brazil, and probably in all the more backward republics of South America. The victim—usually an indigenous person, but occasionally a white or mulatto—is plunged into debt bondage to a planter or merchant, and under Latin American laws governing debtors and creditors—which bear no resemblance to Truck Acts*—becomes virtually his slave until the debt is paid off. Yet the debt is never repaid; the books are kept by the planter. Under the guise of this transparent fiction of debt, slaves are bought and sold, entire villages are destroyed, peasant landowners are reduced to serf-like status, and whole tribes are deported to distant regions where they suffer oppression—

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children are bought and sold, and young women are driven into professional prostitution. All this is a typical manifestation of Latin American civilization. However, foreign capital penetrating these countries adapts itself to the local environment and behaves in Mexico much as it does at home. It transforms the relatively sluggish, inefficient exploitation practiced by the indolent Spanish landowner into an active, far-reaching system, carried out with such cruelty and on such a scale that it far surpasses the country’s customary practices. This spectacle is not one that European democracy can observe with indifference or passively ignore. If the peoples of Mexico or Brazil were to establish their own capitalist system, whatever its misfortunes might be, it would clearly be best to allow the process to follow its own natural course. For purely Mexican ills, Mexicans themselves must find the remedy. But the European financier steps forward, armed with resources drawn from our arsenal, advancing along the path of conquest and exploitation under the protection of our flag and the cover of our prestige. (pp. 236–237).
“The regions over which there is dispute as to whether sanction 96 should be granted or not will nevertheless be quite substantial, encompassing Russia, Turkey, China, Persia, the Portuguese colonies, and much of Latin America.” (pp. 242–243).
“If we take the sum by which England and Germany increased their armaments in the twentieth century, we could roughly allocate this increase as follows: 50 percent, or slightly less, to settle the question of who shall exploit Morocco; 25 percent or more for the privilege of building a railway to Baghdad and beyond; and another 25 percent or more to resolve those unresolved future issues—namely, the fate of the Portuguese colonies in Africa and the fate of China. Moreover, the demarcation of spheres of influence almost inevitably proves fatal to the national existence of the country subjected to partition, and just as inevitably increases the heavy burden of obligations borne by the imperialist power. Persia provides a striking illustration of this situation. Sir Edward Grey clearly does not wish to find himself compelled by events to assume any direct responsibility for administering the British sphere. His decision deserves praise, but Russia may at any moment nullify it.” (pp. 246–247).
“Our own claims to the lion’s share—that is, to the Yangtze Valley—are recognized by none of the other powers, and it is highly doubtful whether even the Foreign Office still supports them.” (p. 248).
“This serves the interests of the entire class exporting capital abroad. Yet it would be folly to ignore or downplay the immediate interests of industry. This is an interest deeply rooted in political circles, and, as Mr. Mulliner’s exploits demonstrate, it is exceptionally tenacious and vigorous. If political life continues to develop along the same lines, tomorrow’s greatest scandal will be the revelation that the Liberal Party’s funds were invested not in Marconi’s enterprises, but in Krupp’s factories.” (pp. 267–268).
“What monstrous theory is this, according to which England and Russia are entitled to decide the fate of the Persian people simply because they have substantial material—political, strategic, and commercial—interests in Persia?” (p. 290).
“Of course, it would be madness to suppose that adopting this principle of concert supremacy (of the great powers) would immediately bring harmony and lead to disarmament. But it would promptly yield the following results: it would establish a moral standard for the consciousness of the civilized world; it would provide an objective criterion for testing the loyalty of any policy; and above all, it would create common ground where all peace‑loving parties could converge. It would gradually ease European tensions, progressively weaken existing alliances, and eventually foster an atmosphere in which proposals for disarmament—and perhaps even plans for establishing a free federal council to address pan‑European issues—could at least become subjects of discussion.” (p. 293).
“From the standpoint of class egoism, armaments appear entirely rational to the capitalist class; 

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the arms race is sufficiently justified, and the struggle for a balance of power appears to be a phase and expression of the modern financial system.” (p. 310).
“People are reluctant to believe that the interests dividing nations are fundamentally base and self‑serving. We dress them up in grand, abstract terms; we revive memories of heroic eras. We dwell on the legendary legacy of the balance of power until we convince ourselves that our hearth is in danger and that our faith and freedom are under threat. Yet these fears of the old world are as unreal today as the ghosts of Marlborough or Wellington. Nowadays, the great powers are fighting not for what is vital, not for what touches our hearth, our daily existence. The romantic sentimentality of the masses plays right into the cunning realism of the ruling class.” (pp. 315–316).