Karl Marx

The British Army

Written on 28 March 1855.  
From the English.  
["New-York Daily Tribune" No. 4364 of 14 April 1855, leading article]

We have now before us the report of more than a dozen sittings of the celebrated committee appointed by the House of Commons to investigate the condition of the British army in the Crimea. Witnesses from the most varied spheres of society have been examined, from the Duke of Cambridge downwards, and their testimonies agree to an astonishing degree. All branches of the administration have passed in review, and all have been found not only defective, but in a scandalous condition. The army staff, the medical department, the supply department, the commissariat, the transport service, the hospital administration, the health and discipline police, the harbour police of Balaklava – all together have been condemned without a single dissenting voice.

But bad as each department was considered in itself, the whole glory of the system only developed in the contact and cooperation of all. The regulations were so nicely arranged that, as soon as they came into force when the first troops landed in Turkey, no one knew where his authority began or where it ended, or to whom to turn in any matter; and therefore, out of wholesome fear of responsibility, everyone shifted everything from his own shoulders on to those of somebody else. Under this system the hospitals were scenes of abominable brutality. Negligence and indolence took their worst effect on the sick and wounded on board the transport ships and after their arrival at their destination. The facts brought to light are incredible; indeed, nothing more horrifying occurred during the retreat from Moscow. And yet these things really happened at Scutari, in sight of Constantinople, a great city with all the resources of activity and

material comfort. It did not happen on a hasty retreat, the Cossacks on the heels of the fugitives, cutting off their supplies, but as a result of a partially successful campaign, in a place safe from any enemy attack, in the great central depot where Great Britain had accumulated its stores for its army. And the authors of all these horrors and atrocities are not hard-hearted barbarians. They are, every one of them, British gentlemen of good descent, well educated and mild, philanthropically and religiously inclined. In their personal capacity they were, no doubt, ready and willing to do everything; in their official capacity it was their duty to look on coolly and with folded arms at all these monstrosities, aware that this case was not provided for in any of Her Majesty’s regulations affecting themselves! Rather let a thousand soldiers perish than violate Her Majesty’s regulations. And like Tantalus, the soldiers had to die in sight, nay, within smell of the comforts that could have saved their lives. No man on the spot possessed the energy to break through the network of routine, to act on his own responsibility as the needs dictated, and in defiance of the regulations. Only a single person dared to do so, and that was a woman, Miss Nightingale. Having once assured herself that the necessary things were stored up, she chose a number of sturdy fellows and actually committed a regular burglary into the Queen’s storehouses! The old women in authority at Constantinople and Scutari were cowards to a degree that would seem incredible had we not their own open admission. One of them, Dr. Andrew Smith, for a time chief of the hospitals, was asked whether there were no funds available at Constantinople for purchase, or no market for procuring many of the necessary articles.

“Oh yes!” he answered.  
“But after forty years’ routine and drudgery at home, I assure you that for some months I could scarcely grasp the idea that I had actually funds placed at my free disposal!”

The blackest descriptions of the conditions given both in the newspapers and in parliamentary speeches are far surpassed by the reality as it is now submitted to us. Some of the most revolting facts have been brought to light, yet even these now appear in a still darker light. Although the picture is far from complete, we can yet discern enough of it to judge the whole. Apart from the nurses sent out, there is not a single mitigating feature in this picture. One set

is as bad and as stupid as the other, and if the committee in its report has the courage to say what the evidence implies, then it will be at a loss to find words in the English language strong enough to express its condemnation.

In the face of these revelations it is impossible to suppress a violent feeling of indignation and contempt, not only against the immediate culprits, but above all against the government which arranged this expedition and which had the effrontery to declare the glaring facts to be fictions. Where now is that great coalition “of all the talents”, that pleiad of statesmen with whose accession to office the golden age was to dawn upon England? Whigs and Peelites, Russellites and Palmerstonians, Irish and English, Liberal-Conservatives and Conservative-Liberals – they have all higgled and haggled amongst themselves, and everyone who was put into a post turned out to be an old woman or a frightful blockhead. These statesmen were so sure that the machine which they had handled for thirty years would work splendidly that they did not even send out a single person with extraordinary powers for unforeseen circumstances; unforeseen circumstances can, of course, never occur under a well-functioning government! These British ministers, subaltern by nature and by habit, suddenly placed in command posts, have brought upon England the greatest disgrace. There is old Raglan, who was all his life a first-rate clerk to Wellington; a man who was never allowed to act on his own responsibility, a man trained to do exactly what he was told until he was 65 years old; and this man is suddenly appointed to lead an army against the enemy and to decide all questions immediately and independently! And a fine muddle he has made of it. Indecision, despondency, complete lack of self-confidence, firmness and initiative characterise his every step. We now know how faint-heartedly he behaved in the council of war when the Crimean campaign was decided upon. To be taken in tow by a boastful scoundrel like S[ain]t-Arnaud, whom old Wellington would have silenced forever with a single dry, ironic word! Then this timid march to Balaklava, his helplessness during the siege and the sufferings of the winter, when he knew of nothing better to do than to hide himself. Then there is Lord Hardinge, of equally subaltern character, who commands the army here at home. Although he is an old soldier, one could conclude from his administration and from the way he defends it in the House of Lords that he has never been outside his barracks or his office. To say that he has absolutely no understanding of the most vital needs of an active army, or that he was too lazy to recall them to memory, is the most favourable opinion that can be formed of his case. Then come Peel’s secretaries – Cardwell, Gladstone, Newcastle, Herbert and tutti quanti [and the like]. They are well-bred, good-looking gentlemen, whose elegant manners and refinement of feeling do not allow them to treat a matter roughly or to act with even a semblance of decision in the affairs of this world. “To take into consideration” is their phrase. They take everything into consideration. They want to take every matter into consideration. They take everybody into consideration, by which taking into consideration they assume to be taken into consideration by everybody. Everything with them must be round and smooth. Nothing is more repugnant than the angular forms that denote force and energy.

These mild, truth-loving and pious gentlemen shamelessly denied all reports coming from the army that it was being ruined by bad management, since they were a priori convinced of the perfection of their government and had the best authority for these denials; and when the matter persistently went on, and when the official reports from the theatre of war even forced them to admit parts of this statement, their denials still sounded with sharpness and anger. Their opposition to Roebuck’s motion for an inquiry is the most scandalous instance of public persistence in falsehood. The London “Times”, Layard, Stafford and even their own colleague Russell accuse them of lying, yet they stuck to it. The whole House of Commons by a two-thirds majority accused them of lies, yet they stuck to it as before. Now they stand convicted before Roebuck’s committee, but as far as we know, they still stick to it. Yet their persistence has now become a matter of slight importance. The truth, revealed to the world in all its terrible reality, will inevitably lead to a reform in the system and the administration of the British army.