The diaries of William Gladstone, one of the greatest British prime ministers, are astonishing. Not the least astonishing part is the inhuman mental energy which allowed him after each day filled with hard and unremitting work to push himself further to record his thoughts and views in a comprehensive journal. Also fascinating is the intriguing account of this dour, moralizing man’s abiding interest in prostitutes, the trouble he took in getting to know them personally and trying, as he put it, “to save them” – a remarkably thankless task as it turned out. Can you imagine him surviving for long politically in this age of media which pants after the least hint of scandal?
There is an extract in Gladstone’s journal which is instructive. It is a detailed account of a discussion he had one day with two of his ministers about England’s forest reserves. At one point, Gladstone records, they talked about the role of the oak-tree in England’s history and went on to discuss ways and means to make sure that oak forests still flourished in England in 50 years’ time, in 100 years’ time. That is what strikes one – the determination of three old men to secure part of the nation’s heritage long generations after they were dead. What they decided would bring them no personal gain or political merit whatsoever. The resources they earmarked would bear absolutely no fruit for them.
That seems a far cry from these cynical days when, in the words of another, more recent, British prime minister, “a week is a long term in politics.” Today, what is expedient is what seems to count. What is temporarily successful is what matters most. What gathers instant popularity is most applauded. It is a world where the froth on the wave is made to seem more important than the solid sea beneath – a world where one can say of very few men what the writer, Oliver Goldsmith, said of the great eighteenth century conservative politician, Edmund Burke – that “he was too fond of the right to pursue the expedient.”
It has to be admitted that is not always easy to get the correct balance between present expediency and the waiting generations. It is all very well to plan for the long-term future,
but, as John Maynard Keynes pointed out long ago, “in the long term we’re all dead anyway.” After all, today well spent builds all our tomorrows. And it is not merely expedient to get through a sudden crisis. “Live to fight another day” has been a perfectly acceptable, and not necessarily immoral, tactic through the ages. In these perilous times, when new crises fall like storm-drops from the sky, it almost seems enough just to get through each day that dawns.
Still, we must try to hold on to principle through even the sharpest crisis. Expediency taken too far must, in terms of the economy, undermine the long term prosperity of the nation and, in terms of the society, fatally corrupt and demoralize its citizens. If only instant survival matters every man will grab what he can today and say go hang to tomorrow.
It is therefore important to look out for symptoms of exaggerated expediency in how our affairs are conducted and take warning. And what happens is that one very soon discovers that we have become a nation too fond of one-off exercises. A one-off exercise serves its purpose if it can be made the subject of a glamorous announcement or, better yet, an even more glamorous opening ceremony. It serves its purpose if it can yield something that can be put on exhibition or given publicity.
It serves its purpose if it can make even the briefest impact in the market place. It serves its purpose if the citizens can be assured that their desperate need is being met, however temporarily, in one direction or the other. It serves its purpose if the impression can be given of work-in-progress and action
stations bravely manned.
But such exercises do not serve the purpose of adding permanently to the infrastructural strength or productive capacity of the nation. They do not serve the purpose of solving problems once and for all and ‘done wid dat.’ They do not serve the purpose of safeguarding future prosperity. They really are a fraud on all our tomorrows.
We must be on strict guard against lack of follow-through. The announcement, the publicity, the ceremony of inauguration, the taking of political credit, the showy displays at the latest exhibition, none of these are really of any importance whatsoever. What matters in business, for instance, is whether the new enterprise is securely founded, whether sufficient working capital is available for the long haul, whether the product can be supplied on a regular and continuing basis at a competitive price, whether long-term markets are available, and whether annual profits can be generated, not just instant cash on a one-and-done basis. And when it comes to infrastructure, what matters is not so much the vainglorious announcement of a new bridge, ferry, road, generating plant or stretch of seawall, but how well all of these are kept in good repair.
We do not, it is true, always have to think in terms of growing Gladstonian forests that will yield timber a hundred years to come. But at least when our day is past we should have set some sturdy plants and not just a few precarious shrubs that wilt before the day is done.
