The First World War holds a significant place in the British psyche, the bloodiest conflict in British history, with repercussions that shaped the twentieth century it has an enduring legacy. When you think of the First World War the prevailing image is a futile war in which a whole generation was lost in the mud of the trenches, but is this fair?
While the narrative of futility has helped Britons come to terms with the tragedy of the conflict and its perceived failure to be the war to end all wars; it hinders our understanding of Britain’s involvement. This article will explore two questions – firstly, why did Britain go to war and how did the public react? Secondly, what was Britons’ experience of the war and its impact?
4th August 1914; the popular image of the outbreak of the war is an explosion patriotic jingoism followed by the rush to colours and all of it caused by anti-German sentiment. This simplistic analysis is not only inaccurate but contributes to the view that the First World War was futile. This sense of futility is largely caused by the war being seen through the lens of the Second World War; the cost of great war for civilisation is only justifiable if civilisation prevailed in the long term – hindsight proved it did not. As such to understand Britain’s involvement in the First World War we must forget the Second.
Britain did not enthusiastically jump into the war but instead resigned itself to fight, realising that there was not an agreeable alternative. In the months leading to the outbreak of the war public attention was not focused on Anglo-German relations but rather the domestic situation in Ireland. When Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated, and Germany declared war on Serbia the reaction in Britain was largely apathetic. For many this was a problem quite far from Britain’s interests and some even felt more naturally allied to Germany than the Serbian Slavs – this changed when Germany invaded Belgium.
The imperial mindset and national interests of Britain meant they had, in their view, no option but to confront Germany. The alternative: to allow Germany to defeat France, dominate Europe and control access to the English Channel was unthinkable to the British government. For the public the declaration of war was a sombre affair - it took many by surprise, especially in rural areas where the news took longer to reach them. Moreover, the crowds, which were much smaller than is generally thought, were more intrigued than excited. The decision to support the war was based a moral sense of national paternity rather than warmongering imperialism.
Imperial sentiment combined with a sense of outrage at the atrocities being committed in Belgium compelled many to enlist – this is reflected in the delay in enlistment figures. ‘The rush to colours’ did not happen until the end of August and early weeks of September, as news and refugees from Belgium began to arrive.
Mud, Blood and Futility – this is how much of modern Britain sees the First World War and it is not difficult to understand why; this view has been supported by literature, film/television, politicians and the national curriculum, to the extent that challenging this collective memory is met with fierce resistance. Our national obsession with the Western Front and particularly the Battle of Somme has come to epitomise how we view the First World War, however, this view has mired our ability to understand the conflict itself. Firstly, it is worth noting that the Western Front was not the only field of conflict between 1914 and 1918; the war spread across Europe, the Middles East and even air raids on British soil.
However, this was not always the accepted narrative of the First World War – it was not until the 1960s that this view gained popular approval; in the interwar years such anti-war rhetoric was not mainstream. Attempts to question Britain’s involvement were deemed disrespectful to bereaved families and veterans. By the 1960s however, the circumstances had changed significantly enough to allow revisionist interpretations of the war to take hold. For example, the reverence afforded to grieving families no longer applied and the social/political context of the decade, combined with a renewed interest because of the fiftieth anniversary resulted in this narrative becoming established. Nowhere is this changing attitude towards the conflict more evident than how we have come to understand the Battle of the Somme and the leadership of Field Marshal Haig.
Contrary to popular opinion the Somme was not initially deemed a disaster but rather a key battle which helped lay the foundations for the eventual allied victory. A narrative of failure has also consumed our understanding of Field Marshal Haig – the architect of the Somme or the ‘butcher’ as some would call him. The portrayal of the generals, particularly Haig, as drunk and incompetent toffs is a persistent myth present from films such as Oh what a lovely war to the 1980s sitcom Blackadder.
It is worth noting that in his life, Haig was highly respected – to the extent that as many people turned out to his funeral as did for Winston Churchill’s. His ability was not widely questioned during his lifetime. In fact, it was not until the 1930s with the release of political memoirs (such as Lloyd George’s) and the rise in anti-war literature in the context of growing hostilities with Germany, that questioning, not only the ability of the military leadership but the whole purpose of the war became acceptable.
The myths surrounding Britain’s involvement in the First World War are well established; these myths have influenced our understanding of why Britain joined the war, experiences of fighting and our view on whether it was worth the cost. The preeminent view of a futile war in which a whole generation was lost in the mud of the trenches has been perpetuated by popular culture and collective acts of remembrance. While the narrative of futility has helped Britons come to terms with the tragedy of the conflict and its perceived failure to be the war to end all wars; it hinders our understanding of Britain’s involvement. By looking beyond these myths we can hope to gain a better understanding of our forebearer’s involvement and finally heal the wounds of the conflict in our collective memory.
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