He was bellicose on the issue of the reform of the Lords should they fail to pass the 1909 budget, with the result that he was seen by many as a traitor to his class. But his fire strengthened the prime minister’s resolve to stand firm on the issue, leading to the 1911 Parliament Act that limited the power of the Lords. “The issue,” Churchill told an audience in Leicester in September 1909, “will be whether the British people in the year of grace 1909 are going to be ruled through a representative Assembly elected by six or seven millions of voters about which everyone in the country has a chance of being consulted, or whether they are going to allow themselves to be dictated to and domineered by a miserable minority of titled persons, who represent nobody, who are responsible to nobody, and who only scurry up to London to vote in their party interests, in their class interests, and in their own interests.”49 In Burnley in December, he brought the house down with his ribbing of Lord Curzon, who had defended the hereditary principle in the House of Lords, saying that “all civilization has been the work of aristocracies.” “They liked that in Oldham,” Churchill said. “There was not a duke, not an earl, not a marquis, not a viscount in Oldham who did not feel that a compliment had been paid to him. . . . ‘All civilization has been the work of aristocracies,’” Churchill repeated. “Why, it would be much more true to say the upkeep of the aristocracy has been the hard work of all civilizations.” Churchill’s speech ended with loud cheers and shouts of “say it again.”50 In July, he had questioned the “self reliance” of the rich in a speech in Norwich: “It is very easy for rich people to preach the virtues of self reliance to the poor. It is also very foolish because, as a matter of fact, the wealthy, so far from being self reliant, are dependent on the constant attention of scores, sometimes hundreds, of persons who are employed in waiting upon them and ministering to their wants.”51 Churchill returned to this theme again and again, ridiculing the hereditary principle. In Liverpool on December 8, 1909: “There are four or five hundred backwoods peers meditating upon their estates on the great questions of government or studying Ruff’s Guide [to the Turf] and other Blue books or evolving problems of Empire at Epsom. Every one of them, a heaven-born or God-granted legislator, knows what the people want by instinct and every one of them with a stake in the heart of the country.”
In the final years of Edward VII’s reign, which coincided with the great period of Liberal reform, Churchill successfully linked imperialism to social progress at home. As he wrote in the Morning Post as early as 1898, “To keep our Empire we must have a free people, an educated and well fed people. That is why we are in favor of social reform. That is why we yearn for Old Age Pensions and the like.” In 1909, Churchill said that the greatest threat to the empire and the British people was not to be found in enemy military power overseas or problems on the fringes of empire. “No, it is here in our midst, close at home, close at hand” in cities and underpopulated villages. The “seeds of imperial ruin and national decay” lay in the unnatural gap between rich and poor, physical degeneration, and child labor.52
Some, naturally, were amused by Churchill’s championing of social reform, though it only demonstrated his keenness, industry, and political instinct, not to say his social conscience, which is better to have than to not. Charles Masterman wrote that “Winston is full of the poor, whom he has just discovered. He thinks he is called by providence—to do something for them.”53 But though it was easy to scoff, having a senior British politician vigorously trying to “do something” for the poor was a good thing. Besides, Churchill’s interest in poverty was not a hastily adopted, vote-winning sally. As a young parliamentarian, Churchill had begun to develop an interest in social policy and the plight of the disadvantaged, a side of his political character that is often overlooked because of his towering reputation as a war leader. His contact with John Morley led him to read Seebohm Rowntree’s book Poverty: A Study of Town Life, which “fairly made my hair stand on end.”
With Lloyd George at the Treasury and Churchill at the Board of Trade, the prime minister had the two brightest ministers in the land at the vanguard of delivering a new approach to problems of social welfare, acting as conduits through which the ideas of social reformers could be translated into effective policy. Together Churchill and Lloyd George stole the limelight from the Labour Party and, according to Beatrice Webb, stood “out as the most advanced politicians” in the land.54 During these years, the government enacted a mass of radical legislation that changed the face of Britain. In piloting these reforms, Churchill and Lloyd George were the fulcrum of a defining moment in British political history. Though some chose to see Churchill as a traitor to his class, it was surely more palatable to have a scion of the aristocracy imploring the rich to help the poor than to have the message forced down their throats by firebrand radicals. On February 5, 1909, Churchill spoke at Newcastle on “the great mission of Liberalism,” which was to elevate the poor, and “to open all careers freely to the talent of every class.”55 He had to convince the Cabinet, as well as Parliament and the country, that this was the thing to do.
As president of the Board of Trade, Churchill brought the Port of London Act onto the statute book and was instrumental in establishing a network of labor exchanges. The first one opened in February 1910, and there were 214 within two months. Churchill also did a great deal of work toward a scheme of compulsory unemployment insurance, which came into law in December 1911. He recommended delaying the unemployment insurance scheme in December 1908 so that it could be presented as a whole—which robbed him of public acknowledgment of his role in delivering it. When it eventually came before the House, Churchill said that “there is no proposal in the field of politics which I care more about than this great insurance scheme.”56 His 1909 Trade Boards Act introduced minimum wages in a number of “sweated” trades.
Churchill’s passion as a social reformer saw him engage in a ferocious campaign against the battleship building program proposed by the First Lord of the Admiralty, Reginald McKenna. Though historical memory casts Churchill primarily as a war minister, he was in this period more concerned with remedying domestic ills than with the defense of the realm. Churchill put his own office of state and its responsibilities first, and this naturally brought him into conflict with fellow ministers vying for Treasury funds, particularly the service ministries. At this point, Churchill did not believe that war with Germany was imminent, and he eschewed the scaremongering that had for some time been stirring. Later, Churchill was to acknowledge that he and Lloyd George had been wrong in this period “in relation to the deep tides of destiny” and should not have so opposed McKenna.57 But at the time, he was looking forward rather than back.
Churchill’s formidable oratory made him a powerful voice in support of any cause, and Asquith saluted the signal contribution of his speeches during these years, claiming that they would be remembered by history. Churchill could, however, overstep the mark, and in supporting the budget earned rebukes not only from his easygoing superior the prime minister, but even from the king. But Churchill remained extraordinarily resilient, a vital strength for those aiming for the political summit. He was rarely abashed; though still much younger than all his Cabinet colleagues and so recently promoted to Cabinet rank, he was perfectly happy to send the most uninhibited letters, offering opinion and policy advice on any subject, whether or not it came within his own department’s purview. In participating in the “peers versus people” debates, it was not lost on some that if his cousin were to die, Churchill would find himself Duke of Marlborough. Despite his interest in social reform, Churchill was not a revolutionary, and the existing social order was perfectly acceptable to him. His concern for the working class was paternalistic—he was a squire dispensing alms to the poor. The social-engineering elements of the budget’s land taxes were abandoned in a final compromise, though the myth of the “people” beating the super-rich remained thereafter.
As a result of the struggle surrounding the budget, Parliament wa
s dissolved, and in the ensuing election of January 1910, Churchill registered a big win in Dundee. The campaign was fought under a “who rules?” banner, and Churchill gave impressive speeches, noted by the prime minister and knitted together for publication as an election handbook entitled The People’s Right. The first election of 1910 saw a Tory recovery and left the Liberal government dependent on the support of the Labour Party and the Irish MPs. Churchill’s excellent record at the Board of Trade, and his vocal support of his government’s policies, convinced the prime minister that he merited promotion. Asquith offered him the Irish Office; Churchill, with typical boldness, said thanks, but no thanks, and asked instead for much higher ministerial positions: “The office does not attract me now. There are many circumstances connected with it which repel me . . . for myself I would like to go either to the Admiralty . . . or to the Home Office.”58 Asquith gave him the Home Office, Churchill becoming the youngest incumbent since 1822, just the kind of statistic that caught his imagination and caressed his ambition and pride (as it would almost anyone in a similar position).
The Home Office was the chief ministry of state for domestic affairs, and one of the four most senior Cabinet positions. As home secretary, Churchill’s powers and responsibilities were manifold, including prison reform, the fire service, immigration, censorship of theater, protection of game birds, betting and gambling legislation, issues relating to drugs, and the casting vote in cases involving the death sentence. It was also the customary duty of the home secretary to write a daily letter to the monarch reporting on business conducted in the Commons. This was an onerous task, though Churchill entered into it with gusto, composing eighty-four handwritten missives during his fourteen months in office. The tone of his reports led him into a dispute with the king, conducted through his private secretary. Churchill was unabashed, and the episode provided an interesting insight into his attitude to the monarchy. Although a staunch monarchist throughout his life, prizing the institution’s stabilizing influence in British and international affairs, he upheld the supremacy of Parliament. While Kings Edward VII and George V might not have considered Churchill respectful enough of their person or prerogatives, he in turn opposed royal interference in parliamentary matters and played a role in ensuring that the monarchy had less power in political affairs at the end of his parliamentary life than it had at its beginning.
At the Home Office, Churchill drove through a Mines Act, intended to relieve the lot of the many men who worked in appalling conditions in Britain’s extensive coalfields, and took steps to help those trapped in “sweated” labor employment. He also did a great deal to reform the treatment of prisoners in Britain’s prisons, speaking forcefully as someone who had endured incarceration himself. He legislated against solitary confinement and for the provision of entertainments for prisoners, a novel concept for a penal system fixated with punishment. As Churchill convincingly argued, the way that a society treated its prisoners was “one of the most unfailing tests of the civilization of any country.” As home secretary, Churchill was an obvious target for the attention of the suffragettes, struggling to win the vote for women. His public meetings were targeted by female hecklers; he was attacked by a woman wielding a dog whip at Bristol railway station and had a scuffle on the steps of 10 Downing Street. This treatment had the reverse effect from that intended, for it roused Churchill’s ire and sense of constitutional propriety.
Meanwhile, skirmishing around the “People’s Budget” continued, and both sides prepared for the next set-piece battle. There had been a compromise budget in April 1910, but Asquith was set on curbing the power of the Lords and planned to swamp it with newly created Liberal peers unless they passed the budget. In this cause he was ably assisted by Churchill and Lloyd George. It was the political fight of the Edwardian era, though a temporary truce prevailed after the death of King Edward VII in May 1910. During the summer, Churchill and Lloyd George discussed with sympathetic Conservatives the prospect of a coalition government as a way of bridging the party divide.
Churchill adopted a lifelong habit in these early political years, taking regular and extensive holidays overseas, usually on the Continent. He was, however, unable to holiday without continuing to work, and on these trips he composed lengthy policy documents with which to best his colleagues, as well as making progress on his private writing projects. Since he was a confirmed workaholic, these holidays enabled him to marshal his forces and maintain his intense work rate. In 1910, the holiday involved a six-week Mediterranean cruise. There was yet another general election in December 1910, at which Churchill did less well at the polls than in the first, mirroring his party’s failure to improve its position.
Churchill’s reputation for being a very “hands on” politician was set during this period, particularly by his involvement in dealing with a wave of strikes that broke out across the country. This did not do him a great deal of good, as it augmented his reputation for overkeenness. The characteristics of drive, egocentrism, energy, and innovation that enabled him to push himself further and further forward were exactly what many people disliked in him. The shadow of his father counted against him—he was considered by some to be “unsound.” Some disapproved of his style, sniggering at the figure he cut, standing in his frock coat with a pronounced forward stoop, hands on hips, striking a dramatic parliamentary pose part his own, part his father’s. Drama was central to Churchill; he could invest a measure to improve pit latrines with a sense of national purpose. He saw events through dramatic lenses and cast himself in a heroic role, and his ability to tell dramatic tales was the secret of his success with the spoken and written word, though some people always found his rhetoric too florid for their tastes.
The strikes and riots of 1910–11 led to the dispatch of troops to many parts of the country. The unions were growing in power and chose to flex their muscles during a period of almost full employment. In November 1910, miners rioted at Tonypandy in the Rhondda Valley. Troops were ordered to the area without Home Office authority, and when Churchill became involved, he ordered that the troops be kept in reserve and the local police reinforced from London. He decreed that police, not troops, were to deal with the situation. He appointed General Neville Macready to command both troops and police, though he stressed that the police must form a buffer between the strikers and the troops. By this mechanism, authority was removed from the local body—who might have been tempted to employ both the troops and the police as strikebreakers. This was regarded as a wise decision: there was no loss of life, and Churchill had acted with restraint. Yet still he was branded a heavy-handed enemy of the working man, even though “careful scrutiny shows that Churchill sought to avoid sending soldiers at all and then, when he judged that some show of military force was unavoidable, instructed General Macready not to act, or to seem to be acting, other than in support of the civil power.”59 On this occasion, he was criticized in Parliament for not employing the military more rigorously, though later in the year, when troops were used to break a nationwide rail strike, he was criticized for deploying them.
In 1911, Churchill was involved in the unimportant but extensively reported “Battle of Sidney Street,” an incident that augmented his reputation for rashness. He was photographed, in frock coat and top hat, observing and conducting a police and army siege of an East End house in which a dangerous gang had taken shelter. Whether guilty or not of rashness and poor judgment, it was a cap that his critics always managed to make fit. The Tory press said he had brought his office into disrepute by being so close to the action, just as it had accused him of being “aloof” over the strikes in the Rhondda Valley. Despite his indisputable record as a social reformer—second only to Lloyd George in promulgating effective legislation against society’s ills—these episodes ensured Churchill was cast in many people’s minds as an enemy of the working class, “a triumph of propaganda over reality.” Winston’s love of action, often too closely involved when distance and patience would better have served
him, is wonderfully summed up by Clement Attlee, who had first seen him during the Sidney Street siege:
When Asquith managed to call off the railway strike, his face fell. “Somebody has got to break the news to Winston that it’s off.” A reluctant Lloyd George was sent around to the Home Office. He found Winston in his room, on all-fours, with large scale plans of various railway stations and goods yards spread in front of him, and small blocks of wood, representing troops, being moved in and put into position. “It’s off, Winston,” said Lloyd George. “Bloody hell!”, said Winston, or words to that effect: then he got up and kicked the troops and the maps across the room. Winston had become so enthused about his job that he wanted to go ahead and finish it. Animosity against the strikers had nothing to do with it.60
In the same month as the “Battle of Sidney Street,” Churchill was also present at the “Battle of Downing Street.” Arriving there to see a scuffle involving the prime minister, Churchill roused a group of policemen who were dealing with Anne Cobden-Sanderson and told them to take her to prison. This remark was overheard, and four days later, after addressing a meeting in Bradford, he was attacked with a whip in the dining car of the train, to the words “take that, you dirty cur.”61
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