Subtlety and Understatement- Winston Churchill?
July 13th, 2008Winston S Churchill is popularly known as that pithy British warlord and statesman whose succinct statements are staples of books of quotations. Outside of Shakespeare, he is probably the most quoted person in the English language. Directness is as much a part of his persona as his cigar. And all of this is true and valid acknowledgment for a man with a first class wit and uncommon insight; he made the complex sound simple without detracting from the overall meaning. However, this is far from a complete picture of his rhetorical accomplishments and abilities; his strength as a writer and speaker is richer than this. Churchill is also at his best when he is at work developing a line of reasoning or illuminating a situation or personality. This ability is evident throughout his The Second World War, a six volume, first-hand account.
Churchill was deeply conscious of his status as a public person. He appreciated the sometimes misdirected harshness and fallibility of public opinion and the damage that irresponsible statements could do to a person’s reputation and, ultimately, their place in history. His biography of the Duke of Marlborough contains many sections disputing the misleading, inaccurate, negative statements of previous historians. Churchill himself had been maligned by press and public for the failed Gallipoli campaign during WWI; even today there are people who still think the failure was all his fault. He spends some time in The Second World War refuting statements made in other first-hand accounts about himself: he refutes the idea that he was opposed to the D-Day invasion and effectively discredits Franklin Roosevelt’s son, Elliot’s, version of events at the Tehran conference in 1943. With a sentient appreciation of the hazards of doing the business of the people, he was a fair and broadminded critic, sheathing his plunging, aphoristic style for more developed images.
One of Churchill’s most memorable images is of Josef Stalin at Potsdam in 1945 told towards the end of the last volume, TRIUMPH AND TRAGEDY. Churchill and the British had been through a lot with the Soviets. As France fell and the Nazi fury converged on Britain, the Soviets adhered to their non-aggression pact with Germany, going so far as to ship supplies to them; in fact trainloads of Soviet raw materials and manufactured goods were en route to the Reich even as the German onslaught commenced in the east. After that, there was the tenterhooked alliance and the long Arctic voyages made by British merchantmen convoying supplies to Archangel, oftentimes punctuated by rough handling and internment by the Soviets. To Churchill’s uneasiness, in calling for an offensive in the west to draw troops away from the east, Stalin didn’t hesitate to remind him that the Soviet armies were doing the bulk of the fighting; more Russians were being killed than any other nationality. Still, in spite of all of the wrangling and accusations, the people and leaders of Britain and the Soviet Union had been bedfellows on the Nazi rack and Churchill expresses a profound respect for the Russian soldiery and people, as well as an appreciation of the abilities of Stalin himself.
With the Allied forces victorious in Europe, Stalin, Churchill, and Truman met in Potsdam, Germany, a suburb of Berlin, to begin deciding the fate of prostrate Germany. The agenda for this conference included some of the most pressing and resonant issues of the war and peace: the borders of Poland were to be discussed; as many as two million Germans were unaccounted for behind Russian lines; the relocation of three or four million Poles and as many as eight million Germans was being considered; the Soviets were advocating depriving Germany of a quarter of its arable land by a puppet Polish regime; winter was a few months away and Germany’s ability to feed and provide heat for its population was at stake; starvation was likely in the British occupation zone which contained most of the population, but not nearly enough coal or farming land to support it; the fate of millions was in the balance. Europe had been a shambles many times before but never on such a scope. Napoleon’s muskets, cannons, and looting soldiers were puerile nuisances alongside Nazi conquest and occupation. This was the agenda for Potsdam.
The conference consisted of plenary sessions during the day with a more informal itinerary in the evening. It was protocol that each leader would host a banquet; the night of July 23rd was Churchill’s turn to extend hospitality. The company changed chairs and, as planned, the occasion took on an air of informality. Churchill, Truman, and Stalin took turns talking to each other individually. Here was the moment for the leaders to meet as men and express sentiments of good will and fair-mindedness necessary to ensure peace in the future.
Churchill’s vignette begins with Stalin moving around the hall procuring signatures on the menu. Who would have figured Stalin for a scrapbooker? As Stalin made his way to him, Churchill complied with his request for a signature and the two became engaged in conversation.
For whatever reason, at these conferences Stalin and the other Soviet attendees drank toasts from “tiny glasses.” But here in this room, in the first flush of victory after a long, unpredictable struggle together, Churchill had Stalin all to himself and he thought he would, “take him on a step.”
So I filled a small-sized claret glass with brandy for him and
another for myself. I looked at him significantly. We both
drained our glasses at a stroke and gazed approvingly at one
another. After a pause Stalin said, ‘If you find it impossible
to give us a fortified position in the Marmora, could we not
have a base at Dedeagatch?’ I contented myself with saying,
“I will always support Russia in her claim to the freedom of
the seas all the year round (579).
It has often been said and confirmed that drink lowers the inhibitions and loosens the tongue. People drop their guard, reserve subsides for a while, and they reveal directly or indirectly that which is foremost in their mind; here is an instance.
This exchange reveals Stalin’s veiled assumptions about how the issue of sovereignty in the occupied and conquered territories should work. The Sea of Marmora and Dedegatch are outside of the British empire; Churchill did not have the authority to “give” Russia either of these territories. Stalin is assuming that it is acceptable for the three victorious powers to simply divvy up the occupied and conquered lands. This slip is in marked contrast with his outspokenness about self-determination in Poland; with the Lublin Poles essentially “installed” and supported by Soviet arms, he was eager for the London Poles to be silenced, independent election observers not enter Poland, and the gold in the bank account of the pre-war Polish government be sent home forthwith. But here he is trying to negotiate with Churchill like the occupied lands were so much booty to be dealt with at the will of the remaining great powers.
Disarmed by the informality of the banquet, his guard dispatched by a stiff jolt of liquor, Stalin revealed his true mind- the “firstling” of his heart was to acquire military bases while the world was still exhausted, confused, and defenseless. Famine and starvation awaited millions but Stalin, with the leader of one of the world powers and an ally with whom he had endured so much, chose to discuss expanding the Soviet sphere of influence instead. Either he didn’t understand or he didn’t care- Churchill doesn’t presume to know.
The format of the banquet was informal, not designed for talking business; that was for the plenary sessions during the day at which the Soviets had been eager to postpone discussion and defer dire issues to a future conference. Here, tellingly out of place, Stalin is eager to discuss a specific affair of state. Disregarding an opportunity to nurture a personal friendship vital to the peace of mankind on earth, he instead attempts to procure territory and strategic advantage. Churchill’s “contented” is the emotional understatement of centuries.
Here is Churchill in full stride; this fractal of his experience at Potsdam elucidates his years of war with this difficult, problematic ally. However, instead of openly stating with a pregnant jibe or aphorism, Churchill brings the reader to the scene and exposes Stalin with the cynical tyrant’s own words; the details drive the point home. The reader sees the source of his perception, fair and perspicuous, and, in doing so, he avoids coming off as carping and petty; readers see a person for themselves. His frustration takes free rein in subdued tones.
While his more aphoristic statements are memorable sagacities, timeless and applicable, a profound strength of his as a writer is his subtlety; through patient, craftsman-like, storytelling, we can see his ideas taking shape in the moment. He gives us an image, conveying his uncanny knack for appreciating and capturing the temperament of a person and situation. His historical writing is both informative and illuminating.








