Britons, Strike Home!
- Thread starter Mumby
- Start date
Oliver Stanley, 1949-1953
Oliver Stanley
Liberal-Conservative majority
1949-1953
Liberal-Conservative majority
1949-1953
With Gwilym Lloyd George’s resignation, there came the matter of choosing a successor. Unlike the situation after the general election in 1941, there was an obvious individual who had stood at Lloyd George’s side throughout the war years. While the Prime Minister had travelled to Britain, Japan, and Russia in his capacity as the Imperial War Cabinet’s unofficial ambassador-in-chief, Oliver Stanley had carried on in his stead in Parliament and proved to be well suited to the fragmentary coalition politics of the war government, as well as to the eternal paperwork of an exile government that represented citizens across a vast world-spanning empire.
In the coalition government, if Lloyd George represented the Liberal tradition then Stanley represented the Conservative one. He had built up a network founded on respect over the previous several years, and following his acclamation as leader of the Conservative Group in Parliament he was able to secure the majority of the Liberals as well. Having kissed the hands of the King-Emperor, he asked to dissolve Parliament and seek a democratic majority of his own. It was at this point that the close relationship between the Conservative and Liberal parties that had only grown as partisanship and traditional loyalties declined, was formalised. The Liberal and Conservative parties merged together, taking the moniker of the Liberal-Conservative Party in imitation of their Canadian cousins. A Liberal remnant, which soon rebranded itself as Liberal Action, refused to cooperate with the merger and chose to fight the election independently.
The second election of the exile parliament had a longer campaign period and for obvious reasons was considerably duller. First of all the atmosphere was quieter, thanks to the end of the war and stabilisation of the post-war settlement. Secondly, the importance of the election had been diminished considerably in the electorate’s eyes, as the prestige and importance of the British exile government had been critically damaged by the emergence of the Imperial Council as a replacement for the old Imperial Cabinets and Conferences, the casual dismissal of Lloyd George by his fellow Premiers, and the growing identification of the exile community with whichever Dominion or Sphere they had found themselves in after nearly two decades of the Imperial Workers Administration compounded by the atmosphere of total war which had seen millions of men conscripted into the armed forces of the respective Dominions. While there was a continuing identification with the British Empire, there was no longer an enormous attachment with the exile government in Ottawa.
The result was a tendency to re-elect incumbents, candidates who were associated with the outgoing National Government in the minds of voters, or representatives aligned with the interests of the Dominions. Stanley’s merger was a great success, partly thanks to the spread of the Liberal-Conservative label to Robert Menzies’ post-war government. He was rewarded with a large majority over a deeply divided opposition. He would soon find that the work which had kept occupied during the war, of ensuring the voices of a disparate community were heard, very rapidly dried up. Stanley is categorised by some historians as the first of the ‘Curator-Premiers’ who in lieu of having any great deal of influence over the running of the Empire, contented themselves with preserving pre-Revolution British culture and attempting to educate and engage outsiders.
One of the notions borne from this new course of thinking that has enjoyed success across the Empire is the Imperial Preservatory Trust. Any hopes that the Imperial Council may have had that they could reduce defence expenditure following the conclusion of hostilities was to be firmly dissuaded by the twin threats of external aggression from the Soviet Union and the Japanese Empire. Within the Dominions there was a general demand for social reform, including the establishment of universal welfare states from one extent to another. This meant that other, more extraneous spending was squeezed, and it was in these areas that both the Imperial and Dominion governments had stepped away from, that Stanley saw an opportunity to maintain the relevancy of the exile government. The IPT was an ostensibly private company, whose majority shareholder was the exile government. Various historic sites across the empire were purchased and curated, for the use and understanding of future generations. It started small, based mostly in Canada but quickly spread across the Empire, and the oak leaf seal of the IPT now shines above such historical sites as the Eureka Stockade and the Lucknow Residency. There are allegations that the IPT has become something of a law unto itself, the need to raise funds for its own existence leading to homogenisation and commercialisation, and their mere existence has been dogged by claims that their interpretation of history and methods of preservation are little more than colonialist propaganda.
Stanley’s efforts were boosted by the general transformation that had occurred in Britain since the Revolution over twenty years before. While Bevin had toned down the policies of his predecessors that explicitly aimed to destroy the Old British and forge a New British Man, he saw no reason to preserve the palaces of feudalism and capitalism alike, and such artefacts of the previous era had fallen into decline or been demolished. There were those within the Co-operative Commonwealth, who did not have a reactionary bone in their body, who abhorred this cultural destruction. The transport of relics out of the country into the hands of the exile government, was deeply controversial. It was often clandestine and the traditionally chilly relationship between Britain and her former colonies was not soothed by this development. The involvement of a state agency of the exile government only worsened matters and contributed to the return of pre-war tensions across the Atlantic.
Stanley’s time as Premier was only short, as not long after taking office his health began to decline. Some have suggested that this very knowledge of his own mortality meant he was able to act more objectively and treat his position and the exile government as humbly as they deserved, allowing figures from the Dominions to overshadow him. In 1953, he passed away in his sleep. He is well-regarded by historians, as much for his war work as well as his stewardship of a declining institution. His foundation of the IPT despite the numerous controversies that arose from it has been generally applauded, and has grown into one of the largest landowners and charitable organisations across the Empire. A testament to its success is the fact that the Parliament Building in Ottawa is itself maintained by the IPR.
I was referring to the head tax which taxed Asian immigrants and was used to discourage immigration
The Third Reich
The Third Reich by Erika Strackenz (1978)
The legacy of August von Mackensen left to Germany cannot be underestimated. Dying under house arrest in French occupied Berlin in 1945, he obviously did not live to see Germany’s liberation. After seven years of occupation, deportations and industrialised murder, Germany was to suffer one more humiliation. The country was split in two between a British influenced West and a Russian influenced East. While West Germany benefited from annexations from defeated France, and the return of territory lost at Versailles to Belgium, it hardly made up for the loss of Berlin and the vast majority of the old Kingdom of Prussia.
The reconstituted German State therefore needed to find new purpose in the world. Ironically, despite the loss of Prussia and the death of von Mackensen, the post-war leadership looked to his example for inspiration. The aim of the pre-war State had been to reclaim (or claim, as some put it) a place in the sun for the German nation. Despite the division of the German metropole, the post-war division of French Africa meant that this had been achieved. A swathe of Central and Western Africa was now governed from Bremen, and crucially these lands already had a substantial German population thanks to the policies of the Cagoulards.
While the British Empire slowly stepped away from colonial rule over the 1950s and 1960s, the Germans intensified their involvement in Africa. German corporations gained a new lease of life through the exploitation of colonial resources and the loss of manpower and population from the division was made up for by integrating the colonies as Reichskommissariats.
In the last twenty years however, the shine has distinctly worn off Germany’s neo-colonial project. While the Germans have contented themselves to a ‘managed democracy’ for most of their existence as a united country, their African subjects have not. They have watched as their fellows in Northern, Eastern and Southern Africa have steadily reclaimed their right to govern their respective countries and have become increasingly frustrated with the static and authoritarian nature of government in the territories of the German State.
This has served to steadily isolate Germany diplomatically and has been a boon to their fellow countrymen in the Raeterepublik. The alignment of the German colonial regime with the white supremacist states of the Kingdom of Rhodesia has been particularly egregious and the relationship between Bremen and Ottawa is at its coldest since before the Second Great War. The Germans have had to contend with a reconstituted Freiwehr, which has proclaimed that the promises of the Resistance against Cagoulard France have been betrayed. There have been attacks upon the metropole itself, as the Rhinelands substantial African minority has seen elements of its youth radicalised by the situation in ‘the motherland’.
But the fact is that a path toward independence is difficult for the German government to countenance. While there are reformers in the Reichstag, West Germany has been at the mercy of its powerful military from the foundation of the State in the 1930s. The Reichswehr is overwhelmingly conservative and imperialist in its outlook, and has regularly intervened directly in the politics of the State. Indeed, the last President who suggested that perhaps Germany would be better off extricating itself from its place in Africa was quietly removed and replaced with the grey figure of Rainier Kesselring. It is hard to see how Germany can escape the situation which its has found itself in.
The legacy of August von Mackensen left to Germany cannot be underestimated. Dying under house arrest in French occupied Berlin in 1945, he obviously did not live to see Germany’s liberation. After seven years of occupation, deportations and industrialised murder, Germany was to suffer one more humiliation. The country was split in two between a British influenced West and a Russian influenced East. While West Germany benefited from annexations from defeated France, and the return of territory lost at Versailles to Belgium, it hardly made up for the loss of Berlin and the vast majority of the old Kingdom of Prussia.
The reconstituted German State therefore needed to find new purpose in the world. Ironically, despite the loss of Prussia and the death of von Mackensen, the post-war leadership looked to his example for inspiration. The aim of the pre-war State had been to reclaim (or claim, as some put it) a place in the sun for the German nation. Despite the division of the German metropole, the post-war division of French Africa meant that this had been achieved. A swathe of Central and Western Africa was now governed from Bremen, and crucially these lands already had a substantial German population thanks to the policies of the Cagoulards.
While the British Empire slowly stepped away from colonial rule over the 1950s and 1960s, the Germans intensified their involvement in Africa. German corporations gained a new lease of life through the exploitation of colonial resources and the loss of manpower and population from the division was made up for by integrating the colonies as Reichskommissariats.
In the last twenty years however, the shine has distinctly worn off Germany’s neo-colonial project. While the Germans have contented themselves to a ‘managed democracy’ for most of their existence as a united country, their African subjects have not. They have watched as their fellows in Northern, Eastern and Southern Africa have steadily reclaimed their right to govern their respective countries and have become increasingly frustrated with the static and authoritarian nature of government in the territories of the German State.
This has served to steadily isolate Germany diplomatically and has been a boon to their fellow countrymen in the Raeterepublik. The alignment of the German colonial regime with the white supremacist states of the Kingdom of Rhodesia has been particularly egregious and the relationship between Bremen and Ottawa is at its coldest since before the Second Great War. The Germans have had to contend with a reconstituted Freiwehr, which has proclaimed that the promises of the Resistance against Cagoulard France have been betrayed. There have been attacks upon the metropole itself, as the Rhinelands substantial African minority has seen elements of its youth radicalised by the situation in ‘the motherland’.
But the fact is that a path toward independence is difficult for the German government to countenance. While there are reformers in the Reichstag, West Germany has been at the mercy of its powerful military from the foundation of the State in the 1930s. The Reichswehr is overwhelmingly conservative and imperialist in its outlook, and has regularly intervened directly in the politics of the State. Indeed, the last President who suggested that perhaps Germany would be better off extricating itself from its place in Africa was quietly removed and replaced with the grey figure of Rainier Kesselring. It is hard to see how Germany can escape the situation which its has found itself in.
That sounds painful. I hope you were at least slathered in melted butter first.
Good on ya. Fab timeline pal, and we'll let you off for no update if you please us with a wee map
Good on ya. Fab timeline pal, and we'll let you off for no update if you please us with a wee map
I do have a WIP that I've been trying to update as I write but lots of bits are at different points in the TL, and several bits are distinctly theoretical e.g. the borders of German Africa.
Quintin Hogg, 1953-1965
Quintin Hogg, 2nd Viscount Hailsham
Liberal-Conservative majority
1953-1965
Liberal-Conservative majority
1953-1965
If Oliver Stanley had formed the mould of future Exile Premiers, Lord Hailsham fit it perfectly and in fact exemplifier what people imagine from the government-in-exile far more than his predecessor. If only thanks to his long tenure. Hailsham had risen to prominence thanks to his election as a United Empire MP who had been one of the first to turn against Beaverbrook’s appeasement of Cagoulard France. He had served on the battlefield of the Second World War, and until Stanley’s merger in 1949 had sat in the Commons as an Independent Conservative.
The prospect of him becoming Prime Minister seemed narrow indeed in 1950 when he ascended to the House of Lords. While the principle that Prime Ministers should be drawn from the Commons had scarcely been established at the point when Parliament had been forced into exile, the only Premier to have served from the Lords since then had been the exceptional case of Lord Trenchard. However, the mere fact of Trenchard’s compromise, the dwindling demographics who engaged in the exile parliamentary politics, and the lack of opposition to concept of a peer premier amongst those who were, were facts in his favour.
When Stanley passed away in 1953, those who ascended from the ranks of the Liberal-Conservatives to claim his position reflected this. They were male and primarily drawn from either the aristocracy or from the wealthy circles of the Imperial Civil Service. The two most prominent candidates at first represented each of these tendencies respectively. The former was the Marquess of Salisbury, whose family had made up for their losses during the flight from Britain by amassing an impressive estate in India and parts of Africa. The latter was the young Hugh Gaitskell, who had made a name for himself in the Imperial Workers Administration during the war. The two represented distinct factions within the Liberal-Conservatives, arguably aligning around some of the old components of Parliament during the Beaverbrook years, Salisbury inheriting the legacy of the United Empire and Gaitskell towing to a distinctly Lloyd-Georgeite line. The conflict between the two threatened to tear the party, which was barely four years old apart, as their world views only rarely aligned. It was at this point that Hailsham entered the fray.
Whereas Salisbury and Gaitskell represented the radical fringes of the party, Hailsham came from a woollier and less solid centre ground but it was this tendency, the inheritor of traditional, pragmatic Toryism that held greater sway within the party. Over the course of the campaign, Hailsham soon proved that he wasn’t just a crusty old peer acting as a spoiler. His campaign was surprisingly modern, and while Salisbury and Gaitskell bit chunks out of one another, Hailsham reminded people that the polarisation they represented had plagued the government forty years ago, resulting in disaster.
Victory was achieved handily, and once in office, Hailsham was keen to secure his legitimacy with a general election. Turnout was low, as was expected, and the result was a Liberal-Conservative landslide, with a tiny Opposition of Liberal Action accompanied by a few Socialists and Nationalists. Over the next twelve years, Hailsham would retain his majority albeit reduced, while the Opposition would change composition dramatically by the time he stepped down in 1965.
Hailsham became Premier at a time of great change in the British Empire. The Indian Empire and many of the colonies in Africa and Asia were being granted responsible self-government, either by the Imperial Council or by the Dominions which had held them in trust. The World Conference mandates in West Africa were being prepared for independence. On a more fundamental level, society was changing. Racialist immigration laws were being abolished by most of the Dominions, while social mores which had been preserved by tradition were being broken down across the world. And where there was reform, there could also be found reaction. Hailsham was a man who did not view himself as a reactionary but who came firmly down against sweeping reform to society. In this he was broadly supported by the exile parliament, but found himself left behind by modernisers in the Dominions and on the Imperial Council. His refusal to follow the lead of the Dominions was largely irrelevant to the lives of those over whom the exile government claimed sovereignty. While homosexuality would only be legalised in Canada after Hailsham left office, it was clear even in the late 1950s that this was the direction in which things were heading, following conclusions by Commissions established in several of the Dominions and by the Imperial Council itself.
Despite this, Hailsham found his most consistent and important opponents in the Right. While his electorate was not particularly motivated by his position on gay rights, his position on decolonisation and white power certainly did excite a certain segment of public opinion. Salisbury found a new avenue for his ambitions as he defended the actions of the South Africa government and other Dominions in Subsaharan Africa, in establishing white minority governments that explicitly excluded the non-white majority from political engagement. In doing so, Salisbury became arguably a more famous person internationally than the Premier. After a certain amount of soul-searching, Hailsham locked arms with the other Dominions in opposing the African Sphere and demanding that they institute democratic reforms to empower the majority. This was not driven by any particular affection for the cause of black liberation but a pragmatic desire to preserve the integrity of the British Empire.
At the 1963 general election, Hailsham preserved a majority which had only been slightly reduced in 1958, but now faced a much more formidable opposition. And this time it was led by Salisbury at the forefront of a reconstituted party called the Imperial Front that claimed the mantle of the United Empire. The Imperial Front operated branches across the Dominions, even enjoying a little success in white communities in India. This was to be the greatest political fight of Hailsham’s life, as his quiet career in a seemingly irrelevant legislature was now placed at the vanguard of a cultural battlefield that would decide the future of one of the world’s premier powers.
The fact was that the battle was in some respects futile. The white settlers of Africa, whether English or Afrikaans speaking, had set aside their differences to preserve what they had conquered. The National Party of South Africa had transitioned from secessionism to neo-imperialism, retroactively co-opting the Victorian colonialist and proponent of British racial supremacism Cecil Rhodes as one of their own. The decision by Hailsham to endorse the sanctions imposed by the other members of the Imperial Council, and the suspension of the Dominions of the African Sphere from the Council, can hardly be said to have had a great impact upon the thoughts of those who gathered in Pretoria to formally declare independence from the British Empire as the Kingdom of Rhodesia. But it did have an explosive impact on the British Empire and on a smaller scale within the exile Parliament.
With the stroke of a pen, a swathe of British Africa, from the Horn of Africa to the Cape had seceded in the name of preserving white racial supremacy. In doing so, they cut off the Imperial Front in the exile Parliament from their most ardent supporters whilst also enduring the accusation that they were traitors. Salisbury quickly went into exile to his estate in Kenya, while the Imperial Front to all intents and purposes collapsed at the election of 1966. For Hailsham however, the tragedy of the secession was too much. After twelve years of mostly quiet service, he made the decision to resign. .
Hailsham lived well past his resignation, seeing the dawn of the 21st century before his death. He is a man with a mixed legacy, with his premiership being seen by many as squandered. He is blamed, mostly unfairly for the decline of this exile government’s relevance, a process which had begun in 1930s and was only noticeable in his tenure due to his longevity and the stature of his predecessors. He wrote extensively both during and after his premiership, particularly on religion. His most famous work, Feet of Clay, written in the 1970s sharply opposed the disestablishment of the Anglican Church by King-Emperor David IV who formally passed the title of Defender of the Faith to the Lambeth Conference itself. In it, Hailsham made the argument that the British Empire having lost its metropole, relied upon common ideas, traditions and value for unity. One of these was religious unity in the Anglican Church, which he argued had been a driving force for preserving British culture even when settlers were flung to the far corners of the world and even after the loss of the homeland itself. The removal of such a foundation stone put the whole building at risk. The book received much ridicule and condemnation but has since become something a holy book in some conservative circles as making a point for the importance of public religious values.
The Awakening of The Sleeping Giant
The Awakening of The Sleeping Giant by Derek Ickes (2009)
There comes a time in all empires when crisis strikes and a single decision can bring the entire edifice crashing down amidst their builder’s ears. Rome suffered dozens of such crises but endured them all for centuries before it finally crashed. More recently, the British Empire endured and survived two such dramatic events in the 20th Century, the British Revolution and the Secession of Rhodesia. For Japan, their crisis would come much quicker and much harder than they had anticipated.
The ‘conquest’ of China during the Second World War had seemingly affirmed Japan’s status as one of the Great Powers of the world. The establishment of their own sphere of influence in Southeast Asia with the annexation of French colonies there and in the Pacific had only affirmed this status, and the addition of the former Dutch East Indies to their sphere of influence in the 1950s saw Tokyo flex her muscles internationally. In particular, the authoritarian regime that governed the Empire sought to put distance between themselves and the British Empire who had gone from ‘ally against communism’ to ‘rival for control of Asia’, when India was successfully integrated into the Empire as a self-governing Dominion. It had been the quiet hope of the Japanese since the 1940s to bring India into their sphere, and with those aspirations frustrated the Empire began to push a far more aggressive line against the Empire as well as the Soviet Union.
The military regime in Japan had over the years clothed themselves in an ideology that justified a dictatorship dominated by military figures as well as their predominant position in East Asia, an ideology that closely resembled that of the Cagoulards and their fellow travellers. They espoused ‘Pan-Asianism’ as an alternative to communism amongst the anti-colonial movements in East Asia, and enjoyed some success in this effort in Indonesia. However the facts of Japanese colonialism in Indochina and the repressive police state in their Chinese satellite put the lie to this propaganda. And it would be China that would bring the dreams of Japan’s empire-builders to nothing.
Japanese rule in China was a contradiction. The Japanese treated it like a colony, using its resources and manpower to their own ends, whilst it persisted as an independent republic with its own diplomats, armed forces and partly-elected government. The Japanese tried to restrain the bulk of China through de-industrialisation of her cities and the re-establishment of a feudal agrarian economy, while at the same time trying to build an industrial infrastructure to better allow them to exploit the country’s natural resources. These contradictions were compounded by the growing economic crisis in Japan proper and the overstretching of the Imperial military across the vastness of the Asia-Pacific and their mounting commitments elsewhere.
While Japan sent advisors to the Rhodesians in maintaining control of their own colonial regime, the Japanese occupation force in China was rapidly becoming overwhelmed. The starvation and chaos of the Rural Adjustment had settled in by the 1960s and the agrarian communes which had arisen with Japanese and KMT approval were starting to make decisions of their own. At the same time, the KMT was splitting as a new generation became frustrated by the humiliations that the Japanese had inflicted upon them. And the ossification of the Japanese military regime did not help. The Army had slowly pulled back from frontier regions and it was accepted within the high command that there were ‘no-go zones’ in rural China which it was acceptable to leave fallow and allow the locals to police themselves. It was in this atmosphere that the Second Chinese Revolution took place.
The need for more troops to police the frontiers and lend support to Japan’s ambitious project to become a global superpower saw a directive handed from upon high to extend conscription in China to bring more men into the frontline of Imperial service in 1971. Usually such directives only received the most cursory of examination before being passed by the KMT government. This did not happen this time. The young rebelled against the old and following a long debate and the narrow passing of the conscription act, the rebels fled Nanking. The Japanese had already determined to purge the legislature but it was too late. The rebel legislators found a welcoming home in the agrarian communes and like so many Chinese rebellions in the past, a groundswell of support began to build. The commune militias took formal control of their districts and attempts to carry out conscription saw mass desertions from existing units and the escape of thousands of young men into the arms of the growing army of dissenters.
The Chinese War of Independence was bloody and brought the Japanese Empire to an ignominious end. Whether there was any way the Japanese could have salvaged their empire is a matter for debate. But none can question that the Japanese have not left their mark upon East Asia. The principles of their Pan-Asian crypto-Cagoulard ideology were ironically carried forward by the KMT rebels, and the newborn Chinese State that emerged from the blood-soaked ashes of the war is no more democratic or willing to countenance political opposition than the colonial state that preceded. The key difference is that the new China has successfully purged the contradictions of Japanese colonialism and with industrialisation emerges as the Great Power and challenger to her neighbours that Japan always aspired to be.
There comes a time in all empires when crisis strikes and a single decision can bring the entire edifice crashing down amidst their builder’s ears. Rome suffered dozens of such crises but endured them all for centuries before it finally crashed. More recently, the British Empire endured and survived two such dramatic events in the 20th Century, the British Revolution and the Secession of Rhodesia. For Japan, their crisis would come much quicker and much harder than they had anticipated.
The ‘conquest’ of China during the Second World War had seemingly affirmed Japan’s status as one of the Great Powers of the world. The establishment of their own sphere of influence in Southeast Asia with the annexation of French colonies there and in the Pacific had only affirmed this status, and the addition of the former Dutch East Indies to their sphere of influence in the 1950s saw Tokyo flex her muscles internationally. In particular, the authoritarian regime that governed the Empire sought to put distance between themselves and the British Empire who had gone from ‘ally against communism’ to ‘rival for control of Asia’, when India was successfully integrated into the Empire as a self-governing Dominion. It had been the quiet hope of the Japanese since the 1940s to bring India into their sphere, and with those aspirations frustrated the Empire began to push a far more aggressive line against the Empire as well as the Soviet Union.
The military regime in Japan had over the years clothed themselves in an ideology that justified a dictatorship dominated by military figures as well as their predominant position in East Asia, an ideology that closely resembled that of the Cagoulards and their fellow travellers. They espoused ‘Pan-Asianism’ as an alternative to communism amongst the anti-colonial movements in East Asia, and enjoyed some success in this effort in Indonesia. However the facts of Japanese colonialism in Indochina and the repressive police state in their Chinese satellite put the lie to this propaganda. And it would be China that would bring the dreams of Japan’s empire-builders to nothing.
Japanese rule in China was a contradiction. The Japanese treated it like a colony, using its resources and manpower to their own ends, whilst it persisted as an independent republic with its own diplomats, armed forces and partly-elected government. The Japanese tried to restrain the bulk of China through de-industrialisation of her cities and the re-establishment of a feudal agrarian economy, while at the same time trying to build an industrial infrastructure to better allow them to exploit the country’s natural resources. These contradictions were compounded by the growing economic crisis in Japan proper and the overstretching of the Imperial military across the vastness of the Asia-Pacific and their mounting commitments elsewhere.
While Japan sent advisors to the Rhodesians in maintaining control of their own colonial regime, the Japanese occupation force in China was rapidly becoming overwhelmed. The starvation and chaos of the Rural Adjustment had settled in by the 1960s and the agrarian communes which had arisen with Japanese and KMT approval were starting to make decisions of their own. At the same time, the KMT was splitting as a new generation became frustrated by the humiliations that the Japanese had inflicted upon them. And the ossification of the Japanese military regime did not help. The Army had slowly pulled back from frontier regions and it was accepted within the high command that there were ‘no-go zones’ in rural China which it was acceptable to leave fallow and allow the locals to police themselves. It was in this atmosphere that the Second Chinese Revolution took place.
The need for more troops to police the frontiers and lend support to Japan’s ambitious project to become a global superpower saw a directive handed from upon high to extend conscription in China to bring more men into the frontline of Imperial service in 1971. Usually such directives only received the most cursory of examination before being passed by the KMT government. This did not happen this time. The young rebelled against the old and following a long debate and the narrow passing of the conscription act, the rebels fled Nanking. The Japanese had already determined to purge the legislature but it was too late. The rebel legislators found a welcoming home in the agrarian communes and like so many Chinese rebellions in the past, a groundswell of support began to build. The commune militias took formal control of their districts and attempts to carry out conscription saw mass desertions from existing units and the escape of thousands of young men into the arms of the growing army of dissenters.
The Chinese War of Independence was bloody and brought the Japanese Empire to an ignominious end. Whether there was any way the Japanese could have salvaged their empire is a matter for debate. But none can question that the Japanese have not left their mark upon East Asia. The principles of their Pan-Asian crypto-Cagoulard ideology were ironically carried forward by the KMT rebels, and the newborn Chinese State that emerged from the blood-soaked ashes of the war is no more democratic or willing to countenance political opposition than the colonial state that preceded. The key difference is that the new China has successfully purged the contradictions of Japanese colonialism and with industrialisation emerges as the Great Power and challenger to her neighbours that Japan always aspired to be.
I assume it's like the UDI of OTL, where the monarchy stays as is.
The Prime Minister's Visit
Edward Stanley, the 19th Earl of Derby, rested his hands on his knees as he waited. It was at times like this, when you are full of uncertainty and waiting for something to happen, that you become intensely aware of your own body’s movements and breathing, and the utter quietness around you. Edward felt that silence, even as he heard his own breath rattling in his lungs and throat. There was a distant muffled echo of movement, and the semi-constant creak that came with a palace as ancient as this one.
He was also uncomfortably aware of how hot it was. He had been born in Canada, and had spent most of his life either on his family’s estate in Alberta or on business in Ottawa, and was used to a cool climate. The average temperature of New Delhi was considerably warmer than that, and while the Red Fort had been equipped with air conditioning, he could still feel beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. This was not his first visit to the Empire’s most populous Dominion, and he could not say he had relished the prospect of a return journey.
There was however, the prospect of meeting the King-Emperor. The last time he had met David IV had been on his first visit to India as Prime Minister. While the Governor-General of Canada was the traditional stand in for the reigning monarch, it had been good to formalise his position by kissing the hands of the sovereign. Rather embarrassingly, it turned out that was just a turn of phrase not a literal descriptor of the act. Thankfully the King-Emperor had taken it in his stride and cheerfully explained that as he was the sovereign of literally dozens of Dominions and had been present at every Imperial Conference since his coronation and so his hands had endured countless unsolicited embraces from every corner of the world. While his tone had been meant to be reassuring, Edward had not felt much consolation.
The fact was, he was always felt awkward at official events like the Imperial Conference, which brought together the Premiers of all the Dominions every four years. And as Premier of the Kingdom of Great Britain, he was always extended an invitation and expected to attend. But it was very clear that he was considered a least among equals. Every other Premier at least had an actual country to govern, rather than the shade of one persisting despite the fact it had died almost a century ago. He was always treated with respect to his face, but he didn’t doubt that behind his back the Premiers of Zambezia and South Africa wondered aloud to their colleagues why such a relic hadn’t been done away with a long time ago.
It would have been rich coming from them. When Rhodesia had seceded, the Imperial Council had reacted by establishing governments in exile for the errant Dominions, with governments formed on the principles of majority rule. Even while his own group of exiles had already diminished in stature, they at least had friendly ears at the Conferences, amidst the crowds of Africans who agitated for tougher sanctions, condemnation of Germany and – more radically – military interventions against the United Kingdoms. They had been sympathetic to the British plight of having lost their homeland to a radical political project. Now, Rhodesia was an increasingly distant memory and once more his was the only exile administration in the room. The New Dominions saw little reason other than ancient prestige to maintain the claim to the Isle of Great Britain.
The world had changed a lot since his forefathers had fled the country of their birth. The Germans had got their place in the sun and lost it. The French had lost a war and still emerged as one of Europe’s largest economies. The old European empires had faded, and the new economic powerhouses of India and China had arisen to challenge them. And all while that had happened, the institution to which he had dedicate much of his adult life seemed to have been cut adrift, still treading the waters of the 1930s. Even in those days, the gulf between the exile government and the reality of the New Empire had been growing, and that had been when the Imperial capitol had been Ottawa de facto. Now, drawn by economic and demographic gravity as well as the executive decision of the King-Emperor to make his home here, that capitol was New Delhi.
What had he actually accomplished in his years as Premier? It was hard to say. It seemed he spent most of his time answering letters, talking to historians and fielding questions from gimlet-eyed archivist from the lost homeland. He felt more like a librarian than a head of government. Parliament did not meet particularly regularly, it’s benches were more sparsely populated every year and the membership of each house seemed to increasingly overlap. He was himself both a Peer and an MP since that reform was introduced in the 1970s. He supposed he had continued the good work of his predecessors in extending the hand of friendship to their estranged brothers and sisters in the Co-operative Commonwealth. It was with his personal intervention that Knowsley Hall had been restored to become a museum. But these felt like such trifles when he sat amongst the other Premiers and they discussed matters of Imperial Preference, the value of Sterling, or their contributions to the Imperial Armed Forces. It was a historical irony that it was one of his own relatives which had established the position of the exile government as curators for the lost history and connection of the Empire to the metropole which had built it.
The heavy doors opened and a tall Indian man dressed in a sharp black suit glided through, regarding Edward cooly, with dark, hard eyes. He paused for a moment a gloved hand holding the door open. Edward rose in as dignified a manner as he could, smoothing the creased in his suit with the palms of his hands and trying to wipe the sweat off them at the same time if he could.
‘His Majesty will see you now, Prime Minister.’
He was also uncomfortably aware of how hot it was. He had been born in Canada, and had spent most of his life either on his family’s estate in Alberta or on business in Ottawa, and was used to a cool climate. The average temperature of New Delhi was considerably warmer than that, and while the Red Fort had been equipped with air conditioning, he could still feel beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. This was not his first visit to the Empire’s most populous Dominion, and he could not say he had relished the prospect of a return journey.
There was however, the prospect of meeting the King-Emperor. The last time he had met David IV had been on his first visit to India as Prime Minister. While the Governor-General of Canada was the traditional stand in for the reigning monarch, it had been good to formalise his position by kissing the hands of the sovereign. Rather embarrassingly, it turned out that was just a turn of phrase not a literal descriptor of the act. Thankfully the King-Emperor had taken it in his stride and cheerfully explained that as he was the sovereign of literally dozens of Dominions and had been present at every Imperial Conference since his coronation and so his hands had endured countless unsolicited embraces from every corner of the world. While his tone had been meant to be reassuring, Edward had not felt much consolation.
The fact was, he was always felt awkward at official events like the Imperial Conference, which brought together the Premiers of all the Dominions every four years. And as Premier of the Kingdom of Great Britain, he was always extended an invitation and expected to attend. But it was very clear that he was considered a least among equals. Every other Premier at least had an actual country to govern, rather than the shade of one persisting despite the fact it had died almost a century ago. He was always treated with respect to his face, but he didn’t doubt that behind his back the Premiers of Zambezia and South Africa wondered aloud to their colleagues why such a relic hadn’t been done away with a long time ago.
It would have been rich coming from them. When Rhodesia had seceded, the Imperial Council had reacted by establishing governments in exile for the errant Dominions, with governments formed on the principles of majority rule. Even while his own group of exiles had already diminished in stature, they at least had friendly ears at the Conferences, amidst the crowds of Africans who agitated for tougher sanctions, condemnation of Germany and – more radically – military interventions against the United Kingdoms. They had been sympathetic to the British plight of having lost their homeland to a radical political project. Now, Rhodesia was an increasingly distant memory and once more his was the only exile administration in the room. The New Dominions saw little reason other than ancient prestige to maintain the claim to the Isle of Great Britain.
The world had changed a lot since his forefathers had fled the country of their birth. The Germans had got their place in the sun and lost it. The French had lost a war and still emerged as one of Europe’s largest economies. The old European empires had faded, and the new economic powerhouses of India and China had arisen to challenge them. And all while that had happened, the institution to which he had dedicate much of his adult life seemed to have been cut adrift, still treading the waters of the 1930s. Even in those days, the gulf between the exile government and the reality of the New Empire had been growing, and that had been when the Imperial capitol had been Ottawa de facto. Now, drawn by economic and demographic gravity as well as the executive decision of the King-Emperor to make his home here, that capitol was New Delhi.
What had he actually accomplished in his years as Premier? It was hard to say. It seemed he spent most of his time answering letters, talking to historians and fielding questions from gimlet-eyed archivist from the lost homeland. He felt more like a librarian than a head of government. Parliament did not meet particularly regularly, it’s benches were more sparsely populated every year and the membership of each house seemed to increasingly overlap. He was himself both a Peer and an MP since that reform was introduced in the 1970s. He supposed he had continued the good work of his predecessors in extending the hand of friendship to their estranged brothers and sisters in the Co-operative Commonwealth. It was with his personal intervention that Knowsley Hall had been restored to become a museum. But these felt like such trifles when he sat amongst the other Premiers and they discussed matters of Imperial Preference, the value of Sterling, or their contributions to the Imperial Armed Forces. It was a historical irony that it was one of his own relatives which had established the position of the exile government as curators for the lost history and connection of the Empire to the metropole which had built it.
The heavy doors opened and a tall Indian man dressed in a sharp black suit glided through, regarding Edward cooly, with dark, hard eyes. He paused for a moment a gloved hand holding the door open. Edward rose in as dignified a manner as he could, smoothing the creased in his suit with the palms of his hands and trying to wipe the sweat off them at the same time if he could.
‘His Majesty will see you now, Prime Minister.’