Death from the skies

Today, our apocalyptic visions are of terrorism and climate change, not the bomber or nuclear missile. In this respect, Europeans inhabit a rather different mental landscape from the one where they lived 70, 50 or even as recently as 30 years ago.

The Bombing War: Europe 1939-1945
Richard Overy
Allen Lane, 880pp, £30

Churchill’s Bomb: a Hidden History of Science, War and Politics
Graham Farmelo
Faber & Faber, 576pp, £25

Things to Come, a British film released in 1936, epitomised a prevalent fear of the interwar years: that the next great conflict would bring terror bombing and that the death and destruction rained down from the skies would cause civilisation to collapse. A central theme of Richard Overy’s magisterial book The Bombing War is that the most extreme fears were not realised.

Although the Second World War was the most bloody and ruinous conflict in history, much of the damage was caused in the old-fashioned way – by soldiers on the ground. About 51,000 people were killed by the Axis bombing of the Soviet Union but this was a small proportion of the approximately 27 million (no one will ever know the precise number) killed in the Nazi-Soviet war. The Luftwaffe were usually deployed in support of ground forces. Soviet cities were bombed but the German high command never launched a thoroughgoing strategic air campaign against them.

The British and Americans did wage a prolonged campaign against enemy cities, intended to destroy the German state’s ability to wage war. Some leaders, such as Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur “Bomber” Harris, believed that this could make conventional operations obsolete. Yet the view that bombing could make D-Day unnecessary proved to be hopelessly optimistic. The Anglo-American bombing campaign, like the German attacks on Britain in 1940-41, caused considerable damage and death but failed to achieve its objectives. Air power was simply ineffective.

Sometimes, mass attacks by bombers could deliver an awesome level of crude, destructive power. Such was the case with the attacks by the RAF and USAAF on Hamburg in July 1943. On that occasion, everything went right. For the first time, the Allies used “window” – strips of metallic foil – to jam German radar. The hot, dry weather was perfect to create a firestorm. About 18,500 people were killed by the RAF on the night of 27-28 July, of some 37,000 overall.

For every Hamburg, however, there were numerous raids, costly in aircraft and aircrew, that failed to produce such results. The only way that Harris’s strategic vision could have been realised was if the Allied air forces had had the ability to destroy German cities at regular and short intervals. It takes nothing away from the courage of the Allied aircrew to state that this was simply beyond the technological capabilities of air forces in the prenuclear age. As Overy argues, the US approach of attacking economic targets, especially communication networks and oil storage, ultimately proved more rewarding than Harris’s attempts at city-busting. Even so, the Allies greatly underestimated the resilience of the German economy, just as they had made that mistake about German society.

One of the most important positives from the Allies’ huge investment in bombers (which included the industries to build them and the infrastructure to keep them in the air) was indirect: the Germans were forced to commit resources to home defence – antiaircraft guns, aircraft, optical sights, manpower – that could not be put to other uses.

“Without bombing,” Overy soberly concludes, “the German war effort would have been as free to optimise the use of resources and conduct the military war effort as was the United States.” The Allied (and particularly the British) air strategy may have been wasteful and wrong-headed – and perhaps immoral – but it did contribute to winning the war.

Between 1940 and 1944 bombing helped to make Churchill’s preferred strategy a reality: avoiding the large-scale commitment of British ground troops (and thus minimising the risk of casualties on the scale of 1914-18); fighting on the peripheries; and, after June 1941, relying on the Red Army to eviscerate the Wehrmacht. However unproductive it may have been, Bomber Command struck night after night at the heart of Germany, and in the absence of a conventional second front this allowed Churchill to look Stalin in the eye. The apocalyptic interwar fears of the destructive powers of bombing may have been exaggerated but their influence shaped a pillar of wartime Allied strategy.

Overy’s authoritative book, the product of many years of archival research, is undoubtedly one of the most important on the Second World War to appear in recent times. He ranges widely over the subject, discussing among other things the little-known campaign against Mussolini’s Italy. Looking at the bombed as well as the bomber, Overy takes a sharply revisionist view of the Blitz. His eye-opening conclusion is that more Britons died than was necessary because many refused to take shelter during raids, which was in part a consequence of official ineptitude in shelter provision.

In 1949, the Soviet Union exploded its first atomic bomb and the interwar fear of the bomber was reborn in a more terrible form. Over 20 years earlier, Churchill had dimly glimpsed the future of warfare. In an article entitled “Shall we all commit suicide?” he wrote of a tiny bomb that harnessed “a secret power . . . to concentrate the force of a thousand tons of cordite and blast a township at a stroke”.

To compound the misery, Churchill foresaw that politicians would prove incapable of coping with these new weapons and in a blood-curdling passage speculated on what would happen should “a base, degenerate, immoral race” possess “some new deathdealing or terror-working process” and be “ruthless in its employment”. Churchill had been assisted in his work by “the Prof”, Frederick Lindemann, a much-loathed Oxford academic scientist. Lindemann became Churchill’s principal scientific adviser. That did not matter much during the years in opposition but after Churchill got the keys to No 10, Lindemann, later ennobled as Lord Cherwell, mattered a great deal.

The Churchill/Lindemann relationship is at the heart of Graham Farmelo’s Churchill’s Bomb. Churchill had a lively but untrained mind and an early scientific mentor was H G Wells, whose writings included the novel on which Things to Come was based. Wells was superseded by Lindemann, who typically regarded his rival as “second-rate”.

Farmelo makes a persuasive and erudite case that Lindemann had a malign influence on Churchill’s attitudes towards the atomic bomb. He insulated Churchill, who treated the “British nuclear project” like “a private fiefdom”, from alternative counsel and gave misleading advice. Lindemann’s overoptimistic view of what Britain could achieve alone fed into Churchill’s rejection of FDR’s wartime proposal of co-operation in what was to become the Manhattan Project. The result was that, in the nuclear stakes, Britain was left standing while the US raced ahead.

Britain’s bomb, begun under the postwar Attlee government, was developed at a time when the US had barred any foreign powers from collaboration in the nuclear field. In short, Churchill had fulfilled his prediction about politicians’ incapability to cope when given dreadful new weapons by scientists. Farmelo’s gripping and readable study shines a bright light on a relatively unfamiliar aspect of the career of the best-known Briton of the 20th century.

Both Overy’s and Farmelo’s books tacitly underline how threats have changed over the years. Today, our apocalyptic visions are of terrorism and climate change, not the bomber or nuclear missile. In this respect, Europeans inhabit a rather different mental landscape from the one where they lived 70, 50 or even as recently as 30 years ago.

Bombs away: British RAF men in 1940. Image: Getty

This article first appeared in the 11 October 2013 issue of the New Statesman, Iran vs Israel

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Don’t worry, Old Etonian Damian Lewis calls claims of privilege in acting “nonsense!”

The actor says over-representation of the privately educated at the top of acting is nothing to worry about – and his many, many privately educated peers agree.

In the last few years, fears have grown over the lack of working class British actors. “People like me wouldn’t have been able to go to college today,” said Dame Julie Walters. “I could because I got a full grant. I don’t know how you get into it now.”

Last year, a report revealed that half of Britain’s most successful actors were privately educated. The Sutton Trust found that 42 per cent of Bafta winners over all time were educated independently. 67 per cent of British winners in the best leading actor, actress and director categories at the Oscars attended fee-paying schools – and just seven per cent of British Oscar winners were state educated.

“That’s a frightening world to live in,” said James McAvoy, “because as soon as you get one tiny pocket of society creating all the arts, or culture starts to become representative not of everybody but of one tiny part. That’s not fair to begin with, but it’s also damaging for society.”

But have no fear! Old Etonian Damian Lewis is here to reassure us. Comfortingly, the privately-educated successful actor sees no problem with the proliferation of privately-educated successful actors. Speaking to the Evening Standard in February, he said that one thing that really makes him angry is “the flaring up recently of this idea that it was unfair that people from private schools were getting acting jobs.” Such concerns are, simply, “a nonsense!”

He elaborated in April, during a Guardian web chat. "As an actor educated at Eton, I'm still always in a minority," he wrote. "What is true and always rewarding about the acting profession is that everyone has a similar story about them being in a minority."

Lewis’s fellow alumni actors include Hugh Laurie, Tom Hiddleston, Eddie Redmayne – a happy coincidence, then, and nothing to do with the fact that Etonians have drama facilities including a designer, carpenter, manager, and wardrobe mistress. It is equally serendipitous that Laurie, Hiddleston and Tom Hollander – all stars of last year’s The Night Manager – attended the same posh prep school, The Dragon School in Oxford, alongside Emma Watson, Jack Davenport, Hugh Dancy, Dom Joly and Jack Whitehall. “Old Dragons (ODs) are absolutely everywhere,” said one former pupil, “and there’s a great sense of ‘looking after our own’." Tom Hollander said the Dragon School, which has a focus on creativity, is the reason for his love of acting, but that’s neither here nor there.

Damian Lewis’s wife, fellow actor Helen McCrory, first studied at her local state school before switching to the independent boarding school Queenswood Girls’ School in Hertfordshire (“I’m just as happy to eat foie gras as a baked potato,” the Telegraph quote her as saying on the subject). But she says she didn’t develop an interest in acting until she moved schools, thanks to her drama teacher, former actor Thane Bettany (father of Paul). Of course, private school has had literally no impact on her career either.

In fact, it could have had an adverse affect – as Benedict Cumberbatch’s old drama teacher at Harrow, Martin Tyrell, has explained: “I feel that [Cumberbatch and co] are being limited [from playing certain parts] by critics and audiences as a result of what their parents did for them at the age of 13. And that seems to me very unfair.”

He added: “I don’t think anyone ever bought an education at Harrow in order for their son to become an actor. Going to a major independent school is of no importance or value or help at all.” That clears that up.

The words of Michael Gambon should also put fears to rest. “The more Old Etonians the better, I think!” he said. “The two or three who are playing at the moment are geniuses, aren’t they? The more geniuses you get, the better. It’s to do with being actors and wanting to do it; it’s nothing to do with where they come from.”

So we should rejoice, and not feel worried when we read a list of privately educated Bafta and Oscar winners as long as this: Chiwetel Ejiofor (Dulwich College), Emilia Clarke (St Edward’s), Carey Mulligan (Woldingham School), Kate Winslet (Redroofs Theatre School), Daniel Day-Lewis (Sevenoaks School, Bedales), Jeremy Irons (Sherborne School), Rosamund Pike (Badminton), Tom Hardy (Reed), Kate Beckinsale (Godolphin and Latymer), Matthew Goode (Exeter), Rebecca Hall (Roedean), Emily Blunt (Hurtwood House) and Dan Stevens (Tonbridge).

Life is a meritocracy, and these guys were simply always the best. I guess the working classes just aren’t as talented.

Anna Leszkiewicz is a pop culture writer at the New Statesman.

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