Anticolonialism of a Liberated LeftistnJames Morris: Farewell the Trumpets:nAn Imperial Retreat; HarcourtnBrace Jovanovich; New York.nby Paul GottfriednAn Imperial Retreat is the third andnlast part of James Morris’ widely praisedntrilogy on the British Empire, Farewellnthe Trumpets. While the earlier volumesndescribed the process of imperialnconsolidation, the final book focusesnon the end of the Pax Britannica. Althoughnthe author admits to some sadnessnin recalling the loss of the overseasnpossessions that had once belonged tonhis people, he claims to be able to surveynthis turn of events “without being regretful.”nThis passage tells much aboutnhis view of the Empire. Morris, a longtimencorrespondent for the Guardian,nis a man of cultivated leftist sensibilitynwho despises any modern manifestationsnof European colonialism. He castigatesnboth Winston Churchill andnAnthony Eden for their dogged supportnof an imperial Britain. Elsewhere henchides the “pro-Nazi” positions of SouthnAfrican leaders during the SecondnWorld War, while conveniently forgettingnto mention that similar anti-Englishnstances were being simultaneously takennby Arab and other Third Worldnnationalists.nIn spite of his ideological leanings,nMorris seems genuinely impressed bynthe general dedication of imperial civilnservants. And he finds good words fornthe valor of English armies faced byncolonial rebellions, some of whichnturned rapidly into civil wars once thenEnglish had promised independence tonthe rebels. His narrative, moreover, isnconsistently lively, the text often sprinklednwith engaging stories about prominentncolonial families. Morris isnparticularly fond of tracing the socialnProfessor Gottfried teaches history atnRockford College.nSOinChronicles of Culturenascent of old British settlers in variousnparts of the empire. A visitor to Torontoncan learn more about the first familiesnof that former stronghold of imperialnsentiment from reading Morris thannfrom all the tours of local historicalnsites.nAccording to Morris’ judgment, bynthe end of the Second World War, “itnwas time the empire went.” By 1945,nthat is to say, the Empire had ceased tonhave a moral and historical justification;nso any attempt to preserve it beyondnthat point was pathetic, if not perverse.nAlthough the author admits to havingnsoftened his own anti-imperialism innthe course of his research, he does lendncredence, even at the end, to those “whonhave recognized for the first time thatnthere was cruelty to the conception evennin its kindest form.” Nonetheless, hencites with obvious approval the observationnof Nehru, former premier ofnIndia, who credits the British with representingn”mighty forces which theynthemselves hardly realized.” He alsonsubmits that in spite of “the arrogancenof the Empire, its greed and its brutality,”nthis enterprise contributed itsn”quota of truth toward the universalnfulfillment.” These comforting assertionsnabout hidden continuities andndisguised historical progress enable thenmembers of decadent societies to dienwith a pretense of dignity, often purchasednat the cost of bad faith. WhilenMorris would like to believe that thenEmpire, in spite of “its brutality,” bequeathednBritish civility and parliamentaryninstitutions to its former colonies,noutside of the precarious examplenof India and, perhaps, a few Third Worldnregimes, his hope has plainly gone unrealized.nIndeed, in those African territoriesnnow liberated from the British,nindependence has led not to an enhancementnof popular liberties and representativengovernment, but, in almostnevery case, to their utter extirpation.nnnAnother questionable assumptionnpervading his work is that the moralitynof colonialism should be viewed as relativento an historical period. What wasnethically defensible in the 1890s hasnfrequently ceased to be so—at least fromnthe standpoint of Morris’ spirit ofnprogress. The strongest censures againstncolonialist arrogance and cruelty, fornexample, seem to come not at that pointnwhere they would most nearly fit, inntreating the epoch of imperialist expansion,nbut rather in discussing the periodnof British retreat. Unabashed defendersnof white European supremacy like CecilnRhodes are, on the whole, favorably depicted;nand even the mass killing ofnSudanese rebels in 1898 by the troopsnof Sir Herbert Kitchener (seeking tonavenge the slaying of General CharlesnGordon) is simply ascribed to the spiritnof the age. Nor need one look far fornthose sentimental denunciations of thenBoer War so characteristic of earliernBritish anti-imperialists. AlthoughnMorris does mention in passing the internrhentnand abuse of tens of thousandsnof Afrikaner women and children, henalso stresses the conformity to “Christiannethics” that supposedly marked thenearly phases of the British subjugationnof the South African Dutch.nAnd yet, such empathy for the burdensnof empire is nowhere to be foundnwhen the discussion turns to AnthonynEden’s role in the Suez Crisis (Fall,n1956). Suddenly we are faced by a monsternof duplicity who trades in “shamnvictories.” The combined Anglo-Frenchninvasion of the Suez Canal in the wakenof its being nationalized by the Egyptiannrevolutionary, Abdul Nasser, is madenthe point of departure for a lecture onnthe evils of neocolonialism. Eden’s decisionnto regain control over the Canal,nand thereby guarantee its internationalnstatus, is repeatedly attacked as diehardnimperialist arrogance. Although Edennand his French allies defended their actionnas an attempt to protect the com-n