Journal of Interdisciplinary Collaboration
Volume 1, Issue 1
January, 2013
ISSN 2169-1630
Copyright 2012 iMedia Publications
www.imediapublications.com
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Founded on the notion that interdisciplinary dialogue promotes the promulgation of new knowledge across academic specialties, the Journal of Interdisciplinary Collaboration is designed to be discursive. Too often, faculty and industry experts are limited to professional discussions with others who share similar expertise. Valuable information may be learned by integrating knowledge from different academic disciplines. This peer-reviewed Journal featured papers presented in poster or scheduled sessions at the online Conference of Interdisciplinary Collaboration. Journal articles are added to the annual edition on a monthly basis once approved following peer-review. The Journal is archived annually by iMedia Publications. All volumes are available free of charge from the iMedia Publications website.
Editorial Review Board
Barry Chametzky, Ph.D. candidate – Washington & Jefferson College and Ozarks Technical Community
College
Aaron Deris, Ph.D. – Montana State University, Mankato
Kelley Jo Walters, Ph.D. – Walden University
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A Necessary Evil? Great Britain, the Death Penalty, and the World Wars
Christopher Berg, Ph.D. Student
Instructor of European History, State College of Florida
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A fear deeply ingrained in the minds of officers was that their authority would be questioned in
battle and a general breakdown in discipline would follow, leading to still graver consequences that
could shift the tide of war against them. While this may seem an extreme view, the majority of officers
were of the opinion that strict discipline must be instilled in men from the beginning so that in war, they
would unquestioningly obey commands and execute orders without thought. The ‘thinking’ was to be
done by the officers – the ‘doing’ was the lot of the other ranks. These boundaries were sacrosanct and
to voice even the slightest objection would be tantamount to insubordination. The military
establishment exacted a high degree of blind obedience to those in the chain of command and the
threat of severe consequences in the form of punishments was seen as a viable deterrent. Regimental
discipline would be farcical unless those within its ranks accepted the premise that they were subject to
its authority. Therefore, it was important for the regiment to translate the legal exercise of authority
into a more paternalistic style of legitimate authority (French, 2008, p. 180).
Basic training was instrumental in establishing regimental discipline and did much to prevent
future transgressions. Soldiers came out of their basic training with a new understanding of who they
were as individuals and their new identity in relation to the regiment. Camaraderie and esprit de corps
were the bedrock of this new ‘primary group’ and loyalties were cemented during the rite of basic
training (French, 2008, pp. 61-76). University College, London’s French observes, “Their efforts to evoke
obedience through a combination of instilling esprit de corps and by maintaining a close surveillance
over the rank and file usually succeeded” (French, 2008, p. 185). But as many officers have reluctantly
admitted, even crack units could falter and become susceptible to disruptive behavior. Because of this
fact, many officers and the High Command believed that discipline must be maintained irrespective of
justice as long as an example was made to deter future outbreaks of indiscipline. This belief gained wide
currency in the mid-nineteenth century and was held by many commanders through the Second World
War. When an infraction was committed, a punishment must be meted out. This was the natural order
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of maintaining discipline in the regiment. And the legal minds of the age concurred: “the majority of
criminologists and lawyers believed that if punishments were to be effective in reforming a delinquent,
they had to be swift, certain, and uniform in their application” (French, 2008, p. 187).
Unlike civilian courts that are unfamiliar with the defendants, commanding officers knew the
offenders intimately and could tailor punishments to meet special circumstances or take prior conduct
into account. Thus many punishments were light for the first offense and encouraged the grateful
offender to not transgress in future; repeat-offenders, however, were treated harshly and were made
examples to the men. French brings the reader’s attention to evidence that corroborates “the army’s
judicial system was fair, impartial, and uniform” (French, 2008, p. 192). Relationships between officers
and their men were critical in maintaining morale and discipline. Alexander Watson ably demonstrates
the unique position officers, especially junior officers and non-commissioned officers, were placed in
and how their ability to lead and provide for their men were crucial components that had a direct
impact on combat cohesion and performance. Discipline issues were infrequent and better managed in
units commanded by exceptional officers. If the officers were of poor quality, discipline was more likely
to breakdown. Officers of strong character and ability, however, were able to earn the confidence and
love of their men. In such units, discipline and morale were infinitely stronger than in units commanded
by mediocrity (Watson, 2008, pp. 346-349).
Punishments were graduated in degrees to fit the offense. The “essential point” of punishments
and military justice was not to administer justice but to prevent the breakdown of discipline (Sheffield,
2004, p. 1645). Commanding Officers manipulated punishments at their discretion to show mercy when
appropriate and to make an example when necessary. This was the universal principle behind
punishments and an even-handed administration of consequences fostered respect and confidence in
commanding officers who showed themselves to be understanding of human proclivities and
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weaknesses. The logic behind the military justice system was simple – to show that even the smallest
infraction would not go unpunished. This conditioning to military justice would prove invaluable in
combat environments where fatigue, stress, and fear could lead to panic, desertion, cowardice, or
mutiny. A reliable system of punishment went a long way in preventing such calamities happening in
the field. But it was not a fool-proof system. The death penalty was adopted to keep men from
committing the most heinous crimes. Oram argues that the death penalty was feared by the rank and
file, thus achieving the High Command’s desired effect. But there were some who looked unfavorably
upon the death penalty, believing it to be barbaric and ineffective. After the First World War, the death
penalty was no longer seen as a necessary punishment. In the years following the First World War, it
was no longer a topic exclusive to the military establishment but gained a wider audience through public
debate.
In an article tracing the development of the death penalty debate throughout the interwar
years, McHugh (1999) gives an excellent account outlining the political struggle between members of
Parliament and the British High Command in restricting the scope of the death penalty. This task was
met with harsh criticism by the “brasshats” who believed they best understood military matters and
resented government bureaucrats meddling in affairs that did not concern them. Doubts circulated that
court-martial proceedings were ad hoc in nature and were prejudiced against other ranks and those
under twenty-one years of age. A defiant government responded that the death penalty was necessary
to preserve discipline when it mattered most in the field. Therefore, the death penalty was a necessary
evil. McHugh includes a penetrating assessment by Captain Wedgwood Benn. If the death penalty
served such a crucial function, argues Benn, why were 89% of sentences commuted? This contradicts
the claim that the death penalty served primarily as a deterrent. Benn’s perceptive inferences should
have caused some to reconsider the death penalty’s utility during war.
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The movement did not gain the public notoriety or impetus needed until Clement Attlee and
Ernest Thurtle made their positions clear. They opposed the death penalty, as it then stood, and sought
for it to be restricted. A case was made that those charged with the death penalty were most likely
victims of war who possessed neither the mind nor the mettle necessary to withstand the horrors of
war. In essence, Thurtle continues, the death penalty merely preys upon young, innocent men who
“because of their physique and nervous system cannot help but failing . . .” (McHugh, 1999, p. 244).
Further allegations were made against the imposition of the death penalty including targeting other
ranks disproportionately while giving officers a pass. Moreover, Australia had no death penalty,
showing a Dominion to be more enlightened than Great Britain. A change in government and rising
public interest brought the issue to a contentious climax. The House of Commons passed the
amendment to the Army Act in 1930. The House of Lords balked at the motion and tried to exert
pressure but they reluctantly backed down to an overwhelming majority in favor of a more progressive
view of the death penalty. One more instrument of fear would be removed from future soldiers who
already risked their lives in the service of their country. Did these soldiers have enough to fear already?
This news was greeted with relief by many who thought it a draconian measure that should be relegated
to the dustbin of history.
Commanders serving in the Second World War were more sensitive to the welfare of their
soldiers and their grievances. This “compassionate policy” adopted by many commanders can be traced
back to their own combat experiences in the First World War (French, 1998, p. 531). Those collective
memories of the horrors they and their comrades shared and endured made them more understanding
of their own men’s shortcomings and frailties. They also knew, as French noted in his excellent article
exploring the efficacy of the death penalty during the Second World War, that leisure and creature-
comforts went a long way in alleviating the stress encountered at the war front. "Hot food and tea
represented a slender thread linking men with normal life and thus help to reduce stress” (French, 1998,
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p. 533). Harvard’s Ferguson devotes ample space expounding on the many comforts enjoyed by men at
the front during the First World War. It is not by accident that Ferguson emphasizes the “importance of
quite humdrum things in keeping men going” (Ferguson, 1999, p. 350). When officers made it a priority,
as they did during the Second World War, to look after the needs of their men, they tended to
experience better morale, unit cohesion, and combat performance. Threatening punishments or the
whispered talk of the death penalty were superfluous because a well-looked after unit would not easily
fall victim to disaffection. MacKenzie comments that officers did their best to provide home-comforts
for their men during the First World War; they were willing to use, however, “coercive and supportive
elements in maintaining the fortitude of soldiers . . .” (MacKenzie, 1990, p. 217).
Sensibilities had evolved among the officer-class and the High Command. Measures were
implemented to make every effort to differentiate between legitimate cases of shell-shock or
psychological trauma and those who sought a quick escape. In spite of a more modern conception of
the death penalty, many commanders still believed that, in war, it was a practical device to prevent a
host of problems. Lord Gort and Sir Claude Auchinleck both believed in its power to keep men in line
and keep them fighting. Many felt that the war effort was hampered by the absence of the death
penalty leading many to defect or voluntarily surrender. There was some truth in their allegations,
according to French, who notes that between May and June 8th 1942, 1,700 men were killed, 6,000
wounded, and 57,000 were prisoners-of-war (French, 1998, p. 540). Three considerations, however,
prevented the British Government from re-enacting the death penalty. First, deserters amounted to
0.1% of the total armed forces – a negligible number when dealing with millions of servicemen. Second,
distinguishing between genuine shell-shock victims and those who feigned illness was inexact. Lastly,
and most importantly, a public admission of lackluster morale would aid the enemy’s propaganda
machine and undermine the war effort. French concludes that the re-introduction of the death penalty
might not have made a significant difference in spite of protests from hardliners who believed the death
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penalty was essential to a successful war campaign. And a point often over-looked was the positive
impact psychological treatment at the front and suspended sentences had on manpower. Oxford’s
Strachan concurs with French’s conclusion that the death penalty may not be a strong deterrent after
all: “in the second world war it effectively did not apply the death penalty, despite the conviction of
many generals that it was essential to sustain discipline in the field. If the lines of argument were
straight or mutually exclusive, then the British Army should have had more mutinies in the second world
war than in the first, but it did not” (Strachan, 2006, p. 215).
Popular movements have risen since the 1990s desiring a blanket pardon acknowledging those
who were convicted and sentenced to die were not cowards or traitors, but were ordinary men
overcome by the spectacle of war and succumbed as victims. Families have sought to restore the good
name of their fathers and grandfathers and remove the disgrace that has so long been associated with
their loved ones’ alleged ‘shameful’ conduct. What these families desired was that their loved ones be
“acknowledged as victims of war” and that the government addresses this gross miscarriage of justice
(Peifer, 2007, p. 1108). With pressure mounting, many historians opposed the re-writing of history
through a contemporary lens. Corns and Hughes-Wilson warn readers in their book Blindfold and Alone
(2001) to proceed with caution in re-casting events from a different time to meet present needs.
Viewing the past through modern cultural values and norms can be a dangerous historical hermeneutic.
“With our more modern and enlightened views it is hard not to feel compassion for those who died as
the result of such laws. The fact that many today now feel it is wrong, however, does not make it wrong
by the standards of its day” (Peifer, 2007, p. 1109). Renowned historian Christopher Dawson made a
similar disclaimer warning historians, rather than the public, against misrepresenting history to suit
modern tastes:
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Modern historians, particularly in England, have frequently tended to use the present as an
absolute standard by which to judge the past, and to view all history as an inevitable movement
of progress that culminates in the present state of things . . . but even at the best this way of
writing history is fundamentally unhistorical, since it involves the subordination of the past to
the present, and instead of liberating the mind from provincialism by widening the intellectual
horizon, it is apt to generate the Pharisaic self-righteousness of the Whig historians or, still
worse, the self-satisfaction of the modern Philistine. (Dawson, 2004, p. 4)
Dawson’s prescience is timely and appropriate though these words were written in 1932. But the truth
in his statement is timeless and anyone looking into the past would be prudent in following his advice.
For Peifer, a military historian and professor of Strategy at the Air War College, this modern
phenomenon is a “marvelous opportunity” to see how historical events can become wholly relevant in
“mainstream contemporary debates” (Peifer, 2007, p. 1111). Family members and other activists
restated the same moral qualms that members of Parliament voiced in the interwar years, namely that
the death penalty was class-biased and unnecessarily targeted underage boys. Tracing the historical
scholarship since the 1970s, including such notable works as Moore’s The Thin Yellow Line (1974), Judge
Babington’s For the Sake of England (1983) and Putkowski and Sykes’ Shot at Dawn (1989), Peifer
concludes that these works are generally critical of the High Command and all agree that the death
penalty was wrongly imposed. Putkowski and Sykes’ book launched a grass-roots campaign called Shot
at Dawn and it grew into an international movement.
Noting the growing concern about past indiscretions, the government commissioned Dr. John
Reid to investigate. Reid was not a disinterested third-party but personally sympathetic to the Shot at
Dawn activists. However, Reid was unable to recommend that a blanket pardon be offered due to the
limited documentary evidence available though he did acknowledge that these soldiers were victims of
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the war. But the families and activists so closely involved refused to relent and pressed on. Their
perseverance paid dividends and the civilian trial of the ‘Harry Farr’ case helped to give more popular
press coverage to a topic long marginalized by the British government and High Command (Ferguson,
1999, p. 347; Peifer, 2007, p. 1118). Four features, observes Peifer, are responsible for the success of
the Shot at Dawn movement and the removal of the stigma attached to many families of ‘traitor’ or
‘coward’: “emotional rhetoric, literature and film, commemoration and ceremony, and press and
media” (Peifer, 2007, p. 1125). It is reasonable to conclude that the most influential of the four features
was the sensational headlines circulating around the ‘Harry Farr’ case and the Shot at Dawn campaign
via media outlets. But all ‘features’ played accompanying parts – if the theme was not emotionally-
charged and modern assumptions about the officer-class were more favorable, it is possible that despite
the press coverage, popular support would never have materialized in sufficient numbers to shock the
government into action. Sir Michael Howard, a critic of the Shot at Dawn movement and its agenda,
while addressing the Royal United Services Institute’s Military History Circle, sourly admitted that the
public had spoken and they mistakenly believe it “not only right but also necessary to overturn the
rulings of the past” (Peifer, 2007, p. 1131).
Regular people are not conditioned, as historians are, to view the past dispassionately but are
full of vibrancy, and rich emotions. They feel life rather than meticulously analyzing its components in a
scientific manner to draw objective conclusions. These rational judgments are not always satisfying to
moderns. Any worthy cause can quickly transform into a crusade. Regardless of past judgments, the
human desire to right wrongs is stronger than the protests of historians to let the actions of the past
remain intact. The Shot at Dawn campaign proved how far human desires to redress injustice will go
even at the cost of upsetting historians.
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References
Dawson, C. (2004). The Making of Europe: An introduction to the history of European unity. Washington
D.C.: Catholic University Press.
Ferguson, N. (1999). The Pity of War: Explaining World War I. New York, NY: Basic Books.
French, D. (2005). Military Identities: the regimental system, the British army, and the British people, c.
1870-2000. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
MacKenzie, S. P. (1990, August). Morale and the Cause: The campaign to shape the outlook of soldiers of
the British expeditionary force, 1914-1918. Canadian Journal of History, 25.
McHugh, J. (1999, January). The Labour Party in the Parliamentary Campaign to Abolish the Military
Death Penalty, 1919-1930. Historical Journal, 42.
Oram, G. C. (2004, December). [Review of the book Military Executions During World War I, by G.
Sheffield]. The American Historical Review, 109, 1645.
Peifer, D. (2007, October). The past in the Present: Passion, politics, and the historical profession in the
German and British pardon campaigns. The Journal of Military History, 71.
Strachan, H. (2006, April). Training, Morale and Modern War. Journal of Contemporary History, 41.
Watson, A. (2008). Enduring the Great War: Combat, morale and collapse in the German and British
armies, 1914-1918. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.