PASSING NOTES

Otago Daily Times, Issue 24603, 10 May 1941, Page 6

PASSING NOTES

In its definition of " morale " —in the military sense—the Oxford Dictionary, with disappointing brevity and incompleteness, explains it as "moral condition, especially (of troops) as regards discipline and confidence." A writer in a recent issue of the New Statesman does better—having more space at his command. He does so by distinguishing " morale " from " courage." Among the many discoveries made by Britain in the great testing year of 1940—says this writer—has been the discovery of her own courage. In theory, and according to all the rules of war, the collapse of a powerful ally, the seizure by the enemy of the whole European coast lands from Narvik to Bordeaux, including the vital Channel ports, should have meant Britain's immediate surrender or her total defeat. In anticipation, the prospect of an aerial blitzkrieg upon the great urban areas was totally insupportable. In' practice?—

Here we are, after months of war upon civilians, so accustomed to bombs that we can scarcely mention our narrow escapes from death. According to all expectation we should long ago have been suffering from shell-shock. Psychologists experienced in dealing with shell-shock in the last war waited patiently for us in wellequipped hospitals. We disappointed them. Mild and temporary hysteria has been treated in first aid shelters. But there has been little or no shell-shock.

How is this mental stability to be accounted for? Partial and superficial explanations are many and easy. The severest City bombardment is intermittent, with days and nights of quiescence. Much worse was the prolonged, unceasing bombardment of the front-line trenches twenty-five years ago in Flanders. Fire bombs, too, have been unexpectedly amenable to resolute and skilful tackling. The Homeric successes of the young R.A.F. pilots set a standard of courage which a civilian would be ashamed not to follow. And a sporting comfort comes to the civilian from the awesome sound of the A.A. barrage and the published reports of return bombardments of Germany. But the key to the whole phenomenon of our civilian courage is more than this. It lies in British "morale." Courage the British have: but so have the French and the Germans. "Morale" is a matter of trust in our cause and aims, faith in our leaders, confidence in the future. Which brings the New Statesman contributor to a discussion on the rival "myths"—German and British—the German ominous, the British encouraging. The German myth is the invincibility of the Fuhrer.

Human godhead is vulnerable. Fallen from its pedestal, the clay figure is dust. Hitler's record of victory is also his weakness: he cannot afford a failure. Germans are haunted by a myth—the myth of a conquering Siegfried whose downfall leads swiftly to twilight and humiliation.

The British " myth" is that it is necessary to lose all the early battles so that we may eventually " muddle through " to victory in the last. Defeats at this stage leave Britain little perturbed, they merely remind her of a quarter of a century ago. A like reminder comes to Germany from her early victories.

Discussions.,on the spelling of the word "morale" reverberate now and then in fairly'high quarters. In borrowing the word from French and at the same time changing its meaning, some unknown person of the not distant past has badly blundered. For " morale " in French means " morality " and "morals"; and grave reflexions are cast on the Army of the Nile and on the Anzacs in Egypt when we are told that their "morale" is good. The Word which rightly should have been borrowed from the French is "moral." Our „ friend Mr Fowler, in his " Modern English Usage," works himself into an unnecessary and unusual heat in attacking those, who suggest that correctly we should say "moral," and that " morale" is wrong. His view is the natural one that "morale" is too deeply embedded in. the language to be now displaced! But in supporting this quite arguable thesis he hits all round the ring, castigates The Times for its continued use of "moral," speaks of the tricks of the London press, condemns "moral " as pure pedantry and adduces not very apposite examples of similar changes of spelling. In one contention he is quite justified. Since " morale " has now become a true-blue English word, it should cease to be printed in italics as if it were still foreign and still awaiting naturalisation papers.

The lengthy list of nominations for our local bodies elections shows the emergence of a problem that is rapidly becoming almost insoluble. There may be "one increasing purpose " in the evolution of our municipal election methods. ■ We see the " increase," but the " purpose " is not so visible, and the ultimate end of them is appalling. Clearer and clearer does it become that with every recurring election the whole system must break down under its own weight. Quite simple and manageable would be the mayoral election by itself. The choice of one aspiring Mayor from three perspiring candidates need put no strain on the meanest intelligence. Here there is no embarrassment of choice. But what selection is possible when the man in the street or the woman in the kitchen—those elements that make up our infallible democracyare plunged into the maelstrom of a quadruple election, are faced with an auctioneer's list of three score names, and are asked to choose the 23 finest and best? And this is to be done on " colour" only, without regard to texture, quality, fineness, workmanship and durability. In circumstances such as these, crazy and distorting is the mirror held up ic public opinion. And how can we pretend that the result of such a comolicated process is a happy conjunction of the man seeking the office and the office seeking the man?

Some day, perhaps 6ur New Zealand statesmen may set to work on this problem of mass election and devise a method less' arithmetical, less like the selection of haphazard names from a telephone directory, less like the pricking of horses names in a racebook. Dreaded by many of the conscientious type of citizens is the coming electionexamination day. For all we know some candidates in the list may have honey on their lips and buzzing bees in their bonnets. In the case of others, their olatform may be built merely of "bark." Others may be destined, all unknown to us. to be sleepers in their municipal berth—or bunk. Some, with an eye on the women's vote, may be striving to make a hit with every Miss. All Solomon's wisdom notwithstanding, in the multitude ot these budding councillors there is neither safety nor wisdom.

According to a local press news item, the Pahiatua daily paper decided some weeks ago, " in view of the difficulties with which it was faced," to resemble more closely'the visits of angels. That is, it decided to publish itself only tri-weekly, dropping its cable and telegraph service and confining itself to local news. Followed meetings of the Farmers'.Union, of the local Progressive Association, of Pahiatua business men. Offers of increased support were made. And now the Pahiatua journal appears once more on the city streets as regularly as the sun rises. Like most of us. the people of Pahiatua cannot yet descend so far as to depend on the Y.A.'s alone for the news of the war. The interest of the story lies in its omen. For what is to become of us if our local daily paper becomes a triweekly, or bi-weekly, or a weekly? —as it might' do if the supply of paper runs out. For a desperate prospect a desperate remedy. Let news print be saved. The German Dress has been saving untold tons of paper every year by writing " Gestapo " for " Geheimestaatspolizei," "Nazi" for "Nationaisozialist" (or Nazi-Sozi), and A.B.U, for "Arbeitsbelohnungunterstutzung " (all of which means, in English, simply "dole"). Italy, too, has her Gestapo, her secret police, which she calls " Organizzazione Vigilanza Repressione Antifascismo." But she saves reams of paper each day by abbreviating this to O.V.R.A. Initials used instead of words would in our own press give a valuable and necessary stimulation to its readers' intelligences.

When the Nazi Government five or six years ago condemned the new German craze for initials instead of names and words it had some solid excuse. For if a German word almost as long as a theatre queue be condensed to three letters, even German organisation will not remove the possibility of error. But* what matter such considerations in the nresent shortage of paper? M.P. and M.L.C. we already use, and R.A.F. and N.Z.R.—all without disaster. Satisfactory also is M.S.U.W. for " Matrimonial Societv fcr Unmarried Women " and O.U.C. for " Owing-to-Uncle Club." Of abbreviation stories the number is legion. Reading some verses in Punch to which the familiar initials of Sir Owen Seaman, the editor, were attached, a young girl asked her father who O.S. was. " 0.5.," he replied, " that's the funny bone of Punch." A boy asks his father what D.D stands for. ; " Doctor of Divinity, my boy." " Well, then," asks the boy, reading from a novel, " what does this mean: " Lend you a fiver? I'll be Doctor of Divinity if I do." Honorary degrees at Oxford are expensive things, as is indicated by the following: Oxford, no doubt you wish me well, But prithie, let me be; I can't alas! be D.C.L. For want of L.S.D. When the captured submai-ine UCS was lying on view in the Thames in 1915, the waiting line of sight-seers stretched as far as the Embankment, and it was said that: Unless U 8 in a Q 2C UCS UCO. Better than this is the reply of a man invited by a clergyman to attend a service, and afterwards to go on to lunch: "I shall D.V. be at the service, but in any case expect me to lunch." And best of all was the letter of a schoolboy to his father, which ran simply thus: 5.0.5., L.S.D., R.S.V.P. Civis.