The Sun WEDNESDAY, JULY 18, 1928 THE COURAGE OF EXPLORERS

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 409, 18 July 1928, Page 8

The Sun WEDNESDAY, JULY 18, 1928 THE COURAGE OF EXPLORERS

THERE is probably more temper than truth in the Swedish and German criticism of General Nobile’s tragic failure on his airship expedition to the North Pole and the behaviour of its leader' and several members of the Italia’s crew. It is to he hoped at any rate that a generous interpretation of the cause of the North European resentment will be proved soon to have, been the right one. Hitherto, the history of Polar exploration throughout centuries has been a noble record of courage and of affliction borne cheerfully which (as Barrie has said so tenderly) is “a comely thing.” Here and yonder, farthest South and away under the Pole star, where the glory of the firmament reveals the majesty of creation, death often has marked the heroic trail of man’s intrepidity, but never in the knowledge of men has the dishonour of cowardice sullied the white immensities. In our own time one Arctic explorer, too ardent in desire for fame without the feat of complete achievement, merely won a dishonourable notoriety in the exposure of his foolish claim. But the undoing of that fellow was the punishment for craftiness and not the penalty of cowardice. All the others, in failure as in triumph, maintained courage as their highest and most enduring virtue. And now there is bitter, even savage, talk of a craven streak in the story of Italy’s ill-fated Arctic enterprise. The Foreign Minister of Sweden, a man well-tutored in the art and necessity of diplomacy, has been provoked into describing the circumstances of Professor Malmgren’s lonely death as “this outrageous tragedy.” There is much more than the rage of grief in these blistering words; in them and at their root there is the ferocity of national disgust. Representative men who know that their words must echo a nation’s thoughts all over the world do not give way to volcanic expression unless some terribly provocative cause has stirred them to explosive emotion. General Nobile and the higher influences behind his ruinous enterprise must answer a terrible indictment of Italian courage and honour.

No one at a distance can refuse sympathy with the feelings of the Swedish and Scandinavian people, who clearly believe that selfishness at least was more prominent in the disastrous days of the Italian airship expedition than the spirit of selfsacrifice for others. More than that need not be said by dispassionate observers of a bitter controversy. But the German comment will be subjected to the coldness of suspicion. It is much too political to be impressive. Though the criticism is exceptionally clever, it is marred by smouldering hatred of Italy. They characterise the expedition as a spectacular stunt for the glorification of Fascism and “a theatrical braggart who desired brave men to defile white solitudes with his bloody emblems.” Even if all that and more were true, it is too soon yet for German journalists to indulge in such wrath. Everybody, however, will agree with Germany’s admiration of Soviet Russia’s splendid service in saving the Italian enterprise from deplorable disaster. It is difficult to understand why the Giornale d’ Italia should plead for an international acceptance of Nobile’s story in the same manner as' Scott’s story was accepted. There is no analogy between the stories. Robert Falcon Scott’s story was found in a lonely tent among dead men—a sepulchre of the noblest courage known to Polar exploration. Four out of five gallant comrades lay silent together in eternal companionship. It is true that the fifth man, Captain Oates, was missing. But he had not been deserted. He had nonchalantly farewelled them in a nobility of courage, and stumped out on frozen feet into a merciful blizzard. What is courage? What is beauty? The response is the sacrifice of Captain Oates.