bout de papier, Vol. 14, No. 2 (1997) — Summer 1997 // Été 1997, pp. 44–45
Clyde Sanger, MALCOLM MACDONALD:
BRINGING AN END TO EMPIRE, Montreal
& Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University
Press, 1995, 498 p. $49.95
Reviewed by David MacKenzie
In many ways Malcolm MacDonald lived a charmed life. Although not born into a wealthy family, as the son of Ramsay MacDonald — Labour leader and future prime minister — his early life was filled with interesting and increasingly well-connected people. He moved into the political career opened by his father and his father’s friends, and, in probably the most intense and exciting decades of modern British history, he was able to witness great political events by day and dabble in the artistic and theatre worlds by night. Later he moved into international diplomacy and went from one senior post to another without ever having to climb the ladder of success or do the humdrum work of a foreign service officer. Moreover, in a largely separate life, he nourished a love for bird-watching, accumulated an outstanding art collection, and wrote books about the birds and people he knew. He was optimistic and bright, friendly and good natured, and he lived into old age with his family and friends around him. Along the way, it appears that he never had to wash the dishes, make a bed, or take out the garbage. His only continuing disappointment was his failure to develop into the serious writer that he had hoped to become. Everyone should be so lucky.
Clyde Sanger’s new biography Malcolm MacDonald: Bringing an End to Empire weaves together the many threads of this fascinating and intriguing man. Sanger brings the right credentials to the job. An adjunct professor of journalism at Carleton University, he has travelled widely in and written extensively about Africa and Asia, and he demonstrates an understanding of the many complex issues that MacDonald faced at home and abroad. Sanger does not fully plumb the psychological depths of a man who was constantly on the move and was prone, in odd and potentially embarrassing moments, to tip heels over head and walk on his hands, but he does portray MacDonald as an honourable and decent man without pretence.
MacDonald’s resume is impressive. After a stint at Oxford he began his political life at the age of 23 as a Labour candidate in the election of 1923. Two election defeats and an around-the-world debating tour followed before he finally won a seat in 1929, the same election that saw his father become prime minister for the second time. MacDonald supported his father in his break with the Labour Party in 1931 and, in 1935, the junior MacDonald was brought into the cabinet as Colonial Secretary by the new prime minister Stanley Baldwin. Other posts followed, including a stint as Dominion Affairs Secretary, which dropped MacDonald in the middle of difficult negotiations with the ’stubborn but charming’ Irishman Eamon De Valera. Thanks to a mixture of skill, charm, and a shared interest in birdwatching, MacDonald was able to lead the negotiations to a successful conclusion.
With the coming of the war and the rise of Winston Churchill, MacDonald’s life took an interesting turn. Relations between the MacDonalds and the Churchills were always somewhat strained, and the new prime minister shipped MacDonald off to Canada as High Commissioner. Wartime Ottawa was hardly the centre of the universe, but this appointment began a new, and ultimately more fulfilling, career in diplomacy. MacDonald soon found himself playing various roles as observer, confidant, and counsellor to the Canadian government and, in particular, to Prime Minister Mackenzie King.
In 1946 MacDonald chose not to return to politics in Clement Attlee’s new Labour government and accepted an appointment as Governor General of Malaya and Singapore. It was a decision he never regretted. In different roles as Governor General of Malaya, Commissioner General for South-East Asia, and Governor of Kenya, MacDonald became embroiled in countless diplomatic negotiations, colonial problems, aid programs, and the siow and often painful preparations for colonial independence. The chapter on MacDonald’s years as High Commissioner to India at the time of the Suez Crisis is especially good. MacDonald almost broke ranks with his own government over its mishandling of the situation, but it fell to MacDonald, nevertheless, to repair relations with the Indians in the aftermath. These years in Asia and Africa are the heart of the book.
Inevitably there are a few problems. Sanger’s canvas is vast and his brush strokes are broad, and as MacDonald moves from one trouble-spot to another, the book gets a little bogged down in detail. At different times MacDonald vanishes from centre stage as the background of a colony, or the history of a troubled relationship, or the personal biography of an individual is laid out for the reader. Readers of bout de papier might be especially interested, as I was, in the Canadian chapters and MacDonald’s part in awakening Canadian interest in the north or in the development of atomic energy, but Sanger has few surprises to offer. Those readers, for example, who pick up the book hoping to find new insights on the Gouzenko spy case might be disappointed.
Malcolm MacDonald’s role in the decolonization of the British Empire was clearly his greatest contribution to political and international affairs. This solid biography convincingly demonstrates that MacDonald brought to the job the right balance of talent, temperament, and integrity to have both a creative and positive impact. As for MacDonald himself, one is left with the impression that, despite being surrounded by interesting people, dozens of close friends, and a loving family, he was, if not a lonely and isolated man, then at least something of a loner. Perhaps he wasn’t so lucky after all.
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 14, No. 2 (1997) — Summer 1997 // Été 1997, pp. 44–45. Read the rest of this issue →
