Empire Partnership — Edition Insights

Two Schools of Imperial Thought

Dafoe identifies two opposing groups that shaped pre-war imperial debate. One, which he calls 'the school of Burke,' placed 'very little reliance on forms and a great deal of reliance on spiritual ties and the bonds of blood.' The other, 'the school of Hamilton,' held that 'sentiment was very well' but insufficient without binding structures. This dichotomy recurs throughout the address as a framing device. Dafoe does not explicitly endorse either camp; instead, he suggests that the war has rendered the old quarrel obsolete. The Burkean position, he implies, has been vindicated by events, but he avoids declaring victory. Instead, he uses the two schools to show that the empire’s constitutional evolution has been a series of pragmatic compromises, not ideological triumphs.

The War as a Turning Point

Dafoe treats the First World War not merely as a catastrophe but as 'a great turning point in human history' that marks 'a definite break in the old order.' The old order, he argues, was characterized by 'the aggrandisement of peoples, nations, in a military sense or in a commercial sense.' The new order, by contrast, aims at 'the enlargement of individual life, and the bettering of the life of the common people.' This shift from nation-centric to people-centric politics is the core of his argument for a renewed imperial partnership. He invokes Lincoln’s remark that 'the Lord must love them since He made so many of them' to ground his vision in democratic sentiment rather than imperial hierarchy. The war, in his telling, has transformed the empire from a defensive alliance into a community of shared sacrifice.

Recurring Images of Prophecy and Memory

Dafoe’s address is structured around a series of recalled speeches and their aftermaths. He quotes Lord Roberts’s 1909 warning about a Balkan spark, then notes that the battle of the Falkland Islands vindicated Stanley Reed’s guess about Cape Horn. Arthur Balfour’s prediction that the naval Armageddon would be fought in British waters is also confirmed. These retrospective validations serve a rhetorical purpose: they establish the first conference as a moment of genuine foresight, lending weight to Dafoe’s own claims about the future. The repeated image of prophecy—accurate, near-accurate, or dramatically off—creates a pattern of expectation and fulfillment. Dafoe positions himself as the latest in a line of speakers whose words will be tested by events, inviting his audience to judge his vision against the coming years.

A Place for the United States

In his closing paragraphs, Dafoe extends his partnership vision beyond the dominions to include the United States. He describes America as 'that great sister-nation kindred to ourselves, with the same blood-strains,' and suggests that the break in 'historic continuity' caused by the Revolution is 'a very little thing' in the 'ampler air of the new day.' The different form of government, he adds, is 'a matter of no consequence at all.' This move is striking because it reframes empire not as a legal structure but as a cultural and linguistic community. Dafoe’s final hope is for 'the society of English-speaking nations,' with Britain as 'first among equals' and America at her side. The address thus ends by expanding its scope from imperial federation to a broader Anglo-Saxon alliance, a shift that reflects the postwar mood of internationalism.

Dafoe’s address is best read as a document of its moment—a speech that uses the conference’s own history to argue for a looser, more voluntary imperial bond. Readers should note how he balances the authority of past prophecies with the uncertainty of future aspirations, and how his references to specific speakers (Roberts, Balfour, Lincoln) anchor his argument in concrete testimony. The text rewards attention to its rhetorical structure: the movement from remembered fear to present hope, from defence to partnership, from empire to English-speaking world.