The Shifting Tides of Power, From Coal to Oil, Mandates to Independence, and the Enduring Lessons of 1926
A Glimpse Into a World in Transition: Shipbuilding, Imperial Politics, and the Accidental King
There is something profoundly illuminating about reading newspapers from a century ago. The concerns are both familiar and alien, the priorities both recognisable and strange. In February 1926, as the British Empire still cast its long shadow across the globe, the pages of the press recorded a world in transition—a world where coal was losing ground to oil, where imperial mandates were being debated in Parliament, and where the King and Queen could still be caught penniless by a Salvation Army lass seeking donations.
The news items preserved from that era offer more than historical curiosity. They reveal the seeds of dynamics that would shape the remainder of the twentieth century and continue to influence our own time. The shift from coal to oil in maritime transport foreshadowed the energy transitions that would remake global politics. The Iraq mandate debate captured the contradictions of empire at the moment of its slow unraveling. And the charming anecdote of King George V searching empty pockets while his staff scrambled for coins reminds us that even the most powerful institutions rest on human foundations.
The Energy Transition of 1926
“Recently we noted the circumstance that while except in Italy there is a general diminution of ship-building, there is increasing activity in the production of motor-tonnage. Under this head 812,000 tons were launched last year, 253,000 in Great Britain.”
So begins a remarkable observation about the state of global shipping in 1925. The numbers tell a story: while traditional shipbuilding was declining across most of the world, the construction of motor vessels—ships powered by internal combustion engines rather than steam—was surging. Britain, still the world’s dominant maritime power, accounted for nearly a third of this new motor-tonnage.
The report notes that this increase in motor-ship construction had “synchronized with a fall in coal prices and a tendency of oil prices to harden.” This is the classic dynamic of energy transitions: even as one fuel becomes cheaper, the advantages of another may outweigh the cost differential. In this case, the cost of raising steam by oil was about two and a half times as great as by coal. Yet the use of oil had many advantages—greater efficiency, reduced crew requirements, faster refueling, and increased cargo capacity—that made it attractive despite the price.
The report draws a striking conclusion: “wherever oil is economically obtainable first class passenger trade has been lost to coal.” This is the voice of an industry facing obsolescence, recognising that its product is no longer competitive in the most lucrative segments of the market. The passenger liners that carried the wealthy and famous across the Atlantic were converting to oil, and coal would never win them back.
Yet the report also offers a note of caution against overgeneralization. “Considerations that apply here do not apply everywhere, and coal is not likely to be wholly supplanted unless prices change considerably, that is, unless oil falls, which the growing demand will prevent.” This prediction proved remarkably prescient. Coal would continue to power ships for decades, particularly in bulk cargo where cost mattered more than speed or convenience. But the trajectory was clear: oil was the future, and coal was the past.
The coal industry, the report notes, was “adjusting its outlook to the new conditions, hoping that the loss of demand for bunker coal will be made good by the advantages to be derived from the new electricity scheme.” Here we see the beginning of another great transition: the shift from coal as a direct fuel to coal as a fuel for electricity generation. The “new electricity scheme” would eventually transform how energy was delivered to homes and industries, creating new markets for coal even as traditional ones declined.
The Iraq Mandate Debate
On the same page, a very different kind of transition was being debated in the House of Commons. The question was Iraq—specifically, whether to approve the treaty signed between His Majesty’s Government and the King of Iraq, fulfilling a stipulation made by the Council of the League of Nations in connection with the settlement of the Iraq boundary.
The mandate was adopted by 260 votes to 116, with a Labour amendment opposing the extension of the mandate rejected by 265 votes to 116. The numbers reveal the political alignments of the time: the government’s majority was comfortable but not overwhelming, and a significant minority opposed the continuation of imperial control.
Mr. L.S. Amery, the Secretary for the Dominions and Colonies, moved the approval with arguments that would become familiar in countless colonial debates over the following decades. He assured the House that the government’s line “caused no new departure in policy, no violation of assurances and pledges given to the House in the past, and no fresh commitments of a costly, dangerous, or unnecessary character.” On the contrary, he argued, it “embodied and gave effect to the consistent policy pursued by each successive Government as it came face to face with the problem of British obligations, interests, and responsibilities in the Middle East.”
The language is notable for what it reveals about imperial thinking. The “problem” of British obligations, interests, and responsibilities—as if these were natural facts rather than choices made by policymakers. The insistence on consistency and continuity, even as the underlying reality was shifting. The assumption that Britain had a right, even a duty, to shape the destiny of a country thousands of miles away.
Mr. Ramsay MacDonald, the Labour leader, opposed the extension of the mandate. His amendment was rejected, but the fact that it was moved at all signalled the existence of an alternative view—one that questioned the entire imperial project. Within a generation, that alternative view would become mainstream, and the empire that seemed so permanent in 1926 would be dismantled.
The British Industries Fair
Amidst these weighty matters of energy transitions and imperial politics, the newspaper also found space for a charming human interest story. Their Majesties King George V and Queen Mary were touring the British Industries Fair when a Salvation Army lass approached them, seeking a donation for the Self-Denial Fund.
The King and Queen stopped and smiled, searching their pockets and purse for money. Both found they were penniless. They looked helplessly at each other as members of their entourage came to the rescue with a handsome donation.
The image is delightful: the most powerful couple in the British Empire, rulers of a domain on which the sun never set, unable to produce a few coins for a charity collector. It is a reminder that even the mighty are subject to the small embarrassments of everyday life.
The royal tour continued with more pleasant diversions. The King purchased a fountain pen and insisted on a broad nib. Their Majesties became interested in a race game: the King backed the white horse, the Queen the black, while members of their staff backed different colours. There was loud laughter when the black won, with the white last. They watched the manufacture of a tennis ball and were delighted to learn that British balls were used in the Cannes tournament.
These small moments of human connection—the laughter, the shared interest, the pride in British manufacturing—reveal something important about the monarchy’s role. Even as the empire’s power was being debated in Parliament, even as economic forces were reshaping industries, the King and Queen could still connect with ordinary people through shared experiences of fun and curiosity. The institution’s survival would depend, in part, on this ability to be both majestic and relatable.
The Lessons of 1926
What can a reader in 2026 learn from these news items of a century ago? Several lessons suggest themselves.
First, energy transitions are slow, uneven, and full of contradiction. In 1926, oil was already winning the competition for premium maritime transport, but coal remained dominant in many sectors and would continue to be important for decades. The shift from fossil fuels to renewable energy today follows a similar pattern: rapid growth in some applications, stubborn persistence in others, and constant adjustment by industries facing obsolescence.
Second, empires decline even when they appear strongest. In 1926, the British Empire seemed unshakeable. It had emerged victorious from the Great War, added new territories under League of Nations mandates, and maintained the world’s largest navy. Yet within a generation, India would be independent, the Suez Crisis would expose imperial weakness, and the empire would dissolve into a Commonwealth of equal nations. The debates in Parliament over Iraq were early warnings of forces that would eventually prove irresistible.
Third, human moments matter. The image of the King and Queen searching empty pockets while their staff scrambled for coins is not just a charming anecdote. It is a reminder that institutions are made of people, that power is always personal, and that the connection between rulers and ruled depends on shared humanity as much as on formal authority. The monarchy’s ability to generate such moments—to be seen as human despite being royal—has been essential to its survival.
Fourth, and perhaps most importantly, the concerns of any era are always a mixture of the profound and the trivial. The same newspaper that carried debates about the future of Iraq and the economics of shipbuilding also reported on a royal visit, a race game, and a fountain pen purchase. This is not a failing of journalism; it is a reflection of life itself. Grand historical forces operate alongside small human moments, and both deserve our attention.
The Echoes in Our Time
As we read these accounts from 1926, we cannot help but see echoes of our own moment. The energy transition from coal to oil mirrors our current transition from fossil fuels to renewables. The debates over imperial responsibility in Iraq foreshadow contemporary debates about intervention and sovereignty. The human moments—the King caught without change, the laughter at a race game—remind us that people in every era seek connection, amusement, and the simple pleasures of being alive.
The specific details have changed. The British Empire is gone. Coal is a marginal fuel in most applications. The League of Nations has been replaced by the United Nations. But the underlying dynamics—technological change, political struggle, human connection—remain constant.
Perhaps this is the deepest lesson of reading old newspapers. They show us that our ancestors were not so different from us. They worried about the future, debated the great issues of their day, and found joy in small moments. They could not see where their world was heading, just as we cannot see where ours is heading. But they lived their lives with dignity and purpose, and we can learn from their example.
Conclusion: The Past as Prologue
The news items from February 1926 offer a window into a world on the cusp of transformation. The shift from coal to oil would accelerate, reshaping global energy markets and creating new dependencies. The British Empire would begin its long decline, accelerated by the Second World War and the rise of nationalist movements. The monarchy would adapt, surviving scandals and challenges to remain a symbol of national continuity.
For the reader in 2026, these stories are both history and prologue. They remind us that change is constant, that the certainties of one generation become the curiosities of the next, and that human beings—whether kings or commoners, shipbuilders or charity collectors—navigate uncertainty with the same mixture of hope, fear, and resilience.
The Salvation Army lass got her donation, thanks to the King’s staff. The black horse won the race game, to everyone’s amusement. The Iraq mandate was approved, setting in motion dynamics that would shape the Middle East for decades. And the shipbuilders of Britain adjusted to the new reality of oil, hoping that electricity would save the coal industry.
Some of those hopes were fulfilled; others were not. That is the nature of history. And it is the nature of our own time as well.
Q&A: Unpacking the News of 1926
Q1: What does the shipbuilding report reveal about energy transitions in the 1920s?
A: The report reveals that even in 1926, a significant energy transition was underway. While traditional shipbuilding was declining globally, construction of motor vessels (powered by internal combustion engines) was increasing sharply—812,000 tons launched in 1925, with Britain accounting for 253,000 tons. This shift occurred despite oil being about two and a half times more expensive than coal for raising steam. The advantages of oil—greater efficiency, reduced crew requirements, faster refueling, increased cargo capacity—outweighed the cost differential for premium applications. The report notes that “wherever oil is economically obtainable first class passenger trade has been lost to coal,” showing that even a century ago, technological advantages could overcome price disadvantages in key market segments.
Q2: What was the Iraq mandate debate in the House of Commons about?
A: The debate concerned approval of a treaty between Britain and the King of Iraq, fulfilling a stipulation by the League of Nations regarding the Iraq boundary. The mandate was adopted by 260 votes to 116, with a Labour amendment opposing its extension rejected. Colonial Secretary L.S. Amery argued that the government’s position represented no new departure in policy, no violation of past pledges, and no fresh commitments of a costly or dangerous nature—but rather gave effect to consistent policy regarding British obligations in the Middle East. The debate reveals the tensions within British politics about imperial control, with a significant minority (the 116 votes against) questioning the continuation of the mandate system.
Q3: What was the “amusing incident” during the royal visit to the British Industries Fair?
A: During their tour of the fair, King George V and Queen Mary were approached by a Salvation Army lass seeking a donation for the Self-Denial Fund. They stopped and smilingly searched for money—the King in his pockets, the Queen in her purse—only to discover both were penniless. They looked helplessly at each other until members of their entourage came to the rescue with a handsome donation. The incident humanised the royal couple, showing that even the most powerful people can face small embarrassments. The King also purchased a fountain pen (insisting on a broad nib), and both monarchs enjoyed a race game where the Queen’s black horse beat the King’s white, to general laughter.
Q4: What predictions did the shipbuilding report make about coal’s future?
A: The report predicted that coal was “not likely to be wholly supplanted unless prices change considerably, that is, unless oil falls, which the growing demand will prevent.” This proved prescient—coal continued to power ships for decades, particularly in bulk cargo where cost mattered more than speed. The report also noted that the coal industry was “adjusting its outlook to the new conditions, hoping that the loss of demand for bunker coal will be made good by the advantages to be derived from the new electricity scheme.” This foresaw the transition of coal from direct maritime fuel to fuel for electricity generation, which would create new markets even as traditional ones declined.
Q5: What broader lessons can contemporary readers draw from these 1926 news items?
A: Several lessons emerge. First, energy transitions are slow and uneven—oil’s advantages took decades to fully displace coal, just as renewables are gradually displacing fossil fuels today. Second, empires decline even when they appear strongest—the British Empire seemed unshakeable in 1926 but would unravel within a generation. Third, human moments matter—the King’s embarrassment humanised the monarchy and contributed to its survival. Fourth, the concerns of any era mix the profound and the trivial; grand historical forces operate alongside small human moments, and both deserve attention. Finally, our ancestors were not so different from us—they worried about the future, debated great issues, and found joy in small moments, just as we do.
