PART II. A League of Peace

A LEAGUE OF PEACE

PART II. A LEAGUE OF PEACE

BASES FOR CONFEDERATION

After this war is over, will the nations fall back again into the armed peace, the rival alliances, the Balance of Power with competing armaments, the preparations for another war thus made “inevitable,” or will they go forward to the realization of the idea of “public right,” as expounded by Mr. Asquith, “the substitution for force, for the clash of competing ambitions, for groupings and alliances and a precarious equipoise, of a real European partnership, based on the recognition of equal rights and established and enforced by the common will?” The preservation and progress of civilization demand that the peoples go forward. But how shall “public right” be realized?

The issue is, perhaps, best approached by putting a narrower, more concrete question: How can nations be got to reduce their armaments? For this action will be the best test and pledge of the establishment of “public right” and the reliance on a pacific future. Could a conference of Powers bring about a reduction of armaments by agreement? Surely not unless the motives which have led them in the past to arm are reversed. These motives are either a desire to be stronger than some other Power, in order to take something from him by force—the aggressive motive; or a desire to be strong enough to prevent some other Power from acting in this way to us—the defensive motive. Now how can these motives be reversed? Nations may enter into a solemn undertaking to refer all differences or disputes that may arise to arbitration or to other peaceful settlement. If they can be got to adhere to such a general agreement, international law and public right will take the place of private force, and wars of aggression and defense will no longer happen. But what will ensure the fulfilment of their undertaking by all the signatory Powers? Public opinion and a common sense of justice are found inadequate safeguards. There must be an executive power enabled to apply an economic boycott, or in the last resort an international force. If this power is adequate, it will secure the desired reversal of the offensive and the defensive motives to armaments, and will by a natural process lead to a reduction of national forces.

But it is not safe for the League of Nations to wait until difficulties ripen into quarrels. There must be some wider power of inquiry and settlement vested in a representative Council of the Nations. This will in substance mean a legislative power. For peace cannot be secured by adopting a purely statical view of the needs and rights of nations in relation to one another. New applications of the principles of political “autonomy” and of “the open door” will become necessary, and some international method of dealing with them is essential. So there emerges the necessity of extending the idea of a League of Peace into that of an International Government.

The new era of internationalism requires the replacement of the secret diplomacy of Powers by the public intercourse of Peoples through their chosen representatives. If the Peace which ends this war is to be durable, it must be of a kind to facilitate the setting-up of these new international arrangements. No timid, tentative quarter measures will suffice. Courage and faith are needed for a great new extension of the art of government....

Almost everybody hopes that, when this war is over, it will be possible to secure the conditions of a lasting peace by reducing the power of militarism and by setting the relations between nations on a better footing. To watchers of the present conflict it seems an intolerable thought that, after the fighting is done, we should once more return to a condition of “armed peace,” with jealous, distrustful, and revengeful Powers piling up armaments and plotting singly or in groups against their neighbors until Europe is plunged into another war more terrible, more bloody, and more costly than this. Yet nothing is more certain than that this will happen unless the Peoples which are so vitally concerned are able to mobilize their powers of clear thought, sane feeling, and goodwill in carefully considered plans for a cooperative policy of nations.

The first great obstacle to the performance of this task is the state of mind of those who seem to think that all that is required is “to crush German militarism,” and that, this incubus once removed, the naturally pacific disposition of all other nations will dispose them to live together in amity. It is not easy to induce such persons to consider closely what they mean by “crushing German militarism,” or how its destruction, whatever it does mean, would secure the peace of Europe, we will not say in perpetuity, but for a single generation. But let us suppose the most complete success for the arms of the Allies, the slaughter or the capture of great German forces, the invasion of Germany, and the dictation of terms of peace by the Allies at Berlin. Such terms as were imposed might cripple her military power of aggression or revenge for some years. But would it kill what we know as German militarism? If our accepted political analysis be right, the German militarism that must be crushed is not an army and a navy, but a spirit of national aggression, proud, brutal, and unscrupulous, the outcome of certain intellectual and moral tendencies embodied in the “real” politics and the “real” culture of the nation. Can we seriously suppose that this evil spirit will be exorcised by a crushing defeat on land and sea, followed by a humiliating peace? If Germany could be permanently disabled from entertaining any hopes of recovering her military strength, or from exercising any considerable influence in the high policy of Europe, her feelings of resentment and humiliation might perhaps be left to rankle in impotence, or to die out by lapse of time. But nothing which the Allies can do to Germany will leave her in such long-lasting impotence. Even if stripped of her non-Teutonic lands and populations, she will remain a great Power—great in area, population, industry, and organizing power—and no temporary restrictions or guarantees can long prevent her from once more developing a military strength that will give dangerous meaning to her thirst for vengeance. Whether the hegemony of Prussia over a confederation of German States (possibly including Austria) be retained or not, Europe can have no security that the same passions which stirred France to the most strenuous efforts to recover her military strength after 1870 will not be similarly operative throughout Germany. We cannot feel sure that the experience of the most disastrous war will effectively destroy the hold of Prussianism, and that the efficiency of intellect and will which constitute that power will not be able to reassert their sway over a broken Germany.

The fear of such a revival of German strength will remain ever-present in her neighbors, and will compel them to maintain great military preparations. A beaten Germany, with a ring of military Powers round her, watching every phase of her recovery with suspicion, and always liable to quarrel among themselves, will not give peace to Europe. Even, therefore, if we assign to Germany a monopoly of the spirit of aggressive militarism, European peace is not secured by crushing Germany. A saner review of the situation, however, will recognize that Germany has no such monopoly of the spirit of aggression, though that spirit has in her recent policy found its most formidable and most conscious expression. If the craving for a colonial Empire with “places in the sun” was, as seems likely, the principal factor in the aggressive designs of Germany, can we confidently assert that no other State has in the past harbored such designs, or may not harbor them again? The expansive Imperialism of Great Britain, France, Russia, and even more recently of Japan, gives the lie to any such assertion. Pan-Slavism is in spirit identical with the Pan-Teutonism which has contributed to this débâcle, and Great Britain and France are already sated with the overseas Empire which Germany was craving. History shows that, in every militarist State, aggressive and defensive motives and purposes are present together in different degrees at all times. While, therefore, we may reasonably think that the aggressive militarism of Germany held increasing sway in the political direction of that Empire during recent years, and was the direct efficient cause of the present conflict, we cannot hold that, with the defeat or even the destruction of the military and naval power of Germany, militarism would tend to disappear from the European system, and that the relations between nations would henceforth undergo so radical a change as to secure the world against all likelihood of forcible outbreaks in the future.

Clearly, it is not German militarism alone, but militarism in general that must be broken. The real question is how to change the inner attitude of nations, their beliefs and feelings towards one another, so as to make each nation and its rulers recognize that it is no longer either desirable or feasible to seek peculiar advantages for itself by bringing force to bear upon another nation.

But it may be urged, granted that disarmament may not be set afoot spontaneously and separately by the different nations, mutual disarmament can occur by arrangement between the Powers, which, after the menace of German aggression is removed, will be disposed to take this step in concert. Such disarmament, it is usually conceived, will not stand alone, but will form an important feature of a larger international policy, by which the Powers will agree among themselves to settle any differences that may arise by reference to courts of conciliation or of arbitration, and perhaps also to concert measures of common action in dealing with States and territories not within their jurisdiction. Such a concert of European Powers has hitherto appeared to many to yield an adequate basis for the peace of Europe, if it could be brought about. It has also seemed to most men the utmost limit of the actually attainable. The idea of the possibility of any closer relation between sovereign independent States has been dismissed as chimerical.

Now in any discussion of the feasibility of such a concert of European or world Powers as will by mutual agreement secure disarmament and a settlement of differences by judicial methods, it must be recognized at the outset that this war may make the successful pursuance of such a policy more difficult than it would have been before. A Balance of Power, whatever may have been its other disadvantages, seemed in itself favorable to the possibilities of an agreement in which each nation, or group of nations, might be an equal gainer. But a decisive victory in war, which leaves the Allied nations with a strong preponderance of power, is less likely to yield a satisfactory basis of agreement for a mutual disarmament. Is it likely that they will readily consent to a reduction in their several military and naval forces equivalent to the reduction they will demand in the forces of the nations that have been their enemies? To put the difficulty in concrete terms: Would France consent to an early reduction of her army upon terms which would leave her fighting-strength as compared with that of Germany relatively the same as before the war? Would Great Britain consent to reduce her navy in the same proportion as the reduction she required of Germany? Even if the Allies believed that the proportionate reduction would be duly carried out by Germany, would they regard such an arrangement as affording the desired security? Obviously not. It may, of course, be urged that an agreed basis of reduction might be reached, according to which the relative strength of army and navy assigned to Germany would be smaller than before. But the more closely the proposition is examined the less feasible does it appear. What basis for the size of armies could reasonably, or even plausibly, be suggested which would not assign to Germany a larger preponderance over France in number of soldiers than she possesses at present? Size of population, or of frontiers, the two most reasonable considerations for apportioning defensive needs, would tell in favor of Germany against France. True it would tell even more strongly in favor of Russia, assigning her, in fact, a relatively larger military predominance in Europe than she has ever claimed. But would either France or Germany regard the new military situation as safe or desirable? Nor would there be any permanence in an arrangement based on such a mutable factor as population, according to which the German preponderance over France and of Russia over Germany would be continually increasing. If area of territory, as well as population and frontiers, were taken into consideration in fixing a basis, France would come off a little better in relation to Germany, but the size of Russia, even if her European lands were alone included, would give her an overwhelming advantage. If, as might not unreasonably be claimed, the extra-European possessions of Russia, Great Britain, and France must be reckoned in, either on a basis of territory or of population, Great Britain and Russia would possess a superiority of military strength which would give them, acting together, a complete control over the politics of Europe and Asia. Or, were the United States to come into the arrangement, the military strength of Anglo-Saxondom might too obviously surpass that of any likely combination of other Powers.

Again, what basis of naval strength would be satisfactory? Great Britain would not think of accepting the area, population, or frontier factors unless the Empire as well as the British Isles were counted in. On the other hand, her proposal, that volume of shipping and of foreign trade should count heavily in the basis, might give her for the time being an even greater preponderance over other navies than she has hitherto possessed.

If the comparison of the military and naval strength of nations were conducted, as in the past, by direct consideration of the numerical strength and the fighting value of the several items of an army and a navy, agreement upon a basis of reduction would be manifestly impossible. The discovery and acceptance of any standard unit of naval or military value applicable to changing conditions of modern warfare are found to be impracticable. For though every military budget implies the acceptance of some scale of values by which the worth of a battery of artillery is compared with that of a battalion of infantry, while every naval budget involves a calculation of the worth of a submarine or a seaplane as compared with an armored cruiser and a super-Dreadnought, no two budgets would be found to support the same scale of values. It is quite manifest that no agreement for reducing armaments could be attained by stipulations as to the number, size, or quality of the several forces and arms employed. This difficulty in itself, however, is not fatal to the proposal. For a far simpler and more satisfactory method of agreement might be found by disregarding the concrete armaments and accepting a financial basis of expenditure which would leave each nation complete liberty to apply the money prescribed to it as a maximum expenditure on armaments in whatever way it chose. Though each nation, considering its defense, would doubtless have to take into account the sort of preparations for possible attack its neighbors might be making, it would be entitled to spend as large a proportion of its authorized expenditure upon guns, torpedo-boats, aircraft, Dreadnoughts, as it chose.

The real difficulty, therefore, turns upon the agreement upon a basis of comparative expenditure. Now this difficulty appears insuperable, if reduction of armaments be regarded as the sole, or the chief, mainstay of a durable peace. For so long as the motives which have hitherto impelled nations to increase their armaments still retain the appearance of validity in any nation or group of nations, no agreed basis for reduction will be reached, or, were it reached, no reliable adherence to its terms could be expected. For the reduction of armaments involves the acceptance of and the adherence to a principle of reduction by all the Great Powers. If any single Great Power refused to come into the agreement, or, coming in, was suspected of evading the fulfilment of its pledge by concealing some of its expenditure on armaments, this method would have failed pro tanto, both as an economy and a security. For each of the would-be pacific nations would have to make adequate provision against the warlike outsider or suspect. Now, that a mere agreement for mutual disarmament would thus be baffled is almost certain. So long as a Power, by simply refusing to come in, could retain full liberty to pile up arms with a view to a future policy of menace or aggression, would there not be Governments which would find some more or less plausible excuses for declining the invitation to come in? Or could we feel complete assurance that a Power with an aggressive past, after entering into such an agreement, would faithfully fulfil it when so many facilities of evasion present themselves? Nay, there would be a positive incentive to an aggressive or revengeful Power either to stay outside, or, entering in, to violate secretly its obligations. For, by either course, it would be enabled to steal a march in military strength over its intended enemy, if the latter were a faithful adherent to such a treaty. The slightest reflection suffices to show that a mere agreement for disarmament or reduction of armament must be futile.

But, it will be contended, these difficulties may be overcome by extending the agreement so as to bind the signatory Powers to bring their united force to bear upon any member convicted of a wilful evasion or infraction of the agreement. That is to say, they must engage to secure the agreement by an ultimate sanction of physical force. The administration of such an agreement would, of course, involve the setting up of some standing Court or Committee of Inquiry, vested with full rights of inspection and judgment, and endowed with a power of armed executive.

But if a treaty of reduction of armaments could be secured by such a guarantee of collective force, it would still find itself confronted by the problem of the lawless outsider. So long as an aggressive outsider were at liberty to threaten or coerce a member of the League without involving the hostility of the other members, this danger would compel members of the League to maintain large armaments, though they were secure against internal hostility. A single Power, such as Germany, Russia, or Japan, standing out for its absolute right to determine its own expenditure and policy, would cancel nearly all the economy of the agreement. It would become self-evident that the Powers entering such an agreement must bind themselves to a common defense against such an outsider. They would be impelled to this course by a double motive. In no other way could each member gain that security which would win his consent to a basis of reduction that would lower his separate defensive power. Again, by pledging themselves to united action against an aggressive outside Power, they would diminish, perhaps destroy, the aggressive design or policy of such a Power. For such aggressive policy and the armed force which supports it are only plausible upon the assumption that they can be successfully applied to gain a selfish national end. If the united strength of the Treaty Powers remained so great as to render the pursuance of its aggressive designs impossible or too dangerous, the lawless Powers might learn the lesson of the law, and, abandoning its hopes of aggression, come into the League.

In a word, the proposal for reduction of armaments only becomes really feasible when it is linked with a provision for reversing the motives which lead nations to increase their armed forces. Once bring to bear upon the Governments of States a clear recognition of the two related facts: first, that by no increase of their armed force will they be reasonably likely to succeed in any aggressive design upon a neighbor; second, that by the pledged cooperation of their cosignatories they are not dependent for defense upon their own force alone, then obvious motives of economy and self-interest will lead them to reduce their armaments. Though the military caste may still plead the instability of pacific agreements and the disciplinary advantages of National Service, while contractors for armaments do their best to sow dissension among the leagued Powers and to arouse the military ambitions of new nations, these war interests would no longer be able to play as heretofore upon the fears and passions of the peoples. For whatever the secret political and business policy behind the race for armaments, its engineers could only make that policy effective by periodic appeals to the menace of invasion. Once make it manifest that no evil-minded foreigner can threaten aggression against one country without meeting an overwhelming strength of leagued forces, to which one particular contribution is not of determinant importance, and the balance of national motives leans heavily and constantly towards smaller and less expensive forces.

The absolute strength of the rational and moral case against war and militarism has in some degree obscured the fact that, so long as pushful statesmen and diplomatists, ambitious soldiers, covetous financiers, and war-traders were able to stimulate and carry out aggressive policies of conquest and aggrandizement on the part of stronger against weaker States, the apprehensions upon which these same interests played in urging the necessity of large expenditure upon defense were not unreasonable. It is only by making it too obviously difficult and dangerous for any one Power to attack any other Power that the balance of reasonable motives is firmly weighted against armaments. This can only be achieved by substituting for a world of isolated independent States, or of Balances of Power, a world in which the united strength of a sufficient number of States is brought to bear immediately and certainly against any disturber of the public peace.

“Splendid isolation” is no longer practicable in the modern world of international relations. Group alliances in pursuit of the Balance of Power are seen to be nothing else than an idle feint. For the sole and constant aim of each such group and Power is not to achieve or to maintain the balance, but to weight it on one side. Such an alternating and oscillating balance gives the maximum of insecurity, and thus plays most effectively the game of war and armaments. The only possible alternative is the creation of such a concert or confederation of Powers as shall afford to each the best available security against the aggression of another within the concert and the best defense of all against aggression from outside.

The general form in which a cooperation of nations for these objects presents itself is that of a League or Confederation. The primary object of such a League is to bind all its members to submit all their serious differences to arbitration or some other mode of peaceful settlement, and to accept the judgment or award thus obtained. Some advocates of a League of Peace think that the sense of moral obligation in each State, fortified by the public opinion of the civilized world, would form a valid sanction for the fulfilment of such undertakings, and would afford a satisfactory measure of security. But most hold that it is advisable or essential that the members of such a League should bind themselves to take joint action against any member who breaks the peace.

Assuming that a considerable body of nations entered such a League with good and reliable intentions, how far would it be likely to secure the peace of the world and a reduction of armed preparations? The answer to this question would depend mainly upon the number and status of the Powers constituting the League, and their relations to outside nations. If, as is not unlikely, at first only a small number of nations were willing to enter such a League, the extent of the pacific achievement would be proportionately circumscribed. If, say, Britain, France, and the United States entered the League, undertaking to settle all their differences by peaceful methods, such a step, however desirable in itself, would not go far towards securing world-peace or enabling these leagued Powers to reduce their national armaments. This is so obvious that most advocates of the League of Peace urge that the leagued Powers should not confine their undertakings to the peaceful settlement of differences among themselves, but should afford a united defense to any of their members attacked by any outside Power which was unwilling to arbitrate its quarrel. A defensive alliance of three such Great Powers (for that is what the League of Peace would amount to at this stage of development) would no doubt form a force which it would be dangerous for any nation, or combination of nations, to attack. But it would secure neither peace nor disarmament. Nor would it, as an earnest advocate of this procedure argues, necessarily, or even probably, form a nucleus of a larger League drawing in other nations. A few nations forming such a League would not differ substantially from the other nominally defensive alliances with which the pages of history are filled. Their purely defensive character would be suspected by outside Powers, who would tend to draw together into an opposing alliance, thus reconstituting once more the Balance of Power with all its perils and its competing armaments. Nay, if such a League of Peace were constituted in the spirit of the Holy Alliance of a century ago, or of the resurrection of that spirit which Mr. Roosevelt represents in order “to back righteousness by force” in all quarters of the earth, such an opposition of organized outside Powers would be inevitable. The League of Peace idea, in order to have any prima facie prospect of success, must at the outset be so planned as to win the adherence of the majority of the Great Powers, including some of those recently engaged in war with one another. For until there was an absolute preponderance of military and naval strength inside the League, the relief from internal strife would do very little, if anything, to abate the total danger of war, or to enable any country to reduce its armed preparations. Further, it would seem essential that such a League should in its relations to outside Powers assume a rigorously defensive attitude, abstaining from all interference in external politics until they encroached directly upon the vital interests of one or more of its members. Such an encroachment it would presumably treat as an attack upon the League, and would afford the injured member such power of redress as was deemed desirable by the representatives of the Powers forming the League.

Before entering upon the fuller consideration of the practicability of a League of Nations formed upon these lines, it may be well to set forth in a brief, formal manner the nature of the chief implications which appear to be contained in the proposal. We shall then be in a position to examine seriatim the various steps which the advocates of this method of securing world-peace and disarmament desire to take, and the many difficulties which are involved.

The signatory Powers to the Treaty or Agreement establishing such a League of Peace would undertake:

(1) To submit to arbitration or conciliation all disputes or differences between them not capable of settlement by ordinary processes of diplomacy, and to accept and carry out any award or terms of settlement thus attained.

(2) To bring joint pressure, diplomatic, economic, or forcible, to bear upon any member refusing to submit a disputed matter to such modes of peaceable settlement, or to accept and carry out the award, or otherwise threatening or opening hostilities against any other member.

(3) To take joint action in repelling any attack made by an outside Power, or group of Powers, upon any of the members of the League.

(4) To take joint action in securing the redress of any injury which, by the general assent of the signatory Powers, had been wrongfully inflicted upon any member of the League.

J. A. Hobson, “Towards International Government,” pp. 5-27.

EXISTING ALLIANCES AND A LEAGUE OF PEACE

The war has converted the belligerent world to that kind of pacifism which consists in a grim determination that the present Armageddon shall never be repeated, however long it may be necessary to fight in order to ensure this outcome. To perpetuate the peace, however, a strong League of Nations is indispensable, and various plans for such a league are forming. Some of these rely on an extension of treaties of arbitration and conciliation, some would fortify these treaties by giving to the league a power to coerce recalcitrant members, and still others would create a world State with a central government, an army and a navy. The first question to be answered is, What kind of international union can be secured? since, in the case of any new league of this kind, the more ambitious the plan, the less probable it is that nations will adopt it. In many minds grave doubt exists whether even a modest plan will be carried into execution. In the face of this doubt I wish to express the audacious opinion that something having the characteristics of a league of peace is rapidly evolving and in all probability will, at the close of the war, require only a small modification to enable it to prevent, so long as it lasts, the recurrence of a great war on the Continent of Europe.

It is not necessary to create a league of peace de novo and without reference to combinations which now exist. Two great leagues have been formed, each embracing powerful States and each so firmly held together that it acts toward the outer world much as a single great empire would do. Since they are now waging against each other the greatest war in history, the conclusion is much too lightly reached that such unions are, by their nature, war-breeders. Defensive unions, however, are in line with the whole trend of political evolution. Great nations, created by combining smaller ones, are in the order of the day, and so are federations of a looser kind, such as those which preceded the German Empire and our own Federal State.

Every such consolidation involves a risk that, if a war occurs, it will be larger than it might otherwise be; but it reduces the frequency with which wars occur. Peace between great States continues through longer periods than it does between warring districts which later unite in such States. The prospect that peace shall ever be universal depends on its tendency to establish itself within larger and larger areas till it shall end by embracing the world. European wars have occurred in spite of alliances rather than because of them and the general effect even of imperfect unions has been to lengthen the intervals of peace. It is an even century since a war akin to this one was waging in Europe, and it is forty-four years since a war between any two great nations has taken place on that continent. The consolidating tendency in itself makes for peace.

The present leagues have several times acted as peace preservers. During the Moroccan trouble and the two Balkan wars they averted a general struggle and they might have averted the present one if, as unions, they had been more complete than they were. It is a safe guess that if it had been definitely known that Russia, France and England would act as a unit in opposing the invasion of Serbia, the knowledge would have delayed the invasion and possibly prevented it with all its fateful consequences. The first thing to be remembered is that these two great leagues, both formed for defense, will be in existence and probably vigorous when the war shall end.

Let us assume that peace has been made, that both the Entente and the Alliance continue to be strong and that in everything political they are the Powers which must first be reckoned with. Let us assume that, in each of them, the constituent countries are held firmly together because no single country can think of surrendering the protection which union affords. Outside of the Entente, France would be helpless against an attack by Germany and outside of the Alliance Austria would be helpless against one by Italy and Russia. Any country standing alone would have a precarious hold on its territory and its freedom.

The chief dangers that threaten a great league spring from within, while those that threaten a small league are from without. A union of all Europe would be entirely immune against foreign attack and, for that very reason, would be far more easily disrupted and plunged into something like civil war. Such unions as the Alliance and the Entente, each of which has a great power now arrayed against it, are held together much more firmly. The bond that unites its members is the imperative need of mutual protection.

If, as we have assumed, the war has ended neither in a draw nor in a sweeping victory for one side—if the unsuccessful league has kept most of its territories and its fighting strength—the situation will throw an enormous power into the hands of the neutral States. By joining either union they might cause it to preponderate over the other; and by joining the victorious one they could make it safe against any attack and able, if it were disposed to do so, to guarantee the peace of Europe. In the smaller States of Europe the opinion is growing that for them liberty and union are one and inseparable. It may be vital for them to join a defensive league and, by their union with it, cause it to become, if it were not already, a true commonwealth of nations, great and small, and fully committed to a just and peaceful policy.

In order to be a nucleus of such a commonwealth a league should, if possible, already contain enough great States to prevent any one from dominating the others. If possible it should contain a number of the smaller States and, as a group, it should be so free from aggressive designs as to merit the confidence of States not as yet in any combination. Since the Entente now virtually includes five great States and four small ones and may soon be joined by more it already has important qualifications for becoming such a league of peace as we are suggesting—a commonwealth of nations powerful enough to preserve peace and vitally interested in doing it.

The original purpose of each of the two leagues now existing was protective. It aimed primarily to secure each of its members against attacks by other Powers, and this security, which all the members continue to need, is what the small neutral countries are also compelled to look for. What they must demand of any combination which they are asked to join is, above all else, protection. Now the more promising plans for new leagues of peace which have been suggested contain no provision for protecting their members from attacks by nations outside of their circle. They content themselves with preventing warfare between the members. On the other hand, the present combinations have no formal and constitutional machinery for settling internal disputes. A true commonwealth of nations needs to be assured against both dangers and its constitution, therefore, will need to contain the best provisions that it is humanly possible to devise for settling peacefully all internal disputes and also for preventing or repelling attacks by other States. This is saying that an enlarged Entente, besides protecting its members, as it is now using all its force in doing, will need to guard itself against the perils that necessarily beset large leagues, those, namely, that originate from within. The institutions of The Hague will be for it well nigh a sine qua non at success, and there must be measures for compelling a resort to them in disputes between members of the league and in those arising between any of them and States outside of it. Such provisions as have been contained in the best constitutions that have been suggested for new leagues will be needed in one that may evolve out of one of the existing combinations.

If a new league should be formed without affording protection against external attacks it would be necessary that the Entente and the Alliance should continue. It would be vain to ask their members to dissolve them and trust to a new league that would leave each of them to fight its own battles. The Entente or the Alliance, as the case might be, would then constitute a union within a union—a compact defensive body within a loosely organized combination for promoting the friendly settlement of disputes. This is entirely possible. A new league of many States might conceivably be formed and either the Entente or the Alliance might join it bodily and give its own members the protection which the larger league would not give; but a simpler and more natural plan would be to enlarge one of the present leagues and adopt the needed provisions for peacefully settling all disputes of which a member is a party.

Of a league so formed the objection that it is theoretical and utopian certainly cannot be urged. Nine countries are already in effect in the Entente and that combination is now fulfilling the one function that, in making constitutions for new leagues, few persons are bold enough to require of the members—that of lavishing life and treasure in defending each other. In this respect, the present reality outstrips our dreams. As the leagues will almost certainly continue it should be possible to give to one of them the relatively easy function of settling peacefully the disputes occurring within its membership.

Herein lies the golden opportunity for the neutral States. They have a sense of danger and the protective feature of a league will attract them, though the chance of being involved in a general war will, in itself, repel them. It will probably repel them less than the danger of being conquered by some great State, and both dangers will be at a minimum if the international body that they join is too strong to be attacked and if its spirit as well as its formal constitution and the interest of its members hold it in ways of peace and justice. It will be in the power of the neutral countries to help effectively in making it so. They can consent to join only a union of this character.

It will be hard indeed for the two leagues now in deadly war with each other at once to unite in any single union. Will the fact that one of them for a time holds aloof be a source of danger? In one essential way it will be a cause of security. It is sadly to be admitted that, in the present moral status of the world, treaties are not bands of steel and there is danger that they may be broken when they are not buttressed by national interests. Against the danger of disruption a defensive league which does not include all States of Europe may be stronger than one which does so. The treaty that binds such a league together will be powerfully reenforced if all the members have a sense of common danger—a sense of the presence of a foe strong enough to overcome any country singly. Pressure from without means solidarity within and, while enmities are strong, a hostile nation might impart to a league more strength by remaining outside of it than by joining it.

In the long run, all Europe should be consolidated. The chance that it will become so by a single step is small, and the best beginning of a general union will be furnished by one of the existing leagues, enlarged by the adherence of neutral States and fortified against the danger of disruption from within by the exposure of any seceding State to the peril of attacks from without. The league may thrive on external hostility until the good time shall come when the desired system of settling international disputes shall be thoroughly established and peace shall prevail by the supremacy of reason. Guarding always the territory and protecting the sovereignty of its members the league will develop mutual interests so important that a new and powerful tie will bind the countries together in addition to the bond furnished by the necessity for defense. That necessity itself will grow less, armaments may be curtailed and the forces now engaged in mutual destruction may become available for raising in many ways the level of human life. Under such influences the league should become too powerful to be attacked from without and too indispensable to humanity to be weakened or disrupted from within.

For these reasons I conclude that in the leagues now at war may be afforded the most practical means of creating the league of peace. There is inspiration in this possibility and there is a terrible spur to action in what will ensue if it is not realized—desolated lands under enormous debts with no assurance against a further struggle; neutral lands as well as belligerent ones involved in the competition for larger armies, navies, arsenals, guns and fortifications; the people demanding costly reforms by governments unable to afford them and in peril of revolution if they refuse to do so. Only in the relief from war and its burdens lies the possibility of meeting such needs and giving to social progress an upward trend. Such is the plain teaching of the pending struggle. It is as though the war demon himself had led humanity to the parting of the roads where the guide boards indicate, on the one side, the long way to the Delectable Mountains and on the other, a short route to the pit. Far reaching beyond all precedent is the choice that humanity must soon make and lands at war and lands at peace must participate in the decision.

John Bates Clark, Address at Lake Mohonk Conference, 1915.

PROTECTION OF SMALL NATIONS

A small nation—a nation of not more than fifteen millions, for example—can have no independent existence in Europe except as a member of a federation of States having similar habits, tendencies, and hopes, and united in an offensive and defensive alliance, or under guarantees given by a group of strong and trustworthy nations. The firm establishment of several such federations, or the giving of such guarantees by a group of powerful and faith-keeping nations ought to be one of the outcomes of the war of 1914-15. Unless some such arrangement is reached, no small State will be safe from conquest and absorption by any strong, aggressive military power which covets it—not even if its people live chiefly by mining and manufacturing as the Belgians did.

The small States, being very determined to exist and to obtain their natural or historical racial boundaries, the problem of permanent or any durable peace in Europe resolves itself into this: How can the small or smaller nations be protected from attack by some larger nation which believes that might makes right and is mighty in industries, commerce, finance, and the military and naval arts? The experience gained during the past year proves that there is but one effective protection against such a Power, namely, a firm league of other Powers—not necessarily numerous—which together are stronger in industries, commerce, finance, and the military and naval arts than the aggressive and ambitious nation which heartily believes in its own invincibility and cherishes the ambition to conquer and possess.

Such a league is the present combination of Great Britain, France, Russia, Italy, and Japan against the aggressive Central Monarchies and Turkey; but this combination was not formed deliberately and with conscious purpose to protect small States, to satisfy natural aspirations, and to make durable peace possible by removing both fear of invasion and fear of the cutting off of overseas food and raw materials. In spite of the lack of an explicit and comprehensive purpose to attain these wise and precious ends, the solidity of the alliance during a year of stupendous efforts to resist military aggression on the part of Germany and Austria-Hungary certainly affords good promise of success for a somewhat larger league in which all the European nations—some, like the Scandinavian and the Balkan, by representation in groups—and the United States should be included. Such a league would have to act through a distinct and permanent council or commission which would not serve arbitrary power, or any peculiar national interest, and would not in the least resemble the “Concert of Europe,” or any of the disastrous special conferences of diplomatists and Ministers for Foreign Affairs, called after wars since that of 1870-71 to “settle” the questions the wars raised.

The experience of the past twelve months proves that such a league could prevent any nation which disobeyed its orders from making use of the oceans and from occupying the territory of any other nation. Reduction of armaments, diminution of taxation, and durable peace would ensue as soon as general confidence was established that the league would fairly administer international justice, and that its military and naval forces were ready and effective. Its function would be limited to the prevention and punishment of violations of international agreements, or, in other words, to the enforcement of treaty obligations, until new treaties were made.

The present alliance is of good promise in three important respects—its members refuse to make any separate peace, they cooperate cordially and efficiently in military measures, and the richer members help the poorer financially. These policies have been hastily devised and adopted in the midst of strenuous fighting on an immense scale. If deliberately planned and perfected in times of peace, they could be made in the highest degree effective toward durable peace.

The war has demonstrated that the international agreements for the mitigation of the horrors of war, made by treaties, conferences, and conventions in times of peace, may go for nothing in time of war; because they have no sanction, or, in other words, lack penalties capable of systematic enforcement. To provide the lacking sanction and the physical force capable of compelling the payment of penalties for violating international agreements would be one of the best functions of the international council which the present alliance foreshadows. Some years would probably be required to satisfy the nations concerned that the sanction was real and the force trustworthy and sufficient. The absolute necessity of inventing and applying a sanction for international law, if Europe is to have international peace and any national liberty, will be obvious to any one who has once perceived that the present war became inevitable when Austria-Hungary, in violation of an international agreement to which she was herself a party, seized and absorbed Bosnia and Herzegovina, and became general and fierce when Germany, under Prussian lead, in violation of an international agreement to which she was herself a party, entered and plundered neutralized Belgium.

A strong, trustworthy international alliance to preserve the freedom of the seas under all circumstances would secure for Great Britain and her federated commonwealths everything secured by the burdensome two-navies policy which now secures the freedom of the seas for British purposes. The same international alliance would secure for Germany the same complete freedom of the seas which in times of peace between Germany and Great Britain she has long enjoyed by favor of Great Britain, but has lost in time of war with the Triple Entente. This security, with the general acceptance of the policy of the “open door,” would fully meet Germany’s need of indefinite expansion for her manufacturing industries and her commerce, and of room “in the sun” for her surplus population.

It is a safe inference from the events of the past six months that the longer the war lasts the more significant will be the political and social changes which result from it. It is not to be expected, and perhaps not to be desired, that the ruling class in the countries autocratically governed should themselves draw this inference at present, but all lovers of freedom and justice will find consolation for the prolongation of the war in this hopeful reflection.

To devise the wise constitution of an international council or commission with properly limited powers, and to determine the most promising composition of an international army and an international navy are serious tasks, but not beyond the available international wisdom and goodwill, provided that the tasks be intrusted to international publicists, business men of large experience, and successful administrators, rather than to professional diplomatists and soldiers. To dismiss such a noble enterprise with the remark that it is “academic,” or beyond the reach of “practical” politics, is unworthy of courageous and humane men; for it seems now to be the only way out of the horrible abyss into which civilization has fallen. At any rate, some such machinery must be put into successful operation before any limitation of national armaments can be effected. The war has shown to what a catastrophe competitive national arming has led, and would probably again lead the most civilized nations of Europe. Shall the white race despair of escaping from this hell? The only way of escape in sight is the establishment of a rational international community. Should the enterprise fail after fair trial, the world will be no worse off than it was in July, 1914, or is to-day.

Whoever studies the events of the past year with some knowledge of political philosophy and history, and with the love of his neighbor in his heart, will discover, amid the horrors of the time and its moral chaos, three hopeful leadings for humanitarian effort, each involving a great constructive invention. He will see that humanity needs supremely a sanction for international law, rescue from alcoholism, and a sound basis for just and unselfish human relations in the great industries, and particularly in the machinery industries. The war has brought out all three of these needs with terrible force and vividness. Somehow they must be met, if the white race is to succeed in “the pursuit of happiness,” or even to hold the gains already made.

Charles W. Eliot, N. Y. Times, July 16, 1915.

A LEAGUE TO ENFORCE PEACE

Without attempting to cover details of operation (which are, indeed, of vital importance and will require careful study by experts in international law and diplomacy), the proposal contains four points stated as general objects. The first is that before resorting to arms the members of the league shall submit disputes with one another, if justiciable, to an international tribunal; second, that in like manner they shall submit non-justiciable questions—that is, such as cannot be decided on the basis of strict international law—to an international council of conciliation, which shall recommend a fair and amicable solution; third, that if any member of the league wages war against another before submitting the question in dispute to the tribunal or council, all the other members shall jointly use forthwith both their economic and military forces against the State that so breaks the peace; and fourth, that the signatory Powers shall endeavor to codify and improve the rules of international law.

The kernel of the proposal, the feature in which it differs from other plans, lies in the third point, obliging all the members of the league to declare war on any member violating the pact of peace. This is the provision that provokes both adherence and opposition; and at first it certainly gives one a shock that a people should be asked to pledge itself to go to war over a quarrel which is not of its making, in which it has no interest, and in which it may believe that substantial justice lies on the other side. If, indeed, the nations of the earth could maintain complete isolation, could pursue each its own destiny without regard to the rest; if they were not affected by a war between two others or liable to be drawn into it; if, in short, there were no overwhelming common interest in securing universal peace, the provision would be intolerable. It would be as bad as the liability of an individual to take part in the posse comitatus of a community with which he had nothing in common. But in every civilized country the public force is employed to prevent any man, however just his claim, from vindicating his own right with his own hand instead of going to law, and every citizen is bound when needed to assist in preventing him, because that is the only way to restrain private war, and the maintenance of order is of paramount importance for every one. Surely the family of nations has a like interest in restraining war between States.

It will be observed that the members of the league are not to bind themselves to enforce the decision of the tribunal or the award of the council of conciliation. That may come in the remote future, but it is no part of this proposal. It would be imposing obligations far greater than the nations can reasonably be expected to assume at the present day; for the conceptions of international morality and fair play are still so vague and divergent that a nation can hardly bind itself to wage war on another, with which it has no quarrel, to enforce a decision or a recommendation of whose justice or wisdom it may not be itself heartily convinced. The proposal goes no further than obliging all the members to prevent, by a threat of immediate war, any breach of the public peace before the matter in dispute has been submitted to arbitration; and this is neither unreasonable nor impracticable. There are many questions, especially of a non-justiciable nature, on which we should not be willing to bind ourselves to accept the decision of an arbitration, and where we should regard compulsion by armed intervention of the rest of the world as outrageous. Take, for example, the question of Asiatic immigration, or a claim that the Panama Canal ought to be an unfortified neutral highway, or the desire by a European Power to take possession of Colombia. But we ought not, in the interest of universal peace, to object to making a public statement of our position in these matters at a court or council before resorting to arms; and in fact the treaty between the United States and England, ratified on November 14, 1914, provides that all disputes between the high contracting parties, of every nature whatsoever, shall, failing other methods of adjustment, be referred for investigation and report to a permanent international commission, with a stipulation that neither country shall declare war or begin hostilities during such investigation and before the report is submitted.

What is true of this country is true of others. To agree to abide by the result of an arbitration, on every non-justiciable question of every nature whatsoever, on pain of compulsion in any form by the whole world, would involve a greater cession of sovereignty than nations would now be willing to concede. This appears, indeed, perfectly clear from the discussions at The Hague Conference of 1907. But to exclude differences that do not turn on questions of international law from the cases in which a State must present the matter to a tribunal or council of conciliation before beginning hostilities, would leave very little check upon the outbreak of war. Almost every conflict between European nations for more than half a century has been based upon some dissension which could not be decided by strict rules of law, and in which a violation of international law or of treaty rights has usually not even been used as an excuse. This was true of the war between France and Austria in 1859, and, in substance, of the war between Prussia and Austria in 1866. It was true of the Franco-Prussian War in 1870, of the Russo-Turkish War in 1876, of the Balkan War against Turkey in 1912, and of the present war.

No one will claim that a league to enforce peace, such as is proposed, would wholly prevent war, but it would greatly reduce the probability of hostilities. It would take away the advantage of surprise, of catching the enemy unprepared for a sudden attack. It would give a chance for public opinion on the nature of the controversy to be formed throughout the world and in the militant country. The latter is of great importance, for the moment war is declared argument about its merits is at once stifled. Passion runs too high for calm debate, and patriotism forces people to support their government. But a trial before an international tribunal would give time for discussion while emotion is not yet highly inflamed. Men opposed to war would be able to urge its injustice, to ask whether, after all, the object is worth the sacrifice, and they would get a hearing from their fellow citizens which they cannot get after war begins. The mere delay, the interval for consideration, would be an immense gain for the prospect of a peaceful settlement.

Most people who have been thinking seriously about the maintenance of peace are tending to the opinion that a sanction of some kind is needed to enforce the observance of treaties and of agreements for arbitration. Among the measures proposed has been that of an international police force, under the control of a central council which could use it to preserve order throughout the world. At present such a plan seems visionary. The force would have to be at least large enough to cope with the army that any single nation could put into the field—under existing conditions let us say five millions of men fully equipped and supplied with artillery and ammunition for a campaign of several months. These troops need not be under arms, or quartered near The Hague, but they must be thoroughly trained and ready to be called out at short notice. Practically that would entail yearly votes of the legislative bodies of each of the nations supplying a quota; and if any of them failed to make the necessary appropriation there would be great difficulty in preventing others from following its example. The whole organization would, therefore, be in constant danger of going to pieces.

But quite apart from the practical difficulties in the permanent execution of such a plan, let us see how it would affect the United States. The amount of the contingents of the various countries would be apportioned with some regard to population, wealth, and economic resources; and if the total were five million men, our quota on a moderate estimate might be five hundred thousand men. Is it conceivable that the United States would agree to keep anything like that number drilled, equipped, and ready to take the field on the order of an international council composed mainly of foreign nations? Of course it will be answered that these figures are exaggerated, because any such plan will be accompanied by a reduction in armaments. But that is an easier thing to talk about than to effect, and especially to maintain. One must not forget that the existing system of universal compulsory military service on the continent of Europe arose from Napoleon’s attempt to limit the size of the Prussian army. He would be a bold or sanguine man who should assert that any treaty to limit armaments could not in like manner be evaded; and however much they were limited, the quantity of troops to be held at the disposal of a foreign council would of necessity be large, while no nation would be willing to pledge for the purpose the whole of its military force. Such a plan may be practicable in some remote future when the whole world is a vast federation under a central government, but that would seem to be a matter for coming generations, not for the men of our day.

Moreover, the nations whose troops were engaged in fighting any country would inevitably find themselves at war with that country.

One cannot imagine saying to some foreign State, “Our troops are killing yours, they are invading your land, we are supplying them with recruits and munitions of war, but otherwise we are at peace with you. You must treat us as a neutral, and accord to our citizens, to their commerce and property, all the rights of neutrality.” In short the plan of an international police force involves all the consequences of the proposal of a league to enforce peace, with other complex provisions extremely hard to execute.

A suggestion more commonly made is that the members of the league of nations, instead of pledging themselves explicitly to declare war forthwith against any of their number that commits a breach of the peace, should agree to hold at once a conference, and take such measures—diplomatic, economic, or military—as may be necessary to prevent war. The objection to this is that it weakens very seriously the sanction. Conferences are apt to shrink from decisive action. Some of the members are timid, others want delay, and much time is consumed in calling the body together and in discussions after it meets. Meanwhile the war may have broken out, and be beyond control. It is much easier to prevent a fire than to put it out. The country that is planning war is likely to think it has friends in the conference, or neighbors that it can intimidate, who will prevent any positive decision until the fire is burning. Even if the majority decides on immediate action, the minority is not bound thereby. One great Power refuses to take part; a second will not do so without her; the rest hesitate, and nothing is done to prevent the war.

A conference is an excellent thing. The proposal of a league to enforce peace by no means excludes it; but the important matter, the effective principle, is that every member of the league should know that whether a conference meets or not, or whatever action it may take or fail to take, all the members of the league have pledged themselves to declare war forthwith on any member that commits a breach of the peace before submitting its case to the international tribunal or council of conciliation. Such a pledge, and such a pledge alone, can have the strong deterrent influence, and thus furnish the sanction, that is needed. Of course the pledge may not be kept. Like other treaties it may be broken by the parties to it. Nations are composed of human beings with human weaknesses, and one of these is a disinclination to perform an agreement when it involves a sacrifice. Nevertheless, nations, like men, often do have enough sense of honor, of duty, or of ultimate self-interest, to carry out their contracts at no little immediate sacrifice. They are certainly more likely to do a thing if they have pledged themselves to it than if they have not; and any nation would be running a terrible risk that went to war in the hope that the other members of the league would break their pledges.

The same objection applies to another alternative proposed in place of an immediate resort to military force: that is the use of economic pressure, by a universal agreement, for example, to have no commercial intercourse with the nation breaking the peace. A threat of universal boycott is, no doubt, formidable, but by no means so formidable as a threat of universal war. A large country with great natural resources which has determined to make war, might be willing to face commercial non-intercourse with the other members of the league during hostilities, when it would not for a moment contemplate the risk of fighting them. A threat, for example, by England, France, and Germany to stop all trade with the United States might or might not have prevented our going to war with Spain; but a declaration that they would take part with all their armies and navies against us would certainly have done so.

It has often been pointed out that the threat of general non-intercourse would bear much more hardly on some countries than on others. That may not in itself be a fatal objection, but a very serious consideration arises from the fact that there would be a premium on preparation for war. A nation which had accumulated vast quantities of munitions, food, and supplies of all kinds, might afford to disregard it; while another less fully prepared could not.

Moreover, economic pressure, although urged as a milder measure, is in fact more difficult to apply and maintain. A declaration of war is a single act, and when made sustains itself by the passion it inflames; while commercial non-intercourse is a continuous matter, subject to constant opposition exerted in an atmosphere relatively cool. Our manufacturers would complain bitterly at being deprived of dye-stuffs and other chemical products on account of a quarrel in which we had no interest; the South would suffer severely by the loss of a market for cotton; the shipping firms and the exporters and importers of all kinds would be gravely injured; and all these interests would bring to bear upon Congress a pressure well-nigh irresistible. The same would be true of every other neutral country, a fact that would be perfectly well known to the intending belligerent and reduce its fear of a boycott.

But, it is said, why not try economic pressure first, and, if that fails, resort to military force, instead of inflicting at once on unoffending members of the league the terrible calamity of war? What do we mean by “if that fails”? Do we mean, if, in spite of the economic pressure, the war breaks out? But then the harm is done, the fire is ablaze and can be put out only by blood. The object of the league is not to chastise a country guilty of breaking the peace, but to prevent the outbreak of war, and to prevent it by the immediate prospect of such appalling consequences to the offender that he will not venture to run the risk. If a number of great Powers were to pledge themselves with serious intent, to wage war jointly and severally on any one of their members that attacked another before submitting the case to arbitration, it is in the highest degree improbable that the casus fœderis would ever occur, while any less drastic provision would be far less effective.

An objection has been raised to the proposal for a league to enforce peace on the ground that it has in the past often proved difficult, if not impossible, to determine which of two belligerents began a war. The criticism is serious, and presents a practical difficulty, grave but probably not insurmountable. The proposal merely lays down a general principle, and if adopted the details would have to be worked out very fully and carefully in a treaty, which would specify the acts that would constitute the waging of war by one member upon another. These would naturally be, not the mere creating of apprehension, but specific acts, such as a declaration of war, invasion of territory, the use of force at sea not disowned within forty-eight hours, or an advance into a region in dispute. This last is an especially difficult point, but those portions of the earth’s surface in which different nations have conflicting claims are growing less decade by decade.

It must be remembered that the cases which would arise are not like those which have arisen in the past, where one nation is determined to go to war and merely seeks to throw the moral responsibility on the other while getting the advantage of actually beginning hostilities. It is a case where each will strive to avoid the specific acts of war that may involve the penalty. The reader may have seen, in a country where personal violence is severely punished, two men shaking their fists in each other’s faces, each trying to provoke the other to strike the first blow; and no fight after all.

There are many agreements in private business which are not easy to embody in formal contracts; agreements where, as in this case, the execution of the terms calls for immediate action, and where redress after an elaborate trial of the facts affords no real reparation. But if the object sought is good, men do not condemn it on account of the difficulty in devising provisions that will accomplish the result desired; certainly not until they have tried to devise them. It may, indeed, prove impossible to draft a code of specific acts that will cover the ground; it may be impracticable to draft it so as to avoid issues of fact that can be determined only after a long sifting of evidence, which would come too late; but surely that is no reason for failure to make the attempt. We are not making a treaty among nations. We are merely putting forward a suggestion for reducing war, which seems to merit consideration.

A second difficulty that will sometimes arise is the rule of conduct to be followed pending the presentation of the question to the international tribunal. The continuance or cessation of the acts complained of may appear to be, and may even be in fact, more important than the final decision. This has been brought to our attention forcibly by the sinking of the Lusitania. We should have done very wisely to submit to arbitration the question of the right of submarines to torpedo merchant ships without warning, provided Germany abandoned the practise pending the arbitration; and Germany would probably not have refused to submit the question to a tribunal on the understanding that the practise was to continue until the decision was rendered, because by that time the war would be over. This difficulty is inherent in every plan for the arbitration of international disputes, although more serious in a league whose members bind themselves to prevent by force the outbreak of war. It would be necessary to give the tribunal summary authority to decree a modus vivendi, to empower it, like a court of equity, to issue a temporary injunction.

In short, the proposal for a league to enforce peace cannot meet all possible contingencies. It cannot prevent all future wars, nor does any sensible person believe that any plan can do so in the present state of civilization. But it can prevent some wars that would otherwise take place, and if it does that it will have done much good.

People have asked how such a league would differ from the Triple Alliance or Triple Entente—whether it would not be nominally a combination for peace which might in practise have quite a different effect. But in fact its object is quite contrary to those alliances. They are designed to protect their members against outside Powers. This is intended to insure peace among the members themselves. If it grew strong enough, by including all the great Powers, it might well insist on universal peace by compelling the outsiders to come in. But that is not its primary object, which is simply to prevent its members from going to war with one another. No doubt if several great nations, and some of the smaller ones, joined it, and if it succeeded in preserving constant friendly relations among its members, there would grow up among them a sense of solidarity which would make any outside Power chary of attacking one of them; and, what is more valuable, would make outsiders want to join it. But there is little use in speculating about probabilities. It is enough if such a league were a source of enduring peace among its own members.

How about our own position in the United States? The proposal is a radical and subversive departure from the traditional policy of our country. Would it be wise for us to be parties to such an agreement? At the threshold of such a discussion one thing is clear. If we are not willing to urge our own government to join a movement for peace, we have no business to discuss any plan for the purpose. It is worse than futile, it is an impertinence, for Americans to advise the people of Europe how they ought to conduct their affairs if we have nothing in common with them; to suggest to them conventions with burdens which are well enough for them, but which we are not willing to share. If our peace organizations are not prepared to have us take part in the plans they devise, they had better disband, or confine their discussions to Pan-American questions....

A. Lawrence Lowell, “A League to Enforce Peace,” Atlantic Monthly, Sept., 1915.

THE CONSTITUTION OF A LEAGUE

The problem of the League of Peace is actually the problem of the use of force. Force internationally expressed is measured in armaments. The chief discussion which has been waged for the past decade between the pacifists and militarists has been over the question of armaments. The militarists claim that armaments insure national safety. The pacifists declare they inevitably lead to war. Both disputants insist that the present war furnishes irrefutable proof of their contentions.

As is usual in cases of this kind the shield has two sides. The confusion has arisen from a failure to recognize the threefold function of force:

1. Force used for the maintenance of order—police force.

2. Force used for attack—aggression.

3. Force used to neutralize aggression—defense.

Police force is almost wholly good.

Offense is almost wholly bad.

Defense is a necessary evil, and exists simply to neutralize force employed for aggression.

The problem of the peace movement is how to abolish the use of force for aggression, and yet to maintain it for police purposes. Force for defense will of course automatically cease when force for aggression is abolished.

The chief problem then of a League of Peace is this: Shall the members of the League “not only keep the peace themselves, but prevent by force if necessary its being broken by others,” as ex-President Roosevelt suggested in his Nobel Peace Address delivered at Christiania, May 5, 1910? Or shall its force be exercised only within its membership and thus be on the side of law and order and never on the side of arbitrary will or tyranny? Or shall it never be used at all? Whichever one of these conceptions finally prevails the Great War has conclusively demonstrated that as long as War Lords exist defensive force must be maintained. Hence the League must be prepared to use force against any nations which will not forswear force. Nevertheless a formula must be devised for disarmament. For unless it is a law of nature that war is to consume all the fruits of progress disarmament somehow and some way must take place. How then can the maintenance of a force for defense and police power be reconciled with the theory of disarmament?

In this way: Let the League of Peace be formed on the following five principles:

First. The nations of the League shall mutually agree to respect the territory and sovereignty of each other.

Second. All questions that cannot be settled by diplomacy shall be arbitrated.

Third. The nations of the League shall provide a periodical assembly to make all rules to become law unless vetoed by a nation within a stated period.

Fourth. The nations shall disarm to the point where the combined forces of the League shall be a certain per cent. higher than those of the most heavily armed nation or alliance outside of the League. Detailed rules for this pro rata disarmament shall be formulated by the Assembly.

Fifth. Any member of the League shall have the right to withdraw on due notice, or may be expelled by the unanimous vote of the others.

The advantages that a nation would gain in becoming a member of such a league are manifest. The risk of war would be eliminated within the League. Obviously the only things that are vital to a nation are its land and its independence. Since each nation in the League will have pledged itself to respect the territory and the sovereignty of every other, a refusal to do so will logically lead to expulsion from the League. Thus every vital question will be automatically reserved from both war and arbitration. All other questions are of secondary importance and can readily be arbitrated.

By the establishment of a periodical assembly a method would be devised whereby the members of the League could develop their common intercourse and interests as far and as fast as they could unanimously agree upon ways and means. As any law could be vetoed by a single nation, no nation could have any fear that it would be coerced against its will by a majority vote of the other nations. By such an assembly the League might in time agree to reduce tariffs and postal rates and in a thousand other ways promote commerce and comity among its members.

As a final safeguard against coercion by the other members of the League, each member will have the right of secession on due notice. This would prevent civil war within the League. The right of expulsion by the majority will prevent one nation by its veto power indefinitely blocking all progress of the League.

But it will be said that all these agreements will have no binding effect in a crisis. A covenant is a mere “scrap of paper” whose provisions will be violated by the first nation which fancies it is its interest to do so. In order to show that their faith is backed up by deeds, however, the nations on entering the League agree to disarm to a little above the danger point, and put all their defensive power under a federal authority. This is the real proof of their conversion to the peace idea.

Thus the nations which join the League will enjoy all the economic and political advantages which come from mutual cooperation and the extension of international friendship and at the same time will be protected by an adequate force against the aggressive force of the greatest nation or alliance outside the League. The League therefore reconciles the demand of the pacifists for the limitation of armaments and eventual disarmament and the demand of the militarists for the protection that armament affords. Above all the establishment of such a league will give the liberal parties in the nations outside the League an issue on which they can attack their governments so as sooner or later to force them to apply to the League for membership. As each one enters there will be another pro rata reduction of the military forces of the League down to the armament of the next most powerful nation or alliance outside it; until finally the whole world is federated in a brotherhood of universal peace and armies and navies are reduced to an international police force.

Hamilton Holt, “The Way to Disarm,” Independent, Sept. 28, 1914.

PACIFISM AND THE LEAGUE OF PEACE

In short, we have little faith in a pacifism which is mere laissez-faire, in the doctrine that peace is the vacuum created by the absence of war. Peace is something more original than that. It is a great construction, of infinite complexity, which will be aided but not consummated by good intentions. It involves dangers, failures, disappointments. The interests of the world are interwoven, and no nation can work for peace by adopting counsels of perfection in a policy of isolation. Yet that is what mere non-resistance implies. It implies an unwillingness to take the risk of participation in world politics, it trusts vaguely that by staying at home and minding our business, we can make our own little cultivated garden bloom in peace and prosperity. There is no internationalism in such a view of things. The real internationalist is one who works first of all to keep his own nation from aggressive action, who infuses his own national policy with a desire for international peace. He works to control his own government so as to make it adopt a humanely constructive foreign policy. He does not refuse to have part in the world’s affairs because the world may soil his hands. He realizes that peace can be created only out of the strength of intelligent people, that even God when he fought the devil had to compromise his own perfection.

It is more than a century since Thomas Paine proposed to secure the world’s peace forever by a league between Britain, France and the United States. He made the suggestion on the eve of the Napoleonic wars, and it is hardly an accident that the idea was revived with a different trinity a few months before the present struggle. It was Britain, France and Germany that Jean Jaurès would have united in a League of Peace. At the parting of the ways the clear-sighted idealist has always understood that the choice is not between war and that sort of peace which is only a negation of war. The choice in both these crises lay between shattering war and constructive peace, between an open and destructive enmity and a peace based on a common will and an active partnership. Mirabeau had the same vivid perception, and what these three saw is still a vision that haunts us among the mists of war. Of the several proposals that arise inevitably in men’s minds when we think of preventing the renewal of this Continental struggle, there is none which sober thinkers propound so readily and none which has been worked out with greater detail in England than this expedient of the League of Peace. There are, indeed, a few who dare to speak of the United States of Europe, and some who discuss the creation of an international police force to secure the law of nations and repress aggression. But even they do not deny the inordinate difficulties. This war has lasted long enough to teach all but the unteachable that neither side will be able to crush and dominate the other. But short of the compulsion of irresistible might, will any influence suffice to bring the enemies of to-day by their spontaneous choice into a European federation? Is any people, even the most pacific, prepared as yet to accept the surrender of sovereignty which entry into even a loosely-knit federation would involve?

The League of Peace presents itself to practical men as a dream capable of an early translation into fact. The allies need only agree to join their forces against any power which persisted, after offers of arbitration or mediation (a reservation which no old-fashioned alliance ever made) in attacking any one of them. It would differ from other alliances partly by its insistence on the duty of arbitration, partly by its frank and public constitution, but mainly by the ready welcome which it would offer even to the enemy of yesterday, should he elect to enter it. The United States would rally to it, seeing in it their best hope of safety, and ultimately it might become a genuine Pan-European League. It is sometimes suggested that Paine’s Anglo-Franco-American combination might form its nucleus. More often its advocates base their hopes on the Anglo-Franco-Russian entente, expanded by adhesion of some of the present neutrals. No one suggests, and this is the weakest point of the whole scheme, that Germany and Austria would be likely to join such a League at the start, though no one of this way of thinking would desire to exclude them.

Much would depend on the nucleus of the federation. Crude military considerations render an Anglo-French-American trinity impossible. Without discussing whether the United States would care to enter “the vortex of European militarism,” it is enough to point out that such a combination could not hope to hold the rest of Europe in check, could not even safeguard France against Germany alone, unless one or both of the English-speaking nations adopted compulsory military service. France must ally herself to some first-rate military power; no navy can protect her land frontiers. The Anglo-Franco-Russian combination is open to other objections. It does not represent a homogeneous civilization. Every outbreak of anti-Jewish fanaticism in Russia, every assault on Finland or Persia, every reminder that official Russia still belongs to the Dark Ages, would tend to weaken the moral authority of such a League. It has, moreover, too long a history. It would seem even to charitable Germans a mere perpetuation under a new name of the combination which M. Delcassé and King Edward were accused of forming to “pen Germany in.” It would seem to be nothing better than an alliance to assure the victors in the perpetual possession of the fruits of victory, and the new pacifist façade to the old armed fortress would only aggravate by hypocrisy the sin of success. Germany would never join this League; she would scheme with all the arts of barter and intrigue to detach Russia from it, and the old game of the Balance of Power would go on.

The fatal objection to any alliance of this kind is that it does not really meet the difficulty that no State will abandon its sovereignty. This alliance would not be a League of Peace unless it were prepared to exercise a very sharp supervision over the foreign policy of its members. If the old Anglo-Franco-Russian entente had been a genuine League of Peace, it would have had to say, for example, to Serbia, “You may join us, but if you do join us, you must abandon forever your Irredentist ambitions at the expense of Austria. We will protect you against any unprovoked attack by Austria. But you on your side must refrain from any encouragement to those who would dismember her.” It would have had to say with equal decision to France, “Join us by all means, but at the cost of refraining from any expansion in Morocco. You cannot march on Fez without provoking some German reply.” Such a League, in short, would be a mutual insurance society, but the risks would be too high unless the society could prohibit its members from any deliberate playing with fire. It is not enough to say, “We will murder an Archduke once in a way, but when he is dead and buried we will go to The Hague about him”; or, “We will, to be sure, take places in the sun which other people covet, but when we have taken them we shall not wantonly attack any unsuccessful rivals.” The League of Peace would either be the old imperialistic alliance under a dishonest name, or else it would be a highly conservative federation which would keep its members in a very strait pacifist jacket. If great powers would really endure such a control they might as well face at once the limitation of sovereignty implied in a United States of Europe.

The vice of all such schemes is that they are based too one-sidedly on the idea of preventing wars. They take a static view of the world. They come quite naturally from citizens of satisfied powers, weary of the burden of defending what they have got. They ignore the fact that life is change. They make no provision for any organic alterations in the world’s structure. We can no more prevent war by organizing a defensive league than revolution by creating a police. We must deal with causes, must provide some means alternative to war by which large grievances can be redressed and legitimate ambitions satisfied. To recur to our concrete cases: if it is desired to insure that Serbia shall not again embroil a continent in war, some machinery must be provided by which Austria can be required to treat her subject Serbs reasonably well. When a “place in the sun” like Morocco, one of the few unappropriated parts of the earth fit for settlement by a white race, can no longer maintain its independence, there must be some impartial Power which can say, “This rich potential colony ought not to go to a State like France, with two similar colonies already under its flag and a dwindling population at home, but rather to a State like Germany, with no such colony of her own, despite her teeming population, her great birth-rate, her vigorous and expansive commerce.”

For such problems as this there is no solution in the quasi-legal processes of arbitration. The fundamental fact in the European history of the last twenty years has been the restless search of Germany for colonies and fields of exploitation. She felt her way in South Africa; the British Empire expanded to exclude her. She turned a timid glance to Brazil; the Monroe Doctrine was the flaming sword at the gate of that Paradise. She coveted Morocco; the British navy cleared its decks. She penetrated Turkey down the spine of the Bagdad Railway; she was met at the Gulf with opposing sea-power. A League of the Satisfied might appeal to London and Paris and Petrograd. But Berlin will ask, “What hope does it offer to me that when my population is still denser, my industry still more expansive, my need for markets and fields of exploitation for my capital even more clamant than it is to-day, your League of Peace will provide me with an outlet? You bar the future, and you call it peace.”

The recent Philadelphia conference on The League to Enforce Peace was extraordinarily sensible because it recognized so clearly its own limitations. It did not propose to stop the war. It did not urge anybody to act before he was ready to act. It did not try to stampede our government or any European government into some theoretical program. It tried merely to focus the ideas which have been most common in England and America during the last ten months. Under impressive circumstances, in a hall filled with noble memories, it crystallized a number of vague ideas into an hypothesis. The conference was visibly trying to reach some minimum agreement for the purpose of clarifying the thinking of individuals and groups all over the world.

Nobody is expected to act upon the resolutions, but everybody is expected to give what thought and knowledge and imagination he may have towards maturing the intentions which they expressed. The conference did what every person must do constantly for himself whenever he is trying to think out a long and complex problem. It stopped for breath and for a renewal of faith; it made a tentative proposal as a guide for the thought which is to follow. With great sanity it took no doctrinaire position, laid down no rule, such as peace-at-any-price, honor-cannot-be-arbitrated, sovereignty-is-one-and-indivisible, or any of the other assumptions which obscure pacifist and militarist argument. The delegates in Philadelphia were scientific in their spirit; they did not even attempt that over-precise definition of the final end which always results in the misleading use of theory. They were not doctors who begin their study of disease by trying to define the ideal healthy man, they were not political doctrinaires who begin by defining the ideally peaceful world. They were agreed, as doctors are agreed, that a sounder organic constitution is required, and that pain and suffering should be lessened as much as possible, but they did not attempt to say that they would not inflict pain to cure pain, or wage war to preserve the peace.

The idea which the delegates had uppermost in their thoughts was a league of nations that should give power to international law. It is an extension of The Hague plan by which the nations attempt not only to set up a court, but to compel those who have a dispute to go to the court. As we understand the resolutions, they do not take the added step of agreeing to enforce the decision of the court.

The idea is based on a tremendous compromise, as our own history shows. We were once a league of foreign States, suspicious of common action and jealous of each sovereign prerogative. On the greatest issue of our history we fought our greatest war, and the States which represented union and federalism put an end once for all to the unlimited sovereignty of any individual State. Our Civil War established the supremacy of the federal power over the States.

The United States of the World would face the same problem, though on a much more difficult scale. It will find that a court to adjust mistakes is not enough, for the really important conflicts that provoke war are not “justiciable.” They are matters upon which a policy has to be declared—upon which, in brief, legislation is needed. Some kind of legislature a League of Peace would have to establish, and with a legislature and court would have to go an executive. This would open up the problem of representation, of the large and populous State as against the small ones, of the “satisfied Powers” against the “unsatisfied.” For it is clear that the British Empire will not consent to give to Montenegro equal representation, or the United States to Venezuela. Here will be the question of conflicts between international and national legislation, similar to the conflicts which our Supreme Court is called upon to settle. All the problems of home rule, such as that of Ireland within the Empire, and of Ulster within Ireland, would have to be met in territory like that of the Balkans, by the League of Peace. It would have to determine whether, for example, the sovereignty of a national India was an internal question for the British Empire, or a legitimate subject for international settlement.

The League would have to work out the problem of unexploited territories, of weaker peoples, and of disorderly States. Just as our original Union had the whole West to organize, so the League would have Africa, large parts of Asia, and the middle Americas as a kind of international domain. It would have to meet those who want merely to exploit, and to support those who are liberal enough to throw about weaker peoples that protection under which they can really grow to freedom. Nor would that be all. The League would have to legislate about concessions, trading rights, tariffs, about spheres of influence, about the use of great ocean and land highways. As soon as it grappled with the economic aspects of diplomacy, it would find, just as our government found, that interstate commerce cannot be regulated satisfactorily by conflicting state interests.

In other words, there is no stopping short at a league to prevent war. Such a league would either grow to a world federalism, or it would break up in civil war. But that, far from being an argument against the League, is the strongest possible argument for it. It is the first step towards a closer world organization, and once that step is taken, the world will have to choose between taking some of the next steps and returning to the anarchy of sovereign nationalities. The vast implications of the League of Peace are what make it important. And its real service to mankind may well be that it will establish the first rallying point of a world citizenship.

The development of such a citizenship is one of the great moral and educational problems of this century. It cannot mean a vague cosmopolitanism. It must mean the training of people who have learned to modify their national policies so that these do not make impossible an international allegiance. This war has offered us an example of such citizenship. The Canadians, Australians, and New Zealanders who are fighting in Flanders and at the Dardanelles are living and dying for the largest political organization the world has so far known. Their allegiance in the British Empire is to a State which embraces one-quarter of the human race. Never before in history have men been loyal to so great and so diversified a unit. They have literally come from all the ends of the earth to preserve a union of democracies. They have shown by example what any World League most needs to know, that federalism on a grand scale is not an idle dream.

The New Republic, March 20 and June 26, 1915.

THE ECONOMIC BOYCOTT

In the discussion of an International Executive entrusted with powers to compel the fulfilment of treaty obligations, it must not be assumed that coercion can only be exercised by the employment of armed force. The boycott is a weapon which could be employed with paralyzing power by a circle of nations upon an offender against the public law of the world. No nation to-day, least of all the great industrial and military Powers, is or can become socially and economically self-sufficient. It depends in countless ways upon intercourse with other nations. If all or most of these avenues of intercourse were stopped, it would soon be reduced to worse straits than those which Germany is now experiencing. If all diplomatic intercourse were withdrawn; if the international postal and telegraphic systems were closed to a public law-breaker; if all interstate railway trains stopped at his frontiers; if no foreign ships entered his ports, and ships carrying his flag were excluded from every foreign port; if all coaling stations were closed to him; if no acts of sale or purchase were permitted to him in the outside world—if such a political and commercial boycott were seriously threatened, what country could long stand out against it? Nay, the far less rigorous measure of a financial boycott, the closure of all foreign exchanges to members of the outlaw State, the prohibition of all quotations on foreign stock exchanges, and of all dealings in stocks and shares, all discounting and acceptances of trade bills, all loans for public or private purposes, and all payments of moneys due—such a withdrawal of financial intercourse, if thoroughly applied and persisted in, would be likely to bring to its senses the least scrupulous of States.

Assuming that the members of the League included all or most of the important commercial and financial nations, and that they could be relied upon to press energetically all or even a few of these forms of boycott, could any country long resist such pressure? Would not the threat of it and the knowledge that it could be used form a potent restraint upon the law-breaker? Even the single weapon of a complete postal and telegraphic boycott would have enormous efficiency were it rigorously applied. Every section of the industrial and commercial community would bring organized pressure upon its Government to withdraw from so intolerable a position and to return to its international allegiance. It may be said, Why is it that such a powerful weapon of such obvious efficacy has never been applied? The answer is that the conditions for its rapid and concerted application have never hitherto existed. For in order that it may be effective, a considerable number of nations must have previously undertaken to apply it simultaneously and by common action. And, what is more, each nation must have confidence in the bona fides of the intention of other nations to apply it. For the detailed application of the boycott, in most points, must of necessity remain in the hands of the several national Governments. Here comes the practical difficulty. Every boycott has a certain injurious rebound. It hits back the nation that applies it. The injury of suspended intercourse is, of course, not equal, otherwise the process would be futile. If the whole circle of A’s neighbors boycott him, each suffers half the loss of his separate intercourse with A, but A suffers this loss multiplied by the number of his neighbors. Now if A’s intercourse with all his neighbors is of equal magnitude, each of them can probably afford easily to bear the sacrifice involved in the boycott, trusting to the early effect of their action in bringing A to terms. But if one or two of A’s neighbors are in much closer relations with A than the others, and if, as may be the case, they are getting more advantage from this intercourse than A, the risk or sacrifice they are called upon to undergo will be proportionately greater. They must bear the chief brunt of a policy in the adoption of which they have not the determinant voice.

Take, for example, the case of Germany. An all-round boycott applied to her would evidently cause more damaging reactions to Holland, Belgium, and Denmark than to any of the greater nations whose united voice might have determined its application. The injury to Holland, in particular, might in the first instance be almost as grave as that sustained by Germany, the supposed object of the boycott. It would evidently be necessary to make provision against this unequal incidence by devising a system of compensations or indemnity to meet the case of such a special injury or sacrifice.

A brief allusion to the other side of the objection will suffice, viz., the fact that any such boycott would be far less potent or immediate in its pressure against some nations than against others. While Great Britain would have to yield at once to the threat of such pressure, Russia, or even the United States, could stand out for a considerable time, and China might even regard the boycott as a blessing. But it is pretty evident that in the long run no civilized nation could endure such isolation, and that this weapon is one which the League might in certain cases advantageously employ.

Other aspects of the social-economic boycott raise other difficulties. While certain modes and paths of intercourse lie directly under the control of the Governments of the cooperating States, others belong to private enterprise. Though postal, railway, and telegraphic intercourse could be cut off easily by agreements between Governments, private trading could not so easily be stopped. It is not found a simple matter to stop all trading between members of nations actually at war when national sentiment sides strongly with the legal prohibition. It might be much more difficult to prevent all commercial intercourse for private gain when there was no special hostility between the two nations in question. But this is, after all, only a minor difficulty. Provided that the respective Governments were prepared to use their normal powers of control over the principal modes of communication and of transport, the potency of the boycott so established would appear exceedingly effective.

It involves, however, a risk which needs recognition. The extreme pressure of the boycott might lead to forcible reprisals on the part of the boycotted State which would, in fact, precipitate a war. Declaring what would be in effect a blockade by sea and land, it might be necessary for the League to patrol the seas in order to stop “illegal traffic,” and to keep some force along the land frontiers for general purposes. A boycotted nation might, in the stress and anger of the case, begin hostilities against those of its neighbors who were most active in the operations of the boycott. In that event the economic boycott would have to be supported by armed pressure. This would also be the case where the breach of international law against which action was taken consisted, not in refusing to arbitrate or conciliate an issue but in an actual opening of hostilities. Such an act of war, directed necessarily against some one or more States, could not be met merely by a boycott. It would involve armed cooperation as well, the economic boycott forming an accompaniment.

There is another method of bringing financial pressure upon a law-breaking State which deserves consideration. It is put forward in the following terms by Mr. F. N. Keen in his able little book, “The World in Alliance”: “The States comprised in the international scheme might be required to keep deposited with, or under the control of, the International Council sums of money, proportioned in some way to their relative populations or financial resources, which might be made available to answer international obligations, and an international bank might be organized, which would facilitate the giving of security by States to the International Council for the performance of their obligations and the enforcement of payments between one State and another (as well as probably assisting in the creation of an international currency and discharging other useful international functions).”

The organized concentration of international finance by the formation of an international bank is a line of action which might immensely strengthen that body of pacific forces the rising importance of which Mr. Norman Angell has so effectively expounded. It might consolidate to an almost incalculable degree the effective unity of the International League by placing under it the solid foundation of world-peace, while the power which such an institution would wield, either for purposes of fiscal or financial boycott, would be enormous.

But however highly we estimate the potentialities of the boycott as a valuable adjunct to the pressure of public opinion in compelling obedience to treaty obligations, it is idle to pretend that the confidence required to induce the chief nations to rely upon the due performance of these obligations by all their co-signatories will be possible without placing at their disposal, for use in the last resort, an adequate armed force to break the resistance of an armed law-breaking State. Somewhere behind international law there must be placed a power of international compulsion by arms. If that force were really adequate, it is probable that it would never be necessary to employ it for any purpose save that of repelling invasions or dangerous disorders on the part of outsiders. Its existence and the knowledge of its presence might suffice to restrain the aggressive or lawless tendencies which will survive in members of the League. But in the beginnings of the organization of international society it is at least possible, perhaps likely, that some dangerous outbreak of the old spirit of state-absolutism should occur, and that some arrogant or greedy Power, within the circle of the League, might endeavor to defy the public law.

For the States entering such a League will be of various grades of political development: some may enter with reluctance and rather because they fear to be left out than because they believe in or desire the success of the League. It is idle to imagine that a society starting with so little inner unity of status and of purpose can dispense entirely with the backing of physical force with which the most highly evolved of national societies has been unable to dispense.

What form, then, should the required international force take, and who should exercise it?

The proposal to endow some executive international body with the power of levying and maintaining a new land and sea force, superior to that of any Power or combination it may be called upon to meet, scarcely merits consideration. Apart from the hopelessness of getting the Powers to consent to set up a Super-State upon this basis, the mere suggestion of curing militarism by creating a large additional army and navy would be intolerable. Nor is it any more reasonable to expect the Powers to abandon their separate national forces, simply contributing their quota towards an international force under the permanent control of an International Executive. No such abandonment of sovereign power, no such complete confidence in the new internationalism, could for a long time to come be even contemplated. Each nation would insist upon retaining within its own territory and at its own disposal the forces necessary to preserve internal order and to meet at the outset any sudden attack made from outside. It is evident, in other words, that the forces required by the International League in the last resort, for the maintenance of public law and the repression of breaches of the treaty, must be composed of contingents drawn upon some agreed plan from the national forces and placed for the work in hand at the disposal of an international command. Such armed cooperation is, of course, not unknown. Several times within recent years concerted action has been taken by several European Powers, and though the Pekin expedition in 1900 cannot be regarded as a very favorable example, it illustrates the willingness of Powers to act together for some common end which seems to them of sufficient importance. Is it too much to expect that the nations entering the Confederation will realize with sufficient clearness the importance of preserving the integrity of their international agreement to be willing to entrust a permanent executive with the duty of commandeering the forces necessary to achieve this purpose when they may be required?

It will doubtless be objected that there is a world of difference between the occasional willingness of a group of Powers to take concerted action upon a particular occasion, for which each reserves full liberty of determination as to whether and to what extent it will cooperate, and the proposal before us. It is absurd, we shall be told, to expect that States bred in the sense of sovereignty and military pride will seriously entertain a proposal which may bring them into war in a quarrel not specifically theirs and compel them to furnish troops to serve under an international staff. But many events that have seemed as absurd are brought to pass. A few decades ago nothing would have seemed more absurd than to suppose that our nation would be willing to equip an Expeditionary Force of several million men to operate upon the Continent under the supreme control of a French general. Whether, in fact, such cooperation as we here desiderate is feasible at any early period will depend upon two factors: first, the realization on the part of Governments and peoples of the civilized world of the supreme importance of the issue at stake in this endeavor to lay a strong foundation for the society of nations; secondly, the diminution in the influence of militarism and navalism as factors in national life that is likely to occur if sufficient belief in the permanence and efficacy of the new arrangement is once secured. If nations can be brought to believe that national armies and navies are too dangerous toys to be entrusted to the indiscretion of the national statesmen and generals, and are only safe if they are held in trust for the wider world community, this conviction will modify the surviving sentiments of national pride and national pugnacity and make it easier to accept the new international status. Moreover, if, as the first-fruits of the new order, a sensible reduction of national armaments can be achieved, this lessening of the part which armed force plays within each national economy will be attended by a corresponding increase in the willingness to place the reduced forces at the international disposal. For the root motive of the international policy is the desire of each nation to get a larger amount of security at a smaller cost than under the old order. Those, therefore, who confidently assert that States will not consent on any terms to entrust their national forces to an international command for the maintenance of the treaty obligations under the proposed scheme in effect simply assert the permanency of the reign of unreason in the relations between States.

For though the general agreement of States to submit their disagreements to processes of arbitration and conciliation with pledges to abide by the results would be a considerable advance towards better international relations, even if no sanction beyond the force of public opinion existed to enforce the fulfilment of the obligations, it would not suffice to establish such confidence in future peace as to secure any sensible and simultaneous reduction of armed preparations. No Government would consent to any weakening of its national forces so long as there was danger that some Power might repudiate its treaty obligations. This being the case, the burdens and the perilous influences of militarism and navalism would remain entrenched as strongly as before in the European system, advertising, by their very presence, the lack of faith in the efficacy of the new pacific arrangements. So long as these national armaments remained unchecked the old conception of State absolutism would still survive. There would still be danger of militarist Governments intriguing for aggression or defense in new groupings, and new efforts to tip the balance of armed power in their favor.

It is ultimately to the dread and despair of this alternative that I look for the motive-power to induce nations to make the abatements of national separatism necessary to establish an international society. Whether the end of this war will leave these motives sufficiently powerful to achieve this object will probably depend upon the degree of enlightenment among mankind at large upon the old ideas of States and statecraft.

J. A. Hobson, “Toward International Government,” pp. 90-100.

ECONOMIC COERCION

I want to suggest here that the forces of Europe will not be readily deterrent of aggression until the following conditions at least are fulfilled: (a) The forces placed behind a policy the first object of which shall be to deter aggression; (b) aggression so defined as to have no reference to the merits of a dispute between two nations or groups, but to consist simply in taking any belligerent action to enforce a State’s claim against another without first having submitted that claim to international enquiry; (c) the economic pressure which is an essential part of military operations rendered effective by the cooperation of States which do not necessarily give military aid at all; (d) economic pressure so organized as to be capable of prolongation beyond the period of military operations; and (e) the penalties attaching to aggression made so plain as to be realized beforehand by any people whose government tends to drift towards aggression.

If the new Congress of Vienna is effective, these conditions will be fulfilled.

Any arrangement which includes them would partake of the nature of a league of mutual guarantee of integrity, and would be one in which there would be fair hope of economic pressure gradually replacing military force as the compelling sanction. Economic pressure might be that first felt if the outstanding feature of the arrangement were that any constituent State resorting to hostilities as the result of a difference with another, not previously submitted to an international court of enquiry, by that fact caused boycott or non-intercourse to be proclaimed and maintained against it by the whole group. This would not prevent certain members of the group from carrying on military operations, as well, against it. Some of the group would go to war in the military sense—all in the economic sense; the respective rôles would be so distributed as to secure the most effective action. From the moment of the offending nation’s defiance of the international agreement to which it had been a party, its ships could enter no civilized ports outside its own, nor leave them. Payment of debts to it would be withheld; the commercial paper of its citizens would not be discounted; its citizens could not travel in any civilized country in the world, their passports being no longer recognized.

Thus, the outlaw nation could neither receive from nor send to the outside world material or communication of any kind—neither food nor raw material of manufacture, nor letters, nor cables. Money due to him throughout the world would be sequestrated for disposal finally as the international court’s judgment should direct; and that rule would apply to royalties on patents and publications, and would, of course, involve precautionary seizure or sequestration of all property—ships, goods, bank balances, business—held by that nation’s citizens abroad.

It is doubtful whether at the present stage of international understanding this arrangement could be carried beyond the point of using it as a means to secure delay for enquiry in international disputes. Its use as a sanction for the judgments of international tribunals will probably require a wider agreement as to the foundations of international law than at present exists. But a union of Christendom on the basis of common action against aggression would be a very great step to the more ambitious plans.

It has, however, been suggested (by the Fabian Society) to use this method as a sanction for the judgment of an international court in the following terms:

In the event of non-compliance with any decision or decree or injunction of the International High Court, or of non-payment of the damages, compensation, or fine within the time specified for such payment, the Court may decree execution and may call upon the Constituent States or upon some or any of them, to put in operation, after duly published notice, for such period and under such conditions as may be arranged, the following sanctions:

(a) To prohibit all postal, telegraphic, telephonic, and wireless communication with the recalcitrant State;

(b) To prohibit all passenger traffic (other than the exit of foreigners), whether by ship, railway, canal, or road, to or from the recalcitrant State;

(c) To prohibit the entrance into any port of the Constituent States of any of the ships registered as belonging to the recalcitrant State, except so far as may be necessary for any of them to seek safety, in which case such ship or ships shall be interned;

(d) To prohibit the payment of any debts due to the citizens, companies, or subordinate administrations of the recalcitrant State, or to its national Government; and, if thought fit, to direct that payment of such debts shall be made only to one or other of the Constituent Governments, which shall give a good and legally valid discharge for the same, and shall account for the net proceeds thereof to the International High Court;

(e) To lay an embargo on any or all ships within the jurisdiction of such Constituent State or States registered as belonging to the recalcitrant State;

(f) To prohibit any lending of capital or other moneys to the citizens, companies, or subordinate administrations of the recalcitrant State, or to its national Government;

(g) To prohibit the issue or dealing in or quotation on the Stock Exchange or in the press of any new loans, debentures, shares, notes, or securities of any kind by any of the citizens, companies or subordinate administrations of the recalcitrant State, or of its national Government;

(h) To prohibit all imports, or certain specified imports, coming from the recalcitrant State, or originating within it;

(i) To prohibit all exports, or certain specified exports consigned directly to the recalcitrant State, or destined for it.

It should be noted that if the future European coalition means business at all in giving permanent effect to its settlement provisions, the chief Powers would be committed, during any period of war, by virtue of their military obligations, to everything contained in the plan just outlined. All that the project under discussion involves in addition is that (1) certain States interested in the observance of public right, but which, by their circumstances, are not suited to military cooperation, should give economic aid by taking part in the embargo arrangements. They should not be neutral, but should refuse intercourse with the recalcitrant State while according it to the others. (2) That such cooperation should be duly organized beforehand by public arrangement and be recognized as part of the normal measures of international public safety and, being duly recognized in this way, should become part of international law—an amended law in so far as the rules of neutrality are concerned. (3) That the arrangements should include provisions for prolonging embargo or discrimination against an offending State after the period of military operations had ceased.

The first point that occurs to one, of course, in considering such a plan is that it has proven ineffective in the present war since this condition of non-intercourse is exactly that in which Germany now finds herself, and it is not at all effective.

To which I reply:

1. That Germany, as already pointed out, is not yet subject to a condition of complete non-intercourse, since from the beginning of the war she has been receiving her mail and cables and maintaining communication with the outside world, morally an immensely important factor. Nor is it entirely moral. Large supplies have, despite the naval blockade, come to her through Scandinavia and Holland.

2. That, though of slow operation, it is the economic factor which in the end will be the decisive one in the operations against Germany; as the ring tightens and a necessary raw material like cotton is absolutely excluded, the time will come when this fact will tell most heavily. If the non-intercourse had been world-organized the effect would have operated from the first. Incidentally, of course, America and England, between them, control the cotton of the world.

3. The effect of the suggested embargo, boycott or economic pressure would be most decisive as a deterrent to aggression, not so much by what it might be able to accomplish during a war as by what its prolongation would mean to the aggressor afterwards.

Norman Angell, “The World’s Highway,” pp. 318-324.

WORLD-ORGANIZATION AND PEACE

The end of armed conflict is conceivable as the result of either of two achievements. Permanent peace may come either upon the establishment of successful means for the settlement of disputes or upon the elimination of the causes which produce disputes. This paper is limited to discussion of the second of these alternatives....

In large-scale organizations purposefully created because of their utility, history discloses few in which that utility, in its broader aspect, has been appreciated by all of the cooperating members. Only in organizations approaching a pure democracy has an approximation to such conditions been attained. In other forms of organization, force or reward has been employed to gain the cooperation of persons outside a limited number of organizers, who alone have appreciated the full utility of organization. Even in democracies, however, when population is too large for all to participate in government, it is possible only for the majority of the members of the organization to exercise control over general policies; executive functions are of necessity delegated. Thus three sub-forms of the utility type of organization are to be distinguished. They may be termed respectively the organizer-force, the organizer-reward, and the democratic-control-expert-executive forms.

Brief analysis and appeal to history will serve to indicate the relative stability of these forms, both with respect to each other and to the sympathy type of organization.

Of the organizer-force form the slavery system and the militaristic empire are examples. Neither of these systems, however, has inherent stability. Both run the danger of revolt. The militaristic empire breaks down sooner or later because unlikeness of peripheral regions causes local patriotism to assert itself whenever there is possibility of success. Slavery does not survive the growth of intelligence. Governments of the organizer-force form, moreover, have to face the constant threat of revolution. If Germany be cited as a possible exception, the reply is, that special conditions have stimulated the loyalty of the Germans to their sovereign. Germany was unified but recently and then only by war. Her people have not yet wholly overcome the distrust of one another engendered by long-standing local differences. Germany has thus required a strong hand to create and to preserve her unity. In addition, the Germans, not altogether without reason, have believed themselves surrounded by hostile nations. These conditions sufficiently account for the exception. It must not be overlooked, however, that even in Germany there has been a growing dissatisfaction with the form of organization of her government. Thus the briefest examination of the organizer-force form of organization discloses the futility of expecting permanent international peace to result from an extension of this form throughout the world. Even in its local manifestations this form exhibits inherent instability and lack of harmony.

The organizer-reward form of organization also appears to have its own peculiar tendency towards instability. This was true of the feudal systems of the past, and is true of the great business corporations of to-day, both of which are examples of the organizer-reward form. In the feudal system the reward offered by the organizers in return for service was protection; in modern industry the reward is a money wage. In both cases, however, when subordinate members of the organization have been ignorant, there has been some tendency towards the exploitation as well as the utilization of such members. To the extent, however, that intelligence has developed, there has been less and less voluntary continuance of organizations whose utility has been thought by the subordinate members to be limited to one class in the organization. Force has been met by force. Since intelligence is increasing, it is not fortuitous that the great internal problem of advanced nations is the control of such exploitive industry as exists, while the great political problem of less advanced nations is the struggle for democracy. In both cases the struggle is to prevent the organizer-reward form from becoming the organizer-force form and to replace the instability and the lack of harmony of these forms by the greater stability and greater harmony of the democratic-control-expert-executive form. Far more than is the case in the other utility forms, the democratic form directs its policies with a view to the welfare of all its members. Minorities are represented on the executive staff. All members of the organization participate in control. The danger of dissatisfaction on the part of non-executive members is reduced to a minimum.

The most striking fact, however, with respect to the question of the relative stability and harmony of the various forms of organization is that the largest and the most permanent relatively harmonious organizations that have appeared among men are those great modern nations whose inhabitants live in a unified area of characterization and are essentially alike in language, race, customs, traditions and religion. Homogeneity in all these respects, it is true, does not as yet exist even on a national scale and there is certainly no prospect of such homogeneity on a world scale in the near future. These considerations must not blind us to the fact, however, that England, France, Spain, Germany, Russia, Italy, the Scandinavian nations, the United States, Japan and China—the largest and internally the most harmonious organizations yet known to man—are each composed of individuals the vast majority of whom are relatively alike in language, customs and traditions, and for the most part in race and religion. Nations that are markedly heterogeneous in the characteristics mentioned, such as the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the Balkan States and European Turkey, are notoriously unstable. Furthermore, the stability possessed by the various utility-form organizations that exist within or among the stable nations of the world is, in large part, the result of the stability and permanence of the nations themselves. The stability of all three of the utility forms thus rests upon the inherent stability of the sympathy type of organization.

If the foregoing analysis be correct, certain propositions of great importance for the problem of international peace may now be stated. First, nationality on the basis of sympathy is likely to persist for an indefinite period. Second, because of the ignorance of the inhabitants of a number of important nations, the organizer-force and the organizer-reward forms of government and of business organization are also likely to persist, for a considerable period, in various parts of the globe. Third, where the organizer-force or organizer-reward form of organization is superimposed on nationality, readiness to maintain harmony with other national groups can exist only when such international harmony is to the interest of the organizer class in each of such nations. Where the democratic-control-expert-executive form prevails, readiness to maintain harmony with other national groups can exist only when such international harmony is to the interest of each nation so organized, taken as a whole.

These propositions mean that, under present conditions, permanent world peace can be produced only if in the organizer-force and in the organizer-reward nations the organizer is less interested in personal fame than in the welfare of the whole organization, if the organizing class does not seek aggrandizement or if the organizing class is willing to permit a peaceful transition within the nation to the democratic-control-expert-executive form of organization rather than to seek perpetuation of its own control through foreign war. They mean also that such peace can be maintained only if democratic nations can be kept free from that trooping of emotion which sometimes suddenly sweeps vast bodies of men into unreasoning demand for aggressive action, and if the interests of such nations lead them to desire international peace....

Let there be produced sufficient likeness among the peoples of the world, and harmonious organization based on sympathy will follow of itself. If there be created a sufficient likeness among all peoples in ideals of progress, in the desire for the betterment of the entire human race, and in other equally important mental and moral respects, then world harmony, based on sympathy, will ultimately develop in the same way that the present harmony within homogeneous nations has resulted, in large part, from a sympathy spontaneously created by resemblance in race, language, religion and customs.

That final permanent international peace can come, however, only on the basis of world-wide like-mindedness is the chief contention of this essay. If this contention is correct, advocates of international peace must not only adopt policies calculated to produce like-mindedness, but must not shrink from the endeavor to produce the central executive organization—the natural result of like-mindedness, and in itself, if established, a creator of like-mindedness.

From the standpoint of producing like-mindedness it is of comparatively small moment what one of a number of possible projects is used for the initial attempt. It is of supreme importance only that the project chosen should be the one most likely to succeed in evolving common response and cooperation.

The practical suggestions which follow, therefore, are based on these two notions: first, the desirability of creating like-mindedness among the peoples of the world on a plane above race, religion, language and customs; and second, the desirability of creating a central executive organization, so far as possible responsible to the peoples behind each national government, rather than responsible to constituent governments. They suggest action on the basis of combining the two most stable forms of harmonious organization, namely, the sympathy form growing out of like-mindedness, and the democratic-control-expert-executive form of the utility type.

The first suggestion under the principles thus outlined is that there be established a world consular staff, to assume some at least of the functions of the present national consular services. The first duty undertaken by a world consular service would be to systematize, for the benefit of business the world over, such investigations as are now carried on in a somewhat haphazard way by each national consular service. By centralization, much duplication of effort would be eliminated and a much more comprehensive plan of investigation carried out. The results, as now, would be available for all business men of all nationalities. From the beginning, so far as possible, the chief executives of such a consular staff should be elected by the people of each nation, rather than appointed by governments—the purpose of this being to create in each voter the world over, some sense of participation in a world-undertaking, and to some extent a sympathy with other voters the world over. The cost both of the consular service and of the election of the executive officers of the service should be met, not by appropriations from national governments, but by a fixed percentage of the revenues of each nation. The usefulness of the service itself to all the people of the world would be, eventually, the guarantee that the contribution of this percentage would be maintained. Proposed changes in the percentage would ultimately have to be submitted to the voters of all peoples.

The suggestion as thus outlined is an ideal not likely to be soon realized, but it is possible that some beginning toward a world consular service could be provided for by the peace treaty to be signed at the close of the present war. Such a beginning might well be a provisional world-chamber of commerce, organized on the basis of constituent national chambers, the character and organization of which should be provided for in the treaty. The subject will hardly receive notice during the peace negotiations, however, unless, as the result of previous publicity and discussion, the possibilities of world organization latent in the proposition are fully realized.

The second suggestion for the production of world-wide like-mindedness is that there be undertaken a world investigation into the natural resources of the earth, and that a central world-conservation investigation commission be created. At the present time the conservation movement is organized on national rather than on world-wide lines, and the natural result is to strengthen local rather than international sympathy. The principle of scientific management would become much more effective if adopted from a world standpoint. Moreover, there is no reason why the results of a world-wide conservation investigation should not produce recommendations that, through appeals to the peoples back of the national governments, the governments themselves would be forced to heed. The machinery for the conservation investigation might develop out of the world consular service or become a part of the work of that service.

The third suggestion for the production of world-wide like-mindedness is that there be established a central bureau of advice and information on all “human betterment” projects. Thus far we have not advanced beyond the point of developing national bureaus of commerce and labor, hygiene, child welfare and other similar interests, and of holding “international congresses.” A permanent world bureau would be far more systematic in the dissemination of knowledge of successful experiments. It would also tend to create world sympathy. With increasing prestige the bureau would naturally extend its functions to those of recommendation and advice to national and local governments.

The fourth suggestion is that there be established a permanent world commission on international migration. At the present time problems of migration, such, for example, as those of the Japanese and Chinese to the United States, are settled by the nations primarily interested, without recognition of the fact that migration is essentially a world problem in which all humanity has an interest. The local problems of migration that arise from time to time are but a part of an age-long movement of population which is gradually producing an equilibrium between density of population and natural resources in every part of the world. Movements between two nations, however, will never be settled on reasons other than local. A world commission would at least work toward a world-policy in this possibly the most important of world-problems.

The fifth suggestion is that these and all other projects for the creation of the world-mind and centralized organization be furthered by utilizing all the modern methods of the commercial “accelerator of public opinion,” the publicity agent and the advertiser versed in psychologically efficient methods. There should be an adequate world-publicity service, the task of which should be to develop like responses to the proposed projects in the populations back of governments, and by publicity methods to develop that like-mindedness which is essential for world-wide organization on the sympathy basis.

The development of many other projects similar to those outlined above, it is apparent, would inevitably tend toward the production of centralized organization with many departments. Separate world organizations for different purposes could not long exist without integration. The central organization would inevitably assume the duties of the international postal union; it would create a world monetary system; and it would assume the functions of an international court. With increasing prestige, such an organization would gain greater and greater moral power. Resting on like-mindedness in the populations back of national governments, it would ultimately develop a world-loyalty and find its recommendations enforced by the moral sense of the world. Force, except for local police purposes, would not be needed.

The final suggestion based on the preceding analysis is that the principle underlying these projects be adopted as at least one of the fundamental propositions for the guidance of peace negotiators at the close of the present war. Peace should be established not upon the basis of the interests of victorious nations alone, nor even upon the combined interests of victors and vanquished, but upon the basis of the future welfare of all peoples. The inauguration of policies for the production of like-mindedness might well be provided for in the peace treaty itself. National boundaries should not be set on a basis which will intensify national self-sufficiency and aloofness, but on a basis which will encourage inter-communication and the development of like-mindedness throughout the world. Moreover, the choice of national representatives for the peace negotiations should include men capable of taking the world-view rather than the exclusively nationalistic view. Representatives of the neutral nations should be admitted to the proceedings. A popular demand that these representatives be of the world-mind type should be created immediately by publicity methods. So far as possible, practical projects for the creation of the world-mind and world-organization should be provided for in the treaty of peace, and as a guarantee of good faith no indemnity other than a pro-rata contribution for the maintenance of these projects should be exacted. Provision should be made also for permanently meeting the cost of such projects, by agreement that a definite percentage of national taxes be set aside for the use of the world organizations created by the treaty. In short, an authoritative and intelligent beginning toward world-organization should be made at the close of the present war.

A. A. Tenney, “Theories of Social Organization, and the Problems of International Peace,” Political Science Quarterly, March, 1915.