The Road to Peace
I
IT is bewildering that the world should again be moving toward war. We know that we ourselves want peace and we feel that peoples everywhere at heart desire it. Throughout the world, statesmen proclaim their devotion to the cause of peace. Not only by word but by formal compact they have bound their nations to peace as never before. The League Covenant pledges all members to respect the territory and independence of each other and to unite against any aggressor. The Pact of Paris forever abolishes war as an instrument of national policy. The Locarno Pact, the Washington Naval Treaty, the policy of ‘nonrecognition of the fruits of aggression’ — these and like diplomatic achievements have been successively proclaimed as assuring us peace for the future. Yet, in the face of all this, we sense that we are inevitably moving on toward war.
Faced by a situation which superficially seems so inexplicable, we adopt the time-honored expedient of postulating a ‘ personal devil.’ Hitler, Mussolini, and Japanese war lords in turn become the object of our suspicion, or we visualize an international ring of munition makers plotting war for their personal profit. We forget that isolated individuals could never prevail against world sentiment for peace, except as they are the instrumentalities of powerful underlying forces. It is these which we must identify and counteract, otherwise we are striking at shadows, leaving untouched the solid realities that cause them.
The true explanation of the imminence of war lies in the inevitability of change and the fact that peace efforts have been misdirected toward the prevention of change. Thereby forces which are in the long run irresistible are temporarily dammed up. When they finally break through, they do so with violence.
None would dispute the abstract proposition that, as the world has changed in the past, so it will continue to change in the future. We have not attained a state of fixation such that the world is immutably frozen in its present national lines. Inflexibility is, indeed, not only impracticable but undesirable. This is not necessarily because of abnormal inequities in relation to present facts. It would be true even though the world to-day were ideally constituted. For the underlying conditions which justify present alignments are themselves bound to alter. Nations’ populations constantly change, not only numerically, but in their characteristics. As quality and quantity vary, so must there be the possibility of corresponding change in the different national domains. I do not necessarily refer to change of boundaries. I refer rather to the whole network of treaties and laws which define and confine the different national spheres of activity. Unless we admit elasticity as to such matters, we deny the possibility of healthy life and growth.
As is the case with many a proposition which we accept as a true generalization, there is a failure to apply it to the current business of everyday living. No one expects that a hundred years from now the world will be as it is to-day, but we see no reason why it should not be to-morrow as it is today. There is a general disposition to ignore the occasion for change in each particular year. We forget that the changes which we recognize to be inevitable over a hundred years must occur sometime. They may occur gradually, year by year, or else, if they are allowed to occur only infrequently, when they come they will be so momentous as to cause great shock.
II
As we must accept the inevitability of change, so also we must recognize that force, actual or potential, has historically proved to be the only mechanism which can be relied upon to effect international changes. Within the state, a solution has measurably been found. A superior force — government — has been set up which assures internal peace by repressing force on the one hand, and on the other hand establishing conditions under which change readily occurs. The latter is as essential as the former. No community has eliminated internal strife without at the same time providing mechanisms whereby the material and social status of its members alters in some relation to their deserts. Wealth, power, and position constantly change. Fortunes made by economy, foresight, and industry are lost by profligacy, stupidity, and idleness. Prestige and influence are lost by incompetence and unworthy discharge of responsibility. In a society where the occurrence of such changes was blocked, which decreed the perpetual dominance of a particular group irrespective of its merit, internal violence could not be avoided. The French and Russian revolutions illustrate how denial of opportunity inevitably provokes forcible revolt.
When we turn, however, to the community of nations, we find no superstate qualified to repress war and to order a state of affairs such that international changes can occur without the pressure of force by one member upon another. In international law, each state is ‘sovereign.’ Its status is fixed by treaties which generally run in perpetuity. No changes can lawfully be made without the consent of all parties. Such unanimous consent is rare, since nations, like individuals, are not prone to recognize their own decline, or the increased merits or needs of others, and voluntarily make abatements accordingly. The most deeprooted instinct is the instinct to relinquish only when compelled to do so. Thus, in the field of international affairs, change and force are largely synonymous. History clearly shows that it is force, or the threat of force, which principally accounts for the evolution of the world to its present state.
III
Peace plans, if they are to be effective, must be constructed so as to take into account these two fundamental facts — namely, the inevitability of change, and the present lack of any adequate substitute for force as an inducement to change. Every peace project should be tested by this inquiry: if its pledges are scrupulously and honorably observed, will there exist any adequate means to assure for the future changes comparable to those which history has shown to be both inevitable and desirable in the past? Unless this inquiry can be answered in the affirmative, the project will fail. It will, indeed, be actually provocative of war.
If we apply this test to the post-war peace structure, it is easy to see wherein it fails. France, at the conclusion of the war, sought a superstate with an international police force. But she did not seek this for the purpose of enforcing upon the nations a régime under which changes would freely occur. She proposed it as a guaranty against changes which might deprive her of the fruits of victory. Failing to attain her original objective, she accepted the League of Nations with its implied guaranty of the status quo of all members and their agreement to unite against any aggressor. If Articles X and XVI of the Covenant of the League were actually to be observed, existing frontiers would be perpetuated for all time save as one state freely ceded its territory to another. So static a situation is both impracticable and undesirable. We instinctively distrust the means by which it is sought to achieve such an end. No nation feels protected by the League Covenant or has altered its conduct in reliance thereon.
The Locarno Pact is another instrument which seeks peace by perpetuating existing boundaries. It consecrates the existing status quo. The scope of the Pact, however, is limited. It relates only to boundaries between France, Belgium, and Germany. Many changes can occur consistently with its terms, and the fact that the parties were willing to make so limited a compact was interpreted as implying the possibility of changes in other quarters. Thus, by indirection, the Locarno Pact may have served the cause of peace. Certainly it inspired greater confidence than did the more embracing and scarcely less categorical provisions of the League Covenant.
By the Washington Naval Agreement, England voluntarily renounced her position of naval supremacy and accepted parity with the United States. This was a momentous change. By voluntarily accepting it, England made a groat contribution to the cause of peace. On the other hand, the treaty imposed upon Japan and France naval ratios which those nations both resented. They were accepted because the treaty engagement was of brief duration, not purporting to create any unchangeable status. There are present indications of an effort, in the name of peace, to project these naval ratios as a permanent strait-jacket. If so, the treaty will be turned into a continuing instrument for the prevention of change.
The Pact of Paris is perhaps the most futile of all peace efforts. Force is thereby forever renounced as an instrument of national policy. No changes are permissible except such as may be achieved by ‘pacific means.’ It is obvious that ‘pacific means’ as they now exist are wholly inadequate to effect changes which are inevitable and desirable. The Pact would, thus, perpetuate the world as it is. Such a result is so obviously unattainable that no reliance whatever is placed on this instrument which purports, by a stroke of the pen, to abolish war. The Pact can serve no good purpose unless its purely negative provisions can hereafter be supplemented by other measures of a constructive character.
The policy of ‘ nonrecognition of the fruits of aggression’ was enunciated by the United States and the League of Nations with reference to the situation brought about by Japan in Manchuria. This, again, is designed to perpetuate the status quo. I do not know whether such changes as have been occurring in the Far East are warranted by the facts. It is at least conceivable that they reflect a logical and inevitable tendency. If this were the case, such changes could not be held in suspense until that hypothetical date when China was prepared freely to acquiesce therein so that the change could no longer be treated as ‘aggression.’ Nor is the cause of peace advanced by closing one’s eyes to actual changes merely because they result from the only mechanism for change which is available.
IV
In contrast to the foregoing efforts to ‘stabilize the peace,’ there have been events, not so labeled, which have perhaps been a more genuine contribution to peace. We have already referred to England’s renunciation of naval supremacy. Another outstanding event was the return to Germany of the Saar. Here was a change of status permitted by the Treaty of Versailles. Most of the treaty provisions were rigid and inflexible, but the eventual return of the Saar to Germany was recognized as so logical that, even in that period of blindness, provision was made for this change. When the time came, France could have blocked — temporarily — the retransfer of sovereignty to Germany. Technical legal ground could have been found. That France did not do so, but permitted the change to occur, immeasurably increased the possibility of continuing peace between France and Germany.
The resulting benefit has, however, largely been offset by the fact that the late Allies — principally France — insisted that the disarmament provisions of the Versailles Treaty continue binding upon Germany. By the treaty, Germany had been reduced to virtual impotence as to defense as well as offense. It was recognized, even at Versailles, that a nation such as Germany could not be placed in perpetuity in a position of inequality and inferiority. It was therefore stated in the treaty that German disarmament was required as a prelude to reduction of armament by other nations. Over a period of years, efforts were made to convert this moral pledge into reality. Conferences on limitation of land armaments have been in frequent session. But no positive results were achieved and it had become abundantly apparent by the last (1933) session of the conference that the situation contemplated by the treaty could not be brought about. Germany had become increasingly restless and had begun, in fact, to rearm. The time had come to release her from the treaty limitations. This was not done, with the result that Germany, by unilateral action, has now taken back her freedom of action. Thus the cause of peace has again been retarded by a fresh demonstration that changes in international status are seldom accorded by the voluntary action of nations which are adversely affected. Unilateral action is resorted to, and, as France said in her note of April 14, 1935, to the League of Nations, under this system there is ‘no room for any policy but one — force.‘
The most instructive lesson in how peace is maintained is furnished by the development of the British Empire. Once England fought to maintain her authority over colonies geographically distant and independent in spirit. Since then the inevitability of change has been accepted and there has occurred a peaceful evolution of the British colonies and Ireland into virtually separate and independent nations. This was greatly facilitated by the avoidance of a written constitution or formal compact attempting to crystallize any given relationship between the different portions of the British Empire. No contractual obstacle was thus created to permitting change to occur in the ideal way — namely, so gradually and naturally as to be scarcely perceptible except in retrospect.
In contrast, the post-war peace efforts have, as we have seen, been uniformly based upon the projection of the present into the future. It is always an existing status which is sought to be preserved. It almost seems as though force were sought to be abolished because of its being the historic mechanism for change and in the hope that, if it could be abolished, changes would no longer occur.
V
It is easy to explain the confounding of peace with stability. Those whose lives fall in pleasant places contemplate with equanimity an indefinite continuation of their present state. ‘Peace’ means to them that they should be left undisturbed. It is those who seek change that are the disturbers of the peace. ‘Aggression’ becomes the capital international crime and ‘security’ the watchword. The popular demand for peace is thus capitalized by those who selfishly seek to have the world continue as it is. Knowing that change is inevitable, they nevertheless seek to postpone it by identifying ‘peace’ with the existing status and rallying to its perpetuation the forces that are opposed to war.
It is not mere coincidence that it is the presently favored nations — France, Great Britain, and the United States — whose governments have been most active in devising plans for perpetual peace. If other countries like Germany, Japan, and Italy, adhere only reluctantly if at all to such projects, it is not because these nations are inherently warlike or bloodthirsty. They too want peace, but they undoubtedly feel within themselves potentialities which are repressed and they desire to keep open the avenues of change. They appraise the ‘peace’ plans presented to them as schemes to eliminate the only effective mechanism of change.
Since it is the powerful, self-satisfied nations which exercise the initiative in international affairs, it is not surprising that there has not been put forward any major programme which seeks peace through the framework of change. The nearest approach is Article XIX of the Covenant of the League of Nations.
This provision at least recognizes the problem of change. It suggests a peaceful mechanism for change — namely, an international tribunal empowered to propose the revision of the treaties (boundary, and so forth) which now establish the relative position of nations in the world. President Wilson, at Paris, gave frequent indications that he accepted certain territorial and financial settlements which were pressed on him by the Allies because, in return, he was getting from them a mechanism for the peaceful revision of these and other settlements which might prove inequitable. This was, perhaps, visionary, but it was a splendid vision. However, this article of the League Covenant was never wanted by those nations which now dominate the League; it has never been implemented, and has by now been virtually forgotten. Perhaps no other result was to have been anticipated. What nation would put vitality into the concept of Article XIX and agree that some international body could, without its consent, propose changes in its domain comparable to changes which have occurred during the preceding centuries? Who could assure that the verdict of such a tribunal would be peacefully accepted and complied with? This would involve an abdication of sovereignty which no nation would tolerate and a grant of powers so vast as to tax human wisdom to the utmost. So long as the world is organized along national lines, it is, I think, impracticable to attain peace through the establishment of an international tribunal empowered to dictate momentous changes. There is certainly a useful role for mediation. But it is a natural instinct to resent third-party interference. Important changes can usually be best effected through the direct interplay of opposing tendencies.
In order, however, that such interplay should not provoke war, it is necessary that those nations which now have what they want should recognize that in the interest of peace they may have to submit to change. If present treaties of which they are the beneficiaries become in fact unduly repressive of others, this must be recognized and peaceful ways found to effect legitimate changes. ‘Revision of treaties’ should not, as now, be denounced as a concept subversive of peace. Such revisions must be looked upon as both natural and inevitable, the only question being when and how. Nations must by their acts show appreciation of the fact that to continue repression serves to postpone, but not prevent, change and to exaggerate its violence when it occurs.
On the other hand, those nations which are dissatisfied with their international status must recognize that there must be a large measure of stability. We cannot, of course, invite chaos or encourage the idea that any dissatisfied nation may take for the asking from those who have. It must be recognized that changes, if they are to come peacefully, will come slowly and only after justification therefor is abundantly apparent. Indeed, changes may often be delayed beyond the time when their desirability and inevitability may seem self-evident. Patience is indispensable to peace.
The present danger of war arises primarily from the fact that right ideas are promulgated in wrong places. In those nations which are contented with their international status, the emphasis is placed upon stability. The effect is to create a public opinion unduly condemnatory of those who seek change. In the dissatisfied nations the emphasis is placed upon the necessity of change and the historic rôle of force in world evolution. Thus crises are precipitated through intensification of the opposing forces for change and stability. This should be reversed. It is in the satisfied countries that we must seek greater toleration of change. It is in the dissatisfied countries that we must seek a greater restraint and respect for stability. Thus the opposing tendencies are moderated and we gradually approach a condition conducive to evolution through peace, not war.
VI
What practical steps can be taken to replace the war system by a system of peace within the framework of change? There is no quick and easy formula other than of the quack variety. We can, with wisdom, move toward a system which excludes war, but we cannot instantly achieve it. There should, in the first place, be a radical change in the popular presentation of the problem. At the present time, peace is sought to be attained by expatiation on the horrors of war. This is done on the theory that, as the most recent war recedes into the past, the world forgets how unpleasant a thing war is. This explains, so it is commonly believed, the recurrence of war as a new generation that has not known war comes into power. It is suggested that, if only the horrors of war could be kept vividly in mind, peace would be preserved.
It is well that young manhood should be made to realize the true nature of war. This doubtless serves as some deterrent. But the efficacy of such measures appears to be greatly exaggerated. There has seldom, if ever, been a time when war was looked upon as good in itself. The literature of all ages reflects the view that peace is golden and war a scourge. Such a point of view has, however, never prevented war. It is much more likely that the cyclical recurrence of war is due to the fact that the need for change builds up cumulatively greater pressure. Every so often this pressure can no longer be contained and breaks through the artificial restraints which nations have erected against change.
It is this aspect of war that must be popularly understood to the end that there be a sound body of public opinion ready to throw its influence in favor of appropriate periodical changes in national domains. Only in such a way is it possible to end the unnatural alliance which now exists between liberals and reactionaries, both of whom seek to maintain the status quo, the liberals because they mistakenly think this means peace, and the reactionaries because it perpetuates their exploitation of that which they already have.
There must also be a different type of leadership for peace. To-day in each nation peace is held to be synonymous with the attainment of national ambitions. In Germany, Hitler repeatedly proclaims his peaceful intentions. But for him peace implies a Germany resurrected from the subordination imposed by the Treaty of Versailles. In France, peace implies a maintenance of the status quo and the retention of war gains. So it is throughout the world. Everywhere peace is advocated, but with different interpretations conforming to national exigencies. It must be recognized by statesmen that a policy which is truly conducive to peace is seldom a popular policy. In countries where the popular demand is for change, it means restraining that demand until the change is voluntarily accorded. In countries where the popular demand is to maintain the status quo, it means the making of concessions.
The present tension between France and Germany is due primarily to bad timing, ascribable to faulty leadership. France has made great concessions to Germany. She abandoned reparation, she evacuated the Rhineland before the treaty required, she was tolerant of secret rearming by Germany, and she facilitated the restoration of the Saar. However, the timing has in general been such that France’s concessions have not served the cause of peace because they appeared in Germany to have been forced rather than voluntary concessions. Germany, on the other hand, has pressed too rapidly for change. If, for example, Germany had withheld her abrupt resignation from the League of Nations and her subsequent denunciation of the disarmament clauses of the treaty, important concessions would doubtless have been made to her voluntarily under circumstances which would have greatly promoted international amity. The difficulty has been that the political leaders in France have not wished to appear before their people as making concessions before events forced them, and the political leaders in Germany have wished to get credit with their people for obtaining concessions through their own efforts rather than as a result of the sympathetic consideration by foreign nations of Germany’s problems.
It is a commonplace that international controversy affords the easiest and cheapest way to domestic popularity. If success is achieved, it is a glorious victory over foreign opposition. If failure occurs, it is an occasion to rally support against foreign intrigue and oppression. If the world is to move toward peace the nations must have leaders courageous enough to reject such temptations. They must be willing to present international developments in their true light. This usually means that their own nation must share the responsibility when failure occurs and some other nation will be seen as entitled to credit when there is satisfactory accomplishment.
It is difficult to imagine political leaders forgoing opportunities to take all the credit and shift all the blame. This concept may be as visionary as is Article XIX of the League. But only in this way can international relations be put on a basis conducive to mutual respect and regard.
When we come to treaty making we must bear in mind that treaties are not necessarily conducive to peace, but oftentimes to war. A multiplicity of treaties and alliances defining and buttressing a given status may postpone the inevitable day of change. This is, however, accomplished by increasing the likelihood that the change, when it occurs, will be accompanied by violence. Bilateral treaties are to be preferred above multilateral treaties. It is hard enough for two nations to agree on changes, but this can sometimes be done. Where, however, treaty changes can be effected only by securing the assent of several states, then the possibilities of timely and peaceful change are reduced to a minimum. One of the great vices of the post-war structure is that so many states are parties to each item of settlement that it is almost impossible to see how, as a practical matter, changes can be evolved through peaceful processes.
There are many treaties which could be wholly obliterated with great advantage to the cause of peace, and many others should be supplemented by provisions calling for their periodic reconsideration. We should, in the realm of international affairs, seek to approach more closely to a régime of unwritten law as against statutory (treaty) law. The former is conducive to gradual and peaceful evolution; the latter creates a position of rigidity, changes from which can occur only by treaty violation or by processes so cumbersome as to be almost unworkable.
We cannot, of course, avoid a large measure of rigidity, particularly in relation to the establishment of international boundaries. We can, however, somewhat attenuate the undesirable consequences of territorial rigidity by encouraging economic fluidity. National boundaries lose much of their significance if there exist national policies which permit a diffusion of economic advantages. Exports and imports, emigration and immigration, and the international flow of capital, even though these must necessarily be regulated, can bring about a large measure of international flux without shock to national boundaries. Economic isolation, on the other hand, greatly exaggerates the importance of national boundaries and means that evolutionary forces can find satisfaction only through changes of boundaries, the form of change most difficult of peaceful accomplishment.
It would be easy to prolong consideration of practical ways to promote peace. Enough has been said to indicate that these ways are neither direct nor quick nor pleasant. Many years must elapse before the hearts and minds of men are so changed that self-restraint and self-sacrifice can be relied upon to assure orderly evolution within the society of nations. Until then, national policies must take into account the possibility of war. However, those who seek peace are many. Their number, it is true, would be reduced were there a general realization of what the attainment of peace entails. But there would remain a powerful residuum able at least to reverse the trend of present national policies which, in the name of peace, are hurrying us along the road to war.