Chapter 6

Plainly our nation is not some abstraction that haunts the marble halls at Washington. Nor is it our vast dominion on which, like England's, the sun never sets. You will find it rather in workshop and store and factory; it is no more nor less than our men. If the capital at Washington is founded on pygmy manhood, it will be blown away like thistledown before some passing wind of revolution. Russia, Turkey, Spain, will tell you that. If our men are giants, the nation will be lasting as adamant. England and Germany and America are monumental testimonies.

Now what are the qualities in our men that make the nation great?

Here a problem in analysis confronts us. Let us go about it as does the student in the laboratory. He dissects a plant or mineral to find the mysteries of its nature. We are to dissect a civilization to find the factors of its strength. One little specimen will reveal the secrets of the whole species. So one sample of civilization will show the hidden springs of all. Go with me to the public square of any modern city and there you will behold the qualities that build all civilization. From the hum and rattle and roar that rises from the sea of humanity come a thousand various voices, but all speak of one theme--industry. There in the center of the throng and press a slender monument rises, crowned perhaps with a figure of Liberty or Justice. It tells you a simple story of Idealism. Yonder stands a silent, vine-clad church, crowned by a mighty finger pointing heavenward and beckoning always to the higher life. What need of going farther? Industry, Idealism, Morality--already we have found the secret of human success, the triple key to all advance, of man or group or nation. Here is Carlyle, with his gospel of labor, the labor that conquers all things; here is Ruskin, with his exalting idealism, that gives an aim and purpose to all human toil; here is the great apostle Paul himself, who transfigures that toil and exalts that purpose with his everlasting gospel of moral sublimity. Here is our threefold criterion, by which every nation must stand or fall. The Anglo-Saxon is what he is through unceasing industry, perpetual aspiration, and moral strength. The Central African is what he is through inbred sluggishness, total lack of purpose, and almost total absence of morality.

These are the basic elements of national greatness. But the great question still remains, How does war affect them?

Concerning the effect of war on labor, we declare unhesitatingly that the two are everlasting foes, and that whenever War lays hands on Labor's throat, it strangles her. This is part of the inevitable program of war, for note that it is on the laboring men that the dreadful claims of war must fall. Mark its course. A bugle sounds the call to arms. From workshop, mill, and factory the laborers pour forth; out go the men into a trade where plunder and robbery are a means of livelihood; when pillage and slaughter wane, indolence becomes the order of the day; commerce degenerates into blockade-running by sea and marauding by land. How tame the life of peace to this wild life of war! And all the time the love of toil is fading from men's minds; at home the factory wheels are turning more and more feebly, and when at last the sword is laid aside, there is only "confusion worse confounded," for the channels of labor are choked with men reared in habits of indolence or trained in the school of vice. Before the scar on that nation's industry can finally be healed, decades and perhaps centuries of peace must pass away.

But if war is a scar on the nation's industry, it is likewise a blot on her ideals. Though this element of idealism at first seems visionary and impractical, it is one of the foundation stones of progress. The fixed gulf between what man is and what he knows he might be is the decisive factor in his advance. Ideals are the pulleys of the unseen, round which man throws his hopes and aims, by which he pulls himself across the chasm and into the larger life. To advance at all, man must have ideals--for himself, for his family, for his nation. But mark the effect of war on these ideals. In place of the ideal of peace--to serve men and uplift them--one is taught the ideal of war--to make himself the most widely feared of professional murderers. Instead of the ideal of peace--to make his family comfortable, happy, and prosperous--comes in the war ideal, by whose terms the family head deserts his own flock to kill other family heads for the eternal glory of the Stars and Stripes. As for his ideal of the nation's greatness, we have ample testimony that when bullets and cannon balls cone crashing through the splendid structure of his purpose, it speedily crumbles into an ignominious desire to hide himself behind the nearest tree. No; do not say that war builds up ideals; it tears them down and tramples them in the dust; aye more, it sets back crime itself where they should rightly stand.

But if war so dethrones a nation's ideals, what may it not do to a nation's morality? Imagine if you can a million men, the core of the national power, turning themselves into machines to carry out blindly the schemes of leaders who may be right or wrong; schooled in the belief that manslaughter is manliness, that the rash courage of the brute is above the moral courage of a man; forgetful of the meaning of human life; thoughtless of a thing so common as death; heedless of its eternal consequences. No wonder Channing cried so bitterly: "War is the concentration of all human crimes. Under its standard gather violence, malignity, rage, fraud, rapacity, and lust. If it only slew men, it would do little. But it turns man into a beast of prey. Here is the evil of war, that man, made to be the brother, becomes the deadly foe of his kind; that man, whose duty is to mitigate suffering, makes the infliction of suffering his study and end."

No, Mr. Roosevelt, for once at least you are wrong! We cannot believe that war builds up a nation. Rather will we believe those words of Herbert Spencer, more sweeping but far more true, "Advance to the highest forms of man and society depends on the decline of militancy and the growth of industrialism."

"But wait," you say; "all this is theory and abstraction. We want matters of fact. Your case may be true as philosophy, but you have failed to ground it in example." So it is to history that our last appeal must be made, for, says Bolingbroke, "History is philosophy, teaching by example." Every decree of her stern tribunal is impartial and irrevocable. War the tonic or war the poison? She is the final judge. She will take you back, if you will, to her childhood days and point you out vast empires, owning the known world, Babylonians, Assyrians, Egyptians, Medes, and Persians, fearful fighters all of them. But no, not quite all either. On a sandy stretch of seashore, half hidden by the unwieldy empires around it, we see a timid, peaceful little people called the Hebrews; they alone, from all that mighty company, have stood the "wreckful siege" of thirty centuries. Watch its sinister movement down the ages and you will see the war cloud hover over Greece, and her republics melt to nothing in disunion and decay. It hovers over the Huns, and they suddenly sink from sight; over Islam, and its civilization crumbles faster than it grew; over Spain, and all the New World treasures cannot save her from decay. Finally, like the cloud no bigger than a hand, it rises from the island of Corsica and moves toward Central Europe. All too well does Europe know its meaning. From north and south, from east and west, she pours into the field the finest armies that the Old World ever saw. Then she pauses. Europe grows tense with a nameless dread. The storm cloud blackens, hovers lower, then bursts with all its fury through the continent. For ten long years, at the command of an imperial butcher, the soil is drenched with blood, the sky grows lurid from burning Paris to burning Moscow, three million homes are draped in black. Grand, indeed, and glorious! But Europe lost more than her gorgeous standards, more than her ruined cities; she left her manhood on those bloody fields.

We might extend the awful picture, but the story is the same, dread tale of death for nations as for men. Is not this enough? Is it not clear that this traitor to labor, this despoiler of ideals, this foe to morality, is not the benefactor but the destroyer of nations? And shall we not "here highly resolve" no longer to walk in this "valley of the shadow of death," but to hasten toward the dawning of a brighter, purer day? For in spite of pessimism, in spite of scholarship, in spite of history, the day is

"coming yet, for a' that-- When man to man, the world o'er, Shall brothers be for a' that."

NATIONAL HONOR AND VITAL INTERESTS

By RUSSELL WEISMAN, Western Reserve University Cleveland, Ohio

First Prize Oration in the Eastern Group Contest, 1912, and Second Prize in the National Contest held at Mohonk Lake, May 16, 1912

NATIONAL HONOR AND VITAL INTERESTS

The day for deprecating in general terms the evils of war and of extolling the glories of peace is past. Such argument is little needed. International trade requires peace. International finance dictates peace. Even armies and navies are now justified primarily as agents of peace. Yet so wantonly are these agents looting the world's treasuries that they are themselves forcing their own displacement by courts of arbitration. The two hundred and fifty disputes successfully arbitrated in the past century challenge with trumpet-tongued eloquence the support of all men for reason's peaceful rule. To-day no discussion is needed to show that if war is to be abolished, if navies are to dwindle and armies diminish, if there is to be a federation of the world, it must come through treaties of arbitration. In this way alone lies peace; yet in this way lies the present great barrier to further progress--the conception which many nations, especially the United States, hold of "national honor and vital interests." The reservation from arbitration of so-called matters of national honor and vital interests constitutes the weak link in every existing arbitration treaty between the great powers of the world. This reservation furnishes the big-navy men all the argument they need. It destroys the binding power of the treaties by allowing either party to any dispute to refuse arbitration. It was by this reservation that the United States Senate so lately killed the British and the French treaties. And I contend here to-night that the one subject which imperatively demands discussion is national honor and vital interests. That the next important step must be the exposure of the reactionary influence of the United States in excepting these matters from arbitration.

Only fifteen months ago President Taft made his memorable declaration that this barrier ought to be removed from the pathway of peace. He proposed that the United States negotiate new treaties to abide by the adjudication of courts in every international issue which could not be settled by negotiation, whether involving honor or territory or money. The next morning the proposal was heralded by the press throughout the world. A few days later the halls of Parliament resounded with applause when Great Britain's secretary of state for foreign affairs announced that his government would welcome such a treaty with the United States. France soon followed. Then, to the surprise of all, hesitating Germany and cautious Japan showed a like willingness to enter into such agreements. Universal peace seemed all but realized.

The cause was at once borne up on a mighty wave of public opinion. The peace societies were in a frenzy of activity. Mass meetings of indorsement were held in England and America. Editorials of approval appeared in all parts of the world. The movement was now irresistible. Within eight months the British and the French treaties were drafted. Three of the greatest nations of the world were at last to commit themselves unreservedly to the cause of international peace. Even disputes involving national honor should not halt the beneficent work of high courts of law and of reason. The day when the treaties were signed, August 3, 1911, was hailed as a red-letter day in the annals of the civilized world. It was proclaimed the dawn of a new and auspicious era in the affairs of men and of nations.

During all the months preceding the action of the Senate on these treaties the only statesman of any prominence to raise his voice in opposition was ex-President Theodore Roosevelt. The gist of his successive and violent attacks on the treaties is contained in this utterance, which I quote, "It would be not merely foolish but wicked for us as a nation to agree to arbitrate any dispute that affects our vital interests or our independence or our honor." In this spirit, to the surprise and disappointment of the whole nation, the Senate amended the treaties out of their original intent, and placed upon them limitations that defeated their purpose. By the Senate's action the United States is still committed to the pretense that there may be occasion for a just and solemn war, that vital interests and national honor may force us to fight.

What, then, are the vital interests that can be conserved only by saber and bullet? Nothing more, nothing less, according to various acknowledged authorities, than a state's independence and its territorial integrity. Did the keen mind of our former president really foresee the seizure of some of our territory by England or France? Yet he protests it that it would be "not merely foolish but wicked for us as a nation to agree to arbitrate any dispute that affects our vital interests." Did Senator Lodge and his threescore colleagues who amended the treaties actually fear an attempt to overthrow our form of government, to destroy our political institutions, or to take away those individual rights and sacred privileges upon which our government was founded? Yet to save us from such fate they refused unlimited arbitration.

For the United States to except from arbitration her vital interests is obvious pretense. To add thereto her national honor is extreme hypocrisy. What is national honor? No man knows. It is one thing to-day; another, to-morrow. It may involve an indemnity claim, a boundary line, a fisheries dispute. In fact, any controversy may be declared by either party, at will, to be a question of national honor. Thus in the hands of an unskilled or malicious diplomacy, any question which was originally a judicial one may become a question of national honor. What, then, will we arbitrate? Every case in which a favorable award is assured us. If we want Texas, we send an army after it. Every case that does not rouse our anger. Let the _Maine_ blow up and we fight. A treaty with an elastic exception like this is a farcical sham and a delusion.

It is high time the true and humiliating significance of these fearsome phrases should be as familiar to every taxpayer as is the burden of bristling camps and restless navies. Read the record of Great Britain's first offer of unlimited arbitration in the Olney-Pauncefote treaty of 1897. There, too, you will find national honor and vital interests clogging the machinery of universal peace. By these same exceptions the Senate emasculated that treaty and defeated the spirit of the agreement. Is it conceivable that the Senate actually feared that our interests would be imperiled by that treaty? Did it delve out some hidden dangers which escaped the careful scrutiny of both the English and American embassies, some peril unforeseen by the keen judicial mind of President Cleveland, who characterized the defeat of the treaty as "the greatest grief" of his administration.

But this is not all. The American representatives at both Hague Conferences were the first to place these same limitations on all arbitration proposals.

Look at it from what point of view you will, our government's conduct must appear humiliating. Considering the fact that universal arbitration treaties have proved practical, it is well-nigh incredible. Behold our bellicose sister American republics. Argentina and Chile, Brazil and Argentina, Bolivia and Peru, all have agreements for the arbitration of all questions whatsoever. All the Central American republics are bound by treaty to decide every difference of whatever nature in the Central American Court of Justice. Denmark's three treaties with Italy, Portugal, and the Netherlands withhold no cause, however vital, from reason's peaceful sway. Norway and Sweden likewise have an agreement to abide by the decision of the Hague Court in whatever disputes may occur. The very existence of all these treaties is significant, yet even more significant is the fact that they have been triumphantly tested. Norway and Sweden at one extremity of the globe and Argentina and Chile at the other have thus quietly settled disputes in which their honor and interests were seriously involved.

Do you ask further evidence of the hypocrisy with which our Senate parades our national honor and our vital interests to the undoing of a grand work? Search our history and you will find it in abundance. In the great case of the Alabama claims, Charles Francis Adams pronounced the construction of Confederate ships in English ports to be a violation of the international law of neutrality. This certainly was a question of national honor and vital interests, yet he pleaded for arbitration. In reply Lord John Russell said, "That is a question of honor which we will never arbitrate, for England's honor cannot be made the subject of arbitration." The case was debated for six years. Then came England's "Grand Old Man," the mighty Gladstone, with a different view. "It is to the interest," he said, "not only of England and the United States, but of the world, peaceably to settle those claims." He submitted them to a joint high commission. England lost and paid. Thus the honor of both nations was successfully arbitrated. Likewise the Newfoundland fisheries case had been a bone of contention between Great Britain and America from the day our independence was recognized. As late as 1887 it threatened to become the cause of war. No question ever arose which more vitally affected the interests of America, yet the Senate recently accepted a settlement by arbitration. Similarly, the Alaska fur seal dispute, the Alaskan and the Venezuelan boundary disputes, and the northeast boundary controversy all involved both the vital interests and the national honor of England and America, yet all were satisfactorily and permanently arbitrated. So excited were we over our northwest boundary that the principal issue of a political campaign was "The whole of Oregon or none! Fifty-four forty or fight!" Yet we peaceably acquiesced in a treaty that gave us neither.

Yes, our honor may be arbitrated. If we are ill-prepared for war, we arbitrate. If we are sure of a favorable award, we arbitrate. But we must have a loophole, an ever-ready escape from obligation. Posing as the most enlightened nation on the face of the globe, we refuse entirely to displace those medieval notions according to which personal honor found its best protection in the dueling pistol, and national honor its only vindication in slaughter and devastation. To unlimited arbitration we refuse to submit.

Fifteen years ago England, the mighty England, gave us her pledge that no cause should ever justify war. This pledge our Senate in the name of honor refused. Unlimited arbitration agreements were suggested at both Hague Conferences. Americans promptly placed restrictions upon them in the name of honor. Again has England with enthusiasm just offered us unrestricted arbitration. Again she is repulsed by our Senate in the name of honor. France, too, bears to our doors an unqualified pledge of arbitration. France, too, is repulsed by our Senate in the name of honor. Germany and Japan express a desire to settle every question at the bar of justice. Impelled by honor we pass their desire unheeded. Our Clevelands, our Olneys, our Edward Everett Hales, our Carl Schurzes, our John Hays, have all urged unlimited arbitration. Our Davises and Clarks and Platts and Quays in Senate seats have undone their work in the name of honor. Our Charles Eliots and Nicholas Butlers, our Albert Shaws and Hamilton Holts, now plead for universal peace through unlimited arbitration. Senators Bacon and Lodge and Heyburn and Hitchcock, apparently impelled by constitutional prerogative, party prejudice, or personal animosity, now cast their votes for limitations in the name of honor. From the platform of peace conferences, from the halls of colleges, from the pulpit and the bench, from the offices of bankers and merchants and manufacturers, from the press, with scarcely a column's exception, there arises a swelling plea for treaties of arbitration that know no exceptions. In the name of honor that plea is defied.

Honor? No, an ocean of exception large enough to float any number of battleships for which pride and ambition may be willing to pay! Honor? No, a finical and foolish reservation that at any moment may become a maelstrom of suspicion and rage and hatred and destruction and death! Honor? No, a mountainous barrier to peace that must be leveled before there can be progress! Honor? No, the incarnation of selfishness, the cloak of shrewd politics, the mask of false patriotism! National honor? No, national dishonor!

Before the nations of the world the United States stands to-day in an unenviable light. It is a false light. Since the days of William Penn and Benjamin Franklin our people have led in much of the march upward from the slough of weltering strife. Many a stumbling block to progress we have removed from the rugged pathway, but for fifteen years our government has refused to touch the barrier of national honor and vital interests. England and France have now laid this duty squarely at our door. "It is a social obligation as imperative as the law of Moses, as full of hope as the Great Physician's healing touch." Let us here highly resolve that there shall be uttered a new official interpretation of national honor and vital interests, an interpretation synonymous with dignity and fidelity, sincerity, and integrity, and confidence in the vows both of men and of nations. "If we have 'faith in the right as God gives us to see the right,' we shall catch a vision of opportunity that shall fire the soul with a spirit of service which the darkness of night shall not arrest, which the course of the day shall not weary."

THE EVOLUTION OF PATRIOTISM

By PAUL B. BLANSHARD, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor

First Prize Oration in the Central Group Contest, 1913, and in the National Contest held at Mohonk Lake, May 15, 1913

THE EVOLUTION OF PATRIOTISM

Robert Southey has asked through the lips of a little child the greatest peace question that the world has known. He pictures a summer evening on the old battlefield of Blenheim. On a chair before his vine-clad cottage sat old Kaspar while his grandchildren, Wilhelmine and Peterkin, played on the lawn. Suddenly Peterkin from a nearby brook unearthed a skull and, running, brought it to Kaspar's knee. The old man took the gruesome thing from the boy, and told him that this had been the head of a man killed in the great battle of Blenheim. Then little Wilhelmine looked up into her grandfather's face and said:

"Now tell us all about the war, And what they fought each other for."

Here we have the central question in the problem of war. Why do men fight? Through the answer to that question lies the path to world-peace.