of the world has ever been called upon to discuss a matter so
vital and so far-reaching as that which the House of Commons has
before it to-day to consider, and with so absolute a lack of
information.... The House was summoned for this discussion to-day
without any papers whatsoever.... We ought at all events to have
had an account of diplomatic correspondence between the four
great Powers intimately interested in the question of Morocco,
as is customary to be given to the House of Commons on such an
occasion. This would have enabled members of the House before
the debate commenced, to form a really well-grounded judgment
upon the whole matter. We have heard a good deal to-night of
the secrecy of the Foreign policy of this country. It is no use
attempting to deny it. Those of us who have been a long time in
this House, and can remember the methods of the Foreign Office
twenty-five years ago, know as a matter of fact, which cannot be
successfully denied, that the Foreign Office policy has become
during the last ten years progressively more secret every year.
Until this present year this has gone on, when the intense
pressure of Foreign Affairs and the danger of war has forced
the hands of the Minister to give some time for the discussion
of Foreign Office affairs. For ten years the Foreign policy of
this country has been conducted behind an elaborate screen of
secrecy. Some of us pointed out years ago that the secrecy of
Foreign Affairs was the inevitable and logical result of that
new departure which was heralded about ten years ago, and which
we heard praised once more on the floor of this House to-night.
I refer to what is known as the policy of the continuity of the
Foreign policy of this country; of the withdrawal of the Foreign
policy of this country from the sphere of party politics.”
At the same session Mr. Swift MacNeill expressed himself very strongly
on the subject of withholding information from Parliament, in the
following terms:
“From generation to generation, you have allowed treaties
involving the highest international obligations--involving
questions of peace and war--to be taken absolutely out of the
hands of the House. It is no exaggeration to say, so far as
international policy is concerned, you have rendered the House as
little effectively powerful as any man walking over Westminster
Bridge. Over and over again treaties involving matters of life
and death, involving questions of first-class importance, have
been ratified behind the back of Parliament.... The people
themselves must be allowed to know all about this diplomacy and
what it is. And there should be no secrecy in regard to high
diplomatic statecraft about it. The House of Commons is sample
judge of what is discreet and what is indiscreet, and it is a
complete absurdity for others to treat us as children or for
us to allow ourselves to be so treated in matters of such high
international importance as those involving questions of peace
and war.”
Sir Edward Grey in his reply stated that secrecy up to a certain point
was necessary and that particularly the ratification of treaties could
not be previously discussed. He then made the very significant remark
that not until the House of Commons “was really free to devote itself
to discussions of imperial affairs would it get control.” In other
words as long as the House of Commons remains a body occupied primarily
with domestic and local legislation it cannot spare the attention
necessary for an effective control of foreign policy.
Early in 1914, evidence was taken by a select committee on House
of Commons procedure. Mr. Balfour during these discussions rather
emphasized the need of secrecy in dealing with foreign affairs. He
thinks that such matters should not be aired too frequently in the
House of Commons, because indiscreet speeches, which can be perfectly
appraised in the House, may make bad blood when reported. Diplomatic
conversations must be kept confidential if you are to work the European
system at all. But though the House of Commons does not and cannot
know the current details of international negotiations, it is not
uninformed. This plainly is the language of a statesman to whom the
idiosyncrasies of the European system are so familiar that they seem to
be the only natural state of affairs. The statement is made from the
point of view of the expert who rather resents any sort of interference
on the part of the less well informed.
In March, 1918, it was moved in the House of Commons:
“That, in the opinion of this House, a Standing Committee of
Foreign Affairs should be appointed, representative of all
parties and groups in the House, in order that a regular channel
of communication may be established between the Foreign Secretary
and the House of Commons, which will afford him frequent
opportunities of giving information on questions of Foreign
policy and which, by allowing Members to acquaint themselves
more fully with current international problems, will enable this
House to exercise closer supervision over the general conduct of
Foreign Affairs....”
Mr. Balfour expressed himself quite in length on this motion and
further elaborated the ideas which he had put forward in 1914. In a
speech delivered March 19th, he gave what is probably the most complete
and persuasive exposition of the value of traditional methods in
diplomacy:
“... A Foreign Office and a Diplomatic Service are great
instruments for preventing, as far as can be prevented, and
diminishing, even when you cannot prevent, friction between
States which are, or which ought to be, friendly. How is the
task of peace-maker--because that is largely the task which
falls to diplomatists and to the Foreign Office, which controls
diplomatists--to be pursued if you are to shout your grievances
from the housetop whenever they occur? The only result is that
you embitter public feeling, that the differences between the
two States suddenly attain a magnitude they ought never to be
allowed to approach, that the newspapers of the two countries
agitate themselves, that the Parliaments of the two countries
have their passions set on fire, and great crises arise, which
may end, have ended sometimes, in international catastrophes....
Office officials, or officials of any Department,--to expend some
of their energy in getting ready for cross-examination, you will
really be destroying the public service. There is nothing on
which I feel more strongly than that. They are not accustomed to
it, and they ought not to be accustomed to it.... I do not hold
the view that antique methods are pursued by diplomatists which
no man of common sense adopts in the ordinary work of every-day
life. On the contrary, the work of diplomacy is exactly the work
which is done every day between two great firms, for instance,
which have business relations, or between two great corporate
entities which have interests diverging or interests in common.
If you are a man of sense you do not create difficulties to
begin with. You try to get over all these things without the
embitterment which advertisement always brings with it. It is
when you begin to press your case in public that antagonism
arises. In private--in conversation which need not go beyond
the walls of the room in which you are,--you can put your case
as strongly as you like, and the gentleman with whom you are
carrying on the discussion may put his case as strongly as he
likes, and if good manners are observed and nothing but fair
discussion takes place no soreness remains and no one is driven
to ignore the strong points of his opponent’s case. Directly a
controversy becomes public all that fair give-and-take becomes
either difficult or impossible.... But if all you mean ... is
that it is wrong for the nations of the world to find themselves
hampered in their mutual relations by treaties of which those
countries know nothing, that, I think, is an evil. I do not say
that there have not been secret treaties which were inevitable;
but I do say that, if they are necessary, they are a necessary
evil. Please remember that two nations make a treaty together
for their mutual advantage. Both are desirous of passing it. One
nation says, ‘It is against our interest that this treaty should
be made public at present.’ The other says, ‘We do not like being
committed to any treaty the terms of which we cannot make public
at once.’ Which is going to prevail?... It does not rest with
any single Foreign Office, British or other. It is always an
arrangement between two--possibly three or four, Foreign Offices.
You cannot lay down--and I do not think you would be wise to
lay down, an absolute rule that under no circumstances, and for
no object, could you so far concede the point as to say that a
treaty is to be made which is not to become public property. I
am perfectly ready to admit that that is not a process which, to
me, is a very agreeable one. To reduce secret treaties to the
narrowest possible limits should, I think, be the object of every
responsible statesman who has the control of foreign affairs.
Beyond that I do not feel inclined to go. I do not see any signs
of a grasp of the true realities of life in the Motion before
us. You should have your control over those who manage your
affairs, but it is not the kind of control which the honorable
Member wishes to set up with his Committee of forty or fifty. It
is quite a different control. You must know, broadly speaking,
what the general lines of policy are, and I maintain that that is
thoroughly known with regard to foreign affairs at this moment
by every man in this House who takes the trouble to think. The
general lines on which we are proceeding are thoroughly known.”
This argument brings out all the strong points of the system of secret
diplomacy under the existing conditions of international politics,
but it contains no hint that these conditions need improvement. They
cannot, as a matter of fact, be improved until some strong nations,
even at the risk of disadvantage to themselves, take the lead in
placing diplomatic affairs on a broader basis.
XII
THE PUBLIC AND DIPLOMACY
In consequence of the startling developments in diplomacy which
preceded and accompanied the great war, the relation of democracy to
diplomacy has been earnestly discussed of late, particularly in Great
Britain.
When considering this important matter, the distinction between the
_methods_ of diplomacy and diplomatic _policies_ should be borne in
mind for the sake of clearness of thought. The development of public
opinion, the disappearance of purely dynastic aims of state action, and
the constantly broadening outlook of political life, have led to the
elimination of most of the cruder methods of deception and intrigue.
But two questions still remain: Should diplomatic negotiations
be carried on in the public view, that is with constant and full
information given to the public or parliament, on all important
details? and, Should the diplomatic policy of a democratic government
at all times be kept fully before the representative bodies, and the
public?
Most discussions which favor the use of secret diplomacy, refer to
the presumed necessity of confidential _methods_ of negotiation. But
there are some publicists and statesmen who believe that the policy of
foreign affairs itself can best be handled by responsible statesmen
keeping their own counsel and giving to the public only a general
adumbration of the trend of policy. These two questions are constantly
mixed up in current discussion; and their absolute separation is
indeed difficult. Thus, a strictly secret diplomatic policy will
naturally accentuate the secrecy of the methods employed. Abstractly
considered, it would be quite possible to have the foreign policy of a
country determined by public action, and still to surround diplomatic
negotiations with secrecy. But if the substance of the policy were
definitely known in detail, the secrecy of methods would lose much of
its effectiveness.
The use of such methods is defended from two points of view; from that
of the trader who looks for a better bargain through not having given
away his entire hand at the beginning; and from that of the builder who
desires to work quietly without interruptions from an excitable public,
who desires to avoid difficulties and smooth away contrasts which
publicity would tend to exaggerate.
There is an _ex post facto_ publicity of diplomatic policy. If this is
afforded as soon as a new situation has arisen or a new agreement has
been created, some of the harm of secrecy is avoided. In such a case
the statesmen, cabinet, or conference, practically give assurance that,
if allowed to work quietly on a certain problem, they will produce a
solution which will commend itself in general to the sense of equity
of the nation or nations concerned; although the sum total of the
arrangement may contain details which, considered by themselves, would
be unacceptable and which might have interfered with the making of an
accord, if unduly emphasized or given publicity during the negotiations.
Mr. Balfour in his speech of March 19, 1918, which has already been
referred to, indeed speaks quite convincingly of the advantage of
confidential relations and of secrecy in negotiations, but he goes so
far as strongly to deprecate a demand for information on the part of
Parliament. In that he certainly shows a measure of anti-democratic
bias, as when he says, “Do not suppose that we can do the work better
by having to explain it _to a lot of people who are not responsible_.
That is not the way to get business properly done.” He therefore
rejects the idea of a parliamentary committee of control in the matter
of foreign relations. He agrees, however, that the existence of secret
treaties is an evil, although he thinks that it may be at certain times
necessary, because the associated treaty power may desire it. He is
mildly deprecatory, at best.
Count Czernin, speaking to the Austrian delegations on June 24, 1918,
concerning President Wilson’s fourteen points, stated that he has no
objection to the introduction of the principle of “open covenants,”
although he confesses that he does not know by what means effective
adherence thereto can be assured. Concerning diplomatic negotiations,
which he treats simply as a matter of business, he points out the
advantages of secrecy from the point of view of trading. Moreover, if
there were full publicity, the general public might passionately oppose
every action involving any concession as a defeat. This would not be
conducive to peaceable relations.
There are those who believe that the chief evils of secret diplomacy
would be avoided if ample opportunity were given for discussion in
representative assemblies, if there were a parliamentary committee
keeping constantly in touch with the conduct of foreign relations,
and if treaties and declarations of war could not be made without the
consent of the national legislature. Some advocates of democratic
control go so far as to reason that a decision to make war and thereby
to order the shedding of human blood, should not be made without a
national referendum vote.
On the other hand, those opposed to all publicity of diplomatic
affairs argue that international policies cannot be determined in
the market place. They hark back to DeTocqueville, who holds that as
democracy cannot be expected to regulate the _details_ of an important
undertaking, it is particularly unqualified to deal with international
matters where secrecy, discretion, and patience are required. Followers
of this opinion believe that the conduct of foreign affairs is best
placed quite unreservedly in the hands of responsible statesmen, who
have greater information, larger experience and more self-control than
the average of humanity. They generally have in view the preservation
of national interests, under conditions of peace if possible; they
will not be inflamed by exciting incidents, but will keep these in
proper subordination to the general plan. Such details, if made public,
would easily lead to occurrences that would upset the results of
wise planning. As Lord Cromer has said, it is such untoward chance
incidents which cannot be controlled that are to be feared, rather than
any deliberate plotting on the part of diplomats. Such responsible
statesmen always remain accountable for the general results of their
policy; they are conscious of the importance of their trust, and
therefore are a safer repository of discretionary powers than a general
committee.
Back of these arguments, however, there usually lies the conviction
that the public is superficial, easily swayed, excitable and altogether
delighting more in the hurrah of war than in the humdrum of peace. It
might be remarked that if such had actually been the case, the most
recent experience of the people with war has probably given them a
different idea of the attractiveness of that kind of excitement; unless
indeed the mass of humanity are irremediably and forever fools, when
taken in the aggregate.
The sensational character of the daily press must be considered in
this connection. The news value of normal, peaceable developments is
very small. It is therefore a godsend to the newspapers when something
extraordinary happens, particularly in international affairs. For
this reason, the daily news frequently presents an untrue or warped
picture of the actual situation. Gilbert Murray asks what people are
referred to by those who demand popular control of diplomacy; are
they the people of educational societies, or of the music halls? The
public is not homogeneous, or so organized as to give expression to
convictions on current affairs which have been maturely considered. It
lacks the leisure and training for penetrating superficialities and
going to the bottom of difficult questions. Lord Cromer believes in
general that democracies are not peaceful, and he refers particularly
to the American democracy for proof; Lord Lytton said, “Governments are
generally for diplomacy, the people for war.”
Men of all shades of opinion are agreed that the people are not greatly
interested in foreign affairs, and the opponents of proposals of
democratic control argue that it would be useless to create machinery
for action where there exists no interest, nor purpose to act.
It is quite true that the public during the nineteenth century seemed
less interested in foreign affairs than during the eighteenth. At the
earlier time, diplomacy was a fascinating, personal game, about which
the wiseacres in the coffee houses were eager to make their criticisms
and prognostications. When the middle class came to power in the
nineteenth century, it was primarily interested in economic and other
domestic questions, and was satisfied to leave the conduct of foreign
affairs to statesmen and diplomats. The constantly growing political
consciousness of the public at large was concentrated chiefly on
questions of internal politics and reform. Foreign affairs, as they
reached the public, were thought of still from the point of view of
the onlooker, rather than of him who actually had to bear the brunt of
the burden. Those who had to bleed and die when hostilities had been
brought about, never had any chance, nor determination, to influence
the course of diplomacy leading up to wars.
With such a general apathy of the public, it was not surprising that
diplomacy should cling to its caste privileges, should try to preserve
its discretionary powers, and should often attempt deliberately to keep
people in the dark. “In the public interest” is the curtain beyond
which no one may peer. Even in the American Government, particularly
during and since the war, foreign affairs have been handled with what
would ordinarily seem insufficient information to the public; in fact,
with occasional putting forth of misleading and entirely partial
information, or the refusal to furnish information even when requested
by those having official responsibilities. This is a notable change,
as up to 1914 it was substantially true that the United States had no
diplomatic secrets.
While from the point of view of traditional diplomacy, and of
international relations as they were up to the Great War, it seems
quite natural that democratic control should be thought by many to be
unpractical; and while indeed no one can flatter himself that through a
change of method the conduct of international affairs could suddenly be
rendered more wise and entirely effective towards the public welfare,
yet I cannot avoid the conclusion that there is a wrong orientation
in the emphasis of the need of secrecy and of the unfitness of the
people to deal with problems of foreign affairs. The belief in the
unfitness of the people in this matter appears to be the result of
a preconceived notion as to the overpowering difficulty, complexity
and almost sanctity of foreign affairs. Modern governments are based
on the principle that all legislation must meet the test of public
criticism and rest on public consent; certainly it cannot be argued
that matters of the incidence of taxation, the proper organization
of credit, and the determination of commercial policies, are less
complex and intricate than are foreign affairs. It is indeed true that
it is difficult for one nation thoroughly to appreciate in detail the
conditions of life in another. This truth should have its greatest
value in dissuading a nation from meddling with the internal affairs of
another, even from good motives. Those international questions which
are apt to produce war may indeed relate to intricate matters, but
the essential point is always the contention for power, influence or
commercial advantage, and it is not apparent why the public in general
should be unfit to judge as to whether national treasure and life
are eventually to be spent in huge quantities to bring about, or to
prevent, any such shifting of power or influence.
It is, however, because the motives involved are so largely connected
with class interests, or survivals of pride of race, that those
concerned in them are eager to deny the fitness of the general public,
which if called on to decide would put into the foreground the
question, “How does the control of this or that group of capitalists in
Morocco, for instance, or the greater or smaller influence of Austria
or Russia in Servia, affect the daily life and welfare of our people?”
It is certainly true that questions of peace and war have never
definitely been reasoned out on that basis. There has always been the
assumption that certain things were essential to national prestige and
could not be questioned; it is only when the actually existing broader
base of national political life is organized also for active control of
foreign affairs, that these considerations will have their full weight.
Only the most exceptional statesmen could lift themselves out of the
narrow groove of tradition and precedent; and more exceptional still,
in fact all but impossible, is the capacity of one man to represent in
himself in just proportion, all the interests and feelings of a nation.