LESSONS OF THE PAST
The problems that lie before us in the reconstitution of Europe are so
many and so various that we can only hope to take a few separately,
especially those which seem to throw most light on a possible future. I
have used the phrase "reconstitution of Europe," because I do not know how
otherwise to characterise the general trend of the ideas germinating in
many men's minds as they survey the present crisis and its probable
outcome. Europe will have to be reconstituted in more respects than one.
At the present moment, or rather before the present war broke out, it was
governed by phrases and conceptions which had become superannuated. An
uneasy equipoise between the Great Powers represented the highest
culmination of our diplomatic efforts. Something must clearly be
substituted for this uneasy equipoise. It is not enough that after
tremendous efforts the relative balance of forces between great states
should, on the whole, dissuade them from war. As a matter of fact, it has
not done so. The underlying conception has been that nations are so
ardently bellicose that they require to be restrained from headlong
conflicts by the doubtful and dangerous character of such military efforts
as might be practicable. Hence Europe, as divided into armed camps,
represents one of the old-fashioned ideas that we want to abolish. We wish
to put in its stead something like a Concert of Europe. We have before our
eyes a vague, but inspiring vision not of tremendous and rival armaments,
but of a United States of Europe, each component element striving for the
public weal, and for further advances in general cultivation and welfare
rather than commercial prosperity. The last is a vital point, for it does
not require much knowledge of modern history to discover that the race for
commercial advantage is exactly one of the reasons why Europe is at war at
the present moment. A vast increase in the commercial prosperity of any
one state means a frantic effort on the part of its rivals to pull down
this advantage. In some fashion, therefore, we have to substitute for
endless competition the principle of co-operation, national welfare being
construed at the same time not in terms of overwhelming wealth, but of
thorough sanity and health in the body corporate.
NAKED STRENGTH
All this sounds shadowy and abstruse until it is translated into something
concrete and definite. What is it we want to dispossess and banish from
the Europe of to-day? We have to find something to take the place of what
is called militarism. I dealt with the general features of militarism in
my last essay; I will therefore content myself with saying that militarism
in Europe has meant two things above all. First, the worship of might, as
expressed in formidable armaments; next, the corresponding worship of
wealth to enable the burden of armaments to be borne with comparative
ease. The worship of naked strength involves several deductions. Right
disappears, or rather is translated in terms of might. International
morality equally disappears. Individuals, it is true, seek to be governed
by the consciousness of universal moral laws. But a nation, as such, has
no conscience, and is not bound to recognise the supremacy of anything
higher than itself. Morality, though it may bind the individual, does not
bind the State, or, as General von Bernhardi has expressed it, "political
morality differs from individual morality because there is no power above
the State." In similar fashion the worship of wealth carries numerous
consequences with it, which are well worthy of consideration. But the main
point, so far as it affects my present argument, is that it substitutes
materialistic objects of endeavour for ethical and spiritual aims. Once
more morality is defeated. The ideal is not the supremacy of good, but the
supremacy of that range and sphere of material efficiency that is
procurable by wealth.
PUBLIC RIGHT
Let us try to be more concrete still, and in this context let us turn to
such definite statements as are available of the views entertained by our
chief statesmen, politicians, and leaders of public opinion. I turn to the
speech which Mr. Asquith delivered on Friday evening, September 25, in
Dublin, as part of the crusade which he and others are undertaking for the
general enlightenment of the country. "I should like," said Mr. Asquith,
"to ask your attention and that of my fellow-countrymen to the end which,
in this war, we ought to keep in view. Forty-four years ago, at the time
of the war of 1870, Mr. Gladstone used these words. He said: 'The greatest
triumph of our time will be the enthronement of the idea of public right
as the governing idea of European politics.' Nearly fifty years have
passed. Little progress, it seems, has as yet been made towards that good
and beneficent change, but it seems to me to be now at this moment as good
a definition as we can have of our European policy--the idea of public
right. What does it mean when translated into concrete terms? It means,
first and foremost, the clearing of the ground by the definite repudiation
of militarism as the governing factor in the relation of states and of the
future moulding of the European world. It means next that room must be
found and kept for the independent existence and the free development of
the smaller nationalities, each with a corporate consciousness of its
own.... And it means, finally, or it ought to mean, perhaps, by a slow and
gradual process, the substitution for force, for the clash of competing
ambition, for groupings and alliances, of a real European partnership
based on the recognition of equal right and established and enforced by a
common will."[6]
Much the same language has been used by Sir Edward Grey and by Mr. Winston
Churchill.
[6] _The Times_, September 26.
A COMMON WILL
Observe that there are three points here. In the first place--if I do not
misapprehend Mr. Asquith's drift--in working for the abolition of
militarism, we are working for a great diminution in those armaments which
have become a nightmare to the modern world. The second point is that we
have to help in every fashion small nationalities, or, in other words,
that we have to see that countries like Belgium, Holland, Switzerland, the
Scandinavian countries, Greece and the Balkan States, and, perhaps, more
specially, the Slav nationalities shall have a free chance in Europe,
shall "have their place in the sun," and not be browbeaten and raided and
overwhelmed by their powerful neighbours. And the third point, perhaps
more important than all, is the creation of what Mr. Asquith calls a
"European partnership based on the recognition of equal right and
established and enforced by a common will." We have to recognise that
there is such a thing as public right; that there is such a thing as
international morality, and that the United States of Europe have to keep
as their ideal the affirmation of this public right, and to enforce it by
a common will. That creation of a common will is at once the most
difficult and the most imperative thing of all. Every one must be aware
how difficult it is. We know, for instance, how the common law is enforced
in any specified state, because it has a "sanction," or, in other words,
because those who break it can be punished. But the weakness for a long
time past of international law, from the time of Grotius onwards, is that
it apparently has no real sanction. How are we to punish an offending
state? It can only be done by the gradual development of a public
conscience in Europe, and by means of definite agreements so that the rest
of the civilised world shall compel a recalcitrant member to abide by the
common decrees. If only this common will of Europe ever came into
existence, we should have solved most, if not all, our troubles. But the
question is: How?
A HUNDRED YEARS AGO
It may be depressing, but it certainly is an instructive lesson to go back
just a hundred years ago, when the condition of Europe was in many
respects similar to that which prevails now. The problems that unrolled
themselves before the nations afford useful points of comparison. The
great enemy was then Napoleon and France. Napoleon's views of empire were
precisely of that universal predatory type which we have learnt to
associate with the Kaiser and the German Empire. The autocratic rule of
the single personal will was weighing heavily on nearly every quarter of
the globe. Then came a time when the principle of nationality, which
Napoleon had everywhere defied, gradually grew in strength until it was
able to shake off the yoke of the conqueror. In Germany, and Spain, and
Italy the principle of nationality steadily grew, while in England there
had always been a steady opposition to the tyranny of Napoleon on the
precise ground that it interfered with the independent existence of
nations. The defeat of Napoleon, therefore, was hailed by our forefathers
a hundred years ago as the dawn of a new era. Four great Powers--Great
Britain, Russia, Austria, and Prussia--had before them as their task the
settlement of Europe, one of the noblest tasks that could possibly be
assigned to those who, having suffered under the old regime, were desirous
to secure peace and base it on just and equitable foundations. There is
thus an obvious parallelism between the conditions of affairs in 1815 and
those which will, as we hope, obtain if and when the German tyrant is
defeated and the nations of Europe commence their solemn task of
reconstituting Europe. Of course, we must not press the analogy too far.
The dawn of a new era might have been welcomed in 1815, but the proviso
was always kept in the background that most of the older traditions should
be preserved. Diplomacy was still inspired by its traditional watchwords.
Above all, the transformation so keenly and so vaguely desired was in the
hands of sovereigns who were more anxious about their own interests than
perhaps was consistent with the common weal.
EQUILIBRIUM
At first the four Great Powers proceeded very tentatively. They wished to
confine France--the dangerous element in Europe--within her legitimate
boundaries. Next, they desired to arrange an equilibrium of Powers
(observe, in passing, the old doctrine of the Balance of Power) so that no
individual state should for the future be in a position to upset the
general tranquillity. Revolutionary France was to be held under by the
re-establishment of its ancient dynasty. Hence Louis XVIII was to be
restored. The other object was to be obtained by a careful parcelling out
of the various territories of Europe, on the basis, so far as possible, of
old rights consecrated by treaties. It is unnecessary to go into detail in
this matter. We may say summarily that Germany was reconstituted as a
Confederation of Sovereign States; Austria received the Presidency of the
Federal Diet; in Italy Lombardo-Venetia was erected into a kingdom under
Austrian hegemony, while the Low Countries were annexed to the crown of
Holland so as to form, under the title of the United Netherlands, an
efficient barrier against French aggression northwards. It was troublesome
to satisfy Alexander I of Russia because of his ambition to secure for
himself the kingdom of Poland. Indeed, as we shall see presently, the
personality of Alexander was a permanent stumbling-block to most of the
projects of European statesmen. As a whole, it cannot be denied that this
particular period of history, between Napoleon's abdication in 1814 and
the meeting of the European Congress at Verona in 1882, presented a
profoundly distressing picture of international egotism. The ruin of their
common enemy, relieving the members of the European family from the
necessity of maintaining concord, also released their individual
selfishnesses and their long-suppressed mutual jealousies.[7]
[7] See _The Confederation of Europe_, by Walter Alison Phillips
(Longmans), esp. Chapters V and VI. Cf. also _Political and Literary
Essays_, by the Earl of Cromer, 2nd series (Macmillan), on _The
Confederation of Europe_.
THE HOLY ALLIANCE
The figure of Alexander I dominates this epoch. His character exhibits a
very curious mixture of autocratic ambition and a mystical vein of sheer
undiluted idealism. Probably it would be true to say that he began by
being an idealist, and was forced by the pressure of events to adopt
reactionary tactics. Perhaps also, deeply embedded in the Russian nature
we generally find a certain unpracticalness and a tendency to mystical
dreams, far remote from the ordinary necessities of every day. It was
Alexander's dream to found a Union of Europe, and to consecrate its
political by its spiritual aims. He retained various nebulous thinkers
around his throne; he also derived much of his crusade from the
inspiration of a woman--Baroness von Krüdener, who is supposed to have
owed her own conversion to the teaching of a pious cobbler. Even if we
have to describe Alexander's dream as futile, we cannot afford to dismiss
it as wholly inoperative. For it had as its fruit the so-called Holy
Alliance, which was in a sense the direct ancestor of the peace programmes
of the Hague, and, through a different chain of ideas, the Monroe Doctrine
of the United States. We are apt sometimes to confuse the Holy Alliance
with the Grand Alliance. The second, however, was a union of the four
Great Powers, to which France was ultimately admitted. The first was not
an alliance at all, hardly, perhaps, even a treaty. It was in its original
conception a single-hearted attempt to arrange Europe on the principles of
the Christian religion, the various nations being regarded as brothers who
ought to have proper brotherly affection for one another. We know that,
eventually, the Holy Alliance became an instrument of something like
autocratic despotism, but in its essence it was so far from being
reactionary that, according to the Emperor Alexander, it involved the
grant of liberal constitutions by princes to their subjects.
DIPLOMATIC CRITICISM
But just because it bound its signatories to act on certain vague
principles for no well-defined ends, it was bound to become the mockery
of diplomatists trained in an older school. Metternich, for instance,
called it a "loud sounding nothing"; Castlereagh "a piece of sublime
mysticism and nonsense," while Canning declared that for his part he
wanted no more of "Areopagus and the like of that." What happened on this
occasion is what ordinarily happens with well-intentioned idealists who
happen also to be amateur statesmen. Trying to regulate practical
politics, the Holy Alliance was deflected from its original purpose
because its chief author, Alexander I, came under the influence of
Metternich and was frightened by revolutionary movements in Italy and
within his own dominions. Thus the instrument originally intended to
preserve nationalities and secure the constitutional rights of people was
converted into a weapon for the use of autocrats only anxious to preserve
their own thrones. Nevertheless, though it may have been a failure, the
Holy Alliance did not leave itself without witness in the modern world. It
tried to regulate ordinary diplomacy in accordance with ethical and
spiritual principles; and the dreaming mind of its first founder was
reproduced in that later descendant of his who initiated the Hague
propaganda of peace.
FAILURE
"These things were written for our ensamples," and we should be foolish
indeed if we did not take stock of them with an anxious eye to the future.
The main and startling fact is that with every apparent desire for the
re-establishment of Europe on better lines, Europe, as a matter of fact,
drifted back into the old welter of conflicting nationalities, while the
very instrument of peace--the Holy Alliance--was used by autocratic
governments for the subjection of smaller nationalities and the
destruction of popular freedom. It is accordingly very necessary that we
should study the conditions under which so startling a transformation took
place. Even in England herself it cannot be said that the people were in
any sense benefited by the conclusions of the war. They had borne its
burdens, but at its end found themselves hampered as before in the free
development of a democracy. Meanwhile, Europe at large presented a
spectacle of despotism tempered by occasional popular outbreaks, while in
the majority of cases the old fetters were riveted anew by cunning and by
no means disinterested hands.
A DECEPTIVE PARALLEL
What we have to ask ourselves is whether the conditions a hundred years
ago have any real similarity with those likely to obtain when Europe
begins anew to set its house in order. To this, fortunately, we can return
a decided negative. We have already shown that the general outlines
present a certain similarity, but the parallelism is at most superficial,
and in many respects deceptive. A despot has to be overthrown, an end has
to be put to a particular form of autocratic regime, and smaller states
have to be protected against the exactions of their stronger
neighbours--that is the extent of the analogy. But it is to be hoped that
we shall commence our labours under much better auspices. The personal
forces involved, for instance, are wholly different. Amongst those who
took upon themselves to solve the problems of the time is to be found the
widest possible divergence in character and aims. On the one side we have
a sheer mystic and idealist in the person of Alexander I, with all kinds
of visionary characters at his side--La Harpe, who was his tutor, a
Jacobin pure and simple, and a fervent apostle of the teachings of Jean
Jacques Rousseau; Czartoryski, a Pole, sincerely anxious for the
regeneration of his kingdom; and Capo d'Istria, a champion of Greek
nationality. To these we have to add the curious figure of the Baroness
von Krüdener, an admirable representative of the religious sickliness of
the age. "I have immense things to say to him," she said, referring to the
Emperor, "the Lord alone can prepare his heart to receive them." She had,
indeed, many things to say to him, but her influence was evanescent and
his Imperial heart was hardened eventually to quite different issues.
METTERNICH
Absolutely at the other extreme was a man like Metternich, trained in the
old school of politics, wily with the wiliness of a practised diplomatic
training, naturally impatient of speculative dreamers, thoroughly
practical in the only sense in which he understood the term, that is to
say, determined to preserve Austrian supremacy. To a reactionary of this
kind the Holy Alliance represented nothing but words. He knew, with the
cynicism bred of long experience of mankind, that the rivalries and
jealousies between different states would prevent their union in any
common purpose, and in the long run the intensity with which he pursued
his objects, narrow and limited as it was, prevailed over the large and
vague generosity of Alexander's nature. To the same type belonged both
Talleyrand and Richelieu, who concentrated themselves on the single task
of winning back for France her older position in the European
commonwealth--a laudable aim for patriots to espouse, but one which was
not likely to help the cause of the Holy Alliance.
CASTLEREAGH AND CANNING
Half-way between these two extremes of unpractical idealists and extremely
practical but narrow-minded reactionaries come the English statesmen,
Castlereagh, Wellington, and Canning. Much injustice has been done to the
first of these. For many critics have been misled by Byron's denunciation
of Castlereagh, just as others have spoken lightly of the stubborn
conservatism of Wellington, or the easy and half-cynical insouciance of
the author of the _Anti-Jacobin_. As a matter of fact, Castlereagh was by
no means an opponent of the principles of the Holy Alliance. He joined
with Russia, Austria, and Prussia as a not unwilling member of the
successive Congresses, but both he and Wellington, true to their national
instincts, sought to subordinate all proposals to the interests of Great
Britain, and to confine discussions to immediate objects, such as the
limitation of French power and the suppression of dangerous revolutionary
ideas. They were not, it is true, idealists in the sense in which
Alexander I understood the term. And yet, on the whole, both Castlereagh
and Canning did more for the principle of nationality than any of the
other diplomatists of the time. The reason why Canning broke with the Holy
Alliance, after Troppau, Laibach, and Verona, was because he discerned
something more than a tendency on the part of Continental States to crush
the free development of peoples, especially in reference to the
Latin-American States of South America. It is true that in these matters
he and his successor were guided by a shrewd notion of British interest,
but it would be hardly just to blame them on this account. "You know my
politics well enough," wrote Canning in 1822 to the British Ambassador in
St. Petersburg, "to know what I mean when I say that for Europe I should
be desirous now and then to read England." Castlereagh was, no doubt, more
conciliatory than Canning, but he saw the fundamental difficulty of
organising an international system and yet holding the balance between
conflicting nations. And thus we get to a result such as seems to have
rejoiced the heart of Canning, when he said in 1823 that "the issue of
Verona has split the one and indivisible alliance into three parts as
distinct as the constitutions of England, France, and Muscovy." "Things
are getting back," he added, "to a wholesome state again. Every nation for
itself and God for us all. Only bid your Emperor (Alexander I) be quiet,
for the time for Areopagus and the like of that is gone by."[8]
[8] _The Confederation of Europe_, by W.A. Phillips, p. 280.
EARTHEN VESSELS
If, then, the ardent hopes of a regenerated Europe in the early years of
the nineteenth century failed, the result was due in large measure to the
fact that the business was committed to wrong hands. The organs for
working the change were for the most part autocratic monarchs and
old-world diplomatists--the last people in the world likely to bring about
a workable millennium. A great crisis demands very careful manipulation.
Cynicism must not be allowed to play any part in it. Traditional
watchwords are not of much use. Theoretical idealism itself may turn out
to be a most formidable stumbling-block. Yet no one can doubt that a
solution of the problem, whenever it is arrived at, must come along the
path of idealism. Long ago a man of the world was defined as a man who in
every serious crisis is invariably wrong. He is wrong because he applies
old-fashioned experience to a novel situation--old wine in new
bottles--and because he has no faith in generous aspirations, having noted
their continuous failure in the past. Yet, after all, it is only faith
which can move mountains, and the Holy Alliance itself was not so much
wrong in the principles to which it appealed as it was in the personages
who signed it. We have noticed already that, like all other great ideas,
it did not wholly die. The propaganda of peace, however futile may be some
of the discussions of pacifists, is the heritage which even so
wrong-headed a man as Alexander I has left to the world. The idea of
arbitration between nations, the solution of difficulties by arguments
rather than by swords, the power which democracies hold in their hands for
guiding the future destinies of the world--all these in their various
forms remain with us as legacies of that splendid, though ineffective,
idealism which lay at the root of the Holy Alliance.
SMALL NATIONALITIES
And now after this digression, which has been necessary to clear the
ground, and also to suggest apt parallels, let us return to what Mr.
Asquith said in Dublin on the ultimate objects of the present war. He
borrowed from Mr. Gladstone the phrase "the enthronement of the idea of
public right as the governing idea of European politics," and in
developing it as applicable to the present situation he pointed out that
for us three definite objects are involved. The first, assented to by
every publicist of the day, apart from those educated in Germany, is the
wholesale obliteration of the notion that states exist simply for the sake
of going to war. This kind of militarism, in all its different aspects,
will have to be abolished. The next point brings us at once to the heart
of some of the controversies raised in 1815 and onwards. "Room," said Mr.
Asquith--agreeing in this matter with Mr. Winston Churchill--"room must be
found, and kept, for the independent existence and the free development of
the smaller nationalities, each with a corporate consciousness of its
own." Now this is a plain issue which every one can understand. Not only
did we go to war in order to help a small nationality--Belgium--but the
very principle of nationality is one of the familiar phrases which have
characterised British policy through the greater part of the nineteenth
century. Our principle is to live and let live, to allow smaller states to
exist and thrive by the side of their large neighbours without undue
interference on the part of the latter. Each distinct nationality is to
have its voice, at all events, in the free direction of its own future.
And, above all, its present and future position must be determined not by
the interests of the big Powers, but by a sort of plebiscite of the whole
nationality.
SOME PLAIN ISSUES
Applying such principles to Europe as it exists to-day, and as it is
likely to exist to-morrow, we arrive at certain very definite conclusions.
The independence of Belgium must be secured, so also must the independence
of Holland and Denmark. Alsace and Lorraine must, if the inhabitants so
wish, be restored to France, and there can be little doubt that Alsace at
all events will be only too glad to resume her old allegiance to the
French nation. The Duchies of Schleswig-Holstein must also decide whether
they would like to be reunited to Denmark. And we are already aware that
the Tsar has promised to give independence to the country of Poland--a
point which forms a curious analogy with the same offer originally
proposed by the Tsar's ancestor, Alexander I. Of course, these do not
exhaust by any means the changes that must be forthcoming. Finland will
have to be liberated; those portions of Transylvania which are akin to
Roumania must be allowed to gravitate towards their own stock. Italy must
arrogate to herself--if she is wise enough to join her forces with those
of the Triple Entente--those territories which come under the general
title of "unredeemed Italy"--the Trentino and Trieste, to say nothing of
what Italy claims on the Adriatic littoral. Possibly the greatest changes
of all will take place in reference to the Slavs. Servia and Montenegro
will clearly wish to incorporate in a great Slav kingdom a great many of
their kinsmen who at present are held in uneasy subjection by Austria.[9]
Nor must we forget how these same principles apply to the Teutonic States.
If the principle of nationality is to guide us, we must preserve the
German nation, even though we desire to reduce its dangerous elements to
impotence. Prussia must remain the home of all those Germans who accept
the hegemony of Berlin, but it does not follow that the southern states of
the German Empire--who have not been particularly fond of their northern
neighbours--should have to endure any longer the Prussian yoke. Lastly,
the German colonies can hardly be permitted to remain under the dominion
of the Kaiser.[10] Here are only a few of the changes which may
metamorphose the face of Europe as a direct result of enforcing the
principle of nationalities.
[9] The entrance of Turkey into the quarrel of course brings new factors
into the ultimate settlement.
[10] Cf. _Who is Responsible?_ by Cloudesley Brereton (Harrap), Chapter
IV, "The Settlement."
EUROPEAN PARTNERSHIP
But there is a further point to which Mr. Asquith referred, one which is
more important than anything else, because it represents the far-off ideal
of European peace and the peace of the world. "We have got to substitute
by a slow and gradual process," said Mr. Asquith, "instead of force,
instead of the clash of compelling ambition, instead of groupings and
alliances, a real European partnership, based on the recognition of equal
right and established and enforced by a common will." There we have the
whole crux of the situation, and, unfortunately, we are forced to add, its
main difficulty. For if we desire to summarise in a single sentence the
rock on which European negotiations from 1815 to 1829 ultimately split, it
was the union of two such contradictory things as independent
nationalities and an international committee or system of public law.
Intrinsically the two ideas are opposed, for one suggests absolute
freedom, and the other suggests control, superintendence, interference. If
the one recognises the entire independence of a nationality within its own
limits, the other seeks to enforce something of the nature of a European
police to see that every nation does its duty. It is true, of course, that
this public will of Europe must be incorporated in a kind of parliament,
to which the separate nations must send their representatives, and that
thus in a fashion each nation will have its proper say in any of the
conclusions arrived at. But here the difficulty starts anew owing to the
relative size, and therefore the relative importance of the different
states constituting the union. If all alike are given an equivalent vote,
it is rather hard on the big states, which represent larger numbers and
therefore control larger destinies. If, on the other hand, we adopt the
principle of proportional representation, we may be pretty certain that
the larger states will press somewhat heavily on the smaller. For
instance, suppose that some state violates, or threatens to violate, the
public law of the world. In that case the Universal Union must, of course,
try to bring it to reason by peaceful means first, but if that should
fail, the only other alternative is by force of arms. If once we admit the
right of the world-organisation to coerce its recalcitrant members, what
becomes of the sovereign independence of nations? That, as we have said,
was the main difficulty confronting the European peace-maker of a hundred
years ago, and, however we may choose to regard it, it remains a
difficulty, we will not say insuperable, but at all events exceedingly
formidable, for the European peace-makers of the twentieth century. The
antithesis is the old antithesis between order and progress; between
coercion and independence; between the public voice, or, if we like to
phrase it so, the public conscience, and the arbitrariness and
irresponsibility of individual units. Or we might put the problem in a
still wider form. A patriot is a man who believes intensely in the rights
of his own nationality. But if we have to form a United States of Europe
we shall have gradually to soften, diminish, or perhaps even destroy the
narrower conceptions of patriotism. The ultimate evolution of democracy in
the various peoples means the mutual recognition of their common
interests, as against despotism and autocracy. It is clear that such a
process must gradually wipe out the distinction between the different
peoples, and substitute for particularism something of universal import.
In such a process what, we ask once more, becomes of the principle of
nationality, which is one of our immediate aims? In point of fact, it is
obvious that, from a strictly logical standpoint, the will of Europe, or
the public right of Europe, and the free independence of nationalities are
antithetical terms, and will continue to remain so, however cunningly, by
a series of compromises, we may conceal their essential divergence. That
is the real problem which confronts us quite as obstinately as it did our
forefathers after the destruction of the Napoleonic power. And it will
have to be faced by all reformers, whether they are pacifists or
idealists, on ethical or political grounds.
A MORAL FOR PACIFISTS
What is the outcome of the foregoing considerations? The only moral at
present which I am disposed to draw is one which may be addressed to
pacifists in general, and to all those who avail themselves of large and
generous phrases, such as "the public will of Europe," or "the common
consciousness of civilised states." The solution of the problem before us
is not to be gained by the use of abstract terms, but by very definite and
concrete experience used in the most practical way to secure immediate
reforms. We demand, for instance, the creation of what is to all intents
and purposes an international federal system applied to Europe at large.
Now it is obvious that a federal system can be created amongst nations
more or less at the same level of civilisation, inspired by much the same
ideals, acknowledging the same end of their political and social activity.
But in what sense is this true of Europe as we know it? There is every
kind of diversity between the constituent elements of the suggested
federation. There is no real uniformity of political institutions and
ideals. But in order that our object may be realised it is precisely this
uniformity of political institutions and ideals amongst the nations which
we require. How is a public opinion formed in any given state? It comes
into being owing to a certain community of sentiments, opinions, and
prejudices, and without such community it cannot develop. The same thing
holds true of international affairs. If we desiderate the public voice of
Europe, or the public conscience of Europe, Europe must grow to be far
more concordant than it is at present, both in actual political
institutions and in those inspiring ideals which form the life-blood of
institutions. How many states, for instance, recognise or put into
practice a really representative system of government?
COMPULSORY ARBITRATION
If we turn to the programme of the pacifists, we shall be confronted by
similar difficulties. Pacifism, as such, involves an appeal to all the
democracies, asking them to come into line, as it were, for the execution
of certain definite projects intended to seek peace and ensure it. The
first stage of the peace movement is the general recognition of the
principle of arbitration between states. That first period has, we may
take it, been already realised. The second stage is the recognition of
compulsory arbitration. When, in 1907, the second Hague Conference was
held, this principle was supported by thirty-two different states,
representing more than a thousand million human beings. Something like
three or four hundred millions remained not yet prepared to admit the
principle in its entirety. I may remark in passing that the verbal
acceptance of a general principle is one thing, the application, as we
have lately had much reason to discover, is quite another. We may
recognise, however, that this second stage of the pacifist programme has,
undoubtedly, made large advances. But of course it must necessarily be
followed by its consequence, a third stage which shall ensure respect for,
and obedience to arbitration verdicts. Recalcitrant states will have to be
coerced, and the one thing that can coerce them is an international police
administered by an international executive power. That is to say, we must
have a parliament of parliaments, a universal parliament, the
representatives of which must be selected by the different constituent
members of the United States of Europe. When this has been done, and only
when this has been done, can we arrive at a fourth stage, that of a
general disarmament. In the millennium that is to be it is only the
international police which shall be allowed to use weapons of war in order
to execute the decrees of the central parliament representing the common
European will.
DEMOCRATIC UNANIMITY
Here we have all the old difficulties starting anew, and especially the
main one--democratic unanimity. How far the democracies of the European
Commonwealth can work in unison is one of the problems which the future
will have to solve. At present they, obviously, do not do so. The Social
Democrats of Germany agreed to make war on the democrats of other
countries. Old instincts were too strong for them. For it must always be
remembered that only so far as a cosmopolitan spirit takes the place of
narrow national prejudices can we hope to reach the level of a common
conscience, or a common will of Europe. And are we prepared to say that
national prejudices _ought_ to be obliterated and ignored? The very
principle of nationality forbids it.
I do not wish, however, to end on a note of pessimism. The mistake of the
pacifist has all along been the assumption that bellicose impulses have
died away. They have done nothing of the kind, and are not likely to do
so. But, happily, all past experience in the world's history shows us that
ideas in a real sense govern the world, and that a logical difficulty is
not necessarily a practical impossibility. In this case, as in others, a
noble and generous idea of European peace will gradually work its own
fulfilment, if we are not in too much of a hurry to force the pace, or
imagine that the ideal has been reached even before the preliminary
foundations have been laid.