This is a familiar story. I recall it to you now to enforce this

point--that the growth of the United States is a process that has no

precedent in the world's history; it is a new kind of occurrence. Such a

community could not have come into existence before, and if it had it

would, without railways, have certainly dropped to pieces long before

now. Without railways or telegraph it would be far easier to administer

California from Pekin than from Washington. But this great population of

the United States of America has not only grown outrageously; it has

kept uniform. Nay, it has become more uniform. The man of San Francisco

is more like the man of New York to-day than the man of Virginia was

like the man of New England a century ago. And the process of

assimilation goes on unimpeded. The United States is being woven by

railway, by telegraph, more and more into one vast human unity,

speaking, thinking, and acting harmoniously with itself. Soon aviation

will be helping in the work.

Now this great community of the United States is, I repeat, an

altogether new thing in history. There have been great empires before

with populations exceeding 100 millions, but these were associations of

divergent peoples; there has never been one single people on this scale

before. We want a new term for this new thing. We call the United States

a country, just as we call France or Holland a country. But really the

two things are as different as an automobile and a one-horse shay. They

are the creations of different periods and different conditions; they

are going to work at a different pace and in an entirely different way.

If you propose--as I gather some of the League of Nations people

propose--to push the Peace of the World along on a combination of these

two sorts of vehicle, I venture to think the Peace of the World will be

subjected to some very considerable strains.

Let me now make a brief comparison between the American and the European

situation in relation to these vital matters, locomotion and the general

means of communicating. I said just now that the United States of

America owe most to the revolution in locomotion and have felt it least.

Europe on the other hand owes least to the revolution in locomotion and

has felt it most. The revolution in locomotion found the United States

of America a fringe of population on the sea margins of a great rich

virgin empty country into which it desired to expand, and into which it

was free to expand. The steamboat and railway seemed to come as a

natural part of that expansion. They came as unqualified blessings. But

into Western Europe they came as a frightful nuisance.

The States of Europe, excepting Russia, were already a settled,

established and balanced system. They were living in final and

conclusive boundaries with no further possibility of peaceful expansion.

Every extension of a European state involved a war; it was only possible

through war. And while the limits to the United States have been set by

the steamship and the railroad, the limits to the European sovereign

states were drawn at a much earlier time. They were drawn by the horse,

and particularly the coach-horse travelling along the high road. If you

will examine a series of political maps of Europe for the last two

thousand years, you will see that there has evidently been a definite

limit to the size of sovereign states through all that time, due to the

impossibility of keeping them together because of the difficulty of

intercommunication if they grew bigger. And this was in spite of the

fact that there were two great unifying ideas present in men's minds in

Europe throughout that period, namely, the unifying idea of the Roman

Empire, and the unifying idea of Christendom. Both these ideas tended to

make Europe one, but the difficulties of communication defeated that

tendency. It is quite interesting to watch the adventures of what is

called first the Roman Empire and afterwards the Holy Roman Empire, in a

series of historical maps. It keeps expanding and then dropping to

pieces again. It is like the efforts of someone who is trying to pack up

a parcel which is much too big, in wet blotting paper. The cohesion was

inadequate. And so it was that the eighteenth century found Europe still

divided up into what I may perhaps call these high-road and coach-horse

states, each with a highly developed foreign policy, each with an

intense sense of national difference and each with intense traditional

antagonisms.

Then came this revolution in the means of locomotion, which has

increased the normal range of human activity at least ten times. The

effect of that in America was opportunity; the effect of it in Europe

was congestion. It is as if some rather careless worker of miracles had

decided suddenly to make giants of a score of ordinary men, and chose

the moment for the miracle when they were all with one exception

strap-hanging in a street car. The United States was that fortunate

exception.

Now this is what modern civilization has come up against, and it is the

essential riddle of the modern sphinx which must be solved if we are to

live. All the European boundaries of to-day are impossibly small for

modern conditions. And they are sustained by an intensity of ancient

tradition and patriotic passion.... That is where we stand.

The citizens of the United States of America are not without their

experience in this matter. The crisis of the national history of the

American community, the war between Union and Secession, was essentially

a crisis between the great state of the new age and the local feeling of

an earlier period. But Union triumphed. Americans live now in a

generation that has almost forgotten that there once seemed a

possibility that the map of North America might be broken up at last

into as many communities as the map of Europe. Except by foreign travel,

the present generation of Americans can have no idea of the net of

vexations and limitations in which Europeans are living at the present

time because of their political disunion.

Let me take a small but quite significant set of differences, the

inconveniences of travel upon a journey of a little over a thousand

miles. They are in themselves petty inconveniences, but they will serve

to illustrate the net that is making free civilized life in Europe more

and more impossible.

Take first the American case. An American wants to travel from New York

to St. Louis. He looks up the next train, packs his bag, gets aboard a

sleeper and turns out at St. Louis next day ready for business.

Take now the European parallel. A European wants to travel from London

to Warsaw. Now that is a shorter distance by fifty or sixty miles than

the distance from New York to St. Louis. Will he pack his bag, get

aboard a train and go there? He will not. He will have to get a

passport, and getting a passport involves all sorts of tiresome little

errands. One has to go to a photographer, for example, to get

photographs to stick on the passport. The good European has then to take

his passport to the French representative in London for a French visa,

or, if he is going through Belgium, for a Belgian visa. After that he

must get a German visa. Then he must go round to the Czecho-Slovak

office for a Czechoslovak visa. Finally will come the Polish visa.

Each of these endorsements necessitates something vexatious, personal

attendance, photography, stamps, rubber stamps, mysterious signatures

and the like, and always the payment of fees. Also they necessitate

delays. The other day I had occasion to go to Moscow, and I learnt that

it takes three weeks to get a visa for Finland and three weeks to get a

visa for Esthonia. You see you can't travel about Europe at all without

weeks and weeks of preparation. The preparations for a little journey to

Russia the other day took three whole days out of my life, cost me

several pounds in stamps and fees, and five in bribery.

Ultimately, however, the good European is free to start. Arriving at the

French frontier in an hour or so, he will be held up for a long customs'

examination. Also he will need to change some of his money into francs.

His English money will be no good in France. The exchange in Europe is

always fluctuating, and he will be cheated on the exchange. All European

countries, including my own, cheat travellers on the exchange--that is

apparently what the exchange is for.

He will then travel for a few hours to the German frontier. There he

will be bundled out again. The French will investigate him closely to

see that he is not carrying gold or large sums of money out of France.

Then he will be handed over to the Germans. He will go through the same

business with the customs and the same business with the money. His

French money is no further use to him and he must get German. A few more

hours and he will arrive on the frontier of Bohemia. Same search for

gold. Then customs' examination and change of money again. A few hours

more and he will be in Poland. Search for gold, customs, fresh money.

As most of these countries are pursuing different railway policies, he

will probably have to change trains and rebook his luggage three or four

times. The trains may be ingeniously contrived not to connect so as to

force him to take some longer route politically favoured by one of the

intervening states. He will be lucky if he gets to Warsaw in four days.

Arrived in Warsaw, he will probably need a permit to stay there, and he

will certainly need no end of permits to leave.

Now here is a fuss over a fiddling little journey of 1,100 miles. Is it

any wonder that the bookings from London to Warsaw are infinitesimal in

comparison with the bookings from New York to St. Louis? But what I have

noted here are only the normal inconveniences of the traveller. They are

by no means the most serious inconveniences.

The same obstructions that hamper the free movement of a traveller,

hamper the movement of foodstuffs and all sorts of merchandise in a much

greater degree. Everywhere in Europe trade is being throttled by tariffs

and crippled by the St. Vitus' dance of the exchanges. Each of these

European sovereign states turns out paper money at its own sweet will.

Last summer I went to Prague and exchanged pounds for kroners. They

ought to have been 25 to the pound. On Monday they were 180 to the

pound: on Friday 169. They jump about between 220 and 150, and everybody

is inconvenienced except the bankers and money changers. And this

uncertain exchange diverts considerable amounts of money that should be

stimulating business enterprise into a barren and mischievous gambling

with the circulation.

Between each one of these compressed European countries the movement of

food or labour is still more blocked and impeded. And in addition to

these nuisances of national tariffs and independent national coinages at

every few score miles, Europe is extraordinarily crippled by its want of

any central authority to manage the most elementary collective

interests; the control of vice, for example; the handling of infectious

diseases; the suppression of international criminals.

Europe is now confronted by a new problem--the problem of air transport.

So far as I can see, air transport is going to be strangled in Europe by

international difficulties. One can fly comfortably and safely from

London to Paris in two or three hours. But the passport preliminaries

will take days beforehand.

The other day I wanted to get quickly to Reval in Esthonia from England

and back again. The distance is about the same as from Boston to

Minneapolis, and it could be done comfortably in 10 or 12 hours' flying.

I proposed to the Handley Page Company that they should arrange this for

me. They explained that they had no power to fly beyond Amsterdam in

Holland; thence it might be possible to get a German plane to Hamburg,

and thence again a Danish plane to Copenhagen--leaving about 500 miles

which were too complicated politically to fly. Each stoppage would

involve passport and other difficulties. In the end it took me five days

to get to Reval and seven days to get back. In Europe, with its present

frontiers, flying is not worth having. It can never be worth having--it

can never be worked successfully--until it is worked as at least a

pan-European affair.

All these are the normal inconveniences of the national divisions of

Europe in peace time. By themselves they are strangling all hope of

economic recovery. For Europe is _not_ getting on to its feet

economically. Only a united effort can effect that. But along each of

the ridiculously restricted frontiers into which the European countries

are packed, lies also the possibility of war. National independence

means the right to declare war. And so each of these packed and

strangulated European countries is obliged, by its blessed independence,

to maintain as big an army and as big a military equipment as its

bankrupt condition--for we are all bankrupt--permits.

Since the end of the Great War, nothing has been done of any real value

to ensure any European country against the threat of war, and nothing

will be done, and nothing can be done to lift that threat, so long as

the idea of national independence overrides all other considerations.

And again, it is a little difficult for a mind accustomed to American

conditions, to realize what modern war will mean in Europe.

Not one of these sovereign European states I have named between London

and Warsaw is any larger than the one single American state of Texas,

and not one has a capital that cannot be effectively bombed by aeroplane

raiders from its frontier within five or six hours of a declaration of

war. We can fly from London to Paris in two or three hours. And the

aerial bombs of to-day, I can assure you, will make the biggest bombs of

1918 seem like little crackers. Over all these European countries broods

this immediate threat of a warfare that will strain and torment the

nerves of every living man, woman or child in the countries affected.

Nothing of the sort can approach the American citizen except after a

long warning. The worst war that could happen to any North American

country would merely touch its coasts.

Now I have dwelt on these differences between America and Europe because

they involve an absolute difference in outlook towards world peace

projects, towards leagues of nations, world states and the like, between

the American and the European.

The American lives in a political unity on the big modern scale. He can

go on comfortably for a hundred years yet before he begins to feel tight

in his political skin, and before he begins to feel the threat of

immediate warfare close to his domestic life. He believes by experience

in peace, but he feels under no passionate urgency to organize it. So

far as he himself is concerned, he has got peace organized for a good

long time ahead. I doubt if it would make any very serious difference

for some time in the ordinary daily life of Kansas City, let us say, if

all Europe were reduced to a desert in the next five years.

But on the other hand, the intelligent European is up against the unity

of Europe problem night and day. Europe cannot go on. European

civilization cannot go on, unless that net of boundaries which strangles

her is dissolved away. The difficulties created by language differences,

by bitter national traditions, by bad political habits and the like, are

no doubt stupendous. But stupendous though they are, they have to be

faced. Unless they are overcome, and overcome in a very few years,

Europe--entangled in this net of boundaries, and under a perpetual fear

of war, will, I am convinced, follow Russia and slide down beyond any

hope of recovery into a process of social dissolution as profound and

disastrous as that which closed the career of the Western Roman Empire.

The American intelligence and the European intelligence approach this

question of a world peace, therefore, from an entirely different angle

and in an entirely different spirit. To the American in the blessed ease

of his great unbroken territory, it seems a matter simply of making his

own ample securities world-wide by treaties of arbitration and such-like

simple agreements. And my impression is that he thinks of Europeans as

living under precisely similar conditions.

Nothing of that sort will meet the problem of the Old World. The

European situation is altogether more intense and tragic than the

American. Europe needs not treaties but a profound change in its

political ideas and habits. Europe is saturated with narrow patriotism

like a body saturated by some evil inherited disease. She is haunted by

narrow ambitions and ancient animosities.

It is because of this profound difference of situation and outlook that

I am convinced of the impossibility of any common political co-operation

to organize a world peace between America and Europe at the present

time.

The American type of state and the European type of state are different

things, incapable of an effectual alliance; the steam tractor and the ox

cannot plough this furrow together. American thought, American

individuals, may no doubt play a very great part in the task of

reconstruction that lies before Europe, but not the American federal

government as a sovereign state among equal states.

The United States constitute a state on a different scale and level from

any old world state. Patriotism and the national idea in America is a

different thing and a bigger scale thing than the patriotism and

national idea in any old world state.

Any League of Nations aiming at stability now, would necessarily be a

league seeking to stereotype existing boundaries and existing national

ideas. Now these boundaries and these ideas are just what have to be got

rid of at any cost. Before Europe can get on to a level and on to equal

terms with the United States, the European communities have to go

through a process that America went through--under much easier

conditions--a century and a half ago. They have to repeat, on a much

greater scale and against profounder prejudices, the feat of

understanding and readjustment that was accomplished by the American

people between 1781 and 1788.

As you will all remember, these States after they had decided upon

Independence, framed certain Articles of Confederation; they were

articles of confederation between thirteen nations, between the people

of Massachusetts, the people of Virginia, the people of Georgia, and so

forth--thirteen distinct and separate sovereign peoples. They made a

Union so lax and feeble that it could neither keep order at home nor

maintain respect abroad. Then they produced another constitution. They

swept aside all that talk about the people of Massachusetts, the people

of Virginia, and the rest of their thirteen nations. They based their

union on a wider idea: the people of the United States.

Now Europe, if it is not to sink down to anarchy, has to do a parallel

thing. If Europe is to be saved from ultimate disaster, Europe has to

stop thinking in terms of the people of France, the people of England,

the people of Germany, the French, the British, the Germans, and so

forth. Europe has to think at least of the people of Europe, if not of

the civilized people of the world. If we Europeans cannot bring our

minds to that, there is no hope for us. Only by thinking of all peoples

can any people be saved in Europe. Fresh wars will destroy the social

fabric of Europe, and Europe will perish as nations, fighting.

There are many people who think that there is at least one political

system in the old world which, like the United States, is large enough

and world wide enough to go on by itself under modern conditions for

some considerable time. They think that the British Empire can, as it

were, stand out of the rest of the Old World as a self-sufficient

system. They think that it can stand out freely as the United States can

stand out, and that these two English-speaking powers have merely to

agree together to dominate and keep the peace of the world.

Let me give a little attention to this idea. It is I believe a wrong

idea, and one that may be very disastrous to our common English-speaking

culture if it is too fondly cherished.

There can be no denying that the British Imperial system is a system

different in its nature and size from a typical European state, from a

state of the horse and road scale, like France, let us say, or Germany.

And equally it is with the United States a new growth. The present

British Empire is indeed a newer growth than the United States. But

while the United States constitute a homogeneous system and grow more

homogeneous, the British Empire is heterogeneous and shows little or no

assimilative power. And while the United States are all gathered

together and are still very remote from any serious antagonist, the

British Empire is scattered all over the world, entangled with and

stressed against a multitude of possible antagonists.

I have been arguing that the size and manageability of all political

states is finally a matter of transport and communications. They grow to

a limit strictly determined by these considerations. Beyond that limit

they are unstable. Let us now apply these ideas to the British Empire.

I have shown that the great system of the United States is the creation

of the river steamboat and the railway. Quite as much so is the present

British Empire the creation of the ocean-going steamship--protected by a

great navy.

The British Empire is a modern ocean state just as the United States is

a modern continental state. The political and economic cohesion of the

British Empire rests upon this one thing, upon the steamship remaining

the dominant and secure means of world transport in the future. If the

British Empire is to remain sovereign and secure and independent of the

approval and co-operation of other states, it is necessary that

steamship transport (ocean transport) should remain dominant in peace

and invulnerable in war.

Well, that brings us face to face with two comparatively new facts that

throw a shadow upon both that predominance and upon that

invulnerability. One is air transport; the other the submarine. The

possibilities of the ocean-going submarine I will not enlarge upon now.

They will be familiar to everyone who followed the later phases of the

Great War.

It must be clear that sea power is no longer the simple and decisive

thing it was before the coming of the submarine. The sea ways can no

longer be taken and possessed completely. To no other power, except

Japan, is this so grave a consideration as it is to Britain.

And if we turn to the possibilities of air-transport in the future we

are forced towards the same conclusion, that the security of the British

Empire must rest in the future not on its strength in warfare, but on

its keeping the peace within and without its boundaries.

I was a member of the British Civil Air Transport Committee, and we went

with care and thoroughness into the possibilities and probabilities of

the air. My work on that committee convinced me that in the near future

the air may be the chief if not the only highway for long-distance

mails, for long-distance passenger traffic, and for the carriage of most

valuable and compact commodities. The ocean ways are likely to be only

the ways for slow travel and for staple and bulky trade.

And my studies on that committee did much to confirm my opinion that in

quite a brief time the chief line of military attack will be neither by

sea nor land but through the air. Moreover, it was borne in upon me that

the chief air routes of the world will lie over the great plains of the

world, that they will cross wide stretches of sea or mountainous country

only very reluctantly.

The Salvaging of Civilization · 第 3 / 12 段