the allied empires, tried by fire, may be given the opportunity and the
obligation of making, not merely a new Europe, but a new world. If that
chance should come, how will they use it? One thing at least is clear.
The task which will face the diplomats who take part in the coming
peace-congress will be different in kind as well as in degree from that
of any of their predecessors at any moment in human history. They will
be concerned not merely with the adjustment of the differences of a few
leading states, and not merely with the settlement of Europe: they will
have to deal with the whole world, and to decide upon what principles
and to what ends the leadership of the peoples of European stock over
the non-European world is to be exercised. Whether they realise it or
not, whether they intend it or not, they will create either a
world-order or a world-disorder. And it will inevitably be a
world-disorder which will result unless we do some hard thinking on
this gigantic problem which faces us, and unless we are prepared to
learn, from the history of the relations of Europe with the outer
world, what are the principles by which we ought to be guided. We are
too prone, when we think of the problems of the future peace, to fix
our attention almost wholly upon Europe, and, if we think of the
non-European world at all, to assume either that the problem is merely
one of power, or that the principles which will guide us in the
settlement of Europe can be equally applied outside of Europe. Both of
these assumptions are dangerous, because both disregard the teachings
of the past which we have been surveying.
If, on the one hand, we are content to regard the problem as merely one
of power, and to divide out the non-European world among the victors as
the spoils of victory, we shall indeed have been conquered by the very
spirit which we are fighting; we shall have become converts to the
German Doctrine of Power, which has brought upon us all these ills, and
may bring yet more appalling evils in the future. The world will emerge
divided among a group of vast empires which will overshadow the lesser
states. These empires will continue to regard one another with fear and
suspicion, and to look upon their subject-peoples merely as providing
the implements for a war of destruction, to be waged by cut-throat
commercial rivalry in time of peace, and by man-power and machine-power
in war. If that should be the result of all our agonies, the burden
which must be laid upon the peoples of these empires, and the
intolerable anticipation of what is to come, will make their yoke seem
indeed a heavy one; will probably bring about their disintegration; and
will end that ascendancy of Western civilisation over the world which
the last four centuries have established. And justly; since Western
civilisation will thus be made to stand not for justice and liberty,
but for injustice and oppression. Such must be the inevitable result of
any settlement of the non-European world which is guided merely by the
ambitions of a few rival states and the Doctrine of Power.
On the other hand, we are urged by enthusiasts for liberty, especially
in Russia, to believe that imperialism as such is the enemy; that we
must put an end for ever to all dominion exercised by one people over
another; and that outside of Europe as within it we must trust to the
same principles for the hope of future peace--the principles of
national freedom and self-government--and leave all peoples everywhere
to control freely their own destinies. But this is a misreading of the
facts as fatal as the other. It disregards the value of the work that
has been done in the extension of European civilisation to the rest of
the world by the imperial activities of the European peoples. It fails
to recognise that until Europe began to conquer the world neither
rational law nor political liberty had ever in any real sense existed
in the outer world, and that their dominion is even now far from
assured, but depends for its maintenance upon the continued tutelage of
the European peoples. It fails to realise that the economic demands of
the modern world necessitate the maintenance of civilised
administration after the Western pattern, and that this can only be
assured, in large regions of the earth, by means of the political
control of European peoples. Above all this view does not grasp the
essential fact that the idea of nationhood and the idea of
self-government are both modern ideas, which have had their origin in
Europe, and which can only be realised among peoples of a high
political development; that the sense of nationhood is but slowly
created, and must not be arbitrarily defined in terms of race or
language; and that the capacity for self-government is only formed by a
long process of training, and has never existed except among peoples
who were unified by a strongly felt community of sentiment, and had
acquired the habit and instinct of loyalty to the law. Assuredly it is
the duty of Europe and America to extend these fruitful conceptions to
the regions which have passed under their influence. But the process
must be a very slow one, and it can only be achieved under tutelage. It
is the control of the European peoples over the non-European world
which has turned the world into an economic unit, brought it within a
single political system, and opened to us the possibility of making a
world-order such as the most daring dreamers of the past could never
have conceived. This control cannot be suddenly withdrawn. For a very
long time to come the world-states whose rise we have traced must
continue to be the means by which the political discoveries of Europe,
as well as her material civilisation, are made available for the rest
of the world. The world-states are such recent things that we have not
yet found a place for them in our political philosophy. But unless we
find a place for them, and think in terms of them, in the future, we
shall be in danger of a terrible shipwreck.
If, then, it is essential, not only for the economic development of the
world, but for the political advancement of its more backward peoples,
that the political suzerainty of the European peoples should survive,
and as a consequence that the world should continue to be dominated by
a group of great world-states, how are we to conjure away the nightmare
of inter-imperial rivalry which has brought upon us the present
catastrophe, and seems to threaten us with yet more appalling ruin in
the future? Only by resolving and ensuring, as at the great settlement
we may be able to do, that the necessary political control of Europe
over the outer world shall in future be exercised not merely in the
interests of the mistress-states, but in accordance with principles
which are just in themselves, and which will give to all peoples a fair
chance of making the best use of their powers. But how are we to
discover these principles, if the ideas of nationality and
self-government, to which we pin our faith in Europe, are to be held
inapplicable to the greater part of the non-European world? There is
only one possible source of instruction: our past experience, which has
now extended over four centuries, and which we have in this book
endeavoured to survey.
Now while it is undeniably true that the mere lust of power has always
been present in the imperial activities of the European peoples, it is
certainly untrue (as our study ought to have shown) that it has ever
been the sole motive, except, perhaps, in the great German challenge.
And in the course of their experience the colonising peoples have
gradually worked out certain principles in their treatment of subject
peoples, which ought to be of use to us. The fullest and the most
varied experience is that of the British Empire: it is the oldest of
all the world-states; it alone includes regions of the utmost variety
of types, new lands peopled by European settlers, realms of ancient
civilisation like India, and regions inhabited by backward and
primitive peoples. It would be absurd to claim that its methods are
perfect and infallible. But they have been very varied, and quite
astonishingly successful. And it is because they seem to afford clearer
guidance than any other part of the experiments which we have recorded
that we have studied them, especially in their later developments, with
what may have seemed a disproportionate fulness. What are the
principles which experience has gradually worked out in the British
Empire? They cannot be embodied in a single formula, because they vary
according to the condition and development of the lands to which they
apply.
But in the first place we have learnt by a very long experience that in
lands inhabited by European settlers, who bring with them European
traditions, the only satisfactory solution is to be found in the
concession of the fullest self-governing rights, since these settlers
are able to use them, and in the encouragement of that sentiment of
unity which we call the national spirit. And this involves a
recognition of the fact that nationality is never to be defined solely
in terms of race or language, but can arise, and should be encouraged
to arise, among racially divided communities such as Canada and South
Africa. Any attempt to interpret nationhood in terms of race is not
merely dangerous, but ruinous; and such endeavours to stimulate or
accentuate racial conflict, as Germany has been guilty of in Brazil, in
South Africa, and even in America, must be, if successful, fatal to the
progress of the countries affected, and dangerous to the peace of the
world.
In the second place we have learnt that in lands of ancient
civilisation, where ruling castes have for centuries been in the habit
of exploiting their subjects, the supreme gift which Europe can offer
is that of internal peace and a firmly administered and equal law,
which will render possible the gradual rise of a sense of unity, and
the gradual training of the people in the habits of life that make
self-government possible. How soon national unity can be established,
or self-government made practicable in any full sense, must be matter
of debate. But the creation of these things is, or ought to be, the
ultimate aim of European government in such countries. And in the
meantime, and until they become fully masters of their own fate, these
lands, so our British experience tells us, ought to be treated as
distinct political units; they should pay no tribute; all their
resources should be devoted to their own development; and they should
not be expected or required to maintain larger forces than are
necessary for their own defence. At the same time, the ruling power
should claim no special privileges for its own citizens, but should
throw open the markets of such realms equally to all nations. In short
it should act not as a master, but as a trustee, on behalf of its
subjects and also on behalf of civilisation.
In the third place we have learnt that in the backward regions of the
earth it is the duty of the ruling power, firstly, to protect its
primitive subjects from unscrupulous exploitation, to guard their
simple customs, proscribing only those which are immoral, and to afford
them the means of a gradual emancipation from barbarism; secondly, to
develop the economic resources of these regions for the needs of the
industrial world, to open them up by modern communications, and to make
them available on equal terms to all nations, giving no advantage to
its own citizens.
In spite of lapses and defects, it is an undeniable historical fact
that these are the principles which have been wrought out and applied
in the administration of the British Empire during the nineteenth
century. They are not vague and Utopian dreams; they are a matter of
daily practice. If they can be applied by one of the world-states, and
that the greatest, why should they not be applied by the rest? But if
these principles became universal, is it not apparent that all danger
of a catastrophic war between these powers would be removed, since
every reason for it would have vanished? Thus the necessary and
advantageous tutelage of Europe over the non-European world, and the
continuance of the great world-states, could be combined with the
conjuring away of the ever-present terror of war, and with the gradual
training of the non-European peoples to enjoy the political methods of
Europe; while the lesser states without extra-European dominions need
no longer feel themselves stunted and reduced to economic dependence
upon their great neighbours. Thus, and thus alone, can the benefits of
the long development which we have traced be reaped in full; thus alone
can the dominion of the European peoples over the world be made to mean
justice and the chance for all peoples to make the best of their powers.
But it is not only the principles upon which particular areas outside
of Europe should be governed which we must consider. We must reflect
also upon the nature of the relations that should exist between the
various members of these great world-empires, which must hence-forward
be the dominating factors in the world's politics. And here the problem
is urgent only in the case of the British Empire, because it alone is
developed to such a point that the problem is inevitably raised.
Whatever else may happen, the war must necessarily bring a crisis in
the history of the British Empire. On a vastly greater scale the
situation of 1763 is being reproduced. Now, as then, the Empire will
emerge from a war for existence, in which mother and daughter lands
alike have shared. Now, as then, the strain and pressure of the war
will have brought to light deficiencies in the system of the Empire.
Now, as then, the most patent of these deficiencies will be the fact
that, generous as the self-governing powers of the great Dominions have
been, they still have limits; and the irresistible tendency of
self-government to work towards its own fulfilment will once more show
itself. For there are two spheres in which even the most fully
self-governing of the empire-nations have no effective control: they do
not share in the determination of foreign policy, and they do not share
in the direction of imperial defence. The responsibility for foreign
policy, and the responsibility, and with it almost the whole burden, of
organising imperial defence, have hitherto rested solely with Britain.
Until the Great War, foreign policy seemed to be a matter of purely
European interest, not directly concerning the great Dominions; nor did
the problems of imperial defence appear very pressing or urgent. But
now all have realised that not merely their interests, but their very
existence, may depend upon the wise conduct of foreign relations; and
now all have contributed the whole available strength of their manhood
to support a struggle in whose direction they have had no effective
share. These things must henceforth be altered; and they can be altered
only in one or other of three ways. Either the great Dominions will
become independent states, as the American colonies did, and pursue a
foreign policy and maintain a system of defence of their own; or the
Empire must reshape itself as a sort of permanent offensive and
defensive alliance, whose external policy and modes of defence will be
arranged by agreement; or some mode of common management of these and
other questions must be devised. The first of these solutions is
unlikely to be adopted, not only because the component members of the
Empire are conscious of their individual weakness, but still more
because the memory of the ordeal through which all have passed must
form an indissoluble bond. Yet rashness or high-handedness in the
treatment of the great issue might lead even to this unlikely result.
If either of the other two solutions is adopted, the question will at
once arise of the place to be occupied, in the league or in the
reorganised super-state, of all those innumerable sections of the
Empire which do not yet enjoy, and some of which may never enjoy, the
full privileges of self-government; and above all, the place to be
taken by the vast dominion of India, which though it is not, and may
not for a long time become, a fully self-governing state, is yet a
definite and vitally important unit in the Empire, entitled to have its
needs and problems considered, and its government represented, on equal
terms with the rest. The problem is an extraordinarily difficult one;
perhaps the most difficult political problem that has ever faced the
sons of men. But it is essentially the same problem which has
continually recurred in the history of British imperialism, though it
now presents itself on a vastly greater scale, and in a far more
complex form, than ever before: it is the problem of reconciling unity
with liberty and variety; of combining nationality and self-government
with imperialism, without impairing the rights of either. And beyond
any doubt the most tremendous and fascinating political question which
now awaits solution in the world, is the question whether the political
instinct of the British peoples, and the genius of self-government,
will find a way out of these difficulties, as they have found a way out
of so many others. Patience, mutual tolerance, willingness to
compromise, will be required in the highest measure if the solution is
to be found; but these are the qualities which self-government
cultivates.
'A thing that is wholly a sham,' said Treitschke, speaking of the
British Empire, 'cannot in this world of ours, endure for ever.' Why
did this Empire appear to Treitschke to be 'wholly a sham'? Was it not
because it did not answer to any definition of the word 'Empire' to be
found in German political philosophy; because it did not mean dominion
and uniformity, but liberty and variety; because it did not rest upon
Force, as, in his view, every firmly established state must do; because
it was not governed by a single master, whose edicts all its subjects
must obey? But for 'a thing that is wholly a sham' men do not lay down
their lives, in thousands and in hundreds of thousands, not under the
pressure of compulsion, but by a willing self-devotion; for the defence
of 'a thing that is wholly a sham' men will not stream in from all the
ends of the earth, abandoning their families and their careers, and
offering without murmur or hesitation themselves and all they have and
are. There must be a reality in the thing that calls forth such
sacrifices, a reality of the kind to which Realpolitik, with its
concentration upon purely material concerns, is wholly blind: it is the
reality of an ideal of honour, and justice, and freedom. And if the
Germans have been deceived in their calculations of Realpolitik, is it
not perhaps because they have learnt to regard honour, and justice, and
freedom as 'things that are wholly shams'?
This amazing political structure, which refuses to fall within any of
the categories of political science, which is an empire and yet not an
empire, a state and yet not a state, a super-nation incorporating in
itself an incredible variety of peoples and races, is not a structure
which has been designed by the ingenuity of man, or created by the
purposive action of a government; it is a natural growth, the product
of the spontaneous activity of innumerable individuals and groups
springing from among peoples whose history has made liberty and the
tolerance of differences their most fundamental instincts; it is the
outcome of a series of accidents, unforeseen, but turned to advantage
by the unfailing and ever-new resourcefulness of men habituated to
self-government. There is no logic or uniformity in its system, which
has arisen from an infinite number of makeshifts and tentative
experiments, yet in all of these a certain consistency appears, because
they have been presided over by the genius of self-government. It is
distributed over every continent, is washed by every ocean, includes
half the dust of islands that Nature has scattered about the seas of
the world, controls almost all the main avenues of the world's
sea-going commerce, and is linked together by ten thousand ships
perpetually going to and fro. Weak for offensive purposes, because its
resources are so scattered, it is, except at a few points, almost
impregnable against attack, if its forces are well organised. It
includes among its population representatives of almost every human
race and religion, and every grade of civilisation, from the Australian
Bushman to the subtle and philosophic Brahmin, from the African dwarf
to the master of modern industry or the scholar of universities. Almost
every form of social organisation and of government known to man is
represented in its complex and many-hued fabric. It embodies five of
the most completely self-governing communities which the world has
known, and four of these control the future of the great empty spaces
that remain for the settlement of white men. It finds place for the
highly organised caste system by which the teeming millions of India
are held together. It preserves the simple tribal organisation of the
African clans. To different elements among its subjects this empire
appears in different aspects. To the self-governing Dominions it is a
brotherhood of free nations, co-operating for the defence and diffusion
of common ideas and of common institutions. To the ancient
civilisations of India or of Egypt it is a power which, in spite of all
its mistakes and limitations, has brought peace instead of turmoil, law
instead of arbitrary might, unity instead of chaos, justice instead of
oppression, freedom for the development of the capacities and
characteristic ideas of their peoples, and the prospect of a steady
growth of national unity and political responsibility. To the backward
races it has meant the suppression of unending slaughter, the
disappearance of slavery, the protection of the rights and usages of
primitive and simple folk against reckless exploitation, and the chance
of gradual improvement and emancipation from barbarism. But to all
alike, to one quarter of the inhabitants of the world, it has meant the
establishment of the Reign of Law, and of the Liberty which can only
exist under its shelter. In some degree, though imperfectly as yet, it
has realised within its own body all the three great political ideas of
the modern world. It has fostered the rise of a sense of nationhood in
the young communities of the new lands, and in the old and decaying
civilisations of the most ancient historic countries. It has given a
freedom of development to self-government such as history has never
before known. And by linking together so many diverse and contrasted
peoples in a common peace, it has already realised, for a quarter of
the globe, the ideal of internationalism on a scale undreamt of by the
most sanguine prophets of Europe.
Truly this empire is a fabric so wonderful, so many-sided, and so
various in its aspects, that it may well escape the rigid categories of
a German professor, and seem to him 'wholly a sham.' Now is the crisis
of its fate: and if the wisdom of its leaders can solve the riddle of
the Sphinx which is being put to them, the Great War will indeed have
brought, for a quarter of the world, the culmination of modern history.