THE UNSHEATHED SWORD OF FRANCE
The American attitude toward post-bellum problems is summed up in the
four words cut into the tomb of General Grant. We prefer Grant’s “Let
us have peace” to Foch’s “The war is not ended.” The British are even
more eager than we to settle European affairs in such a way as to
leave no open sores, no burden of long-term military responsibilities
on the Continent. Four hundred million people have to live side by
side, and, whatever the virtues and sins, certain European nations
cannot indefinitely lord it over others, say the British. Those who
have been wronged ought to be compensated, those who have been good
ought to be rewarded, and those who have been bad ought to be punished;
but practical common sense suggests limits to compensations, rewards,
and punishments. After the Treaty of Versailles, Germany still has a
population one and a half times that of France, and outcast Russia
is the largest country of Europe in area, natural resources, and
population.
In London and Washington, and to a large extent in Rome, also, there
has been a tendency ever since the war to place most of the blame upon
France for the unsettled state of affairs in the world. In speeches of
statesmen, in interviews with “high officials,” in inspired newspaper
articles, Germany has been accused of stupidity and lack of good
faith in her tactics. But, coupled with the complaints of Germany’s
conduct, hints, inferences, sometimes open charges have abounded that
French policy is making the settlement of every problem affecting
the rehabilitation of Europe difficult, if not impossible. British,
Italians, and Americans, who have served on the various commissions
appointed to watch over the execution of the Treaty of Versailles, have
been virtually unanimous in condemning the French for obstructionist
tactics or an uncompromising attitude in conferences with the Germans;
for inspiring the Poles in their foolish ventures; and for intimidating
the Belgians into a constantly provocative attitude toward the Germans,
against the better judgment of King Albert and his advisers. Informed
public opinion has gradually come to feel that the Near Eastern
policy of France is cynical and opportunist, and that swash-buckling
militarism and the ambition to dominate Europe have changed habitat
from Berlin to Paris.
The friends of France protest that their admiration and confidence
have not been shaken by what they read. But who does not confess to
misgivings about the invasion of the Ruhr? Who does not believe that
Lloyd George and Bonar Law have spoken more reasonably than Poincaré?
Who does not feel that the unsheathed sword of France is retarding the
establishment of peace in Europe and throughout the world?
“What’s the matter with France?” is not an unjustified question, but
we cannot answer it fairly unless we consider its corollary, “What’s
the matter with ourselves?” Lest it be thought that I do not understand
and sympathize with the exceeding difficulty of the French people and
Government in shaping their post-bellum policies, it is wise to pause
before going into the Ruhr with the French, and outline the fears of
France and their justification. This will save us from becoming too
pharisaical!
We borrow a French word to express an idea for which the French
themselves use another word. We speak of a person as being naïve in
his reasoning or attitude, but the French would say _simpliste_.
_Simplisme_ is the error in reasoning of neglecting elements of a
problem that ought to be considered in arriving at a solution. Because
we are self-centered sentimentalists, we Anglo-Saxons are _simplistes_.
In building up briefs to justify our actions and to condemn the actions
of others, we admit contingency only when contingent factors affect
us and have influenced us. When others cry out, “But what would you
have done in our place?” our answer is, “We are not in your place.”
The answer is final. Thus do we dismiss disagreeable and unwelcome
conclusions.
Not only because it is unfair and unchivalrous, but also because it
is dangerous, we must avoid comfortable and comforting _simplisme_ in
our thinking about the European situation. It may be true that the
unsheathed sword of France is disastrous to reconstruction and to the
return of normal conditions, but does it follow that France is wrong
in not having put back into the scabbard her sword? Could France have
sheathed her sword before now? Can she afford to sheathe it as long as
the United States remains aloof, with Britain tending to follow, from
European affairs? If Europe is still under arms in the fifth year of
“peace,” is the fault solely, or even primarily France’s? Or is Germany
to blame? Or Poland? Can we look for the trouble in Bolshevism? Each
of these questions opens up a field for speculation. By the mouths of
our statesmen and the pens of our editorial writers we criticize and
denounce and advise, but until we ask ourselves whether the attitude
of France may not be due to what we have done and what we have left
undone, we follow false leads. Winning the war came through pooling of
resources. Will winning the peace come in any other way?
When May 1, 1921, was set as a date on which the total amount of
reparations due from Germany to her victors should be fixed, it seemed
a long way off. American delegates urged that the amount the Allies
intended to exact be decided upon immediately and be stipulated in
the treaty, but the Allies would have had to determine the proportion
of indemnity each country was to receive. This could not have
been done during the Peace Conference, which had already too many
friction-breathing problems on its hands to risk another. It involved
the filing of claims of all the victors. With the fluctuation of
exchange and the uncertainty of cost of labor, material, and freight,
those who suffered damages could not even approximate the sum necessary
to make good their losses. The French advanced a powerful argument
against the American suggestion of a fixed indemnity when they said
that, since all admitted the liability of Germany to be far more than
could be collected from her, it would be wise to wait a year or two to
see how hard hit Germany was and how the world would recover from the
economic consequences of the war, before deciding how much money could
be collected. Mr. Lloyd George supported the French contention. Having
recently won a General Election on the promise to make Germany pay
_all_ the expenses of the war, he did not dare to return from Paris
with a treaty containing a fixed sum for reparations.
Just as I have tried to show, in discussing the internal affairs of
Germany since 1918, that the Government could probably have done no
more than it has done in the matter of reparations, it is possible on
the other side to show how the French Government has been compelled by
public opinion to keep hounding Germany for money. The admission of a
fixed indemnity in the treaty was not necessarily planned by the French
to give them an indefinite strangle-hold upon Germany. At the time
they may not have realized that the stipulation concerning the trial
of war criminals, which Germany could not fulfil, and the disarmament
clauses, which gave unlimited opportunity for quibble and dispute,
together with the unpaid bills for reparations, would furnish a legal
excuse for retaining the Rhine provinces and a technical ground for the
further invasion of Germany. The weapons were at hand. Public opinion
clamored for reparations. Briand was thrown out of power to make way
for the more energetic Poincaré. Ought we not to give due weight to the
popular outcry in France for reparations as a powerful factor forcing
or tempting the French Government into its present policy?
Great Britain and the United States have no budget deficits to face.
We explain this by our willingness to tax ourselves and by drastic
reduction of military and naval expenses. “An admirable example the
British set us, and we are following it,” said a treasury official to
me in Washington. “And an admirable example the British have set the
other Allies in funding their debt to us. Now, if the French would tax
themselves, if they would pay their debts, and if they would put their
army back on a peace footing, they wouldn’t be in such a hole.” The
same evening I read in Washington’s most influential newspaper, “If the
French stop bothering the world about a debt they will never collect,
and realize that prosperity comes from working, as we Americans do, we
shall have peace.”
Although it has been impressed upon them over and over again,
British and Americans do not seem to understand that northern and
northeastern France were industrial and mining regions, from which
France derived most of her wealth; that these regions were ruined
by fighting over them and by the German occupation; and that France
still suffers not only from the loss of their normal revenue but also
from the necessity of incorporating in the national budget enormous
sums for reconstruction. Up to the end of 1922 the French Government
had advanced from the Treasury, or guaranteed in principal and
interest on bonds floated, the huge sum of 85,000,000,000 francs for
reconstruction.
Neither the British nor we face this unique problem. Yet, when we speak
of the French taxing themselves and cutting down expenses to avoid
budget deficits, we give smugly the illustration of ourselves and how
nobly we are solving financial problems, as if there were a similarity
between our situation and that of France. We can get along without the
German indemnity because the Germans did not kill millions of us and
cripple our industries in Pittsburg and Chicago. We can tax ourselves
and not break under the load, although we groan because the war, taken
for its entire period, made us wealthy. The British were hard hit,
but, as Mr. Austen Chamberlain complacently explained to the House of
Commons, the map of the world showed why the British Empire need not
worry about meeting its obligations.
Economists agree on two points: that Germany cannot pay what is
demanded of her, and what she was compelled to agree to pay by the May
ultimatum of 1921; and that the plan of making Germany pay according to
her prosperity (that is, the tax on exports) will be worked out only if
the creditors of Germany take over the governing of the country.
The first point is not hard to understand. Payments abroad are made
by favorable trade-balances. Gold marks are to be found by selling
goods. How many gold marks Germany could pay into the coffers of
other countries would depend upon her surplus over what she had to pay
for imported raw materials and food-stuffs. Consequently Germany’s
good faith alone was not sufficient to enable her to live up to the
obligations she assumed. Faced with an impossible financial task, she
had to default.
The second point is more subtle. If we had no internal revenue
inspectors, and no laws to compel individual men and corporations
to show their books for inspection, American national honesty would
not stand the strain put upon it. In France, on the same day the
Ruhr invasion was approved on the ground of Germany’s bad faith and
voluntary default, the reporter of the budget declared that the
Government had failed to obtain income tax returns on 85 per cent of
the earnings of the year 1922! To get the sixty million inhabitants
of the German Empire working for a generation to pay their conquerors
sums the amount of which depended upon their prosperity would require
rigid control of public and private budgets down from Berlin to the
smallest commune and corporation. For if we did not govern the Germans
and tell them what they should and should not put into their budget for
expenses, in a very short time we should find that they had no surplus.
Operating expenses and “indispensable” public works would take all the
money the Government could raise in taxes. Private enterprises know
how to find ways of spending money and improving their plants up to the
point where nothing is left beyond the bare margin necessary for cost
of production to meet competition.
The British have well grasped these two points. Not needing the
indemnities as the French need them, not having that internal and
political economic problem to face, the British have come to feel
that reparations are not, after all, of prime importance. Insisting
upon them, and furnishing practical means for their collection,
would involve unwelcome German competition in world markets and the
maintenance of a standing army in Germany. The game would not be worth
the candle. And it meant more than indemnities for British prosperity
to have Germany restored rapidly to economic health. The tone of the
British press is unmistakable: Germany must pay, of course, but do not
count upon our help in making her pay, and, above all, we must not pay
for her! If American public opinion, now at ease because we are outside
the European muddle, had any conception of what helping to collect
the indemnity meant, our reactions would be the same as those of the
British.
France and Belgium have used force ostensibly to collect indemnities.
As far as the French and Belgian people are concerned, whatever may be
the ulterior motives of their governments, the armies are considered
in the double rôle of collectors and defenders. They cost a lot;
but the people ask themselves: What else can we do? We have no right
to ask France to sheathe her sword until we are prepared to offer a
practicable alternative to the compulsory collection of the indemnity.
Since we know that Germany cannot pay without injury to British and
American commercial interests and without involving Great Britain and
the United States in intervention in the affairs of Germany, it is
our duty to give some constructive help to France in her financial
_impasse_. To denounce Germany is futile. To scold France is shameful.
If the Germans have proved that they are in earnest in carrying out the
program of reparations payments they propose in order to get France out
of the Ruhr, ought not the French to put their army immediately on a
peace footing, cut down expenses, get back to work? We point to our own
sensible example. Throughout the English-speaking world the minds of
the people have been concentrated for several years now on the “return
to normalcy.” We are suspicious of militarism, and our determination
not to encourage France or any other nation in keeping things stirred
up has much to do with our attitude toward interallied debts.
But here, as in the indemnity question, we have considered the
situation in terms of ourselves. We are not worried about Germany,
because we have nothing to fear from Germany. Her navy is sunk,
and we have taken measures to prevent its recreation, especially in
the matter of submarines and naval aircraft. We feel that Germany’s
merchant marine is crippled for a long time, and that the lessons of
the war will enable us to prevent a revival of German political and
economic propaganda outside Europe. As a result of the war we have
attained the things men fight for, security and prosperity. If we still
felt insecure or if we believed that Germany was still in a position
to threaten our prosperity, our attitude toward Germany would be
different. Until we were the victors, no matter what the cost, we could
never have been persuaded to lay down our arms. Putting ourselves in
place of France, then, can we honestly argue that France should sheathe
her sword? Or that she could afford to sheathe her sword?
There is a military party in France, of course, as there is in all
countries; and one finds Bourbon and Prussian types of mind in high
places. But in a country ruled as France is ruled, militarists,
jingoes, and imperialists are able to shape policies only in so far as
the great mass of the electorate finds itself in fundamental agreement
with their fears and hopes. As long as French public opinion fears
Germany, plans for reducing Germany to impotence will be listened to.
As long as French public opinion believes that it is possible to make
the Germans contribute an important part to France’s yearly budget,
there will be no irresistible sentiment against keeping under arms
enough soldiers to force Germany to pay.
It is a mistake to think that the French are blind to fact and logic
because of their hatred and fear of the Germans. One does not know
French character who says that the French are trying to kill the
goose and still hope for the golden egg. The French think things out,
and they do not deceive themselves as we do. They know that they run
the risk of killing the goose in trying to get the golden egg, but
they need the egg so badly that they are willing to take the risk.
And, after all, it is not a risk; for they think that it would be as
advantageous to them to kill the goose as to have the egg.
If one could persuade the French to forget their history from 1870
to 1918, to believe that their industries and mines put them in a
position to compete on equal terms with Germany in world markets, that
budget deficits did not need to be met, that the Lorraine frontier
was as good a defense as the English Channel or the Atlantic Ocean,
and that a nation of fewer than forty millions could raise as strong
an army by a _levée en masse_ as a nation of over sixty millions, we
should find them as “reasonable” as ourselves. By being “reasonable”
we mean trusting Providence that everything will work out well in the
end. If only the French were “reasonable”! Surrounded by a plethora
of this world’s goods, we see no reasons for the fear of the Frenchmen
who wonder how they are going to make both ends meet. All they have
to do is to get back to work! Safe from attack in our Anglo-American
geographical isolation, we are impatient with the French for keeping
their army mobilized, for attempting to make Poland a strong ally to
replace Russia, for raising African armies to fill the gaps caused by
the hecatomb of the nation’s youth, and for drawing the claws of a
beast whose attack would be fatal were he given another chance.
We tell France that the peace of the world cannot be definitely
disturbed for the sake of satisfying the extreme demands of one nation.
We express our belief that France’s apprehensions are exaggerated. We
warn the French that indeterminate detention of the Rhine provinces
will create a new Alsace-Lorraine and lead to another war. We repudiate
the thesis of French nationalists, that the only safe frontier for
their country is the Rhine. We wonder why there are no statesmen
and publicists in France to oppose the propaganda of militarists,
imperialists, and extremists.
Such statesmen do exist. Briand, Painlevé, and Caillaux see France’s
future in peaceful coöperation with Germany. With rare exceptions
French publicists are agreed that a Napoleonic _épopée_ cannot be
repeated without ending in a disaster greater than that of a century
ago. The French are sick of war, and the internal reaction to the Ruhr
occupation shows that they are not in the mood to be led into military
ventures. But they do not purpose to let pass the unique opportunity of
assuring their safety by their own efforts, seeing that they have been
deserted by their comrades in arms.
In coping with this state of mind, British and American words must
no longer be contradicted by British and American deeds. To meet the
French argument of the Rhine as a strategic frontier, Great Britain and
the United States signed a supplementary treaty on the day the Treaty
of Versailles was signed, promising to aid France in case of a new
German aggression. This treaty was not ratified. London and Washington
alike, while assuring Paris that the thought of a new German aggression
was absurd, were unwilling to commit themselves to aid France
automatically in case of a German attack. Since we acted thus, had we
the right to remonstrate with France when she took the steps that she
thought were necessary to protect herself? If we were as sure ourselves
as we tried to make France sure that Germany would not attack again,
why did we not give France the guaranty? It would have cost us nothing,
and, since we were sure that Germany was going to be good, it would
not have involved us. The French are more logical, more reasonable,
than we are. They realize that we never believed what we said about
Germany’s intentions in the future, else we should have given the
guarantee.
Before France and Belgium entered the Ruhr there were already signs
of restlessness in Great Britain, Holland, Sweden, Switzerland, and
Italy over the prolonged trade losses due to the failure to settle
the reparations question. As revealed in speeches by Sir Eric Geddes
and others who had always been friendly to France, a feeling has
been growing that the unsheathed sword of France is preventing the
restoration of peace and the economic rehabilitation of the whole
world. However much we may sympathize with the provocation that finally
made France enter the Ruhr, who does not believe that playing a lone
hand against Germany and invoking the argument of superior force, if
persisted in, will bring terrible retribution upon France? The military
advantage is only temporary. Vital statistics of the two countries
point to the inevitable superiority of Germany in the not distant
future no matter what measures, desperate and far-reaching, France may
have taken in 1923.
Our attitude of constant criticism and advice, while carefully keeping
ourselves free from assuming obligations, is as untenable in the Ruhr
crisis as it was in the Near Eastern crisis. In view of the fact that
we failed to approve Wilson’s promise to guarantee France, the least we
can do is not to advise and remonstrate when France takes the measures
that she thinks are necessary to protect herself. On the other hand,
those who encourage France to use her sword are rendering her a worse
service than those who cavil at her, unless they can honestly assure
France of our support. For her own sake, for the sake of peace, and for
the well-being of the world, France ought to sheathe her sword. But the
honorable and the practicable way to get her to do this is to offer her
our sword in case another 1914 arrives.