_The concluding argument of ex-Secretary Bryan for permanent peace
among the great powers was published on June 18, 1915. The statement
follows:_
Washington, June 18, 1915.
Having considered the war as it is and the injury which it does
neutrals, and then the origin of the war and the causes which led up
to it, we are now ready to make inquiry as to the way out--that is,
the means by which hostilities can be brought to an end and permanent
peace restored. To state in a sentence the propositions which I shall
proceed to elaborate: Mediation is the means, provided by
international agreement, through which the belligerent nations can be
brought into conference; time for the investigation of all disputes is
the means by which future wars can be averted, and the cultivation of
international friendship is the means by which the desire for war can
be rooted out.
What are the nations fighting about? No one seems to know, or if any
one does know, he has not taken the public into his confidence. We
have been told, in a general way, that the Allies are fighting against
"militarism" and in defense of "popular government," and that Germany
is fighting in defense of "German culture" and for the nation's right
to "a place in the sun." But these generalities are so differently
interpreted as not to convey a definite idea. When the President
offered mediation at the very beginning of the struggle the answers
which he received from the various rulers were so much alike that one
telegram might have served for all. The substance of each answer was,
"I did not want war and I am not to blame for the war that now
exists." But that was ten months ago; the question now is not whether
those in authority in the belligerent nations did or did not want war
then; we may accept their answers as given in good faith, but the
important question is still unanswered. "I did not want war" may have
been deemed sufficient at the time the answers were given, but the
real question is, "Do you want war now? If not, why not say so?"
The months have dragged their bloody length along--each more terrible
than the month before--and yet the crimson line of battle sways to and
fro, each movement marked by dreadful loss of life. While warriors die
and widows weep, the sovereign rulers of the warring powers withhold
the word that would stop the war. No Chief of State has yet said, "I
do not want war." No one in authority has yet publicly declared his
willingness to state the terms upon which his nation is ready to
negotiate peace. Are not these dying men and these sorrowing women
entitled to know definitely for what their nation is fighting? Is it
territory? Then how much territory, and where is it located? Is it the
avenging of a wrong done? Then how much more blood must be spilled to
make atonement for the blood already shed? Some day accumulated
suffering will reach its limit; some day the pent-up anguish which
this war is causing will find a voice. Then, if not before, the rulers
in the war zone will pause to listen to the stern question, "Why do we
die?"--the question which shakes thrones and marks the furthermost
limits of arbitrary power.
And is not the outside world entitled to know the price of peace? Must
the neutrals bear the penalties which war necessarily visits upon
them, and yet remain in ignorance as to the issues at stake? Their
trade is interrupted, their citizens are drowned, they are the victims
of stray bullets--have they no right to know what it is that, being
done, will draw down the curtain of this dark tragedy? Has any nation
a purpose for continuing this war which it does not dare to state to
the world, or even to its own people?
Surely neither side thinks it can annihilate the other. Great nations
cannot be exterminated--population cannot be wiped out by the sword.
The combatants, even though the war may have made them heartless, will
shrink from the task of carrying this slaughter beyond the point
necessary to win a victory. And it must be remembered that war plans
often miscarry. Predictions made at the beginning of the war have not
been fulfilled. The British did not destroy the German fleet in a
month, and Germany did not take Paris in two months, and the Russian
Army did not eat Christmas dinner in Berlin. But even if extermination
were possible, it would be a crime against civilization which no
nation or group of nations could afford to commit. If it is vandalism
to destroy the finest specimens of man's workmanship, is it not
sacrilege to engage in the wholesale destruction of human beings--the
supreme example of God's handiwork? We may find cases of seeming total
depravity among individuals, but not in a nation or in a race. The
future has use for the peoples now at war; they have a necessary part
in that destiny which mankind must work out together regardless of
these ebullitions of anger. The Lord might have made all flowers of
one kind, of one color and alike in fragrance--but He did not. And
because He did not, the world is more beautiful. Variety, not
uniformity, is the law among men as well as among the flowers. The
nations which are actively participating in this war are what they are
because of struggles that have lasted for centuries. They differ in
language, in institutions, in race characteristics, and in national
history, but together they constitute a great living bouquet that is
of surpassing beauty.
We may put aside, therefore, as wholly impracticable, if not
inconceivable, the thought that this war can continue until one side
has annihilated the other. What, then, can be the purpose? The
complete domination of Europe by one nation or group of nations? The
absurdity of such a plan is only second to the absurdity of the
thought that either side can annihilate the other. The world is not
looking for a master; the day of the despot is gone. The future will
be gloomy indeed if the smaller nations must pass under the yoke of
any power or combination of powers. The question is not who shall
dictate on land, or who shall dominate upon the sea. These questions
are not practical ones. The real question is, not how a few can lay
burdens upon the rest, but how all can work together as comrades and
brothers.
Even if it were possible for one side to force the other side to its
knees in supplication, even if it were possible for one side to write
the terms of the treaty in blood and compel the other side to sign it,
face downward and prostrate on the ground, it could not afford to do
so; and unless the belligerents have read history to no purpose, they
will not desire to do so. Time and again some nation, boastful of its
strength, has thought itself invincible, but the ruins of these
mistaken and misguided nations line the pathway along which the masses
have marched to higher ground. Despotism has in it the seeds of death;
the spirit that leads a nation to aspire to a supremacy based on force
is the spirit that destroys its hope of immortality. Only those who
are unacquainted with the larger influences can place their sole
reliance on the weapons used in physical warfare. They see only the
things that are transient and ephemeral; they do not comprehend the
higher truth that "the things that are seen are temporal; the things
that are unseen are eternal."
Christian nations need to read again Christ's prayer upon the Cross,
"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." All the
participants in this war have sinned enough to make them anxious to
exhibit that forgiving spirit which is the measure of the forgiveness
which can be claimed.
When can peace be restored? Any time--now, if the participants are
really weary of this war and ready for it to end. If any nation is not
ready, let its ruler state in clear, distinct, and definite terms the
conditions upon which it is willing to agree to peace; then if an
agreement is not reached the blame for the continuance of the war will
be upon those who make unreasonable demands.
What can be done by the advocates of peace? First, they can
crystallize the sentiment in favor of peace into a coercive force, for
public opinion at last controls the world. There is a work which the
neutrals can do; they can offer mediation, jointly or severally. It is
not an act of hostility, but an act of friendship. The Hague
Convention, to which all the Governments are parties, expressly
declares that the offer of mediation shall not be considered an
unfriendly act. The duty of offering mediation may seem to rest
primarily upon the United States, the largest of the neutral nations,
and the one most intimately bound by ties of blood to all the
belligerents. The United States did make an offer immediately after
the war began. But why not again and again and again, until our offer
or some other offer is accepted? Why not stand at the door and knock,
as we would at the door of a friend if we felt that the friend was in
need and that we could render a service?
But our action or failure to act need not deter any other neutral
country from acting. This is not a time to stand on ceremony; if
any other country, for any reason, no matter what that reason may be,
is in a better position than we to tender its good offices, it should
not delay for a moment. It is for the belligerents to decide which
offer, if any, they will accept. I am sure they will not complain if,
following the promptings of our hearts, we beseech them to let us help
them back to the paths of peace.
Will they object on the ground that they will not consent to any peace
until they have assurances that it will be a permanent peace? That
suggestion has been made--I think both sides have expressed a desire
that the peace, when secured, shall be permanent--but who can give a
pledge as to the future? If fear that the peace may not be permanent
is given as the reason for refusal it is not a sufficient reason.
While no one can stand surety for what may come, it is not difficult
to adopt measures which will give far greater assurance of permanent
peace than the world has ever known before.
Second--The treaty in which they join should provide for investigation
by a permanent international commission of every dispute that may
arise, no matter what its character or nature. The United States has
already made thirty treaties embodying this principle, and these
thirty treaties link our country to nearly three-quarters of all the
inhabitants of the world. We have such a treaty in force between the
United States and four of the countries now at war--Great Britain,
France, Russia, and Italy. The principle of this treaty has been
accepted by three other belligerents--Germany, Austria, and
Belgium--although treaties with these nations have not yet been
negotiated. These seven warring nations have indorsed the principle
embodied in these treaties, namely, that there shall be no declaration
of war or commencement of hostilities until the subject in dispute has
been investigated by an international commission. Why cannot they
apply the principle as between themselves? What cause of war is of
such magnitude that nations can afford to commence shooting at each
other before the cause is investigated? A treaty such as those which
now protect the peace of the United States would give a year's time
for investigation and report, and who doubts that a year's time would
be sufficient to reach an amicable settlement of almost every
difficulty?
Does any one suppose that the present war would have been begun if a
year's time had been taken to investigate the dispute between Austria
and Serbia? It will be remembered that Serbia had only twenty-four
hours in which to reply, and it will also be remembered that during
this brief time the rulers of the Old World endeavored to find a means
of preventing war. If they had only had some machinery which they
could have employed to avert war, how gladly would they have availed
themselves of it! The machinery provided by treaty can be resorted to
with honor--yes, with honor--no matter how high a sense of honor the
nation has. The trouble has been that, while the nations were
abundantly provided with machinery for conducting war, they possessed
no machinery for the promotion of peace. A year's time allows passion
to subside and reason to resume its sway. It allows man to act when he
is calm instead of having to act when he is angry. When a man is angry
he swaggers around and talks about what he can do, and he often
overestimates his strength; when he is calm he considers what he ought
to do. When he is angry he hears the rumbling of earthquakes and the
sweep of the hurricane; when he is calm he listens to the still small
voice of conscience.
Third--While the period of investigation provided for in our treaties
will go far toward preventing war, still even a year's deliberation
does not give complete protection. In order to secure the
investigation of all questions without exception it was necessary to
reserve to the contracting parties liberty of action at the conclusion
of the investigation. War is thus reduced from a probability to a mere
possibility, and this is an immeasurable advance; but the assurance of
permanent peace cannot be given until the desire for war is
eradicated from the human heart. Compulsory periods of investigation
supply the machinery by which nations can maintain peace with honor if
they so desire; but the final work of the advocates of peace is
educational--it is the cultivation of the spirit of brotherhood
condensed into the commandment "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as
thyself." Is it impossible to imagine a civilization in which
greatness will be measured by service and in which the rivalry will be
a rivalry in doing good? No one doubts that the lot of each member of
society would be infinitely better under such conditions; why not
strive to bring about such conditions? Is it visionary to hope and
labor for this end? "Where there is no vision the people perish." It
is a "death grapple in the darkness 'twixt old systems and the Word."
The old system has broken down; it can let loose the furies, but it
cannot bind them; it is impotent to save. The question is not whether
the Word will triumph--that is certain--but when? And after what
sufferings?
Thomas Carlyle, his voice rising clear and strong above the babble of
Mammon, asked, in the closing chapters of his French Revolution:
"Hast thou considered how Thought is stronger than Artillery Parks,
and (were it fifty years after death and martyrdom, or were it two
thousand years) writes and unwrites Acts of Parliament, removes
mountains, models the World like soft clay? Also how the beginning of
all Thought worth the name is Love."
The truth which he uttered is still truth, and no matter who uttered
it, the thought is the thought of Him who spake as never man spake;
who was described in prophecy as the Prince of Peace; whose coming was
greeted with the song of "Peace on earth; good-will to men," and whose
teachings, when applied, will usher in the enduring peace of a
universal brotherhood.