2016년 4월 28일 목요일

The Lost Fruits of Waterloo 20

The Lost Fruits of Waterloo 20



War lives on hatred. To make your people put all their energy into
the fight make them hate the other people; and you may rest in the
assurance that the leaders of the others are striving to make their
followers hate the men on your side. The mill of hate grinds steadily
and at a high speed while war lasts. In Germany in these days is a vast
amount of industrious abusing of England. That makes the German people
support the war. In Great Britain is a great activity in describing
atrocities in Belgium and Armenia, and it exists in order to make the
British people mad for war. When you see a new crop of the testimony
concerning the torturing horrors of the first month of war in Belgium,
you may know that the war spirit is running low in Britain. Unhappily,
such propaganda is a necessary feature of war. We are naturally
good-hearted, and we do not go out to kill men until we are made to
hate them.
 
The moment war ends all this kind of thing should cease. The time will
then have come for the propaganda of peace. Unfortunately there are few
men whose mission it is to spread such ideas. Merchants and tourists
may do what is their nature to do, but they are not sufficient; and it
generally takes years for the fires to cool off.
 
The aftermath of our civil war was as unhappy a series of events as we
have encountered within our national history. Undertaken as a means
of making sure of the gains of the civil war, it became a procession
of passion in which stalked all the worst feelings that divided the
people in actual warfare. There are still men in the North who have
Andersonville in mind when they vote, and men in the South who can
never respect the republican party because it was responsible for the
reconstruction acts of 1867. It will be extremely unfortunate if we
take up the problems that are soon to be upon us in the spirit with
which we assumed the duties of reconstructing the South.
 
During the civil war the South was possessed of a fixed idea: the same
thing is true of Germany today. The South was committed to a position
that the rest of the world had abandoned: Germany is committed to a
type of bureaucratic government which is as much out of date in a
modern world as slavery. No ordinary system of reasoning could show
fair and honest Southern men in what respect they had the sentiment
of civilization against them: the German is thoroughly convinced that
he is fighting for the preservation of the most efficient type of
government the world has seen. The South went to her defeat after
a long and astonishingly effective resistance: Germany seems to be
destined to a similarly long and steady process of reduction into
complete prostration. The South was ruled by a small but able class of
landed proprietors who refused to see the plain truth of the situation
before them and prolonged the struggle until they were exhausted,
although by making a favorable adjustment in accordance with the logic
of the conditions before them they might have ended the war in 1864
and saved their people from the uttermost bitterness of defeat: the
Germans, ruled by their Junkers, are equally deaf to argument, equally
determined to die at their posts, and equally opposed to a compromise
by which they will have to give up their antiquated “institution,”
relinquish their special privileges, and make their country like
the rest of the world. There are so many parallels between the two
countries that we wonder if there will not also be a disposition of the
victorious opposing allies to degrade Germany in her defeat.
 
Probably her best adjusted punishment will be the reflection that her
“peculiar institution” proved a failure in time of need. For a century
she has been training an army, but it is not the army that has failed
her. It has done all that could have been expected of it. Nor did the
Southern army fail the South. It is not the sense of loyalty, nor the
scientific efficiency, nor the unity of purpose within the empire,
that have failed her. They are all splendid and have done what could
be demanded of them. The thing that has failed is the peculiar way in
which the German ruling classes have made use of these forces. They
have used army, scientific efficiency, loyalty, and unity of purpose to
promote the ends of an aggressive ruling class. Now the best treatment
is to defeat them in the war and allow them plenty of time, with no
unnecessary antagonisms, to learn that their system does not pay, and
that any attempt to revive it in the future will be followed by another
punishment as severe as that which this war brought. The support of
a military caste and the training of all the men in a great army are
heavy burdens on the economic life of the state. Will any nation
continue to bear them if they come to nothing in the day of trial?
Armies for defense do not demand the great expenditures that Germany
has made in the last decades.
 
No penalty that the victors could lay on Germany would be permanently
effective in reducing her. So great are her economic energies that they
would restore her to prosperity within a short time, and she would
be ready to take advantage of any favorable combination to strike in
revenge. Disarmament would not be a guaranty that she would cease to be
troublesome to her neighbors; for she would still have her excellently
trained soldiers who could be reassembled in a great army at short
notice. She might well be required to dismantle her great armament
factories; and since they are essential to the re-arming of a great
army some check on her restoration would come from such dismantling.
But it would be a temporary check. It is only necessary to remember
that the beginning of the present German army was the attempt of one
conqueror, Napoleon, to limit the Prussian army to 42,000 men.
 
Moreover, what nations could be expected to agree among themselves
while standing guard over Germany? Under the Balance of Power, we
might expect a fair amount of mobility of alliances. We have just
seen that not even the Triple Alliance was proof against the skillful
hands of Delcassé. If Italy could be withdrawn by France from that
powerful combination, how can we doubt that a humiliated Germany
would find means of weakening the combination against her? She would
have the greatest inducement to do so; and it is not probable that
complete harmony would prevail long between the victors, if they were
held together only by the bonds of mutual friendship. The history of
diplomacy is the record of broken friendships.
 
To see what readjustment might occur with respect to a humiliated
Germany, it is only necessary to recall the position of France after
the Napoleonic wars. Beaten beyond resistance, suspected of carrying
the germs of bad government from which all other nations felt that they
must be protected as from deadly disease, and held down by great armies
of occupation, her situation would seem to have been most deplorable.
But her isolation lasted for only a moment. She was admitted to
the Congress of Vienna,--called to pass on the future arrangements
of Europe,--because there was division among her conquerors. From
that time she was suspected less and less, and at the Conference of
Aix-la-Chapelle, 1818, she was admitted to the Concert of Europe,
but not with full fellowship; for the other powers made a secret
agreement to watch her for a while longer. She progressed so rapidly
in eliminating the republican virus in her system that in 1823 she was
entrusted with the task of suppressing the constitution of Spain. Thus
in eight years after the battle of Waterloo France was again in full
accord with the other powers. Probably few people would have said in
1815 that her restoration would come about so rapidly. It would be no
more singular if within ten years after the end of the present struggle
a conquered Germany were to forget her antipathies of 1918 and be ready
to give and be given in diplomatic alliances with as little regard for
the past.
 
If, for example, a restored and highly nationalized Russia becomes a
threat against Western Europe some years hence, the antagonisms of
today would be forgotten and Germany, France, and Great Britain would
probably be found fighting side by side to restrain the Muscovite
giant. The old system is intensely selfish and it lends itself to
rapid changes in policies. But it is an expensive thing to keep up the
system. Large armies are necessary, great debts are created, and a
vast amount of nervous strength is diverted from the normal activities
of humanity. It is small hope for him who longs to see war put down
permanently that only by fighting a war like that now raging may we
expect the nations to defeat any future aspirant for universal power.
 
Finally, if the submarines fail and the anti-German allies break down
the defenses of their enemies and thus are able to determine the kind
of peace that is to be made, the treaty of peace should not have for
its end the prolongation of the power of the _Entente_ group. The
history of the first half of the nineteenth century shows how easy it
is for such a group to be re-arranged with the result that new wars
threaten. We must trust the fair mindedness of human nature and the
logic of the situation to do much for the Germans. It is on their
acceptance of the issue that we must rest our hopes for a peaceful
future.
 
These truths are especially pertinent to the interests of the United
States. We are not fighting Europe’s war, but the world’s. We are the
only nation in the struggle that has not a special interest at stake.
We are the only member of our group of allies that has a right to take
the side of the weakest member of that group against the desire of
the strongest. If any one member should in a moment of more or less
pardonable forgetfulness of the common good advance claims that would
be based on a desire to recoup herself for her sufferings, we best
of all could demand equal treatment and see that the seed of future
discord are not sown. These are principles that every American citizen
should understand.
 
 
 
 
CHAPTER X
 
OBSTACLES TO AN ENDURING PEACE
 
 
By an enduring peace I mean a peace that shall last as long as we can
see into the future. It is such a peace as has in it, so far as we can
see, no fact that would seem to make for its ruin. If we adopt a peace
that has the seed of destruction in its very nature, we cannot hope for
relief from the evils of war. We must, under such a condition, take
account of war as one of the permanent burdens of civilization, with
the full consciousness that it will become increasingly expensive in
life and property, and with the result that at recurring periods an
intelligent world will drop its peaceful tasks to try to reduce its
population to a nullity. From the possibility of such a strife we turn
to ask the question: “Can nothing be done to save humanity from such
madness?”
 
The answer is very simple: All people are unreasonable to some extent.
In connection with the question now under consideration, each of the
great states of the world, our own included, has its own special
form of unreasonableness, which acts as an obstacle to the formation

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