The great peace

Preface

When I was asked last August to prepare a book on the terms of peace, I consented to have it ready by March, 1919. My publishers thought that it should be ready by February first if it was to anticipate the march of events. The writing was completed in October, but even so, events have gotten ahead. It is some consolation to know that the whole world shares in this miscalculation. Neither the peoples nor their governments, the knowing ones who had all the inside information, were prepared for this headlong precipitancy. A letter from one of the staff of the Department of State at Washington expresses the surprise, not to say the consternation, of the government at this sudden development for which we were so eager and yet so utterly unprepared. It was in anticipation of this unpreparedness that the book was written, and yet I too am caught among the unprepared.

Naturally I have considered carefully whether any change should be made in the text as the proofs pass through my hands, but save for a few footnotes and minor changes, I have left it as it was written. The difficulty in the phraseology, — all of it appropriate to the situation of last September, — is pervasive. Adaptation to the situation of today would mean re-writing. But it is only the phraseology that the armistice has rendered out of date. The problems remain, — not one of them settled despite confident and contradictory newspaper assertion. Even the signing of the treaty of peace, an event for which we must perhaps long wait in patience, will bring to most of them no immediate solution. If the great truth be borne in mind that we are dealing with the slow forces of race evolution rather than with political fiats of invi PREFACE

stant effectiveness, we shall be little disturbed by these sudden eddies in the slow current of events. Momentous as these November days have been, they do not seem to me to have greatly altered the problem. As I read in these days of victory what I wrote in the days of struggle, it is only words that I would change.

N^o doubt the reader will be impatient, — as I was, — to get over the generalities of Part I and get to the concrete problems of Part II. We have been surfeited with generalities and abstract propositions. We are eager to know where the new frontiers are to be drawn and how much Germany is going to pay to Belgium, and what is going to become of the Kaiser. But I have found, as I believe the reader will find, that there is no getting away from these general principles. We must either master them or they will master us. If we do not hold them as reasoned propositions, we hold them as prepossessions and unconscious assumptions. Thus, there is a universal assumption that people of one speech ought to live under one government, and from that we hastily conclude that there should be an independent Poland. We do not stop to consider that by the same token we ought to be British, Alsace should be German, and Switzerland should be divided among Germany, Italy, and France. Again we assert the right of all peoples to decide their own allegiance. That would have justified the Southern Confederacy and would insure the crumbling of half Europe into helpless fragments. Or again we assert the claim of the past and plead for the restoration of historic arrangements. That would make Xew England British and Florida Spanish while reuniting the Poles and freeing the Bohemians. In popular discussion these and other principles are confidently assumed as political axioms, — not conjointly of course, for this would neutralize them, but singly and for the most part arbitrarily, the particular assumption being requisitioned which proves

PREFACE vii

momentarily convenient. The writer like the reader is sub ject to this lawless tyranny of arbitrary assumption unless he sternly guards himself against it. It is for this reason that I have ventured to consider with some care the scope and the limitations of these principles which are so confidently and so carelessly assumed in current discussion. I hope the reader will have the patience to do the same.

Those who have done me the honor to read my earlier books on these subjects will see in the present book a larger recognition of the psychological factor and something less of insistence upon physical environment and cosmic forces than in the earlier works. They will perhaps assume that I have changed my views as to the relative importance of these factors. I should not feel humiliated to plead guilty to the honorable indictment. Strange indeed must be the individual or the nation that has passed through these four years without seeing things in somewhat different proportion. The very hope of the world lies in such changes as the result of its travail.

But the change is after all more in my theme than in my attitude. Hitherto I have dealt with permanent relations and with influences extending over centuries. Seen thus in longer perspective, history seems primarily the product of the cosmic forces. The fume and fret of men seems but froth on the surface. Altogether different is the problem here considered, the problem of effecting a working arrangement for the years immediately before us. In this problem of the hour and of the near tomorrow, human forces are everything. The hate of Bulgar and Greek, the prejudice of Moslem and Orthodox and Catholic among the Jugo-Slavs, the resentment against German barbarities, — what are mountains and seas against these fierce energies of the human soul ? To treat these as at once almighty and ephemeral, this is the difficult art of the statesman.

viii PREFACE

I make no apology for my rather pitiless insistence upon the difficulties of the problem and the necessarily imperfect, even provisional, character of the adjustments which peace will effect. The air is full of that irrepressible optimism which is at once the hope and the despair of humanity. If I have trudged along on the ground while others have aeroplaned in the clouds, unmindful of the obstacles that beset the pathway of plodding men, I have none the less trudged cheerfully, confident that the obstacles are being overcome and that we shall sometime attain our goal.

H. H. POWEES.

Kewton, Mass.,

ISTovember 19, 1918.

Contents

CHAPTER PAOE

Author's Preface v

I Introduction 1

Introduction

The Great War is passing and the Great Peace approaches. The conflict, prolonged and widened beyond our utmost fears, is entering upon its fifth year as these lines are written. The end is not yet, but the indications are getting clearer that the end is approaching and that the end is to be as we wish. Beyond doubt an extremely stubborn conflict is still before us, with losses that will stagger humanity and with possible vicissitudes of fortune which may at times obscure the issue, but a calm survey of the situation from a point withdrawn from the smoke of battle permits but one conclusion. The initial advantage of German preparedness has disappeared, and the superior resources of the Allies in men and materials are unmistakably apparent. The crude and hesitant allied strategy of the early months of the war has been succeeded by clear vision and fixed purpose. The almost insuperable difficulties in the way of unified command have been overcome. Leadership, if not of N'apoleonic genius, yet forged in the heat of the great conflict and of demonstrated competency, has been assured. Above all the incoherence of thought and confusion of purpose, always the supreme danger in democratic governments, have been eliminated. The onslaught of the highly organized Central Powers, which so nearly overwhelmed us at the outset, has transformed our unbridled, wanton energy into disciplined power. The more the struggle is prolonged, the more complete that transformation will be and the more assured our triumph. Such is the outlook at this hour. It may deceive us, for nothing is sure before the event, but if the outcome is not assured, the obligation of preparedness for the next step is clear. It may be presumptuous to assume victory at this stage of the conflict, but it is simple prudence to prepare betimes for an event which we have willed with all the power of our being and which seems increasingly assured.

And for this event we are not prepared. As far as Berlin our pathway lies straight before us, — diflficult beyond compare, but unmistakable. But from there it is lost in a maze of infinite intricacy. If Germany were beaten tomorrow, we should be in sore perplexity to know what to do next. Preparation for war has left us no time to prepare for peace, — nay, more, it has been a bar to any such preparation. One of the difficult lessons we have had to learn is that we must cease discussing the issues of the war until victory was assured. The paramount need was for agreement. To disagree while we were fighting Germany meant ruin. Hence Germany's oft repeated seductive invitation : " Come, now, let us reason together." Germany knew that if she could start a discussion of peace terms, she could start a disagreement with all its disastrous consequences. Fortunately we knew it too, and have had the self-control to adjourn till the hour of victory those questions upon which agreement will be sure to be difficult and attended with many heart burnings. We were agreed with certainty upon only one thing, the necessity of defeating Germany. For this every nation, every class, every school of opinion, had its own reasons. Latin and Saxon, capital and labor, imperialist and anti-imperialist, all were in sharpest disagreement on some of the issues involved. Fortunately they were agreed that the defeat of Germany was more than the issues upon which they disagreed. The Latin wished to defeat her because she held provinces rightfully his ; the Briton because she menaced his necessary sea communications. The laborite recognized Germany as unfriendly to the political ascendancy of

INTRODUCTIOK 3

labor, while the manufacturer feared the ruthless aggression of German " big business." The imperialist saw in imperialist Germany a redoubtable competitor ; the anti-imperialist saw in her the chief protagonist of a hated principle. It was thumbs down all round, but for the most varied and even opposite reasons. The one condition of successful cooperation under such circumstances is that individual aims shall be subordinated. This has been perhaps our hardest lesson as allies, but we have learned it. A few remain who will not be silenced, who are so intent upon their particular purpose that they are willing to risk defeat rather than that victory should fail to realize their hopes. Thus a recent champion of ultra democratic reforms declares that if these reforms are not realized in the forthcoming peace, the war will have been fought in vain. Our allies " must not be permitted to determine our purposes " in the war, but we must constrain them to make these purposes their own, knowing that this will be " for their ultimate good." To this end he urges that President Wilson should force their hand by the threat of withdrawing from the alliance. Our aid being indispensable, our terms would necessarily be accepted. This enthusiast does not raise the question of what would happen if Britain should threaten to withdraw unless we acquiesced in a program of annexation. He sees no disturbing analogy between his proposal and the action of Bulgaria who demanded her price and sold out to the highest bidder, or that of Italy who conditioned her support upon the doubtful acquisition of territories across the Adriatic. To sanction these purposes is farthest from his thoughts, for they are purposes which he does not approve. But "our" (?) purposes are different, and since they have as yet not commended themselves to our allies, and these allies show no inclination voluntarily to adopt them, it is obvious strategy to bargain with those who oppose these purposes when they are in a tight place.

It needs no very profound insight to see that this is introducing the principle of belligerency into the Allied camp. Strategy is a principle of war, and its use against allies means war against allies. If every people, class, or party should choose this time to push its advantage under penalty of refusing to cooperate, it is obvious that cooperation would at once cease. For while the radical declares that if peace does not assure radical democracy, the war will have been fought in vain, a conservative is simultaneously declaring that if ultra democracy prevails, " then we have lost the war." To the insinuating demand that we should state our case against Germany, there has been one consistent answer. We have no single case against Germany. We have individual cases against her, but as yet no common case. Each belligerent has purposes peculiar to itself, purposes in which its allies have little interest, purposes which are even mutually antagonistic. Italy wants the Trentino and Trieste, but has no direct interest in the recovery of Alsace-Lorraine. France wants Alsace-Lorraine, but is little interested in, — perhaps is secretly jealous of, — Britain's control of the sea. And so on indefinitely. The discussion of these aims may produce, — almost certainly will produce, — antagonisms and estrangements, not only between allies, but also between classes and special interests within each individual country. 'No successful war of modern times has failed to have its aftermath of disappointment and recrimination. England's clemency to the Boers alienated large sections of British political opinion. The Treaty of Frankfort left divided counsels in Germany, and the Treaty of Portsmouth well nigh produced a revolution in Japan. This war will be no exception to the rule. It will rather be an exceptional case in point. Hence the just characterization of all Germany's peace offensives as traps. If these inherent conflicts of interest and opinion could be lifted

INTKODUCTION 6

up into consciousness while Germany is still redoubtable, a judicious concession to war-weary Italy or some other approachable unit might disclose another Caporetto and breach the line. Failing this, it would at least lessen the cohesion and weaken the morale upon which victory depends. It is all but certain that if the belligerents were to agree to an armistice and meet in council, conditions would develop, as the ^ result of their discussions, which would make the resumption of hostilities impossible, no matter how unsatisfactory the results obtained.

All such proposals have fallen flat, save in the deplorable case of Russia, whose fate has not been without its lessons for the Allies. These proposals have found their supporters, but they have everywhere been a dwindling minority. ISTot without difficulty has a people habituated to free speech and political discussion, seen the reasonableness of refusing to reason. Yet in nothing have tbey so justified the claim of democracy to be the arbiter of these difficult questions. It is democracy's supreme achievement to have perceived that the will to victory must exclude all else until victory makes it possible to disagree and not perish. For disagree we shall and must.

It is thus that preparation for war has postponed preparation for peace, by excluding from negotiation, from public discussion, even from individual thought, the grave questions incident to peace. With all the pronouncements that have appeared, there is as yet scarce a beginning of formulated terms. These pronouncements have been, for the most part, literary or rhetorical generalizations valuable for rallying purposes but not of a nature to enter into a treaty of peace. To destroy militarism, to make the world safe for democracy, to secure the right of self-determination for all peoples, these are legitimate formulas for ideals, but it is clear that if these ends are to be furthered by treaty, these propositions must be translated into concrete terms, territorial, economic, and commercial. This is the task of peace making, the task which we have adjourned.

Yet in another sense the adjournment has furthered the formulation of peace terms in a way which no discussion or negotiation could have done. The concrete task has waited, but the psychology of the peoples who are to perform the task, has undergone constant and far-reaching change. We have ceased to be citizens of a country or a state and have all unconsciously become citizens of the world. Undreamed possibilities of cooperation among nations have been realized as incidents to the great struggle. Equally, the marauder has disclosed a power and a will to injure which nothing but the experience could have made credible. In particular, our own nation has forever discarded the myth of isolation. It long ago ceased to be a fact, but the tradition lingered, and along with it, not a little of the ignorance, the arrogance, and the indifference of which it was the fertile source. If there are those who still think we might have avoided this war, they must at least recognize that we have not avoided it, and being what we are, we should not be likely to avoid it under like circumstances again. If the physical conditions permit isolation, the psychic conditions do not. Whatever reluctance we may have felt to accept this conclusion, the constant necessities of international concert and the fellowship of prolonged suffering and achievement have tended rapidly to dissipate it. We are reconciled to being a part of the world, an indispensable pre-requisite of intelligent participation in the great world task. If, therefore, we still know little of the complicated problems with which the peace conference must deal, we have been getting ready to know. We have been developing the " international mind."

This was peculiarly necessary for the Allies who represent, — partly by chance, to be sure, but not the less really, —

INTRODUCTIO]^ 7

the cause of democracy. Democracy, despite its ancient lineage, is a comparatively modern thing. Its ancient applications were to imits so small as to have no modern significance, and its modern applications have been partial at best. Broadly speaking, its success has been in inverse ratio to the size of its domain. The town meeting has been a success ; the state has been less successful. In the broadest field of international relations democracy has yet to demonstrate its capacity. The great democracy of Britain has had a wonderful diplomacy, but not a very democratic one. Nowhere does democracy defer so willingly to expert wisdom as in the matter of foreign relations. Our own experience is also unconvincing. Our diplomacy has been neither wholly democratic nor wholly successful, and withal its tasks have been much simpler than those of other nations, largely because we have deliberately minimized our relations with other states.

But throughout the domain of democracy there is a clear announcement that democracy is to assume the responsibilities of diplomacy. There is to be no more secret diplomacy. International relations like domestic relations are to be determined by the popular will. Doubtless the change will be less sweeping than these demands would suggest, but there can be little doubt that there will be a change and that it will be in the direction indicated. The people may not know how to rule, but they are plainly determined to try. The forthcoming settlement is sure to feel a democratic pressure never known before. That settlement will not only involve concrete problems affecting every nation on the planet, but it will probably establish new principles and lay the foundations of a most radical reconstruction of the world order. It is not simple tasks but supreme incentives that call democracy into action. Such an incentive the present conflict has furnished. The settlement will be a people's peace as has been no other. No matter who the people's representative may be, he will listen to the people's voice for tlie constant renewal of his mandate. Not once but a thousand times in the course of the long negotiations, will be heard the words : '" Our people demand this." " Our people will not accept that." If used at times as a screen for personal insistence, it will owe its serviceableness in this connection to its substantial truth. The people will dictate, vaguely, fitfully, ambiguously, but not the less imperiously. We have invoked democracy, and democracy has come at our bidding, unskilled and unknowing, but not the less unafraid.

Not to the diplomats, whose skill I respect but do not emulate, but to the people, their masters, these pages are dedicated. What shall be the terms of the people's peace, the Great Peace ? What are the principles of that better statecraft which has been slowly and half unconsciously taking shape in the minds of those who through the will to victory have slowly won the right to will the world's peace ? And what do these principles require in the way of concrete adjustments and arrangements among the mountains and the rivers and the seas where men have chanced to be born and have snugly nested themselves in the traditions, the prejudices, the loves and the hates of a hundred generations i

On one point let there be no misunderstanding. Not until victory crowns our arms do these questions become the order of the day. With the enemy in arms there can be no parley, none even among ourselves until we can be sure of our own uncompromising and inflexible purpose. Our enemy will not spare, and we must not spare. The most criminal of all wars is the one begim for a righteous purpose and stopped short of a possible triumph. Such a war exacts its toll of misery and devastation, yet relinquishes the prize which alone can justify the sacrifice. War is the negation of reason, the confession that moral forces have failed to safeguard essential human interests. A beaten enemy or one who knows that to go far-

INTRODUCTION 9

ther is to fare worse, will grasp at the ruse of negotiation. The nation that is fooled thereby has not learned the lesson of war. Negotiation to the uttermost before war begins ; war to the uttermost when negotiation has failed. There is no half way ground in the law of war. This is not spite. These lines are written in no vindictive or implacable spirit. It is the plainest statement of inexorable law that they who draw the sword must accept its arbitrament. These pages are not written for the enemy, but for his conquerors against the day of victory. If they are written somewhat in advance of that day, it is in the firm conviction that the will to victory is assured. If victory is still to tarry long in its coming, it is not too early to prepare for its arrival. When it comes there can be no waiting. The misery of the world will brook no long and hesitant negotiations.

It is hardly necessary to add that the writer is not attempting to draft a treaty of peace. Such an instrument, of necessity a task for experts, is but an incident in the larger problem of settlement and reconstruction which will require many minds and many agencies for its accomplishment. Our attempt will be simply to answer the question : What should the Allies demand? This question takes no account of the detailed problem of ways and means, nor yet of the probable ability of the Allies to impose their will. The question is perhaps best discussed as an academic question. It is well to be clear as to what we seek, whether or not the fate of arms puts the prize within our reach. Not by way of prophecy, however legitimate, but by way of working hypothesis, we assume the defeat of Germany as the basis of our inquiry. If Germany threw up her hands and cried " Kamerad," what would we do with her ? What with her wretched partners ? What of the powers now our allies, and of the great world in general and possible better guaranties for its peace and order ? We will be as concrete and practical as possible in our answers. It avails little to saj that frontiers should follow ethnic lines. Where are those lines, and what sort of a Europe would we have if we followed them? A little map drawing will throw much light upon a dilBcult principle which, in the untested abstract, seems so attractively simple. Similarly, such principles as self-determination and independence. Who or what is the " self " involved and what is the scope of the desired " determination." Accepting without question the principle of making the world safe for democracy, what measures is it desirable or practicable for the nations in council to adopt looking to that end ? In a word, the purpose will be to concrete the problem, not to technicalize it.

It is hardly necessary to add that inquiries of this kind are peculiarly necessary for the American people. We no doubt have a very considerable aptitude for practical affairs, but in the present struggle we are, by our very location, ignorant of the practical issues involved, ^ot one in a thousand of us knows that the fate of the world may be determined by the possession of a great iron mine in Lorraine, or a pass across the Taurus Mountains, or a harbor in the Adriatic. We are tolerably good judges of iron mines and passes and harbors when once we discover their existence, but we do not live in Europe, and have not thought it worth our while as a nation to take note of its outworn equipment. So our unencumbered minds find in this field, thus artificially denuded of all its concrete realities, a rare opportunity for that aerial political philosophy which we as a people affect. It is appalling with what confidence we generalize from our own highly exceptional experience regarding situations in Europe which we totally misconceive. We invoke democracy as the cure for all the ills which the Central Powers are inflicting upon the world, quite overlooking the fact that both the German Eeichstag and the Austrian Eeichsrat are almost ideally mTRODUCTION" 11

democratic bodies. A man can vote for deputy in either Austria or Germany who could not vote for Congressman in Massachusetts. These bodies have no real power, we are told. True, because they do not take it. They have all the power that the British House of Commons ever had to curb autocracy, if they and the people back of them had the will to do so. But these peoples do not wish to curb autocracy which they believe necessary to give them the unity which popular government would destroy. The most superficial knowledge of these countries, and especially of Austria, reveals conditions with which our democracy has never shown itself able to cope. A knowledge of these facts of physical environment and political condition should be valuable, if for nothing else, to moderate the excessive confidence of our political generalizations.

Finally, let it be insisted with all possible emphasis, that the terms of peace to be agreed upon should be based upon the fullest recognition of the special problems and wishes of the associated nations. There is a disposition in some quarters to recall the fact that we entered the war as a free lance, not bound by any pledge to make peace in common with those who had so long borne the burden before us. This fancied liberty gives us a freedom of action, so we are told, which enables us to dictate terms. Conceivably, to those who see no obligation that is not " so nominated in the bond." But no possible course of action could be more unworthy or unreasonable. The nearness of the Allies to the scene of conflict and their immediate dependence upon the result gives them a right to speak which we can scarcely claim. Were our detachment entirely a matter of disinterestedness instead of being chiefly a matter of ignorance, our ambition to act as arbiter might have some justification. As it is, any such pretension on our part is quite unwarranted and its enforcement by coercion, direct or indirect, altogether intolerable. We are not more disinterested than the Allies. We are simply more ignorant of our interests. Above all we are ignorant of their interests. It is therefore earnestly to be hoped that our study of the problem of peace will be conducted throughout in a spirit of profoundest deference for the views and the wishes of those who are associated with us in the struggle and who are so immediately and vitally dependent upon the outcome.

It is needless to say that the technical task of treaty drafting, frontier delimitation, and financial adjustment which must complete the agreement reached, is a task for experts and one quite beyond the scope of the present work.

PAET 1 NATIONALITY

Chapter II

As we approach the problem of peace, the first question is, who is at war ? This question may seem superfluous in view of common knowledge on the subject, but a moment's reflection will convince us that here at the outset of our inquiry there exists a serious confusion of thought. The surface fact that we are at war with Germany is held by many to conceal a deeper fact of very different purport. On the one hand we are assured that our quarrel is not with the German people but with the German government, the latter being conceived primarily as a principle of rule represented by a limited clique of persons who are at present its exponents. Making due allowance for the diplomacy associated with this assertion and recognizing its apparent conflict with the logic of events, it can not be doubted that this doctrine has a strong hold upon the popular mind. The fact that the powers allied against Germany have been from the first predominantly democratic and that the fortunes of war have eliminated the most conspicuous exception, — autocratic, Germanmodeled Japan being easily overlooked, — has tended to confirm this impression that this is a war, not between nations as such, but between principles of political and social organization. That it is so in fact admits of no reasonable doubt. Popular government is a reality in the western peoples and is not yet realized in the Central Powers. If the western nations win, their ideas will win with them, while a German victory would undoubtedly give a long lease of life and a possible extension of domain to autocracy. ISTo doubt autocracy and democracy stand to win or lose with their present champions, at least for long years to come. But whether these nations have gone to war primarily as champions of democracy or autocracy is not so clear. Had this been the issue in 1914, Japan and Russia would certainly have taken the other side. On the outskirts of the two great camps are others whose status is not clear. As regards democracy, there is at present little to choose between China and Turkey, between Bulgaria and Serbia, yet they are in opposite camps. It is difficult to avoid the conclusion that other considerations have influenced these nations, — all of them considerably, some of them overwhelmingly. Democracy and autocracy will share the fate of other characteristics, language, religion, etc. A German victory would enormously extend the domain of the German language, as an allied victory will extend or confirm that of English and French. Yet no one claims that this is a war of languages. Incidentally it is so, for the victor's language will triumph with him, nor would it be safe to assume that peoples are unconscious of this fact or uninfluenced by it. Consciously, and still more unconsciously, they are committed in heart to their own familiar speech and will sacrifice much for its sake. But this is but one of many things to which they are committed and for which they will suffer and die.