a democratic peace must also prepare. The Peace Conference, if it is not to be a mere repetition of the chicaneries of the past, must meet in an atmosphere of public discussion and of intolerance for all secrecy and deviousness. Important as is the form or structure of the Peace Congress, important as is the method by which the delegates are to be elected, the crucial factor is the state of mind of the world when the Congress meets. In turn this depends upon the possibility of bringing intellectual and moral pressure to bear upon the several governments before the war comes to an end.

CHAPTER XVI

AFTER THE PEACE CONFERENCE

AFTER the Peace Conference there will remain a sense of frustration. However intelligent or wellintentioned the delegates, they cannot, from the nature of the case, find solutions for all the intricate economic, nationalistic and territorial problems which led to this war. The most that can be accom

plished will be the creation of a machinery of international government. How that machinery will work will depend upon the spirit governing the nations after the war.

The problem of attaining internationalism is not one of form but of substance and intent. Even should we secure general promises of disarmament, mediation, arbitration, and of a freedom of the seas in war, even should we begin to construct a league to enforce peace, the machinery would break down unless upheld by the pacific intentions of the nations. If several members of the League believed that their interests were being sacrificed, they would openly or covertly seek to ruin the international machinery. It is easy to destroy, to take advantage of technical points, to promise and not fulfil, to be unfair and allege unfairness in others. For any fundamental

and permanent success of internationalism we must rely upon the good intentions of states, which perceive that their true interest no longer lies in a resumption of the old strife.

Whether an effective internationalism is possible at all under the present economic and political régime in Western lands is doubtful. It is true that even the greatest financiers find war and provocations to war on the whole unprofitable. Even were all profit-seeking activities of a nation organized nationally, and were the interest of each nation in any specific quarrel intensified by the fact that the beneficiary was a small social class, there would still remain an advantage in the maintenance of peace. But the temptation to war in such circumstances is enormous. If conditions within a country are such that the nation is forced to seek its advantage in foreign economic adventures, and if the profits from those adventures accrue to a small cohesive group, with vast political influence, the temptation to seek undue advantage over rivals is likely to lead the nation to the brink of war. Were each Frenchman or German to gain or lose only a few dollars as the result of an international decision, compromise would be more profitable than war. When, however, as in the past, the rights or privileges contended for mean not a dollar or two to each citizen but hundreds of millions to either a French or a German syndicate, then patriotism

flares up menacingly. The masses in each community have a smaller economic interest in the controversies leading to war, and have more to lose from war, than do the special economic groups which now control national decisions.

This disequilibrium of our modern economic system constitutes the gravest menace to peace and will continue to be dangerous, whatever the machinery for international government. The fact that small economic groups possessing vast influence find their interest in striving for special advantages in backward countries, even at the risk of war, makes any progress toward internationalism under the existing system extremely difficult. Under any system, of course, many differences between nations can be obviated. Profit-sharing privileges can be pooled, and states can be prevented from taking toll upon the international highways. But at best the resulting internationalism is insecure. If after the war each nation is to be controlled by the same groups and ideas as in July 1914, the divisive and war provoking economic interests will remain strong, and peace will be unstable. Imperialism will be in full tide.

Moreover, and this is an important fact to Americans, the United States, which in the present war has been a champion of internationalism, is as likely to become imperialistic as are the other nations. After the war we too have a victory to win, over

ourselves. Unless we achieve that victory, here, at home, we may become an aggressive and imperialistic power, a menace to the nations, a foe to internationalism, a nation against which other nations may league in order "to make the world safe for democracy.

It is difficult for Americans, with our subjective attitude toward ourselves, to realize that any such menace exists. We have always had the effortless virtue that inheres in a comfortable competence. Our foreign policy has been "a diplomacy de luxe," and we were not obliged, as were other nations, to fight hard for what we needed. We therefore came to believe, that by reason of our peculiarly pacific nature we were immune from imperialism.

It was sheer self-delusion. Undoubtedly we have usually had what we wanted and our sense of national security has made it seem unnecessary for us to fight for strategic positions. Nevertheless we have been gradually strengthening our strategic positions in the approved English, Russian and German manner. We have acquired Hawaii to protect our Western shores, the Canal Zone to permit the passage of our warships from Atlantic to Pacific, and finally, in order to maintain our supremacy in the Caribbean and to guard the Canal Zone, we have taken over Porto Rico, a few naval stations in Cuba, and the Danish West Indies, and have acquired a quasi-protectorate over Nicaragua, Hayti and Santo