Chapter IV: Part 4

Whatever we may think about the exact share of the blame for having brought on the great catastrophe which should be attributed to secret methods and policies, we cannot have any doubts about their influence since the armistice. Whether or not secret diplomacy brought on the war, it certainly has not ended it. War still exists, not only when actual hostilities are going on, but in the whole temper of international affairs--continuing enmity, continuing armaments, unending waste of human effort. Thus, for one thing, the entire Near Eastern situation remains unsettled. As an expert on this troubled region has said: “The principle of settlement as revealed by these treaties is fundamentally wrong. The East must be resuscitated, not exploited.” But be it East or West, there is the same return to the old game of balancing off gains and changing boundaries, without consideration of the rights of the respective peoples. The costly mistakes of the Congresses of Vienna, Paris, and Berlin are being repeated.

X

THE DESTRUCTION OF PUBLIC CONFIDENCE

Our historical survey of diplomatic policy and practice does not hold much assurance that the evils of secret diplomacy have very appreciably waned since the eighteenth century. The cruder methods of deception and corruption which were at that time employed would indeed now be considered beneath the dignity of diplomats; although it is unhappily true that some of the most despicable tricks, such as stealing correspondence and placing informers in houses to be watched, are still practised occasionally. However, it may be said that while in general the trade-secrets of diplomacy have lost greatly in prestige, the spirit of diplomatic action itself has not yet been brought into accord with democratic ideals.

A secret service attached to the diplomatic establishment is still considered useful by some governments. It is, however, certainly very doubtful whether the results thus obtained in the nature of accurate information, are at all commensurate to the expense and to the constant danger of being misinformed through secret agents who think that they must earn their pay. My own observation leads me to believe that people who use secret service information are frequently confused and worried by an abundance of unauthenticated reports brought to them; they would have been far better off without backstairs information, relying on the fundamental facts and on knowledge which can be obtained only by seeking the confidence of the men who control public action. Secret service gossip may often give the key to the aims and desires of an individual person, and if one is willing to appeal to motives through corrupt and deceitful means, the information may be actually useful. However, he whose policy rests upon an essential reasonableness and mutual benefit, can afford to disregard such gossip.

We might distinguish between a secrecy which is vicious in itself, and one that pursues beneficent objects. The former seeks to conceal the presence of harmful motives and projects, to confuse and mislead people to their disadvantage, and in general, to play on weakness and ignorance. The other keeps secret its plans and negotiations which in themselves have honest motives, from a desire to prevent interference with their prompt and complete realization. Opinions as to the character of a policy may differ widely and those who secretly advance a policy generally condemned by many, may perhaps claim credit for honest purposes. This type of secrecy is common. Unfortunately, though it may advance a good object, it incidentally has an evil influence upon public confidence. It must be confessed that the distinction here pointed out is difficult to apply in practice in a thoroughly objective manner, because there are probably among diplomats very few indeed who do not persuade themselves at least that the means applied by them are designed to achieve useful purposes.

A good example of how stratagem may be used for a laudable purpose is found in the action of William J. Buchanan, American Minister to Argentina, in adjusting the Chili-Argentinian boundary dispute. Buchanan, one of the most original of American diplomats, had nothing whatever of the suave manipulator of the old school of diplomacy. He was direct to the verge of bruskness, yet his ability to go straight to the essential point, and his mastery and bigness, made him highly successful as a negotiator. In this particular case, Buchanan had been designated, together with a Chilian and an Argentinian representative, on a commission to settle boundary questions and requested to make a preliminary report. He agreed to act only on the following conditions: That because of the complexity and difficulty of the questions involved, it would be necessary to report on the suggested boundary by sections, that each section should be voted upon as reported by him, and that a majority vote on each section should be decisive. This proposal was accepted. After a careful investigation, Buchanan made his report, and it was found that on each section the suggested boundary was carried by two votes against one; the American always voted in the affirmative; the Chilian and Argentinian, as in the particular section the allotments seemed favorable or unfavorable to their respective country. In accordance with the terms agreed upon, the entire report had thus to be accepted, and all the thorny problems of long-standing boundary controversies were settled. Had Buchanan not used this stratagem it is very unlikely that the report as a whole would have been accepted, as each of his associates would have felt that he could not vote for a report containing arrangements for giving up specific tracts of territory which his country had hitherto always insisted upon retaining. By this clever arrangement Buchanan made it possible for them to vote against such relinquishment in each case without defeating the project as a whole; but if he had revealed to them his plan at the beginning, the object could not have been achieved.

This incident illustrates that a complete solution will often be accepted as satisfactory although it may contain details which, by themselves, would have been resisted to the last. It may be said that the disadvantage of public discussion lies in the emphasizing of such points of opposition, and the obscuring of the general reasonableness of a solution.

Mr. Balfour in his defense of the secrecy of diplomatic intercourse, says that the work of diplomacy is exactly similar to the work which is done every day between two great business firms. He then argues that, in all such relationships, it is unwise to air difficulties in public. Bismarck used the more homely illustration of a horse trade, the participants in which should not be expected to tell each other all they know about the prospective bargain. That view is putting diplomacy on a rather lowly footing. One might expect a somewhat different temper among men dealing with momentous public affairs than the bluff-and-haggle of a petty private transaction. Yet such tactics have actually been found useful in diplomacy. Mr. Balfour is on sounder ground when he says, “In private, in conversations which need not go beyond the walls of the room in which you are, both parties may put their case as strongly as they like and no soreness remains,” but “directly a controversy becomes public, all that fair give-and-take becomes difficult or impossible.” This, of course, implies a somewhat low estimate of public intelligence and self-control, of which more later.

The greatest vice of a secret diplomatic policy, working in the dark and concealing international undertakings, lies in the inevitable generating of mutual suspicion and the total destruction of public confidence among the different countries which compose the family of nations. No nation is so bad as imagination, confused and poisoned by secrecy and by the suggestion of dire plottings, would paint it. Agreements and understandings which do not exist at all are imagined, the nature of those which actually have been made is misjudged, and animosities are exaggerated; thus the public is quite naturally put in that mood of suspicion and excitement which renders it incapable of judging calmly when apparently startling facts suddenly emerge.

Secret diplomacy destroys public confidence, however, in a still more insidious manner: by the practice of using a language of ideal aims and humanitarian professions in order to conceal and veil the most narrowly selfish, unjust and unconscionable actions. The conventional language of diplomacy still carries in it many of the phrases and concepts instilled by the false idealism of the eighteenth century, to which at that time diplomacy gave lip worship. The most disconcerting performances of this kind are the profuse and reiterated declarations promising the maintenance of the sovereignty, independence and integrity of certain countries, when in fact the action really taken was quite to the contrary effect.

The diplomacy of Japan has manifested peculiar expertship in the use of phrases that are associated with some wise public dispensation or arrangement and which have a calming effect--to cover action not remotely in fact contributing to such beneficent providences. The sovereignty, integrity and independence of a neighboring country are guaranteed in solemn terms at the very moment when force, intrigue and every tricky artifice are secretly employed to destroy them. “Strong popular demand” is alleged as a reason for harsh action abroad, in a country where the expressions of public opinions as well as policy itself are controlled by a narrow group, with absolutist authority. There is so much talk of “frank discussion” that every one is put on his guard as soon as the word “frank” is uttered.

The “peace of Asia,” a “Monroe Doctrine for Asia,” the “Open Door,” “greatest frankness,” “hearty coöperation with other powers,” are heralded at times when the context of facts makes a strange commentary. But while such a discrepancy is very strident in a country where military absolutism wields control over diplomacy, with a grudging obeisance to representative forms, yet other countries are by no means free from this hypocrisy. What blasted promise of equity in all that succession of declarations concerning Korea, China, Persia, parts of Turkey, and Morocco. What confusion of political ideals in supporting Denikin, Wrangel, and Horthy as defenders of “representative government.”

When Russia and Japan, in response to Secretary Knox’ Manchurian proposal had made their secret arrangements to defeat his policy, Great Britain, though it had made many reassuring protestations at Washington, nevertheless had secretly acquiesced (to cite a Russian diplomatic paper) in the “recognition of our (Russian) sphere of influence in Northern Manchuria, Mongolia, and Western China, with the exception of Kashgar, as well as the undertaking not to hinder us in the execution of our plans in these territories, and herself to pursue no aims which we should have to regard as incompatible with our interest.” And it was also stated that Great Britain, in return, was to receive “recognition of her freedom of action and her privileged position in Tibet.” This was in 1912.

Thus were the solemn declarations relating to the Open Door and the integrity of China applied in action.

Subsequent departure from the letter and spirit of such declarations may indeed sometimes be excused on account of changed circumstances; but frequently it is quite apparent to those who know what is going on, that such well-sounding declarations are made for public consumption, at the very time when the contrary action is taken secretly.

This is indeed nothing less than a crime against the public opinion and conscience of the world, which cannot be condemned in terms too strong. It shows a thorough contempt of the people, who are supposed to be either of so little intelligence or of so short a memory that such vain professions may succeed in veiling the true inwardness of political intrigue. This practice tends to engender thorough confusion in the public mind as to standards of right and justice in international affairs; it shakes the basis on which alone sound international relations can grow up; as, indeed, all social relations must rest upon confidence in an underlying justice and equity.

Closely allied to the practice of making public declarations in international affairs which do not correspond with the specific action taken, is the control of the press and the censure of news. This is indeed a matter which transcends the subject of diplomacy, because a system of press control and censure is often applied by other departments of the government than the diplomatic branch. As far as foreign affairs are concerned, it is used in an effort to support foreign policy, and it therefore shares the same defects which inhere in the old diplomacy. Like secret diplomatic control, it is accounted for on the assumption that the people cannot be trusted with the entire truth, and that carefully selected portions of the truth have to be put forth in order to make them ready to support the policy considered necessary by the leaders. This involves the assumption of an enormous responsibility by a few leaders in determining by themselves what the public interest requires and instead of relying on the strength naturally to be gained from a spontaneous public opinion, to attempt to fashion that opinion for specific purposes. Press control and censure, with the incomplete and warped information which it implies, is one of the evil accompaniments considered necessary in the conduct of a war, for the safety of the combatant nation. The principle that strategic information must be kept secret is extended, at such times, out of all reason. After hostilities have actually been concluded, this practice tends to subsist and to continue the evils of misinformation and confusion in the public judgment. The manner in which all news emanating from the Balkan and Near Eastern countries has been censured since the war, has made it impossible for the public of the world to form a just conception as to what is there going on. Control of the press and censorship likewise resulted in such confusion in the public mind concerning the problems of Russia, that there remained no reliable basis for a policy which would facilitate the restoration of more normal conditions there, in a sympathetic spirit with the struggles and difficulties of the Russian people.

On account of the natural fact that men are apt to be influenced in their action unconsciously through persons with whom they have constant associations, it is a matter of no mean importance that the armament interests should have been so strongly represented in many capitals by men of high professional and social standing, always on the ground, eager to advance the business in military supplies. In many capitals, very close relationships have grown up between the diplomatic officers and the representatives of the great armament firms. As a mutual apprehension of excessive preparation for war greatly stimulates these industries, it is not surprising that their representatives do not exert themselves to prevent occasional war scares. In fact, highly misleading information on war plans has often been given out, as in the case of a representative of the Coventry Ordnance Works, who in 1909 informed the British Government of excessive shipbuilding by Germany. The news was later found to be erroneous; but new orders had been given in Great Britain, and through action and reaction armaments were stimulated elsewhere. The close connection of the Krupp Iron Works with the German Government and with associations favoring aggressive foreign action is well known.

It has often happened that what represents itself to be a national interest and enlists diplomatic and political support in that way, is really only the enterprise of individuals to make profits. The men who support it with their best energies and talents are not villains, but their method of assuming a great national interest where only a tradition, a prejudice or a private plan of profit are involved, renders their doings far from beneficial to the commonweal. Similarly, those who operate on the principle that the public mind must be nourished with certain carefully selected facts and kept from the knowledge of others, may have honest motives, but their ideas of public action are obsolete or deserve to be so, as they are left over from the absolutist régime in politics.

XI

PARLIAMENT AND FOREIGN AFFAIRS

In considering the relation of legislative bodies, and of the public opinion therein represented, to the conduct of foreign affairs, it will be useful to glance briefly at the relevant historical facts. When the United Colonies of America formed a separate political organization from the mother country, the conduct of foreign affairs was entrusted to a committee of Congress, a successor to the Committee of Secret Correspondence. In 1781 a Secretaryship for Foreign Affairs, with a permanent department, was created and in 1782 the conduct of foreign affairs was regulated in the following terms:

“All letters to sovereign powers, letters of credence, plans of
treaties, conventions, manifestoes, instructions, passports, safe
conducts, and other acts of Congress relative to the department
of foreign affairs, when the substance thereof shall have been
previously agreed to in Congress, shall be reduced to form in
the office of foreign affairs, and submitted to the opinion of
Congress, and when passed, signed and attested, sent to the
office of foreign affairs to be countersigned and forwarded.”

Congress therefore retained a very close control over this matter; a control which under the Constitution passed to the Senate, though in a restricted form. In no other country did a legislative committee participate in the conduct of foreign affairs with similar power and influence. The policy of the arrangements under the Constitution is explained by John Jay in the _Federalist_ as follows:

“It seldom happens in the negotiation of treaties, of whatever
nature, but that perfect secrecy and immediate despatch are
sometime requisite. There are cases where the most useful
intelligency may be obtained, if the persons possessing it can
be relieved from apprehensions of discovery. Those apprehensions
will operate on those persons whether they are actuated by
mercenary or friendly motives; and there doubtless are many
of both descriptions, who would rely on the secrecy of the
President, but who would not confide in that of the Senate, and
still less in that of a large popular assembly.”

Jay’s explanation is dominated by the conception which the eighteenth century had of the functions of diplomacy and the conditions of its work. The constitutional system as conceived at that time implied (1) Full power of negotiation in the President, (2) Taking counsel with the Senate, (3) Formal ratification of treaties by the Senate, and publication thereof as parts of the law of the land. The system has been highly praised by European publicists as reconciling the maintenance of confidential relations with publicity of the results, in that treaties are given the character of laws.

In the course of the nineteenth century there occurred many instances resulting in a growing practice of making special agreements by the Secretary of State alone, without the advice and consent of the Senate. When President Roosevelt in 1905 attempted to deal with the Dominican situation in this manner, the Senate objected and insisted that all international agreements of any kind must be submitted to its action. The system of the United States, however, actually permits of the current conduct of foreign affairs without information to the people or even without constant and complete information to the Senate which is, moreover, usually preoccupied with matters of internal legislation.

In England, the mother of Parliaments, we might expect that there should have been a constant effort at parliamentary control of foreign affairs, with strong remonstrance when effective control was denied; yet on account of the specific nature of the system of Cabinet government, such has not been the case. Under the two-party system as it exists in England the conduct of foreign affairs is always in the hands of a minister trusted and supported by the majority in the Lower House. Even if the minority should attempt to censor the conduct of foreign affairs as being carried on apart from the knowledge and active consent of the House, the majority whose leaders form the Cabinet which is managing things, will always prevent such a vote from succeeding. Only in case of a cabinet going absolutely and openly counter to the policy of its own party in Parliament could a real conflict of this nature arise; and such a contingency is itself impossible, because of the party control exercised by the cabinet.

According to the theory of the Stuarts, the management of foreign affairs belonged entirely to the Crown which had not at that time been put in commission. In 1677 the House of Commons objected to granting money for alliances and for wars, unless the matter in question had been previously communicated to it. Charles II, however, declared the conduct of foreign affairs to be the Crown’s fundamental prerogative in which it must remain free from direct control of Parliament. William III was in fact to a very large extent his own Minister for Foreign Affairs. With the introduction of responsible Government under the Hanoverians, however, the situation changed. The dominant party being represented by the ministers was quite ready to submit to their guidance in matters of foreign affairs. It was the opposition who occasionally attacked the government on its foreign policy, and particularly the opposition in the House of Lords. In a Lords’ protest of March 26, 1734, it was urged that “the interposition of the British Parliament would be more effectual than the occasional expedients of fluctuating and variable negotiations.” In 1740 it was moved that a select committee consisting of peers should be appointed to inquire into the conduct of the Spanish War. The motion was rejected. Another Lords’ protest in the same year opposes the argument that absolute secrecy is essential because this claim is often used in bar of all inquiries. Such secrecy is “much oftener the refuge of guilt than the resort of innocence.”

Wyndham, in 1733, on a motion calling for certain letters of instructions, argued for the necessity of giving such information to Parliament. He asked how could members of the House of Commons judge of the estimates to be laid before them as a provision for national safety if they did not know by what danger the nation was confronted. The motion, however, was rejected.

When Pelham was criticized in the House for not having informed Parliament of the preliminaries of the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle he argued: “If Parliament should encroach upon the prerogative of the Crown, by assuming a right to make peace or war, and to inquire into foreign transactions under negotiation, our affairs will be reduced to a dangerous predicament; for no foreign State will negotiate with our ministers, or conclude any treaty with them, either political or commercial.” This is an argument often made in the eighteenth century to show the unwisdom of Parliamentary control. The change of ministers following party changes in the House, and the fact that the Foreign Minister would not by his own word be able to give complete assurances to foreign governments, were considered to put the British Government under a disadvantage in negotiations. It was therefore considered undesirable that negotiations should be submitted to the control and sanction of Parliament. Walpole had stated the matter in the following words:

“Therefore while our happy constitution remains entire, while the
Parliament meets but once a year, and does not continue assembled
above three or four months in the twelve, it is impossible for
either House of Parliament to intermeddle, much less to prescribe
to the Crown, in any affairs relating to peace or war, without
exposing the nation to imminent danger.”

Throughout the nineteenth century Parliament interfered very little with the conduct of foreign affairs. The minister for foreign affairs or the premier would from time to time give information or make a systematic discourse on foreign affairs and it was understood that the House would be kept informed concerning the aims and tendencies of the Government’s foreign policy. Specific questions were asked by members but not frequently. The nature of the British system would have rendered unmeaning any struggle for control between the House and the Cabinet.

The manner of keeping Parliament and the public informed on foreign affairs was discussed. The Earl of Clarendon spoke of the practice of laying before Parliament official information in the _Blue Books_. He stated:

“I am perfectly certain there is always laid before Parliament
a very fair and complete view of the transactions between this
country and any other to which those papers may relate. I know
that foreign Governments rather complain of our Blue Books, and
to a certain extent they may curtail some of the communications
that are made to our foreign Ministers, but I should be extremely
sorry to see our system of publication of diplomatic papers in
any way curtailed, or different from what it is; of course,
there must always be care taken not to compromise individuals
for the information they have given, but I believe it is an
immense advantage to this country that our despatches and
diplomatic transactions should be known, because if they have the
approbation of Parliament and of the country, the Government then
has the whole weight of public opinion in its favor, and it is
that which gives such strength to our policy and to our opinions
in foreign countries.”

That is a very statesmanlike presentation of the advantages of constant public knowledge of foreign policy in giving the government a secure base of intelligent support.

When dissatisfaction or doubt was felt by large numbers concerning the foreign policy of the government, as in 1857 and again in 1878 after the concealment of the Schuvalof agreement, complaint was frequently made in Parliament and in the press to the effect that Parliament on the one hand was not given a chance to acquire a complete knowledge of foreign policy, and on the other it was not sufficiently alert and active in using its opportunities for control. In 1886 the following resolution was moved:

“That in the opinion of this House it is not just or expedient
to embark in war, contract engagements involving grave
responsibilities for the nation, and add territories to the
Empire, without the knowledge and consent of Parliament.”

Like other similar resolutions, it did not pass. Mr. Gladstone opposed it on the ground that the House of Commons under existing arrangements actually possessed all necessary power of control and that the passage of this resolution would mean simply that the House of Lords would share this power with it.

In 1885 when Earl Granville had objected to public criticism of negotiations which were still in progress between Russia and Great Britain regarding Afghanistan, Lord Salisbury made the following interesting and important statement with respect to the relations of foreign policies to public opinion, which in temper resembles that of Lord Clarendon cited above:

“The noble Earl seemed to me to lay down a doctrine which
we cannot pass unnoticed, when he says it is the duty of
an Opposition not to canvas or condemn the conduct of the
Government, if by so doing it should have the effect of
discouraging friends and allies in other parts of the world.
That seems to be a very far-reaching doctrine, and one which it
is impossible to assent to.... If we are of opinion that the
course of public affairs is going ill, and that our Government
has mismanaged, that faults are being committed and dangers are
being incurred, we have no absolute Sovereign to whom we can
appeal in order to correct the evil; our absolute Sovereign is
the people of this country, and it is they, and they alone, who
can bring a remedy to the mischief which is going on. You have
a form of Government which in many points is purely democratic,
and you must take it with the incidents which naturally adhere to
it, and one of these incidents is publicity of deliberation. The
Cabinet is the people, and their deliberations are conducted in
the open field. If they are to be rightly informed, you must deal
fully and frankly with the subjects which form the basis of their
determination. It is, no doubt, a drawback so far as it goes, but
it is a drawback you must face, and you cannot help it if Foreign
Powers overhear, so to speak, the privileged communications
between you and those by whose verdict you must stand. You cannot
suppress the argument because somebody else outside hears it and
you may be adversely affected by it....”

The concealment of important obligations and the growing secrecy of diplomatic affairs during the first decade of the Twentieth Century brought on many expressions of dissatisfaction in the House of Commons. After the secret agreement concerning Morocco became known, Mr. John Dillon expressed himself as follows, in a speech in the House of Commons in September, 1911:

“I do not believe any representative assembly in the history
of the world has ever been called upon to discuss a matter so
vital and so far-reaching as that which the House of Commons has
before it to-day to consider, and with so absolute a lack of
information.... The House was summoned for this discussion to-day
without any papers whatsoever.... We ought at all events to have
had an account of diplomatic correspondence between the four
great Powers intimately interested in the question of Morocco,
as is customary to be given to the House of Commons on such an
occasion. This would have enabled members of the House before
the debate commenced, to form a really well-grounded judgment
upon the whole matter. We have heard a good deal to-night of
the secrecy of the Foreign policy of this country. It is no use
attempting to deny it. Those of us who have been a long time in
this House, and can remember the methods of the Foreign Office
twenty-five years ago, know as a matter of fact, which cannot be
successfully denied, that the Foreign Office policy has become
during the last ten years progressively more secret every year.
Until this present year this has gone on, when the intense
pressure of Foreign Affairs and the danger of war has forced
the hands of the Minister to give some time for the discussion
of Foreign Office affairs. For ten years the Foreign policy of
this country has been conducted behind an elaborate screen of
secrecy. Some of us pointed out years ago that the secrecy of
Foreign Affairs was the inevitable and logical result of that
new departure which was heralded about ten years ago, and which
we heard praised once more on the floor of this House to-night.
I refer to what is known as the policy of the continuity of the
Foreign policy of this country; of the withdrawal of the Foreign
policy of this country from the sphere of party politics.”

At the same session Mr. Swift MacNeill expressed himself very strongly on the subject of withholding information from Parliament, in the following terms:

“From generation to generation, you have allowed treaties
involving the highest international obligations--involving
questions of peace and war--to be taken absolutely out of the
hands of the House. It is no exaggeration to say, so far as
international policy is concerned, you have rendered the House as
little effectively powerful as any man walking over Westminster
Bridge. Over and over again treaties involving matters of life
and death, involving questions of first-class importance, have
been ratified behind the back of Parliament.... The people
themselves must be allowed to know all about this diplomacy and
what it is. And there should be no secrecy in regard to high
diplomatic statecraft about it. The House of Commons is sample
judge of what is discreet and what is indiscreet, and it is a
complete absurdity for others to treat us as children or for
us to allow ourselves to be so treated in matters of such high
international importance as those involving questions of peace
and war.”

Sir Edward Grey in his reply stated that secrecy up to a certain point was necessary and that particularly the ratification of treaties could not be previously discussed. He then made the very significant remark that not until the House of Commons “was really free to devote itself to discussions of imperial affairs would it get control.” In other words as long as the House of Commons remains a body occupied primarily with domestic and local legislation it cannot spare the attention necessary for an effective control of foreign policy.

Early in 1914, evidence was taken by a select committee on House of Commons procedure. Mr. Balfour during these discussions rather emphasized the need of secrecy in dealing with foreign affairs. He thinks that such matters should not be aired too frequently in the House of Commons, because indiscreet speeches, which can be perfectly appraised in the House, may make bad blood when reported. Diplomatic conversations must be kept confidential if you are to work the European system at all. But though the House of Commons does not and cannot know the current details of international negotiations, it is not uninformed. This plainly is the language of a statesman to whom the idiosyncrasies of the European system are so familiar that they seem to be the only natural state of affairs. The statement is made from the point of view of the expert who rather resents any sort of interference on the part of the less well informed.

In March, 1918, it was moved in the House of Commons:

“That, in the opinion of this House, a Standing Committee of
Foreign Affairs should be appointed, representative of all
parties and groups in the House, in order that a regular channel
of communication may be established between the Foreign Secretary
and the House of Commons, which will afford him frequent
opportunities of giving information on questions of Foreign
policy and which, by allowing Members to acquaint themselves
more fully with current international problems, will enable this
House to exercise closer supervision over the general conduct of
Foreign Affairs....”

Mr. Balfour expressed himself quite in length on this motion and further elaborated the ideas which he had put forward in 1914. In a speech delivered March 19th, he gave what is probably the most complete and persuasive exposition of the value of traditional methods in diplomacy:

“... A Foreign Office and a Diplomatic Service are great
instruments for preventing, as far as can be prevented, and
diminishing, even when you cannot prevent, friction between
States which are, or which ought to be, friendly. How is the
task of peace-maker--because that is largely the task which
falls to diplomatists and to the Foreign Office, which controls
diplomatists--to be pursued if you are to shout your grievances
from the housetop whenever they occur? The only result is that
you embitter public feeling, that the differences between the
two States suddenly attain a magnitude they ought never to be
allowed to approach, that the newspapers of the two countries
agitate themselves, that the Parliaments of the two countries
have their passions set on fire, and great crises arise, which
may end, have ended sometimes, in international catastrophes....
Office officials, or officials of any Department,--to expend some
of their energy in getting ready for cross-examination, you will
really be destroying the public service. There is nothing on
which I feel more strongly than that. They are not accustomed to
it, and they ought not to be accustomed to it.... I do not hold
the view that antique methods are pursued by diplomatists which
no man of common sense adopts in the ordinary work of every-day
life. On the contrary, the work of diplomacy is exactly the work
which is done every day between two great firms, for instance,
which have business relations, or between two great corporate
entities which have interests diverging or interests in common.
If you are a man of sense you do not create difficulties to
begin with. You try to get over all these things without the
embitterment which advertisement always brings with it. It is
when you begin to press your case in public that antagonism
arises. In private--in conversation which need not go beyond
the walls of the room in which you are,--you can put your case
as strongly as you like, and the gentleman with whom you are
carrying on the discussion may put his case as strongly as he
likes, and if good manners are observed and nothing but fair
discussion takes place no soreness remains and no one is driven
to ignore the strong points of his opponent’s case. Directly a
controversy becomes public all that fair give-and-take becomes
either difficult or impossible.... But if all you mean ... is
that it is wrong for the nations of the world to find themselves
hampered in their mutual relations by treaties of which those
countries know nothing, that, I think, is an evil. I do not say
that there have not been secret treaties which were inevitable;
but I do say that, if they are necessary, they are a necessary
evil. Please remember that two nations make a treaty together
for their mutual advantage. Both are desirous of passing it. One
nation says, ‘It is against our interest that this treaty should
be made public at present.’ The other says, ‘We do not like being
committed to any treaty the terms of which we cannot make public
at once.’ Which is going to prevail?... It does not rest with
any single Foreign Office, British or other. It is always an
arrangement between two--possibly three or four, Foreign Offices.
You cannot lay down--and I do not think you would be wise to
lay down, an absolute rule that under no circumstances, and for
no object, could you so far concede the point as to say that a
treaty is to be made which is not to become public property. I
am perfectly ready to admit that that is not a process which, to
me, is a very agreeable one. To reduce secret treaties to the
narrowest possible limits should, I think, be the object of every
responsible statesman who has the control of foreign affairs.
Beyond that I do not feel inclined to go. I do not see any signs
of a grasp of the true realities of life in the Motion before
us. You should have your control over those who manage your
affairs, but it is not the kind of control which the honorable
Member wishes to set up with his Committee of forty or fifty. It
is quite a different control. You must know, broadly speaking,
what the general lines of policy are, and I maintain that that is
thoroughly known with regard to foreign affairs at this moment
by every man in this House who takes the trouble to think. The
general lines on which we are proceeding are thoroughly known.”

This argument brings out all the strong points of the system of secret diplomacy under the existing conditions of international politics, but it contains no hint that these conditions need improvement. They cannot, as a matter of fact, be improved until some strong nations, even at the risk of disadvantage to themselves, take the lead in placing diplomatic affairs on a broader basis.

XII

THE PUBLIC AND DIPLOMACY

In consequence of the startling developments in diplomacy which preceded and accompanied the great war, the relation of democracy to diplomacy has been earnestly discussed of late, particularly in Great Britain.

When considering this important matter, the distinction between the _methods_ of diplomacy and diplomatic _policies_ should be borne in mind for the sake of clearness of thought. The development of public opinion, the disappearance of purely dynastic aims of state action, and the constantly broadening outlook of political life, have led to the elimination of most of the cruder methods of deception and intrigue. But two questions still remain: Should diplomatic negotiations be carried on in the public view, that is with constant and full information given to the public or parliament, on all important details? and, Should the diplomatic policy of a democratic government at all times be kept fully before the representative bodies, and the public?

Most discussions which favor the use of secret diplomacy, refer to the presumed necessity of confidential _methods_ of negotiation. But there are some publicists and statesmen who believe that the policy of foreign affairs itself can best be handled by responsible statesmen keeping their own counsel and giving to the public only a general adumbration of the trend of policy. These two questions are constantly mixed up in current discussion; and their absolute separation is indeed difficult. Thus, a strictly secret diplomatic policy will naturally accentuate the secrecy of the methods employed. Abstractly considered, it would be quite possible to have the foreign policy of a country determined by public action, and still to surround diplomatic negotiations with secrecy. But if the substance of the policy were definitely known in detail, the secrecy of methods would lose much of its effectiveness.

The use of such methods is defended from two points of view; from that of the trader who looks for a better bargain through not having given away his entire hand at the beginning; and from that of the builder who desires to work quietly without interruptions from an excitable public, who desires to avoid difficulties and smooth away contrasts which publicity would tend to exaggerate.

There is an _ex post facto_ publicity of diplomatic policy. If this is afforded as soon as a new situation has arisen or a new agreement has been created, some of the harm of secrecy is avoided. In such a case the statesmen, cabinet, or conference, practically give assurance that, if allowed to work quietly on a certain problem, they will produce a solution which will commend itself in general to the sense of equity of the nation or nations concerned; although the sum total of the arrangement may contain details which, considered by themselves, would be unacceptable and which might have interfered with the making of an accord, if unduly emphasized or given publicity during the negotiations.

Mr. Balfour in his speech of March 19, 1918, which has already been referred to, indeed speaks quite convincingly of the advantage of confidential relations and of secrecy in negotiations, but he goes so far as strongly to deprecate a demand for information on the part of Parliament. In that he certainly shows a measure of anti-democratic bias, as when he says, “Do not suppose that we can do the work better by having to explain it _to a lot of people who are not responsible_. That is not the way to get business properly done.” He therefore rejects the idea of a parliamentary committee of control in the matter of foreign relations. He agrees, however, that the existence of secret treaties is an evil, although he thinks that it may be at certain times necessary, because the associated treaty power may desire it. He is mildly deprecatory, at best.

Count Czernin, speaking to the Austrian delegations on June 24, 1918, concerning President Wilson’s fourteen points, stated that he has no objection to the introduction of the principle of “open covenants,” although he confesses that he does not know by what means effective adherence thereto can be assured. Concerning diplomatic negotiations, which he treats simply as a matter of business, he points out the advantages of secrecy from the point of view of trading. Moreover, if there were full publicity, the general public might passionately oppose every action involving any concession as a defeat. This would not be conducive to peaceable relations.

There are those who believe that the chief evils of secret diplomacy would be avoided if ample opportunity were given for discussion in representative assemblies, if there were a parliamentary committee keeping constantly in touch with the conduct of foreign relations, and if treaties and declarations of war could not be made without the consent of the national legislature. Some advocates of democratic control go so far as to reason that a decision to make war and thereby to order the shedding of human blood, should not be made without a national referendum vote.

On the other hand, those opposed to all publicity of diplomatic affairs argue that international policies cannot be determined in the market place. They hark back to DeTocqueville, who holds that as democracy cannot be expected to regulate the _details_ of an important undertaking, it is particularly unqualified to deal with international matters where secrecy, discretion, and patience are required. Followers of this opinion believe that the conduct of foreign affairs is best placed quite unreservedly in the hands of responsible statesmen, who have greater information, larger experience and more self-control than the average of humanity. They generally have in view the preservation of national interests, under conditions of peace if possible; they will not be inflamed by exciting incidents, but will keep these in proper subordination to the general plan. Such details, if made public, would easily lead to occurrences that would upset the results of wise planning. As Lord Cromer has said, it is such untoward chance incidents which cannot be controlled that are to be feared, rather than any deliberate plotting on the part of diplomats. Such responsible statesmen always remain accountable for the general results of their policy; they are conscious of the importance of their trust, and therefore are a safer repository of discretionary powers than a general committee.

Back of these arguments, however, there usually lies the conviction that the public is superficial, easily swayed, excitable and altogether delighting more in the hurrah of war than in the humdrum of peace. It might be remarked that if such had actually been the case, the most recent experience of the people with war has probably given them a different idea of the attractiveness of that kind of excitement; unless indeed the mass of humanity are irremediably and forever fools, when taken in the aggregate.

The sensational character of the daily press must be considered in this connection. The news value of normal, peaceable developments is very small. It is therefore a godsend to the newspapers when something extraordinary happens, particularly in international affairs. For this reason, the daily news frequently presents an untrue or warped picture of the actual situation. Gilbert Murray asks what people are referred to by those who demand popular control of diplomacy; are they the people of educational societies, or of the music halls? The public is not homogeneous, or so organized as to give expression to convictions on current affairs which have been maturely considered. It lacks the leisure and training for penetrating superficialities and going to the bottom of difficult questions. Lord Cromer believes in general that democracies are not peaceful, and he refers particularly to the American democracy for proof; Lord Lytton said, “Governments are generally for diplomacy, the people for war.”

Men of all shades of opinion are agreed that the people are not greatly interested in foreign affairs, and the opponents of proposals of democratic control argue that it would be useless to create machinery for action where there exists no interest, nor purpose to act.

It is quite true that the public during the nineteenth century seemed less interested in foreign affairs than during the eighteenth. At the earlier time, diplomacy was a fascinating, personal game, about which the wiseacres in the coffee houses were eager to make their criticisms and prognostications. When the middle class came to power in the nineteenth century, it was primarily interested in economic and other domestic questions, and was satisfied to leave the conduct of foreign affairs to statesmen and diplomats. The constantly growing political consciousness of the public at large was concentrated chiefly on questions of internal politics and reform. Foreign affairs, as they reached the public, were thought of still from the point of view of the onlooker, rather than of him who actually had to bear the brunt of the burden. Those who had to bleed and die when hostilities had been brought about, never had any chance, nor determination, to influence the course of diplomacy leading up to wars.

With such a general apathy of the public, it was not surprising that diplomacy should cling to its caste privileges, should try to preserve its discretionary powers, and should often attempt deliberately to keep people in the dark. “In the public interest” is the curtain beyond which no one may peer. Even in the American Government, particularly during and since the war, foreign affairs have been handled with what would ordinarily seem insufficient information to the public; in fact, with occasional putting forth of misleading and entirely partial information, or the refusal to furnish information even when requested by those having official responsibilities. This is a notable change, as up to 1914 it was substantially true that the United States had no diplomatic secrets.

While from the point of view of traditional diplomacy, and of international relations as they were up to the Great War, it seems quite natural that democratic control should be thought by many to be unpractical; and while indeed no one can flatter himself that through a change of method the conduct of international affairs could suddenly be rendered more wise and entirely effective towards the public welfare, yet I cannot avoid the conclusion that there is a wrong orientation in the emphasis of the need of secrecy and of the unfitness of the people to deal with problems of foreign affairs. The belief in the unfitness of the people in this matter appears to be the result of a preconceived notion as to the overpowering difficulty, complexity and almost sanctity of foreign affairs. Modern governments are based on the principle that all legislation must meet the test of public criticism and rest on public consent; certainly it cannot be argued that matters of the incidence of taxation, the proper organization of credit, and the determination of commercial policies, are less complex and intricate than are foreign affairs. It is indeed true that it is difficult for one nation thoroughly to appreciate in detail the conditions of life in another. This truth should have its greatest value in dissuading a nation from meddling with the internal affairs of another, even from good motives. Those international questions which are apt to produce war may indeed relate to intricate matters, but the essential point is always the contention for power, influence or commercial advantage, and it is not apparent why the public in general should be unfit to judge as to whether national treasure and life are eventually to be spent in huge quantities to bring about, or to prevent, any such shifting of power or influence.

It is, however, because the motives involved are so largely connected with class interests, or survivals of pride of race, that those concerned in them are eager to deny the fitness of the general public, which if called on to decide would put into the foreground the question, “How does the control of this or that group of capitalists in Morocco, for instance, or the greater or smaller influence of Austria or Russia in Servia, affect the daily life and welfare of our people?” It is certainly true that questions of peace and war have never definitely been reasoned out on that basis. There has always been the assumption that certain things were essential to national prestige and could not be questioned; it is only when the actually existing broader base of national political life is organized also for active control of foreign affairs, that these considerations will have their full weight. Only the most exceptional statesmen could lift themselves out of the narrow groove of tradition and precedent; and more exceptional still, in fact all but impossible, is the capacity of one man to represent in himself in just proportion, all the interests and feelings of a nation.

Infallibility cannot be expected in the handling of foreign affairs, whether under a broad discretion of statesmen or under strict democratic control. There will always be an alternative of wisdom and rashness, constructive planning and headlong action, carefulness and negligence. But past experience has certainly established beyond peradventure of doubt that secret diplomacy is not infallible, and particularly that diplomacy acting under absolutist traditions, as in Germany before the war, may make the most fatal mistakes of judgment and of policy. Balfour said: “I do not think the Government in June, 1914, had the slightest idea that there was any danger ahead.” A remarkable statement, when we consider the actions and reactions of secret diplomacy during the decade preceding the war. It has been quite truly said that diplomacy is far more eminent in autopsy than in diagnosis. M. Cheradame somewhat severely observes, “The typical diplomat lives in a world of his own. His information is rarely obtained by direct observation of people and facts.” And while ordinarily men of exceptional talents are selected for the difficulty position of Minister for Foreign Affairs, yet all considered, it is hard to believe that were decisions on the essential matters of international life made on a broader basis, and influenced more by a direct action of public opinion, the result would be less wise.