Chapter V: Part 5

Active participation of the people in the making of momentous decisions regarding foreign affairs, is denied either under the assumption that the people might not be ready to face the fateful test, or, by the majority, with the thought that the people are too excitable and rash to be trusted with such far-reaching decisions. While it is indeed easy to generate warlike excitement among the masses, it must be remembered, when such a charge of rashness is made, that the people have never been currently informed of the development of international dangers, but usually at a critical time shreds of information have been flashed on them, designed or at least apt to stir up all their atavistic love of fight and fear of attack. Even thus, the greatest noise is made usually by those who do not in the event of hostilities actually have to risk their blood and bones.

It stands to reason that if honestly kept informed about international relationships, the people would be far less prone to sudden excitement. Very few people indeed appear to doubt that had the decision of war or no war been laid before the peoples of Europe in 1914, with a full knowledge of the facts, the terrible catastrophe would never have come about. As Mr. Lowes Dickinson has said, if the people had been allowed to share the apprehension and precautions of the diplomats before 1914, there would have been quite a simple and clear question before the English people, for one. It could have decided whether it would pursue a policy that might lead at any moment to a general European war, or to take the alternative which Sir Edward Grey later spoke of, namely, “to promote some arrangement, to which Germany could be a party by which she could be assured that no aggressive or hostile policy would be pursued against her by France, Russia and ourselves, jointly or separately.” Without the support of the people, kept in line by fear of hidden dangers, not even the militarists of Germany could have forced military action.

One of the first acts of the Russian Soviet Government was to announce its hostility to secret diplomacy. When it first published the secret treaties and documents of the Czarist Government, its motive was, as shown by Trotsky’s declaration made at the time, thoroughly to discredit the management of affairs under the old régime. In the same connection, it announced its own purpose of conducting foreign affairs in the open. Such seems indeed to have been its general practice with respect to the announcement of policies, though its agents continued to use underground methods. One thing, however, the Soviet Government is evidently trying to bring about, namely, a broad public interest in the conduct of foreign affairs. It desires the Russian people, and more particularly the members of the ruling Communist Party, to be currently informed about the progress of international affairs and about arrangements concluded. Observers report that at the meeting of the provincial soviets the first business ordinarily taken up is the reading and discussion of a report on international relations sent by the central government. We have no means to check up the truth of these reports; but this effort to interest the broad mass of the population in the outward relations of the state is certainly worth notice. The expectation is encouraged that the reason for acts relating to foreign affairs will be explained, particularly when sacrifices are demanded.

XIII

A SURVIVAL OF ABSOLUTISM

Those who view the modern state as a purely predatory organization,--for exploitation within and without,--point to the methods, practices and results of diplomacy as one of the plainest indications of the sinister nature of the political state. Such criticism cannot be safely brushed aside as utterly unreasonable; it should rather call forth a searching inquiry as to whether, as a matter of fact, the conduct of foreign affairs could not and should not be brought into greater consonance with genuinely democratic principles, and be placed on the sound basis of well-informed public support.

No matter what opinion one may hold with respect to the necessity of secret diplomacy, it must be recognized that this practice involves a very narrow conception of the active scope of democracy. It is in fact a historical survival from the period of the absolutist state; or in other words, that aspect of the modern state which deals with foreign affairs has retained the character of absolutism. It is a superstition, in the picturesque sense of that word used by Lowell, when he defines it as “something left standing over from one of the world’s witenagemotes to the other.” In this case, indeed the most recent witenagemote approached the question and proposed a step in advance towards its solution. But the difficulty still persists.

In its relations with other states, the state is considered to be absolute, not bound by any laws, responsible only for its own security, welfare and progressing influence. The struggle for political power still exists among states, in essentially the same keenness and rigidity with which it appeared to the eyes of Machiavelli. The importance of world-wide human relationships, and of international coöperation in scientific and economic life, has indeed been brought forth and given its place in the public mind; but because of the manner in which the conduct of international affairs is actually handled, the feeling thus generated does not have much chance to influence action at critical times, when the people are startled and excited by the sudden revelation of dangers, which awaken in them all the bitter feelings engendered by the past struggles of mankind.

This survival is given strength by class interests, pride of race, and by the manipulations of plutocratic control. Where affairs are handled by a narrow circle of men, no matter how high-minded and how thoroughly conscious of their public responsibility, yet with the necessary limitations of the human mind, they cannot but be influenced at every turn by the opinions of others with whom they are actually in contact; so that in decisions on these momentous matters, the thing which is concretely present is very often an interest comparatively narrow in itself, and related to the public welfare only by a series of remote inferences which are accepted at their face value. The most successful statesman of the nineteenth century said that the whole Balkan question was not worth the bones of one Pomeranian grenadier; yet his successors in power risked the very existence of the nations of Europe for one phase of that question.

Powerful interests will always have means, formal or informal, to lay their needs and desires before the men in power. They may indeed be very important and may deserve special attention, but unfortunately, many cases have happened in which their point of view has been adopted without making sure that there existed a general public interest sufficiently important to warrant taking the risks involved.

A diplomatic caste recruited from a certain class of society, trained in the traditions of authority, in contact all the time with men of similar views and principles, cannot in the nature of things free itself from the limitations of such environment and such training.

From the personal point of view diplomacy has adhered to the belief in the superior intelligence, ability and foresight in the handling of foreign affairs, on the part of those who by inherited traditions and special experience may be said to belong to a caste distinguished from the mass of humanity. Some one has said, there is a great danger in that there exists a caste of people who have taken the making of history as their profession; who still cling to the erroneous idea that the manipulation of large masses of people, the redistribution of territories, and the modification of the natural processes of grouping and settlement, is history. But such people who believe they are making history are really obstructing it. Even so unusual a man as Bismarck, working as he did on a great national problem, did not gain lasting success in action whereby he endeavored to anticipate the developments of history. The artful contrivance and harsh, ruthless execution of many of his plans left a heritage of evil to the world; but the greatest evil lay in the example given by so successful a man in making it seem that history could actually thus be made. The attitude which is taken in behalf of such men, in claiming for them a completely free and full discretion in controlling foreign affairs, recalls a statement made by H. G. Wells concerning a British leader: “He believes that he belongs to a particularly gifted and privileged class of beings to whom the lives and affairs of common men are given over--the raw material for brilliant careers. It seems to him an act of insolence that the common man should form judgments on matters of statecraft.” The diplomats of the old school indeed do require the people, but only as material with which to work out their grandiose projects. Their view not too distantly resembles that of the German militarists to whom ordinary humanity existed only for one purpose, “to do their damn’d duty.”

We should naturally expect to find the greatest secrecy and the most callous use of secretive methods, where absolutism remains most completely established. In the last remaining absolutism, that of Japan, these expectations are fulfilled, both as regards carefully-guarded secrecy of all diplomatic action, and the habitual use of well phrased declarations of a theoretical policy, announced for public consumption, but bearing only a Platonic relation to the details of actual doings. But more liberally governed states have not by any means all freed themselves from this practice, even to the extent of faithfully keeping the representative bodies, and the public, informed of the true character and aims of important national policies.

During the discussions of the last few years, a great many remedies for this state of affairs have been suggested. The Constitutional practice of the United States has been taken as a model in England in the suggestion that there should be a representative committee on foreign affairs in the House of Commons, which should keep in constant touch with the diplomatic officials and supervise the conduct of foreign relations; that there should be at least two days given to the discussion of the Foreign Office Vote; that there should be full reports made on the progress of all important negotiations; and that treaties and alliances should not be concluded, nor war made, without a previous authorization on the part of Parliament. The last formal proposal of this kind was the motion made in March, 1918, in the House of Commons, the opposition to which by Mr. Balfour has already been alluded to. That he should object particularly to the prying into foreign affairs on the part of persons “not responsible,” and by “politicians,” that the proposed committee of the House of Commons should be thus characterized, throws light on the prejudices involved; but it also reveals the absurdity of the present arrangement from the point of view of free government. In France there has existed, since 1902, a standing committee on foreign and colonial affairs in the Chamber of Deputies.

When he was premier, in 1920, Signor Giolliti introduced a bill carrying the following provision: “Treaties and International understandings, whatever be their subject and character, are valid only after they have been approved by Parliament. The Government of the King can declare war only with the approval of the two Chambers.” The ministry of Giolliti fell before this sound measure could be passed.

It may be questioned whether many of the arrangements suggested could be more than palliatives, as long as an intelligent and constant public interest in foreign affairs has not been aroused, and as long as the absolutist aspect of foreign policy continues. The suggestion that war should not be made without a previous national referendum, has indeed logic on its side from the point of view of the democratic theory of state, but it has thus far not entered into the state of practical consideration.

The most important remedy as yet attempted is the provision in the Covenant of the League of Nations, that all treaties shall be made public. No greater encouragement, indeed, could be given to the growth of confidence and the destruction of baneful suspicions and fears, throughout international life, than if it were possible to assure the nations of the world that all engagements imposing international obligations of any kind whatsoever would be made known immediately upon their conclusion. This provision of the Covenant has already gone into force, and numerous new treaties have been submitted, even by governments who are not as yet members of the League. But certain governments have delayed compliance in cases where treaties are known to have been made secretly. As there is no specific sanction for this provision in the Covenant, and as actually binding agreements can be made without taking the form of a treaty or convention, this remedy is not in itself powerful enough to remove the evil. If two or three states are willing to keep an engagement secret at the risk of later incurring a certain amount of opprobrium when the fact is discovered, there is no means as yet available for obliging them to abandon such course. Nevertheless, this provision of the Covenant constitutes a great advance in the work of placing the public business of the world on the only sound basis, and cultivating that confidence upon which depends the future immunity of mankind from constant danger of suffering and destruction. It will, however, not be a real remedy until the nations agree actually to outlaw all secret agreements as a conspiracy against the general welfare and safety.

The other important advance made in the Covenant is found in the provisions for the investigation of any cause of conflict before hostilities shall be resorted to. If after the first shock of excitement, which accompanies the revelation of a serious international crisis, public opinion can be given a certain space of time to inform itself, then it may indeed be hoped that a different temper will control the giving of the fateful doom of war. As Count Czernin has stated, on the night of August 4, 1914, between the hours of nine and midnight the decision as to whether England would come into the war, lay with the German Government. A system under which such tremendous issues have to be decided in such a manner, is absurd to the verge of insanity.[E]

[E] A German writer puts the blame for the outbreak of the
war on the telegraph. He says that if there had been no
telegraphic communication between the capitals, the fatal
crisis would not have arisen; there would have been time
for reflection and a decision to make war would never have
been taken in blood.

While the above arrangements, if they could be effectively carried out, would undoubtedly serve to moderate the evils which now result from the conduct of international affairs on so narrow a basis, yet it is difficult to expect from them more than relatively superficial results. It is only if a new spirit can be developed among the nations, and if the absolutist conception of the state as far as it still remains, can be transformed into something more consonant with the complexity and delicacy of human relationships, that we may hope to hail the dawn of a new era. It would be as great a transformation as that which separates the Pagan from the Christian ideal. Mankind is still somewhat blinded by the glitter and pageantry of the absolutist state; the pride of power manifests itself now particularly in foreign intercourse. When Portugal became a republic, it desired at first to abolish the entire diplomatic establishment, and to allow all international business to be done by the consuls. That proposal may have resulted from an instinctive feeling that there was something incompatible between a really free community, and the sense of absolute power embodied in diplomacy.

A change can be brought about only when the underlying unity of mankind is more intensely felt and when the common interests in science, commerce, industry and the universal language of art are valued at their true importance to the welfare of the people of all nations. Joint effort in the constructive work of developing resources, particularly in the tropics, will make it possible for vastly increased populations to live in comfort on their present sites, without the need of crowding each other. A higher valuation of humanity, a more just proportion in the influence permitted different interests, a keener scrutiny of traditions and watch-words--all this is necessary. Men and women to-day feel an intense apprehension, when they think of the fate of their children in a world in which the unreasoning prejudices and unenlightened practices that have recently again come to the fore in international life should prevail, leaving mankind in a dazed confusion, and pushing the people from time to time into wholesale slaughter with ever more horrible instruments of destruction. They feel also that if secret policies, engendering fears and suspicion, are to continue to be the dominant factor, then all improvement in human welfare, education and science, will have to be in a large measure postponed to the preparation of constantly more formidable engines of death. One cannot but remember the worst imprecations of the Greek tragic poets and philosophers, on the miserable destiny of man. In fact, if we should have to believe that no better way could be found to manage the vital interests of mankind, a great natural catastrophe, which would extinguish once and for all the miserable breed on this planet, would almost appear in the light of a redemption.

But we cannot believe that the peoples of the world will be so foolish as to allow themselves to remain in this condition and not to find their way to a reorganization of public affairs which will make such a haphazard and perilous situation impossible. It seems plain that the idea of the state and of state action will have to be transformed in accordance with the greater self-consciousness of humanity which has developed in the last century, or the desire to scrap the political state and to find some more adequate and natural form of organization will rapidly gain in strength. Meanwhile, there is a need of the formation of a great freemasonry of all publicists, political men and teachers of the people, united in the resolve to know and make known the essential elements in current international affairs, to arouse the public to a sense of the importance of these matters to their every-day life, and to support the men more directly responsible for the conduct of foreign policy, with an intelligent, searching, reasonable and broad public opinion.

XIV

RECENT AMERICAN EXPERIENCE

Up until a recent date Americans could contemplate the play of secret diplomacy in Europe and Asia with a feeling of entire aloofness, as belonging to a political society which had neither need nor inclination to utilize such methods. Our unmenaced continental position, the natural protection and separation implied in distance and ocean boundaries, and the conscious intention of keeping clear of international entanglements, all contributed to make the foreign policy of the United States entirely public and straightforward. The fathers of the Constitution had established the sound principle that treaties are the law of the land. This not only involves mature consideration of a treaty before it is made, but publicity as well. The American people have known at all times what obligations had been incurred, and the world had the same information. There has been no room for guesswork and suspicion.

The instructions which were issued to John Jay when he was sent as special envoy to England in 1794 lay down the following rule of conduct: “It is the President’s wish that the characteristics of an American minister should be marked on the one hand by a firmness against improper compliances, and on the other by sincerity, candor, truth and prudence, and by a horror of finesse and chicane.” These straightforward words began a tradition which has ever since animated the American diplomatic service. When after the Spanish war, under Secretary Hay, American diplomacy entered more fully into world-wide problems than in any previous era, the expression “the new diplomacy” was currently used in a laudatory sense to designate what Hay had implied when in a public address he had declared the Golden Rule to be the cardinal principle of American diplomacy--an ideal which makes secrecy and intrigue unnecessary.

In order to give the public an opportunity of informing itself concerning the conduct and development of foreign affairs, the United States Government has from an early date published an annual collection of diplomatic correspondence. Since 1861, this publication is known as _Papers Relating to the Foreign Relations of the United States_. It was formerly published within two or three years of the year to which it related, but during the war this interval was considerably extended. The precedents and principles elaborated in the diplomatic correspondence of the United States have been collected, codified and published in a very important and useful compendium by Francis Wharton, under the title of _Digest of International Law_. This work was expanded, amplified and brought down to date by Prof. John Bassett Moore, under the same title, in 1906. It is of the highest importance, not only as a repository of diplomatic and legal precedent, but as a definite and public record of the position taken by the American Government on all international questions that had arisen up to the date of its publication. The preparation of such digest on the part of other governments is highly to be desired for the purpose of clarifying international law and policy, and for giving them a sound basis of reason and experience upon which the people and governments may rely. The fact that a precedent reported in this digest, might be cited against the American Government as an admission, does not imply a disadvantage which would at all offset the benefits resulting in general from public knowledge.

With respect to the details of negotiation, there are confidential relationships which have always been observed by the American Government. Ordinary considerations of courtesy require that those who may speak to us frankly in confidence shall not be made to suffer by being quoted and thus perhaps be exposed to misunderstanding and criticism. On our part, in preparing a sound basis of action, favorable as well as unfavorable matters have to be considered; yet there is ordinarily no need of publicly advertising the shortcomings of individuals and governments as set forth in reports on such unfavorable matters. Such considerate action is not based on a desire to mislead or to take advantage, but to save unnecessary irritation. For the purpose of permitting complete freedom of discussion and of criticism without the risk of giving offense, the United States Senate, as a matter of its ordinary procedure, goes into secret session when discussing a treaty submitted to it. There have, however, been several exceptions. Thus, for instance, the debates on the Bayard-Chamberlain Fisheries Treaty of 1888, on the Taft arbitration treaties of 1912, and on the Nicaragua Treaty of 1916, were carried on, and concluded, in open session. Many senators are in favor of making this the common practice.

Before the war, as Prof. John Bassett Moore, whose knowledge of the records is unequaled, said to me, the State Department had no secrets whatsoever, with the exception of personnel reports. We, too, however, can depart from a well-established tradition, as is shown by our diplomatic history during the war. I do not believe it will ever be charged that in any matter big or little the American Government sought narrow, selfish advantages. Secrecy due to such motives, there was none. There was no American policy or enterprise that needed concealment, apart from military policies and strategy during a war. When I glanced over at the end of my mission in Peking the extra-confidential cable correspondence, I was inwardly amazed by the entire lack of anything that really needed concealing, in that closely guarded dossier.

Yet American diplomacy did during the war fall somewhat under the spell of the traditional methods still in vogue in Europe. We were not a party to any secret engagements for the division of spoils after the war, although from the time of the peace conference on, the influence of the American Government was exercised mostly in secret, and the agreements subsidiary to the general settlement were secretly signed. These did not contain any apportionment of advantage to the United States, but on the contrary were supposed to contain the nearest approach to the equitable ideas of American policy which was, under existing conditions, obtainable. But throughout this trying period the conduct of American diplomacy did not rest on the foundation of a continuous, frank appeal to the public opinion of our own nation or of the world.

Even before the armistice some very important matters were dealt with in this fashion. Though the permanent importance of the Lansing-Ishii note as affecting in a concrete and specific way the definition of rights and policies in the Far East is very doubtful, yet in its immediate effect under all of the circumstances of the time, this was certainly a noteworthy document to issue from the American foreign office. Yet, its conception and execution was absolutely surrounded with secrecy so that not even the high officials normally consulted in such matters, with the exception of the Secretary of State himself, were informed as to what was coming. This secrecy worked entirely in the interest of the Japanese government. By privately giving out the agreement in Japan and in China before the date when its publication had been agreed upon, the Japanese government succeeded to a certain extent and for a time, in giving this matter the appearance of a great Japanese diplomatic victory and of a highly important concession on the part of the United States.

It is not necessary to recall the general disillusionment that came about when President Wilson agreed to the policy of secrecy at the peace conference. Undoubtedly this decision was based on the motive to secure, with a promptness required by the stress of the times, a settlement which would in general commend itself to the sense of justice of the world, although it might necessarily contain details which, if published by themselves, would cause lengthy public discussion and delay the final solution. If such an expectation was entertained, it was not as a matter of fact fulfilled in the results of these secret consultations. The method adopted did not favor the broad and permanent view, but rather the more shortsighted bargaining in which the old diplomacy excels. In their solutions neither the consultations of the peace conference, nor the subsequent diplomatic negotiations among the Allies, got beyond the old methods of bartering the destinies of small and weak peoples, which had been used by the Congresses of Vienna and of Berlin with disastrous results. The various conferences of 1919 to 1920 recorded a complete return to the system of secret diplomacy, to such an extent that it appeared constantly as if the plenipotentiaries feared to let their doings be known. Even when there was no reason from any point of view for concealment, information came out in a roundabout fashion which left the public mind confused; as for instance in the giving out of a decision regarding the fate of Constantinople, and in the reports concerning the text of President Wilson’s Adriatic memorandum which were current before its publication.

From the entanglements of this procedure American diplomacy did not keep itself free, nor did it, at this time, assist the world in finding a more straightforward method more in accord with American political experience.

The disadvantages of secret methods of transacting public business have been brought home to the American people through several incidental matters of no small importance. It evidently was the intention of President Wilson to reserve American rights as to the Island of Yap which is a vital link in the chain of cable communication between America and the Far East, and a reservation of this kind is indicated by references in the official minutes, though not by a written protocol. Without the knowledge of the United States, the Council of the League of Nations later disposed of the mandate for all of the North Pacific Islands. As this action was secret, it could not be known whether the American interest bearing on Yap Island had been safeguarded or not. It was stated as late as January 26, 1921, that the American Government was not in possession of the greater part of the minutes of the Peace Conference. Notwithstanding the protests of the United States, Japan based her claim to the North Pacific Islands on the secret treaties made during the war.

The secrecy of the peace conference, and the revelations before and during its sessions, concerning the secret treaties for the division of the spoils, produced a great disillusionment in the public mind. The fact that the United States though asked to make enormous sacrifices in the common cause had been kept in the dark concerning at least some of these treaties, and particularly of those which affected its own interest, did not inspire the American public with any confidence in the general conduct of affairs among the nations.

After the adjournment of the conference the American President and Government still continued to take a part in the various attempts to settle outstanding questions, particularly with respect to the Adriatic. When President Wilson towards the end of February, 1920, addressed a note to the allied powers concerning the Adriatic settlement, the documents and negotiations which had gone before were entirely unknown to the public. On December 9, 1919, an agreement had been signed by Great Britain, France and the United States, Undersecretary Polk signing for the latter. On January 9th, the British and French premiers had agreed with the Italian premier on a modified plan of settlement. On February 10th, the American Secretary of State wrote a note containing President Wilson’s objections to the plan of January 9th. The allied premiers replied to this note on February 18th. All these agreements and this correspondence were kept secret, nor was President Wilson’s final answer given out for some time; only more or less accurate prognostications appeared in the press.

The American Government at this time was at a disadvantage in not participating in the negotiations directly; the American ambassador at Paris was invited from time to time to hear what the conference of premiers cared to tell him, but the proceedings of the conference were apparently not transmitted to the American Government. The British press at the time quite generally expressed great dissatisfaction with the methods followed by the diplomats. The _Westminster Gazette_ wrote: “The whole of both peoples is acutely concerned in the result. We must, therefore, register a protest against the manner in which the negotiations are being conducted. They are being carried on in secrecy, only broken by unreliable rumors, by the three principal governments. The peoples have a right to know what is being done in their name, so that they may be able to protest, if need be, against decisions which may affect their future relations.” The _Times_ protested: “We are not going to stand by and have our friendship and relations with America jeopardized by the proceedings of a triumvirate sitting behind closed doors. The American democracy, we imagine, will not be less resolved to assert their rights and stifle this effort at secret diplomacy.”

At this time Mr. Bonar Law, the government spokesman in the House of Commons, denied absolutely that a harsh and uncompromising reply had originally been drafted to President Wilson’s despatch, and that it had subsequently been changed through the influence of Viscount Grey and Lord Robert Cecil. The _Times_ characterized this denial as “an example of verbal quibbling which inferior intelligences mistake for diplomacy,” and maintained that “though it may be verbally true, it conveys and is designed to convey what is untrue”; and the _Daily Mail_ stated that the country owed a debt of gratitude to Lord Grey for his activities in the matter. This all illustrates on how insecure a foundation, and with what chances of confusion, public opinion has to work in matters of foreign affairs where the practices of the old diplomacy are followed.

The American people at this time very nearly lost patience with the entire business, and turned away from European affairs with complete disgust. This is the most outstanding effect produced by the secret diplomacy of Europe as far as the American people are concerned. The danger now is that their feeling of disgust and confusion, and their impatience with the selfish and shortsighted manipulations of European diplomacy, will over-emphasize the desire of America to live by and for herself alone. If such a mood and temper should prevail, it would be a great loss to America and to the world. At no time has the world needed America more than at present, not so much from the point of view of direct economic assistance, as on account of the fact that American experience, principles and ideals constitute at the present time the hope of the peoples of the whole world; and America could, if she desired, exercise an enormous influence in making the popular desire for such action active, vital and fruitful.

But even aside from the general confidence which is felt by the peoples of Europe and Asia in the character and ideals of the United States, there are a great many specific contributions which America could make to the solution of European problems. No matter how much we shall desire during the next decade to hold aloof from Europe and to concentrate on our own affairs, nevertheless, should European affairs go radically wrong through a constant denial and deception of the hopes and aspirations of the people for honest and sensible solutions, America in the end will again have to share the burden thus laid on the shoulders of mankind.

The fundamental American principle that treaties have the force and status of law contains in itself the promise of solving some of the worst troubles of the world, if it could be generally applied. America should continue, for her own safety and that of the world, to use her whole influence for making that principle a part of the universal public law. No international engagement shall be binding unless ratified by a representative body, and published to all the nations. Otherwise it shall be absolutely void, and shall not give rise to any rights or obligations; in fact, an attempt to make an agreement contrary to these conditions shall be considered an act hostile to the peace of the world. That should be the recognized law.

Nothing shows so clearly how human development has halted at this point, as the fact that it should still require an argument to show the necessity of publicity and lawfulness with respect to the most essential interests of the vast populations that make up the international family.

The record and constant practice of the United States, as well as her great actual and potential power, fit her above all others to be a leader in the establishment of this principle. The American nation possesses a great moral capital in the confidence and trust that the peoples of the world repose in it. No matter if unsympathetic chanceries should plot to prevent America from making her influence felt in the affairs of the world, no matter how European diplomacy may occasionally sneer at American idealism, the peoples themselves, great and small, including particularly those areas so immensely important--Russia and China--would willingly look to America for leadership and guidance, with complete trust and confidence. When this is fully realized, we shall also be able to judge how vitally what America stands for in the world will be strengthened by a constant adherence to open and straightforward methods in international intercourse.

But America herself, it will be said, cannot fundamentally change the spirit that animates foreign policies, and bring about the universal use of honest and open practices. We are living under a system which is the result of historic forces that have not yet fully spent themselves and which put the potential enmity among nations in the foreground.

I do not believe that it is necessary to shut our eyes to reality and to seek recourse in a Utopian policy, in order to escape the menace inherent in current international practices. If America will only not fall in line with the absolutist tradition in diplomacy, but will emphasize at all times, with all her influence, those principles of international conduct which our natural freedom from entanglements has permitted us to develop as of actual experience, America will contribute in a most potent manner to the realization of that new spirit which must surely come to deliver humanity. That spirit is not a mere ideal,--it is fortunately already present in much of international practice; but it needs constantly to be followed up and supported in order that it may become the customary and instinctive guide, superseding such prejudices as are still current which favor tortuous manipulation and perpetuate an uninformed and confused state of the public mind.

In order to fulfil this promise and destiny the United States would have to rely in the first place on the inherent merit of her ideals and principles of action, and on the support which they will receive from the approval of the peoples of the world. As far as organized governments go, as distinguished from the people, some will be more inclined than others to coöperate with the United States in a reform of international practice. There is no question but that the great majority of governments will thus coöperate, though some of the most important may for a time be left on the other side.

With those peoples and governments who are in language, political traditions and general impulses most closely related to us, there should grow up a particularly strong feeling of confidence making all our intercourse absolutely open. There certainly need not be any secrets between the United States and the great commonwealths of Canada and Australia. Our interests, our condition, our institutions, all make for the closest understanding. Through them there may be also realized that harmony which ought by every normal reason to exist between the United States and the English people, and which is disturbed only from time to time when the policy of the British government is determined more from the point of view of the supposed needs of the British Empire in India, than of that of the true tradition of the English-speaking world. I do not think of treaties or of alliances, but of something much stronger--an intimate understanding among peoples, based on mutual trust and confidence, and the consciousness of a common destiny, common purposes, and a common belief in the things which alone will prevent civilization from extinguishing itself in senseless hatreds.

CONCLUSION

In modern diplomacy there still persists the image of the chess players intent on their complicated game, planning each move with long foresight of all the combinations that could possibly be organized by the opponent. In the popular image, too, the great diplomat is conceived as spinning a complicated web of actions and relationships in which every detail is subordinate and subservient to a general dominant purpose. Then comes the international publicist and with ingenuity still more refined than that of the imagined diplomat, he reasons out the innermost ambitions that dominate and inspire the makers of foreign affairs. So it has remained possible for the most extravagant imaginary constructions to be put forth in volumes of sober aspect, which purport to give the key to diplomacy or to expose the pernicious ambitions of this or that foreign office. It has become a game in which nothing is impossible to the constructive imagination.

To any one familiar with the usual methods of foreign offices and of diplomatic representatives, the idea that foreign affairs are really handled in this manner, like mental legerdemain, becomes quite grotesque. Complicated manipulations with respect to movements far in the future, looking to still more distant results,--that kind of diplomatic planning exists more in the imagination than in the actual conduct of foreign affairs. In the majority of cases foreign offices meet each situation as it arises, relying indeed on precedents and having certain underlying aims and purposes, but giving most attention to the facts immediately present and often satisfied with anything that will ease a troublesome or embarrassing situation. Foreign offices indeed differ greatly in the definiteness and constancy of their objectives and the completeness with which they subordinate details to central aims. The Russian foreign office always had the reputation of great continuity of policy; it gave the central place to fundamental objectives to which problems that arose from day to day could be referred; and thus it solved them with a cumulative effect upon the advancement of its political aims.

From the point of view of the older traditions of diplomacy, there would be a decided advantage in definiteness of plan and in the harmonious subordination of all details to the main idea. However, the advantage of this method is frequently defeated through the narrowness of the objects aimed at, when diplomatic policy is conceived in this manner. Immediate purposes may indeed be achieved more readily, but the permanent results will usually be barren or lead ultimately to conflicts of forces. In such a system there is too much abstraction from the multiform forces of actual life; and while those who pursue it may flatter themselves that they are making history, they are not often building in accordance with natural and historic forces.

The concept of diplomacy which has been criticized in these pages does not exclude the possibility of immediate brilliant success; but its ineffectiveness appears when we view it over longer periods of history. It is built on too narrow a foundation. We have seen that even with the greatest statesmen, any plan of action conceived in this manner has such positive limitations that the very success in executing such policies through a shrewd play of diplomatic forces, conjures up new dangers and difficulties. The wisdom of no man nor small self-contained group of men is at present sufficient to measure the needs of society and to transform its impulses into effective action. A broader basis for policy is needed. But the greatest weakness of the old method lies in the fact that just at the very times when men are most in need of confidence and of a spirit of reason and sane judgment, this mode of action leaves the public mind in confusion, excitement and the darkest fears.

If democracy means anything, its significance for the welfare of humanity must lie in the value of allowing constantly more and more minds to participate in the great things of the world. Not only would such participation seem to be a natural right of the human mind but also the things most worth while can be achieved only when the ablest and best can freely lend their efforts. To all this a narrow system of secret management by a limited hierarchy is hostile. The old diplomacy rests entirely on skepticism as to the wisdom and self-control of the people. The people are merely material for statesmanship. This conception is blind to the fact that everything that is great in modern life has arisen through the freedom with which talent may manifest itself wherever found and that in all pursuits of humanity that are worth while, innumerable minds coöperate, in a degree as warranted by their capacity to bring about sound action and improvement. The older diplomacy assumed that the people furnished only passive material for statesmanship to work upon, and it saw in the public only potentialities for vague and general influences which statesmanship in turn was to mold and utilize. The greatest distance it went, was to admit that national policy must rest on popular instinct; a principle which is quite compatible with the practice of secret diplomacy. When we come to talk of political instincts, however, we are dealing with one of the vaguest and most indefinite concepts known to thought. These instincts may be interpreted and given active expression as it suits any diplomatic policy. Unfortunately the “instincts” most to the fore are not usually helpful to calm and sound action. In international affairs, an instinctive dislike or hatred of anything different has again and again been made the basis of aggressive action, stirring up otherwise peaceful populations to warlike and murderous intent. Great national policies may often truly be said to rest on instinct in the sense that undivided popular support is given to a policy from a variety of motives which are not clearly reasoned out but which all express themselves in an overpowering impulse which may be called instinctive. Thus the Monroe policy in which the most fundamental motive is the desire for peace and for the safety of the continental position of the American nation, may be said to rest on the instinct of self-preservation.

But it is quite plain that unless what is here called instinct can be transformed into an intelligent, wise and discriminating public opinion, such instinct is but a shifting sand, affording material which may be molded into any desired form by an ambitious policy working through suggestion and propaganda. Instinct can be transformed into a true public policy only through publicity and through the training of large groups of men to see things with true eyes and to judge with reason and wisdom. Here is the crux of the matter. Secret diplomacy treats all except the inner official ring as outsiders and “persons without responsibility.” Among these outsiders there may be numerous persons actually better qualified than the officials themselves, through experience and thought, to judge of international affairs. No one can here assume infallibility. Safe counsel can come only if the entire intelligence and moral sentiment of a nation can find expression and if its fittest individuals can concentrate their attention upon every great problem as it arises. A sound, just, wise public policy without publicity cannot be imagined. To consider publicity an evil, to consider it as impeding the proper flow of international influences and obstructing the solution of international difficulties, appears as an unbelievable perversion when we consider the true implications of such a thought.

It is therefore inestimably important that the facts of international life, the materials out of which policies are formed, should be known freely and fully to the public of every nation. The manipulation of international communications for political purposes is the most sinister and dangerous part of the system with which secret diplomacy is entwined. According to this theory it is not only not good for the people to know everything but they must also be made to know things about the truth of which we need not bother our heads but which will stimulate the passions and arouse the instincts our policy desires to work upon. Thus the void left by secrecy, by a concealment of the true nature and character of internationally important matters, is frequently supplied by an intelligence service carrying distorted and colored versions of facts; all this confuses and discourages the public mind to such an extent that it becomes unable to sever fact from fiction and to form a consistent and firm judgment.

The abolition of secret diplomacy is not a matter of agreeing to have no more secrets. It is a matter of arousing among the public so powerful a determination to know, so strong a sentiment of the value of truth, such a penetrating spirit of inquiry, that the secrets will fade away as they always do when the importance of a situation is really understood by a large number of people.

Meanwhile it need not appear futile to work for the positive elimination of secrecy. No one can doubt that the provision of the Covenant of the League of Nations, which requires that all treaties shall be made public, is salutary and that its enforcement would greatly increase public confidence. But it is necessary to go beyond this and to outlaw any agreement which is kept secret, by making it the public law of the world that no rights or obligations can be founded on such attempts against the peace and common welfare of the nations.

The personal relationships of diplomacy also require attention. The spirit of the Diplomatic Service should be transformed in accordance with the modern organization of society. The most essential weakness of caste diplomacy lies in the fact that it does not provide means for a sufficient contact among the peoples of the world. Contact is maintained only within a narrow class. The diplomatic fraternity lives in its own realm of precedences, rivalries and traditions. To confine the intercourse and interchange of influences so narrowly, is a great weakness of our present political system.

The diplomatic office should be conceived as having the function to represent not only the special national interest of the respective country, but also, on an equal plane, its participation in all the activities and interests which are common to the nations of the world. The legations and embassies should be provided with a personnel of attachés not only for political and military affairs, but for commerce, education, science and social legislation. All these matters are already dealt with to some extent by common action among the nations. The sending of ministers as delegates to international technical conferences has often been criticized as importing into such conferences the narrow, separatist point of view of diplomatic politics. It should be exactly the other way; participation in such conferences ought to impart to diplomats a broad spirit of coöperation instead of a desire to maintain intact a theoretical isolation. That is the essence of the matter. As long as it is supposed that by jealously scrutinizing every international relationship from the point of view of abstract political independence, and assuming that it is best to make the very least possible contribution of energy and coöperation, the national interest can be most promoted; so long will diplomatic action continue on a strained basis, always being painfully conscious of the potential enmity among nations. But when it is realized that in nearly every case the national interest, or the interest of the people of the nation which ought to be synonymous therewith, is best advanced by whole-souled coöperation in constructive work in commerce, industry, science and the arts, then the political factor of diplomatic rivalry will assume more just proportions as compared with the other interests of humanity.

This borders upon a very broad subject dealing rather with general international policy than with the specific problems we were considering; and yet we ought to be aware of this background. We need not give up our conviction that the autonomy of the national state must be preserved and that each political society shall dispose of its own affairs within its borders as its wisdom and judgment may dictate, free from intervention from without. But complete freedom of local self-determination can rest only upon a universal recognition of that right in all others, in a spirit of confidence and security engendered by the absence of intrigue and secret ambitions. In a still greater measure does the happiness of the national state depend on free and full coöperation with all others in all pursuits, activities and interests common to humanity and in making the earth a place for dignified and happy human life. Unless diplomacy looks forward to this and helps to bring it about, it will remain ensnared in the old practices which ever lead only to barren results.

Lincoln’s simple faith in the people has not yet been adequately applied in international affairs. International action has shown the impersonal character of calculated manipulations coldly disposing of the rights and lives of millions with cruel callousness. The last great war has made us consider the relation of war sacrifices to the daily welfare of the people. A great deal of the prevailing unrest in the world is undoubtedly due to a lack of confidence that great affairs are being handled with wisdom and with regard to the true, lasting welfare of the people themselves. It is difficult to reduce to personal terms relations so abstract and general as those obtaining in international affairs. We think of the armies in serried ranks and are impressed with the impact of their force and the great feats it may accomplish. But we are too apt to forget the individual destiny carried in every breast, the human feeling in every heart, among all the millions that make up this engine of power and destruction. Human welfare rather than human power has not yet been made the constant and overshadowing aim of diplomacy. That will be done only when the people themselves demand that international affairs shall be dealt with in a different spirit and with other methods. Then we shall have policies that can be avowed and understood by the people who bear the burden and who pay the bill.