Perpetual Peace: A Philosophical Essay
But, indeed, looking away from questions so vital and on which there
can be little difference of opinion, we are apt to forget, when we
allow ourselves to talk extravagantly of the future of arbitration,
that every nation thinks, or at least pretends to think, that it
is in the right in every dispute in which it appears (cf. Kant:
_Perpetual Peace_, p. 120.): and, as a matter of history, there has
never been a conflict between civilised states in which an appeal to
this “right” on the part of each has not been made. We talk glibly
of the right and wrong of this question or of that, of the justice
of this war, the iniquity of that. But what do these terms really
mean? _Do_ we know, in spite of the labour which has been spent on
this question by the older publicists, which are the causes that
justify a war? Is it not true that the same war might be just in one
set of circumstances and unjust in another? Practically all writers
on this subject, exclusive of those who apply the biblical doctrine
of non-resistance, agree in admitting that a nation is justified in
defending its own existence or independence, that this is even a
moral duty as it is a fundamental right of a state. Many, especially
the older writers, make the confident assertion that all wars of
defence are just. But will this serve as a standard? Gibbon tells us
somewhere, that Livy asserts that the Romans conquered the world in
self-defence. The distinction between wars of aggression and defence
is one very difficult to draw. The cause of a nation which waits
to be actually attacked is often lost: the critical moment in its
defence may be past. The essence of a state’s defensive power may
lie in a readiness to strike the first blow, or its whole interests
may be bound up in the necessity of fighting the matter out in its
enemy’s country, rather than at home. It is not in the strictly
military interpretation of the term “defensive”, but in its wider
ethical and political sense that we can speak of wars of defence as
just. But, indeed, we cannot judge these questions abstractly. Where
a war is necessary, it matters very little whether it is just or not.
Only the judgment of history can finally decide; and generally it
seems at the time that both parties have something of right on their
side, something perhaps too of wrong.[93]
[93] The difficulties in the way of hard and fast judgments on a
complicated problem of this kind are convincingly demonstrated in
a recent essay by Professor D. G. Ritchie (_Studies in Political
and Social Ethics_, Sonnenschein, 1902). Professor Ritchie
considers in detail a number of concrete cases which occurred
in the century between 1770 and 1870. “Let any one take the
judgments he would pass on these or any similarly varied cases,
and I think he will find that we do not restrict our approval
to wars of self-defence, that we do not approve self-defence
under all circumstances, that there are some cases in which we
approve of absorption of smaller states by larger, that there
are cases in which we excuse intervention of third parties in
quarrels with which at first they had nothing to do, and that
we sometimes approve war even when begun without the authority
of any already existing sovereign. Can any principles be found
underlying such judgments? In the first place we ought not to
disguise from ourselves the fact that our judgments after the
result are based largely on success. ... I think it will be
found that our judgments on the wars of the century from 1770 to
1870 turn very largely on the question, Which of the conflicting
forces was making for constitutional government and for social
progress? or, to put it in wider terms, Which represented the
higher civilisation? And thus it is that we may sometimes approve
the rise of a new state and sometimes the absorption of an old.”
(_Op. cit._, pp. 152, 155.)
A consideration of difficulties like these brings us to a realisation
of the fact that the chances are small that a nation, in the heat of
a dispute, will admit the likelihood of its being in the wrong. To
refuse to admit this is generally tantamount to a refusal to submit
the difficulty to arbitration. And neither international law, nor the
moral force of public opinion can induce a state to act contrary to
what it believes to be its own interest. Moreover, as international
law now stands, it is not a duty to have recourse to arbitration.
This was made quite clear in the proceedings of the Peace Conference
at the Hague in 1899.[94] It was strongly recommended that
arbitration should be sought wherever it was possible, but, at the
same time definitely stated, that this course could in no case be
compulsory. In this respect things have not advanced beyond the
position of the Paris Congress of 1856.[95] The wars waged in Europe
subsequent to that date, have all been begun without previous attempt
at mediation.
[94] See Fred. W. Holls: _The Peace Conference at the Hague_,
Macmillan, 1900.
[95] The feeling of the Congress expressed itself thus
cautiously:—“Messieurs les plénipotentiaires n’hésitent pas à
exprimer, au nom de leur gouvernements, le voeu, que les Etats
entre lesquels s’éléverait un dissentiment sérieux, avant d’en
appeler aux armes, eussent recours, en tant que les circonstances
l’admettraient, aux bons offices d’une puissance amie.”
But the work of the peace party regarding the humaner methods of
settlement is not to be neglected. The popular feeling which they
have been partly the means of stimulating has no doubt done something
to influence the action of statesmen towards extreme caution in
the treatment of questions likely to arouse national passions and
prejudices. Arbitration has undoubtedly made headway in recent
years. Britain and America, the two nations whose names naturally
suggest themselves to us as future centres of federative union, both
countries whose industrial interests are numerous and complicated,
have most readily, as they have most frequently, settled disputes
in this practical manner. It has shown itself to be a policy as
economical as it is business-like. Its value, in its proper place,
cannot be overrated by any Peace Congress or by any peace pamphlet;
but we have endeavoured to make it clear that this sphere is but a
limited one. The “good-will” may not be there when it ought perhaps
to appear: it will certainly not be there when any vital interest
is at stake. But, even if this were not so and arbitration were
the natural sequence of every dispute, no coercive force exists
to enforce the decree of the court. The moral restraint of public
opinion is here a poor substitute. Treaties, it is often said,
are in the same position; but treaties have been broken, and will
no doubt be broken again. We are moved to the conclusion that a
thoroughly logical peace programme cannot stop short of the principle
of federation. Federal troops are necessary to carry out the decrees
of a tribunal of arbitration, if that court is not to run a risk
of being held feeble and ineffectual. Except on some such basis,
arbitration, as a substitute for war, stands on but a weak footing.
_Disarmament._
The efforts of the Peace Society are directed with even less hope
of complete success against another evil of our time, the crushing
burden of modern armaments. We have peace at this moment, but at
a daily increasing cost. The Peace Society is rightly concerned
in pressing this point. It is not enough to keep off actual war:
there is a limit to the price we can afford to pay even for peace.
Probably no principle has cost Europe so much in the last century as
that handed down from Rome:—“Si vis pacem, para bellum.” It is now
a hundred and fifty years since Montesquieu[96] protested against
this “new distemper” which was spreading itself over Europe; but
never, in time of peace, has complaint been so loud or so general
as now: and this, not only against the universal burden of taxation
which weighs upon all nations alike, but, in continental countries,
against the waste of productive force due to compulsory military
service, a discontent which seems to strike at the very foundations
of society. Vattel relates that in early times a treaty of peace
generally stipulated that both parties should afterwards disarm. And
there is no doubt that Kant was right in regarding standing armies
as a danger to peace, not only as openly expressing the rivalry and
distrust between nation and nation which Hobbes regards as the basis
of international relations, but also as putting a power into the
hand of a nation which it may some day have the temptation to abuse.
A war-loving, overbearing spirit in a people thrives none the worse
for a consciousness that its army or navy can hold its own with any
other in Europe. Were it not the case that the essence of armed peace
is that a high state of efficiency should be general, the danger to
peace would be very great indeed. No doubt it is due to this fact
that France has kept quietly to her side of the Rhine during the last
thirty years. The annexation of Alsace-Lorraine was an immediate
stimulus to the increase of armaments; but otherwise, just because of
this greater efficiency and the slightly stronger military position
of Germany, it has been an influence on the side of peace.
[96] _Esprit des Lois_, XIII. Chap. 17. “A new distemper has
spread itself over Europe: it has infected our princes, and
induces them to keep up an exorbitant number of troops. It has
its redoublings, and of necessity becomes contagious. For as
soon as one prince augments what he calls his troops, the rest
of course do the same: so that nothing is gained thereby but the
public ruin. Each monarch keeps as many armies on foot as if his
people were in danger of being exterminated: and they give the
name of Peace to this general effort of all against all.”
Montesquieu is of course writing in the days of mercenary troops;
but the cost to the nation of our modern armies, both in time of
peace and of war, is incomparably greater.
The Czar’s Rescript of 1898 gave a new stimulus to an interest in
this question which the subsequent conference at the Hague was
unable fully to satisfy. We are compelled to consider carefully
how a process of simultaneous disarmament can actually be carried
out, and what results might be anticipated from this step, with a
view not only to the present but the future. Can this be done in
accordance with the principles of justice? Organisations like a great
navy or a highly disciplined army have been built up, in the course
of centuries, at great cost and at much sacrifice to the nation.
They are the fruit of years of wise government and a high record
of national industry. Are such visible tokens of the culture and
character and worth of a people to be swept away and Britain, France,
Germany, Italy, Spain, Turkey to stand on the same level? And, even
if no such ethical considerations should arise, on what method are
we to proceed? The standard as well as the nature of armament depends
in every state on its geographical conditions and its historical
position. An ocean-bound empire like Britain is comparatively immune
from the danger of invasion: her army can be safely despatched to
the colonies, her fleet protects her at home, her position is one of
natural defence. But Germany and Austria find themselves in exactly
opposite circumstances, with the hard necessity imposed upon them of
guarding their frontiers on every side. The safety of a nation like
Germany is in the hands of its army: its military strength lies in an
almost perfect mastery of the science of attack.
The Peace Society has hitherto made no attempt to face the