P -^ 015 845 518 3 HoUinger Corp. pH8.5 525 P5 opy 1 War and the King Trust An Address to the Anglo-German Club By AMOS PINCHOT aite House, War and the King Trust A lot of good people seem to have a beautiful faith in war. Editors, congressmen, senators, Christian preachers, and Billy Sunday, Theodore Roosevelt and others are highly outraged by the suggestion that war should end without a knockout. They say they want Germany to be spanked, so that she will not try another raid on civilization for genera- tions to come. What is more, these good people are sincere about it. They are honestly convinced that fighting it out on present lines, if it takes all summer and half the young manhood of Europe, is a called-of- God proposition. Even the gentleman who spoke at a patriotic society luncheon at the Bankers' Club last Thursday and said he had "an abiding faith" the war would go on a Toutrance was, I think, entirely sincere, notwithstanding the fact that, at the moment, he happens to be making a fortune out of war stocks. Consequently when the President went up to the capitol and told the Senate of his hope for peace without victory, the state of mind of some of the gentlemen I have mentioned was genuinely disturbed. Of course, they did not distrust Mr. Wilson. They merely said, each in his own way, that he was insane, and his message Utopian ; and they immediately began to talk about Bunker Hill and Valley Forge, the Mexican War, 1865 and the Spanish- American controversy. They wondered what was the matter with the man who did not believe that the world could still be smoothed out with gun powder. Unquestionably the President did strike a novel note. For, whether we are generally sympathetic with Mr. Wilson or not, we must admit that his idea, that the only way to settle the war durably is, so to speak, not to settle it, or at least to omit the final rounds of a knock-down and drag- out affair, comes to the thorough-going believer in war as something bizarre, if not unpatriotic and historically off-color. But times have changed considerably since Bunker Hill. Since Bunker Hill, there has not only been an alteration in the structure of society, but also a more or less radical advance in the means of distribution of thought, and in the effectiveness of thought itself; and this has, to some degree at least, shifted the balance of power away from physical force toward the realm of the mental and spiritual. In fact, ideas are coming into their own. In spite of what is going on in Europe, the levers that move the world are no longer exclusively in the palms of men of the stone age. So, to these gentlemen we may say that, even if there were a true analogy between our past wars and the great war today, we would hardly be justified in saying that, because war brought fairly lasting peace once, 3 it will bring it now. As a matter of fact, however, there is little or no analogy. For, in the struggles to which our war-loving friends and news- paper writers, signing themselves spirit of 76, etc., call our attention, the situation was quite different. The Revolutionary and Civil Wars were not between people of alien races, and they were fought on clearly defined issues which would have, sooner or later, been decided in the general course of education and mutual understanding, even if arms had not been resorted to. As for the Mexican War, it was, as General Grant tells us, an act of pure aggression on our part, — a land grabbing scheme which sowed in Mexico the seeds of hatred that have today blossomed before our eyes. And the Spanish-American War ; we can hardly point to it as a triumph of justice through arms.- For General Woodford, American Minister to Spain, had obtained from the Spanish government acquiescence to alTof the United States' demands, when unluckily defective powder blew up the magazine of the Maine, and jingoism and journalism did the rest. """' That Mr. Wilson's plea to the nations to stop the war short of decisive victory seems shocking to many good people who retain, from the time when our ancestors ate their food alive, a child-like belief in the efificacy of the smashing process, is unquestionable. But that it is im- practical is untrue. On the contrary, there is no other way to settle the war and insure a lasting peace that is practical and based upon a solid ■"ahd^denronstrabie foundation. I will, therefore, take up the peace-by- smashing theory and try to show why, in the case of Europe, it will not work. Not as an apologist for Germany, but only as an advocate of doing something that will stay done, I will try to point out one reason why it is impossible for practical men who understand Germany to believe that peace will result from a decisive victory. 1. Nations and individual men follow the same psychological pro- gressions. For instance, the history of the nation, Germany, is paralleled with amazing faithfulness by that of the man William the Second ; and in- deed by the lives of many men, who, like William, began life handicapped, and yet had the vitality and will-power to overcome or compensate for early disabilities. Not only do such men and nations often succeed in compensating; they frequently end in over-compensating to a point where, to all outward appearances, they are stronger and more aggressive than they would have been, if at the outset they had started on even terms with the rest of the world. The boy William was born with a physical inferiority. He was a delicate child with a withered arm. When he came to manhood and the throne his sense of disability was increased ; Bismarck was master of Germany and William was permitted to be Emperor only in name. Then William's compensatory process began. In the Austrian controversy, he made Bismarck's position untenable ; and the Chancellor resigned, leaving 4 him supreme. As for the withered arm, if William could not make it sound, he has at least developed a great right arm, and with it lifted so terrible a sword that the world has forgotten about the other one. 2. In early life, Theodore Roosevelt was shelved by bad_ health. With a determination we now speak of as characteristic, but which may not have been so then, he went West, lived for years the life of the open and built up a constitution more than ordinarily robust. He came back, went to the legislature, was civil service commissioner, governor, a great president, a recipient of the Nobel prize and a writer of sorts. But these accomplishments w-ere not enough ; they did not slake Mr. Roosevelt's thirst for the purely physical qualities he once lacked and set up as his model. They did not literally enough assure him of what he most wanted to be told, to wit : that he had compeiisated successfully. Consequently, A'Ir. Roosevelt selects other lines of action that emphasize possession of physical strength. He goes in for the strenuous life, and becomes our main apostle of virility. When occasion offers, he naturally assumes the role of the cowboy, because the cowboy is highly symbolic of the vital type he once fell short of. Next, in the Spanish War, he appears as a rough-rider ; this is a distinct promotion in the scale of virility, the rough- rider being in essence the cowboy plus the added feature of participation in the virile game of war. Later on, as an explorer, plunging into jungles and living among wild men and beasts, he approaches still nearer to the primitive male; until finally, in the recent Mexican crisis, Colonel Roos^^ velt reaches his apotheosis, for, lo ! he stands before us proposing to raise a whole division of cowboys, rough-riders and explorers, and to be supreme over this entire congress of virilities in the capacity of Major- General. 3. Page, the American high-jumper of a generation ago, began life a cripple. His problem was to walk as other men. But this accomplished, he wanted to run, to jump, to jump higher than any man ever jumped, and he succeeded. Why? Because a constant vision of the thing beyond, soundness of limb, charged his will and created, in his years of invalidity, impulses so durable as to still urge him forward after their mission of bringing him to equality with other men had long been accomplished. 4. In his maturity, Nietzsche was Germany's most distinguished preacher of aggression ; to him is attributed, rightly or wrongly, much of the ithless power-worship of intellectual Germany of today. But Nietzs.iie as a child was a weakling. After his father, the pastor of Rocken, died, the boy was brought up mainly by grand-parents and female relatives. By them, as well as by the parochial conventions of a provincial village, he was kindly, but none the less cruelly, repressed. Soon in this restless, non-conforming spirit the compensatory process commenced. His will-to-power philosophy, calling upon mankind to join him in repudiating 5 all cultural restraint, expresses the swing of the pendulum from early impotence to mastery, from daily repression by elderly female relatives to unfettered libertarianism in the world of thought. Like the Kaiser, Roosevelt and Page, Nietszche's aggression was rooted in weakness, not in strength; like theirs, his insistence on power is reminiscent of a time when, in spite of natural capacity, he was shut off from it by very positive inhibitions. Like them, too, he sought to be the superman, because he once fell so short of the average man, in power and opportunity to func- tion. Nietzsche died insane, believing he was God. 5. Why is Germany aggressive ? Why is she militarist ? Why have people who understand Germany little hope of ending her militarism through war? And, why are those who want a lasting peace and yet protest against an early one — why are those well-meaning believers in the healing power of the sword working against the end they have in view? Germany has had only a few years of nationality. In 71 Bismarck, Moltke and the old Emperor made a unification of unsympathetic, half- hostile states. The unification was not a natural growth, not a popular movement, but a feat of strength performed by a handful of men who said, "Let there be a nation.'' But if the foundations of German unity are insecure, the soil in which they were laid is still more so ; from the ninth century to the unification, the German story is one of attempted ■^ffipire that rose, towered and crashed into disorganized fragments. In 843, the Treaty of \''erdun made Charlemagne's son ruler of a loosely joined empire. By the tenth century it had grown to include what is now Germany and also Holland, Belgium, and a part of Poland and Italy. Though not a nation in the modern sense, still there was distinct con- sciousness of nationalism. Then came disintegration, which continued for centuries, not steadily but with a tragic downward sag, until, in the Thirty Years War, Germany lost all semblance of nationality ; her popula- tion went from twenty to six million ; her people starved and wallowed in ignorance ; her princes fled and lived abroad in more civilized courts. The project of German nationalism was over for the time being. By Frederick the Great's time, reconstruction had begun, but it had not gone far. Though he was a Prussian and a Brandenburger, no one more frankly than Frederick admitted this ; he said that the Germans were still barbarians and the rear-guard of civilization. And, on the whole, Germany seems to have agreed with him ; she was unsure of her- self, tender of her past, without confidence in the future, and aggressive in proportion to her lack of self-confidence. Next came the Napoleonic period of humiliation. Bonaparte crushed Prussia, made his headquarters in the palaces of the Hohenzollerns ; said of the latter and the Prussian aristocracy in general : 'T will make this noblesse beg bread in the street," and forced a division of German troops to fight in the French army. That success in the Franco-Prussian War 6 did not remove from the German soul the humiliation of 1806 is shown a hundred years later, when, through the mouth of William the Second, Germany is still talking revanche, still proposing to wipe out with blood the score chalked up against her honor by Bonaparte. 6. The psychology of modern Germany has been profoundly in- fluenced by her history. A picture of continuing failure, amounting, in fact, to a racial tragedy, has entered deeply into G-erman subconscious- ness and become a sort of permanent background, against which are judged the phenomena of recent times. And Germany's geographical position has powerfully reinforced the fear element aroused by her history. Germany grew up, like a lonely imaginative child, surrounded by menacing giants and ogres. There was Russia to the north, huge, slow- moving, drowsy, of unmeasured strength ; some day Russia was sure to wake up and move across Europe like a tide. And France to the west and south, tempered, flexible, a nation at home with ideas, — the despair of raw, unformed Germany. To Germany France has been a country of infinite possibilities ; first, because France had her diseases of militarism and kuhur under Louis XIV and Napoleon, and reacted from them into democracy. And second, because France has gone through the unifying process of popular revolution, and by this her people have become thoughtful, sure of their fundamentals and extraordinarily competent in distinguishing between class aims and popular aims. Germany, on the other hand, like the United States, has had no popular revolution, "aF least no successful one. The Reformation was not a revolution, not a real break for freedom, but a promotion by the clergy and the upper middle class of a new set of dogma ; and the peasant uprising which fol- lowed it was an unorganized and unsuccessful revolt against the land- owning class. Coming to the so-called revolution of '48, there is only a flash in the pan that resulted in the expulsion from Germany of her most democratic spirits, of such men as Carl Schurz, who could not find in Germany a home for a freer body of ideas. Germany, like the United States, has had no real struggle for democracy, in which the lines between privilege and the people, wealth and poverty, were sharply drawn. And her people, like ours, have therefore only been half armed against the attacks of absolutism. They have none of that immunity against militarism that is enjoyed by the French, mainly perhaps on account of France's revolu- tions, and also because of the deep currents of democratic thought long ago turned into the national consciousness by the writings of a uniquely emancipated group of thinkers, including Voltaire, Rabelais, Rousseau and Montaigne. But more important than the fear and inferiority sense aroused in Germany by the somnolent power of Russia and the developed civiliza- tion of France, there has been the threat of England — England, master of the seas, successful in colonization, unresting in her policy of empire and trade supremacy. England most of all has given Germany a sense of impotence, loneliness, newness and comparative poverty. 7. Thus starting from a history that rang the changes on calamity, and a geographical position that stimulated the fear complex formed by such a history, Germany has unrestingly carried on her compensatory struggle; and it has been a successful one, at least in a material sense. From Bismarck's time up to the present war, there is a pulling together of the states, not a spiritual union, but, at all events, a strong political one. Nationalism, driven on by a consciousness of past failure and present superficiality, has been cultivated in a subservient people by the government, by school and university, until it has become a religion and finally a fanaticism. There has been a great industrial renaissance; a perfectioned, smooth-functioning state-absolute has arisen; and in the last ten years Germany has become the first military power of the world. But all this is not enough. As in the case of the Kaiser, Roosevelt, Page and Nietzsche, arrival at the point of equality with others has only been a signal for departure for goals beyond. Those vital compensatory forces, created through centuries of fear and disability, still hold Germany and drive her on — to supremacy in arms because she was humbled in arms; to supremacy in nationalism because she once had none; to supremacy in culture because, while Europe was semi-civilized, she was -savage; to world conquest, because she had been taught to see herself ringed by hostile nations crouching to spring. 8. The writer is not pro-German ; he is what is called pro-Ally. He loathes the German state, because it forces the individual into a rigid government-made mould; he thinks that authority, especially military authority, has made Germany a poor place for the average man to live in. He believes that the German government has been the main, though not the only, aggressor ; that it prepared for and forced war ; that the enslave- ment of the Belgians and the Zeppelin raids are atrocities, although, in fact, mere fringes of the huge fabric of cruelty woven by the super- atrocity of war. Above all, he sees in German militarism a sword over peace — a worse menace even than England's navalism or American mili- tarism as promoted here by our own absolutists and commercial buc- caneers. And, for these very reasons, he looks with dismay at the sheer futility of any plan to crush militarism by prolonging the war. Extreme pressure from without, fear, humiliation, a virtual repetition of old disasters, will only strengthen militarism, justify it, harden it, and make the crust of official absolutism that now covers Germany so metallic that her democratic impulses will be unable to germinate and break through. If there is anything to be learned from the history of Germany, or from a study of the psychological cause of the effect we call militarism, a crushing victory for the Allies wull accomplish one im- 8 portant result, and only one. It will set the stage upon which the old progressions from inferiority to compensation, from compensation to over-compensation, and from over-compensation to aggression and world mastery, will be re-enacted in another tragedy, terrible for both Germany and the rest of the world. 9. But still our trusters in violence are undismayed. They continue to assure us that the smashing prescription will do the trick. They are particularly anxious to have the war go on, so that the Kaiser and the military class may be properly punished; they say they want the King trust broken up. They stipulate, too, that Germany shall repent, confess her sin and acknowledge the saving grace of countries with more guns of heavier calibre. They cannot see that the Kaiser and the military class are, like militarism, only surface expressions of something that is going on deep in the German soul. They insist that a nation of seventy million people can be permanently broken and incapacitated for aggressive war, as simply and as satisfactorily as we break men and boys in our prisons and reformatories and incapacitate them for rebellion against society. They do not take into account the fact that fifteenj^ears from now Germany, left with a grudge, will have practically as many men of fighting age as she would have had if the war had never happened, and probably a good many more than she has today. Apparently, they fail to realize that Germany's material resources will not stay crippled, because her landi;. and her industries cannot be destroyed and her children will continue to grow into men and women. Early peace, they say, would be a calamity, because Germany has not yet suffered enough to learn her lesson. The loss of seven thousand young men a day, more or less, for two years and a half, mourning in almost every home in the empire, hunger, bankruptcy and the rest of it — in the eyes of our Christian advocates of dreadfulness, these do not seem to add up to enough misery to put the fear of God into Germany as completely as they desire. Even though postponing peace until victory is won means, as it must, a greater slaughter of the Allies than has yet taken place, even if it foreshadows the starvation, at no distant time, of the prisoners in the German prison camps, and death by hunger and sickness of literally millions of children in the ravaged districts, and a continuation of the racking anxiety and despair of millions of women, non- combatants and old people at home, and the partings, the emptiness and desolation of the last two years prolonged indefinitely into a horrible future; even if victory must be purchased at such a price, and notwith- standihg the fact that when bought, it can give no shred of assurance against the repetition of the whole unparalleled tragedy — our friends, faithful to war, do not hesitate. They are willing to stake the future of the world on war's exploded rep utation as a peacemaker. 10. The world is filled with men who believe in force; our laws and institutions, our property rights, our economic system, and privilege 9 itself, which is the economic expression of violence, is deeply rooted in it. We cannot doubt that these people conscientiously believe in force, trust it, honor it, and gladly embrace an opportunity of recommending it as a sovereign remedy. It is the one great principle of the world that they have been taught to confide in and found not wanting. But whether these good people are not really a good deal more interested in justifying and exalting the force principle, which is woven so intimately into the struc- ture of the society in which they live, than they are in ending militarism, or bringing about a lasting peace, is a question that we, and perhaps they themselves, would have a good deal of difficulty in answering. But still we cannot help noticing, for it is significant, that these very people, who are most tireless in telling us that the war should go on, so that militarism in Germany may be crushed, are also the most tireless in booming militar- ism in America. They are preaching the same narrow nationalism, the same fear of other nations, the same concentration of power in the mili- tary, and the same annulment of individual rights and liberties that was promoted in Germany for generations before the war, by German militar- ists, by the German clergy, profiteers, politicians and power-preaching professors. But here in America they tell us all these things are not for aggression, but purely in the interest of national defense. And so it was in Germany; and no amount of argument will ever persuade the average German that his nation was organized for anything but to repel boarders. Xet us not deceive ourselves, America too has her power cult, her Ameri- can branch of the King Trust, her class that believes in force because it is founded on force, and that instinctively wants to see force made triumphant and honorific by being the means of settling the world's prob- lems. What, then, is the answer to those who expect that a knockout blow, that punishment will bring lasting peace and an end to German aggres- sion; to men like Colonel Roosevelt, for instance (who, by the way, does not seem to have been rendered less aggressive by the fact that, for quite awhile now, he has been constrained to take his political bread and water off the mantelpiece) ? What shall we say to our bishops, munition sellers, amateur soldier men and distinguished lawyer-publicists, who tell us that Europe must be bled into lasting tranquillity? To them no answer can be made that will carry conviction ; for they do not think in terms of history or human psychology, but in those of primal instincts. But to the liberal thought of the world, the answer is simple. No matter how much she may or may not deserve it, Germany cannot be whipped either into impotence or consciousness of her own aggression. The ag- gression itself must be attacked through a policy that is understanding of its causes. And the first step is to switch the controversy from the physical into the realm of reason. 11. On England mainly devolves the duty of bringing about a settle- ment along the lines of President Wilson's suggestion, that is to say, one 10 which will take into account the causes of Germany's aggression and pro- vide conditions that will tend to end them. England explicitly renounces all intention of conquest; she says she only wants to guarantee freedom for Europe. And, since she largely controls the credit of the belligerents, she can go far toward dictating to her allies the terms of peace. No doubt, it will be hard for England to accept as sound the President's proposition, that peace must not be preceded by victory. England has never been strong at understanding the psychology of situations. This was shown in the recent Irish uprising, when she apparently labored under the impression that she could stand the idea of Irish nationalism up against a wall and shoot it. Like Germany, like Napoleon, but unlike Bismarck, England has centred her attention too rigidly on the mechanics of international politics. She has not touched the spirit of other peoples ; that was why she lost America. What she has accomplished in her con- quests and colonies has been by the weight of her wealth and the dogged courage of her national character. But Eng[an_d is now up against a different problem than India or Egypt. In Germany she is dealing with a nation of tremendous vitality, power of organization, and fanatical determination not to be the under dog. The balance of power plan of an alliance of nations, not to include Germany, that will hold German aggression in check after a thorough thrashing has been administered, is worse than impractical; it is a- prexu^ of psychological error; it is impossible and based on an almost criminal disregard of history. It might do if Germany were a country of brown or yellow men ; but it will never work with a proud people that has once proved its ability, in war and commerce, to hold the world at bay. In both America and Europe those who believe in force as the con- trolling principle of society are very busy scoffing at the President's proposal that all nations shall be members of a league to preserve peace. They do not want that ; they want a group of nations, representing a majority of power, that will force peace on the rest. Of course, they do. Naturally they are hostile to Mr. Wilson's proposal, for between his and their's, there is a very fundamental difference, an irreconcilable difference, that lies between two diametrically opposing principles. Men divide tem- peramentally on an issue like this ; it goes down to their instinctive philos- ophy of life. For the balance of power scheme is, in effect, nothing more or less than a plan to establish a preferred class of nations which will be able, through superior force, to dictate to the other nations outside that class. It is simply the application of undemocracy, of privilege on a gigantic, international scale, just as the President's proposal is the appli- cation of equality and democracy in world relations. To the temptation of demanding an international reorganization in which they will come in, as it were, on the ground floor, and receive better terms than the Central Powers, it is to be hoped England and the allies will turn a deaf ear. Certainly their statesmen of vision may be expected 11 IpV.^JAJJO': CONGRESS 015 845 518 3 C to see how small will be the hope of permanence in such an arrangement. No matter who began the war, no matter how terrible the aggres- sions and atrocities and reprisals, there can be no benefit to humanity in apportioning the blame, or in making the sins or virtues of nations an excuse for inequality of treatment. If there is to be civilization worth living in for our children, some one must wipe the slate clean with a gesture so noble, so prophetic of an unembittered future, as to give hope to the world, and an amnesty to all men, whether saints or sinners. And this can only be done by England. It is England's supreme chance for an immortal victory, greater than any war. Reading between the lines, this seems to be the message of the President. If it is impractical, Utopian, visionary, or the effort of a man speaking wisdom to unwilling ears, so were other messages that have come down to us through the ages. No one needs to be persuaded of the unacceptability of the truth. Mail and Express Job Print 9-15 Murray St., N. Y. OeaciOified using the Bookkeeper process Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Dateerp ^„ PreservationTechnologies * WORLD tEAOER IN PAPER PRESERVATION '11 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 16066 (724) 779-2111