Present status and prospects of the Peace Movement

by Bertha von Suttner

The advocates of peace maintain their principles. Not only so; they do not rest from their labors; they will not allow the results thus far obtained to slip from their grasp. The institutions created at The Hague, despite the resistance of bellicose Powers, are faithfully guarded by those who helped to create them. The Interparliamentary Union, now in session at Paris, has assumed the task of popularizing, developing and executing the Articles of The Hague. Their co-operators in England continue to protest against the South African war and the subjugation of the Boers, in spite of the supercilious jingoism of government and of the hypnosis of the masses. The Social Democrats, the Ethicists—men of independent tendencies, all of them—lift up warning voices against the fever of Imperialism in general, and specifically against the reckless love of adventure which first scents loot and then seeks revenge in expeditions against a country with four hundred million peace-loving inhabitants.

To save, to save, to avert universal war—that is the purpose for which the enemies of war will strive untiringly until the very last moment. If their strength be insufficient, where shall we place the blame? The fault is not theirs. It rests with the millions of their contemporaries, who, though at heart they desire the same result, yet turn away in contempt or apathy from those who are laboring for it, instead of aiding these labors by the weight that lies in the consensus of the masses. With those who ignore, suspect and belittle the work of peace—even in cases where that work has brought about positive results, where it has matured practical propositions—instead of co-operating with sincere workers in their elaborations of these propositions and enforcing them with opponents—with those must the fault lie.

Great changes come to pass slowly, but in times like the present, when upheavals are fierce and dangers lie near, it might be hoped that swifter advances should be made in the conflict between the new and the old. Just as, immediately before the vote was taken on the Heinze law, a group of devoted men was formed to oppose that measure, which succeeded in defeating it, so, in the face of the present conspicuous and overwhelming manifestation of the principle of brute force, the friends of right might resolutely band themselves together, and, with shields upraised, declare a crusade for the liberation of politics from the thraldom of that immoral tradition.

Possibly the hope that such a step could be taken might again involve an over-estimate of our contemporaries. What matters it? Kant said: “Man cannot think too highly of man,” and it is better to have erred in this direction than, by lukewarm doubt, to have condoned the fault of those here criticised.

What we see happening to-day furnishes proof, furnishes wonderfully objective illustrations and experimental demonstrations, not against, but in favor of our doctrines.

In the first place, let us consider the war in the Transvaal. True, it broke out immediately after the conference at The Hague, and in despite of the principles of arbitration and of mediation there announced, and subscribed to even by England herself. Yet it was no triumph for the dogma of the necessity of war; it was rather a triumph for the advocates of war. For our opponents, in giving voice to the slogan, “The South African war and the Chinese horrors were the direct result of the conference,” commit—purposely, without a doubt—the blunder of confusing sequence in time with sequence of cause and effect. It is the familiar, senseless, exploded, “Post hoc, ergo propter hoc.”

Seeds which lay slumbering in the world’s soil long before the conference at The Hague sprouted in these two instances. For all that the conference itself could achieve was not in the nature of a harvest, but merely a sowing of seed.

The newly created institutions are not yet in operation, their spirit has not yet become incarnate in the flesh and blood of the nations, of potentates, of the press. And Mr. Chamberlain was able to accomplish his purpose, in spite of the pleading of Krüger for arbitration, even unto the last minute. Every intermediation was refused, and none was honestly and earnestly considered.

Several European rulers, who, as their panegyrists maintain, are soldiers, body and soul, had no desire to restrain the arm of England; they wished Queen Victoria success and noted the progress of the war with semi-joyous interest. But with the people of non-English countries there was pronounced opposition to this war; there was a manifestation of the very thing whereof we dream as a foundation of an alliance of European States, namely, a European conscience. This conscience rose in rebellion against the fact that a war of conquest should be waged in this our day; that a great country should seek to subjugate small, free republics. From every side came protests, petitions, actions of various sorts, to move the English to call a halt in this war. In England itself the peace party untiringly made remonstrances in this direction. The deeply rooted sentiment, “My country, right or wrong,” had to give way to a sense of justice deeper still, and, as boldly as Zola and Picquart entered the lists against the General Staff, even so boldly did noted Englishmen battle against the imperialistic ministry of their native land. Ten years ago these things would not have happened. Neither Europe nor America would have opposed this war so determinedly; still less possibility would there have been of so powerful a counter-current as arose in England itself. All these things are symptoms of the new spirit.

But, in spite of the sentiment of the nations, the various governments have refrained from any peace-making intervention; and in London this attitude has been regarded as the correct one. But it was correct according to ancient standards only; it was in direct contravention to the new lines officially marked out at The Hague.