"I am not, therefore, one of those who think that war is always wrong. I cannot think that Jesus Christ Himself inculcated the doctrine that force never could be used—He who, when He saw the traders in the Temple, did not wait to argue with them nor to appeal to their conscience, for He knew that they had neither reason nor conscience, but drove them out with a whip of small cords, driving the cattle before Him and overturning the tables of the money-changers and letting the money roll upon the floor. I am not afraid to follow Him with whatsoever force it may be necessary for righteousness to put on, when unrighteousness has armed herself to commit wrong. I cannot think all war is wrong. If I did, I should not want to look upon a Bunker Hill Monument, for it would be a monument to our shame; I should want never to speak the name of Gettysburg, for my lips would blister and my cheeks would blush; I should want to bury in the grave of oblivion the names of Washington and Grant."


There can be but one interpretation of Christian duty and but one interpretation of true peace. Without justice, the mere absence of war does not constitute peace to the Christian. Neither to the Christian is warfare waged in the interest of justice incompatible with the peace principles which underlie his religious faith. Therefore, the true interpretation of peace is absence of war, where justice reigns, and the true Christian mission is to see that justice be done, for without it there can be no righteous peace. Such peace as can reign with injustice becomes the abettor of injustice.

While I believe in international conciliation and arbitration, peace and good will, I do not believe in unlimited arbitration. I do not believe that arbitration can ever be a universal panacea with which all evils can be cured without resort to firearms. There are times when throats have to be cut, and when God is on the side of the executioner.

When a nation persists perennially in war, it can only be brought to peace by some other nation which will meet it on the battlefield. Christ established the dictum that they who take the sword shall perish by the sword. War begets war. The sword brings the sword. As Napoleon said about sparing murderers and abolishing capital punishment, "Que messieurs les assassins commencent."

We want to put a stop to wars to save life. I wonder why it is that we are not equally anxious to prevent loss of life from other causes besides war. Why are we not equally interested in preventing the tremendous loss of life from easily preventable railroad disasters? An international movement for safety equipment and sanitation, with an enlistment of effort and money equal to that being devoted to this great peace movement would save many more lives every year than the annual loss in the Napoleonic wars.

Dr. Strong, President of the American Institute of Social Service, stated at a dinner several years ago, that the number of persons killed and wounded every year in the United States alone by railroad accidents, steamship accidents, workshop accidents, accidents in the streets, and other accidents—all very largely due to preventable causes—amounts to more than 500,000. In the Japanese-Russian war a total of 333,786 men were killed and wounded on both sides, not counting the losses in naval battles. During the same period in the United States alone the great army of American laborers engaged in manufacturing and building operations suffered a loss of 425,000 killed and injured; 92,000 more were therefore killed and injured in our industries in one year than during that entire war.

I wonder why it is that we are not as enthusiastic in this social-service work as we are in attacking the problem of war. Is it that there is more glory and more that appeals to the martial imagination in attacking war and warriors than there is in the prosaic, tame, and glamourless enterprise of simply saving human life in peaceful pursuits for the mere sake of saving it? Is it the old war spirit in the breasts of the peace men that moves them? Are they fighters, too? In attacking war, do they feel that they are somehow identified with the pomp and circumstance of glorious war?


CHAPTER III