With such a general apathy of the public, it was not surprising that diplomacy should cling to its caste privileges, should try to preserve its discretionary powers, and should often attempt deliberately to keep people in the dark. “In the public interest” is the curtain beyond which no one may peer. Even in the American Government, particularly during and since the war, foreign affairs have been handled with what would ordinarily seem insufficient information to the public; in fact, with occasional putting forth of misleading and entirely partial information, or the refusal to furnish information even when requested by those having official responsibilities. This is a notable change, as up to 1914 it was substantially true that the United States had no diplomatic secrets.

While from the point of view of traditional diplomacy, and of international relations as they were up to the Great War, it seems quite natural that democratic control should be thought by many to be unpractical; and while indeed no one can flatter himself that through a change of method the conduct of international affairs could suddenly be rendered more wise and entirely effective towards the public welfare, yet I cannot avoid the conclusion that there is a wrong orientation in the emphasis of the need of secrecy and of the unfitness of the people to deal with problems of foreign affairs. The belief in the unfitness of the people in this matter appears to be the result of a preconceived notion as to the overpowering difficulty, complexity and almost sanctity of foreign affairs. Modern governments are based on the principle that all legislation must meet the test of public criticism and rest on public consent; certainly it cannot be argued that matters of the incidence of taxation, the proper organization of credit, and the determination of commercial policies, are less complex and intricate than are foreign affairs. It is indeed true that it is difficult for one nation thoroughly to appreciate in detail the conditions of life in another. This truth should have its greatest value in dissuading a nation from meddling with the internal affairs of another, even from good motives. Those international questions which are apt to produce war may indeed relate to intricate matters, but the essential point is always the contention for power, influence or commercial advantage, and it is not apparent why the public in general should be unfit to judge as to whether national treasure and life are eventually to be spent in huge quantities to bring about, or to prevent, any such shifting of power or influence.

It is, however, because the motives involved are so largely connected with class interests, or survivals of pride of race, that those concerned in them are eager to deny the fitness of the general public, which if called on to decide would put into the foreground the question, “How does the control of this or that group of capitalists in Morocco, for instance, or the greater or smaller influence of Austria or Russia in Servia, affect the daily life and welfare of our people?” It is certainly true that questions of peace and war have never definitely been reasoned out on that basis. There has always been the assumption that certain things were essential to national prestige and could not be questioned; it is only when the actually existing broader base of national political life is organized also for active control of foreign affairs, that these considerations will have their full weight. Only the most exceptional statesmen could lift themselves out of the narrow groove of tradition and precedent; and more exceptional still, in fact all but impossible, is the capacity of one man to represent in himself in just proportion, all the interests and feelings of a nation.

Infallibility cannot be expected in the handling of foreign affairs, whether under a broad discretion of statesmen or under strict democratic control. There will always be an alternative of wisdom and rashness, constructive planning and headlong action, carefulness and negligence. But past experience has certainly established beyond peradventure of doubt that secret diplomacy is not infallible, and particularly that diplomacy acting under absolutist traditions, as in Germany before the war, may make the most fatal mistakes of judgment and of policy. Balfour said: “I do not think the Government in June, 1914, had the slightest idea that there was any danger ahead.” A remarkable statement, when we consider the actions and reactions of secret diplomacy during the decade preceding the war. It has been quite truly said that diplomacy is far more eminent in autopsy than in diagnosis. M. Cheradame somewhat severely observes, “The typical diplomat lives in a world of his own. His information is rarely obtained by direct observation of people and facts.” And while ordinarily men of exceptional talents are selected for the difficulty position of Minister for Foreign Affairs, yet all considered, it is hard to believe that were decisions on the essential matters of international life made on a broader basis, and influenced more by a direct action of public opinion, the result would be less wise.

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.