Such jingoism, however, though unpleasant may be quite innocuous. We all have a trace of it as we all are supposed to have a trace of tuberculosis. So long as our jingoes confine themselves to merely trumpeting national virtues, actual and imputed, we may rest content. Such men will scarcely be capable of stirring a whole population to war, if men are living under decent conditions, struggling for still better conditions, and competing on a high plane. If we can secure prosperity, efficiency and equality and can make life fuller, more intense, varied and romantic, the ravages of jingoism will be circumscribed.

It will be argued, however, that though we make our conditions what we will we shall still be anxious to fight at the first opportunity. "It is evident," says Prof. Sumner,[[5]] "that men love war; when two hundred thousand men in the United States volunteer in a month for a war with Spain which appeals to no sense of wrong against their country and to no other strong sentiment of human nature, when their lives are by no means monotonous or destitute of interest, and where life offers chances of wealth and prosperity, the pure love of adventure and war must be strong in our population." If two hundred thousand volunteer for a war when we are not obviously attacked, will not the whole country go to war for the sake of "honour"?

It would be foolish to answer this question categorically; no one can predict what a nation will do when wounded in its self-esteem. The heir of thousands of centuries of fighting, man is to-day, as always, a fragile container of dynamite, not guaranteed against explosion, and there are experts in the touching off of dynamite. When Bismarck falsified the Ems despatch he knew exactly what its effect would be upon the French sense of honour. But "honour" is an ambiguous word, meaning everything, from a scrupulous regard to national obligations freely entered upon to a mere truculent bellicosity. The honour of nations, in the sense that nations usually fight for honour, is mere prestige, and prestige is not much more than an acknowledgment of formidableness. The Danes and the Dutch are honourable, but, in the sense in which the word is ordinarily used, neither Denmark nor Holland can afford honour. The claims of national honour, moreover, are strangely shadowy and transitory. What seems imperatively demanded by honour at the moment becomes insignificant later. For a number of years the United States paid tribute to the Barbary pirates; our citizens were sold into slavery and his Serene Majesty, the Dey of Algiers, treated our representative in a manner which a great power to-day would hardly adopt in an ultimatum to Paraguay or San Marino.[[6]] But it was not then convenient to fight and so we pocketed our honour until a more convenient occasion. The Dey of Algiers has long since gone to the scrap-pile of history, while the United States remains, a respected and honourable nation.

Nations which are sure of themselves, like men who respect themselves, are somewhat slower to resent affronts than nations which are insecure and fearsome. In 1914 Austria was solicitous of her honour, which, she believed, was assailed by Servia, and Russia was solicitous of hers, for these two powers were engaged in a contest over the fears and prepossessions of the Balkan States, and "honour" meant adherents. But when in the same year, a Mexican government offered what was believed to be an affront to the United States, our people were in no mood to feel insulted. We did not need prestige. After all, questions of honour are usually questions of interest. In the Lusitania controversy, we did not receive the apologies which we believed were due to us. But as we had no interest in fighting Germany, and as Germany gained less from her submarine campaign than she would have lost in a war with us, the matter was amicably, though not logically, settled or at least postponed. Had we, however, been in a different economic position, had a few million unemployed men been striking, rioting and threatening to revolt, or, on the other hand had we had plans for our aggrandisement at the expense of Germany, acts of war would have followed within twenty-four hours of the massacre. We should have been far more "jealous in honour." But we were otherwise engaged. The headlines were full of the events in Europe and the horror of that tragedy in the Atlantic, but the gaze of America was inward. We were interested day by day in the ambitions of peace.

Thus our hope of remaining at peace ourselves and of contributing to the peace and economic reorganisation of the world depends not only upon the conservation and development of our natural resources but also upon a distribution of wealth and income which will widen the consumption by the masses and will give to the whole population the opportunity of a full, varied and purposeful life. All these things, as well as the moral discipline which is so urgently needed, can be secured only as we learn to apply a national policy to our own nation. It is our own slackness, our own "state-blindness," our lack of a complete democracy, which increases our chances of imperialism and war. It is, on the other hand, our increasing willingness to take a national view of internal affairs, our increasing desire to base American prosperity upon American resources and to make life fuller and more valuable, that acts as a deterrent to war and fits us for the difficult task of contributing to a world peace.

Finally such a contribution to the peace of the world implies the condition that our own foreign policy shall not be in conflict with the international ideals which we are seeking to promote. If we ourselves are interested in the parcelling out of backward countries, we shall not be able to exert a restraining influence upon nations whose necessities are greater than ours. By this is not meant that we are to stay at home completely and enjoy no rights beyond our borders. Such an effacement would mean a monastic seclusion for the United States. But while in the world beyond there is a fair field for peaceful competition, in which we also may take our part, our hope of promoting economic internationalism depends upon our not playing a lone hand, upon our abstention from a selfish and short-sighted policy of national aggression and upon our free co-operation with other nations seeking the goal of international peace.

[[1]] According to estimates based on studies of estates probated in Massachusetts and Wisconsin, it appears that 2 per cent. of the population owned almost 60 per cent. of the wealth while the poorest 65 per cent. of the population died in possession of only about 5 per cent. of the wealth. See King (W. I.), "The Wealth and Income of the People of the United States," New York, 1915; also cited sources.

[[2]] Twenty per cent. of the population receive 47.2 per cent. of national income and the remaining eighty per cent. of the population 52.8 per cent. of the national income.—King, op. cit., p. 235.

[[3]] From 1880 to 1910 the total wages (and salaries) paid in the United States increased from 3.8 to 14.3 thousands of millions of dollars; the average wage increased from $323 to $507; the increase in the annual wages, taking into account differences in the cost of living, was 64 per cent. For basis of these calculations see King.

[[4]] William James. The Moral Equivalent of War. In "Memories and Studies." New York. Longmans, Green & Co. 1912.