In the relations between states, as
in the relations of groups within a single state,
what is to be desired is independence for each as
regards internal affairs, and law rather than private
force as regards external affairs. But as regards
groups within a state, it is internal independence
that must be emphasized, since that is what is lacking;
subjection to law has been secured, on the whole, since
the end of the Middle Ages. In the relations
between states, on the contrary, it is law and a central
government that are lacking, since independence exists
for external as for internal affairs. The stage
we have reached in the affairs of Europe corresponds
to the stage reached in our internal affairs during
the Wars of the Roses, when turbulent barons frustrated
the attempt to make them keep the king’s peace.
Thus, although the goal is the same in the two cases,
the steps to be taken in order to achieve it are quite
different.
There can be no good international
system until the boundaries of states coincide as
nearly as possible with the boundaries of nations.
But it is not easy to say what we
mean by a nation. Are the Irish a nation?
Home Rulers say yes, Unionists say no. Are the
Ulstermen a nation? Unionists say yes, Home
Rulers say no. In all such cases it is a party
question whether we are to call a group a nation or
not. A German will tell you that the Russian
Poles are a nation, but as for the Prussian Poles,
they, of course, are part of Prussia. Professors
can always be hired to prove, by arguments of race
or language or history, that a group about which there
is a dispute is, or is not, a nation, as may be desired
by those whom the professors serve. If we are
to avoid all these controversies, we must first of
all endeavor to find some definition of a nation.
A nation is not to be defined by affinities
of language or a common historical origin, though
these things often help to produce a nation.
Switzerland is a nation, despite diversities of race,
religion, and language. England and Scotland
now form one nation, though they did not do so at
the time of the Civil War. This is shown by Cromwell’s
saying, in the height of the conflict, that he would
rather be subject to the domain of the royalists than
to that of the Scotch. Great Britain was one
state before it was one nation; on the other hand,
Germany was one nation before it was one state.
What constitutes a nation is a sentiment
and an instinct, a sentiment of similarity and an
instinct of belonging to the same group or herd.
The instinct is an extension of the instinct which
constitutes a flock of sheep, or any other group of
gregarious animals. The sentiment which goes
with this is like a milder and more extended form of
family feeling. When we return to England after
being on the Continent, we feel something friendly
in the familiar ways, and it is easy to believe that
Englishmen on the whole are virtuous, while many foreigners
are full of designing wickedness.
Such feelings make it easy to organize
a nation into a state. It is not difficult,
as a rule, to acquiesce in the orders of a national
government. We feel that it is our government,
and that its decrees are more or less the same as
those which we should have given if we ourselves had
been the governors. There is an instinctive and
usually unconscious sense of a common purpose animating
the members of a nation. This becomes especially
vivid when there is war or a danger of war.
Any one who, at such a time, stands out against the
orders of his government feels an inner conflict quite
different from any that he would feel in standing
out against the orders of a foreign government in
whose power he might happen to find himself.
If he stands out, he does so with some more or less
conscious hope that his government may in time come
to think as he does; whereas, in standing out against
a foreign government, no such hope is necessary.
This group instinct, however it may have arisen,
is what constitutes a nation, and what makes it important
that the boundaries of nations should also be the
boundaries of states.
National sentiment is a fact, and
should be taken account of by institutions.
When it is ignored, it is intensified and becomes a
source of strife. It can only be rendered harmless
by being given free play, so long as it is not predatory.
But it is not, in itself, a good or admirable feeling.
There is nothing rational and nothing desirable in
a limitation of sympathy which confines it to a fragment
of the human race. Diversities of manners and
customs and traditions are, on the whole, a good thing,
since they enable different nations to produce different
types of excellence. But in national feeling
there is always latent or explicit an element of hostility
to foreigners. National feeling, as we know
it, could not exist in a nation which was wholly free
from external pressure of a hostile kind.
And group feeling produces a limited
and often harmful kind of morality. Men come
to identify the good with what serves the interests
of their own group, and the bad with what works against
those interests, even if it should happen to be in
the interests of mankind as a whole. This group
morality is very much in evidence during war, and
is taken for granted in men’s ordinary thought.
Although almost all Englishmen consider the defeat
of Germany desirable for the good of the world, yet
nevertheless most of them honor a German for fighting
for his country, because it has not occurred to them
that his actions ought to be guided by a morality
higher than that of the group.
A man does right, as a rule, to have
his thoughts more occupied with the interests of his
own nation than with those of others, because his
actions are more likely to affect his own nation.
But in time of war, and in all matters which are
of equal concern to other nations and to his own,
a man ought to take account of the universal welfare,
and not allow his survey to be limited by the interest,
or supposed interest, of his own group or nation.
So long as national feeling exists,
it is very important that each nation should be self-governing
as regards its internal affairs. Government can
only be carried on by force and tyranny if its subjects
view it with hostile eyes, and they will so view it
if they feel that it belongs to an alien nation.
This principle meets with difficulties in cases where
men of different nations live side by side in the same
area, as happens in some parts of the Balkans.
There are also difficulties in regard to places which,
for some geographical reason, are of great international
importance, such as the Suez Canal and the Panama
Canal. In such cases the purely local desires
of the inhabitants may have to give way before larger
interests. But in general, at any rate as applied
to civilized communities, the principle that the boundaries
of nations ought to coincide with the boundaries of
states has very few exceptions.
This principle, however, does not
decide how the relations between states are to be
regulated, or how a conflict of interests between
rival states is to be decided. At present, every
great state claims absolute sovereignty, not only
in regard to its internal affairs but also in regard
to its external actions. This claim to absolute
sovereignty leads it into conflict with similar claims
on the part of other great states. Such conflicts
at present can only be decided by war or diplomacy,
and diplomacy is in essence nothing but the threat
of war. There is no more justification for the
claim to absolute sovereignty on the part of a state
than there would be for a similar claim on the part
of an individual. The claim to absolute sovereignty
is, in effect, a claim that all external affairs are
to be regulated purely by force, and that when two
nations or groups of nations are interested in a question,
the decision shall depend solely upon which of them
is, or is believed to be, the stronger. This
is nothing but primitive anarchy, “the war of
all against all,” which Hobbes asserted to be
the original state of mankind.
There cannot be secure peace in the
world, or any decision of international questions
according to international law, until states are willing
to part with their absolute sovereignty as regards
their external relations, and to leave the decision
in such matters to some international instrument of
government. An international government will have
to be legislative as well as judicial. It is
not enough that there should be a Hague tribunal,
deciding matters according to some already existing
system of international law; it is necessary also
that there should be a body capable of enacting international
law, and this body will have to have the power of transferring
territory from one state to another, when it is persuaded
that adequate grounds exist for such a transference.
Friends of peace will make a mistake if they unduly
glorify the status quo. Some nations
grow, while others dwindle; the population of an area
may change its character by emigration and immigration.
There is no good reason why states should resent
changes in their boundaries under such conditions,
and if no international authority has power to make
changes of this kind, the temptations to war will sometimes
become irresistible.
The international authority ought
to possess an army and navy, and these ought to be
the only army and navy in existence. The only
legitimate use of force is to diminish the total amount
of force exercised in the world. So long as
men are free to indulge their predatory instincts,
some men or groups of men will take advantage of this
freedom for oppression and robbery. Just as the
police are necessary to prevent the use of force by
private citizens, so an international police will
be necessary to prevent the lawless use of force by
separate states.
But I think it is reasonable to hope
that if ever an international government, possessed
of the only army and navy in the world, came into
existence, the need of force to enact obedience to
its decisions would be very temporary. In a
short time the benefits resulting from the substitution
of law for anarchy would become so obvious that the
international government would acquire an unquestioned
authority, and no state would dream of rebelling against
its decisions. As soon as this stage had been
reached, the international army and navy would become
unnecessary.
We have still a very long road to
travel before we arrive at the establishment of an
international authority, but it is not very difficult
to foresee the steps by which this result will be gradually
reached. There is likely to be a continual increase
in the practice of submitting disputes to arbitration,
and in the realization that the supposed conflicts
of interest between different states are mainly illusory.
Even where there is a real conflict of interest, it
must in time become obvious that neither of the states
concerned would suffer as much by giving way as by
fighting. With the progress of inventions, war,
when it does occur, is bound to become increasingly
destructive. The civilized races of the world
are faced with the alternative of cooperation or mutual
destruction. The present war is making this
alternative daily more evident. And it is difficult
to believe that, when the enmities which it has generated
have had time to cool, civilized men will deliberately
choose to destroy civilization, rather than acquiesce
in the abolition of war.
The matters in which the interests
of nations are supposed to clash are mainly three -
tariffs, which are a delusion; the exploitation of
inferior races, which is a crime; pride of power and
dominion, which is a schoolboy folly.
The economic argument against tariffs
is familiar, and I shall not repeat it. The
only reason why it fails to carry conviction is the
enmity between nations. Nobody proposes to set
up a tariff between England and Scotland, or between
Lancashire and Yorkshire. Yet the arguments
by which tariffs between nations are supported might
be used just as well to defend tariffs between counties.
Universal free trade would indubitably be of economic
benefit to mankind, and would be adopted to-morrow
if it were not for the hatred and suspicion which
nations feel one toward another. From the point
of view of preserving the peace of the world, free
trade between the different civilized states is not
so important as the open door in their dependencies.
The desire for exclusive markets is one of the most
potent causes of war.
Exploiting what are called “inferior
races” has become one of the main objects of
European statecraft. It is not only, or primarily,
trade that is desired, but opportunities for investment;
finance is more concerned in the matter than industry.
Rival diplomatists are very often the servants, conscious
or unconscious, of rival groups of financiers.
The financiers, though themselves of no particular
nation, understand the art of appealing to national
prejudice, and of inducing the taxpayer to incur expenditure
of which they reap the benefit. The evils which
they produce at home, and the devastation that they
spread among the races whom they exploit, are part
of the price which the world has to pay for its acquiescence
in the capitalist regime.
But neither tariffs nor financiers
would be able to cause serious trouble, if it were
not for the sentiment of national pride. National
pride might be on the whole beneficent, if it took
the direction of emulation in the things that are
important to civilization. If we prided ourselves
upon our poets, our men of science, or the justice
and humanity of our social system, we might find in
national pride a stimulus to useful endeavors.
But such matters play a very small part. National
pride, as it exists now, is almost exclusively concerned
with power and dominion, with the extent of territory
that a nation owns, and with its capacity for enforcing
its will against the opposition of other nations.
In this it is reinforced by group morality.
To nine citizens out of ten it seems self-evident,
whenever the will of their own nation clashes with
that of another, that their own nation must be in
the right. Even if it were not in the right on
the particular issue, yet it stands in general for
so much nobler ideals than those represented by the
other nation to the dispute, that any increase in
its power is bound to be for the good of mankind.
Since all nations equally believe this of themselves,
all are equally ready to insist upon the victory of
their own side in any dispute in which they believe
that they have a good hope of victory. While
this temper persists, the hope of international cooperation
must remain dim.
If men could divest themselves of
the sentiment of rivalry and hostility between different
nations, they would perceive that the matters in which
the interests of different nations coincide immeasurably
outweigh those in which they clash; they would perceive,
to begin with, that trade is not to be compared to
warfare; that the man who sells you goods is not doing
you an injury. No one considers that the butcher
and the baker are his enemies because they drain him
of money. Yet as soon as goods come from a foreign
country, we are asked to believe that we suffer a
terrible injury in purchasing them. No one remembers
that it is by means of goods exported that we purchase
them. But in the country to which we export,
it is the goods we send which are thought dangerous,
and the goods we buy are forgotten. The whole
conception of trade, which has been forced upon us
by manufacturers who dreaded foreign competition, by
trusts which desired to secure monopolies, and by
economists poisoned by the virus of nationalism, is
totally and absolutely false. Trade results simply
from division of labor. A man cannot himself
make all the goods of which he has need, and therefore
he must exchange his produce with that of other people.
What applies to the individual, applies in exactly
the same way to the nation. There is no reason
to desire that a nation should itself produce all
the goods of which it has need; it is better that
it should specialize upon those goods which it can
produce to most advantage, and should exchange its
surplus with the surplus of other goods produced by
other countries. There is no use in sending
goods out of the country except in order to get other
goods in return. A butcher who is always willing
to part with his meat but not willing to take bread
from the baker, or boots from the bootmaker, or clothes
from the tailor, would soon find himself in a sorry
plight. Yet he would be no more foolish than
the protectionist who desires that we should send
goods abroad without receiving payment in the shape
of goods imported from abroad.
The wage system has made people believe
that what a man needs is work. This, of course,
is absurd. What he needs is the goods produced
by work, and the less work involved in making a given
amount of goods, the better. But owing to our
economic system, every economy in methods of production
enables employers to dismiss some of their employees,
and to cause destitution, where a better system would
produce only an increase of wages or a diminution in
the hours of work without any corresponding diminution
of wages.
Our economic system is topsyturvy.
It makes the interest of the individual conflict
with the interest of the community in a thousand ways
in which no such conflict ought to exist. Under
a better system the benefits of free trade and the
evils of tariffs would be obvious to all.
Apart from trade, the interests of
nations coincide in all that makes what we call civilization.
Inventions and discoveries bring benefit to all.
The progress of science is a matter of equal concern
to the whole civilized world. Whether a man
of science is an Englishman, a Frenchman, or a German
is a matter of no real importance. His discoveries
are open to all, and nothing but intelligence is required
in order to profit by them. The whole world of
art and literature and learning is international;
what is done in one country is not done for that country,
but for mankind. If we ask ourselves what are
the things that raise mankind above the brutes, what
are the things that make us think the human race more
valuable than any species of animals, we shall find
that none of them are things in which any one nation
can have exclusive property, but all are things in
which the whole world can share. Those who have
any care for these things, those who wish to see mankind
fruitful in the work which men alone can do, will
take little account of national boundaries, and have
little care to what state a man happens to owe allegiance.
The importance of international cooperation
outside the sphere of politics has been brought home
to me by my own experience. Until lately I was
engaged in teaching a new science which few men in
the world were able to teach. My own work in
this science was based chiefly upon the work of a
German and an Italian. My pupils came from all
over the civilized world - France, Germany, Austria,
Russia, Greece, Japan, China, India, and America.
None of us was conscious of any sense of national
divisions. We felt ourselves an outpost of civilization,
building a new road into the virgin forest of the
unknown. All cooperated in the common task, and
in the interest of such a work the political enmities
of nations seemed trivial, temporary, and futile.
But it is not only in the somewhat
rarefied atmosphere of abstruse science that international
cooperation is vital to the progress of civilization.
All our economic problems, all the questions of securing
the rights of labor, all the hopes of freedom at home
and humanity abroad, rest upon the creation of international
good-will.
So long as hatred, suspicion, and
fear dominate the feelings of men toward each other,
so long we cannot hope to escape from the tyranny
of violence and brute force. Men must learn to
be conscious of the common interests of mankind in
which all are at one, rather than of those supposed
interests in which the nations are divided. It
is not necessary, or even desirable, to obliterate
the differences of manners and custom and tradition
between different nations. These differences
enable each nation to make its own distinctive contribution
to the sum total of the world’s civilization.
What is to be desired is not cosmopolitanism,
not the absence of all national characteristics that
one associates with couriers, wagon-lit attendants,
and others, who have had everything distinctive obliterated
by multiple and trivial contacts with men of every
civilized country. Such cosmopolitanism is the
result of loss, not gain. The international
spirit which we should wish to see produced will be
something added to love of country, not something
taken away. Just as patriotism does not prevent
a man from feeling family affection, so the international
spirit ought not to prevent a man from feeling affection
for his own country. But it will somewhat alter
the character of that affection. The things which
he will desire for his own country will no longer
be things which can only be acquired at the expense
of others, but rather those things in which the excellence
of any one country is to the advantage of all the
world. He will wish his own country to be great
in the arts of peace, to be eminent in thought and
science, to be magnanimous and just and generous.
He will wish it to help mankind on the way toward
that better world of liberty and international concord
which must be realized if any happiness is to be left
to man. He will not desire for his country the
passing triumphs of a narrow possessiveness, but rather
the enduring triumph of having helped to embody in
human affairs something of that spirit of brotherhood
which Christ taught and which the Christian churches
have forgotten. He will see that this spirit
embodies not only the highest morality, but also the
truest wisdom, and the only road by which the nations,
torn and bleeding with the wounds which scientific
madness has inflicted, can emerge into a life where
growth is possible and joy is not banished at the
frenzied call of unreal and fictitious duties.
Deeds inspired by hate are not duties, whatever pain
and self-sacrifice they may involve. Life and
hope for the world are to be found only in the deeds
of love.