This line of reasoning is no longer valid, for it was based upon a system of economic individualism, upon a distinction between the functions proper to the State and those proper to the citizen. This individualist system has been profoundly transformed in the direction of national control by the measures adopted everywhere for the purposes of war; a transformation that the confiscatory clauses of the Treaty and the arrangements for the payment of the indemnity help to render permanent. While the old understanding or convention has been destroyed—or its disappearance very greatly accelerated—by the Allies, no new one has so far been established to take its place. To that fact we must ascribe much of the economic paralysis that has come upon the world.

I am aware, of course, that the passage I have quoted did not tell the whole story; that already before the War the power of the political State was being more and more used by ‘big business’; that in China, Mexico, Central America, the Near East, Morocco, Persia, Mesopotamia, wherever there was undeveloped and disorderly territory, private enterprise was exercising pressure upon the State to use its power to ensure sources of raw material or areas for the investment of capital. That phase of the question is dealt with at greater length elsewhere.[20] But the actual (whatever the potential) economic importance of the territory about which the nations quarrelled was as yet, in 1914, small; the part taken by Governments in the control and direction of international trade was negligible. Europe lived by processes that went on without serious obstacle across frontiers. Little States, for instance, without Colonies (Scandinavia, Switzerland) not only maintained a standard of living for their people quite as high as that in the great States, but maintained it moreover by virtue of a foreign trade relatively as considerable. And the forces which preserved the international understanding by which that trade was carried on were obviously great.

It was not true, before the War, to say that Germany had to expand her frontiers to feed her population. It is true that with her, as with us, her soil did not produce the food needed for the populations living on it; as with us, about fifteen millions were being fed by means of trade with territories which politically she did not ‘own,’ and did not need to ‘own’—with Russia, with South America, with Asia, with our own Colonies. Like us Germany was turning her coal and iron into bread. The process could have gone on almost indefinitely, so long as the coal and iron lasted, as the tendency to territorial division of labour was being intensified by the development of transport and invention. (The pressure of the population on the food resources of these islands was possibly greater under the Heptarchy than at present, when they support forty-five millions.) Under the old economic order conquest meant, not a transfer of wealth from one set of persons to another—for the soil of Alsace, for instance, remained in the hands of those who had owned it under France—but a change of administration. The change may have been as unwarrantable and oppressive as you will, but it did not involve economic strangulation of the conquered peoples or any very fundamental economic change at all. French economic life did not wither as the result of the changes of frontier in 1872, and French factories were not shut off from raw material, French cities were not stricken with starvation as the result of France’s defeat. Her economic and financial recovery was extraordinarily rapid; her financial position a year or two after the War was sounder than that of Germany. It seemed, therefore, that if Germany, of all nations, and Bismarck, of all statesmen, could thus respect the convention which after war secured the immunity of private trade and property, it must indeed be deeply rooted in international comity.

Indeed, the ‘trans-national’ economic activities of individuals, which had ensued so widespread an international economy, and the principle of the immunity of private property from seizure after conquest, had become so firmly rooted in international relationship as to survive all the changes of war and conquest. They were based on a principle that had received recognition in English Treaties dating back to the time of Magna Carta, and that had gradually become a convention of international relationship.

At Versailles the Germans pointed out that their country was certainly not left with resources to feed its population. The Allies replied to that, not by denying the fact—to which their own advisers, like Mr Hoover, have indeed pointedly called attention—but as follows:—

In making their reply the Allies seemed momentarily to have overlooked one fact—their own handiwork in the Treaty.

Before the War it would have been a true reply. But the Allies have transformed what were, before the War, dangerous fallacies into monstrous truths.

President Wilson has described the position of Germany under the Treaty in these terms:—

In other words, it is no longer open to Germany, as the result of guarantees of free movement accorded to individual traders, to carry on that process by which before the War she supported herself. Individual Germans cannot now, as heretofore, get raw materials by dealing with foreign individuals, without reference to their nationality. Germans are now, in fact, placed in the position of having to deal through their State, which in turn deals with other States. To buy wheat or iron, they cannot as heretofore go to individuals, to the grower or mine-owner, and offer a price; the thing has to be done through Governments. We have come much nearer to a condition in which the States do indeed ‘own’ (they certainly control) their raw material.

The most striking instance is that of access to the Lorraine iron, which before the War furnished three-fourths of the raw material of Germany’s basic industry. Under the individualist system, in which ‘the buyer is king’ in which efforts were mainly directed to finding markets, no obstacle was placed on the export of iron (except, indeed, the obstacle to the acquisition by French citizens of Lorraine iron set up by the French Government in the imposition of tariffs). But under the new order, with the French State assuming such enormously increased economic functions, the destination of the iron will be determined by political considerations. And ‘political considerations,’ in an order of international society in which the security of the nation depends, not upon the collective strength of the whole society, but upon its relative strength as against rival units, mean the deliberate weakening of rivals. Thus, no longer will the desire of private owners to find a market for their wares be a guarantee of the free access of citizens in other States to those materials. In place of a play of factors which did, however clumsily, ensure in practice general access to raw materials, we have a new order of motives; the deliberate desire of States, competing in power, owning great sources of raw material, to deprive rival States of the use of them.

That the refusal of access will not add to the welfare of the people of the State that so owns these materials, that, indeed, it will inevitably lower the standard of living in all States alike, is certainly true. But so long as there is no real international society organised on the basis of collective strength and co-operation, the motive of security will override considerations of welfare. The condition of international anarchy makes true what otherwise need not be true, that the vital interests of nations are conflicting.

Parenthetically, it is necessary to say this: the time may have come for the destruction of the older order. If the individualist order was that which gave us Armageddon, and still more, the type of mind which Armageddon and the succeeding ‘peace’ revealed, then the present writer, for one, sheds no tears over its destruction. In any case, a discussion of the intrinsic merits, social and moral, of socialism and individualism respectively, would to-day be quite academic. For those who profess to stand for individualism are the most active agents of its destruction. The Conservative Nationalists, who oppose the socialisation of wealth and yet advocate the conscription of life; oppose Nationalisation, yet demand the utmost military preparedness in an age when effective preparation for war means the mobilisation particularly of the nation’s industrial resources; resent the growing authority of the State, yet insist that the power of the National State shall be such as to give it everywhere domination; do, indeed, demand omelets without eggs, and bricks not only without straw but without clay.

A Europe of competing military nationalisms means a Europe in which the individual and all his activities must more and more be merged in his State for the purpose of that competition. The process is necessarily one of progressively intense socialisation; and the war measures carried it to very great lengths indeed. Moreover, the point to which our attention just now should be directed, is the difference which distinguishes the process of change within the State from that which marks the change in the international field. Within the State the old method is automatically replaced by the new (indeed nationalisation is mostly the means by which the old individualism is brought to an end); between nations, on the other hand, no organised socialistic internationalism replaces the old method which is destroyed. The world is left without any settled international economy.

Let us note the process of destruction of the old economy.

In July, 1914, the advocacy of economic nationalisation or Socialism would have been met with elaborate arguments from perhaps nine average Englishmen out of ten, to the effect that control or management of industries and services by the Government was impossible, by reason of the sheer inefficiency which marks Governmental work. Then comes the War, and an efficient railway service and the co-ordination of industry and finance to national ends becomes a matter of life and death. In this grave emergency, what policy does this same average Englishman, who has argued so elaborately against State control, and the possibility of governments ever administering public services, pursue? Almost as a matter of course, as the one thing to be done, he clamours for the railways and other public services to be taken over by the Government, and for the State to control the industry, trade, and finance of the country.

Now it may well be that the Socialist would deny that the system which obtained during the War was Socialism, and would say that it came nearer to being State Capitalism than State Socialism; the individualist may argue that the methods would never be tolerated as a normal method of national life. But when all allowances are made the fact remains that when our need was greatest we resorted to the very system which we had always declared to be the worst from the point of view of efficiency. As Sir Leo Chiozza Money, in sketching the history of this change, which he has called ‘The Triumph of Nationalisation,’ says: ‘The nation won through the unprecedented economic difficulties of the greatest War in history by methods which it had despised. National organisation triumphed in a land where it had been denied.’ In this sense the England of 1914-1920 was a Socialist England; and it was a Socialist England by common consent.

This fact has an effect on the moral outlook not generally realised.

For very many, as the War went on and increasing sacrifices of life and youth were demanded, new light was thrown upon the relations of the individual to the State. A whole generation of young Englishmen were suddenly confronted with the fact that their lives did not belong to themselves, that each owed his life to the State. But if each must give, or at least risk, everything that he possessed, even life itself, were others giving or risking what they possessed? Here was new light on the institution of private property. If the life of each belongs to the community, then assuredly does his property. The Communist State which says to the citizen, ‘You must work and surrender your private property or you will have no vote,’ asks, after all, somewhat less than the bourgeois Military State which says to the conscript, ‘Fight and give your person to the State or we will kill you.’ For great masses of the British working-classes conscription has answered the ethical problem involved in the confiscation of capital. The Eighth Commandment no longer stands in the way, as it stood so long in the case of a people still religiously minded and still feeling the weight of Puritan tradition.

Moreover, the War showed that the communal organisation of industry could be made to work. It could ‘deliver the goods’ if those goods were, say, munitions. And if it could work for the purposes of war, why not for those of peace? The War showed that by co-ordinated and centralised action the whole economic structure can without disaster be altered to a degree that before the War no economist would have supposed possible. We witnessed the economic miracle mentioned in the last chapter, but worth recalling here. Suppose before the War you had collected into one room all the great capitalist economists in England, and had said to them: ‘During the next few years you will withdraw from normal production five or six millions of the best workers. The mere residue of the workers will be able to feed, clothe, and generally maintain those five or six millions, themselves, and the country at large, at a standard of living on the whole as high, if not higher, than that to which the people were accustomed before those five or six million workers were withdrawn.’ If you had said that to those capitalist economists, there would not have been one who would have admitted the possibility of the thing, or regarded the forecast as anything but rubbish.

Yet that economic miracle has been performed, and it has been performed thanks to Nationalisation and Socialism, and could not have been performed otherwise.

However, one may qualify in certain points this summary of the outstanding economic facts of the War, it is impossible to exaggerate the extent to which the revelation of economic possibilities has influenced working-class opinion.

To the effect of this on the minds of the more intelligent workers, we have to add another psychological effect, a certain recklessness, inseparable from the conditions of war, reflected in the workers’ attitude towards social reform.

Perhaps a further factor in the tendency towards Communism is the habituation to confiscation which currency inflation involves. Under the influence of war contrivances States have learned to pay their debts in paper not equivalent in value to the gold in which the loan was made: whole classes of bondholders have thus been deprived of anything from one-half to two-thirds of the value of their property. It is confiscation in its most indiscriminate and sometimes most cruel form. Bourgeois society has accepted it. A socialistic society of to-morrow may be tempted to find funds for its social experiments in somewhat the same way.

Whatever weight we may attach to some of these factors, this much is certain: not only war, but preparation for war, means, to a much greater degree than it has ever meant before, mobilisation of the whole resources of the country—men, women, industry. This form of ‘nationalisation’ cannot go on for years and not affect the permanent form of the society subjected to it. It has affected it very deeply. It has involved a change in the position of private property and individual enterprise that since the War has created a new cleavage in the West. The future of private property which was before the War a theoretical speculation, has become within a year or two, and especially, perhaps, since the Bolshevist Revolution in Russia, a dominating issue in European social and political development. It has subjected European society to a new strain. The wearing down of the distinction between the citizen and the State, and the inroads upon the sacro-sanctity of private property and individual enterprise, make each citizen much more dependent upon his State, much more a part of it. Control of foreign trade so largely by the State has made international trade less a matter of processes maintained by individuals who disregarded their nationality, and more a matter of arrangement between States, in which the non-political individual activity tends to disappear. We have here a group of forces which has achieved a revolution, a revolution in the relationship of the individual European to the European State, and of the States to one another.

The socialising and communist tendencies set up by measures of industrial mobilisation for the purposes of the War, have been carried forward in another sphere by the economic terms of the Treaty of Versailles. These latter, if even partly carried into effect, will mean in very large degree the compulsory socialisation, even communisation, of the enemy States. Not only the country’s foreign trade, but much of its internal industry must be taken out of the hands of private traders or manufacturers. The provisions of the Treaty assuredly help to destroy the process upon which the old economic order in Europe rested.

Let the reader ask himself what is likely to be the influence upon the institution of private property and private commerce of a Treaty world-wide in its operation, which will take a generation to carry out, which may well be used as a precedent for future settlements between States (settlements which may include very great politico-economic changes in the position of Egypt, Ireland, and India), and of which the chief economic provisions are as follows:—

This wholesale confiscation of private property[23] is to take place without the Allies affording any compensation to the individuals expropriated, and the proceeds will be employed, first, to meet private debts due to Allied nationals from any German nationals, and, second, to meet claims due from Austrian, Hungarian, Bulgarian, or Turkish nationals. Any balance may either be returned by the liquidating power direct to Germany, or retained by them. If retained, the proceeds must be transferred to the Reparations Commission for Germany’s credit in the Reparations account. Note, moreover, how the identification of a citizen with his State is carried forward by the discrimination made against Germans in overseas trade. Heretofore there were whole spheres of international trade and industrial activity in which the individual’s nationality mattered very little. It was a point in favour of individual effort, and, incidentally, of international peace. Under the Treaty, whereas the property of Allied nationals within German jurisdiction reverts to Allied ownership on the conclusion of peace, the property of Germans within Allied jurisdiction is to be retained and liquidated as described above, with the result that the whole of German property over a large part of the world can be expropriated, and the large properties now within the custody of Public Trustees and similar officials in the Allied countries may be retained permanently. In the second place, such German assets are chargeable, not only with the liabilities of Germans, but also, if they run to it, with ‘payment of the amounts due in respect of claims by the nationals of such Allied or Associated Power with regard to their property, rights, and interests in the territory of other Enemy Powers,’ as, for example, Turkey, Bulgaria, and Austria. This is a remarkable provision, which is naturally non-reciprocal. In the third place, any final balance due to Germany on private account need not be paid over, but can be held against the various liabilities of the German Government.[24] The effective operation of these articles is guaranteed by the delivery of deeds, titles, and information.

It will be noted how completely the Treaty returns to the Tribal conception of a collective responsibility, and how it wipes away the distinction heretofore made in International Law, between the civilian citizen and the belligerent Government. An Austrian who has lived and worked in England or China or Egypt all his life, and is married to an English woman and has children who do not speak a word of German, who is no more responsible for the invasion of Belgium than an Icelander or a Chinaman, finds that the savings of his lifetime left here in the faith of British security, are confiscated under the Treaty in order to satisfy the claims of France or Japan. And, be it noted, whenever attention is directed to what the defenders of the Treaty like to call its ‘sternness’ (as when it deprives Englishborn women and their children of their property) we are invited to repress our misgiving on that score in order to contemplate the beauty of its ‘justice,’ and to admire the inexorable accuracy with which reward and punishment are distributed. It is the standing retort to critics of the Treaty: they forget its ‘justice.’[25]

How far this new tendency is likely to go towards a reassertion of the false doctrine of the complete submergence of the individual in the State, the erection of the ‘God-State’ which at the beginning we declared to be the main moral cause of the War and set out to destroy, will be discussed later. The point for the moment is that the enforcement of this part of the Treaty, like other parts, will go to swell communistic tendencies. It will be the business of the German State to maintain the miners who are to deliver the coal under the Treaty, the workers in the shipyards who are to deliver the yearly toll of ships. The intricate and elaborate arrangements for ‘searching Germany’s pockets’ for the purpose of the indemnity mean the very strictest Governmental control of private trade in Germany, in many spheres its virtual abolition. All must be done through the Government in order that the conditions of the Treaty may be fulfilled. Foreign trade will be no longer the individual enterprise of private citizens. It will, by the order of the Allies, be a rigidly controlled Governmental function, as President Wilson reminded us in the passage quoted above.

To a lesser degree the same will be true of the countries receiving the indemnity. Mr. Lloyd George promises that it will not be paid in cheap goods, or in such a way as to damage home industries. But it must be paid in some goods: ships, dyes, or (as some suggest) raw materials. Their distribution to private industry, the price that these industries shall pay, must be arranged by the receiving Government. This inevitably means a prolongation of the State’s intervention in the processes of private trade and industry. Nor is it merely the disposal of the indemnity in kind which will compel each Allied Government to continue to intervene in the trade and industry of its citizens. The fact that the Reparations Commission is, in effect, to allocate the amount of ore, cotton, shipping, Germany is to get, to distribute the ships and coal which she may deliver, means the establishment of something resembling international rationing. The Governments will, in increasing degree, determine the amount and direction of trade.

The more thoroughly we ‘make Germany pay,’ the more State-controlled do we compel her (and only to a lesser extent ourselves) to become. We should probably regard a standard of life in Germany very definitely below that of the rest of Western Europe, as poetic justice. But it would inevitably set up forces, both psychological and economic, that make not only for State-control—either State Socialism or State Capitalism—but for Communism.

Suppose we did our work so thoroughly that we took absolutely all Germany could produce over and above what was necessary for the maintenance of the physical efficiency of her population. That would compel her to organise herself increasingly on the basis of equality of income: no one, that is, going above the line of physical efficiency and no one falling below it.

Thus, while British, French, and American anti-socialists are declaring that the principle enunciated by the Russian Government, that all trade must be through the Soviet, is one which will prove most mischievous in its example, it is precisely that principle which increasingly, if the Treaty is enforced, they will in fact impose upon a great country, highly organised, of great bureaucratic efficiency, far more likely by its training and character to make the principle a success.

This tendency may be in the right direction or the wrong one. The point is that no provision has been made to meet the condition which the change creates. The old system permitted the world to work under well-defined principles. The new regimen, because it has not provided for the consequences of the changes it has provoked, condemns a great part of Europe to economic paralysis which must end in bitter anarchic struggles unless the crisis is anticipated by constructive statesmanship.

Meantime the continued coercion of Germany will demand on the part of the Western democracies a permanent maintenance of the machine of war, and so a perpetuation of the tendency, in the way already described, towards a militarised Nationalisation.

The resultant ‘Socialism’ will assuredly not be of the type that most Socialists (among whom, incidentally, the present writer counts himself) would welcome. But it will not necessarily be for that reason any less fatal to the workable transnational individualism.

Moreover, military nationalisation presupposes international conflict, if not perpetually recurrent war; presupposes, that is, first, an inability to organise a stable international economy indispensable to a full life for Europe’s population; and, secondly, an increasing destructiveness in warfare—self-destruction in terms of European Society as a whole. ‘Efficiency’ in such a society would be efficiency in suicide.

CHAPTER III

NATIONALITY, ECONOMICS, AND THE ASSERTION OF RIGHT

Might cannot be pledged to Right in these conditions. If our power is pledged to Allies for the purposes of the Balance (which means, in fact, preponderance), it cannot be used against them to enforce respect for (say) nationality. To turn against Allies would break the Balance. To maintain the Balance of Power we are compelled to disregard the moral merits of an Ally’s policy (as in the case of the promise to the Czar’s Government not to demand the independence of Poland). The maintenance of a Balance (i.e. preponderance) is incompatible with the maintenance of Right. There is a conflict of obligation.

Before the War, a writer in the National Review, desiring to show the impossibility of obviating war by any international agreement, took the example of the conflict with Germany and put the case as follows:—

‘And so,’ adds the writer, ‘it is impossible and absurd to accept the theory of Mr. Norman Angell.’

Now that theory was, not that Germany and others would not fight—I was very insistent indeed that[26] unless there was a change in European policy they would—but that war, however it might end, would not solve the question. And that conclusion at least, whatever may be the case with others, is proved true.

For we have had war; we have beaten Germany; and those million babies still confront us. The German population and its tendency to increase is still there. What are we going to do about it? The War has killed two million out of about seventy million Germans; it killed very few of the women. The subsequent privations of the blockade certainly disposed of some of the weaker among both women and children. The rate of increase may in the immediate future be less. It was declining before the War as the country became more prosperous, following in this what seems to be a well-established rule: the higher the standard of civilisation the more does the birth-rate decline. But if the country is to become extremely frugal and more agricultural, this tendency to decline is likely to be checked. In any case the number of mouths to be fed will not have been decreased by war to the same extent that the resources by which they might have been fed have been decreased.

What do we propose to Germany, now that we have beaten her, as the means of dealing with those million babies? Professor Starling, in a report to the British Government,[27] suggests emigration:—

But emigration where? Into Russia? The influence of Germans in Russia was very great even before the War. Certain French writers warn us frantically against the vast danger of Russia’s becoming a German colony unless a cordon of border States, militarily strong, is created for the purpose of keeping the two countries apart. But we should certainly get a Germanisation of Russia from the inside if five or ten or fifteen million Germans were dispersed therein and the country became a permanent reservoir for those annual million babies.

And if not Russia, where? Imagine a migration of ten or fifteen million Huns throughout the world—a dispersion before which that of the Jews and of the Irish would pale. We know how the migration from an Ireland of eight millions that could not feed itself has reacted upon our politics and our relations with America. What sort of foreign problems are we going to bequeath to our children if our policy forces a great German migration into Russia, or the Balkans, or Turkey?

This insistent fact of a million more or less of little Huns being born into the world every year remains. Shall we suggest to Germany that she must deal with this problem as the thrifty householder deals with the too frequent progeny of the family cat?

Or shall we do just nothing, and say that it is not our affair; that as we have the power over the iron of Lorraine and Morocco, over the resources of Africa and Asia, over the ocean highways of the world, we are going to see that that power, naval and military, is used to ensure abundance for ourselves and our friends; that as for others, since they have not the power, they may starve? Vae victis indeed![28]

Just note what is involved. This war was fought to destroy the doctrine that might is right. Our power, we say, gives us access to the wealth of the world; others shall be excluded. Then we are using our power to deny to some millions the most elemental of all rights, the right to existence. By the economic use of our military power (assuming that military power is as effective as we claim) we compel some millions to choose between war and penury or starvation; we give to war, in their case, the justification that it is on behalf of the bread of their children, their livelihood.

Let us compare France’s position. Unlike the German, the French population has hardly increased at all in recent generations. In the years immediately preceding the War, indeed, it showed a definite decline, a tendency naturally more marked since the War. This low birth-rate has greatly concerned French statesmen, and remedies have been endlessly discussed, with no result. The causes are evidently very deep-rooted indeed. The soil which has been inherited by this declining population is among the richest and most varied in the world, producing in the form of wines, brandies, and certain other luxuries, results which can be duplicated nowhere else. It stretches almost into the sub-tropics. In addition, the nation possesses a vast colonial empire—in Algeria, Tunis, Morocco (which include some of the greatest food-growing areas in the world), Madagascar, Equatorial Africa, Cochin-China; an empire managed, by the way, on strongly protectionist principles.

We have thus on the one side a people of forty millions with no tendency to increase, mainly not industrial (because not needing to be), possessing undeveloped areas capable, in their food and mineral resources (home and colonial), of supporting a population very many times its size. On the other hand is a neighbouring group, very much larger, and rapidly increasing, occupying a poorer and smaller territory. It is unable to subsist at modern standards on that territory without a highly-developed industry. The essential raw materials have passed into the hands of the smaller group. The latter on grounds of self-defence, fearing to be outnumbered, may withhold those materials from the larger group; and its right so to do is to be unquestioned.

Does any one really believe that Western Society could remain stable, resting on moral foundations of this kind? Can one disregard primary economic need in considering the problem of preserving the Europe of ‘free and independent national states’ of Mr. Asquith’s phrase?[29]

If things are left where this Treaty leaves them, then the militarist theories which before were fallacies will have become true. We can no longer say that peoples as distinct from imperialist parties have no interest in conquest. In this new world of to-morrow—this ‘better and more stable world’—the interests of peoples themselves will be in deadly conflict. For an expanding people it will be a choice between robbery of neighbours’ territory and starvation. Re-conquest of Lorraine will become for the Germans not a matter of hurt pride or sentiment, but a matter of actual food need, a need which will not, like hurt pride, diminish with the lapse of time, but increase with the growth of the population. On the side of war, then, truly we shall find ‘the human stomach and the human womb.’

The change is a deeper reversion than we seem to realise. Even under feudalism the means of subsistence of the people, the land they cultivated, remained as before. Only the lords were changed—and one lord was very like another. But where, under modern industrial economy, titles to property in indispensable raw materials can be cancelled by a conqueror and become the State property of the conquering nation, which enforces the right to distribute them as it pleases, whole populations may find themselves deprived of the actual means of supporting themselves on the territory that they occupy.

We shall have set up a disruptive ferment working with all the force of the economic needs of 50 or 100 million virile folk to bring about once more some vast explosion. Europe will once more be living on a volcano, knowing no remedy save futile efforts to ‘sit on the lid.’

The beginnings of the attempt are already visible. Colonel Repington points out that owing to the break up of Russia and Austria, and the substitution for these two powerful States of a large number of small, independent ones likely to quarrel among themselves, Germany will be the largest and most cohesive of all the European Continental nations, relatively stronger than she was before the War. He demands in consequence, that not only France, but Holland and Belgium, be extended to the Rhine, which must become the strategic frontier of civilisation against barbarism. He says there can be no sort of security otherwise. He even reminds us that it was Rome’s plan. (He does not remind us that if it had notably succeeded then we should hardly be trying it again two thousand years later.) The plan gives us, in fact, this prospect: the largest and most unified racial block in Europe will find itself surrounded by a number of lesser States, containing German minorities, and possessing materials indispensable to Germany’s economic life, to which she is refused peaceful access in order that she may not become strong enough to obtain access by force; an attempt which she will be compelled to make because peaceful access is denied to her. Our measures create resistance; that resistance calls forth more extreme measures; those measures further resistance, and so on. We are in the thick once more of Balance of Power, strategic frontiers, every element of the old stultifying statecraft against which all the Allies—before the Armistice—made flaming protest.

And when this conflict of rights—each fighting as he believes for the right to life—has blazed up into passions that transcend all thought of gain or advantage, we shall be asked somewhat contemptuously what purpose it serves to discuss so cold a thing as ‘economics’ in the midst of this welter.

It won’t serve any purpose. But the discussion of economics before it had become a matter for passion might have prevented the conflict.

The situation has this complication—and irony: Increasing prosperity, a higher standard of living, sets up a tendency prudentially to check increase of population. France, and in hardly less degree even new and sparsely populated countries like Australia, have for long shown a tendency to a decline of the rate of increase. In France, indeed, as has already been mentioned, an absolute decrease had set in before the War. But as soon as this tendency becomes apparent, the same nationalist who invokes the menace of over-population as the justification for war, also invokes nationalism to reverse the tendency which would solve the over-population problem. This is part of the mystic nature of the nationalist impulse. Colonel Roosevelt is not the only warlike nationalist who has exhausted the resources of invective to condemn ‘race suicide’ and to enjoin the patriotic duty of large families.

We may gather some idea of the morasses into which the conception of nationalism and its ‘mystic impulses’ may lead us when applied to the population problem by examining some current discussions of it. Dr Raymond Pearl, of John Hopkins University, summarises certain of his conclusions thus:—