form

of

fairly well organized strategy to obtain potential victory without actual conflict.

Remember that you are gone forever or run that risk-if you fail to come out on top; that when you go bankrupt in this game there are no assets for you, but only liabilities ad libitum, which are, of course, assets of a kind for the adversary. With that clearly in mind, push imagination further.

Some one of the carefully graduated forces on either side cuts a caper, cuts a rate or cuts a throatas has been many times done on the assumption that the act can be isolated by the threatened alternative of general hell. But this time the well-worn arguments are adduced in vain. The system's tensile strength has given out. As for the idea that one member can act as his own Satan because no one else has sufficient concern to risk the danger of halting him-the pitcher can be carried once too often to the well.

At last Pandora's box is opened, and all enter the fray, firm in the conviction that, if they do not come out on top, there will be no bottom to land on. If the enemy has you down, you will also go out-away out beyond recall. Of course, if you can break even, you will trade off all the disadvantages you can for all the desirables you can get. But if the enemy really gets you where he can exact the pound of flesh he has decided to be useful to him, you can rest assured he will also take the adjacent bone and the absorbed blood, while he will leave you at per

fect liberty to bleed to death from the wound.

You recall that Shylock could not get his pound of flesh-to which he was entitled-because he could not take it alone. He might have got more, and he was not entitled to any blood at all. The pound of flesh was nominated in the bond, but Antonio's liability was limited to one pound, and it was thoroughly good law that Portia laid down.

To drop simile and allegory, you have been referred to yourself as an actor in a drama whose stage is really Europe, whose psychology is that of the prevailing political system there and whose dénouement is the present war. And the real horror thereof is not the individual killing, but the unlimited liability that defeat is supposed to entail—and does. National destiny is at stake-any of the belligerents will tell you that. The side that wins, according to the rules of the game, will have an option on the side that loses; and all peoples everywhere prefer the mere decision of their own destiny to life itself. Against the horrors of individuals swept out of life by the thousands and all the attendant miseries, set a people with their destiny out of their own control, and decide which is the greater evil. Since time began, men have laid down their lives for their cause, and on the foundations of their aspirations civilization has been builded.

The greatest horror of war, we repeat, is not death but defeat, defeat that brings the alien who

Shall mark our goings, question whence

we came,

Set his guards about us, as in Freedom's

name,

He shall take a tribute, toll of all our ware;

He shall change our gold for arm-arms we may not bear.

He shall break his Judges if they cross his word;

He shall rule above the Law calling on the Lord.

Down in its heart every people that goes into battle appeals to the bloody assize to escape from or prevent falling into that state. And that is the true horror of war, because in the midst of all our finely wrought modernity the booty of war remains more seductive than civilization. War is the ultimate test of national strength, but that is no reason why it should not be curbed in its results, which also means cribbed in its beginning.

The actual fact is that civilization has in this present age curbed everything except war. Peace is opposed "at any price," but war is possible at any and every price from a national slap on the wrist to the complete extinction of the nation. In every phase of life-individual or state the punishment fits the crime and the reward matches the good deed-except in war. There the liability is unlimited; therein lies the inherent evil of all war.

Consider realities on the basis of universal appeal rather than of a mere philosophy of life. All of us will admit that there are things more valuable than life itself; that, having to choose, each of us would die rather than yield up our ideals. Now exactly an appeal to that appraisal of value is made in war, but no government can guarantee a quid pro

quo for the sacrifice. No direct relation to the cause of war is to be found in its conduct or its end. The period of Napoleonic wars after years of shuffling ended finally by costing France an indemnity of seventy million dollars, though it gave Europe a few new ideas and a new system. The Franco-Prussian war, engineered in its beginning, cost France a billion dollars and more territory than Napoleon I's adventure. If the punishment fitted the crime, the penalties would have been reversed.

So as a game of chance with the sky as the limit war is the prime relic of a time when life was lived without rules. Essentially it is a gamble in which all national existence goes into the jackpot as a possible stake. Once in the game, a nation stands to lose all if it loses at all. Everywhere else in life there is some relation between cause and effect. Here there is none. What is left of the vanquished just depends on the circumstances and the possibilities.

Moreover, a war may be begun for one reason-declared or otherwiseand its ending may not bear any resemblance whatever to the advertised cause. The United States declared war on Spain to free Cuba and casually acquired Porto Rico and the Philippines in the end. Italy declared war on Turkey because Italians were hampered in Tripoli, and Italy took Tripoli in the end. No state likes the prospect of being picked to pieces that way, on any pretext that seems sufficient to the

enemy for framing a declaration of war. That prospect incites the basic fear of war. Nation A makes a miscue good enough to serve as subject for his declaration of war, and in the final reckoning A may lose anything from the forced righting of the alleged original wrong to its national

existence.

Despite all its scientific trappings, therefore, war is nothing but a gamble, and nations at war are only gamblers with their national destiny. Bad as that is, its reaction is worse. The allegory of yourself in business with which this article opened defines the reaction; could any state of mind and prompting of action be worse?

Whether or not it is possible to end war, it certainly should be possible to limit its liability. Of all the general results of wars the forcible after-seizure of territory is the most common. In the Americas every boundary question is either settled or on the way to legal settlement. War over boundaries or war changing boundaries would therefore stand out as a plain case of robbery by the victor. Elsewhere boundaries are not so certain, but there is no shadow of even elementary, justice in making war over the imprisonment of a citizen and picking up a province behind the smoke of battle. If a thing is worth fighting for it is worth declaring as the object of the combat. If that is done the unlimited liability of war is limited, and with the limitation would go most of the glamor.

Take the European war. The right- and left-handed royalties

killed at Serajevo were worth some punishment of crime, but no one has yet proved that the resultant war bears even the remotest proportion to punishment for that crime. Why should not there be a connection between the two?

To seek that connection is a perfectly logical effort. The present habit is to declare war before it is begun. The habit is part of international law, and is observed because of the great advantage derived from having a date to mark the transition from peace. Why not go farther and insist that the declaration enumerate the wrongs to be righted or the things to be obtained by the war? Even at Monte Carlo the winner collects only on the money laid down before the turn of the wheel. Why should nations gamble more recklessly with their very destiny?

If it was good, and even necessary, form to tell what you were aiming at before you went to war, no wars might be prevented; but at least they would be honestly waged. In a century no states have fooled anybody by proclaiming they were avenging a murder—and then picking up a province in the course of the operations. They have simply gained reputations as liars, which has done them no good. Why not try being honest?

The effect of such a condition precedent to war would be greatly to change the conduct of international relations. Of all the dishonesties in Christendom, those of the average peace treaty are about the worst. The Turk promised in 1878 to act

like a Christian, but he stubbed his toe before he started and lost his way immediately afterward, partly because he was following Europe's lead. The only honest peace treaties in a hundred years were the ones that ended the Civil War-which was closed without a treaty-and, in a lesser degree, the one that closed the Spanish-American War. The reason why honesty dies when peace negotiations start is unlimited liability. You can't expect a war, begun to avenge Jenkins' loss of an ear and really waged to break the enemy's hold on her colonial commerce, to end when Jenkins gets his ear back or takes off enough Spanish ears to be its equivalent. The negotiators forget all about the ear in the end and devote themselves to picking each other's pockets, selling gold bricks to the enemy in diplomatic wrappings and otherwise making the venture pay all the squeeze will yield.

Wars are mostly waged on flimsy excuses to secure booty in the way of territory. The Americas voted 27 years ago that transfer of territory by war was null and void. The rest of the world may not be ready for that, but it ought to be ready to say that it is willing to wage no war whose final purpose it cannot define in the declaration thereof.

The limitation of war to this extent ought now to be practical. No one-least of all, apparently, those who have it-profess any liking for

sult from war, unless possession of the territory was the direct cause of the conflict."

Note that the statement does not prohibit cessions of territory otherwise than by war, but simply taboos. conquest as such. The principle is essentially one introduced by Argentina and Brazil into the International American Conference of 1889'90, receiving 16 affirmative votes and no adverse votes. A year later it was incorporated into the Brazilian constitution and remains there to this day. The principle is now proposed by the United States to all PanAmerica as one to be recognized on this hemisphere. Secretary Lansing made territorial integrity the first item in the program he submitted to the rest of Pan-America in December, 1915.

A broader formula would be even better:

"No result of a war shall be considered valid unless it is proclaimed as the aim of hostilities by declaration at the beginning of the war."

State A says to B: "I am going to fight you for province X, and the cost of taking it from you."

And B can accept the challenge or not, according as it seems good. Knowing the stake, both would be aware of its value to them, and would act on their convictions.

Or A might say to B: "You have injured a citizen of mine in province X. I am going to punish you and absorb all the teritory I occupy in doing it. Further, I'll send you the bill."

That fairly accurately describes

the process most wars let loose, under their varying conditions. Yet no state has ever shown its effrontery, put its piratical intentions down thus in black and white. What happens is that a good excuse to start is found, and entirely other reasons are found to excuse the larger aim. This is a process aided and abetted by the conception of war as unlimited in its liability. Good people look on and deplore, and practical people reckon that, since they

all do it, it is in the nature of things. As a matter of fact, putting the crime and the punishment so out of proportion is in the nature of nothing else human or even mundane.

The only novelty about the proposition of limiting the liability of war is its honesty. And the question is, are we righteous enough to make war as honest a game as gambling, in which at least the player loses only what he stakes?

A

VERY deep interest and friendly feeling for the United

States always existed in Russia. This feeling was especially augmented in the last few years by the general growth of the democratic spirit in Russia.

Russia's alliance with France was established a long time ago. The alliance with England is of a recent origin. A little over a year ago the Russian-English Society was established for the purpose of promoting and developing the friendly relations and mutual understanding between Russia and England.

Since the war, the organization of a Russian-American Society appeared to be necessary as an initial step towards bringing Russia into the closest possible touch with the democratic nations throughout the world. With this object in view, about a year

and a half ago, the Society for Promoting Friendly Relations between the United States and Russia was organized.

The President of the Council of the Society is Baron R. R. Rosen, former Russian Ambassador to the United States, who became well known in the Liberal movement in Russia in the last few years. The Vice-President is A. N. Borodeene, a well-known Russian writer and member of the First Duma. Among the members of the Council are A. V. Vasilieff, member of the State Council; Baron Korf, who is appointed by the new Government as Assistant General-Governor of Finland; E. G. Shaikewich, Director of the International Bank of Petrograd; Professor B. E. Shatsky, who is now in this country on a special mission to promote friendly and close relationship between the United