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EVER since the war, and in spite of the victory of France, security has remained the cornerstone of French policy. Many Americans think it a French obsession! With her former enemies disarmed, possessed of the strongest army in Europe, with an array of allies, France seems to them to have security and to spare. They suspect that her real thought is to buttress up her hegemony over the Europe created at Versailles by entangling the United States in a policy which sooner or later would bring the American fleet and an American army back to Europe. On that basis, security seems to Americans a dangerous concept. Much simpler and more satisfactory, they consider, is the strictly technical method suggested by President Hoover, which would preserve the ratios of security now existing, but at smaller cost as a result of simultaneous reductions in armaments. Once these had been realized, confidence would be restored.
For France, however, the concept of security is a fundamental one. France underwent four long years of invasion. Victorious at last, she shouldered half the burden of repairing the destruction wrought on her soil. She has already reduced her armed forces to a level which she regards as disquieting in view of the vigorous way in which armies sprout in neighboring countries -- in some cases regular armies which may one day combine against her, in others auxiliary organizations whose civil status fails to conceal their military character. Along with the armies, too, sprout imperialistic aspirations based on steady increases in population. Moreover, the type of civilization which France has worked to establish outside her own borders seems to her as vulnerable at the present moment as her frontiers themselves.
In the first phase of its deliberations the Geneva Conference did not get so far as to discuss this concept of security. But once the Conference reassembles, once it turns to the question of putting into practice the technical provisions in the draft resolution and of proceeding with an actual reduction in armaments, then there will be no possibility of avoiding it.
To a country security is much like health to an individual: it is its instinctive sense of the sort of balance it must preserve in the particular environment in which it has to live. The importance of environment on such perceptions of balance could not be better illustrated than by the difference in the views regarding security held in the United States and in France.
Those two countries share the same desire for peace. Working hand in hand, they elaborated and jointly proposed to the world the Pact of Paris, which outlawed war and made obligatory the pacific adjustment of all international differences. They have never fought each other; they have often fought side by side; they can in all sincerity exchange oaths that no part of the armaments of one country is directed against the other. Nevertheless, their philosophies of peace are altogether different, and the differences arise far less from any difference in ideals than from differences in the special situations in which the two countries have been placed by nature and by history.
The United States insists on installing batteries of eighteen-inch guns at Hawaii and Panama. It defends its right to build and use capital ships of 35,000 tons, and heavy bombing machines. It is unwilling to give up a certain number of wide-radius cruisers of the Washington class, with guns outranging other types of cruisers.
The positions adopted by the United States in these matters are so many reflexes scientifically adjusted to different shadings in the American sense of security.
As regards the American continent the United States feels quite at ease. It is protected by two oceans. The territories lying across its borders are vast and sparsely inhabited. Protected by these shields of space, reënforced by a naval covering, the United States will always have time to mobilize against any aggressor its full human and material resources -- the resources of a country of a hundred and twenty-five million people who are industrially the best equipped on earth.
But though the people of the United States have thus received as a gift from nature a territorial security that is virtually complete, they do not feel entirely secure in other directions. Perhaps thousands of miles away, in Manchuria for example, or in some part of the Western hemisphere, values which they regard as essential might come into jeopardy. Some maritime power disposed to act as mistress of the seas might interfere with their freedom of trade. Or it might try to force its own interpretation of the right of peoples to self-determination and immunity from colonizing enterprises. Or it might question the right of the white race in America to protect itself against dangers of disintegration that might possibly result from wars among the European peoples, or against the expansion of the colored race on the American continent.
That is why American security is based on a weapon and a policy. The weapon is the American navy. Its total tonnage must equal the tonnage of the greatest navy elsewhere in the world, and the various classes of its ships must be adapted to the various requirements of the policy. That policy comprises the maintenance of the Open Door in the Far East and the Monroe Doctrine in the Americas. It also comprises the freedom of the seas and the maintenance of world peace. There remains the question how to discourage war. The United States feels instinctively that one way to do that would be by weakening the power of attack in such a way as to strengthen the defense, and by a proportionate reduction of all existing armaments. Those are the basic principles of the Hoover Plan.
But can France have exactly the same idea as to how peace should be organized?
French territorial security is not a gift bestowed by nature. Suppose New York or Washington were, like Paris, some two hundred miles as the crow flies from the frontier. Suppose the factories of New England or the mines and steel mills of Pennsylvania were situated, like the French industries of the north and east, a few miles away from a border that has been crossed in a few hours by enemy armies, which then it has taken years of struggle to dislodge. Under those circumstances the man in the street in America would find it easier to understand what security means to France!
A partial guarantee of such security would be fortification. But a frontier cannot be fortified throughout its length -- that would be ruinous. Nor could the forts be manned continuously and adequately for actual defense -- that would require a very large army. The frontier therefore can be forced; and that fact obliges France to base her security on weapons of counter-attack, suitable for expelling an aggressor who has invaded her territory and entrenched himself there. The weapons fitted for that work include the heavy field-gun and the tank. It was no mere coincidence that the French argument at Geneva in favor of the tank, considered as a weapon of defense, corresponded point by point with the American argument in favor of the weapon which the United States regards as its basic instrument of defense: the capital ship.
"Covering" against danger of an attack by land nowadays implies the simultaneous and immediate mobilization of three branches of service: the army, the navy and the air-force. Each of the three is necessary for the complete mobilization of the other two. The possibility of a sudden attack, and the interdependence of the arms just alluded to, are the essential elements which France must take into account in planning her security. There is no alteration in the security of the United States if the navy, its weapon of main reliance, with a tonnage equal to the tonnage of the strongest navy elsewhere in the world, is reduced in strength in a ratio corresponding to reductions in other navies: the defense in American waters would still have the advantage over an attack coming from far away. In the case of France, the maintenance of her proportionate strength as compared with the strength of her neighbors, assuming that a strict and equitable basis for calculating such proportions could be found, is not the whole of the problem. A certain relation must be maintained in national armaments taking account of the interdependence of their various arms; and the matter becomes very complicated when the mobilization of home armies and colonial armies is involved. It was, of course, a great point in favor of France that President Hoover took the interdependence of the different arms as one of his basic principles, and that he distinguished between forces required for policing at home and in colonies and forces required for national defense and for the execution of international obligations. However, the French policy of security is especially concerned with the relations between the armaments of the various countries and the special natures of their security -- their geographical situation and other special conditions. The Hoover Plan, on the other hand, takes it for granted that there is no difference between national armies standing face to face on the continent of Europe and great navies separated by thousands and thousands of miles of ocean: it assumes that if there is the same percentage in armament reduction everywhere, existing ratios of security will not be disturbed.
France is vulnerable not only as regards the situation of her territory. She is vulnerable also as regards the type of civilization which she stands for in Europe. She is insecure along the Vistula and the Oder in just the same sense that the United States is insecure in Central or South America. France stands in Europe for the right of peoples to dispose of themselves, as against the imperialism of numbers which would make the weaker countries colonies of the stronger. According to the French way of thinking, nothing is more flexible than the so-called "economic predestination" to which the imperialism in question appeals; while nothing, on the contrary, is more inflexible than the resolve of those weaker peoples not to be enslaved. To disregard such resolves in any plan of European reconstruction would, in French eyes, be dangerous and stupid. The trouble with not a few schemes for revising the treaties is that they are not concerned with rectifying errors of detail, but instead call into question the very principle which brought freedom to peoples held in subjection for long centuries. The French army in Europe, like the American navy in the Western hemisphere, is defending the will to freedom against any return to the spirit of the past.
Of what use will French man-power and industry be to France if they cannot be brought into action until after the invader has occupied certain vital districts where French resources are concentrated? What guarantees has she against such a peril? The idea of strengthening the defense is a most interesting one, and on it final agreement will have to be reached; but does applying it mean simply that Germany is to be deprived of her armament? Is that a sound conception? Attack and defense are two rhythms in battle, and oftentimes they are going on at the same time. An army is never attacking and never defending everywhere along its front. Attack and defense, defense and counter-attack, intermingle in tactic. No, the real antithesis is not between attack and defense, but between aggression and resistance to aggression, for the latter are strategic intentions altogether distinct from each other. Now can the spirit of aggression be wholly accounted for and dealt with under the heading "special materials"? When such materials have been done away with, will aggression be paralyzed? A nation which premeditates violation of the Covenant of the League and of the Pact of Paris will not fail, if it is able, to provide itself with prohibited materials or to profit by the advantage accruing from some technical invention that would give superior efficacy to authorized calibers and tonnage. But even disregarding such secret advantages, an aggressor, since he is executing a surprise attack, does not need the more powerful weapons: he requires the weapons which can be moved rapidly and served by a courageous and well-trained personnel; whereas in counter-attacking upon an aggressor who is already fortified and on his guard, the defense requires weapons of great power.
It was with a view to obviating all these technical uncertainties, at a time when all the nations of Europe need to be reassured against the risks of sudden invasion, that France has always been in favor of a political organization of the common action envisaged in Article VIII of the Covenant -- one of the ideas basic to the League of Nations. The certainty of common action is the only thing that can make up for differences in geographical situation and for the special conditions in which the various European countries find themselves. It is those differences that stand in the way of a simultaneous reduction in armaments.
Common action may assume a number of forms, and France has put them forward in succession in the course of the past ten years, bringing them all together, finally, in her proposal of February 5 last. In the first place, on the assumption that there are to be national armies only, common action may mean mutual assistance, which may be of general or merely local scope; an instance would be the Rhineland pact among the Locarno Agreements. Then again it may mean that the various national armies will put certain specified forces, or certain of their ready resources, at the disposal of the League of Nations. Or finally, on the assumption that an organized international force is to be constituted, certain branches of service might be reserved for the League of Nations; the League alone would possess them, the national armies would give them up. Thus placed in exclusive possession of certain weapons, the League would not require any very extensive armament.
What elements are common to all the above solutions? There are two essential ones: the certainty, first, that there would be disparity in power between any aggressor and the coalition represented by the League of Nations; and, second, that the protection guaranteed would be effective and that it would get there in time. If all the members of the League of Nations were separated from each other by the huge distances of land and sea that protect the United States, this latter consideration would not have the importance which it has for the European members. The countries of Europe must have the assurance not merely that in the end, with the help of the League of Nations, they will win; but also that they will not be rapidly invaded and slowly rescued, the while their lands are subject to devastations which friends and enemies alike will allow them to repair at their own expense!
Which of the forms of common action mentioned above best meet these two conditions? Those, evidently, which are international: because in that case they would always be ready and always would prevail, like the police force in a modern city. France suggested at the Geneva Conference that a trial be made with the type of weapon best adapted to such an experiment -- the heavy bombing plane. While that experiment was being conducted an effort might also be made to arrange that certain elements of national armies should be available for use by the League of Nations. Local agreements for mutual assistance might also be concluded.
It was a very flexible proposal, allowing all sorts of experiments, and it had the advantage that it sharply defined both the novelty of common action and the elements indispensable to it. The aim is not, out of love of armaments, to make international force preponderant over national forces, but gradually to reduce the latter by a thoughtful nursing of the former. The aim is to accustom the nations to depend on each other and not just on themselves. The international force would serve to give body to the concept of joint action and to the reign of law. For the problem is not, as is often said, to organize war for purposes of war, but to give point, by the threat of certain defeat for any aggressor, to the obligation of settling all conflicts peacefully.
This French proposal for the organization of common action against aggressors is not a veiled manœuvre of French nationalism in the interests of French hegemony in Europe. By subscribing, as far back as 1924, to the optional clause establishing the obligatory jurisdiction of the statutes of the Permanent Court of International Justice, France made clear that she was ready to submit to the judgment of the Court any quarrel arising between herself and any country which had pledged itself to the same conduct. Furthermore, in 1931 France subscribed to the general act of arbitration. In all differences of a political character whatsoever -- and even if, to revert to the language of the old pre-war treaties of arbitration, "vital interests" and "national honor" be involved -- France agrees, with the single reservation that the other party must also agree, to abide by decisions rendered in arbitration proceedings conducted under the terms of the act.[i]
France asks that such sentences be enforced under all circumstances and that whoever violates the law in question be constrained to conform to it: she asks that an international policeman be provided for the international judge. Individuals have accepted the laws of society, its judges and its police, not only that they may be relieved of constant concern for their personal safety but also because they have come to understand the positive advantages of the organized community as a general premise to civilization. It is logical that the same thing should come to pass in international society, and that the European nations which geography forces to live side by side, and which history has often arrayed one against the other, should try to effect among themselves some such collective organization of security as the states of the American Union managed to achieve after their war of independence.
Critics imply that plans for the sort of international organization described above mask secret designs to perpetuate the present status in Europe. That is not so. Any undertaking to revise the treaties by force would be discouraged. It should be. The world did not wait for the settlement of all differences among individuals before establishing a solid organization for settling those differences. The constitution of a strong American society has not prevented any American from "having his chance."
It goes without saying that French security is not the only security involved. France stands as ready to give as to receive. The Pact of Locarno was not a guarantee given to France alone, but a guarantee given to the Power attacked, be it France or Germany. France believes that the plan she laid before the Geneva Conference is the one best calculated to assure equal security to everyone, and so to eliminate the thorny problems of prestige involved in any formula of "equal rights" or "parity."
To be sure, an organization of peace through a strengthening of all the agencies of peaceful settlement and all the forms of mutual assistance, which, jointly with reductions in armament, represent the only possibility of creating security in Europe, requires a great effort in statesmanship and in particular a reenforcement of the League. It is not so much a question of drawing up new texts as of first giving effective value to those already existing. As things are now, with each passing year each sovereign Power makes some effort or other to recover as much of its independence of action as it feels it surrendered in signing the Covenant. Can such things go on? Let us assume that the plan of President Hoover has been put into operation (with France doing her utmost to adapt it to actual facts in Europe). Will it not then be necessary to consider guarantees of execution? Otherwise the prohibition of warfare by gas, disease germs and air bombardments will go the way of the pious pledges given at The Hague in days before the war. And will it not be necessary to provide for inspection and control? The more armaments are reduced through qualitative reductions in implements of warfare, the more important it becomes for the permament Commission on Disarmament to have supervision in loco, as an adjunct to supervision of units. Through collective guarantees of observance and international inspections we thus find ourselves back again at the political aspects of security! The United States must understand that Europe is absolutely obliged to face those problems, and that Europe cannot make up her mind how to do so without knowing what the attitude of the United States toward them is to be.
The American thesis is that public opinion will be mobilized to pass moral judgment on any violation of the Treaty of Paris, and that eventually that judgment will be confirmed by official refusal to recognize the results of aggression. This thesis may seem to run counter to the Covenant of the League of Nations, which admits the use of force as a means of upholding the provisions of the Covenant, and counter also to the French proposal of February 5 which is a further extension of the spirit of the Covenant. The French thesis may, in its turn, be deemed anti-democratic in that it involves such things as a "superstate," "inspection" and the like or as militaristic, since it involves the use of an international police force. Further, it would strengthen the provisions of an agreement which the United States has not signed, and the American Government might therefore conclude that the French thesis did not concern it.
But the United States has signed the Briand-Kellogg Pact. The idea of outlawing of war is accordingly held by all the states participating in the Geneva Conference, even those which are not members of the League of Nations. What will happen if a state flouts that idea? At the very least, it will be necessary for public opinion to be mobilized in all the countries which have adopted the idea. Now the most important instrument for the mobilization of public opinion at present available in the world is the Council or the Assembly of the League of Nations. The states which have seats in the Council are free, in virtue of the rule of unanimity, not to endorse a decision of the Council. Nonmembers have, a fortiori, the same freedom. But it none the less is in the interest of all that there should be in existence some organ obligated to assemble instantly, an organ provided with definite rules of procedure which will enable it to clarify a situation and establish the bases of the judgment to be passed. It is to the interest of everybody, therefore, whether members or non-members of the League, that the Council render a decision and, moreover, do so as promptly as possible.
In the course of a recent crisis American public opinion first showed impatience with the Council for not coming to a decision quickly enough; and later on it registered satisfaction with the judgment rendered by the Assembly. Now, as a practical matter, just what is it that delays the Council in giving a verdict? The unanimity rule. But that rule is necessary in the present situation in the world; for it takes account of the fact that each sovereign Power is free to make its own decisions and that we are still far short of the time when a higher authority will hand down decisions arbitrarily. Further, how can we suppose that a Power that finds itself on the minority side is going to be willing -- especially if it be one of the stronger Powers -- to expose itself to the risk of having to participate in some joint action, while some insignificant state on the majority side incurs no risk at all in virtue of being located far from the scene of conflict and having only unimportant relations with either of the adversaries?
The main difficulty about the Council's coming to prompt and sure decisions is the fact that it is composed of sovereign entities and that, lacking predetermined rules of procedure, they have to determine the fact and the law of each separate case. The result is that action by one of them tending to implicate another takes on the appearance of a hostile act. That would not be the case if a given nation had only to appeal to a rule precise enough and cogent enough to make it evident that the nation invoking it was doing only its plain duty, and that the burden of proving that the rule did not apply lay upon the transgressor. Then the Council would be freed of the embarrassment of determining the law and would have only to concern itself with the fact.
Another difficulty is the obligation to act. If the Council renders judgment against a given nation, it follows, according to the Covenant, that the Council must also act to prevent violence or repress it. Now at the present time the League must depend for the ability to act upon means supplied by individual member nations, and the specific action has to be improvised on the spur of the moment: for every effort made in the course of the past dozen years to define the method of applying Article XVI has come to naught. As regards organized, ready and efficient forces, then, the League can rely only upon the Great Powers, for the mobilization of effectives from the little countries requires too much time. The not unnatural result is that decision on the part of the Powers of greatest prestige often is paralyzed; for, there being no advance organization, it is they that assume the greater part of the responsibilities involved in common action and it is they that run the risks.
Just as the Council's task of making decisions would be facilitated by rules established in advance, so also it would be facilitated by the possession of instruments of action made available in advance, with all countries contributing according to their respective capacities. That would mean an equitable division of risk. This thought was in the mind of France when she proposed that the nucleus of an organized international force (bombing planes) be put in the hands of the League, and that the nations place certain national contingents at the disposal of the League with a view to the prevention and repression of aggression. Plainly this proposal by France is of concern even to countries which are not members of the League but which have signed the Kellogg Pact and therefore count on the rapid mobilization of the world's moral judgment.
So there is not, as has been claimed, any fundamental antagonism between the French and the American points of view. France is entirely in accord with the essential concepts expressed in the American note of January 8, 1932, and in the letter of Secretary Stimson to Senator Borah of February 23: to wit, respect of treaties; subordination of technical naval agreements to the diplomatic agreement concerning security in the Pacific (the 1921 agreements forming one whole); and non-recognition of any situation or treaty which might result from the use of means counter to the pledges given in the Pact of Paris.
Probably if France were as well protected geographically as the United States, she too would cling to her whole sovereignty and wait quietly for the mobilization of public opinion. But she lives in danger of being called upon to concentrate all her military, naval and aërial forces at a few hours' notice and in this way to provide the necessary leisure for world opinion to crystallize before the irreparable step is taken and war becomes a fact on her territories. She must therefore go farther than the United States along the road of organization for peace. To be sure, she reserves her freedom of decision; but she is ready to submit it to rules made and accepted in advance.
Defenders of the American thesis may reply that if the irreparable step of aggression occurs, it will not be recognized, and that if the whole complex of legal relations between an aggressor and the rest of the world is tainted by a universal act of outlawry, then the aggressor cannot count on any form of assistance. The answer is that in the meanwhile the whole status of the victim may be changed, and that with the passage of time the nations of the world may grow accustomed to the act of violence and end by recognizing it one by one. Even if a country refuses officially to recognize results obtained by an act of violence, it will allow its nationals to trade with the outlawed country and to lend it money. Has not this happened in the case of Soviet Russia?
It is important, therefore, to perceive that in this whole discussion the premises are identical, but also to recognize the fact that the European countries must go further than the United States in the direction of organizing peace. The main preoccupation should be to keep together as long as possible; then, if countries which are in a more precarious situation choose to go farther, the others should remain in touch with them in order that they may at all times be in a position -- since all have joined in outlawing war -- to draw as effective conclusions as possible from that proscription.
A fundamental part of this scheme for the organization of peace is the idea of gradation, of proceeding by stages. An important step in reducing armaments would correspond with every advance toward security though organizing common action -- the various countries being in agreement as to the direction in which they want to go, though preferring to proceed at different speeds. It is conceivable, for instance, that certain states which have signed the Briand-Kellogg Pact but which are not signatories of the Covenant may not choose to go so far in the direction of arbitration as certain signers of both undertakings. Here special conditions and geographical situation come into play. Thus there are countries which have endorsed the Statute of the Permanent Court of International Justice, and countries which have signed Clause 36 and the general act of arbitration; there also are countries, like the United States, which have splendid traditions in arbitration, but which are mistrustful of definite obligations, and countries which are hostile to arbitration but partial to conciliation. Common to the whole group, however, is the desire for pacific adjustment. The wise procedure would be to note all these various attitudes toward arbitration and see what bearing their geographical distribution has upon security, and how among so many attitudes and systems -- for the moment irreconcilable -- a modus vivendi may be found.
As an example we might again take the concept of inspection and control, which is too often represented as a form of meddling in other people's business or as a means of exerting pressure. At the outset there can be no question of doing anything more than exchange guarantees of good faith to observe the agreements which are entered into. It will be necessary to make whatever inspection is agreed upon conform to the scope and nature of the undertakings in question. It must not be assumed that the more definite an agreement the greater the security which it provides, regardless of whether or not any sort of inspection is included. In the interests of everyone an international moral sense must be developed, if not created. France is ready to go very far in the direction of inspection, and inspection is required by President Hoover's plan. In that matter, as in the matter of arbitration, regional arrangements may be in order.
We should be on our guard against such expressions as "superstate," "automatic decisions," and the like. At the present time nothing more than a limitation of sovereignty is involved; and all international engagements made by any country, including the countries most jealous of their independence, have been limitations of sovereignty. The cutting down of armaments will be another limitation, indeed a very considerable one. The question is merely whether or not to take one step further in advance; there is no question of an abrupt transition to a "super-state."
As to there being anything "automatic" about decisions, the idea is not that they should be made mechanical but more certain. People often talk as though all the freedom of judgment to which democratic nations are accustomed were to be done away with. The provision under discussion, however, means simply that an obligation is recognized to exist. Any nation is free to shirk that obligation, but if it does the other nations are required to ask why, and it must explain why. This concept is by no means new. It was already present in the "ipso facto" used in Article XVI of the Covenant; and it figures in the Locarno agreements. If the case is a flagrant one, the nations decide and act, in good faith and effectively. A corrective to too great haste is the Council action provided for in the Locarno agreements. The "automatic" concept presupposes a definition of aggression and a definition of the manner of identifying an aggression. One might begin with the obvious cases -- refusals to arbitrate or to abide by arbitral decisions, and invasions of the territory of a country, or of a permanently demilitarized zone, or of a zone temporarily neutralized as a precaution. More doubtful cases had better be dealt with less "automatically;" probably the best way would be to leave them to the wisdom of the Council. The American idea of not recognizing international situations resulting from the use of force both assumes and supplies a definition of aggression.
The French security proposals are designed to deprive the League of Nations of any excuse for not making decisions and for not acting; and, as a result, to deprive the nations of the excuse that lack of coöperation makes it impossible for them to reduce armaments. The proposals are general enough in their terms to be applied, with proper variations, to all nations represented at the Conference, and flexible enough to be adjusted to circumstances of place and time. Their aim is to provide equal security for all by making the League of Nations stronger than any aggressor.
This disparity of strength between the League and an aggressor can be obtained by several methods. At our present stage it would not be a bad idea if all of them were given a trial, so that we might see which best meets the requirements (in regional terms) for effective, immediate and prearranged coöperation. But the different forms of joint action all assume that countries not members of the League -- the United States, for example -- even though not participating in the action in question, will not block it by granting the status and rights of a belligerent to a state branded by the Council as an aggressor, particularly as there is every chance that the aggressor has also violated the Briand-Kellogg Pact.
Thus we have to take into account -- in addition to the obligation to consult and the duty of trying to clarify common ideas in order to insure a unanimous decision and joint action -- a third form of collaboration, that between states members of the League and states not members: in other words, the problem of neutrality.
What France is anxious for the United States to understand is that there is no contradiction in spirit or intention between the philosophies of peace entertained by the two countries. France is as deeply interested in the liberty and sovereignty of other peoples as the United States is in its own freedom and sovereignty. France understands that the United States does not see any necessity of binding itself in advance. She would like the United States to understand that the nations of Europe are constrained to do precisely that thing if they are to organize the security which nature and history have not vouchsafed them. Once these requirements are comprehended on both sides the ground will be cleared for collaboration.
One idea is common to both countries: to organize peace so that it will not be just a precarious interregnum between two wars. The means adopted may be different, provided there is a framework of understanding so that the two countries will agree together in time, both as to aims and action. Mutual assistance is necessary not only in the matter of security, but also in the matter of credit. How can a country disarm without guarantees of security at a time when, in the realms of economics and finance, preparations for war go merrily on, each country depending on itself alone, thinking of itself alone, destroying mutual trust and confidence? If security and credit are ever to be restored, it is the duty of those countries which still believe in the sanctity of the given word, which still believe in freedom of thought, which still believe in peace, to come together without delay.
[i] Unless the Council of the League of Nations has jurisdiction.