Page:Ian Hay - The New America - The Times - 1917-07-17.jpg



Various influences are at work in America today, for and against the Allied cause. Probably the pro-German influence which has been most over-estimated is the German influence itself. America is full of Germans: there are said to be eight millions of them. You see German names over all the restaurants and a goodly percentage of the department stores. But the vast majority of these Germans left Germany in the first instance to escape from German autocracy and Prussian militarism! They are not in the least likely to embark upon a propaganda which, if pushed to its logical conclusion, would impose these twin blessings upon the land of their adoption. German spies there arc in plenty throughout America, engaged mainly in the methodical and conscientious collection of useless information and irrelevant statistics for the German Foreign Office. There are also numerous hired agitators and bravos. But the average German immigrant has come to America, emphatically, "for his health," and it is unlikely that his contribution to the difficulties of the situation will amount to anything more than a gaseous but innocuous blend of Teutonic sentimentality and bombast. Far more insidious will be the underground work of the skilled secret agent. He will endeavour to paralyse America through her own children by fomenting industrial strife, by financing spurious labour unions, and by affording surreptitious aid and comfort to anarchists, pacifists, and all the dead weight of knaves and fools which hangs round the neck of every great and free community.

There is another factor which has strongly influenced the recent attitude of America towards war, and that is. the political factor. Ten or fifteen years. ago America would probably have committed herself to a war much more readily than to-day. At that time the Republican Party was in power. American Republicans and Democrats do not by any means correspond to our Unionists and Liberals; but there is this much aptness in the parallel, that while American Republicans and our Unionists are recruited in the main from a class of society which thinks first and foremost in terms of national prestige, American Democrats and our Liberals, being possibly in closer touch with the everyday difficulties of human existence, are inclined to pay more regard to the individual and to the improvement of economic conditions within the country. With President Wilson's election in 1912, and the eclipse, for the time being, of Big Americanism, as represented by the school of Theodore Roosevelt, a social and political upheaval took place, even greater in its nature and effects than that which overwhelmed our own country in the "landslide" of 1906. It was greater than a landslide: it was a cataclysm. In America, we must remember, there are no "permanent" officials, to maintain tradition and ballast the ship. The moment one party comes into office the other, down to the humblest doorkeeper in a rural State Legislature, goes overboard. So a clean sweep was made. Just as our Liberal Party claims (or claimed) to be the Party of Peace, Retrenchment, and Reform, so the American Democratic Party, which draws most of its support from voters—millions of them—whose interests are mainly domestic and local, prides itself upon keeping America aloof from European politics and "entangling alliances." And it was this party which, as the first mutterings of war began to be heard in Europe, returned from an absence of many years in the political wilderness, bearing aloft the banner of "Social Reform," and took over the reins of American government. Realization of this fact is of enormous importance to those who desire to appreciate America's attitude to the war fairly and correctly.

But the greatest influence of all in American public life to-day is the President, Woodrow Wilson. Mr. Wilson has recently taught the world a lesson, and that is to judge no man hastily, least of all the leader of a great, unwieldy, and heterogeneous democracy. We are just beginning to realize some of the difficulties with which President Wilson has had to contend during the past three years. In England, not long ago, the mention of the President's name among men who were giving their all to save civilization—men far too preoccupied with the death—struggle in Europe to inquire into first causes or to worry about details—evoked, in nine cases out of ten, a curt and caustic reference to the phrase, "Too Proud to Fight!" That unhappy remark has hung round the President's neck as grimly as "Wait and See!" has hung round the neck of Mr. Asquith. But while "Wait and See!" represented—or was said to represent—a fixed political principle, "Too Proud to Fight" was nothing worse than a lapsus linguæ. If ever a man lived a phrase down, President Wilson has done so. Let us consider a few of the President's difficulties. In the first place, Mr. Wilson was aware of a circumstance which was unrevealed to his critics, namely, that he himself was pro-Ally through and through. Then why did he not proclaim the fact? For the simple reason that where a private individual may offer an expression of opinion when he likes and where he likes, the head of a State cannot do so without making the whole State officially responsible for the consequences. The consequences in this case would certainly have meant the breaking off of diplomatic relations with Germany, and probably a declaration of war. And this brings us to the second thing which the President knew which we did not know—or at least realize—and that was, that the American people were hopelessly disunited upon the subject of participating in the war. It is true that thousands were demanding that America should step down into the arena and vindicate her national honour. On the other hand, thousands were frankly pro-German and anti-British, and said so. There were, thousands, again, of that particularly noxious imbecile, in which free and well-protected communities are naturally prolific, who regards war in the abstract as a kind of discreditable brawl, in which no principles are at stake, both sides are equally to blame, and no respectable person or nation need ever become involved.

But as already noted, and for reasons already stated, the general attitude of the American people was one of indifference. Fundamentally the country was pro-Ally, but with reservations For instance, there was a distinct disinclination, natural in a stoutly democratic people, to embark upon a warlike enterprise in the same galley with the Tsar of all the Russias. This disinclination was strongly fostered by the Jews, who form an important element in American public life and have no cause to love Russia. Public opinion, too, was warped by German propaganda, skilfully conducted by, and abetted to a scandalous degree by the notorious Hearst Press—probably the most poisonous influence in American public life to-day—and its so-called International News Service. Consequently, persons who preferred to absorb their opinions ready-made—and who can resist that temptation altogether?—had already assimilated some of the suggestions which were constantly pressed upon them—for instance, that Great Britain, having jockeyed Germany into war, was now allowing France to do all the fighting; that the German atrocities had been greatly exaggerated; and that in any case both sides were equally bad. And so forth.

In the face of poison gas of this kind, judicious and well-informed Americans could do little except grieve, and express their sympathy with the cause of right against wrong. And their sympathy took an intensely practical form. A year ago the number of societies existant in America for purposes of Allied war relief had reached the not altogether despicable total of one hundred and ten. The extent of our indebtedness to. America in this respect has not yet been fully realized or acknowledged by us. We are much too busy with the war. But some day we shall all know, and we shall be grateful. And it should be remembered that this relief was contributed—at any rate during the early days of the war—by a comparatively small section of the American people; which means that those who did contribute did so with a generosity out of all proportion to their numbers. But this by the way. Foremost among these judicious and well-informed Americans—probably the most judicious and well-informed of all—was the President. He knew all; but for the moment he could do nothing. He know that if he jumped into war simply because national prestige and common humanity demanded it, the country as a whole would not follow him. Some—the best, perhaps, but still only some—would jump with him; but the rest would stay behind. The net result would be a divided nation, neatly ranged upon the two sides of the Rubicon, just at the moment when national unity was indispensable.

So the President did the hardest thing that a public man can be called upon to do—he waited. He kept his own counsel; he made no overt attempt to influence public opinion except in the direction of strict neutrality—painfully strict neutrality; and he held his hand until the time should come when he could go forward with a hundred million people behind him. And during those long and difficult months he never once. flinched or receded from that attitude. Its success may be gauged from the fact that pro-Ally Americans called him pro-German and pro-German Americans called him pro-Ally. Others called him weak and vacillating. Others, more explicit, called him a traitor. His best friends considered him "academic," or "too detached in his view." The entire Republican Press derided his Notes. In vaudeville they referred to his typewriter as a "Wilson machine-gun." But Woodrow Wilson never budged. He maintained his policy of giving Bernstorff and his crew sufficient rope, in the sure and certain expectation that in due time they would hang themselves. And it was so. The situation was further complicated all last year by an accidental but weighty circumstance. The Presidential Election was due. That meant, in effect, that America's affairs were being conducted not by an accredited leader but by a candidate for office. Until his re-election was assured President Wilson could not, according to the immemorial traditions of the game, afford to take a strong line about anything. Neither, for that matter, could his opponent. Political elections do not vary much as a class. The great thing is to commit yourself to nothing and try to lure your opponent into a declaration of policy. To be explicit on these occasions is to be damned. In the election of November, 1916, Mr. Wilson resisted all the attempts of his opponents to make him hoist either Allied or Teutonic colours. He merely presented himself—or rather his party presented him—for re-election on the ground that he had "kept the country out of war." Mr. Hughes said this was all wrong, but was unable or unwilling to state what he would have done in the circumstances. So Mr. Wilson was re-elected.