Millions of Germans in Prussia and Westphalia derive profit or make their living out of countries to which their political dominion in no way extends. The modern German exploits South America by remaining at home. Where, forsaking this principle, he attempts to work through political power, he approaches futility. German colonies are colonies "pour rire." The Government has to bribe Germans to go to them; her trade with them is microscopic; and if the twenty millions who have been added to Germany's population since the war had had to depend on their country's political conquest they would have had to starve. What feeds them are countries which Germany has never "owned" and never hopes to "own"; Brazil, Argentina, the United States, India, Australia, Canada, Russia, France, and England. (Germany, which never spent a mark on its political conquest, to-day draws more tribute from South America than does Spain, which has poured out mountains of treasure and oceans of blood in its conquest.) These are Germany's real colonies. Yet the immense interests which they represent, of really primordial concern to Germany, without which so many of her people would be actually without food, are for the diplomats and the soldiers quite secondary ones; the immense trade which they represent owes nothing to the diplomat, to Agadir incidents, to Dreadnoughts; it is the unaided work of the merchant and the manufacturer. All this diplomatic and military conflict and rivalry, this waste of wealth, the unspeakable foulness which Tripoli is revealing, are reserved for things which both sides to the quarrel could sacrifice, not merely without loss, but with profit. And Italy, whose statesmen have been faithful to all the old "axioms" (Heaven save the mark!) will discover it rapidly enough. Even her defenders are ceasing now to urge that she can possibly derive any real benefit from this colossal ineptitude.
Italy struck at Turkey for "honor," for prestige—for the purpose of impressing Europe. And one may hope that Europe (after reading the reports of Reuter,
Or rather, will they get much more: for Italy, as unhappily for the balance of Europe, the substance will be represented by the increase of very definite every-day difficulties—the high cost of living, the uncertainty of employment, the very deep problems of poverty, education, government, well-being. These remain—worsened. And this—not the spectacular clash of arms, or even the less spectacular killing of unarmed Arab men, women, and children—constitute the real "struggle for life among men." But the dilettanti of "high politics" are not interested. For those who still take their language and habits of thought from the days of the sailing-ship, still talk of "possessing" territory, still assume that tribute in some form is possible, still imply that the limits of commercial and industrial activity are dependent upon the limits of political dominion, the struggle is represented by this futile physical collision of groups, which, however victory may go, leaves the real solution further off than ever.
We know what preceded this war: if Europe had any moral conscience left, it would have been shocked as it was never shocked before. Turkey said: "We will submit Italy's grievance to any tribunal that Europe cares to name, and abide by the result." Italy said: "We don't intend to have the case judged, but to take Tripoli. Hand it over—in twenty-four hours." The Turkish Government said: "At least make it possible for us to face our own people. Call it a Protectorate; give us the shadow of sovereignty. Otherwise it is not robbery—to which we should submit—but gratuitous degradation; we should abdicate before the eyes of our own people. We will do anything you like." "In that case," said Italy, "we will rob; and we will go to war."
It was not merely robbery that the Italian Government intended, but they meant from the first that it should be war—to "dish the Socialists," to play some sordid intrigue of internal politics.
The ultimatum was launched from the center of Christendom—the city
which lodges the titular head of the Universal Church—to teach to the
Mohammedan world what may be expected from a modern Christian
Government with its back to eighteen centuries of Christian teaching.
We, Christendom, spend scores of millions—hundreds of millions, it may be—in the propagation of the Christian faith: numberless men and women gave their lives for it, our fathers spent two centuries in unavailing warfare for the capture of some of its symbols. Presumably, therefore, we attach some value to its principles, deeming them of some worth in the defense of human society.