Transcriber’s Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

UNIVERSAL PEACE—FROM A WOMAN’S STANDPOINT.

BY BARONESS BERTHA VON SÜTTNER.

I have been requested to write a contribution to these pages with the above title. The subject of Universal Peace occupies my thoughts and actions so completely, and the opportunity of addressing myself to a circle of American readers is so welcome to me, that I was most willing to comply with the wish of the Editor, although I should certainly have chosen another title. For although it is self-evident that everything that a woman writes must be written from a woman’s standpoint, it does not agree with my principles to treat the problem of peace and war exclusively, or even principally, in its relations to the feelings and lives of women. Such relations certainly exist, and it will be of great service to the progress of the peace movement if women, as such, will oppose the institution hateful to mothers, and if women’s associations (as daily occurs more often) will place the questions of peace and arbitration on the order of the day at their meetings. But I believe that more and more women, who reflect upon this important subject, will leave the specifically feminine standpoint, to judge of this, so eminently the universal concern of humanity, from a more general point of view. It is only too natural that women should hate war, which robs them of the support and the joys of their existence, and for that very reason until to-day this hatred has done nothing towards the struggle against war; on the contrary, only such women as could triumph over their natural feelings of abhorrence, who, putting aside their own grief, could incite to war, or even themselves perform warlike deeds, only such women were brought into prominence by history; only these were praised, because, overcoming their egoism, they had performed their duty by performing brave deeds of sacrifice.

Women who cry, “War must cease because we suffer from it, because we may lose our dearest by it,” these, so long as war was looked upon as natural and serviceable to the fatherland, certainly stood morally lower than those who said: “What matters our misery, the common weal comes first;” or those who bade their sons: “Return home victorious or dead.”

Any opposition arising from particular interests, whether it be the interest of rank, class or sex, is deficient in ethical causes, and has therefore also no ethical efficacy. The great influence that women are beginning to exert to-day on questions of social progress, arises from the fact that they have stepped out from their limited sphere of sex, and have learned to judge these questions in their importance to universal humanity. The woman who was capable of becoming an enthusiast for war and joyfully sacrificing to it the supporter of her home and her beloved sons, certainly stood higher than she who was wanting in such powers of sacrifice; but on a far higher level stands the woman who opposes war, not because it threatens her home, but because she has comprehended that it is an evil for the whole human race. Not because they are daughters, wives, and mothers, do modern women wish to undermine the institution called war, but they do it because they are the rational moiety of a humanity that is becoming rational, and comprehend that war represents a check to the development of culture, and that from every standpoint—the moral and the economical, the religious and the philosophical—it is harmful and to be condemned. The New Woman alone will work successfully for the abolition of war. The woman of yesterday, in spite of isolated complaints and warnings, did the contrary: she incited silently or aloud to war—silently, by the admiration which she cherished for heroism, and the pleasure which she found in uniforms; aloud, by direct encouragement to fight.

The following episode has been related to me. It was before the Polish insurrection, in the year 1863. In the house of an aristocratic lady the élite of Warsaw society were invited to dinner. After the meal, in the smoking-room, the gentlemen were talking over the political situation. The leaders of the subsequent insurrection were among those present. The question was seriously discussed, whether it was possible to enter upon a movement of insurrection with any prospect of success. The conclusion was arrived at that under the existing circumstances such a movement would be hopeless, and would only result in bloody massacre and increased severity instead of deliverance, all agreeing that the plans for a rising must be given up, at least for the moment. Nothing was to be said to the ladies of this resolve on returning to the drawing-room, for it would certainly incur their disapproval. One of the gentlemen, however, was faithless to this resolution. He let the secret out. “What! not possible!” cried the women in chorus. “That can only be a jest—no Pole is capable of such cowardice! Who could propose anything so disgraceful?” “Of course it was only a jest,” agreed the others, who would have found the contempt of the women intolerable, and on the following day the revolution, which resulted so unfortunately for Poland, was set in motion by the same men who had resolved among themselves not to attempt a rising, but who could not endure to displease their wives.

One may presuppose that among the many motives which in the future will work against militarism and war, the following powerful motive will be found: the change in women’s favor. When once a higher reward of love is granted to men for the heroic deeds of peace than for those of war, when they know that they will only earn the admiration of the best women by working for the new ideals of justice; and, on the contrary, will arouse the abhorrence of noble women by supporting the system of force, then one of the strongest motives which now drive young men into the profession of arms will be overcome. The true and most important connection between the woman’s question and the peace question is this: the realization of the ideals of peace presupposes that the whole of humanity should rise to a higher level than that upon which it now stands in an overwhelming majority. In order that the element of force and oppression, which governs the history of society in the past and in the present, should yield to the element of right and freedom, a higher type of man must be evolved. We are now witnessing this evolution. It is, however, not apparent only in one sphere, but in many at the same time, and especially strongly in the sphere of the women’s movement. To the attainment of the ideal towards which modern endeavors are moving, the unimpeded development is necessary of all mental germs in the whole human race. None of the gifts shared by all may be suppressed by reason of supposed unsuitability to the race, or class, or even sex; and the virtues, the larger diffusion of which is to characterize the new type, must be no longer divided into two halves; gentleness and moderation on the feminine, courage and intellectual power on the masculine, side.

No; every person will have to exhibit these virtues, no matter to which sex one may belong. Just as at the present day there are many common qualities, without which neither woman nor man can lay claim to esteem, such as honesty, cleanliness, diligence, love of truth, sense of duty, in the same manner does the new ideal of perfection exact all human virtues from all human beings at the same time. With the removal of other privileges those of crime must also cease, and man shall no longer pride himself on his excesses. Courage, that model virtue, first of the lion, then of the savage, then of the hero, lastly of the soldier always ready for battle, must lose its halo, and must not be practised only by men to the point of contempt of life, but will be required in hours of danger, in life’s difficult situations in a like measure from the perfectly human woman. The human race will not be left alone to the care of woman, but every perfect human being must disdain to be a slave to the pleasure of the senses without love or in treacherous disloyalty. Thus it will happen by the falling of the fetters which one sex has borne so long, that not it alone, but also the other will rise to a higher human dignity. Exactly the contrary will take place of what is dreaded by the opponents of the emancipation of women: the woman will not assume gross masculine defects, the man will not sink into womanish effeminacy, but both united, among them the best, the strongest, and the most intelligent, will form models of a nobler race.

It is unimaginable that a more highly developed cultured humanity, in which both sexes have equal rights in the decisions of society, should uphold the institutions of war. A certain amount of compassion, of sensitive abhorrence of all that is hard and cruel, in a word—of noble humanity, must exist in the cultured community. Men console themselves with the thought that these qualities, so necessary to the existence and dignity of society, are furnished by the feminine sex, and maintain their right to hardness and roughness, a right which is most freely active in war. But when the woman rises to an equal level, must she also become a soldier, and shall she lay aside those virtues which are not compatible with the profession of arms? Shall all gentleness vanish out of the world? That is impossible. Therefore the woman must renounce equal rights. This she will never do; it is much simpler for the man to renounce the profession of arms.

The complete hideousness of unrestrained gross conduct, which passes as permissible and occasionally as quite delightful in the masculine sex, such as drinking, brawling and excess—the complete hideousness of this conduct is plainly visible when one imagines a woman given to such behavior. On the other hand, many weaknesses of character are counted as contemptible in men, and excusable, if not charming, in women—as cowardice, weakness of will, and thoughtlessness. Now, when woman lays aside these “lovely” faults, when she shows energy and self-confidence, some certainly praise her for her masculine character, but others at once give utterance to the fear that, with the laying aside of the feminine defects, the feminine virtues will also fall into abeyance. But that is not the case: both sexes must lay aside those faults which disgrace, and practise those virtues which ennoble, humanity.

And now, after protesting against my views being supposed to arise from a specifically feminine standpoint, I will say what I think about universal peace; but first, I should like to give a picture of universal war, as I see it[1] from the war of the future, so long prophesied and so splendidly prepared.

1. See my “Maschinenzeitalter.” III. Auflage. Pierson’s Verlag.

A war in which all the great military States of Europe took part would surpass all horrors that have hitherto taken place, in the same degree as the present weapons of destruction and those still to be invented surpass the club with which Cain may have slain his brother. In such a war an amount of murder and destruction and savagery would be contained, such as was not in a hundred battles of ancient times. The progress that has been made has not only increased the power of destruction a thousandfold, but also that which is to be destroyed has become a thousand times more valuable, and therefore the injury would be proportionately greater.

The accelerated, incalculable improvement and increase, the technical development that has grown to colossal dimensions, which leads to such fabulous results when directed to the increase of property and happiness, to what equally gigantic results of misery must these not lead, when applied to the principle of the destruction of property, happiness, and life: millions of combatants rush upon one another, and the fighting begins at ever greater distances. Instead of the spear, that only flew a short distance, instead of the later bullet that hit the enemy at a few hundred paces, the death-bringing bombs now whistle through space at a distance of miles; long before the two combatants can see each other the vanguard covers the field. But when and how will the decision take place? “Until one or the other side is so weakened that it gives up the fight.” That was in former times the answer to this question. Now both sides rage with equal force. The weakening keeps equal pace. Hundreds of thousands are fallen, but new hundreds of thousands advance, and the decision is not a step nearer. A vanquished, flying army? That exists no more, for no longer are mere armies sent forth, but whole nations. They fight with each other for the sake of a strip of land; but meanwhile the entire land is devastated, depopulated and ravaged on either side. All crops are trodden under foot, all labor suspended, all hearths desolated; one cry of pain from frontier to frontier, and still no decision. Every village a heap of ashes, every field a burial ground, and yet the fight still rages; under the waves of the sea shoot the torpedo boats, to sink mighty steamships; in the clouds rise armed and manned air-balloons against another aëronautic force, and from the height of a thousand feet mutilated warriors shower down in bleeding fragments; mines are sprung and bridges are hurled into the waves with their loads of men, horses and carriages; powder magazines fly into the air; long lines of trains run off the rails; hospitals blaze; and still it is not decided. Army, reserve, militia—the aged, children, women—one after the other is slaughtered; what still lives becomes the prey of famine, of the infallible pestilence, and the war is over. But it is not decided. The tremendous magnitude of the impending war—a magnitude which may be determined with mathematical certainty by reason of the present ever-increasing number of combatants and technique of weapons, might instil a certain admiration and satisfaction, if the love of and rage for fighting had increased in proportion to its means; if the value of human life had sunk in the esteem of the individual in the same degree as in the calculations of material by the administrators of armies; if finally the gain of war had increased as much as the inevitable losses. But the reverse of all this is the case. Hatred and love of fighting give place to civilization, growing gentler and constantly spreading; the value of life rises with the embellishments and alleviations afforded by daily advancing progress; and lastly, as regards the advantages of the final victory, a strip of land or a heap of fortress stones, or the absolutely illusory “Fame”—these things, powerless to enrich or to make happy, sink in an ever greater disparity to those sacrifices, increasing to the uttermost, which they render necessary.

So much for the approaching (or, it is to be hoped, not approaching) war. As regards universal peace, which may now not be so remote—for at the present time a conference is assembled in this name, called together by the most powerful military ruler in the world—people are by no means clear as to its foundations and aims. Most persons believe that members of Peace Societies imagine under the name of universal peace a condition of general harmony, a world without fighting or divisions, with undisputed frontiers settled for all time, and inhabited by angelic beings, overflowing with gentleness and love. It is an old custom of the enemies of any movement to represent it in a false light, to attribute absurdities to it which it has never asserted, and then to attack them with cheap sarcasm and obvious refutations. So also here. The friends of peace do not desire to found their kingdom on impossibilities, nor on conditions that might perhaps prevail thousands of years hence, but on the living present and living humanity. The avoidance of all disputes is not demanded—for that is impossible—but that the disputes should be settled henceforward by arbitration instead of by force, as was hitherto the case. This level of culture has already been attained by the individuals of organized states: that it should be attained also by the states themselves in their relations to each other, is the aim and object of the whole peace movement. Thereby one right would certainly be lost—a right which, although it bears the proud name of sovereignty, is in truth a great wrong; the right of one state to attack another. But if ten persons agree among themselves to desist from mutual attack, each exchanges one-tenth of his lost chance of plunder for nine-tenths of assured safety. Immutability of existing frontiers and social arrangements is demanded as little as the avoidance of disputes. For this, too, would be contrary to nature. Obstinacy, bearing the proud title of Conservatism, which opposes all natural alterations and displacements, is itself the cause of all forcible revolt. Just as in private life, the individual’s possessions are protected from robbery by a civilized commonwealth, but the possessor is not guaranteed for all time, and the poor are not prevented from gaining possessions. Rich and poor families grow or die out, increase or decrease in fortune; new groups are formed, drawn together by natural selection; a growing population must overflow the frontiers; forms of state belonging to a lower level of culture must be supplanted by the civilization of those culturally superior. Elasticity is the only quality which ensures peaceful duration or painless and imperceptible transition from one form to another. The world should remember this, now that it has learned the law of evolution, and knows that all life and development is the work of adaptation.

But to contemplate peace and war from a general standpoint is what philosophers and politicians have done from the earliest times. To work out plans and propositions, by which the ruling state of war may be replaced by the establishment of international justice, is a labor which has been carried on systematically for the last ten years by the various groups of the League of Peace, and the inter-parliamentary union. An entire literature already exists on this subject, and by consulting Dr. Evan Darby’s “International Tribunal”[2] and Dr. Benjamin Trueblood’s lately published work, “The Federation of the World,”[3] a complete knowledge of the ideal and practical aims may be gained, as also of the results already acquired.

2. London Peace Society, 47 New Broad Street.

3. Boston and New York, Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1899.

But now, at the present moment, when the work of peace is placed in the hands of an inter-governmental conference at the Hague, furnished with powers to realize the resolutions passed, it is no longer fitting to draw up theories of the abstract idea of universal peace: now everyone sympathizing with the great cause, and especially such as are in immediate proximity to the conference, are compelled to concentrate all their interest upon it. And, therefore, I will close these lines with a few thoughts, which, quite apart from the “woman’s standpoint,” might bear the title: “Universal Peace and the Conference at the Hague.”

It appears to me that in the criticism and discussion of this unique phenomenon, this unprecedented historical event, the importance of the fact that such a Conference is sitting is too much forgotten. One either loses oneself in the question: “What will be discussed?” and subjects every item of the programme to a minute technical criticism, or one enquires: “What will be the result?” and indulges in more or less hopeful, or more or less sceptical, conjectures and prophecies. One forgets to contemplate the overwhelming fact that such a Conference has been called together by an autocrat in our ultra-military times, and in which every State takes part.

Apart from all that will be achieved by speeches, propositions and resolutions, the significance and the effect of the event itself must be of the greatest influence, and the first official Peace Conference appears like a miracle in the history of the world.

Among the many arguments brought against peace movements on the part of sceptics, the most powerful used to be: “What is the use of private exertions?” Rulers will never agree to restrict militarism, which is the support of the throne, or to abolish war, which is the raison d’être of militarism. Autocratic Russia itself presented the most serious menace of war. “Suppose you attempt,” was the scornful remark, “to get the Tsar upon the list of your societies; then you might speak!” Now, the Tsar stands at the head of all peace movements, but the opponents set aside the circumstance that the most obvious of their ten ordinary arguments has been refuted, and, undismayed, employ the nine remaining ones against the Tsar himself.

People do not only forget to observe the magnitude of such an event as the meeting of an inter-governmental Conference; they also forget, in speaking of the subjects under discussion, to open their eyes to the importance of them. They know what the point in question is, but they do not realize it. Like a person ignorant of music before a symphony of Beethoven, like a three-year-old child before a picture by Raphael, so do people stand before the chronicle of the Conference. They hear and see, but the awe of comprehension does not thrill through them. “Universal Peace!” How few can comprehend the harmony and the glory that lie in these words. How few reflect, while discussing the problems lying before the Conference, what is really at stake: the happiness or ruin of themselves and their children! For, that the régime of international justice would shower an undreamed-of abundance of moral and material benefits upon the civilized world, and on the other hand, that continued military equipments and the eventual employment of the increasingly deadly weapons of war must lead to ruin and annihilation, can be denied by none. Thus it is nothing less than our highest happiness or deepest misery which is being discussed in the Huis ten Bosch. But the world looks on as though it were a question of customs duties or weights and measures; many boast of “being indifferent to the matter.” They think thus to prove their superiority, and only show that they do not understand. Not only without but within the Conference is there an uncomprehending majority. Among the delegates, as well as among the Governments that sent them, most are as indifferent, in some cases as hostile, as unintelligent, generally speaking, as the ordinary public towards the idea of universal peace. But that matters nothing: the fact remains that an international parliament is now assembled in the name of this idea; the spirit abiding in the idea, and inspiring the originator as well as a number of the delegates, will exert its power upon the indifferent, the hostile, and the uncomprehending, and will penetrate the world.

The true significance of the Conference is contained in the following words, addressed by the President, von Staal, to the delegates at the opening of the first sitting:

“To seek the most effective means of ensuring to all nations the benefits of a real and lasting peace, that is the chief aim of our deliberations according to the text of the circular of August 24.

“The name ‘Peace Conference,’ which the instinct of the nations, anticipating the resolution of the Governments, has given to our Assembly, this name well describes the principal object of our labors; the Peace Conference must not be faithless to the mission laid upon it; it must bring forth a tangible result from these deliberations, which is awaited in confidence by all mankind.”

All mankind? Not yet. A great portion of it, that which still holds fast to the thousand-year-old institution of war, be it through personal interest or the power of imparted prejudice, hopes that the Conference will produce no result which may endanger war; a still greater portion, the dull masses, expect nothing at all. But those who really have confidence in the progress of culture, who, in agreement with the originator of the Conference and his faithful fellow-workers, are convinced of the necessity of the present ruinous system giving place to another, these latter will note these words of the President of the Conference; and in case of disappointment, in case the Conference were faithless to its mission, would raise the demand for fulfilment so loudly and continuously that at length all mankind would be carried away by it.

But such disappointment will not take place. That may be boldly said beforehand. The proposals already put before the Assembly vouch for the earnestness and sincerity of the work which has been begun. They are a proof that the following sentence from Staal’s speech is no mere phrase, but the expression of noble resolve:

“Diplomacy, following a universal law, is no longer an art in which personal skill plays the principal part, but is striving to become a science, which must possess fixed rules for the settlement of international conflicts. That is to-day the ideal aim that it must bear in view, and great progress will indubitably be made, if diplomacy succeeds in laying down some of these rules at this Conference. We shall also particularly endeavor to codify the practice of arbitration and mediation. These ideas form, so to speak, the essence of our task, the chief aim of our exertions; ‘to prevent conflicts by peaceful means.’”

These words faithfully echo the instructions given by the Tsar to his ambassador. And already much has been done in the specified direction. It is clear that other powers had come to the Conference with plans equally far-reaching if not more so, and the subject of an “International Permanent Tribunal of Arbitration”—this wildest dream of the Utopians—has already been discussed and even in many points unanimously accepted.

The propositions offered by the representatives of Russia, England, Italy and the United States are known through the newspapers. To the opponents of the peace movement that have lately pointed out with special satisfaction that America, that stronghold of efforts for peace, has lately entered military channels, to these the plan sent by the American Government must have caused remarkable stupefaction. With these proposals, with this energetic and open participation in the work of peace, the American will again fill that position in the history of civilization with which the friends of peace in the whole world have always credited him: the Pioneer of peace and freedom.

A tangible result will be produced by the Conference, something newly created, constituted, permanent, that can be developed and expanded. And besides this, a direct result, how many indirect ones? The whole world must now take part in the question, and the various branches of the social organism, the Church, Art, Literature, the Press, are drawn into the service of propagandism. Gifted men like Stead and Bloch, now resident at the Hague, have an opportunity of a field worthy of their labors. Stead has prevailed upon a Dutch daily paper to publish an article on “War against War,” which plays the same part towards the Conference as the weekly paper for the English, “Crusade of Peace.” Bloch is giving lectures, illustrated by views, offering a resumé of the great six-volume work in which, supported by dates and facts, he proves that the war of the future is a technical impossibility, an “Utopia.” Even if the general public has not comprehended the marvellous significance of the meeting of the Conference, perhaps it will be capable of perceiving the significance of positive results. Facts and successes are always more powerful than the most glorious theories, however irrefutable. And the positive results will be of various kinds. One brings another with it. The question of neutralizing the States, the question of the coalition of neutrals, and lastly the question of disarmament, although the two former are not upon the programme, and the latter seems to have been momentarily put aside—will come to the front. Disarmament and a check to military equipment, these were the chief motives of the Tsar’s manifesto. To avert the ruin and misfortune brought upon nations by “armed Peace,” was mentioned as the object for which remedies were to be found. When once these remedies—international justice, etc.—have been found, the object can no longer be evaded. I believe that the decision of the Conference upon the question of disarmament will offer a startling resolution, or at least a declaration of principle, which will be binding in the future. One need not fear to be confounded when prophesying agreeable surprises.

Truly, I venture to assert with confidence, the progress from the first of the past eight Peace Congresses in 1889 to the Hague Congress of 1899 has been far longer and more difficult than that leading from this Conference to a complete attainment of its aims; i. e., to the abolition on principle of the institution of war. In the midst of our endeavors for universal peace the Tsar’s initiative fell like a bombshell; but now, even were it in the near future, the inauguration of lawfully guaranteed peace would appear to those qualified to judge no longer as a surprise, but as a fulfilment.

Bertha von Süttner.

The Hague, June, 1899.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in spelling.

Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.