pute to arbitration, we will withdraw our diplomatic representatives, we will have no official communication with you, we will forbid our citizens having any business transactions with your citizens, we will forbid your citizens coming into our territory, we will make you a Robinson Crusoe on a desert island"—there is no nation, however mighty, that could endure such an isolation. The business interests of the nation would compel the government to recede from its position and no longer remain an outlaw on the face of the earth.

The mere threat of non-intercourse with any nation by an organised world would be quite adequate; it would never need to be carried into execution, any more than our army is ever called on to enforce decisions of our Supreme Court. It is the rational, bloodless, and effective weapon suited to an organised world which produces the largest results with the least waste and expense. It is par excellence the Christian method. It is the political application of the "shaking the dust off the feet" and "Let him be anathema." It is wholly removed from the spirit of violence and revenge, and must not be associated with the sudden, unannounced boycott which often does gross injustice in disputes between labour and capital. Non-intercourse should become a recognised penalty and be so pronounced in international law and treaties.

If even three friendly nations-the United States, Great Britain, and France-should begin

and, agreeing to arbitrate every question with each other, as two of them have already done for one hundred years, also agree that if one of the three should be attacked the two others should declare non-intercourse with any nation that, refusing arbitration, thus went to war, such an agreement published to the world would secure absolute immunity from attack for all three, and would practically result in the rest of the world joining with them, thus furthering a world organisation which alone can bring international peace. This beginning would of course involve definite arrangements to reimburse merchants if an embargo ever became a fact, and it would include an invitation to every other nation to enter this league for promoting peace without armaments. Preparations for war in 1912 are as costly as actual war in 1898, but preparations for international non-intercourse as a substitute for war would cost nothing but the cost of international lawyers' fees and of the drawing up of treaties. Bombardments affect only coast towns, but a withdrawal of business would affect as well even the hamlets farthest inland where any one bought or sold. At the least cost, the most effectual compulsion towards peace is in the hands of the three Powers that are first willing to arbitrate everything with each other. Ultimately even the threat of non-intercourse will be needless; but as the next step in providing a substitute for the force that aims at bloodshed it seems necessary to have

this resource theoretically available, though in all probability it would never be used a single week.

The degree of national defence needed is merely a question of relation to existing danger and bears no necessary relation to population, length of coast line, "dignity," or wealth. As to wealth, the richer a country, the better customer it is, and the less likely to be attacked by sensible nations that want customers. Moreover, the wealthier a country, the sooner can it buy ships and ammunition in sudden exigency. To-day war is primarily a question of financing war loans. China has a population ten times as large as that of France, but it does not therefore need ten times as large a navy. Since the Second Hague Conference in 1907, the danger of bombardment of unfortified towns is ended, and therefore length of coast line is no measure of degree of danger. As one of our delegates to the Hague Conference has said: "If we want less danger, we have but to tear down fortifications." Should Cervera's fleet approach our coast to-day, as during our Spanish War it was feared it might, the safest place would be a village on the long stretch of unguarded shore, which is not only protected from bombardment and demand for tribute, but may legally defend itself from invasion by planting mines. A navy has no more to do with the dignity of a country than have fire-engines or life-saving stations. The degree of danger is largely a psychological question, requiring far more knowledge of human nature

than of mechanics. The man whose thought has been for forty years focussed on the question of how to make and use the best instruments for killing enemies is the last man in the world to understand how to prevent making enemies. The health of the world depends not so much on bleeding and blisters and amputation as upon draining swamps and tearing away slums, upon sun and air, upon exercise and courage. The peace of the world depends not so much on steel destroyers as on the constructive, courageous statesmanship that forestalls enmity and turns it into bonded friendship.

CHAPTER VIII

THE

THE PROBLEM OF THE PHILIPPINES

HE subject of neutralisation suggests at once to the thoughtful American the imperative problem of the future of the Philippines, in the solution of which problem neutralisation may perform so decisive a part. The nation's present attitude toward Philippine independence must be determined largely by the settlement in the first place of the fundamental question of our moral right to have forced sovereignty upon protesting aliens, upon whom we had no natural claim. Decency and the world's progress forbid neglect of weaker peoples. We must treat them in one of three ways, fraternally, paternally, or imperially. True fraternal treatment-lending a helping hand, as England did with the Malay states under Sir Andrew Clarke for twenty years-has never failed whenever, in the rare instances in history, it has been tried. We treated Japan fraternally, and we are not ashamed of the result. Paternal treatment, such as we gave Cuba, recognising, as a father does in a child, potential political equality, yet the need of temporary guidance and control