Few will deny that the problem of disarmament is one of the crucial issues of our day. Many, indeed, feel that upon its proper solution may depend the future of civilization. Realizing the enormous destructiveness of modern weapons and equating disarmament with peace, they demand that nations give up the present arms race. Unfortunately, however, disarmament is not purely a matter of national choice or unilateral decision. Actually, it is so thickly overgrown with unproven assumptions, thoughtless prejudices, obscure stereotypes, and is so plagued by a lack of clear, objective thinking that it is difficult to see how a useful solution can be found at all.
Many of the prophets and thinkers of the past have visualized universal harmony and brotherly love as the ideal conditions of life. But even in the biblical Paradise, some inherent contradictions remain unresolved. What did the lion and the eagle do for a living under those conditions? And why were they created to live by killing if they were not meant to do so?
Besides, for every voice denouncing war, there was another one glorifying it as a necessary and ennobling experience which brought out the best in man and prevented humanity from slipping into the morass of purely materialistic endeavors. Even those who regarded war as one of the great plagues of mankind were thinking of peace as an abstract concept rather than a concrete problem of practical politics. Hence disarmament, which to us seems to be a vital part in any attempt to abolish war, has rarely in the past received the attention if would seem to deserve.
Often, in fact, it was not so much the ideal of universal peace embracing the whole world that appealed to people as the elimination of conflict within a certain society, ethnical, political, or religious group. Thus, for instance, many of the peace schemes propounded during the Middle Ages advocated some sort of organization of European or Christian states which would make war among them impossible, while they at the same time preached a crusade against Saracens or Turks.
Early Christian writers, for example, were more concerned with the peace to be found in God than with the elimination of war on earth. While St. Augustine rejects war in general and considers permanent peace as the God-willed goal of human development, he nevertheless distinguishes between "just" and "unjust" wars and declares the former to be a religious duty. Most of the medieval writers follow his lead, deploring war, but accepting it as a part of God's creation, just as sin, to be eschewed as far as possible, but hardly to be eradicated altogether in this imperfect world.
On the other hand, the Romans bequeathed to posterity some of the best known maxims used to justify war and preparedness, such as Dulce et decorum est pro patria moti (It is sweet and glorious to die for the fatherland), or Si vis pace, para bellum (If you wish peace, prepare for war).
Although later centuries brought forth a number of highly ingenious and interesting proposals for promoting peace, few of them concerned themselves with such details as the abolition or even the control of armaments. It was not until a bout 1800 that these problems received any serious attention. From that time on, however, the idea of armaments became more and more associated in the popular mind with that of war itself and it was assumed that any reduction in the former would automatically reduce the incidence of the latter. Gradually this concept even began to assert some influence on national and international policies.
Thus, for instance, in 1816, after the Napoleonic Wars, Tsar Alexander I of Russia proposed to the European Powers a "simultaneous reduction of the armed forces of every kind." This example is of considerable interest not only because it was the first of its kind, but also because it clearly illustrates the difficulties of any such endeavor, and particularly the peculiar attitude in which the Russians seem to approach it. In the ensuing correspondence between Lord Castlereagh of Great Britain and Prince Metternich of Austria, it was pointed out that most European states had at that time already disbanded the bulk of their armies, while Russia still kept hers on a war footing.
The Tsar's government gave many reasons why, despite its proposal, it was at that time impossible for his country to reduce its army; the result was an intensification of the suspicions with which his policies were regarded by the allies. Even the British suggestion that the governments concerned exchange information as to the state of their armaments failed to find acceptance among the other statesmen because of, as Metternich expressed it, "the difficulty always of obtaining any true data from Russia…" He also pointed out that any proportional reduction of armaments would still leave Russia as the most powerful nation.
This incidence shows clearly some of the obstacles to any disarmament plan. Similar conditions again prevailed in 1899, when, at the suggestion of Tsar Nicholas II, a conference on disarmament was convened at the Hague. Basically, the situation has not changed since the first Russian proposal, almost a century and a half ago.
About the same time, however, the single completely successful disarmament scheme of modern times was initiated in the form of the Rush-Bagot Agreement of 1817, which provided for the demilitarization of the Great Lakes and was later ex tended to cover the entire 3,800 miles of the U. S.-Canadian border.
The reason for the growth of pacifist sentiment and disarmament plans during the 19th century was the radical change in the nature of war which occurred a bout that time. In contrast to the armed conflicts of the18th century which had been mostly the affairs of the princes and fought by small armies of mercenaries, with relatively little effect on the mass of the populations, the wars of modern times are struggles between nations, deeply influencing the life of each citizen, and constantly growing in ferocity. Moreover, the Industrial Revolution with its technological advances provided man with weapons of rapidly increasing power, destructiveness, and cost. Wars as well as armaments themselves were becoming a heavy economic burden on nations and began to pose a growing threat to their existence.
Therefore, the Hague Conference of 1899 was greeted with great enthusiasm and hope throughout the world as the first attempt, in time of peace, to reduce the burden of armaments and "humanize" or at least regulate war by establishing "Laws of War," forbidding the use of certain particularly obnoxious weapons and methods of fighting. But no generally acceptable formula for any form of arms limitation could be found and this first conference ended in almost complete failure, just as did the second in 1907.
Shortly after these abortive attempts at disarmament, World War I broke out and precipitated most of the globe into a drawn-out and bloody conflict. Naturally enough, this catastrophe again revived the expectation that reason and good will would be able to avoid similar calamities in the future. Disarmament, first of the defeated nations, but soon of victors and neutrals as well, was considered one of the most promising paths toward the establishment of permanent peace in the world. In his famous "Fourteen Points," President Wilson voiced the hope of war-weary nations when he demanded that "adequate guarantees [be] given and taken that national armaments will be reduced to the lowest point consistent with domestic safety."
The League of Nations took over that demand and incorporated it in Article 8 of its Covenant. But significantly it changed the President's wording to read "The Members of the League recognize that the maintenance of peace requires the reduction of national armaments to the lowest point consistent with national [emphasis supplied] safety and the enforcement by common action of international obligations." Thus, while the League did not rule out war entirely, it sought to replace it by compulsory arbitration, with sanctions to be applied to any nation that proved recalcitrant. This would make large national armaments both unnecessary and undesirable.
Pursuing this policy, the League set up several commissions to study the problem and prepare practical proposals for its solution. But the only effort to limit armaments which led to even a qualified success was the one undertaken by the Washington Naval Conference of 1922, and the London Treaty of 1930, which regulated the naval preparations of the leading maritime nations, prevented a new naval arms race among them, and substantially reduced the cost of armaments without significantly affecting the relative power status of those nations.
In 1927, the Soviet Union proposed a "complete, immediate, universal, and simultaneous disarmament," yet even in the politically relaxed atmosphere of that time, such a sweeping project had no chance of adoption. The relatively peaceful climate of that period did lead, however, to such expressions of international good will as the Locarno Pact of 1925 and the Paris Pact, or Briand-Kellogg Treaty, of 1930, which tried to outlaw war by simple declaration. General disarmament, as a means of reducing the chance of war, also continued to demand popular attention for, as Lord Grey expressed it, "If civilization cannot destroy armaments, armaments will destroy civilization."
To give this widespread feeling concrete expression, a General Disarmament Conference was finally convened in Geneva, in 1932, but it soon ran into insurmountable political and technical difficulties; the assembled nations could agree neither on the what nor on the how of disarmament, each one trying to reduce the other's main strength without diminishing its own. It was on that occasion that the Spanish delegate, Salvador de Madariaga, repeated the story of the animal disarmament meeting, originally told by Sir Winston Churchill:
When the animals had gathered, the lion looked at the eagle and said gravely, "We must abolish talons." The tiger looked at the elephant and said, "We must abolish tusks." The elephant looked back at the tiger and said, "We must abolish claws and jaws."
Thus each animal in turn proposed the abolition of the weapons he did not have, until at last the bear rose up and said in tones of sweet reasonableness: "Comrades, let us abolish everything—everything but the great universal embrace."
Even while the Conference deliberated, bombs began to fall in Manchuria, and nations hastened to rebuild their armed forces. It became evident that the noble effort would again result in complete failure; soon afterward, World War II ended this experiment in arms reduction. But the hope that this method would lead to eventual success did not die with the outbreak of hostilities. In the Atlantic Charter, drawn up in 1941, the United States and Great Britain once more stated their position:
They believe all of the nations of the world, for realistic as well as spiritual reasons, must come to the abandonment of the use of force. Since no future peace can be maintained if land, sea, and air armaments continue to be employed by nations which threaten, or may threaten, aggression outside their frontiers, they believe, pending the establishment of a wider and permanent system of general security, that the disarmament of such nations is essential. They will likewise aid and encourage all other practicable measures which will lighten for peace-loving peoples the crushing burden of armaments.
This belief was further strengthened by the realization that with the advent of nuclear weapons, man's destructive powers were threatening to outstrip his creative abilities. If no effective way of controlling armaments could be devised, humanity was maneuvering itself into a position of committing suicide. John Foster Dulles reflected this way of thinking when he said: "... There are plenty of problems in the world, ... But there is no problem which compares with this central, universal problem of saving the human race from extinction." Despite this realization, however, no real progress has been made in the disarmament question since the end of World War II.
To be sure, regardless of the poor record of previous attempts to disarm Germany, the defeated enemies were once more disarmed unilaterally. By causing resentment and additional tensions, however, this unrealistic procedure threatened peace instead of preserving it. Coupled with attempts to abrogate war by constitutional declaration—an endeavor based on wishful thinking and refuted by historical experience—the disarmament of defeated enemies has only resulted in weakening the Western World and its defenses against Communist aggression.
The United Nations also made various efforts to limit arms and reduce the danger of armed conflicts. In contrast to the League of Nations, it was more interested in guaranteeing peace through collective security measures than in disarmament as an objective in itself. While the United Nations Charter emphasizes arms reduction and regulation with control and inspection to guard against violations, it does not oblige its members to exchange information on the state of their military forces, does not condemn the private manufacture of armaments, and does not represent disarmament as a moral duty.
Article II of the Charter reads: The General Assembly may consider the principles of co-operation in the maintenance of international peace and security, including the principles governing disarmament, and the regulation of armaments, and may make recommendations with regard to such principles to the Members or to the Security Council, or to both.
On the whole, however, the founders of the United Nations seem to have been concerned more with the economic aspects of the problem, justifying arms limitation chiefly for the savings it would bring about and the consequent increased well-being of its member nations. Even as late as 1953, President Eisenhower, who certainly recognized the moral implications of disarmament, re-emphasized that idea when he said: "Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed."
Conscious of its special role and obligation as the sole possessor of the atom bomb, the United States, in addition to the virtual disbanding of its "conventional" forces, as early as 1945 proposed plans for the international control of atomic energy so as to ensure its exclusive use for peaceful purposes, for the elimination from national arsenals of all means of mass destruction, and for effective safeguards, through inspection and control, to protect mankind against violations and evasions. But, while the Soviet Union continued to maintain a large and powerful standing army, it flatly rejected the "Baruch Plan" for an International Atomic Development Authority. Protesting international interference in "domestic affairs," the Russians were using delaying tactics to gain time for the development of an atomic weapon of their own.
Nor would the Soviet Union agree to furnish information on which any realistic scheme for reducing armaments could be based. While the Western nations wished to fix numerical ceilings on the number of forces permitted the various countries, the Russians insisted on a flat-rate, one-third cut all round in armed forces, which quite naturally would have maintained their existing superiority in conventional arms. As the French delegate to the successive disarmament conferences, M. Moch, characterized it, this would mean a reduction from one unknown level to another.
In view of Russia's past record and the numerous cynical pronouncements of Communist leaders concerning the role of pacific gestures and disarmament proposals, it is only natural that responsible statesmen in the West are sceptical of the real intentions hiding behind protestations of peaceful intentions and vague disarmament schemes.
Manuilsky, who in 1931 was the leader of the Lenin School of Political Warfare, attests:
Our time will come in 20 to 30 years. The bourgeoisie will have to be put to sleep, so we will begin by launching the most spectacular peace movement on record. There will be electrifying overtones and unheard of concessions. The capitalist countries, stupid and decadent, will rejoice to co-operate in their own destruction. They will leap at another chance to be friends. As soon as their guard is down, we shall smash them with our clenched fist.
Even more recently, however, the eminent Soviet historian, E. V. Tarle, underlined this idea in his History of Diplomacy:
From time immemorial, the idea of disarmament has been one of the most favored forms of diplomatic dissimulation of the true motives and plans of those governments which have been seized by the sudden "love of peace." This phenomenon is very understandable. Any proposal for the reduction of armaments could invariably count upon broad popularity and support from public opinion.
To top it all, we need only remember the repeated predictions of Mr. Khrushchev that Communism is destined to bury the West. Coupled with the well-known design of that creed to conquer the whole world, by peaceful means if possible, by violence if necessary, these words take on a sinister meaning. No wonder, then, that Western leaders are reluctant to accept Russian proposals for disarmament as genuine expressions of a desire to promote peace in the world.
As a result of these suspicions, the West in the more recent disarmament discussions has been emphasizing the need for adequate control of any arrangements that may be agreed upon by the participating nations, while Russia, equally suspicious of Western intentions, still demands the acceptance of her disarmament proposals before controls and inspections can be brought up for debate. While one side is convinced that there can be no effective arms reduction without controls, the other accuses it of wanting controls without disarmament. This basic conflict of views has prevented the successive conferences on disarmament, sponsored by the United Nations, from achieving any tangible results. Nevertheless, the general fear of another war and the very real and pressing desire of humanity to end costly arms races keeps alive the hope of eventual success; it also leads to stubborn efforts to renew negotiations of the vital issue, despite an almost uninterrupted record of past failures and frustrations.
Unfortunately, however, the problem, despite ample practical experience, is in most cases still approached emotionally rather than rationally. In discussing it, little effort is usually made to separate truth from fiction, to arrive at principles of assured validity, or to substitute provable fact for wishful thinking.
The relationships between armaments and international tensions is a good example. Which comes first, which causes the other? People will argue heatedly on both sides without much reference to historical evidence, which shows clearly enough that there is no unequivocal answer to that question. Undoubtedly increased armaments will usually precede war, but so do heightened tensions. German naval preparations before 1914, for instance, certainly contributed to the explosive atmosphere of that period, just as did Hitler's remilitarization a generation later. But can it be said that either was the real cause of the wars that followed? Or were they symptoms rather than generators of those conflicts? On the other hand, unilateral Allied disarmament after 1945 greatly facilitated Communist aggressiveness in Europe and Asia by offering it a fair chance of success.
Nor did the disarmament of Germany in 1918 or Germany and Japan in 1945 actually create a more pacific attitude among the powers. By producing a power vacuum on both sides of Russia, these measures actually encouraged that country to embark on a policy of conquest leading to the present Cold War. How far, then, can it be said that disarmament makes for improved relations among states or promotes peace?
Another perplexing question is whether armaments increase national security or not. At first sight there seems to be little doubt that the Romans were right when they said that he who wants peace must prepare for war. We certainly would feel exceedingly insecure if today we found ourselves without the protection of adequate armaments, and our adversaries would probably lose little time in taking advantage of our weakness. Without a minimum of military preparations in peacetime, no country is safe in the world of today. Yet equally persuasive arguments can be found to support the maxim that he who wants peace must work for peace and not for war.
For one thing, what constitutes "adequate preparation"? Does it consist solely of the amount of armaments a country has available? Walter Millis refers to this question in his Arms and Men:
A nation cannot in more than the most general way make itself ready for the distant future; it is the here and now of international relations, by which the future will be shaped, which really count. After all, it is the French Marshall Leboeuf, who in 1870 was "ready to the last gaiter-button," who remains the melancholy monument to perfect preparedness; it is the German General Staff, which by 1914 had created a military machine capable of meeting every eventuality, that brought down upon the country the total disaster which they had failed to foresee.
Part of the difficulty here lies in the ambiguity of the term "security." It represents a complex state of mind, created by existing conditions or by our interpretation of them. We may feel endangered even if there is no actual threat, or overconfidently trust in an economic and military superiority which we do not really possess. One state of mind may prove just as inimical to genuine security as the other.
In this connection, it is well to remember that security has several different aspects, such as security from war, which prevents it from breaking out; security in war, which requires the creation of the most favorable conditions for winning it if it does occur; and security after war, which is attained if war leads to a more perfect peace than the one it broke, one that does not produce more and worse problems than it settles. It is quite possible that armaments in general, or of a certain kind, such as nuclear weapons, have an unequal influence on the different kinds of security, increasing one while decreasing another.
This leads to another basic problem involved here. What constitutes the power potential of a nation? Does it rest merely on its military establishment or do many other factors enter into it, such as size, population, economic resources, industrial capacity, national morale and spiritual strength? Many of these can exert effective pressure in international affairs, either in conjunction with, or even independently of, military power.
Through its control of the Suez Canal, for instance, Egypt was able to threaten Europe's economic well-being far beyond the country's military capacity, while the armed forces of Great Britain and France proved unable to overcome its favorable geographic position. Russia's vastness and climate had more to do with her eventual victory in 1945 than her military excellence. How much real power would accrue to China, for instance, if tomorrow she would learn to regulate the weather and thereby control the amount of rain falling on other countries?
This consideration, in turn, brings up the question of war itself. What is it really? Is there only one kind of war, or does the term cover a great variety of different conflicts? Is there such a thing as a "just" war, and if so, what makes it so? Is it always the tool of some power-crazy conqueror, or is it sometimes a sort of safety-valve for the release of pent-up dissatisfaction and the correction of oppressive circumstances? Was the War of the American Revolution, the Korean War, or the Hungarian Revolt justified, or would resigned submission have been better? And how does all this apply to the present, when war might very well mean national annihilation?
These are questions of fundamental importance because they clearly show that there is little chance of abolishing war unless some satisfactory substitute can be found to help improve undesirable social, political, or economic conditions. Otherwise the elimination of war would only lead to unbearable stagnation and meaningless preservation of an often untenable status quo.
As long as we are not ready to abolish war itself, we obviously cannot do without armaments of some kind and without other preparations to wage war as well as to prevent it.
Another assumption frequently made, but rarely proven, is that military preparations represent an unnecessary burden on a nation's economy, or that everyone would be better off if a radical arms reduction were instituted. The argument is that money saved by cutting expenditures on armaments would automatically become usable for "constructive" purposes, such as the raising of the standard of living at home and abroad. Yet others again feel that defense spending is an important stimulant for economic growth, that it promotes scientific research and technical progress, helps produce implements and methods of great benefit to the peaceable life of the people, and generally inspires the creative genius of a nation. In fact, governments are often blamed for resorting to armaments in order to solve otherwise hopeless economic difficulties.
Thus Hitler's Germany was able to overcome the effects of the Great Depression and practically to eliminate unemployment by embarking on a policy of rearmament. Still, one might ask, was that a healthy solution of the problem? Moreover, while many countries suffered greatly in consequence of the two World Wars, the United States for instance, emerged economically vastly strengthened after both of them. Again it appears that the economic argument can be used both as proof and as refutation of the need for disarmament. It is a sorry state of affairs, though, if mankind can find no better way to overcome poverty than to go to war or prepare for it.
These examples may indicate the tremendous difficulties which disarmament faces, the numerous preliminary questions that need to be answered, and the many unjustified suppositions that are made in most discussions of the subject. In addition to these troublesome basic problems there are innumerable others of a more practical nature which demand a clear-cut answer before the issue of disarmament can be broached with any chance of success.
To begin with, what kind or degree of disarmament is being envisioned? Is the complete and universal abolition of all military forces aimed at, or only a more or less substantial reduction of armaments? If the latter, is it to be qualitative, such as the prohibition of certain weapons or methods of fighting, or quantitative, limiting the size of armies, navies, and air forces permitted each nation? If only a proportional limitation of armaments is the goal, what can be done to maintain the existing balance of power among nations? For, as the example of the animal conference shows, the strength of different nations may consist in different forms of power, and no one can be expected to reduce his own while leaving that of his opponents untouched. A reduction in the size or potency of navies, for instance, would have a much more serious effect on the Western World than on the Communist Bloc, while a decrease in ground forces might place the Communists at a disadvantage. A ban on nuclear weapons at this moment might leave us relatively much weaker than the Soviet Union, just as would the abandonment of the net of bases surrounding the Eurasian Heartland.
No simple mathematical formulas exist to help us with these problems. They can be settled only by some sort of compromise between the opposing interests, which is primarily a political and not a military concern. But the contemplation of the really staggering obstacles in the path of genuine disarmament must not cause us to despair in its eventual success, because the alternative—war and the consequent annihilation of humanity—is becoming an increasingly threatening specter; the obstacles should only caution us against the acceptance of patent remedies appealing to the universal craving for peace, but based on no sounder foundation than unthinking optimism.
Two main roads seem to be indicated in the approach to the goal of national disarmament: one for the short term, to bring immediately needed and quickly effective relief; the other aiming at a more permanent, final solution of the problem by the abolition of war itself.
The success of the former depends largely on the attitude of the great powers, but primarily on that of Soviet Russia. As long as that country continues to make high-sounding but completely unrealistic and misleading proposals for the immediate and universal repudiation of armaments while stubbornly resisting all suggestions for the effective control of accepted measures, there is little hope of useful achievements. There are reasons to expect that this uncompromising posture will not persist forever: (1) the fear that war might hurt the Soviet Union and international Communism more than it would help them; (2) the growing belief that Communism is bound to win the race even without the necessity of going to war; and (3) the worry that in time, other countries, especially China, might obtain the most powerful weapons and thus threaten Russia's primacy, if not her very existence.
These considerations may eventually cause the Russia ns to soften their present inflexibility and open their ears to reasonable suggestions emanating from the West, a t least as long as they do not seem to weaken Russia any more than the Western countries or otherwise violate Russian sensitivities. The best prospect for agreement would seem to lie in the field of the so-called ABC (atomic, bacteriological, and chemical) weapons, and possibly also on the use of space vehicles for warlike purposes, because these now pose the greatest threat to any nation, including Russia. In coming to such agreements, however, the West must not be induced to trade concrete and present assets for nebulous future advantages, nor shortsightedly try to preserve currently strong positions which might become useless tomorrow.
Possibly the best way out of the continuing impasse might lie in the formula proposed by the French Government:—Neither control without disarmament nor disarmament without control, but progressively all the disarmament that can be effectively controlled.
The long-range solution for the thorny problem must, however, be sought on another plane. It is becoming more and more clear that disarmament is only the external manifestation of a more fundamental issue:—the jealously guarded sovereignty of states. As long as individual states exist without an effective super-national organization to exercise a restraining influence on its members, settle urgent political, social, or economic conflicts, and uphold the universal rule of law, each country will naturally feel responsible for its own safety and try to safeguard it in the only way available—by maintaining its own power. That makes national armaments as necessary as was the arming of individuals before courts and policemen existed.
Only if there is such a universal authority—a world government in which people can have confidence and which has enough power to compel obedience to its decrees—can the individual states disband their armed forces and leave their national fate in the hands of others.
The chances for the creation of such an authority at this time are exceedingly slight. Hence there are few countries which today could or would entrust their national destinies to the decisions of outsiders, giving up the known shortcomings of sovereignty for the unknown, but certainly formidable, hazards of relying on collective wisdom and proper action. Yet without the abolition, or at least radical reduction, of national sovereignty, neither war nor national armaments can be banned effectively.
If the Russians in one breath propose sweeping disarmament while in the next breath they protest controls as interfering with their sovereignty, it is quite obvious that they don't mean what they say. If they try to weaken the United Nations and block all efforts to create an effective international police force, it shows that they are insincere in their professed desire for peace and disarmament.
Thus universal disarmament is an ideal, to be striven for just as we strive for the eradication of pain and poverty, but not realizable in the foreseeable future. It cannot be achieved in one leap or over night, but will require time, patience, and great wisdom. The best we can hope for—and work for—at this time is some partial relaxation of pressures, such as the repudiation of weapons of mass destruction, and the elimination of the danger of surprise attack. Such part-measures are most useful and must be pursued energeticallv, and they offer a fair chance of success because they are dictated by the universal desire for self-preservation.
But they are not to be confused with general, universal disarmament, nor will they, by themselves, assure eternal peace on earth. That can be accomplished only by the abolition of state sovereignty and the creation of a universal world government, an ideal which must never be lost sight of, but which is, and for a long time will remain, a Utopian dream. Until that dream becomes reality, national armaments are here to stay and must be maintained in proportion to the threat which each nation faces. And, at the same time, we must strive to reduce this international threat.