About the Work
Women at The Hague: The International Congress of Women and its Results is an early-twentieth-century account written collaboratively by three American delegates to the International Congress of Women held at The Hague in April 1915: Jane Addams, who served as President of the Congress and of the Woman’s Peace Party of America; Emily G. Balch, Professor of Economics and Sociology at Wellesley College; and Alice Hamilton, an investigator of industrial diseases for the United States Department of Labor. The book was published by The Macmillan Company with a copyright date of 1915.
The work provides a firsthand report of the International Congress of Women convened in The Hague during the first year of the First World War, as well as of the subsequent journeys undertaken by two delegations from that Congress to the war capitals of Europe and to the northern capitals of neutral nations. The authors explain in their Prefatory Note that much of the material had previously appeared in The Survey magazine and was “journalistic in character,” offered as a report of European conditions from the viewpoint of peace sentiment surviving amid war. The widespread interest in the separate articles justified presenting them in book form, and the authors express the hope that this recital by three American women might correct impressions made by contradictory press accounts.
The book is structured as a series of chapters, each written by one of the three authors based on her particular experiences and observations. Balch contributes the opening chapter on the journey to and impressions of the Congress, as well as later chapters on the northern capitals and the timing of peace efforts. Hamilton contributes a chapter on the visits to the war capitals. Addams contributes chapters on the revolt against war, the factors continuing the war, and women’s relationship to internationalism. The volume also includes substantial appendices containing opinions of the Congress from various participants, particulars about how the Congress was organized and financed, the full text of the resolutions adopted, and a manifesto issued by the envoys who carried the Congress’s message to the governments of Europe and the United States.
Context
The book emerges from a specific historical moment: the spring and summer of 1915, less than a year after the outbreak of the First World War. Since July 1914, practically no international gatherings had convened—science, medicine, reform, labor, and religion had all failed to gather followers across frontiers. The International Congress of Women at The Hague represented one of the first attempts to bring together citizens of belligerent and neutral nations for common deliberation during the war itself.
The Congress was called during the war rather than postponed, as Dr. Aletta Jacobs of Holland explained in her welcoming address, because postwar gatherings would face victorious and conquered nations divided by the outcomes of conflict. The organizers deliberately did not call it a “PEACE CONGRESS” but rather an International Congress of Women to protest war and to suggest steps toward making warfare impossible. The Congress met at the Dierentuin in The Hague, a venue larger than the Peace Palace or the Ridderzaal, with fifteen hundred women conferring for four days on international relations.
The represented nations included England, Scotland, Germany, Austria, Hungary, Italy, Poland, Belgium, the Netherlands, the United States, Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. The French could not attend, though French women were the earliest to form their national organization supporting the Congress programme. The English delegation of 180 received passports for only twenty, and none could leave due to stopped traffic. Germany sent twenty-eight women, including Dr. Anita Augspurg and Frl. Heymann. Belgium sent five women a day late, given an ovation. About 1,100 voted on the Congress’s business; Americans numbered about fifty, with smaller delegations from the Scandinavian countries.
The book also reflects the broader context of peace activism in the early years of the war. The delegates studied and recommended the “Wisconsin Plan” for continuous mediation without armistice, formulated by Miss Julia Grace Wales, an instructor in English at the University of Wisconsin, which had been officially endorsed by the Wisconsin Legislature and recommended to the U.S. Congress. The Congress’s work was part of a larger movement of religious, social, and economic associations, many organized since the war began, all contributing toward the same end of promoting international cooperation and peaceful settlement of disputes.
Structure of the Book
The book follows a logical narrative arc from the convening of the Congress through the delegations’ subsequent missions to the governments of Europe. It is organized into seven chapters plus substantial appendices.
Chapter I, “Journey and Impressions of the Congress,” written by Emily G. Balch, opens with her voyage on the Noordam in April with forty-two other American delegates. She describes the journey’s difficulties—the ship being stopped under a machine gun while German stowaways were removed, then held near Dover for four days “almost like prisoners of war”—and her initial doubts about the meeting’s value, which she felt could not be refused even for a shadow of a chance to serve peace. The chapter provides a detailed account of the Congress itself: its organization, its rules excluding discussion of national responsibility for the war, its two fundamental membership conditions (pacific settlement of international disputes and extension of the parliamentary franchise to women), and its evening sessions chaired by Dr. Aletta Jacobs, Dr. Anita Augspurg, and Miss Chrystal MacMillan. The chapter concludes with Addams’s reflections on her strongest impressions of the Congress and its significance.
Chapter II, “At the War Capitals,” written by Alice Hamilton, describes the delegations’ visits to the governments of belligerent nations. The delegations consisted of the president and vice-president of the Congress—Miss Addams of Chicago and Dr. Jacobs of Amsterdam—with Hamilton and Frau Wollften Palthe accompanying them in unofficial capacities. The chapter covers visits to the Dutch government, Great Britain, Germany, Austria, Hungary, and Belgium’s government in exile at Havre, with Hamilton’s account confined to unofficial parts, informal meetings, and impressions rather than the formal interviews with ministers and chancellors.
Chapter III, “The Revolt Against War,” written by Jane Addams, examines the evidence the delegation gathered of opposition to the war, particularly among young men. The chapter includes subsections on young men and civilians, drawing on letters from soldiers, testimony from nurses and convalescent soldiers, and observations about the generational divide between older men who believed in abstractions and younger men who took life through experience.
Chapter IV, “Factors in Continuing the War,” also by Addams, analyzes the forces that kept the war going: the censored press, the isolation of peace advocates, the lack of adequate negotiation offers, the tendency to nationalize crimes, and the animosity growing out of the war’s conduct.
Chapter V, “At the Northern Capitals,” by Balch, describes the delegations’ visits to the neutral nations of Scandinavia—Norway, Sweden, and Denmark—as well as their journey to Russia and their return through Holland and London. The chapter includes accounts of interviews with the Norwegian Prime Minister Knudsen, the four presidents of the Storting, the Swedish Foreign Minister Wallenberg, and the Russian Foreign Minister Sazonoff.
Chapter VI, “The Time for Making Peace,” also by Balch, argues that the moment was ripe for peace negotiations, examining what each side might concede and why a neutral initiative could succeed.
Chapter VII, “Women and Internationalism,” by Addams, reflects on the deeper meaning of the Congress and the role of women in international affairs, arguing for the extension of internationalism beyond its current legal foundations.
The appendices contain: opinions of the Congress from Emmeline Pethick Lawrence and Lida Gustava Heymann; particulars about how the Congress was called, financed, and organized; the full resolutions of the Congress; a manifesto issued by the envoys; and a synopsis on continuous mediation by Julia Grace Wales.
Detailed Section-by-Section Summary
The Book’s Purpose and the Journey to The Hague
The volume opens with the title page identifying the work as Women at The Hague: The International Congress of Women and its Results, authored by the three American delegates who served as its principal officers: Jane Addams, President of the Congress and of the Woman’s Peace Party of America; Emily G. Balch, Professor of Economics and Sociology at Wellesley College; and Alice Hamilton, a government investigator of industrial diseases. Published by Macmillan in 1915, the book’s prefatory note explains that it offers an account of the International Congress of Women held at The Hague in April of that year, along with the subsequent journeys of two delegations from that Congress to the war capitals of Europe. Much of the material had already appeared in The Survey and was frankly “journalistic in character,” intended as a report on European conditions from the viewpoint of peace sentiment surviving amid the war. The authors hoped that this recital by three American women might correct the impressions left by contradictory press accounts. The table of contents outlines the structure: Balch’s account of the journey and the Congress, Hamilton’s report from the war capitals, Addams’s analysis of the revolt against war and the factors continuing it, Balch’s visits to the northern capitals and her reflections on the time for peace, and Addams’s concluding thoughts on women and internationalism, with appendices containing resolutions and a synopsis of the continuous mediation plan.
The Crossing and the Delayed Arrival
Balch sailed on the Noordam in April with forty-two other American delegates. She admitted to doubting the meeting’s value but felt that even a shadow of a chance to serve peace could not be refused, and she was thankful for the decision, feeling the undertaking repaid its cost a hundredfold. Since July 1914, practically no international gatherings had convened; science, medicine, reform, labor, and religion had all failed to gather their followers across frontiers. Now, fifteen hundred women were to confer for four days on international relations, representing the English, Scotch, German, Austrian, Hungarian, Italian, Polish, Belgian, Dutch, American, Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish nations. The French could not attend, though French women had been the earliest to form their national organization supporting the Congress programme. During the voyage, the secretary of the Chicago Peace Society lectured on peace questions, and the delegates studied the preliminary programme, adding to it their recommendation of the “Wisconsin Plan” for continuous mediation without armistice, formulated by Miss Julia Grace Wales of the University of Wisconsin and officially endorsed by the Wisconsin Legislature.
The ship was stopped first under a machine gun while two German stowaways were removed, one shouting “Hoch der Kaiser, Deutschland uber Alles.” The next morning, near Dover, the ship was held for four days, “almost like prisoners of war,” with no landing, no visitors, and censored telegrams. Ambassador Page telegraphed that he could do nothing, but twenty minutes later they were released. They landed in Rotterdam on Tuesday afternoon, arriving at The Hague in time for the first session scheduled for 8 p.m. The English delegation of 180 had received passports for only twenty, and none could leave due to stopped traffic. Mrs. Pethick-Lawrence came on the Noordam; Miss MacMillan and Miss Courtney had gone earlier. From France, Russia, Servia, and Japan no women came. Germany sent twenty-eight women, including Dr. Augspurg and Frl. Heymann. Belgium sent five women a day late, given an ovation, and a German member of the presiding committee moved that they be seated on the platform. About 1,100 voted; Americans numbered about fifty, Norway twelve, Sweden sixteen, Denmark six.
The Congress at the Dierentuin
The Congress met at the Dierentuin, too large for the Peace Palace or the Ridderzaal. Mornings were devoted to business, evenings to public addresses, and afternoons to committees, with two extra sessions added. The rules excluded discussion of national responsibility for the war or its conduct. Two fundamental membership conditions were required: that international disputes be settled by pacific means, and that the parliamentary franchise be extended to women. Some Dutch and American women felt suffrage was overstressed, but peace dominated the proceedings. Many Dutch ladies opposed to suffrage came away convinced that women must have a voice. The evening chairs were Dr. Aletta Jacobs of Holland, Dr. Anita Augspurg of Germany, and Miss Chrystal MacMillan of England. Dr. Jacobs welcomed the members, praising their courage, grieving for young men, mothers, widows, and fatherless children, and declaring that governments should not tolerate brute force as the only solution. She explained that the Congress was called during the war, not postponed, because postwar gatherings would face victorious and conquered nations. It was not a “PEACE CONGRESS” but an International Congress of Women to protest war and suggest steps toward making warfare impossible. Other speakers included Miss Lindhagen of Stockholm, Mrs. Pethick-Lawrence, Miss Holbrook of Chicago on children’s education, Mrs. De Jong Van Beek en Donk on Arbitration and Conciliation, Mme. Rosika Schwimmer, Miss Thora Daugaard of Denmark, and Miss Kathleen Courtney of England.
The Spirit of the Congress
Addams’s strongest impression of the Congress was its “beautiful spirit”—the brave, self-controlled women who dared ridicule and difficulty to express “passionate human sympathy,” not inconsistent with patriotism but transcending it. The sessions were heavily fraught with emotion, but that emotion rarely found verbal expression; when it did, it was on a “high and noble plane.” Many women were deeply stricken and closely bound to their country’s cause, yet full of faith in the “will for good” of their technical enemies, united in seeking principles for permanent international friendship and cooperation. There was not one clash or danger of clash over national differences; there was a shared consciousness of a new spirit growing amid war, “as the roots of the wheat grow under the drifts and tempests of winter.” The Congress was not stagnantly placid—there were vigorous differences over details and energetic misunderstandings, partly due to translating each speech into two other languages and differing parliamentary usages. Attendees felt exhausted afterward. The next most powerful impressions were the tragic horror of war, imprinted on some women’s faces and in their words, and the fear of neutral-country men and women of being dragged into the war. Women who had the vote, such as the Norwegian and Danish delegates, showed additional timidity—the timidity of those in a critical situation who, being jointly responsible, must act with great discreetness.
The Work of Changing Minds
After the Congress, delegates chosen to visit various Governments called on foreign ministers at The Hague as a preliminary step. One minister said the most important thing was to educate children away from militarism; another deprecated all peace agitation, as it weakens energy for war in case war comes. Addams was surprised at how much the “very innocent gathering” was regarded; she had imagined it might be ignored. Instead, it exercised the belligerent Governments, and news agencies invented false reports about it. The dread of talk shows it has effect. Ideas created military force and keep it in action; “Let war once be disbelieved in, and that force melts into nothing.” The Congress contributed to beginning “long, serious, enthusiastic work” in every country: the work of “changing the mind of Europe,” as Professor Schevill said—creating a state of mind that does not desire to profit at others’ expense, desires to decide difficulties by reason not force, and replaces national and social prejudices with mutual goodwill. This attitude opposes armaments and patiently waits for righting wrongs by agreement. In war’s distress, there is relief in finding a channel to work for peace. Rehabilitating the wounded to return to the front cooperates with mutual destruction; it is not the work many long to do. Instead, writing, giving pennies, time, reading hours, intelligences, and sympathies can cooperate toward peace. It is important to have a great reservoir of spiritual and intellectual energy, with ramifications in every village, club, and church, so that when the word goes out, all can line up behind leaders and act in unison across all countries. Study clubs, peace forums, subscriptions, and keeping informed are humdrum but “hitched to a star, the star of hope in human destiny beyond the war clouds.”
The Hague as a Civilized Contrast
The Hague is a preeminently civilized city—tidy, clean, safe, pleasant, pretty. Man has subdued nature, creating a world in his own image. Every European city has essentially the same conditions for substantially the same people; Europe is already, in normal times, one single society. Yet artificial national boundaries signify collective greeds and hatreds. A few miles off, fields are ruined, the countryside poisoned with corpses, homes smashed, city beauties destroyed, and men deliberately kill one another. Soldiers in hospitals say to nurses: “We don’t know why we are fighting. Can’t you women help us? We can’t do anything.” That is the very question the women are trying to answer.
The Delegation to the War Capitals
Hamilton’s account of the visits to the war capitals begins with a note on the composition of the delegations. They consisted of the president and vice-president of the Congress: Miss Addams of Chicago and Dr. Jacobs of Amsterdam. Frau Wollften Palthe of The Hague and Hamilton accompanied them but were not official members and took no part in formal interviews with ministers or chancellors. Hamilton’s account is confined to unofficial parts, informal meetings, and impressions. There were no hardships or real discomforts, only inconveniences like tiresome waiting in consular offices for passports, repeated between each two countries. The first Government visited was the Dutch, then Great Britain, where the delegation saw the minister of foreign affairs and other officials. During that week Hamilton was in Belgium; London experiences were crowded into the week spent waiting for the return steamer to America. The joint pilgrimage began May 19, leaving Amsterdam with the two Dutch women for Berlin. Germany looked more natural than expected; the only unusual feature was the absence of young and middle-aged men in the fields, with work done by women, children, and old men.
Berlin and a Military Socialist
In Berlin, a card was brought of a prominent Socialist, a Reichstag member and city-planning authority who had visited America two years prior. They initially saw only officers, but a tall, blond soldier saluted—it was he. He was a military Socialist, one selected by the Kaiser to go to Italy to persuade Italian Socialists that Italy should remain loyal to the Triple Alliance. He told of Italy’s probable entrance into the war, insisting it would be a disaster.
A Hopeless English Statesman
Hamilton describes a meeting with a despondent English politician. He had struggled against the men who were making the war in the terrible days of July but was defeated, seeing his work vanish when his country chose a course he considered a hideous blunder. He was wretched, often dropping his head into his hands in silence. He stated he was no longer in the Government, but was discredited, suspected, and an outcast. He insisted that England was not plotting war. He called the sinking of the Lusitania “a terrible mistake.” He listened to Miss Addams explain the Peace Congress’s urgings but saw no hope. He was left as a hopeless figure in his sombre library, a victim of the war despite never being in the trenches.
German Attitudes and Information Control
Hamilton recalls only two Germans who spoke with the bitterness heard from German-Americans. She suspects the tragedy is too great for rancor. One woman said she was past bitterness, having almost forgotten it. Most Germans read and hear nothing from the outside. An old friend, the wife of a professor under whom she had studied bacteriology, and her husband, though cosmopolitan and reading three languages, had known nothing since July except what their Government decided. After three days, this friend said she had never known there were people in England who did not wish to crush Germany. She asked Hamilton to believe that Germans thought the Fatherland was attacked without provocation and that their war was one of self-defence, though she was beginning to think it might not be true.
Food in Berlin and Vienna
In Berlin, the delegation had bread cards and ate war bread. The waiter snipped off one of three coupons per meal, bringing one and a half Brodchen. The bread was good, like a cross between rye and white. They were told the economy was not necessary, as Germany gets wheat from Russia by bribing officials, but the Government wished to train people in saving. In Vienna, the bread cards seemed a real necessity, with a very small allowance. The slice was only two and a half inches long, two inches wide, and three-quarters of an inch thick—a pitiful allowance for working people. It was a heavy bread of potato flour, corn-meal, rye, and a little wheat. The Viennese spoke bitterly of wheat scarcity, saying Hungarians had plenty but sold it to Prussia.
Scenes of Vienna
People in every country asked if things were as usual, but no one could say that of Vienna. Many people looked starved. In the Stephanskirche, the church was full of people kneeling, including a group of two hundred chanting a litany without a leader. They were tragic-looking, including recruits and wounded soldiers. Convalescent soldiers hobbled everywhere. Horses were so thin one could count their ribs. Walls were covered with appeals to subscribe to the second war loan. The delegation reached Vienna on Whitsunday, the day Italy declared war. A demonstration under their balcony was just young people singing the national hymn. They saw a troop of young soldiers starting for the frontier, gay and confident with flowers in their belts, caps, and gun muzzles—the most tragic thing. They saw the minister of foreign affairs and the prime minister of Austria. They also had informal interviews with pacifists. A lovely woman who had spoken movingly at the Hague Congress told them she was connected with the American Red Cross Hospital and had never heard a soldier speak with hatred of the enemy; that belonged to non-fighters at home. In Vienna, they heard the strongest protests against press censorship. A friend connected with shipping in Trieste was indignant over Italy’s entry, speaking of the unfounded claims of the Irredentists, noting Trieste’s hinterland is Slavic and the Dalmatian coast has a small Italian minority.
Budapest and the Hungarian Prime Minister
Hungary has no separate minister of foreign affairs and cannot declare war independently of Austria, but Hungarians do not consider themselves Austrians. The suffrage party had endorsed the Peace Congress. It was decided the two Dutch ladies would go to Berne and the two Americans to Budapest. Budapest seemed different from Berlin or Vienna, curiously like America. There was plenty of bread and no bread cards. Journalists were eager and independent. A group of able women arranged an interview with the prime minister and a large public meeting.
The Revolt Against War (Continued)
The delegation gathered further evidence of a deep-seated revolt against war among the younger generation. A letter published in the Cam-Magazine at Cambridge University, written by a young man at the front, described how the war had “released the old men from all restraining influences,” naming city editors, retired majors, and venerable archdeacons as enjoying unprecedented freedom from contradiction. The younger generation, which had been beginning to take its share in world affairs and hoped to counteract “Victorian influences,” had been silenced by the war, allowing the old men to perpetuate, in their name, “those very follies which have produced the present conflagration” through appeals to hate, intolerance, and revenge.
A professor at an English university showed the delegation a letter from a student in a military hospital who congratulated himself on losing a leg because it enabled him to resume “reasonable living with an undivided mind.” He had deferred to older men’s opinions in responding to his country’s call but would now return to his own generation’s ideas. Another letter, from a young soldier in the opposing trenches to his fiancée, described rousing his indignation to put his thoughts in order so that, should he return, he might “fling them once for all in the faces of men who deceive themselves into finding a justification for all this murdering” and who believe there will be great moral effects from wholesale slaughter.
The delegation concluded that a generation had grown up in Europe and America that had revolted against war—it was “a god they know not of” whom they would not serve. A young man in Switzerland, who had spent three months in the trenches and been wounded, did not know he had tuberculosis. At twenty-eight, he had been in business with his father and had traveled widely. He had come to know men as Mensch—that gute Menschen exist in every land. He never once shot his gun in a way that could hit another man; he could be ordered into the trenches and “to go through the motions,” but the final act was in his own hands and conscience. His brother, an officer, also never shoots to kill, and he knows “dozens and dozens” of young men who do not.
From hospitals, nurses, convalescent soldiers, and mothers reported surprising numbers of young men who would not do fatal shooting because no one has the right to command them to take human life. From one hospital, five soldiers who had been cured and were ready to return to the trenches committed suicide—not from fear of dying but because they would not be placed where they must kill others. A spirited young man testified that though told they fight for civilization, war destroys civilization. The scholar, philosopher, and poet in the trenches becomes “as low and brutal as the rudest peasant.” Courage has no room—shells fall by chance; one can neither defy nor flee them. He loathes the squalor, brutality, and the savage he is becoming, asking why one should kill men one would like and respect in peacetime, and stating he has escaped killing anyone.
This state of mind causes a high percentage of insanity among soldiers. Wounded trains carry closed vans for men who have lost their minds. A young Russian wrote home asking whether so many soldiers were ever driven mad before, or if this is unique to this generation. This type of young man finds primitive warfare especially abhorrent. Interned soldiers in Holland had escaped across the border dazed after bayonet charges. Delirious soldiers repeatedly hallucinate pulling bayonets from bodies of men they killed. A returned soldier called bayonet charges “madness,” requiring stimulants, leaving men “utterly dazed.” In several countries, stimulants were given before charges to inhibit sensibilities. A Frenchman said German poisonous gases made further stimulants unnecessary for an indignant soldiery. An Englishman spoke of difficulties overcoming British troops’ camaraderie with Saxons in the opposite trench, and relief when Bavarians replaced them.
The delegation cautioned that they did not think this showed lack of courage. The “average” man tends toward retaliation. Soldiers were supplied with short knives because bayonets were impractical in trench hand-to-hand encounters. Some men relish bayonet charges as “primitive” fighting. The author disclaims any intention to disparage soldiers’ motives or courage or to add to “the campaign of calumny.”
Civilian Enthusiasms
Two bodies of enthusiasm existed among civilians: the larger, believing war can only be settled militarily through smashing victories; and a civil party deprecating militarism’s exaltation, noting that prolonged war lets the military censor the press and break down civil government safeguards. Citizens in warring capitals live under military law, subject to fine and imprisonment, arrest without warrant, and house entry. Even patriotic citizens long for settlement other than military victory, realizing salvation through the army would entrench militarism dangerously. German patriots feared peace through military successes on the eastern front would establish militarism more firmly through Russian terms; negotiated peace would give western nations under England’s lead preponderance of influence. England was told the war is essentially a conflict between militarism and democracy, but the situation is not so simple—war itself destroys democracy and entrenches militarism. Negotiations should begin while civil authorities still have power to hold.
Factors in Continuing the War
A Socialist Member of Parliament in Italy, whose party voted against war appropriations, told the delegation unequivocally that “This was a newspaper-made war,” resulting from a winter-long campaign culminating in three sensational days of peak public excitement. The author invokes the nursery riddle of the egg and hen—whether public opinion controls the press or vice versa. The Socialist friend believed the great Italian banks with interests in Dalmatia were the actual power. The press everywhere tended to make an entire nation responsible for individual crimes—a tendency fraught with awful consequences, even when the crimes originated in gross exaggeration of trivial incidents. The very size and extent of the contention acts like madness.
Enthusiasm for continuing the war is fed largely on animosity growing out of the war’s conduct. Germany is indignant over England’s blockade attempting to starve German women and children; England is enraged over German atrocities in Belgium. A young Frenchman said, “We hope to be able very soon to squirt petroleum into the German trenches so that everything will easily catch fire.” When the author replied, “That seems very terrible,” he responded, “Yes, but think of the poisonous gas and the horrible death of our men who were asphyxiated.” In each country, hideous war occurrences demonstrated that the enemy’s continued existence menaced civilization. Constantly one hears accusations and counter-accusations. But great nations, however legitimate the first cause of war, cannot conduct operations from the standpoint of reprisals—not permissible even among small groups.
Some men said the war must ultimately be adjudicated with original causes as a factor, “but we are getting farther away from the causes every day, and more and more the conduct of the war is modifying its aim.” The author questions whether the gathering horror drives Europeans on because the war reached people with unprecedented sensibility toward human suffering, or whether Europe’s mind is submerged under great emotionalism, inhibiting normal family affections. A Frenchman in his library said he would throw his books into the trenches if their burning would heat a soldier’s hands to kill one man of “that nation which is destroying the liberties of Europe.”
The wave of patriotism will come down; the crest cannot be held indefinitely. Men must then see horrible things not as causes for continuing war but as things never to occur again. Currently, a man finding no justification for losing Europe’s finest youth unless it establishes international courts making war impossible finds it difficult to express this view. International ideals are treated with derision, contempt, and as dangerous to patriotism. In every country, a group (size undetermined) not opposed to war and regarding their countries as sinned against still felt their countries should be content with a limited programme of victory. Even in England, a man saying peace should be made with Germany on terms other than allied dictation is attacked as pro-German.
A good patriot of differing opinion cannot reach fellow countrymen, as war belongs to a state where right and wrong must be absolute. Modern society communicates through the printed word; public opinion cannot be quickly discovered through other agencies. The most touching interview was with a man in a responsible English position at war declaration, overburdened with having failed to convince countrymen the war was unnecessary and with the futility of further effort. Even autocratic governments respond to public opinion as like-minded people gather into groups and promote larger groups. This process is at a standstill among warring nations, even in England where governmental change depends on registering public opinion.
People asked, “Did you find any one taking our line, thinking as we do?” People don’t know contemplated terms of settlement; only a free press could reveal them. Every public man knows rulers must know a grateful, passionate opinion supports them against militarists before advocating peace. Pacifically inclined ministers dare not talk of treating with the enemy while vocal opinion favors fighting until unconditional surrender. In Great Britain and Germany, militarist elements can stop peace negotiations. No leading journal dares call upon governments to declare essential conditions for ceasing conflict. If adjustment requires like-minded people in contending nations coming together, it is a pity it should fail through lack of mechanism. The foundations of noble national life are undermined by disparagement of other nations; desire for peace is denied journalistic expression while war spirit is fed by outrages “as flames are fed by fuel.”
The author felt the next revolution against tyranny must be against the unscrupulous power of the press. A distinguished European, unable to reach his own countrymen, suggested a caged lion’s plight as he paced a hotel alcove expressing exasperation and despair. The message he couldn’t give was what Europe needed most. Self-exiled pacifists—French, German, Austrian, English, Belgian—met in Switzerland were a curious comment on press freedom. Two forced conclusions emerged: first, people couldn’t secure material for sound judgment because the press assumed power once exercised by the church, giving people only knowledge deemed fit; second, leading minds in each country weren’t bent on solution or bringing international order out of anarchy because they were absorbed in preconceived judgments and confused by limited information sources.
At the Northern Capitals
The civilian point of view and hint of revolt against war were reflected in foreign offices visited over five weeks. They were received by Prime Minister Cort van der Linden and Foreign Minister Loudon at The Hague, and Prime Minister Asquith and Foreign Secretary Grey in England. The delegation received an appointment with Knudsen, the Prime Minister of Norway. They were also given what they were told was the most formal recognition possible for unofficial persons: reception in the Parliament House by the four presidents of the Storting. These were President Castberg, president of the Odelsting and a member of the Norwegian interparliamentary group; President Jahren, president of the Lagting; President Aarsb ad, president of the Storting when meeting in joint session; and Vice-President Lo viand. The delegation noted with interest the portrait of the first woman member of Parliament on the walls.
At a committee meeting at the Nobel Institute, they discussed peace programmes with Christian Lange, secretary of the Interparliamentary Union. In Stockholm, they interviewed Wallenberg, the foreign minister, described as a statesman, man of affairs, and great banker, appearing to throw his weight on the side of peace. Among distinguished Swedes showing sympathy, Selma Lagerlof was present at one of their meetings.
After spending over a fortnight on their way, they started for Russia on the evening of June 7. Changes were required: Rosika Schwimmer, being technically an enemy, could not go to Russia; in her stead, Scandinavian friends chose Baroness Ellen Palmstierna. Schwimmer returned first to Denmark, where she participated in the great procession celebrating the signing of the new Danish constitution securing equal suffrage. The usual Stockholm-to-Petrograd route across the narrow seas to Abo in Finland was closed to travellers, requiring a three-day, three-night railroad journey around the head of the Gulf of Bothnia. They reached the Hotel Astoria in Petrograd shortly before midnight on June 10. They stayed a fortnight, seeing much of the capital, filled with Red Cross “lazarets” and wounded; they found it clean, orderly, and friendly.
Their object was an interview with Sazonoff, Minister of Foreign Affairs. They sat nearly an hour in conference with him. He appeared already familiar with the Hague resolutions and interested in considering them. Their return trip took them, on nearly the longest day of the year, to the farthest point of their journey, north of Archangel, where they saw the sun well risen before twelve minutes after midnight, below the horizon perhaps only twenty minutes.
In Stockholm, Swedish women had arranged simultaneous peace meetings in 343 places on Sunday, June 27, with the same speech delivered and same resolution passed everywhere. The meeting they attended gathered about two thousand people, with an overflow of twelve hundred, and eight hundred unable to enter; this was only one of five meetings in Stockholm alone. The resolution affirmed the main Hague Congress resolutions and called for mediation. On the return journey they saw ministers again in Scandinavian countries, and in Holland interviewed Minister of Foreign Affairs Louden and the prime minister. It was decided that Rosika Schwimmer and Mme. Ramondt would go again to Berlin, while Chrystal Macmillan and the author would visit London before the author returned to America to report to President Wilson, which has now been done.
Their London fortnight was “in some ways the most absorbing of all.” They met women of their own British Committee; officers of the National Peace Council; of the League of Peace and Freedom; the chairman of the conference upon the Pacifist Philosophy of Life held in London in July; the chairman of the Fellowship of Reconciliation; members of the executive committee of the Representative Peace Conference convened by the Society of Friends; and various members of the Union of Democratic Control. With one or two marked exceptions, all were distinctly pacifist in outlook. The author was conscious they did not reflect average English feeling, but saw their views as testimony to English liberty of thought and breadth of English humanism. Two groups she did not contact: the Stop the War Committee and the No Conscription Fellowship.
Five Things Standing Out
Five things stood out in the author’s estimate: the noble humanity of the women gathered at The Hague, finding common ground even amid war; the well-wrought-out platform; the permanent international pacifist organization of women, now effected; a plan for calling a congress of these women at the time and place where peace terms are agreed upon; and the mission to the Governments, in its immediate and remoter bearings.
New international headquarters at 467 Keizersgracht, Amsterdam, symbolize the organization. National groups of the International Women’s Committee for Permanent Peace are being organized in France (where there was initial misunderstanding), Germany, Hungary, England, Scandinavian countries, and Russia. The American office is the national headquarters of the Women’s Peace Party in Chicago.
Women and Internationalism
The chapter opens by confronting the central paradox of the era: war is still deemed a legitimate means of settling international disputes, and the relations between nations are dominated by fortified boundaries and standing armies. In such a climate, it is considered “preposterous” for women, who cannot fight, to have any voice in such matters. This argument, however, rests on an obsolete historical foundation. When war was practically man’s sole occupation, only those responsible for national defense—the king, the nobles, and the knights—had a voice in deliberations. As centuries passed and other tests of social utility developed, the electorate was steadily enlarged, first to include the bourgeoisie, then the working man, and finally women. Each group naturally followed its own interests as government took on the regulation of commerce, industry, and the health and education of children. It is only in times of war that government is thrown back to its primitive and sole function of self-defense, belittling its many other real interests.
War has always treated the lives of men and women broadly, like a landscape painter suppressing details, casting the man as bold, combative, and conquering, and the woman as sympathetic, healing the wounds that war has made. Because this primitive conception of government and the obsolete division between men’s and women’s lives has persisted through the long months of the European war, there is a great need at the war’s end for women to attempt, in an organized capacity, to contribute to a governmental internationalism between nations. This should approximate the genuine internationalism already developed among peoples. In normal times, modern governments with living relations to commerce, industry, and sanitary science realize that current government implies the frequent subordination of isolated nationalism to general international interests. It is hoped that this new approach to international relationships—typified by the international postal system and a hundred other semi-governmental regulations—will be vital enough to assert itself at war’s end against militaristic and “armed peace” relationships.
An organized, formal effort by women would add one more to the long procession of witnesses who, in each generation, urged juster international relations. Each exponent in this effort to place law above force was called a dreamer and a coward, but each did his utmost to express the truth within him. This tide of endeavor has probably never been so full as at the present moment. Religious, social, and economic associations, many organized since the war began, are contributing to the same end, and several plan to meet at the Conference of the Powers which shall frame the terms of the peace settlement after this war. A federation or council of European powers should not be considered impossible, given the experience of nations now at war. The German Empire, Consolidated Italy, and the United Kingdom all evolved from separate states previously at war with each other for centuries. Imperialistic England’s call for troops has shown that patriotic emotion can extend to include the Boers of South Africa and natives of India. These federated states and empires have formed alliances and are fighting together against a common enemy.
The question is whether good will and consciousness of common aims can be extended to include all European nations, with devices for international government able to deal with each difficult situation. The war’s experience should demonstrate feasibility; the analogy suggests that as German and Italian states came together under war pressure, a larger federation may be obtained under the same sense of united effort. The present situation presents the spectacle of the breakdown of the whole philosophy of nationalism, political, racial, and cultural, and may conceivably issue a new birth of internationalism—founded not so much on arbitration treaties for times of disturbance, but on governmental devices to protect and enhance cooperation in living together in a world conscious of itself.
Opinions of the Congress
The appendix presents statements from delegates reflecting on the Congress’s significance. Emmeline Pethick Lawrence, writing from London, describes the Congress deliberations as an appeal away from passion and insane hatred to a balance of judgment and truth inspired by reason. A visitor in the gallery noted the similarity in personality and dress of the delegates; nothing distinguished one nationality from another. Looking into their own hearts, they beheld the common heart of humanity. Fear and mistrust fostered between nations was an illusion. Peace was nothing more or less than communal love; there was nothing negative in peace—war is negative. Peace is the highest effort of the human brain applied to organizing life on cooperation. It cannot be secured with treaties or maintained by armaments; it must be founded on the public opinion of enlightened, free democracies knit together by organized association in common ideals and enterprises. The representatives pledged their strenuous and passionate endeavor to this ideal.
Lida Gustava Heymann, writing from Munich, states that it is ludicrous to imagine any woman believes an international women’s congress could end this maddest of wars. The intent was to protest against the useless destruction of civilization’s fruits, human slaughter, mad national hatred, war, and all its accompaniments—not only with words but with deeds; the Congress was a deed. The Congress gave her a rest after months of anguish, among those who felt the same. It answered her question since the war’s outbreak: “Where are the women?” They were here, united in energetic protest, penetrated with warm humanity, inspired to do their duty as wives and mothers, to protect life, fight national hatred, guard civilization, and further justice for all countries. The days gave fresh courage for new activity.
Some Particulars About the Congress
The appendix details the practical organization of the Congress. The scheme was formulated at a small conference of women from neutral and belligerent countries held at Amsterdam early in February 1915. A preliminary programme was drafted, and Dutch women were asked to form a Committee to arrange the Congress and issue invitations. The expenses were guaranteed by British, Dutch, and German women present, each agreeing to raise one third of the sum. Invitations were sent to women’s organizations.
Resolutions of the International Congress of Women
The appendix continues with the formal resolutions passed by the Congress. The Congress recommended the creation of National Commissions and the convening of International Conferences for the scientific study of the principles and conditions of permanent peace, which might contribute to the development of an International Federation. These Commissions and Conferences should be recognized by the Governments and should include women in their deliberations. The Congress declared it essential, nationally and internationally, to put into practice the principle that women should share all civil and political rights and responsibilities on the same terms as men. It urged the necessity of directing the education of children so that their thoughts and desires may be directed towards the ideal of constructive peace.
The Congress urged that the Conference framing the Peace settlement after the war should pass a resolution affirming the need in all countries of extending the parliamentary franchise to women. It also urged that representatives of the people should take part in that conference, and claimed that women should be included amongst them. The Congress resolved that an international meeting of women shall be held in the same place and at the same time as the Conference of the Powers framing the peace terms, to present practical proposals to that Conference. To urge governments to end bloodshed and establish a just and lasting peace, the Congress delegated envoys to carry its message to the rulers of belligerent and neutral nations of Europe and to the President of the United States. These envoys, women of both neutral and belligerent nations, were appointed by the International Committee of the Congress and were to report the results of their missions to the International Committee of Women for Permanent Peace as a basis for further action.
Manifesto Issued by Envoys of the International Congress of Women at The Hague
The final appendix presents the manifesto issued by the envoys, who met in America on neutral soil to state their united and deliberate conclusions after canvassing the results of their missions. They went from capital to capital, conferring with civil governments at a time when the foreign offices of the belligerents were barred to each other and the public mind of Europe was fixed on war offices. Their mission was to place the Congress resolutions from The Hague before belligerent and neutral alike, especially the method of a conference of neutral nations as an agency of continuous mediation. Two delegations were appointed, including women of Great Britain, Hungary, Italy, the Netherlands, Sweden, and the United States. They were received by governments in fourteen capitals: Berlin, Berne, Budapest, Christiania, Copenhagen, The Hague, Havre, London, Paris, Petrograd, Rome, Stockholm, Vienna, and Washington. They met Prime Ministers, Foreign Ministers, the King of Norway, the Presidents of Switzerland and the United States, the Pope, and the Cardinal Secretary of State. In addition to thirty-five governmental visits, they met members of parliaments and other leaders of public opinion.
They heard similar words in Downing Street, the Wilhelmstrasse, Vienna, Petrograd, Budapest, and Havre. Their visits convinced them that belligerent governments would not oppose a conference of neutral nations; while belligerents rejected offers of mediation by single neutral nations, a continuous conference of neutral nations might provide machinery leading to peace. Neutrals were concerned such a conference might be considered inopportune, but the envoys received assurance from belligerents that such initiative would not be resented, quoting a foreign minister: “My country would not find anything unfriendly in such action by the neutrals,” and another: “My Government would place no obstacle in the way of its institution,” and a third: “What are the neutrals waiting for?” As a result, the plan was being seriously discussed in cabinets and the press of both belligerent and neutral countries. They quoted supportive expressions, including “You are right… greatest importance to finish the fight by early negotiation” and “Yours is the sanest proposal that has been brought to this office in the last six months.”
They canvassed the objections to their plan. To the objection that it was not the time until one party had victory or a new military balance was struck, they answered that delay makes negotiations more difficult, more nations become involved, and opportunities pass when neutrals are unprepared. To the objection that a conference called when one side has military advantage would favor that side, they answered that mediation would start at a higher level than military advantage, quoting a foreign minister: “Neither side is to-day strong enough to dictate terms, and neither side is so weakened that it has to accept humiliating terms.” To the objection that such a conference would bind neutral governments, they answered that it should consist of the ablest persons of neutral countries, assigned to common service, cast in a new and larger mould than conventional diplomacy, including persons from social, economic, and scientific fields with international experience. As women, from belligerent and neutral nations alike, they could meet in the midst of war and carry interchange between barred capitals. They were convinced that belligerent governments would not be hostile to such a common channel, and that the European neutrals visited stood ready to cooperate. Of five European neutral nations visited, three were ready to join, and two were deliberating. Of the United States’ intention they had no evidence. They cited that in Sweden more than 400 meetings were held in one day calling on the government to act, and they declared that the responsibility for the war’s continuance rested not with the people, but with those who refused to explore every avenue of peace.
Main Arguments
The book advances several interconnected arguments about the war, the possibility of peace, and the role of women in international affairs.
First, the authors argue that the International Congress of Women at The Hague demonstrated that citizens of belligerent nations could meet in sobriety and friendliness despite the war. The fifteen hundred women who gathered represented nations at war with one another, yet there was not one clash or danger of clash over national differences. This fact itself was significant: it proved that international gatherings remained possible even amid the collapse of international relations, and that women from warring countries could find common ground in their shared humanity and their common desire for peace.
Second, the book argues that the war was not supported as universally as the censored press of the belligerent nations suggested. The delegation found evidence of a “revolt against war” among certain young men—soldiers who would not shoot to kill, who loathed bayonet charges, who committed suicide rather than return to the trenches, and who wrote letters expressing their conviction that war was not a legitimate method of settling international difficulties. The authors are careful to note that this did not represent the majority of soldiers, and they disclaim any intention to disparage soldiers’ motives or courage, but they insist that this current of opposition existed and was being silenced by the press and by the overwhelming national consciousness that war had produced.
Third, the book argues that the continuation of the war was driven less by genuine popular enthusiasm than by the manipulation of public opinion through the press and by the isolation of peace advocates. The authors describe how the press in every country tended to make an entire nation responsible for individual crimes, how animosity grew out of the war’s conduct (Germany indignant over the blockade, England enraged over atrocities in Belgium), and how pacifically inclined ministers dared not talk of treating with the enemy while vocal opinion favored fighting until unconditional surrender. They conclude that the next revolution against tyranny must be against the unscrupulous power of the press, which had assumed a power once exercised by the church, giving people only the knowledge deemed fit for them.
Fourth, the book argues that the time was ripe for peace negotiations. The belligerents appeared willing to concede more and demand less than they advertised publicly. Each side had something to concede, and each would accept early peace without humiliation short of extreme demands. What was needed was a vigorous initiative by neutral-power representatives to begin negotiations. The Congress’s specific proposal was a conference of neutral nations as an agency of continuous mediation—a plan that the envoys reported was being seriously discussed in cabinets and the press of both belligerent and neutral countries.
Fifth, the book argues that women have a particular role to play in international affairs. The authors reject the notion that women oppose war simply because they are women—noting that in every country some women believe war inevitable and righteous—but they insist that women who have borne and nurtured men must feel peculiar revulsion seeing them destroyed. They argue that the primitive conception of government as solely concerned with self-defense, and the obsolete division between men’s and women’s lives, has persisted during the war, and that at the war’s end there is great need for women to attempt, in an organized capacity, to contribute to governmental internationalism between nations.
Finally, the book argues that internationalism is not a utopian dream but a practical possibility. The authors point to the experience of nations now at war—the German Empire, Consolidated Italy, and the United Kingdom evolved from separate states previously at war with each other for centuries—as evidence that a federation or council of European powers should not be considered impossible. The war itself, they suggest, presents the spectacle of the breakdown of the whole philosophy of nationalism and may conceivably issue a new birth of internationalism founded on governmental devices to protect and enhance cooperation in living together in a world conscious of itself.
Key Concepts
The book develops several specific concepts and motifs that recur throughout its chapters.
Continuous mediation without armistice. This was the “Wisconsin Plan” formulated by Julia Grace Wales and endorsed by the Congress. The idea was that neutral nations should convene a conference to mediate between the belligerents continuously, without waiting for an armistice or a cessation of hostilities. The envoys’ manifesto reports that while belligerents rejected offers of mediation by single neutral nations, a continuous conference of neutral nations might provide machinery leading to peace.
The “will for good” of technical enemies. Addams describes the Congress’s shared consciousness of a new spirit growing amid war, with women united in seeking principles for permanent international friendship and cooperation, full of faith in the “will for good” of their technical enemies.
The revolt against war. This concept, developed in Chapter III, refers to the generation of young men (and some older ones) who had come to believe that war was not a legitimate method of settling international difficulties. The book presents evidence from letters, hospital testimony, and interviews showing that this revolt existed beneath the surface of patriotic enthusiasm.
The “god they know not of.” The delegation concluded that a generation has grown up in Europe and America that has revolted against war—it is “a god they know not of” whom they will not serve. This phrase captures the sense that the younger generation had moved beyond the abstractions and slogans that moved their elders.
The press as a new tyranny. The book argues that the press had assumed a power once exercised by the church, giving people only the knowledge deemed fit for them. This concept of press tyranny is central to the book’s analysis of why the war continued despite the absence of genuine popular enthusiasm for it.
The “limited programme of victory.” In every country, a group (of undetermined size) not opposed to war and regarding their countries as sinned against still felt their countries should be content with a limited programme of victory—that is, they should not insist on crushing their enemies but should accept a negotiated settlement.
The “child’s heart” of the soldier. Addams describes wounded soldiers calling for their mothers and telling nurses, “We can do nothing for ourselves but go back to the trenches so long as we are able. Cannot the women do something about this war?”—revealing the child’s heart each man carries within.
The “common heart of humanity.” Emmeline Pethick Lawrence’s appendix statement describes how a visitor to the Congress gallery noted the similarity in personality and dress of delegates, with nothing distinguishing one nationality from another. Looking into our own hearts, she wrote, we beheld the common heart of humanity.
The “new birth of internationalism.” The book’s concluding concept is that the war’s breakdown of the whole philosophy of nationalism may issue in a new birth of internationalism—founded not so much on arbitration treaties for times of disturbance, but on governmental devices to protect and enhance cooperation in living together in a world conscious of itself.
The “reservoir of spiritual and intellectual energy.” Addams argues for the importance of having a great reservoir of spiritual and intellectual energy, with ramifications in every village, club, and church, so that when the word goes out, all can line up behind leaders and act in unison across all countries.
The “human interpretation of an overevolved situation.” The delegation became afraid of generalizing about what they saw, recognizing that the situation was complicated with many wild statements. What was needed, they felt, was human interpretation of this overevolved situation.
Themes
Several deeper themes run through the book, giving it coherence beyond its immediate reportage.
The theme of motherhood and the sanctity of life. The book repeatedly returns to the idea that women who have borne and nurtured men must feel peculiar revulsion seeing them destroyed, regardless of birthplace. The most pathetic women the delegation met were those who sent sons and husbands to war having ceased to believe in it. One mother said: “Yes, I lost my son in the first three months of the war and I am thankful he died early before he harmed the son of any other woman called an enemy.” This theme connects the Congress’s peace activism to the most fundamental human experiences of birth, nurture, and loss.
The theme of generational conflict. The book presents a striking picture of a generational divide: older men believed in abstractions—theological or nationalistic words, patriotic phrases—while younger men took life through experience, being more pragmatic and empirical. The war, in this reading, was a war of the old against the young, with the old men perpetuating “those very follies which have produced the present conflagration” through appeals to hate, intolerance, and revenge. The young men in the trenches were convinced war was not a legitimate method of settling international difficulties, but they had been silenced by the war itself.
The theme of the fragility of civilization. The book contrasts The Hague as a preeminently civilized city—tidy, clean, safe, pleasant, pretty, with man having subdued nature and created a world in his own image—with the fields a few miles off that are ruined, the countryside poisoned with corpses, homes smashed, and city beauties destroyed. Europe is already, in normal times, one single society, yet artificial national boundaries signify collective greeds and hatreds. The war represents a breakdown of this civilization, a reversion to barbarism that the book documents in its accounts of bayonet charges, poisonous gases, and soldiers driven mad.
The theme of the inadequacy of legal internationalism. The book argues that international relations rest on purely legal foundations, though international law is undeveloped. International commerce and finance exist without legal definition, like many settled national customs. Existing international law cannot adjudicate the war’s underlying economic and social causes. What is needed is a recognition of the emotional and deep-set racial impulses—primitive urgings to foster life and protect the helpless, of which women were earliest custodians, plus social and gregarious instincts shared with animals—that must be utilized in international relations.
The theme of the moral responsibility of the neutral. The book repeatedly emphasizes that America, unstricken by war, must do more than its share. The delegates paid their own travelling expenses and contributed to general Congress expenses. The envoys’ manifesto, issued from neutral soil, represents the conviction that neutrals have both the opportunity and the obligation to act. As Balch writes: “Never again must women dare to believe that they are without responsibility because they are without power. Public opinion is power; strong and reasonable feeling is power; determination, which is a twin sister of faith or vision, is power.”
The theme of the transformation of patriotism. The book argues that the Congress’s spirit was “not inconsistent with patriotism but transcending it.” The delegates were deeply stricken and closely bound to their country’s cause, yet full of faith in the “will for good” of their technical enemies. The book suggests that true patriotism—the love of one’s own country—need not imply hatred of other countries, and that the internationalism the Congress advocated “surrounds and completes national life as national life completes family life, and does not conflict with patriotism.”
The theme of the spiritual dimension of political action. The fifteen hundred attendees at The Hague were impelled by profound spiritual forces. The book describes the Congress’s deliberations as conducted with the solemn tone of those around a dying person’s bedside. The work of peace is presented as a spiritual undertaking, “hitched to a star, the star of hope in human destiny beyond the war clouds.” The book’s final chapters argue that the world progresses only through moral energy exerted by men and women, and that advance in international affairs must be secured by human will and understanding united for conscious ends.
The Author’s Conclusions
The book concludes with Addams’s reflections on women and internationalism, followed by the appendices containing the Congress’s resolutions and the envoys’ manifesto.
Addams’s final chapter argues that the war has thrown government back to its primitive and sole function of self-defense, belittling its many other real interests in commerce, industry, sanitary science, and the health and education of children. Because this primitive conception of government and the obsolete division between men’s and women’s lives has persisted during the long months of the European war, there is great need at the war’s end for women to attempt, in an organized capacity, to contribute to governmental internationalism between nations—an internationalism that should approximate the genuine internationalism already developed among peoples in their daily lives and commercial relations.
She expresses the hope that this new approach to international relationships—typified by the international postal system and a hundred other semi-governmental regulations—will be vital enough to assert itself at war’s end against militaristic and “armed peace” relationships. An organized, formal effort by women would add one more to the long procession of witnesses who in each generation urged juster international relations. Each exponent in this effort to place law above force was called a dreamer and a coward, but each did his utmost to express the truth in him.
The book’s final argument is that the present situation “presents the spectacle of the breakdown of the whole philosophy of nationalism, political, racial, and cultural,” and may conceivably issue a new birth of internationalism—founded not so much on arbitration treaties for times of disturbance, but on governmental devices to protect and enhance cooperation in living together in a world conscious of itself. The war’s experience should demonstrate the feasibility of a larger federation of European nations, just as the German Empire, Consolidated Italy, and the United Kingdom evolved from separate states previously at war with each other for centuries.
The appendices reinforce these conclusions. The resolutions of the Congress call for the extension of the parliamentary franchise to women, the inclusion of women in the peace settlement conference, the education of children toward the ideal of constructive peace, and the convening of an international meeting of women at the same place and time as the Conference of the Powers framing the peace terms. The envoys’ manifesto reports that their visits to fourteen capitals convinced them that belligerent governments would not oppose a conference of neutral nations, and that the plan was being seriously discussed in cabinets and the press of both belligerent and neutral countries.
The book thus ends on a note of cautious hope: the war had demonstrated the breakdown of the old order, but it had also created the conditions for a new internationalism, and the women of the Congress had shown that citizens of warring nations could meet in friendship and common purpose. The work of “changing the mind of Europe” had begun, and the women of The Hague had contributed to it in a way that would not be forgotten.
Significance
Women at The Hague holds significance on multiple levels. As a historical document, it provides a firsthand account of one of the first international gatherings of women during the First World War and of the efforts of the Congress’s delegates to carry their message to the governments of Europe and the United States. The book records the specific proposals—continuous mediation, a conference of neutral nations, the inclusion of women in peace negotiations—that the Congress advanced, and it documents the reception these proposals received from prime ministers, foreign ministers, and other officials in fourteen capitals.
As a work of peace advocacy, the book represents an early articulation of arguments that would become central to twentieth-century peace movements: the idea that war is not a legitimate method of settling international difficulties, that public opinion can be mobilized for peace, that neutral nations have both the opportunity and the obligation to act as mediators, and that international institutions can be built on the model of existing cooperative arrangements like the international postal system.
As a feminist document, the book argues for the extension of the parliamentary franchise to women and for the inclusion of women in international deliberations, grounding these arguments not in abstract rights but in women’s particular experiences as mothers and nurturers and in the conviction that women’s voices are needed to counter the primitive conception of government as solely concerned with self-defense.
As a literary work, the book combines reportage, reflection, and advocacy in a distinctive voice that moves between detailed observation and philosophical meditation. The authors are careful to distinguish what they actually saw and heard from what they inferred, and they repeatedly acknowledge the limitations of their perspective—they were Americans, neutral observers, women who could not fully share the experiences of those they interviewed. Yet this very limitation gives the book its particular value: it records the impressions of sympathetic outsiders who were able to move between belligerent nations when the belligerents themselves could not communicate with one another.
The book’s significance also lies in what it reveals about the possibilities and limitations of peace activism in wartime. The delegates faced ridicule, suspicion, and false reports about their activities. They were accused of weakening the war effort and of being dupes of the enemy. Yet they persisted, and their persistence produced tangible results: the envoys’ visits to fourteen capitals, the serious discussion of neutral mediation in cabinets and the press, and the establishment of a permanent international organization of women for peace with headquarters in Amsterdam.
Finally, the book is significant for its articulation of a vision of internationalism that transcends mere opposition to war. The authors argue that peace is not negative—not merely the absence of war—but positive: “Peace is the highest effort of the human brain applied to organizing life on cooperation.” This vision of a world organized for cooperation rather than conflict, in which nations are bound together by common institutions and common ideals, remains relevant long after the specific circumstances of 1915 have passed into history.
