Suppose, after the War, we attempted to disarm, without the protection of a world court and international police, while the other nations retained war armament.  They, the victors and perhaps the defeated, would possess a great army and navy, manned with seasoned veterans, and be burdened with an intolerable debt; for the War has gone too far for any one to be able to pay adequate indemnity.  We, rich, young, heedless, sure that no one on earth could ever whip us, chiefly because no one worth while has ever seriously tried:  suppose we were completely disarmed.  It would require only a little meddling with Mexico or Brazil, and we should have to give up the Monroe Doctrine or fight.  Well, perhaps we shall give it up:  it has even been suggested in the halls of Congress that we should—­to the shame of the suggester, be it said.  People do not understand the Monroe Doctrine:  they talk of it as if it were a law.  It is in no sense a law, but is merely a rather arrogant expression of our desires.  We said to the other nations:  “We desire that none of you henceforth shall fence in any part of our front or back yard, or the front or back yard of any of our neighbors, dwelling on the North and South American continents.”  That is the Monroe Doctrine, and that is all that it is:  an expression of our wishes.  All very well if others choose to respect them, but suppose some one does not?  Perhaps, as stated, we may abandon the Monroe Doctrine:  that is the easiest way, and the easiest way, for a nation or an individual, is usually the way of damnation.  Even so, suppose the nation in question to say, “My national aspirations demand the Panama Canal, the Philippine Islands, or Long Island and the Port of New York.”  Why not?  The Atlantic Ocean is only a mill-pond.  It is not half so wide as Lake Erie was fifty years ago, in relation to modern means of transportation and communication.  People say, “Do we want to give up our traditional isolation?” They are too late in asking the question:  that isolation is irrecoverably gone.  That should be now evident even to people dwelling in fatuously fancied security between the Alleghenies and the Rockies.  We are inevitably drawn into relation with the rest of mankind.  The question is no longer, “Shall we take a part in world problems?”, but “What part shall we take?”

The point is, that if, under the circumstances cited, any one wished to do so, we could quickly be driven to such a condition of abject humiliation that we should be compelled to fight.  Now suppose, disarmed, we should enter the conflict utterly unprepared?  The result would be, hundreds of thousands of young men, going out bravely in obedience to an ideal—­untrained and half equipped—­to be butchered, a humiliating peace, and an indemnity of many billions to be groaned under for fifty years.

On the other hand, if we were adequately armed for defense, there would be much less temptation to any one to trouble us; and if we were compelled to fight, would it not be better to fight reasonably prepared?