In a free Press, like that of the United States or Great Britain, the truth on any question of public interest is reasonably certain to come to light sooner or later.  Competition is keen, and if one paper does not dig up and publish the facts, a rival is likely to do so.  The German Press was gaining a limited degree of freedom before the war, but that has been wiped away.  As in other belligerent countries news of a military nature must quite properly pass the censor.  But in Germany, unlike Great Britain, for example, all other topics must be written in a manner to please the Government, or trouble ensues for the writer and his paper.  To a certain extent the Press is a little unmuzzled during the sittings of the Reichstag—­not much, but somewhat, for the reports of the Reichstag proceedings are strictly censored.  The famous speech of Deputy Bauer in May, 1916, was a striking example, for not a word of his speech, the truth of which was not questioned, was allowed to appear in a single German newspaper.  The suppression of most of Herr Hoffmann’s speech in the Prussian Diet in January, 1917, is another important case in point.  This is in striking contrast to the British Parliament, which is supreme, and over whose reports the Press Bureau has no control.  The German Press Bureau, on the other hand, revises and even suppresses the publication of speeches.  When necessary, it specially transmits speeches by telegram and wireless to foreign countries if it thinks those speeches will help German propaganda.

The Berlin and provincial editors are summoned from time to time to meetings, when they are addressed by members of the Government as to what it is wise for them to say and not to say.  These meetings constitute a hint that if the editors are indiscreet, if they, for example, publish matter “calculated to promote disunity,” they may be subject to the increasingly severe penalties now administered.  If a newspaper shows a tendency to kick over the traces, a Government emissary waits upon the editor, calls his attention to any offending article or paragraph, and suggests a correction.  If a newspaper still offends, it is liable to a suspension for a day or even a week, or it may be suppressed altogether.

But in peace, as well as in war, editors all over Germany were instructed as to the topic on which to lay accent for a limited period, and just how to treat that topic.  For example, during the three months preceding the war, Russia was bitterly attacked in the German Press.  From August 1 to August 4, 1914, the German people had it crammed down their throats that she was the sole cause of the war.  On August 4 the Government marshalled the editors and professors and ordered them to throw all the responsibility on Britain, and the hate was switched from one to the other with the speed and ease of a stage electrician throwing the lever from red to blue.

How do the editors like being mere clerks for the Government?  The limited numbers of editors of independent thought, such as the “relentless” Count Reventlow, Maximilian Harden, and Theodor Wolff, detest such a role, and struggle against it.  After sincere and thorough investigation, however, I am convinced the average German editor or reporter, like the average professor, prefers to have his news handed to him to digging it up for himself.