“But do you not admit that wars sometimes have helped the forces of civilization in their conquest against barbarism?”

“War has not been the chief force of civilization against barbarism,” Mr. Carnegie replied with emphasis.  Then he continued more thoughtfully: 

“That is one way of saying it.  Another is, no effort of the forces of civilization against barbarism is war in the true sense of the word.

“Such an armed effort is a part of the force pushing barbarism backward, and therefore, in the last analysis, tends toward kindness and peace; while, in the sense in which we use the word, war means the retrogression of civilization into barbarism.  It is usually born of greed—­greed for territory or for power.

“Such war as that of which we all are thinking in these days is war between civilized men.  One civilized man cannot improve another civilized man by killing him, although it is not inconceivable that a civilized man may do humanity a service by destroying human savages, for with the savages he must destroy their savagery.

“But a war in civilized Europe destroys no savagery; it breeds it, so that it and its spawn may defile future generations.

“There has been much balderdash in talk about unselfish motives as the origin of warfare.  It is safe to say that 99 per cent of all the slaughter wrought by civilization under the cloak of a desire to better bad conditions really has been evil.  It is impossible to conceive of general betterment through general slaughter.  There have been few altruistic wars.”

“But how about our Spanish war?” I asked.  “Surely it was not greed which sent our men and ships to Cuba.”

“No,” said Mr. Carnegie, “that was not war, but world-police work.

“Our skirmish with Spain was a most unusual international episode.  We harmed none of the people of the land wherein we fought, but taught them what we could of wise self-government and gave them independence.  To battle for the liberation of the slave is worthy work, and this of ours was such a battle.

“Our Spanish war was not the outgrowth of our rivalry with any one or any one’s with us; it was the manifestation of our high sense of responsibility as strong and healthy human beings for the welfare of the weak and oppressed.”

That Was Police Work.

“It did not make toward militarism on this continent, but the reverse; in a few months it established permanent peace where peace had been a stranger.  It was police work on the highest plane, substituting order for disorder.”

“But did it not emphasize the need for the maintenance, even here, of a competent and efficient naval and military force?” I asked.

Mr. Carnegie shook his head emphatically.

“That is the old, old argument cropping up again,” said he, “the argument that a provocative is a preventive.  For us to maintain a great army for the purpose of preventing war thereby would be as sensible as for each of us to be afraid to walk about except with a lightning rod down his back, since men have been struck by lightning.  No nation wants to fight us.  We have friends throughout the world.