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CHAPTER 10 Patriotism Is Not Enough: 1914–1916 In view of the new cataclysm, the First World War has become remote. Yet no one is living today whose life has not been in›uenced by what it bred. Many of us had to reconstruct our political ideas. In my own case, there was less to be overcome, since I had learned to appreciate the culture of other countries and had spent the ‹rst six weeks of the war in an enemy country. Having friends in so many lands, I could not possibly be susceptible to chauvinistic feelings. I questioned the ideas which had been inculcated in Germans—that militarism, conquests , power politics, and expansion are justi‹ed, that they bring honor and glory. Our national festivals were not an armistice day but a day commemorating the victory of Sedan.1 At the International Peace Conference at the Hague in 1899, the of‹cial German delegate, Professor von Stengel, had opposed and ridiculed the idea of a permanent peace. In 1907, at the second conference, Germany again held back, when a man like Admiral Tirpitz, father of the German ›eet, must have constantly reckoned with the possibility of war.2 I was still in Ireland when I realized that few people in Germany shared my opinions. In the roundabout way in which news between belligerent countries traveled, a letter arrived from one of my students expressing her regret that I could not be with them through the beginning of “this great period”—an expression which I later learned was common. Then I knew that I could expect the additional hardship of differing with most of my friends. I had believed in humanity, and humanity had collapsed. I had worked for world relations. They had gone. Nothing was left but nations attacking, hating, ‹ghting each other. They had become either allies or enemies. It was frequently said at the beginning of the Second World War that there was now in England a much greater under105 standing of the gravity and risks of war. However, in 1914 I had the impression that the Allies were well aware that they were up against a life-and-death struggle. I associated with many of‹cers in Ireland, and later my work for the German War Of‹ce kept me in close touch with military groups. One of the British of‹cers told me, “The South African war was a picnic compared to this. It will be over in six weeks, or it must last six years.” British army headquarters and the British press seriously taxed the con‹dence of the nation. They kept nothing back. Day after day for weeks, the papers reported “reverses of the Allies.” In Germany I met a different atmosphere: ›ags and banners, victory celebrations, outbursts of joy if an enemy ship was torpedoed. When more and more nations joined the Allies, the slogan went round, “Declarations of war are accepted here.” When I returned from England, the defeat at the Marne was not yet known in Germany. It was admitted tardily and with reluctance. A reporter of a liberal newspaper called me up at my home: “We want an interview with you, Miss Salomon. We want to know about your experience in Ireland.” I told him, “It was embarrassing to be a guest in one of the royal houses of a country at war with us, and I know that I must have embarrassed my host, too. But everybody was most kind and did what they could to ease my dif‹cult position.” He shouted back, “In that case, we are not interested!” No one can blame a newspaperman for wanting a sensational story. But what affected me most was that women were as chauvinistic and militaristic as men, and anyone who would not enter into their mood was considered a defeatist. My fellow workers, progressive women before the war, now seemed reactionary to me. The president of the National Council of Women reproached me for not returning sooner.3 She was very anxious to get at the British White Book that Lady Aberdeen had given me to take home but at the same time somewhat offended at this contraband.4 She told me of a letter she had written to the council board asking them to keep my absence secret. “Perhaps she is without guilt,” she had added. She brought me a copy of the letter—as a sort of welcome, I suppose. I should have noticed soon, anyway...

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