[Editorial in The Christian Science Monitor, Boston, Massachusetts]

The new diplomacy is more than a phrase. It is a profound conception. It is the conception that international relations must rest on a sounder basis than balance of power or the equilibrium of military alliances. The time is come when balance of power must give way to balance of faith, and when alliances of force must yield to alliances of friendship.

Clearly, Ramsay MacDonald's visit to the United States has been a crowning triumph for the new diplomacy and a climactic proof that Anglo-American unity must be unity in the cause of peace and not in the cause of war. It is interesting to recall that such was the conception of Anglo-American accord to which Mary Baker Eddy gave expression in her poem, "The United States to Great Britain," which first appeared on Sunday, May 15, 1898, in the Boston Herald. Mrs. Eddy penned the following verses (Poem, pp. 10, 11):

Truly, Anglo-American statesmanship must be a statesmanship of peace—a statesmanship excluding no nation, but inviting all the world to enlist its energies in the cause of peace.

[J. Ramsay MacDonald, Prime Minister of Great Britain, as quoted in the Boston Herald, Massachusetts]

We have not come together for the purpose of enthroning peace over the Atlantic. We have come together for the purpose of trying to enthrone peace all over the world. . . .

Public opinion in Europe to-day tells its political leaders that it knows there are risks in peace; that it knows that assumption made between one nation and others that they are to conduct their affairs in sincerity and in justice, . . . does lay the believing nation open to a certain amount of risk. I will take it. I will take it! . . .

If . . . I take the risk of believing in your word, I take the risk of believing in your continuing friendship, I take the risk in assuming that you are men of your word, that you are a nation of honor and that your honor consists largely in fulfilling your obligations. What risk am I taking? I am taking the risk of peace, which is temporary, and in the end I will get peace, securely, certainly, and a continuing peace to boot. . . .

At Geneva the other day Great Britain and its dominions signed what is known as the optional clause. We have pledged ourselves to refer all those questions that have hitherto developed into wars to a judicial court sitting at The Hague. We have nothing to fear. If we are right, we will win our case. If we are wrong we don't deserve to win our case. When people talk about little, pettifogging things—that now and again the most judicial of benches make mistakes—I know that that is true. I believe that if we were to arbitrate or send to arbitration national causes for the next hundred years there would be mistakes made. But balance the mistakes on the one hand, and put against them the losses, the destruction, the criminality of war, and where does the balance lie? . . .

And so these thoughts being in mind, we have taken the very best steps to protect ourselves by proclaiming an enduring peace between us. But, my friends, two nations cannot make the peace of the world, and so next January, as the results of our conversations and agreements so far, we are summoning a five-power conference which will be representative of every large naval power, and we hope that the five-power conference will enable us to make complete agreements, not between ourselves, but between ourselves and them, and then we shall have widened out the area of agreement; we shall have limited the area of competitive building; we shall hand over the results to the present parity commission sitting at Geneva, the commission that is preparing the agreements and the agenda for the general conference in disarmament—at last the general conference on disarmament I hope will be held with very fine prospects of a complete success. . . .

Neither of us can act alone, we must have enlightened public opinion behind us; we must have champions, champions in both countries. We must have men and women who, at this moment, will not allow themselves to be led up side alleys that lead nowhere, but end in cool descents. We must have public opinion which selects the essential from the unessential, which sees that at the moment that great cause and problem in front of us is the cause of peace, made first of all as a political declaration, and then the cause of peace turned into a practice, program of agreements and details; and I believe we are going to get it on both sides of the Atlantic.

And so when I look ahead I think, Mr. Chairman, both of us are justified in seeing the shining feet of the coming peacemakers coming over the horizon to gladden our hearts and to make us feel that all our long efforts for peace have not been without avail.

If I might, trading on your generosity and throwing myself upon it, appeal to you, it would be that from now onward, until the work is done, you will stand steadfastly by those statesmen who are to have the very difficult job of disentangling the detailed problem of peacemaking, giving us patience, giving us confidence, refusing to be influenced by those who take what may be temporary failures as a proof that success is impossible, cheering us so that again and again we will return to our work, because in the end it is bound to be successful.

[The Bishop of Ripon, in the Christian World Pulpit, London, England]

Professor Stahlin of Munster, the German leader at the recent International Youth Conference, from which I have just returned, finely opened his address to us by contrasting the story of Babel, regarded as a "casual myth," with the story of Pentecost in Acts 2. . . .

We had proved, even in a week of ordinary human intercourse between members of a very heterogeneous crowd, most of whom had nothing in common except that they were young and about three quarters of them students, that St. Paul's claim is still true: In Christ there is neither English-man nor German, there is neither Dutchman nor Dane, there is neither victor nor vanquished, but we are all one in Christ Jesus. If the thing could be brought about so easily once, why not far oftener? If small groups could thus make friends together, why should there be any risk left of the peoples they belong to ever fighting each other again? "Thy will be done, as in heaven, so in earth." If it can be done anywhere on earth, it could be done everywhere, if only there were enough individuals to do it. It only wants a great spreading of the spirit of Christ to make mankind indeed one family of God. And one got the conviction, both at the Youth Conference and, almost more, in the course of the clerical tour preceding it, that one important and intended stage towards this ultimate goal is a real rapprochement of the Christian elements in Germany and Great Britain at the present time. No single movement of reconciliation that I can think of would be either so significant, so fraught with useful consequences for world peace, or, as things are at present, so easy of attainment. . . .

Sooner or later, the whole world-wide problem of international relations will have, bit by bit, to be handled afresh in the spirit of the Lord's Prayer. Nor can Christians consistently go on praying the Lord's Prayer without trying to apply its philosophy to life. As we have seen, Christianity recognizes no division between the personal and the political sphere—the individual Christian is always the potential savior of society. We who have just come back from this visit of friendship to Germany feel that we have fresh ground for believing that international friendship really is attainable, and that, between Germany and ourselves, it ought to be, and easily might be, attained. And we feel we have a duty to our friends over there to pass on this conviction to our fellow Christians at home.

[Rev. Dr. William F. Sunday, as quoted in the New York Times, New York]

Humanity stands at the crossroads. The greater peace must come through good will. Whether it is possible for men to live together ultimately in peace is not a matter of choice. Sheer necessity will force the issue, because the alternative to this peace is self-destruction.

[Paul Block in the Sentinel, Milwaukee, Wisconsin]

President Hoover and Prime Minister MacDonald have written a new and significant chapter in the history of international negotiations. In the quiet seclusion of a mountain camp, far removed from the traditional formality of state department or foreign office, they talked over mutual problems. They cut through the usual red tape, and substituted frank and friendly discussion for cold and impersonal correspondence. The result is that the two nations are no doubt closer to-day than at any time in their history. . . .

Friendliness is truly a worker of miracles, and it is as ready to serve nations as it is to serve individuals. It cannot be bought; it cannot be stimulated artificially. It is a force which has brought sincerity and unselfishness into human relationship through the ages, and which will do the same in international affairs if given the chance. President Hoover and Premier MacDonald propose to give it that chance, and the citizens of both countries will support them in their noble efforts.