When the storm has gone by and the skies after clearing have softened, we may discover that a corrected perspective is the result of the war that we are most conscious of. Familiar presumptions will appear foreshortened, and new distances of fact and possibility will lie before us. Before the fateful midsummer of 1914 the most thoughtful part of mankind confidently held a lot of agreeable presumptions which undoubtedly influenced individual and collective conduct. The more intangible of them were grouped under such name symbols as “idealism,” “humanitarian impulse,” “human brotherhood,” “Christian civilization.” The workaday ones were pigeonholed under the rubric: “enlightened economic interest.” Between the practical and the aspirational were distributed all the excellent Aristotelian middle course presumptions of the “rule of reason” order. And why not? The nineteenth century had closed in a blaze of scientific glory. By patient inductive research the human mind had found out nature’s way on earth and in the heavens, and with daring invention had turned knowledge to immediate practical account. The struggle for existence had become a mighty enterprise of progress. Steam and electricity had brought the utmost parts of the world together. Upon substantial material foundations the twentieth century would build a world republic, wherein justice should apportion abundance. Upon presumption we reared the tower of expectation. Yet on the horizon we might have seen—some of us did see—a thickening haze and warning thunderheads. Not much was said about them, but to some it seemed that the world behaved as if it felt the tension of a rising storm. With nervous eagerness the nations pushed their way into the domains of the backward peoples. They sought concessions, opportunities for investment, command of resources, exclusive trade, spheres of influence. Private negotiations were backed by diplomacy, and year after year diplomacy was backed by an ever more impressive show of naval and military power. But we did not believe that the Great War impended. There would still be restricted wars here and there of course, but more and more they could be prevented. The human mind that had mastered nature’s way could master and control the ways of man. Economic interest would bring its resistless strength to bear against the mad makers of the wastes of war. A sensitive conscience would revolt against the cruelties of war. Reason, which had invented rules and agencies to keep the peace within the state, would devise tribunals and procedures to substitute a rational adjustment of differences for the arbitrament of war between states. The world has recovered from disaster before now, it will recover again. Presumptions that disappointed have been reexamined and brought into truer drawing. Expectation has been more broadly built, it will be more broadly built again. There is conscience in mankind, and the war has sublimely revealed it, as it has revealed also undreamed of survivals of faithlessness and cruelty. The presumption of rational control in human affairs has been foreshortened, but not painted out. In the background stand forth as grim realities, forces of fear, distrust, envy, ignorance, and hate that we had thought were ghosts. Conscience is as strong and as sensitive as we believed it to be; reason is as effective as we presumed; but the forces arrayed against them we now see are mightier than we knew. So now we ask, By what power shall conscience and reason be reinforced, and the surviving forces of barbarism be driven back? There is but one answer left, all others have been shot to pieces. Conscience and reason are effective when they organize material energies, not when they dissipate themselves in dreams. Conscience and reason must assemble, coördinate, and bring to bear the economic resources and the physical energies of the civilized world to narrow the area and to diminish the frequency of war.