The pendulum-like swing of American foreign policy has become more than ever marked since the European war began. Before the war the Administration showed itself strongly opposed to German aggressive policies. When war out, there was a sudden pulling back. The fear of becoming involved was the overwhelming emotion felt throughout the country. Then came a gradual recovery of confidence. The United States evidently was not going to be dragged in. Congressmen, no longer scared of their shadows, were even able to listen to the President make a bold declaration in his annual message favouring international law and order, without feeling that the country's neutrality had been severely compromised. The invasion of Finland, too, emphasized the fact that two philosophies of life confronted each other in Europe and that the United States could not fail to be influenced by the outcome, of the struggle. Then round the middle of January, there was a new hesitation to be observed and a new pulling-back. Talk round the White House was all about the need for peace. A sheaf of protests was hurriedly sent to Great Britain complaining of various economic war measures taken against Germany. This constant swing back and forth seems to represent a lack of consistency on the part of the Administration, but behind it all is the motivating force of isolationist sentiment, the political strength of which varies according to circumstance. It is not the weather cock which is variable, but the wind. The Administration is sensitive to the slightest change in strength and direction of Congressional sentiment.
If the Administration feels that it is leaving itself exposed to attack, it builds up its defences even before preparations for the attack are visible. Mr. Roosevelt, for example, might be accused of being a President likely to lead the country into war; therefore, he takes pains to see that most of the publicity coming from the White House deals with his peace plans and projects. For a time, the Administration evidently felt that sympathy for Finland was a perfectly safe attitude to take, but as soon as it saw possibilities that Finnish aid could be represented as being dangerously unneutral, the President hesitated.
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American protests to Britain differ somewhat from the normal yielding of the Administration to public pressure. The initiative and the drive all came from the de-
Bartment itself. There was little press criticism of British blockade measures until the department swing into action. Congressmen who are easily stirred to denunciation if they feel any American interest is being slighted had been significantly silent. They received few letters from constituents. When Senator Mead of New York, on pressure from the department, made a lengthy speech, nobody rose to continue the debate. It looked as though the Administration were rushing ahead of the isolationists themselves.
Possibly one explanation is that there was a difference between the original intention and the way in which matters developed. It was quite conceivable that the President should give the all-clear signal to a plan which, on the surface, would make it impossible for the isolationists to criticize him on the grounds that he was pro-Ally. But the subject was handled by a group of officials who were influenced by other considerations and suffered from a sense of grievance entirely unrelated to the matter in hand.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.