There is by this time quite a literature on the war economy. With the one exception of the recent symposium by Professor Steiner and his associates, most of whom are connected with the University of Indiana, all of the longer treatises on the subject discuss the war economy in abstract terms or on the basis of the experience of the First World War. These treatises served a useful purpose and were the only books on the economies of war which could be written at the time; but they now seem unreal, because this war differs so greatly from the prior struggle. The University of Indiana book, dealing as it does with concrete problems of present war, is up-to-the-minute and excellently done in all respects. It does not attempt, however, to do what I am venturing: a brief, overall picture of what the war has been doing to the United States.

Every true Frenchman who had the privilege of listening to an Allied radio on Saturday night, November 7, experienced an outburst of hope and an overwhelming joy. The meaning of the North African expedition, its decisive importance, were as clear as anything can be. Yet, a very few days later, the French situation appeared more confused than ever.

The problem of Democracy has today assumed several new aspects. The terms in which the political discussions of the last one hundred and fifty years have been expressed have lost a part of their timeliness; but some of us, failing to recognize this change, continue the fight on a deserted battlefield. In order not to be fighting a vanished foe let us try to see in what direction the terms of the problem have shifted.

Italy is quite a mystery for many people. If we examine public opinion in the Allied countries, we soon realize that Italy was misunderstood during the “non-belligerency” period, has been studied little since her entrance into the war, is often disparaged for her military contribution, ignored in regard to her political importance, and neglected in the plans for European reconstruction.

Treatises on political machines in the United States too often suffer from a lack of historical perspective. Machine government is due to factors peculiar to certain periods in American history, and it is doomed to disappear when its historical basis disintegrates. Since the details of this matter have been discussed previously, let us only review the important phases of the struggle for reform. Between the Civil War and the 1890s political machines—some of which had begun to develop early in the Nineteenth Century—reached the peak of their power; these were “the dark ages of city government”. During the 1890s the reform forces began to wrestle with the “bosses” on even terms; they developed organizations and adopted techniques which helped them to overcome the isolation and the haphazard character of their early efforts. During the 1920s and the 1930s the victories of reform became accentuated; resounding defeats of individual machines recurred, and it looked like the beginning of a rout of the institution. To mention but a few: the Cox-Hynicka machine in Cincinnati fell in 1924; the Maschke machine in Cleveland received blows in the 1920s to which it finally succumbed in the 1930s; in New York, Tammany went down in 1933, and whereas the five reform administrations which New York had witnessed since 1871 all enjoyed only one two-year term each, La Guardia was elected to three four-year terms in succession.

Ideologically, this war could be termed “post-war war.” When it began, political thought was still concerned with the problems which we inherited from the other catastrophe. After the beginning of hostilities the political intellectuals began to busy themselves almost exclusively with the problems of the coming peace, alas, so far away. According to the peace-planners nothing is more important than the formation of post-war blue-prints. Some people even go so far as to assert that the very outcome of this struggle depends largely upon the proclamation of attractive peace aims (or war aims). That side is going to win, it is held, which offers the most seductive plan for a brave new world, formulated so as to be comprehensible to the simplest minds. The most curious part of all this is that nobody has been able hitherto to formulate the ideal war aims. Those war aims which have been proclaimed so far could not even arouse the enthusiasm of their own sponsors. They all taste like brackish water and all of them can be traced back at least to the time of the Enlightenment. The most rabid among the peace-planners now begin to realize that those aims or slogans, which up to a short time ago still made an impression upon the masses, have lost their appeal. This is a difficulty which Mr. Laski wants to overcome by finding “another word”. Without denying that the fertile minds of people like Laski certainly can find other words, it can be doubted whether they will be able to find a more convincing formula than Johann Nestroy's: “It is much better to be wealthy and happy than to be poor and sick”.