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Other signatories followed suit: Italy invaded Abyssinia in 1935 and
Germany launched World War II with the invasion of Poland in
1939.
The great powers that signed the Kellogg-Briand Pact understood its
utopian character, but they affirmed it anyway. As with any public
endorsement that embraces virtue and rejects vice, the pact appeared
to offer little to lose. What did it matter if there was no reasonable
assumption that all parties would act in good faith, and no
mechanism for enforcement? What harm could come from a lofty
ideal formalized with fanfare and champagne in Paris? Realists
among its supporters argued that even if prohibiting war couldn’t
actually end aggression, it would at least bolster the principle that
disputes should be resolved peacefully. Outlawing war made good
people feel better; how could that be bad?
But, looking back, we can see that the illusion created by Kellogg-
Briand, that war had been outlawed, together with widespread but
unjustified faith in the League of Nations, was part of the negligence
that allowed Hitler to build his strength and seize vast territories from
his neighbors without serious opposition. The Kellogg-Briand frame
of mind contributed to the responsibility-evading defense and foreign
policies of Britain, France, and others in the 1930s, countries that
might have stopped Adolf Hitler in his tracks if they had not been so
wishful and unrealistic. Far from making the world safer, proclaiming
the “norm” of nonaggression had lulled the great powers into a lethal
vulnerability. The lesson here is that nations, by indulging
utopianism, do not necessarily make the world more idealistic. In
fact, they may help bring about the very evils they are trying to
eliminate.
Asserting that the world should forsake nuclear weapons sounds—
and is—a lot like declaring that war should be illegal. And the
arguments for adopting the goal of “global zero” are no more
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