CANNON ARE MORE BEAUTIFUL

Hokitika Guardian, 4 November 1930, Page 7

CANNON ARE MORE BEAUTIFUL

(Otago Times). Cablegram© of identical date this week have placed in curious juxtaposition suave utterances by the Prime Minister of Great Britain, the President of the United States, and the Prime Minister of Japan, and a pronouncement on the part of Italy’s Dictator which is in characteristically flamboyant vein. It 'might almost seem that Signor Mussolini, anticipating these speeches on behalf of the Powers signatory to the London Naval Treaty, had deliberately selected the opportunity to launch a counter-blast. Air Ramsay MacDonald, Mr Hoover, and the head of the Government at Tokio dwell, not without eloquence, on the beauty of international agreements. The London Naval Treaty, says the Japanese Minister, is “a striking demonstration of mutual confidence and goodwilj among ■fjhe 'nations.” “Never again,” says President Hoover, “must the race in naval armaments be allowed to develop.” Air Ramsay AlacDonald, referring to negotiations proceeding between France and Italy, declares fervently—“ What a happy day for the world will be the day of that agreement. What a vast addition to national security will then be made.” This is all very encouraging, but—

Hark! A deep sound strikes like a rising knell 1

It is, of course, the voice of Signor Alussohni, still harping on the same old thereto—a world! divided into Fascist and anti-Fascist camps. “Cannon are more beautiful than fine Worlds^ —fifty battalions of Fascist militia., supported by fifty thousand cadets, will give a display of armed might hitherto not seen. None can and none shall stop us.” These sentiments, which are scarcely compounded of the ingredients of soothing syrup for the Chancelleries of Europe, would be more arresting if we had not heard them so often before. The only training worth anything in Italy is military training; the frontier bristling with batteries “arms, fire, and steel” is a perpetual menace to Italian aspirations. It is gratifying, of course, to have repeated assurances that Italy has no desire to attack anybody, bait wi(.h these assurances unfortunately always goes the implication that somebody wants to attack Italy. “All the geese of Europe have been cackling in defence of their pacific capitals,” declared the Duce a few few months ago in response to some criticism of his oration at Florence, ‘‘never has there been such a spectacle of human hyprocisy. 1 ' In relatively lighter vein the Dictator continued — “Anyone would think that only Italy had Warplanes find that oihor countries had only inoffensive paper kites; that only in Italy there are guns, while other countries content themselves with walking-sticks: that only in Italy are there barracks while elsewhere are pleasure palaces and recreation halls; that only Italy has the effrontery to possess a navy, while other nations have fishing smacks and yachts.” The statesman who is so convinced that his own sincerity shines out in a world by hypocrisy, so bent upon convincing his people that fine words, is, to say the least of it, a trifle “difficult.” Signor Alussolini’s voice does not seem to mellow with the years. For whose particular benefit does he so assiduously blow the patriotic horn in public, for whose special edification dees he beat the big drum as an alternative? At least it will not be supposed that it is for the special enlightenment of Great Britain, or the United States, or Japan. As would be quite expected, the French press has reacted in the customary manner to the latest example of what it calls the Duce’s “sabrerattling,” and another little interchange of compliments across the frontier is recorded. In the eight years of the Fascist regime Signor Alussohni has no doubt done very great things for Italy. He may be all that he is claimed to be—the saviour of his country, “the true father of Italy” and so forth. But why so much testation, why the theatricals? They do not make a good 'ilttipression on the outside world. They are to reminiscent of the utterances of a modern ruler who came sadly to grief because he also thought cannon were so beautiful, and never tired of saying so. Does Signor Mussolini really desire to be thought a friend of peace? He has never been accused of possessing a sense of humour. And yet it might be reassuring to think that he sometimes spoke—for " international benefit—with his tongue in his cheek.