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13 Woodrow Wilson Wouldn’t Yield

Woodrow Wilson had a horror of violence and war. Why, then, would he lead theUnited States into a savage conflict like the Great War? The answer lies in Wilson’scomplex and contradictory character. A former college professor and president of Princetonwith a Ph.D. in political economy, Wilson was a conservative Democrat before he wonthe presidency. Once in office, however, he became a Progressive reformer who embracedwomen’s political rights and engineered the most sweeping legislative program since thedays of Alexander Hamilton. Despite his spectacular achievements, Wilson was a sensi-tive, lonely man who wanted “the people to love me.” And yet he felt a powerful need,he said, to guard his emotions “from painful overflow.” Although his intellectual tradi-tion was British (he extolled the British system of parliamentary government and ex-tolled English conservatives such as Edmund Burke and William Gladstone), his poli-tics were rooted in his southern heritage. A learned, eloquent champion of democracy, henevertheless shared the racial prejudice that prevailed among white Americans of his gen-eration, and as president he began a policy of discrimination against African Americansin federal employment.

In many ways, Wilson’s foreign policy was even more paradoxical. He abhorred vio-lence, yet he was inclined to use moralistic, gunboat diplomacy in dealing with LatinAmerica: he transformed Nicaragua into a veritable United States protectorate, twice sentAmerican forces into Mexico, and ordered full-scale military occupation of Haiti and theDominican Republic. Although Wilson convinced himself that high moral purpose justi-fied such intervention, it left a legacy of bitterness and distrust in Latin America.

Finally, despite the pacific liberalism he had learned from British intellectuals, Wilsonled the United States into the Great War on a messianic crusade to make that conflict“a war to end all wars.” To achieve that goal, he devised the League of Nations, a kindof world parliament, which was the sanest blueprint for world peace anyone had yetcontrived. But Wilson’s noble dream ended in a crushing defeat when the United StatesSenate rejected the League of Nations and America turned away from the idealism that had produced it. In this selection, diplomatic historian Thomas A. Bailey deftlydescribes how the clash of Wilson and his adversaries, combined with the sentiment ofthe times, brought about America’s rejection of the League. In the end, Americans werenot prepared for the responsibilities of world leadership that Wilson had thrust uponthem.

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BORAH, SENATOR WILLIAM E. An isola-tionist Republican from Idaho who vowed to killWilson’s treaty in the Senate.

CLEMENCEAU, GEORGES The “Frenchrealist” at the Versailles peace conference; like DavidLloyd George and Vittorio Orlando, he was “moreinterested in imperialism” than in Wilsonianidealism.

FOURTEEN POINTS Wilson’s blueprint forworld peace and “the noblest expression” of hisidealism; the last and most important point called fora League of Nations, a kind of parliament ofhumankind, to resolve conflicts among nations andavoid future wars.

IRRECONCILABLES Led by William E. Borahof Idaho and Hiram Johnson of California, thisgroup of about a dozen senators was firmly opposedto the League of Nations.`

JINGOISM Bellicose patriotism.

JOHNSON, SENATOR HIRAM W. Anisolationist Republican from California who joinedthe Senate opposition to Wilson’s treaty.

LLOYD GEORGE, DAVID British delegate tothe Versailles peace conference.

LODGE, SENATOR HENRY CABOT Repub-lican and Boston Brahmin who “broke the back” ofWilson’s treaty by getting a series of crippling reser-vations added to it in the Senate.

MONROE DOCTRINE Promulgated byPresident James Monroe in 1823, it warned that theWestern Hemisphere was closed to colonization byEuropean powers and stated that America wouldstay out of Europe’s wars.

ORLANDO, VITTORIO Italian delegate to theVersailles peace conference (Italy had fought on theside of France and Great Britain in the First WorldWar).

TREATY OF VERSAILLES (1919) Formallyended the First World War; only about four of theFourteen Points found their way into the treaty, as“the iron hand of circumstance had forced Wilsonto compromise away many of his points in order tosalvage his fourteenth point, the League of Nations.”

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The story of America’s rejection of theLeague of Nations revolves largely aroundthe personality and character of Thomas

Woodrow Wilson, the twenty-eighth President ofthe United States. Born in Virginia and reared inYankee-gutted Georgia and the Carolinas, Wilsonearly developed a burning hatred of war and a pas-sionate attachment to the Confederate-embracedprinciple of self-determination for minority peoples.From the writings of Thomas Jefferson he derivedmuch of his democratic idealism and his invinciblefaith in the judgment of the masses, if properly in-formed. From his stiff-backed Scotch Presbyterianforebears, he inherited a high degree of inflexibility;from his father, a dedicated Presbyterian minister, helearned a stern moral code that would tolerate nocompromise with wrong, as defined by WoodrowWilson.

As a leading academician who had first failed atlaw, he betrayed a contempt for “money-grubbing”lawyers, many of whom sat in the Senate, and an ar-rogance toward lesser intellects, including those ofthe “pygmy-minded” senators. As a devout Christiankeenly aware of the wickedness of this world, heemerged as a fighting reformer, whether as presidentof Princeton, governor of New Jersey, or Presidentof the United States.

As a war leader, Wilson was superb. Holding aloftthe torch of idealism in one hand and the flamingsword of righteousness in the other, he aroused themasses to a holy crusade. We would fight a war toend wars; we would make the world safe for democ-racy. The phrase was not a mockery then. TheAmerican people, with an amazing display of self-sacrifice, supported the war effort unswervingly.

The noblest expression of Wilson’s idealism washis Fourteen Points address to Congress in January,1918. It compressed his war aims into punchy, plac-ard-like paragraphs, expressly designed for propa-ganda purposes. It appealed tremendously to op-pressed peoples everywhere by promising such goalsas the end of secret treaties, freedom of the seas, theremoval of economic barriers, a reduction of armsburdens, a fair adjustment of colonial claims, andself-determination for oppressed minorities. InPoland university men would meet on the streets ofWarsaw, clasp hands, and soulfully utter one word,“Wilson.” In remote regions of Italy peasants burnedcandles before poster portraits of the mighty newprophet arisen in the West.

The fourteenth and capstone point was a league ofnations, designed to avert future wars. The basic ideawas not original with Wilson; numerous thinkers,including Frenchmen and Britons, had been work-ing on the concept long before he embraced it. EvenHenry Cabot Lodge, the Republican senator fromMassachusetts, had already spoken publicly in favorof a league of nations. But the more he heard aboutthe Wilsonian League of Nations, the more criticalof it he became.

A knowledge of the Wilson-Lodge feud is basic toan understanding of the tragedy that unfolded. Tall,slender, aristocratically bewhiskered, Dr. HenryCabot Lodge (Ph.D., Harvard), had published anumber of books and had been known as the scholarin politics before the appearance of Dr. WoodrowWilson (Ph.D., Johns Hopkins). The Presbyterianprofessor had gone further in both scholarship andpolitics than the Boston Brahmin, whose mind wasonce described as resembling the soil of his nativeNew England: “naturally barren but highly culti-vated.” Wilson and Lodge, two icy men, developeda mutual antipathy, which soon turned into freezinghatred.

The German armies, reeling under the blows ofthe Allies, were ready to give in by November,1918. The formal armistice terms stipulated that

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From T. A. Bailey, “Woodrow Wilson and the League,” Ameri-can Heritage, June/July 1957, Vol. 8, No. 4. Reprinted by permis-sion of American Heritage Inc., 1957.

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was a minor figure at that. The Republicans, nowthe majority party, complained that they had beengood enough to die on the battlefield; they ought tohave at least an equal voice at the peace table. Norwere any United States senators included, eventhough they would have a final whack at the treaty.Wilson did not have much respect for the “bunga-low-minded” senators, and if he took one, the logi-cal choice would be Henry Cabot Lodge. Therewere already enough feuds brewing at Paris withouttaking one along.

Doubtless some of the Big Business Republicanswere out to “get” the President who had been re-sponsible for the hated reformist legislation of1913–14. If he managed to put over the League ofNations, his prestige would soar to new heights. Hemight even arrange—unspeakable thought!—to beelected again and again and again. Much of the parti-san smog that finally suffocated the League wouldhave been cleared away if Wilson had publicly de-clared, as he was urged to do, that in no circum-stances would he run again. But he spurned suchcounsel, partly because he was actually receptive tothe idea of a third term.

The American President, hysterically hailed byEuropean crowds as “Voovro Veelson,” came to theParis peace table in January, 1919, to meet withLloyd George of Britain, Clemenceau of France, andOrlando of Italy. To his dismay, he soon discoveredthat they were far more interested in imperialismthan in idealism. When they sought to carve up theterritorial booty without regard for the colonials,contrary to the Fourteen Points, the stern-jawedPresbyterian moralist interposed a ringing veto. Theend result was the mandate system—a compromisebetween idealism and imperialism that turned out tobe more imperialistic than idealistic.

Wilson’s overriding concern was the League ofNations. He feared that if he did not get it com-pleted and embedded in the treaty, the imperialisticpowers might sidetrack it. Working at an incrediblepace after hours, Wilson headed the commission that

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Germany was to be guaranteed a peace based on theFourteen Points, with two reservations concerningfreedom of the seas and reparations.

Meanwhile the American people had keyed them-selves up to the long-awaited march on Berlin; eagervoices clamored to hang the Kaiser. Thus the suddenend of the shooting left inflamed patriots with asense of frustration and letdown that boded ill forWilson’s policies. The red-faced Theodore Roo-sevelt, Lodge’s intimate of long standing, cried thatpeace should be dictated by the chatter of machineguns and not the clicking of typewriters.

Wilson now towered at the dizzy pinnacle of hispopularity and power. He had emerged as the moralarbiter of the world and the hope of all peoples for abetter tomorrow. But regrettably his wartime sure-ness of touch began to desert him, and he made a se-ries of costly fumbles. He was so preoccupied withreordering the world, someone has said, that he re-minded one of the baseball player who knocks theball into the bleachers and then forgets to touchhome plate.

First came his brutally direct appeal for a Demo-cratic Congress in October, 1918. The voterstrooped to the polls the next month and, by a nar-row margin, returned a Republican Congress. Wil-son had not only goaded his partisan foes to freshoutbursts of fury, but he had unnecessarily staked hisprestige on the outcome—and lost. When the Alliedleaders met at the Paris peace table, he was the onlyone not entitled to be there, at least on the Europeanbasis of a parliamentary majority.

Wilson next announced that he was sailing forFrance, presumably to use his still enormous prestigeto fashion an enduring peace. At this time no Presi-dent had ever gone abroad, and Republicans con-demned the decision as evidence of a dangerousMessiah complex—of a desire, as former PresidentTaft put it, “to hog the whole show.”

The naming of the remaining five men to thepeace delegation caused partisans further anguish.Only one, Henry White, was a Republican, and he

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drafted the League Covenant in ten meetings andsome thirty hours. He then persuaded the confer-ence not only to approve the hastily constructedCovenant but to incorporate it bodily in the peacetreaty. In support of his adopted brain child he spokeso movingly on one occasion that even the hard-boiled reporters forgot to take notes.

Wilson now had to return hurriedly to the UnitedStates to sign bills and take care of other pressingbusiness. Shortly after his arrival the mounting Re-publican opposition in the Senate flared up angrily.On March 4, 1919, 39 senators or senators-elect—more than enough to defeat the treaty—published around robin to the effect that they would not ap-prove the League in its existing form. This meantthat Wilson had to return to Paris, hat in hand, andthere weaken his position by having to seek modifi-cations.

Stung to the quick, he struck back at his senatorialfoes in an indiscreet speech in New York just beforehis departure. He boasted that when he brought thetreaty back from Paris, the League Covenant wouldnot only be tied in but so thoroughly tied in that itcould not be cut out without killing the entire pact.The Senate, he assumed, would not dare to kill thetreaty of peace outright.

At Paris the battle was now joined in deadlyearnest. Clemenceau, the French realist, had littleuse for Wilson, the American idealist. “God gave usthe ten commandments and we broke them,” he re-portedly sneered. “Wilson gave us the FourteenPoints—we shall see.” Clemenceau’s most disruptivedemand was for the German Rhineland; but Wilson,the champion of self-determination, would neverconsent to handing several million Germans over tothe tender mercies of the French. After a furiousstruggle, during which Wilson was stricken with in-fluenza, Clemenceau was finally persuaded to yieldthe Rhineland and other demands in return for a se-curity treaty. Under it, Britain and America agreedto come to the aid of France in the event of anotherunprovoked aggression. The United States Senate

shortsightedly pigeonholed the pact, and France wasleft with neither the Rhineland nor security.

Two other deadlocks almost broke up the confer-ence. Italy claimed the Adriatic port of Fiume, anarea inhabited chiefly by Yugoslavs. In his battle forself-determination, Wilson dramatically appealedover the head of the Italian delegation to the Italianpeople, whereupon the delegates went home in ahuff to receive popular endorsement. The final ad-justment was a hollow victory for self-determination.

The politely bowing Japanese now stepped for-ward to press their economic claims to China’sShantung [province], which they had captured fromthe Germans early in the war. But to submit30,000,000 Chinese to the influence of the Japanesewould be another glaring violation of self-determi-nation. The Japanese threatened to bolt the confer-ence, as the Italians had already done, with conse-quent jeopardy to the League. In the end, Wilsonreluctantly consented to a compromise that left theJapanese temporarily in possession of Shantung.

The Treaty of Versailles, as finally signed in June,1919, included only about four of the original Four-teen Points. The Germans, with considerable justifi-cation, gave vent to loud cries of betrayal. But theiron hand of circumstance had forced Wilson tocompromise away many of his points in order to sal-vage his fourteenth point, the League of Nations,which he hoped would iron out the injustices thathad crept into the treaty. He was like the motherwho throws her younger children to the pursuingwolves in order to save her sturdy first-born son.

Bitter opposition to the completed treaty had al-ready begun to form in America. Tens of thousandsof homesick and disillusioned soldiers were pouringhome, determined to let Europe “stew in its ownjuice.” The wartime idealism, inevitably doomed toslump, was now plunging to alarming depths. Thebeloved Allies had apparently turned out to begreedy imperialists. The war to make the world safefor democracy had obviously fallen dismally short ofthe goal. And at the end of the war to end wars there

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were about twenty conflicts of varying intensitybeing waged all over the globe.

The critics increased their clamor. Various foreigngroups, including the Irish-Americans and the Ital-ian-Americans, were complaining that the interestsof the old country had been neglected. Professionalliberals, for example the editors of the New Republic,were denouncing the treaty as too harsh. The illiber-als, far more numerous, were denouncing it as notharsh enough. The Britain-haters, like the buzz-sawSenator James Reed of Missouri and the acid-penned [journalist] William R. Hearst, were pro-claiming that England had emerged with undue in-fluence. Such ultranationalists as the isolationistSenator William E. Borah of Idaho were insisting

that the flag of no superstate should be hoisted abovethe glorious Stars and Stripes.

When the treaty came back from Paris, with theleague firmly riveted in, Senator Lodge despaired ofstopping it.

“What are you going to do? It’s hopeless,” hecomplained to Borah. “All the newspapers in mystate are for it.” The best that he could hope for wasto add a few reservations. The Republicans had beengiven little opportunity to help write the treaty inParis; they now felt that they were entitled to do alittle rewriting in Washington.

Lodge deliberately adopted the technique ofdelay. As chairman of the powerful Senate Commit-tee on Foreign Relations, he consumed two weeksby reading aloud the entire pact of 264 pages, eventhough it had already been printed. He then heldtime-consuming public hearings, during which per-sons with unpronounceable foreign names aired theirgrievances against the pact.

Lodge finally adopted the strategy of tackingreservations onto the treaty, and he was able toachieve his goal because of the peculiar compositionof the Senate. There were 49 Republicans and 47Democrats. The Republicans consisted of abouttwenty “strong reservationists” like Lodge, abouttwelve “mild reservationists” like future Secretary ofState Kellogg, and about a dozen “irreconcilables.”This last group was headed by Senator Borah and theno less isolationist Senator Hiram Johnson of Cali-fornia, a fiery spellbinder.

The Lodge reservations finally broke the back ofthe treaty. They were all added by a simple majorityvote, even though the entire pact would have to beapproved by a two-thirds vote. The dozen or so Re-publican mild reservationists were not happy overthe strong Lodge reservations, and if Wilson had de-ferred sufficiently to these men, he might have per-suaded them to vote with the Democrats. Had theydone so, the Lodge reservations could have all beenvoted down, and a milder version, perhaps accept-able to Wilson, could have been substituted.

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As the hot summer of 1919 wore on, Wilson be-came increasingly impatient with the deadlock in theSenate. Finally he decided to take his case to thecountry, as he had so often done in response to hisingrained “appeal habit.” He had never been robust,and his friends urged him not to risk breaking him-self down in a strenuous barnstorming campaign.But Wilson, having made up his mind, was unyield-ing. He had sent American boys into battle in a warto end wars; why should he not risk his life in battlefor a League to end wars?

Wilson’s spectacular tour met with limited enthu-siasm in the Middle West, the home of several mil-lion German-Americans. After him, like bayingbloodhounds, trailed Senators Borah and Johnson,sometimes speaking in the same halls a day or solater, to the accompaniment of cries of “Impeachhim, impeach him!” But on the Pacific Coast and inthe Rocky Mountain area the enthusiasm for Wilsonand the League was overwhelming. The highpoint—and the breaking point—of the trip came atPueblo, Colorado, where Wilson, with tears stream-ing down his cheeks, pleaded for his beloved Leagueof Nations.

That night Wilson’s weary body rebelled. He waswhisked back to Washington, where he suffered astroke that paralyzed the left side of his body. Forweeks he lay in bed, a desperately sick man. TheDemocrats, who had no first-rate leader in the Sen-ate, were left rudderless. With the wisdom of hind-sight, we may say that Wilson might better havestayed in Washington, providing the necessary lead-ership and compromising with the opposition, inso-far as compromise was possible. A good deal of com-promise had already gone into the treaty, and a littlemore might have saved it.

Senator Lodge, cold and decisive, was now in thedriver’s seat. His Fourteen Reservations, a sardonicparallel to Wilson’s Fourteen Points, had beenwhipped into shape. Most of them now seem eitherirrelevant, inconsequential, or unnecessary; some ofthem merely reaffirmed principles and policies, in-

cluding the Monroe Doctrine, already guaranteed bythe treaty or by the Constitution.

But Wilson, who hated the sound of Lodge’sname, would have no part of the Lodge reservations.They would, he insisted, emasculate the entiretreaty. Yet the curious fact is that he had privatelyworked out his own set of reservations with theDemocratic leader in the Senate, Gilbert M. Hitch-cock, and these differed only in slight degree fromthose of Senator Lodge.

As the hour approached for the crucial vote in theSenate, it appeared that public opinion had veered alittle. Although confused by the angry debate, it stillfavored the treaty—but with some safeguardingreservations. A stubborn Wilson was unwilling to ac-cept this disheartening fact, or perhaps he was notmade aware of it. Mrs. Wilson, backed by the Presi-dent’s personal physician, Dr. Cary Grayson, keptvigil at his bedside to warn the few visitors that dis-agreeable news might shock the invalid into a re-lapse.

In this highly unfavorable atmosphere, SenatorHitchcock had two conferences with Wilson on theeve of the Senate voting. He suggested compromiseon a certain point, but Wilson shot back, “Let Lodgecompromise!” Hitchcock conceded that the Senatorwould have to give ground but suggested that theWhite House might also hold out the olive branch.“Let Lodge hold out the olive branch,” came thestern reply. On this inflexible note, and with Mrs.Wilson’s anxiety mounting, the interview ended.

The Senate was ready for final action on Novem-ber 19, 1919. At the critical moment Wilson sent afateful letter to the Democratic minority in the Sen-ate, urging them to vote down the treaty with thehated Lodge reservations so that a true ratificationcould be achieved. The Democrats, with more thanthe necessary one-third veto, heeded the voice oftheir crippled leader and rejected the treaty withreservations. The Republicans, with more than thenecessary one-third veto, rejected the treaty withoutreservations.

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The country was shocked by this exhibition oflegislative paralysis. About four fifths of the senatorsprofessed to favor the treaty in some form, yet theywere unable to agree on anything. An aroused publicopinion forced the Senate to reconsider, and Lodgesecretly entered into negotiations with the Demo-crats in an effort to work out acceptable reservations.He was making promising progress when SenatorBorah got wind of his maneuvers through an anony-mous telephone call. The leading irreconcilableshastily summoned a council of war, hauled Lodgebefore them, and bluntly accused him of treachery.Deeply disturbed, the Massachusetts Senator said:“Well, I suppose I’ll have to resign as majorityleader.”

“No, by God!” burst out Borah. “You won’t havea chance to resign! On Monday, I’ll move for theelection of a new majority leader and give the reasonsfor my action.” Faced with an upheaval within hisparty such as had insured Wilson’s election in 1912,Lodge agreed to drop his backstage negotiations.

The second-chance vote in the Senate came onMarch 19, 1920. Wilson again directed his loyalDemocratic following to reject the treaty, disfiguredas it was by the hateful Lodge reservations. But bythis time there was no other form in which the pactcould possibly be ratified. Twenty-one realistic Dem-ocrats turned their backs on Wilson and voted Yea;23 loyal Democrats, mostly from the rock-ribbedSouth, joined with the irreconcilables to do the bid-ding of the White House. The treaty, though com-manding a simple majority this time of 49 Yeas to 35Nays, failed of the necessary two-thirds vote.

Wilson, struggling desperately against the Lodgereservation trap, had already summoned the nationin “solemn referendum” to give him a vote in favorof the League in the forthcoming presidential elec-tion of 1920. His hope was that he could then getthe treaty approved without reservations. But thiscourse was plainly futile. Even if all the anti-Leaguesenators up for re-election in 1920 had been replacedby the pro-League senators, Wilson would still have

lacked the necessary two-thirds majority for an unre-served treaty.

The American people were never given a chanceto express their views directly on the League of Na-tions. All they could do was vote either for the weakDemocratic candidate, [James M.] Cox, who stoodfor the League, and the stuffed-shirt Republicancandidate, [Warren G.] Harding, who wobbled allover the map of the League arguments. If the elec-torate had been given an opportunity to express it-self, a powerful majority probably would have fa-vored the world organization, with at least somereservations. But wearied of Wilsonism, idealism,and self-denial, and confused by the wordy fightover the treaty, the voters rose up and swept Hard-ing into the White House. The winner had beenmore anti-League than pro-League, and his prodi-gious plurality of 7,000,000 votes condemned theLeague to death in America.

What caused this costly failure of American states-manship?

Wilson’s physical collapse intensifed his nativestubbornness. A judicious compromise here and thereno doubt would have secured Senate approval of thetreaty, though of course with modifications. Wilsonbelieved that in any event the Allies would reject theLodge reservations. The probabilities are that the Al-lies would have worked out some kind of acceptance,so dire was their need of America’s economic support,but Wilson never gave them a chance to act.

Senator Lodge was also inflexible, but prior to thesecond rejection he was evidently trying to get thetreaty through—on his own terms. As majority leaderof the Republicans, his primary task was to avoid an-other fatal split in his party. Wilson’s primary task wasto get the pact approved. From a purely political pointof view, the Republicans had little to gain by engi-neering ratification of a Democratic treaty.

The two-thirds rule in the Senate, often singledout as the culprit, is of little relevance. Wilson almostcertainly would have pigeonholed the treaty if it hadpassed with the Lodge reservations appended.

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Wilson’s insistence that the League be wedded tothe treaty actually contributed to the final defeat ofboth. Either would have had a better chance if it hadnot been burdened by the enemies of the other. TheUnited Nations, one should note, was set up in 1945independently of any peace treaty.

Finally, American public opinion in 1919–20 wasnot yet ready for the onerous new world responsibil-ities that had suddenly been forced upon it. The iso-lationist tradition was still potent, and it was fortifiedby postwar disillusionment. If the sovereign votershad spoken out for the League with one voice, theyalmost certainly would have had their way. A treatywithout reservations, or with a few reservations ac-ceptable to Wilson, doubtless would have slippedthrough the Senate. But the American people wereone war short of accepting leadership in a world or-ganization for peace.

Q U E S T I O N S T O C O N S I D E R

1 Woodrow Wilson’s personal popularity was at anall-time high when he went to Paris in 1919. Howhad he achieved his vast international prestige? Whathappened to diminish it?

2 What prevailing sentiment did Wilson, the ideal-ist, find among the representatives of European

countries at the negotiating table in Versailles? Whathad happened to the “war to end all wars,” the goalof which was to “make the world safe for democ-racy”? How did the Allied powers eventually com-promise between imperialism and idealism?

3 Outline the process by which partisan politics,petty squabbles, and back-room maneuvering eventu-ally led Congress to vote down the 1919 peace treatyand with it the League of Nations. What role didHenry Cabot Lodge play in the American rejection ofthe League? In what way did Wilson’s illness, coupledwith his poor judgment on several occasions, con-tribute to the debacle in Congress over the treaty?

4 What does Bailey think would have happened ifthe American people had been given a chance tovote for the League? What specific conclusions doeshe reach about the collapse of the treaty and thefailure of Wilsonian idealism in America and Eu-rope?

5 Discuss the ambivalence of Americans regardingthe world leadership role that became available tothem just after the First World War. What does Bai-ley mean when he says that “the American peoplewere one war short of accepting leadership in aworld organization for peace”? Imagine a world inwhich the young and powerful United States hadjoined the League of Nations in 1921. How mighttwentieth-century history have been rewritten?

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