"It has become increasingly clear that peace is not assured." In the mouth of anyone but the President of the United States, these words would constitute a magnificent understatement. But spoken by him, and addressed to London and Berlin via short wave, they contain far more than appears on the surface. And considered in the light of what has very recently become American public opinion, the President's entire treatment of foreign policy and defense in his annual message to Congress is pregnant with meaning.

In the past, and in spite of recurring "entanglement" with the continent of Europe, American public opinion as a whole has persisted in dreaming the roseate dream of isolation. Justly revolted by the power politics and recurring warfare of the old world, and profoundly desirous of a separate, peaceful life on this continent, they have thought and acted in terms of a fundamental division of the world. But while thus pleasantly immersed in eighteenth and early nineteenth century thinking, their nation grew into a major world power; and, except for a brief flurry of world-consciousness in 1920--denied expression by destructively adroit political manipulation in the Senate--this wishful thinking continued and increased. Until very recently America has been deeply, blindly isolationist.

But a surprising result was obtained last month by a Fortune poll of public opinion. The question: "Should the Democratic powers, including the United States, now stand firm together at any cost to prevent Hitler or Mussolini from taking any more territory at the expense of other nations?" The answers: 56.3 per cent, Yes; 31 per cent, No; undecided, 12.7 per cent.

"More territory" is of course merely representative of power on a world scale; the U.S. would still not fight, or even impose an economic embargo, to prevent Italian acquisition of Tunis. Still, the poll means that Americans have finally realized that their nation is a part of the world; that Britain, long the strategically dominating factor in Europe and the first line of defense for America's isolationism, no longer holds that position; that Berlin is closer--several days closer, by steamship--to Rio de Janiero than is New York; and that, as the President yesterday said, "democracies of the world which observe the sanctity of treaties . . . cannot safely be indifferent to international lawlessness anywhere. Acts of aggression . . . automatically undermine all of us."

If this awakening is the result of the Munich pact and all it symbolizes, as doubtless to a large extent it is, then Munich was a blessing in disguise. But there is still one more hurdle for the President and the people to face: the traditionally isolationist United States Senate. During the next few months the issue will be clearly and dramatically posed through the new rearmament demands and proposed revision of the neutrality laws. Even while the President was speaking, destructive opposition was forming; one can almost hear the Congressional hand-organs beginning to grind out "entanglement," "George Washington," and, doubtless, "un-American influences." But rationally viewed, the President's program for combating totalitarianism, stopping short of military sanctions ("We rightly decline to intervene with arms to prevent acts of aggression") and emphasizing economic strength, with which the United States is richly endowed is constructive and far-sighted, and deserves Congressional cooperation.