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diff --git a/old/53453-0.txt b/old/53453-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 99e86ab..0000000 --- a/old/53453-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8567 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Instincts of the Herd in Peace and War, by -Wilfred Trotter - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Instincts of the Herd in Peace and War - -Author: Wilfred Trotter - -Release Date: November 5, 2016 [EBook #53453] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INSTINCTS OF THE HERD *** - - - - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team, with -RichardW, at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced -from images generously made available by The Internet -Archive) - - - - - - - - - -INSTINCTS OF THE HERD IN PEACE AND WAR - -BY - -W. TROTTER - -T. FISHER UNWIN LTD - -LONDON: ADELPHI TERRACE - - - - -_First Published_ _February, 1916_ - -_Second Impression_ _March, 1917_ - -_Third Impression_ _July, 1917_ - -_Second Edition_ _November, 1919_ - -_Fifth Impression_ _March, 1920_ - -_Sixth Impression_ _February, 1921_ - -(_All rights reserved_) - - - - -{5} PREFACE - - -The first two essays in this book were written some ten years ago -and published in the _Sociological Review_ in 1908 and 1909. They -had formed a single paper, but it was found necessary to publish in -two instalments at an interval of six months, and to cut down to a -considerable extent the total bulk. - -It was lately suggested to me that as the numbers of the review in -which the two essays appeared were out of print, the fact that the -subject concerned was not without some current interest might justify a -republication. It was not possible to do this without trying to embody -such fruits as there might be of ten years’ further speculation and -some attempt to apply to present affairs the principles which had been -sketched out. - -The new comment very soon surpassed by far in bulk the original text, -and constitutes, in fact, all but a comparatively few pages of this -book. This rather minute record is made here not because it has any -interest of its own, but especially to point out that I have been -engaged in trying to apply to the affairs of to-day principles which -had taken shape ten years ago. I point this out not in order {6} to -claim any gift of foresight in having suggested so long ago reasons -for regarding the stability of civilization as unsuspectedly slight, -but because it is notorious that the atmosphere of a great war is -unfavourable to free speculation. If the principles upon which my -argument is based had been evolved during the present times, the reader -would have had special reason to suspect their validity, however -plausible they might seem in the refracting air of national emergency. - -The general purpose of this book is to suggest that the science of -psychology is not the mass of dreary and indefinite generalities of -which it sometimes perhaps seems to be made up; to suggest that, -especially when studied in relation to other branches of biology, it is -capable of becoming a guide in the actual affairs of life and of giving -an understanding of the human mind such as may enable us in a practical -and useful way to foretell some of the course of human behaviour. -The present state of public affairs gives an excellent chance for -testing the truth of this suggestion, and adds to the interest of the -experiment the strong incentive of an urgent national peril. - -If this war is becoming, as it obviously is, daily more and more -completely a contest of moral forces, some really deep understanding of -the nature and sources of national morale must be at least as important -a source of strength as the technical knowledge of the military -engineer and the maker of cannon. One is apt to suppose that the chief -function of a sound morale is the maintenance of {7} a high courage -and resolution through the ups and downs of warfare. In a nation -whose actual independence and existence are threatened from without -such qualities may be taken for granted and may be present when the -general moral forces are seriously disordered. A satisfactory morale -gives something much more difficult to attain. It gives smoothness -of working, energy and enterprise to the whole national machine, -while from the individual it ensures the maximal outflow of effort -with a minimal interference from such egoistic passions as anxiety, -impatience, and discontent. A practical psychology would define these -functions and indicate means by which they are to be called into -activity. - -The more we consider the conduct of government in warfare the clearer -does it become that every act of authority produces effects in two -distinct fields—that of its primary function as directed more or -less immediately against the enemy, and that of its secondary action -upon the morale of the nation. The first of these two constituents -possesses the uncertainty of all military enterprises, and its success -or failure cannot be foretold; the influence of the second constituent -is susceptible of definition and foresight and need never be wholly -ambiguous to any but the ignorant or the indifferent. - -The relative importance of the military and the moral factors in any -act or enterprise varies much, but it may be asserted that while the -moral factor may sometimes be enormously the more important, it is -never wholly absent. This constant and admittedly significant factor -in all acts of {8} government is usually awarded an attention so -thoroughly inexpert and perfunctory, as to justify the feeling that -the customary belief in its importance is no more than a conventional -expression. - -The method I have used is frankly speculative, and I make no apology -for it because the facts are open to the observation of all and -available for confirmation or disproof. I have tried to point out a -way; I have tried not to exhort or persuade to the use of it—these are -matters outside my province. - - _November, 1915._ - - - - -PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION - - -A few errors in the text of the First Edition have been corrected, and -a sentence which had caused misunderstanding has been omitted. No other -change has been made. A Postscript has been added in order to point out -some of the directions in which the psychological inquiry made during -the war gave a practical foresight that was confirmed by the course -of events, and in order to examine the remarkable situation in which -society now finds itself. - -In the Preface to the First Edition I ventured to suggest that some -effective knowledge of the mind might be of value to a nation at war; -I take this opportunity of suggesting that such knowledge might be -not less useful to a tired nation seeking peace. At the same time -it should perhaps be added that this book is concerned wholly with -the examination of principles, is professedly speculative in methods -and conclusions, and is quite without pretensions to advise upon the -conduct of affairs. - - _August, 1919._ - - - - -{9} CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - PREFACE 5 - - PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION 8 - - HERD INSTINCT AND ITS BEARING ON THE PSYCHOLOGY OF - CIVILIZED MAN - - INTRODUCTION 11 - - PSYCHOLOGICAL ASPECTS OF INSTINCT 15 - - BIOLOGICAL SIGNIFICANCE OF GREGARIOUSNESS 18 - - MENTAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE GREGARIOUS ANIMAL 23 - - SOCIOLOGICAL APPLICATIONS OF THE PSYCHOLOGY OF HERD - INSTINCT - - GREGARIOUSNESS AND THE FUTURE OF MAN 60 - - SPECULATIONS UPON THE HUMAN MIND IN 1915 - - MAN’S PLACE IN NATURE AND NATURE’S PLACE IN MAN 66 - - COMMENTS ON AN OBJECTIVE SYSTEM OF HUMAN PSYCHOLOGY 69 - - SOME PRINCIPLES OF A BIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY 91 - - THE BIOLOGY OF GREGARIOUSNESS 101 - - CHARACTERS OF THE GREGARIOUS ANIMAL DISPLAYED BY - MAN 112 - - SOME PECULIARITIES OF THE SOCIAL HABIT IN MAN 120 - - IMPERFECTIONS OF THE SOCIAL HABIT IN MAN 132 - - GREGARIOUS SPECIES AT WAR 139 - - ENGLAND AGAINST GERMANY—GERMANY 156 - - ENGLAND AGAINST GERMANY—ENGLAND 201 - - POSTSCRIPT OF 1919 - - PREJUDICE IN TIME OF WAR 214 - - PSYCHOLOGICAL ANTICIPATIONS 224 - - AFTER THE WAR 235 - - THE INSTABILITY OF CIVILIZATION 241 - - SOME CHARACTERS OF A RATIONAL STATECRAFT 251 - - INDEX 261 - - - - -{11} INSTINCTS OF THE HERD IN PEACE AND WAR - -HERD INSTINCT AND ITS BEARING ON THE PSYCHOLOGY OF CIVILIZED MAN - - -I. INTRODUCTION - -Few subjects have led to discussion so animated and prolonged as has -the definition of the science of sociology. It is therefore necessary, -as it is hoped that this essay may be capable of sociological -applications, that the writer should define the sense in which he uses -the term. By calling it a science is, of course, denoted the view -that sociology is a body of knowledge derived from experience of its -material and co-ordinated so that it shall be useful in forecasting -and, if possible, directing the future behaviour of that material. This -material is man in society of associated man. - -Sociology, therefore, is obviously but another name for psychology, in -the widest sense, for, that is to say, a psychology which can include -all the phenomena of the mind without the exception even of the most -complex, and is essentially practical in a fuller sense than any -orthodox psychology which has yet appeared. - -Sociology has, of course, often been described as social psychology -and has been regarded as differing from ordinary psychology in being -{12} concerned with those forms of mental activity which man displays -in his social relations, the assumption being made that society brings -to light a special series of mental aptitudes with which ordinary -psychology, dealing as it does essentially with the individual, is -not mainly concerned. It may be stated at once that it is a principal -thesis of this essay that this attitude is a fallacious one, and has -been responsible for the comparative sterility of the psychological -method in sociology. The two fields—the social and the individual—are -regarded here as absolutely continuous; all human psychology, it is -contended, must be the psychology of associated man, since man as a -solitary animal is unknown to us, and every individual must present the -characteristic reactions of the social animal if such exist. The only -difference between the two branches of the science lies in the fact -that ordinary psychology makes no claim to be practical in the sense -of conferring useful foresight; whereas sociology does profess to deal -with the complex, unsimplified problems of ordinary life, ordinary life -being, by a biological necessity, social life. If, therefore, sociology -is to be defined as psychology, it would be better to call it practical -or applied psychology than social psychology. - -The first effect of the complete acceptance of this point of view is -to render very obvious the difficulty and immensity of the task of -sociology; indeed, the possibility of such a science is sometimes -denied. For example, at an early meeting of the Sociological Society, -Professor Karl Pearson expressed the opinion that the birth of the -science of sociology must await the obstetrical genius of some one man -of the calibre of Darwin or Pasteur. At a later meeting Mr. H. G. Wells -went farther, and maintained that as a science sociology not only does -not but cannot exist. {13} - -Such scepticism appears in general to be based upon the idea that -a practical psychology in the sense already defined is impossible. -According to some this is because the human will introduces into -conduct an element necessarily incommensurable, which will always -render the behaviour of man subject to the occurrence of true variety -and therefore beyond the reach of scientific generalization; according -to another and a more deterministic school, human conduct, while not -theoretically liable to true variety in the philosophic sense or to -the intrusion of the will as a first cause, is in fact so complex that -no reduction of it to a complete system of generalizations will be -possible until science in general has made very great progress beyond -its present position. Both views lead in practice to attitudes of equal -pessimism towards sociology. - -The observable complexity of human conduct is, undoubtedly, very -great and discouraging. The problem of generalizing from it presents, -however, one important peculiarity, which is not very evident at first -sight. It is that as observers we are constantly pursued by man’s -own account of his behaviour; that of a given act our observation -is always more or less mixed with a knowledge, derived from our own -feelings, of how it seems to the author of the act, and it is much -more difficult than is often supposed to disentangle and allow for the -influence of this factor. Each of us has the strongest conviction that -his conduct and beliefs are fundamentally individual and reasonable -and in essence independent of external causation, and each is ready to -furnish a series of explanations of his conduct consistent with these -principles. These explanations, moreover, are the ones which will occur -spontaneously to the observer watching the conduct of his fellows. - -It is suggested here that the sense of the {14} unimaginable -complexity and variability of human affairs is derived less than is -generally supposed from direct observation and more from this second -factor of introspectual interpretation which may be called a kind of -anthropomorphism. A reaction against this in human psychology is no -less necessary therefore than was in comparative psychology the similar -movements the extremer developments of which are associated with the -names of Bethe, Beer, Uexküll and Nuel. It is contended that it is this -anthropomorphism in the general attitude of psychologists which, by -disguising the observable uniformities of human conduct, has rendered -so slow the establishment of a really practical psychology. Little as -the subject has been studied from the point of view of a thorough-going -objectivism, yet even now certain generalizations summarising some of -the ranges of human belief and conduct might already be formulated. -Such an inquiry, however, is not the purpose of this essay, and these -considerations have been advanced, in the first place, to suggest that -theory indicates that the problem of sociology is not so hopelessly -difficult as it at first appears, and secondly, as a justification for -an examination of certain aspects of human conduct by the deductive -method. The writer would contend that while that method is admittedly -dangerous when used as a substitute for a kind of investigation -in which deductive processes are reduced to a minimum, yet it has -its special field of usefulness in cases where the significance of -previously accumulated facts has been misinterpreted, or where the -exacter methods have proved unavailing through the investigator having -been without indications of precisely what facts were likely to be -the most fruitful subject for measurement. This essay, then, will be -an attempt to obtain by a deductive consideration of conduct some -guidance for the application of those methods of {15} measurement and -co-ordination of facts upon which all true science is based. - -A very little consideration of the problem of conduct makes it plain -that it is in the region of feeling, using the term in its broadest -sense, that the key is to be sought. Feeling has relations to instinct -as obvious and fundamental as are the analogies between intellectual -processes and reflex action; it is with the consideration of instinct, -therefore, that this paper must now be occupied. - - -II. PSYCHOLOGICAL ASPECTS OF INSTINCT. - -Many years ago, in a famous chapter of his Text Book of Psychology, -William James analysed and established with a quite final delicacy and -precision the way in which instinct appears to introspection. He showed -that the impulse of an instinct reveals itself as an axiomatically -obvious proposition, as something which is so clearly “sense” that any -idea of discussing its basis is foolish or wicked.[A] - - [A] Not one man in a billion, when taking his dinner, ever thinks - of utility. He eats because the food tastes good and makes him - want more. If you ask him why he should want to eat more of what - tastes like that, instead of revering you as a philosopher he - will probably laugh at you for a fool. The connexion between the - savoury sensation and the act it awakens is for him absolute - and _selbstverständlich_, an “_a priori_ synthesis” of the most - perfect sort needing no proof but its own evidence. . . . To the - metaphysician alone can such questions occur as: Why do we smile, - when pleased, and not scowl? Why are we unable to talk to a crowd - as to a single friend? Why does a particular maiden turn our wits - so upside down? The common man can only say, “_Of course_ we - smile, _of course_ our heart palpitates at the sight of the crowd, - _of course_ we love the maiden, that beautiful soul clad in that - perfect form, so palpably and flagrantly made from all eternity to - be loved” (W. James, “Principles of Psychology” vol. ii. p. 386). - -When we recognize that decisions due to instinct come into the mind in -a form so characteristic and easily identifiable we are encouraged at -once to ask {16} whether all decisions having this form must be looked -upon as essentially of instinctive origin. Inquiry, however, reveals -the fact that the bulk of opinion based upon assumptions having these -introspectual characters is so vast that any answer but a negative one -would seem totally incompatible with current conceptions of the nature -of human thought.[B] - - [B] This introspectual quality of the “_a priori_ synthesis of - the most perfect sort” is found, for example, in the assumptions - upon which is based the bulk of opinion in matters of Church and - State, the family, justice, probity, honour, purity, crime, and so - forth. Yet clearly we cannot say that there is a specific instinct - concerned with each of these subjects, for that, to say the least, - would be to postulate an unimaginable multiplicity of instincts, - for the most part wholly without any conceivable biological - usefulness. For example, there are considerable difficulties - in imagining an instinct for making people Wesleyans or Roman - Catholics, or an instinct for making people regard British family - life as the highest product of civilization, yet there can be no - question that these positions are based upon assumptions having - all the characters described by James as belonging to the impulses - of instinct. - -Many attempts have been made to explain the behaviour of man as -dictated by instinct. He is, in fact, moved by the promptings of such -obvious instincts as self-preservation, nutrition, and sex enough -to render the enterprise hopeful and its early spoils enticing. So -much can so easily be generalized under these three impulses that -the temptation to declare that all human behaviour could be resumed -under them was irresistible. These early triumphs of materialism soon, -however, began to be troubled by doubt. Man, in spite of his obvious -duty to the contrary, would continue so often not to preserve himself, -not to nourish himself and to prove resistant to the blandishments -of sex, that the attempt to squeeze his behaviour into these three -categories began to involve an increasingly obvious and finally -intolerable amount of pushing and pulling, as well as so much pretence -that he was altogether “in,” {17} when, quite plainly, so large a part -of him remained “out,” that the enterprise had to be given up, and it -was once more discovered that man escaped and must always escape any -complete generalization by science. - -A more obvious inference would have been that there was some other -instinct which had not been taken into account, some impulse, perhaps, -which would have no very evident object as regarded the individual, -but would chiefly appear as modifying the other instincts and leading -to new combinations in which the primitive instinctive impulse was -unrecognizable as such. A mechanism such as this very evidently would -produce a series of actions in which uniformity might be very difficult -to recognize by direct observation, but in which it would be very -obvious if the characters of this unknown “x” were available. - -Now, it is a striking fact that amongst animals there are some -whose conduct can be generalized very readily in the categories of -self-preservation, nutrition, and sex, while there are others whose -conduct cannot be thus summarized. The behaviour of the tiger and the -cat is simple, and easily comprehensible, presenting no unassimilable -anomalies, whereas that of the dog, with his conscience, his humour, -his terror of loneliness, his capacity for devotion to a brutal -master, or that of the bee, with her selfless devotion to the hive, -furnishes phenomena which no sophistry can assimilate without the -aid of a fourth instinct. But little examination will show that the -animals whose conduct it is difficult to generalize under the three -primitive instinctive categories are gregarious. If then it can be -shown that gregariousness is of a biological significance approaching -in importance that of the other instincts, we may expect to find in it -the source of these anomalies of conduct, and if we can also show {18} -that man is gregarious, we may look to it for the definition of the -unknown “x” which might account for the complexity of human behaviour. - - -III. BIOLOGICAL SIGNIFICANCE OF GREGARIOUSNESS. - -The animal kingdom presents two relatively sudden and very striking -advances in complexity and in the size of the unit upon which natural -selection acts unmodified. These advances consist in the aggregation of -units which were previously independent and exposed to the full normal -action of natural selection, and the two instances are, of course, -the passage from the unicellular to the multicellular, and from the -solitary to the social. - -It is obvious that in the multicellular organism individual cells -lose some of the capacities of the unicellular—reproductive capacity -is regulated and limited, nutrition is no longer possible in the old -simple way and response to stimuli comes only in certain channels. In -return for these sacrifices we may say, metaphorically, that the action -of natural selection is withdrawn from within the commune. Unfitness -of a given cell or group of cells can be eliminated only through its -effect upon the whole organism. The latter is less sensitive to the -vagaries of a single cell than is the organism of which the single -cell is the whole. It would seem, therefore, that there is now allowed -a greater range of variability for the individual cells, and perhaps, -therefore, an increased richness of the material to be selected from. -Variations, moreover, which were not immediately favourable would now -have a chance of surviving. - -Looked at in this way, multicellularity presents itself as an escape -from the rigour of natural selection, which for the unicellular -organism had narrowed {19} competition to so desperate a struggle -that any variation outside the straitest limits was fatal, for even -though it might be favourable in one respect, it would, in so small -a kingdom, involve a loss in another. The only way, therefore, for -further advantageous elaboration to occur was by the enlargement of -the competing unit. Various species of multicellular organisms might -in time be supposed in turn to reach the limit of their powers. -Competition would be at its maximum, smaller and smaller variations -would be capable of producing serious results. In the species where -these conditions prevail an enlargement of the unit is imminent if -progress is to occur. It is no longer possible by increases of physical -complexity and the apparently inevitable sequence is the appearance -of gregariousness. The necessity and inevitableness of the change are -shown by its scattered development in very widely separated regions -(for example, in insects and in mammals) just as, we may suspect, -multicellularity appeared. - -Gregariousness seems frequently to be regarded as a somewhat -superficial character, scarcely deserving, as it were, the name of an -instinct, advantageous it is true, but not of fundamental importance -or likely to be deeply ingrained in the inheritance of the species. -This attitude may be due to the fact that among mammals at any rate the -appearance of gregariousness has not been accompanied by any very gross -physical changes which are obviously associated with it.[C] - - [C] Among gregarious insects there are of course physical changes - arising out of and closely dependent on the social organization. - -To whatever it may be due, this method of regarding the social habit -is, in the opinion of the present writer, not justified by the facts, -and prevents the attainment of conclusions of considerable fruitfulness. - -A study of bees and ants shows at once how {20} fundamental the -importance of gregariousness may become. The individual in such -communities is completely incapable, often physically, of existing -apart from the community, and this fact at once gives rise to the -suspicion that even in communities less closely knit than those of -the ant and the bee, the individual may in fact be more dependent on -communal life than appears at first sight. - -Another very striking piece of general evidence of the significance -of gregariousness as no mere late acquirement is the remarkable -coincidence of its occurrence with that of exceptional grades -of intelligence or the possibility of very complex reactions to -environment. It can scarcely be regarded as an unmeaning accident -that the dog, the horse, the ape, the elephant, and man are all -social animals. The instances of the bee and the ant are perhaps the -most amazing. Here the advantages of gregariousness seem actually to -outweigh the most prodigious differences of structure, and we find -a condition which is often thought of as a mere habit, capable of -enabling the insect nervous system to compete in the complexity of its -power of adaptation with that of the higher vertebrates. - -If it be granted that gregariousness is a phenomenon of profound -biological significance and one likely therefore to be responsible -for an important group of instinctive impulses, the next step in our -argument is the discussion of the question as to whether man is to -be regarded as gregarious in the full sense of the word, whether, -that is to say, the social habit may be expected to furnish him with -a mass of instinctive impulse as mysteriously potent as the impulses -of self-preservation, nutrition, and sex. Can we look to the social -instinct for an explanation of some of the “_a priori_ syntheses of the -most perfect sort needing no proof but their own evidence,” which are -not explained by the three {21} primitive categories of instinct, and -remain stumbling-blocks in the way of generalizing the conduct of man? - -The conception of man as a gregarious animal is, of course, extremely -familiar; one frequently meets with it in the writings of psychologists -and sociologists, and it has obtained a respectable currency with the -lay public. It has, indeed, become so hackneyed that it is the first -duty of a writer who maintains the thesis that its significance is -not even yet fully understood, to show that the popular conception -of it has been far from exhaustive. As used hitherto the idea seems -to have had a certain vagueness which greatly impaired its practical -value. It furnished an interesting analogy for some of the behaviour -of man, or was enunciated as a half serious illustration by a writer -who felt himself to be in an exceptionally sardonic vein, but it was -not at all widely looked upon as a definite fact of biology which -must have consequences as precise and a significance as ascertainable -as the secretion of the gastric juice or the refracting apparatus of -the eye. One of the most familiar attitudes was that which regarded -the social instinct as a late development. The family was looked -upon as the primitive unit; from it developed the tribe, and by the -spread of family feeling to the tribe the social instinct arose. It is -interesting that the psychological attack upon this position has been -anticipated by sociologists and anthropologists, and that it is already -being recognized that an undifferentiated horde rather than the family -must be regarded as the primitive basis of human society. - -The most important consequence of this vague way of regarding the -social habit of man has been that no exhaustive investigation of -its psychological corollaries has been carried out. When we see the -enormous effect in determining conduct that the gregarious inheritance -has in the bee, the ant, the {22} horse, or the dog, it is quite -plain that if the gregariousness of man had been seriously regarded -as a definite fact a great amount of work would have been done in -determining precisely what reactive tendencies it had marked out in -man’s mind. Unfortunately, the amount of precise work of this kind has -been very small. - -From the biological standpoint the probability of gregariousness being -a primitive and fundamental quality in man seems to be considerable. As -already pointed out, like the other great enlargement of the biological -unit, but in a much more easily recognizable degree, it would appear to -have the effect of enlarging the advantages of variation. Varieties not -immediately favourable, varieties departing widely from the standard, -varieties even unfavourable to the individual may be supposed to be -given by it a chance of survival. Now the course of the development -of man seems to present many features incompatible with its having -proceeded amongst isolated individuals exposed to the unmodified -action of natural selection. Changes so serious as the assumption of -the upright posture, the reduction in the jaw and its musculature, the -reduction in the acuity of smell and hearing, demand, if the species -is to survive, either a delicacy of adjustment with the compensatingly -developing intelligence so minute as to be almost inconceivable, or -the existence of some kind of protective enclosure, however imperfect, -in which the varying individuals were sheltered from the direct -influence of natural selection. The existence of such a mechanism would -compensate losses of physical strength in the individual by the greatly -increased strength of the larger unit, of the unit, that is to say, -upon which natural selection still acts unmodified. - -A realization, therefore, of this function of gregariousness relieves -us from the necessity of {23} supposing that the double variations of -diminishing physical and increasing mental capacity always occurred -_pari passu_. The case for the primitiveness of the social habit would -seem to be still further strengthened by a consideration of such widely -aberrant developments as speech and the æsthetic activities, but a -discussion of them here would involve an unnecessary indulgence of -biological speculation. - - -IV. MENTAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE GREGARIOUS ANIMAL. - - -(_a_) Current Views in Sociology and Psychology. - -If we now assume that gregariousness may be regarded as a fundamental -quality of man, it remains to discuss the effects we may expect it -to have produced upon the structure of his mind. It would be well, -however, first, to attempt to form some idea of how far investigation -has already gone in this direction. It is of course clear that no -complete review of all that has been said concerning a conception so -familiar can be attempted here, and, even if it were possible, it would -not be a profitable enterprise, as the great bulk of writers have -not seen in the idea anything to justify a fundamental examination -of it. What will be done here, therefore, will be to mention a few -representative writers who have dealt with the subject, and to give in -a summary way the characteristic features of their exposition. - -As far as I am aware, the first person to point out any of the less -obvious biological significance of gregariousness was Professor Karl -Pearson.[D] {24} - - [D] Many references to the subject will be found in his published - works, for example in “The Grammar of Science,” in “National Life - from the Standpoint of Science,” and in “The Chances of Death.” In - the collection of Essays last named the essay entitled “Socialism - and Natural Selection” deals most fully with the subject. - -He called attention to the enlargement of the selective unit effected -by the appearance of gregariousness, and to the fact that therefore -within the group the action of natural selection becomes modified. -This conception had, as is well known, escaped the insight of Haeckel, -of Spencer, and of Huxley, and Pearson showed into what confusions in -their treatment of the problems of society these three had been led by -the oversight.[E] For example may be mentioned the famous antithesis -of the “cosmical” and the “ethical” processes expounded in Huxley’s -Romanes Lecture. It was quite definitely indicated by Pearson that the -so-called ethical process, the appearance, that is to say, of altruism, -is to be regarded as a directly instinctive product of gregariousness, -and as natural, therefore, as any other instinct. - -These very clear and valuable conceptions do not seem, however, to have -received from biologists the attention they deserved, and as far as I -am aware their author has not continued further the examination of the -structure of the gregarious mind, which would undoubtedly have yielded -in his hands further conclusions of equal value. - -We may next examine the attitude of a modern sociologist. I have chosen -for this purpose the work of an American sociologist, Lester Ward, and -propose briefly to indicate his position as it may be gathered from his -book entitled “Pure Sociology.”[F] {25} - - [E] “Socialism and Natural Selection” in “The Chances of Death.” - - [F] Lester F. Ward, “Pure Sociology: a Treatise on the Origin and - Spontaneous Development of Society.” New York: The Macmillan Co. - 1903. I do not venture to decide whether this work may be regarded - as representative of orthodox sociology, if there be such a thing; - I have made the choice because of the author’s capacity for fresh - and ingenious speculation and his obviously wide knowledge of - sociological literature. - -The task of summarizing the views of any sociologist seems to me to be -rendered difficult by a certain vagueness in outline of the positions -laid down, a certain tendency for a description of fact to run into -an analogy, and an analogy to fade into an illustration. It would -be discourteous to doubt that these tendencies are necessary to the -fruitful treatment of the material of sociology, but, as they are very -prominent in connection with the subject of gregariousness, it is -necessary to say that one is fully conscious of the difficulties they -give rise to, and feels that they may have led one into unintentional -misrepresentation. - -With this proviso it may be stated that the writings of Ward produce -the feeling that he regards gregariousness as furnishing but few -precise and primitive characteristics of the human mind. The mechanisms -through which group “instinct” acts would seem to be to him largely -rational processes, and group instinct itself is regarded as a -relatively late development more or less closely associated with a -rational knowledge that it “pays.” For example, he says: “For want of -a better name, I have characterized this social instinct, or instinct -of race safety, as religion, but not without clearly perceiving that -it constitutes the primordial undifferentiated plasm out of which have -subsequently developed all the more important human institutions. This -. . . if it be not an instinct, is at least the human homologue of -animal instinct, and served the same purpose _after the instincts had -chiefly disappeared_, and when the egotistic reason would otherwise -have rapidly carried the race to destruction in its mad pursuit of -pleasure for its own sake.”[G] - - [G] “Pure Sociology,” p. 134. Italics not in original. Passages - of a similar tendency will be found on pp. 200 and 556. - -That gregariousness has to be considered amongst {26} the factors -shaping the tendencies of the human mind has long been recognized by -the more empirical psychologists. In the main, however, it has been -regarded as a quality perceptible only in the characteristics of actual -crowds—that is to say, assemblies of persons being and acting in -association. This conception has served to evoke a certain amount of -valuable work in the observation of the behaviour of crowds.[H] - -Owing, however, to the failure to investigate as the more essential -question the effects of gregariousness in the mind of the normal -individual man, the theoretical side of crowd psychology has remained -incomplete and relatively sterile. - -There is, however, one exception, in the case of the work of Boris -Sidis. In a book entitled “The Psychology of Suggestion”[I] he has -described certain psychical qualities as necessarily associated with -the social habit in the individual as in the crowd. His position, -therefore, demands some discussion. The fundamental element in it is -the conception of the normal existence in the mind of a subconscious -self. This subconscious or subwaking self is regarded as embodying the -“lower” and more obviously brutal qualities of man. It is irrational, -imitative, credulous, cowardly, cruel, and lacks all individuality, -will, and self-control.[J] This personality takes the place of the -normal personality during hypnosis and when the individual is one of an -active crowd, as, for example, in riots, panics, lynchings, revivals, -and so forth. {27} - - [H] For example, the little book of Gustave Le Bon—“Psychologie - des Foules,” Paris: Felix Alcan—in which are formulated many - generalizations. - - [I] “The Psychology of Suggestion: a Research into the - Subconscious Nature of Man and Society,” by Boris Sidis, with an - Introduction by Prof. Wm. James. New York. 1903. - - [J] “Psychology of Suggestion,” p. 295. - -Of the two personalities—the subconscious and the normal—the former -alone is suggestible; the successful operation of suggestion implies -the recurrence, however transient, of a disaggregation of personality, -and the emergence of the subwaking self as the controlling mind (pp. -89 and 90). It is this suggestibility of the subwaking self which -enables man to be a social animal. “Suggestibility is the cement of -the herd, the very soul of the primitive social group. . . . Man is a -social animal, no doubt, but he is social because he is suggestible. -Suggestibility, however, requires disaggregation of consciousness, -hence society presupposes a cleavage of the mind. Society and mental -epidemics are intimately related; for the social gregarious self is the -suggestible subconscious self” (p. 310). - -Judged from our present standpoint, the most valuable feature of -Sidis’s book is that it calls attention to the undoubtedly intimate -relation between gregariousness and suggestibility. The mechanism, -however, by which he supposes suggestibility to come into action is -more open to criticism. The conception of a permanent subconscious self -is one to which it is doubtful whether the evidence compels assent.[K] -The essential difference, however, which Sidis’s views present from -those to be developed below, lies in his regarding suggestibility as -being something which is liable to intrude upon the normal mind as the -result of a disaggregation of consciousness, instead of as a necessary -quality of every normal mind, continually present, and an inalienable -accompaniment of human thought. A careful reading of his book gives -a very clear impression that he looks upon suggestibility as a {28} -disreputable and disastrous legacy of the brute and the savage, -undesirable in civilized life, opposed to the satisfactory development -of the normal individuality, and certainly in no way associated at its -origin with a quality so valuable as altruism. Moreover, one gets the -impression that he regards suggestibility as being manifested chiefly, -if not solely, in crowds, in panics, revivals, and in conditions -generally in which the element of close association is well marked. - - [K] In this connexion the “Symposium on the Subconscious” in the - _Journal of Abnormal Psychology_, vol. ii. Nos. 1 and 2, is of - much interest. The discussion is contributed to by Münsterberg, - Ribot Jastrow, Pierre Janet, and Morton Prince. - - -(_b_) Deductive Considerations - -The functions of the gregarious habit in a species may broadly be -defined as offensive or defensive, or both. Whichever of these modes it -has assumed in the animal under consideration, it will be correlated -with effects which will be divisible into two classes—the general -characteristics of the social animal, and the special characteristics -of the form of social habit possessed by the given animal. The dog and -the sheep illustrate well the characteristics of the two simple forms -of gregariousness—offensive and defensive. - - -1. _Special Characteristics of the Gregarious Animal._ - -These need not be dealt with here, as they are the qualities which -for the most part have been treated of by psychologists in such work -as has been done on the corollaries of gregariousness in man. This is -because they are qualities which are most evident in man’s behaviour -when he acts in crowds, and are then evident as something temporarily -superadded to the possibilities of the isolated individual. Hence -it has come about that they have been taken for the most part as -constituting the whole of man’s gregarious inheritance, while the -possibility that that inheritance might have {29} equally important -consequences for the individual has been relatively neglected. - - -2. _General Characteristics of the Gregarious Animal._ - -The cardinal quality of the herd is homogeneity. It is clear that -the great advantage of the social habit is to enable large numbers -to act as one, whereby in the case of the hunting gregarious animal -strength in pursuit and attack is at once increased to beyond that -of the creatures preyed upon,[L] and in protective socialism the -sensitiveness of the new unit to alarms is greatly in excess of that of -the individual member of the flock. - - [L] The wolf pack forms an organism, it is interesting to note, - stronger than the lion or the tiger; capable of compensating for - the loss of members; inexhaustible in pursuit, and therefore - capable by sheer strength of hunting down without wile or artifice - the fleetest animals; capable finally of consuming all the food it - kills, and thus possessing another considerable advantage over the - large solitary carnivora in not tending uselessly to exhaust its - food supply. The advantages of the social habit in carnivora is - well shown by the survival of wolves in civilized countries even - to-day. - -To secure these advantages of homogeneity, it is evident that the -members of the herd must possess sensitiveness to the behaviour of -their fellows. The individual isolated will be of no meaning, the -individual as part of the herd will be capable of transmitting the -most potent impulses. Each member of the flock tending to follow its -neighbour and in turn to be followed, each is in some sense capable -of leadership; but no lead will be followed that departs widely from -normal behaviour. A lead will be followed only from its resemblance to -the normal. If the leader go so far ahead as definitely to cease to be -in the herd, he will necessarily be ignored. - -The original in conduct, that is to say resistiveness to the voice of -the herd, will be suppressed {30} by natural selection; the wolf which -does not follow the impulses of the herd will be starved; the sheep -which does not respond to the flock will be eaten. - -Again, not only will the individual be responsive to impulses coming -from the herd, but he will treat the herd as his normal environment. -The impulse to be in and always to remain with the herd will have the -strongest instinctive weight. Anything which tends to separate him -from his fellows, as soon as it becomes perceptible as such, will be -strongly resisted. - -So far, we have regarded the gregarious animal objectively. We have -seen that he behaves as if the herd were the only environment in which -he can live, that he is especially sensitive to impulses coming from -the herd, and quite differently affected by the behaviour of animals -not in the herd. Let us now try to estimate the mental aspects of these -impulses. Suppose a species in possession of precisely the instinctive -endowments which we have been considering, to be also self-conscious, -and let us ask what will be the forms under which these phenomena -will present themselves in its mind. In the first place, it is quite -evident that impulses derived from herd feeling will enter the mind -with the value of instincts—they will present themselves as “_a -priori_ syntheses of the most perfect sort needing no proof but their -own evidence.” They will not, however, it is important to remember, -necessarily always give this quality to the same specific acts, but -will show this great distinguishing characteristic that they may -give to _any opinion whatever_ the characters of instinctive belief, -making it into an “_a priori synthesis_”; so that we shall expect to -find acts which it would be absurd to look upon as the results of -specific instincts carried out with all the enthusiasm of instinct, and -displaying {31} all the marks of instinctive behaviour. The failure -to recognize this appearance of herd impulse as a tendency, as a power -which can confer instinctive sanctions on any part of the field of -belief or action, has prevented the social habit of man from attracting -as much of the attention of psychologists as it might profitably have -done. - -In interpreting into mental terms the consequences of gregariousness, -we may conveniently begin with the simplest. The conscious individual -will feel an unanalysable primary sense of comfort in the actual -presence of his fellows, and a similar sense of discomfort in their -absence. It will be obvious truth to him that it is not good for the -man to be alone. Loneliness will be a real terror, insurmountable by -reason. - -Again, certain conditions will become secondarily associated with -presence with, or absence from, the herd. For example, take the -sensations of heat and cold. The latter is prevented in gregarious -animals by close crowding, and experienced in the reverse condition; -hence it comes to be connected in the mind with separation, and -so acquires altogether unreasonable associations of harmfulness. -Similarly, the sensation of warmth is associated with feelings of -the secure and salutary. It has taken medicine many thousands of -years to begin to doubt the validity of the popular conception of -the harmfulness of cold; yet to the psychologist such a doubt is -immediately obvious.[M] - - [M] Any one who has watched the behaviour of the dog and the cat - towards warmth and cold cannot have failed to notice the effect of - the gregarious habit on the former. The cat displays a moderate - liking for warmth, but also a decided indifference to cold, and - will quietly sit in the snow in a way which would be impossible to - the dog. - -Slightly more complex manifestations of the same tendency to -homogeneity are seen in the desire for identification with the herd -in matters of opinion. {32} Here we find the biological explanation -of the ineradicable impulse mankind has always displayed towards -segregation into classes. Each one of us in his opinions and his -conduct, in matters of dress, amusement, religion, and politics, is -compelled to obtain the support of a class, of a herd within the herd. -The most eccentric in opinion or conduct is, we may be sure, supported -by the agreement of a class, the smallness of which accounts for his -apparent eccentricity, and the preciousness of which accounts for his -fortitude in defying general opinion. Again, anything which tends to -emphasize difference from the herd is unpleasant. In the individual -mind there will be an unanalysable dislike of the novel in action or -thought. It will be “wrong,” “wicked,” “foolish,” “undesirable,” or -as we say “bad form,” according to varying circumstances which we can -already to some extent define. - -Manifestations relatively more simple are shown in the dislike of -being conspicuous, in shyness and in stage fright. It is, however, -sensitiveness to the behaviour of the herd which has the most important -effects upon the structure of the mind of the gregarious animal. -This sensitiveness is closely associated with the suggestibility of -the gregarious animal, and therefore with that of man. The effect of -it will clearly be to make acceptable those suggestions which come -from the herd, and those only. It is of especial importance to note -that this suggestibility is not general, and that it is only herd -suggestions which are rendered acceptable by the action of instinct. -Man is, for example, notoriously insensitive to the suggestions of -experience. The history of what is rather grandiosely called human -progress everywhere illustrates this. If we look back upon the -development of some such thing as the steam-engine, we cannot fail to -be struck by the extreme obviousness of each advance, and how {33} -obstinately it was refused assimilation until the machine almost -invented itself. - -Again, of two suggestions, that which the more perfectly embodies the -voice of the herd is the more acceptable. The chances an affirmation -has of being accepted could therefore be most satisfactorily expressed -in terms of the bulk of the herd by which it is backed. - -It follows from the foregoing that anything which dissociates a -suggestion from the herd will tend to ensure such a suggestion being -rejected. For example, an imperious command from an individual known -to be without authority is necessarily disregarded, whereas the same -person making the same suggestion in an indirect way so as to link it -up with the voice of the herd will meet with success. - -It is unfortunate that in discussing these facts it has been necessary -to use the word “suggestibility,” which has so thorough an implication -of the abnormal. If the biological explanation of suggestibility here -set forth be accepted, the latter must necessarily be a normal quality -of the human mind. To believe must be an ineradicable natural bias -of man, or in other words an affirmation, positive or negative, is -more readily accepted than rejected, unless its source is definitely -dissociated from the herd. Man is not, therefore, suggestible by fits -and starts, not merely in panics and in mobs, under hypnosis, and -so forth, but always, everywhere, and under any circumstances. The -capricious way in which man reacts to different suggestions has been -attributed to variations in his suggestibility. This in the opinion of -the present writer is an incorrect interpretation of the facts which -are more satisfactorily explained by regarding the variations as due to -the differing extent to which suggestions are identified with the voice -of the herd. - -Man’s resistiveness to certain suggestions, and {34} especially to -experience, as is seen so well in his attitude to the new, becomes -therefore but another evidence of his suggestibility, since the new has -always to encounter the opposition of herd tradition. - -The apparent diminution in direct suggestibility with advancing years, -such as was demonstrated in children by Binet, is in the case of the -adult familiar to all, and is there usually regarded as evidence of a -gradually advancing organic change in the brain. It can be regarded, at -least plausibly, as being due to the fact that increase of years must -bring an increase in the accumulations of herd suggestion, and so tend -progressively to fix opinion. - -In the early days of the human race, the appearance of the faculty of -speech must have led to an immediate increase in the extent to which -the decrees of the herd could be promulgated, and the field to which -they applied. Now the desire for certitude is one of profound depth -in the human mind, and possibly a necessary property of any mind, and -it is very plausible to suppose that it led in these early days to -the whole field of life being covered by pronouncements backed by the -instinctive sanction of the herd. The life of the individual would be -completely surrounded by sanctions of the most tremendous kind. He -would know what he might and might not do, and what would happen if -he disobeyed. It would be immaterial if experience confirmed these -beliefs or not, because it would have incomparably less weight than -the voice of the herd. Such a period is the only trace perceptible -by the biologist of the Golden Age fabled by the poet, when things -happened as they ought, and hard facts had not begun to vex the soul -of man. In some such condition we still find the Central Australian -native. His whole life, to its minutest detail, is ordained for him by -the voice of the herd, and he must not, under the most dreadful {35} -sanctions, step outside its elaborate order. It does not matter to him -that an infringement of the code under his very eyes is not followed -by judgment, for with tribal suggestion so compactly organized, such -cases are in fact no difficulty, and do not trouble his belief, just -as in more civilized countries apparent instances of malignity in the -reigning deity are not found to be inconsistent with his benevolence. - -Such must everywhere have been primitive human conditions, and upon -them reason intrudes as an alien and hostile power, disturbing the -perfection of life, and causing an unending series of conflicts. - -Experience, as is shown by the whole history of man, is met by -resistance because it invariably encounters decisions based upon -instinctive belief, and nowhere is this fact more clearly to be seen -than in the way in which the progress of science has been made. - -In matters that really interest him, man cannot support the suspense -of judgment which science so often has to enjoin. He is too anxious -to feel certain to have time to know. So that we see of the sciences, -mathematics appearing first, then astronomy, then physics, then -chemistry, then biology, then psychology, then sociology—but always -the new field was grudged to the new method, and we still have the -denial to sociology of the name of science. Nowadays, matters of -national defence, of politics, of religion, are still too important for -knowledge, and remain subjects for certitude; that is to say, in them -we still prefer the comfort of instinctive belief, because we have not -learnt adequately to value the capacity to foretell. - -Direct observation of man reveals at once the fact that a very -considerable proportion of his beliefs are non-rational to a degree -which is immediately obvious without any special examination, and with -{36} no special resources other than common knowledge. If we examine -the mental furniture of the average man, we shall find it made up of a -vast number of judgments of a very precise kind upon subjects of very -great variety, complexity, and difficulty. He will have fairly settled -views upon the origin and nature of the universe, and upon what he will -probably call its meaning; he will have conclusions as to what is to -happen to him at death and after, as to what is and what should be the -basis of conduct. He will know how the country should be governed, and -why it is going to the dogs, why this piece of legislation is good and -that bad. He will have strong views upon military and naval strategy, -the principles of taxation, the use of alcohol and vaccination, the -treatment of influenza, the prevention of hydrophobia, upon municipal -trading, the teaching of Greek, upon what is permissible in art, -satisfactory in literature, and hopeful in science. - -The bulk of such opinions must necessarily be without rational basis, -since many of them are concerned with problems admitted by the expert -to be still unsolved, while as to the rest it is clear that the -training and experience of no average man can qualify him to have any -opinion upon them at all. The rational method adequately used would -have told him that on the great majority of these questions there could -be for him but one attitude—that of suspended judgment. - -In view of the considerations that have been discussed above, this -wholesale acceptance of non-rational belief must be looked upon as -normal. The mechanism by which it is effected demands some examination, -since it cannot be denied that the facts conflict noticeably with -popularly current views as to the part taken by reason in the formation -of opinion. - -It is clear at the outset that these beliefs are invariably regarded by -the holder as rational, and {37} defended as such, while the position -of one who holds contrary views is held to be obviously unreasonable. -The religious man accuses the atheist of being shallow and irrational, -and is met by a similar reply; to the Conservative, the amazing thing -about the Liberal is his incapacity to see reason and accept the -only possible solution of public problems. Examination reveals the -fact that the differences are not due to the commission of the mere -mechanical fallacies of logic, since these are easily avoided, even by -the politician, and since there is no reason to suppose that one party -in such controversies is less logical than the other. The difference -is due rather to the fundamental assumptions of the antagonists being -hostile, and these assumptions are derived from herd suggestion; to -the Liberal, certain basal conceptions have acquired the quality -of instinctive truth, have become “_a priori_ syntheses,” because -of the accumulated suggestions to which he has been exposed, and a -similar explanation applies to the atheist, the Christian, and the -Conservative. Each, it is important to remember, finds in consequence -the rationality of his position flawless, and is quite incapable of -detecting in it the fallacies which are obvious to his opponent, to -whom that particular series of assumptions has not been rendered -acceptable by herd suggestion. - -To continue further the analysis of non-rational opinion, it should be -observed that the mind rarely leaves uncriticized the assumptions which -are forced on it by herd suggestion, the tendency being for it to find -more or less elaborately rationalized justifications of them. This is -in accordance with the enormously exaggerated weight which is always -ascribed to reason in the formation of opinion and conduct, as is very -well seen, for example, in the explanation of the existence of altruism -as being due to man seeing that it “pays.” {38} - -It is of cardinal importance to recognize that in this process of -the rationalization of instinctive belief, it is the belief which is -the primary thing, while the explanation, although masquerading as -the cause of the belief, as the chain of rational evidence on which -the belief is founded, is entirely secondary, and but for the belief -would never have been thought of. Such rationalizations are often, in -the case of intelligent people, of extreme ingenuity, and may be very -misleading unless the true instinctive basis of the given opinion or -action is thoroughly understood. - -This mechanism enables the English lady, who, to escape the stigma -of having normal feet, subjects them to a formidable degree of -lateral compression, to be aware of no logical inconsequence when she -subscribes to missions to teach the Chinese lady how absurd it is to -compress her feet longitudinally; it enables the European lady who -wears rings in her ears to smile at the barbarism of the coloured -lady who wears her rings in her nose; it enables the Englishman who -is amused by the African chieftain’s regard for the top hat as an -essential piece of the furniture of state to ignore the identity of his -own behaviour when he goes to church beneath the same tremendous ensign. - -The objectivist finds himself compelled to regard these and similar -correspondences between the behaviour of civilized and barbarous man as -no mere interesting coincidences, but as phenomena actually and in the -grossest way identical, but such an attitude is possible only when the -mechanism is understood by which rationalization of these customs is -effected. - -The process of rationalization which has just been illustrated by some -of its simpler varieties is best seen on the largest scale, and in -the most elaborate form, in the pseudosciences of political economy -and ethics. Both of these are occupied in deriving {39} from eternal -principles justifications for masses of non-rational belief which are -assumed to be permanent merely because they exist. Hence the notorious -acrobatic feats of both in the face of any considerable variation in -herd belief. - -It would seem that the obstacles to rational thought which have been -pointed out in the foregoing discussion have received much less -attention than should have been directed towards them. To maintain -an attitude of mind which could be called scientific in any complete -sense, it is of cardinal importance to recognize that belief of -affirmations sanctioned by the herd is a normal mechanism of the human -mind, and goes on however much such affirmations may be opposed by -evidence, that reason cannot enforce belief against herd suggestion, -and finally that totally false opinions may appear to the holder of -them to possess all the characters of rationally verifiable truth, and -may be justified by secondary processes of rationalization which it may -be impossible directly to combat by argument. - -It should be noticed, however, that verifiable truths may acquire the -potency of herd suggestion, so that the suggestibility of man does -not necessarily or always act against the advancement of knowledge. -For example, to the student of biology the principles of Darwinism -may acquire the force of herd suggestion through being held by -the class which he most respects, is most in contact with and the -class which has therefore acquired suggestionizing power with him. -Propositions consistent with these principles will now necessarily -be more acceptable to him, whatever the evidence by which they are -supported, than they would be to one who had not been exposed to -the same influences. The opinion, in fact, may be hazarded that the -acceptance of any proposition is invariably the resultant of suggestive -influences, whether the {40} proposition be true or false, and that -the balance of suggestion is usually on the side of the false, because, -education being what it is, the scientific method—the method, that is -to say, of experience—has so little chance of acquiring suggestionizing -force. - -Thus far sensitiveness to the herd has been discussed in relation to -its effect upon intellectual processes. Equally important effects are -traceable in feeling. - -It is obvious that when free communication is possible by speech, -the expressed approval or disapproval of the herd will acquire the -qualities of identity or dissociation from the herd respectively. To -know that he is doing what would arouse the disapproval of the herd -will bring to the individual the same profound sense of discomfort -which would accompany actual physical separation, while to know that -he is doing what the herd would approve will give him the sense of -rightness, of gusto, and of stimulus which would accompany physical -presence in the herd and response to its mandates. In both cases it -is clear that no actual expression by the herd is necessary to arouse -the appropriate feelings, which would come from within and have, in -fact, the qualities which are recognized in the dictates of conscience. -Conscience, then, and the feelings of guilt and of duty are the -peculiar possessions of the gregarious animal. A dog and a cat caught -in the commission of an offence will both recognize that punishment is -coming; but the dog, moreover, knows that he has done _wrong_, and he -will come to be punished, unwillingly it is true, and as if dragged -along by some power outside him, while the cat’s sole impulse is to -escape. The rational recognition of the sequence of act and punishment -is equally clear to the gregarious and to the solitary animal, but -it is the former only who understands {41} that he has committed a -_crime_, who has, in fact, the _sense of sin_. That this is the origin -of what we call conscience is confirmed by the characteristics of the -latter which are accessible to observation. Any detailed examination -of the phenomena of conscience would lead too far to be admissible -here. Two facts, however, should be noticed. First, the judgments -of conscience vary in different circles, and are dependent on local -environments; secondly, they are not advantageous to the species to -the slightest degree beyond the dicta of the morals current in the -circle in which they originate. These facts—stated here in an extremely -summary way—demonstrate that conscience is an indirect result of the -gregarious instinct, and is in no sense derived from a special instinct -forcing men to consider the good of the race rather than individual -desires. - -1908 - - - - -{42} SOCIOLOGICAL APPLICATIONS OF THE PSYCHOLOGY OF HERD INSTINCT - - -It was shown in the previous essay that the gregarious mental -character is evident in man’s behaviour, not only in crowds and -other circumstances of actual association, but also in his behaviour -as an individual, however isolated. The conclusions were arrived -at that man’s suggestibility is not the abnormal casual phenomenon -it is often supposed to be, but a normal instinct present in every -individual, and that the apparent inconstancy of its action is due to -the common failure to recognize the extent of the field over which -suggestion acts; that the only medium in which man’s mind can function -satisfactorily is the herd, which therefore is not only the source of -his opinions, his credulities, his disbeliefs, and his weaknesses, but -of his altruism, his charity, his enthusiasms, and his power. - -The subject of the psychological effects of herd instinct is so -wide that the discussion of it in the former essay covered only a -comparatively small part of the field, and that in a very cursory way. -Such as it was, however, it cannot be further amplified here, where an -attempt will rather be made to sketch some of the practical corollaries -of such generalizations as were laid down there. - -In the first place, it must be stated with emphasis that deductive -speculation of this sort finds its principal value in opening up new -possibilities for {43} the application of a more exact method. Science -is measurement, but the deductive method may indicate those things -which can be most profitably measured. - -When the overwhelming importance of the suggestibility of man is -recognized our first effort should be to obtain exact numerical -expressions of it. This is not the place to attempt any exposition -of the directions in which experiment should proceed; but it may be -stated that what we want to know is, how much suggestion can do in the -way of inducing belief, and it may be guessed that we shall ultimately -be able to express the force of suggestion in terms of the number of -undifferentiated units of the herd it represents. In the work that has -already been done, chiefly by Binet and by Sidis, the suggestive force -experimented with was relatively feeble, and the effects consequently -were rendered liable to great disturbance from the spontaneous action -of other forces of suggestion already in the mind. Sidis, for example, -found that his subjects often yielded to his suggestions out of -“politeness”; this source of difficulty was obviously due to his use of -pure individual suggestion, a variety which theory shows to be weak or -even directly resisted. - -The next feature of practical interest is connected with the -hypothesis, which we attempted in the former article to demonstrate, -that irrational belief forms a large bulk of the furniture of the -mind, and is indistinguishable by the subject from rational verifiable -knowledge. It is obviously of cardinal importance to be able to -effect this distinction, for it is the failure to do so which, while -it is not the cause of the slowness of advance in knowledge, is the -mechanism by which this delay is brought about. Is there, then, we may -ask, any discoverable touchstone by which non-rational opinion may be -distinguished from rational? Non-rational judgments, being the product -of suggestion, will have {44} the quality of instinctive opinion, or, -as we may call it, of belief in the strict sense. The essence of this -quality is obviousness; the truth held in this way is one of James’s -“_a priori_ syntheses of the most perfect sort”; to question it is to -the believer to carry scepticism to an insane degree, and will be met -by contempt, disapproval, or condemnation, according to the nature of -the belief in question. When, therefore, we find ourselves entertaining -an opinion about the basis of which there is a quality of feeling -which tells us that to inquire into it would be absurd, obviously -unnecessary, unprofitable, undesirable, bad form, or wicked, we may -know that that opinion is a non-rational one, and probably, therefore, -founded upon inadequate evidence. - -Opinions, on the other hand, which are acquired as the result of -experience alone do not possess this quality of primary certitude. They -are true in the sense of being verifiable, but they are unaccompanied -by that profound feeling of truth which belief possesses, and, -therefore, we have no sense of reluctance in admitting inquiry into -them. That heavy bodies tend to fall to the earth and that fire burns -fingers are truths verifiable and verified every day, but we do not -hold them with impassioned certitude, and we do not resent or resist -inquiry into their basis; whereas in such a question as that of the -survival of death by human personality we hold the favourable or the -adverse view with a quality of feeling entirely different, and of such -a kind that inquiry into the matter is looked upon as disreputable by -orthodox science and as wicked by orthodox religion. In relation to -this subject, it may be remarked, we often see it very interestingly -shown that the holders of two diametrically opposed opinions, one of -which is certainly right, may both show by their attitude that the -belief is held {45} instinctively and non-rationally, as, for example, -when an atheist and a Christian unite in repudiating inquiry into the -existence of the soul. - -A third practical corollary of a recognition of the true gregariousness -of man is the very obvious one that it is not by any means necessary -that suggestion should always act on the side of unreason. The despair -of the reformer has always been the irrationality of man, and latterly -some have come to regard the future as hopeless until we can breed a -rational species. Now, the trouble is not irrationality, not a definite -preference for unreason, but suggestibility—that is, a capacity for -accepting reason or unreason if it comes from the proper source. - -This quality we have seen to be a direct consequence of the social -habit, of a single definite instinct, that of gregariousness, the same -instinct which makes social life at all possible and altruism a reality. - -It does not seem to have been fully understood that if you attack -suggestibility by selection—and that is what you do if you breed for -rationality—you are attacking gregariousness, for there is at present -no adequate evidence that the gregarious instinct is other than a -simple character and one which cannot be split up by the breeder. If, -then, such an effort in breeding were successful, we should exchange -the manageable unreason of man for the inhuman rationality of the tiger. - -The solution would seem rather to lie in seeing to it that suggestion -always acts on the side of reason; if rationality were once to become -really respectable, if we feared the entertaining of an unverifiable -opinion with the warmth with which we fear using the wrong implement at -the dinner table, if the thought of holding a prejudice disgusted us -as does a foul disease, then the dangers of man’s suggestibility would -be turned into advantages. We {46} have seen that suggestion already -has begun to act on the side of reason in some small part of the life -of the student of science, and it is possible that a highly sanguine -prophetic imagination might detect here a germ of future changes. - -Again, a fourth corollary of gregariousness in man is the fact -expounded many years ago by Pearson that human altruism is a natural -instinctive product. The obvious dependence of the evolution of -altruism upon increase in knowledge and inter-communication has led to -its being regarded as a late and a conscious development—as something -in the nature of a judgment by the individual that it pays him to be -unselfish. This is an interesting rationalization of the facts because -in the sense in which “pay” is meant it is so obviously false. Altruism -does not at present, and cannot, pay the individual in anything but -feeling, as theory declares it must. It is clear, of course, that as -long as altruism is regarded as in the nature of a judgment, the fact -is overlooked that necessarily its only reward can be in feeling. -Man is altruistic because he must be, not because reason recommends -it, for herd suggestion opposes any advance in altruism, and when it -can the herd executes the altruist, not of course as such but as an -innovator. This is a remarkable instance of the protean character of -the gregarious instinct and the complexity it introduces into human -affairs, for we see one instinct producing manifestations directly -hostile to each other—prompting to ever advancing developments of -altruism, while it necessarily leads to any new product of advance -being attacked. It shows, moreover, as will be pointed out again later, -that a gregarious species rapidly developing a complex society can be -saved from inextricable confusion only by the appearance of reason and -the application of it to life. {47} - -When we remember the fearful repressing force which society has always -exercised on new forms of altruism and how constantly the dungeon, the -scaffold, and the cross have been the reward of the altruist, we are -able to get some conception of the force of the instinctive impulse -which has triumphantly defied these terrors, and to appreciate in some -slight degree how irresistible an enthusiasm it might become if it were -encouraged by the unanimous voice of the herd. - -In conclusion we have to deal with one more consequence of the social -habit in man, a consequence the discussion of which involves some -speculation of a necessarily quite tentative kind. - -If we look in a broad, general way at the four instincts which -bulk largely in man’s life, namely, those of self-preservation, -nutrition, sex, and the herd, we shall see at once that there is a -striking difference between the mode of action of the first three -and that of the last. The first three, which we may, for convenience -and without prejudice, call the primitive instincts, have in common -the characteristic of attaining their maximal activities only over -short periods and in special sets of circumstances, and of being -fundamentally pleasant to yield to. They do not remain in action -concurrently, but when the circumstances are appropriate for the -yielding to one, the others automatically fall into the background, -and the governing impulse is absolute master. Thus these instincts -cannot be supposed at all frequently to conflict amongst themselves, -and the animal possessing them alone, however highly developed his -consciousness might be, would lead a life emotionally quite simple, for -at any given moment he would necessarily be doing what he most wanted -to do. We may, therefore, imagine him to be endowed with the feelings -of free-will and reality to a superb degree, wholly unperplexed by -doubt and wholly secure in his unity of purpose. {48} - -The appearance of the fourth instinct, however, introduces a profound -change, for this instinct has the characteristic that it exercises a -controlling power upon the individual from without. In the case of -the solitary animal yielding to instinct the act itself is pleasant, -and the whole creature, as it were body and soul, pours itself out in -one smooth concurrence of reaction. With the social animal controlled -by herd instinct it is not the actual deed which is instinctively -done, but the order to do it which is instinctively obeyed. The deed, -being ordained from without, may actually be unpleasant, and so be -resisted from the individual side and yet be forced instinctively into -execution. The instinctive act seems to have been too much associated -in current thought with the idea of yielding to an impulse irresistibly -pleasant to the body, yet it is very obvious that herd instinct at once -introduces a mechanism by which the sanctions of instinct are conferred -upon acts by no means necessarily acceptable to the body or mind. This, -of course, involves an enormous increase of the range through which -instinct can be made use of. Its appearance marks the beginning of -the multifarious activities of man and of his stupendous success as a -species; but a spectator watching the process at its outset, had he -been interested in the destiny of the race, might have felt a pang of -apprehension when he realized how momentous was the divorce which had -been accomplished between instinct and individual desire. Instinctive -acts are still done because they are based on “_a priori_ syntheses of -the most perfect sort,” but they are no longer necessarily pleasant. -Duty has first appeared in the world, and with it the age-long conflict -which is described in the memorable words of Paul: “I delight in the -law of God after the inward man; but I see another law in my members -{49} warring against the law of my mind and bringing me into captivity -to the law of sin which is in my members.” - -Into the features and consequences of this conflict it is now necessary -for us to probe a little farther. - -The element of conflict in the normal life of all inhabitants of a -civilized state is so familiar that no formal demonstration of its -existence is necessary. In childhood the process has begun. The child -receives from the herd the doctrines, let us say, that truthfulness -is the most valuable of all the virtues, that honesty is the best -policy, that to the religious man death has no terrors, and that there -is in store a future life of perfect happiness and delight. And yet -experience tells him with persistence that truthfulness as often as -not brings him punishment, that his dishonest playfellow has as good -if not a better time than he, that the religious man shrinks from -death with as great a terror as the unbeliever, is as broken-hearted -by bereavement, and as determined to continue his hold upon this -imperfect life rather than trust himself to what he declares to be the -certainty of future bliss. To the child, of course, experience has but -little suggestive force, and he is easily consoled by the perfunctory -rationalizations offered him as explanations by his elders. Yet who of -us is there who cannot remember the vague feeling of dissatisfaction, -the obscure and elusive sense of something being wrong, which is left -by these and similar conflicts? - -When the world begins to open out before us and experience to flow -in with rapidly increasing volume, the state of affairs necessarily -becomes more obvious. The mental unrest which we, with a certain -cynicism, regard as normal to adolescence is evidence of the heavy -handicap we lay upon the developing mind in forcing it to attempt -to assimilate with {50} experience the dicta of herd suggestion. -Moreover, let us remember, to the adolescent experience is no longer -the shadowy and easily manipulable series of dreams which it usually -is to the child. It has become touched with the warmth and reality of -instinctive feeling. The primitive instincts are now fully developed -and finding themselves balked at every turn by herd suggestion; -indeed, even products of the latter are in conflict among themselves. -Not only sex, self-preservation, and nutrition are at war with the -pronouncements of the herd, but altruism, the ideal of rationality, the -desire for power, the yearning for protection, and other feelings which -have acquired instinctive force from group suggestion. - -The sufferings entailed by this condition are commonplace knowledge, -and there is scarcely a novelist who has not dealt with them. It is -around matters of sex and of religion that the conflict is most severe, -and while it is no part of our purpose to make any detailed survey of -the condition, it may be of interest to point out some of the more -obvious significances of this localization. - -Religion has always been to man an intensely serious matter, and when -we realize its biological significance we can see that this is due to -a deeply ingrained need of his mind. The individual of a gregarious -species can never be truly independent and self-sufficient. Natural -selection has ensured that as an individual he must have an abiding -sense of incompleteness, which, as thought develops in complexity, -will come to be more and more abstractly expressed. This is the -psychological germ which expresses itself in the religious feelings, in -the desire for completion, for mystical union, for incorporation with -the infinite, which are all provided for in Christianity and in all -the successful sub-varieties of Christianity which modern times have -{51} seen develop. This need seems with the increasing complexity of -society to become more and more imperious, or rather to be satisfiable -only by more and more elaborately rationalized expressions. The -following is a representative passage from a recent very popular book -of mystical religion: “The great central fact in human life, in your -life and in mine, is the coming into a conscious vital realization of -our oneness with the Infinite Life and the opening of ourselves fully -to this divine inflow.” It is very interestingly shown here to what -lengths of rationalization may be forced the consequences of that -yearning in us which is identical with the mechanism that binds the -wolf to the pack, the sheep to the flock, and to the dog makes the -company of his master like walking with God in the cool of the evening. - -Did an opportunity offer, it would be interesting to inquire into the -relation of the same instinctive impulse to the genesis of philosophy. -Such an attempt would, however, involve too great a digression from the -argument of this essay. - -That sex should be a chief field for the conflicts we are discussing is -comprehensible not only from the immense strength of the impulse and -the fact that it is a mode of man’s activity which herd suggestion has -always tried to regulate, but also because there is reason to believe -that the sex impulse becomes secondarily associated with another -instinctive feeling of great strength, namely, altruism. We have seen -already that altruism is largely antagonized by herd tradition, and -it is plausible to suppose that the overwhelming rush of this feeling -which is usually associated with sex feelings is not altogether -sexual in quality, but secondarily associated therewith as being -the only outlet through which it is allowed by the herd to indulge -manifestations of really passionate intensity. {52} If this were so -it would clearly be of great practical importance should the rational -method ever come to be applied to the solution of the problems for the -sociologist and statesman which surround the relations of the sexes. - -The conflicts which we are discussing are of course by no means limited -to the periods of childhood and adolescence, but are frequently carried -over into adult life. To understand how the apparent calm of normal -adult life is attained, it is necessary to consider the effects upon -the mind of these processes of contention. - -Let us consider the case of a person caught in one of those dilemmas -which society presents so abundantly to its members—a man seized -with a passion for some individual forbidden to him by the herd, or -a man whose eyes have been opened to the vision of the cruelty which -everywhere lies close below the surface of life, and yet has deeply -ingrained in him the doctrine of the herd that things, on the whole, -are fundamentally right, that the universe is congruous with his -moral feelings, that the seeming cruelty is mercy and the apparent -indifference long-suffering. Now, what are the possible developments in -such a tormented soul? - -The conflict may end through the subsidence of either antagonist. -Years, other instincts, or grosser passions may moderate the intensity -of ungratified love or take away the sharpness from the sight of -incomprehensible pain. - -Again, scepticism may detect the nature of the herd suggestion and -deprive it of its compelling force. - -Thirdly, the problem may be shirked by the easy mechanism of -rationalization. The man may take his forbidden pleasure and endow a -chapel, persuading himself that his is a special case, that at any rate -he is not as bad as X, or Y, or Z, who {53} committed such and such -enormities, that after all there is Divine mercy, and he never beat -his wife, and was always regular with his subscriptions to missions -and the hospitals. Or, if his difficulty is the ethical one, he will -come to see how right the herd view really is; that it is a very narrow -mind which cannot see the intrinsic excellence of suffering; that the -sheep and cattle we breed for eating, the calf we bleed to death that -its meat may be white, the one baby out of four we kill in the first -year of life, that cancer, consumption, and insanity and the growing -river of blood which bathes the feet of advancing mankind, all have -their part in the Increasing Purpose which is leading the race ever -upwards and onwards to a Divine consummation of joy. Thus the conflict -ceases, and the man is content to watch the blood and the Purpose go on -increasing together and to put on flesh unperplexed by the shallow and -querulous scruples of his youth. - -Of these three solutions that of scepticism is unquestionably the least -common, though the impression that this is not the case is created by -the frequency of apparent scepticism, which, in fact, merely masks the -continuation of conflict in the deeper strata of the mind. A man the -subject of such submerged conflict, though he may appear to others, -and, of course, to himself, to have reached a secure and uncontested -basis of stability, may, after a period of apparently frictionless -mental life, betray by unmistakable evidence the fact that conflict has -continued disastrously below the surface. - -The solutions by indifference and by rationalization or by a mixture of -these two processes are characteristic of the great class of normal, -sensible, reliable middle age, with its definite views, its resiliency -to the depressing influence of facts, and its gift for forming the -backbone of the State. In {54} them herd suggestion shows its capacity -to triumph over experience, to delay the evolution of altruism, and to -obscure the existence and falsify the results of the contest between -personal and social desires. That it is able to do so has the advantage -of establishing existing society with great firmness, but it has also -the consequence of entrusting the conduct of the State and the attitude -of it towards life to a class which their very stability shows to -possess a certain relative incapacity to take experience seriously, -a certain relative insensibility to the value of feeling and to -suffering, and a decided preference for herd tradition over all other -sources of conduct. - -Early in history the bulk of mankind must have been of this type, -because experience, being still relatively simple, would have but -little suggestive force, and would therefore readily be suppressed -by herd suggestion. There would be little or no mental conflict, and -such as there was would be readily stilled by comparatively simple -rationalizations. The average man would then be happy, active, and -possessed of an inexhaustible fund of motive and energy, capable of -intense patriotism and even of self-immolation for the herd. The -nation consequently, in an appropriate environment, would be an -expanding one and rendered ruthless and formidable by an intense, -unshakable conviction of its divine mission. Its blindness towards -the new in experience would keep its patriots narrow and fierce, its -priests bigoted and bloodthirsty, its rulers arrogant, reactionary, -and over-confident. Should chance ordain that there arose no great -environmental change rendering necessary great modifications, such a -nation would have a brilliant career of conquest as has been so often -demonstrated by history. - -Amongst the first-class Powers to-day the mentally stable are still the -directing class, and their {55} characteristic tone is discernible -in national attitudes towards experience, in national ideals and -religions, and in national morality. It is this possession of the power -of directing national opinion by a class which is in essence relatively -insensitive towards new combinations of experience; this persistence of -a mental type which may have been adequate in the simpler past, into -a world where environments are daily becoming more complex—it is this -survival, so to say, of the waggoner upon the footplate of the express -engine, which has made the modern history of nations a series of such -breathless adventures and hairbreadth escapes. To those who are able to -view national affairs from an objective standpoint, it is obvious that -each of these escapes might very easily have been a disaster, and that -sooner or later one of them must be such. - -Thus far we have seen that the conflict between herd suggestion and -experience is associated with the appearance of the great mental -type which is commonly called normal. Whether or not it is in fact -to be regarded as such is comparatively unimportant and obviously a -question of statistics; what is, however, of an importance impossible -to exaggerate is the fact that in this type of mind personal -satisfactoriness or adequacy, or, as we may call it, mental comfort, is -attained at the cost of an attitude towards experience which greatly -affects the value to the species of the activities of minds of this -type. This mental stability, then, is to be regarded as, in certain -important directions, a loss; and the nature of the loss resides -in a limitation of outlook, a relative intolerance of the new in -thought, and a consequent narrowing of the range of facts over which -satisfactory intellectual activity is possible. We may, therefore, for -convenience, refer to this type as the resistive, a name which serves -as a reminder of the exceedingly important fact that, {56} however -“normal” the type may be, it is one which falls far short of the -possibilities of the human mind. - -If we now turn to a consideration of the mental characteristics of the -constituents of society other than those of the resistive type, we -shall find a common quality traceable, and another great type capable -of broad definition. We must at once, however, guard ourselves against -being misled by the name “normal” as applied to the resistant into -the supposition that this type is in a numerical majority in society. -Intellectually unquestionably of inferior value, there is good reason -to suppose that in mere numbers it has already passed its zenith, -as may be gathered from the note of panic which what is called the -increase of degeneracy is beginning to excite. - -Outside the comfortable and possibly diminishing ranks of the “normal,” -society is everywhere penetrated by a steadily increasing degree of -what we may call in the broadest possible way mental instability. All -observers of society, even the most optimistic, are agreed that the -prevalence of this mental quality is increasing, while those who are -competent to trace its less obtrusive manifestations find it to be very -widespread. - -When the twenty years just past come to be looked back upon from the -distant future, it is probable that their chief claim to interest will -be that they saw the birth of the science of abnormal psychology. That -science, inconspicuous as has been its development, has already given -us a few generalizations of the first importance. Amongst such, perhaps -the most valuable is that which has taught us that certain mental and -physical manifestations which have usually been regarded as disease in -the ordinary sense are due to the effects upon the mind of the failure -to assimilate the {57} experience presented to it into a harmonious -unitary personality. We have seen that the stable-minded deal with -an unsatisfactory piece of experience by rejecting its significance. -In certain minds such successful exclusion does not occur, and the -unwelcome experience persists as an irritant, so to say, capable -neither of assimilation nor rejection. Abnormal psychology discloses -the fact that such minds are apt to develop the supposed diseases we -have just referred to, and the fact that these and other manifestations -of what we have called mental instability are the consequences of -mental conflict. - -Now, we have already seen that a gregarious animal, unless his society -is perfectly organized, must be subject to lasting and fierce conflict -between experience and herd suggestion.[N] It is natural, therefore, -to assume that the manifestations of mental instability are not -diseases of the individual in the ordinary sense at all, but inevitable -consequences of man’s biological history and exact measures of the -stage now reached of his assimilation into the gregarious life. The -manifestations of mental instability and disintegration were at first -supposed to be of comparatively rare occurrence and limited to certain -well-known “diseases,” but they are coming to be recognized over a -larger and larger field, and in a great variety of phenomena. - - [N] The word “experience” is used here in a special sense that - perhaps renders necessary a word or two of definition. The - experience meant is everything that comes to the individual, not - only his experience of events in the external world, but also his - experience of the instinctive and often egoistic impulses at work - within his own personality. 1915. - -Conditions which at first sight give rise to no suspicion of being -acquired injuries to the mind, when they are looked at in the light of -the facts we have been considering, reveal themselves as being scars -inflicted by conflict as certainly as are some {58} forms of insanity. -Characteristics which pass as vices, eccentricities, defects of temper, -peculiarities of disposition, come when critically examined to be -explicable as minor grades of defective mental stability, although, on -account of their great frequency, they have been looked upon as normal, -or at any rate in the natural order of things. - -Few examples could be found to illustrate better such conditions than -alcoholism. Almost universally regarded as either, on the one hand, a -sin or vice, or on the other hand, as a disease, there can be little -doubt that in fact it is essentially a response to a psychological -necessity. In the tragic conflict between what he has been taught to -desire and what he is allowed to get, man has found in alcohol, as he -has found in certain other drugs, a sinister but effective peacemaker, -a means of securing, for however short a time, some way out of the -prison house of reality back to the Golden Age. There can be equally -little doubt that it is but a comparatively small proportion of the -victims of conflict who find a solace in alcohol, and the prevalence -of alcoholism and the punishments entailed by the use of that dreadful -remedy cannot fail to impress upon us how great must be the number of -those whose need was just as great, but who were too ignorant, too -cowardly, or perhaps too brave to find a release there. - -We have seen that mental instability must be regarded as a condition -extremely common, and produced by the mental conflict forced upon -man by his sensitiveness to herd suggestion on the one hand and to -experience on the other. It remains for us to estimate in some rough -way the characteristics of the unstable, in order that we may be able -to judge of their value or otherwise to the State and the species. -Such an estimate must necessarily be exaggerated, over-sharp in its -outlines, omitting {59} much, and therefore in many respects false. -The most prominent characteristic in which the mentally unstable -contrast with the “normal” is what we may vaguely call motive. They -tend to be weak in energy, and especially in persistence of energy. -Such weakness may translate itself into a vague scepticism as to -the value of things in general, or into a definite defect of what -is popularly called will power, or into many other forms, but it is -always of the same fundamental significance, for it is always the -result of the thwarting of the primary impulses to action resident -in herd suggestion by the influence of an experience which cannot -be disregarded. Such minds cannot be stimulated for long by objects -adequate to normal ambition; they are apt to be sceptical in such -matters as patriotism, religion, politics, social success, but the -scepticism is incomplete, so that they are readily won to new causes, -new religions, new quacks, and as readily fall away therefrom. - -We saw that the resistive gain in motive what they lose in -adaptability; we may add that in a sense the unstable gain in -adaptability what they lose in motive. Thus we see society cleft by -the instinctive qualities of its members into two great classes, each -to a great extent possessing what the other lacks, and each falling -below the possibilities of human personality. The effect of the -gradual increase of the unstable in society can be seen to a certain -extent in history. We can watch it through the careers of the Jews and -of the Romans. At first, when the bulk of the citizens were of the -stable type, the nation was enterprising, energetic, indomitable, but -hard, inelastic, and fanatically convinced of its Divine mission. The -inevitable effect of the expansion of experience which followed success -was that development of the unstable and sceptical which ultimately -allowed the nation, no longer {60} believing in itself or its gods, to -become the almost passive prey of more stable peoples. - -In regard to the question of the fundamental significance of the two -great mental types found in society, a tempting field for speculation -at once opens up, and many questions immediately arise for discussion. -Is, for example, the stable normal type naturally in some special -degree insensitive to experience, and if so, is such a quality inborn -or acquired? Again, may the characteristics of the members of this -class be the result of an experience relatively easily dealt with by -rationalization and exclusion? Then again, are the unstable naturally -hypersensitive to experience, or have they met with an experience -relatively difficult to assimilate? Into the discussion of such -questions we shall here make no attempt to enter, but shall limit -ourselves to reiterating that these two types divide society between -them, that they both must be regarded as seriously defective and as -evidence that civilization has not yet provided a medium in which the -average human mind can grow undeformed and to its full stature. - - -GREGARIOUSNESS AND THE FUTURE OF MAN. - -Thus far we have attempted to apply biological conceptions to man and -society as they actually exist at present. We may now, very shortly, -inquire whether or not the same method can yield some hint as to the -course which human development will take in the future. - -As we have already seen reason to believe, in the course of organic -development when the limits of size and efficiency in the unicellular -organism were reached, the only possible access of advantage to the -competing organism was gained by the appearance of combination. In -the scale of the metazoa {61} we see the advantages of combination -and division of labour being more and more made use of, until the -individual cells lose completely the power of separate existence, -and their functions come to be useful only in the most indirect -way and through the organisms of which the cells are constituents. -This complete submergence of the cell in the organism indicates -the attainment of the maximum advantages to be obtained from this -particular access in complexity, and it indicates to us the direction -in which development must proceed within the limits which are produced -by that other access of complexity—gregariousness. - -The success and extent of such development clearly depend on the -relation of two series of activities in the individual which may in -the most general way be described as the capacity for varied reaction -and the capacity for communication. The process going on in the -satisfactorily developing gregarious animal is the moulding of the -varied reactions of the individual into functions beneficial to him -only indirectly through the welfare of the new unit—the herd. This -moulding process is a consequence of the power of intercommunication -amongst the individual constituents of the new unit. Intercommunication -is thus seen to be of cardinal importance to the gregarious, just as -was the nervous system to the multicellular. - -Moreover, in a given gregarious species the existence of a highly -developed power of reaction in the individual with a proportionately -less developed capacity for communication will mean that the species -is not deriving the advantages it might from the possession of -gregariousness, while the full advantages of the type will be attained -only when the two sets of activities are correspondingly strong. - -Here we may see perhaps the explanation of the astounding success -and completeness of {62} gregariousness in bees and ants. Their -cycle of development was early complete because the possibilities -of reaction of the individual were so small, and consequently the -capacity for intercommunication of the individual was relatively soon -able to attain a corresponding grade. The individual has become as -completely merged in the hive as the single cell in the multicellular -animal, and consequently the whole of her activities is available for -the uses of the State. It is interesting to notice that, considered -from this aspect, the wonderful society of the bee, with its perfect -organization and its wonderful adaptability and elasticity, owes its -early attainment of success to the smallness of the brain power of the -individual. - -For the mammals with their greater powers of varied reaction the -path to the consummation of their possibilities must be longer, more -painful, and more dangerous, and this applies in an altogether special -degree to man. - -The enormous power of varied reaction possessed by man must render -necessary for his attainment of the full advantages of the gregarious -habit a power of intercommunication of absolutely unprecedented -fineness. It is clear that scarcely a hint of such power has yet -appeared, and it is equally obvious that it is this defect which gives -to society the characteristics which are the contempt of the man of -science and the disgust of the humanitarian. - -We are now in a position to understand how momentous is the question -as to what society does with the raw material of its minds to -encourage in them the potential capacity for intercommunication which -they undoubtedly by nature possess. To that question there is but -one answer. By providing its members with a herd tradition which is -constantly at war with feeling and with experience, {63} society, -drives them inevitably into resistiveness on the one hand, or into -mental instability on the other, conditions which have this in common, -that they tend to exaggerate that isolation of the individual which is -shown us by the intellect to be unnatural and by the heart to be cruel. - -Another urgent question for the future is provided by the steady -increase, relative and absolute, of the mentally unstable. The danger -to the State constituted by a large unstable class is already generally -recognized, but unfortunately realization has so far only instigated -a yet heavier blow at the species. It is assumed that instability is -a primary quality, and therefore only to be dealt with by breeding -it out. With that indifference to the mental side of life which is -characteristic of the mentally resistant class, the question as to the -real meaning of instability has been begged by the invention of the -disastrous word “degenerate.” The simplicity of the idea has charmed -modern speculation, and the only difficulty in the whole problem has -come to be the decision as to the most expeditious way of getting rid -of this troublesome flaw in an otherwise satisfactory world. - -The conception that the natural environment of man must be modified -if the body is to survive has long been recognized, but the fact that -the mind is incomparably more delicate than the body has scarcely been -noticed at all. We assume that the disorderly environment with which -we surround the mind has no effect, and are ingenuously surprised when -mental instability arises apparently from nowhere; but although we know -nothing of its origin our temerity in applying the cure is in no sense -daunted. - -It has already been pointed out how dangerous it would be to breed -man for reason—that is, against suggestibility. The idea is a fit -companion for the {64} device of breeding against “degeneracy.” The -“degenerate”—that is, the mentally unstable—have demonstrated by the -mere fact of instability that they possess the quality of sensitiveness -to feeling and to experience, for it is this which has prevented them -from applying the remedy of rationalization or exclusion when they -have met with experience conflicting with herd suggestion. There can -be no doubt as to the value to the State of such sensitiveness were -it developed in a congruous environment. The “degeneracy,” therefore, -which we see developed as a secondary quality in these sensitive -minds is no evidence against the degenerate, but an indictment of the -disorderly environment which has ruined them, just as the catchword -associating insanity and genius tells us nothing about genius but a -great deal about the situation into which it has had the misfortune to -be born. - -Sensitiveness to feeling and experience is undoubtedly the necessary -antecedent of any high grade of that power of intercommunication which -we have seen to be necessary to the satisfactory development of man. -Such sensitiveness, however, in society as it now is, inevitably leads -merely to mental instability. That such sensitiveness increases with -civilization is shown by the close association between civilization -and mental instability. There is no lack, therefore, of the mental -quality of all others most necessary to the gregarious animal. The -pressing problem which in fact faces man in the immediate future is how -to readjust the mental environment in such a way that sensitiveness -may develop and confer on man the enormous advantages which it holds -for him, without being transformed from a blessing into the curse and -menace of instability. To the biologist it is quite clear that this can -be effected only by an extension of the rational method to the whole -field of experience, a {65} process of the greatest difficulty, but -one which must be the next great variation in man’s development if that -development is to continue to be an evolution. - -Outside this possibility the imagination can see nothing but grounds -for pessimism. It needs but little effort of foresight to realize that -without some totally revolutionary change in man’s attitude towards -the mind, even his very tenure of the earth may come to be threatened. -Recent developments in the study of disease have shown us how blind and -fumbling have been our efforts against the attacks of our immemorial -enemies the unicellular organisms. When we remember their capacities -for variation and our fixity, we can see that for the race effectually -and permanently to guard itself against even this one danger are -necessary that fineness and complexity of organization, that rendering -available of the utmost capacity of its members, against which the -face of society seems at present to be so steadily set. We see man -to-day, instead of the frank and courageous recognition of his status, -the docile attention to his biological history, the determination to -let nothing stand in the way of the security and permanence of his -future, which alone can establish the safety and happiness of the race, -substituting blind confidence in his destiny, unclouded faith in the -essentially respectful attitude of the universe towards his moral code, -and a belief no less firm that his traditions and laws and institutions -necessarily contain permanent qualities of reality. Living as he does -in a world where outside his race no allowances are made for infirmity, -and where figments however beautiful never become facts, it needs but -little imagination to see how great are the probabilities that after -all man will prove but one more of Nature’s failures, ignominously to -be swept from her work-table to make way for another venture of her -tireless curiosity and patience. - -1909. - - - - -{66} SPECULATIONS UPON THE HUMAN MIND IN 1915 - - -MAN’S PLACE IN NATURE AND NATURE’S PLACE IN MAN - -As the nineteenth century draws away into the past and it is possible -to get a comprehensive view of the intellectual legacies it has left -to its successor, certain of its ideas stand out from the general mass -by reason of the greatness of their scale and scope. Ideas of the -first order of magnitude are from their very greatness capable of full -appreciation only in a comparatively distant view. However much they -have been admired and studied by contemporary thought, it is with the -passage of time only that all their proportions come gradually into -focus. The readjustments of thought as to what used to be called man’s -place in nature, which were so characteristic a work of the latter -half of the nineteenth century, embodied an idea of this imperial type -which, fruitful as it has proved, has even now yielded far less than -its full harvest of truth. - -The conception of man as an animal, at first entertained only in a -narrow zoological sense, has gradually extended in significance, and is -now beginning to be understood as a guiding principle in the study of -all the activities of the individual and the species. In the early days -such a conception was regarded by non-scientific thought as degrading -to man, and as denying to him the possibility of moral progress {67} -and the reality of his higher æsthetic and emotional capabilities; -at the same time, men of science found themselves compelled, however -unwillingly, to deny that the moral activities of man could be made -consistent with his status as an animal. It may still be remembered -how even the evolutionary enthusiasm of Huxley was baffled by the -incompatibility he found to subsist between what he called the ethical -and the cosmical processes, and how he stood bewildered by the sight -of moral beauty blossoming incorrigibly amidst the cruelty, lust, and -bloodshed of the world. - -The passage of time has tended more and more to clear up these -lingering confusions of an anthropocentric biology, and thought is -gradually gaining courage to explore, not merely the body of man but -his mind and his moral capacities, in the knowledge that these are -not meaningless intrusions into an otherwise orderly world, but are -partakers in him and his history just as are his vermiform appendix and -his stomach, and are elements in the complex structure of the universe -as respectably established there, and as racy of that soil as the -oldest saurian or the newest gas. - -Man is thus not merely, as it were, rescued from the inhuman loneliness -which he had been taught was his destiny and persuaded was his pride, -but he is relieved from perplexities and temptations which had so long -proved obstacles to his finding himself and setting out valiantly on -an upward path. Cut off from his history and regarded as an exile into -a lower world, he can scarcely fail to be appalled and crushed by the -discrepancy between his lofty pretensions and his lowly acts. If he but -recognize that he himself and his virtues and aspirations are integral -strands in the fabric of life, he will learn that the great tissue of -reality loses none of its splendour by the fact that near by where the -pattern {68} glows with his courage and his pride it burns with the -radiance of the tiger, and over against his intellect and his genius it -mocks in the grotesques of the ape. - -The development of an objective attitude towards the status of man -has had, perhaps, its most significant effect in the influence it has -exercised upon the study of the human mind. - -The desire to understand the modes of action of the mind, and to -formulate about them generalizations which shall be of practical value, -has led to inquiries being pursued along three distinct paths. These -several methods may be conveniently distinguished as the primitive, the -human, and the comparative. - -What I have called the primitive method of psychological inquiry is -also the obvious and natural one. It takes man as it finds him, accepts -his mind for what it professes to be, and examines into its processes -by introspection of a direct and simple kind. It is necessarily subject -to the conditions that the object of study is also the medium through -which the observations are made, and that there is no objective -standard by which the accuracy of transmission through this medium can -be estimated and corrected. In the result the materials collected are -subjected to a very special and very stringent kind of censorship. If -an observation is acceptable and satisfactory to the mind itself, it -is reported as true; if it contains material which is unwelcome to the -mind, it is reported as false; and in both cases the failure is in no -sense due to any conscious dishonesty in the observing mind, but is a -fallacy necessarily inherent in the method. A fairly characteristic -product of inquiries of this type is the conception, which seems so -obvious to common sense, that introspection does give access to all -mental processes, so that a conscious motive must be discoverable for -all the acts of the subject. Experience {69} with more objective -methods has shown that when no motive is found for a given act or no -motive consistent with the mind’s pretensions as to itself, there will -always be a risk of a presentable one being extemporized. - -Psychology of this primitive type—the naïve psychology of common -sense—is always necessarily tainted with what may be called in a -special sense anthropomorphism; it tells us, that is to say, not what -man is but what he thinks and feels himself to be. Judged by its fruits -in enabling us to foretell or to influence conduct, it is worthless. -It has been studied for thousands of years and infinite ingenuities -have been expended on it, and yet at its best it can only tell us -how the average man thinks his mind works—a body of information not -sensibly superior in reality to the instructions of a constitutional -monarch addressed to an unruly parliament. It has distracted thought -with innumerable falsifications, but in all its secular cultivation has -produced no body of generalizations of value in the practical conduct -of life. - - -COMMENTS ON AN OBJECTIVE SYSTEM OF HUMAN PSYCHOLOGY - - -I - -Until comparatively recent years the fact that what was called -psychology did not even pretend to be of any practical value in affairs -was tolerated by its professors and regarded as more or less in the -nature of things. The science, therefore, outside a small class of -specialists was in very dismal reputation. It had come to comprise two -divergent schools, one which busied itself with the apparatus of the -experimental physiologist and frankly studied the physiology of the -nervous system, the other {70} which occupied itself with the faded -abstractions of logic and metaphysics, while both agreed in ignoring -the study of the mind. This comparative sterility may in a broad way -be traced back to the one fundamental defect from which the science -suffered—the absence of an objective standard by which the value of -mental observations could be estimated. Failing such a standard, any -given mental phenomenon might be as much a product of the observing -mind as of the mind observed, or the varying degrees in which both of -these factors contributed might be inextricably mixed. Of late years -the much-needed objective standard has been sought and to some extent -found in two directions. What I have called “human” psychology has -found it in the study of diseases of the mind. In states of disease -mental processes and mechanisms which had eluded observation in the -normal appear in an exaggerated form which renders recognition less -difficult. The enlightenment coming from the understanding of such -pathological material has made it possible to argue back to the less -obtrusive or more effectively concealed phenomena of the normal and -more or less to exclude the fallacies of the observing mind, and, at -any rate in part, to dissipate the obscurity which for so long had -successfully hidden the actual mental phenomena themselves. - -The most remarkable attack upon the problems of psychology which has -been made from the purely human standpoint is that in which the rich -genius of Sigmund Freud was and still is the pioneer. The school which -his work has founded was concerned at first wholly with the study of -abnormal mental states, and came into notice as a branch of medicine -finding the verification of its principles in the success it laid -claim to in the treatment of certain mental diseases. It now regards -itself as possessing a body {71} of doctrine of general applicability -to mental phenomena, normal or abnormal. These principles are the -product of laborious and minute inquiries into the working of the -mind, rendered possible by the use of a characteristic method known -as psycho-analysis. This method, which constitutes a definite and -elaborate technique of investigation, is looked upon by those who -practise it as the sole means by which access can be obtained to the -veritable phenomena of the mind, and as rendering possible a truly -objective view of the facts. It is no part of my purpose to examine the -validity of psycho-analysis as a scientific method. It is enough to -notice that the exponents of it completely repudiate the teachings of -what I have called “common-sense” psychology, that they maintain that -objectivity in the collection and collation of psychical facts is in -no way to be obtained by the light of nature but demands very special -methods and precautions, and that their claims to the possession of a -truly objective method appear to be open to verification or disproof by -actual experiment in the treatment of disease. Whatever value, then, -psycho-analysis may ultimately prove to possess in solving the peculiar -difficulties of psychological research, the evolution of it marks a -very definite advance in principle and shows that it is the product of -a mind determined by whatever effort to get to close quarters with the -facts. - -The body of doctrine enunciated by Freud concerns us more directly than -the peculiarities of his method. Some very general and summary account -may therefore be attempted as illustrating the characteristics of this -vigorous, aggressive, and essentially “human” school of research. - -The Freudian psychology regards the mind of the adult as the outcome of -a process of development the stages of which are within limits, orderly -{72} and inevitable. The trend of this development in each individual -is determined by forces which are capable of precise definition, and -the final product of it is capable of yielding to expert examination -clear evidence of the particular way in which these forces have acted -and interacted during the developmental process. The mind of the adult, -then, is like the body in bearing traces which betray to the skilled -observer the events of its developmental history. Inconspicuous and -apparently insignificant structures and peculiarities in the one no -less than in the other prove to have had a meaning and a function in -the past, however little significance their final form may seem to -possess, and thus the psychologist is able to reconstruct the history -of a given subject’s mind, although the most important stages of its -development are hidden from direct observation as effectively as is the -prenatal growth of the body. - -It seems to be a fundamental conception of the Freudian system that -the development of the mind is accompanied and conditioned by mental -conflict. The infant is regarded as being impelled by instinctive -impulses which at first are solely egoistic. From the earliest moments -of its contact with the world resistance to the full indulgence of -these impulses is encountered. With the growth and intensification -of such impulses, the resistance from external interference—the -beginnings of social pressure—becomes more formidable, until at -a quite unexpectedly early age a veritable condition of mental -conflict is established—egoistic impulses fatally pressing for -indulgence regardless of their acceptability to the environment, while -environmental influences bear equally heavily against any indulgence -unwelcome to surrounding standards of discipline, taste, or morality. - -Of the two parties in this conflict—the instinctive {73} impulse and -the repressive force—the first, according to Freud, is wholly the -product of the sex instinct. This instinct is conceived of as being -much more active and potent in the infant and child than had been -suspected by any previous investigator. The normal sexual interest and -activity as manifested in the adult are developed out of the sexual -impulse of the child by a regular series of modifications, which appear -to be regarded as due partly to a process of natural development and -partly to the influence of external repressive forces. In the infant -the instinct is egocentric and the object of its interest is the -individual’s own body; with the increase of the mental field consequent -on enlarging experience the instinctive activity is externalized, -and its object of interest changes so that the child acquires a -specific inclination towards other individuals without distinction -of sex; finally, as a last stage of development the instinctive -inclination is localized to members of the opposite sex. This series of -transformations is regarded as normal by Freud, and as essential to the -appearance of the “normal” adult type. The evolution of this series is -sensitive to interference by outside influences, and any disturbance -of it either by way of anticipation or delay will have profound -effects upon the ultimate character and temperament of the subject. -The psychical energy of an instinct so important as that of sex is -very great, and is not dissipated by the forces of repression brought -to bear upon it, but transformed into activities ostensibly quite -different and directed into channels having no obvious connection with -their source. It is a fundamental characteristic of the mind to be able -to accept these substitutes for the actual indulgence of the instinct, -and to enjoy a symbolical gratification in manifestations which have -no overt sexual significance. When development proceeds normally the -{74} surplus energy of the sex instinct finds an outlet in activities -of social value—æsthetic, poetic, altruistic; when development is -interfered with the outflow of energy is apt to result in definite -disease of the mind or in peculiarities of character scarcely to be -distinguished therefrom. - -Thus the mind of the adult, according to Freud, in addition to -activities which are conscious and fully accessible to the subject, -carries on activities and holds memories which are unconscious -and totally inaccessible to the subject by any ordinary method of -introspection. Between these two fields there is a barrier sedulously -guarded by certain repressive forces. The unconscious is the realm -of all the experiences, memories, impulses, and inclinations which -during the subject’s life have been condemned by the standards of the -conscious, have proved incompatible with it and have therefore been -outlawed from it. This banishment in no way deprives these excluded -mental processes of their energy, and they constantly influence the -feelings and behaviour of the subject. So strict, however, is the -guard between them and the conscious that they are never allowed to -pass the barrier between one sphere and the other except in disguised -and fantastically distorted forms by which their true meaning is -closely concealed. It has been perhaps Freud’s most remarkable thesis -that dreams are manifestations of this emergence of desires and -memories from the unconscious into the conscious field. During sleep -the repressing force which guards the frontier between conscious and -unconscious is weakened. Even then, however, such ideas as emerge into -the conscious can do so only in a worked up and distorted form, so -that their significance can be disengaged from the grotesque jumble -of the actual dream only by a minute inquiry according to a difficult -and highly technical method. {75} By this method, however, is to be -obtained a deep insight into the otherwise irrecoverable emotional -history of the individual, the structure of his temperament, and, if he -is mentally abnormal, the meaning of his symptoms. - - -II - -The foregoing enumeration of the chief doctrines of the Freudian -psychology is intended to be no more than a mere outline to serve as -a basis for certain comments which seem to be relevant to the general -argument of this essay. The point of view from which this slight sketch -is made, that of an interested but detached observer, is naturally -somewhat different from that of the actual authorities themselves. Here -it is desired to get the broadest possible view in the most general -terms, and as we have no concern with immediate problems of practical -therapeutics—which remain at least the chief preoccupation of writers -of the psycho-analytic school—an effort has been made to avoid the use -of the rich and rather forbidding technical vocabulary in which the -writings of the school abound. It may well be that this generalized -method of description has yielded an ill-proportioned or distorted -picture. The subject has proved to be so much at the mercy of prejudice -that the least impassioned spectator, however completely he may believe -himself to be free from advocacy or detraction, is far from being able -to claim immunity from these influences. - -Keeping constantly in mind this general caution, which is at least as -necessary in the field of criticism as in that of mere description, we -may pass on to make certain comments on the psychology of Freud which -are relevant to the general argument being followed out here. {76} - -A discussion in any way detailed of this immense subject is very -obviously impossible here, but it is desirable to say a few words as -to the general validity of Freud’s chief thesis. However much one may -be impressed by his power as a psychologist and his almost fierce -resolution to get at the actual facts of mental processes, one can -scarcely fail to experience in reading Freud’s works that there is a -certain harshness in his grasp of facts and even a trace of narrowness -in his outlook which tend to repel the least resistant mind and make -one feel that his guidance in many matters—perhaps chiefly of detail—is -open to suspicion. He seems to have an inclination for the enumeration -of absolute rules, a confidence in his hypotheses which might be -called superb if that were not in science a term of reproach, and a -tendency to state his least acceptable propositions with the heaviest -emphasis as if to force belief upon an unwilling and shrinking mind -were an especial gratification. All these traits of manner—at the worst -mere foibles of a distinguished and successful investigator—appear to -exercise some considerable effect on the acceptance his writings meet -with, and are perhaps indications in which direction, if he is open to -fallacy, such might be looked for. - -Nevertheless with regard to the main propositions of his system there -can be little doubt that their _general validity_ will be increasingly -accepted. Among such propositions must be put the conception of the -significance of mental conflict, the importance of the emotional -experiences of infancy and childhood in the determination of character -and the causing of mental disease, and his conception of the general -structure of the mind as comprising conscious and unconscious fields. - -The comments which I shall venture to make upon the work of Freud -will be such as are suggested {77} by the biological point of view -of which this essay is intended to be an exposition. The standard of -interest upon which they are based will therefore necessarily differ -to some extent from that which is usually adopted in writings of the -psycho-analytic school. - -To the biologist perhaps the most striking characteristic of the -work of this school is its complete acceptance of what one may call -the human point of view. It seems to be satisfied that no useful -contribution to psychology is to be obtained outside the limits of -human feeling and behaviour, and to feel no impatience to expand its -inquiries into a still larger field. It is not that the school has -failed to show an extremely vigorous movement of expansion. Beginning -as a mere province of medicine, and while its foothold there was -still far from general recognition, it invaded the regions of general -psychology, of æsthetics, ethnology, the study of folklore and myth, -and indeed of all matters in which it could find its essential -material—the records of human feeling and conduct. Beyond the human -species it has shown remarkably little of this aggressive spirit, and -it seems to feel no need of bringing its principles into relation with -what little is known of the mental activities of the non-human animals. - -The absence of any strong pressure in the direction of establishing a -correlation of all mental phenomena, whether human or not, is not a -matter of merely theoretical interest. The actual practical success to -be obtained to-day in such an attempt might possibly be insignificant -and yet of great value in moulding the whole attitude of mind of the -investigator towards matters lying wholly within the sphere of human -psychology. However much one may be impressed by the greatness of -the edifice which Freud has built up and by the soundness of {78} -his architecture, one can scarcely fail, on coming into it from the -bracing atmosphere of the biological sciences, to be oppressed by the -odour of humanity with which it is pervaded. One finds everywhere a -tendency to the acceptance of human standards and even sometimes of -human pretensions which cannot fail to produce a certain uneasiness -as to the validity, if not of his doctrines, at any rate of the forms -in which they are expounded. The quality I am trying to describe is -extremely difficult to express in concrete terms without exaggeration -or distortion. To those who have approached Freud’s work solely by -the path of medicine the idea that it can give any one the feeling of -a certain conventionality of standard and outlook and of a certain -over-estimation of the objectivity of man’s moral values will seem -perhaps merely absurd. That this is an impression which I have not been -able altogether to escape I record with a good deal of hesitation and -diffidence and without any wish to lay stress upon it. - -Psycho-analytic psychology has grown up under conditions which may -very well have encouraged the persistence of the human point of view. -Originally its whole activity was concentrated upon the investigation -and treatment of disease. Many of its early disciples were those who -had received proof of its value in their own persons, those, that is -to say, who had been sufferers from their very susceptibility to the -influence of human standards. The objective standard of validity by -which the system was judged was necessarily that of the physician, -namely the capacity to restore the abnormal mind to the “normal.” -Normal in this sense is of course no more than a statistical expression -implying the condition of the average man. It could scarcely fail, -however, to acquire the significance of “healthy.” If once the -statistically {79} normal mind is accepted as being synonymous with -the psychologically healthy mind (that is, the mind in which the full -capacities are available for use), a standard is set up which has a -most fallacious appearance of objectivity. The statistically normal -mind can be regarded only as a mind which has responded in the usual -way to the moulding and deforming influence of its environment—that -is, to human standards of discipline, taste, and morality. If it is to -be looked upon as typically healthy also, the current human standards -of whose influence it is a product must necessarily be accepted as -qualified to call forth the best in the developing mind they mould. -Writers of the psycho-analytic school seem in general to make some such -assumption as this. - - -III - -The conception of mental conflict is the central feature of the -Freudian system. Of its importance and validity there can be no doubt. -In a general way the idea is familiar and even commonplace, but Freud -had developed it and shown how deeply the principle penetrates the -structure and development of the mind from the earliest period and to -an extent quite unsuspected by earlier psychologists. - -From an early period of life the child finds the gratification of -its instinctive impulses checked or even prevented by the pressure -of its environment. Conflict is thus set up between the two forces -of instinctive pressure within and social pressure from without. -Instinctive impulses which thus come into conflict with the repressing -force are not destroyed but are deflected from their natural outlet, -are repressed within the mind and ultimately prevented from rising -into the conscious field at all except in disguised or symbolic forms. -To the adult his childhood seems to have been altogether free from -{80} any kind of sexual activity or interest, not because, as is -generally supposed, such has never existed, but because it proved -incapable of persisting in the conscious field and was suppressed into -the unconscious with the increase of the social repressing forces. -Similarly impulses experienced in adult life which are for the same -reason incompatible with conscious recognition do not become conscious, -but live their life in the unconscious, though they may exercise the -profoundest influence on the happiness and health of the subject. - -The work of Freud has been concentrated chiefly upon the one party in -these conflicts—the instinctive impulse of which the only considerable -one according to him is the sexual. To the other party—the repressing -forces—he has given very much less attention, and in them has found -apparently much less interest. By most writers of his school also they -seem to be taken very much as a matter of course. - -When we consider, however, what they can accomplish—how they can -take the immensely powerful instinct of sex and mould and deform its -prodigious mental energy—it is clear that the repressing forces are no -less important than the antagonist with which they contend. - -It is desirable, perhaps, to discuss a little more closely the nature -of mental conflict, and especially first to define the precise meaning -of the conception. - -It may readily be granted that the young child’s mind is wholly -egocentric, though the proposition is not without a certain element of -assumption which it is not wise altogether to ignore. He experiences -certain desires and impulses which he assumes with the blandest -unconsciousness of any other desires but his own are there to be -gratified. The failure to gratify such an impulse may come about -in several ways, not all of which are equally significant in {81} -establishing mental conflict. The gratification may be physically -impossible. Here there is no basis for internal conflict. The -resistance is wholly external; the whole child still desires its -pleasure and its whole resources, mental and physical, are directed -to gain the object. Mere failure may be painful and may lead to an -outburst of rage which possibly even discharges some of the mental -energy of the wish, but the situation psychically is simple and the -incident tends of itself to go no farther. - -The gratification may prove to be physically painful in itself. This -seems to promise certain elements of mental conflict in balancing the -pleasure of the gratification against the remembered pain it involves. -We are assuming that the pain is the immediate consequence of the -act, as when, for example, a child makes the immemorial scientific -discovery that fire burns fingers. Such a direct experience without -the interposition of a second person or the pointing of a moral does -not in fact involve any real mental conflict. The source of the -pain is external, its only emotional quality is that of its simple -unpleasantness, and this cannot, as it were, enter into the child’s -mind and divide it against itself. - -True conflict, the conflict which moulds and deforms, must be actually -within the mind—must be endopsychic to use a term invented by Freud, -though not used by him in this exact application. In order that -a desire may set up conflict it must be thwarted, not by a plain -impossibility or by a mere physical pain, but by another impulse within -the mind antagonizing it. It seems clear that the counter-impulse to be -strong enough to contend with an impulse having in it the energy of the -sex instinct must itself derive its force from some potent instinctive -mechanism. We cannot suppose that the immense power of the sex impulse -can be {82} controlled, moulded, and directed by any influence except -such as have access to the stores of psychical energy which the -instinctive activities alone possess. - -We are thus led to the proposition that the essence of mental conflict -is the antagonism of two impulses which both have instinct behind them, -and are both, as it were, intimate constituents in the personality -of the subject. Thus only can the mind become, in the worn but still -infinitely appropriate metaphor, a house divided against itself. The -counter-impulses to the developing sexual interest and activity of -the child are, as we have seen, the result of social pressure—that is -to say, the result of the influence of the human environment. This -influence is manifested, not merely in direct precept, in warning, in -punishment, in expressions of disapproval or disgust, but in the whole -system of secrecy, of significant silences, of suppressions, of nods -and winks and surreptitious signallings, of sudden causeless snubs and -patently lame explanations amid which such sexual interest as the child -possesses has to find a _modus vivendi_ and an intelligible meaning. - -Whence does this environmental pressure obtain the power which -enables it to exercise in the child’s mind the regal functions of -instinct? Clearly it can do so only if the mind possesses a specific -sensitiveness to external opinion and the capacity to confer on -its precepts the sanction of instinctive force. In the two earlier -essays of this book I attempted to show that the essential specific -characteristic of the mind of the gregarious animal is this very -capacity to confer upon herd opinion the psychical energy of instinct. -It is this sensitiveness, then, which lays the child’s mind open to the -influence of his environment and endows for him the mental attitude -of that environment with all the sanction of instinct. Thus do the -repressing forces {83} become actually constituent in the child’s -personality, and as much a part of his being as the egoistic desires -with which they are now able to contend on equal terms. - -The specific sensitiveness of the gregarious mind seems, then, to be a -necessary condition for the establishment of true mental conflict, and -a character which must be taken into account if we are to develop a -complete theory of the evolution of the individual mind. - -Assuming the validity of the proposition that there are two primary -factors in the development of the mind in each individual—the egoistic -impulses of the child and his specific sensitiveness to environing -influences—it may well be asked why it is that the product, the -“normal” adult mind, is so uniform in its characters. It is true -that this uniformity may very easily be exaggerated, for in a very -considerable number of cases gross “abnormalities” are the result of -the process of development, but, as I pointed out in an earlier essay, -the result on the whole is to produce two broadly distinguishable -types of mind—the unstable and the stable—the latter on account of its -numerical superiority being also dignified as normal. A considerable -uniformity in the final products must therefore be accepted. If, -however, environmental influences are an essential factor in the -production of this result, there seems no little difficulty in -accounting for the uniformity seeing that environments vary so much -from class to class, nation to nation, and race to race. Where, we may -ask, is the constant in the environmental factors which the uniformity -of the outcome leads us to expect? Assuming with Freud that of the -egoistic impulses of the child, the sexual alone seriously counts -in the formation of character, can it be shown that the influences -which surround the child are uniform {84} in their general direction -against this? At first sight it would seem certainly not. Even in the -same country the variations in taste, reticence, modesty, and morality -towards matters of sex interest vary greatly from class to class, and -presumably are accompanied by corresponding variations in the type of -influence exercised by the environment of the child. - -Adequately to deal with this difficulty would involve examining in -detail the actual mental attitude of the adult towards the young, -especially in regard to matters directly or indirectly touching -upon interests of sex. The subject is a difficult one, and if we -limit ourselves to the purely human standpoint, ugly and depressing. -The biologist, however, need not confine himself to so cramped an -outlook, and by means of collecting his observations over a much -larger field is able to some extent to escape the distorting effects -of natural human prejudice. Viewed in a broad way, it is neither -surprising nor portentous that there should naturally exist a strong -and persistent jealousy between the adult and the young. Indeed, many -of the superficial consequences of this fact are mere commonplaces. -Throughout most of the lower animals the relation is obvious and -frankly manifested. Indeed, it may be regarded as a more or less -inevitable consequence of any form of social life among animals. As -such, therefore, it may be expected to appear in some form or other in -the human mind. The manifestations of it, however, will by no means -necessarily take easily recognizable forms. The social pressure to -which the mind is subject will tend to exclude such a feeling from at -any rate full consciousness, and such manifestations as are allowed it -will be in disguised and distorted forms. - -It seems difficult to avoid the conclusion that some dim and unrealized -offshoot of such a jealousy {85} between adult and young is -responsible for the unanimity with which man combines to suppress and -delay the development of any evidence of sexual interest by the young. -The intensity of the dislike which is felt for admitting the young to -share any part of the knowledge of the adult about the physiology of -sex is well illustrated by the difficulty parents feel in communicating -to their children some of the elementary facts which they may feel very -strongly it is their duty to impart. A parent may find himself under -these circumstances trying to quiet his conscience with all sorts of -excuses and subterfuges while he postpones making the explanations -which duty and affection urge upon him as necessary for the health and -happiness of his child. An unwillingness so strong and irrational as -this must have its root in subconscious processes charged with strong -feeling. - -The tendency to guard children from sexual knowledge and experience -seems to be truly universal in civilized man and to surpass all -differences of morals, discipline, or taste. Amongst primitive savages -the principle has not acquired the altruistic signification which -civilized man has given it, but operates as a definite exclusion to be -overcome only by solemn ceremonies of initiation and at the price of -submission to painful and sometimes mutilating rites. - -The constancy of attitude of the adult towards the young, which is thus -seen to be so general, evidently gives to the environmental influences -which surround the child a fundamental uniformity, and as we have seen, -the theory of the development of the individual mind demands that such -a uniformity of environmental influence should be shown to be in action. - -This is no place to follow out the practical consequences of the -fact that every adult necessarily {86} possesses a primary bias in -his attitude towards the young, and a bias which is connected with -instinctive impulses of great mental energy. However much this tendency -is overlaid by moral principles, by altruism, by natural affection, -as long as its true nature is unrecognized and excluded from full -consciousness its influence upon conduct must be excessive and full -of dangerous possibilities. To it must ultimately be traced the -scarcely veiled distrust and dislike with which comparative youth is -always apt to be met where matters of importance are concerned. The -attitude of the adult and elderly towards the enthusiasms of youth is -stereotyped in a way which can scarcely fail to strike the psychologist -as remarkable and illuminating in its commonplaceness. The youthful -revolutionary, who after all is no more essentially absurd than the -elderly conservative, is commonly told by the latter that he too at -the same age felt the same aspirations, burnt with the same zeal, and -yearned with the same hope until he learnt wisdom with experience—“as -you will have, my boy, by the time you are my age.” To the psychologist -the kindly contempt of such pronouncements cannot conceal the pathetic -jealousy of declining power. Herd instinct, inevitably siding with the -majority and the ruling powers, has always added its influence to the -side of age and given a very distinctly perceptible bias to history, -proverbial wisdom, and folklore against youth and confidence and -enterprise and in favour of age and caution, the immemorial wisdom of -the past, and even the toothless mumblings of senile decay. - -Any comprehensive survey of modern civilized life cannot fail to yield -abundant instances of the disproportionate influence in the conduct -of affairs which has been acquired by mere age. When we remember how -little in actual practice man proves himself capable of the use of -reason, how very little {87} he actually does profit by experience -though the phrase is always in his mouth, it must be obvious that -there is some strong psychological reason for the predominance of age, -something which must be determinative in its favour quite apart from -its merits and capacity when competing with youth. The “monstrous -regiment” of old men—and to the biologist it is almost as “monstrous” -as the regiment of Mary Stuart was to poor indignant Knox—extends into -every branch of man’s activity. We prefer old judges, old lawyers, -old politicians, old doctors, old generals, and when their functions -involve any immediacy of cause and effect and are not merely concerned -with abstractions, we contentedly pay the price which the inelasticity -of these ripe minds is sometimes apt to incur. - - -IV - -If the propositions already laid down prove to be sound, we must regard -the personality of the adult as the resultant of three groups of forces -to which the mind from infancy onwards is subject; _first_ the egoistic -instincts of the individual pressing for gratification and possessing -the intense mental energy characteristic of instinctive processes, -_secondly_ the specific sensitiveness to environmental influences -which the mind as that of a gregarious animal necessarily possesses, -a quality capable of endowing outside influences with the energy of -instinct and, _thirdly_ the environmental influences which act upon the -growing mind and are also essentially determined in their intensity and -uniformity by instinctive mechanisms. - -The work of Freud has been directed mainly to the elucidation of the -processes included in the first group—that is to say, to the study -of the primarily egoistic impulses and the modifications {88} they -develop under restraint. He has worked out, in fact, a veritable -embryology of the mind. - -The embryology of the body is to those who have had no biological -training far from being a gratifying subject of contemplation. The -stages through which the body passes before reaching its familiar -form have a superficial aspect of ugly and repulsive caricature with -which only a knowledge of the great compressed pageant of nature they -represent can reconcile the mind. The stages through which, according -to the doctrines of Freud, the developing mind passes are not less -repulsive when judged from the purely human point of view than are -the phases of the body, which betray its cousinship with the fish and -the frog, the lemur and the ape. The works of Nature give no support -to the social convention that to be truly respectable one must always -have been respectable. All her most elaborate creations have “risen -in the world” and are descended in the direct line from creatures of -the mud and dust. It is characteristic of her method to work with the -humblest materials and to patch and compromise at every step. Any given -structure of her making is thus not by any means necessarily the best -that could conceivably be contrived, but a workable modification of -something else, always more or less conditioned in its functioning by -the limitations of the thing from which it was made. - -To the biologist, therefore, the fact that Freud’s investigations -of the development of the mind have shown it passing through stages -anything but gratifying to self-esteem will not be either surprising -or a ground for disbelief. That Freud’s conclusions are decidedly -unpalatable when judged by a narrowly human standard is very obvious -to any one who is at all familiar with the kind of criticism they -have received. It must be acknowledged, moreover, that his methods of -exposition have not always tended {89} to disguise the nauseousness -of the dose he attempts to administer. Such matters, however, lie -altogether apart from the question whether his conclusions are or -are not just, though it is perhaps justifiable to say that had these -conclusions been immediately acceptable, the fact would be presumptive -evidence that they were either not new or were false. - -The work of Freud embodies the most determined, thorough, and -scientific attempt which has been made to penetrate the mysteries -of the mind by the direct human method of approach, making use -of introspection—guided and guarded, it is true, by an elaborate -technique—as its essential instrument. To have shaped so awkward -and fallacious an instrument into an apparatus for which accuracy -and fruitfulness can be claimed is in itself a notable triumph of -psychological skill. - -The doctrines of Freud seem to be regarded by his school as covering -all the activities of the mind and making a complete, though of course -not necessarily exhaustive, survey of the whole field. I have already -pointed out directions in which it appears to me that inquiries by -other methods than those of the psycho-analytic school can be pursued -with success. Regarded in a broad way, the Freudian body of doctrine -which I have already ventured to describe as essentially an embryology -of the mind gives one the impression of being mainly descriptive and -systematic rather than dynamic, if one may with due caution use such -words. It is able to tell us how such and such a state of affairs -has arisen, what is its true significance, and to describe in minute -detail the factors into which it can be analysed. When the question -of acting upon the mind is raised its resources seem less striking. -In this direction its chief activities have been in the treatment of -abnormal mental states, and these are dealt with by a laborious process -of analysis {90} in which the subject’s whole mental development is -retraced, and the numerous significant experiences which have become -excluded from the conscious field are brought back into it. - -When the unconscious processes which underlie the symptoms have -been assimilated to the conscious life of the patient, the symptoms -necessarily disappear, and the patient’s mind gains or regains the -“normal” condition. However precious such a cure may be to the patient, -and however interesting to the physician, its value to the species has -to be judged in relation to the value of the “normal” to which the -patient has been restored—that is, in relation to the question as to -whether any move, however small, in the direction of an enlargement -of the human mind has been made. Until some clearer evidence has been -furnished of a capacity for development in this direction the Freudian -system should, perhaps, be regarded as more notably a psychology of -knowledge than a psychology of power. - -It is interesting to notice that in discussing the mechanism of -psycho-analysis in liberating the “abnormal” patient from his symptoms, -Freud repeatedly lays stress on the fact that the efficient factor -in the process is not the actual introduction of the suppressed -experiences into the conscious field, but the overcoming of the -resistances to such an endeavour. I have attempted to show that these -resistances or counter-impulses are of environmental origin, and owe -their strength to the specific sensitiveness of the gregarious mind. -Resistances of similar type and identical origin are responsible for -the formation of the so-called normal type of mind. It is a principal -thesis of an earlier essay in this book that this normal type is far -from being psychologically healthy, is far from rendering available -the full capacity of the mind for foresight and {91} progress, and -being in exclusive command of directing power in the world, is a -danger to civilization. An investigation of the resistant forces that -are encountered by the developing mind is clearly, then, a matter -of the utmost importance. They are now allowed to come into being -haphazard, and while they undoubtedly contain elements of social -value and necessary restraints, they are the products, not of a -courageous recognition of facts but of fears, prejudices, and repressed -instinctive impulses, and are consolidated by ignorance, indolence, and -tribal custom. - -The interest of the psycho-analytic school has been turned remarkably -little into this field. The speculation may be hazarded that in this -direction it might find the sources of a directer power over the -human mind, and at least some attenuation of that atmosphere of the -consulting-room and the mad-house which does so much to detract from -its pretensions to be a psychological system of universal validity. - - -SOME PRINCIPLES OF A BIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. - -The third method by which it has been attempted to attack the problems -of psychology is that which I have called the comparative. Its -characteristic note is a distrust of that attitude towards phenomena -which I have called the human point of view. Man’s description and -interpretation of his own mental experience being so liable to -distortion by prejudice, by self-esteem, by his views as to his own -nature and powers, as well as so incomplete by reason of his incapacity -to reach by ordinary introspection the deeper strata of his mind, it -becomes necessary to make action as far as possible the subject of -observation rather than speech, and to regard it as a touchstone of -motive more important than the actor’s own views. The principle {92} -may be exemplified in a simple and concrete form. If a given piece of -human behaviour bears the closest resemblance to behaviour which is -characteristic of the ape, the sheep, or the wolf, the biologist in -attempting to arrive at the actual cause will ascribe an importance -to this resemblance at least no less than that he will give to any -explanation of the action as rational and deliberate which may be -furnished by the actor or by his own intelligence. - -A second principle of the method will be by a study of the whole range -of animal life, and especially of forms whose conduct presents obvious -resemblances to that of man, to discover what instinctive impulses may -be expected to operate in him. - -A third principle will be to search for criteria, whereby instinctive -impulses or their derivatives arising in the mind can be distinguished -from rational motives, or at any rate motives in which the instinctive -factor is minimal. Thus will be furnished for the method the objective -standard for the judgment of mental observations which is the one -indispensable requirement in all psychological inquiries. - -When it is known what types of instinctive mechanisms are to be -expected, and under what aspects they will appear in the mind, it is -possible to press inquiry into many of the obscurer regions of human -behaviour and thought, and to arrive at conclusions which, while they -are in harmony with the general body of biological science, have the -additional value of being immediately useful in the conduct of affairs. - -At the very outset of such researches we are met by an objection which -illustrates how different the biological conception of the mind is from -that current amongst those whose training has been {93} literary and -philosophic. The objection I am thinking of is that of the ordinary -intellectualist view of man. According to this we must regard him as -essentially a rational creature, subject, it is true, to certain feeble -relics of instinctive impulsion, but able to control such without any -great expense of will power, irrational at times in an amiable and -rather “nice” way, but fundamentally always independent, responsible, -and captain of his soul. Most holders of this opinion will of course -admit that in a distant and vague enough past man must have been much -more definitely an instinctive being, but they regard attempts to trace -in modern man any considerable residue of instinctive activities as a -tissue of fallacious and superficial analogies, based upon a shallow -materialism and an ignorance of the great principles of philosophy or a -crudeness which cannot assimilate them. - -This objection is an expression of the very characteristic way in which -mankind over-estimates the practical functioning of reason in his mind -and the influence of civilization on his development. In an earlier -essay I have tried to show to how great an extent the average educated -man is willing to pronounce decided judgments, all of which he believes -himself to have arrived at by the exercise of pure reason, upon the -innumerable complex questions of the day. Almost all of them concern -highly technical matters upon none of which has he the slightest -qualification to pronounce. This characteristic, always obvious enough, -has naturally during the war shown the exaggeration so apt to occur -in all non-rational processes at a time of general stress. It is not -necessary to catalogue the various public functions in regard to which -the common citizen finds himself in these days moved to advise and -exhort. They are numerous, and for the most part highly technical. -Generally the {94} more technical a given matter is, the more vehement -and dogmatic is the counsel of the utterly uninstructed counsellor. -Even when the questions involved are not especially such as can be -dealt with only by the expert, the fact that the essential data are -withheld from the public by the authorities renders all this amateur -statecraft and generalship more than usually ridiculous. Nevertheless, -those who find the materials insufficient for dogmatism and feel -compelled to a suspense of judgment are apt to fall under suspicion -of the crime of failing to “realize” the seriousness of the war. When -it is remembered that the duty of the civilian is in no way concerned -with these matters of high technique, while he has very important -functions to carry out in maintaining the nation’s strength if he could -be brought to take an interest in them, it seems scarcely possible to -argue that such conduct is that of a very highly rational being. In -reality the objective examination of man’s behaviour, if attention is -directed to the facts and not to what the actors think of them, yields -at once in every field example after example of similar irrational -features. - -When the influence of civilization is looked upon as having rendered -man’s instincts of altogether secondary importance in modern life, -it is plain that such a conclusion involves a misconception of the -nature of instinct. This well-worn term has come to have so vague -a connotation that some definition of it is necessary. The word -“instinct” is used here to denote inherited modes of reaction to bodily -need or external stimulus. It is difficult to draw a sharp distinction -between instinct and mere reflex action, and an attempt to do so with -exact precision is of no particular value. In general we may say that -the reactions which should be classed under the head of instinct are -delayed (that is, not necessarily carried out with fatal promptitude -{95} immediately upon the stimulus), complex (that is, consist of -acts rather than mere movements), and may be accompanied by quite -elaborate mental processes. In a broad way also it may be said that -the mental accompaniments of an instinctive process are for the most -part matters of feeling. During the growth of the need or stimulus -there will be a desire or inclination which may be quite intense, and -yet not definitely focused on any object that is consciously realized; -the act itself will be distinguished to the actor by its rightness, -obviousness, necessity, or inevitableness, and the sequel of the act -will be satisfaction. This mere hint of the psychical manifestations -of instinctive activity leaves quite out of account the complex -effects which may ensue when two instinctive impulses that have come -to be antagonistic reach the mind at the same time. The actual amount -of mental activity which accompanies an instinctive process is very -variable; it may be quite small, and then the subject of it is reduced -to a mere automaton, possessed, as we say, by an ungovernable passion -such as panic, lust, or rage; it may be quite large, and sometimes the -subject, deceived by his own rationalizations and suppressions, may -suppose himself to be a fully rational being in undisputed possession -of free will and the mastery of his fate at the very moment when he -is showing himself to be a mere puppet dancing to the strings which -Nature, unimpressed by his valiant airs, relentlessly and impassively -pulls. - -The extent of the psychical accompaniments of instinctive activity -in civilized man should not, therefore, be allowed to obscure the -fact that the instincts are tendencies deeply ingrained in the very -structure of his being. They are as necessarily inherited, as much -a part of himself, and as essential a condition for the survival of -himself and his race, as are the vital organs of his body. {96} Their -persistence in him is established and enforced by the effects of -millions of years of selection, so that it can scarcely be supposed -that a few thousand years of civilized life which have been accompanied -by no steady selection against any single instinct can have had any -effect whatever in weakening them. The common expression that such an -effect has been produced is doubtless due to the great development in -civilized man of the mental accompaniments of instinctive processes. -These mental phenomena surround the naked reality of the impulse -with a cloud of rationalized comment and illusory explanation. The -capacity which man possesses for free and rational thought in matters -untainted by instinctive inclination is of course indubitable, but he -has not realized that there is no obvious mental character attached -to propositions having an instinctive basis which should expose them -to suspicion. As a matter of fact, it is just those fundamental -propositions which owe their origin to instinct which appear to the -subject the most obvious, the most axiomatic, and the least liable to -doubt by any one but an eccentric or a madman. - -It has been customary with certain authors—perhaps especially such as -have interested themselves in sociological subjects—to ascribe quite -a large number of man’s activities to separate instincts. Very little -consideration of most of these propositions shows that they are based -upon too lax a definition or a want of analysis, for most of the -activities referred to special instincts prove to be derivatives of the -great primal instincts which are common to or very widely distributed -over the animal kingdom. Man and a very large number of all animals -inherit the capacity to respond to physical need or emergency according -to the demands which we classify, as the three primary instincts of -self-preservation, nutrition, and {97} reproduction. If a series -of animals of increasing brain power be examined, it will be found -that a growth of intelligence, while it does nothing to enfeeble the -instinctive impulse, modifies the appearances of it by increasing the -number of modes of reaction it may use. Intelligence, that is to say, -leaves its possessor no less impelled by instinct than his simpler -ancestor, but endows him with the capacity to respond in a larger -variety of ways. The response is now no longer directly and narrowly -confined to a single path, but may follow a number of indirect and -intricate ways; there is no reason, however, to suppose that the -impulse is any the weaker for that. To mistake indirectness of response -for enfeeblement of impulse is a fundamental error to which all inquiry -into the psychology of instinct is liable. - -To man his big brain has given a maximal power of various response -which enables him to indulge his instinctive impulses in indirect and -symbolic activities to a greater extent than any other animal. It is -for this reason that the instincts of man are not always obvious in -his conduct and have come to be regarded by some as practically no -more than vestigial. Indirect modes of response may indeed become -so involved as to assume the appearance of the negation of the very -instincts of which they are the expression. Thus it comes to be no -paradox to say that monks and nuns, ascetics and martyrs, prove the -strength of the great primary instincts their existence seems to deny. - -Man and a certain number of other species widely distributed -throughout the animal kingdom show, in addition to the instincts of -self-preservation, nutrition, and sex, specialized inherited modes -of response to the needs, not directly of the individual but of the -herd to which he belongs. These responses, which are perfectly well -marked and characteristic, are those of the herd instinct. It is -{98} important to grasp clearly the relation of this instinct to -the individual. It must be understood that each separate member of -a gregarious species inherits characters deeply rooted in his being -which effectually differentiate him from any non-gregarious animal. -These characters are such that in presence of certain stimuli they -will ensure his responding in a specialized way which will be quite -different from the response of a solitary animal. The response when -examined will be found not necessarily to favour the survival of -the individual as such, but to favour his survival as a member of a -herd. A very simple example will make this plain. The dog and the cat -are our two most familiar examples of the social and the solitary -animal respectively. Their different attitudes towards feeding must -have been observed by all. The cat takes her food leisurely, without -great appearance of appetite and in small amounts at a time; the dog -is voracious and will eat hurriedly as much as he can get, growling -anxiously if he is approached. In doing so he is expressing a deeply -ingrained characteristic. His attitude towards food was built up -when he hunted in packs and to get a share of the common kill had -to snatch what came in his way and gulp it down before it could be -taken from him. In slang which has a sound biological basis we say he -“wolfs” his food. When in domestication his food supply is no longer -limited in the primitive way, his instinctive tendency persists; he -is typically greedy and will kill himself by overeating if he is -allowed to. Here we have a perfect instance of an instinctive response -being disadvantageous to the survival of the individual as such, and -favouring his survival only as a member of a herd. This example, -trivial as it may seem, is worthy of close study. It shows that the -individual of the gregarious species, as an individual and in {99} -isolation, possesses indelible marks of character which effectually -distinguish him from all solitary animals. - -The same principle applies with equal force to man. Whether he is -alone or in company, a hermit philosopher or a mere unit of a mob, his -responses will bear the same stamp of being regulated by the existence -and influence of his fellows. - -The foregoing considerations, elementary and incomplete as they are, -suggest that there is a strong prima facie case for rejecting the -common conceptions that man is among animals the least endowed with -an inheritance of instinct, and that civilization has produced in -him profound modifications in his primitive instinctive impulses. If -the conception which I have put forward be correct, namely, that man -is not at all less subject to instinctive impulsions than any other -animal but disguises the fact from the observer and from himself by -the multiplicity of the lines of response his mental capacity enables -him to take, it should follow that his conduct is much less truly -variable and much more open to generalization than has generally been -supposed. Should this be possible, it would enable the biologist to -study the actual affairs of mankind in a really practical way, to -analyse the tendencies of social development, to discover how deeply -or superficially they were based in the necessity of things, and above -all, to foretell their course. Thus might be founded a true science of -politics which would be of direct service to the statesman. - -Many attempts have been made to apply biological principles to the -interpretation of history and the guidance of statecraft, especially -since the popularization of the principles associated with the name -of Darwin. Such attempts have generally been undertaken less in the -spirit of the scientific {100} investigator than in that of the -politician; the point of departure has been a political conviction and -not a biological truth; and as might be expected, when there has been -any conflict between political conviction and biological truth it is -the latter that has had to give way. Work of this kind has brought the -method into deserved contempt by its crudity, its obvious subservience -to prejudice, and its pretentious gestures of the doctrinaire. England -has not been without her examples of these scientific politicians and -historians, but they cannot be said to have flourished here as they -have in the more scholastic air of Germany. The names of several such -are now notorious in this country and their works are sufficiently -familiar for it to be obvious that their claims to scientific -value do not admit of discussion. It is not necessary to consider -their conclusions, they are condemned by their manner; and however -interesting their political vociferation may be to fellow-patriots, -it plainly has no meaning whatsoever as science. In face of the -spectacle presented by these leather-lunged doctrinaires, it needs -some little hardihood to maintain that it is possible profitably to -apply biological principle to the consideration of human affairs; -nevertheless, that is an essential thesis of this essay. - -In attempting to illuminate the records of history by the principles -of biology, an essential difficulty is the difference of scale in time -upon which these two departments of knowledge work. Historical events -are confined within a few thousands of years, the biological record -covers many millions; it is scarcely to be expected, therefore, that -even a gross movement on the cramped historical scale will be capable -of detection in the vast gulf of time the biological series represents. -A minor difficulty is the fact that the data of history come to us -through a dense and reduplicated veil of human {101} interpretation, -whereas the biological facts are comparatively free from this kind of -obscuration. The former obstacle is undoubtedly serious. It is to be -remarked, however, that there is strong reason to suppose that the -process of organic evolution has not been and is not always infinitely -slow and gradual. It is more than suspected that, perhaps as the result -of slowly accumulated tendency or perhaps as the result of a sudden -variation of structure or capacity, there have been periods of rapid -change which might have been perceptible to direct observation. The -infinitely long road still tending upwards comes to where it branches -and meets another path, tending perhaps downwards or even upwards at -a different slope. May not the meeting or branching form, as it were, -a node in the infinite line, a resting place for the eye, a point in -the vast extension capable of recognition by a finite mind and of -expression in terms of human affairs? It is the belief of the writer -that the human race stands at such a nodal point to-day. - - -THE BIOLOGY OF GREGARIOUSNESS. - -In order to set forth the evidence on which is based the conclusion -that the present juncture of affairs is not merely, as it very -obviously is, a meeting-place of epochs in the historical series, -but also marks a stage in the biological series which will prove to -have been a moment of destiny in the evolution of the human species, -it will be necessary to inquire somewhat closely into the biological -meaning of the social habit in animals. In an earlier essay certain -speculations in the same subject were indulged, and a certain amount -of repetition will be necessary. The point of view then taken up, -however, was different from that from which I shall now attempt to -review the facts. Then the main {102} interest lay in an examination -of the meaning of gregariousness for the individual mind, and although -reasons enough were found for uneasiness at the course of events, -and at the instability of civilization which any radical examination -displayed, the inquiry was not pursued under any immediate imminence of -disaster to the social fabric as it must be now. Naturally, therefore, -at the present time certain aspects of the subject which before were -of no special relevance become of great importance and demand close -examination. - -In a general view of the social habit in animals certain outstanding -facts are readily to be observed. It is of wide distribution and -sporadic occurrence, it varies much in the completeness of its -development, and there seems to be an inverse relation between its -completeness and the brain power of the animal concerned. - -From the wideness of its distribution the social habit may be supposed -to represent a forward step in complexity which comes about readily. It -has the appearance of being upon a path which species have a natural -tendency to follow, a line of evolution which is perhaps rendered -possible by constantly occurring small variations common to all animals -and taken advantage of only under certain circumstances of pressure -or increase. It seems not to depend on any sudden large variation of -type, and such is not necessary to account for it. It differs from -many other modifications which we know animal life to have undergone -in being immediately useful to the species from its very beginning and -in its least perfect forms. Once started, however imperfectly, the new -habit will have a natural tendency to progress towards fuller forms of -sociality by reason of special selective forces which it inevitably -sets going. The fact that it is valuable to the species in which it -develops even in its most larval forms, {103} combined with its -tendency to progress, no doubt accounts for the wonderful series of all -degrees of gregariousness which the field of natural history presents. - -I have pointed out elsewhere that the fundamental biological meaning of -gregariousness is that it allows of an indefinite enlargement of the -unit upon which the undifferentiated influence of natural selection is -allowed to act, so that the individual merged in the larger unit is -shielded from the immediate effects of natural selection and is exposed -directly only to the special form of selection which obtains within the -new unit. - -There seems little doubt that this sheltering of the individual allows -him to vary and to undergo modifications with a freedom which would -have been dangerous to him as an isolated being, but is safe under the -new conditions and valuable to the new unit of which he now is a part. - -In essence the significance of the passage from the solitary to the -gregarious seems to be closely similar to that of the passage from the -unicellular to the multicellular organism—an enlargement of the unit -exposed to natural selection, a shielding of the individual cell from -that pressure, an endowment of it with freedom to vary and specialize -in safety. - -Nature has thus made two great experiments of the same type, and if one -be reasonably careful to avoid arguing from analogy, it is possible -to use one case to illuminate the other by furnishing hints as to -what mechanisms may be looked for and in what directions inquiry may -profitably be pursued. - -The sporadic occurrence of gregariousness at widely separated points -of the animal field—in man and sheep, in ant and elephant—inclines one -to suppose that multicellularity must have arisen also at multiple -points, and that the metazoa did not arise from the protozoa by a -single line of descent. It {104} suggests also that there is some -inherent property in mobile living organisms that makes combination -of individuals into larger units a more or less inevitable course -of development under certain circumstances and without any gross -variation being necessary to initiate it. The complex evolution which -multicellularity made possible, and perhaps enforced, can scarcely -fail to make one wonder whether the gregarious animal has not entered -upon a path which must of necessity lead to increasing complexity and -co-ordination, to a more and more stringent intensity of integration or -to extinction. - -The varying degrees to which the social habit has developed among -different animals provide a very interesting branch of study. The class -of insects is remarkable in furnishing an almost inexhaustible variety -of stages to which the instinct is developed. Of these that reached by -the humble bee, with its small, weak families, is a familiar example of -a low grade; that of the wasp, with its colonies large and strong, but -unable to survive the winter, is another of more developed type; while -that of the honey bee represents a very high grade of development in -which the instinct seems to have completed its cycle and yielded to the -hive the maximum advantages of which it is capable. In the honey bee, -then, the social instinct may be said to be complete. - -It is necessary to examine somewhat closely into what is denoted by the -completeness or otherwise of the social habit in a given species. - -To return for a moment to the case of the change from the unicellular -to the multicellular, it is obvious that in the new unit, to get the -full advantage of the change there must be specialization involving -both loss and gain to the individual cell; one loses power of digestion -and gains a special sensitiveness to stimulation, another loses -locomotion {105} to gain digestion, and so forth in innumerable -series as the new unit becomes more complex. Inherent, however, in -the new mechanism is the need for co-ordination if the advantages -of specialization are to be obtained. The necessity of a nervous -system—if progress is to be maintained—early becomes obvious, and it -is equally clear that the primary function of the nervous system is -to facilitate co-ordination. Thus it would seem that the individual -cell incorporated in a larger unit must possess a capacity for -specialization, the ability to originate new methods of activity, -and a capacity for response—that is, the ability to limit itself to -action co-ordinated suitably to the interests of the new unit rather -than to those that would have been its own if it had been a free unit -in itself. Specialization and co-ordination will be the two necessary -conditions for success of the larger unit, and advance in complexity -will be possible as long only as these two are unexhausted. Neither, of -course, will be of avail without the other. The richest specialization -will be of no good if it cannot be controlled to the uses of the whole -organism, and the most perfect control of the individual cells will -be incapable of ensuring progress if it has no material of original -variation to work on. - -The analogy is helpful in the consideration of the mechanisms brought -into play by the social habit. The community of the honey bee bears a -close resemblance to the body of a complex animal. The capacity for -actual structural specialization of the individuals in the interests of -the hive has been remarkable and has gone far, while at the same time -co-ordination has been stringently enforced, so that each individual -is actually absorbed into the community, expends all its activities -therein, and when excluded from it is almost as helpless as a part of -the naked flesh of an animal {106} detached from its body. The hive -may, in fact, without any very undue stretch of fantasy, be described -as an animal of which all the individual cells have retained the power -of locomotion. When one watches the flight of a swarm of bees its -unanimity and directness very easily produce the illusion that one is -witnessing the migration of a single animal usually sedentary but at -times capable of undertaking journeys with a formidable and successful -energy. This new animal differs from the other animals of the metazoa -which it has outdistanced in the race of evolution, not merely in -its immense power, energy, and flexibility, but also in the almost -startling fact that it has recovered the gift of immortality which -seemed to have been lost with its protozoal ancestors. - -The extent to which the hive makes use of the powers of its individuals -is the measure of the completeness with which the social habit is -developed in it. The worker bee has practically no activities which are -not directly devoted to the hive, and yet she goes about her ceaseless -tasks in a way that never fails to impress the observer with its -exuberant energy and even its appearance of joyfulness. It is thought -that the average worker bee _works herself to death_ in about two -months. That is a fact which can scarcely fail to arouse, even in the -least imaginative, at any rate a moment of profound contemplation. - -If we could suppose her to be conscious in the human sense, we -must imagine the bee to be possessed by an enthusiasm for the hive -more intense than a mother’s devotion to her son, without personal -ambitions, or doubts or fears, and if we are to judge by the -imperfect experience man has yet had of the same lofty passion, we -must think of her consciousness, insignificant spark as it is, as a -little fire ablaze with altruistic feeling. Doubtless, such {107} -an attribution of emotion to the bee is a quite unjustified fallacy -of anthropomorphism. Nevertheless, it is not altogether valueless -as a hint of what social unity might effect in an animal of larger -mental life. There can be little doubt that the perfection to which -the communal life of the bee has attained is dependent on the very -smallness of the mental development of which the individuals are -capable. Their capacity to assimilate experience is necessarily from -their structure, and is known by experience to be, small and their -path is marked out so plainly by actual physical modifications that -the almost miraculous absorption of the worker in the hive is after -all perhaps natural enough. If she were able to assimilate general -experience on a larger scale, to react freely and appropriately to -stimuli external to the hive, there can be little doubt that the -community would show a less concentrated efficiency than it does -to-day. The standing miracle of the bee—her sensitiveness to the voice -of the hive and her capacity to communicate with her fellows—would -undoubtedly be less marvellously perfect if she were not at the same -time deaf to all other voices. - -When we come to consider animals in which the anatomist can recognize -a brain and the psychologist an individual mind, the types of -gregariousness we meet with are found to have lost the magnificent -intensity of the bee. This decline in intensity seems to be due to -the greatly increased variety of reaction of which the individual -is capable. The gregarious mammalia are most of them relatively -intelligent, they are capable of assimilating experience to a certain -extent and have a definite capacity for individual existence. In them -the social habit shows comparatively little tendency to a gradual -intensification, but is a more static condition. Doubtless, there are -other conditions {108} which also limit it. For example, the slowness -of multiplication and fixity of structure in the mammalia obviously -deprive them of the possibility of undergoing a continuous social -integration as the insects have. Be this as it may, we find in them -the social habit but little or scarcely at all expressed in physical -specialization but shown as a deeply ingrained mental character which -profoundly influences their habits and their modes of reaction to -bodily and external impressions. Among the mammalia other than man -and possibly apes and monkeys, gregariousness is found in two broadly -distinguishable types according to the function it subserves. It may -be either protective as in the sheep, the deer, the ox, and the horse, -or aggressive as in the wolf and allied animals. In both forms it will -involve certain common types of capacity, while the distinguishing -characteristic of each will be a special kind of reaction to certain -stimuli. It is important to understand that these peculiarities are -possessed by each individual of the larger unit, and will be displayed -by him in a characteristic way whether he is in the company of his -fellows or not. It is not necessary to repeat here in any detail the -characters of the gregarious mammal. They have been dealt with in an -earlier essay, but it is desirable to emphasize here certain features -of exceptional importance and some which were but little discussed -before. - -The quite fundamental characteristic of the social mammal, as of the -bee, is sensitiveness to the voice of his fellows. He must have the -capacity to react fatally and without hesitation to an impression -coming to him from the herd, and he must react in a totally different -way to impressions coming to him from without. In the presence of -danger his first motion must be, not to fly or to attack as the case -may be, but to notify the herd. This characteristic is beautifully -demonstrated in the low {109} growl a dog will give at the approach of -a stranger. This is obviously in no way part of the dog’s programme of -attack upon his enemy—when his object is intimidation he bursts into -barking—but his first duty is to put the pack on its guard. Similarly -the start of the sheep is a notification and precedes any motion of -flight. - -In order that the individual shall be sensitive in a special degree -to the voice of the herd, he must have developed in him an infallible -capacity for recognizing his fellow-members. In the lower mammalia -this seems almost exclusively a function of the sense of smell, as is -natural enough since that sense is as a general rule highly developed -in them. The domestic dog shows admirably the importance of the -function of recognition in his species. Comparatively few recognize -even their masters at any distance by sight or sound, while obviously -with their fellows they are practically dependent on smell. The extent -to which the ceremonial of recognition has developed in the dog is, of -course, very familiar to every one. It shows unmistakable evidence of -the rudiments of social organization, and is not the less illuminating -to the student of human society for having a bodily orientation and -technique which at first sight obscures its resemblance to similar, and -it is supposed more dignified, mechanisms in man. - -Specialization fitting the animal for social life is obviously in -certain directions restrictive; that is, it denies him certain -capacities and immunities which the solitary animal possesses; -equally obviously is it in certain directions expansive and does it -confer qualities on the social which the solitary does not possess. -Among qualities of restrictive specialization are inability to live -satisfactorily apart from the herd or some substitute for it, the -liability to loneliness, a dependence on leadership, custom, and -tradition, a {110} credulity towards the dogmas of the herd and an -unbelief towards external experience, a standard of conduct no longer -determined by personal needs but influenced by a power outside the -ego—a conscience, in fact, and a sense of sin—a weakness of personal -initiative and a distrust of its promptings. Expansive specialization, -on the other hand, gives the gregarious animal the sense of power and -security in the herd, the capacity to respond to the call of the herd -with a maximum output of energy and endurance, a deep-seated mental -satisfaction in unity with the herd, and a solution in it of personal -doubts and fears. - -All these characters can be traced in an animal such as the dog. The -mere statement of them, necessarily in mental terms, involves the -liability to a certain inexactitude if it is not recognized that no -hypothesis as to the consciousness of the dog is assumed but that the -description in mental terms is given because of its convenient brevity. -An objective description of the actual conduct on which such summarized -statements are founded would be impossibly voluminous. - - * * * * * - -The advantage the new unit obtains by aggressive gregariousness is -chiefly its immense accession of strength as a hunting and fighting -organism. Protective gregariousness confers on the flock or herd -advantages perhaps less obvious but certainly not less important. A -very valuable gain is the increased efficiency of vigilance which is -possible. Such efficiency depends on the available number of actual -watchers and the exquisite sensitiveness of the herd and all its -members to the signals of such sentries. No one can have watched a -herd of sheep for long without being impressed with the delicacy with -which a supposed danger is detected, transmitted throughout the herd, -and met {111} by an appropriate movement. Another advantage enjoyed -by the new unit is a practical solution of the difficulties incident -upon the emotion of fear. Fear is essentially an enfeebling passion, -yet in the sheep and such animals it is necessarily developed to a high -degree in the interests of safety. The danger of this specialization is -neutralized by the implication of so large a part of the individual’s -personality in the herd and outside of himself. Alarm becomes a -passion, as it were, of the herd rather than of the individual, and the -appropriate response by the individual is to an impulse received from -the herd and not directly from the actual object of alarm. It seems -to be in this way that the paralysing emotion of fear is held back -from the individual, while its effect can reach him only as the active -and formidable passion of panic. The gregarious herbivora are in fact -timid but not fearful animals. All the various mechanisms in which the -social habit shows itself apparently have as their general function -a maximal sensitiveness to danger of the herd as a whole, combined -with maintaining with as little interruption as possible an atmosphere -of calm within the herd, so that the individual members can occupy -themselves in the serious business of grazing. It must be doubted -whether a truly herbivorous animal of a solitary habit could ever -flourish when we remember how incessant must be his industry in feeding -if he is to be properly nourished, and how much such an occupation will -be interfered with by the constant alarms he must be subject to if he -is to escape the attacks of carnivorous enemies. The evidence suggests -that protective gregariousness is a more elaborate manifestation of the -social habit than the aggressive form. It is clear that the security -of the higher herbivora, such as the ox and especially the horse and -their allies, is considerable in relation to the carnivora. One may -{112} permissibly perhaps indulge the speculation that in the absence -of man the horse possibly might have developed a greater complexity -of organization than it has actually been able to attain; that the -facts should seem to contain this hint is a curious testimony to the -wonderful constructive imagination of Swift. - -Setting aside such guesses and confining ourselves to the facts, we -may say in summary that we find the infrahuman mammalia to present two -distinctly separable strains of the social habit. Both are of great -value to the species in which they appear, and both are associated with -certain fundamentally similar types of reactive capacity which give a -general resemblance of character to all gregarious animals. Of the two -forms the protective is perhaps capable of absorbing more fully the -personality of the individual than is the aggressive, but both seem to -have reached the limit of their intensification at a grade far lower -than that which has been attained in the insects. - - -CHARACTERS OF THE GREGARIOUS ANIMAL DISPLAYED BY MAN. - -When we come to consider man we find ourselves faced at once by some -of the most interesting problems in the biology of the social habit. -It is probably not necessary now to labour the proof of the fact that -man is a gregarious animal in literal fact, that he is as essentially -gregarious as the bee and the ant, the sheep, the ox, and the horse. -The tissue of characteristically gregarious reactions which his conduct -presents furnishes incontestable proof of this thesis, which is thus an -indispensable clue to an inquiry into the intricate problems of human -society. - -It is desirable perhaps to enumerate in a summary {113} way the more -obvious gregarious characters which man displays. - -1. He is intolerant and fearful of solitude, physical or mental. -This intolerance is the cause of the mental fixity and intellectual -incuriousness which, to a remarkable degree for an animal with so -capacious a brain, he constantly displays. As is well known, the -resistance to a new idea is always primarily a matter of prejudice, -the development of intellectual objections, just or otherwise, being -a secondary process in spite of the common delusion to the contrary. -This intimate dependence on the herd is traceable not merely in matters -physical and intellectual, but also betrays itself in the deepest -recesses of personality as a sense of incompleteness which compels the -individual to reach out towards some larger existence than his own, -some encompassing being in whom his perplexities may find a solution -and his longings peace. Physical loneliness and intellectual isolation -are effectually solaced by the nearness and agreement of the herd. The -deeper personal necessities cannot be met—at any rate, in such society -as has so far been evolved—by so superficial a union; the capacity -for intercommunication is still too feebly developed to bring the -individual into complete and soul-satisfying harmony with his fellows, -to convey from one to another - - Thoughts hardly to be packed - Into a narrow act, - Fancies that broke through language and escaped. - -Religious feeling is therefore a character inherent in the very -structure of the human mind, and is the expression of a need which must -be recognized by the biologist as neither superficial nor transitory. -It must be admitted that some philosophers and {114} men of science -have at times denied to the religious impulses of man their true -dignity and importance. Impelled perhaps by a desire to close the -circle of a materialistic conception of the universe, they have tended -to belittle the significance of such phenomena as they were unable to -reconcile with their principles and bring within the iron circle of -their doctrine. To deal with religion in this way has not only been an -outrage upon true scientific method, but has always led to a strong -reaction in general opinion against any radical inquiry by science into -the deeper problems of man’s nature and status. A large and energetic -reaction of this kind prevails to-day. There can be little doubt that -it was precipitated, if not provoked, by attempts to force a harsh and -dogmatic materialism into the status of a general philosophy. As long -as such a system is compelled to ignore, to depreciate, or to deny -the reality of such manifestly important phenomena as the altruistic -emotions, the religious needs and feelings, the experiences of awe and -wonder and beauty, the illumination of the mystic, the rapture of the -prophet, the unconquerable endurance of the martyr, so long must it -fail in its claims to universality. It is therefore necessary to lay -down with the strongest emphasis the proposition that the religious -needs and feelings of man are a direct and necessary manifestation -of the inheritance of instinct with which he is born, and therefore -deserve consideration as respectful and observation as minute as any -other biological phenomenon. - -2. He is more sensitive to the voice of the herd than to any other -influence. It can inhibit or stimulate his thought and conduct. It -is the source of his moral codes, of the sanctions of his ethics and -philosophy. It can endow him with energy, courage, and endurance, and -can as easily take these away. {115} It can make him acquiese in his -own punishment and embrace his executioner, submit to poverty, bow to -tyranny, and sink without complaint under starvation. Not merely can -it make him accept hardship and suffering unresistingly, but it can -make him accept as truth the explanation that his perfectly preventable -afflictions are sublimely just and gentle. It is in this acme of -the power of herd suggestion that is perhaps the most absolutely -incontestable proof of the profoundly gregarious nature of man. That -a creature of strong appetites and luxurious desires should come to -tolerate uncomplainingly his empty belly, his chattering teeth, his -naked limbs, and his hard bed is miracle enough. What are we to say of -a force which, when he is told by the full-fed and well-warmed that -his state is the more blessed can make him answer, “How beautiful! How -true!” In the face of so effectual a negation, not merely of experience -and common sense but also of actual hunger and privation, it is not -possible to set any limits to the power of the herd over the individual. - -3. He is subject to the passions of the pack in his mob violence and -the passions of the herd in his panics. These activities are by no -means limited to the outbursts of actual crowds, but are to be seen -equally clearly in the hue and cry of newspapers and public after some -notorious criminal or scapegoat, and in the success of scaremongering -by the same agencies. - -4. He is remarkably susceptible to leadership. This quality in man -may very naturally be thought to have a basis essentially rational -rather than instinctive if its manifestations are not regarded with -a special effort to attain an objective attitude. How thoroughly -reasonable it appears that a body of men seeking a common object -should put themselves under the guidance of some strong and expert -{116} personality who can point out the path most profitably to be -pursued, who can hearten his followers and bring all their various -powers into a harmonious pursuit of the common object. The rational -basis of the relation is, however, seen to be at any rate open to -discussion when we consider the qualities in a leader upon which his -authority so often rests, for there can be little doubt that their -appeal is more generally to instinct than to reason. In ordinary -politics it must be admitted that the gift of public speaking is of -more decisive value than anything else. If a man is fluent, dextrous, -and ready on the platform, he possesses the one indispensable requisite -for statesmanship; if in addition he has the gift of moving deeply -the emotions of his hearers, his capacity for guiding the infinite -complexities of national life becomes undeniable. Experience has shown -that no exceptional degree of any other capacity is necessary to make -a successful leader. There need be no specially arduous training, -no great weight of knowledge either of affairs or the human heart, -no receptiveness to new ideas, no outlook into reality. Indeed, the -mere absence of such seems to be an advantage; for originality is apt -to appear to the people as flightiness, scepticism as feebleness, -caution as doubt of the great political principles that may happen -at the moment to be immutable. The successful shepherd thinks like -his sheep, and can lead his flock only if he keeps no more than the -shortest distance in advance. He must remain, in fact, recognizable -as one of the flock, magnified no doubt, louder, coarser, above -all with more urgent wants and ways of expression than the common -sheep, but in essence to their feeling of the same flesh with them. -In the human herd the necessity of the leader bearing unmistakable -marks of identification is equally essential. Variations from the -normal standard in intellectual matters are tolerated {117} if they -are not very conspicuous, for man has never yet taken reason very -seriously, and can still look upon intellectuality as not more than -a peccadillo if it is not paraded conspicuously; variations from the -moral standard are, however, of a much greater significance as marks -of identification, and when they become obvious, can at once change a -great and successful leader into a stranger and an outcast, however -little they may seem to be relevant to the adequate execution of -his public work. If a leader’s marks of identity with the herd are -of the right kind, the more they are paraded the better. We like to -see photographs of him nursing his little grand-daughter, we like to -know that he plays golf badly, and rides the bicycle like our common -selves, we enjoy hearing of “pretty incidents” in which he has given -the blind crossing-sweeper a penny or begged a glass of water at a -wayside cottage—and there are excellent biological reasons for our -gratification. - -In times of war leadership is not less obviously based on instinct, -though naturally, since the herd is exposed to a special series of -stresses, manifestations of it are also somewhat special. A people -at war feels the need of direction much more intensely than a people -at peace, and as always they want some one who appeals to their -instinctive feeling of being directed, comparatively regardless -of whether he is able in fact to direct. This instinctive feeling -inclines them to the choice of a man who presents at any rate the -appearance and manners of authority and power rather than to one who -possesses the substance of capacity but is denied the shadow. They -have their conventional pictures of the desired type—the strong, -silent, relentless, the bold, outspoken, hard, and energetic—but at -all costs he must be a “man,” a “leader who can lead,” a shepherd, in -fact, who, by his gesticulations and {118} his shouts, leaves his -flock in no doubt as to his presence and his activity. It is touching -to remember how often a people in pursuit of this ideal has obtained -and accepted in response to its prayers nothing but melodramatic -bombast, impatience, rashness, and foolish, boasting truculence; and -to remember how often a great statesman in his country’s need has had -to contend not merely with her foreign enemies, but with those at home -whose vociferous malignity has declared his magnanimous composure to -be sluggishness, his cautious scepticism to be feebleness, and his -unostentatious resolution to be stupidity. - -5. His relations with his fellows are dependent upon the recognition -of him as a member of the herd. It is important to the success of a -gregarious species that individuals should be able to move freely -within the large unit while strangers are excluded. Mechanisms to -secure such personal recognition are therefore a characteristic feature -of the social habit. The primitive olfactory greeting common to so many -of the lower animals was doubtless rendered impossible for man by his -comparative loss of the sense of smell long before it ceased to accord -with his pretensions, yet in a thriving active species the function of -recognition was as necessary as ever. Recognition by vision could be of -only limited value, and it seems probable that speech very early became -the accepted medium. Possibly the necessity to distinguish friend -from foe was one of the conditions which favoured the development -of articulate speech. Be this as it may, speech at the present time -retains strong evidence of the survival in it of the function of herd -recognition. As is usual with instinctive activities in man, the actual -state of affairs is concealed by a deposit of rationalized explanation -which is apt to discourage merely superficial inquiry. The function -of conversation is, it is to be supposed, ordinarily regarded {119} -as being the exchange of ideas and information. Doubtless it has come -to have such a function, but an objective examination of ordinary -conversation shows that the actual conveyance of ideas takes a very -small part in it. As a rule the exchange seems to consist of ideas -which are necessarily common to the two speakers, and are known to be -so by each. The process, however, is none the less satisfactory for -this; indeed, it seems even to derive its satisfactoriness therefrom. -The interchange of the conventional lead and return is obviously very -far from being tedious or meaningless to the interlocutors. They can, -however, have derived nothing from it but the confirmation to one -another of their sympathy and of the class or classes to which they -belong. - -Conversations of greeting are naturally particularly rich in the -exchange of purely ceremonial remarks, ostensibly based on some -subject like the weather, in which there must necessarily be an -absolute community of knowledge. It is possible, however, for a long -conversation to be made up entirely of similar elements, and to contain -no trace of any conveyance of new ideas; such intercourse is probably -that which on the whole is most satisfactory to the “normal” man and -leaves him more comfortably stimulated than would originality or -brilliance, or any other manifestation of the strange and therefore of -the disreputable. - -Conversation between persons unknown to one another is also—when -satisfactory—apt to be rich in the ritual of recognition. When one -hears or takes part in these elaborate evolutions, gingerly proffering -one after another of one’s marks of identity, one’s views on the -weather, on fresh air and draughts, on the Government and on uric -acid, watching intently for the first low hint of a growl, which will -show one belongs to the wrong pack {120} and must withdraw, it is -impossible not to be reminded of the similar manœuvres of the dog, and -to be thankful that Nature has provided us with a less direct, though -perhaps a more tedious, code. - - * * * * * - -It may appear that we have been dealing here with a far-fetched and -laboured analogy, and making much of a comparison of trivialities -merely for the sake of compromising, if that could be done, human -pretensions to reason. To show that the marvel of human communion -began, perhaps, as a very humble function, and yet retains traces of -its origin, is in no way to minimize the value or dignity of the more -fully developed power. The capacity for free intercommunication between -individuals of the species has meant so much in the evolution of man, -and will certainly come in the future to mean so incalculably more, -that it cannot be regarded as anything less than a master element in -the shaping of his destiny. - - -SOME PECULIARITIES OF THE SOCIAL HABIT IN MAN. - -It is apparent after very little consideration that the extent of man’s -individual mental development is a factor which has produced many novel -characters in his manifestations of the social habit, and has even -concealed to a great extent the profound influence this instinct has in -regulating his conduct, his thought, and his society. - -Large mental capacity in the individual, as we have already seen, has -the effect of providing a wide freedom of response to instinctive -impulses, so that, while the individual is no less impelled by instinct -than a more primitive type, the manifestations of these impulses in -his conduct are very varied, and his conduct loses the appearance of a -{121} narrow concentration on its instinctive object. It needs only -to pursue this reasoning to a further stage to reach the conclusion -that mental capacity, while in no way limiting the impulsive power -of instinct, may, by providing an infinite number of channels into -which the impulse is free to flow, actually prevent the impulse from -attaining the goal of its normal object. In the ascetic the sex -instinct is defeated, in the martyr that of self-preservation, not -because these instincts have been abolished, but because the activity -of the mind has found new channels for them to flow in. As might be -expected, the much more labile herd instinct has been still more -subject to this deflection and dissipation without its potential -impulsive strength being in any way impaired. It is this process which -has enabled primitive psychology so largely to ignore the fact that -man still is, as much as ever, endowed with a heritage of instinct and -incessantly subject to its influence. Man’s mental capacity, again, -has enabled him as a species to flourish enormously, and thereby to -increase to a prodigious extent the size of the unit in which the -individual is merged. The nation, if the term be used to describe -every organization under a completely independent, supreme government, -must be regarded as the smallest unit on which natural selection now -unrestrictedly acts. Between such units there is free competition, -and the ultimate regulator of these relations is physical force. This -statement needs the qualification that the delimitation between two -given units may be much sharper than that between two others, so that -in the first case the resort to force is likely to occur readily, while -in the second case it will be brought about only by the very ultimate -necessity. The tendency to the enlargement of the social unit has been -going on with certain temporary relapses throughout human history. -{122} Though repeatedly checked by the instability of the larger -units, it has always resumed its activity, so that it should probably -be regarded as a fundamental biological drift the existence of which is -a factor which must always be taken into account in dealing with the -structure of human society. - -The gregarious mind shows certain characteristics which throw some -light on this phenomenon of the progressively enlarging unit. The -gregarious animal is different from the solitary in the capacity -to become conscious in a special way of the existence of other -creatures. This specific consciousness of his fellows carries with -it a characteristic element of communion with them. The individual -knows another individual of the same herd as a partaker in an entity -of which he himself is a part, so that the second individual is in -some way and to a certain extent identical with himself and part of -his own personality. He is able to feel with the other and share his -pleasures and sufferings as if they were an attenuated form of his own -personal experiences. The degree to which this assimilation of the -interests of another person is carried depends, in a general way, on -the extent of the intercommunication between the two. In human society -a man’s interest in his fellows is distributed about him concentrically -according to a compound of various relations they bear to him which -we may call in a broad way their nearness. The centrifugal fading of -interest is seen when we compare the man’s feeling towards one near -to him with his feeling towards one farther off. He will be disposed, -other things being equal, to sympathize with a relative as against a -fellow-townsman, with a fellow-townsman as against a mere inhabitant of -the same county, with the latter as against the rest of the country, -with an Englishman as against a European, with a European as against -an Asiatic, and so on until a limit is reached beyond {123} which -all human interest is lost. The distribution of interest is of course -never purely geographical, but is modified by, for example, trade and -professional sympathy, and by special cases of intercommunication -which bring topographically distant individuals into a closer grade -of feeling than their mere situation would demand. The essential -principle, however, is that the degree of sympathy with a given -individual varies directly with the amount of intercommunication with -him. The capacity to assimilate the interests of another individual -with one’s own, to allow him, as it were, to partake in one’s own -personality, is what is called altruism, and might equally well perhaps -be called expansive egoism. It is a characteristic of the gregarious -animal, and is a perfectly normal and necessary development in him of -his instinctive inheritance. - -Altruism is a quality the understanding of which has been much obscured -by its being regarded from the purely human point of view. Judged -from this standpoint, it has been apt to appear as a breach in the -supposedly “immutable” laws of “Nature red in tooth and claw,” as a -virtue breathed into man from some extra-human source, or as a weakness -which must be stamped out of any race which is to be strong, expanding, -and masterful. To the biologist these views are equally false, -superfluous, and romantic. He is aware that altruism occurs only in a -medium specifically protected from the unqualified influence of natural -selection, that it is the direct outcome of instinct, and that it is a -source of strength because it is a source of union. - -In recent times, freedom of travel, and the development of the -resources rendered available by education, have increased the general -mass of intercommunication to an enormous extent. Side by side with -this, altruism has come more and more into recognition as a supreme -moral law. There is {124} already a strong tendency to accept -selfishness as a test of sin, and consideration for others as a test of -virtue, and this has influenced even those who by public profession are -compelled to maintain that right and wrong are to be defined only in -terms of an arbitrary extra-natural code. - -Throughout the incalculable ages of man’s existence as a social animal, -Nature has been hinting to him in less and less ambiguous terms that -altruism must become the ultimate sanction of his moral code. Her -whispers have never gained more than grudging and reluctant notice from -the common man, and from those intensified forms of the common man, his -pastors and masters. Only to the alert senses of moral genius has the -message been at all intelligible, and when it has been interpreted to -the people it has always been received with obloquy and derision, with -persecution and martyrdom. Thus, as so often happens in human society, -has one manifestation of herd instinct been met and opposed by another. - -As intercommunication tends constantly to widen the field of action -of altruism, a point is reached when the individual becomes capable -of some kind of sympathy, however attenuated, with beings outside the -limits of the biological unit within which the primitive function of -altruism lies. This extension is perhaps possible only in man. In -a creature like the bee the rigidly limited mental capacity of the -individual and the closely organized society of the hive combine to -make the boundary of the hive correspond closely with the uttermost -limit of the field over which altruism is active. The bee, capable of -great sympathy and understanding in regard to her fellow-members of -the hive, is utterly callous and without understanding in regard to -any creature of external origin and existence. Man, however, with his -infinitely greater capacity for assimilating {125} experience, has not -been able to maintain the rigid limitation of sympathy to the unit, the -boundaries of which tend to acquire a certain indefiniteness not seen -in any of the lower gregarious types. - -Hence tends to appear a sense of international justice, a vague feeling -of being responsibly concerned in all human affairs and by a natural -consequence the ideas and impulses denoted under the term “pacifism.” - -One of the most natural and obvious consequences of war is a hardening -of the boundaries of the social unit and a retraction of the vague -feelings towards international sympathy which are a characteristic -product of peace and intercommunication. Thus it comes about that -pacifism and internationalism are in great disgrace at the present -time; they are regarded as the vapourings of cranky windbags who have -inevitably been punctured at the first touch of the sword; they are, -our political philosophers tell us, but products of the miasm of -sentimental fallacy which tends to be bred in the relaxing atmosphere -of peace. Perhaps no general expressions have been more common since -the beginning of the war, in the mouths of those who have undertaken -our instruction in the meaning of events, than the propositions -that pacifism is now finally exploded and shown always to have been -nonsense, that war is and always will be an inevitable necessity in -human affairs as man is what is called a fighting animal, and that not -only is the abolition of war an impossibility, but should the abolition -of it unhappily prove to be possible after all and be accomplished, the -result could only be degeneration and disaster. - -Biological considerations would seem to suggest that these -generalizations contain a large element of inexactitude. The doctrine -of pacifism is {126} a perfectly natural development, and ultimately -inevitable in an animal having an unlimited appetite for experience -and an indestructible inheritance of social instinct. Like all moral -discoveries made in the haphazard, one-sided way which the lack of -co-ordination in human society forces upon its moral pioneers, it -has necessarily an appearance of crankiness, of sentimentality, of -an inaptitude for the grasp of reality. This is normal and does not -in the least affect the value of the truth it contains. Legal and -religious torture were doubtless first attacked by cranks; slavery -was abolished by them. Advocacy by such types does not therefore -constitute an argument of any weight against their doctrines, which -can adequately be judged only by some purely objective standard. -Judged by such a standard, pacifism, as we have seen, appears to be a -natural development, and is directed towards a goal which unless man’s -nature undergoes a radical change will probably be attained. That its -attainment has so far been foreseen only by a class of men possessing -more than the usual impracticability of the minor prophet is hardly to -be considered a relevant fact. - - * * * * * - -It is impossible to leave this subject without some comment on the -famous doctrine that war is a biological necessity. Even if one knew -nothing of those who have enunciated this proposition, its character -would enable one to suspect it of being the utterance of a soldier -rather than a biologist. There is about it a confidence that the vital -effects of war are simple and easy to define and a cheerful contempt -for the considerable biological difficulties of the subject that remind -one of the bracing military atmosphere, in which a word of command is -the supreme fact, rather than that of the laboratory, {127} where -facts are the masters of all. It may be supposed that even in the -country of its birth the doctrine seemed more transcendently true in -times of peace amid a proud and brilliant regime than it does now after -more than twelve months of war. The whole conception is of a type to -arouse interest in its psychological origin rather than in a serious -discussion of its merits. It arose in a military State abounding in -prosperity and progress of very recent growth, and based upon three -short wars which had come closely one after another and formed an -ascending series of brilliant success. In such circumstances even -grosser assumptions might very well flourish and some such doctrine was -a perfectly natural product. The situation of the warrior-biologist -was in some way that of the orthodox expounder of ethics or political -economy—his conclusions were ready-made for him; all he had to do was -to find the “reasons” for them. War and war only had produced the best -and greatest and strongest State—indeed, the only State worthy of the -name; therefore war is the great creative and sustaining force of -States, or the universe is a mere meaningless jumble of accidents. If -only wars would always conform to the original Prussian pattern, as -they did in the golden age from 1864 to 1870—the unready adversary, -the few pleasantly strenuous weeks or months, the thumping indemnity! -That is the sort of biological necessity one can understand. But twelve -months of agonizing, indecisive effort in Poland and Russia and France, -might have made the syllogism a little less perfect, the new law of -Nature not quite so absolute. - -These matters, however, are quite apart from the practical question -whether war is a necessity to maintain the efficiency and energy -of nations and to prevent them sinking into sloth and degeneracy. -The {128} problem may be stated in another form. When we take a -comprehensive survey of the natural history of man—using that term to -include the whole of his capacities, activities, and needs, physical, -intellectual, moral—do we find that war is the indispensable instrument -whereby his survival and progress as a species are maintained? We are -assuming in this statement that progress or increased elaboration is to -continue to be a necessary tendency in his course by which his fate, -through the action of inherited needs, powers, and weaknesses, and of -external pressure is irrevocably conditioned. The assumption, though -commonly made, is by no means obviously true. Some of the evidence -justifying it will be dealt with later; it will not be necessary here -to do more than note that we are for the moment treating the doctrine -of human progress as a postulate. - -Man is unique among gregarious animals in the size of the major unit -upon which natural selection and its supposedly chief instrument, -war, is open to act unchecked. There is no other animal in which the -size of the unit, however laxly held together, has reached anything -even remotely approaching the inclusion of one-fifth or one-quarter -of the whole species. It is plain that a mortal contest between two -units of such a monstrous size introduces an altogether new mechanism -into the hypothetical “struggle for existence” on which the conception -of the biological necessity of war is founded. It is clear that -that doctrine, if it is to claim validity, must contemplate at any -rate the possibility of a war of extremity, even of something like -extermination, which shall implicate perhaps a third of the whole human -race. There is no parallel in biology for progress being accomplished -as the result of a racial impoverishment so extreme, even if it were -accompanied by a closely specific {129} selection instead of a mere -indiscriminate destruction. Progress is undoubtedly dependent mainly on -the material that is available for selection being rich and varied. Any -great reduction in the amount and variety of what is to be regarded as -the raw material of elaboration necessarily must have as an infallible -effect, the arrest of progress. It may be objected, however, that -anything approaching extermination could obviously not be possible in -a war between such immense units as those of modern man. Nevertheless, -the object of each of the two adversaries would be to impose its -will on the other, and to destroy in it all that was especially -individual, all the types of activity and capacity which were the -most characteristic in its civilization and therefore the cause of -hostility. The effect of success in such an endeavour would be an -enormous impoverishment of the variety of the race and a corresponding -effect on progress. - -To this line of speculation it may perhaps further be objected that the -question is not of the necessity of war to the race as a whole, but to -the individual nation or major unit. The argument has been used that -when a nation is obviously the repository of all the highest gifts and -tendencies of civilization, the race must in the end benefit, if this -nation, by force if necessary, imposes its will and its principles on -as much of the world as it can. To the biologist the weakness of this -proposition—apart from the plain impossibility of a nation attaining -an objective estimate of the value of its own civilization—is that it -embodies a course of action which tends to the spread of uniformity -and to limit that variety of material which is the fundamental quality -essential for progress. In certain cases of very gross discrepancy -between the value of two civilizations, it is quite possible that the -destruction of the simpler by the more elaborate does not result in -any great {130} loss to the race through the suppression of valuable -varieties. Even this admission is, however, open to debate, and it -may well be doubted whether in some ways the wholesale extermination -of “inferior” races has not denied to the species the perpetuation of -lines of variation which might have been of great value. - -It seems remarkable that among gregarious animals other than man direct -conflict between major units such as can lead to the suppression of -the less powerful is an inconspicuous phenomenon. They are, it may be -supposed, too busily engaged in maintaining themselves against external -enemies to have any opportunities for fighting within the species. -Man’s complete conquest of the grosser enemies of his race has allowed -him leisure for turning his restless pugnacity—a quality no longer -fully occupied upon his non-human environment—against his own species. -When the major units of humanity were small the results of such -conflict were not perhaps very serious to the race as a whole, except -in prolonging the twilight stages of civilization. It can scarcely be -questioned that the organization of a people for war tends to encourage -unduly a type of individual who is abnormally insensitive to doubt, -to curiosity, and to the development of original thought. With the -enlargement of the unit and the accompanying increase in knowledge -and resources, war becomes much more seriously expensive to the race. -In the present war the immense size of the units engaged and their -comparative equality in power have furnished a complete _reductio ad -absurdum_ of the proposition that war in itself is a good thing even -for the individual nation. It would seem, then, that in the original -proposition the word “war” must be qualified to mean a war against a -smaller and notably weaker adversary. The German Empire was founded on -such wars. {131} The conception of the biological necessity of war -may fairly be expected to demonstrate its validity in the fate of that -Empire if such a demonstration is ever to be possible. Every condition -for a crucial experiment was present: a brilliant inauguration in the -very atmosphere of military triumph, a conscious realization of the -value of the martial spirit, a determination to keep the warrior ideal -conspicuously foremost with a people singularly able and willing to -accept it. If this is the way in which an ultimate world-power is to -be founded and maintained, no single necessary factor is lacking. And -yet after a few years, in what should be the very first youth of an -Empire, we find it engaged against a combination of Powers of fabulous -strength, which, by a miracle of diplomacy no one else could have -accomplished, it has united against itself. It is an irrelevance to -assert that this combination is the result of malice, envy, treachery, -barbarism; such terms are by hypothesis not admissible. If the -system of Empire-building is not proof against those very elementary -enemies, any further examination of it is of course purely academic. -To withstand those is just what the Empire is there for; if it falls -a victim to them, it fails in its first and simplest function and -displays a radical defect in its structure. To the objectivist practice -is the only test in human affairs, and he will not allow his attention -to be distracted from what did happen by the most perfectly logical -demonstration of what ought to have happened. It is the business of an -Empire not to encounter overwhelming enemies. Declaring itself to be -the most perfect example of its kind and the foreordained heir of the -world will remain no more than a pleasant—and dangerous—indulgence, and -will not prevent it showing by its fate that the fruits of perfection -and the promise of permanence are not demonstrated in the wholesale -{132} manufacture of enemies and in the combination of them into an -alliance of unparalleled strength. - - * * * * * - -The doctrine of the biological necessity of war may, then, be regarded -as open to strong suspicion on theoretical grounds of being contrary -to the evolutionary tendency already plainly marked out for the human -species. The fact that the nation in which its truth was most generally -accepted has been led—and undoubtedly to some extent by it—into a -war which can scarcely fail to prove disastrous suggests that in the -practical field it is equally fallacious. It may well, therefore, be -removed to the lumber-room of speculation and stored among the other -pseudo-scientific dogmas of political “biologists”—the facile doctrines -of degeneracy, the pragmatic lecturings on national characteristics, on -Teutons and Celts, on Latins and Slavs, on pure races and mixed races, -and all the other ethnological conceits with which the ignorant have -gulled the innocent so long. - - -IMPERFECTIONS OF THE SOCIAL HABIT IN MAN. - -The study of man as a gregarious animal has not been pursued with the -thoroughness and objectivity it deserves and must receive if it is to -yield its full value in illuminating his status and in the management -of society. The explanation of this comparative neglect is to be -found in the complex irregularity which obscures the social habit as -manifested by man. Thus it comes to be believed that gregariousness -is no longer a fully functional and indispensable inheritance, -but survives at the present day merely in a vestigial form as an -interesting but quite unimportant relic of primitive activities. We -have already shown that man is ruled by instinctive impulses just as -imperative and just as {133} characteristically social as those of -any other gregarious animal. A further argument that he is to-day as -actively and essentially a social animal as ever is furnished by the -fact that he suffers from the disadvantages of such an animal to a more -marked degree perhaps than any other. In physical matters he owes to -his gregariousness and its uncontrolled tendency to the formation of -crowded communities with enclosed dwellings, the seriousness of many -of his worst diseases, such as tuberculosis, typhus, and plague; there -is no evidence that these diseases effect anything but an absolutely -indiscriminate destruction, killing the strong and the weakly, the -socially useful and the socially useless, with equal readiness, so that -they cannot be regarded as even of the least selective value to man. -The only other animal which is well known to suffer seriously from -disease as a direct consequence of its social habit is the honey bee—as -has been demonstrated by recent epidemics of exterminating severity. - -In mental affairs, as I have tried to show, man owes to the social -habit his inveterate resistiveness to new ideas, his submission to -tradition and precedent, and the very serious fact that governing power -in his communities tends to pass into the hands of what I have called -the stable-minded—a class the members of which are characteristically -insensitive to experience, closed to the entry of new ideas, and -obsessed with the satisfactoriness of things as they are. At the time -when this corollary of gregariousness was first pointed out—some -ten years ago—it was noted as a serious flaw in the stability of -civilization. The suggestion was made that as long as the great -expert tasks of government necessarily gravitated into the hands of -a class which characteristically lacked the greater developments of -mental capacity and efficiency, the course of {134} civilization must -continue to be at the mercy of accident and disaster. The present -European war—doubtless in the actual state of affairs a remedy no less -necessary because of its dreadfulness—is an example on the greatest -possible scale of the kind of price the race has to pay for the way in -which minds and temperaments are selected by its society. - -When we see the great and serious drawbacks which gregariousness -has entailed on man, it cannot but be supposed that that course -of evolution has been imposed upon him by a real and deep-seated -peculiarity of his nature—a fatal inheritance which it is impossible -for him to repudiate. - - * * * * * - -When we inquire why it is that the manifestations of gregariousness in -man are so ambiguous that their biological significance has been to -a great extent overlooked, the answer seems to be furnished by that -capacity for various reaction which is the result of his general mental -development, and which has tended almost equally to obscure his other -instinctive activities. It may be repeated once more that in a creature -such as the bee the narrow mental capacity of the individual limits -reaction to a few and relatively simple courses, so that the dominance -of instinct in the species can to the attentive observer never be long -in doubt. In man the equal dominance of instinct is obscured by the -kaleidoscopic variety of the reactions by which it is more or less -effectually satisfied. - -While to a superficial examination of society the evidences of man’s -gregarious inheritance are ambiguous and trivial, to the closer -scrutiny of the biologist it soon becomes obvious that in society as -constituted to-day the advantageous mechanisms rendered available by -that inheritance are not being made use of to anything approaching -their full possibilities. To such an extent is this the case {135} -that the situation of man as a species even is probably a good deal -more precarious than has usually been supposed by those who have -come to be in charge of its destinies. The species is irrevocably -committed to a certain evolutionary path by the inheritance of instinct -it possesses. This course brings with it inevitable and serious -disadvantages as well as enormously greater potential advantages. As -long as the spirit of the race is content to be submissive to the -former and indifferent to the discovery and development of the latter, -it can scarcely have a bare certainty of survival and much less of -progressive enlargement of its powers. - - * * * * * - -In the society of the bee two leading characteristics are evident—an -elaborate and exact specialization of the individual, and a perfect -absorption of the interests of the individual in those of the hive; -these qualities seem to be the source of the unique energy and power -of the whole unit and of the remarkable superiority of intelligence -it possesses over the individual member. It is a commonplace of human -affairs that combined action is almost invariably less intelligent than -individual action, a fact which shows how very little the members of -the species are yet capable of combination and co-ordination and how -far inferior—on account, no doubt, of his greater mental capacity—man -is in this respect to the bee. - -This combination of specialization and moral homogeneity should be -evident in human society if it is taking advantage of its biological -resources. Both are, in fact, rather conspicuously absent. - -There is abundant specialization of a sort; but it is inexact, lax, -wasteful of energy, and often quite useless through being on the one -hand superfluous or on the other incomplete. We have large numbers of -experts in the various branches of science {136} and the arts, but -we insist upon their adding to the practice of their specialisms the -difficult task of earning their living in an open competitive market. -The result is that we tend to get at the summit of our professions only -those rare geniuses who combine real specialist capacity with the arts -of the bagman. An enormous proportion of our experts have to earn their -living by teaching—an exhausting and exacting art for which they are -not at all necessarily qualified, and one which demands a great amount -of time for the earning of a very exiguous pittance. - -The teaching of our best schools, a task so important that it should be -entrusted to none but those highly qualified by nature and instruction -in the art, is almost entirely in the hands of athletes and grammarians -of dead languages. We choose as our governors amateurs of whom we -demand fluency, invincible prejudice, and a resolute blindness to -dissentient opinion. In commerce we allow ourselves to be overrun by a -multitude of small and mostly inefficient traders struggling to make -a living by the supply of goods from the narrow and ageing stocks -which are all they can afford to keep. We allow the supply of our -foodstuffs to be largely in the hands of those who cannot afford to -be clean, and submit out of mere indifference to being fed on meat, -bread, vegetables which have been for an indefinite period at the -mercy of dirty middlemen, the dust and mud and flies of the street, -and the light-hearted thumbing errand-boy. We allow a large proportion -of our skilled workers to waste skill and energy on the manufacture of -things which are neither useful nor beautiful, on elaborate specialist -valeting, cooking, gardening for those who are their inferiors in -social activity and value. - -The moral homogeneity so plainly visible in the {137} society of the -bee is replaced in man by a segregation into classes which tends always -to obscure the unity of the nation and often is directly antagonistic -to it. The readiness with which such segregation occurs seems to be due -to the invincible strength of the gregarious impulse in the individual -man and to the immense size and strength of the modern major unit of -the species. It would appear that in order that a given unit should -develop the highest degree of homogeneity within itself it must be -subject to direct pressure from without. A great abundance of food -supply and consequent relaxed external pressure may in the bee lead -to indiscriminate swarming, while in man the size and security of the -modern State lead to a relaxation of the closer grades of national -unity—in the absence of deliberate encouragement of it or of the -stimulus of war. The need of the individual for homogeneity is none the -less present, and the result is segregation into classes which form, as -it were, minor herds in which homogeneity is maintained by the external -pressure of competition, of political or religious differences and so -forth. Naturally enough such segregations have come to correspond in -a rough way with the various types of imperfect specialization which -exist. This tendency is clearly of unfavourable effect on national -unity, since it tends to obscure the national value of specialization -and to give it a merely local and class significance. Segregation in -itself is always dangerous in that it provides the individual with a -substitute for the true major unit—the nation—and in times when there -is an urgent need for national homogeneity may prove to be a hostile -force. - -It has been characteristic of the governing classes to acquiesce in -the fullest developments of segregation and even to defend them by -force and to fail to realize in times of emergency that national {138} -homogeneity must always be a partial and weakly passion as long as -segregation actively persists. - - * * * * * - -Class segregation has thus come to be regarded as a necessary and -inevitable part of the structure of society. Telling as it does much -more in the favour of certain classes than others, it has come to be -defended by a whole series of legal and moral principles invented -for the purpose, and by arguments that to objective examination are -no more than rationalized prejudice. The maintenance of the social -system—that is, of the segregation of power and prestige, of ease and -leisure, and the corresponding segregations of labour, privation, and -poverty—depends upon an enormously elaborate system of rationalization, -tradition, and morals, and upon almost innumerable indirect mechanisms -ranging from the drugging of society with alcohol to the distortion of -religious principle in the interests of the established order. To the -biologist the whole immensely intricate system is a means for combating -the slow, almost imperceptible, pressure of Nature in the direction -of a true national homogeneity. That this must be attained if human -progress is to continue is, and has long been, obvious. The further -fact that it can be attained only by a radical change in the whole -human attitude towards society is but barely emerging from obscurity. - -The fact that even the immense external stimulus of a great war now -fails to overcome the embattled forces of social segregation, and -can bring about only a very partial kind of national homogeneity in -a society where segregation is deeply ingrained, seems to show that -simple gregariousness has run its course in man and has been defeated -of its full maturity by the disruptive power of man’s capacity for -varied reaction. No state of equilibrium can be reached in a gregarious -society short of complete {139} homogeneity, so that, failing the -emergence of some new resource of Nature, it might be suspected that -man, as a species, has already begun to decline from his meridian. -Such a new principle is the conscious direction of society by man, -the refusal by him to submit indefinitely to the dissipation of his -energies and the disappointment of his ideals in inco-ordination and -confusion. Thus would appear a function for that individual mental -capacity of man which has so far, when limited to local and personal -ends, tended but to increase the social confusion. - -A step of evolution such as this would have consequences as momentous -as the first appearance of the multicellular or of the gregarious -animal. Man, conscious as a species of his true status and destiny, -realizing the direction of the path to which he is irrevocably -committed by Nature, with a moral code based on the unshakable natural -foundation of altruism, could begin to draw on those stores of power -which will be opened to him by a true combination, and the rendering -available in co-ordinated action of the maximal energy of each -individual. - - -GREGARIOUS SPECIES AT WAR. - -The occurrence of war between nations renders obvious certain -manifestations of the social instinct which are apt to escape notice -at other times. So marked is this that a certain faint interest in the -biology of gregariousness has been aroused during the present war, and -has led to some speculation but no very radical examination of the -facts or explanation of their meaning. Expression, of course, has been -found for the usual view that primitive instincts normally vestigial -or dormant are aroused into activity by the stress of war, and that -there is a process of rejuvenation of “lower” instincts at the expense -of “higher.” All such views, apart {140} from their theoretical -unsoundness, are uninteresting because they are of no practical value. - -It will be convenient to mention some of the more obvious psychological -phenomena of a state of war before dealing with the underlying -instinctive processes which produce them. - -The war that began in August 1914 was of a kind peculiarly suitable -to produce the most marked and typical psychological effects. It had -long been foreseen as no more than a mere possibility of immense -disaster—of disaster so outrageous that by that very fact it had come -to be regarded with a passionate incredulity. It had loomed before the -people, at any rate of England, as an event almost equivalent to the -ultimate overthrow of all things. It had been led up to by years of -doubt and anxiety, sometimes rising to apprehension, sometimes lapsing -into unbelief, and culminating in an agonized period of suspense, -while the avalanche tottered and muttered on its base before the final -and still incredible catastrophe. Such were the circumstances which -no doubt led to the actual outbreak producing a remarkable series of -typical psychological reactions. - - * * * * * - -The first feeling of the ordinary citizen was fear—an immense, vague, -aching anxiety, perhaps typically vague and unfocused, but naturally -tending soon to localize itself in channels customary to the individual -and leading to fears for his future, his food supply, his family, his -trade, and so forth. Side by side with fear there was a heightening -of the normal intolerance of isolation. Loneliness became an urgently -unpleasant feeling, and the individual experienced an intense and -active desire for the company and even physical contact of his fellows. -In such company he was aware of a great accession of confidence, -courage, and moral power. It was possible for an observant person -to trace the actual {141} influence of his circumstances upon his -judgment, and to notice that isolation tended to depress his confidence -while company fortified it. The necessity for companionship was -strong enough to break down the distinctions of class, and dissipate -the reserve between strangers which is to some extent a concomitant -mechanism. The change in the customary frigid atmosphere of the railway -train, the omnibus, and all such meeting-places was a most interesting -experience to the psychologist, and he could scarcely fail to be struck -by its obvious biological meaning. Perhaps the most striking of all -these early phenomena was the strength and vitality of rumour, probably -because it afforded by far the most startling evidence that some other -and stronger force than reason was at work in the formation of opinion. -It was, of course, in no sense an unusual fact that non-rational -opinion should be so widespread; the new feature was that such opinion -should be able to spread so rapidly and become established so firmly -altogether regardless of the limits within which a given opinion tends -to remain localized in times of peace. Non-rational opinion under -normal conditions is as a rule limited in its extent by a very strict -kind of segregation; the successful rumours of the early periods of the -war invaded all classes and showed a capacity to overcome prejudice, -education, or scepticism. The observer, clearly conscious as he might -be of the mechanisms at work, found himself irresistibly drawn to the -acceptance of the more popular beliefs; and even the most convinced -believer in the normal prevalence of non-rational belief could scarcely -have exaggerated the actual state of affairs. Closely allied with this -accessibility to rumour was the readiness with which suspicions of -treachery and active hostility grew and flourished about any one of -even foreign appearance or origin. It is not intended to {142} attempt -to discuss the origin and meaning of the various types of fable which -have been epidemic in opinion; the fact we are concerned with here is -their immense vitality and power of growth. - -We may now turn to some consideration of the psychological significance -of these phenomena of a state of war. - -The characteristic feature of a really dangerous national struggle for -existence is the intensity of the stimulus it applies to the social -instinct. It is not that it arouses “dormant” or decayed instincts, but -simply that it applies maximal stimulation to instinctive mechanisms -which are more or less constantly in action in normal times. In most -of his reactions as a gregarious animal in times of peace, man is -acting as a member of one or another class upon which the stimulus -acts. War acts upon him as a member of the greater herd, the nation, -or, in other words, the true major unit. As I have repeatedly pointed -out, the cardinal mental characteristic of the gregarious animal is -his sensitiveness to his fellow-members of the herd. Without them his -personality is, so to say, incomplete; only in relation to them can -he attain satisfaction and personal stability. Corresponding with -his dependence on them is his openness towards them, his specific -accessibility to stimuli coming from the herd. - -A threat directed towards the whole herd is the intensest stimulus -to these potentialities, and the individual reacts towards it in the -most vigorous way.[O] The first response is a thrill of alarm which -{143} passes through the herd from one member to another with magic -rapidity. It puts him on the alert, sets him looking for guidance, -prepares him to receive commands, but above all draws him to the herd -in the first instinctive concentration against the enemy. In the -presence of this stimulus even such partial and temporary isolation as -was possible without it becomes intolerable. The physical presence of -the herd, the actual contact and recognition of its members, becomes -indispensable. This is no mere functionless desire, for re-embodiment -in the herd at once fortifies courage and fills the individual with -moral power, enthusiasm, and fortitude. The meaning that mere physical -contact with his fellows still has for man is conclusively shown in -the use that has been made of attacks in close formation in the German -armies. It is perfectly clear that a densely crowded formation has -psychological advantages in the face of danger, which enable quite -ordinary beings to perform what are in fact prodigies of valour. -Even undisciplined civil mobs have, on occasion, proved wonderfully -valorous, though their absence of unity often causes their enterprise -to alternate with panic. A disciplined mob—if one may use that word -merely as a physical expression, without any derogatory meaning—has -been shown in this war on innumerable occasions to be capable of facing -dangers the facing of which by isolated individuals would be feats of -fabulous bravery. {144} - - [O] War in itself is by no means necessarily a maximal stimulus - to herd instinct if it does not involve a definite threat to the - whole herd. This fact is well shown in the course of the South - African War of 1899–1901. This war was not and was not regarded - as capable of becoming a direct threat to the life of the nation. - There was consequently no marked moral concentration of the - people, no massive energizing of the Government by a homogeneous - nation, and therefore the conduct of the war was in general - languid, timid, and pessimistic. The morale of the people was as - a whole bad; there was an exaggerated hunger for good news, and - an excessive satisfaction in it; an exaggerated pessimism was - excited by bad news, and public fortitude was shaken by casualties - which we should now regard as insignificant. Correspondingly the - activity and vitality of rumour were enormously less than they - have been in the present war. The weaker stimulus is betrayed - throughout the whole series of events by the weakness of all the - characteristic gregarious responses. - -The psychological significance of the enormous activity of rumour in -this war is fairly plain. That rumours spread readily and are tenacious -of life is evidence of the sensitiveness to herd opinion which is so -characteristic of the social instinct. The gravity of a threat to the -herd is shown by nothing better than by the activity of rumour. The -strong stimulus to herd instinct produces the characteristic response -in the individual of a maximal sensitiveness to his fellows—to their -presence or absence, their alarms and braveries, and in no less degree -to their opinions. With the establishment of this state of mind the -spread and survival of rumours become inevitable, and will vary -directly with the seriousness of the external danger. Into the actual -genesis of the individual rumours and the meaning of their tendency to -take a stereotyped form we cannot enter here. - -The potency of rumour in bearing down rational scepticism displays -unmistakably the importance of the instinctive processes on which it -rests. It is also one of the many evidences that homogeneity within -the herd is a deeply rooted necessity for gregarious animals and is -elaborately provided for by characteristics of the gregarious mind. - -The establishment of homogeneity in the herd is the basis of morale. -From homogeneity proceed moral power, enthusiasm, courage, endurance, -enterprise, and all the virtues of the warrior. The peace of mind, -happiness, and energy of the soldier come from his feeling himself to -be a member in a body solidly united for a single purpose. The impulse -towards unity that was so pronounced and universal at the beginning of -the war was, then, a true and sound instinctive movement of defence. It -was prepared to sacrifice all social distinctions and local prejudices -if it could liberate by doing so Nature’s inexhaustible stores of -moral power for the defence {145} of the herd. Naturally enough its -significance was misunderstood, and a great deal of its beneficent -magic was wasted by the good intentions which man is so touchingly -ready to accept as a substitute for knowledge. Even the functional -value of unity was, and still is, for the most part ignored. We are -told to weariness that the great objection to disunion is that it -encourages the enemy. According to this view, apparent disunion is as -serious as real; whereas it must be perfectly obvious that anything -which leads our enemy to under-estimate our strength, as does the -belief that we are disunited when we are not, is of much more service -to us than is neutralized by any more or less visionary disservice we -do ourselves by fortifying his morale. The morale of a nation at war -proceeds from within itself, and the mere pharisaism and conceit that -come from the contemplation of another’s misfortunes are of no moral -value. Modern civilians in general are much too self-conscious to -conduct the grave tragedy of war with the high, preoccupied composure -it demands. They are apt to think too much of what sort of a figure -they are making before the world, to waste energy in superfluous -explanations of themselves, in flustered and voluble attempts to make -friends with bystanders, in posing to the enemy, and imagining they -can seriously influence him by grimaces and gesticulations. As a -matter of fact, it must be confessed that if such manœuvres could be -conducted with a deliberate and purposeful levity which few would now -have the fortitude to employ, there would be a certain satisfaction to -be obtained in this particular war by the knowledge of our adversary -conscientiously, perhaps a little heavily, and with immense resources -of learning “investigating our psychology” upon materials of a wholly -fantastic kind. Such a design, however, is very far from being the -intention of {146} our interpreters to the world, and as long as they -cannot keep the earnest and hysterical note out of their exposition it -were much better for us that they were totally dumb. - -To the psychologist it is plain that the seriousness of disunion is the -discouragement to ourselves it necessarily involves. In this lies its -single and its immense importance. Every note of disunion is a loss of -moral power of incalculable influence; every evidence of union is an -equally incalculable gain of moral power. Both halves of this statement -deserve consideration, but the latter is incomparably the more -important. If disunion were the more potent influence, a great deal -might be done for national morale by the forcible control of opinion -and expression. That, however, could yield nothing positive, and we -must rely upon voluntary unity as the only source of all the higher -developments of moral power. - -It was towards this object that we dimly groped when we felt in the -early weeks of the war the impulses of friendliness, tolerance, and -goodwill towards our fellow-citizens, and the readiness to sacrifice -what privileges the social system had endowed us with in order to enjoy -the power which a perfect homogeneity of the herd would have given us. - -A very small amount of conscious, authoritative direction at that time, -a very little actual sacrifice of privilege at that psychological -moment, a series of small, carefully selected concessions none of which -need have been actually subversive of prescriptive right, a slight -relaxation in the vast inhumanity of the social machine would have -given the needed readjustment out of which a true national homogeneity -would necessarily have grown. - -The psychological moment was allowed to pass, and the country was -spared the shock of seeing its {147} moral strength, which should of -course be left to luck, fortified by the hand of science. The history -of England during the first fourteen months of the war was thus left -to pursue its characteristically English course. The social system -of class segregation soon repented of its momentary softness and -resumed its customary rigidity. More than that, it decided that, far -from the war being a special occasion which should penetrate with a -transforming influence the whole of society from top to bottom, as -the common people were at first inclined to think, the proper pose -before the enemy was to be that it made no difference at all. We were -to continue imperturbably with the conduct of our business, and to awe -the Continent with a supreme exhibition of British phlegm. The national -consciousness of the working-man was to be stimulated by his continuing -to supply us with our dividends, and ours by continuing to receive -them. It is not necessary to pursue the history of this new substitute -for unity. It is open to doubt whether our enemies were greatly -appalled by the spectacle, or more so than our friends; it is certain -that the stimulant supplied to the working-man proved to be inadequate -and had to be supplemented by others. . . . - -The problem of the function of the common citizen in war was of course -left unsolved. It was accepted that if a man were unfit for service -and not a skilled worker, he himself was a mere dead weight, and -his intense longing for direct service, of however humble a kind, a -by-product of which the State could make no use. - -That the working classes have to a certain extent failed to develop a -complete sense of national unity is obvious enough. It is contended -here that what would have been easy in the early days of the war and -actually inexpensive to prescriptive right, has steadily become more -and more costly to effect {148} and less and less efficiently done. -We are already faced with the possibility of having to make profound -changes in the social system to convince the working-man effectually -that his interests and ours in this war are one. - -That a very large class of common citizens, incapable of direct -military work, has been left morally derelict during all these -agonizing months of war has probably not been any less serious a fact, -although the recognition of it has not been forced unavoidably on -public notice. It must surely be clear that in a nation engaged in an -urgent struggle for existence, the presence of a large class who are -as sensitive as any to the call of the herd, and yet cannot respond in -any active way, contains very grave possibilities. The only response to -that relentless calling that can give peace is in service; if that be -denied, restlessness, uneasiness, and anxiety must necessarily follow. -To such a mental state are very easily added impatience, discontent, -exaggerated fears, pessimism, and irritability. It must be remembered -that large numbers of such individuals were persons of importance in -peace time and retain a great deal of their prestige under the social -system we have decided to maintain, although in war time they are -obviously without function. This group of idle and flustered parasites -has formed a nucleus from which have proceeded some of the many -outbursts of disunion which have done so much to prevent this country -from developing her resources with smoothness and continuity. It is not -suggested that these eruptions of discontent are due to any kind of -disloyalty; they are the result of defective morale, and bear all the -evidences of coming from persons whose instinctive response to the call -of the herd has been frustrated and who, therefore, lack the strength -and composure of those whose souls are uplifted by a satisfactory -{149} instinctive activity. Moral instability has been characteristic -of all the phenomena of disunion we are now considering, such as -recrudescences of political animus, attacks on individual members -of the Government, outbursts of spy mania, campaigns of incitement -against aliens and of blustering about reprisals. Similar though less -conspicuous manifestations are the delighted circulation of rumours, -the wild scandalmongering, the eager dissemination of pessimistic -inventions which are the pleasure of the smaller amongst these moral -waifs. Of all the evidences of defective morale, however, undoubtedly -the most general has yet to be mentioned, and that is the proffering -of technical advice and exhortation. If we are to judge by what we -read, there are few more urgent temptations than this, and yet it is -easy to see that there are few enterprises which demand a more complete -abrogation of reason. It is almost always the case that the subject -of advice is one upon which all detailed knowledge is withheld by the -authorities. This restriction of materials, however, seems generally -to be regarded by the volunteer critic as giving him greater scope and -freedom rather than as a reason for silence or even modesty. - -It is interesting to notice in this connection what those who have the -ear of the public have conceived to be their duty towards the nation -and to try to estimate its value from the point of view of morale. It -is clear that they have in general very rightly understood that one -of their prime functions should be to keep the Government working in -the interests of the nation to the fullest stretch of its energy and -resources. Criticism is another function, and advice and instruction a -third which have also been regarded as important. - -The third of these activities is, no doubt, that which has been most -abused and is least important. {150} It tends on the one hand to get -involved in technical military matters and consequent absurdity, and on -the other hand, in civil matters, to fall back into the bad old ways of -politics. Criticism is obviously a perfectly legitimate function, and -one of value as long as it keeps to the field of civil questions, and -can free itself of the moral failure of being acrimonious in tone. In a -government machine engaged upon the largest of tasks there will always -be enough injustice and inhumanity, fraud and foolishness to keep -temperate critics beneficially employed. - -It is in the matter of stimulating the energy and resolution of the -Government that the psychologist might perhaps differ to some extent -from the popular guides of opinion. In getting work out of a living -organism it is necessary to determine what is the most efficient -stimulus. One can make a man’s muscles contract by stimulating them -with an electric battery, but one can never get so energetic a -contraction with however strong a current as can be got by the natural -stimulus sent out from the man’s brain. Rising to a more complex level, -we find that a man does not do work by order so well or so thoroughly -as he does work that he desires to do voluntarily. The best way to get -our work done is to get the worker to want to do it. The most urgent -and potent of all stimuli, then, are those that come from within the -man’s soul. It is plain, therefore, that the best way to extract the -maximum amount of work from members of a Government—and it is to yield -this, at whatever cost to themselves, that they are there—is not by the -use of threats and objurgations, by talk of impeachment or dismissal, -or by hints of a day of reckoning after the war, but by keeping their -souls full of a burning passion of service. Such a supply of mental -energy can issue only from a {151} truly homogeneous herd, and it is -therefore to the production of such a homogeneity of feeling that we -come once more as the one unmistakable responsibility of the civilian. - -We have seen reason to believe that there was a comparatively -favourable opportunity of establishing such a national unity in the -early phases of the war, and that the attainment of the same result -at this late period is likely to be less easy and more costly of -disturbance to the social structure. - -The simplest basis of unity is equality, and this has been an -important factor in the unity which in the past has produced the -classically successful manifestations of moral and military power, as -for example in the cases of Puritan England and Revolutionary France. -Such equality as obtained in these cases was doubtless chiefly moral -rather than material, and it can scarcely be questioned that equality -of consideration and of fundamental moral estimation is a far more -efficient factor than would be equality of material possessions. The -fact that it is difficult to persuade a man with thirty shillings a -week that he has as much to lose by the loss of national independence -as a man with thirty thousand a year, is merely evidence that the -imagination of the former is somewhat restricted by his type of -education, and that we habitually attach an absurd moral significance -to material advantages. It seems certain that it would still be -possible to attain a very fair approximation to a real moral equality -without any necessary disturbance of the extreme degree of material -inequality which our elaborate class segregation has imposed upon us. - -A serious and practical attempt to secure a true moral unity of the -nation would render necessary a general understanding that the state -to be striven for was something different, not only in degree but -also in quality, from anything which has yet {152} been regarded as -satisfactory. A mere intellectual unanimity in the need for prosecuting -the war with all vigour, we may be said actually to possess, but its -moral value is not very great. A state of mind directed more to the -nation and less immediately to the war is what is needed; the good -soldier absorbed in his regiment has little inclination to concern -himself with the way the war is going, and the civilian should be -similarly absorbed in the nation. To attain this he must feel that he -belongs to the country and to his fellow-citizens, and that it and -they also belong to him. The established social system sets itself -steadily to deny these propositions, and not so much by its abounding -material inequalities as by the moral inequalities that correspond -with them. The hierarchies of rank, prestige, and consideration, at -all times showing serious inconsistencies with functional value, -and in war doing so more than ever, are denials of the essential -propositions of perfect citizenship, not, curiously enough, through -their arbitrary distribution of wealth, comfort, and leisure, but -through their persistent, assured, and even unconscious assumption that -there exists a graduation of moral values equally real and, to men of -inferior station, equally arbitrary. To a gregarious species at war -the only tolerable claim to any kind of superiority must be based on -leadership. Any other affectation of superiority, whether it be based -on prescriptive right, on tradition, on custom, on wealth, on birth, or -on mere age, arrogance, or fussiness, and not on real functional value -to the State, is, however much a matter of course it may seem, however -blandly it may be asserted or picturesquely displayed, an obstacle to -true national unity. - -Psychological considerations thus appear to indicate a very plain duty -for a large class of civilians who have complained of and suffered -patriotically {153} from the fact that the Government has found -nothing for them to do. Let all those of superior and assured station -make it a point of honour and duty to abrogate the privileges of -consideration and prestige with which they are arbitrarily endowed. -Let them persuade the common man that they also are, in the face of -national necessity, common men. The searching test of war has shown -that a proportion of the population, serious enough in mere numbers, -but doubly serious in view of its power and influence, has led an -existence which may fairly be described as in some degree parasitic. -That is to say, what they have drawn from the common stock in wealth -and prestige has been immensely larger than what they have contributed -of useful activity in return. Now, in time of war, they have still less -to give proportionally to what they have received. Their deplorably -good bargain was in no way of their making; no one has the slightest -right to attack their honour or good faith; they are as patriotically -minded as any class, and have contributed their fighting men to the -Army as generously as the day labourer and the tradesman. It is -therefore not altogether impossible that they might come to understand -the immense opportunity that is given them by fate to promote a true, -deep, and irresistibly potent national unity. - - * * * * * - -A further contribution to the establishment of a national unity of this -truly Utopian degree might come from a changed attitude of mind towards -his fellows in the individual. There would have to be an increased -kindliness, generosity, patience, and tolerance in all his relations -with others, a deliberate attempt to conquer prejudice, irritability, -impatience, and self-assertiveness, a deliberate encouragement of -cheerfulness, composure, and fortitude. All these would be tasks for -the individual {154} to carry out for himself alone; there would be -no campaign-making, no direct exhortation, no appeals. Towards the -Army and the Navy the central fact of each man’s attitude would be the -question, “Am I worth dying for?” and his strongest effort would be the -attempt to make himself so. - -That question may perhaps make one wonder why it has not been heard -more often during the war as a text of the Church. There is little -doubt that very many men whose feeling towards the Church is in no -way disrespectful or hostile are conscious of a certain uneasiness -in hearing her vigorously defending the prosecution of the war and -demonstrating its righteousness. They feel, in spite of however -conclusive demonstrations to the contrary, that there is a deep-seated -inconsistency between war for whatever object and the Sermon on the -Mount, and they cannot but remember, when they are told that this is a -holy war, that that also the Germans say. They perhaps feel that the -justification of the war is, after all, a matter for politicians and -statesmen, and that the Church would be more appropriately employed -in making it as far as she can a vehicle of good, rather than trying -to justify superfluously its existence. A people already awed by the -self-sacrifice of its armies may be supposed to be capable of profiting -by the exhortations of a Church whose cardinal doctrine is concerned -with the responsibility that attaches to those for whose sake life -has voluntarily been given up. One cannot imagine an institution more -perfectly qualified by its faith and its power to bring home to this -people the solemnity of the sanction under which they lie to make -themselves worthy of the price that is still being unreservedly paid. -If it were consciously the determination of every citizen to make -himself worth dying for, who can doubt that a national unity of the -sublimest kind would be within reach? {155} - -Of all the influences which tend to rob the citizen of the sense of his -birthright, perhaps one of the strongest, and yet the most subtle, is -that of officialism. It seems inevitable that the enormously complex -public services which are necessary in the modern State should set up -a barrier between the private citizen and the official, whereby the -true relation between them is obscured. The official loses his grasp -of the fact that the mechanism of the State is established in the -interests of the citizen; the citizen comes to regard the State as a -hostile institution, against which he has to defend himself, although -it was made for his defence. It is a crime for him to cheat the State -in the matter of tax-paying, it is no crime for the State to defraud -him in excessive charges. Considered in the light of the fundamental -relation of citizen and State, it seems incredible that in a democratic -country it is possible for flourishing establishments to exist the -sole business of which is to save the private individual from being -defrauded by the tax-gathering bureaucracy. This is but a single and -rather extreme example of the far-stretching segregation effected by -the official machine. The slighter kinds of aloofness, of inhuman -etiquette, of legalism and senseless dignity, of indifference to the -individual, of devotion to formulæ and routine are no less powerful -agents in depriving the common man of the sense of intimate reality in -his citizenship which might be so valuable a source of national unity. -If the official machine through its utmost parts were animated by an -even moderately human spirit and used as a means of binding together -the people, instead of as an engine of moral disruption, it might be of -incalculable value in the strengthening of morale. {156} - - -ENGLAND AGAINST GERMANY—GERMANY. - -In an earlier part of this book the statement was made that the present -juncture in human affairs probably forms one of those rare nodes of -circumstance in which the making of an epoch in history corresponds -with a perceptible change in the secular progress of biological -evolution. It remains to attempt some justification of this opinion. - -England and Germany face one another as perhaps the two most typical -antagonists of the war. It may seem but a partial way of examining -events if we limit our consideration to them. Nevertheless, it is in -this duel that the material we are concerned with is chiefly to be -found, and it may be added Germany herself has abundantly distinguished -this country as her typical foe—an instinctive judgment not without -value. - -By the end of September 1914 it had become reasonably clear that the -war would be one of endurance, and the comparatively equal though -fluctuating strength of the two groups of adversaries has since shown -that in such endurance the main factor will be the moral factor rather -than the material. An examination of the moral strength of the two -arch-enemies will therefore have the interest of life and death behind -it, as well as such as may belong to the thesis which stands at the -head of this chapter. - -Germany affords a profoundly interesting study for the biological -psychologist, and it is very important that we should not allow what -clearness of representation we can get into our picture of her mind to -be clouded by the heated atmosphere of national feeling in which our -work must be done. As I have said elsewhere, it is merely to encourage -fallacy to allow oneself to believe that one is without prejudices. The -most one can do is to recognize {157} what prejudices are likely to -exist and liberally to allow for them. - -If I were to say that at the present moment I can induce myself to -believe that it will ever be possible for Europe to contain a strong -Germany of the current type and remain habitable by free peoples, the -apparent absence of national bias in the statement would be a mere -affectation, and by no means an evidence of freedom from prejudice. I -am much more likely to get into reasonable relations with the truth -if I admit to myself, quite frankly, my innermost conviction that -the destruction of the German Empire is an indispensable preliminary -to the making of a civilization tolerable by rational beings. Having -recognized the existence of that belief as a necessary obstacle to -complete freedom of thought, it may be possible to allow for it and to -counteract what aberrations of judgment it may be likely to produce. - - * * * * * - -In making an attempt to estimate the relative moral resources of -England and Germany at the present time it is necessary to consider -them as biological entities or major units of the human species in -the sense of that term we have already repeatedly used. We shall have -to examine the evolutionary tendencies which each of these units has -shown, and if possible to decide how far they have followed the lines -of development which psychological theory indicates to be those of -healthy and progressive development for a gregarious animal. - -I have already tried to show that the acquirement of the social habit -by man—though in fact there is reason to believe that the social habit -preceded and made possible his distinctively human characters—has -committed him to an evolutionary process which is far from being -completed yet, but which {158} nevertheless must be carried out to -its consummation if he is to escape increasingly severe disadvantages -inherent in that biological type. In other words, the gregarious -habit in an animal of large individual mental capacity is capable -of becoming, and indeed must become a handicap rather than a bounty -unless the society of the species undergoes a continuously progressive -co-ordination which will enable it to attract and absorb the energy and -activities of its individual members. We have seen that in a species -such as man, owing to the freedom from the direct action of natural -selection within the major unit, the individual’s capacity for varied -reaction to his environment has undergone an enormous development, -while at the same time the capacity for intercommunication—upon which -the co-ordination of the major unit into a potent and frictionless -mechanism depends—has lagged far behind. The term “intercommunication” -is here used in the very widest sense to indicate the ties that bind -the individual to his fellows and them to him. It is not a very -satisfactory word; but as might be expected in attempting to express -a series of functions so complex and so unfamiliar to generalization, -it is not easy to find an exact expression ready made. Another phrase -applicable to a slightly different aspect of the same function is “herd -accessibility,” which has the advantage of suggesting by its first -constituent the limitation, primitively at any rate, an essential part -of the capacities it is desired to denote. The conception of herd -accessibility includes the specific sensitiveness of the individual to -the existence, presence, thought, and feelings of his fellow-members -of the major unit; the power he possesses of reacting in an altruistic -and social mode to stimuli which would necessarily evoke a merely -egoistic response from a non-social animal—that is to say, the power to -deflect and modify egoistic {159} impulses into a social form without -emotional loss or dissatisfaction; the capacity to derive from the -impulses of the herd a moral power in excess of any similar energy he -may be able to develop from purely egoistic sources. - -Intercommunication, the development of which of course depends upon -herd-accessibility, enables the herd to act as a single creature whose -power is greatly in excess of the sum of the powers of its individual -members. - -Intercommunication in the biological sense has, however, never been -systematically cultivated by man, but has been allowed to develop -haphazard and subject to all the hostile influences which must infest a -society in which unregulated competition and selection are allowed to -prevail. The extravagance of human life and labour, the indifference -to suffering, the harshness and the infinite class segregation of -human society are the result. The use of what I have called conscious -direction is apparently the only means whereby this chaos can be -converted into organized structure. - -Outside the gregarious unit, the forms of organic life at any given -time seem to be to some considerable extent determined by the fact that -the pressure of environmental conditions and of competition tends to -eliminate selectively the types which are comparatively unsuited to the -conditions in which they find themselves. However much or little this -process of natural selection has decided the course which the general -evolutionary process has taken, there can be no doubt that it is a -condition of animal life, and has an active influence. The suggestion -may be hazarded that under circumstances natural selection tends rather -to restrict variation instead of encouraging it as it has sometimes -been supposed to do. When the external pressure is very severe it -might be supposed that anything like free variation {160} would be a -serious disadvantage to a species, and if it persisted might result -in actual extermination. It is conceivable, therefore, that natural -selection is capable of favouring stable and non-progressive types at -the expense of the variable and possibly “progressive,” if such a term -can be applied to species advancing towards extinction. Such a possible -fixative action of natural selection is suggested by the fact that the -appearance of mechanisms whereby the individual is protected from the -direct action of natural selection seems to have led to an outburst of -variation. In the multicellular animal the individual cells passing -from under the direct pressure of natural selection become variable, -and so capable of a very great specialization. In the gregarious unit -the same thing happens, the individual member gaining freedom to vary -and to become specialized without the risk that would have accompanied -such an endowment in the solitary state. - -Within the gregarious unit, then, natural selection in the strict -sense is in abeyance, and the consequent freedom has allowed of a -rich variety among the individual members. This variety provides the -material from which an elaborate and satisfactory society might be -constructed if there were any constant and discriminating influence -acting upon it. Unfortunately, the forces at work in human society -to-day are not of this kind, but are irregular in direction and -fluctuating in strength, so that the material richness which would -have been so valuable, had it been subject to a systematic and -co-ordinate selection, has merely contributed to the confusion of the -product. The actual mechanism by which society, while it has grown in -strength and complexity, has also grown in confusion and disorder, is -that peculiarity of the gregarious mind which automatically brings -into the monopoly of power the mental type which I have called the -{161} stable and common opinion calls normal. This type supplies our -most trusted politicians and officials, our bishops and headmasters, -our successful lawyers and doctors, and all their trusty deputies, -assistants, retainers, and faithful servants. Mental stability is their -leading characteristic, they “know where they stand” as we say, they -have a confidence in the reality of their aims and their position, -an inaccessibility to new and strange phenomena, a belief in the -established and customary, a capacity for ignoring what they regard as -the unpleasant, the undesirable, and the improper, and a conviction -that on the whole a sound moral order is perceptible in the universe -and manifested in the progress of civilization. Such characteristics -are not in the least inconsistent with the highest intellectual -capacity, great energy and perseverance as well as kindliness, -generosity, and patience, but they are in no way redeemed in social -value by them. - -In the year 1915 it is, unfortunately, in no way necessary to enumerate -evidences of the confusion, the cruelty, the waste, and the weaknesses -with which human society, under the guidance of minds of this type, -has been brought to abound. Civilization through all its secular -development under their rule has never acquired an organic unity of -structure; its defects have received no rational treatment, but have -been concealed, ignored, and denied; instead of being drastically -rebuilt, it has been kept presentable by patches and buttresses, by -paint, and putty, and whitewash. The building was already insecure, and -now the storm has burst upon it, threatens incontinently to collapse. - -The fact that European civilization, approaching what appeared to -be the very meridian of its strength, could culminate in a disaster -so frightful as the present war is proof that its development was -radically unsound. This is by no means to say that {162} the war -could have been avoided by those immediately concerned. That is almost -certainly not the case. The war was the consequence of inherent -defects in the evolution of civilized life; it was the consequence of -human progress being left to chance, and to the interaction of the -heterogeneous influences which necessarily arise within a gregarious -unit whose individual members have a large power of varied reaction. -In such an atmosphere minds essentially resistive alone can flourish -and attain to power, and they are by their very qualities incapable of -grasping the necessities of government or translating them into action. - -The method of leaving the development of society to the confused welter -of forces which prevail within it is now at last reduced to absurdity -by the unmistakable teaching of events, and the conscious direction of -man’s destiny is plainly indicated by Nature as the only mechanism by -which the social life of so complex an animal can be guaranteed against -disaster and brought to yield its full possibilities. - -A gregarious unit informed by conscious direction represents a -biological mechanism of a wholly new type, a stage of advance in the -evolutionary process capable of consolidating the supremacy of man and -carrying to its full extent the development of his social instincts. - -Such a directing intelligence or group of intelligences would take -into account before all things the biological character of man, -would understand that his condition is necessarily progressive along -the lines of his natural endowments or downward to destruction. It -would abandon the static view of society as something merely to be -maintained, and adopt a more dynamic conception of statesmanship as -something active, progressive, and experimental, reaching out towards -new powers for human activity and new conquests for the human will. -{163} It would discover what natural inclinations in man must be -indulged, and would make them respectable, what inclinations in him -must be controlled for the advantage of the species, and make them -insignificant. It would cultivate intercommunication and altruism on -the one hand, and bravery, boldness, pride, and enterprise on the -other. It would develop national unity to a communion of interest and -sympathy far closer than anything yet dreamed of as possible, and by -doing so would endow the national unit with a self-control, fortitude, -and moral power which would make it so obviously unconquerable -that war would cease to be a possibility. To a people magnanimous, -self-possessed, and open-eyed, unanimous in sentiment and aware of -its strength, the conquest of fellow-nations would present its full -futility. They would need for the acceptable exercise of their powers -some more difficult, more daring, and newer task, something that -stretches the human will and the human intellect to the limit of their -capacity; the mere occupation and re-occupation of the stale and -blood-drenched earth would be to them barbarians’ work; time and space -would be their quarry, destiny and the human soul the lands they would -invade; they would sail their ships into the gulfs of the ether and lay -tribute upon the sun and stars. - - * * * * * - -It is one of the features of the present crisis that gives to it its -biological significance, that one of the antagonists—Germany—has -discovered the necessity and value of conscious direction of the social -unit. This is in itself an epoch-making event. Like many other human -discoveries of similar importance, it has been incomplete, and it has -not been accompanied by the corresponding knowledge of man and his -natural history which alone could have given it full fertility and -permanent value. {164} - -It seems to have been in no way a revelation of genius, and, indeed, -the absence of any great profundity and scope of speculation is rather -remarkable in the minds of the numerous German political philosophers. -The idea would appear rather to have been developed out of the -circumstances of the country, and to have been almost a habit before it -became a conception. At any rate, its appearance was greatly favoured -by the political conditions and history of the region in which it -arose. If this had not been the case, it is scarcely conceivable that -the principle could have been accepted so readily by the people, and in -a form which was not without its asperities and its hardships for them, -or that it could have been discovered without the necessary biological -corollaries which are indispensable to the successful application of it. - -Germany in some ways resembles a son who has been educated at home, -and has taken up the responsibilities of the adult, and become bound -by them without ever tasting the free intercourse of the school and -university. She has never tasted the heady liquor of political liberty, -she has had no revolution, and the blood of no political martyrs calls -to her disturbingly from the ground. To such innocent and premature -gravity the reasonable claims of what, after all, had to her the -appearance of no more than an anxiously paternal Government could not -fail to appeal. - -Explain it how we may, there can be no doubt that to the German -peoples the theoretical aspects of life have long had a very special -appeal. Generalizations about national characteristics are notoriously -fallacious, but it seems that with a certain reserve one may fairly -say that there is a definite contrast in this particular between the -Germans and, let us say, the English. - -To minds of a theoretical bias the appeal of a {165} closely -regulative type of Government, with all the advantages of organization -which it possesses, must be very strong, and there is reason to believe -that this fact has had influence in reconciling the people to the -imposition upon it of the will of the Government. - -Between a docile and intelligent people and a strong, autocratic, -and intelligent Government the possibilities of conscious national -direction could scarcely fail to become increasingly obvious and to -be increasingly developed. A further and enormously potent factor in -the progress of the idea was an immense accession of national feeling, -derived from three almost bewilderingly successful wars, accomplished -at surprisingly small cost, and culminating in a grandiose and no less -successful scheme of unification. Before rulers and people an imperial -destiny of unlimited scope, and allowing of unbounded dreams, now -inevitably opened itself up. Alone, amongst the peoples of Europe, -Germany saw herself a nation with a career. No longer disunited and -denationalized, she had come into her inheritance. The circumstances -of her rebirth were so splendid, the moral exaltation of her new unity -was so great that she could scarcely but suppose that her state was the -beginning of a career of further and unimagined glories and triumphs. -There were not lacking enthusiastic and prophetic voices to tell her -she was right. - -The decade that followed the foundation of the Empire was, perhaps, -more pregnant with destiny than that which preceded it, for it saw the -final determination of the path which Germany was to follow. She had -made the immense stride in the biological scale of submitting herself -to conscious direction; would she also follow the path which alone -leads to a perfect concentration of national life and a permanent moral -stability? {166} - -To a nation with a purpose and a consciously realized destiny some -principle of national unity is indispensable. Some strand of feeling -which all can share, and in sharing which all can come into communion -with one another, will be the framework on which is built up the -structure of national energy and effort. - -The reactions in which the social instinct manifests itself are not -all equally developed in the different social species. It is true -that there is a certain group of characteristics common to all social -animals; but it is also found that in one example there is a special -development of one aspect of the instinct, while another example will -show a characteristic development of a different aspect. Taking a broad -survey of all gregarious types, we are able to distinguish three fairly -distinct trends of evolution. We have the aggressive gregariousness -of the wolf and dog, the protective gregariousness of the sheep and -the ox, and, differing from both these, we have the more complex -social structure of the bee and the ant, which we may call socialized -gregariousness. The last-named is characterized by the complete -absorption of the individual in the major unit, and the fact that the -function of the social habit seems no longer to be the simple one of -mere attack or defence, but rather the establishment of a State which -shall be, as a matter of course, strong in defence and attack, but a -great deal more than this as well. The hive is no mere herd or pack, -but an elaborate mechanism for making use by co-ordinate and unified -action of the utmost powers of the individual members. It is something -which appears to be a complete substitute for individual existence, -and as we have already said, seems like a new creature rather than a -congeries united for some comparatively few and simple purposes. The -hive and the ant’s nest stand to the flock and the {167} pack as the -fully organized multicellular animal stands to the primitive zooglœa -which is its forerunner. The wolf is united for attack, the sheep is -united for defence, but the bee is united for all the activities and -feelings of its life. - -Socialized gregariousness is the goal of man’s development. A -transcendental union with his fellows is the destiny of the human -individual, and it is the attainment of this towards which the -constantly growing altruism of man is directed. Poets and prophets -have, at times, dimly seen this inevitable trend of Nature, biology -detects unmistakable evidence of it, and explains the slowness of -advance, which has been the despair of those others, by the variety -and power of man’s mind, and consoles us for the delay these qualities -still cause by the knowledge that they are guarantees of the exactitude -and completeness that the ultimate union will attain. - -When a nation takes to itself the idea of conscious direction, as by -a fortunate combination of circumstances Germany has been induced to -do, it is plain that some choice of a principle of national unity -will be its first and most important task. It is plain, also, from -the considerations we have just laid down, that such a principle of -national unity must necessarily be a manifestation of the social -instinct, and that the choice is necessarily limited to one of three -types of social habit which alone Nature has fitted gregarious animals -to follow. No nation has ever made a conscious choice amongst these -three types, but circumstances have led to the adoption of one or -another of them often enough for history to furnish many suggestive -instances. - -The more or less purely aggressive or protective form has been adopted -for the most part by primitive peoples. The history of the natives of -North America and Australia furnishes examples of {168} almost pure -types of both. The aggressive type was illustrated very fully by the -peoples who profited by the disintegration of the Roman Empire. These -northern barbarians showed in the most perfect form the lupine type -of society in action. The ideals and feelings exemplified by their -sagas are comprehensible only when one understands the biological -significance of them. It was a society of wolves marvellously -indomitable in aggression but fitted for no other activity in any -corresponding degree, and always liable to absorption by the peoples -they had conquered. They were physically brave beyond belief, and -made a religion of violence and brutality. To fight was for them -man’s supreme activity. They were restless travellers and explorers, -less out of curiosity than in search of prey, and they irresistibly -overran Europe in the missionary zeal of the sword and torch, each -man asking nothing of Fate but, after a career of unlimited outrage -and destruction, to die gloriously fighting. It is impossible not to -recognize the psychological identity of these ideals with those which -we might suppose a highly developed breed of wolves to entertain. - -With all its startling energy, and all its magnificent enterprise, the -lupine type of society has not proved capable of prolonged survival. -Probably its inherent weakness is the very limited scope of interest -it provides for active and progressive minds, and the fact that it -tends to engender a steadily accumulating hostility in weaker but more -mentally progressive peoples to which it has no correspondingly steady -resistiveness to oppose. - -The history of the world has shown a gradual elimination of the lupine -type. It has recurred sporadically at intervals, but has always been -suppressed. Modern civilization has shown a constantly increasing -manifestation of the socialized type of gregariousness in spite of the -complexities {169} and disorders which the slowness of its development -towards completeness has involved. It may be regarded now as the -standard type which has been established by countless experiments, -as that which alone can satisfy and absorb the moral as well as the -intellectual desires of modern man. - -From the point of view of the statesman desiring to enforce an -immediate and energetic national unity, combined with an ideal of -the State as destined to expand into a larger and larger sphere, the -socialized type of gregarious evolution is extremely unsatisfactory. -Its course towards the production of a truly organized State is slow, -and perplexed by a multitudinous confusion of voices and ideals; its -necessary development of altruism gives the society it produces an -aspect of sentimentality and flabbiness; its tendency slowly to evolve -towards the moral equality of its members gives the State an appearance -of structural insecurity. - - * * * * * - -If Germany was to be capable of a consistent aggressive external -policy as a primary aim, the peculiarity of her circumstances rendered -her unable to seek national inspiration by any development of the -socialized type of instinctive response, because that method can -produce the necessary moral power only through a true unity of its -members, such as implies a moral, if not a material, equality among -them. That the type is capable of yielding a passion of aggressive -nationalism is shown by the early enterprise and conquests of the -first French Republic. But that outburst of power was attained only -because it was based on a true, though doubtless imperfect, moral -equality. Such a method was necessarily forbidden to the German Empire -by the intense rigidity of its social segregation, with its absolute -differentiation between the aristocracy and the common people. In such -a society there could {170} be no thought of permitting the faintest -hint of even moral equality. - -This is the reason, therefore, why the rulers of Germany, of course in -complete ignorance of how significant was their choice, were compelled -to abandon the ideals of standard civilization, to relapse upon the -ideals of a more primitive type of gregariousness, and to throw -back their people into the anachronism of a lupine society. In this -connection it is interesting to notice how persistently the political -philosophers of Germany have sought their chief inspiration in the -remote past, and in times when the wolf society and the wolf ideals -were widespread and successful. - -It is not intended to imply that there was here any conscious choice. -It is remarkable enough that the rulers of Germany recognized the -need for conscious direction of all the activities of a nation which -proposes for itself a career; it would have been a miracle if they -had understood the biological significance of the differentiation -of themselves from other European peoples that they were to bring -about. To them it doubtless appeared merely that they were discarding -the effete and enfeebling ideals which made other nations the fit -victims of their conquests. They may be supposed to have determined to -eradicate such germs of degeneracy from themselves, to have seen that -an ambitious people must be strong and proud and hard, enterprising, -relentless, brave, and fierce, prepared to believe in the glory of -combat and conquest, in the supreme moral greatness of the warrior, -in force as the touchstone of right, honour, justice, and truth. Such -changes in moral orientation seem harmless enough, and it can scarcely -be suspected that their significance was patent to those who adopted -them. They were impressed upon the nation with all the immense power of -suggestion at the disposal of {171} an organized State. The readiness -with which they were received and assimilated was more than could be -accounted for by even the power of the immense machine of officials, -historians, theologians, professors, teachers, and newspapers by which -they were, in season and out of season, enforced. The immense success -that was attained owed much to the fact that suggestion was following a -natural, instinctive path. The wolf in man, against which civilization -has been fighting for so long, is still within call and ready to -respond to incantations much feebler than those the German State could -employ. The people were intoxicated with the glory of their conquests -and their imposing new confederation; if we are to trust the reputation -the Prussian soldier has had for a hundred years, they were perhaps -already less advanced in humanity than the other European peoples. -The fact is unquestionable that they followed their teachers with -enthusiasm. - -It may be well for us, before proceeding farther, to define precisely -the psychological hypothesis we are advancing in explanation of the -peculiarities of the German national character as now manifested. - -Herd instinct is manifested in three distinct types, the aggressive, -the protective, and the socialized, which are exemplified in Nature by -the wolf, the sheep, and the bee respectively. Either type can confer -the advantages of the social habit, but the socialized is that upon -which modern civilized man has developed. It is maintained here that -the ambitious career consciously planned for Germany by those who had -taken command of her destinies, and the maintenance at the same time -of her social system, were inconsistent with the further development -of gregariousness of the socialized type. New ideals, new motives, and -new sources of moral power had therefore to be sought. They were found -in a {172} recrudescence of the aggressive type of gregariousness—in a -reappearance of the society of the wolf. It is conceivable that those -who provided Germany with her new ideals thought themselves to be -exercising a free choice. The choice, however, was forced upon them by -Nature. They wanted some of the characters of the wolf; they got them -all. One may imagine that those who have so industriously inculcated -the national gospel have wondered at times that while it has been easy -to implant certain of the desired ideals, it has not been possible to -prevent the appearance of others which, though not so desirable, belong -to the same legacy and must be taken up with it. - -Before examining the actual mental features of Germany to-day, it -may be desirable to consider _a priori_ what would be the mental -characteristics of an aggressive gregarious animal were he to be -self-conscious in the sense that man is. - -The functional value of herd instinct in the wolf is to make the pack -irresistible in attacking and perpetually aggressive in spirit. The -individual must, therefore, be especially sensitive to the leadership -of the herd. The herd must be to him, not merely as it is to the -protectively gregarious animal, a source of comfort, and stimulus, and -general guidance, but must be able to make him _do things_ however -difficult, however dangerous, even however senseless, and must make him -yield an absolute, immediate, and slavish obedience. The carrying out -of the commands of the herd must be in itself an absolute satisfaction -in which there can be no consideration of self. Towards anything -outside the herd he will necessarily be arrogant, confident, and -inaccessible to the appeals of reason or feeling. This tense bond of -instinct, constantly keyed up to the pitch of action, will give him -a certain simplicity of character and even ingenuousness, a {173} -coarseness and brutality in his dealings with others, and a complete -failure to understand any motive unsanctioned by the pack. He will -believe the pack to be impregnable and irresistible, just and good, and -will readily ascribe to it any other attribute which may take his fancy -however ludicrously inappropriate. - -The strength of the wolf pack as a gregarious unit is undoubtedly, in -suitable circumstances, enormous. This strength would seem to depend -on a continuous possibility of attack and action. How far it can be -maintained in inactivity and mere defence is another matter. . . . - - * * * * * - -Since the beginning of this war attracted a really concentrated -attention to the psychology of the German people, it has been very -obvious that one of the most striking feelings amongst Englishmen -has been bewilderment. They have found an indescribable strangeness -in the utterances of almost all German personages and newspapers, -in their diplomacy, in their friendliness to such as they wished -to propitiate, in their enmity to those they wished to alarm and -intimidate. This strange quality is very difficult to define or even -to attempt to describe, and has very evidently perplexed almost all -writers on the war. The only thing one can be sure of is that it is -there. It shows itself at times as a simplicity or even childishness, -as a boorish cunning, as an incredible ant-like activity, as a sudden -blast of maniacal boasting, a reckless savagery of gloating in blood, -a simple-minded sentimentality, as outbursts of idolatry, not of the -pallid, metaphorical, modern type, but the full-blooded African kind, -with all the apparatus of idol and fetish and tom-tom, and with it all -a steady confidence that these are the principles of civilization, of -truth, of justice, and of Christ. {174} - -I have tried to put down at random some of the factors in this curious -impression as they occur to the memory, but the mere enumeration of -them is not possible without risking the objective composure of one’s -attitude—an excellent incidental evidence that the strangeness is a -reality. - -The incomprehensibility to the English of the whole trend of German -feeling and expression suggests that there is some deeply rooted -instinctive conflict of attitude between them. One may risk the -speculation that this conflict is between socialized gregariousness -and aggressive gregariousness. As the result of the inculcation of -national arrogance and aggression, Germany has lapsed into a special -type of social instinct which has opened a gulf of separation in -feeling between her and other civilized peoples. Such an effect is -natural enough. Nothing produces the sense of strangeness so much as -differences of instinctive reaction. A similar though wider gap in -instinctive reaction gives to us the appearance of strangeness and -queerness in the behaviour of the cat as contrasted with the dog, which -is so much more nearly allied in feeling to ourselves. - -If, then, we desire to get any insight into the mind and moral power of -Germany, we must begin with the realization that the two peoples are -separated by a profound difference in instinctive feeling. Nature has -provided but few roads for gregarious species to follow. Between the -path England finds herself in and that which Germany has chosen there -is a divergence which almost amounts to a specific difference in the -biological scale. In this, perhaps, lies the cause of the desperate -and unparalleled ferocity of this war. It is a war not so much of -contending nations as of contending species. We are not taking part in -a mere war, but in one of Nature’s august experiments. It is as if she -had {175} set herself to try out in her workshop the strength of the -socialized and the aggressive types. To the socialized peoples she has -entrusted the task of proving that her old faith in cruelty and blood -is at last an anachronism. To try them, she has given substance to the -creation of a nightmare, and they must destroy this werewolf or die.[P] - - [P] It may be noted that the members of the small group of - so-called “pro-German” writers and propagandists for the most - part make it a fundamental doctrine, either explicit or implicit, - that there is no psychological difference between the English - and the Germans. They seem to maintain that the latter are moved - and are to be influenced by exactly the same series of feelings - and ideals as the former, and show in reality no observable - “strangeness” in their expressions and emotions. By arguments - based on this assumption very striking conclusions are reached. - All moral advancement has been the work of unpopular minorities, - the members of which have been branded as cranks or criminals - until time has justified their doctrine. Even the greatest of - such pioneers have not, however, been invariably right. Their - genius has usually been shown most clearly in matters with which - they have been most familiar, while in matters less intimately - part of their experience their judgments have often not stood the - test of time any better than those of smaller men. If therefore - our “pro-Germans” include amongst them men of moral genius, we - may expect that such of their psychological intuitions as deal - with England are more likely to prove true than those that deal - with Germany. The importance of this reservation lies in the - probability that the chief psychological problems connected with - the origin and prosecution of this war relate to the Germans - rather than to the English. - -In attempting to estimate the actual phenomena of the German mind -at the present time, we must remember that our sources of knowledge -are subject to a rigid selection. Those of us who are unable to give -time to the regular reading of German publications must depend on -extracts which owe their appearance in our papers to some striking -characteristic which may be supposed to be pleasing to the prejudices -or hopes of the English reader. The main facts, however, are clear -enough to yield {176} valuable conclusions, if such are made on broad -lines without undue insistence on minor points. - -An intense but often ingenuous and even childish national arrogance -is a character that strikes one at once. It seems to be a serious and -often a solemn emotion impregnably armoured against the comic sense, -and expressed with a childlike confidence in its justness. It is -usually associated with a language of metaphor, which is almost always -florid and banal, and usually grandiose and strident. This fondness for -metaphor and inability to refer to common things by plain names affects -all classes, from Emperor to journalist, and gives an impression of -peculiar childishness. It reminds one of the primitive belief in the -transcendental reality and value of names. - -The national arrogance of the German is at the same time peculiarly -sensitive and peculiarly obtuse. It is readily moved by praise or -blame, though that be the most perfunctory and this the most mild, but -it has no sense of a public opinion outside the pack. It is easily -aroused to rage by external criticism, and when it finds its paroxysms -make it ridiculous to the spectator it cannot profit by the information -but becomes, if possible, more angry. It is quite unable to understand -that to be moved to rage by an enemy is as much a proof of slavish -automatism as to be moved to fear by him. The really extraordinary -hatred for England is, quite apart from the obvious association of its -emotional basis with fear, a most interesting phenomenon. The fact that -it was possible to organize so unanimous a howl shows very clearly -how fully the psychological mechanisms of the wolf were in action. It -is most instructive to find eminent men of science and philosophers -bristling and baring their teeth with the rest, and would be another -proof, if such were needed, of the infinite insecurity of the hold of -{177} reason in the most carefully cultivated minds when it is opposed -by strong herd feeling.[Q] - - [Q] I have not included in these pages actual quotations from - German authors illustrative of the national characteristics they - so richly display. Such material may be found in abundance in the - many books upon Germany which have appeared since the beginning - of the war. The inclusion of it here would therefore have been - superfluous, and would have tended perhaps to distract attention - from the more general aspects of the subject which are the main - objects of this study. During the process of final revision I am, - however, tempted to add a single illustration which happens just - to have caught my eye as being a representative and not at all an - extreme example of the national arrogance I refer to above. - - In an article on “The German Mind” by Mr. John Buchan I find the - following quotations from a Professor Werner Sombart, of Berlin:― - - “When the German stands leaning on his mighty sword, clad in steel - from his sole to his head, whatsoever will may, down below, dance - around his feet, and the intellectuals and the learned men of - England, France, Russia, and Italy may rail at him and throw mud. - But in his lofty repose he will not allow himself to be disturbed, - and he will reflect in the sense of his old ancestors in Europe: - _Oderint dum metuant_.” - - “We must purge from our soul the last fragments of the old ideal - of a progressive development of humanity. . . . The ideal of - humanity can only be understood in its highest sense when it - attains its highest and richest development in particular noble - nations. These for the time being are the representatives of God’s - thought on earth. Such were the Jews. Such were the Greeks. And - the chosen people of these centuries is the German people. . . . - Now we understand why other peoples pursue us with their hatred. - They do not understand us, but they are sensible of our enormous - spiritual superiority. So the Jews were hated in antiquity because - they were the representatives of God on earth” (“The German Mind,” - _Land and Water_, November 6, 1915). - - These passages are almost too good to be true, and give one - some of the pleasure of the collector who finds a perfect - specimen. Here we have the gusto in childish and banal metaphor, - the conception of the brutal conqueror’s state as permanently - blissful—the colonizing principle of Prussia—the naïve - generalizations from history, the confident assumption of any - characteristic which appears desirable in morals or religion, the - impenetrable self-esteem, and I think we should add the intense - and honest conviction. - - If we judge from the standpoint of our own feelings and ideals - such utterances as these, we cannot ignore the maniacal note - in them, and we seem forced to assume some actually lunatic - condition in the German people. Indeed, this is a conclusion which - Mr. Buchan in the article from which I quote does not hesitate - definitely and persuasively to draw. - - When we remember, however, that the definition of insanity is - necessarily a statistical one, that in the last analysis we can - but say that a madman is a man who behaves differently from the - great bulk of his neighbours, we find that to describe a nation as - mad—true as it may be in a certain sense—leaves us without much - addition to our knowledge. In so far, however, as it impresses - upon us the fact that some of that nation’s mental processes are - fundamentally different from our own it is a useful conception. - The statesman will do well to carry the analysis a stage farther. - The ravings of a maniac do not help us much in forecasting his - behaviour, the howlings of a pack of wolves, equally irrational, - equally harsh, even, in the original sense, equally lunatic, - betray to us with whom we have to deal, betray their indispensable - needs, their uncontrollable passions, the narrow path of instinct - in which they are held, enable us to foresee, and, foreseeing, to - lay our plans. - -It is important, however, not to judge the functional value of these -phenomena of herd arrogance and herd irritability and convulsive rage -from the point of view of nations of the socialized gregarious type -such as ourselves. To us they would be disturbants of judgment, and -have no corresponding emotional recompense. In the wolf pack, however, -they are indigenous, and represent a normal mechanism for inciting -national enthusiasm and unity. The wolf, whose existence depends on -the daily exercise of pursuit and slaughter, cannot afford {178} to be -open to external appeals and criticisms, must be supremely convinced of -his superiority and that whoever dies he must live, and must be easily -stimulated to the murderous rages by which he wins his food. - -Another difficulty in the understanding of the German mind is its -behaviour with regard to influencing non-German opinion. There can -be no doubt that it desires intensely to create impressions {179} -favourable to itself, not merely for the sake of practical advantages -in conducting the war, but also because of the desire for sympathy. -In considering the latter motive it is important that one’s attention -should not be too much attracted by the comic aspects of the searchings -of heart, publicly indulged by Germans, as to why they are not regarded -with a more general and sincere affection, and of the answers which -they themselves have furnished to this portentous problem. That they -are too modest, too true, too self-obliterating, too noble, too brave, -and too kind are answers the psychological significance of which should -not be altogether lost in laughter. That they are honest expressions of -belief cannot be doubted; indeed, there is strong theoretical reason to -accept them as such, when we remember the fabulous[R] impenetrability -of lupine herd suggestion. In default of such an explanation they seem -to be utterly incomprehensible. - - [R] The use of this adjective may perhaps call to mind how - often the wolf has appeared in fable in just this mood. Usually, - however, the fabulist—being of the unsympathetic socialized - type—has ascribed the poor creature’s yearnings to hypocrisy. - -In her negotiations with other peoples, and her estimates of -national character, Germany shows the characteristic features of her -psychological type in a remarkable way. It appears to be a principal -thesis of hers that altruism is, for the purposes of the statesman, -non-existent, or if it exists is an evidence of degeneracy and a source -of weakness. The motives upon which a nation acts are, according to -her, self-interest and fear, and in no particular has her “strangeness” -been more fully shown than in the frank way in which she appeals to -both, either alternately or together. - -This disbelief in altruism, and over-valuation of fear and -self-interest, seem to be regarded by her {180} as evidence of a -fearless and thorough grasp of biological truth, and are often fondly -referred to as “true German objectivity” or the German “sense for -reality.” How grossly, in fact, they conflict with the biological -theory of gregariousness is clear enough. It is interesting that the -German negotiators have been almost uniformly unsuccessful in imposing -their wishes on States in which the socialized type of gregariousness -is highly developed—Italy, the United States—and have succeeded -with barbarous peoples of the lupine type, with the Turk, whose -“objectivity” and appetite for massacre remain ever fresh, patriarch -among wolves as he is, with Bulgaria, the wolf of the second Balkan War. - -There is strong reason to believe that defective insight into the -minds of others is one of the chief disadvantages of the aggressive as -compared with the socialized type of gregariousness. This disadvantage -is so great, and yet so deeply inherent, as to justify the belief that -the type is the most primitive of those now surviving, and that its -present resuscitation in man is a phenomenon which will prove to be no -more than transient. - -It would be of little value to enumerate the well-known instances in -which failure of insight, and ignorance of the psychology of the herd, -has been misleading or disadvantageous to Germany. It is relevant, -however, to note the superb illustration of psychological principle -which is afforded by the relations of Germany to England during the -last fifteen years. That England was the great obstacle to indefinite -expansion was clearly understood by those whom the conception of a -consciously directed and overwhelmingly powerful German Empire had -inspired. I have tried to show how great a conception this was, how -truly in the line of natural evolution, how it marks an epoch even on -the biological scale. Unfortunately for Germany, her social {181} type -was already fixed, with such advantages and defects as it possessed, -and amongst them the immense defect of the lupine attitude towards -an enemy—the over-mastering temptation to intimidate him rather than -to understand, and to accept the easy and dangerous suggestions of -hostility in estimating his strength. - -There is in the whole of human history perhaps no more impressive -example of the omnipotence of instinct than that which is afforded by -the reactions of Germany towards England. An intelligent, educated, -organized people, directed consciously towards a definite ambition, -finds its path blocked by an enemy in chief. Surely there are two -principles of action which should at once be adopted: first, to -estimate with complete objectivity the true strength of the enemy, and -to allow no national prejudice, no liking for pleasant prophesying to -distort the truth, and secondly, to guard against exasperating the -enemy, lest the inevitable conflict should ultimately be precipitated -by her at her moment. - -Both these principles the instinctive impulsions to which Germany -was liable compelled her to violate. She allowed herself to accept -opinions of England’s strength, moral and physical, which were pleasant -rather than true. She listened eagerly to political philosophers and -historians—the most celebrated of whom was, by an ominous coincidence, -deaf—who told her that the Empire of England was founded in fraud -and perpetuated in feebleness, that it consisted of a mere loose -congeries of disloyal peoples who would fly asunder at the first -touch of “reality,” that it was rotten with insurgency, senile decay -and satiety, and would not and could not fight. Even if these things -had been a full statement of the case, they must have been dangerous -doctrines. They were defective because the {182} observers were -unaware that they were studying different instinctive reactions from -their own, and were, therefore, deaf to the notes which might have put -them on their guard. - -At the same time, Germany allowed herself to indulge the equally -pleasant expression of her hostility with a freedom apparently -unrestrained by any knowledge that such indulgences cannot be enjoyed -for nothing. She produced in this country a great deal of alarm, -and a great deal of irritation, an effect she no doubt regarded as -gratifying, but which made it quite certain that sooner or later -England would recognize her implacable enemy, though, inarticulate as -usual, she might not say much about it. . . . - - * * * * * - -Another feature of Germany’s social type, which has an important -bearing on her moral strength, is the relation of the individual -citizens to one another. The individual of the wolf pack is of -necessity fierce, aggressive, and irritable, otherwise he cannot -adequately fulfil his part in the major unit. Apparently it is beyond -the power of Nature to confine the ferocity of the wolf solely to -the external activities of the pack, as would obviously be in many -ways advantageous, and to a certain extent therefore it affects the -relations of members of the pack to one another. This is seen very well -even in the habits of domesticated dogs, who are apt to show more or -less suppressed suspicion and irritability towards one another even -when well acquainted, an irritability moreover which is apt to blaze -out into hostility on very slight provocation. - -Most external commentators on modern German life have called attention -to the harshness which is apt to pervade social relations. They -tell us of an atmosphere of fierce competition, of ruthless {183} -scandalmongering and espionage, of insistence upon minute distinctions -of rank and title, of a rigid ceremonious politeness which obviously -has little relation to courtesy, of a deliberate cultivation by -superiors of a domineering harshness towards their inferiors, of -habitual cruelty to animals, and indeed of the conscious, deliberate -encouragement of harshness and hardness of manner and feeling as -laudable evidences of virility. The statistics of crime, the manners -of officials, the tone of newspapers, the ferocious discipline of -the Army, and the general belief that personal honour is stained by -endurance and purified by brutality are similar phenomena. - -Nothing in this category, however, is more illuminating than the -treatment by Germany of colonies and conquered territories. To the -English the normal method of treating a conquered country is to -obliterate, as soon as possible, every trace of conquest, and to -assimilate the inhabitants to the other citizens of the empire by -every possible indulgence of liberty and self-government. It is, -therefore, difficult for him to believe that the German actually likes -to be reminded that a given province has been conquered, and is not -unwilling that a certain amount of discontent and restiveness in the -inhabitants should give him opportunities of forcibly exercising his -dominion and resuscitating the glories of conquest. Although this fact -has no doubt been demonstrated countless times, it was first displayed -unmistakably to the world in the famous Zabern incident. Those who have -studied the store of psychological material furnished by that affair, -the trial and judgments which followed it, and the ultimate verdict -of the people thereon, cannot fail to have reached the conclusion -that here is exposed in a crucial experiment a people which is either -totally incomprehensible, or is responding to the calls of herd -instinct by a series of reactions almost {184} totally different from -those we regard as normal. When the biological key to the situation -is discovered the series of events otherwise bizarre to the pitch of -incredibility becomes not only intelligible and consistent, but also -inevitable. - -The differences in instinctive social type between Germany and England -are betrayed in many minor peculiarities of behaviour that cannot be -examined or even enumerated here. Some of them are of little importance -in themselves, though all of them are significant when the whole bulk -of evidence to which they contribute a share is considered. Indeed, -some of the less obviously important characteristics, by the very -nicety with which they fulfil the conditions demanded by the biological -necessities of the case, have a very special value as evidence in -favour of the generalizations which I have suggested. I permit myself -an illustration of this point. The use of war cries and shibboleths -doubtless seems in itself an insignificant subject enough, yet I think -an examination of it can be shown to lead directly to the very central -facts of the international situation. - -Few phenomena have been more striking throughout the war than the -way in which the German people have been able to take up certain -cries—directed mostly against England—and bring them into hourly -familiar and unanimous use. The phrase “God punish England!” seems -actually to have attained a real and genuine currency, and to have -been used by all classes and all ages as a greeting with a solemnity -and gusto which are in no way the less genuine for being, to our -unsympathetic eyes, so ludicrous. The famous “Hymn of Hate” had, no -doubt, a popularity equally wide, and was used with a fervour which -showed the same evidence of a mystic satisfaction. - -Attempts have been made to impose upon England {185} similar -watchwords with the object of keeping some of the direst events of -the war before our eyes, and fortifying the intensity and scope of -our horror. We have been adjured to “remember” Belgium, Louvain, the -_Lusitania_, and latterly the name of an heroic and savagely murdered -nurse. Horrible as has been the crime to which we have been recalled by -each of these phrases, there has never been the slightest sign that the -memory of it could acquire a general currency of quotation, and by that -mechanism become a stronger factor in unity determination or endurance. - -An allied phenomenon which may perhaps be mentioned here is the -difference in attitude of the German and the English soldier towards -war songs. To the German the war song is a serious matter; it is for -the most part a grave composition, exalted in feeling, and thrilling -with the love of country; he is taught to sing it, and he sings it -well, with obvious and touching sincerity and with equally obvious -advantage to his morale. - -The attempt to introduce similar songs and a similar attitude towards -them to the use of the English soldier has often been made, and exactly -as often lamentably failed. On the whole it has been, perhaps, the -most purely comic effort of the impulse to mimic Germany which has -been in favour until of late with certain people of excellent aims but -inadequate biological knowledge. The English soldier, consistently -preferring the voice of Nature to that of the most eminent doctrinaire, -has, to the scandal of his lyrical enemies, steadily drawn his -inspiration from the music-hall and the gutter, or from his own rich -store of flippant and ironic realism. - -The biological meaning of these peculiarities renders them intelligible -and consistent with one another. The predaceous social animals -in attack {186} or pursuit are particularly sensitive to the -encouragement afforded by one another’s voices. The pack gives tongue -because of the functional value of the exercise, which is clearly -of importance in keeping individuals in contact with one another, -and in stimulating in each the due degree of aggressive rage. That -serious and narrow passion tends naturally to concentrate itself -upon some external object or quarry, which becomes by the very fact -an object of hate to the exclusion of any other feeling, whether of -sympathy, self-possession, or a sense of the ludicrous. The curious -spectacle of Germans greeting one another with “God punish England!” -and the appropriate response is therefore no accidental or meaningless -phenomenon, but a manifestation of an instinctive necessity; and -this explanation is confirmed by the immensely wide currency of the -performance, and the almost simian gravity with which it could be -carried out. It succeeded because it had a functional value, just as -similar movements in England have failed because they have had no -functional value, and could have none in a people of the socialized -type, with whom unity depends on a different kind of bond. - -The wolf, then, is the father of the war song, and it is among -peoples of the lupine type alone that the war song is used with real -seriousness. Animals of the socialized type are not dependent for -their morale upon the narrow intensities of aggressive rage. Towards -such manifestations of it as concerted cries and war songs they feel -no strong instinctive impulsion, and are therefore able to preserve -a relatively objective attitude. Such cryings of the pack, seeming -thus to be mere functionless automatisms, naturally enough come to be -regarded as patently absurd. - -Examples of behaviour illustrating these deep differences of reaction -are often to be met with in the {187} stories of those who have -described incidents of the war. It is recorded that German soldiers -in trenches within hearing of the English, seeking to exasperate and -appal the latter, have sung in an English version their fondly valued -“Hymn of Hate.” Whereupon the English, eagerly listening and learning -the words of the dreadful challenge, have petrified their enemies by -repeating it with equal energy and gusto, dwelling no doubt with the -appreciation of experts upon the curses of their native land. - -It would scarcely be possible to imagine a more significant -demonstration of the psychological differences of the two social types. - -The peculiarities of a state of the wolfish type are admirably suited -to conditions of aggression and conquest, and readily yield for those -purposes a maximal output of moral strength. As long as such a nation -is active and victorious in war, its moral resources cannot fail, -and it will be capable of an indefinite amount of self-sacrifice, -courage, and energy. Take away from it, however, the opportunities -of continued aggression, interrupt the succession of victories by a -few heavy defeats, and it must inevitably lose the perfection of its -working as an engine of moral power. The ultimate and singular source -of _inexhaustible_ moral power in a gregarious unit is the perfection -of communion amongst its individual members. As we have seen, this -source is undeveloped in units of the aggressive type, and has been -deliberately ignored by Germany. As soon, if ever, as she has to submit -to a few unmistakable defeats in the field, as soon as, if it should -happen, all outlets for fresh aggression are closed, she will become -aware of how far she has staked her moral resources on continuous -success, and will not be able for long to conceal her knowledge from -the world. {188} - -That she herself has always been dimly aware of the nature of her -strength—though not perhaps of her potential weakness—is shown by her -steady insistence upon the necessity of aggression, upon maintaining -the attack at whatever cost of life. This is a principle she has -steadily acted upon throughout the war. It is exemplified by the -whole series of terrible lunges at her enemies she has made. The -strategic significance of these has, perhaps, become less as the moral -necessity for them has become greater. France, Flanders, Russia, and -the Balkans have in turn had to supply the moral food of victory and -attack without which she would soon have starved. There is a quality -at which the imagination cannot but be appalled in this fate of a -great and wonderful nation, however much her alienation of herself -from the instincts of mankind may have frozen the natural currents of -pity. Panting with the exhaustion of her frightful blow at Russia, she -must yet turn with who knows what weariness to yet another enterprise, -in which to find the moral necessities which the Russian campaign -was already ceasing to supply. It is to a similar mechanism that we -must look to trace the ultimate source of the submarine and aircraft -campaigns against England. Strategically, these proceedings may or -may not have been regarded hopefully; possibly they were based on a -definite military plan, though they do not to us have that appearance. -Very probably they were expected to disorganize English morale. Behind -them both, however, whether consciously or not, was the moral necessity -to do something against England. This is indicated by the circumstances -and the periods of the war at which they were seriously taken up. -As both the submarine and the Zeppelin campaigns involve no great -expenditure or dissipation of power, the fact that their value is moral -rather than military, and concerned {189} with the morale of their -inventors rather than that of their victims, is chiefly of academic -interest as throwing further light on the nature of Germany’s strength -and weakness. - - * * * * * - -Its attitude towards discipline displays the German mind in a relation -sufficiently instructive to merit some comment here. When Germany -has been reproached with being contented to remain in what is, by -comparison with other peoples, a condition of political infantilism, -with allowing the personal liberty of her citizens to be restricted on -all hands, and their political responsibility to be kept within the -narrowest limits, the answer of the political theorists has generally -contained two distinct and contradictory apologetic theses. It has been -said that the German, recognizing the value of State organization, and -that strict discipline is a necessary preliminary to it, consciously -resigns the illusory privileges of the democrat in order to gain power, -and submits to a kind of social contract which is unquestionably -advantageous in the long run. The mere statement of such a proposition -is enough to refute it, and we need give no further attention to an -intellectualist fallacy so venerable and so completely inconsistent -with experience. It is also said, however, that the German has a -natural aptitude for discipline amounting to genius. In a sense a -little less flattering than it is intended to have, this proposition is -as true as that of the social contract is false. The aggressive social -type lends itself naturally to discipline, and shows it in its grossest -forms. The socialized type is, of course, capable of discipline, -otherwise a State would be impossible, but the discipline that prevails -in it is apt to become indirect, less harshly compulsory and more -dependent on goodwill. - -It is perhaps natural that units within which {190} ferocity -and hardness are tolerated and encouraged should depend on a -correspondingly savage method of enforcing their will. The flock of -sheep has its shepherd, but the pack of hounds has its _Whips_. In -human societies of the same type we should expect to find, therefore, -a general acquiescence in the value of discipline, and a toleration -of its enforcement, because, rather than in spite of, its being -harsh. This seems to be the mechanism which underlies what is to -the Englishman the mystery of German submission to direction and -discipline. That an able-bodied soldier should submit to being lashed -across the face by his officer for some trivial breach of etiquette—a -type of incident common and well witnessed to—is evidence of a state -of mind in _both_ parties utterly incomprehensible to our feelings. -The hypothesis I am suggesting would explain it by comparison with -the only available similar phenomenon—the submission of a dog to a -thrashing administered by his master. The dog illustrates very well -that in a predaceous social animal the enforcement of a harsh and -even brutal discipline is not only a possible but also a perfectly -satisfactory procedure in the psychological sense. That other common -victim of man’s brutality—the horse—provides an interesting complement -to the proposition by showing that in a protectively social animal a -savage enforcement of discipline is psychologically unsatisfactory. -It seems justifiable, therefore, to conclude that the aggressive -gregariousness of the Germans is the instinctive source of the -marvellous discipline of their soldiers, and the contribution it makes -to their amazing bravery. It must not be taken as any disrespect for -that wonderful quality, but as a desire to penetrate as far as possible -into its meaning, that compels one to point out that the theoretical -considerations I have advanced are confirmed by the generally admitted -dependence of {191} the German soldier on his officers and the at -least respectably attested liability he shows to the indulgence of an -inhuman savagery towards any one who is not his master by suggestion or -by force of arms. - - * * * * * - -In the attempt I have made to get some insight into the German mind, -and to define the meaning of its ideals, and needs, and impulses in -biological terms, I have had to contend with the constant bias one has -naturally been influenced by in discussing a people not only intensely -hostile, but also animated by what I have tried to show is an alien -type of the social habit. Nevertheless, there seem to be certain -broad conclusions which may be usefully recalled in summary here as -constituting reasonable probabilities. My purpose will have been -effected if these are sufficiently consistent to afford a point of view -slightly different from the customary one, and yielding some practical -insight into the facts. - -Germany presents to the biological psychologist the remarkable paradox -of being in the first place a State consciously directed towards a -definite series of ideals and ambitions, and deliberately organized -to obtain them, and in the second place a State in which prevails -a primitive type of the gregarious instinct—the aggressive—a type -which shows the closest resemblance in its needs, its ideals, and its -reactions to the society of the wolf pack. Thus she displays, in one -respect, what I have shown to be the summit of gregarious evolution, -and in another its very antithesis—a type of society which has always -been transient, and has failed to satisfy the needs of modern civilized -man. - -When I compare German society with the wolf pack, and the feelings, -desires, and impulses of the individual German with those of the wolf -or dog, I am not intending to use a vague analogy, but {192} to call -attention to a real and gross identity. The aggressive social animal -has a complete and consistent series of psychical reactions, which will -necessarily be traceable in his feelings and his behaviour, whether he -is a biped or a quadruped, a man or an insect. The psychical necessity -that makes the wolf brave in a massed attack is the same as that which -makes the German brave in a massed attack; the psychical necessity -which makes the dog submit to the whip of his master and profit by it -makes the German soldier submit to the lash of his officer and profit -by it. The instinctive process which makes the dog among his fellows -irritable, suspicious, ceremonious, sensitive about his honour, and -immediately ready to fight for it is identical in the German and -produces identical effects. - -The number and minuteness of the coincidences of behaviour between the -German and other aggressive social species, the number and precision -of the differences between the German and the other types of social -animals make up together a body of evidence which is difficult to -ignore. - -Moreover, we see Germany compelled to submit to disadvantages, -consequent upon her social type, which, we may suppose, she would -have avoided had they not been too deeply ingrained for even her -thoroughness to remove. Thus she is unable to make or keep friends -amongst nations of the socialized type; her instinctive valuation -of fear as a compelling influence has allowed her to indulge the -threatenings and warlike gestures which have alienated all the strong -nations, and intimidated successfully only the weak—England, for -example, is an enemy entirely of her own making; she has been forced -to conduct the war on a plan of ceaseless and frightfully costly -aggression, because her morale could have survived no other method. -{193} - -The ultimate object of science is foresight. It may fairly be asked, -therefore, supposing these speculations to have any scientific -justification, what light do they throw on the future? It would -be foolish to suppose that speculations so general can yield, in -forecasting the future, a precision which they do not pretend to -possess. Keeping, however, to the level of very general inference, two -observations may be hazarded. - -First, the ultimate destiny of Germany cannot be regarded as very much -in doubt. If we are content to look beyond this war, however it may -issue, and take in a longer stretch of time, we can say with quite a -reasonable degree of assurance that Germanic power, of the type we know -and fear to-day, is impermanent. Germany has left the path of natural -evolution, or rather, perhaps, has never found it. Unless, therefore, -her civilization undergoes a radical change, and comes to be founded -on a different series of instinctive impulses, it will disappear from -the earth. All the advantages she has derived from conscious direction -and organization will not avail to change her fate, because conscious -direction is potent only when it works hand in hand with Nature, and -its first task—which the directors of Germany have neglected—is to find -out the path which man must follow. - -Secondly, a word may be ventured about the war in so far as the -consideration of Germany alone can guide us. As I have tried to show, -her morale is more rigidly conditioned than that of her opponents. -They have merely to maintain their resistance, to do which they have -certain psychological advantages, and they must win. She must continue -aggressive efforts, and if these can be held by her enemies—not -more—she must go on galvanizing her weary nerves until they fail to -respond. I am not for a moment venturing to suppose myself {194} -competent to give the slightest hint upon the conduct of the war; I am -merely pointing out what I regard as a psychological fact. Whether it -has any practical military value is not in my province to decide. - -If one claimed the liberty of all free men, to have over and above -considered judgment a real guess, one would be inclined to venture the -opinion that, however well things go with the enemies of Germany, there -will not be much fighting on German soil. - -The proposition that the strength and weakness of Germany are rigidly -conditioned by definite and ascertainable psychological necessities is, -if it is valid, chiefly of interest to the strategist and those who are -responsible for the general lines of the campaign against her. We may -well, however, ask whether psychological principle yields any hint of -guidance in the solution of the further and equally important problem -of how her enemies are to secure and render permanent the fruits of the -victory upon which they are resolved. - -This problem has already been the subject of a good deal of -controversy, which is likely to increase as the matter comes more and -more into the field of practical affairs. - -Two types of solution have been expounded which, apart from what -inessential agreement they may show in demanding the resurrection of -such small nations as Germany has been able to assassinate, differ -profoundly in the treatment they propose for the actual enemy herself. -Both profess to be based upon the desire for a really permanent peace, -and the establishment of a truly stable equilibrium between the -antagonists. It is upon the means by which this result is to be secured -that differences arise. - -The official solution, and that almost universally accepted by the -bulk of the people, insists that the {195} “military domination of -Prussia,” “German militarism,” or the “German military system” as -it is variously phrased, must be wholly and finally destroyed. This -doctrine has received many interpretations. In spite, however, of -criticism by moderates on the one hand and by unpractically ferocious -root-and-branch men on the other, it seems to remain—significantly -enough—an expression of policy which the common man feels for the time -to be adequate. - -The most considerable criticism has come from the small class of -accomplished and intellectual writers who from their pacifist and -“international” tendencies have to some extent been accused, no -doubt falsely, of being pro-German in the sense of anti-English. The -complaint of this school against the official declaration of policy is, -that it does not disclose a sufficiently definite object or the means -by which this object is to be attained. We are told that as a nation -we do not know what we are fighting for, and, what amounts to the same -thing, that we cannot attain the object we profess to pursue by the -exercise of military force however drastically it may be applied. We -are warned that we should seek a “reasonable” peace and one which by -its moderation would have an educative effect upon the German people, -that to crush and especially in any way to dismember the German -Empire would confirm its people in their belief that this war is a -war of aggression by envious neighbours, and make revenge a national -aspiration. - -Such criticism has not always been very effectually answered, and the -generally current feeling has proved disconcertingly inarticulate in -the presence of its agile and well-equipped opponents. Indeed, upon -the ordinary assumptions of political debate, it is doubtful whether -any quite satisfactory answer {196} can be produced. It is just, -however, these very assumptions which must be abandoned and replaced -by more appropriate psychological principles when we are trying to -obtain light upon the relations of two peoples of profoundly different -social type and instinctive reaction. The common man seems to be dimly -aware of this difference though he cannot define it; the intellectual -of what, for want of a better term, I may call the pacifist type in -all its various grades, proceeds upon the assumption that no such -difference exists. Much as one must respect the courage and capacity of -many of these latter, one cannot but recognize that their conceptions, -however logical and however ingenious, lack the invigorating contact -with reality which the instinctive feelings of the common man have not -altogether failed to attain. - -Let us now consider what guidance in the solution of the problem can be -got from a consideration of the peculiarities of the social type which -the Germans of the present day so characteristically present. - -Regarded from this point of view, the war is seen to be directed -against a social type which, when endowed with the technical resources -of modern civilization, is, and must continue to be, a dangerous -anachronism. A people of the aggressive social habit can never be in a -state of stable equilibrium with its neighbours. The constitution of -its society presents a rigid barrier to smooth and continuous internal -integration; its energy, therefore, must be occupied upon essentially, -though not always superficially, external objects, and its history -will necessarily be made up of alternating periods of aggression -and periods of preparation. Such a people has no conception of the -benign use of power. It must regard war as an end in itself, as the -summit of its national activities, as the recurring apogee {197} of -its secular orbit; it must regard peace as a necessary and somewhat -irksome preparation for war in which it may savour reminiscently the -joys of conquest by dragooning its new territories and drastically -imposing upon them its national type. This instinctive insistence upon -uniformity makes every conquest by such a people an impoverishment -of the human race, and makes the resistance of such aggression an -elementary human duty. - -In every particular Germany has proved true to her social type, and -every detail of her history for the last fifty years betrays the lupine -quality of her ideals and her morals. - -We have seen that in all gregarious animals the social instinct must -follow one of three principal types, each of which will produce a -herd having special activities and reactions. The major units of the -human species appear limited to a similar number of categories, but it -is probable that the perpetuation of a given type in a given herd is -not chiefly a matter of heredity in the individual. The individual is -gregarious by inheritance; the type according to which his gregarious -reactions are manifested is not inherited, but will depend upon the -form current in the herd to which he belongs, and handed down in it -from generation to generation. Thus it has happened that nations have -been able in the course of their history to pass from the aggressive -to the socialized type. The change has perhaps been rendered possible -by the existence of class segregation of a not too rigid kind, and -has doubtless depended upon a progressive intercommunication and the -consequently developing altruism. The extremely rigid Prussian social -system seems clearly to be associated with the persistence of the -aggressive form of society. - -In considering the permanent deliverance of Europe from the elements -in Germany for which {198} there can be no possible toleration, we -therefore have not to deal with characters which must be regarded as -inherited in the biological sense. We have to deal rather with a group -of reactions which, while owing their unity, coherence, and power to -the inherited qualities of the gregarious mind, owe their perpetuation -to organized State suggestion, to tradition, and to their past success -as a national method. - -There can be no doubt that the success of the German Empire has -consolidated the hold of the aggressive social type upon its people, -and has guarded it from the eroding effects of increasing communication -with other peoples and knowledge of the world. As I have already tried -to show, the moral power of such peoples is intimately associated with -the continuance of aggression and of success. The German Empire has had -no experience of failure, and for this reason has been able to maintain -its ideals and aspirations untouched by modern influences. It needs no -psychological insight to foretell that if the result of this war can -be in any way regarded as a success for Germany, she will be thereby -confirmed in her present ideals, however great her sufferings may have -been, and however complete her exhaustion. It must be remembered that -this type of people is capable of interpreting facts in accordance with -its prejudices to an almost incredible extent, as we have seen time and -again in the course of the war. The proof that the aggressive national -type is intolerable in modern Europe, if it can be afforded by force -of arms, must therefore be made very plain, or it will have no value -as a lesson. Proof of failure adequate to convince a people of the -socialized type might be quite inadequate to convince a people of the -lupine type in whom, from the nature of the case, mental resistiveness -is so much more {199} impenetrable. This is the psychological fact of -which the statesmen of Europe will have to be, above all things, aware -when questions of peace come seriously to be discussed, for otherwise -they will risk the loss of all the blood and treasure which have been -expended without any corresponding gain for civilization. - - * * * * * - -We have been warned that to “humiliate” Germany will merely be to set -her upon the preparation of vengeance, and to confirm her belief in -the supreme value of military strength. This opinion affects to be -based on a knowledge of human nature, but its pretensions are not very -well founded. The passion of revenge is habitually over-estimated as a -motive—possibly through the influence of the novelists and playwrights -to whom it is so useful. When we examine man’s behaviour objectively -we find that revenge, however deathless a passion it is vowed to be at -emotional moments, is in actual life constantly having to give way to -more urgent and more recent needs and feelings. Between nations there -is no reason to suppose that it has any more reality as a motive of -policy, though it perhaps has slightly more value as a consolatory pose. - -It is curious that the naïve over-estimation of the revenge ideal -should have been uninfluenced by so obvious an example as the relations -of France and Germany. In 1870 the former was “humiliated” with brutal -completeness and every element of insult. She talked of revenge, as -she could scarcely fail to do, but she soon showed that her grasp on -reality was too firm to allow her policy to be moved by that childish -passion. Characteristically, it was the victorious aggressor who -believed in her longing for revenge, and who at length attacked her -again. {200} - -A psychological hint of great value may be obtained from our knowledge -of those animals whose gregariousness, like that of the Germans, is -of the aggressive type. When it is thought necessary to correct a dog -by corporal measures, it is found that the best effect is got by what -is rather callously called a “sound” thrashing. The animal must be -left in no doubt as to who is the master, and his punishment must not -be diluted by hesitation, nervousness, or compunction on the part of -the punisher. The experience then becomes one from which the dog is -capable of learning, and if the sense of mastery conveyed to him is -unmistakable, he can assimilate the lesson without reservation or the -desire for revenge. However repulsive the idea may be to creatures of -the socialized type, no sentimentalism and no pacifist theorizing can -conceal the fact that the respect of a dog can be won by violence. -If there is any truth in the view I have expressed that the moral -reactions of Germany follow the gregarious type which is illustrated -by the wolf and the dog, it follows that her respect is to be won by a -thorough and drastic beating, and it is just that elementary respect -for other nations, of which she is now entirely free, which it is -the duty of Europe to teach her. If she is allowed to escape under -conditions which in any way can be sophisticated into a victory, or, at -any rate, not a defeat, she will continue to hate us as she continued -to hate her victim France. - -To the politician, devoted as he necessarily is to the exclusively -human point of view, it may seem fantastic and scandalous to look for -help in international policy to the conduct of dogs. The gulf between -the two fields is not perhaps so impassably profound as he would -like to think, but, however that may be, the analogy I have drawn is -not unsupported by evidence of a more respectable kind. {201} The -susceptibility of the individual German to a harsh and even brutally -enforced discipline is well known. The common soldier submits to be -beaten by his sergeant, and is the better soldier for it; both submit -to the bullying of their officer apparently also with profit; the -common student is scarcely less completely subject to his professor, -and becomes thereby a model of scientific excellence; the common -citizen submits to the commands of his superiors, however unreasonably -conceived and insultingly conveyed, and becomes a model of disciplined -behaviour; finally the head of the State, combining the most drastic -methods of the sergeant, the professor, and the official, wins not -merely a slavish respect, but a veritable apotheosis. - -Germany has shown unmistakably the way to her heart; it is for Europe -to take it. - - -ENGLAND AGAINST GERMANY—ENGLAND. - -It is one of the most impressive facts about the war, that while -Germany is the very type of a perfected aggressive herd, England is -perhaps the most complete example of a socialized herd. Corresponding -with this biological difference is the striking difference in their -history. Germany has modelled her soul upon the wolf’s, and has rushed -through the possibilities of her archetype in fifty feverish years of -development; already she is a finished product, her moral ideal is -fulfilled and leaves her nothing to strive for except the imposition of -it upon the world. England has taken as her model the bee, and still -lags infinitely far behind the fulfilment of her ideal. In the unbroken -security of her land, for near a thousand years, she has leisurely, -perhaps lazily, and with infinite slowness, pursued her path towards a -social integration of an {202} ever closer and deeper kind. She has -stolidly, even stupidly, and always in a grossly practical spirit, held -herself to the task of shaping a society in which free men could live -and yet be citizens. She has had no theory of herself, no consciousness -of her destiny, no will to power. She has had almost no national -heroes, and has always been constitutionally frigid to her great men, -grudging them the material for their experimentations on her people, -indifferent to their expositions of her duty and her imperial destiny, -granting them a chance to die for her with no more encouragement than -an impatient sigh. She has allowed an empire to be won for her by her -restless younger sons, has shown no gratification in their conquests, -and so far from thrilling with the exultation of the conqueror, has -always at the earliest moment set her new dominions at work upon the -problem in which her wholly unromantic absorption has never relaxed. -And after a thousand years she seems as far as ever from her goal. Her -society is irregular, disorganized, inco-ordinate, split into classes -at war with one another, weighted at one end with poverty, squalor, -ignorance, and disease, weighted at the other end by ignorance, -prejudice, and corpulent self-satisfaction. Nevertheless, her patience -is no more shaken by what she is lectured upon as failure than was her -composure by what she was assured was imperial success. She is no less -bound by her fate than is Germany, and must continue her path until -she reaches its infinitely remoter goal. Nations may model themselves -on her expedients, and found the architecture of their liberty on the -tabernacles she has set up by the wayside to rest in for a night—she -will continue on her road unconscious of herself or her greatness, -absent-mindedly polite to genius, pleasantly tickled by prophets with -very loud voices, but apt to go to sleep under {203} sermons, too -awkward to boast or bluster, too composed to seem strong, too dull -to be flattered, too patient to be flurried, and withal inflexibly -practical and indifferent to dreams. - - * * * * * - -No more perfect illustration of the characteristics of the two nations -could be found than their attitude before the war. England the empiric, -dimly conscious of trouble, was puzzled, restless, and uneasy in the -face of a problem she was threatened with some day having to study; -Germany, the theorist, cool, “objective,” conscious of herself, was -convinced there was no problem at all. - -In studying the mind of England in the spirit of the biological -psychologist, it is necessary to keep in mind the society of the bee, -just as in studying the German mind it was necessary to keep in mind -the society of the wolf. - -One of the most striking phenomena which observers of the bee have -noticed is the absence of any obvious means of direction or government -in the hive. The queen seems to be valued merely for her functions, -which are in no way directive. Decisions of policy of the greatest -moment appear, as far as we can detect, to arise spontaneously among -the workers, and whether the future is to prove them right or wrong, -are carried out without protest or disagreement. This capacity for -unanimous decisions is obviously connected with the limited mental -development of the individual, as is shown by the fact that in man it -is very much more feeble. In spite of this, the unanimity of the hive -is wonderfully effective and surprisingly successful. Speculators upon -the physiology and psychology of bees have been forced—very tentatively -of course—to imagine that creatures living in such intensely close -communion are able to communicate to one another, and, as it were, to a -common stock, such extremely {204} simple conceptions as they can be -supposed to entertain, and produce, so to say, a communal mind which -comes to have, at any rate in times of crisis, a quasi-independent -existence. The conception is difficult to express in concrete terms, -and even to grasp in more than an occasional intuitive flash. Whether -we are to entertain such a conception or are to reject it, the fact -remains that societies of a very closely communal habit are apt to give -the appearance of being ruled by a kind of common mind—a veritable -spirit of the hive—although no trace of any directive apparatus can be -detected. - -A close study of England gives the impression of some agency comparable -with a “spirit of the hive” being at work within it. The impression -is not perhaps to be taken as altogether fantastic, when we remember -how her insular station and her long history have forced upon her a -physical seclusion and unity resembling, though of course far less -complete than, that of the hive. I am of course not unaware that -disquisitions upon the national spirit are very familiar to us. These, -however, are so loosely conceived, so much concerned with purely -conventional personifications of quite imaginary qualities, that I -cannot regard them as referring to the phenomenon I am trying to -describe. - -The conception in my mind is that of an old and isolated people, -developing, by the slow mingling and attrition of their ideas, and -needs, and impulses, a certain deeply lying unity which becomes a -kind of “instinct” for national life, and gives to national policy, -without the conscious knowledge of any individual citizen, without the -direction of statesmen, and perhaps in spite of them all, a continuity -of trend, and even an intelligence, by which events may be influenced -in a profoundly important way. - -The making of some such assumption, helped as it is by the analogy -of the bee, seems to be {205} necessary when we consider at all -objectively the history of England and her Empire. She has done so -much without any leading, so much in spite of her ostensible leaders, -so often a great policy or a successful stroke has been apparently -accidental. So much of her work that seemed, while it was doing, to -be local and narrow in conception and motive displays at a distance -evidences of design on the great scale. Her contests with Philip -of Spain, with Louis XIV, with Napoleon, and the foundation of her -Colonial Empire, would seem to be the grandiose conceptions of some -supreme genius did we not know how they were undertaken and in what -spirit pursued. - -It appears, then, that England has something with which to retort upon -the conscious direction to which Germany owes so much of her strength. -Among the number of embattled principles and counter principles which -this war has brought into the field, we must include as not the least -interesting the duel between conscious national direction on the one -side and unconscious national will and knowledge on the other. - -It is quite outside my province to touch upon the diplomatic events -which led up to the war. They seem to me to be irrelevant to the -biological type of analysis we are trying to pursue. There can be no -doubt at all that the ordinary consciousness of the vast majority of -citizens of this country was intensely averse from the idea of war. -Those who were in general bellicose were for the moment decidedly out -of influence. Can we suppose, however, that the deep, still spirit of -the hive that whispers unrecognized in us all had failed to note that -strange, gesticulating object across the North Sea? In its vast, simple -memory would come up other objects that had gone on like that. It would -remember a mailed fist that had been {206} flourished across the Bay -of Biscay three hundred years ago, a little man in shining armour who -had strutted threateningly on the other shore of the Channel, and the -other little man who had stood there among his armies, and rattled his -sabre in the scabbard. It had marked them all down in their time, and -it remembered the old vocabulary. It would turn wearily and a little -impatiently to this new portent over the North Sea. . . . Wise with the -experience of a thousand years, it would know when to strike. - - * * * * * - -Such deeply buried combined national impulses as we are here glancing -at are far removed from the influence of pacifist or jingo. Any attempt -to define them must be a matter of guesswork and groping, in which the -element of speculation is far in excess of the element of ascertained -fact. It seems, however, that, as in the case of the bee, they concern -chiefly actual decisions of crucial matters of policy. To put this -suggestion in another form, we might say the spirit of the people -makes the great wars, but it leaves the statesman to conduct them. It -may make, therefore, a decision of incredible profundity, launch the -people on the necessary course at the necessary moment, and then leave -them to flounder through the difficulties of their journey as best -they can. Herein is the contrast it presents with the German resource -of conscious direction—superficial, apt to blunder in all the larger, -deeper matters of human nature, but constant, alert, and ingenious in -making immediate use of every available means and penetrating every -department of activity. - -During the conduct of war it is only in the simplest, broadest matters -that the spirit of the people can bring its wisdom to bear. One of the -most striking manifestations of it has, for example, been {207} the -way in which it has shown a knowledge that the war would be long and -hard. The bad news has been, in general, received without complaint, -reproach, or agitation, the good news, such as it has been, with a -resolute determination not to exult or rejoice. That so many months -of a deadly war have produced no _popular_ expression of exultation -or dismay is a substantial evidence of moral power, and not the less -impressive for being so plainly the work of the common man himself. - -Such manifestations of the spirit of the people are rare, and meet with -very little encouragement from those who have access to the public. -It is astonishing how absent the gift of interpretation seems to be. -A few, a very few, stand out as being able to catch those whispers of -immemorial wisdom; many seem to be occupied in confusing them with a -harsh and discordant clamour of speech. - - * * * * * - -If we are correct in our analogy of the bee and the wolf, England -has one great moral advantage over Germany, namely, that there is in -the structure of her society no inherent obstacle to perfect unity -among her people. The utmost unity Germany can compass is that of the -aggressive type, which brings with it a harsh, non-altruistic relation -among individuals, and can yield its full moral value only during the -maintenance of successful attack. England, on the other hand, having -followed the socialized type of gregariousness, is free to integrate -her society to an indefinite extent. The development of the altruistic -relation among her individuals lies in her natural path. Her system of -social segregation is not necessarily a rigid one, and if she can bring -about an adequate acceleration of the perfectly natural consolidation -towards which she is, and has slowly been, tending, she will {208} -attain access to a store of moral power literally inexhaustible, -and will reach a moral cohesion which no hardship can shake, and an -endurance which no power on earth can overcome. - -These are no figures of speech, but plain biological fact, capable -of immediate practical application and yielding an immediate result. -It must be admitted that she has made little progress towards this -consummation since the beginning of the war. Leaders, including not -only governing politicians but also those who in any way have access -to public notice, tend to enjoin a merely conventional unity, which is -almost functionless in the promotion of moral strength. It is not much -more than an agreement to say we are united; it produces no true unity -of spirit and no power in the individual to deny himself the indulgence -of his egoistic impulses in action and in speech, and is therefore as -irritating as it is useless. It is unfortunate that the education and -circumstances of many public men deny them any opportunity of learning -the very elementary principles which are necessary for the development -of a nation’s moral resources. Occasionally one or another catches an -intuitive glimpse of some fragment of the required knowledge, but never -enough to enable him to develop any effective influence. For the most -part their impulses are as likely to be destructive of the desired -effect as favourable to it. In the past England’s wars have always been -conducted in an atmosphere of disunion, of acrimony, and of criticism -designed to embarrass the Government rather than, as it professes, to -strengthen the country. It is a testimony to the moral sturdiness of -the people, and to the power and subtlety of the spirit of the hive, -that success has been possible in such conditions. When one remembers -how England has flourished on domestic discord in {209} critical -times, one is tempted to believe that she derives some mysterious -power from such a state, and that the abolition of discord might not -be for her the advantageous change it appears so evidently to be. -Consideration, however, must show that this hypothesis is inadmissible, -and that England has won through on these occasions in spite of the -handicap discord has put upon her. In the present war, tough and hard -as is her moral fibre, she will need every element of her power to -avoid the weariness and enfeeblement that will otherwise come upon her -before her task is done. - -Throughout the months of warfare that have already passed no evidence -has become public of any recognition that the moral power of a -nation depends upon causes which can be identified, formulated, and -controlled. It seems to be unknown that that domination of egoistic -impulses by social impulses which we call a satisfactory morale is -capable of direct cultivation as such, that by it the resources of the -nation are made completely available to the nation’s leaders, that -without it every demand upon the citizen is liable to be grudgingly met -or altogether repudiated. - -We are told by physicians that uninstructed patients are apt to insist -upon the relief of their symptoms, and to care nothing for the cure -of their diseases, that a man will demand a bottle of medicine to -stop the pain of an ulcer in his stomach, but will refuse to allow -the examination that would establish the nature of his disease. The -statesman embarrassed by the manifestations of an imperfect morale -seems to incline to a similar method. When he finds he cannot get -soldiers at the necessary rate, he would invent a remedy for that -particular symptom. When he has difficulties in getting one or another -industrial class to suspend its charters in the interests of the State, -he must have a new {210} and special nostrum for that. When he would -relax the caution of the capitalist or restrain the wastefulness of the -self-indulgent, again other remedies must be found. And so he passes -from crisis to crisis, never knowing from moment to moment what trouble -will break out next, harassed, it is to be supposed, by the doubt -whether his stock of potions and pills will hold out, and how long -their very moderate efficiency will continue. - -None of these troubles is a disease in itself; all are evidences -of an imperfect national morale, and any attempt to deal with them -that does not reach their common cause will necessarily therefore be -unsatisfactory and impermanent. - -The sole basis of a satisfactory morale in a people of the social type -that obtains in England is a true national unity, which is therefore -the singular and complete remedy for all the civil difficulties -incident upon a great and dangerous war. - - * * * * * - -It is impossible to form any guess whether England will keep to her -traditional methods or will depart so far from them as to take a bold -and comprehensive view of her present and her growing moral needs. A -carefully conceived and daringly carried out organization of a real -national unity would have no great difficulty in a country so rich in -practical genius; it would make an end once for all of every internal -difficulty of the State, and would convert the nation into an engine of -war which nothing could resist. - -The more probable and the characteristic event will be a mere -continuation in the old way. It will exemplify our usual and often -admirable enough contempt for theoretical considerations and dreams, -our want of interest in knowledge and foresight, our willingness to -take any risk rather than endure the horrid pains of thought. {211} - -When we remember how costly is our traditional method, how long and -painful it makes the way, how doubtful it even makes the goal, it is -impossible for the most philosophic to restrain a sigh for the needless -suffering it entails, and a thrill of alarm for the dangers it gives -our path, the darkness around us and ahead, the unimaginable end. - - * * * * * - -To the student, the end of the chapter is a chance to turn from the -study of detail and allow his mind to range through a larger atmosphere -and over a longer sequence. Closing our small chapter, we also may -look at large over the great expanse of the biological series in -whose illimitable panorama the war that covers our nearer skies with -its blood-red cloud is no bigger than a pin point. As we contemplate -in imagination the first minute spot of living jelly that crept and -hungered in the mud, we can see the interplay of its necessities and -its powers already pushing it along the path at the end of which we -stand. Inherent in the dot of magic substance that was no longer mere -carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, sulphur, and a little phosphorus, -was the capacity to combine with its fellows and to profit by the -fellowship, however loose. In the slow process of time combination -brought freedom which, just like ours, was freedom to vary and, -varying, to specialize. So in time great States of cells grew up, their -individual citizen cells specialized to the finest pitch, perfect -in communion with one another, co-ordinate in all their activities, -incorporated with the State. - -These new and splendid organizations, by the very fact of giving -freedom to the individual cells, had lost it themselves. Still, they -retained their capacity for combination, and where the need of {212} -freedom was greatest they found it again in a new combination on a -bigger scale. Thus again was obtained freedom to vary, to specialize, -to react. Over the world fellowships of all grades and almost all -types of creatures sprang up. Specialization, communion, co-ordination -again appeared on the new plane. It was as if Nature, to protect her -children against herself, was trying to crowd as much living matter -into one unit as she could. She had failed with her giant lizards, -with the mammoth and the mastodon. She would try a new method which -should dispense with gross physical aggregations, but should minister -to the same needs and afford the same powers. The body should be left -free, the mind alone should be incorporated in the new unit. The -non-material nexus proved as efficient as the physical one had been. -The flock, the herd, the pack, the swarm, new creatures all, flourished -and ranged the world. Their power depended on the capacity for -intercommunication amongst their members and expanded until the limits -of this were reached. As long as intercommunication was limited the -full possibilities of the new experiment were concealed, but at length -appeared a creature in whom this capacity could develop indefinitely. -At once a power of a new magnitude was manifest. Puny as were his -individuals, man’s capacity for communication soon made him master of -the world. The very quality, however, which gave him success introduced -a new complication of his fate. His brain power allowed him to speak -and understand and so to communicate and combine more effectively -than any other animal; his brain power gave him individuality and -egoism, and the possibility of varied reaction which enabled him to -obey the voice of instinct after the fashion of his own heart. All -combination therefore was irregular, inco-ordinate, and only very -slowly progressive. He has even at {213} times wandered into blind -paths where the possibility of progressive combination is lost. - -Nevertheless the needs and capacities that were at work in the primeval -amœba are at work in him. In his very flesh and bones is the impulse -towards closer and closer union in larger and larger fellowships. -To-day he is fighting his way towards that goal, fighting for the -perfect unit which Nature has so long foreshadowed, in which there -shall be a complete communion of its members, unobstructed by egoism -or hatred, by harshness or arrogance or the wolfish lust for blood. -That perfect unit will be a new creature, recognizable as a single -entity; to its million-minded power and knowledge no barrier will be -insurmountable, no gulf impassable, no task too great. - - - - -{214} POSTSCRIPT OF 1919 - - -PREJUDICE IN TIME OF WAR. - -With the exception of the two preliminary essays, the foregoing -chapters were written in the autumn of 1915. As the chief purpose of -the book was to expound the conception that psychology is a science -practically useful in actual affairs, it was inevitable that a great -deal of the exemplary matter by which it was attempted to illustrate -the theoretical discussion should be related to the war of 1914–1918. -Rich, however, as this subject was in material with which to illustrate -a psychological inquiry, it presented also the great difficulty of -being surrounded and permeated by prejudices of the most deeply -impassioned kind, prejudices, moreover, in one direction or another -from which no inhabitant of one of the belligerent countries could -have the least expectation of being free. To yield to the temptation -offered by the psychological richness of war themes might thus be to -sacrifice the detachment of mind and coolness of judgment without which -scientific investigation is impossible. It had to be admitted, in fact, -that there were strong grounds for such epistemological pessimism, and -it will perhaps be useful in a broad way to define some of these here. - -In normal times a modern nation is made up of a society in which no -regard is paid to moral unity, and in which therefore common feeling -is to {215} a great extent unorganized and inco-ordinate. In such -a society the individual citizen cannot derive from the nation as a -whole the full satisfaction of the needs special to him as a gregarious -animal. The national feeling he experiences when at home among his -fellows is too vague and remote to call forth the sense of moral vigour -and security that his nature demands. As has already been pointed -out[S] the necessary consequence is the segregation of society into -innumerable minor groups, each constituting in itself a small herd, and -dispensing to its members the moral energy that in a fully organized -society would come from the nation as a whole. Of such minor herds some -are much more distinct from the common body than others. Some engage a -part only of the life of their members, so that the individual citizen -may belong to a number of groups and derive such moral energy as he -possesses from a variety of sources. Thus in a fully segregated society -in time of peace the moral support of the citizen comes from his social -class and his immediate circle, his professional associations, his -church, his chapel, his trade union and his clubs, rather than directly -from the nation in which he is a unit. Indeed, so far from looking -to the nation at large for the fulfilment of its natural function of -providing “all hope, all sustainment, all reward,” he is apt to regard -it as embodied by the tax-gatherer, the policeman, and the bureaucrat, -at its best remote and indifferent, at its worst hostile and oppressive. - - [S] Pp. 137, 138 _supra_. - -The more distinct of these intra-national groups may not only be -very fully isolated from the common body, but may be the seat of an -actual corporate hostility to it, or rather to the aggregated minor -groups which have come officially to represent it. When war breaks -upon a society thus constituted {216} the intense stimulation of herd -instinct that results tends to break down the moral restrictions set up -by segregation, to throw back the individual citizen on to the nation -at large for the satisfaction of his moral needs, and to replace class -feeling by national feeling. The apprehended danger of the given war is -the measure of the completeness with which occurs such a solution of -minor groups into the national body. The extent of such solution and -the consequently increased homogeneity it effects in the nation will -determine the extent to which national feeling develops, the degree -to which it approaches unanimity, and consequently the vigour with -which the war is defended and conducted. If a minor group has already -developed a certain hostility to the common body and resists the -solvent effect of the outbreak of war, it becomes a potential source -of anti-national feeling and of opposition to the national policy. -Surrounded as it necessarily will be by an atmosphere of hostility, -its character as a herd becomes hardened and invigorated, and it can -endow its members with all the gifts of moral vigour and resistiveness -a herd can give. Thus we may say, that in a country at war _every_ -citizen is exposed to the extremely powerful stimulation of herd -instinct characteristic of that state. In the individual who follows -in feeling the general body of his fellows, and in him who belongs -to a dissentient minority, the reactions peculiar to the gregarious -animal will be energetically manifested. Of such reactions, that which -interests us particularly at the moment is the moulding of opinion in -accordance with instinctive pressure, and we arrive at the conclusion -that our citizen of the majority is no more—if no less—liable to the -distortion of opinion than our citizen of the minority. Whence we -conclude that in a country at war _all_ opinion is necessarily more or -less subject to prejudice, and that this liability to {217} bias is a -herd mechanism, and owes its vigour to that potent instinct. - -It is undoubtedly depressing to have to recognize this universality -of prejudice and to have to abandon the opinion sometimes held that -the characteristics of herd belief are limited to the judgments of the -vulgar. The selectness of a minority in no way guarantees it against -the fallacies of the mob. A minority sufficiently unpopular is, in -a sense, a mob in which smallness is compensated for by density. -The moral vigour and fortitude which unpopular minorities enjoy are -evidences of herd instinct in vigorous action; the less admirable -liability to prejudice being a part of the same instinctive process is -a necessary accompaniment. We may lay it down, then, as fundamental -that all opinion among the members of a nation at war is liable to -prejudice, and when we remember with what vehemence such opinion -is pronounced and with what fortitude it is defended we may regard -as at least highly probable that such opinion always actually is -prejudiced—rests, that is to say, on instinct rather than reason. Now, -it is common knowledge that in the present state of society opinion in -a given country is always divided as to the justice of an actual war. -All of it sharing the common characteristic of war opinion in being -prejudiced, some will pronounce more or less clearly that the war is -just and necessary, some will pronounce more or less clearly against -that view; there will be a division into what we may call pro-national -and anti-national currents of opinion, each accompanied respectively -by its counterpart of what we may call anti-hostile and pro-hostile -opinion. It is a significant fact that the relative development of -pro-national and anti-national feeling varies according to the degree -in which the given war is apprehended as dangerous. A {218} war -apprehended as dangerous produces a more complete solution of the -minor herds of society into the common body than does a war not so -regarded; in consequence there is a nearer approach to homogeneity, -and pro-national opinion is far in excess of anti-national opinion, -which, if recognizable, is confined to insignificant minorities. A war -regarded as not dangerous produces a less complete solution in the -common body, a less degree of homogeneity, and allows anti-national -opinion, that is, doubt of the justice of the war and opposition to the -national policy, to develop on a large scale. These phenomena have been -clearly visible in the history of recent wars. The South African War -of 1899–1902 was not apprehended as dangerous in this country, and in -consequence, though pro-national opinion prevailed among the majority, -anti-national opinion was current in a large and respectable minority. -The war of 1914–1918, regarded from the first as of the greatest -gravity, gave to pro-national opinion an enormous preponderance, -and restricted anti-national opinion within very narrow limits. The -Russo-Japanese War provided an excellent double illustration of these -mechanisms. On the Russian side regarded as not dangerous, it left -national opinion greatly divided, and made the conduct of the war -confused and languid; on the Japanese side apprehended as highly -dangerous, it produced an enormous preponderance of pro-national -opinion, and made the conduct of the war correspondingly vigorous. In -the Franco-Prussian War of 1870–1871 a further point is illustrated. -The essential factor in the stimulation of herd instinct by war is not -the actual danger of a given war, but the apprehended danger of it. -The Prussians were dangerous enough to France, but were not generally -regarded as such by the French, and in consequence national {219} -homogeneity did not develop as it did on a later occasion in face of -the same menace. - -If pro-national and anti-national opinion, if belief and doubt in the -justice of a given war, vary in relation to a single predominantly -important psychological factor—the apprehended danger to the nation of -the war in question—it is obvious that the ostensible and proclaimed -grounds upon which such opinion is founded are less decisive than is -commonly supposed. Finding, as we do, that the way in which a people -responds to the outbreak of war depends certainly in the main and -probably altogether on a condition not necessarily dependent on the -causes of the war, it is obvious that the moral justifications which -are usually regarded as so important in determining the people’s -response are in fact comparatively insignificant. This conclusion -agrees with the observed fact that no nation at war ever lacks the -conviction that its cause is just. In the war of 1914–1918 each of -the belligerents was animated by a passion of certainty that its -participation was unavoidable and its purpose good and noble; each side -defended its cause with arguments perfectly convincing and unanswerable -to itself and wholly without effect on the enemy. Such passion, such -certitude, such impenetrability were obviously products of something -other than reason, and do not in themselves and directly give us any -information as to the objective realities of the distribution of -justice between the two sides. The sense of rectitude is in fact and -manifestly a product of mere belligerency, and one which a nation at -war may confidently expect to possess, no matter how nefarious its -objects may ultimately appear to be in the eyes of general justice. -The fact that such a sense of rectitude is a universal and inevitable -accompaniment of war, and as strong in a predatory and {220} criminal -belligerent as in a generally pacific one, gives us a convenient -measure of the extent to which prejudice must prevail in warfare.[T] - - [T] It is important that it should be quite clear that we have - been speaking here of the reaction of the general body of a nation - to the occurrence of war, and not of the reasons for which a given - war was undertaken. In England and in Germany the feeling of - the people that the late war was just and necessary was equally - intense and equally a direct consequence of the danger to the - herd it represented. It was therefore a non-rational instinctive - response without reference to objective justice in either case. - Had the threat to the herd on either side seemed less grave, - opinion as to the justice of the war would in that country have - been correspondingly more divided. By her calculated truculence - in the years before the war Germany—intending doubtless to - intimidate a decaying people—had made it certain that when the - threat to this country did come it should be apprehended at once - as dangerous to the last degree, and had thus herself organized - the practical unanimity of her chief enemy. All such reactions - upon the outbreak of war are instinctively determined. It is the - burden of the statesman that his decision in a crisis in favour of - war _automatically_ renders impossible _rational_ confirmation by - the people. - -We thus arrive at the discouraging conclusion that in a belligerent -country all opinion in any way connected with the war is subject to -prejudice, either pro-national or anti-national, and is very likely in -consequence to be of impaired validity. Must we then conclude further -that speculation upon war themes is so liable to distortion that -reasoned judgments of any practical value are impossible? Now, it is -guidance in just such a difficulty as this that a psychology having any -pretensions to be called practical may fairly be expected to yield, and -psychology does in fact provide certain broad precautionary principles, -which, although by no means infallible guides, do profess to be able -to keep within bounds the disturbing effects of prejudice on judgment -and so render possible the not wholly unprofitable discussion even of -matters the most deeply implicated by war-time passion. - -First among such principles is the recognition of the fact that -prejudice does not display itself as such to direct introspection. One -who is being {221} influenced by prejudice will never be able to detect -his biassed judgments by an apparent defect in their plausibility or -by any characteristic logical weakness. Agreement or disagreement -with common opinion will as such be no help, since prejudice infests -minorities no less than majorities. To suppose that when one has -admitted the liability to prejudice one can free oneself from it by a -direct voluntary effort is a common belief and an entirely fallacious -one. Such a task is far beyond the powers of the most fully instructed -mind, and is not likely to be undertaken except by those who have -least chance of success. Prejudice, in fact, is for the individual -like the ether of the physicist, infinitely pervasive and potent, but -insusceptible of direct detection; its presence is to be assumed as -general, but it escapes before immediate search by introspection as the -ether eludes the balance and the test-tube. - -Secondly, it is possible for the investigator, having admitted the -existence of prejudice as a condition of thought, to recognize the -general direction of its action in his own mind, to recognize, that is -to say, whether the tone of it is pro-national or anti-national, and -thus to obtain a certain orientation for his efforts to neutralize it. -Having frankly recognized this general tendency in his thinking, he -will be able to do something towards correcting it by making allowance -for it in his conclusion as a whole. If his tendency of feeling is -pro-national, he will say to himself of any judgment favourable to -his country, “This is a conclusion likely to have been influenced -by prejudice, therefore for all the precautions I may have taken in -forming it, and whatever scientific care and caution I may have used, -in spite even of its agreeable appearance of self-evident truth, I must -regard its validity as subject to some subtraction before it {222} can -safely be made the basis for further speculation.” If his tendency of -feeling is anti-national, he will have a similar task of attenuation to -carry out upon the conclusions unfavourable to his country that he may -reach, and will be prudent to make very drastic deductions in view of -the supposed immunity to prejudice with which minorities are rather apt -to assume the absence of vulgar approval endows them.[U] - - [U] It is perhaps of interest to note in passing that war-time - opinion and prejudice are characteristically pro-national - and anti-national, rather than anti-hostile and pro-hostile - respectively. The impulse that might have led an isolated German - to defend the English at the expense of his countrymen, or an - isolated Englishman to defend the Germans at the expense of his - countrymen, was in its psychological essence anti-national and - animated by no love of the enemy; it was an instinctive revolt - against his country, or rather the groups which in the process - of social segregation had come to represent it. Such terms, - therefore, as pro-German, and in another association pro-Boer, - though doubtless convenient implements of abuse, were inexactly - descriptive psychologically. “Anti-English” would have been - more just, but immensely less effective, as vituperation, for - the prejudice it was desired to decry was for the most part a - hostility not to the nation, but to its official embodiment. - Probably, however, it was the very element of injustice in the - term pro-German that made it so satisfactory a vehicle for - exasperated feeling. - -Finally, one who attempts to deal usefully with matters in which strong -feeling is inevitable will do well, however thoroughly he may try to -guard himself from the effects of prejudice, to bring his speculative -conclusions into such form that they are automatically tested by the -progress of events. Symmetry and internal consistency are unfortunately -but too often accepted as evidences of objective validity. That the -items of a series of conclusions fit into one another neatly and -compose a system logically sound and attractive to the intellect gives -us practically no information of their truth. For this a frequently -repeated contact with external reality is necessary, and of such -contacts the most thoroughly satisfactory one is the power to foretell -the course of events. Foresight is the supreme {223} test of scientific -validity, and the more a line of argument is liable to deflection by -non-rational processes the more urgent is the need for it constantly -to be put into forms which will allow its capacity for foresight to -be tested. This was the one great advantage amongst heavy handicaps -enjoyed by those who ventured into speculation upon the international -situation during the late war. Events were moving so quickly from -crisis to crisis that it was possible for the psychologist to see his -judgments confirmed or corrected almost from day to day, to see in the -authentic fabric of reality as it left the loom where he had had any -kind of foreknowledge, where he had been altogether unprepared, and -where he had failed in foresight of some development that should have -been within his powers. - -These three principles were those in accordance with which it was -attempted to conduct the discussion in this book of topics connected -with the war. The writer was aware that neither was he by nature or -art immune to prejudice nor able by some miracle of will power to -lay down passion when he took up the pen, and he admitted to himself -with what frankness he could command the liability under which his -conclusions would lie of having been arrived at under the influence of -pro-national prejudice. He hoped, however, that a liberal allowance -for the direction of his instinctive bias and a grateful use of the -diurnal corrective of events might enable him to reach at any rate some -conclusions not altogether without a useful tincture of validity. - -It was possible, moreover, to put certain conclusions in a form -which the development of the war must confirm or disprove, and it -may be interesting as a test of what was put forward as an essay in -an essentially practical psychology briefly {224} to review these -theoretical anticipations in the light of what actually has happened. - - -PSYCHOLOGICAL ANTICIPATIONS - -The hypothesis was put forward that in the German people the reactions -in which the herd instinct was manifesting itself were in accordance -with the type to be seen in the predaceous social animals rather -than the type which seems to be characteristic of modern Western -civilizations. The next step was naturally to inquire whether the known -characters of what we called aggressive gregariousness were able to -account for the observed German peculiarities in reaction, and then to -indicate what special features we might expect to appear in Germany -under the developing stress of war if our hypothesis was sound. - -Under the guidance of the hypothesis we found reason to believe -that the morale of the German people was of a special kind, and -essentially dependent for the remarkable vigour it then showed upon -the possibility of continued successful aggression. This suggestion -was borne out by the long series of offensive movements, increasing -in weight and culminating in the spring of 1918, in the great attacks -on which Germany broke herself. From the way in which these movements -were announced and expected it became evident that during an enforced -defensive the morale of Germany declined more rapidly than did that of -her opponents. This was the essential confirmation of the psychological -view we had put forward. Apart from all question of the strategic -and merely military advantages of the offensive it was plain that -Germany’s moral need for the posture of attack was peculiarly and -characteristically great. That she continually and convincedly—though -perhaps injudiciously—declared the war to be one of defence only, that -she had {225} everything to hope from disunion among her enemies and -little to fear from disunion among her friends, that she was in assured -possession of the most important industrial districts of France, -that she had successfully brought into something like equilibrium -the resistance to the effects of the blockade, and had proved like -her animal prototypes only to be more fierce and eager when she was -hungry—all of these strong objective reasons for fighting a defensive -delaying war were over-whelmed by the crucially important requirement -of keeping the aggressive spirit strung up to the highest pitch. The -fighting spirit must be that of attack and conquest, or it would break -altogether. Our hypothesis, therefore, enabled us to foresee that she -would have to go on torturing her declining frame with one great effort -after another until she had fought herself to a standstill, and then, -if her enemies but just succeeded in holding her, her morale would -begin to decline, and to decline with terrible abruptness. We were -even able to regard it as probable that for all the talk of the war on -the German side being defensive only, for all the passionate devotion -to the Fatherland and the profound belief in the sanctity of its -frontiers, as a matter of cold and dry reality, if it came to invasion, -Germany would not be defended by its inhabitants. - -Another subject upon which the psychological method of inquiry -professed to yield some degree of foresight was that—at that -time—fruitful cause of discussion, the objects for which the enemies -of Germany were fighting. Opinion at that time was much ruled by the -conception of a Germany gradually forced back upon and beyond her -frontiers, grim, implacable, irreconcilable, her national spirit -energized and made resilient by humiliation, and clinging unconquerably -to the thought of a resurrection of her glory through the {226} faith -of her sons. Under the influence of ideas of this romantic type, it was -not always possible for opinion to be very precise upon what was to be -made the object of the war in order to secure from Germany the safety -of the civilizations opposed to hers. Psychologically, however, the -moral condition of a beaten Germany seemed relatively easy to foretell. -If the behaviour of other predaceous types was of any value as a guide, -it was plain that a sound beating alone and in itself would produce all -the effect that was needful. There could be no fear of the national -morale being invigorated by defeat, but an enemy successfully invading -Germany would necessarily find the one essential condition on which any -subsequent security must be set up—the replacement of the aggressive -and predaceous morale by complete moral collapse. These were the -considerations that enabled one to say that considered psychologically -the mere beating of Germany was the single object of the war. The -completeness of the moral collapse which accompanied her beating seems -to have been found remarkable and astonishing by very many, but can -have been so only to those who had not interested themselves in the -psychological aspects of the problem. - -In stating, in 1915, these conclusions as to the social type and -moral structure of Germany and in formulating the indications they -seemed to give of the course of future events, it was necessary to -make considerable deductions from the precision and detail with which -one made one’s small efforts at foresight in order to allow for the -effects one’s pro-national bias may have had in deflecting judgment. -Enough, however, was stated definitely to enable the progress of events -very clearly to confirm or disprove the conclusions arrived at. The -not inconsiderable correspondences between the {227} theoretical -considerations and the actual development of events is perhaps enough -to suggest that the method of speculation used has a certain validity. - - * * * * * - -In considering the psychological case of England we came to the -conclusion that her morale depended on mechanisms different from those -which were in action in Germany, and indicating that social development -had in her followed a different type. We saw reason to suppose that -this social type would be very much more resistant to discouragement -and disaster than the aggressive type embodied in Germany, and that -if England won the war it would be by virtue of the toughness of her -nerve. The form of social organization represented by England was seen -to contain a germ of strength not possessed by her enemy, an intensely -resistant nucleus of moral power that underlay the immeasurable waste -and the inextricable confusion of her methods. If the moral structure -of Germany was of its kind fully developed, it was also primitive; if -the moral structure of England was embryonic, it was also integrative -and still capable of growth. If it was very obvious at that time how -immensely responsive to intelligent and conscious direction the moral -powers of England would have been, if it was obvious how largely such -direction would have diminished the total cost of the war in time and -suffering, if it was obvious that such direction would not, and almost -certainly could not, be forthcoming, it was equally clear that the -muddle, the mediocrity, the vociferation with which the war was being -conducted were phenomena within the normal of the type and evolutionary -stage of our society, and were not much more than froth on the surface -of an invisible and unsounded stream. - -If one had been content to estimate the moral condition of England -at that time by the utterance of {228} all ordinary organs of -expression—public speeches, leading articles and so forth—one -could scarcely have failed to reach the gloomiest conclusions. So -common were ill-will, acrimony, suspicion and intrigue, so often -was apparent self-possession mere languor, and apparent energy mere -querulousness, so strong, in fact, were all the ordinary evidences -of moral disintegration that an actual collapse might have seemed -almost within sight. As a matter of fact, from the very necessities -of her social type, in England the organs of public expression were -characteristically not representative of the national mood; probably -far less than were those of Germany representative of the German -mood. Thus it came about that the actual driving force—the will of -the common man, as inflexible as it was inarticulate—remained intact -behind all the ambiguous manifestations which went forth as the voice -of England. This is the psychological secret of the socialized type -of gregarious animal. As evolved in England to-day, this type cannot -attain to the conscious direction of its destiny, and cannot submit to -the fertilizing discipline of science; it cannot select its agents or -justly estimate their capacity, but it possesses the power of evolving -under pressure a common purpose of great stability. Such a common -purpose is necessarily simple, direct, and barely conscious; high-flown -imperialism and elaborate policies are altogether beyond its range, and -it can scarcely accomplish an intellectual process more complex than -the recognition of an enemy. The conviction that the hostility between -England and Germany was absolute and irreconcilable, and the war a -matter of national life and death, was just such a primitive judgment -as could be arrived at, and it gave rise to a common purpose as stable -as it was simple.[V] {229} - - [V] There can be little doubt that national consciousness with - regard to the war was very much less developed in this country - than in Germany. The theory of his country’s purpose in the war - was far less a matter of interest and speculation to the average - Englishman than it was to the average German. The German was far - more fully aware of the relation the situation bore to general - politics and to history, and was much more preoccupied with the - defence of his country’s case by rational methods and accepted - principles, and he displayed from the first great faith in the - value of a propaganda which should appeal to reason. Clumsy and - futile as so much of this intellectual effort was ultimately seen - to be, it did show that the interest in national affairs was more - conscious and elaborate, and stood from the intellectual point of - view at a higher level than it did in England. - -The relatively complex national consciousness that is necessary -to evolve a positive movement of national expansion or a definite -policy of colonization and aggrandisement seems to be hostile to the -development of a common purpose of the most powerful kind. Thus we -find moral vigour and stability attaining their greatest strength in a -nation that has no definite theory of its destiny, and that is content -to allow confusion of thought and vagueness of aim to be common and -even characteristic in its public life. In such a people national -consciousness is of the most elementary kind, and only the simplest -conceptions can be effectively apprehended by it. Negative judgments -are in general simpler than positive ones, and the simplest of all, -perhaps, is the identification of an enemy. The history of England -seems to show with remarkable constancy that the national consciousness -has been in its most effective action limited to those elementary -conceptions which have been simple and broad enough to manifest -themselves in a common purpose of great strength and tenacity. England -has, in fact, been made by her enemies. Rightly or wrongly, Philip -of Spain, Louis XIV, Napoleon, Germany, impressed themselves on the -elementary consciousness of England as enemies, and excited in response -a unity of purpose that was characteristically as immune from the -effects of discouragement, disaster and fatigue as it was independent -of reasoned political theory. {230} - -Each of these enemies, in contrast with England, had the definite -consciousness of a more or less elaborate political aim, and some of -them embodied principles or methods in advance of those which obtained -in England in corresponding fields. Whatever loftiness of aim they -had availed them no more than their respect for principle and the -intellect, and they all came to regret the mostly inadvertent effect -of their pretensions in exciting the hostility of a people capable -of an essential moral cohesion. The power of England would seem to -have resided almost exclusively in this capacity for developing under -pressure a common purpose. The immense moral energy she has been able -to put forth in a crisis has enabled her to inspire such leaders as -she has needed for the moment, but she has been characteristically -infertile in the production of true leaders who could impose themselves -upon her efficiently. Thus among her great men, for one true leader, -such as Oliver Cromwell, who failed, there have been a score of -successful mouthpieces and instruments of her purpose, such as Pitt -and Wellington. The vigour of her great moments has always been the -product of moral unity induced by the pressure of a supposed enemy, -and therefore it has always tended to die down when the danger has -passed. As the greatness of her leaders has been less a product of -their own genius than that of the moral stimulus which has reached -them from the nation at large, when the stimulus has been withdrawn -with the cessation of danger, these men have almost invariably come -to appear in times of peace of a less dominating capacity than their -performance during the stress of war might have indicated. The great -wars of England have usually, then, been the affair of the common man; -he has supplied the impulse that has made and the moral vigour that -has conducted {231} them, he has created and inspired his leaders and -has endowed his representatives in the field and on the sea with their -stern and enduring pugnacity. - -These conclusions have been confirmed by the way in which the war -progressed and came to an end. The war became more and more fully -a contest of moral forces until it ended in the unique event of a -surrender practically unconditional that was not preceded by a total -physical defeat. German morale proved throughout extremely sensitive to -any suspension of the aggressive posture, and showed the unsuitability -of its type in modern conditions by undergoing at the mere threat of -disaster a disintegration so absolute that it must remain a classical -and perfect example in the records of psychology. There can be no doubt -that had there been among her enemies the least understanding of her -moral type and state, her collapse could have been brought about with -comparative ease at a much earlier date. English morale, on the other -hand, seemed actually to be invigorated by defeat, and even remained -untouched by the more serious trials of uninspired and mediocre -direction, of ill-will, petty tyranny, and confusion. - - * * * * * - -The confrontation in war of two types of social structure differing -so radically and by such clearly defined characters as did Germany -and England was, as has been already suggested, a remarkable instance -of statecraft being forced into a region of very much greater -reality than that in which it usually operates. The historical scale -of events, with its narrow range, its reckoning by dynasties and -parliaments, its judgments in terms of tribal censure and approbation, -was found momentarily to march with the biological scale where -events are measured by the survival or extinction of species, where -time acquires a new meaning, and the individual man, {232} however -conspicuous historically, takes on the insect-like sameness of his -fellows. Here was an experiment set out in Nature’s laboratory, and -for the first time the issues were so narrowly focussed as to be -within the apprehension of the very subjects of the research. The -matter to be tested concerned the whole validity of gregariousness. -Two types were confronted. In one the social habit had taken a form -that limited the participation of the individual in the social unit; -a rigid segregation of the society made it impossible to admit the -moral equality of its members, and resulted in the activities of the -social instinct being available solely through leadership; it was a -led society where internal cohesion and integration were replaced by -what we may call external cohesion—a migratory society developing its -highest manifestations of the herd when it was being successfully led. -In the other type the social habit had tended, however slowly and -incompletely, towards the unlimited participation of the individual in -the social unit. The tendency of the society was towards integration -and internal cohesion; it was therefore unaggressive, refractory to -leadership, and apt to develop its highest herd manifestations when -threatened and attacked. The former enjoyed all the advantages of a -led society. It was tractable, and its leaders could impose upon it a -relative uniformity of outlook and a high standard of general training. -The latter had no advantage save the potentiality—and it was little -more—of unlimited internal cohesion. It was intractable to leadership, -and in consequence knowledge and training were limited and extremely -localized within it; it had no approach to unity of outlook, and its -interests were necessarily concentrated on its internal rather than its -external relations. - -If the former type proved the stronger, any progressive evolution of -society in a direction that {233} promised the largest extension of -human powers would become very, improbable; the internal cohesion of -social units would have appeared to be subject to limits, and the most -hopeful prospective solution of human difficulties would have vanished. -Conceivably accidental factors might have decided the issue of the -experiment and left the principle still in doubt. As it happened, every -element of chance that intruded went against the type that ultimately -proved the stronger, and in the final decision the moral element was so -conspicuously more significant than the physical that the experiment -has yielded a result which seems to be singularly conclusive and -unexceptionable.[W] - - [W] Anxiety has frequently been expressed since the armistice of - November, 1918, as to whether Germany has properly assimilated the - lesson of her defeat, and undergone the desired change of heart. - In the face of such doubts it is well to remember that there is - another conclusion about the assimilation of which there need - be no anxiety. It is at any rate clearly proved that Germany’s - enemies were able to beat her in spite of all the disadvantages - of exterior lines, divided counsels, divergent points of view - and inadequate preparation. The prestige of invulnerability need - never be allowed again to accumulate about a social group of the - aggressive migratory type, and to sit like an incubus upon a - terrorized world. - -The result of the experiment has been decisive, and it is still a -possibility that the progressive integration of society will ultimately -yield a medium in which the utmost needs of the individual and of the -race will be reconciled and satisfied. Had the more primitive social -type—the migratory, aggressive society of leadership and the pack—had -this proved still the master of the less primitive socialized and -integrative type, the ultimate outlook for the race would have indeed -been black. This is by no means to deny that German civilization -had a vigour, a respect for knowledge, and even a benignity within -which comfortable life was possible. But it is to assert that it was -a regression, a choice of the easy path, a surrender to the tamer -platitudes of {234} the spirit that no aggressive vigour could -altogether mask. To live dangerously was supposed to be its ideal, but -dread was the very atmosphere it breathed. Its armies could be thrown -into hysterical convulsions by the thought of the _franc-tireur_, and -the flesh of its leaders made to creep by such naïve and transpontine -machinations as its enemies ambitiously called propaganda. The minds -that could make bugbears out of such material were little likely to -attempt or permit the life of arduous and desperate spiritual adventure -that was in the mind of the philosopher when he called on his disciples -to live dangerously. - -This great experiment was conducted under the very eyes of humanity, -and the conditions were unique in this that they would have permitted -the effective intervention of the conscious human will. As it happened -the evolution of society had not reached a stage at which an informed -and scientific statecraft was possible. The experiment, therefore, -went through without any general view of the whole situation being -attained. Had such been possible, there can be no doubt at all that the -war could have been shortened enough to keep the world back from the -neighbourhood of spiritual and even material bankruptcy in which it -finds itself to-day. The armed confrontation of the two types, while it -has yielded a result that may well fill us with hope, took place at a -moment of human evolution when it was bound to be immensely expensive. -Material development had far exceeded social development, mankind, so -to say, had become clever without becoming wise, and the war had to be -fought as a purely destructive effort. Had it come at a later stage of -evolution, so great a mobilization of social power as the war caused -might have been taken advantage of to unify the nation to a completely -coherent structure which the cessation of {235} the external -stimulating pressure would have left firmly and nobly established. - - -AFTER THE WAR. - -The psychological situation left by the conclusion of the war is likely -to attract an increasing amount of attention as time passes, and it may -be of interest to examine it in the light of the principles that we -have been making use of in dealing with the war. - -It is a fact fundamental in psychology that the state of war furnishes -the most powerful of all stimuli to the social instinct. It sets in -motion a tide of common feeling by the power of which union and energy -of purpose and self-sacrifice for the good of the social unit become -possible to a degree unknown under any other circumstances. The war -furnished many instances of the almost miraculous efficacy of this -stimulus. Perhaps the most effective example of all, even by the side -of the steely fortitude of France and the adventurous desperation -of England, was the fact that the dying Austrian Empire could be -galvanized for four years into aggressive gestures lifelike beyond -simulation. - -The effect of this great liberation of feeling was to supersede the -precarious equilibrium of society by a state very much more stable. -Before the war moral power had come to the individual chiefly from the -lesser herds in which he took part, and but little from the nation as -a whole. Society had the appearance of stability because the forces -at work were relatively small in proportion to the inertia of the -whole fabric. But the actual firmness of the structure was small, -and the individual led a life emotionally thin and tame because the -social feelings were localized and faint. With the outbreak of war the -national unit became the source of moral power, social feeling became -wide in its {236} basis and strong in intensity. To the individual -life became more intense and more significant, and in essence, in spite -of horror and pain, better worth living; the social fabric, moreover, -displayed a new stability and a capacity for resisting disturbances -that would have effectually upset its equilibrium in time of peace. -The art of government, in fact, became actually easier to practise, -though it had a superficial appearance of being more difficult from the -comparative rapidity with which the progress of events unmasked the -quack. Successful practitioners were, it will be remembered, always -ready to call attention to the unprecedented difficulty of their -labours, while shrewdly enough profiting by the fact that in the actual -tasks of government—the creation of interest, the development of unity -and the nourishing of impulse—their difficulties had wholly disappeared. - -With the cessation of war this great stream of moral power began -rapidly to dry up at its source. Thinly continuing to trickle for -a time as it were from habit, it is already almost dry. There is -doubtless a tendency among responsible personages to persuade -themselves that it still flows with all the power that made the war a -veritable golden age of government. Such a persuasion is natural and -fully to be expected. It would be difficult for those who have directed -with whatever want of skill a power so great to avoid coming in time to -be a little confused between the direction of power and the production -of it, and to think that they still command the moral resources which -war gave so abundantly. Such a mistake is likely to prove one of the -elements of danger, though perhaps only a minor one, in the present -situation. - -Western society, with perhaps even Western civilization, is in a -situation of great interest to the sociologist, and probably also of -some considerable {237} danger. There are certain chief elements of -danger which we may attempt to define. - -First, with the end of the war the mental orientation of the individual -has undergone a great change. National feeling is no longer able to -supply him with moral vigour and interest. He must turn once more -to his class for what the nation as a whole has been so much more -efficiently supplying. Life has regained for him much of its old -tameness, the nation in which he has lived vividly during the war is -resuming its vagueness and becoming once more merely the state, remote -and quasi-hostile. But the war has shown him what interest and moral -vigour are in life, and he will not easily accept the absence of these; -he has acquired the appetite for them, he has, so to speak, tasted -blood. The tasteless social dietary of pre-war England is not likely to -satisfy his invigorated palate. - -Secondly, the transition from war to peace is in an imperfectly -organized society a process necessarily dangerous because it involves -the change from a condition of relative moral stability to one of -relative moral instability. To get back to the precise state of -delicately balanced but essentially insecure equilibrium of society -before the war would seem, in fact, already shown to be impossible. -The war ran its course without any attempt being made to replace the -system of class segregation, through which the social instinct works -in our society, by any more satisfactory mechanism. Before the war -class segregation had reached a condition in which the individual -had ceased to be conscious of the national unit as possessing any -practical significance for himself while his class was the largest -unit he was capable of recognizing as a source of moral power and -an object of effort. There was no class which as such and {238} in -relation to other classes was capable of submitting to any restraint or -self-sacrifice in the interests of the nation as a whole. Of course, -in each case it was possible for a class by a very easy process of -rationalization to show that its interests were those of the nation at -large, but this was merely the effect of the moral blindness to which -class segregation inevitably leads. Since every one of us is classified -somehow, it is not easy to grasp how completely class segregation -obtains throughout our society, and how fully in times of peace it -replaces national unity. Those occupying the lower social strata may -be very fully aware of the intensity of class feeling and how complete -a substitute for national feeling it affords at the upper end of the -social scale, just as those in the upper strata may be very much alive -to the class bitterness of their inferiors; but it is difficult for -both to believe how complete are segregation and its consequences -throughout the whole social gamut. - -It is to this state of society that the return from the relative unity -of war must be. The few conventional restraints upon the extremity of -class feeling that were in any kind of activity before the war have -been very greatly weakened. Change has become familiar, violence has -been glorified in theory and shown to be effective in practice, the -prestige of age has been undermined, and the sanctity of established -things defied. - -It would, indeed, seem that to re-establish a society based solely on -class segregation, and relying upon the maintenance by it of a state of -equilibrium, will be a matter of some difficulty, and it will probably -be a mistake to depend altogether on fatigue, on the relaxation of -feeling, and on the celebration of victory as stabilizing forces. - -Thirdly, there is no reason to suppose that the {239} tendencies of -society which made possible so huge a disaster as the war have been in -any way corrected by it. Great efforts are being made at present to -establish conditions which will prevent future wars. Such efforts are -entirely admirable, but it must be remembered that after all war is no -more than a symptom of social defects. If, therefore, war as a symptom -is merely suppressed, valuable as that will be in controlling the waste -and destruction of life and effort, indeed indispensable to any kind of -vigorous mental life, it may leave untouched potentialities of disaster -comparable even with war itself. - -It was pointed out many years ago in the essays incorporated in this -book that human society tends to restrict influence and leadership to -minds of a certain type, and that these minds tend to have special -and characteristic defects. Thus human affairs are in general under -the direction of a class of thought that is not merely not the best -of which the mind is capable, but tends to certain characteristic -fallacies and to certain characteristic kinds of blindness and -incapacity. The class of mind to which power in society gravitates -I have ventured to describe as the stable type. Its characteristic -virtues and deficiencies have been described more than once in -this book, and we need do no more here than recall its vigour and -resistiveness, its accessibility to the voice of the herd and its -resistiveness to and even horror of the new in feeling and experience. -The predominance of this type has been rigorously maintained throughout -the war. This is why the war has been fought with a mere modicum of -help from the human intellect, and why the result must be regarded as -a triumph for the common man rather than for the ruling classes. The -war was won by the inflexible resolution of the common citizen and -the common soldier. No {240} country has shown itself to be directed -by the higher powers of the intellect, and nowhere has the continued -action of clear, temperate, vigorous, and comprehensive thought made -itself manifest, because even the utmost urgency of warfare failed -to dislodge the stable-minded type from its monopoly of prestige and -power. What the necessities of war could not do there is certainly -no magic in peace to bring about. Society, therefore, is setting out -upon what is generally regarded as a new era of hope without the -defect that made the war possible having in any degree been corrected. -Certain supposedly immutable principles such as democracy and national -self-determination are regarded by some as being mankind’s guarantees -against disaster. To the psychologist such principles represent -mere vague and fluctuating drifts of feeling, arising out of deep -instinctive needs, but not fully and powerfully embodying such; as -automatic safeguards of society their claims are altogether bogus, and -cannot be ranked as perceptibly higher than those of the ordinary run -of political nostrums and doctrinaire specifics. Society can never be -safe until the direction of it is entrusted only to those who possess -high capacity rigorously trained and acute sensitiveness to experience -and to feeling. - -Statecraft, after all, is a difficult art, and it seems unreasonable to -leave the choice of those who practise it to accident, to heredity, or -to the possession of the wholly irrelevant gifts that take the fancy -of the crowd. The result of such methods of selection is not even a -mere random choice from the whole population, but shows a steady drift -towards the establishment in power of a type in certain ways almost -characteristically unfitted for the tasks of government. The fact that -man has always shirked the heavy intellectual and moral {241} labour -of founding a scientific and truly expert statecraft may contain a -germ of hope for the future, in that it shows where effort may be -usefully expended. But it cannot but justify uneasiness as to the -immediate future of society. The essential factor in society is the -subordination of the individual will to social needs. Our statecraft is -still ignorant of how this can be made a fair and honest bargain to the -individual and to the state, and recent events have convinced a very -large proportion of mankind that accepted methods of establishing this -social cohesion have proved to them at any rate the worst of bargains. - - -THE INSTABILITY OF CIVILIZATION. - -The foregoing considerations are enough, perhaps, to make one wonder -whether, after all, Western civilization may not be about to follow -its unnumbered predecessors into decay and dissolution. There can be -no doubt that such a suspicion is oppressing many thoughtful minds at -the present time. It is not likely to be dispelled by the contemplation -of history or by the nature of recent events. Indeed, the view can be -maintained very plausibly that all civilizations must tend ultimately -to break down, that they reach sooner or later a period when their -original vigour is worn out, and then collapse through internal -disruption or outside pressure. It is even believed by some that -Western civilization already shows the evidences of decline which in -its predecessors have been the forerunners of destruction. When we -remember that our very short period of recorded history includes the -dissolution of civilizations so elaborate as those of the Chaldeans, -the Assyrians, the Egyptians, and of the Incas, that a social structure -so complex as that but lately disclosed in Crete could leave no trace -in human {242} memory but a faint and dubious whisper of tradition, -and that the dawn of history finds civilization already old, we can -scarcely resist the conclusion that social life has, more often than -one can bear to contemplate, swung laboriously up to a meaningless -apogee and then lapsed again into darkness. We know enough of man to -be aware that each of these unnumbered upward movements must have been -infinitely painful, must have been at least as fruitful of torture, -oppression, and anguish as the ones of which we know the history, and -yet each was no more than the swing of a pendulum and a mere fruitless -oscillation landing man once more at his starting point, impoverished -and broken, with perhaps more often than not no transmissible vestige -of his greatness. - -If we limit our view to the historical scale of time and the -exclusively human outlook, we seem almost forced to accept the dreadful -hypothesis that in the very structure and substance of all human -constructive social efforts there is embodied a principle of death, -that there is no progressive impulse but must become fatigued, that -the intellect can provide no permanent defence against a vigorous -barbarism, that social complexity is necessarily weaker than social -simplicity, and that fineness of moral fibre must in the long run -succumb to the primitive and coarse. - -Let us consider, however, what comments may be made on this hypothesis -in view of the biological conceptions of man which have been put -forward in this book. At the same time an opportunity is afforded to -put in a more continuous form the view of society that has necessarily -been touched on so far in an interrupted and incidental way. - -Whatever may be one’s view as to the larger pretensions that are -put forward as to the significance and destiny of man, there can -be no doubt {243} that it is indispensable to recognize the full -implications of his status as an animal completely indigenous in the -zoological series. The whole of his physical and mental structure is -congruous with that of other living beings, and is constantly giving -evidence of the complicated network of relationships by which he is -bound to them. - -The accumulation of knowledge is steadily amplifying the range over -which this congruity with the natural order can be demonstrated, and is -showing more and more fully that practical understanding and foresight -of man’s behaviour are attained in proportion as this hypothesis of the -complete “naturalness” of man is adhered to. - -The endowment of instinct that man possesses is in every detail cognate -with that of other animals, provides no element that is not fully -represented elsewhere, and above all—however little the individual -man may be inclined to admit it—is in no degree less vigorous and -intense or less important in relation to feeling and activity than it -is in related animals. This supremely important side of mental life, -then, will be capable of continuous illustration and illumination by -biological methods. It is on the intellectual side of mental life that -man’s congruity with other animals is least obvious at first sight. -The departure from type, however, is probably a matter of degree only, -and not of quality. Put in the most general terms, the work of the -intellect is to cause delay between stimulus and response, and under -circumstances to modify the direction of the latter. We may suppose -all stimulation to necessitate response, and that such response must -ultimately occur with undiminished total energy. The intellect, -however, is capable of delaying such response, and within limits of -directing its path so that it may superficially show no relation to -the stimulus of which it is the discharge. If we extend {244} the -word stimulation to include the impulses arising from instinct, and -grant that the delaying and deflecting influence of the intellect -may be indefinitely enlarged, we have an animal in which instinct -is as vigorous as in any of its primitive ancestors, but which is -superficially scarcely an instinctive animal at all. Such is the case -of man. His instinctive impulses are so greatly masked by the variety -of response that his intellect opens to him that he has been commonly -regarded until quite recent times as a practically non-instinctive -creature, capable of determining by reason his conduct and even his -desires. Such a conception made it almost impossible to gain any help -in human psychology from the study of other animals, and scarcely less -difficult to evolve a psychology which would be of the least use in -foreseeing and controlling the behaviour of man. - -No understanding of the causes of stability and instability in human -society is possible until the undiminished vigour of instinct in man is -fully recognized. - -The significance of this rich instinctive endowment lies in the fact -that mental health depends upon instinct finding a balanced but -vigorous expression in functional activity. The response to instinct -may be infinitely varied, and may even, under certain circumstances, be -not more than symbolic without harm to the individual as a social unit, -but there are limits beyond which the restriction of it to indirect and -symbolic modes of expression cannot be carried without serious effects -on personality. The individual in whom direct instinctive expression -is unduly limited acquires a spiritual meagreness which makes him the -worst possible social material. - -All recorded history shows that society developing under the conditions -that have obtained up {245} to the present time—developing, that is -to say, spontaneously under the random influences of an uncontrolled -environment of the individual—does not permit to the average man -that balanced instinctive expression which is indispensable for the -formation of a rich, vigorous, and functionally active personality. -It has been one of my chief efforts in this book to show that the -social instinct, while in itself the very foundation of society, -takes, when its action is undirected and uncontrolled, a principal -part in restricting the completeness and efficacy of the social -impulse. This instinct is doubly responsible for the defects which -have always inhered in society through the personal impoverishment -of its individual constituents. In the first place, it is the great -agent by which the egoistic instincts are driven into dwarfed, -distorted, and symbolic modes of expression without any regard for -the objective social necessity of such oppressive regulation. In the -second place, it is an instinct which, while it embodies one of the -deepest and potentially most invigorating passions of the soul, tends -automatically to fall out of vigorous and constant activity with the -expansion of societies. It is the common character of large societies -to suffer heavily from the restrictive effect on personality of the -social instinct, and at the same time to suffer in the highest degree -from the debilitation of the common social impulse. Only in the -smallest groups, such as perhaps was early republican Rome, can the -common impulse inform and invigorate the whole society. As the group -expands and ceases to feel the constant pressure of an environment -it no longer has to fear, the common impulse droops, and the society -becomes segregated into classes, each of which a lesser herd within -the main body and under the reciprocated pressure of its fellows, now -yields to its members the social feeling which the main body {246} can -no longer provide. The passage of the small, vigorous, homogeneous -and fiercely patriotic group into the large, lax, segregated and -ultimately decadent group is a commonplace of history. In highly -segregated peoples the restrictive effect of the social instinct upon -personality has usually been to some extent relaxed, and a relatively -rich personal development has been possible. Such an amplification has -always, however, been limited to privileged classes, has always been -accompanied by a weakening of the national bond, and a tendency of -the privileged class to the sincere conviction that its interests are -identical with those of the nation. No nation has ever succeeded in -liberating the personality of its citizens from the restrictive action -of the social instinct and at the same time in maintaining national -homogeneity and common impulse. In a small community intercommunication -among its individual members is free enough to keep common feeling -intense and vigorous. As the community increases in size the general -intercommunication becomes attenuated, and with this common feeling is -correspondingly weakened. If there were no other mechanism capable of -inducing common action than the faint social stimulus coming from the -nation at large, a segregated society would be incapable of national -enterprise. There is, however, another mechanism which we may call -leadership, using the word in a certain special sense. All social -groups are more or less capable of being led, and it is manifest that -the leadership of individuals, or perhaps more usually of classes, -has been a dominant influence in the expansion and enterprise of all -civilizations of which we have any knowledge. It is only in the small -communities that we can detect evidence of a true common impulse shared -alike by all the members acting as the cause of expansion. In larger -groups, {247} autocracies and dynasties, Pharaohs and Nebuchadnezzars -have imposed the impulse of expansion upon the people, and by virtue of -human susceptibility to leadership have secured a virtual, though only -a secondary, common purpose. - -Now leadership, potent as it undoubtedly is in calling forth the -energy of the social instinct, is essentially a limited and therefore -an exhaustible force. It depends for continued vigour upon successful -enterprise. While it is succeeding there are only wide limits to the -moral power it can set free and command, but in the face of misfortune -and disaster its limitations become obvious, and its power inevitably -declines. On the other hand, the moral power yielded by a true -community of feeling, and not imposed by leadership, is enormously more -resistant and even indestructible by failure and defeat. History gives -many examples of the encounters of communities of these two types—the -led society and the homogeneous society—and in spite of the invariably -greater size and physical power of the former, frequently records the -astoundingly successful resistance its greater moral vigour has given -to the latter. This is perhaps why Carthage beat in vain against little -Rome, and certainly why Austria failed to subdue Switzerland. - -All large societies that have had their day and have fallen from their -zenith by internal dissolution or outward attack have been given their -impulse to expansion by leadership and have depended on it for their -moral power. If society is to continue to depend for its enterprise -and expansion upon leadership, and can find no more satisfactory -source of moral power, it is, to say the least, highly probable that -civilizations will continue to rise and fall in a dreadful sameness of -alternating aspiration and despair until perhaps some lucky accident -of {248} confusion finds for humanity in extinction the rest it could -never win for itself in life. - -There is, however, reason to suppose that susceptibility to leadership -is a characteristic of relatively primitive social types, and tends -to diminish with increasing social complexity. I have already -called attention to and attempted to define the apparently specific -psychological differences between Germany and England before and -during the war. These differences I attributed to variations in the -type of reaction to herd instinct shown by the two peoples. The -aggressive social type represented by Germany and analogous with that -characteristic of the predaceous social animals I regarded as being -relatively primitive and simple. The socialized type represented by -England and presenting analogies with that characteristic of many -social insects I regarded as being, though imperfect as are all the -human examples available for study up to the present time, more -complex and less primitive, and representing at any rate a tendency -towards a satisfactory solution of the problems with which man as a -gregarious animal is surrounded. Now, it is a very obvious fact that -the susceptibility to leadership shown by Germany and by England -before the war was remarkably different. The common citizen of Germany -was strikingly open to and dependent upon discipline and leadership, -and seemed to have a positive satisfaction in leaving to his masters -the management of his social problems and accepting with alacrity -the solutions that were imposed upon him. The nation consequently -presented a close knit uniformity of purpose, a singleness of national -consciousness and effort that gave it an aspect of moral power of the -most formidable kind. In England a very different state of affairs -prevailed. The common citizen was apt to meet with indifference or -resentment all efforts to change the social {249} structure, and it -had long been a political axiom that “reform” should always await -an irresistible demand for it. Instances will be within every one’s -memory of politicians who met with crushing rebuffs through regarding -the supposed desirability of a reform as a justification for imposing -it. This almost sullen indifference to great projects and ideals, -this unwillingness to take thought in the interests of the nation -and the empire in spite of the apostolic zeal of the most eloquent -political prophets, was generally regarded as evidence of a weakness -and slackness in the body politic that could not but threaten disaster. -And yet in the trials of the war the moral stability of England showed -itself to be superior to that of Germany, which, in those rough waters, -it jostled as mercilessly and as effectually as did the brass pot the -earthen crock in the fable. - -During the war itself the submission to leadership that England showed -was characteristic of the socialized type. It was to a great extent -spontaneous, voluntary, and undisciplined, and gave repeated evidence -that the passage of inspiration was essentially from the common people -to its leaders rather than from the leaders to the common people. When -the current of inspiration sets persistently in this direction, as it -unquestionably did in England, it is very plain that the primitive type -of leadership that has led so many civilizations to disaster is no -longer in unmodified action. - -Germany has provided the most complete example of a culture of -leadership that has ever been recorded, and has gone through the -phases of her evolution with a precision which should make her case -an illustration classical for all history. With a people showing -strongly the characteristics of the aggressive social type, and a -social structure deeply and rigidly segregated, the nation was ideally -{250} susceptible to discipline and leadership, and a leading class -was available which possessed an almost superhuman prestige. The -opportunity given to leadership was exploited with great energy and -thoroughness and with an intelligence that by its intensity almost -made up for being nowhere really profound. With all these advantages -and the full uses of the huge resources science has made available -to intelligently concerted effort, an extremely formidable power was -created. The peoples of the socialized type towards whom from the first -its hostility was scarcely veiled were under obvious disadvantages -in rivalry with it. Their social type made it impossible for them to -combine and organize themselves against what was to them no more than -a vaguely hypothetical danger. Against peaceful conquest by Germany -in the industrial sphere England was therefore practically helpless, -and to it would probably in time have succumbed. Paradox as it may -seem, there can be no doubt that it was in war only that England could -contend with Germany on equal terms. Paradoxically again, it was war -for which England was reluctant and Germany was eager. - -War brought Germany into contact with the, to her, inexplicable -ferocity of peoples of the socialized type under attack, and it was -by this disappointment that the first blow to her morale was struck. -The wastage of modern warfare must very soon have begun to impair the -isolation and prestige of the officer class through increasingly free -importation from without the pale. With this necessarily began to be -sapped the absolute and rigid segregation on which leadership of the -type we are considering so largely depends. At the same time, the -general tendency of the increasing pressure of war is to wear down -class segregation over the whole social field. This tendency which -intensified {251} and invigorated the morale of her enemies would work -steadily against the leadership morale of Germany. These factors must -no doubt be added to the moral need for aggression, the exhaustion -consequent upon forced offensives, and the specific intolerance of -failure and retreat that combined to bring down the strongest example -of the predaceous led society that history records. - - -SOME CHARACTERS OF A RATIONAL STATECRAFT. - -If the foregoing discussion has been sound, we may attribute the -impermanence of all civilizations of which we have knowledge to the -failure of society to preserve with increasing magnitude of its -communities a true homogeneity and a progressive integration of its -elements. We have seen that there is a type of society—distinguished -here as the socialized type—in which a trace of this integrative -tendency can be detected at work. Under the threat of war this tendency -is accelerated in its action, and can attain a moderate, though very -far indeed from a complete, degree of development. In the absence of -such a powerful stimulus to homogeneity, however, segregation reasserts -itself, and the society, necessarily deprived by its type of the -advantages of leadership, becomes confused, disunited, and threatened -with disruption. It seems probable, indeed, that the integrative -tendency unaided and uncontrolled is too weak to surmount the obstacles -with which it has to contend, and to anticipate disruption by welding -the elements of society into a common life and common purpose. It has -already been repeatedly suggested that these difficulties, due as they -are to the human power of various reaction, can be met only by the -interposition of the intellect as an active factor in the problem of -the direction of society. In other words, the progressive evolution of -society has reached a point where the {252} construction and use of a -scientific statecraft will become an indispensable factor in further -development and the only means of arresting the dreary oscillations -between progress and relapse which have been so ominous a feature -in human history. We are perhaps in a position to-day to suggest -tentatively some of the principles on which such a statecraft might be -built. - -It would have to be based on a full recognition of the biological -status of man, and to work out the tendencies which as an animal he -is pursuing and must pursue. If we have evidence of the only course -evolution can follow satisfactorily, then it is clear that any social -and legislative effort not in line with that course must be entirely -wasted. Moreover, since we are proceeding on the hypothesis that -direct conscious effort is now a necessary factor in the process, -we must clear our minds of the optimistic determinism which regards -man as a special pet of nature and the pessimistic determinism which -would reduce him to a mere spectator of his destiny. The trained and -conscious mind must come to be regarded as a definite factor in man’s -environment, capable of occupying there a larger and larger area. - -Such a statecraft would recognize how fully man is an instinctive -being and how his mental vigour and stability depend entirely upon -instinctive expression being adequate. The tyrannous power of the -social instinct in repressing and distorting instinctive expression -would have to be controlled and directed with the purpose of enlarging -the personal and social effectiveness of the individual to the maximum -extent; the social instinct would no longer be left to operate on the -individual under the random direction of custom and habit, of fashion -and social whim, or for the satisfaction of the jealousy of age. {253} - -Perhaps most important of all, a scientific statecraft would understand -that the social instinct itself is as deep and powerful as any, and -hungrily demands intense and positive gratification and expression. -The social instinct drives the individual to seek union with some -community of his fellows. The whole national body is in the present -state of society the smallest unit in which the individual can find -complete and permanent satisfaction. As long as the average man’s sense -of possession in the state is kept so low as it is at present, as long -as the sense of moral inequality between himself and his fellows is -so vigorously maintained, so long will he continue to make his class -rather than his nation the object of social passion, and so long will -society continue to breed within itself a principle of death. - -The exploration of the psychology of man’s social relations has been -left almost exclusively to the operation of what we may call the method -of prophetic intuition, and there is no branch of knowledge where -the fumbling methods of unclarified intuition have introduced more -confusion. Intuitions in the sphere of feeling—moral intuitions—have -more than the usual tendency of intuitions to appear as half-truths -surrounded and corrupted by fantasies of the seer and isolated from -correlation with the rest of knowledge. Let us consider, for example, -the intuitional doctrine of philosophic anarchism. The nucleus of truth -in this is the series of perfectly sound psychological conceptions that -all social discipline should be, as experienced by the individual, -spontaneous and voluntary, that man possesses the instinctive endowment -which renders possible a voluntary organization of society, and that in -such a society order would be more effectively maintained than under -our present partially compulsory system. This nucleus, which of course -is not understood or expressed in these {254} definite psychological -terms by the anarchist, is apt to be associated with dogmas which -altogether obscure its strictly unassailable truth. Communism, again, -is another doctrine which contains its core of psychological truth, -namely, that individual property is an economic convention rather than -a psychological necessity, and that social inequality is an infirmity -of the state rather than its foundation stone. As it is exemplified in -practice, however, communism is so deeply tainted by the belief in an -inverted class segregation of its own, and by a horror of knowledge, -that its elements of reality are wholly obscured and rendered useless. - -Every doctrine that makes disciples freely must contain in it some -embodiment of psychological reality, however exiguous; but where -it has been arrived at by the methods of the prophet, there is no -reason to expect that stress will be laid on the true more than on -the false elements of the doctrinal scheme, and experience shows that -the inessential falsity has for the expositor as many, if not more, -attractions than the essential truth. An expert statecraft would be -able to identify the real elements of discovery that were present in -any fresh prophetic appeal to public belief, and would be able at any -rate to save the state from the condition of petrified embarrassment -into which it now falls when faced by social dogmas and experiments -which win attention and adhesion while at the same time they outrage -convention and common sense. - - * * * * * - -The examination of the functional satisfactoriness of society, which -has been a chief object of this book, has yielded a certain general -body of conclusions. An attempt will now be made to summarize these in -a compact and even dogmatic form, and to add what further element of -definition seems indispensable for clearness. {255} - -1. All societies of which we have any knowledge have shown two -general defects—they have proved unable to develop and direct more -than a small fraction of the resources they theoretically possess, -and they have been impermanent, so that time after time laborious -accumulations of constructive effort have been wasted. According to our -analysis these defects are due to the drift of power into the hands -of the stable-minded class, and to the derivation of moral power and -enterprise from the mechanisms of leadership and class segregation. - -2. A society, in order to have stability and full functional -effectiveness, must be capable of a continually progressive absorption -of its individual members into the general body—an uninterrupted -movement towards a complete moral homogeneity. - -3. A tendency towards a progressive integration of this kind can be -detected in society to-day by direct observation. It is weak and -its effects are fluctuating, so that there is doubt whether it can, -unless directly encouraged by human effort, counteract the forces -which up till now have always limited social evolution to movements of -oscillation rather than of true progress. - -4. The only way in which society can be made safe from disruption or -decay is by the intervention of the conscious and instructed intellect -as a factor among the forces ruling its development. - - * * * * * - -This last doctrine has been repeatedly stated, but we have perhaps -scarcely defined it precisely enough to avoid misunderstanding. Some -such definition is our concluding task. Of all the elements we find -in a general examination of the whole biological series the human -intellect is the one that most clearly gives the impression of a -new and intrusive factor. The instinctive side of man, with its -derivatives, such as his morals, his altruism, and his aspirations, -{256} falls very easily into line with the rest of the natural order, -and is seen to be at work in modes which nowhere show any essential -new departure. The intellect, however, brings with it a capacity -for purpose as distinct from and additional to desire, and this -does apparently introduce a factor virtually new to the biological -series. The part that the purposive foresight of the intellect has -been allowed to take in human affairs has always been limited by -instinctive inhibitions. This limitation has effectually prevented man -from defining his situation in the world, and he remains a captive -in the house of circumstance, restrained as effectually by the mere -painted canvas of habit, convention, and fear as by the solid masonry -of essential instinctive needs. Being denied the freedom, which is -its indispensable source of vigour, the intellect has necessarily -failed to get a clear, comprehensive, and temperate view of man’s -status and prospects, and has, of course, shrunk from the yet more -exacting task of making itself responsible for his destiny. Nowhere -has been and is the domination of the herd more absolute than in the -field of speculation concerning man’s general position and fate, and -in consequence prodigies of genius have been expended in obscuring the -simple truth that there is no responsibility for man’s destiny anywhere -at all outside his own responsibility, and that there is no remedy for -his ills outside his own efforts. Western civilization has recently -lost ten millions of its best lives as a result of the exclusion of the -intellect from the general direction of society. So terrific an object -lesson has made it plain enough how easy it is for man, all undirected -and unwarned as he is, to sink to the irresponsible destructiveness of -the monkey. - - * * * * * - -Such ostensible direction as societies obtain derives its sanction from -one or more of three {257} sources—the hereditary, the representative, -and the official. No direction can be effective in the way needed -for the preservation of society unless it comes from minds broad -in outlook, deep in sympathy, sensitive to the new and strange in -experience, capable of resisting habit, convention, and the other -sterilizing influences of the herd, deeply learned in the human mind -and vividly aware of the world. Plainly enough, neither of the classes -enumerated above is any more likely to possess these characteristics -than any one else. To the representative and official classes there -even attaches, at any rate theoretically, the suspicion that the -methods by which they are chosen and promoted, while they obviously -in no way favour fitness, may actually tend to favour unfitness. Of -the hereditary class it may at any rate be said that while it does -not in any special degree include the fit, its composition is random -and in no way tainted by popular standards of suitability or by the -prejudices and conventions of the examination room. It would seem, -then, that none of the methods by which society appoints its directors -shows any promise of working towards the effective intervention of -the intellect in social affairs. In reaching this conclusion we have -perhaps passed too lightly over the claims of the trained official as a -possible nucleus of an ultimate scientific statecraft. The present-day -controversies as to the nationalization of various industries give an -especial interest to this very problem, and illustrate how unpromising -a source of knowledge is political discussion. One group of advocates -points to the obvious economies of conducting industry on the great -scale and without the destructive effects of competition; the other -group points to the infirmities which always have infected officially -conducted enterprises. Both sides would seem to be perfectly right -so far and both to be wrong when {258} the first goes on to affirm -that governments as they now are can and do conduct industrial affairs -quite satisfactorily, and the second goes on to affirm that the only -mechanism by which society can get its work effectively done is -commercial competition, and that the only adequate motive is greed. It -seems to have escaped the notice of both parties to the controversy -that no civilized country has evolved, or begun to evolve, or thought -of evolving a method of selecting and training its public servants that -bears any rational relation to their fitness for the art of government. -It is not here denied that selection and training are both of them -severe in many countries. Mere severity, however, as long as it is -quite without relevance, is manifestly worthless. We are forced to the -conclusion, therefore, that to expect an effective statecraft to be -evolved from the official, whether of the Chinese, the Prussian, or -any other type, is a mere dream. To encourage such a hope would be to -strengthen the grip of the unsatisfactory stable-minded class upon the -gullet of society. The evidence then shows that among the mechanisms -whereby the directors of society are chosen there is none that favours -that intervention of the conscious and instructed intellect that we -have suggested is necessary to the effective evolution of civilization. -Nowhere in the structure of society is there a class tending to develop -towards this goal. Since from the point of view of social effectiveness -segregation into classes has been entirely random, the appearance of -such a class would have been indeed an extraordinary accident. Good as -are the grounds for hoping that human society may ultimately mature -into a coherent structure possessed of comprehensive and intelligent -direction, it would be no more than idle optimism to suppose that there -is any institution or class now existing which promises to inspire a -fundamental {259} reconstruction. If the effective intrusion of the -intellect into social affairs does happily occur, it will come from -no organ of society now recognizable, but through a slow elevation of -the general standard of consciousness up to the level at which will be -possible a kind of freemasonry and syndicalism of the intellect. Under -such circumstances free communication through class barriers would -be possible, and an orientation of feeling quite independent of the -current social segregation would become manifest. - - * * * * * - -Throughout the enormously long period during which modern man has -been established on the earth human society has been left to the -uncontrolled contention of constructive and destructive forces, and in -the long run the destructive have always proved the stronger. Whether -the general level of consciousness will reach the height necessary to -give a decisive predominance to constructive tendencies, and whether -such a development will occur in time to save Western civilization from -the fate of its predecessors, are open questions. The small segment of -the social process of which we have direct knowledge in the events of -the day has no very encouraging appearance. Segregation has reasserted -itself effectively; the dominion of the stable and resistive mind is -as firmly established as ever, and no less dull and dangerous; while -it is plain how far, in the atmosphere of relaxation and fatigue, the -social inspiration of the common man has sunk from the high constancy -of spirit by which throughout the long pilgrimage of war so many weary -feet have been upborne, so many dry lips refreshed. - - - - -{261} INDEX - - - AFFIRMATIONS of the herd, belief in normal, 39 - - AGE and the herd instinct, 86 - - ――, the predominance of, 87 - - AGE AND YOUTH, jealousy between, 86 - - ――, reactions of, in relation to sex, 84, 85 - - ALCOHOLISM, psychological meaning of, 58 - - ALTRUISM, instinctive meaning of, 122–124 - - ――, a natural instinctive product, 46 - - ――, not a judgment, 46 - - ――, energy of, 47 - - ANARCHISM, psychological basis of, 253 - - ANTHROPOMORPHISM in psychology, 14 - - BEER, and comparative psychology, 14 - - BELIEF, non-rational and rational, distinction of, 43, 44 - - ――, characters of, 44 - - BETHE, and comparative psychology, 14 - - BINET, 34 - - BREEDING against degeneracy, objections to, 64 - - ―― for rationality, objections to, 45 - - CAT AND DOG, instinctive differences in feeling, 98 - - CERTITUDE and knowledge, 35 - - CHURCH, the, in wartime, 154 - - CIVILIZATION, its influence on instinct in man, 93 - - CIVILIZATIONS, the decline of, 241, 242 - - COMMUNISM, psychological basis of, 254 - - CONFLICT in the adult, superficial aspects of, 52, 53 - - ―― in childhood and adolescence, 49 - - ―― in civilized man, 49 - - CONSCIENCE, peculiar to gregarious animals, 40 - - CONVERSATION as a mode of recognition, 119 - - DARWINISM as a herd affirmation, 39 - - DEDUCTIVE METHOD in psychology, 14 - - DUTY, 48 - - ENGLAND, social type, 201, 202 - - ――, morale of, 207–209 - - ――, and the spirit of the hive, 203–206 - - ENVIRONMENT OF THE MIND, importance of, 63 - - ――, need for rational adjustment of, 64 - - FREUD’S PSYCHOLOGY, general discussion of, 76 - - ――, as an embryology of the mind, 88 - - ――, biological criticism of, 77, 78 - - ――, evolution of the “normal” mind, 73 - - ――, hypothesis of mental development, 72 - - ――, importance of conflict, 72 - - ――, nature of mental conflict, 73 - - ――, suggested deficiencies of, 88, 89 - - ――, the unconscious, 74 - - GERMANY, features of government, 163–165 - - ――, aggressive social type, 167, 168 - - ――, social structure, 169, 170 - - ――, observed mental characters, 173 _et seq._ - - ――, conscious direction of the State, 163, 169, 191 - - ――, in relation to other nations, 179–182 - - ――, morale of, 182–188 - - ――, discipline, 189–191 - - ――, conditions of morale in, 193, 194 - - ――, objects of war with, 194–201 - - GOVERNMENT, Sources of, 257 - - GREGARIOUSNESS, not a superficial character, 19 - - ――, widespread occurrence in nature, 20 - - ―― in man, probably primitive, 22 - - ――, mental equivalents of, 31–33 - - ――, biological meaning of, 101, 102 - - ――, analogy to multicellular structure, 103 - - ――, meaning of wide distribution of, 103, 104 - - ――, specialization and co-ordination, 105, 106 - - ――, varieties of, 107, 108 - - ――, in insects, 105–107 - - ――, in mammals, 107, 108 - - ――, protective and aggressive, 110, 111 - - ―― in man, disadvantages of: - disease, 133; - resistiveness, 133 - - ―― in man, defects of specialization, 135; - of homogeneity, 137 - - ――, aggressive, protective, socialized, 166, 167 - - GREGARIOUS ANIMAL, special characteristics of, 28 - - ――, general characteristics of, 29 - - ――, characters of, 108, 109 - - ――, fear in, 111 - - GREGARIOUS CHARACTERS IN MAN: - intolerance of solitude, 113; - religion, 113; - sensitiveness to the herd, 114; - mob violence and panic, 115; - susceptibility to leadership, 115; - recognition by the herd, 118 - - HAECKEL, 24 - - HERD INSTINCT, contrasted with other instincts, 47 - - ――, mode of action of, 48 - - ―― in the individual, special character of, 98 - - HISTORY, biological interpretation of, 99, 100 - - HUMAN CONDUCT, apparent complexity of, 13, 14 - - HUXLEY, antithesis of cosmical and ethical processes, 24 - - INSTINCT, definition of, 94 - - ――, mental manifestations of, 95 - - ――, disguised but not diminished in man, 99 - - INSTINCTIVE ACTIVITIES, obscured in proportion to brain-power, 97 - - INSTINCTIVE EXPRESSION, essential to mental health, 244, 245 - - INTELLECT, the, essential function of, 243 - - ――, biological aspect of, 255 - - JAMES, WILLIAM, introspective aspect of instinct, 15 - - LEADERSHIP, 116, 117 - - ―― in society, 246 - - ―― a substitute for common impulse, 247 - - ――, defects of, 247 - - ―― in Germany and in England, 248–250 - - LE BON, GUSTAVE, 26 - - MAN as an animal, a fundamental conception, 66, 67, 243 - - ―― as a gregarious animal, vagueness of earlier conceptions, 21 - - ―― as an instinctive animal, current view of, 93 - - MENTAL CAPACITY and instinctive expression, 121 - - MENTAL CONFLICT, discussed in relation to Freud’s doctrines, 79–81 - - ――, the antagonism to instinctive impulses, 82 - - MENTAL CONFLICT, source of the repressive impulse in, 82, 83 - - MENTAL INSTABILITY, and conflict, 57 - - ――, in modern society, 56, 57 - - MINORITIES and prejudice, 216, 217 - - MORALE, in England, 207–209 - - ――, in Germany, 182–188 - - ――, maintenance of, 147–155 - - ――, relation of homogeneity to, 144–147 - - ―― and officialism, 155 - - MULTICELLULARITY and natural selection, 18 - - MULTICELLULAR ORGANISMS, the, 18 - - NATIONAL consciousness, 228 - - ――, simplicity of, in England, 228 - - NATIONAL feeling in war, 216–218 - - ――, growth and common impulse, 245, 246 - - NATIONAL industry and private enterprise, 257 - - NATIONAL types contrasted, 232 - - NON-RATIONAL OPINION, frequency of, 35, 36, 93, 94 - - “NORMAL” type of mind, 53, 54 - - NUEL and comparative psychology, 14 - - PACIFISM, 125 - - PEARSON, KARL, biological significance of gregariousness, 23, 24 - - ――, possibility of sociology as a science, 12 - - PERSONALITY, elements in the evolution of, 87 - - PREJUDICE, precautions against, 220–222 - - PRIMITIVE MAN, rigidity of mental life, 34 - - PSYCHO-ANALYSIS, characteristics of, 70, 71 - - PSYCHOLOGICAL ENQUIRY, biological method, 91, 92 - - ――, primitive introspective method, 68, 69 - - ――, objective introspective method of Freud, 70 - - PSYCHOLOGY of instinctive man, failure of earlier speculations, 16 - - RATIONALIZATION, 38 - - RATIONAL statecraft, need of, 241, 251 - - ――, basis of, 252, 253 - - RECOGNITION, 118, 119 - - RELIGION and the social animal, 50, 51 - - SEGREGATION of society, effects of, 215 - - SENSITIVENESS to feeling, importance and danger of, 64 - - SIDIS, BORIS, and the social instinct in man, 26, 27 - - SOCIAL EVOLUTION, in insects, relation to brain-power, 62 - - ――, in man, delayed by capacity for reaction, 62 - - SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY, continuous with individual psychology, 12 - - SOCIAL stability, an effect of war, 235, 236 - - SOCIAL instability, a sequel of war, 236, 237 - - SOCIOLOGY, definition of, 11 - - ――, psychological principles of, 255 - - SOLITARY AND GREGARIOUS ANIMALS, elementary differences, 17 - - SOMBART, WERNER, Germans the representatives of God, 177 - - SPEECH in man, and gregariousness, 34, 40 - - SPENCER, 24 - - STABLE-MINDED type, 54, 55 - - SUGGESTION and reason not necessarily opposed, 45 - - UEXKÜLL and comparative psychology, 14 - - UNSTABLE-MINDED type, 58, 59 - - VARIED REACTION and capacity for communication, - importance to the herd of, 61 - - WAR, instinctive reactions to, 140–143 - - ―― and rumour, 144 - - ―― as a biological necessity, 126–132 - - WARD, LESTER, views on gregariousness in man, 24, 25 - - WELLS, H. G., impossibility of sociology as a science, 12 - - WOLF PACK, the, as an organism, 29 - - -_Printed in Great Britain by_ - -UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOKING AND LONDON - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE - -Original spelling and grammar have been generally retained, with -some exceptions noted below. Original printed page numbers are shown -like this: {52}. Original small caps are now uppercase. Italics look -_like this_. Footnotes have been relabeled A–W, and moved from within -paragraphs to nearby locations between paragraphs. A few full stops -and commas were added where they were required but were not clearly -visible in the original print. The transcriber produced the cover image -and hereby assigns it to the public domain. Original page images are -available from archive.org—search for "instinctsofherdi00trot". - -Page 239. The phrase “but it is must be remembered” was changed to “but -it must be remembered”. - -Page 264. 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