diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/55610-h/55610-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/55610-h/55610-h.htm | 8410 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 8410 deletions
diff --git a/old/55610-h/55610-h.htm b/old/55610-h/55610-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index b224de4..0000000 --- a/old/55610-h/55610-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8410 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Why Men Fight, by Bertrand Russell. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 2.5em; - margin-right: 2.5em; -} - -h1,h2, h3 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; - margin-top: 2.5em; - margin-bottom: 1em; -} - -h1 {line-height: 1;} - -h2+p {margin-top: 1.5em;} -h2 .subhead {display: block; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;} - -.transnote h2 { - margin-top: .5em; - margin-bottom: 1em; -} - -.subhead { - text-indent: 0; - text-align: center; - font-size: smaller; -} - -p { - text-indent: 1.75em; - margin-top: .51em; - margin-bottom: .24em; - text-align: justify; -} -.caption p {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} -p.center {text-indent: 0;} - -.p0 {margin-top: 0em;} -.p1 {margin-top: 1em;} -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} -.b1 {padding-bottom: 1em;} -.vspace {line-height: 1.5;} - -.in0 {text-indent: 0;} -.l4 {padding-right: 4em;} - -.small {font-size: 70%;} -.smaller {font-size: 85%;} -.larger {font-size: 125%;} -.large {font-size: 150%;} - -p.drop-cap {text-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 1.1em;} -p.drop-cap:first-letter { - float: left; - margin: .18em .2em 0 0; - font-size: 200%; - line-height:0.7em; - text-indent: 0; - clear: both; - font-weight: bold; -} -p.drop-cap .smcap1 {margin-left: -.33em;} -p.drop-cap.al .smcap1 {margin-left: -.66em;} -p .smcap1 {font-size: 150%;} -.smcap1 {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} -.smcap.smaller {font-size: 75%;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 4em; - margin-bottom: 4em; - margin-left: 33%; - margin-right: auto; - clear: both; -} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - max-width: 80%; - border-collapse: collapse; -} - -.tdl { - text-align: left; - vertical-align: top; - padding-right: 1em; - padding-left: 1.5em; - text-indent: -1.5em; -} - -.tdr { - text-align: right; - vertical-align: bottom; - padding-left: .3em; - white-space: nowrap; -} -.tdr.top{vertical-align: top; padding-left: 0; padding-right: .75em;} -table#toc td {padding-bottom: .5em;} -table#toc .nobpad td {padding-bottom: 0;} - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - right: 4px; - text-indent: 0em; - text-align: right; - font-size: 70%; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; - font-style: normal; - letter-spacing: normal; - line-height: normal; - color: #acacac; - border: 1px solid #acacac; - background: #ffffff; - padding: 1px 2px; -} - -.figcenter { - margin: 2em auto 2em auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - -img { - padding: 0; - max-width: 100%; - height: auto; -} - -.footnotes { - border: thin dashed black; - margin: 4em 5% 1em 5%; - padding: .5em 1em .5em 1.5em; -} - -.footnote {font-size: .95em;} -.footnote p {text-indent: 1em;} -.footnote p.fn1 {text-indent: -.7em;} -.footnote p.fn2 {text-indent: -1.1em;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: 60%; - line-height: .7; - font-size: smaller; - text-decoration: none; -} -.footnote .fnanchor {font-size: .8em;} - -.poem-container { - text-align: center; - font-size: 98%; -} - -.poem { - display: inline-block; - text-align: left; - margin-left: 0; -} - -.poem .stanza{padding: 0.5em 0;} - -.poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i18 {display: block; margin-left: 9em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - -.transnote { - background-color: #EEE; - border: thin dotted; - font-family: sans-serif, serif; - color: #000; - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 5%; - margin-top: 4em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - padding: 1em; -} -.covernote {visibility: hidden; display: none;} - -.sigright { - margin-right: 2em; - text-align: right;} - -span.locked {white-space:nowrap;} - -.narrow {max-width: 25em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} -cite.normal {font-style: normal;} - -@media print, handheld -{ - h1, .chapter, .newpage {page-break-before: always;} - h1.nobreak, h2.nobreak, .nobreak {page-break-before: avoid; padding-top: 0;} - - p { - margin-top: .5em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .25em; - } - - table {width: 100%; max-width: 100%;} - - .tdl { - padding-left: 1em; - text-indent: -1em; - padding-right: 0; - } - - p.drop-cap {text-indent: 1.75em; margin-bottom: .24em;} - p.drop-cap:first-letter { - float: none; - font-size: 100%; - margin-left: 0; - margin-right: 0; - text-indent: 1.75em; - } - - p.drop-cap.i .smcap1, p.drop-cap.a .smcap1, p.drop-cap .smcap1, - p.drop-cap.b .smcap1, p.drop-cap.al .smcap1 {margin-left: 0;} - p .smcap1 {font-size: 100%;} - .smcap1 {font-variant: normal;} - -} - -@media handheld -{ - body {margin: 0;} - - hr { - margin-top: .1em; - margin-bottom: .1em; - visibility: hidden; - color: white; - width: .01em; - display: none; - } - - .poem-container {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%;} - .poem {display: block;} - .poem .stanza {page-break-inside: avoid;} - - .transnote { - page-break-inside: avoid; - margin-left: 2%; - margin-right: 2%; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - padding: .5em; - } - - .covernote {visibility: visible; display: block; text-align: center;} -} - </style> - </head> - -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Why Men Fight, by Bertrand Russell - -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: Why Men Fight - A method of abolishing the international duel - -Author: Bertrand Russell - -Release Date: September 23, 2017 [EBook #55610] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHY MEN FIGHT *** - - - - -Produced by Adrian Mastronardi, Charlie Howard, and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net -(This file was produced from images generously made -available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="transnote covernote"> -<p class="center">Transcriber’s Note<br /> -Cover created by Transcriber and placed in the Public Domain.</p> -</div> - -<h1><span class="larger">WHY MEN FIGHT</span></h1> - -<p class="center large"><i>A METHOD OF ABOLISHING<br /> -THE INTERNATIONAL DUEL</i></p> - -<p class="p2 center larger vspace"><span class="small">BY</span><br /> -BERTRAND RUSSELL, M.A., F.R.S.</p> - -<p class="p1 center smaller">Sometime Fellow and Lecturer in Trinity -College, Cambridge</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="max-width: 5.6em;"> -<img src="images/i_logo.png" width="89" height="86" alt="(Publisher’s logo)" /> -</div> - -<p class="p2 center larger">NEW YORK<br /> -THE CENTURY CO.<br /> -1920 -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="newpage p4 center smaller vspace"> -Copyright, 1916, by<br /> -<span class="smcap">The Century Co.</span><br /> -<br /> -<i>Published, January, 1917</i> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<div class="newpage p4 narrow"> -<p>Le souffle, le rhythme, la vraie force populaire -manqua à la réaction. Elle eut les rois, les trésors, -les armées; elle écrasa les peuples, mais elle resta -muette. Elle tua en silence; elle ne put parler -qu’avec le canon sur ses horribles champs de -bataille.... Tuer quinze millions d’hommes par -la faim et l’épée, à la bonne heure, cela se peut. -Mais faire un petit chant, un air aimé de tous, voilà -ce que nulle machination ne donnera.... Don -réservé, béni.... Ce chant peut-être à l’aube jaillira -d’un cœur simple, ou l’alouette le trouvera en montant -au soleil, de son sillon d’avril.</p> - -<p class="sigright"> -<span class="smcap">Michelet.</span> -</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table id="toc" summary="Contents"> - <tr class="small nobpad"> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">CHAPTER</td> - <td class="tdr">PAGE</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">I</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Principle of Growth</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#I">3</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">II</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The State</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#II">42</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">III</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">War as an Institution</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#III">79</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">IV</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Property</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#IV">117</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">V</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Education</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#V">153</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">VI</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Marriage and the Population Question</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#VI">182</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">VII</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Religion and the Churches</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#VII">215</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr top">VIII</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">What We Can Do</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#VIII">245</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">3</span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><span class="larger">WHY MEN FIGHT</span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 id="I" class="vspace">I<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE PRINCIPLE OF GROWTH</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">To</span> all who are capable of new impressions -and fresh thought, some modification of -former beliefs and hopes has been brought by -the war. What the modification has been has -depended, in each case, upon character and circumstance; -but in one form or another it has -been almost universal. To me, the chief thing -to be learnt through the war has been a certain -view of the springs of human action, what they -are, and what we may legitimately hope that -they will become. This view, if it is true, seems -to afford a basis for political philosophy more -capable of standing erect in a time of crisis than -the philosophy of traditional Liberalism has -shown itself to be. The following lectures, -though only one of them will deal with war, all -are inspired by a view of the springs of action<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</span> -which has been suggested by the war. And all -of them are informed by the hope of seeing such -political institutions established in Europe as -shall make men averse to war—a hope which I -firmly believe to be realizable, though not without -a great and fundamental reconstruction of -economic and social life.</p> - -<p>To one who stands outside the cycle of beliefs -and passions which make the war seem necessary, -an isolation, an almost unbearable separation -from the general activity, becomes unavoidable. -At the very moment when the universal -disaster raises compassion in the highest degree, -compassion itself compels aloofness from -the impulse to self-destruction which has swept -over Europe. The helpless longing to save men -from the ruin towards which they are hastening -makes it necessary to oppose the stream, to incur -hostility, to be thought unfeeling, to lose for -the moment the power of winning belief. It is -impossible to prevent others from feeling hostile, -but it is possible to avoid any reciprocal hostility -on one’s own part, by imaginative understanding -and the sympathy which grows out of -it. And without understanding and sympathy -it is impossible to find a cure for the evil from -which the world is suffering.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</span> -There are two views of the war neither of -which seems to me adequate. The usual view -in this country is that it is due to the wickedness -of the Germans; the view of most pacifists -is that it is due to the diplomatic tangle and -to the ambitions of Governments. I think both -these views fail to realize the extent to which -war grows out of ordinary human nature. Germans, -and also the men who compose Governments, -are on the whole average human beings, -actuated by the same passions that actuate -others, not differing much from the rest of the -world except in their circumstances. War is accepted -by men who are neither Germans nor -diplomatists with a readiness, an acquiescence -in untrue and inadequate reasons, which would -not be possible if any deep repugnance to war -were widespread in other nations or classes. -The untrue things which men believe, and the -true things which they disbelieve, are an index -to their impulses—not necessarily to individual -impulses in each case (since beliefs are -contagious), but to the general impulses of the -community. We all believe many things which -we have no good ground for believing, because, -subconsciously, our nature craves certain kinds -of action which these beliefs would render reasonable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">6</span> -if they were true. Unfounded beliefs -are the homage which impulse pays to reason; -and thus it is with the beliefs which, opposite -but similar, make men here and in Germany believe -it their duty to prosecute the war.</p> - -<p>The first thought which naturally occurs to -one who accepts this view is that it would be -well if men were more under the dominion of -reason. War, to those who see that it must -necessarily do untold harm to all the combatants, -seems a mere madness, a collective insanity -in which all that has been known in time -of peace is forgotten. If impulses were more -controlled, if thought were less dominated by -passion, men would guard their minds against -the approaches of war fever, and disputes would -be adjusted amicably. This is true, but it is not -by itself sufficient. It is only those in whom the -desire to think truly is itself a passion who will -find this desire adequate to control the passions -of war. Only passion can control passion, and -only a contrary impulse or desire can check impulse. -Reason, as it is preached by traditional -moralists, is too negative, too little living, to -make a good life. It is not by reason alone that -wars can be prevented, but by a positive life of -impulses and passions antagonistic to those that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</span> -lead to war. It is the life of impulse that -needs to be changed, not only the life of conscious -thought.</p> - -<p>All human activity springs from two sources: -impulse and desire. The part played by desire -has always been sufficiently recognized. When -men find themselves not fully contented, and -not able instantly to procure what will cause -content, imagination brings before their minds -the thought of things which they believe would -make them happy. All desire involves an interval -of time between the consciousness of a -need and the opportunity for satisfying it. -The acts inspired by desire may be in themselves -painful, the time before satisfaction can -be achieved may be very long, the object desired -may be something outside our own lives, -and even after our own death. Will, as a directing -force, consists mainly in following desires -for more or less distant objects, in spite -of the painfulness of the acts involved and the -solicitations of incompatible but more immediate -desires and impulses. All this is familiar, -and political philosophy hitherto has been almost -entirely based upon desire as the source of -human actions.</p> - -<p>But desire governs no more than a part of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">8</span> -human activity, and that not the most important -but only the more conscious, explicit, and -civilized part.</p> - -<p>In all the more instinctive part of our nature -we are dominated by impulses to certain kinds -of activity, not by desires for certain ends. -Children run and shout, not because of any good -which they expect to realize, but because of a -direct impulse to running and shouting. Dogs -bay the moon, not because they consider that it -is to their advantage to do so, but because they -feel an impulse to bark. It is not any purpose, -but merely an impulse, that prompts such -actions as eating, drinking, love-making, quarreling, -boasting. Those who believe that man -is a rational animal will say that people boast -in order that others may have a good opinion -of them; but most of us can recall occasions -when we have boasted in spite of knowing that -we should be despised for it. Instinctive acts -normally achieve some result which is agreeable -to the natural man, but they are not performed -from desire for this result. They are performed -from direct impulse, and the impulse -is often strong even in cases in which the normal -desirable result cannot follow. Grown men like -to imagine themselves more rational than children<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">9</span> -and dogs, and unconsciously conceal from -themselves how great a part impulse plays in -their lives. This unconscious concealment always -follows a certain general plan. When an -impulse is not indulged in the moment in which -it arises, there grows up a desire for the expected -consequences of indulging the impulse. -If some of the consequences which are reasonably -to be expected are clearly disagreeable, a -conflict between foresight and impulse arises. -If the impulse is weak, foresight may conquer; -this is what is called acting on reason. If the -impulse is strong, either foresight will be falsified, -and the disagreeable consequences will be -forgotten, or, in men of a heroic mold, the consequences -may be recklessly accepted. When -Macbeth realizes that he is doomed to defeat, -he does not shrink from the fight; he <span class="locked">exclaims:—</span></p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i18">Lay on, Macduff,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And damned be him that first cries, Hold, enough!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>But such strength and recklessness of impulse -is rare. Most men, when their impulse -is strong, succeed in persuading themselves, -usually by a subconscious selectiveness of -attention, that agreeable consequences will -follow from the indulgence of their impulse.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">10</span> -Whole philosophies, whole systems of ethical -valuation, spring up in this way: they are the -embodiment of a kind of thought which is subservient -to impulse, which aims at providing a -quasi-rational ground for the indulgence of impulse. -The only thought which is genuine is -that which springs out of the intellectual impulse -of curiosity, leading to the desire to know -and understand. But most of what passes for -thought is inspired by some non-intellectual impulse, -and is merely a means of persuading ourselves -that we shall not be disappointed or do -harm if we indulge this impulse.<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">1</a></p> - -<p>When an impulse is restrained, we feel discomfort -or even violent pain. We may indulge -the impulse in order to escape from this pain, -and our action is then one which has a purpose. -But the pain only exists because of the impulse, -and the impulse itself is directed to an act, not -to escaping from the pain of restraining the impulse. -The impulse itself remains without a -purpose, and the purpose of escaping from pain -only arises when the impulse has been momentarily -restrained.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">11</span> -Impulse is at the basis of our activity, much -more than desire. Desire has its place, but not -so large a place as it seemed to have. Impulses -bring with them a whole train of subservient -fictitious desires: they make men feel that they -desire the results which will follow from indulging -the impulses, and that they are acting for -the sake of these results, when in fact their -action has no motive outside itself. A man may -write a book or paint a picture under the belief -that he desires the praise which it will bring -him; but as soon as it is finished, if his creative -impulse is not exhausted, what he has done -grows uninteresting to him, and he begins a new -piece of work. What applies to artistic creation -applies equally to all that is most vital in -our lives: direct impulse is what moves us, and -the desires which we think we have are a mere -garment for the impulse.</p> - -<p>Desire, as opposed to impulse, has, it is true, -a large and increasing share in the regulation -of men’s lives. Impulse is erratic and anarchical, -not easily fitted into a well-regulated system; -it may be tolerated in children and artists, -but it is not thought proper to men who hope to -be taken seriously. Almost all paid work is -done from desire, not from impulse: the work itself<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">12</span> -is more or less irksome, but the payment -for it is desired. The serious activities that fill -a man’s working hours are, except in a few fortunate -individuals, governed mainly by purposes, -not by impulses towards those activities. -In this hardly any one sees an evil, because the -place of impulse in a satisfactory existence is -not recognized.</p> - -<p>An impulse, to one who does not share it -actually or imaginatively, will always seem to -be mad. All impulse is essentially blind, in the -sense that it does not spring from any prevision -of consequences. The man who does not share -the impulse will form a different estimate as to -what the consequences will be, and as to whether -those that must ensue are desirable. This difference -of opinion will seem to be ethical or intellectual, -whereas its real basis is a difference -of impulse. No genuine agreement will be -reached, in such a case, so long as the difference -of impulse persists. In all men who have any -vigorous life, there are strong impulses such -as may seem utterly unreasonable to others. -Blind impulses sometimes lead to destruction -and death, but at other times they lead to the -best things the world contains. Blind impulse -is the source of war, but it is also the source of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span> -science, and art, and love. It is not the weakening -of impulse that is to be desired, but the direction -of impulse towards life and growth -rather than towards death and decay.</p> - -<p>The complete control of impulse by will, which -is sometimes preached by moralists, and often -enforced by economic necessity, is not really desirable. -A life governed by purposes and desires, -to the exclusion of impulse, is a tiring life; -it exhausts vitality, and leaves a man, in the -end, indifferent to the very purposes which he -has been trying to achieve. When a whole nation -lives in this way, the whole nation tends to -become feeble, without enough grasp to recognize -and overcome the obstacles to its desires. -Industrialism and organization are constantly -forcing civilized nations to live more and more -by purpose rather than impulse. In the long -run such a mode of existence, if it does not dry -up the springs of life, produces new impulses, -not of the kind which the will has been in the -habit of controlling or of which thought is conscious. -These new impulses are apt to be worse -in their effects than those that have been -checked. Excessive discipline, especially when -it is imposed from without, often issues in impulses -of cruelty and destruction; this is one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span> -reason why militarism has a bad effect on national -character. Either lack of vitality, or impulses -which are oppressive and against life, -will almost always result if the spontaneous impulses -are not able to find an outlet. A man’s -impulses are not fixed from the beginning by his -native disposition: within certain wide limits, -they are profoundly modified by his circumstances -and his way of life. The nature of -these modifications ought to be studied, and the -results of such study ought to be taken account -of in judging the good or harm that is -done by political and social institutions.</p> - -<p>The war has grown, in the main, out of the -life of impulse, not out of reason or desire. -There is an impulse of aggression, and an impulse -of resistance to aggression. Either may, -on occasion, be in accordance with reason, but -both are operative in many cases in which they -are quite contrary to reason. Each impulse -produces a whole harvest of attendant beliefs. -The beliefs appropriate to the impulse of aggression -may be seen in Bernhardi, or in the -early Mohammedan conquerors, or, in full perfection, -in the Book of Joshua. There is first -of all a conviction of the superior excellence of -one’s own group, a certainty that they are in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">15</span> -some sense the chosen people. This justifies -the feeling that only the good and evil of one’s -own group is of real importance, and that the -rest of the world is to be regarded merely as -material for the triumph or salvation of the -higher race. In modern politics this attitude is -embodied in imperialism. Europe as a whole -has this attitude towards Asia and Africa, and -many Germans have this attitude towards the -rest of Europe.</p> - -<p>Correlative to the impulse of aggression is -the impulse of resistance to aggression. This -impulse is exemplified in the attitude of the -Israelites to the Philistines or of medieval -Europe to the Mohammedans. The beliefs -which it produces are beliefs in the peculiar -wickedness of those whose aggression is feared, -and in the immense value of national customs -which they might suppress if they were victorious. -When the war broke out, all the reactionaries -in England and France began to -speak of the danger to democracy, although until -that moment they had opposed democracy -with all their strength. They were not insincere -in so speaking: the impulse of resistance -to Germany made them value whatever was endangered -by the German attack. They loved<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">16</span> -democracy because they hated Germany; but -they thought they hated Germany because they -loved democracy.</p> - -<p>The correlative impulses of aggression and -resistance to aggression have both been operative -in all the countries engaged in the war. -Those who have not been dominated by one or -other of these impulses may be roughly divided -into three classes. There are, first, men whose -national sentiment is antagonistic to the State -to which they are subject. This class includes -some Irish, Poles, Finns, Jews, and other members -of oppressed nations. From our point of -view, these men may be omitted from our consideration, -since they have the same impulsive -nature as those who fight, and differ merely in -external circumstances.</p> - -<p>The second class of men who have not been -part of the force supporting the war have been -those whose impulsive nature is more or less -atrophied. Opponents of pacifism suppose that -all pacifists belong to this class, except when -they are in German pay. It is thought that -pacifists are bloodless, men without passions, -men who can look on and reason with cold detachment -while their brothers are giving their -lives for their country. Among those who are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span> -merely passively pacifist, and do no more than -abstain from actively taking part in the war, -there may be a certain proportion of whom this -is true. I think the supporters of war would be -right in decrying such men. In spite of all the -destruction which is wrought by the impulses -that lead to war, there is more hope for a nation -which has these impulses than for a nation -in which all impulse is dead. Impulse is -the expression of life, and while it exists there -is hope of its turning towards life instead of towards -death; but lack of impulse is death, and -out of death no new life will come.</p> - -<p>The active pacifists, however, are not of this -class: they are not men without impulsive force -but men in whom some impulse to which war is -hostile is strong enough to overcome the impulses -that lead to war. It is not the act of a -passionless man to throw himself athwart the -whole movement of the national life, to urge an -outwardly hopeless cause, to incur obloquy and -to resist the contagion of collective emotion. -The impulse to avoid the hostility of public opinion -is one of the strongest in human nature, and -can only be overcome by an unusual force of -direct and uncalculating impulse; it is not cold -reason alone that can prompt such an act.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span> -Impulses may be divided into those that make -for life and those that make for death. The -impulses embodied in the war are among those -that make for death. Any one of the impulses -that make for life, if it is strong enough, will -lead a man to stand out against the war. Some -of these impulses are only strong in highly -civilized men; some are part of common humanity. -The impulses towards art and science are -among the more civilized of those that make for -life. Many artists have remained wholly untouched -by the passions of the war, not from -feebleness of feeling, but because the creative -instinct, the pursuit of a vision, makes them -critical of the assaults of national passion, and -not responsive to the myth in which the impulse -of pugnacity clothes itself. And the few men -in whom the scientific impulse is dominant have -noticed the rival myths of warring groups, and -have been led through understanding to neutrality. -But it is not out of such refined impulses -that a popular force can be generated -which shall be sufficient to transform the world.</p> - -<p>There are three forces on the side of life -which require no exceptional mental endowment, -which are not very rare at present, and might -be very common under better social institutions.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">19</span> -They are love, the instinct of constructiveness, -and the joy of life. All three are checked and -enfeebled at present by the conditions under -which men live—not only the less outwardly fortunate, -but also the majority of the well-to-do. -Our institutions rest upon injustice and authority: -it is only by closing our hearts against -sympathy and our minds against truth that -we can endure the oppressions and unfairnesses -by which we profit. The conventional conception -of what constitutes success leads most men -to live a life in which their most vital impulses -are sacrificed, and the joy of life is lost in listless -weariness. Our economic system compels -almost all men to carry out the purposes of -others rather than their own, making them feel -impotent in action and only able to secure a certain -modicum of passive pleasure. All these -things destroy the vigor of the community, the -expansive affections of individuals, and the -power of viewing the world generously. All -these things are unnecessary and can be ended -by wisdom and courage. If they were ended, -the impulsive life of men would become wholly -different, and the human race might travel towards -a new happiness and a new vigor. To -urge this hope is the purpose of these lectures.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">20</span> -The impulses and desires of men and women, -in so far as they are of real importance in their -lives, are not detached one from another, but -proceed from a central principle of growth, an -instinctive urgency leading them in a certain direction, -as trees seek the light. So long as this -instinctive movement is not thwarted, whatever -misfortunes may occur are not fundamental disasters, -and do not produce those distortions -which result from interference with natural -growth. This intimate center in each human -being is what imagination must apprehend if -we are to understand him intuitively. It differs -from man to man, and determines for each man -the type of excellence of which he is capable. -The utmost that social institutions can do for a -man is to make his own growth free and vigorous: -they cannot force him to grow according to -the pattern of another man. There are in men -some impulses and desires—for example, those -towards drugs—which do not grow out of the -central principle; such impulses, when they become -strong enough to be harmful, have to -be checked by self-discipline. Other impulses, -though they may grow out of the central principle -in the individual, may be injurious to the -growth of others, and they need to be checked in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span> -the interest of others. But in the main, the impulses -which are injurious to others tend to result -from thwarted growth, and to be least in -those who have been unimpeded in their instinctive -development.</p> - -<p>Men, like trees, require for their growth the -right soil and a sufficient freedom from oppression. -These can be helped or hindered by political -institutions. But the soil and the freedom -required for a man’s growth are immeasurably -more difficult to discover and to obtain than the -soil and the freedom required for the growth of -a tree. And the full growth which may be -hoped for cannot be defined or demonstrated; -it is subtle and complex, it can only be felt by a -delicate intuition and dimly apprehended by -imagination and respect. It depends not only -or chiefly upon the physical environment, but -upon beliefs and affections, upon opportunities -for action, and upon the whole life of the community. -The more developed and civilized the -type of man the more elaborate are the conditions -of his growth, and the more dependent -they become upon the general state of the society -in which he lives. A man’s needs and desires -are not confined to his own life. If his -mind is comprehensive and his imagination<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span> -vivid, the failures of the community to which he -belongs are his failures, and its successes are -his successes: according as his community succeeds -or fails, his own growth is nourished or -impeded.</p> - -<p>In the modern world, the principle of growth -in most men and women is hampered by institutions -inherited from a simpler age. By the -progress of thought and knowledge, and by the -increase in command over the forces of the physical -world, new possibilities of growth have -come into existence, and have given rise to new -claims which must be satisfied if those who make -them are not to be thwarted. There is less -acquiescence in limitations which are no longer -unavoidable, and less possibility of a good life -while those limitations remain. Institutions -which give much greater opportunities to some -classes than to others are no longer recognized -as just by the less fortunate, though the more -fortunate still defend them vehemently. Hence -arises a universal strife, in which tradition and -authority are arrayed against liberty and justice. -Our professed morality, being traditional, -loses its hold upon those who are in revolt. Coöperation -between the defenders of the old and -the champions of the new has become almost impossible.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">23</span> -An intimate disunion has entered -into almost all the relations of life in continually -increasing measure. In the fight for freedom, -men and women become increasingly unable to -break down the walls of the Ego and achieve -the growth which comes from a real and vital -union.</p> - -<p>All our institutions have their historic basis -in Authority. The unquestioned authority of -the Oriental despot found its religious expression -in the omnipotent Creator, whose glory was -the sole end of man, and against whom man -had no rights. This authority descended to the -Emperor and Pope, to the kings of the Middle -Ages, to the nobles in the feudal hierarchy, and -even to every husband and father in his dealings -with his wife and children. The Church -was the direct embodiment of the Divine authority, -the State and the law were constituted -by the authority of the King, private property -in land grew out of the authority of conquering -barons, and the family was governed by the authority -of the pater-familias.</p> - -<p>The institutions of the Middle Ages permitted -only a fortunate few to develop freely: the vast -majority of mankind existed to minister to the -few. But so long as authority was genuinely<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span> -respected and acknowledged even by its least -fortunate subjects, medieval society remained -organic and not fundamentally hostile to life, -since outward submission was compatible with -inward freedom because it was voluntary. The -institutions of Western Christendom embodied -a theory which was really believed, as no theory -by which our present institutions can be defended -is now believed.</p> - -<p>The medieval theory of life broke down -through its failure to satisfy men’s demands for -justice and liberty. Under the stress of oppression, -when rulers exceeded their theoretical -powers, the victims were forced to realize that -they themselves also had rights, and need not -live merely to increase the glory of the few. -Gradually it came to be seen that if men have -power, they are likely to abuse it, and that -authority in practice means tyranny. Because -the claim to justice was resisted by the holders -of power, men became more and more separate -units, each fighting for his own rights, not a -genuine community bound together by an organic -common purpose. This absence of a common -purpose has become a source of unhappiness. -One of the reasons which led many men -to welcome the outbreak of the present war was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span> -that it made each nation again a whole community -with a single purpose. It did this by destroying, -for the present, the beginnings of a -single purpose in the civilized world as a whole; -but these beginnings were as yet so feeble that -few were much affected by their destruction. -Men rejoiced in the new sense of unity with their -compatriots more than they minded the increased -separation from their enemies.</p> - -<p>The hardening and separation of the individual -in the course of the fight for freedom -has been inevitable, and is not likely ever to -be wholly undone. What is necessary, if an organic -society is to grow up, is that our institutions -should be so fundamentally changed as to -embody that new respect for the individual and -his rights which modern feeling demands. The -medieval Empire and Church swept away the -individual. There were heretics, but they were -massacred relentlessly, without any of the -qualms aroused by later persecutions. And -they, like their persecutors, were persuaded that -there ought to be one universal Church: they -differed only as to what its creed should be. -Among a few men of art and letters, the Renaissance -undermined the medieval theory, without, -however, replacing it by anything but skepticism<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span> -and confusion. The first serious breach in this -medieval theory was caused by Luther’s assertion -of the right of private judgment and the -fallibility of General Councils. Out of this assertion -grew inevitably, with time, the belief -that a man’s religion could not be determined -for him by authority, but must be left to the free -choice of each individual. It was in matters of -religion that the battle for liberty began, and -it is in matters of religion that it has come nearest -to a complete victory.<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">2</a></p> - -<p>The development through extreme individualism -to strife, and thence, one hopes, to a new -reintegration, is to be seen in almost every -department of life. Claims are advanced in the -name of justice, and resisted in the name of tradition -and prescriptive right. Each side honestly -believes that it deserves to triumph, because -two theories of society exist side by side -in our thought, and men choose, unconsciously, -the theory which fits their case. Because the -battle is long and arduous all general theory is -gradually forgotten; in the end, nothing remains -but self-assertion, and when the oppressed win<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">27</span> -freedom they are as oppressive as their former -masters.</p> - -<p>This is seen most crudely in the case of what -is called nationalism. Nationalism, in theory, -is the doctrine that men, by their sympathies and -traditions, form natural groups, called “nations,” -each of which ought to be united under -one central Government. In the main this doctrine -may be conceded. But in practice the doctrine -takes a more personal form. “I belong,” -the oppressed nationalist argues, “by sympathy -and tradition to nation A, but I am subject to a -government which is in the hands of nation B. -This is an injustice, not only because of the general -principle of nationalism, but because nation -A is generous, progressive, and civilized, while -nation B is oppressive, retrograde, and barbarous. -Because this is so, nation A deserves to -prosper, while nation B deserves to be abased.” -The inhabitants of nation B are naturally deaf -to the claims of abstract justice, when they are -accompanied by personal hostility and contempt. -Presently, however, in the course of -war, nation A acquires its freedom. The -energy and pride which have achieved freedom -generates a momentum which leads on, almost -infallibly, to the attempt at foreign conquest, or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">28</span> -to the refusal of liberty to some smaller nation. -“What? You say that nation C, which forms -part of our State, has the same rights against -us as we had against nation A? But that is absurd. -Nation C is swinish and turbulent, incapable -of good government, needing a strong -hand if it is not to be a menace and a disturbance -to all its neighbors.” So the English used to -speak of the Irish, so the Germans and Russians -speak of the Poles, so the Galician Poles speak -of the Ruthenes, so the Austrians used to speak -of the Magyars, so the Magyars speak of the -South Slav sympathizers with Serbia, so the -Serbs speak of the Macedonian Bulgars. In -this way nationalism, unobjectionable in theory, -leads by a natural movement to oppression and -wars of conquest. No sooner was France free -from the English, in the fifteenth century, than -it embarked upon the conquest of Italy; no -sooner was Spain freed from the Moors than it -entered into more than a century of conflict -with France for the supremacy in Europe. The -case of Germany is very interesting in this respect. -At the beginning of the eighteenth century -German culture was French: French was -the language of the Courts, the language in -which Leibnitz wrote his philosophy, the universal<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">29</span> -language of polite letters and learning. -National consciousness hardly existed. Then a -series of great men created a self-respect in -Germany by their achievements in poetry, -music, philosophy, and science. But politically -German nationalism was only created by Napoleon’s -oppression and the uprising of 1813. -After centuries during which every disturbance -of the peace of Europe began with a French or -Swedish or Russian invasion of Germany, the -Germans discovered that by sufficient effort and -union they could keep foreign armies off their -territory. But the effort required had been too -great to cease when its purely defensive purpose -had been achieved by the defeat of Napoleon. -Now, a hundred years later, they -are still engaged in the same movement, -which has become one of aggression and -conquest. Whether we are now seeing the end -of the movement it is not yet possible to -guess.</p> - -<p>If men had any strong sense of a community -of nations, nationalism would serve to define -the boundaries of the various nations. But because -men only feel community within their own -nation, nothing but force is able to make them -respect the rights of other nations, even when<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">30</span> -they are asserting exactly similar rights on their -own behalf.</p> - -<p>Analogous development is to be expected, -with the course of time, in the conflict between -capital and labor which has existed since the -growth of the industrial system, and in the conflict -between men and women, which is still in its -infancy.</p> - -<p>What is wanted, in these various conflicts, is -some principle, genuinely believed, which will -have justice for its outcome. The tug of war -of mutual self-assertion can only result in -justice through an accidental equality of force. -It is no use to attempt any bolstering up of institutions -based on authority, since all such institutions -involve injustice, and injustice once -realized cannot be perpetuated without fundamental -damage both to those who uphold it and -to those who resist it. The damage consists in -the hardening of the walls of the Ego, making -them a prison instead of a window. Unimpeded -growth in the individual depends upon many -contacts with other people, which must be of the -nature of free coöperation, not of enforced service. -While the belief in authority was alive, -free coöperation was compatible with inequality -and subjection, but now equality and mutual<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span> -freedom are necessary. All institutions, if they -are not to hamper individual growth, must be -based as far as possible upon voluntary combination, -rather than the force of the law or the -traditional authority of the holders of power. -None of our institutions can survive the application -of this principle without great and fundamental -changes; but these changes are imperatively -necessary if the world is to be withheld -from dissolving into hard separate units each at -war with all the others.</p> - -<p>The two chief sources of good relations between -individuals are instinctive liking and a -common purpose. Of these two, a common purpose -might seem more important politically, -but, in fact, it is often the outcome, not the -cause, of instinctive liking, or of a common instinctive -aversion. Biological groups, from -the family to the nation, are constituted by a -greater or less degree of instinctive liking, and -build their common purposes on this foundation.</p> - -<p>Instinctive liking is the feeling which makes -us take pleasure in another person’s company, -find an exhilaration in his presence, wish to -talk with him, work with him, play with him. -The extreme form of it is being in love, but its<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span> -fainter forms, and even the very faintest, have -political importance. The presence of a person -who is instinctively disliked tends to make any -other person more likable. An anti-Semite -will love any fellow-Christian when a Jew is -present. In China, or the wilds of Africa, any -white man would be welcomed with joy. A -common aversion is one of the most frequent -causes of mild instinctive liking.</p> - -<p>Men differ enormously in the frequency and -intensity of their instinctive likings, and the -same man will differ greatly at different times. -One may take Carlyle and Walt Whitman as opposite -poles in this respect. To Carlyle, at any -rate in later life, most men and women were repulsive; -they inspired an instinctive aversion -which made him find pleasure in imagining them -under the guillotine or perishing in battle. This -led him to belittle most men, finding satisfaction -only in those who had been notably destructive -of human life—Frederick the Great, Dr. Francia, -and Governor Eyre. It led him to love war -and violence, and to despise the weak and the -oppressed—for example, the “thirty thousand -distressed needlewomen,” on whom he was -never weary of venting his scorn. His morals -and his politics, in later life, were inspired<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">33</span> -through and through by repugnance to almost -the whole human race.</p> - -<p>Walt Whitman, on the contrary, had a warm, -expansive feeling towards the vast majority of -men and women. His queer catalogues seemed -to him interesting because each item came before -his imagination as an object of delight. -The sort of joy which most people feel only in -those who are exceptionally beautiful or splendid -Walt Whitman felt in almost everybody. -Out of this universal liking grew optimism, -a belief in democracy, and a conviction that it is -easy for men to live together in peace and amity. -His philosophy and politics, like Carlyle’s, were -based upon his instinctive attitude towards ordinary -men and women.</p> - -<p>There is no objective reason to be given to -show that one of these attitudes is essentially -more rational than the other. If a man finds -people repulsive, no argument can prove to him -that they are not so. But both his own desires -and other people’s are much more likely to find -satisfaction if he resembles Walt Whitman -than if he resembles Carlyle. A world of -Walt Whitmans would be happier and more -capable of realizing its purposes than a world of -Carlyles. For this reason, we shall desire, if we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">34</span> -can, to increase the amount of instinctive liking -in the world and diminish the amount of instinctive -aversion. This is perhaps the most -important of all the effects by which political institutions -ought to be judged.</p> - -<p>The other source of good relations between individuals -is a common purpose, especially where -that purpose cannot be achieved without knowing -its cause. Economic organizations, such as -unions and political parties are constituted almost -wholly by a common purpose; whatever instinctive -liking may come to be associated with -them is the result of the common purpose, not -its cause. Economic organizations, such as railway -companies, subsist for a purpose, but this -purpose need only actually exist in those who -direct the organization: the ordinary wage-earner -need have no purpose beyond earning his -wages. This is a defect in economic organizations, -and ought to be remedied. One of the objects -of syndicalism is to remedy this defect.</p> - -<p>Marriage is (or should be) based on instinctive -liking, but as soon as there are children, or -the wish for children, it acquires the additional -strength of a common purpose. It is this chiefly -which distinguishes it from an irregular connection -not intended to lead to children. Often, in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span> -fact, the common purpose survives, and remains -a strong tie, after the instinctive liking has -faded.</p> - -<p>A nation, when it is real and not artificial, is -founded upon a faint degree of instinctive liking -for compatriots and a common instinctive aversion -from foreigners. When an Englishman returns -to Dover or Folkestone after being on -the Continent, he feels something friendly in the -familiar ways: the casual porters, the shouting -paper boys, the women serving bad tea, all warm -his heart, and seem more “natural,” more what -human beings ought to be, than the foreigners -with their strange habits of behavior. He is -ready to believe that all English people are good -souls, while many foreigners are full of designing -wickedness. It is such feelings that make -it easy to organize a nation into a governmental -unit. And when that has happened, a common -purpose is added, as in marriage. Foreigners -would like to invade our country and lay it -waste, to kill us in battle, to humble our pride. -Those who coöperate with us in preventing this -disaster are our friends, and their coöperation -intensifies our instinctive liking. But common -purposes do not constitute the whole source of -our love of country: allies, even of long standing,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">36</span> -do not call out the same feelings as are -called out by our compatriots. Instinctive liking, -resulting largely from similar habits and -customs, is an essential element in patriotism, -and, indeed, the foundation upon which the -whole feeling rests.</p> - -<p>If men’s natural growth is to be promoted and -not hindered by the environment, if as many as -possible of their desires and needs are to be -satisfied, political institutions must, as far as -possible, embody common purposes and foster -instinctive liking. These two objects are interconnected, -for nothing is so destructive of instinctive -liking as thwarted purposes and unsatisfied -needs, and nothing facilitates coöperation -for common purposes so much as instinctive -liking. When a man’s growth is unimpeded, -his self-respect remains intact, and he is -not inclined to regard others as his enemies. -But when, for whatever reason, his growth is -impeded, or he is compelled to grow into some -twisted and unnatural shape, his instinct presents -the environment as his enemy, and he becomes -filled with hatred. The joy of life abandons -him, and malevolence takes the place of -friendliness. The malevolence of hunchbacks -and cripples is proverbial; and a similar<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span> -malevolence is to be found in those who have -been crippled in less obvious ways. Real freedom, -if it could be brought about, would go a -long way towards destroying hatred.</p> - -<p>There is a not uncommon belief that what is -instinctive in us cannot be changed, but must -be simply accepted and made the best of. This -is by no means the case. No doubt we have a -certain native disposition, different in different -people, which coöperates with outside circumstances -in producing a certain character. But -even the instinctive part of our character is very -malleable. It may be changed by beliefs, by -material circumstances, by social circumstances, -and by institutions. A Dutchman has probably -much the same native disposition as a German, -but his instincts in adult life are very different -owing to the absence of militarism and of the -pride of a Great Power. It is obvious that the -instincts of celibates become profoundly different -from those of other men and women. Almost -any instinct is capable of many different -forms according to the nature of the outlets -which it finds. The same instinct which leads to -artistic or intellectual creativeness may, under -other circumstances, lead to love of war. The -fact that an activity or belief is an outcome of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span> -instinct is therefore no reason for regarding it -as unalterable.</p> - -<p>This applies to people’s instinctive likes and -dislikes as well as to their other instincts. It -is natural to men, as to other animals, to like -some of their species and dislike others; but -the proportion of like and dislike depends on -circumstances, often on quite trivial circumstances. -Most of Carlyle’s misanthropy is attributable -to dyspepsia; probably a suitable -medical regimen would have given him a completely -different outlook on the world. The defect -of punishment, as a means of dealing with -impulses which the community wishes to discourage, -is that it does nothing to prevent the -existence of the impulses, but merely endeavors -to check their indulgence by an appeal to self-interest. -This method, since it does not eradicate -the impulses, probably only drives them to -find other outlets even when it is successful in -its immediate object; and if the impulses are -strong, mere self-interest is not likely to curb -them effectually, since it is not a very powerful -motive except with unusually reasonable and -rather passionless people. It is thought to be -a stronger motive than it is, because our moods -make us deceive ourselves as to our interest, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</span> -lead us to believe that it is consistent with the -actions to which we are prompted by desire or -impulse.</p> - -<p>Thus the commonplace that human nature -cannot be changed is untrue. We all know that -our own characters and those of our acquaintance -are greatly affected by circumstances; and -what is true of individuals is true also of nations. -The root causes of changes in average -human nature are generally either purely material -changes—for instance, of climate—or -changes in the degree of man’s control over the -material world. We may ignore the purely material -changes, since these do not much concern -the politician. But the changes due to man’s -increased control over the material world, by -inventions and science, are of profound present -importance. Through the industrial revolution, -they have radically altered the daily lives of -men; and by creating huge economic organizations, -they have altered the whole structure of -society. The general beliefs of men, which are, -in the main, a product of instinct and circumstance, -have become very different from what -they were in the eighteenth century. But our -institutions are not yet suited either to the instincts -developed by our new circumstances, or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</span> -to our real beliefs. Institutions have a life of -their own, and often outlast the circumstances -which made them a fit garment for instinct. -This applies, in varying degrees, to almost all -the institutions which we have inherited from -the past: the State, private property, the patriarchal -family, the Churches, armies and navies. -All of these have become in some degree oppressive, -in some measures hostile to life.</p> - -<p>In any serious attempt at political reconstruction, -it is necessary to realize what are the -vital needs of ordinary men and women. It is -customary, in political thought, to assume that -the only needs with which politics is concerned -are economic needs. This view is quite inadequate -to account for such an event as the present -war, since any economic motives that may be -assigned for it are to a great extent mythical, -and its true causes must be sought for outside -the economic sphere. Needs which are normally -satisfied without conscious effort remain -unrecognized, and this results in a working -theory of human needs which is far too simple. -Owing chiefly to industrialism, many needs -which were formerly satisfied without effort -now remain unsatisfied in most men and women. -But the old unduly simple theory of human<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span> -needs survives, making men overlook the source -of the new lack of satisfaction, and invent quite -false theories as to why they are dissatisfied. -Socialism as a panacea seems to me to be mistaken -in this way, since it is too ready to suppose -that better economic conditions will of -themselves make men happy. It is not only -more material goods that men need, but more -freedom, more self-direction, more outlet for -creativeness, more opportunity for the joy of -life, more voluntary coöperation, and less involuntary -subservience to purposes not their -own. All these things the institutions of the -future must help to produce, if our increase of -knowledge and power over Nature is to bear its -full fruit in bringing about a good life.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 id="II" class="vspace">II<br /> - -<span class="subhead">THE STATE</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">Under</span> the influence of socialism, most -liberal thought in recent years has been -in favor of increasing the power of the State, -but more or less hostile to the power of private -property. On the other hand, syndicalism has -been hostile both to the State and to private -property. I believe that syndicalism is more -nearly right than socialism in this respect, that -both private property and the State, which are -the two most powerful institutions of the -modern world, have become harmful to life -through excess of power, and that both are -hastening the loss of vitality from which the -civilized world increasingly suffers. The two -institutions are closely connected, but for the -present I wish to consider only the State. I -shall try to show how great, how unnecessary, -how harmful, many of its powers are, and how -enormously they might be diminished without -loss of what is useful in its activity. But I shall<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span> -admit that in certain directions its functions -ought to be extended rather than curtailed.</p> - -<p>Some of the functions of the State, such as -the Post Office and elementary education, might -be performed by private agencies, and are only -undertaken by the State from motives of convenience. -But other matters, such as the law, -the police, the Army, and the Navy, belong more -essentially to the State: so long as there is a -State at all it is difficult to imagine these matters -in private hands. The distinction between -socialism and individualism turns on the nonessential -functions of the State, which the socialist -wishes to extend and the individualist to restrict. -It is the essential functions, which -are admitted by individualists and socialists -alike, that I wish to criticize, since the others -do not appear to me in themselves objectionable.</p> - -<p>The essence of the State is that it is the -repository of the collective force of its citizens. -This force takes two forms, one internal and -one external. The internal form is the law and -the police; the external form is the power of -waging war, as embodied in the Army and Navy. -The State is constituted by the combination -of all the inhabitants in a certain area using<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span> -their united force in accordance with the commands -of a Government. In a civilized State -force is only employed against its own citizens -in accordance with rules previously laid down, -which constitute the criminal law. But the employment -of force against foreigners is not regulated -by any code of rules, and proceeds, with -few exceptions, according to some real or fancied -national interest.</p> - -<p>There can be no doubt that force employed -according to law is less pernicious than force -employed capriciously. If international law -could acquire sufficient hold on men’s allegiance -to regulate the relations of States, a very -great advance on our present condition would -have been made. The primitive anarchy which -precedes law is worse than law. But I believe -there is a possibility of a stage to some extent -above law, where the advantages now secured -by the law are secured without loss of freedom, -and without the disadvantages which the law -and the police render inevitable. Probably -some repository of force in the background will -remain necessary, but the actual employment -of force may become very rare, and the degree -of force required very small. The anarchy -which precedes law gives freedom only to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">45</span> -strong; the condition to be aimed at will give -freedom as nearly as possible to every one. It -will do this, not by preventing altogether the -existence of organized force, but by limiting the -occasions for its employment to the greatest -possible extent.</p> - -<p>The power of the State is only limited internally -by the fear of rebellion and externally -by the fear of defeat in war. Subject to these -restrictions, it is absolute. In practice, it can -seize men’s property through taxation, determine -the law of marriage and inheritance, punish -the expression of opinions which it dislikes, -put men to death for wishing the region they -inhabit to belong to a different State, and order -all able-bodied males to risk their lives in battle -whenever it considers war desirable. On -many matters disagreement with the purposes -and opinions of the State is criminal. Probably -the freest States in the world, before the -war, were America and England; yet in America -no immigrant may land until he has professed -disbelief in anarchism and polygamy, -while in England men were sent to prison in -recent years for expressing disagreement with -the Christian religion<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">3</a> or agreement with the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">46</span> -teaching of Christ.<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">4</a> In time of war, all criticism -of the external policy of the State is criminal. -Certain objects having appeared desirable -to the majority, or to the effective holders -of power, those who do not consider these objects -desirable are exposed to pains and penalties -not unlike those suffered by heretics in the -past. The extent of the tyranny thus exercised -is concealed by its very success: few men -consider it worth while to incur a persecution -which is almost certain to be thorough and effective.</p> - -<p>Universal military service is perhaps the extreme -example of the power of the State, and -the supreme illustration of the difference between -its attitude to its own citizens and its attitude -to the citizens of other States. The State -punishes, with impartial rigor, both those who -kill their compatriots and those who refuse to -kill foreigners. On the whole, the latter is considered -the graver crime. The phenomenon of -war is familiar, and men fail to realize its -strangeness; to those who stand inside the cycle -of instincts which lead to war it all seems natural -and reasonable. But to those who stand<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span> -outside the strangeness of it grows with familiarity. -It is amazing that the vast majority of -men should tolerate a system which compels -them to submit to all the horrors of the battlefield -at any moment when their Government -commands them to do so. A French artist, indifferent -to politics, attentive only to his painting, -suddenly finds himself called upon to shoot -Germans, who, his friends assure him, are a -disgrace to the human race. A German musician, -equally unknowing, is called upon to -shoot the perfidious Frenchman. Why cannot -the two men declare a mutual neutrality? Why -not leave war to those who like it and bring it -on? Yet if the two men declared a mutual neutrality -they would be shot by their compatriots. -To avoid this fate they try to shoot each other. -If the world loses the artist, not the musician, -Germany rejoices; if the world loses the musician, -not the artist, France rejoices. No one -remembers the loss to civilization, which is -equal whichever is killed.</p> - -<p>This is the politics of Bedlam. If the artist -and the musician had been allowed to stand -aside from the war, nothing but unmitigated -good to mankind would have resulted. The -power of the State, which makes this impossible,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span> -is a wholly evil thing, quite as evil as the -power of the Church which in former days put -men to death for unorthodox thought. Yet if, -even in time of peace, an international league -were founded to consist of Frenchmen and Germans -in equal numbers, all pledged not to take -part in war, the French State and the German -State would persecute it with equal ferocity. -Blind obedience, unlimited willingness to kill -and die are exacted of the modern citizens of a -democracy as much as of the Janizaries of medieval -sultans or the secret agents of Oriental -despots.<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">5</a></p> - -<p>The power of the State may be brought to -bear, as it often is in England, through public -opinion rather than through the laws. By oratory -and the influence of the Press, public opinion -is largely created by the State, and a tyrannous -public opinion is as great an enemy to -liberty as tyrannous laws. If the young man -who will not fight finds that he is dismissed from -his employment, insulted in the streets, cold-shouldered -by his friends, and thrown over with -scorn by any woman who may formerly have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span> -liked him, he will feel the penalty quite as hard -to bear as a death sentence.<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">6</a> A free community -requires not only legal freedom, but a tolerant -public opinion, an absence of that instinctive -inquisition into our neighbors’ affairs -which, under the guise of upholding a high -moral standard, enables good people to indulge<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span> -unconsciously a disposition to cruelty and persecution. -Thinking ill of others is not in itself -a good reason for thinking well of ourselves. -But so long as this is not recognized, and so -long as the State can manufacture public opinion, -except in the rare cases where it is revolutionary, -public opinion must be reckoned as a -definite part of the power of the State.</p> - -<p>The power of the State outside its own borders -is in the main derived from war or the -threat of war. Some power is derived from the -ability to persuade its citizens to lend money or -not to lend it, but this is unimportant in comparison -with the power derived from armies -and navies. The external activity of the State—with -exceptions so rare as to be negligible—is -selfish. Sometimes selfishness is mitigated -by the need of retaining the goodwill of other -States, but this only modifies the methods employed, -not the ends pursued. The ends pursued, -apart from mere defense against other -States, are, on the one hand, opportunities for -successful exploitation of weak or uncivilized -countries, on the other hand, power and prestige, -which are considered more glorious and -less material than money. In pursuit of these -objects, no State hesitates to put to death innumerable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">51</span> -foreigners whose happiness is not -compatible with exploitation or subjection, or -to devastate territories into which it is thought -necessary to strike terror. Apart from the -present war, such acts have been performed -within the last twenty years by many minor -States and by all the Great Powers<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">7</a> except Austria; -and in the case of Austria only the opportunity, -not the will, was lacking.</p> - -<p>Why do men acquiesce in the power of the -State? There are many reasons, some traditional, -some very present and pressing.</p> - -<p>The traditional reason for obedience to the -State is personal loyalty to the sovereign. European -States grew up under the feudal system, -and were originally the several territories -owned by feudal chiefs. But this source of -obedience has decayed, and probably now -counts for little except in Japan, and to a lesser -extent in Russia.</p> - -<p>Tribal feeling, which always underlay loyalty -to the sovereign, has remained as strong as it -ever was, and is now the chief support for the -power of the State. Almost every man finds<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">52</span> -it essential to his happiness to feel himself a -member of a group, animated by common friendships -and enmities and banded together for defense -and attack. But such groups are of two -kinds: there are those which are essentially enlargements -of the family, and there are those -which are based upon a conscious common purpose. -Nations belong to the first kind, -Churches to the second. At times when men -are profoundly swayed by creeds national divisions -tend to break down, as they did in the -wars of religion after the Reformation. At -such times a common creed is a stronger bond -than a common nationality. To a much slighter -extent, the same thing has occurred in the modern -world with the rise of socialism. Men who -disbelieve in private property, and feel the capitalist -the real enemy, have a bond which -transcends national divisions. It has not been -found strong enough to resist the passions -aroused by the present war, but it has made -them less bitter among socialists than among -others, and has kept alive the hope of a European -community to be reconstructed when the -war is over. In the main, however, the universal -disbelief in creeds has left tribal feeling -triumphant, and has made nationalism stronger<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span> -than at any previous period of the world’s history. -A few sincere Christians, a few sincere -socialists, have found in their creed a force capable -of resisting the assaults of national passion, -but they have been too few to influence -the course of events or even to cause serious -anxiety to the Governments.</p> - -<p>It is chiefly tribal feeling that generates the -unity of a national State, but it is not only -tribal feeling that generates its strength. Its -strength results principally from two fears, -neither of which is unreasonable: the fear of -crime and anarchy within, and the fear of aggression -from without.</p> - -<p>The internal orderliness of a civilized community -is a great achievement, chiefly brought -about by the increased authority of the State. -It would be inconvenient if peaceable citizens -were constantly in imminent risk of being -robbed and murdered. Civilized life would become -almost impossible if adventurous people -could organize private armies for purposes of -plunder. These conditions existed in the Middle -Ages, and have not passed away without a -great struggle. It is thought by many—especially -by the rich, who derive the greatest advantage -from law and order—that any diminution<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span> -in the power of the State might bring back -a condition of universal anarchy. They regard -strikes as portents of dissolution. They are -terrified by such organizations as the Confédération -Générale du Travail and the International -Workers of the World. They remember -the French Revolution, and feel a not unnatural -desire to keep their heads on their shoulders. -They dread particularly any political -theory which seems to excuse private crimes, -such as sabotage and political assassination. -Against these dangers they see no protection -except the maintenance of the authority of the -State, and the belief that all resistance to the -State is wicked.</p> - -<p>Fear of the danger within is enhanced by -fear of the danger without. Every State is -exposed at all times to the risk of foreign invasion. -No means has hitherto been devised -for minimizing this risk except the increase of -armaments. But the armaments which are -nominally intended to repel invasion may also -be used to invade. And so the means adopted -to diminish the external fear have the effect of -increasing it, and of enormously enhancing the -destructiveness of war when it does break out. -In this way a reign of terror becomes universal,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">55</span> -and the State acquires everywhere something -of the character of the Comité du Salut -Public.</p> - -<p>The tribal feeling out of which the State develops -is natural, and the fear by which the -State is strengthened is reasonable under present -circumstances. And in addition to these -two, there is a third source of strength in a national -State, namely patriotism in its religious -aspect.</p> - -<p>Patriotism is a very complex feeling, built -up out of primitive instincts and highly intellectual -convictions. There is love of home and -family and friends, making us peculiarly anxious -to preserve our own country from invasion. -There is the mild instinctive liking for compatriots -as against foreigners. There is pride, -which is bound up with the success of the community -to which we feel that we belong. There -is a belief, suggested by pride but reinforced -by history, that one’s own nation represents a -great tradition and stands for ideals that are -important to the human race. But besides all -these, there is another element, at once nobler -and more open to attack, an element of worship, -of willing sacrifice, of joyful merging of the individual -life in the life of the nation. This religious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">56</span> -element in patriotism is essential to the -strength of the State, since it enlists the best -that is in most men on the side of national sacrifice.</p> - -<p>The religious element in patriotism is reinforced -by education, especially by a knowledge -of the history and literature of one’s own country, -provided it is not accompanied by much -knowledge of the history and literature of other -countries. In every civilized country all instruction -of the young emphasizes the merits -of their own nation and the faults of other nations. -It comes to be universally believed that -one’s own nation, because of its superiority, deserves -support in a quarrel, however the quarrel -may have originated. This belief is so genuine -and deep that it makes men endure patiently, -almost gladly, the losses and hardships -and sufferings entailed by war. Like all sincerely -believed religions, it gives an outlook on -life, based upon instinct but sublimating it, -causing a devotion to an end greater than any -personal end, but containing many personal -ends as it were in solution.</p> - -<p>Patriotism as a religion is unsatisfactory because -of its lack of universality. The good at -which it aims is a good for one’s own nation<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">57</span> -only, not for all mankind. The desires which -it inspires in an Englishman are not the same -as the desires which it inspires in a German. A -world full of patriots may be a world full of -strife. The more intensely a nation believes -in its patriotism, the more fanatically indifferent -it will become to the damage suffered by -other nations. When once men have learnt to -subordinate their own good to the good of a -larger whole, there can be no valid reason for -stopping short of the human race. It is the admixture -of national pride that makes it so easy -in practice for men’s impulses towards sacrifice -to stop short at the frontiers of their own country. -It is this admixture that poisons patriotism, -and makes it inferior, as a religion, to beliefs -which aim at the salvation of all mankind. -We cannot avoid having more love for our own -country than for other countries, and there is -no reason why we should wish to avoid it, any -more than we should wish to love all individual -men and women equally. But any adequate religion -will lead us to temper inequality of affection -by love of justice, and to universalize -our aims by realizing the common needs of man. -This change was effected by Christianity in -Judaism, and must be effected in any merely national<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">58</span> -religion before it can be purged of evil.</p> - -<p>In practice, patriotism has many other enemies -to contend with. Cosmopolitanism cannot -fail to grow as men acquire more knowledge -of foreign countries by education and travel. -There is also a kind of individualism which is -continually increasing, a realization that every -man ought to be as nearly free as possible to -choose his own ends, not compelled by a geographical -accident to pursue ends forced upon -him by the community. Socialism, syndicalism, -and anti-capitalist movements generally, are -against patriotism in their tendency, since they -make men aware that the present State is -largely concerned in defending the privileges -of the rich, and that many of the conflicts between -States have their origin in the financial -interests of a few plutocrats. This kind of opposition -is perhaps temporary, a mere incident -in the struggle of labor to acquire power. -Australia, where labor feels its triumph secure, -is full of patriotism and militarism, based upon -determination to prevent foreign labor from -sharing the benefits of a privileged position. It -is not unlikely that England might develop a -similar nationalism if it became a socialist -State. But it is probable that such nationalism<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span> -would be purely defensive. Schemes of foreign -aggression, entailing great loss of life and -wealth in the nation which adopts them, would -hardly be initiated except by those whose instincts -of dominion have been sharpened -through the power derived from private property -and the institutions of the capitalist State.</p> - -<p>The evil wrought in the modern world by the -excessive power of the State is very great, and -very little recognized.</p> - -<p>The chief harm wrought by the State is promotion -of efficiency in war. If all States increase -their strength, the balance of power is -unchanged, and no one State has a better chance -of victory than before. And when the means of -offense exist, even though their original purpose -may have been defensive, the temptation -to use them is likely, sooner or later, to prove -overwhelming. In this way the very measures -which promoted security within the borders of -the State promote insecurity elsewhere. It is -of the essence of the State to suppress violence -within and to facilitate it without. The State -makes an entirely artificial division of mankind -and of our duties toward them: towards one -group we are bound by the law, towards the -other only by the prudence of highwaymen.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span> -The State is rendered evil by its exclusions, and -by the fact that, whenever it embarks upon aggressive -war, it becomes a combination of men -for murder and robbery. The present system -is irrational, since external and internal anarchy -must be both right or both wrong. It is -supported because, so long as others adopt it, -it is thought the only road to safety, and because -it secures the pleasures of triumph and -dominion, which cannot be obtained in a good -community. If these pleasures were no longer -sought, or no longer possible to obtain, the problem -of securing safety from invasion would not -be difficult.</p> - -<p>Apart from war, the modern great State is -harmful from its vastness and the resulting -sense of individual helplessness. The citizen -who is out of sympathy with the aims of the -State, unless he is a man of very rare gifts, cannot -hope to persuade the State to adopt purposes -which seem to him better. Even in a -democracy, all questions except a very few are -decided by a small number of officials and eminent -men; and even the few questions which are -left to the popular vote are decided by a diffused -mass-psychology, not by individual initiative. -This is especially noticeable in a country<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span> -like the United States, where, in spite of democracy, -most men have a sense of almost complete -impotence in regard to all large issues. -In so vast a country the popular will is like one -of the forces of Nature, and seems nearly as -much outside the control of any one man. This -state of things leads, not only in America but -in all large States, to something of the weariness -and discouragement that we associate with -the Roman Empire. Modern States, as opposed -to the small city States of ancient Greece -or medieval Italy, leave little room for initiative, -and fail to develop in most men any sense -of ability to control their political destinies. -The few men who achieve power in such States -are men of abnormal ambition and thirst for -dominion, combined with skill in cajolery and -subtlety in negotiation. All the rest are -dwarfed by knowledge of their own impotence.</p> - -<p>A curious survival from the old monarchical -idea of the State is the belief that there is some -peculiar wickedness in a wish to secede on the -part of any section of the population. If Ireland -or Poland desires independence, it is -thought obvious that this desire must be strenuously -resisted, and any attempt to secure it is -condemned as “high treason.” The only instance<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">62</span> -to the contrary that I can remember is -the separation of Norway and Sweden, which -was commended but not imitated. In other -cases, nothing but defeat in war has induced -States to part with territory: although this attitude -is taken for granted, it is not one which -would be adopted if the State had better ends -in view. The reason for its adoption is that -the chief end of almost all great States is power, -especially power in war. And power in war is -often increased by the inclusion of unwilling -citizens. If the well-being of the citizens were -the end in view, the question whether a certain -area should be included, or should form a separate -State, would be left freely to the decision -of that area. If this principle were adopted, -one of the main reasons for war would be obviated, -and one of the most tyrannical elements -in the State would be removed.</p> - -<p>The principal source of the harm done by the -State is the fact that power is its chief end. -This is not the case in America, because America -is safe against aggression;<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">8</a> but in all other -great nations the chief aim of the State is to -possess the greatest possible amount of external -force. To this end, the liberty of the citizens<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">63</span> -is curtailed, and anti-militarist propaganda -is severely punished. This attitude is -rooted in pride and fear: pride, which refuses -to be conciliatory, and fear, which dreads the -results of foreign pride conflicting with our own -pride. It seems something of a historical accident -that these two passions, which by no -means exhaust the political passions of the ordinary -man, should so completely determine the -external policy of the State. Without pride, -there would be no occasion for fear: fear on -the part of one nation is due to the supposed -pride of another nation. Pride of dominion, -unwillingness to decide disputes otherwise than -by force or the threat of force, is a habit of -mind greatly encouraged by the possession of -power. Those who have long been in the habit -of exercising power become autocratic and quarrelsome, -incapable of regarding an equal otherwise -than as a rival. It is notorious that head -masters’ conferences are more liable to violent -disagreements than most similar bodies: each -head master tries to treat the others as he treats -his own boys; they resent such treatment, and -he resents their resentment. Men who have the -habit of authority are peculiarly unfit for -friendly negotiation; but the official relations<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">64</span> -of States are mainly in the hands of men with -a great deal of authority in their own country. -This is, of course, more particularly the case -where there is a monarch who actually governs. -If is less true where there is a governing oligarchy, -and still less true where there is some -approach to real democracy. But it is true to -a considerable extent in all countries, because -Prime Ministers and Foreign Secretaries are -necessarily men in authority. The first step -towards remedying this state of things is a genuine -interest in foreign affairs on the part of -the ordinary citizen, and an insistence that national -pride shall not be allowed to jeopardize -his other interests. During war, when he is -roused, he is willing to sacrifice everything to -pride; but in quiet times he will be far more -ready than men in authority to realize that foreign -affairs, like private concerns, ought to be -settled amicably according to principles, not -brutally by force or the threat of force.</p> - -<p>The effect of personal bias in the men who -actually compose the Government may be seen -very clearly in labor disputes. French syndicalists -affirm that the State is simply a product -of capitalism, a part of the weapons which capital -employs in its conflict with labor. Even in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">65</span> -democratic States there is much to bear out this -view. In strikes it is common to order out the -soldiers to coerce the strikers; although the employers -are much fewer, and much easier to coerce, -the soldiers are never employed against -them. When labor troubles paralyze the industry -of a country, it is the men who are thought -to be unpatriotic, not the masters, though -clearly the responsibility belongs to both sides. -The chief reason for this attitude on the part -of Governments is that the men composing them -belong, by their success if not by their origin, -to the same class as the great employers of -labor. Their bias and their associates combine -to make them view strikes and lockouts from -the standpoint of the rich. In a democracy -public opinion and the need of conciliating political -supporters partially correct these plutocratic -influences, but the correction is always -only partial. And the same influences which -warp the views of Governments on labor questions -also warp their views on foreign affairs, -with the added disadvantage that the ordinary -citizen has much fewer means of arriving at an -independent judgment.</p> - -<p>The excessive power of the State, partly -through internal oppression, but principally<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">66</span> -through war and the fear of war, is one of the -chief causes of misery in the modern world, -and one of the main reasons for the discouragement -which prevents men from growing to their -full mental stature. Some means of curing -this excessive power must be found if men are -not to be organized into despair, as they were -in the Roman Empire.</p> - -<p>The State has one purpose which is on the -whole good, namely, the substitution of law for -force in the relations of men. But this purpose -can only be fully achieved by a world-State, -without which international relations cannot be -made subject to law. And although law is better -than force, law is still not the best way of -settling disputes. Law is too static, too much -on the side of what is decaying, too little on -the side of what is growing. So long as law is -in theory supreme, it will have to be tempered, -from time to time, by internal revolution and -external war. These can only be prevented by -perpetual readiness to alter the law in accordance -with the present balance of forces. If this -is not done, the motives for appealing to force -will sooner or later become irresistible. A -world-State or federation of States, if it is to -be successful, will have to decide questions, not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">67</span> -by the legal maxims which would be applied by -the Hague tribunal, but as far as possible in -the same sense in which they would be decided -by war. The function of authority should be -to render the appeal to force unnecessary, not -to give decisions contrary to those which would -be reached by force.</p> - -<p>This view may be thought by some to be immoral. -It may be said that the object of civilization -should be to secure justice, not to give -the victory to the strong. But when this antithesis -is allowed to pass, it is forgotten that -love of justice may itself set force in motion. -A Legislature which wishes to decide an issue -in the same way as it would be decided if there -were an appeal to force will necessarily take -account of justice, provided justice is so flagrantly -on one side that disinterested parties -are willing to take up the quarrel. If a strong -man assaults a weak man in the streets of London, -the balance of force is on the side of the -weak man, because, even if the police did not -appear, casual passers-by would step in to defend -him. It is sheer cant to speak of a contest -of might against right, and at the same time to -hope for a victory of the right. If the contest -is really between might and right, that <em>means</em><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">68</span> -that right will be beaten. What is obscurely -intended, when this phrase is used, is that the -stronger side is only rendered stronger by -men’s sense of right. But men’s sense of right -is very subjective, and is only one factor in deciding -the preponderance of force. What is desirable -in a Legislature is, not that it should decide -by its personal sense of right, but that it -should decide in a way which is felt to make an -appeal to force unnecessary.</p> - -<p>Having considered what the State ought not -to do, I come now to what it ought to do.</p> - -<p>Apart from war and the preservation of internal -order, there are certain more positive -functions which the State performs, and certain -others which it ought to perform.</p> - -<p>We may lay down two principles as regards -these positive functions.</p> - -<p>First: there are matters in which the welfare -of the whole community depends upon the practically -universal attainment of a certain minimum; -in such cases the State has the right to -insist upon this minimum being attained.</p> - -<p>Secondly: there are ways in which, by insisting -upon the maintenance of law, the State, if -it does nothing further, renders possible various -forms of injustice which would otherwise<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">69</span> -be prevented by the anger of their victims. -Such injustices ought, as far as possible, to be -prevented by the State.</p> - -<p>The most obvious example of a matter where -the general welfare depends upon a universal -minimum is sanitation and the prevention of -infectious diseases. A single case of plague, -if it is neglected, may cause disaster to a whole -community. No one can reasonably maintain, -on general grounds of liberty, that a man suffering -from plague ought to be left free to -spread infection far and wide. Exactly similar -considerations apply to drainage, notification -of fevers, and kindred matters. The interference -with liberty remains an evil, but in some -cases it is clearly a smaller evil than the spread -of disease which liberty would produce. The -stamping out of malaria and yellow fever by -destroying mosquitoes is perhaps the most striking -example of the good which can be done in -this way. But when the good is small or doubtful, -and the interference with liberty is great, -it becomes better to endure a certain amount of -preventable disease rather than suffer a scientific -tyranny.</p> - -<p>Compulsory education comes under the same -head as sanitation. The existence of ignorant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">70</span> -masses in a population is a danger to the community; -when a considerable percentage are illiterate, -the whole machinery of government has -to take account of the fact. Democracy in its -modern form would be quite impossible in a nation -where many men cannot read. But in this -case there is not the same need of absolute universality -as in the case of sanitary measures. -The gipsies, whose mode of life has been rendered -almost impossible by the education authorities, -might well have been allowed to remain -a picturesque exception. But apart from -such rather unimportant exceptions, the argument -for compulsory education is irresistible.</p> - -<p>What the State does for the care of children -at present is less than what ought to be done, -not more. Children are not capable of looking -after their own interests, and parental responsibility -is in many ways inadequate. It is clear -that the State alone can insist upon the children -being provided with the minimum of knowledge -and health which, for the time being, satisfies -the conscience of the community.</p> - -<p>The encouragement of scientific research is -another matter which comes rightly within the -powers of the State, because the benefits of discoveries -accrue to the community, while the investigations<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">71</span> -are expensive and never individually -certain of achieving any result. In this -matter, Great Britain lags behind all other civilized -countries.</p> - -<p>The second kind of powers which the State -ought to possess are those that aim at diminishing -economic injustice. It is this kind that -has been emphasized by socialists. The law -creates or facilitates monopolies, and monopolies -are able to exact a toll from the community. -The most glaring example is the private -ownership of land. Railways are at present -controlled by the State, since rates are fixed by -law; and it is clear that if they were uncontrolled, -they would acquire a dangerous degree -of power.<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">9</a> Such considerations, if they stood -alone, would justify complete socialism. But I -think justice, by itself, is, like law, too static to -be made a supreme political principle: it does -not, when it has been achieved, contain any -seeds of new life or any impetus to development. -For this reason, when we wish to remedy -an injustice, it is important to consider -whether, in so doing, we shall be destroying the -incentive to some form of vigorous action which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">72</span> -is on the whole useful to the community. No -such form of action, so far as I can see, is associated -with private ownership of land or of -any other source of economic rent; if this is the -case, it follows that the State ought to be the -primary recipient of rent.</p> - -<p>If all these powers are allowed to the State, -what becomes of the attempt to rescue individual -liberty from its tyranny?</p> - -<p>This is part of the general problem which -confronts all those who still care for the ideals -which inspired liberalism, namely the problem -of combining liberty and personal initiative -with organization. Politics and economics are -more and more dominated by vast organizations, -in face of which the individual is in danger of -becoming powerless. The State is the greatest -of these organizations, and the most serious -menace to liberty. And yet it seems that many -of its functions must be extended rather than -curtailed.</p> - -<p>There is one way by which organization and -liberty can be combined, and that is, by securing -power for voluntary organizations, consisting -of men who have chosen to belong to them -because they embody some purpose which all -their members consider important, not a purpose<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">73</span> -imposed by accident or outside force. The -State, being geographical, cannot be a wholly -voluntary association, but for that very reason -there is need of a strong public opinion to restrain -it from a tyrannical use of its powers. -This public opinion, in most matters, can only -be secured by combinations of those who have -certain interests or desires in common.</p> - -<p>The positive purposes of the State, over and -above the preservation of order, ought as far -as possible to be carried out, not by the State -itself, but by independent organizations, which -should be left completely free so long as they -satisfied the State that they were not falling -below a necessary minimum. This occurs to -a certain limited extent at present in regard to -elementary education. The universities, also, -may be regarded as acting for the State in the -matter of higher education and research, except -that in their case no minimum of achievement -is exacted. In the economic sphere, the State -ought to exercise control, but ought to leave -initiative to others. There is every reason to -multiply opportunities of initiative, and to give -the greatest possible share of initiative to each -individual, for if this is not done there will be -a general sense of impotence and discouragement.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">74</span> -There ought to be a constant endeavor -to leave the more positive aspects of government -in the hands of voluntary organizations, -the purpose of the State being merely to exact -efficiency and to secure an amicable settlement -of disputes, whether within or without its own -borders. And with this ought to be combined -the greatest possible toleration of exceptions -and the least possible insistence upon uniform -system.</p> - -<p>A good deal may be achieved through local -government by trades as well as by areas. This -is the most original idea in syndicalism, and it -is valuable as a check upon the tyranny which -the community may be tempted to exercise over -certain classes of its members. All strong organizations -which embody a sectional public -opinion, such as trade unions, coöperative societies, -professions, and universities, are to be -welcomed as safeguards of liberty and opportunities -for initiative. And there is need of a -strong public opinion in favor of liberty itself. -The old battles for freedom of thought and freedom -of speech, which it was thought had been -definitively won, will have to be fought all over -again, since most men are only willing to accord -freedom to opinions which happen to be popular.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">75</span> -Institutions cannot preserve liberty unless -men realize that liberty is precious and -are willing to exert themselves to keep it -alive.</p> - -<p>There is a traditional objection to every <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">imperium -in imperio</i>, but this is only the jealousy -of the tyrant. In actual fact, the modern State -contains many organizations which it cannot defeat, -except perhaps on rare occasions when public -opinion is roused against them. Mr. Lloyd -George’s long fight with the medical profession -over the Insurance Act was full of Homeric -fluctuations of fortune. The Welsh miners recently -routed the whole power of the State, -backed by an excited nation. As for the financiers, -no Government would dream of a conflict -with them. When all other classes are exhorted -to patriotism, they are allowed their 4½ -per cent. and an increase of interest on their -consols. It is well understood on all sides that -an appeal to <em>their</em> patriotism would show gross -ignorance of the world. It is against the -traditions of the State to extort their money -by threatening to withdraw police protection. -This is not due to the difficulty of such a measure, -but only to the fact that great wealth wins -genuine admiration from us all, and we cannot<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">76</span> -bear to think of a very rich man being treated -with disrespect.</p> - -<p>The existence of strong organizations within -the State, such as trade unions, is not undesirable -except from the point of view of the official -who wishes to wield unlimited power, or of the -rival organizations, such as federations of employers, -which would prefer a disorganized adversary. -In view of the vastness of the State, -most men can find little political outlet for initiative -except in subordinate organizations -formed for specific purposes. Without an outlet -for political initiative, men lose their social -vigor and their interest in public affairs: they -become a prey to corrupt wire-pullers, or to -sensation-mongers who have the art of capturing -a tired and vagrant attention. The cure -for this is to increase rather than diminish the -powers of voluntary organizations, to give -every man a sphere of political activity small -enough for his interest and his capacity, and -to confine the functions of the State, as far as -possible, to the maintenance of peace among -rival interests. The essential merit of the -State is that it prevents the internal use of force -by private persons. Its essential demerits are,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">77</span> -that it promotes the external use of force, and -that, by its great size, it makes each individual -feel impotent even in a democracy. I shall return -in a later lecture to the question of preventing -war. The prevention of the sense of -individual impotence cannot be achieved by a -return to the small City State, which would be -as reactionary as a return to the days before -machinery. It must be achieved by a method -which is in the direction of present tendencies. -Such a method would be the increasing devolution -of positive political initiative to bodies -formed voluntarily for specific purposes, leaving -the State rather in the position of a federal -authority or a court of arbitration. The State -will then confine itself to insisting upon <em>some</em> -settlement of rival interests: its only principle -in deciding what is the right settlement will be -an attempt to find the measure most acceptable, -on the whole, to all the parties concerned. -This is the direction in which democratic States -naturally tend, except in so far as they are -turned aside by war or the fear of war. So -long as war remains a daily imminent danger, -the State will remain a Moloch, sacrificing -sometimes the life of the individual, and always<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">78</span> -his unfettered development, to the barren struggle -for mastery in the competition with other -States. In internal as in external affairs, the -worst enemy of freedom is war.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">79</span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 id="III" class="vspace">III<br /> - -<span class="subhead">WAR AS AN INSTITUTION</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">In</span> spite of the fact that most nations at most -times, are at peace, war is one of the permanent -institutions of all free communities, -just as Parliament is one of our permanent institutions -in spite of the fact that it is not always -sitting. It is war as a permanent institution -that I wish to consider: why men tolerate -it; why they ought not to tolerate it; what -hope there is of their coming not to tolerate -it; and how they could abolish it if they wished -to do so.</p> - -<p>War is a conflict between two groups, each -of which attempts to kill and maim as many -as possible of the other group in order to -achieve some object which it desires. The object -is generally either power or wealth. It is -a pleasure to exercise authority over other men, -and it is a pleasure to live on the produce of -other men’s labor. The victor in war can enjoy -more of these delights than the vanquished.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">80</span> -But war, like all other natural activities, is not -so much prompted by the end which it has in -view as by an impulse to the activity itself. -Very often men desire an end, not on its own -account, but because their nature demands the -actions which will lead to the end. And so it is -in this case: the ends to be achieved by war appear -in prospect far more important than they -will appear when they are realized, because -war itself is a fulfilment of one side of our nature. -If men’s actions sprang from desires for -what would in fact bring happiness, the purely -rational arguments against war would have -long ago put an end to it. What makes war -difficult to suppress is that it springs from an -impulse, rather than from a calculation of the -advantages to be derived from war.</p> - -<p>War differs from the employment of force -by the police through the fact that the actions -of the police are ordered by a neutral authority, -whereas in war it is the parties to the dispute -themselves who set force in motion. This -distinction is not absolute, since the State is -not always wholly neutral in internal disturbances. -When strikers are shot down, the State -is taking the side of the rich. When opinions -adverse to the existing State are punished, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">81</span> -State is obviously one of the parties to the dispute. -And from the suppression of individual -opinion up to civil war all gradations are possible. -But broadly speaking, force employed -according to laws previously laid down by the -community as a whole may be distinguished -from force employed by one community against -another on occasions of which the one community -is the sole judge. I have dwelt upon -this difference because I do not think the use -of force by the police can be wholly eliminated, -and I think a similar use of force in international -affairs is the best hope of permanent -peace. At present, international affairs are -regulated by the principle that a nation must -not intervene unless its interests are involved: -diplomatic usage forbids intervention for the -mere maintenance of international law. America -may protest when American citizens are -drowned by German submarines, but must not -protest when no American citizens are involved. -The case would be analogous in internal affairs -if the police would only interfere with murder -when it happened that a policeman had been -killed. So long as this principle prevails in the -relations of States, the power of neutrals cannot -be effectively employed to prevent war.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">82</span> -In every civilized country two forces coöperate -to produce war. In ordinary times some -men—usually a small proportion of the population—are -bellicose: they predict war, and obviously -are not unhappy in the prospect. So -long as war is not imminent, the bulk of the -population pay little attention to these men, and -do not actively either support or oppose them. -But when war begins to seem very near, a war fever -seizes hold of people, and those who were -already bellicose find themselves enthusiastically -supported by all but an insignificant minority. -The impulses which inspire war fever -are rather different from those which make -some men bellicose in ordinary times. Only educated -men are likely to be warlike at ordinary -times, since they alone are vividly aware of -other countries or of the part which their own -nation might play in the affairs of the world. -But it is only their knowledge, not their nature, -that distinguishes them from their more ignorant -compatriots.</p> - -<p>To take the most obvious example, German -policy, in recent years before the war, was not -averse from war, and not friendly to England. -It is worth while to try to understand the state -of mind from which this policy sprang.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</span> -The men who direct German policy are, to -begin with, patriotic to an extent which is almost -unknown in France and England. The interests -of Germany appear to them unquestionably -the only interests they need take into account. -What injury may, in pursuing those -interests, be done to other nations, what destruction -may be brought upon populations and -cities, what irreparable damage may result to -civilization, it is not for them to consider. If -they can confer what they regard as benefits -upon Germany, everything else is of no account.</p> - -<p>The second noteworthy point about German -policy is that its conception of national welfare -is mainly competitive. It is not the <em>intrinsic</em> -wealth of Germany, whether materially -or mentally, that the rulers of Germany consider -important: it is the <em>comparative</em> wealth -in the competition with other civilized countries. -For this reason the destruction of good -things abroad appears to them almost as desirable -as the creation of good things in Germany. -In most parts of the world the French are regarded -as the most civilized of nations: their -art and their literature and their way of life -have an attraction for foreigners which those -of Germany do not have. The English have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">84</span> -developed political liberty, and the art of maintaining -an Empire with a minimum of coercion, -in a way for which Germany, hitherto, has -shown no aptitude. These are grounds for -envy, and envy wishes to destroy what is good -in other countries. German militarists, quite -rightly, judged that what was best in France -and England would probably be destroyed by a -great war, even if France and England were -not in the end defeated in the actual fighting. -I have seen a list of young French writers -killed on the battlefield; probably the German -authorities have also seen it, and have reflected -with joy that another year of such losses will -destroy French literature for a generation—perhaps, -through loss of tradition, for ever. -Every outburst against liberty in our more bellicose -newspapers, every incitement to persecution -of defenseless Germans, every mark of -growing ferocity in our attitude, must be read -with delight by German patriots, as proving -their success in robbing us of our best, and in -forcing us to imitate whatever is worst in Prussia.</p> - -<p>But what the rulers of Germany have envied -us most was power and wealth—the power derived -from command of the seas and the straits,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">85</span> -the wealth derived from a century of industrial -supremacy. In both these respects they feel -that their deserts are higher than ours. They -have devoted far more thought and skill to military -and industrial organization. Their average -of intelligence and knowledge is far superior; -their capacity for pursuing an attainable -end, unitedly and with forethought, is infinitely -greater. Yet we, merely (as they think) because -we had a start in the race, have achieved -a vastly larger Empire than they have, and an -enormously greater control of capital. All this -is unbearable; yet nothing but a great war can -alter it.</p> - -<p>Besides all these feelings, there is in many -Germans, especially in those who know us best, -a hot hatred of us on account of our pride. -Farinata degli Uberti surveyed Hell “<i xml:lang="it" lang="it">come -avesse lo Inferno in gran dispitto</i>.” Just so, -by German accounts, English officer prisoners -look round them among their captors—holding -aloof, as though the enemy were noxious, -unclean creatures, toads or slugs or centipedes, -which a man does not touch willingly, and -shakes off with loathing if he is forced to touch -them for a moment. It is easy to imagine how -the devils hated Farinata, and inflicted greater<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">86</span> -pains upon him than upon his neighbors, hoping -to win recognition by some slight wincing -on his part, driven to frenzy by his continuing -to behave as if they did not exist. In just the -same way the Germans are maddened by our -spiritual immobility. At bottom we have regarded -the Germans as one regards flies on a -hot day: they are a nuisance, one has to brush -them off, but it would not occur to one to be -turned aside by them. Now that the initial certainty -of victory has faded, we begin to be affected -inwardly by the Germans. In time, if -we continue to fail in our military enterprises, -we shall realize that they are human beings, not -just a tiresome circumstance. Then perhaps -we shall hate them with a hatred which they -will have no reason to resent. And from such -a hatred it will be only a short journey to a -genuine <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">rapprochement</i>.</p> - -<p>The problem which must be solved, if the future -of the world is to be less terrible than its -present, is the problem of preventing nations -from getting into the moods of England and -Germany at the outbreak of the war. These -two nations as they were at that moment might -be taken as almost mythical representatives of -pride and envy—cold pride and hot envy. Germany<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">87</span> -declaimed passionately: “You, England, -swollen and decrepit, you overshadow my -whole growth—your rotting branches keep the -sun from shining upon me and the rain from -nourishing me. Your spreading foliage must -be lopped, your symmetrical beauty must be -destroyed, that I too may have freedom to grow, -that my young vigor may no longer be -impeded by your decaying mass.” England, -bored and aloof, unconscious of the claims of -outside forces, attempted absent-mindedly to -sweep away the upstart disturber of meditation; -but the upstart was not swept away, and -remains so far with every prospect of making -good his claim. The claim and the resistance -to it are alike folly. Germany had no good -ground for envy; we had no good ground for -resisting whatever in Germany’s demands was -compatible with our continued existence. Is -there any method of averting such reciprocal -folly in the future?</p> - -<p>I think if either the English or the Germans -were capable of thinking in terms of individual -welfare rather than national pride, they would -have seen that, at every moment during the war -the wisest course would have been to conclude -peace at once, on the best terms that could have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">88</span> -been obtained. This course, I am convinced, -would have been the wisest for each separate -nation, as well as for civilization in general. -The utmost evil that the enemy could inflict -through an unfavorable peace would be a trifle -compared to the evil which all the nations inflict -upon themselves by continuing to fight. -What blinds us to this obvious fact is pride, the -pride which makes the acknowledgment of defeat -intolerable, and clothes itself in the garb -of reason by suggesting all kinds of evils which -are supposed to result from admitting defeat. -But the only real evil of defeat is humiliation, -and humiliation is subjective; we shall not feel -humiliated if we become persuaded that it was -a mistake to engage in the war, and that it is -better to pursue other tasks not dependent upon -world-dominion. If either the English or the -Germans could admit this inwardly, any peace -which did not destroy national independence -could be accepted without real loss in the self-respect -which is essential to a good life.</p> - -<p>The mood in which Germany embarked upon -the war was abominable, but it was a mood -fostered by the habitual mood of England. We -have prided ourselves upon our territory and -our wealth; we have been ready at all times to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</span> -defend by force of arms what we have conquered -in India and Africa. If we had realized the -futility of empire, and had shown a willingness -to yield colonies to Germany without waiting for -the threat of force, we might have been in a -position to persuade the Germans that their -ambitions were foolish, and that the respect of -the world was not to be won by an imperialist -policy. But by our resistance we showed that -we shared their standards. We, being in possession, -became enamored of the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">status quo</i>. -The Germans were willing to make war to upset -the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">status quo</i>; we were willing to make war -to prevent its being upset in Germany’s favor. -So convinced were we of the sacredness of the -<i xml:lang="la" lang="la">status quo</i> that we never realized how advantageous -it was to us, or how, by insisting upon -it, we shared the responsibility for the war. In -a world where nations grow and decay, where -forces change and populations become cramped, -it is not possible or desirable to maintain the -<i xml:lang="la" lang="la">status quo</i> for ever. If peace is to be preserved, -nations must learn to accept unfavorable -alterations of the map without feeling that -they must first be defeated in war, or that in -yielding they incur a humiliation.</p> - -<p>It is the insistence of legalists and friends of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</span> -peace upon the maintenance of the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">status quo</i> -that has driven Germany into militarism. -Germany had as good a right to an Empire as -any other Great Power, but could only acquire -an Empire through war. Love of peace has -been too much associated with a static conception -of international relations. In economic -disputes we all know that whatever is vigorous -in the wage-earning classes is opposed to “industrial -peace,” because the existing distribution -of wealth is felt to be unfair. Those who -enjoy a privileged position endeavor to bolster -up their claims by appealing to the desire for -peace, and decrying those who promote strife -between the classes. It never occurs to them -that by opposing changes without considering -whether they are just, the capitalists share the -responsibility for the class war. And in exactly -the same way England shares the responsibility -for Germany’s war. If actual war is -ever to cease there will have to be political -methods of achieving the results which now -can only be achieved by successful fighting, and -nations will have voluntarily to admit adverse -claims which appear just in the judgment of -neutrals.</p> - -<p>It is only by some such admission, embodying<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</span> -itself in a Parliament of the nations with -full power to alter the distribution of territory, -that militarism can be permanently overcome. -It may be that the present war will bring, in the -Western nations, a change of mood and outlook -sufficient to make such an institution possible. -It may be that more wars and more destruction -will be necessary before the majority of civilized -men rebel against the brutality and futile -destruction of modern war. But unless our -standards of civilization and our powers of constructive -thought are to be permanently lowered, -I cannot doubt that, sooner or later, -reason will conquer the blind impulses which -now lead nations into war. And if a large majority -of the Great Powers had a firm determination -that peace should be preserved, there -would be no difficulty in devising diplomatic -machinery for the settlement of disputes, and -in establishing educational systems which -would implant in the minds of the young an ineradicable -horror of the slaughter which they -are now taught to admire.</p> - -<p>Besides the conscious and deliberate forces -leading to war, there are the inarticulate feelings -of common men, which, in most civilized -countries, are always ready to burst into war<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</span> -fever at the bidding of statesmen. If peace is -to be secure, the readiness to catch war fever -must be somehow diminished. Whoever wishes -to succeed in this must first understand what -war fever is and why it arises.</p> - -<p>The men who have an important influence in -the world, whether for good or evil, are dominated -as a rule by a threefold desire: they desire, -first, an activity which calls fully into play -the faculties in which they feel that they excel; -secondly, the sense of successfully overcoming -resistance; thirdly, the respect of others on account -of their success. The third of these desires -is sometimes absent: some men who have -been great have been without the “last infirmity,” -and have been content with their own -sense of success, or merely with the joy of difficult -effort. But as a rule all three are present. -Some men’s talents are specialized, so -that their choice of activities is circumscribed -by the nature of their faculties; other men have, -in youth, such a wide range of possible aptitudes -that their choice is chiefly determined by the -varying degrees of respect which public opinion -gives to different kinds of success.</p> - -<p>The same desires, usually in a less marked -degree, exist in men who have no exceptional<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</span> -talents. But such men cannot achieve anything -very difficult by their individual efforts; -for them, as units, it is impossible to acquire -the sense of greatness or the triumph of strong -resistance overcome. Their separate lives are -unadventurous and dull. In the morning they -go to the office or the plow, in the evening -they return tired and silent, to the sober -monotony of wife and children. Believing that -security is the supreme good, they have insured -against sickness and death, and have found an -employment where they have little fear of dismissal -and no hope of any great rise. But security, -once achieved, brings a Nemesis of -ennui. Adventure, imagination, risk, also have -their claims; but how can these claims be satisfied -by the ordinary wage-earner? Even if it -were possible to satisfy them, the claims of -wife and children have priority and must not be -neglected.</p> - -<p>To this victim of order and good organization -the realization comes, in some moment of -sudden crisis, that he belongs to a nation, that -his nation may take risks, may engage in difficult -enterprises, enjoy the hot passion of doubtful -combat, stimulate adventure and imagination -by military expeditions to Mount Sinai and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</span> -the Garden of Eden. What his nation does, in -some sense, he does; what his nation suffers, he -suffers. The long years of private caution are -avenged by a wild plunge into public madness. -All the horrid duties of thrift and order and -care which he has learnt to fulfil in private are -thought not to apply to public affairs: it is -patriotic and noble to be reckless for the nation, -though it would be wicked to be reckless -for oneself. The old primitive passions, which -civilization has denied, surge up all the stronger -for repression. In a moment imagination and -instinct travel back through the centuries, and -the wild man of the woods emerges from the -mental prison in which he has been confined. -This is the deeper part of the psychology of the -war fever.</p> - -<p>But besides the irrational and instinctive element -in the war fever, there is always also, if -only as a liberator of primitive impulse, a certain -amount of quasi-rational calculation and -what is euphemistically called “thought.” The -war fever very seldom seizes a nation unless it -believes that it will be victorious. Undoubtedly, -under the influence of excitement, men -over-estimate their chances of success; but there -is some proportion between what is hoped and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</span> -what a rational man would expect. Holland, -though quite as humane as England, had no -impulse to go to war on behalf of Belgium, because -the likelihood of disaster was so obviously -overwhelming. The London populace, if -they had known how the war was going to develop, -would not have rejoiced as they did on -that August Bank Holiday long ago. A nation -which has had a recent experience of war, and -has come to know that a war is almost always -more painful than it is expected to be at the -outset, becomes much less liable to war fever -until a new generation grows up. The element -of rationality in war fever is recognized -by Governments and journalists who desire -war, as may be seen by their invariably minimizing -the perils of a war which they wish to -provoke. At the beginning of the South African -War Sir William Butler was dismissed, apparently -for suggesting that sixty thousand -men and three months might not suffice to subdue -the Boer Republics. And when the war -proved long and difficult, the nation turned -against those who had made it. We may assume, -I think, without attributing too great -a share to reason in human affairs, that a nation -would not suffer from war fever in a case<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</span> -where every sane man could see that defeat was -very probable.</p> - -<p>The importance of this lies in the fact that it -would make aggressive war very unlikely if its -chances of success were very small. If the -peace-loving nations were sufficiently strong to -be obviously capable of defeating the nations -which were willing to wage aggressive war, the -peace-loving nations might form an alliance and -agree to fight jointly against any nation which -refused to submit its claims to an International -Council. Before the present war we -might have reasonably hoped to secure the -peace of the world in some such way; but the -military strength of Germany has shown that -such a scheme has no great chance of success at -present. Perhaps at some not far distant date -it may be made more feasible by developments -of policy in America.</p> - -<p>The economic and political forces which make -for war could be easily curbed if the will to -peace existed strongly in all civilized nations. -But so long as the populations are liable to war -fever, all work for peace must be precarious; -and if war fever could not be aroused, political -and economic forces would be powerless to produce -any long or very destructive war. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</span> -fundamental problem for the pacifist is to prevent -the impulse towards war which seizes -whole communities from time to time. And -this can only be done by far-reaching changes -in education, in the economic structure of society, -and in the moral code by which public -opinion controls the lives of men and women.<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">10</a></p> - -<p>A great many of the impulses which now lead -nations to go to war are in themselves essential -to any vigorous or progressive life. Without -imagination and love of adventure a society -soon becomes stagnant and begins to decay. -Conflict, provided it is not destructive and -brutal, is necessary in order to stimulate men’s -activities, and to secure the victory of what is -living over what is dead or merely traditional. -The wish for the triumph of one’s cause, the -sense of solidarity with large bodies of men, -are not things which a wise man will wish to -destroy. It is only the outcome in death and -destruction and hatred that is evil. The problem -is, to keep these impulses, without making -war the outlet for them.</p> - -<p>All Utopias that have hitherto been constructed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</span> -are intolerably dull. Any man with -any force in him would rather live in this world, -with all its ghastly horrors, than in Plato’s Republic -or among Swift’s Houyhnhnms. The -men who make Utopias proceed upon a radically -false assumption as to what constitutes a -good life. They conceive that it is possible to -imagine a certain state of society and a certain -way of life which should be once for all recognized -as good, and should then continue for ever -and ever. They do not realize that much the -greater part of a man’s happiness depends upon -activity, and only a very small remnant consists -in passive enjoyment. Even the pleasures -which do consist in enjoyment are only -satisfactory, to most men, when they come in -the intervals of activity. Social reformers, like -inventors of Utopias, are apt to forget this very -obvious fact of human nature. They aim -rather at securing more leisure, and more opportunity -for enjoying it, than at making work -itself more satisfactory, more consonant with -impulse, and a better outlet for creativeness and -the desire to employ one’s faculties. Work, in -the modern world, is, to almost all who depend -on earnings, mere work, not an embodiment of -the desire for activity. Probably this is to a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span> -considerable extent inevitable. But in so far -as it can be prevented something will be done -to give a peaceful outlet to some of the impulses -which lead to war.</p> - -<p>It would, of course, be easy to bring about -peace if there were no vigor in the world. The -Roman Empire was pacific and unproductive; -the Athens of Pericles was the most productive -and almost the most warlike community known -to history. The only form of production in -which our own age excels is science, and in -science Germany, the most warlike of Great -Powers, is supreme. It is useless to multiply -examples; but it is plain that the very same -vital energy which produces all that is best also -produces war and the love of war. This is the -basis of the opposition to pacifism felt by many -men whose aims and activities are by no means -brutal. Pacifism, in practice, too often expresses -merely lack of force, not the refusal to -use force in thwarting others. Pacifism, if it is -to be both victorious and beneficent, must find -an outlet, compatible with humane feeling, for -the vigor which now leads nations into war and -destruction.</p> - -<p>This problem was considered by William -James in an admirable address on “The Moral<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span> -Equivalent of War,” delivered to a congress of -pacifists during the Spanish-American War of -1898. His statement of the problem could not -be bettered; and so far as I know, he is the -only writer who has faced the problem adequately. -But his solution is not adequate; perhaps -no adequate solution is possible. The -problem, however, is one of degree: every additional -peaceful outlet for men’s energies diminishes -the force which urges nations towards -war, and makes war less frequent and less -fierce. And as a question of degree, it is capable -of more or less partial solutions.<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">11</a></p> - -<p>Every vigorous man needs some kind of contest, -some sense of resistance overcome, in order -to feel that he is exercising his faculties. -Under the influence of economics, a theory has -grown up that what men desire is wealth; this -theory has tended to verify itself, because people’s -actions are more often determined by -what they think they desire than by what they -really desire. The less active members of a -community often do in fact desire wealth, since -it enables them to gratify a taste for passive<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span> -enjoyment, and to secure respect without exertion. -But the energetic men who make great -fortunes seldom desire the actual money: they -desire the sense of power through a contest, -and the joy of successful activity. For this -reason, those who are the most ruthless in making -money are often the most willing to give it -away; there are many notorious examples of -this among American millionaires. The only -element of truth in the economic theory that -these men are actuated by desire for money is -this: owing to the fact that money is what is -<em>believed</em> to be desirable, the making of money -is recognized as the test of success. What is desired -is visible and indubitable success; but this -can only be achieved by being one of the few -who reach a goal which many men would wish to -reach. For this reason, public opinion has a -great influence in directing the activities of -vigorous men. In America a millionaire is -more respected than a great artist; this leads -men who might become either the one or the -other to choose to become millionaires. In -Renaissance Italy great artists were more respected -than millionaires, and the result was the -opposite of what it is in America.</p> - -<p>Some pacifists and all militarists deprecate<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span> -social and political conflicts. In this the militarists -are in the right, from their point of -view; but the pacifists seem to me mistaken. -Conflicts of party politics, conflicts between -capital and labor, and generally all those conflicts -of principle which do not involve war, -serve many useful purposes, and do very little -harm. They increase men’s interest in public -affairs, they afford a comparatively innocent -outlet for the love of contest, and they help to -alter laws and institutions, when changing conditions -or greater knowledge create the wish -for an alteration. Everything that intensifies -political life tends to bring about a peaceful -interest of the same kind as the interest which -leads to desire for war. And in a democratic -community political questions give every voter -a sense of initiative and power and responsibility -which relieves his life of something of its -narrow unadventurousness. The object of the -pacifist should be to give men more and more -political control over their own lives, and in -particular to introduce democracy into the management -of industry, as the syndicalists advise.</p> - -<p>The problem for the reflective pacifist is two-fold: -how to keep his own country at peace, and -how to preserve the peace of the world. It is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span> -impossible that the peace of the world should -be preserved while nations are liable to the -mood in which Germany entered upon the war—unless, -indeed, one nation were so obviously -stronger than all others combined as to make -war unnecessary for that one and hopeless for -all the others. As this war has dragged on its -weary length, many people must have asked -themselves whether national independence is -worth the price that has to be paid for it. -Would it not perhaps be better to secure universal -peace by the supremacy of one Power? -“To secure peace by a world federation”—so -a submissive pacifist may argue—“would require -some faint glimmerings of reason in -rulers and peoples, and is therefore out of the -question; but to secure it by allowing Germany -to dictate terms to Europe would be easy, in -view of Germany’s amazing military success. -Since there is no other way of ending war”—so -our advocate of peace at any price would -contend—“let us adopt this way, which happens -at the moment to be open to us.” It is worth -while to consider this view more attentively -than is commonly considered.</p> - -<p>There is one great historic example of a long -peace secured in this way; I mean the Roman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span> -Empire. We in England boast of the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">Pax Britannica</i> -which we have imposed, in this way, -upon the warring races and religions in India. -If we are right in boasting of this, if we have -in fact conferred a benefit upon India by enforced -peace, the Germans would be right in -boasting if they could impose a <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">Pax Germanica</i> -upon Europe. Before the war, men might have -said that India and Europe are not analogous, -because India is less civilized than Europe; but -now, I hope, no one would have the effrontery -to maintain anything so preposterous. Repeatedly -in modern history there has been a -chance of achieving European unity by the -hegemony of a single State; but always England, -in obedience to the doctrine of the Balance -of Power, has prevented this consummation, -and preserved what our statesmen have called -the “liberties of Europe.” It is this task upon -which we are now engaged. But I do not think -our statesmen, or any others among us, have -made much effort to consider whether the task -is worth what it costs.</p> - -<p>In one case we were clearly wrong: in our -resistance to revolutionary France. If revolutionary -France could have conquered the Continent -and Great Britain, the world would now<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">105</span> -be happier, more civilized, and more free, as -well as more peaceful. But revolutionary -France was a quite exceptional case, because -its early conquests were made in the name of -liberty, against tyrants, not against peoples; -and everywhere the French armies were welcomed -as liberators by all except rulers and -bigots. In the case of Philip II we were as -clearly right as we were wrong in 1793. But -in both cases our action is not to be judged by -some abstract diplomatic conception of the -“liberties of Europe,” but by the ideals of the -Power seeking hegemony, and by the probable -effect upon the welfare of ordinary men and -women throughout Europe.</p> - -<p>“Hegemony” is a very vague word, and -everything turns upon the degree of interference -with liberty which it involves. There is a -degree of interference with liberty which is -fatal to many forms of national life; for example, -Italy in the seventeenth and eighteenth -centuries was crushed by the supremacy of -Spain and Austria. If the Germans were actually -to annex French provinces, as they did in -1871, they would probably inflict a serious injury -upon those provinces, and make them less -fruitful for civilization in general. For such<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">106</span> -reasons national liberty is a matter of real importance, -and a Europe actually governed by -Germany would probably be very dead and unproductive. -But if “hegemony” merely means -increased weight in diplomatic questions, more -coaling stations and possessions in Africa, more -power of securing advantageous commercial -treaties, then it can hardly be supposed that it -would do any vital damage to other nations; -certainly it would not do so much damage as the -present war is doing. I cannot doubt that, before -the war, a hegemony of this kind would -have abundantly satisfied the Germans. But -the effect of the war, so far, has been to increase -immeasurably all the dangers which it -was intended to avert. We have now only the -choice between certain exhaustion of Europe in -fighting Germany and possible damage to the -national life of France by German tyranny. -Stated in terms of civilization and human welfare, -not in terms of national prestige, that is -now in fact the issue.</p> - -<p>Assuming that war is not ended by one State -conquering all the others, the only way in which -it can be permanently ended is by a world-federation. -So long as there are many sovereign -States, each with its own Army, there can<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span> -be no security that there will not be war. -There will have to be in the world only one -Army and one Navy before there will be any -reason to think that wars have ceased. This -means that, so far as the military functions of -the State are concerned, there will be only one -State, which will be world-wide.</p> - -<p>The civil functions of the State—legislative, -administrative, and judicial—have no very essential -connection with the military functions, -and there is no reason why both kinds of functions -should normally be exercised by the -same State. There is, in fact, every reason -why the civil State and the military State -should be different. The greater modern -States are already too large for most civil purposes, -but for military purposes they are not -large enough, since they are not world-wide. -This difference as to the desirable area for the -two kinds of State introduces a certain perplexity -and hesitation, when it is not realized that -the two functions have little necessary connection: -one set of considerations points towards -small States, the other towards continually -larger States. Of course, if there were an international -Army and Navy, there would have -to be some international authority to set them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">108</span> -in motion. But this authority need never concern -itself with any of the internal affairs of -national States: it need only declare the rules -which should regulate their relations, and pronounce -judicially when those rules have been so -infringed as to call for the intervention of the -international force. How easily the limit of -the authority could be fixed may be seen by -many actual examples.</p> - -<p>The civil and military State are often different -in practice, for many purposes. The South -American Republics are sovereign for all purposes -except their relations with Europe, in regard -to which they are subject to the United -States: in dealings with Europe, the Army and -Navy of the United States are their Army and -Navy. Our self-governing Dominions depend -for their defense, not upon their own forces but -upon our Navy. Most Governments, nowadays, -do not aim at formal annexation of a -country which they wish to incorporate, but only -at a protectorate—that is, civil autonomy subject -to military control. Such autonomy is, of -course, in practice incomplete, because it does -not enable the “protected” country to adopt -measures which are vetoed by the Power in -military control. But it may be very nearly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">109</span> -complete, as in the case of our self-governing -Dominions. At the other extreme, it may become -a mere farce, as in Egypt. In the case of -an alliance, there is complete autonomy of the -separate allied countries, together with what -is practically a combination of their military -forces into one single force.</p> - -<p>The great advantage of a large military -State is that it increases the area over which -internal war is not possible except by revolution. -If England and Canada have a disagreement, -it is taken as a matter of course that a -settlement shall be arrived at by discussion, not -by force. Still more is this the case if Manchester -and Liverpool have a quarrel, in spite -of the fact that each is autonomous for many -local purposes. No one would have thought it -reasonable that Liverpool should go to war to -prevent the construction of the Manchester -Ship Canal, although almost any two Great -Powers would have gone to war over an issue -of the same relative importance. England and -Russia would probably have gone to war over -Persia if they had not been allies; as it is, they -arrived by diplomacy at much the same iniquitous -result as they would otherwise have -reached by fighting. Australia and Japan<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">110</span> -would probably fight if they were both completely -independent; but both depend for their -liberties upon the British Navy, and therefore -they have to adjust their differences peaceably.</p> - -<p>The chief disadvantage of a large military -State is that, when external war occurs, the area -affected is greater. The quadruple Entente -forms, for the present, one military State; the -result is that, because of a dispute between Austria -and Serbia, Belgium is devastated and Australians -are killed in the Dardanelles. Another -disadvantage is that it facilitates oppression. -A large military State is practically omnipotent -against a small State, and can impose its will, -as England and Russia did in Persia and as -Austria-Hungary has been doing in Serbia. It -is impossible to make sure of avoiding oppression -by any purely mechanical guarantees; only -a liberal and humane spirit can afford a real -protection. It has been perfectly possible for -England to oppress Ireland, in spite of democracy -and the presence of Irish Members at -Westminster. Nor has the presence of Poles -in the Reichstag prevented the oppression of -Prussian Poland. But democracy and representative -government undoubtedly make oppression -less probable: they afford a means by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">111</span> -which those who might be oppressed can cause -their wishes and grievances to be publicly -known, they render it certain that only a minority -can be oppressed, and then only if the majority -are nearly unanimous in wishing to oppress -them. Also the practice of oppression -affords much more pleasure to the governing -classes, who actually carry it out, than to the -mass of the population. For this reason the -mass of the population, where it has power, is -likely to be less tyrannical than an oligarchy or -a bureaucracy.</p> - -<p>In order to prevent war and at the same -time preserve liberty it is necessary that there -should be only one military State in the world, -and that when disputes between different countries -arise, it should act according to the decision -of a central authority. This is what -would naturally result from a federation of the -world, if such a thing ever came about. But -the prospect is remote, and it is worth while -to consider why it is so remote.</p> - -<p>The unity of a nation is produced by similar -habits, instinctive liking, a common history, -and a common pride. The unity of a nation is -partly due to intrinsic affinities between its -citizens, but partly also to the pressure and contrast<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">112</span> -of the outside world: if a nation were -isolated, it would not have the same cohesion -or the same fervor of patriotism. When we -come to alliances of nations, it is seldom anything -except outside pressure that produces -solidarity. England and America, to some extent, -are drawn together by the same causes -which often make national unity: a (more or -less) common language, similar political institutions, -similar aims in international politics. -But England, France, and Russia were drawn -together solely by fear of Germany; if Germany -had been annihilated by a natural cataclysm, -they would at once have begun to hate -one another, as they did before Germany was -strong. For this reason, the possibility of coöperation -in the present alliance against Germany -affords no ground whatever for hoping -that all the nations of the world might coöperate -permanently in a peaceful alliance. The -present motive for cohesion, namely a common -fear, would be gone, and could not be replaced -by any other motive unless men’s thoughts and -purposes were very different from what they -are now.</p> - -<p>The ultimate fact from which war results is -not economic or political, and does not rest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">113</span> -upon any mechanical difficulty of inventing -means for the peaceful settlement of international -disputes. The ultimate fact from which -war results is the fact that a large proportion -of mankind have an impulse to conflict rather -than harmony, and can only be brought to coöperate -with others in resisting or attacking a -common enemy. This is the case in private -life as well as in the relations of States. Most -men, when they feel themselves sufficiently -strong, set to work to make themselves feared -rather than loved; the wish to gain the good -opinion of others is confined, as a rule, to those -who have not acquired secure power. The impulse -to quarreling and self-assertion, the -pleasure of getting one’s own way in spite of -opposition, is native to most men. It is this -impulse, rather than any motive of calculated -self-interest, which produces war, and causes -the difficulty of bringing about a World-State. -And this impulse is not confined to one nation; -it exists, in varying degrees, in all the vigorous -nations of the world.</p> - -<p>But although this impulse is strong, there is -no reason why it should be allowed to lead to -war. It was exactly the same impulse which -led to duelling; yet now civilized men conduct<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">114</span> -their private quarrels without bloodshed. If -political contest within a World-State were -substituted for war, imagination would soon -accustom itself to the new situation, as it has -accustomed itself to absence of duelling. -Through the influence of institutions and habits, -without any fundamental change in human nature, -men would learn to look back upon war as -we look upon the burning of heretics or upon -human sacrifice to heathen deities. If I were to -buy a revolver costing several pounds, in order -to shoot my friend with a view to stealing sixpence -out of his pocket, I should be thought -neither very wise nor very virtuous. But if I -can get sixty-five million accomplices to join me -in this criminal absurdity, I become one of a -great and glorious nation, nobly sacrificing the -cost of my revolver, perhaps even my life, in -order to secure the sixpence for the honor of -my country. Historians, who are almost invariably -sycophants, will praise me and my accomplices -if we are successful, and say that we -are worthy successors of the heroes who overthrew -the might of Imperial Rome. But if my -opponents are victorious, if their sixpences are -defended at the cost of many pounds each and -the lives of a large proportion of the population,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">115</span> -then historians will call me a brigand (as I -am), and praise the spirit and self-sacrifice of -those who resisted me.</p> - -<p>War is surrounded with glamour, by tradition, -by Homer and the Old Testament, by early -education, by elaborate myths as to the importance -of the issues involved, by the heroism and -self-sacrifice, which these myths call out. Jephthah -sacrificing his daughter is a heroic figure, -but he would have let her live if he had not been -deceived by a myth. Mothers sending their sons -to the battlefield are heroic, but they are as -much deceived as Jephthah. And, in both cases -alike, the heroism which issues in cruelty would -be dispelled if there were not some strain of -barbarism in the imaginative outlook from -which myths spring. A God who can be pleased -by the sacrifice of an innocent girl could only -be worshiped by men to whom the thought of -receiving such a sacrifice is not wholly abhorrent. -A nation which believes that its welfare -can only be secured by suffering and inflicting -hundreds of thousands of equally horrible sacrifices, -is a nation which has no very spiritual conception -of what constitutes national welfare. -It would be better a hundredfold to forgo material -comfort, power, pomp, and outward glory<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">116</span> -than to kill and be killed, to hate and be hated, -to throw away in a mad moment of fury the -bright heritage of the ages. We have learnt -gradually to free our God from the savagery -with which the primitive Israelites and the -Fathers endowed Him: few of us now believe -that it is His pleasure to torture most of the -human race in an eternity of hell-fire. But we -have not yet learnt to free our national ideals -from the ancient taint. Devotion to the nation -is perhaps the deepest and most widespread religion -of the present age. Like the ancient religions, -it demands its persecutions, its holocausts, -its lurid heroic cruelties; like them, it is -noble, primitive, brutal, and mad. Now, as in -the past, religion, lagging behind private consciences -through the weight of tradition, steels -the hearts of men against mercy and their minds -against truth. If the world is to be saved, men -must learn to be noble without being cruel, to be -filled with faith and yet open to truth, to be -inspired by great purposes without hating those -who try to thwart them. But before this can -happen, men must first face the terrible realization -that the gods before whom they have bowed -down were false gods and the sacrifices they -have made were vain.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">117</span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 id="IV" class="vspace">IV<br /> - -<span class="subhead">PROPERTY</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap al"><span class="smcap1">Among</span> the many gloomy novelists of the -realistic school, perhaps the most full of -gloom is Gissing. In common with all his characters, -he lives under the weight of a great oppression: -the power of the fearful and yet -adored idol of Money. One of his typical -stories is “Eve’s Ransom,” where the heroine, -with various discreditable subterfuges, throws -over the poor man whom she loves in order to -marry the rich man whose income she loves still -better. The poor man, finding that the rich -man’s income has given her a fuller life and a -better character than the poor man’s love could -have given her, decides that she has done quite -right, and that he deserves to be punished for -his lack of money. In this story, as in his other -books, Gissing has set forth, quite accurately, -the actual dominion of money, and the impersonal -worship which it exacts from the great -majority of civilized mankind.</p> - -<p>Gissing’s facts are undeniable, and yet his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">118</span> -attitude produces a revolt in any reader who -has vital passions and masterful desires. His -worship of money is bound up with his consciousness -of inward defeat. And in the -modern world generally, it is the decay of life -which has promoted the religion of material -goods; and the religion of material goods, in -its turn, has hastened the decay of life on which -it thrives. The man who worships money has -ceased to hope for happiness through his own -efforts or in his own activities: he looks upon -happiness as a passive enjoyment of pleasures -derived from the outside world. The artist or -the lover does not worship money in his moments -of ardor, because his desires are specific, -and directed towards objects which only he can -create. And conversely, the worshiper of -money can never achieve greatness as an artist -or a lover.</p> - -<p>Love of money has been denounced by -moralists since the world began. I do not wish -to add another to the moral denunciations, of -which the efficacy in the past has not been encouraging. -I wish to show how the worship of -money is both an effect and a cause of diminishing -vitality, and how our institutions might be -changed so as to make the worship of money<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">119</span> -grow less and the general vitality grow more. -It is not the desire for money as a means to definite -ends that is in question. A struggling -artist may desire money in order to have leisure -for his art, but this desire is finite, and can be -satisfied fully by a very modest sum. It is the -<em>worship</em> of money that I wish to consider: the -belief that all values may be measured in terms -of money, and that money is the ultimate test -of success in life. This belief is held in fact, -if not in words, by multitudes of men and -women, and yet it is not in harmony with human -nature, since it ignores vital needs and the instinctive -tendency towards some specific kind -of growth. It makes men treat as unimportant -those of their desires which run counter to the -acquisition of money, and yet such desires are, -as a rule, more important to well-being than any -increase of income. It leads men to mutilate -their own natures from a mistaken theory of -what constitutes success, and to give admiration -to enterprises which add nothing to human welfare. -It promotes a dead uniformity of character -and purpose, a diminution in the joy of -life, and a stress and strain which leaves whole -communities weary, discouraged, and disillusioned.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">120</span> -America, the pioneer of Western progress, is -thought by many to display the worship of -money in its most perfect form. A well-to-do -American, who already has more than enough -money to satisfy all reasonable requirements, -almost always continues to work at his office -with an assiduity which would only be pardonable -if starvation were the alternative.</p> - -<p>But England, except among a small minority, -is almost as much given over to the worship of -money as America. Love of money in England -takes, as a rule, the form of snobbishly desiring -to maintain a certain social status, rather -than of striving after an indefinite increase of -income. Men postpone marriage until they -have an income enabling them to have as -many rooms and servants in their house -as they feel that their dignity requires. This -makes it necessary for them while they are -young to keep a watch upon their affections, lest -they should be led into an imprudence: they acquire -a cautious habit of mind, and a fear of -“giving themselves away,” which makes a free -and vigorous life impossible. In acting as they -do they imagine that they are being virtuous, -since they would feel it a hardship for a woman -to be asked to descend to a lower social status<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">121</span> -than that of her parents, and a degradation to -themselves to marry a woman whose social -status was not equal to their own. The things -of nature are not valued in comparison with -money. It is not thought a hardship for a -woman to have to accept, as her only experience -of love, the prudent and limited attentions of a -man whose capacity for emotion has been lost -during years of wise restraint or sordid relations -with women whom he did not respect. -The woman herself does not know that it is a -hardship; for she, too, has been taught prudence -for fear of a descent in the social scale, and -from early youth she has had it instilled into -her that strong feeling does not become a young -woman. So the two unite to slip through life -in ignorance of all that is worth knowing. -Their ancestors were not restrained from passion -by the fear of hell-fire, but they are restrained -effectually by a worse fear, the fear of -coming down in the world.</p> - -<p>The same motives which lead men to marry -late also lead them to limit their families. Professional -men wish to send their sons to a public -school, though the education they will obtain -is no better than at a grammar school, and -the companions with whom they will associate<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">122</span> -are more vicious. But snobdom has decided -that public schools are best, and from its verdict -there is no appeal. What makes them the -best is that they are the most expensive. And -the same social struggle, in varying forms, -runs through all classes except the very highest -and the very lowest. For this purpose men -and women make great moral efforts, and show -amazing powers of self-control; but all their efforts -and all their self-control, being not used -for any creative end, serve merely to dry up the -well-spring of life within them, to make them -feeble, listless, and trivial. It is not in -such a soil that the passion which produces -genius can be nourished. Men’s souls have -exchanged the wilderness for the drawing-room: -they have become cramped and petty and deformed, -like Chinese women’s feet. Even the -horrors of war have hardly awakened them -from the smug somnambulism of respectability. -And it is chiefly the worship of money that has -brought about this deathlike slumber of all that -makes men great.</p> - -<p>In France the worship of money takes the -form of thrift. It is not easy to make a fortune -in France, but an inherited competence is very -common, and where it exists the main purpose<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">123</span> -of life is to hand it on undiminished, if not increased. -The French <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">rentier</i> is one of the great -forces in international politics: it is he through -whom France has been strengthened in diplomacy -and weakened in war, by increasing the -supply of French capital and diminishing the -supply of French men. The necessity of providing -a <em>dot</em> for daughters, and the subdivision -of property by the law of inheritance, have made -the family more powerful, as an institution, -than in any other civilized country. In order -that the family may prosper, it is kept small, -and the individual members are often sacrificed -to it. The desire for family continuity makes -men timid and unadventurous: it is only in -the organized proletariat that the daring spirit -survives which made the Revolution and led -the world in political thought and practice. -Through the influence of money, the strength -of the family has become a weakness to the nation -by making the population remain stationary -and even tend to decline. The same love -of safety is beginning to produce the same effects -elsewhere; but in this, as in many better -things, France has led the way.</p> - -<p>In Germany the worship of money is more -recent than in France, England, and America;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">124</span> -indeed, it hardly existed until after the Franco-Prussian -War. But it has been adopted now -with the same intensity and whole-heartedness -which have always marked German beliefs. It -is characteristic that, as in France the worship -of money is associated with the family, so in -Germany it is associated with the State. Liszt, -in deliberate revolt against the English economists, -taught his compatriots to think of economics -in national terms, and the German who -develops a business is felt, by others as well as -by himself, to be performing a service to the -State. Germans believe that England’s greatness -is due to industrialism and Empire, and -that our success in these is due to an intense -nationalism. The apparent internationalism of -our Free Trade policy they regard as mere hypocrisy. -They have set themselves to imitate -what they believe we really are, with only the -hypocrisy omitted. It must be admitted that -their success has been amazing. But in the -process they have destroyed almost all that -made Germany of value to the world, and they -have not adopted whatever of good there may -have been among us, since that was all swept -aside in the wholesale condemnation of “hypocrisy.” -And in adopting our worst faults,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">125</span> -they have made them far worse by a system, a -thoroughness, and a unanimity of which we are -happily incapable. Germany’s religion is of -great importance to the world, since Germans -have a power of real belief, and have the energy -to acquire the virtues and vices which their -creed demands. For the sake of the world, as -well as for the sake of Germany, we must hope -that they will soon abandon the worship of -wealth which they have unfortunately learnt -from us.</p> - -<p>Worship of money is no new thing, but it is -a more harmful thing than it used to be, for -several reasons. Industrialism has made work -more wearisome and intense, less capable of -affording pleasure and interest by the way to -the man who has undertaken it for the sake of -money. The power of limiting families has -opened a new field for the operation of thrift. -The general increase in education and self-discipline -has made men more capable of pursuing -a purpose consistently in spite of temptations, -and when the purpose is against life it becomes -more destructive with every increase of tenacity -in those who adopt it. The greater productivity -resulting from industrialism has enabled -us to devote more labor and capital to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">126</span> -armies and navies for the protection of our -wealth from envious neighbors, and for the exploitation -of inferior races, which are ruthlessly -wasted by the capitalist régime. Through the -fear of losing money, forethought and anxiety -eat away men’s power of happiness, and the -dread of misfortune becomes a greater misfortune -than the one which is dreaded. The happiest -men and women, as we can all testify from -our own experience, are those who are indifferent -to money because they have some positive -purpose which shuts it out. And yet all -our political thought, whether imperialist, radical, -or socialist, continues to occupy itself almost -exclusively with men’s economic desires, -as though they alone had real importance.</p> - -<p>In judging of an industrial system, whether -the one under which we live or one proposed by -reformers, there are four main tests which may -be applied. We may consider whether the system -secures (1) the maximum of production, or -(2) justice in distribution, or (3) a tolerable existence -for producers, or (4) the greatest possible -freedom and stimulus to vitality and progress. -We may say, broadly, that the present -system aims only at the first of these objects, -while socialism aims at the second and third.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">127</span> -Some defenders of the present system contend -that technical progress is better promoted by -private enterprise than it would be if industry -were in the hands of the State; to this extent -they recognize the fourth of the objects -we have enumerated. But they recognize it -only on the side of the goods and the capitalist, -not on the side of the wage-earner. I believe -that the fourth is much the most important of -the objects to be aimed at, that the present system -is fatal to it, and that orthodox socialism -might well prove equally fatal.</p> - -<p>One of the least questioned assumptions of -the capitalist system is, that production ought -to be increased in amount by every possible -means: by new kinds of machinery, by employment -of women and boys, by making hours of -labor as long as is compatible with efficiency. -Central African natives, accustomed to living -on raw fruits of the earth and defeating Manchester -by dispensing with clothes, are compelled -to work by a hut tax which they can only -pay by taking employment under European capitalists. -It is admitted that they are perfectly -happy while they remain free from European -influences, and that industrialism brings upon -them, not only the unwonted misery of confinement,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">128</span> -but also death from diseases to which -white men have become partially immune. It -is admitted that the best negro workers are the -“raw natives,” fresh from the bush, uncontaminated -by previous experience of wage-earning. -Nevertheless, no one effectively contends that -they ought to be preserved from the deterioration -which we bring, since no one effectively -doubts that it is good to increase the world’s -production at no matter what cost.</p> - -<p>The belief in the importance of production -has a fanatical irrationality and ruthlessness. -So long as something is produced, what it is -that is produced seems to be thought a matter -of no account. Our whole economic system encourages -this view, since fear of unemployment -makes any kind of work a boon to wage-earners. -The mania for increasing production has -turned men’s thoughts away from much more -important problems, and has prevented the -world from getting the benefits it might have -got out of the increased productivity of labor.</p> - -<p>When we are fed and clothed and housed, -further material goods are needed only for ostentation.<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">12</a> -With modern methods, a certain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">129</span> -proportion of the population, without working -long hours, could do all the work that is really -necessary in the way of producing commodities. -The time which is now spent in producing -luxuries could be spent partly in enjoyment -and country holidays, partly in better education, -partly in work that is not manual or subserving -manual work. We could, if we wished, -have far more science and art, more diffused -knowledge and mental cultivation, more leisure -for wage-earners, and more capacity for intelligent -pleasures. At present not only wages, but -almost all earned incomes, can only be obtained -by working much longer hours than men ought -to work. A man who earns £800 a year by hard -work could not, as a rule, earn £400 a year by -half as much work. Often he could not earn -anything if he were not willing to work practically -all day and every day. Because of the -excessive belief in the value of production, it -is thought right and proper for men to work -long hours, and the good that might result from -shorter hours is not realized. And all the cruelties -of the industrial system, not only in Europe -but even more in the tropics, arouse only an -occasional feeble protest from a few philanthropists. -This is because, owing to the distortion<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">130</span> -produced by our present economic methods, -men’s conscious desires, in such matters, cover -only a very small part, and that not the most -important part, of the real needs affected by -industrial work. If this is to be remedied, it -can only be by a different economic system, in -which the relation of activity to needs will be -less concealed and more direct.</p> - -<p>The purpose of maximizing production will -not be achieved in the long run if our present -industrial system continues. Our present system -is wasteful of human material, partly -through damage to the health and efficiency of -industrial workers, especially when women and -children are employed, partly through the fact -that the best workers tend to have small families -and that the more civilized races are in -danger of gradual extinction. Every great -city is a center of race-deterioration. For the -case of London this has been argued with a -wealth of statistical detail by Sir H. Llewelyn -Smith;<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">13</a> and it cannot easily be doubted that it -is equally true in other cases. The same is true -of material resources: the minerals, the virgin -forests, and the newly developed wheatfields of -the world are being exhausted with a reckless<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">131</span> -prodigality which entails almost a certainty of -hardship for future generations.</p> - -<p>Socialists see the remedy in State ownership -of land and capital, combined with a more just -system of distribution. It cannot be denied that -our present system of distribution is indefensible -from every point of view, including the -point of view of justice. Our system of distribution -is regulated by law, and is capable of -being changed in many respects which familiarity -makes us regard as natural and inevitable. -We may distinguish four chief sources of recognized -legal rights to private property: (1) a -man’s right to what he has made himself; (2) -the right to interest on capital which has been -lent; (3) the ownership of land; (4) inheritance. -These form a crescendo of respectability: capital -is more respectable than labor, land is more -respectable than capital, and any form of -wealth is more respectable when it is inherited -than when it has been acquired by our own exertions.</p> - -<p>A man’s right to the produce of his own labor -has never, in fact, had more than a very limited -recognition from the law. The early socialists, -especially the English forerunners of -Marx, used to insist upon this right as the basis<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">132</span> -of a just system of distribution, but in the complication -of modern industrial processes it is -impossible to say what a man has produced. -What proportion of the goods carried by a railway -should belong to the goods porters concerned -in their journey? When a surgeon saves -a man’s life by an operation, what proportion -of the commodities which the man subsequently -produces can the surgeon justly claim? Such -problems are insoluble. And there is no special -justice, even if they were soluble, in allowing -to each man what he himself produces. -Some men are stronger, healthier, cleverer, -than others, but there is no reason for increasing -these natural injustices by the artificial injustices -of the law. The principle recommends -itself partly as a way of abolishing the very -rich, partly as a way of stimulating people to -work hard. But the first of these objects can -be better obtained in other ways, and the second -ceases to be obviously desirable as soon as we -cease to worship money.</p> - -<p>Interest arises naturally in any community -in which private property is unrestricted and -theft is punished, because some of the most economical -processes of production are slow, and -those who have the skill to perform them may<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">133</span> -not have the means of living while they are -being completed. But the power of lending -money gives such great wealth and influence to -private capitalists that unless strictly controlled -it is not compatible with any real freedom for -the rest of the population. Its effects at present, -both in the industrial world and in international -politics, are so bad that it seems imperatively -necessary to devise some means of curbing -its power.</p> - -<p>Private property in land has no justification -except historically through power of the sword. -In the beginning of feudal times, certain men -had enough military strength to be able to force -those whom they disliked not to live in a certain -area. Those whom they chose to leave on -the land became their serfs, and were forced to -work for them in return for the gracious permission -to stay. In order to establish law in -place of private force, it was necessary, in the -main, to leave undisturbed the rights which had -been acquired by the sword. The land became -the property of those who had conquered it, and -the serfs were allowed to give rent instead of -service. There is no justification for private -property in land, except the historical necessity -to conciliate turbulent robbers who would not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">134</span> -otherwise have obeyed the law. This necessity -arose in Europe many centuries ago, but -in Africa the whole process is often quite recent. -It is by this process, slightly disguised, -that the Kimberley diamond mines and the -Rand gold mines were acquired in spite of prior -native rights. It is a singular example of human -inertia that men should have continued -until now to endure the tyranny and extortion -which a small minority are able to inflict by -their possession of the land. No good to the -community, of any sort or kind, results from -the private ownership of land. If men were -reasonable, they would decree that it should -cease to-morrow, with no compensation beyond -a moderate life income to the present holders.</p> - -<p>The mere abolition of rent would not remove -injustice, since it would confer a capricious advantage -upon the occupiers of the best sites and -the most fertile land. It is necessary that there -should be rent, but it should be paid to the State -or to some body which performs public services; -or, if the total rental were more than is -required for such purposes, it might be paid -into a common fund and divided equally among -the population. Such a method would be just, -and would not only help to relieve poverty, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">135</span> -would prevent wasteful employment of land and -the tyranny of local magnates. Much that appears -as the power of capital is really the power -of the landowner—for example, the power of -railway companies and mine-owners. The evil -and injustice of the present system are glaring, -but men’s patience of preventable evils to which -they are accustomed is so great that it is impossible -to guess when they will put an end to this -strange absurdity.</p> - -<p>Inheritance, which is the source of the greater -part of the unearned income in the world, is regarded -by most men as a natural right. Sometimes, -as in England, the right is inherent in -the owner of property, who may dispose of it in -any way that seems good to him. Sometimes, -as in France, his right is limited by the right of -his family to inherit at least a portion of what -he has to leave. But neither the right to dispose -of property by will nor the right of children -to inherit from parents has any basis outside -the instincts of possession and family -pride.</p> - -<p>There may be reasons for allowing a man -whose work is exceptionally fruitful—for instance, -an inventor—to enjoy a larger income -than is enjoyed by the average citizen, but there<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">136</span> -can be no good reason for allowing this privilege -to descend to his children and grandchildren -and so on for ever. The effect is to produce -an idle and exceptionally fortunate class, -who are influential through their money, and -opposed to reform for fear it should be directed -against themselves. Their whole habit -of thought becomes timid, since they dread -being forced to acknowledge that their position -is indefensible; yet snobbery and the wish to -secure their favor leads almost the whole middle-class -to ape their manners and adopt their opinions. -In this way they become a poison infecting -the outlook of almost all educated people.</p> - -<p>It is sometimes said that without the incentive -of inheritance men would not work so well. -The great captains of industry, we are assured, -are actuated by the desire to found a family, -and would not devote their lives to unremitting -toil without the hope of gratifying this desire. -I do not believe that any large proportion of -really useful work is done from this motive. -Ordinary work is done for the sake of a living, -and the very best work is done for the interest -of the work itself. Even the captains of industry, -who are thought (perhaps by themselves as -well as by others) to be aiming at founding a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">137</span> -family, are probably more actuated by love of -power and by the adventurous pleasure of great -enterprises. And if there were some slight -diminution in the amount of work done, it -would be well worth while in order to get rid -of the idle rich, with the oppression, feebleness, -and corruption which they inevitably introduce.</p> - -<p>The present system of distribution is not -based upon any principle. Starting from a system -imposed by conquest, the arrangements -made by the conquerors for their own benefit -were stereotyped by the law, and have never -been fundamentally reconstructed. On what -principles ought the reconstruction to be -based?</p> - -<p>Socialism, which is the most widely advocated -scheme of reconstruction, aims chiefly at -<em>justice</em>: the present inequalities of wealth are -unjust, and socialism would abolish them. It -is not essential to socialism that all men should -have the same income, but it is essential that -inequalities should be justified, in each case, by -inequality of need or of service performed. -There can be no disputing that the present system -is grossly unjust, and that almost all that -is unjust in it is harmful. But I do not think<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">138</span> -justice alone is a sufficient principle upon which -to base an economic reconstruction. Justice -would be secured if all were equally unhappy, -as well as if all were equally happy. Justice, -by itself, when once realized, contains no source -of new life. The old type of Marxian revolutionary -socialist never dwelt, in imagination, -upon the life of communities after the establishment -of the millennium. He imagined that, -like the Prince and Princess in a fairy story, -they would live happily ever after. But that -is not a condition possible to human nature. -Desire, activity, purpose, are essential to a tolerable -life, and a millennium, though it may be -a joy in prospect, would be intolerable if it were -actually achieved.</p> - -<p>The more modern socialists, it is true, have -lost most of the religious fervor which characterized -the pioneers, and view socialism as a -tendency rather than a definite goal. But they -still retain the view that what is of most political -importance to a man is his income, and -that the principal aim of a democratic politician -ought to be to increase the wages of labor. I -believe this involves too passive a conception -of what constitutes happiness. It is true that, -in the industrial world, large sections of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">139</span> -population are too poor to have any possibility -of a good life; but it is not true that a good life -will come of itself with a diminution of poverty. -Very few of the well-to-do classes have a good -life at present, and perhaps socialism would -only substitute the evils which now afflict the -more prosperous in place of the evils resulting -from destitution.</p> - -<p>In the existing labor movement, although it -is one of the most vital sources of change, there -are certain tendencies against which reformers -ought to be on their guard. The labor movement -is in essence a movement in favor of justice, -based upon the belief that the sacrifice of -the many to the few is not necessary now, whatever -may have been the case in the past. When -labor was less productive and education was less -widespread, an aristocratic civilization may -have been the only one possible: it may have -been necessary that the many should contribute -to the life of the few, if the few were to transmit -and increase the world’s possessions in art -and thought and civilized existence. But this -necessity is past or rapidly passing, and there -is no longer any valid objection to the claims of -justice. The labor movement is morally irresistible, -and is not now seriously opposed except<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">140</span> -by prejudice and simple self-assertion. -All living thought is on its side; what is against -it is traditional and dead. But although it itself -is living, it is not by any means certain that -it will make for life.</p> - -<p>Labor is led by current political thought in -certain directions which would become repressive -and dangerous if they were to remain -strong after labor had triumphed. The aspirations -of the labor movement are, on the whole, -opposed by the great majority of the educated -classes, who feel a menace, not only or chiefly -to their personal comfort, but to the civilized -life in which they have their part, which they -profoundly believe to be important to the world. -Owing to the opposition of the educated classes, -labor, when it is revolutionary and vigorous, -tends to despise all that the educated classes -represent. When it is more respectful, as its -leaders tend to be in England, the subtle and -almost unconscious influence of educated men -is apt to sap revolutionary ardor, producing -doubt and uncertainty instead of the swift, simple -assurance by which victory might have been -won. The very sympathy which the best men -in the well-to-do classes extend to labor, their -very readiness to admit the justice of its claims,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">141</span> -may have the effect of softening the opposition -of labor leaders to the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">status quo</i>, and of opening -their minds to the suggestion that no fundamental -change is possible. Since these influences -affect leaders much more than the rank -and file, they tend to produce in the rank and file -a distrust of leaders, and a desire to seek out -new leaders who will be less ready to concede -the claims of the more fortunate classes. The -result may be in the end a labor movement as -hostile to the life of the mind as some terrified -property-owners believe it to be at present.</p> - -<p>The claims of justice, narrowly interpreted, -may reinforce this tendency. It may be thought -unjust that some men should have larger incomes -or shorter hours of work than other men. -But efficiency in mental work, including the -work of education, certainly requires more comfort -and longer periods of rest than are required -for efficiency in physical work, if only because -mental work is not physiologically wholesome. -If this is not recognized, the life of the mind -may suffer through short-sightedness even -more than through deliberate hostility.</p> - -<p>Education suffers at present, and may long -continue to suffer, through the desire of parents -that their children should earn money as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">142</span> -soon as possible. Every one knows that the -half-time system, for example, is bad; but the -power of organized labor keeps it in existence. -It is clear that the cure for this evil, as for -those that are concerned with the population -question, is to relieve parents of the expense -of their children’s education, and at the same -time to take away their right to appropriate -their children’s earnings.</p> - -<p>The way to prevent any dangerous opposition -of labor to the life of the mind is not to oppose -the labor movement, which is too strong to be -opposed with justice. The right way is, to -show by actual practice that thought is useful -to labor, that without thought its positive aims -cannot be achieved, and that there are men in -the world of thought who are willing to devote -their energies to helping labor in its struggle. -Such men, if they are wise and sincere, can prevent -labor from becoming destructive of what -is living in the intellectual world.</p> - -<p>Another danger in the aims of organized labor -is the danger of conservatism as to methods -of production. Improvements of machinery -or organization bring great advantages to -employers, but involve temporary and sometimes -permanent loss to the wage-earners. For<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">143</span> -this reason, and also from mere instinctive dislike -of any change of habits, strong labor organizations -are often obstacles to technical -progress. The ultimate basis of all social progress -must be increased technical efficiency, a -greater result from a given amount of labor. -If labor were to offer an effective opposition -to this kind of progress, it would in the long -run paralyze all other progress. The way to -overcome the opposition of labor is not by hostility -or moral homilies, but by giving to labor -the direct interest in economical processes -which now belongs to the employers. Here, as -elsewhere, the unprogressive part of a movement -which is essentially progressive is to be -eliminated, not by decrying the whole movement -but by giving it a wider sweep, making it more -progressive, and leading it to demand an even -greater change in the structure of society than -any that it had contemplated in its inception.</p> - -<p>The most important purpose that political institutions -can achieve is to keep alive in individuals -creativeness, vigor, vitality, and the joy -of life. These things existed, for example, in -Elizabethan England in a way in which they -do not exist now. They stimulated adventure, -poetry, music, fine architecture, and set going<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">144</span> -the whole movement out of which England’s -greatness has sprung in every direction in which -England has been great. These things coexisted -with injustice, but outweighed it, and made -a national life more admirable than any that is -likely to exist under socialism.</p> - -<p>What is wanted in order to keep men full of -vitality is opportunity, not security. Security -is merely a refuge from fear; opportunity is the -source of hope. The chief test of an economic -system is not whether it makes men prosperous, -or whether it secures distributive justice -(though these are both very desirable), but -whether it leaves men’s instinctive growth unimpeded. -To achieve this purpose, there are -two main conditions which it should fulfil: it -should not cramp men’s private affections, and -it should give the greatest possible outlet to -the impulse of creation. There is in most men, -until it becomes atrophied by disuse, an instinct -of constructiveness, a wish to make something. -The men who achieve most are, as a rule, those -in whom this instinct is strongest: such men -become artists, men of science, statesmen, empire-builders, -or captains of industry, according -to the accidents of temperament and opportunity. -The most beneficent and the most<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">145</span> -harmful careers are inspired by this impulse. -Without it, the world would sink to the level of -Tibet: it would subsist, as it is always prone -to do, on the wisdom of its ancestors, and each -generation would sink more deeply into a lifeless -traditionalism.</p> - -<p>But it is not only the remarkable men who -have the instinct of constructiveness, though it -is they who have it most strongly. It is almost -universal in boys, and in men it usually survives -in a greater or less degree, according to -the greater or less outlet which it is able to -find. Work inspired by this instinct is satisfying, -even when it is irksome and difficult, because -every effort is as natural as the effort of -a dog pursuing a hare. The chief defect of -the present capitalistic system is that work done -for wages very seldom affords any outlet for -the creative impulse. The man who works for -wages has no choice as to what he shall make: -the whole creativeness of the processes concentrate -in the employer who orders the work to -be done. For this reason the work becomes a -merely external means to a certain result, the -earning of wages. Employers grow indignant -about the trade union rules for limitation of -output, but they have no right to be indignant,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">146</span> -since they do not permit the men whom they -employ to have any share in the purpose for -which the work is undertaken. And so the process -of production, which should form one instinctive -cycle, becomes divided into separate -purposes, which can no longer provide any satisfaction -of instinct for those who do the work.</p> - -<p>This result is due to our industrial system, -but it would not be avoided by socialism. In -a socialist community, the State would be the -employer, and the individual workman would -have almost as little control over his work as -he has at present. Such control as he could -exercise would be indirect, through political -channels, and would be too slight and roundabout -to afford any appreciable satisfaction. -It is to be feared that instead of an increase of -self-direction, there would only be an increase -of mutual interference.</p> - -<p>The total abolition of private capitalistic enterprise, -which is demanded by Marxian socialism, -seems scarcely necessary. Most men who -construct sweeping systems of reform, like most -of those who defend the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">status quo</i>, do not allow -enough for the importance of exceptions and -the undesirability of rigid system. Provided -the sphere of capitalism is restricted, and a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">147</span> -large proportion of the population are rescued -from its dominion, there is no reason to wish -it wholly abolished. As a competitor and a -rival, it might serve a useful purpose in preventing -more democratic enterprises from sinking -into sloth and technical conservatism. But -it is of the very highest importance that capitalism -should become the exception rather than the -rule, and that the bulk of the world’s industry -should be conducted on a more democratic system.</p> - -<p>Much of what is to be said against militarism -in the State is also to be said against capitalism -in the economic sphere. Economic organizations, -in the pursuit of efficiency, grow larger -and larger, and there is no possibility of reversing -this process. The causes of their -growth are technical, and large organizations -must be accepted as an essential part of civilized -society. But there is no reason why their -government should be centralized and monarchical. -The present economic system, by robbing -most men of initiative, is one of the causes -of the universal weariness which devitalizes -urban and industrial populations, making them -perpetually seek excitement, and leading them -to welcome even the outbreak of war as a relief<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">148</span> -from the dreary monotony of their daily lives.</p> - -<p>If the vigor of the nation is to be preserved, -if we are to retain any capacity for new ideas, -if we are not to sink into a Chinese condition of -stereotyped immobility, the monarchical organization -of industry must be swept away. All -large businesses must become democratic and -federal in their government. The whole wage-earning -system is an abomination, not only because -of the social injustice which it causes and -perpetuates, but also because it separates the -man who does the work from the purpose for -which the work is done. The whole of the controlling -purpose is concentrated in the capitalist; -the purpose of the wage-earner is not the -produce, but the wages. The purpose of the -capitalist is to secure the maximum of work for -the minimum of wages; the purpose of the -wage-earner is to secure the maximum of wages -for the minimum of work. A system involving -this essential conflict of interests cannot be -expected to work smoothly or successfully, or -to produce a community with any pride in efficiency.</p> - -<p>Two movements exist, one already well advanced, -the other in its infancy, which seem -capable, between them, of effecting most of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">149</span> -what is needed. The two movements I mean -are the coöperative movement and syndicalism. -The coöperative movement is capable of -replacing the wage system over a very wide -field, but it is not easy to see how it could be -applied to such things as railways. It is just -in these cases that the principles of syndicalism -are most easily applicable.</p> - -<p>If organization is not to crush individuality, -membership of an organization ought to be voluntary, -not compulsory, and ought always to -carry with it a voice in the management. This -is not the case with economic organizations, -which give no opportunity for the pride and -pleasure that men find in an activity of their -own choice, provided it is not utterly monotonous.</p> - -<p>It must be admitted, however, that much of -the mechanical work which is necessary in industry -is probably not capable of being made -interesting in itself. But it will seem less -tedious than it does at present if those who do -it have a voice in the management of their industry. -And men who desire leisure for other -occupations might be given the opportunity of -doing uninteresting work during a few hours -of the day for a low wage; this would give an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">150</span> -opening to all who wished for some activity not -immediately profitable to themselves. When -everything that is possible has been done to -make work interesting, the residue will have to -be made endurable, as almost all work is at -present, by the inducement of rewards outside -the hours of labor. But if these rewards are -to be satisfactory, it is essential that the uninteresting -work should not necessarily absorb a -man’s whole energies, and that opportunities -should exist for more or less continuous activities -during the remaining hours. Such a system -might be an immeasurable boon to artists, -men of letters, and others who produce for their -own satisfaction works which the public does -not value soon enough to secure a living for -the producers; and apart from such rather rare -cases, it might provide an opportunity for -young men and women with intellectual ambitions -to continue their education after they have -left school, or to prepare themselves for careers -which require an exceptionally long training.</p> - -<p>The evils of the present system result from -the separation between the several interests of -consumer, producer, and capitalist. No one of -these three has the same interests as the community -or as either of the other two. The coöperative<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">151</span> -system amalgamates the interests of -consumer and capitalist; syndicalism would -amalgamate the interests of producer and capitalist. -Neither amalgamates all three, or -makes the interests of those who direct industry -quite identical with those of the community. -Neither, therefore, would wholly prevent -industrial strife, or obviate the need of the -State as arbitrator. But either would be better -than the present system, and probably a -mixture of both would cure most of the evils -of industrialism as it exists now. It is surprising -that, while men and women have struggled -to achieve political democracy, so little has been -done to introduce democracy in industry. I believe -incalculable benefits might result from industrial -democracy, either on the coöperative -model or with recognition of a trade or industry -as a unit for purposes of government, with -some kind of Home Rule such as syndicalism -aims at securing. There is no reason why all -governmental units should be geographical: -this system was necessary in the past because -of the slowness of means of communication, but -it is not necessary now. By some such system -many men might come to feel again a pride in -their work, and to find again that outlet for the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">152</span> -creative impulse which is now denied to all but -a fortunate few. Such a system requires the -abolition of the land-owner and the restriction -of the capitalist, but does not entail equality of -earnings. And unlike socialism, it is not a -static or final system: it is hardly more than a -framework for energy and initiative. It is only -by some such method, I believe, that the free -growth of the individual can be reconciled with -the huge technical organizations which have -been rendered necessary by industrialism.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">153</span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 id="V" class="vspace">V<br /> - -<span class="subhead">EDUCATION</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">No</span> political theory is adequate unless it is -applicable to children as well as to men -and women. Theorists are mostly childless, or, -if they have children, they are carefully -screened from the disturbances which would be -caused by youthful turmoil. Some of them -have written books on education, but without, -as a rule, having any actual children present to -their minds while they wrote. Those educational -theorists who have had a knowledge of -children, such as the inventors of Kindergarten -and the Montessori system,<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">14</a> have not always -had enough realization of the ultimate goal of -education to be able to deal successfully with -advanced instruction. I have not the knowledge -either of children or of education which -would enable me to supply whatever defects -there may be in the writings of others. But<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">154</span> -some questions, concerning education as a political -institution, are involved in any hope of -social reconstruction, and are not usually considered -by writers on educational theory. It -is these questions that I wish to discuss.</p> - -<p>The power of education in forming character -and opinion is very great and very generally -recognized. The genuine beliefs, though not -usually the professed precepts, of parents and -teachers are almost unconsciously acquired by -most children; and even if they depart from -these beliefs in later life, something of them remains -deeply implanted, ready to emerge in a -time of stress or crisis. Education is, as a rule, -the strongest force on the side of what exists -and against fundamental change: threatened institutions, -while they are still powerful, possess -themselves of the educational machine, and -instil a respect for their own excellence into -the malleable minds of the young. Reformers -retort by trying to oust their opponents from -their position of vantage. The children themselves -are not considered by either party; they -are merely so much material, to be recruited -into one army or the other. If the children -themselves were considered, education would -not aim at making them belong to this party<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">155</span> -or that, but at enabling them to choose intelligently -between the parties; it would aim at -making them able to think, not at making them -think what their teachers think. Education as -a political weapon could not exist if we respected -the rights of children. If we respected -the rights of children, we should educate them -so as to give them the knowledge and the mental -habits required for forming independent -opinions; but education as a political institution -endeavors to form habits and to circumscribe -knowledge in such a way as to make one -set of opinions inevitable.</p> - -<p>The two principles of <em>justice</em> and <em>liberty</em>, -which cover a very great deal of the social reconstruction -required, are not by themselves -sufficient where education is concerned. Justice, -in the literal sense of equal rights, is obviously -not wholly possible as regards children. -And as for liberty, it is, to begin with, essentially -negative: it condemns all avoidable interference -with freedom, without giving a positive -principle of construction. But education -is essentially constructive, and requires some -positive conception of what constitutes a good -life. And although liberty is to be respected -in education as much as is compatible with instruction,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">156</span> -and although a very great deal more -liberty than is customary can be allowed without -loss to instruction, yet it is clear that some -departure from complete liberty is unavoidable -if children are to be taught anything, except -in the case of unusually intelligent children -who are kept isolated from more normal -companions. This is one reason for the great -responsibility which rests upon teachers: the -children must, necessarily, be more or less at -the mercy of their elders, and cannot make -themselves the guardians of their own interests. -Authority in education is to some extent unavoidable, -and those who educate have to find -a way of exercising authority in accordance -with the <em>spirit</em> of liberty.</p> - -<p>Where authority is unavoidable, what is -needed is <em>reverence</em>. A man who is to educate -really well, and is to make the young grow and -develop into their full stature, must be filled -through and through with the spirit of reverence. -It is reverence towards others that is -lacking in those who advocate machine-made -cast-iron systems: militarism, capitalism, Fabian -scientific organization, and all the other -prisons into which reformers and reactionaries -try to force the human spirit. In education,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">157</span> -with its codes of rules emanating from a Government -office, its large classes and fixed curriculum -and overworked teachers, its determination -to produce a dead level of glib mediocrity, -the lack of reverence for the child is all -but universal. Reverence requires imagination -and vital warmth; it requires most imagination -in respect of those who have least actual -achievement or power. The child is weak and -superficially foolish, the teacher is strong, and -in an every-day sense wiser than the child. -The teacher without reverence, or the bureaucrat -without reverence, easily despises the child -for these outward inferiorities. He thinks it -is his duty to “mold” the child: in imagination -he is the potter with the clay. And so he -gives to the child some unnatural shape, which -hardens with age, producing strains and spiritual -dissatisfactions, out of which grow cruelty -and envy, and the belief that others must be -compelled to undergo the same distortions.</p> - -<p>Tho man who has reverence will not think it -his duty to “mold” the young. He feels in -all that lives, but especially in human beings, -and most of all in children, something sacred, -indefinable, unlimited, something individual -and strangely precious, the growing principle<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">158</span> -of life, an embodied fragment of the dumb striving -of the world. In the presence of a child -he feels an unaccountable humility—a humility -not easily defensible on any rational -ground, and yet somehow nearer to wisdom than -the easy self-confidence of many parents and -teachers. The outward helplessness of the -child and the appeal of dependence make him -conscious of the responsibility of a trust. His -imagination shows him what the child may become, -for good or evil, how its impulses may -be developed or thwarted, how its hopes must -be dimmed and the life in it grow less living, -how its trust will be bruised and its quick desires -replaced by brooding will. All this gives -him a longing to help the child in its own battle; -he would equip and strengthen it, not for -some outside end proposed by the State or by -any other impersonal authority, but for the -ends which the child’s own spirit is obscurely -seeking. The man who feels this can wield the -authority of an educator without infringing the -principle of liberty.</p> - -<p>It is not in a spirit of reverence that education -is conducted by States and Churches and -the great institutions that are subservient to -them. What is considered in education is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">159</span> -hardly ever the boy or girl, the young man or -young woman, but almost always, in some form, -the maintenance of the existing order. When -the individual is considered, it is almost exclusively -with a view to worldly success—making -money or achieving a good position. To be -ordinary, and to acquire the art of getting on, -is the ideal which is set before the youthful -mind, except by a few rare teachers who have -enough energy of belief to break through the -system within which they are expected to work. -Almost all education has a political motive: it -aims at strengthening some group, national or -religious or even social, in the competition with -other groups. It is this motive, in the main, -which determines the subjects taught, the -knowledge offered and the knowledge withheld, -and also decides what mental habits the pupils -are expected to acquire. Hardly anything is -done to foster the inward growth of mind and -spirit; in fact, those who have had most education -are very often atrophied in their mental -and spiritual life, devoid of impulse, and possessing -only certain mechanical aptitudes which -take the place of living thought.</p> - -<p>Some of the things which education achieves -at present must continue to be achieved by education<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">160</span> -in any civilized country. All children -must continue to be taught how to read and -write, and some must continue to acquire the -knowledge needed for such professions as medicine -or law or engineering. The higher education -required for the sciences and the arts is -necessary for those to whom it is suited. Except -in history and religion and kindred matters, -the actual instruction is only inadequate, -not positively harmful. The instruction might -be given in a more liberal spirit, with more attempt -to show its ultimate uses; and of course -much of it is traditional and dead. But in the -main it is necessary, and would have to form -a part of any educational system.</p> - -<p>It is in history and religion and other controversial -subjects that the actual instruction is -positively harmful. These subjects touch the -interests by which schools are maintained; and -the interests maintain the schools in order that -certain views on these subjects may be instilled. -History, in every country, is so taught as to -magnify that country: children learn to believe -that their own country has always been in the -right and almost always victorious, that it has -produced almost all the great men, and that it -is in all respects superior to all other countries.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">161</span> -Since these beliefs are flattering, they are easily -absorbed, and hardly ever dislodged from -instinct by later knowledge.</p> - -<p>To take a simple and almost trivial example: -the facts about the battle of Waterloo are -known in great detail and with minute accuracy; -but the facts as taught in elementary -schools will be widely different in England, -France, and Germany. The ordinary English -boy imagines that the Prussians played hardly -any part; the ordinary German boy imagines -that Wellington was practically defeated when -the day was retrieved by Blücher’s gallantry. -If the facts were taught accurately in both -countries, national pride would not be fostered -to the same extent, neither nation would feel -so certain of victory in the event of war, and the -willingness to fight would be diminished. It is -this result which has to be prevented. Every -State wishes to promote national pride, and is -conscious that this cannot be done by unbiased -history. The defenseless children are taught -by distortions and suppressions and suggestions. -The false ideas as to the history of the -world which are taught in the various countries -are of a kind which encourages strife and serves -to keep alive a bigoted nationalism. If good<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">162</span> -relations between States were desired, one of -the first steps ought to be to submit all teaching -of history to an international commission, which -should produce neutral textbooks free from the -patriotic bias which is now demanded everywhere.<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">15</a></p> - -<p>Exactly the same thing applies to religion. -Elementary schools are practically always in -the hands either of some religious body or of -a State which has a certain attitude towards religion. -A religious body exists through the -fact that its members all have certain definite -beliefs on subjects as to which the truth is not -ascertainable. Schools conducted by religious -bodies have to prevent the young, who are often -inquiring by nature, from discovering that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">163</span> -these definite beliefs are opposed by others -which are no more unreasonable, and that many -of the men best qualified to judge think that -there is no good evidence in favor of any definite -belief. When the State is militantly secular, -as in France, State schools become as dogmatic -as those that are in the hands of the -Churches (I understand that the word “God” -must not be mentioned in a French elementary -school). The result in all these cases is the -same: free inquiry is checked, and on the most -important matter in the world the child is met -with dogma or with stony silence.</p> - -<p>It is not only in elementary education that -these evils exist. In more advanced education -they take subtler forms, and there is more attempt -to conceal them, but they are still present. -Eton and Oxford set a certain stamp -upon a man’s mind, just as a Jesuit College -does. It can hardly be said that Eton and Oxford -have a <em>conscious</em> purpose, but they have a -purpose which is none the less strong and effective -for not being formulated. In almost all -who have been through them they produce a -worship of “good form,” which is as destructive -to life and thought as the medieval -Church. “Good form” is quite compatible<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">164</span> -with a superficial open-mindedness, a readiness -to hear all sides, and a certain urbanity towards -opponents. But it is not compatible with fundamental -open-mindedness, or with any inward -readiness to give weight to the other side. Its -essence is the assumption that what is most important -is a certain kind of behavior, a behavior -which minimizes friction between equals -and delicately impresses inferiors with a conviction -of their own crudity. As a political -weapon for preserving the privileges of the rich -in a snobbish democracy it is unsurpassable. -As a means of producing an agreeable social -<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">milieu</i> for those who have money with no strong -beliefs or unusual desires it has some merit. -In every other respect it is abominable.</p> - -<p>The evils of “good form” arise from two -sources: its perfect assurance of its own rightness, -and its belief that correct manners are -more to be desired than intellect, or artistic -creation, or vital energy, or any of the other -sources of progress in the world. Perfect assurance, -by itself, is enough to destroy all mental -progress in those who have it. And when -it is combined with contempt for the angularities -and awkwardnesses that are almost invariably -associated with great mental power, it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">165</span> -becomes a source of destruction to all who come -in contact with it. “Good form” is itself dead -and incapable of growth; and by its attitude to -those who are without it it spreads its own death -to many who might otherwise have life. The -harm which it has done to well-to-do Englishmen, -and to men whose abilities have led the -well-to-do to notice them, is incalculable.</p> - -<p>The prevention of free inquiry is unavoidable -so long as the purpose of education is to -produce belief rather than thought, to compel -the young to hold positive opinions on doubtful -matters rather than to let them see the -doubtfulness and be encouraged to independence -of mind. Education ought to foster the -wish for truth, not the conviction that some -particular creed is the truth. But it is creeds -that hold men together in fighting organizations: -Churches, States, political parties. It is -intensity of belief in a creed that produces efficiency -in fighting: victory comes to those who -feel the strongest certainty about matters on -which doubt is the only rational attitude. To -produce this intensity of belief and this efficiency -in fighting, the child’s nature is warped, -and its free outlook is cramped, by cultivating -inhibitions as a check to the growth of new<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">166</span> -ideas. In those whose minds are not very active -the result is the omnipotence of prejudice; -while the few whose thought cannot be wholly -killed become cynical, intellectually hopeless, -destructively critical, able to make all that is -living seem foolish, unable themselves to supply -the creative impulses which they destroy in -others.</p> - -<p>The success in fighting which is achieved by -suppressing freedom of thought is brief and -very worthless. In the long run mental vigor -is as essential to success as it is to a good life. -The conception of education as a form of drill, -a means of producing unanimity through slavishness, -is very common, and is defended chiefly -on the ground that it leads to victory. Those -who enjoy parallels from ancient history will -point to the victory of Sparta over Athens to -enforce their moral. But it is Athens that has -had power over men’s thoughts and imaginations, -not Sparta: any one of us, if we could -be born again into some past epoch, would -rather be born an Athenian than a Spartan. -And in the modern world so much intellect is -required in practical affairs that even the external -victory is more likely to be won by intelligence<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">167</span> -than by docility. Education in credulity -leads by quick stages to mental decay; -it is only by keeping alive the spirit of free inquiry -that the indispensable minimum of progress -can be achieved.</p> - -<p>Certain mental habits are commonly instilled -by those who are engaged in educating: obedience -and discipline, ruthlessness in the struggle -for worldly success, contempt towards opposing -groups, and an unquestioning credulity, a -passive acceptance of the teacher’s wisdom. -All these habits are against life. Instead of -obedience and discipline, we ought to aim -at preserving independence and impulse. Instead -of ruthlessness, education should try to -develop justice in thought. Instead of contempt, -it ought to instil reverence, and the attempt -at understanding; towards the opinions -of others it ought to produce, not necessarily -acquiescence, but only such opposition as is -combined with imaginative apprehension and -a clear realization of the grounds for opposition. -Instead of credulity, the object should -be to stimulate constructive doubt, the love of -mental adventure, the sense of worlds to conquer -by enterprise and boldness in thought.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">168</span> -Contentment with the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">status quo</i>, and subordination -of the individual pupil to political -aims, owing to the indifference to the things -of the mind, are the immediate causes of these -evils; but beneath these causes there is one -more fundamental, the fact that education is -treated as a means of acquiring power over the -pupil, not as a means of nourishing his own -growth. It is in this that lack of reverence -shows itself; and it is only by more reverence -that a fundamental reform can be effected.</p> - -<p>Obedience and discipline are supposed to be -indispensable if order is to be kept in a class, -and if any instruction is to be given. To some -extent this is true; but the extent is much less -than it is thought to be by those who regard -obedience and discipline as in themselves desirable. -Obedience, the yielding of one’s will to -outside direction, is the counterpart of authority. -Both may be necessary in certain cases. -Refractory children, lunatics, and criminals -may require authority, and may need to be -forced to obey. But in so far as this is necessary -it is a misfortune: what is to be desired -is the free choice of ends with which it is not -necessary to interfere. And educational reformers -have shown that this is far more possible<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">169</span> -than our fathers would ever have believed.<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">16</a></p> - -<p>What makes obedience seem necessary in -schools is the large classes and overworked -teachers demanded by a false economy. Those -who have no experience of teaching are incapable -of imagining the expense of spirit entailed -by any really living instruction. They -think that teachers can reasonably be expected -to work as many hours as bank clerks. Intense -fatigue and irritable nerves are the result, and -an absolute necessity of performing the day’s -task mechanically. But the task cannot be performed -mechanically except by exacting obedience.</p> - -<p>If we took education seriously, and thought -it as important to keep alive the minds of children -as to secure victory in war, we should -conduct education quite differently: we should -make sure of achieving the end, even if the -expense were a hundredfold greater than it is. -To many men and women a small amount of -teaching is a delight, and can be done with a -fresh zest and life which keeps most pupils interested<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">170</span> -without any need of discipline. The -few who do not become interested might be -separated from the rest, and given a different -kind of instruction. A teacher ought to have -only as much teaching as can be done, on most -days, with actual pleasure in the work, and -with an awareness of the pupil’s mental needs. -The result would be a relation of friendliness -instead of hostility between teacher and pupil, -a realization on the part of most pupils that -education serves to develop their own lives and -is not merely an outside imposition, interfering -with play and demanding many hours of sitting -still. All that is necessary to this end -is a (greater expenditure of money), to secure -teachers with more leisure and with a natural -love of teaching.</p> - -<p>Discipline, as it exists in schools, is very -largely an evil. There is a kind of discipline -which is necessary to almost all achievement, -and which perhaps is not sufficiently valued by -those who react against the purely external discipline -of traditional methods. The desirable -kind of discipline is the kind that comes from -within, which consists in the power of pursuing -a distant object steadily, foregoing and suffering -many things on the way. This involves the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">171</span> -subordination of impulse to will, the power of -a directing action by large creative desires even -at moments when they are not vividly alive. -Without this, no serious ambition, good or bad, -can be realized, no consistent purpose can dominate. -This kind of discipline is very necessary, -but can only result from strong desires for -ends not immediately attainable, and can only -be produced by education if education fosters -such desires, which it seldom does at present. -Such discipline springs from one’s own will, -not from outside authority. It is not this kind -which is sought in most schools, and it is not -this kind which seems to me an evil.</p> - -<p>Although elementary education encourages -the undesirable discipline that consists in passive -obedience, and although hardly any existing -education encourages the moral discipline -of consistent self-direction, there is a certain -kind of purely mental discipline which is produced -by the traditional higher education. The -kind I mean is that which enables a man to concentrate -his thoughts at will upon any matter -that he has occasion to consider, regardless of -preoccupations or boredom or intellectual difficulty. -This quality, though it has no important -intrinsic excellence, greatly enhances the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">172</span> -efficiency of the mind as an instrument. It is -this that enables a lawyer to master the scientific -details of a patent case which he forgets as -soon as judgment has been given, or a civil -servant to deal quickly with many different administrative -questions in succession. It is this -that enables men to forget private cares during -business hours. In a complicated world it -is a very necessary faculty for those whose -work requires mental concentration.</p> - -<p>Success in producing mental discipline is the -chief merit of traditional higher education. I -doubt whether it can be achieved except by compelling -or persuading active attention to a prescribed -task. It is for this reason chiefly that -I do not believe methods such as Madame Montessori’s -applicable when the age of childhood -has been passed. The essence of her method -consists in giving a choice of occupations, any -one of which is interesting to most children, and -all of which are instructive. The child’s attention -is wholly spontaneous, as in play; it enjoys -acquiring knowledge in this way, and does -not acquire any knowledge which it does not -desire. I am convinced that this is the best -method of education with young children: the -actual results make it almost impossible to think<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">173</span> -otherwise. But it is difficult to see how this -method can lead to control of attention by the -will. Many things which must be thought -about are uninteresting, and even those that are -interesting at first often become very wearisome -before they have been considered as long -as is necessary. The power of giving prolonged -attention is very important, and it is -hardly to be widely acquired except as a habit -induced originally by outside pressure. Some -few boys, it is true, have sufficiently strong intellectual -desires to be willing to undergo all -that is necessary by their own initiative and -free will; but for all others an external inducement -is required in order to make them learn -any subject thoroughly. There is among educational -reformers a certain fear of demanding -great efforts, and in the world at large a growing -unwillingness to be bored. Both these tendencies -have their good sides, but both also have -their dangers. The mental discipline which is -jeopardized can be preserved by mere advice -without external compulsion whenever a boy’s -intellectual interest and ambition can be sufficiently -stimulated. A good teacher ought to -be able to do this for any boy who is capable -of much mental achievement; and for many of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">174</span> -the others the present purely bookish education -is probably not the best. In this way, so long -as the importance of mental discipline is realized, -it can probably be attained, whenever it -is attainable, by appealing to the pupil’s consciousness -of his own needs. So long as teachers -are not expected to succeed by this method, -it is easy for them to slip into a slothful dullness, -and blame their pupils when the fault is -really their own.</p> - -<p>Ruthlessness in the economic struggle will -almost unavoidably be taught in schools so long -as the economic structure of society remains -unchanged. This must be particularly the case -in middle-class schools, which depend for their -numbers upon the good opinion of parents, and -secure the good opinion of parents by advertising -the successes of pupils. This is one of -many ways in which the competitive organization -of the State is harmful. Spontaneous and -disinterested desire for knowledge is not at all -uncommon in the young, and might be easily -aroused in many in whom it remains latent. -But it is remorselessly checked by teachers who -think only of examinations, diplomas, and degrees. -For the abler boys there is no time for -thought, no time for the indulgence of intellectual<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">175</span> -taste, from the moment of first going to -school until the moment of leaving the university. -From first to last there is nothing but -one long drudgery of examination tips and textbook -facts. The most intelligent, at the end, -are disgusted with learning, longing only to forget -it and to escape into a life of action. Yet -there, as before, the economic machine holds -them prisoners, and all their spontaneous desires -are bruised and thwarted.</p> - -<p>The examination system, and the fact that -instruction is treated mainly as training for a -livelihood, leads the young to regard knowledge, -from a purely utilitarian point of view, as the -road to money, not as the gateway to wisdom. -This would not matter so much if it affected -only those who have no genuine intellectual -interests. But unfortunately it affects most -those whose intellectual interests are strongest, -since it is upon them that the pressure of examinations -falls with most severity. To them -most, but to all in some degree, education appears -as a means of acquiring superiority over -others; it is infected through and through with -ruthlessness and glorification of social inequality. -Any free, disinterested consideration -shows that, whatever inequalities might remain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">176</span> -in a Utopia, the actual inequalities are almost -all contrary to justice. But our educational -system tends to conceal this from all except the -failures, since those who succeed are on the way -to profit by the inequalities, with every encouragement -from the men who have directed their -education.</p> - -<p>Passive acceptance of the teacher’s wisdom -is easy to most boys and girls. It involves no -effort of independent thought, and seems rational -because the teacher knows more than his -pupils; it is moreover the way to win the favor -of the teacher unless he is a very exceptional -man. Yet the habit of passive acceptance is a -disastrous one in later life. It causes men to -seek a leader, and to accept as a leader whoever -is established in that position. It makes -the power of Churches, Governments, party -caucuses, and all the other organizations by -which plain men are misled into supporting old -systems which are harmful to the nation and to -themselves. It is possible that there would not -be much independence of thought even if education -did everything to promote it; but there -would certainly be more than there is at present. -If the object were to make pupils think, -rather than to make them accept certain conclusions,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">177</span> -education would be conducted quite -differently: there would be less rapidity of instruction -and more discussion, more occasions -when pupils were encouraged to express themselves, -more attempt to make education concern -itself with matters in which the pupils felt -some interest.</p> - -<p>Above all, there would be an endeavor to -rouse and stimulate the love of mental adventure. -The world in which we live is various -and astonishing: some of the things that seem -plainest grow more and more difficult the more -they are considered; other things, which might -have been thought quite impossible to discover, -have nevertheless been laid bare by genius and -industry. The powers of thought, the vast -regions which it can master, the much more vast -regions which it can only dimly suggest to imagination, -give to those whose minds have -traveled beyond the daily round an amazing -richness of material, an escape from the triviality -and wearisomeness of familiar routine, -by which the whole of life is filled with interest, -and the prison walls of the commonplace are -broken down. The same love of adventure -which takes men to the South Pole, the same -passion for a conclusive trial of strength which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">178</span> -leads some men to welcome war, can find in -creative thought an outlet which is neither -wasteful nor cruel, but increases the dignity of -man by incarnating in life some of that shining -splendor which the human spirit is bringing -down out of the unknown. To give this joy, in -a greater or less measure, to all who are capable -of it, is the supreme end for which the education -of the mind is to be valued.</p> - -<p>It will be said that the joy of mental adventure -must be rare, that there are few who can -appreciate it, and that ordinary education can -take no account of so aristocratic a good. I do -not believe this. The joy of mental adventure -is far commoner in the young than in grown -men and women. Among children it is very -common, and grows naturally out of the period -of make-believe and fancy. It is rare in later -life because everything is done to kill it during -education. Men fear thought as they fear nothing -else on earth—more than ruin, more even -than death. Thought is subversive and revolutionary, -destructive and terrible; thought is -merciless to privilege, established institutions, -and comfortable habits; thought is anarchic and -lawless, indifferent to authority, careless of the -well-tried wisdom of the ages. Thought looks<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">179</span> -into the pit of hell and is not afraid. It sees -man, a feeble speck, surrounded by unfathomable -depths of silence; yet it bears itself -proudly, as unmoved as if it were lord of the -universe. Thought is great and swift and free, -the light of the world, and the chief glory of -man.</p> - -<p>But if thought is to become the possession of -many, not the privilege of the few, we must -have done with fear. It is fear that holds men -back—fear lest their cherished beliefs should -prove delusions, fear lest the institutions by -which they live should prove harmful, fear lest -they themselves should prove less worthy of -respect than they have supposed themselves -to be. “Should the working man think freely -about property? Then what will become of us, -the rich? Should young men and young women -think freely about sex? Then what will become -of morality? Should soldiers think freely -about war? Then what will become of military -discipline? Away with thought! Back -into the shades of prejudice, lest property, -morals, and war should be endangered! Better -men should be stupid, slothful, and oppressive -than that their thoughts should be free. For -if their thoughts were free they might not think<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">180</span> -as we do. And at all costs this disaster must -be averted.” So the opponents of thought -argue in the unconscious depths of their souls. -And so they act in their churches, their schools, -and their universities.</p> - -<p>No institution inspired by fear can further -life. Hope, not fear, is the creative principle -in human affairs. All that has made man great -has sprung from the attempt to secure what is -good, not from the struggle to avert what was -thought evil. It is because modern education -is so seldom inspired by a great hope that it so -seldom achieves a great result. The wish to -preserve the past rather than the hope of creating -the future dominates the minds of those -who control the teaching of the young. Education -should not aim at a passive awareness of -dead facts, but at an activity directed towards -the world that our efforts are to create. It -should be inspired, not by a regretful hankering -after the extinct beauties of Greece and the -Renaissance, but by a shining vision of the society -that is to be, of the triumphs that thought -will achieve in the time to come, and of the ever-widening -horizon of man’s survey over the universe. -Those who are taught in this spirit will<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">181</span> -be filled with life and hope and joy, able to bear -their part in bringing to mankind a future less -somber than the past, with faith in the glory -that human effort can create.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">182</span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 id="VI" class="vspace">VI<br /> - -<span class="subhead">MARRIAGE AND THE POPULATION QUESTION</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> influence of the Christian religion on -daily life has decayed very rapidly -throughout Europe during the last hundred -years. Not only has the proportion of nominal -believers declined, but even among those who -believe the intensity and dogmatism of belief is -enormously diminished. But there is one social -institution which is still profoundly affected by -the Christian tradition—I mean the institution -of marriage. The law and public opinion as regards -marriage are dominated even now to a -very great extent by the teachings of the -Church, which continue to influence in this way -the lives of men, women, and children in their -most intimate concerns.</p> - -<p>It is marriage as a political institution that I -wish to consider, not marriage as a matter for -the private morality of each individual. Marriage -is regulated by law, and is regarded as a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">183</span> -matter in which the community has a right to -interfere. It is only the action of the community -in regard to marriage that I am concerned -to discuss: whether the present action -furthers the life of the community, and if not, -in what ways it ought to be changed.</p> - -<p>There are two questions to be asked in regard -to any marriage system: first, how it affects the -development and character of the men and -women concerned; secondly, what is its influence -on the propagation and education of children. -These two questions are entirely distinct, and a -system may well be desirable from one of these -two points of view when it is very undesirable -from the other. I propose first to describe the -present English law and public opinion and -practice in regard to the relations of the -sexes, then to consider their effects as regards -children, and finally to consider how -these effects, which are bad, could be obviated -by a system which would also have a better influence -on the character and development of -men and women.</p> - -<p>The law in England is based upon the expectation -that the great majority of marriages -will be lifelong. A marriage can only be dissolved -if either the wife or the husband, but not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">184</span> -both, can be proved to have committed adultery. -In case the husband is the “guilty party,” he -must also be guilty of cruelty or desertion. -Even when these conditions are fulfilled, in -practice only the well-to-do can be divorced, because -the expense is very great.<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">17</a> A marriage -cannot be dissolved for insanity or crime, or for -cruelty, however abominable, or for desertion, -or for adultery by both parties; and it cannot -be dissolved for any cause whatever if both husband -and wife have agreed that they wish it dissolved. -In all these cases the law regards the -man and woman as bound together for life. A -special official, the King’s Proctor, is employed -to prevent divorce when there is collusion and -when both parties have committed adultery.<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">18</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">185</span> -This interesting system embodies the opinions -held by the Church of England some fifty years -ago, and by most Nonconformists then and -now. It rests upon the assumption that adultery -is sin, and that when this sin has been committed -by one party to the marriage, the other -is entitled to revenge if he is rich. But when -both have committed the same sin, or when the -one who has not committed it feels no righteous -anger, the right to revenge does not exist. As -soon as this point of view is understood, the -law, which at first seems somewhat strange, -is seen to be perfectly consistent. It rests, -broadly speaking, upon four propositions: (1) -that sexual intercourse outside marriage is sin; -(2) that resentment of adultery by the “innocent”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">186</span> -party is a righteous horror of wrong-doing; -(3) that his resentment, but nothing else, -may be rightly regarded as making a common -life impossible; (4) that the poor have no right -to fine feelings. The Church of England, under -the influence of the High Church, has ceased to -believe the third of these propositions, but it -still believes the first and second, and does nothing -actively to show that it disbelieves the -fourth.</p> - -<p>The penalty for infringing the marriage law -is partly financial, but depends mainly upon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">187</span> -public opinion. A rather small section of the -public genuinely believes that sexual relations -outside marriage are wicked; those who believe -this are naturally kept in ignorance of the conduct -of friends who feel otherwise, and are able -to go through life not knowing how others live -or what others think. This small section of -the public regards as depraved not only actions, -but opinions, which are contrary to its principles. -It is able to control the professions of -politicians through its influence on elections, -and the votes of the House of Lords through the -presence of the Bishops. By these means it -governs legislation, and makes any change in -the marriage law almost impossible. It is able, -also, to secure in most cases that a man who -openly infringes the marriage law shall be dismissed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">188</span> -from his employment or ruined by the -defection of his customers or clients. A doctor -or lawyer, or a tradesman in a country town, -cannot make a living, nor can a politician be in -Parliament, if he is publicly known to be “immoral.” -Whatever a man’s own conduct may -be, he is not likely to defend publicly those who -have been branded, lest some of the odium -should fall on him. Yet so long as a man has -not been branded, few men will object to him, -whatever they may know privately of his behavior -in these respects.</p> - -<p>Owing to the nature of the penalty, it falls -very unequally upon different professions. An -actor or journalist usually escapes all punishment. -An urban workingman can almost always -do as he likes. A man of private means, -unless he wishes to take part in public life, need -not suffer at all if he has chosen his friends -suitably. Women, who formerly suffered more -than men, now suffer less, since there are large -circles in which no social penalty is inflicted, and -a very rapidly increasing number of women who -do not believe the conventional code. But for -the majority of men outside the working classes -the penalty is still sufficiently severe to be prohibitive.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">189</span> -The result of this state of things is a widespread -but very flimsy hypocrisy, which allows -many infractions of the code, and forbids only -those which must become public. A man may -not live openly with a woman who is not his -wife, an unmarried woman may not have a -child, and neither man nor woman may get into -the divorce court. Subject to these restrictions, -there is in practice very great freedom. -It is this practical freedom which makes the -state of the law seem tolerable to those who -do not accept the principles upon which it is -based. What has to be sacrificed to propitiate -the holders of strict views is not pleasure, but -only children and a common life and truth and -honesty. It cannot be supposed that this is -the result desired by those who maintain the -code, but equally it cannot be denied that this -is the result which they do in fact achieve. Extra-matrimonial -relations which do not lead to -children and are accompanied by a certain -amount of deceit remain unpunished, but severe -penalties fall on those which are honest or lead -to children.</p> - -<p>Within marriage, the expense of children -leads to continually greater limitation of families. -The limitation is greatest among those<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">190</span> -who have most sense of parental responsibility -and most wish to educate their children well, -since it is to them that the expense of children -is most severe. But although the economic -motive for limiting families has hitherto probably -been the strongest, it is being continually -reinforced by another. Women are acquiring -freedom—not merely outward and formal freedom, -but inward freedom, enabling them to -think and feel genuinely, not according to received -maxims. To the men who have prated -confidently of women’s natural instincts, the result -would be surprising if they were aware of -it. Very large numbers of women, when they -are sufficiently free to think for themselves, do -not desire to have children, or at most desire -one child in order not to miss the experience -which a child brings. There are women who -are intelligent and active-minded who resent -the slavery to the body which is involved in having -children. There are ambitious women, who -desire a career which leaves no time for children. -There are women who love pleasure and -gaiety, and women who love the admiration of -men; such women will at least postpone child-bearing -until their youth is past. All these -classes of women are rapidly becoming more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">191</span> -numerous, and it may be safely assumed that -their numbers will continue to increase for -many years to come.</p> - -<p>It is too soon to judge with any confidence -as to the effects of women’s freedom upon private -life and upon the life of the nation. But I -think it is not too soon to see that it will be -profoundly different from the effect expected -by the pioneers of the women’s movement. -Men have invented, and women in the past have -often accepted, a theory that women are the -guardians of the race, that their life centers in -motherhood, that all their instincts and desires -are directed, consciously or unconsciously, to -this end. Tolstoy’s Natacha illustrates this -theory: she is charming, gay, liable to passion, -until she is married; then she becomes merely a -virtuous mother, without any mental life. This -result has Tolstoy’s entire approval. It must -be admitted that it is very desirable from the -point of view of the nation, whatever we may -think of it in relation to private life. It must -also be admitted that it is probably common -among women who are physically vigorous and -not highly civilized. But in countries like -France and England it is becoming increasingly -rare. More and more women find motherhood<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">192</span> -unsatisfying, not what their needs demand. -And more and more there comes to be a conflict -between their personal development and the future -of the community. It is difficult to know -what ought to be done to mitigate this conflict, -but I think it is worth while to see what are -likely to be its effects if it is not mitigated.</p> - -<p>Owing to the combination of economic prudence -with the increasing freedom of women, -there is at present a selective birth-rate of a very -singular kind.<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">19</a> In France the population is practically -stationary, and in England it is rapidly -becoming so; this means that some sections are -dwindling while others are increasing. Unless -some change occurs, the sections that are -dwindling will practically become extinct, and -the population will be almost wholly replenished -from the sections that are now increasing.<a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">20</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">193</span> -The sections that are dwindling include the -whole middle-class and the skilled artisans. -The sections that are increasing are the very -poor, the shiftless and drunken, the feeble-minded—feeble-minded -women, especially, are -apt to be very prolific. There is an increase in -those sections of the population which still -actively believe the Catholic religion, such as -the Irish and the Bretons, because the Catholic -religion forbids limitation of families. Within -the classes that are dwindling, it is the best elements -that are dwindling most rapidly. Working-class -boys of exceptional ability rise, by -means of scholarships, into the professional -class; they naturally desire to marry into the -class to which they belong by education, not into -the class from which they spring; but as they -have no money beyond what they earn, they cannot -marry young, or afford a large family. The -result is that in each generation the best elements -are extracted from the working classes -and artificially sterilized, at least in comparison -with those who are left. In the professional -classes the young women who have initiative,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">194</span> -energy, or intelligence are as a rule not inclined -to marry young, or to have more than one -or two children when they do marry. Marriage -has been in the past the only obvious means of -livelihood for women; pressure from parents -and fear of becoming an old maid combined to -force many women to marry in spite of a complete -absence of inclination for the duties of a -wife. But now a young woman of ordinary intelligence -can easily earn her own living, and -can acquire freedom and experience without the -permanent ties of a husband and a family of -children. The result is that if she marries she -marries late.</p> - -<p>For these reasons, if an average sample of -children were taken out of the population of -England, and their parents were examined, it -would be found that prudence, energy, intellect, -and enlightenment were less common among -the parents than in the population in general; -while shiftlessness, feeble-mindedness, stupidity, -and superstition were more common than -in the population in general. It would be found -that those who are prudent or energetic or intelligent -or enlightened actually fail to reproduce -their own numbers; that is to say, they do -not on the average have as many as two children<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">195</span> -each who survive infancy. On the other hand, -those who have the opposite qualities have, -on the average, more than two children each, -and more than reproduce their own numbers.</p> - -<p>It is impossible to estimate the effect which -this will have upon the character of the population -without a much greater knowledge of -heredity than exists at present. But so long as -children continue to live with their parents, parental -example and early education must have -a great influence in developing their character, -even if we leave heredity entirely out of account. -Whatever may be thought of genius, there can -be no doubt that intelligence, whether through -heredity or through education, tends to run in -families, and that the decay of the families in -which it is common must lower the mental -standard of the population. It seems unquestionable -that if our economic system and our -moral standards remain unchanged, there will -be, in the next two or three generations, a rapid -change for the worse in the character of the -population in all civilized countries, and an -actual diminution of numbers in the most civilized.</p> - -<p>The diminution of numbers, in all likelihood,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">196</span> -will rectify itself in time through the elimination -of those characteristics which at present -lead to a small birth-rate. Men and women who -can still believe the Catholic faith will have a -biological advantage; gradually a race will grow -up which will be impervious to all the assaults -of reason, and will believe imperturbably that -limitation of families leads to hell-fire. Women -who have mental interests, who care about art -or literature or politics, who desire a career or -who value their liberty, will gradually grow -rarer, and be more and more replaced by a -placid maternal type which has no interests outside -the home and no dislike of the burden of -motherhood. This result, which ages of masculine -domination have vainly striven to achieve, -is likely to be the final outcome of women’s -emancipation and of their attempt to enter upon -a wider sphere than that to which the jealousy -of men confined them in the past.</p> - -<p>Perhaps, if the facts could be ascertained, -it would be found that something of the same -kind occurred in the Roman Empire. The decay -of energy and intelligence during the second, -third, and fourth centuries of our era has -always remained more or less mysterious. But -there is reason to think that then, as now, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">197</span> -best elements of the population in each generation -failed to reproduce themselves, and that -the least vigorous were, as a rule, those to whom -the continuance of the race was due. One might -be tempted to suppose that civilization, when it -has reached a certain height, becomes unstable, -and tends to decay through some inherent weakness, -some failure to adapt the life of instinct to -the intense mental life of a period of high culture. -But such vague theories have always -something glib and superstitious which makes -them worthless as scientific explanations or as -guides to action. It is not by a literary formula, -but by detailed and complex thought, that -a true solution is to be found.</p> - -<p>Let us first be clear as to what we desire. -There is no importance in an increasing population; -on the contrary, if the population of Europe -were stationary, it would be much easier to -promote economic reform and to avoid war. -What is regrettable <em>at present</em> is not the decline -of the birth-rate in itself, but the fact that the -decline is greatest in the best elements of the -population. There is reason, however, to fear -in the future three bad results: first, an absolute -decline in the numbers of English, French, and -Germans; secondly, as a consequence of this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">198</span> -decline, their subjugation by less civilized races -and the extinction of their tradition; thirdly, a -revival of their numbers on a much lower plane -of civilization, after generations of selection of -those who have neither intelligence nor foresight. -If this result is to be avoided, the present -unfortunate selectiveness of the birth-rate -must be somehow stopped.</p> - -<p>The problem is one which applies to the whole -of Western civilization. There is no difficulty -in discovering a theoretical solution, but there -is great difficulty in persuading men to adopt a -solution in practice, because the effects to be -feared are not immediate and the subject is one -upon which people are not in the habit of using -their reason. If a rational solution is ever -adopted, the cause will probably be international -rivalry. It is obvious that if one State—say -Germany—adopted a rational means of -dealing with the matter, it would acquire an -enormous advantage over other States unless -they did likewise. After the war, it is possible -that population questions will attract more attention -than they did before, and it is likely that -they will be studied from the point of view -of international rivalry. This motive, unlike -reason and humanity, is perhaps strong enough<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">199</span> -to overcome men’s objections to a scientific -treatment of the birth-rate.</p> - -<p>In the past, at most periods and in most societies, -the instincts of men and women led of -themselves to a more than sufficient birth-rate; -Malthus’s statement of the population question -had been true enough up to the time when he -wrote. It is still true of barbarous and semi-civilized -races, and of the worst elements among -civilized races. But it has become false as regards -the more civilized half of the population -in Western Europe and America. Among -them, instinct no longer suffices to keep numbers -even stationary.</p> - -<p>We may sum up the reasons for this in order -of importance, as <span class="locked">follows:—</span></p> - -<p>1. The expense of children is very great if -parents are conscientious.</p> - -<p>2. An increasing number of women desire to -have no children, or only one or two, in order -not to be hampered in their own careers.</p> - -<p>3. Owing to the excess of women, a large -number of women remain unmarried. These -women, though not debarred in practice from -relations with men, are debarred by the code -from having children. In this class are to be -found an enormous and increasing number of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">200</span> -women who earn their own living as typists, in -shops, or otherwise. The war has opened many -employments to women from which they were -formerly excluded, and this change is probably -only in part temporary.</p> - -<p>If the sterilizing of the best parts of the population -is to be arrested, the first and most pressing -necessity is the removal of the economic -motives for limiting families. The expense of -children ought to be borne wholly by the community. -Their food and clothing and education -ought to be provided, not only to the very poor -as a matter of charity, but to all classes as a -matter of public interest. In addition to this, a -woman who is capable of earning money, and -who abandons wage-earning for motherhood, -ought to receive from the State as nearly as possible -what she would have received if she had not -had children. The only condition attached to -State maintenance of the mother and the children -should be that both parents are physically -and mentally sound in all ways likely to affect -the children. Those who are not sound should -not be debarred from having children, but -should continue, as at present, to bear the expense -of children themselves.</p> - -<p>It ought to be recognized that the law is only<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">201</span> -concerned with marriage through the question -of children, and should be indifferent to what -is called “morality,” which is based upon custom -and texts of the Bible, not upon any real -consideration of the needs of the community. -The excess women, who at present are in every -way discouraged from having children, ought -no longer to be discouraged. If the State is to -undertake the expense of children, it has the -right, on eugenic grounds, to know who the -father is, and to demand a certain stability in a -union. But there is no reason to demand or -expect a lifelong stability, or to exact any -ground for divorce beyond mutual consent. -This would make it possible for the women who -must at present remain unmarried to have children -if they wished it. In this way an enormous -and unnecessary waste would be prevented, -and a great deal of needless unhappiness -would be avoided.</p> - -<p>There is no necessity to begin such a system -all at once. It might be begun tentatively -with certain exceptionally desirable sections of -the community. It might then be extended -gradually, with the experience of its working -which had been derived from the first experiment. -If the birth-rate were very much increased,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">202</span> -the eugenic conditions exacted might -be made more strict.</p> - -<p>There are of course various practical difficulties -in the way of such a scheme: the opposition -of the Church and the upholders of traditional -morality, the fear of weakening parental -responsibility, and the expense. All these, however, -might be overcome. But there remains -one difficulty which it seems impossible to overcome -completely in England, and that is, that -the whole conception is anti-democratic, since it -regards some men as better than others, and -would demand that the State should bestow a -better education upon the children of some men -than upon the children of others. This is contrary -to all the principles of progressive politics -in England. For this reason it can hardly be -expected that any such method of dealing with -the population question will ever be adopted in -its entirety in this country. Something of the -sort may well be done in Germany, and if so, it -will assure German hegemony as no merely military -victory could do. But among ourselves we -can only hope to see it adopted in some partial, -piecemeal fashion, and probably only after a -change in the economic structure of society -which will remove most of the artificial inequalities<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">203</span> -that progressive parties are rightly trying -to diminish.</p> - -<p>So far we have been considering the question -of the reproduction of the race, rather than the -effect of sex relations in fostering or hindering -the development of men and women. From the -point of view of the race, what seems needed is -a complete removal of the economic burdens due -to children from all parents who are not physically -or mentally unfit, and as much freedom -in the law as is compatible with public knowledge -of paternity. Exactly the same changes -seem called for when the question is considered -from the point of view of the men and women -concerned.</p> - -<p>In regard to marriage, as with all the other -traditional bonds between human beings, a very -extraordinary change is taking place, wholly -inevitable, wholly necessary as a stage in the development -of a new life, but by no means wholly -satisfactory until it is completed. All the traditional -bonds were based on <em>authority</em>—of the -king, the feudal baron, the priest, the father, the -husband. All these bonds, just because they -were based on authority, are dissolving or already -dissolved, and the creation of other bonds -to take their place is as yet very incomplete.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">204</span> -For this reason human relations have at present -an unusual triviality, and do less than they did -formerly to break down the hard walls of the -Ego.</p> - -<p>The ideal of marriage in the past depended -upon the authority of the husband, which was -admitted as a right by the wife. The husband -was free, the wife was a willing slave. In all -matters which concerned husband and wife -jointly, it was taken for granted that the husband’s -fiat should be final. The wife was expected -to be faithful, while the husband, except -in very religious societies, was only expected to -throw a decent veil over his infidelities. Families -could not be limited except by continence, -and a wife had no recognized right to demand -continence, however she might suffer from frequent -children.</p> - -<p>So long as the husband’s right to authority -was unquestioningly believed by both men and -women, this system was fairly satisfactory, and -afforded to both a certain instinctive fulfilment -which is rarely achieved among educated people -now. Only one will, the husband’s, had to -be taken into account, and there was no need of -the difficult adjustments required when common -decisions have to be reached by two equal wills.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">205</span> -The wife’s desires were not treated seriously -enough to enable them to thwart the husband’s -needs, and the wife herself, unless she was exceptionally -selfish, did not seek self-development, -or see in marriage anything but an opportunity -for duties. Since she did not seek or -expect much happiness, she suffered less, when -happiness was not attained, than a woman does -now: her suffering contained no element of indignation -or surprise, and did not readily turn -into bitterness and sense of injury.</p> - -<p>The saintly, self-sacrificing woman whom our -ancestors praised had her place in a certain -organic conception of society, the conception of -the ordered hierarchy of authorities which dominated -the Middle Ages. She belongs to the same -order of ideas as the faithful servant, the loyal -subject, and the orthodox son of the Church. -This whole order of ideas has vanished from the -civilized world, and it is to be hoped that it has -vanished for ever, in spite of the fact that the -society which it produced was vital and in some -ways full of nobility. The old order has been -destroyed by the new ideals of justice and -liberty, beginning with religion, passing on to -politics, and reaching at last the private relations -of marriage and the family. When once<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">206</span> -the question has been asked, “Why should a -woman submit to a man?” when once the answers -derived from tradition and the Bible have -ceased to satisfy, there is no longer any possibility -of maintaining the old subordination. To -every man who has the power of thinking impersonally -and freely, it is obvious, as soon as -the question is asked, that the rights of women -are precisely the same as the rights of men. -Whatever dangers and difficulties, whatever -temporary chaos, may be incurred in the transition -to equality, the claims of reason are so insistent -and so clear that no opposition to them -can hope to be long successful.</p> - -<p>Mutual liberty, which is now demanded, is -making the old form of marriage impossible. -But a new form, which shall be an equally good -vehicle for instinct, and an equal help to spiritual -growth, has not yet been developed. For -the present, women who are conscious of liberty -as something to be preserved are also conscious -of the difficulty of preserving it. The wish for -mastery is an ingredient in most men’s sexual -passions, especially in those which are strong -and serious. It survives in many men whose -theories are entirely opposed to despotism. -The result is a fight for liberty on the one side<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">207</span> -and for life on the other. Women feel that they -must protect their individuality; men feel, often -very dumbly, that the repression of instinct -which is demanded of them is incompatible with -vigor and initiative. The clash of these opposing -moods makes all real mingling of personalities -impossible; the man and woman remain -hard, separate units, continually asking themselves -whether anything of value to themselves -is resulting from the union. The effect is that -relations tend to become trivial and temporary, -a pleasure rather than the satisfaction of a -profound need, an excitement, not an attainment. -The fundamental loneliness into which -we are born remains untouched, and the hunger -for inner companionship remains unappeased.</p> - -<p>No cheap and easy solution of this trouble -is possible. It is a trouble which affects most -the most civilized men and women, and is an outcome -of the increasing sense of individuality -which springs inevitably from mental progress. -I doubt if there is any radical cure except in -some form of religion, so firmly and sincerely -believed as to dominate even the life of instinct. -The individual is not the end and aim of his own -being: outside the individual, there is the community, -the future of mankind, the immensity<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">208</span> -of the universe in which all our hopes and fears -are a mere pin-point. A man and woman with -reverence for the spirit of life in each other, -with an equal sense of their own unimportance -beside the whole life of man, may become comrades -without interference with liberty, and -may achieve the union of instinct without doing -violence to the life of mind and spirit. As -religion dominated the old form of marriage, so -religion must dominate the new. But it must -be a new religion, based upon liberty, justice, -and love, not upon authority and law and hell-fire.</p> - -<p>A bad effect upon the relations of men and -women has been produced by the romantic -movement, through directing attention to what -ought to be an incidental good, not the purpose -for which relations exist. Love is what gives -intrinsic value to a marriage, and, like art and -thought, it is one of the supreme things which -make human life worth preserving. But though -there is no good marriage without love, the best -marriages have a purpose which goes beyond -love. The love of two people for each other is -too circumscribed, too separate from the community, -to be by itself the main purpose of a -good life. It is not in itself a sufficient source<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">209</span> -of activities, it is not sufficiently prospective, to -make an existence in which ultimate satisfaction -can be found. It brings its great moments, and -then its times which are less great, which are -unsatisfying because they are less great. It -becomes, sooner or later, retrospective, a tomb -of dead joys, not a well-spring of new life. This -evil is inseparable from any purpose which is -to be achieved in a single supreme emotion. -The only adequate purposes are those which -stretch out into the future, which can never be -fully achieved, but are always growing, and infinite -with the infinity of human endeavor. And -it is only when love is linked to some infinite -purpose of this kind that it can have the seriousness -and depth of which it is capable.</p> - -<p>For the great majority of men and women -seriousness in sex relations is most likely to -be achieved through children. Children are to -most people rather a need than a desire: instinct -is as a rule only consciously directed towards -what used to lead to children. The desire -for children is apt to develop in middle life, -when the adventure of one’s own existence is -past, when the friendships of youth seem less -important than they once did, when the prospect -of a lonely old age begins to terrify, and the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">210</span> -feeling of having no share in the future becomes -oppressive. Then those who, while they were -young, have had no sense that children would -be a fulfilment of their needs, begin to regret -their former contempt for the normal, and to -envy acquaintances whom before they had -thought humdrum. But owing to economic -causes it is often impossible for the young, and -especially for the best of the young, to have -children without sacrificing things of vital importance -to their own lives. And so youth -passes, and the need is felt too late.</p> - -<p>Needs without corresponding desires have -grown increasingly common as life has grown -more different from that primitive existence -from which our instincts are derived, and to -which, rather than to that of the present day, -they are still very largely adapted. An unsatisfied -need produces, in the end, as much -pain and as much distortion of character as if -it had been associated with a conscious desire. -For this reason, as well as for the sake of the -race, it is important to remove the present economic -inducements to childlessness. There is -no necessity whatever to urge parenthood upon -those who feel disinclined to it, but there is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">211</span> -necessity not to place obstacles in the way of -those who have no such disinclination.</p> - -<p>In speaking of the importance of preserving -seriousness in the relations of men and women, -I do not mean to suggest that relations which -are not serious are always harmful. Traditional -morality has erred by laying stress on -what ought not to happen, rather than on what -ought to happen. What is important is that -men and women should find, sooner or later, the -best relation of which their natures are capable. -It is not always possible to know in advance -what will be the best, or to be sure of not missing -the best if everything that can be doubted is rejected. -Among primitive races, a man wants a -female, a woman wants a male, and there is no -such differentiation as makes one a much more -suitable companion than another. But with the -increasing complexity of disposition that civilized -life brings, it becomes more and more difficult -to find the man or woman who will bring -happiness, and more and more necessary to -make it not too difficult to acknowledge a mistake.</p> - -<p>The present marriage law is an inheritance -from a simpler age, and is supported, in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">212</span> -main, by unreasoning fears and by contempt -for all that is delicate and difficult in the life of -the mind. Owing to the law, large numbers of -men and women are condemned, so far as their -ostensible relations are concerned, to the society -of an utterly uncongenial companion, with -all the embittering consciousness that escape is -practically impossible. In these circumstances, -happier relations with others are often sought, -but they have to be clandestine, without a common -life, and without children. Apart from the -great evil of being clandestine, such relations -have some almost inevitable drawbacks. They -are liable to emphasize sex unduly, to be exciting -and disturbing; and it is hardly possible that -they should bring a real satisfaction of instinct. -It is the combination of love, children, and a -common life that makes the best relation between -a man and a woman. The law at present -confines children and a common life within the -bonds of monogamy, but it cannot confine love. -By forcing many to separate love from children -and a common life, the law cramps their lives, -prevents them from reaching the full measure -of their possible development, and inflicts a -wholly unnecessary torture upon those who are -not content to become frivolous.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">213</span> -To sum up: The present state of the law, of -public opinion, and of our economic system is -tending to degrade the quality of the race, by -making the worst half of the population the parents -of more than half of the next generation. -At the same time, women’s claim to liberty is -making the old form of marriage a hindrance to -the development of both men and women. A -new system is required, if the European nations -are not to degenerate, and if the relations of -men and women are to have the strong happiness -and organic seriousness which belonged to -the best marriages in the past. The new system -must be based upon the fact that to produce -children is a service to the State, and ought not -to expose parents to heavy pecuniary penalties. -It will have to recognize that neither the -law nor public opinion should concern itself -with the private relations of men and women, -except where children are concerned. It ought -to remove the inducements to make relations -clandestine and childless. It ought to admit -that, although lifelong monogamy is best when -it is successful, the increasing complexity of our -needs makes it increasingly often a failure for -which divorce is the best preventive. Here, as -elsewhere, liberty is the basis of political wisdom.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">214</span> -And when liberty has been won, what remains -to be desired must be left to the conscience -and religion of individual men and -women.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">215</span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 id="VII" class="vspace">VII<br /> - -<span class="subhead">RELIGION AND THE CHURCHES</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap al"><span class="smcap1">Almost</span> all the changes which the world -has undergone since the end of the Middle -Ages are due to the discovery and diffusion of -new knowledge. This was the primary cause of -the Renaissance, the Reformation, and the industrial -revolution. It was also, very directly, -the cause of the decay of dogmatic religion. -The study of classical texts and early Church -history, Copernican astronomy and physics, -Darwinian biology and comparative anthropology, -have each in turn battered down some -part of the edifice of Catholic dogma, until, for -almost all thinking and instructed people, the -most that seems defensible is some inner spirit, -some vague hope, and some not very definite -feeling of moral obligation. This result might -perhaps have remained limited to the educated -minority but for the fact that the Churches have -almost everywhere opposed political progress -with the same bitterness with which they have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">216</span> -opposed progress in thought. Political conservatism -has brought the Churches into conflict -with whatever was vigorous in the working -classes, and has spread free thought in wide -circles which might otherwise have remained -orthodox for centuries. The decay of dogmatic -religion is, for good or evil, one of the most -important facts in the modern world. Its effects -have hardly yet begun to show themselves: -what they will be it is impossible to say, but they -will certainly be profound and far-reaching.</p> - -<p>Religion is partly personal, partly social: to -the Protestant primarily personal, to the Catholic -primarily social. It is only when the two -elements are intimately blended that religion -becomes a powerful force in molding society. -The Catholic Church, as it existed from the time -of Constantine to the time of the Reformation, -represented a blending which would have -seemed incredible if it had not been actually -achieved, the blending of Christ and Cæsar, of -the morality of humble submission with the -pride of Imperial Rome. Those who loved the -one could find it in the Thebaid; those who loved -the other could admire it in the pomp of metropolitan -archbishops. In St. Francis and Innocent -III the same two sides of the Church are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">217</span> -still represented. But since the Reformation -personal religion has been increasingly outside -the Catholic Church, while the religion which -has remained Catholic has been increasingly a -matter of institutions and politics and historic -continuity. This division has weakened the -force of religion: religious bodies have not been -strengthened by the enthusiasm and single-mindedness -of the men in whom personal religion -is strong, and these men have not found -their teaching diffused and made permanent by -the power of ecclesiastical institutions.</p> - -<p>The Catholic Church achieved, during the -Middle Ages, the most organic society and the -most harmonious inner synthesis of instinct, -mind, and spirit, that the Western world has -ever known. St. Francis, Thomas Aquinas, and -Dante represent its summit as regards individual -development. The cathedrals, the mendicant -Orders, and the triumph of the Papacy -over the Empire represent its supreme -political success. But the perfection which had -been achieved was a narrow perfection: instinct, -mind, and spirit all suffered from curtailment in -order to fit into the pattern; laymen found themselves -subject to the Church in ways which they -resented, and the Church used its power for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">218</span> -rapacity and oppression. The perfect synthesis -was an enemy to new growth, and after the -time of Dante all that was living in the world -had first to fight for its right to live against the -representatives of the old order. This fight is -even now not ended. Only when it is quite -ended, both in the external world of politics and -in the internal world of men’s own thoughts, -will it be possible for a new organic society and -a new inner synthesis to take the place which -the Church held for a thousand years.</p> - -<p>The clerical profession suffers from two -causes, one of which it shares with some other -professions, while the other is peculiar to itself. -The cause peculiar to it is the convention that -clergymen are more virtuous than other men. -Any average selection of mankind, set apart and -told that it excels the rest in virtue, must tend -to sink below the average. This is an ancient -commonplace in regard to princes and those who -used to be called “the great.” But it is no less -true as regards those of the clergy who are not -genuinely and by nature as much better than the -average as they are conventionally supposed to -be. The other source of harm to the clerical -profession is endowments. Property which is -only available for those who will support an established<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">219</span> -institution has a tendency to warp -men’s judgments as to the excellence of the institution. -The tendency is aggravated when -the property is associated with social consideration -and opportunities for petty power. It is at -its worst when the institution is tied by law to -an ancient creed, almost impossible to change, -and yet quite out of touch with the unfettered -thought of the present day. All these causes -combine to damage the moral force of the -Church.</p> - -<p>It is not so much that the creed of the Church -is the wrong one. What is amiss is the mere -existence of a creed. As soon as income, position, -and power are dependent upon acceptance -of no matter what creed, intellectual honesty is -imperiled. Men will tell themselves that a -formal assent is justified by the good which -it will enable them to do. They fail to realize -that, in those whose mental life has any -vigor, loss of complete intellectual integrity puts -an end to the power of doing good, by producing -gradually in all directions an inability to -see truth simply. The strictness of party discipline -has introduced the same evil in politics; -there, because the evil is comparatively new, it -is visible to many who think it unimportant as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">220</span> -regards the Church. But the evil is greater as -regards the Church, because religion is of more -importance than politics, and because it is more -necessary that the exponents of religion should -be wholly free from taint.</p> - -<p>The evils we have been considering seem inseparable -from the existence of a professional -priesthood. If religion is not to be harmful in a -world of rapid change, it must, like the Society -of Friends, be carried on by men who have other -occupations during the week, who do their religious -work from enthusiasm, without receiving -any payment. And such men, because they -know the everyday world, are not likely to fall -into a remote morality which no one regards as -applicable to common life. Being free, they -will not be bound to reach certain conclusions -decided in advance, but will be able to consider -moral and religious questions genuinely, without -bias. Except in a quite stationary society, -no religious life can be living or a real support -to the spirit unless it is freed from the incubus -of a professional priesthood.</p> - -<p>It is largely for these reasons that so little -of what is valuable in morals and religion comes -nowadays from the men who are eminent in the -religious world. It is true that among professed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">221</span> -believers there are many who are wholly -sincere, who feel still the inspiration which -Christianity brought before it had been weakened -by the progress of knowledge. These sincere -believers are valuable to the world because -they keep alive the conviction that the life of -the spirit is what is of most importance to men -and women. Some of them, in all the countries -now at war, have had the courage to preach -peace and love in the name of Christ, and have -done what lay in their power to mitigate the bitterness -of hatred. All praise is due to these -men, and without them the world would be even -worse than it is.</p> - -<p>But it is not through even the most sincere -and courageous believers in the traditional religion -that a new spirit can come into the world. -It is not through them that religion can be -brought back to those who have lost it because -their minds were active, not because their spirit -was dead. Believers in the traditional religion -necessarily look to the past for inspiration -rather than to the future. They seek wisdom -in the teaching of Christ, which, admirable as it -is, remains quite inadequate for many of the -social and spiritual issues of modern life. Art -and intellect and all the problems of government<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">222</span> -are ignored in the Gospels. Those who, -like Tolstoy, endeavor seriously to take the -Gospels as a guide to life are compelled to regard -the ignorant peasant as the best type of -man, and to brush aside political questions by an -extreme and impracticable anarchism.</p> - -<p>If a religious view of life and the world is -ever to reconquer the thoughts and feelings of -free-minded men and women, much that we are -accustomed to associate with religion will have -to be discarded. The first and greatest change -that is required is to establish a morality of -initiative, not a morality of submission, a morality -of hope rather than fear, of things to be -done rather than of things to be left undone. -It is not the whole duty of man to -slip through the world so as to escape the -wrath of God. The world is <em>our</em> world, and it -rests with us to make it a heaven or a hell. The -power is ours, and the kingdom and the glory -would be ours also if we had courage and insight -to create them. The religious life that we -must seek will not be one of occasional solemnity -and superstitious prohibitions, it will not be sad -or ascetic, it will concern itself little with rules -of conduct. It will be inspired by a vision of -what human life may be, and will be happy with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">223</span> -the joy of creation, living in a large free world -of initiative and hope. It will love mankind, -not for what they are to the outward eye, but -for what imagination shows that they have it -in them to become. It will not readily condemn, -but it will give praise to positive achievement -rather than negative sinlessness, to the joy -of life, the quick affection, the creative insight, -by which the world may grow young and beautiful -and filled with vigor.</p> - -<p>“Religion” is a word which has many meanings -and a long history. In origin, it was concerned -with certain rites, inherited from a remote -past, performed originally for some reason -long since forgotten, and associated from time -to time with various myths to account for their -supposed importance. Much of this lingers -still. A religious man is one who goes to -church, a communicant, one who “practises,” as -Catholics say. How he behaves otherwise, or -how he feels concerning life and man’s place in -the world, does not bear upon the question -whether he is “religious” in this simple but historically -correct sense. Many men and women -are religious in this sense without having in -their natures anything that deserves to be called -religion in the sense in which I mean the word.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">224</span> -The mere familiarity of the Church service has -made them impervious to it; they are unconscious -of all the history and human experience -by which the liturgy has been enriched, and -unmoved by the glibly repeated words of the -Gospel, which condemn almost all the activities -of those who fancy themselves disciples of -Christ. This fate must overtake any habitual -rite: it is impossible that it should continue to -produce much effect after it has been performed -so often as to grow mechanical.</p> - -<p>The activities of men may be roughly derived -from three sources, not in actual fact sharply -separate one from another, but sufficiently distinguishable -to deserve different names. The -three sources I mean are instinct, mind, and -spirit, and of these three it is the life of the -spirit that makes religion.</p> - -<p>The life of instinct includes all that man -shares with the lower animals, all that is concerned -with self-preservation and reproduction -and the desires and impulses derivative from -these. It includes vanity and love of possessions, -love of family, and even much of what -makes love of country. It includes all the impulses -that are essentially concerned with the -biological success of oneself or one’s group—for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">225</span> -among gregarious animals the life of instinct -includes the group. The impulses which -it includes may not in fact make for success, -and may often in fact militate against it, but -are nevertheless those of which success is the -<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">raison d’être</i>, those which express the animal -nature of man and his position among a world -of competitors.</p> - -<p>The life of the mind is the life of pursuit of -knowledge, from mere childish curiosity up to -the greatest efforts of thought. Curiosity exists -in animals, and serves an obvious biological -purpose; but it is only in men that it passes -beyond the investigation of particular objects -which may be edible or poisonous, friendly or -hostile. Curiosity is the primary impulse out -of which the whole edifice of scientific knowledge -has grown. Knowledge has been found -so useful that most actual acquisition of it is -no longer prompted by curiosity; innumerable -other motives now contribute to foster the intellectual -life. Nevertheless, direct love of -knowledge and dislike of error still play a very -large part, especially with those who are most -successful in learning. No man acquires much -knowledge unless the acquisition is in itself delightful -to him, apart from any consciousness<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">226</span> -of the use to which the knowledge may be put. -The impulse to acquire knowledge and the activities -which center round it constitute what I -mean by the life of the mind. The life of the -mind consists of thought which is wholly or partially -impersonal, in the sense that it concerns -itself with objects on their own account, and -not merely on account of their bearing upon -our instinctive life.</p> - -<p>The life of the spirit centers round impersonal -feeling, as the life of the mind centers -round impersonal thought. In this sense, all -art belongs to the life of the spirit, though its -greatness is derived from its being also intimately -bound up with the life of instinct. Art -starts from instinct and rises into the region -of the spirit; religion starts from the spirit -and endeavors to dominate and inform the life -of instinct. It is possible to feel the same interest -in the joys and sorrows of others as in -our own, to love and hate independently of all -relation to ourselves, to care about the destiny -of man and the development of the universe -without a thought that we are personally involved. -Reverence and worship, the sense of -an obligation to mankind, the feeling of imperativeness -and acting under orders which traditional<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">227</span> -religion has interpreted as Divine inspiration, -all belong to the life of the spirit. -And deeper than all these lies the sense of a -mystery half revealed, of a hidden wisdom and -glory, of a transfiguring vision in which common -things lose their solid importance and become -a thin veil behind which the ultimate truth -of the world is dimly seen. It is such feelings -that are the source of religion, and if they were -to die most of what is best would vanish out -of life.</p> - -<p>Instinct, mind, and spirit are all essential to -a full life; each has its own excellence and its -own corruption. Each can attain a spurious -excellence at the expense of the others; each -has a tendency to encroach upon the others; -but in the life which is to be sought all three -will be developed in coördination, and intimately -blended in a single harmonious whole. -Among uncivilized men instinct is supreme, and -mind and spirit hardly exist. Among educated -men at the present day mind is developed, as -a rule, at the expense of both instinct and spirit, -producing a curious inhumanity and lifelessness, -a paucity of both personal and impersonal -desires, which leads to cynicism and intellectual -destructiveness. Among ascetics and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">228</span> -most of those who would be called saints, the life -of the spirit has been developed at the expense -of instinct and mind, producing an outlook -which is impossible to those who have a healthy -animal life and to those who have a love of active -thought. It is not in any of these one-sided -developments that we can find wisdom or -a philosophy which will bring new life to the -civilized world.</p> - -<p>Among civilized men and women at the present -day it is rare to find instinct, mind, and -spirit in harmony. Very few have achieved a -practical philosophy which gives its due place -to each; as a rule, instinct is at war with either -mind or spirit, and mind and spirit are at war -with each other. This strife compels men and -women to direct much of their energy inwards, -instead of being able to expend it all in objective -activities. When a man achieves a precarious -inward peace by the defeat of a part of -his nature, his vital force is impaired, and his -growth is no longer quite healthy. If men are -to remain whole, it is very necessary that they -should achieve a reconciliation of instinct, -mind, and spirit.</p> - -<p>Instinct is the source of vitality, the bond -that unites the life of the individual with the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">229</span> -life of the race, the basis of all profound sense -of union with others, and the means by which -the collective life nourishes the life of the separate -units. But instinct by itself leaves us -powerless to control the forces of Nature, either -in ourselves or in our physical environment, -and keeps us in bondage to the same unthinking -impulse by which the trees grow. Mind can -liberate us from this bondage, by the power of -impersonal thought, which enables us to judge -critically the purely biological purposes towards -which instinct more or less blindly tends. But -mind, in its dealings with instinct, is <em>merely</em> -critical: so far as instinct is concerned, the unchecked -activity of the mind is apt to be destructive -and to generate cynicism. Spirit is an -antidote to the cynicism of mind: it universalizes -the emotions that spring from instinct, and -by universalizing them makes them impervious -to mental criticism. And when thought is informed -by spirit it loses its cruel, destructive -quality; it no longer promotes the death of instinct, -but only its purification from insistence -and ruthlessness and its emancipation from the -prison walls of accidental circumstance. It is -instinct that gives force, mind that gives the -means of directing force to desired ends, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">230</span> -spirit that suggests impersonal uses for force -of a kind that thought cannot discredit by criticism. -This is an outline of the parts that instinct, -mind, and spirit would play in a harmonious -life.</p> - -<p>Instinct, mind, and spirit are each a help to -the others when their development is free and -unvitiated; but when corruption comes into any -one of the three, not only does that one fail, but -the others also become poisoned. All three -must grow together. And if they are to grow -to their full stature in any one man or woman, -that man or woman must not be isolated, but -must be one of a society where growth is not -thwarted and made crooked.</p> - -<p>The life of instinct, when it is unchecked by -mind or spirit, consists of instinctive cycles, -which begin with impulses to more or less definite -acts, and pass on to satisfaction of needs -through the consequences of these impulsive -acts. Impulse and desire are not directed -towards the whole cycle, but only towards its -initiation: the rest is left to natural causes. -We desire to eat, but we do not desire to be -nourished unless we are valetudinarians. Yet -without the nourishment eating is a mere momentary -pleasure, not part of the general impulse<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">231</span> -to life. Men desire sexual intercourse, -but they do not as a rule desire children -strongly or often. Yet without the hope of -children and its occasional realization, sexual -intercourse remains for most people an isolated -and separate pleasure, not uniting their personal -life with the life of mankind, not continuous -with the central purposes by which they -live, and not capable of bringing that profound -sense of fulfilment which comes from completion -by children. Most men, unless the impulse -is atrophied through disuse, feel a desire to create -something, great or small according to their -capacities. Some few are able to satisfy this -desire: some happy men can create an Empire, -a science, a poem, or a picture. The men of science, -who have less difficulty than any others -in finding an outlet for creativeness, are the -happiest of intelligent men in the modern -world, since their creative activity affords full -satisfaction to mind and spirit as well as to the -instinct of creation.<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">21</a> In them a beginning is -to be seen of the new way of life which is to be -sought; in their happiness we may perhaps find<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">232</span> -the germ of a future happiness for all mankind. -The rest, with few exceptions, are -thwarted in their creative impulses. They cannot -build their own house or make their own -garden, or direct their own labor to producing -what their free choice would lead them to produce. -In this way the instinct of creation, -which should lead on to the life of mind and -spirit, is checked and turned aside. Too often -it is turned to destruction, as the only effective -action which remains possible. Out of its defeat -grows envy, and out of envy grows the impulse -to destroy the creativeness of more fortunate -men. This is one of the greatest sources -of corruption in the life of instinct.</p> - -<p>The life of instinct is important, not only on -its own account, or because of the direct usefulness -of the actions which it inspires, but also -because, if it is unsatisfactory, the individual -life becomes detached and separated from the -general life of man. All really profound sense -of unity with others depends upon instinct, upon -coöperation or agreement in some instinctive -purpose. This is most obvious in the relations -of men and women and parents and children. -But it is true also in wider relations. It is true -of large assemblies swayed by a strong common<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">233</span> -emotion, and even of a whole nation in times of -stress. It is part of what makes the value of -religion as a social institution. Where this -feeling is wholly absent, other human beings -seem distant and aloof. Where it is actively -thwarted, other human beings become objects -of instinctive hostility. The aloofness or the -instinctive hostility may be masked by religious -love, which can be given to all men regardless -of their relation to ourselves. But religious -love does not bridge the gulf that parts man -from man: it looks across the gulf, it views -others with compassion or impersonal sympathy, -but it does not live with the same life with -which they live. Instinct alone can do this, but -only when it is fruitful and sane and direct. To -this end it is necessary that instinctive cycles -should be fairly often completed, not interrupted -in the middle of their course. At present -they are constantly interrupted, partly by -purposes which conflict with them for economic -or other reasons, partly by the pursuit of pleasure, -which picks out the most agreeable part of -the cycle and avoids the rest. In this way instinct -is robbed of its importance and seriousness; -it becomes incapable of bringing any real -fulfilment, its demands grow more and more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">234</span> -excessive, and life becomes no longer a whole -with a single movement, but a series of detached -moments, some of them pleasurable, most of -them full of weariness and discouragement.</p> - -<p>The life of the mind, although supremely excellent -in itself, cannot bring health into the -life of instinct, except when it results in a not -too difficult outlet for the instinct of creation. -In other cases it is, as a rule, too widely separated -from instinct, too detached, too destitute -of inward growth, to afford either a vehicle for -instinct or a means of subtilizing and refining -it. Thought is in its essence impersonal and -detached, instinct is in its essence personal and -tied to particular circumstances: between the -two, unless both reach a high level, there is a -war which is not easily appeased. This is the -fundamental reason for vitalism, futurism, -pragmatism, and the various other philosophies -which advertise themselves as vigorous and -virile. All these represent the attempt to find -a mode of thought which shall not be hostile to -instinct. The attempt, in itself, is deserving of -praise, but the solution offered is far too facile. -What is proposed amounts to a subordination of -thought to instinct, a refusal to allow thought -to achieve its own ideal. Thought which does<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">235</span> -not rise above what is personal is not thought -in any true sense: it is merely a more or less -intelligent use of instinct. It is thought and -spirit that raise man above the level of the -brutes. By discarding them we may lose the -proper excellence of men, but cannot acquire -the excellence of animals. Thought must -achieve its full growth before a reconciliation -with instinct is attempted.</p> - -<p>When refined thought and unrefined instinct -coexist, as they do in many intellectual men, -the result is a complete disbelief in any important -good to be achieved by the help of instinct. -According to their disposition, some such men -will as far as possible discard instinct and become -ascetic, while others will accept it as a necessity, -leaving it degraded and separated from -all that is really important in their lives. -Either of these courses prevents instinct from -remaining vital, or from being a bond with others; -either produces a sense of physical solitude, -a gulf across which the minds and spirits -of others may speak, but not their instincts. -To very many men, the instinct of patriotism, -when the war broke out, was the first instinct -that had bridged the gulf, the first that had made -them feel a really profound unity with others.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">236</span> -This instinct, just because, in its intense form, -it was new and unfamiliar, had remained uninfected -by thought, not paralyzed or devitalized -by doubt and cold detachment. The sense of -unity which it brought is capable of being -brought by the instinctive life of more normal -times, if thought and spirit are not hostile to -it. And so long as this sense of unity is absent, -instinct and spirit cannot be in harmony, -nor can the life of the community have vigor -and the seeds of new growth.</p> - -<p>The life of the mind, because of its detachment, -tends to separate a man inwardly from -other men, so long as it is not balanced by the -life of the spirit. For this reason, mind without -spirit can render instinct corrupt or atrophied, -but cannot add any excellence to the life -of instinct. On this ground, some men are hostile -to thought. But no good purpose is served -by trying to prevent the growth of thought, -which has its own insistence, and if checked in -the directions in which it tends naturally, will -turn into other directions where it is more harmful. -And thought is in itself god-like: if the -opposition between thought and instinct were -irreconcilable, it would be thought that ought -to conquer. But the opposition is not irreconciliable:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">237</span> -all that is necessary is that both -thought and instinct should be informed by the -life of the spirit.</p> - -<p>In order that human life should have vigor, -it is necessary for the instinctive impulses to -be strong and direct; but in order that human -life should be good, these impulses must be dominated -and controlled by desires less personal -and ruthless, less liable to lead to conflict than -those that are inspired by instinct alone. Something -impersonal and universal is needed over -and above what springs out of the principle of -individual growth. It is this that is given by -the life of the spirit.</p> - -<p>Patriotism affords an example of the kind of -control which is needed. Patriotism is compounded -out of a number of instinctive feelings -and impulses: love of home, love of those whose -ways and outlook resemble our own, the impulse -to coöperation in a group, the sense of pride in -the achievements of one’s group. All these impulses -and desires, like everything belonging to -the life of instinct, are personal, in the sense -that the feelings and actions which they inspire -towards others are determined by the relation -of those others to ourselves, not by what those -others are intrinsically. All these impulses<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">238</span> -and desires unite to produce a love of man’s -own country which is more deeply implanted in -the fiber of his being, and more closely united -to his vital force, than any love not rooted in -instinct. But if spirit does not enter in to generalize -love of country, the exclusiveness of instinctive -love makes it a source of hatred of -other countries. What spirit can effect is to -make us realize that other countries equally are -worthy of love, that the vital warmth which -makes us love our own country reveals to us -that it deserves to be loved, and that only the -poverty of our nature prevents us from loving -all countries as we love our own. In this way -instinctive love can be extended in imagination, -and a sense of the value of all mankind can grow -up, which is more living and intense than any -that is possible to those whose instinctive love -is weak. Mind can only show us that it is irrational -to love our own country best; it can -weaken patriotism, but cannot strengthen the -love of all mankind. Spirit alone can do this, -by extending and universalizing the love that is -born of instinct. And in doing this it checks -and purifies whatever is insistent or ruthless -or oppressively personal in the life of instinct.</p> - -<p>The same extension through spirit is necessary<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">239</span> -with other instinctive loves, if they are not -to be enfeebled or corrupted by thought. The -love of husband and wife is capable of being a -very good thing, and when men and women are -sufficiently primitive nothing but instinct and -good fortune is needed to make it reach a certain -limited perfection. But as thought begins -to assert its right to criticize instinct the old -simplicity becomes impossible. The love of -husband and wife, as unchecked instinct leaves -it, is too narrow and personal to stand against -the shafts of satire, until it is enriched by the -life of the spirit. The romantic view of marriage, -which our fathers and mothers professed -to believe, will not survive an imaginative peregrination -down a street of suburban villas, each -containing its couple, each couple having congratulated -themselves as they first crossed the -threshold, that here they could love in peace, -without interruption from others, without contact -with the cold outside world. The separateness -and stuffiness, the fine names for cowardices -and timid vanities, that are shut within the -four walls of thousands upon thousands of little -villas, present themselves coldly and mercilessly -to those in whom mind is dominant at -the expense of spirit.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">240</span> -Nothing is good in the life of a human being -except the very best that his nature can achieve. -As men advance, things which have been good -cease to be good, merely because something better -is possible. So it is with the life of instinct: -for those whose mental life is strong, much that -was really good while mind remained less developed -has now become bad merely through -the greater degree of truth in their outlook on -the world. The instinctive man in love feels -that his emotion is unique, that the lady of his -heart has perfections such as no other woman -ever equaled. The man who has acquired the -power of impersonal thought realizes, when he -is in love, that he is one of so many millions -of men who are in love at this moment, that not -more than one of all the millions can be right -in thinking his love supreme, and that it is not -likely that that one is oneself. He perceives -that the state of being in love in those whose instinct -is unaffected by thought or spirit, is a -state of illusion, serving the ends of Nature and -making a man a slave to the life of the species, -not a willing minister to the impersonal ends -which he sees to be good. Thought rejects this -slavery; for no end that Nature may have in -view will thought abdicate, or forgo its right<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">241</span> -to think truly. “Better the world should perish -than that I or any other human being should -believe a lie”—this is the religion of thought, -in whose scorching flames the dross of the world -is being burnt away. It is a good religion, and -its work of destruction must be completed. But -it is not all that man has need of. New growth -must come after the destruction, and new -growth can come only through the spirit.</p> - -<p>Both patriotism and the love of man and -woman, when they are merely instinctive, have -the same defects: their exclusions, their enclosing -walls, their indifference or hostility to the -outside world. It is through this that thought -is led to satire, that comedy has infected what -men used to consider their holiest feelings. The -satire and the comedy are justified, but not the -death of instinct which they may produce if -they remain in supreme command. They are -justified, not as the last word of wisdom but as -the gateway of pain through which men pass -to a new life, where instinct is purified and yet -nourished by the deeper desires and insight of -spirit.</p> - -<p>The man who has the life of the spirit within -him views the love of man and woman, both -in himself and in others, quite differently from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">242</span> -the man who is exclusively dominated by mind. -He sees, in his moments of insight, that in all -human beings there is something deserving of -love, something mysterious, something appealing, -a cry out of the night, a groping journey, -and a possible victory. When his instinct loves, -he welcomes its help in seeing and feeling the -value of the human being whom he loves. Instinct -becomes a reinforcement to spiritual insight. -What instinct tells him spiritual insight -confirms, however much the mind may be aware -of littlenesses, limitations, and enclosing walls -that prevent the spirit from shining forth. His -spirit divines in all men what his instinct shows -him in the object of his love.</p> - -<p>The love of parents for children has need of -the same transformation. The purely instinctive -love, unchecked by thought, uninformed by -spirit, is exclusive, ruthless, and unjust. No -benefit to others is felt, by the purely instinctive -parent, to be worth an injury to one’s own -children. Honor and conventional morality -place certain important practical limitations on -the vicarious selfishness of parents, since a civilized -community exacts a certain minimum before -it will give respect. But within the limits -allowed by public opinion, parental affection,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">243</span> -when it is merely instinctive, will seek the advantage -of children without regard to others. -Mind can weaken the impulse to injustice, and -diminish the force of instinctive love, but it cannot -keep the whole force of instinctive love and -turn it to more universal ends. Spirit can do -this. It can leave the instinctive love of children -undimmed, and extend the poignant devotion -of a parent, in imagination, to the whole -world. And parental love itself will prompt -the parent who has the life of the spirit to give -to his children the sense of justice, the readiness -for service, the reverence, the will that controls -self-seeking, which he feels to be a greater good -than any personal success.</p> - -<p>The life of the spirit has suffered in recent -times by its association with traditional religion, -by its apparent hostility to the life of the -mind, and by the fact that it has seemed to center -in renunciation. The life of the spirit demands -readiness for renunciation when the occasion -arises, but is in its essence as positive -and as capable of enriching individual existence -as mind and instinct are. It brings with it the -joy of vision, of the mystery and profundity of -the world, of the contemplation of life, and -above all the joy of universal love. It liberates<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">244</span> -those who have it from the prison-house of insistent -personal passion and mundane cares. -It gives freedom and breadth and beauty to -men’s thoughts and feelings, and to all their -relations with others. It brings the solution of -doubts, the end of the feeling that all is vanity. -It restores harmony between mind and instinct, -and leads the separated unit back into -his place in the life of mankind. For those who -have once entered the world of thought, it is -only through spirit that happiness and peace -can return.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">245</span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 id="VIII" class="vspace">VIII<br /> - -<span class="subhead">WHAT WE CAN DO</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">What</span> can we do for the world while we -live?</p> - -<p>Many men and women would wish to serve -mankind, but they are perplexed and their -power seems infinitesimal. Despair seizes -them; those who have the strongest passion suffer -most from the sense of impotence, and are -most liable to spiritual ruin through lack of -hope.</p> - -<p>So long as we think only of the immediate -future, it seems that what we can do is not much. -It is probably impossible for us to bring the war -to an end. We cannot destroy the excessive -power of the State or of private property. We -cannot, here and now, bring new life into education. -In such matters, though we may see -the evil, we cannot quickly cure it by any of the -ordinary methods of politics. We must recognize -that the world is ruled in a wrong spirit, -and that a change of spirit will not come from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">246</span> -one day to the next. Our expectations must -not be for to-morrow, but for the time when -what is thought now by a few shall have become -the common thought of many. If we have courage -and patience, we can think the thoughts and -feel the hopes by which, sooner or later, men -will be inspired, and weariness and discouragement -will be turned into energy and ardor. For -this reason, the first thing we have to do is to -be clear in our own minds as to the kind of life -we think good and the kind of change that we -desire in the world.</p> - -<p>The ultimate power of those whose thought -is vital is far greater than it seems to men who -suffer from the irrationality of contemporary -politics. Religious toleration was once the solitary -speculation of a few bold philosophers. -Democracy, as a theory, arose among a handful -of men in Cromwell’s army; by them, after -the Restoration, it was carried to America, -where it came to fruition in the War of Independence. -From America, Lafayette and the -other Frenchmen who fought by the side of -Washington brought the theory of democracy -to France, where it united itself with the teaching -of Rousseau and inspired the Revolution. -Socialism, whatever we may think of its merits,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">247</span> -is a great and growing power, which is transforming -economic and political life; and socialism -owes its origin to a very small number of -isolated theorists. The movement against the -subjection of women, which has become irresistible -and is not far from complete triumph, began -in the same way with a few impracticable -idealists—Mary Wollstonecraft, Shelley, John -Stuart Mill. The power of thought, in the long -run, is greater than any other human power. -Those who have the ability to think and the -imagination to think in accordance with men’s -needs, are likely to achieve the good they aim -at sooner or later, though probably not while -they are still alive.</p> - -<p>But those who wish to gain the world by -thought must be content to lose it as a support -in the present. Most men go through life without -much questioning, accepting the beliefs and -practices which they find current, feeling that -the world will be their ally if they do not put -themselves in opposition to it. New thought -about the world is incompatible with this comfortable -acquiescence; it requires a certain intellectual -detachment, a certain solitary energy, -a power of inwardly dominating the world and -the outlook that the world engenders. Without<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">248</span> -some willingness to be lonely new thought cannot -be achieved. And it will not be achieved to -any purpose if the loneliness is accompanied by -aloofness, so that the wish for union with others -dies, or if intellectual detachment leads to contempt. -It is because the state of mind required -is subtle and difficult, because it is hard to be -intellectually detached yet not aloof, that fruitful -thought on human affairs is not common, and -that most theorists are either conventional or -sterile. The right kind of thought is rare and -difficult, but it is not impotent. It is not the -fear of impotence that need turn us aside from -thought if we have the wish to bring new hope -into the world.</p> - -<p>In seeking a political theory which is to be -useful at any given moment, what is wanted is -not the invention of a Utopia, but the discovery -of the best direction of movement. The direction -which is good at one time may be superficially -very different from that which is good -at another time. Useful thought is that which -indicates the right direction for the present -time. But in judging what is the right direction -there are two general principles which are -always applicable.</p> - -<p>1. The growth and vitality of individuals and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">249</span> -communities is to be promoted as far as possible.</p> - -<p>2. The growth of one individual or one community -is to be as little as possible at the expense -of another.</p> - -<p>The second of these principles, as applied by -an individual in his dealings with others, is the -principle of <em>reverence</em>, that the life of another -has the same importance which we feel in our -own life. As applied impersonally in politics, -it is the principle of <em>liberty</em>, or rather it includes -the principle of liberty as a part. Liberty in -itself is a negative principle; it tells us not to -interfere, but does not give any basis for construction. -It shows that many political and social -institutions are bad and ought to be swept -away, but it does not show what ought to be put -in their place. For this reason a further principle -is required, if our political theory is not -to be purely destructive.</p> - -<p>The combination of our two principles is not -in practice an easy matter. Much of the vital -energy of the world runs into channels which -are oppressive. The Germans have shown -themselves extraordinarily full of vital energy, -but unfortunately in a form which seems incompatible -with the vitality of their neighbors.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">250</span> -Europe in general has more vital energy than -Africa, but it has used its energy to drain -Africa, through industrialism, of even such life -as the negroes possessed. The vitality of -southeastern Europe is being drained to supply -cheap labor for the enterprise of American millionaires. -The vitality of men has been in the -past a hindrance to the development of women, -and it is possible that in the near future women -may become a similar hindrance to men. For -such reasons the principle of reverence, though -not in itself sufficient, is of very great importance, -and is able to indicate many of the political -changes that the world requires.</p> - -<p>In order that both principles may be capable -of being satisfied, what is needed is a unifying -or integration, first of our individual lives, then -of the life of the community and of the world, -without sacrifice of individuality. The life of -an individual, the life of a community, and even -the life of mankind, ought to be, not a number -of separate fragments but in some sense a -whole. When this is the case, the growth of -the individual is fostered, and is not incompatible -with the growth of other individuals. In -this way the two principles are brought into -harmony.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">251</span> -What integrates an individual life is a consistent -creative purpose or unconscious direction. -Instinct alone will not suffice to give unity -to the life of a civilized man or woman: there -must be some dominant object, an ambition, a -desire for scientific or artistic creation, a religious -principle, or strong and lasting affections. -Unity of life is very difficult for a man or -woman who has suffered a certain kind of defeat, -the kind by which what should have been -the dominant impulse is checked and made abortive. -Most professions inflict this kind of defeat -upon a man at the very outset. If a man -becomes a journalist, he probably has to write -for a newspaper whose politics he dislikes; this -kills his pride in work and his sense of independence. -Most medical men find it very hard -to succeed without humbug, by which whatever -scientific conscience they may have had is destroyed. -Politicians are obliged, not only to -swallow the party program but to pretend -to be saints, in order to conciliate religious supporters; -hardly any man can enter Parliament -without hypocrisy. In no profession is there -any respect for the native pride without which -a man cannot remain whole; the world ruthlessly -crushes it out, because it implies independence,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">252</span> -and men desire to enslave others -more than they desire to be free themselves. -Inward freedom is infinitely precious, and a society -which will preserve it is immeasurably to -be desired.</p> - -<p>The principle of growth in a man is not -crushed necessarily by preventing him from -doing some definite thing, but it is often crushed -by persuading him to do something else. The -things that crush growth are those that produce -a sense of impotence in the directions in which -the vital impulse wishes to be effective. The -worst things are those to which the will assents. -Often, chiefly from failure of self-knowledge, -a man’s will is on a lower level than his impulse: -his impulse is towards some kind of creation, -while his will is towards a conventional -career, with a sufficient income and the respect -of his contemporaries. The stereotyped illustration -is the artist who produces shoddy work -to please the public. But something of the artist’s -definiteness of impulse exists in very -many men who are not artists. Because the -impulse is deep and dumb, because what is -called common sense is often against it, because -a young man can only follow it if he is willing -to set up his own obscure feelings against the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">253</span> -wisdom and prudent maxims of elders and -friends, it happens in ninety-nine cases out of -a hundred that the creative impulse, out of -which a free and vigorous life might have -sprung, is checked and thwarted at the very -outset: the young man consents to become a -tool, not an independent workman; a mere -means to the fulfilment of others, not the artificer -of what his own nature feels to be good. -In the moment when he makes this act of consent -something dies within him. He can never -again become a whole man, never again have -the undamaged self-respect, the upright pride, -which might have kept him happy in his soul in -spite of all outward troubles and difficulties—except, -indeed, through conversion and a fundamental -change in his way of life.</p> - -<p>Outward prohibitions, to which the will gives -no assent, are far less harmful than the subtler -inducements which seduce the will. A serious -disappointment in love may cause the most -poignant pain, but to a vigorous man it will not -do the same inward damage as is done by marrying -for money. The achievement of this or -that special desire is not what is essential: what -is essential is the direction, the <em>kind</em> of effectiveness -which is sought. When the fundamental<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">254</span> -impulse is opposed by will, it is made to feel -helpless: it has no longer enough hope to be -powerful as a motive. Outward compulsion -does not do the same damage unless it produces -the same sense of impotence; and it will not -produce the same sense of impotence if the impulse -is strong and courageous. Some thwarting -of special desires is unavoidable even in -the best imaginable community, since some -men’s desires, unchecked, lead to the oppression -or destruction of others. In a good community -Napoleon could not have been allowed -the profession of his choice, but he might have -found happiness as a pioneer in Western America. -He could not have found happiness as a -City clerk, and no tolerable organization of society -would compel him to become a City clerk.</p> - -<p>The integration of an individual life requires -that it should embody whatever creative impulse -a man may possess, and that his education -should have been such as to elicit and fortify -this impulse. The integration of a community -requires that the different creative impulses of -different men and women should work together -towards some common life, some common purpose, -not necessarily conscious, in which all the -members of the community find a help to their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">255</span> -individual fulfilment. Most of the activities -that spring from vital impulses consist of two -parts: one creative, which furthers one’s own -life and that of others with the same kind of -impulse or circumstances, and one possessive, -which hinders the life of some group with a different -kind of impulse or circumstances. For -this reason, much of what is in itself most vital -may nevertheless work against life, as, for example, -seventeenth-century Puritanism did in -England, or as nationalism does throughout -Europe at the present day. Vitality easily -leads to strife or oppression, and so to loss of -vitality. War, at its outset, integrates the life -of a nation, but it disintegrates the life of the -world, and in the long run the life of a nation -too, when it is as severe as the present war.</p> - -<p>The war has made it clear that it is impossible -to produce a secure integration of the life -of a single community while the relations between -civilized countries are governed by aggressiveness -and suspicion. For this reason -any really powerful movement of reform will -have to be international. A merely national -movement is sure to fail through fear of danger -from without. Those who desire a better -world, or even a radical improvement in their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">256</span> -own country, will have to coöperate with those -who have similar desires in other countries, and -to devote much of their energy to overcoming -that blind hostility which the war has intensified. -It is not in partial integrations, such as -patriotism alone can produce, that any ultimate -hope is to be found. The problem is, in national -and international questions as in the individual -life, to keep what is creative in vital -impulses, and at the same time to turn into -other channels the part which is at present destructive.</p> - -<p>Men’s impulses and desires may be divided -into those that are creative and those that are -possessive. Some of our activities are directed -to creating what would not otherwise exist, others -are directed towards acquiring or retaining -what exists already. The typical creative impulse -is that of the artist; the typical possessive -impulse is that of property. The best life -is that in which creative impulses play the largest -part and possessive impulses the smallest. -The best institutions are those which produce -the greatest possible creativeness and the least -possessiveness compatible with self-preservation. -Possessiveness may be defensive or aggressive: -in the criminal law it is defensive, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">257</span> -in criminals it is aggressive. It may perhaps -be admitted that the criminal law is less abominable -than the criminal, and that defensive possessiveness -is unavoidable so long as aggressive -possessiveness exists. But not even the most -purely defensive forms of possessiveness are -in themselves admirable; indeed, as soon as -they are strong they become hostile to the creative -impulses. “Take no thought, saying, -What shall we eat? or What shall we drink, or -Wherewithal shall we be clothed?” Whoever -has known a strong creative impulse has known -the value of this precept in its exact and literal -sense: it is preoccupation with possessions, -more than anything else, that prevents men -from living freely and nobly. The State and -Property are the great embodiments of possessiveness; -it is for this reason that they are -against life, and that they issue in war. Possession -means taking or keeping some good -thing which another is prevented from enjoying; -creation means putting into the world a -good thing which otherwise no one would be -able to enjoy. Since the material goods of the -world must be divided among the population, -and since some men are by nature brigands, -there must be defensive possession, which will<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">258</span> -be regulated, in a good community, by some -principle of impersonal justice. But all this -is only the preface to a good life or good political -institutions, in which creation will altogether -outweigh possession, and distributive -justice will exist as an uninteresting matter of -course.</p> - -<p>The supreme principle, both in politics and -in private life, should be <em>to promote all that is -creative, and so to diminish the impulses and -desires that center round possession</em>. The -State at present is very largely an embodiment -of possessive impulses: internally, it protects -the rich against the poor; externally, it uses -force for the exploitation of inferior races, and -for competition with other States. Our whole -economic system is concerned exclusively with -possession; yet the production of goods is a -form of creation, and except in so far as it is -irredeemably mechanical and monotonous, it -might afford a vehicle for creative impulses. -A great deal might be achieved towards this -end by forming the producers of a certain kind -of commodity into an autonomous democracy, -subject to State control as regards the price of -their commodity but not as to the manner of its -production.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">259</span> -Education, marriage, and religion are essentially -creative, yet all three have been vitiated -by the intrusion of possessive motives. Education -is usually treated as a means of prolonging -the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">status quo</i> by instilling prejudices, -rather than of creating free thought and a noble -outlook by the example of generous feeling and -the stimulus of mental adventure. In marriage, -love, which is creative, is kept in chains -by jealousy, which is possessive. Religion, -which should set free the creative vision of the -spirit, is usually more concerned to repress the -life of instinct and to combat the subversiveness -of thought. In all these ways the fear that -grows out of precarious possession has replaced -the hope inspired by creative force. The wish -to plunder others is recognized, in theory, to -be bad; but the fear of being plundered is little -better. Yet these two motives between them -dominate nine-tenths of politics and private life.</p> - -<p>The creative impulses in different men are -essentially harmonious, since what one man -creates cannot be a hindrance to what another -is wishing to create. It is the possessive impulses -that involve conflict. Although, morally -and politically, the creative and possessive impulses -are opposites, yet psychologically either<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">260</span> -passes easily into the other, according to the -accidents of circumstance and opportunity. -The genesis of impulses and the causes which -make them change ought to be studied; education -and social institutions ought to be made -such as to strengthen the impulses which harmonize -in different men, and to weaken those -that involve conflict. I have no doubt that what -might be accomplished in this way is almost unlimited.</p> - -<p>It is rather through impulse than through will -that individual lives and the life of the community -can derive the strength unity of a -single direction. Will is of two kinds, of which -one is directed outward and the other inward. -The first, which is directed outward, is called -into play by external obstacles, either the opposition -of others or the technical difficulties -of an undertaking. This kind of will is an expression -of strong impulse or desire, whenever -instant success is impossible; it exists in all -whose life is vigorous, and only decays when -their vital force is enfeebled. It is necessary -to success in any difficult enterprise, and without -it great achievement is very rare. But the -will which is directed inward is only necessary -in so far as there is an inner conflict of impulses<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">261</span> -or desires; a perfectly harmonious nature -would have no occasion for inward will. -Such perfect harmony is of course a scarcely -realizable ideal: in all men impulses arise which -are incompatible with their central purpose, -and which must be checked if their life as a -whole is not to be a failure. But this will happen -least with those whose central impulses are -strongest; and it will happen less often in a society -which aims at freedom than in a society -like ours, which is full of artificial incompatibilities -created by antiquated institutions -and a tyrannous public opinion. The power to -exert inward will when the occasion arises must -always be needed by those who wish their lives -to embody some central purpose, but with better -institutions the occasions when inward will -is necessary might be made fewer and less important. -This result is very much to be desired, -because when will checks impulses which -are only accidentally harmful, it diverts a force -which might be spent on overcoming outward -obstacles, and if the impulses checked are -strong and serious, it actually diminishes the -vital force available. A life full of inhibitions -is likely not to remain a very vigorous life but -to become listless and without zest. Impulse<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">262</span> -tends to die when it is constantly held in check, -and if it does not die, it is apt to work underground, -and issue in some form much worse -than that in which it has been checked. For -these reasons the necessity for using inward -will ought to be avoided as much as possible, -and consistency of action ought to spring rather -from consistency of impulse than from control -of impulse by will.</p> - -<p>The unifying of life ought not to demand the -suppression of the casual desires that make -amusement and play; on the contrary, everything -ought to be done to make it easy to combine -the main purposes of life with all kinds of -pleasure that are not in their nature harmful. -Such things as habitual drunkenness, drugs, -cruel sports, or pleasure in inflicting pain are -essentially harmful, but most of the amusements -that civilized men naturally enjoy are either not -harmful at all or only accidentally harmful -through some effect which might be avoided in -a better society. What is needed is, not asceticism -or a drab Puritanism, but capacity for -strong impulses and desires directed towards -large creative ends. When such impulses and -desires are vigorous, they bring with them, of -themselves, what is needed to make a good life.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">263</span> -But although amusement and adventure -ought to have their share, it is impossible to -create a good life if they are what is mainly -desired. Subjectivism, the habit of directing -thought and desire to our own states of mind -rather than to something objective, inevitably -makes life fragmentary and unprogressive. -The man to whom amusement is the end of life -tends to lose interest gradually in the things -out of which he has been in the habit of obtaining -amusement, since he does not value these -things on their own account, but on account of -the feelings which they arouse in him. When -they are no longer amusing, boredom drives -him to seek some new stimulus, which fails him -in its turn. Amusement consists in a series of -moments without any essential continuity; a -purpose which unifies life is one which requires -some prolonged activity, and is like building a -monument rather than a child’s castle in the -sand.</p> - -<p>Subjectivism has other forms beside the -mere pursuit of amusement. Many men, when -they are in love, are more interested in their -own emotion than in the object of their love; -such love does not lead to any essential union, -but leaves fundamental separateness undiminished.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">264</span> -As soon as the emotion grows less vivid -the experience has served its purpose, and -there seems no motive for prolonging it. In -another way, the same evil of subjectivism was -fostered by Protestant religion and morality, -since they directed attention to sin and the state -of the soul rather than to the outer world and -our relations with it. None of these forms of -subjectivism can prevent a man’s life from -being fragmentary and isolated. Only a life -which springs out of dominant impulses directed -to objective ends can be a satisfactory whole, -or be intimately united with the lives of others.</p> - -<p>The pursuit of pleasure and the pursuit of -virtue alike suffer from subjectivism: Epicureanism -and Stoicism are infected with the -same taint. Marcus Aurelius, enacting good -laws in order that he might be virtuous, is not -an attractive figure. Subjectivism is a natural -outcome of a life in which there is much more -thought than action: while outer things are being -remembered or desired, not actually experienced, -they seem to become mere ideas. What -they are in themselves becomes less interesting -to us than the effects which they produce in our -own minds. Such a result tends to be brought -about by increasing civilization, because increasing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">265</span> -civilization continually diminishes the -need for vivid action and enhances the opportunities -for thought. But thought will not have -this bad result if it is active thought, directed -towards achieving some purpose; it is only passive -thought that leads to subjectivism. What -is needed is to keep thought in intimate union -with impulses and desires, making it always itself -an activity with an objective purpose. -Otherwise, thought and impulse become enemies, -to the great detriment of both.</p> - -<p>In order to make the lives of average men -and women less fragmentary and separate, and -to give greater opportunity for carrying out -creative impulses, it is not enough to know the -goal we wish to reach, or to proclaim the excellence -of what we desire to achieve. It is -necessary to understand the effect of institutions -and beliefs upon the life of impulse, and -to discover ways of improving this effect by a -change in institutions. And when this intellectual -work has been done, our thought will still -remain barren unless we can bring it into relation -with some powerful political force. The -only powerful political force from which any -help is to be expected in bringing about -such changes as seem needed is Labor. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">266</span> -changes required are very largely such as Labor -may be expected to welcome, especially during -the time of hardship after the war. When -the war is over, labor discontent is sure to be -very prevalent throughout Europe, and to constitute -a political force by means of which a -great and sweeping reconstruction may be effected.</p> - -<p>The civilized world has need of fundamental -change if it is to be saved from decay—change -both in its economic structure and in its philosophy -of life. Those of us who feel the need -of change must not sit still in dull despair: we -can, if we choose, profoundly influence the future. -We can discover and preach the kind of -change that is required—the kind that preserves -what is positive in the vital beliefs of -our time, and, by eliminating what is negative -and inessential, produces a synthesis to which -all that is not purely reactionary can give allegiance. -As soon as it has become clear what -<em>kind</em> of change is required, it will be possible -to work out its parts in more detail. But until -the war is ended there is little use in detail, -since we do not know what kind of world the -war will leave. The only thing that seems indubitable -is that much new thought will be required<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">267</span> -in the new world produced by the war. -Traditional views will give little help. It is -clear that men’s most important actions are not -guided by the sort of motives that are emphasized -in traditional political philosophies. The -impulses by which the war has been produced -and sustained come out of a deeper region than -that of most political argument. And the opposition -to the war on the part of those few -who have opposed it comes from the same deep -region. A political theory, if it is to hold in -times of stress, must take account of the impulses -that underlie explicit thought: it must -appeal to them, and it must discover how to -make them fruitful rather than destructive.</p> - -<p>Economic systems have a great influence in -promoting or destroying life. Except slavery, -the present industrial system is the most destructive -of life that has ever existed. Machinery -and large-scale production are ineradicable, -and must survive in any better system which -is to replace the one under which we live. Industrial -federal democracy is probably the best -direction for reform to take.</p> - -<p>Philosophies of life, when they are widely believed, -also have a very great influence on the -vitality of a community. The most widely accepted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">268</span> -philosophy of life at present is that what -matters most to a man’s happiness is his income. -This philosophy, apart from other demerits, -is harmful because it leads men to aim -at a result rather than an activity, an enjoyment -of material goods in which men are not -differentiated, rather than a creative impulse -which embodies each man’s individuality. -More refined philosophies, such as are instilled -by higher education, are too apt to fix attention -on the past rather than the future, and on correct -behavior rather than effective action. It -is not in such philosophies that men will find -the energy to bear lightly the weight of tradition -and of ever-accumulating knowledge.</p> - -<p>The world has need of a philosophy, or a religion, -which will promote life. But in order to -promote life it is necessary to value something -other than mere life. Life devoted only to life -is animal without any real human value, incapable -of preserving men permanently from -weariness and the feeling that all is vanity. If -life is to be fully human it must serve some end -which seems, in some sense, outside human life, -some end which is impersonal and above mankind, -such as God or truth or beauty. Those -who best promote life do not have life for their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">269</span> -purpose. They aim rather at what seems like -a gradual incarnation, a bringing into our human -existence of something eternal, something -that appears to imagination to live in a heaven -remote from strife and failure and the devouring -jaws of Time. Contact with this eternal -world—even if it be only a world of our imagining—brings -a strength and a fundamental peace -which cannot be wholly destroyed by the struggles -and apparent failures of our temporal life. -It is this happy contemplation of what is eternal -that Spinoza calls the intellectual love of -God. To those who have once known it, it is -the key of wisdom.</p> - -<p>What we have to do practically is different -for each one of us, according to our capacities -and opportunities. But if we have the life of -the spirit within us, what we must do and what -we must avoid will become apparent to us.</p> - -<p>By contact with what is eternal, by devoting -our life to bringing something of the Divine -into this troubled world, we can make our own -lives creative even now, even in the midst of the -cruelty and strife and hatred that surround us -on every hand. To make the individual life creative -is far harder in a community based on -possession than it would be in such a community<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">270</span> -as human effort may be able to build up in -the future. Those who are to begin the regeneration -of the world must face loneliness, opposition, -poverty, obloquy. They must be able -to live by truth and love, with a rational unconquerable -hope; they must be honest and wise, -fearless, and guided by a consistent purpose. -A body of men and women so inspired will conquer—first -the difficulties and perplexities of -their individual lives, then, in time, though perhaps -only in a long time, the outer world. Wisdom -and hope are what the world needs; and -though it fights against them, it gives its respect -to them in the end.</p> - -<p>When the Goths sacked Rome, St. Augustine -wrote the “City of God,” putting a spiritual -hope in place of the material reality that had -been destroyed. Throughout the centuries that -followed St. Augustine’s hope lived and gave -life, while Rome sank to a village of hovels. -For us, too, it is necessary to create a new hope, -to build up by our thought a better world than -the one which is hurling itself into ruin. Because -the times are bad, more is required of us -than would be required in normal times. Only -a supreme fire of thought and spirit can save -future generations from the death that has befallen<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">271</span> -the generation which we knew and loved.</p> - -<p>It has been my good fortune to come in contact -as a teacher with young men of many different -nations—young men in whom hope was -alive, in whom the creative energy existed that -would have realized in the world some part at -least of the imagined beauty by which they -lived. They have been swept into the war, some -on one side, some on the other. Some are still -fighting, some are maimed for life, some are -dead; of those who survive it is to be feared that -many will have lost the life of the spirit, that -hope will have died, that energy will be spent, -and that the years to come will be only a weary -journey towards the grave. Of all this tragedy, -not a few of those who teach seem to have no -feeling: with ruthless logic, they prove that -these young men have been sacrificed unavoidably -for some coldly abstract end; undisturbed -themselves, they lapse quickly into comfort -after any momentary assault of feeling. In -such men the life of the spirit is dead. If it -were living, it would go out to meet the spirit -in the young, with a love as poignant as the love -of father or mother. It would be unaware of -the bounds of self; their tragedy would be its -own. Something would cry out: “No, this is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">272</span> -not right; this is not good; this is not a holy -cause, in which the brightness of youth is destroyed -and dimmed. It is we, the old, who -have sinned; we have sent these young men to -the battlefield for our evil passions, our spiritual -death, our failure to live generously out of the -warmth of the heart and out of the living vision -of the spirit. Let us come out of this death, -for it is we who are dead, not the young men -who have died through our fear of life. Their -very ghosts have more life than we: they hold -us up for ever to the shame and obloquy of all -the ages to come. Out of their ghosts must -come life, and it is we whom they must vivify.”</p> - -<p class="p2 center smaller">THE END</p> - -<div class="chapter"><div class="footnotes"> -<h2 id="FOOTNOTES" class="nobreak p1">FOOTNOTES</h2> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="fnanchor">1</a> On this subject compare Bernard Hart’s <cite class="normal">“Psychology of -Insanity</cite>” (Cambridge University Press, 1914), chap. v, especially -pp. 62–5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="fnanchor">2</a> This was written before Christianity had become punishable -by hard labor, penal servitude, or even death, under the -Military Service Act (No. 2). [Note added in 1916.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="fnanchor">3</a> The blasphemy prosecutions.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="fnanchor">4</a> The syndicalist prosecutions. [The punishment of conscientious -objectors must now be added, 1916.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="fnanchor">5</a> In a democratic country it is the majority who must after -all rule, and the minority will be obliged to submit with the -best grace possible (<i xml:lang="la" lang="la">Westminster Gazette</i> on Conscription, -December 29, 1915).</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="fnanchor">6</a> Some very strong remarks on the conduct of the “white -feather” women were made by Mr. Reginald Kemp, the Deputy -Coroner for West Middlesex, at an inquest at Ealing on Saturday -on Richard Charles Roberts, aged thirty-four, a taxicab -driver, of Shepherd’s Bush, who committed suicide in consequence -of worry caused by his rejection from the Army and -the taunts of women and other amateur recruiters. -</p> -<p> -It was stated that he tried to join the Army in October, -but was rejected on account of a weak heart. That alone, said -his widow, had depressed him, and he had been worried because -he thought he would lose his license owing to the state -of his heart. He had also been troubled by the dangerous -illness of a child. -</p> -<p> -A soldier relative said that the deceased’s life had been made -“a perfect misery” by women who taunted him and called him -a coward because he did not join the Army. A few days ago -two women in Maida Vale insulted him “something shocking.” -</p> -<p> -The Coroner, speaking with some warmth, said the conduct -of such women was abominable. It was scandalous that women -who knew nothing of individual circumstances should be -allowed to go about making unbearable the lives of men who -had tried to do their duty. It was a pity they had nothing -better to do. Here was a man who perhaps had been driven -to death by a pack of silly women. He hoped something would -soon be done to put a stop to such conduct (<cite>Daily News</cite>, -July 26, 1915).</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="fnanchor">7</a> By England in South Africa, America in the Philippines, -France in Morocco, Italy in Tripoli, Germany in Southwest -Africa, Russia in Persia and Manchuria, Japan in Manchuria.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="fnanchor">8</a> This was written in 1915.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn1"><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="fnanchor">9</a> This would be as true under a syndicalist régime as it is -at present.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="fnanchor">10</a> These changes, which are to be desired on their own account, -not only in order to prevent war, will be discussed in -later lectures.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="fnanchor">11</a> What is said on this subject in the present lecture is only -preliminary, since the subsequent lectures all deal with some -aspect of the same problem.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="fnanchor">12</a> Except by that small minority who are capable of artistic -enjoyment.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="fnanchor">13</a> Booth’s “<cite class="normal">Life and Labour of the People</cite>,” vol. iii.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="fnanchor">14</a> As regards the education of young children, Madame -Montessori’s methods seem to me full of wisdom.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="fnanchor">15</a> <span class="smcap">The Teaching of Patriotism. His Majesty’s -Approval.</span> -</p> -<p> -The King has been graciously pleased to accept a copy of the -little book containing suggestions to local education authorities -and teachers in Wales as to the teaching of patriotism which -has just been issued by the Welsh Department of the Board -of Education in connection with the observance of the National -Anniversary of St. David’s Day. His Private Secretary -(Lord Stamfordham), in writing to Mr. Alfred T. Davies, the -Permanent Secretary of the Welsh Department, says that his -Majesty is much pleased with the contents of the book, and -trusts that the principles inculcated in it will bear good fruit -in the lives and characters of the coming generation.—<cite>Morning -Post</cite>, January 29, 1916.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="fnanchor">16</a> What Madame Montessori has achieved in the way of -minimizing obedience and discipline with advantage to education -is almost miraculous.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="fnanchor">17</a> There was a provision for suits <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">in forma pauperis</i>, but for -various reasons this provision was nearly useless; a new and -somewhat better provision has recently been made, but is still -very far from satisfactory.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="fnanchor">18</a> The following letter (<cite>New Statesman</cite>, December 4, 1915) -illustrates the nature of his activities:— -</p> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Divorce and War.</span></h3> -<p><i>To the Editor of the</i> “New Statesman.”<br /></p> - -<p> -<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—The following episodes may be of interest to your -readers. Under the new facilities for divorce offered to the -London poor, a poor woman recently obtained a decree <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">nisi</i> for -divorce against her husband, who had often covered her body -with bruises, infected her with a dangerous disease, and committed -bigamy. By this bigamous marriage the husband had -ten illegitimate children. In order to prevent this decree being -made absolute, the Treasury spent at least £200 of the taxes -in briefing a leading counsel and an eminent junior counsel -and in bringing about ten witnesses from a city a hundred -miles away to prove that this woman had committed casual -acts of adultery in 1895 and 1898. The net result is that this -woman will probably be forced by destitution into further -adultery, and that the husband will be able to treat his mistress -exactly as he treated his wife, with impunity, so far as disease -is concerned. In nearly every other civilized country the -marriage would have been dissolved, the children could have -been legitimated by subsequent marriage, and the lawyers -employed by the Treasury would not have earned the large fees -they did from the community for an achievement which seems -to most other lawyers thoroughly anti-social in its effects. If -any lawyers really feel that society is benefited by this sort of -litigation, why cannot they give their services for nothing, -like the lawyers who assisted the wife? If we are to practise -economy in war-time, why cannot the King’s Proctor be satisfied -with a junior counsel only? The fact remains that many -persons situated like the husband and wife in question prefer -to avoid having illegitimate children, and the birth-rate accordingly -suffers. -</p> -<p> -The other episode is this. A divorce was obtained by Mr. -A. against Mrs. A. and Mr. B. Mr. B. was married and Mrs. -B., on hearing of the divorce proceedings, obtained a decree -nisi against Mr. B. Mr. B. is at any moment liable to be -called to the Front, but Mrs. B. has for some months declined -to make the decree <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">nisi</i> absolute, and this prevents him marrying -Mrs. A., as he feels in honor bound to do. Yet the law -allows any petitioner, male or female, to obtain a decree <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">nisi</i> -and to refrain from making it absolute for motives which -are probably discreditable. The Divorce Law Commissioners -strongly condemned this state of things, and the hardship in -question is immensely aggravated in war-time, just as the war -has given rise to many cases of bigamy owing to the chivalrous -desire of our soldiers to obtain for the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">de facto</i> wife and family -the separation allowance of the State. The legal wife is often -united by similar ties to another man. I commend these facts -to consideration in your columns, having regard to your frequent -complaints of a falling birth-rate. The iniquity of our -marriage laws is an important contributory cause to the fall -in question. -</p> - -<p class="sigright"> -<span class="l4">Yours, etc.,</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">E. S. P. Haynes</span>. -</p> -<p class="p0 b1"> -<i>November 29th.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="fnanchor">19</a> Some interesting facts were given by Mr. Sidney Webb in -two letters to <cite>The Times</cite>, October 11 and 16, 1906; there is also -a Fabian tract on the subject: “The Decline in the Birth-Rate,” -by Sidney Webb (No. 131). Some further information -may be found in “<cite class="normal">The Declining Birth-Rate: Its National and -International Significance</cite>,” by A. Newsholme, M.D., M.R.C.S. -(Cassell, 1911).</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="fnanchor">20</a> The fall in the death-rate, and especially in the infant -mortality, which has occurred concurrently with the fall in -the birth-rate, has hitherto been sufficiently great to allow the -population of Great Britain to go on increasing. But there -are obvious limits to the fall of the death-rate, whereas the -birth-rate might easily fall to a point which would make an -actual diminution of numbers unavoidable.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="fn2"><a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="fnanchor">21</a> I should add artists but for the fact that most modern -artists seem to find much greater difficulty in creation than -men of science usually find.</p></div> -</div></div> - -<div class="chapter"><div class="transnote"> -<h2 id="Transcribers_Notes" class="nobreak p1">Transcriber’s Notes</h2> - -<p>Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant -preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.</p> - -<p>Simple typographical errors were corrected.</p> - -<p>Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained; occurrences -of inconsistent hyphenation have not been changed.</p> - -<p>Duplicate hemi-title removed just before first chapter.</p> -</div></div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Why Men Fight, by Bertrand Russell - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHY MEN FIGHT *** - -***** This file should be named 55610-h.htm or 55610-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/6/1/55610/ - -Produced by Adrian Mastronardi, Charlie Howard, and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net -(This file was produced from images generously made -available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - 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. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - -</pre> - -</body> -</html> |